This one, and all the dots within, is for Angela :) With thanks as always to the incomparable Obi...

Grace Notes
by Shelly

Grace note: a music note that is added as an embellishment. -- The Oxford Dictionary

~~~~

Jim Ellison was tired. He was more than tired. He was on the tilting road to exhaustion.

He eased his large frame onto the wooden chair and rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of some of the tension. It had been a hard week. They had been following up a hit and run accident in which a fifteen year old boy had been left on the side of the road with two broken legs. A witness had given the police information on the make of the car and the driver had finally been traced. It was no solace for the kid in hospital though, who faced months of pain and rehabilitation. Then there was the attempted murder in Radisson Park...and the home invasion on the east side. Yes, a hard week.

The weary detective fiddled with the napkin dispenser on the table as his mind ran restlessly over the past seven days. Long hours and little sleep combined to make him just a little melancholy. Closing his eyes, he listened to the comforting hum of voices around him. He heard the sigh of dull air as a body moved past him. Opening one eye, he saw Blair Sandburg; partner, friend, guide and all-round cheerful person, coming to sit in the seat opposite him.

"Don't ya just love this place, man. Great coffee!!!" With a sense of ceremony, a steaming cup of coffee was unloaded from Blair's tray and placed with great reverence in front of the Sentinel.

Jim curled his large hands around the cup and settled back to watch his friend. Blair launched into an exuberant and lengthy discourse on the quality of the term papers he was marking for his Anthropology classes.

Energy burned off the younger man like a light. He spoke with his hands...with movements of such consummate grace that it seemed as though music should be filtering from somewhere as an accompaniment. His long, slender fingers could speak individual words...and did. It was hard to feel down in the face of such buoyant opposition. A grin crinkled Jim's face as he idly wondered whether Blair would be able to speak at all if his hands were tied.

From across the room, there was a clunk as a coin dropped into the jukebox, and then the old Beatles tune 'Help' burst into the room. Jim's eyes softened as he was spun back into 1965.

The song was his mother's favourite. Whenever it came on the radio she would start singing along at the top of her voice and drag either Jim, or his brother Stevie, into a crazy dance that would leave them both delighted and breathless. She'd left them that same year...and whenever he heard the song now, it immediately brought her into his mind's eye, vibrant and joyous.

"Jim?"

The detective lifted his head to see the concerned, blue eyes of his partner.

"You okay?" Blair reached across and put his hand on his friend's arm.

Jim smiled hesitatingly. "Yeah. It's the song. It was my Mom's favourite. Always brings back lots of fun times."

Blair was not at all self-conscious about studying his friend. He could see the strong lines in Jim's face were etched a little deeper. He looked worn out, but the song had obviously been an abracadabra to some good memories, because the blue eyes that mirrored his own were smiling.

"It's an oldie but a goodie. My Mom was big on the Beatles, too."

"I hear that," answered Jim, and they both laughed at his use of Naomi's catch-phrase.

"What was your favourite song when you were a kid, Chief?" asked Jim, still chuckling.

"I could tell you...but then I'd have to kill you." Blair was having difficulty keeping his expressive face serious.

"That bad? Come on....spit it out, kid."

"Uhhhh...well...oh man, this is like, soooooo embarrassing."

Jim placed his hand over his heart. "Blair, I solemnly swear not to use this information against you." His grin was wider still.

"Yeah..right!! Okay. Well...when I was a kid, I really loved the movie 'Grease'. Could practically say the words along with the actors. And my favourite song was 'You're The One That I Want'." Blair took a breath. It was a small one, Jim noted, but a breath nonetheless.

"It's a profound and deeply moving song, man." Blair's eyes glinted with mischief. "'You're the one that I want..oo oo oo ...honey.' Only trouble was, to me it sounded like...'Wallah wallah wah lah, oo oo oo, honey', which didn't really have the desired effect when I sang it to Sammi-Jo Smith, the light of my life at the time."

"Wallah wallah wah lah.?" Jim was laughing outright now. "Wallah wallah wah lah!" He bent over the table, his shoulders shaking.

Blair was laughing too. "Gee, thanks for your support, man. I share one of my darkest secrets with you...."

Jim waved his hand, unable to speak, still helplessly lost in laughter.

Blair stood up, shaking his head at his partner. "I'm gonna go buy a packet of that coffee to take home."

Watching Blair walk towards the counter and the cash register, Jim wiped his streaming eyes and sighed. He hadn't laughed like that in ages. Once again he sent up a generic prayer to whichever kind deity it was that had sent Blair colliding into his life.

