This is the standard disclaimer. They don’t belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.

Thank you to my betas Spacepixell and Loopy, for all their hard work and marvelous suggestions.

A special thank you to Perky for her input and inspiration to the story line.

The loud, anxious rap of knuckles on the loft door signaled the beginning of a string of simple misunderstandings that by nightfall would leave lives lost and hearts broken.

Across the breakfast table, Jim Ellison raised his eyebrows at his eating companion and nodded his head at the front door. "You expecting someone at this hour of the morning, Chief?"

Blair Sandburg glanced up from behind his glass of orange juice and swallowed down the half-chewed toast in his mouth before shaking his head in a definite no. Gulping down a mouthful of juice to ease the too big bit of food down so he could talk, Blair pushed back from the table and prepared to answer the door.

Jim motioned him back into his chair with a gesturing hand and stood up. "You just eat. I don't want any excuses this morning as to why that plate isn't empty before you leave. You've got a long day scheduled. Just finish up, Junior. I'll get the door."

Blair swallowed hard and looked down at the still crowded plate of eggs and toast. The moment the older man turned his back to walk to the door, Blair rolled his eyes and waggled his head side to side in a mocking gesture of unseen rebellion.

Without turning around, Jim called over his shoulder. "I saw that. Unless you want to be eating that and lunch standing up, I'd eat if I were you."

Blair blushed and dropped his gaze to concentrate on his food. He quickly shoveled in another mouthful and focused on swallowing past the slight swelling in the back of his throat.

Every so often since Marcus Keyes had assaulted him, Blair's vocal cords and surrounding tissues would become enflamed and his voice would turn thin and raspy. The madman had spent hours repeatedly cutting off Blair's air supply by choking him until he nearly passed out and then releasing him. When Blair was stressed or overly tired, his body responded by flaring up the recent injury. Today was one of those days.

Choking down a small bite of soft scrambled eggs, Blair curiously watched to see who their early morning visitor could be. Not many people would brave knocking on Ellison's door at this hour uninvited.

A second rapid series of knocks rattled the door before Jim could get to it. Abruptly opening the door, Jim blocked the entranceway with his impressive 6-foot plus frame and confronted the presumptuous, early morning intruder.

Four foot eleven inches of diminutive Norris Pritchard stared up at Jim from the hallway. The sweet, elderly lady from the next apartment down fairly vibrated in place, her tiny crooked hands clutching nervously at a long leather leash.

"Mrs. Pritchard. Please come in." Jim stepped aside and allowed their feisty little lady friend to scoot into the loft, surprise and curiosity lighting up his handsome face.

"Oh, Detective Ellison. I'm so sorry to come calling at such an early hour, but I wanted to catch you before you boys left for the day. That sex-crazed Nana has run away again. We were out for her morning walk and she caught wind of that big, burly mastiff from two blocks over and wham! She slipped her collar and was off like a shot."

Jim tried to keep the amusement from being reflected on his face, but his dancing eyes gave him away. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do to help find her?"

Blair began to rise from the table to join them at the door. Without looking at Blair, Jim pointed a finger in his direction and growled. "Sit. Eat." Blair dropped heavily back into his chair, a sour, unappreciative expression battling to break free. With a weak but genuine smile and a short wave of hello for Norris, Blair reluctantly shoveled another spoonful of food down.

Norris beamed a smile of greeting at Blair. "Morning, Blair." Glancing at the interrupted meal, she took a deep breath and calmed down a notch. Norris reached out to rest a solicitous hand on Jim's arm. "You go and finish your breakfast before it gets cold. I just wanted you to know in case either of you saw her while you were out today. She's easy to spot in the winter sweater I knitted for Christmas. That bright red stands out in any crowd. I hope that idiot dog knows enough to stay out of traffic."

"Nana is a 110 pound Irish Setter, Mrs. Pritchard. I'm sure she'll be fine." Jim used his best 'public servant soothing a stressed victim' voice that did wonders to calm people as he guided the distraught woman toward the still open door. "I'll spread the word around and keep an eye open for her. You should give the animal warden a call later to make sure they haven't picked her up."

Norris nodded enthusiastically and stepped out into the hall. "Thank you, Detective. I will." She turned to leave then looked back at the handsome man framed in the doorway. "You keep up the good work on that lad in there. He was looking a tad on the peaked side for awhile. Been better the last few weeks I noticed. Not up running all hours of the day and night like he was. Lost some weight again, too, though."

