Transitions 2(a) - Siege
-- by Mackie

As usual, Sandburg was left standing around after it was all over. He stared at Ellison's retreating back and mused, 'Why does the man never listen to me?'

"Are you all right?"

It was the woman detective, who apparently thought untying his hands had given her some sort of responsibility to check on his wellbeing.

"Yes, thank you," Sandburg answered, thinking that she had a lovely smile, and gorgeous eyes.... He held out his hand. "Blair Sandburg. I'm Detective Ellison's new partner."

Her brows knitted momentarily at his words, and then she returned his handshake. "I'm Carolyn Plummer."

Wow. So this was Ellison's ex. Sandburg was amazed. She was a very classy lady, certainly too classy for a guy who considered white socks de rigueur. Suddenly feeling awkward under her probing gaze, he stammered, "Well, I'd better get going. You know, paperwork. Debriefing. The usual."

She wasn't willing to let it -- or him -- go just yet. "Jim said you're a -- what -- second cousin?"

"Ah, that's kind of complicated," Blair tried to dissemble, edging away. "It's not so much a blood-relation thing as a family-favor sort of thing." Well, that certainly sounded coherent! Maybe shock was setting in more quickly than he'd anticipated. "I mean, like family, you know? Like when you call a close neighbor 'Uncle Fred' or something." Damn, he was babbling....

Carolyn actually smiled at his discomfort. "It's all right, Mr. Sandburg. I gave up my right to an explanation about Jim a long time ago." A little embarrassed, she added, "I just worry about him sometimes. Having a new partner, especially an observer, seems very out of character for him."

This was more familiar territory for Blair, and he relaxed. "I'm working on a paper about the police force," he explained easily. "I wanted to work with the best cop I could find."

Carolyn finally started toward the rooftop door, and Blair walked with her, his feet practically bouncing with nervous energy. When his adrenaline spike faded, he figured he'd probably sleep for a week; right now, he felt like a quasar, discharging random energy in every direction.

"Well, you've certainly found the best cop in Jim Ellison," she agreed.

Heading down the steps from the roof, Simon made certain the other officers and the handcuffed prisoners were well ahead before he said, "You know, you've got some explaining to do about these senses of yours."

"I know," Jim replied. "I'm sorry I didn't mention anything as soon as I was certain, but the whole thing just seems so weird -- " He shook his head at the unlikelihood of it all.

"And Sandburg knows what it's all about?"

"He says he does. I'll have him fill you in as soon as he gets the chance."

"Yes, you will," the Captain agreed mildly. "You're certain you need him on the job?"

Jim grimaced. "Simon, I thought I was going crazy. My senses are out of control. It's either quit the force or find someone who can help me, and Sandburg seems to be that person."

"You did OK today." Simon recalled how astounded he'd felt when Jim had smelled aftershave through a heavy door.

"That's because of Sandburg's first lesson," Jim insisted quietly. "I have no control over when it happens, or how intense it is when it does."

Simon nodded in the direction of the rooftop. "How did he do up there in the chopper?"

Jim chuckled. "Pretty damn well amazing. If anyone deserves the credit for catching Kincaid, it's Sandburg. He bluffed the helicopter pilot with a flare gun and some silly patter about being a pilot in Desert Storm. "

Simon shook his head in disbelief. "I get the feeling an agile mind and a faster mouth are two of his strongest attributes," he commented, sounding as if he wasn't certain such attributes were necessarily desirable. With a sigh, he relented. "OK. I'll sign off on his paperwork if he's cleared." He glanced over his shoulder again. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I don't know. Probably making a pass at Carolyn."

"That should teach him the meaning of 'snowball's chance in hell'." Again, he shook his head, as if unable to come to grips with what Jim had told him. "Of all the crazy things that could have happened -- "

They exited the stairwell into chaos, and Simon forgot about his detective to take charge of the situation. "Pay attention, people!" he shouted above the din. "I want this floor cleared now! It's a crime scene. No one's allowed up here but forensics and the medical examiner. Put the prisoners in holding, and get the released hostages downstairs to the paramedics. We'll need statements from everyone, so set up an interview room. Let's move!"

Everyone jumped to the tune of that authoritative bark, and soon the floor gained some semblance of peace and order.

Simon located Rhonda and Daryl, thanked her profusely for watching his son, and took the young teenager into his arms for a brief but fierce hug. "Are you OK?"

Daryl nodded, excitement still pouring off him in waves. Reaction to his ordeal had yet to set in. "I'm fine, Dad."

Simon led him through the deserted bullpen toward his office. "What d'you say we give Joan a call, tell her you're all right." He glanced toward Jim. "Jim, could you grab a soda or something for him, please?"

"Sure thing, Simon," Jim agreed, heading for the break room.