It had been a little over two years now since Jim's senses had been flung into overdrive. At first he thought that he was going mad. He had no control over what was happening. The alarm clock would send him to the floor in a huddle of pain, clasping his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise. He would try to cook something for dinner, and the odour of the streets would encircle him, pushing his appetite aside. And the time he went out to dinner with his ex-wife Caroline....they'd ordered a mild curry, yet because of his rampaging senses, it had burned through him like a fire.

He'd felt so alone...so utterly lost. Then a comet by the name of Blair Sandburg had burst across his skies. The young Anthropologist had explained the 'Sentinel Theory' he was working on for his doctorate. In Blair's own words, Jim was a throwback to ancient times when each village had a sentinel, a watchman, someone with heightened senses to protect them.

Blair's speech, for the uninitiated, was most disconcerting in rhythm: part academic, part colloquial, half-full of startling insight. However, the more he talked, the more he made sense. Now they were a team... Sentinel and Guide. And the glue was friendship.

Jim looked up from his musings to see Blair using his 'baby blues' to devastating effect on the blond at the cash register. He chuckled. The kid had the knack...he definitely had the knack. The girl was quite obviously enchanted. Blair peeped back at Jim across a half-turned shoulder, and winked. Jim scanned across the crowd to hear what Blair was whispering to him. "Wallah wallah wah lah..ooo ooo ooo... HONEY."

Jim convulsed with laughter... again.

_____________________________________________________________

The long, golden blaze of morning filled the loft with light. Jim stretched luxuriously and lay still. Saturday. All day. He rolled onto his side and let his senses drift lazily down to the kitchen.

Blair was making breakfast. Jim could hear the young man trying to be quiet in his own inimitable fashion, talking companionably to himself. There was a silence, and then a sizzle....pancakes were on the menu for this morning. A smile crept over his face as he heard the tune that Blair was humming. That damned song from 'Grease' again.

Stretching wide across the double bed, Jim thought about how his life had become a code of sounds, a mesh of reassurances. All these little morning noises made the familiar music that gave him a sense of place; something that he could hold to and fix upon. Home.

Padding quietly down the stairs, Jim headed for the kitchen, his nose twitching appreciatively at the wafting scent of the pancakes.

Blair glanced up and grinned. "I thought it would get to you sooner or later, man."

"Smells good, Chief."

Skilfully, Blair served up the pancakes and placed them on the table. Racing back to the kitchen, he gathered up knives, forks, and maple syrup and torpedoed back to the table. "There," he said with a flourish. "Let's eat."

Pushing the long, dark curls back out of his face, Blair stabbed the pancake stack with determination. His utensils became an extension of his hands as he spoke, and they sliced and gestured wildly. Jim ducked several times as a fork making a point came a little too close.

"Hey, kid, where did you undertake your Ninja training?"

The young guide grinned and concentrated on keeping his actions to a safe minimum.

"What time are Simon and Daryl going to be here?"

"Around noon. We'll head up to Patterson's Point in both cars. Simon's gone and bought his own tent, so we'll only need one now. We'll camp out over night and head back around dinnertime tomorrow." Just the thought of a whole day spent on a deserted beach made Jim feel relaxed.

"Cool. Can't wait. I'm going to start packing now so that we'll be able to get going as soon as they get here." Blair began gathering the dishes and clearing the table.

Jim stood up to help and started humming the tune from 'Grease'. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Come on, man. Fair's fair. You must have messed up the lyrics to a song somewhere along the line. Tell all."

Jim started chuckling. "Welllllll....there was that song by the Go Gos...Our Lips Are Sealed...I always thought they were singing 'Alex the Seal'."

That revelation sent Blair spinning onto the sofa in a crumpled heap, laughing helplessly. "Alex the seal???" he spluttered.

Jim continued. "And that song, "My Eyes Adored You"...I always sang "My eyes are tortured."

"Oh, man. Stop!!!" Blair held his aching sides, trying to get a breath.

The Sentinel stood with his hands on his hips, grinning.

__________________________________________________________________

Jim sat on the beach watching Simon, Daryl and Blair play their own version of Touch Football. There was not a breath of wind, and even the seagulls had to stroke their great wings to keep aloft. He squinted at the far haze of merging sea and sky, then lay back in the warm sand. Lulled by the melody of the waves against the sea shore, the earth drowsing under him and the clouds sliding over him, Jim Ellison slept.

A breeze ruffled the heavy air as evening began to gather up sight and sounds. Jim stirred and rolled onto his side, trenching the sand. Blair knelt down next to him.

"Ji-im."