Jim graced her with one of his dazzling, appreciative smiles and nodded. "I'll do that, ma'am. We've had a couple of rough patches over the last few weeks with his health. Blair's getting better, it just takes some time."

Norris nodded and smiled back. "You're a good father. A lot of folks wash their hands of their children before they're ready to face the world alone these days. Maybe some of my chocolate brownies would get the boy's appetite to sit up and take notice."

Jim grinned at the suggestion. Norris Pritchard's brownies were famous in the building. The smell of the rich chocolate filled the air for a city block and teased and tortured Jim's senses every time she baked. Thankfully, the sweet woman always seemed to have extra to share with the busy men in the upstairs apartment. "I think a batch of your fabulous brownies just may make all the difference in the world. Thank you. I know what they do to my appetite."

Norris beamed and hurried to the elevator. "I'll make a double batch just as soon as I find Nana. Have a nice day, Detective. Tell Blair I said goodbye."

"I will. I hope you find Nana soon. Bye." Jim closed the door and shook his head in wonder at the newly adopted grandmother Blair seemed to have picked up. Some people just seemed to know when the young grad student needed looking after. Blair was collecting an eclectic assortment of extended family members ranging from police captain uncles to an elderly neighborhood grandma with a couple of detective cousins thrown in for good measure. Add one overprotective sentinel for a father and Blair was drowning in affection and watchful, caring attention.

Glancing at the young man in question as he picked at the food left on his plate, Jim knew Blair was resenting those watchful, caring eyes at the moment. Battling with Blair's tendency to neglect his health had proven to be a challenge, one Jim met head on. "Okay, Chief. You get a reprieve this morning. We're running late. Let's get this place cleaned up and hit the road. I'll grab you a muffin from the doughnut girl when I get to the station."

"All right. I swear, Jim, I'm full." His voice rasped out, sounding painful and low. He jumped up from the table and scraped his plate's contents into the trash before dropping it into the sink. Both men cleaned the table and hurried to grab phones, backpacks, wallets and keys in preparation to get out the door on time.

Scooting down the stairs and out the door ahead of Jim, Blair froze just outside the snow blown lobby doors. Leaning casually against a parked car two vehicles away from his own classic stood Naomi Sandburg. Dressed in a brilliant red wool coat and emerald green scarf that set off the highlights in her red hair, Naomi presented Blair with a dazzling smile and held out her hands for Blair to take.

Jim hit the pavement a moment after Blair did and bumped into the now immobile form of his son as Blair blocked the pathway. Jim followed the dazed look in Blair's eyes and pinned Naomi with a displeased scowl. Stepping immediately in front of Blair, Jim blocked him from view, every instinct to protect his young raised to a high fighting level. Jim felt himself tense as Blair stepped up to his back and grabbed hold of his jacket, burying his face in the down of the thick parka.

"I don't want to see her, Jim. I don't want to talk to her. Please." The soft muffled words were sentinel light, blown away by the sharp bite of the winter wind that curled around them.

"You don't have to, Chief. Just go get in your car and go. I'll handle things. Be careful and I'll see you at the station when you're done running those errands." Jim reached around and pulled Blair free, turning his body to shield the younger man as they quickly trotted the few steps to Blair's car.

Once in the car, Blair threw Jim a questioning look that dissolved into uneasy acceptance when Jim made an impatient, but reassuring, shooing motion with his arm. Pulling out of his parking spot, Blair glanced in his rearview mirror to see a plainly angry and disappointed Naomi staring after him. An even angrier looking Jim Ellison approached her as Blair turned the corner and lost sight of both of them.

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

One hour later Blair nervously stepped off the elevator and walked though the doors to Major Crime. He had rushed through his one errand to the library in order to get back to the station to meet up with Jim. Worried and upset about the outcome of the confrontation he had left for Jim to handle alone with Naomi, Blair was practically vibrating with anxiety.

Making his way past Rafe and Brown's empty chairs, Blair stopped at Jim's desk long enough to drop his coat off. Anxiously scanning the room as he moved across the room through the maze of desks, chairs and people, Blair spied Simon through his partially open office door. The towering man was deep into what looked like a very serious conversation with Joel Taggart.