Blair gallantly opened the rooftop door for Carolyn. They were the last ones down, and the stairwell was quiet. Tentatively, he asked, "Um, Ms. Plummer, do you think it would be OK if we talked some time?" Off her faintly suspicious look, he hastened to add, "About Jim, I mean. You were married to him, and I'd like to get your insights into his character. It's for my paper."

She looked doubtful. "I don't know -- "

"Whatever you're comfortable with," he assured her, confident that once he got her started, he'd be able to keep her talking. After all, talking -- and listening -- were two of the things he did best.

"I'll think about it," she promised as they exited onto the floor for Major Crime.

Blair grinned. "Great. I'll be here."

He watched her walk down the corridor and enter the elevator. Still unable to wind down after all the excitement, he bounded into the bullpen, his body running on nerves. Automatically, he skirted the area where Captain Taggart had sat on the floor, his wound bleeding onto the cold linoleum, and hastened to Jim's desk. Grabbing up his backpack, which he'd seriously doubted he'd ever see again, he plopped down and rummaged through it until he found a notebook.

Without even realizing the room was deserted, he started writing, filling line after line with a shakily scrawled jumble of words. He knew shock was starting to settle in; one moment, he felt a surge of fear, which a moment later would change to anger, and then relief that the ordeal was over. The feelings switched randomly, muddling his thoughts, but he wouldn't allow himself to succumb to the urge to fall apart just yet. That wouldn't be professional. It wouldn't be cool. If he wanted to stay on as Jim's partner, he had to appear to be calm and in control. A nervous breakdown would have to wait until he could have it in the privacy of the hovel he called home.

He jumped as Simon's door swung open, and Jim came out. Through the open door, he glimpsed Simon talking to a teenage boy, who had been one of the hostages.

It was something to steady his focus. "Is that his son?" he asked as Jim came over.

"Yeah, his name's Daryl." The detective made no comment of the fact that Sandburg was occupying his chair; instead, he sprawled in the visitor's chair and stretched his legs.

"Rough on the kid," Blair observed. "I mean, what happened today."

"Yeah, Simon's a little freaked out, too." Jim glanced at the open notebook. "Can you actually read that?"

Embarrassed, Blair flipped the notebook closed. "Probably not," he admitted sheepishly. Jim was studying him a little too closely, as if assessing how rough the day also had been on his new ridealong.

"You had quite a first day as a police observer."

Blair chuckled nervously. "Guess so. I hope you're gonna tell me this wasn't a routine sort of day."

"Hell no," Jim scoffed. "Some days are really exciting."

Blair grinned briefly, then dropped his eyes to stare at his fingers, which were nervously ruffling the pages of the notebook.

Abruptly, Jim asked, "Are you all right?"

Blair's gaze snapped up. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little jittery. I mean, it's not every day I take on armed terrorists with nothing more than a toilet stall door, a snack machine, and a flare gun."

Jim's look was incredulous. "What?" He'd assumed his new partner had been captured and held hostage along with the rest of the personnel. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"It's a long story," Blair said quietly. The look on Jim's face was priceless, and he started to relax under the easy banter.

"So, how about I buy you some dinner, and you can tell me all about it?"

"Uh, don't we have to write statements and reports and stuff?"

"That can wait until tomorrow. Besides, you probably haven't finished all your paperwork for Vera, right?"

"The paperwork, yeah -- the urine sample, no," Blair admitted self-consciously.

"Well, see? You have to come back tomorrow anyway." Jim suddenly looked faintly anxious. "That is -- I mean -- "

"If I want to come back?" Blair finished for him.

Jim nodded. "I thought maybe you'd figure you'd bitten off more than you were willing to chew."

Blair ticked off the points on his fingers. "Let's see...I was shot at, tied up and kidnapped. I fell down the outside of the building and went for one wild helicopter ride. I think I'm entitled to a few second thoughts, don't you?" Except his voice was calm now, and his fingers no longer trembled.

It felt good to know Jim was genuinely concerned, and even more heartening to realize he sounded worried that the partnership might end even before it had properly begun.

Maybe there was a chance for friendship here after all.

"I don't want Wonder Burger," he added suddenly.

Jim smiled. "After a day like today, you're still worried about cholesterol?"

"More so than ever," Blair retorted. "If I'm going to run around with you, I've gotta stay in shape. You like Chinese?"

"Better than I like Wonder Burger," Jim admitted, pleased to realize Sandburg hadn't been frightened off by the horrific violence of the day. Even for the seasoned detective, all the pointless deaths had shaken him badly. He just knew how to hide his reactions reasonably well.

Then again, he figured Sandburg probably didn't realize how many people had died today. Well, he'd find out tomorrow when he opened the newspaper. Maybe he'd change his mind again about working with Jim.

But that was tomorrow.

Thrusting aside his negative thoughts, he got up and crammed the notebook into the backpack. Zipping it closed, he handed it to its owner. "Let's go, partner."

THE END