The voice whispered Jim out of his dream, and continued to tickle until he opened his eyes to be confronted with a direct, smoky-blue stare.

"Hey...He lives...You've been asleep for over four hours, man. You must have been way tired." Blair's comments reflected the concern in his eyes.

Jim yawned and stretched. "I feel half human again, Chief. What's going on?"

"Well, while Sleeping Beauty here was napping, Daryl and I went for a walk around the Point. Simon fished and kept an eye on you. Are you hungry?"

Shivering slightly, Jim nodded.

"Cool...since Simon came up fish-less...our diet is going to be curry or curry. Unless you'd like curry. Or, we could have curry."

"I'd quite like some curry," Jim answered, grinning up at his Guide.

Jim pulled on his sweatshirt and the two men crunched through the sand to where Simon was valiantly attempting to start a fire. After several attempts, little wisps of flame snuggled into the kindling and began to crackle and burn most satisfyingly.

Simon beamed, "I've still got it!"

Daryl looked up and said, "Well, whatever it is, Dad, I hope it isn't catching."

Laughing, Jim moved to help Simon prepare the meal of curry that they had brought from home in case of unco-operative fish.

Sitting down next to Daryl, Blair began to help him sort through the treasures they had found on their walk: a twisted cuttlefish spine, a piece of coral, and a multitude of empty, ocean-hymning shells. Daryl put one to his ear and listened to the ancient sea trapped within. He took his shell to his father, and to Jim, and let them hear the melody.

"You know, the Wongi Tribe believe that if you crush a shell, the sea will come pouring out to take it's revenge for being held prisoner." Blair held his shell up to watch the firelight flicker on its smooth sides.

"That would be the Wongi Tribe of...." Jim questioned.

"Aborigines." Blair explained. "Of Australia. Veer left at Singapore." He snickered across at Jim who flicked a piece of driftwood at him.

Simon banged a tin cup against a camping dish. "Chez Simon's is open for business, gentlemen."

They ate their meal sitting companionably around the fire. Food seemed to taste so much better when eaten in the crisp, evening air to the musical accompaniment of the waves. All four cleaned their plates and opted for second helpings.

With the meal over, Blair fell theatrically backwards onto the sand, moaning with the pleasures of overeating. He lay his hand across his flat stomach. "I couldn't fit another bite in."

Daryl came around and sat down next to him. Blair smiled and tucked his hands behind the back of his head, sighing happily.

"Man, look at the stars."

Away from the lights of the city, the stars were clear and bright and seemed close enough to touch. Blair was able to call almost the entire sky by name. Naomi had been telling him stories about the stars for as long as he could remember. He loved the night sky.

Jim and Simon came to join them. "Whoa!!! Catch that!" Blair sat up and pointed skyward. A brief light arched across the door of night. "Falling star. Make a wish, Daryl. Now's your chance, man!"

"Awww...that's kid stuff!!" said Daryl in an injured voice.

"No way! I always wish when I see a falling star." Blair closed his eyes tight, and tilted his chin toward the sky. "There."

Jim chuckled. "Guess Emily won't know what has hit her."

Blair spun around. "How did you.....?"

Jim raised one eyebrow and spun one hand in a circular motion, imitating winding in a fishing line.

"Just reeling you in, Chief."

Blair's face was flushed, and it wasn't just glow from the fire. He laughed. "Yeah...well...maybe...there's all this potential, you know."

Simon watched the interchange with interest. "Girl trouble, Sandburg?" His grin was wide.

"Yep..'fraid so. She thinks I don't care about her because I'm always late for our dates. But things happen, you know." Blair shrugged with innocent puzzlement.

"Women. Just can't understand 'em." Daryl nodded his head, sagely.

Jim suppressed a chuckle. "You're right, Daryl. Powerful words for one so young."

Blair rolled over onto his stomach, cupped his chin in his hands, and questioned Daryl. "Are you fighting with that girl again, man? Susan...Susan....Lots-of-bracelets-Susan?"

"Hmmm...well not fighting...sort of arguing. Umm, kinda both, I guess, really. Geez Louise...it's hard to know what you are supposed to do. She told me that she had a heap of homework Monday night and not to ring her....so I didn't ring her. But she was mad BECAUSE I didn't ring. Said I should have known that she didn't really mean it!!! I wish she'd just say what she meant!!" Confusion reigned in Daryl's voice.

Blair leapt to his feet. "Daryl Banks. On this, the night of the full moon, you are fortunate to be in the company of experience. We three men of the world shall share our knowledge with you. You will become stronger. You will become smarter. You will.....know when to retreat! Simon..." Blair gestured with a flourish to the older man.