Noting that Rhonda, Simon's secretary was absent, Blair dropped his previously forgotten backpack onto her desk and quietly approached the open door as he debated whether or not to interrupt the men to ask where he could find his partner. Standing awkwardly to one side of the doorway Blair suddenly caught mention of his name. Deciding to listen a moment longer to find out what kind of trouble he was in now, Blair moved closer to the wall and pretended to be looking at something on Rhonda's desk.

Simon's deep bass carried clearly out into the half empty bullpen. "Why does it always have to be Sandburg? Hasn't that kid had enough pain over the last few months? What is it with that boy, Joel?"

"I don't know, Simon, I just don't know. They're sure it was Naomi? There's no mistaking the body?" Joel's voice held a weak note of hope in it.

At the mention of a body, Blair's head jerked up and he gave up any pretense of studying the objects on the desk. Blair felt the blood drain from his face and sink into the pit of his stomach.

"One of the officers at the scene recognized her and checked her wallet. I made him describe her to me. He said her face wasn't touched, all chest injuries. Probably died on impact. Those old pickup trucks sit up pretty high. Red hair, blue eyes and an envelope addressed to the kid in her purse. It's Naomi Sandburg all right." Simon's voice sounded old and tired. "The poor kid. Thank God he wasn't there."

"Yeah, thank God. But I don't envy Jim this one. How long before he gets in?"

"About an hour. He said the accident knocked out one of his headlights and he has to drop it off at the garage before coming back in. I haven't talked to him since he called in earlier to tell me about it. This isn't something I want to discuss over the phone. And I don't think we should even mention Jim's truck just yet. The kid doesn't need the added stress of that right now, not until Jim knows what the outcome is going to be."

"You're right. Blair should be here any minute, too. We need to keep an eye out for him and let him know that Jim will be late. I don't know what to say to the poor kid, Simon."

"Nothing, not until Jim has a chance to break it to him in person." Simon ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply in frustration. "Lord, Joel, how do you tell a kid that the woman he thought of as his mother all his life is dead from a traffic accident?"

"I don't know, Simon, but it does make Jim's life a little easier. It may not be nice to say, but this is one less hassle in their lives." Joel sadly shook his head, trying to see the silver lining in the traumatic event.

"I hear what you're saying, Joel. I just don't think either one of them will see it that way for awhile."

Outside the office door, Blair stood rooted to the floor, face pale, chest heaving, as his respirations increased and the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears threatened to deafen him. The rest of Simon and Joel's conversation was blotted out as Blair fought the gray that started to edge his blurring vision. Realizing he was about to break down and sob uncontrollably in the middle of the bullpen, Blair shook free of the paralyzing grip that numbed his limbs and made a mad dash for the safety of the men's room.

Running blindly through the bullpen and the hall, passing friends and strangers alike without recognition, Blair made it to the safety of the restroom. He threw himself into the last stall by the far wall and locked the door. Blair crouched down on the floor and shoved his back against the cold tile wall, his arms wrapped around bent knees hugged tightly to his chest. Wordless sobs worked their way out of his constricted chest and past his swollen vocal cords, the low anguished moans barely audible. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks in a river of sorrow carrying a lifetime of memories, both good and bad, with them.

Blair stayed huddled in the cold corner stall and worked his way through the first shocking, heartbreaking moments alone. He couldn't believe the beautiful, smiling woman he had just seen an hour ago had been struck down by a pickup truck and killed. And he had treated her poorly, never even allowing her to say hello. Never allowing himself to have said goodbye. He thought he had more time to deal with her.

Slowly Blair realized he needed to pull himself together and find Jim. Jim would make it all right. Jim always made it better. Simon had said Jim had been in an accident and needed to get the truck looked at before coming in. He would have to track Jim down himself. The chill off fear raced through him. Was Jim all right? Had he been hurt in the accident? How close had he come to losing both of his parents? Suddenly the men's room door burst open and the familiar voices of Rafe and H rebounded off the bare tile walls.

"I can't believe Ellison's luck. What a rotten way to start the day." Rafe walked up to the urinals while H did the same, never missing a beat in the conversation, blissfully unaware they were being overheard.

"You know it, babe. Simon said Jim would be pulling red wool and red hair out of his grill for days. That must have been bad, knowing the victim you hit. Ellison has got some heavy duty explaining to do to Hairboy."

