Transitions 3(b) - The Killers
-- by Mackie

The expression on Ellison's face was so damned cold, Blair actually imagined he could feel a chill breeze wafting in the detective's wake as he passed. Blair didn't even rate a glance; the observer might as well have been invisible.

His eyes were wide with shocked surprise as he looked at Beverly Sanchez to see how she'd reacted to Ellison's attitude. The actual words had been innocent enough, but the barriers had been firmly in place and Jim's face a mask of brutal indifference.

Only he couldn't see her expression. She had turned away to stare into the ICU room where Tommy Juno lay swathed in bandages, his brain no longer functioning, his life signs hovering dangerously low. The man who had killed Danny Choi was on the brink of death himself.

Blair didn't say anything to Beverly, although he almost felt compelled to apologize for Jim's rudeness. Instead, he turned and followed after his new partner, his own thoughts confused. Well, he'd been confused a lot lately.

Barely twenty-four hours ago, Danny Choi had been murdered, and Jim had pushed Blair aside, sent him away while he took care of cop business. The next day, he'd called up as if nothing had happened and asked Blair to meet him at a stakeout at Tommy Juno's place. The young grad student was starting to feel like the ball at the end of a paddleboard string.

A few hours later, Jim had been suspended for illegally wiretapping Juno's telephone, and Blair's observer credentials had been pulled by Captain Banks. Idly, he wondered if he'd set some sort of record for the shortest length of association with the department; it had been just over a week since he'd become Jim Ellison's official ridealong.

And then earlier this very night, Jim had confronted Juno again. This time, the killer had been after the Assistant DA, Beverly Sanchez. Juno had fallen four stories, where his body had shattered irreparably on the pavement. He should have died; that he hadn't was some sort of perverse joke played on Jim by Fate.

Here at the hospital, Beverly had tried to apologize to Jim for doubting his honesty when he'd originally identified Juno as Danny's murderer, but the man had been like ice, rigid and implacable.

At least the detective's suspension would probably be lifted by morning. Blair wondered if that meant his own observer status would be reinstated.

Leaving the hospital just a few seconds behind Jim, he climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and fussed with the seatbelt as he collected his thoughts.

They didn't exchange a word, but Ellison didn't start the engine either. Instead, he just stared out through the windshield, his arms folded over the top of the steering wheel, his expression as unreadable as ever.

The last thing in the world Sandburg wanted was to have those glacial-blue eyes turned on him, but he was too angry to control his mouth. "You always so ungracious in victory?"

Yeah, those eyes could shoot daggers of ice straight through his heart.

"What?"

"Hell, Ellison, you caught your man. You vindicated yourself. The lady even apologized nicely, right there in front of god and everybody. But you couldn't unbend yourself even to be friendly. You were so damned distant, she would've needed Western Union to reach you."

Just for a second, he thought Ellison was going to hit him, but he didn't flinch under that frigid glare. Damn it, didn't the man have enough strength to forgive? Was his pride so important to him that a single blow to his ego would cause him to hold a grudge and never let it go?

The moment passed, and Jim faced forward again, only the tense line of his jaw betraying any emotion. With studied calm, he turned the key and started the engine. "It's late," he said quietly, his voice as neutral as his expression. "I'll drop you off at your place."

Blair's anger faded abruptly, leaving behind a faint fluttering of nausea and a certainty that his assessment had been dead wrong. "Jim," he said quietly, "wait a minute. Please?"

Without responding, Jim put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. Within seconds, he changed his mind and pulled over almost savagely, turning off the engine with a fierce twist of the key. "What is it?"

Blair sighed. "I'm sorry."

Jim looked at him oddly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard.

"I'm sorry about Danny," Blair continued, rushing ahead as if speed would penetrate the barricade of Jim's reserve. "I know he was more than a friend, and you probably blame yourself for not being able to do more to save him, but you can't hold on to your grief and your guilt. You need to let them go. You need to bury Danny and move on."

Jim eyes slid away quickly, but not before Blair saw a flicker in their stoic coldness.

"You've probably lost a lot of friends," he went on. "Some of them may have depended on you, and maybe you feel responsible for their deaths. Every time it happens, you lose just a little bit more of yourself...because you keep hiding it all away -- all the grief, all the guilt."

"What gives you the right to analyze me?" Jim shot back, his voice strained. "Your observer status doesn't give you the privilege of prying into my private life -- "

"If you pretend you don't care, then it won't hurt as much, right?" Blair interrupted, not willing to be sidetracked. "If you don't allow yourself to care for Beverly, then somehow that will keep her safe, and you won't have to worry about getting hurt again.

"You want me to carry a gun so you don't have to feel responsible for me. Well, man, you're not responsible for me. I made my own decision to ride with you. I won't carry a gun, but that doesn't mean I'm relying on you to cover my butt. I've made a choice, and I understand the risks. You've made a choice, too. You want to protect the innocent and catch the guilty, but you haven't accepted the risk of the emotional pain that goes along with it."

"Sandburg -- "

"You are not responsible for the ills of the world, Jim. You always do the best you can, I know that, but you've got to realize sometimes your best won't be enough, and people may be hurt or killed because of it. You're a sentinel, not a superhero. You have to accept the possibility of failure."

Blair's emotional plea ran down then, and the silence lengthened.

After a minute, Jim started the engine again and pulled out of the parking lot.

In the passenger seat, Blair fidgeted and wondered if he'd been totally off base again. Maybe he was interfering in Jim's personal life. Maybe he had no business offering his opinion to a man he'd known just over a week. Maybe he'd screwed up everything.

Jim didn't say a word all the way to the warehouse Blair currently called home, and the younger man didn't have a clue how to go about bridging the distance that stretched between them. With a sigh, he reached for the door handle.

"Sandburg," Jim said suddenly, his tone tense but not angry, "Danny's funeral is in two days. Were you planning to go?"

It wasn't quite what Blair had been expecting. "Yeah," he admitted cautiously.

Jim nodded. "Good. Should I pick you up? We could go together."

It was a peace offering, and Blair grabbed at it. "Thanks."

"And -- uh -- do you think anyone would mind if I didn't wear the uniform?" Jim went on hesitantly, catching Blair totally off guard. "I mean, I'd like to go as Danny's friend, not as a fellow police officer."

"I'm sure that would be OK," Blair replied, thinking he didn't know a lot about funeral etiquette but suspecting the dress code was fairly flexible.

Again, Jim nodded. "Afterward, I'll buy you a beer," he offered, then hastily added, "Unless you have other plans or something."

"No, a beer would be great. You can help me know Danny the way you knew him." The tension between them dropped away, and Blair suspected a new stage of their relationship had begun. "I've got some leftover pasta in the fridge. You hungry?"

"Can I give it a pass?" Jim replied, and he sounded genuinely regretful. "It's been a long night. I'll just grab some fast food on the way home."

"Sure, no problem," Blair said, opening the door and climbing out. "See you in the morning. Good night, Jim."

"Good night, Blair," Jim answered as the passenger door closed. "And thank you," he added in a whisper as he put the truck in gear and pulled away into the night.

THE END