Simon stood slowly and took a breath. "Son, on this auspicious occasion, I wish to pass along one piece of Banks Family Legend. It has lasted through the generations and I now pass it on to you. NEVER...EVER....EVER....contradict a woman's memory about what she said. Playing with fire, son, just playing with fire. And now, may I present...James Ellison!"

Daryl looked from his father to Jim with a bemused look on his face. Jim rose up and took Simon's place.

"Daryl. My only piece of advice is this. No matter what...I repeat...no matter what....you must always tell her that she looks beautiful. Don't fall into the honesty trap when it comes to this matter. And she will try to get you to say otherwise."

Jim put his hand out to Blair and pulled him up. Blair put one hand on his hip and minced across the sand. "Oh, honey. I look such a mess. I've had simply no time to make myself beautiful." He tossed his hair back flirtatiously, peered over his shoulder at Jim and fluttered his eyelashes wildly.

"Daryl, your reply would be.....?" Amusement rippled through Jim's voice and he was having trouble keeping it steady.

"Uh...no...you look okay to me?" The sentence rose to a question as Daryl started giggling as well.

"Ding! Time's up. Wrooonnnng. Do not pass 'go'. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Daryl...and this is key....watch and learn, kid. She may have rollers in her hair. She may have her tattiest old clothes on. Her nose may be red from a cold... but...."

Jim walked towards Blair who immediately dropped into character. "Honey...you didn't tell me you were coming!" He slapped Jim's wrist. "Naughty boy, I would have gotten into something better than this old thing I'm wearing, if I had known."

Blair winked down at Daryl. Simon put his arm across his son's shoulders. Both were laughing...hard.

Jim shook his head. "Angel. You look stunning." He got to the end of the sentence and then lost the battle, laughter pouring from him.

Blair however, stayed stoically in character. "This old thing. Honey, I might as well dry dishes with this old thing." He gestured down at his jeans and t-shirt, shaking his head at his three friends.

"Hmmm. I'm not going to be able to rely on Jim in his state....soooooo ....Presenting...ME!" Blair introduced himself with aplomb.

"Now, Daryl. Women are like rockets, trust me on this, you can never tell their trajectory. Many are the well-calculating technicians who have been mortally wounded because they did not understand this. Always be on the defensive. And if the rocket does launch....get out of the way, my man, get out of the way!" Blair's hand shot into the air to illustrate the path of a rocket.

Daryl looked up at Blair, considering his words. "So, like..." He stopped, confused. "So what are you trying to say, Blair?"

There was a splutter from Jim and Simon, which erupted into fully-fledged laughter.

Rolling his eyes in mock disgust, Blair said, "Let's walk up to the Point again. I'll explain it all. Besides, we have to discuss the Benefit Show...and not in front of these philistines!" He grinned engagingly at Simon and Jim.

The young men set off up the beach. The tide was high and the waves were gentle; the moon's image, floating on the ocean in a silvery, imperfect coinage. Daryl's voice drifted back on the widening quietness. "Yeah! Why is that?"

Jim chuckled...and then sighed. He rested back on his elbows and watched as the two figures slowed into the distance.

"This was a great idea, Simon. Thanks. I needed to get away. Didn't know how much!!"

Simon smiled. "It was actually Sandburg's idea. He thought we all needed a break. He's a good kid. You tell him I said that and I'll deny it, though!"

Jim's reply was thoughtful. "He's a good friend."

They sat in silence, watching the tiny figures on the beach until they disappeared from view. Every now and then, Jim automatically scanned the distance with his heightened sense of hearing and checked for two heartbeats.

"So...the Show." Simon said, fiddling with one of the shells that Daryl had been cleaning.

"Yeah. The Show. It's not really my scene, Simon."

"Jim, my friend, if I have to do it....you can too! I've been arguing with Taggart over which character I'm going to play...and unfortunately he is winning. Sandburg and Daryl are plotting something, obviously."

"Blair is born to that kind of stuff. I'm just not up for it. Can't I do the tickets or something like that instead?"

Simon searched for some hook to pull his friend into the Benefit Concert. He grinned. "Jim. It's for kids. Little kids.... with great, big Sandburg eyes. Pleading Sandburg eyes following you everywhere...everywhere."

Jim put his head in his hands. "Not the eyes. Oh, not the eyes." Looking up, he reflected his friend's grin. "Okay. Okay. I'll do it. But I'm not gonna like it. Do you know what Blair and Daryl are planning?"