Rocked by the idea that Jim had been involved with Naomi's death, Blair lost the ability to breathe. His chest seized up and he felt his throat tighten even more than before as a mind-numbing chill gripped his entire body. Releasing his bent knees, Blair pushed himself to a stand, bracing his swaying body against the wall at his back.

Flashes of conversations he had overheard flew through Blair's mind and he drew the only conclusion he could. Jim had killed Naomi in a traffic accident with his old pickup truck, the evidence of the deed still imbedded in the truck's grill along with Naomi's free-wandering, spirit.

Blair's world started to spin out of control. Jim would be arrested. Everyone knew Jim and Naomi didn't get along. Jim was protecting him from Naomi's schemes and emotional torment. Jim's truck would be used as evidence against the detective and Blair would lose the only parent he had. Blair's mind spun and whirled with ways to make this horrible event right.

"It was an accident, H. The kid will understand. He always seems to get the short end of the stick lately. Damn good thing he's spunky."

"He's good, he'll bounce back. Ellison will make sure of that. He's been good for the kid."

"Yeah, but explaining this accident is going to be hard. You know how he felt about Na--. Blair?"

Unable to listen anymore, Blair burst from his hiding place. He tore past the two startled men and out into the hall. Brown hastily tucked himself back into place and poked his head out the door fast enough to see Blair's curls as he flew through the stairway door. "Blair! Hairboy! Wait a minute."

Returning to share a confused shrug of his shoulders with an equally befuddled Rafe, H threw up his hands in clueless wonder. "Man, he looked upset. I guess he really liked Mrs. Pritchard's dog."

Rafe turned a shade paler than usual and balefully looked his partner in the eye. "Yeah, and Ellison can thank both of us for telling Blair about it before he got a chance to."

"Shit." The shroud of impending doom hung thickly in the air.

"Oh, yeah. Face it, H. We're toast."

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

Blair pulled into his usual parking space and turned off the car's engine. Not really remembering the trip out of the station or the drive home, he sat in a daze and stared out of the windshield through bleary, swollen eyes. Dried tracks of old tears were slowly washed away by fresh ones as a new wave of despair crashed over him.

Turning to lean his heavy, pounding head against the cold glass of the door's window Blair suddenly realized he was parked beside Jim's truck. He could see the edges of twisted metal and fragments of broken headlight sticking out from the front of the old pickup and dangling off to the side. A small scrap of red entwined on the sharp edge of the metal caught his eye. Nausea boiled up from the pit of his stomach and spurred him into leaving the car.

Desperate for Jim to explain everything and make the nightmare stop, Blair stumbled his way up the two flights of stairs to their home. As he fumbled for his keys, the front door popped open and the reassuring form of Jim Ellison filled the doorway. Without a moment's hesitation, Blair launched himself at Jim, wrapping his arms around the big man's waist. Exhausted, dry-eyed but still trembling, Blair sniffled and gasped into Jim's shirt.

Startled and uncertain of the cause of Blair's behavior, Jim staggered back a step and then returned the hug forcefully. Rubbing soothing strokes down Blair's back, he gently disentangled Blair to pull him far enough away to look into his pale, tear-stained face. "Jesus, Chief, what's wrong? You're supposed to be at the station. Did something happen?' Jim ran questioning hands over Blair's shivering body. "Where the hell is your coat?"

Blair pulled in a huge breath and tried to calm down enough to talk with Jim about Naomi's death, but each time he opened his mouth nothing but a raw, nearly hysterical, reedy rasp of jumbled words came out at high speed. "I heard about the accident. I can't believe it. She was just here and now she's gone forever. I never thought something like this would happen. I didn't. I saw the truck downstairs…I can't believe you were driving…I can't even imagine how you feel…I don't know what to do…what to think…I-I--."

"Whoa, whoa there. Slow down, Chief. You're losing me here." Jim held Blair at arms length and tightened his grip on the thin shoulders. "Yeah, I was driving, but it was an accident. She ran right out in front of me. I couldn't stop in time. I'm sorry I hit her but--"

Blair's eyes turned wild and desperate at Jim's words, his greatest fears confirmed. "Were there any witnesses?"

"Witnesses? No, there weren't, but I don't think I'm going to need any. What's up with you? Are you--" Jim scanned a critical sentinel eye over Blair and cataloged the racing heart and wheezing lungs caused by air being forced through the congestion caused by prolonged crying and Blair's already swollen throat.

"Yes, you will. They know you don't get along. They'll think you did it on purpose." Distraught and not thinking clearly, Blair's eyes darted back and forth as he frantically searched for a way to save Jim from being charged with a crime. "The truck is the only evidence then. If they can't find the truck, they won't have anything they can use against you."

The ringing of the phone drew Jim's attention away. Giving his plainly overwhelmed and insensate charge a gentle shake, Jim bent down and looked Blair in the eye. "Stay right here. I'm going to answer the phone. I'm waiting on a call from the garage. Don't move a muscle, Junior." His words gentle but firm, Jim held Blair's gaze until he was sure Blair was hearing him. A jerky nod of acknowledgement gave Jim enough confidence to release his hold and walk to the phone.

Eyes never leaving the jittery form of his child, Jim barked a short greeting into the phone. "Ellison….Simon, hi….yeah he's here…what?" Shocked by the revelation that Naomi had been killed, Jim turned his back in an instinctive move to protect Blair from hearing the rest of the conversation. "When? How?…Christ…who told Blair?….Then why is he so upset? It can't be over my accident….Who? ……Christ. The Laurel and Hardy of Major Crimes strike again…Tell those two--never mind I'll tell them myself when I get there…Blair and I will be right down. I'll look into fixing the truck tomorrow."

Phone still pressed to his ear Jim turned around to check on Blair only to find nothing waiting for him but thin air in the spot where he had left his upset ward. The loft door still hung open from when Blair had entered the room and the bowl by the door where they kept their keys lay tilted to one side, disturbingly empty. A quick sentinel scan of the surrounding area revealed a quickly fading familiar heartbeat.

Sighing deeply into the phone Jim broke the bad news to his captain. "I think things just got a little more complicated, Simon. Can you send a squad car for me? Don't ask me why, but I think my truck just got stolen."

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

"Let me get this straight, H. You and Rafe are standing in the men's room, gossiping about how much my day sucks when Blair bursts out of a stall, wild-eyed and running like he was on fire and you two just watch him disappear? Is that about right?"

Brown exchanged a wry expression with his partner as each of them tried not to shrink away from the laser-like glare Ellison had pinned them with. Shuffling his feet nervously, Brown glanced around the room at the condemning looks from Simon and Joel before meeting up with the death glare coming from Jim. "I was kinda busy at the time he flew out of the stall, Jim, if you know what I mean. By the time I could get out in the hall he was down the stairs. Besides, he didn't look like he wanted to talk just then."

Jim pulled in a deep breath and ran a hand over his hair absently wondering if it hadn't felt thicker this morning before this day had gotten started. "Okay. We need to think like Blair for a minute. What does he really know?"

Simon snorted in disbelief and even Joel grinned slightly at the thought of second guessing the brilliant but impulsive young man. Simon leaned back in his chair and gave his best detective a sour look. "Come on, Jim. You really expect any of us to understand what that kid is thinking right now? Get real, no one thinks outside of the box like Sandburg does."

"Ellison." Jim absently stared out the window and tried to visualize what Blair was up to.

"What?" Simon shook his head in confusion.

Turning away from the window to face a room full of expectant faces, Jim blushed with pride and let a smile of pleasure tug at his lips. "Blair's name isn't Sandburg anymore, it's Ellison, Blair Ellison. We filed the adoption papers last week. It's not official yet, but since we're both over twenty-one, it's just a matter of the court approving it. He's legally my son in a few days."

"Well, I'll be damned." Simon stood up from his chair and walked around his desk to shake Jim's hand and slap him on the back. "Congratulations, Jim. It's a boy." Simon's distinctive chuckle filled the room. He was joined by Joel, Brown and Rafe a moment later. Jim grinned, accepting the heartfelt best wishes and teasing warnings from his friends and extended family.

Hearing the laughter coming from Simon's office, Rhonda took advantage of the break in serious conversation to interrupt the men. Stopping just inside of the doorway she held out Blair's backpack. "Excuse me, Jim. Blair must have left this on my desk when he was here earlier. Would you like me to put it at your desk or keep it at mine? Is he coming back here again today?"