"Nope. It's something musical though because Daryl is taking along his guitar. Other than that, haven't heard a whisper.

"Knowing Blair, it will be something tribal."

"Blair is something tribal, Jim." Simon's deep-throated laugh rolled into the night, and he stood up, stretching and yawning. "I think I'll make a pot of coffee."

Jim stayed where he was, totally relaxed. It was a feeling that he would have liked to have held onto and kept. He closed his eyes, smiling, and began to hum quietly to himself. He laughed. He couldn't get that song out of his head. Wallah wallah wah lah....

The sound of the sea was hypnotic. Jim could feel himself drowsing across the divide towards sleep, when the voices of Daryl and Blair came drifting in on the breeze lifting off the ocean.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched the two small figures approaching slowly along the shoreline. They had both rolled up their jeans and were paddling in the sea as they walked. Blair's hands were waving enthusiastically about, and Daryl was nodding.

"Hey, Dad. Check out this cuttlefish spine we found. It's got tooth marks in it." Daryl came racing up the beach, waving the new sea treasure.

Behind him, Blair trudged though the sand, head down, examining something he had found. He moved without haste, intent upon the object. Jim watched his friend and thought about the dichotomies that were Blair.

The kid was vibrant, singing like an electric wire...but he also had a quiet, inner calm... a state of grace. His empathy for people was enormous, yet he could stand back as an objective observer as well. He was impatient, but had willingly spent countless hours helping him manage his Sentinel abilities. No complaints...just an unconquerable belief in what he was doing. Jim knew that often he took Blair for granted....life just moved so fast sometimes...you didn't get time to think about the important things. And in his life, Blair was important.

As if reading Jim's mind, Blair looked up from the shell he was studying, and a slow, sweet smile lit his face.

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself, Chief. You and Daryl sorted out what you are doing for the Show?"

"Yep. All organised. How about you? Changed your mind? 'Cos it's for charity, ya know. Kids. Little kids."

Jim put his hands up in defeat. "I've been subjected to the 'little kids' routine already. Yes...I'm in..."

"Really? Cool!" Blair's smile grew impossibly wider.

"You say that now...wait till you see what we are doing! It ain't gonna be pretty."

Blair chuckled infectiously. "If the whisper I hear is true....you're right...in fact you're underestimating, Jim. It's gonna be downright uggggggglllllyyyy!"

"Coffee's on," Simon called from the edge of the campfire. Daryl was adding twigs to the fire one at a time, and watching transfixed as they caught alight and flared into the dance of flames. Simon's big hand came down upon his son's head. He handed two cups to Daryl to carry, and he took the other two himself.

They took their mugs of coffee down onto the beach and sat, in companionable silence, sipping the strong, pungent brew. The moon spilled a soft Chablis of light onto the water. The night was sweet-breathed and starry.

Daryl broke the silence, his voice awkward and a little self-conscious. "This is way cool, you know. It's kinda special being here...so really..." He stopped, not being able to put into words what he was feeling. The three adults smiled at each other.

Blair put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Yeah. You're right, Daryl. This is way cool."

A fret of wind whispered across the ocean and up the beach. Blair shivered and rubbed his hands up and down his arms to take some of the chill away.

Simon glanced across at him and then said, "Anyone for going back to the fire?"

Daryl tore off towards the campfire with the gait of an ungainly colt. Jim, Simon and Blair followed in hot pursuit. When the distance between the boy and the men had decreased, by unspoken agreement they eased off and let him win. Daryl's grin was ear-to-ear, and he raised his arms in triumph to the fantasy of a crowd-choked arena and the applause of phantom thousands.

They settled around the fire again, grateful for the warmth and cheerful glow. Blair added more wood that sent little spatters of flame waterfalling up and out. He stretched his hands to the blaze.

"Hey, Chief!"

Blair looked up just in time to catch the sweatshirt that Jim had thrown at him.

"Thanks, man." He put it on, and pulled the cuffs down over his hands, looking for all the world like a kid of Daryl's age in the soft light. Wrapping his arms tightly around his legs, he rested his chin tiredly on his knees and gazed into the fire. He'd been up nearly all last night marking papers so that he could come today...and it was all catching up with him. He muffled a yawn.

Daryl emerged from his tent with a radio. "Hey, Dad. Listen to this. You could do this at the Benefit Concert."

The Kiss song 'I Was Made For Loving You' pounded out into the night air. Simon screwed up his nose, and covered his ears.

"Don't think so, son."

Blair chuckled. "I don't think they'd look good in platforms anyway. And Simon's tongue isn't long enough play the Gene Simmons role." He poked his tongue out at the older man, waggling it up and down.