The smile fell from Jim's lips as he walked over to take the pack from Rhonda's hand. "Blair was outside of Simon's office this morning? Before the thing in the men's room?"

Rhonda nodded her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a subconscious move to shield herself from the hard, predatory mask Jim's face had suddenly transformed into. "I passed him in the hall. He was running out of the bullpen. He looked a little paler than usual, but since he went into the men's room, I thought he would be okay. I mean, sometimes a person just needs a little time to themselves and the restroom is about the only choice to get any privacy at work." Taking in the worried expressions on the faces around the room Rhonda suddenly felt foolish for interrupting. "I'll put it on your desk for you, Jim." Reaching for the pack, Rhonda was startled when Jim pulled it out of her reach.

"No, thanks anyway, Rhonda. I'll keep it with me."

Rhonda nodded and slipped out of the room content to let the worried group return to their discussion. Years as Simon's secretary had taught her that an important part of her job was knowing when not to ask questions and how to unobtrusively exit a room.

Jim absently rubbed his thumb over the worn leather strap in his hand and looked over at Simon. "So Blair was here, outside your office. Eavesdropping from the sounds of it. What did he overhear Simon? How much does he know or think he knows?"

Simon shared an exasperated look with Joel and sat back down at his desk. "Enough to know you were involved in an accident and so was Naomi. And that Naomi is dead. He knows too much without any explanation to understand it and not enough to realize you didn't have anything to do with Naomi's death."

Jim sighed and threw Brown and Rafe a disgusted look. "And then these two knuckleheads throw fuel on the fire with their 'girl talk' in the john."

Rafe turned remorseful eyes at Jim. "We went right to Simon as soon as we heard about Naomi. Honest Jim. We didn't know about Naomi's accident and we didn't know Blair knew about it either.''

Brown snapped his fingers as he made the connection. "That must be why he was so upset. Rafe's right, Jim, he thought we were talking about Naomi, not the dog. I'll bet he doesn't even know about Nana yet." Brown's voice was full of regret. Both partners shifted restlessly and waited for the next round of interrogation.

Jim rubbed at his furrowed forehead in frustration and sighed. "Okay. What do we know that Blair thinks he knows? He knows Naomi is dead. He knows it was a traffic accident involving a pickup truck and that I had an accident with my pickup truck. He knows there were no witnesses to my accident and he thinks the truck has the only evidence regarding the identity of the victim. He thinks I hit Naomi." Jim thought back over the panicked exchange of jumbled words he and Blair had at the loft and a dim bulb flashed on in his mind. "Christ, no wonder he was nearly hysterical by the time he got home. He thinks I'm responsible for her death. He's trying to protect me."

Joel wrinkled up his face in confusion. "Protect you from what? How?"

"From being charged with her death. He kept going on about how people knew she and I didn't get along and how the truck was the only evidence against me. That little shit stole my truck to hide what he thinks is evidence." Jim shook his head in amazement and beat back the urge to smack his head against a wall in frustration. "When I get my hands on him, he is going to be standing for days."

Simon snorted in disbelief. "Come on, Jim. The kid can't really think you'd be involved in Naomi's death or that if you had been the driver that it could be anything but an accident. He wouldn't think that about you."

"You're right, Simon. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't. But he's not thinking at all right now. As usual, he's just reacting to everything first. Pure adrenaline impulse. He won't calm down and think it through until later. And that's when he's going to need to be home the most. Once the shock of it all wears off and he realizes Naomi is dead and he's just stolen my truck and run away, he's going to be going through some serious guilt and remorse shit. We have to find him."

Simon threw up his hands in frustration and gestured out the window. "I already put an APB out on the truck, so unless you've got some ideas where a confused, shocky, scared kid would try to hide an entire 1969 pickup truck I'm at a loss where to start looking."

Jim rubbed harder at his forehead and ran a hand over his hair in thought. "I know, I know. I just can't come up with any suggestions yet. Sometimes I have no idea how Blair ends up where he does when he's working out a problem. All I know is he better realize that home is the only place to be and that had better be real soon."

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

Blair slowly became aware of his surroundings as trees and telephone poles flashed passed him at an alarming rate. Blinking away the tears obscuring his vision, he realized he was driving down a back road somewhere far outside of the Cascade city limits. He glanced down at the speedometer gauge on the dashboard and immediately lifted his foot off the gas pedal, scared by the numbers the thin red pointer indicated as his current speed of travel.

Coming back to himself from whatever dazed fog he had been lost in, Blair shivered uncontrollably in the chill of the unheated cab. He allowed the truck to slow to a reasonable speed and continued down the deserted highway, hurriedly turning on the heat.

The harsh reality that he was driving Jim's truck, after having taken it without permission, caused him to grip the wheel until his hands hurt from the pressure. Suddenly remembering why he had taken the truck in the first place, his chest tightened and his vision blurred again.

A soft sob worked its way up out of his throat at the thoughts of what and who he had impulsively left behind at home. Blair whimpered at the burning pain that ignited in his raw, dry throat. Crying almost continually for hours had drained his strength and dehydrated his body.

Blair scanned the countryside as it flowed by at a more sedate pace and wondered where he was. A quick glance at his watch told him he had been on the road for several hours. The constant shivering of his body confirmed it. He knew he'd had his coat on this morning, Jim would never have let him leave the loft without it, but he honestly couldn't remember where he had left it.

None of the barren winter scenery looked familiar to Blair. The sparse signposts were merely mile markers and Blair couldn't remember seeing any other motorists on the road. Having neither his coat nor his backpack meant he didn't have his cell phone with him. A wide spot in the road ahead foretold of a parking lot of some sort and Blair slowed to get a look at the unexpected development.

What professed to be a country restaurant, but looked like a run down bar, was tucked in a grove of evergreen trees. The rutted and uneven parking lot tortured the truck's stiff shocks and rocked Blair until his teeth chattered in time with the bouncing cab. Pulling up next to the three other pickups parked there, Blair shut off the engine and checked his pockets for cash. Finding two twenties tucked into his wallet, Blair slipped out of the cab and locked up the truck. A cup of hot coffee, a warm booth to drink it in and directions back to civilization topped his list of things to find. Blair mopped a cold hand over his face to dry it off before approaching the door.

Entering the bar was like opening the door on another world. Blair slipped inside and hurriedly closed the door behind him to cut off the chill wind that had followed him through. A welcome blast of warm air turned his shivers into shudders as the difference in temperature registered on his cold skin. Gooseflesh raced along his spine and left his arms and legs tingling.

Three weathered, old faces turned to look at him briefly from the barstools in front of a long, lacquered bar top before two of them turned back to their drinks. The third face, the bartender, moved down the counter to stop before an open stool and waited for Blair to seat himself.

"You can warm up in here, son, but if you plan on asking for something stronger than coffee, I'll need some ID." The 60-something man gave Blair a critical look. Taking in the red, swollen eyes, streaked face, and persistent sniffles, Blair's distress was clearly evident, putting the old man's entire 'bartender warning alarms' on high alert.

Watching the shivers that racked the small frame, the old man wondered what had prompted the kid to leave home without a coat in 40-degree weather. He couldn't be more than seventeen, tops. If he were a betting man, he'd have to say a family argument had pushed the kid to take a long drive to nowhere.

"Ah, no, man, coffee's fine. I could use the warm up." Blair chuckled self-consciously at the gravelly, strangled voice that answered and darted a guilty look up at the stern expression on the older man's face. "Forgot my coat. Kinda left in a hurry." Blair nervously fumbled to take out his wallet as the man placed a white ceramic mug of steaming coffee in front of him.

Leaving his wallet on the countertop, Blair wrapped both frozen hands around the mug, sighing in pleasure as the heat sunk slowly into his fingers and palms. Closing his eyes to stop the sudden burning sensation behind them, Blair raised one warmed hand to his face and pressed it to his cold cheeks one at a time. When he opened his eyes again he found the old man staring sympathetically at him. The open interest from a total stranger made him blush and squirm in his seat.

"Have a fight with your old man?"

Blair choked back a sob and struggled to make his raw voice less needy. "Not yet," he whispered to himself. He didn't want to think about his crumbling life at the moment. He blinked several times and glanced around the room, characteristically changing the subject. "Can you tell me where I am?" At the look of concern on the man's face Blair hastened to explain. "I've been driving for hours, not paying attention to where I was going. I just suddenly realized I don't know where I am."

"Where do ya live?"

"Ah, Cascade." Blair gulped past the sudden lump of longing in his throat.