"Pu-leeze!! You two youngsters will be cheering for us when you see what we have got planned. Classy....very classy. Anyway...what are you going to do?" Simon swivelled around to look at his son.

"Like we're gonna say, Dad! It's a secret."

Blair stifled another yawn. "And that's the way it is staying until the night. You'll see then."

"Simon, listen to that." Jim gestured with his head to the radio which was now playing a new song. "Wild Thing. Now that's a blast from the past!"

"Oh man, we used to sing that at Training." Simon started singing along.

Jim began playing the drum beat with his hands on his knees. Simon leapt up and started strumming an air guitar. They yelled out the chorus at the top of their voices.

Blair dropped his head onto his knees, then looked up at Daryl. "Don't watch, Daryl. It's sad. I don't think they can help it." He grinned.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Man, em-barr-ass-ing!"

As the song finished, Simon slumped back down on the sand, smiling. "Now that's what I call a song!!" The new tune playing on the radio was soft, and it faded into the background again.

Daryl yawned, and stretched. "I'm going to bed...or to sleeping bag, I should say. 'Night everyone. Dad...try not to embarrass yourself...more." He grinned widely and scooted towards the tent as Simon threw a shell at him.

"More respect from you, young man. Wild Thing is a classic."

"For dinosaurs, Dad. For dinosaurs." Daryl dived into the tent and zipped it up.

The men turned back to the campfire, watching the flames rise and fall like waves. The conversation was softer, more reflective. Simon and Jim began to discuss the fishing spots they had been to, what bait was the best, and where they would like to visit. Blair listened.

"I think we've lost Sandburg." Simon nodded across to the young guide who was now peacefully asleep, head pillowed on folded arms atop his bent knees.

Jim smiled. "Okay, kid. No sleeping on the job." He shook Blair's shoulder gently.

"Wha.? Huh?" Blair reared up, not knowing where he was. His arms flailed against the unknown, and Jim grabbed both of his wrists until he could see recognition dawn in the young man's eyes.

"Whoa! Easy, Blair. Time for sleeping bag, as Daryl would say." Jim pushed him gently in the direction of the tent.

"Oh, right. 'Night." Blair stumbled amiably off, still half asleep, and within five minutes all was quiet.

Jim and Simon continued talking on into the night, as the stars overhead marked the hour. When the embers of the fire began to die down, they each headed for their own tents for a few hours of rest before morning.

As Jim settled into his sleeping bag, he contentedly listened to the music of the night. The waves shushing against the shore, the quickening breeze making the tent flap, and the steady breathing and heartbeat of his guide. The Sentinel curled down into the warmth and closed his eyes. In this little corner, all was right with the world.

___________________________________________________________

Jim slammed the door to the truck and started to walk wearily upstairs. He couldn't believe that it had only been a week since they had been relaxing on the overnight camp at the beach. It seemed a lifetime ago. Things were chaotic at the station and any sense of relaxation he had attained that weekend had long since been squandered on a myriad of niggling problems that seemed to be never-ending.

He felt tired and irritable, and was not looking forward to the Benefit Show this evening. He opened the door to the loft and flung his keys in the basket by the door with a little more force than was needed. They ricocheted off the side and upturned the whole basket onto the floor.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit." There was a world of expression in the repetition of the word. The Sentinel bent down and began picking up the loose change and odds and ends that made their home in the basket. He murmured a litany of colourful curses under his breath and felt marginally better.

The basket replaced with exaggerated care, Jim stomped into the living area and immediately felt guilty. Blair lay sprawled on the sofa, asleep, and was stirring at the noise that the Sentinel had made.

The young guide had been doing double shifts for nearly two weeks now. He was working almost through the night to grade and record the final assessment in the semester for his Anthropology classes. He'd rush off to his teaching classes in the morning and then turn up at the station after lunch to give Jim a hand. They'd had to do a couple nights of surveillance this week to top it off. No wonder the kid was exhausted.

Jim moved more quietly now, and sat on the coffee table next to the sofa. Blair lay on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, the other hand hanging over the side of the couch. He looked impossibly young. It seemed a shame to wake him.

Reaching out, Jim gave the arm hanging over the edge of the sofa a gentle shake.

"Hey, Chief!"

The reaction was immediate. Blue eyes flew open. "God, what's the time? Must have dozed off."

"It's only six o'clock. Plenty of time."

Blair sat up. "Shit!! I said I would help set up. I'm late. I gotta get ready, man. I said I would pick Daryl up on the way. Can you pick Simon up when you go?"

Before Jim had a chance to reply, the whirlwind that was sometimes called Blair, had spun off the sofa and was heading for the shower.

Jim lifted his hand to the retreating back. "Yep. I can do that. Nice chatting with you!" He grinned.

Ten minutes later, Blair emerged from his bedroom, on the run again. "Catch you there," he yelled as he sped out the door.

The Sentinel sighed. "Show time, Ellison," he lectured himself. "Get a move on."

______________________________________________________________

The Cascade Civic Centre was a hive of activity.

The stage was set. Blue bunting had been strung across the front and a big sign saying "CASCADE CAPERS" had been attached above the stage.

Someone was trying to sort out the sound equipment, and periodically, snatches of songs would burst from the sound system with a roar then fade back into the general hubbub of preparations.

Blair and Daryl were working their way methodically through the hall. Blair was putting a white tablecloth on each table with the flair of a showman. The cloth rose in the air, hung for a moment and then drifted down to settle upon the table. Daryl followed behind placing the cutlery and a candle centrepiece.

As opening time approached, preparations reached a feverish pitch of last minute adjustments. At 7.30 p.m. the doors were opened and the guests were ushered to their tables. Music played softly in the background, and as dinner was served, the clink of cutlery and glasses joined the bloom of conversation.

The lights above the audience dimmed to signify the start of the show, and a spotlight flared upon the curtained stage. A disembodied voice announced to the quietening crowd: "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...PRE-SENTING....CASCADE POLICE DEPARTMENT'S FINEST...INNNNNN......THE CASCADE CAPERS!!"

As the curtain began to slowly rise, the audience applauded. Music burst from the speakers, deafeningly loud. The SWAT team members stood illuminated in the spotlight, dressed in black suits, wearing dark glasses. The theme music from the movie 'Men In Black' powered into the room, and the men on stage began dancing, to the cheers of the crowd.

Backstage, Blair and Daryl sat watching...and waiting for their own turn.

"Pre-tty cool! Didn't know those guys were so co-ordinated." Blair tapped his foot along to the catchy tune.

"Nah...not as cool as us!" Daryl gave a little shimmy of his hips and grinned at Blair. "We're gonna have them screaming!"

The Swat Team finished to a loud round of applause and the curtain dropped down to enable the next act to get ready.

"Not..one....word, Sandburg."

Blair spun around at the sound of Jim's voice and his eyes widened in amazement. He held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm speechless."

"At this moment in time, Chief, that's a good decision...good for your physical well-being."

Simon was having a remarkably similar conversation with his giggling son, who had bent over double at seeing what his father was wearing, but now was rolling on the floor lost in teenage hilarity.

Just as the curtain was being lifted and the music started up, Blair leaned across to Jim. "One thing, Jim. Wallah wallah wah lah!!!" He crowed gleefully and leapt back as Jim took a swipe at him.

The audience erupted into laughter and cheers as the Cascade version of the Spice Girls stepped onto the stage strutting to the music of 'Wannabe'.

Simon was dressed as Baby Spice, blonde wig and all. He was wearing a skirt that sat low on his hips and a cropped t-shirt. He was grinning widely, and enjoying himself immensely...and he could *dance*! Joel Taggart, from the Bomb Squad, was revelling in the role of Scary Spice. He was poured into a tight jumpsuit and threw himself into the miming of the song and the dancing to the delight of the crowd. Two detectives from Vice had been signed up for the act. The large, freckled, redhead Mahony was prancing up and down the stage as Posh Spice, and the heavily moustached Pantano was posturing as Sporty Spice. And then there was Jim...Ginger Spice. After spending the week stressing about having to do the benefit, he had finally tossed caution to the wind and was showing everyone that he had an excellent sense of rhythm. He tossed his long, red wig about with abandon and strutted his stuff in a sequined shirt and flip skirt.

The audience was clapping along and whistling. All five 'Spice Girls' were beaming as they mouthed the words "Tell ya what I want, what I really, really want." Hips swaying in unison, they finished with a cheeky backward look over their shoulders and the 'girl power' salute.

The audience stamped their feet as the Spice Girls left the stage to calls of "Encore!". Wolf whistles abounded and the hall rang with applause and laughter.

Backstage, Daryl and Blair greeted the 'girls' with arms raised high in homage. They raised and lowered their arms several times. "We bow to your courage, Oh Women of Spice," intoned Blair.

Jim cuffed him lightly on the head. "Your turn is coming, kid. You'll keep."

The Show continued with varying degrees of professionalism. Some of the staff from the Traffic Branch put on a hilarious skit parodying 'The Rolling Stones". They called themselves 'The Strolling Bones' and the lead singer kept running off-stage and reappearing with increasingly bigger rubber lips until the grand finale where he became a giant pair of lips on legs.

As the applause for this act was dying down, Jim and Simon emerged, dressed in their suits, and made their way out to the table that they had reserved. They endured the good-natured ribbing from the audience with grins on their faces.

Settling back to enjoy the rest of the show, Simon glanced slyly across at Jim. "Man, I didn't know you knew how to 'shake your thang' like that."

Jim grinned and raised a regal hand, "I've been 'Spiced', Simon. I've fulfilled my destiny. I can die a happy man."

The two men watched the next few acts with smiles on their faces. They were finished and now they could relax. Both were looking forward to Blair and Daryl's act, not that they knew anything about it. Secrecy had been total on this project.

The Benefit Show was coming to an end. The audience was noisily discussing the acts as a piano was pushed to centre stage. With no introduction, Blair walked onto the stage, pointed a finger at Jim, and then sat at the piano.

He started to play. He struck one long, sweet, absolutely pure chord that reached up, cutting through the hubbub of the crowd, holding its distance and clarity until the hall was completely hushed.

Blair waited a moment, and then began to play a prelude that was a musical medley of Beatles' songs. At first the music was wonderfully relaxed, deceptively simple..and then the melody line became more and more ornamental. His long, fine fingers flew across the keyboard as the delicate filigree writing for the right hand came into play. He ended with an elegant descent in steps towards an almost muted final chord.

The applause was thunderous. Blair smiled, and held up one hand for quiet. Music rippled from the piano again. Jim swallowed. He recognised the song, but Blair had rewritten it, playing it with a slow, bluesy feel.

The Sentinel watched as his Guide began to sing. His voice was strong, and it rang through the hall with a power that bought every head erect.

*When I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody's help in any way But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured, Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the door.*

The hall was completely quiet, the tune coiling and drifting away on the listening silence. Simon leaned across and whispered to Jim. "Damn, he's got a sound on him. Is there *nothing* that kid can't do?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders, not trusting his voice. He zoned in on Blair's voice again, hearing his mother's memories laying upon the warm, soulful music. Her favourite song.

*Help me if you can, I'm feeling down And I do appreciate you being round Help me get my feet back on the ground Won't you please, please help me*

Blair's voice rose, confident and true. He repeated the thread of the song, holding a lifting note, then letting it escape to carry the song forwards again. It was haunting. The last line of the song he let fade down, slowly, perfectly controlled, until it melted into a whisper hardly heard at all...except by a Sentinel.

The crowd waited half a beat after the song had ended before going wild. They rose to their feet and applauded, stomped and whistled. Blair smiled, a little shyly, then began to pound out a beat on the piano that the audience picked up. They continued to clap in time, and cheered as Daryl walked out an plugged his guitar into the amplifier.

The guitar echoed the piano and then began to soar with a melody of its own. Jim and Simon looked at each other and burst out laughing. Wild Thing!

The audience kept the beat through the verse of the song. The whole place was jumping. Daryl and Blair sang, "Wild Thing...I think I love you." The crowd chorused back "...but I wanna know for sure." And two of the loudest voices were a father and a friend.

__________________________________________________________________

Blair sagged against the back of the sofa and moaned, "Man, I'm exhausted. No...hang on...I think I'd need a nap to *get* to exhausted." He yawned extravagantly and grinned across at Jim who was making cocoa.

"So....Ginger...."

"Ms Spice to you, junior." Jim chuckled.

"What did you think of the show?"

Jim turned back to the milk that was bubbling on the burner. "It was great. I had fun with our act." There was a slight pause, and he continued, his voice more serious. "Chief...the song....I want to say thanks. It's something that I'll always remember...and.."

A noise stopped him. He turned to look at Blair. His guide was curled up against the arm of the sofa, fast asleep, snoring gently.

The Sentinel shook his head and smiled. "Guess you've gone to try for exhausted, kid."

There was a blanket hanging over the other arm of sofa. Jim placed it over his friend and then went to pour himself a cup of cocoa. He wandered over to the balcony doors, clasping the cup with both his hands. It was very quiet in the loft. He was tired.

Turning out all the lights except for the lamp, Jim moved over to his music collection and flicked through it. He grinned when he came to the cd he was looking for. He placed it into the cd player and turned the sound way down low.

Sitting at the other end of the sofa, he relaxed into the cushions, closed his eyes and let himself fill up with music....the song of his boyhood and the heartbeat of a friend.

*********************

FIN