"You're in Eagle Harbor, son, 'bout four hours outside of Cascade."

Blair gave the man a weak smile of thanks. "Oh. Any idea how I get back there?"

"Goin' home?"

"I think so. Things will only get worse if I keep running away from my problems. My--my dad is always trying to teach me that. I guess he's right."

"Fathers are like that, son. Older, wiser, more experienced. You shouldn't fight with him. Supposed to respect your parents, boy."

"No, no. He didn't upset me. No way, man, my dad's great. Today--today's fiasco is courtesy of a very cunning, manipulative woman. Man, when I think about it, I should actually be happy she's gone." Blair stared off into space and took his first hard look at the fact that Naomi was gone from his life once again like so many times before. Only this time, her absence would be permanent. "As a matter of fact, I should be celebrating." Blair refocused his attention on the old man and managed a small smile. "How about that beer?"

The old man watched a little color seep back into the pale face and he nodded in sympathy. "Okay then. Show me some legal ID, boy, and we'll get the celebration on the road. You could use a little fire in your belly to warm ya up anyway. And I can't think of a better reason to drink than a woman."

Blair grudgingly gave up another smile to the old man's enthusiasm and flipped open his wallet. The man studied the photograph and birth date on the license, comparing them with the young man sitting in front of him. Finally, after a long moment of silent contemplation, he handed it back and slapped a hand down on the bar. "What are ya drinking, son?"

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

Three hours later, Blair staggered out of the Sunrise Bar and Grille and made his way to Jim's truck. It took him several minutes to fit the key successfully into the door lock. Once he pried the heavy door open, he crawled into the cab and locked himself in the cold, but familiar space. With exaggerated caution, he fastened his seatbelt in place. Methodically going through each key on the unfamiliar key ring, Blair finally hit on one that fit the ignition. With a satisfied grunt of triumph, he turned over the engine with a bit more gas than necessary and backed the truck out of the parking lot.

Fortified with too much tequila in his blood and several beers to wash it down, Blair grinned foolishly and tried to wipe the blurring in his vision away by rubbing his sleeve over the windshield. Unsuccessful, but unconcerned about his distorted sight, Blair hummed to himself and fiddled with the radio dials. Not really considering which way he was heading, he shot down the highway, carefully moderating his speed as he traveled further and further from his intended destination of home.

Two right turns and ten miles later, Blair was still changing radio stations. Balancing the oversized steering wheel with one hand and switching stations with his other, he failed to completely make the next sharp turn on the bend in the road. Realizing his mistake too late to control the momentum of the truck, Blair pumped the brakes and tried to get the tires back on the blacktop. The deep shoulder of the road tugged at the steering and jerked it from his numb hands. Seconds later, Blair struggled frantically with the wheel as a large tree loomed in front of the windshield. He managed to wrench the wheel to the right at the last moment, missing a head on collision by mere inches, but allowed the tree to scrape heavily along the entire driver's side. The truck came to a jarring stop when an outcropping of small boulders became pinned under the front frame.

Blair bounced off the restraining belt and smacked the back of his head on the window behind him. Having enough presence of mind to turn the truck off, Blair released the seatbelt, and fell to one side to rest face down on the bench seat. Taking several deep breaths to calm his sudden nausea, Blair swallowed down the bitter taste of alcohol and bile.

When the interior of the cab stopped spinning, Blair pushed himself back up and tugged at the door handle. Several frustrated minutes later he came to the conclusion that he wasn't going anywhere without help. The crumpled metal of the damaged driver's side had jammed the door in place and a large rock on the other side made it impossible to open the passenger door more than two inches. Both doors bent and warped, neither window would budge.

No phone, no way out of the truck and no hope of being found anytime soon, Blair curled into a ball on the seat and tucked his arms around his body to conserve heat. His alcohol-induced high evaporated into thin air and the shock and despair of the traumatic day settled in. Sobbing brokenheartedly into the fabric of the seat, Blair's mind turned to thoughts of home and safety. With a soft murmur of regret he fell into a restless, drunken stupor. "I'm sorry, dad, so sorry."

Inside the Sunrise Bar and Grille one of the old men wandered over to the front window to check on the youngster that had staggered out of the bar a few moments ago. Expecting to see the old classic pickup parked by the front door, he frowned and called out to the bartender. "Hey, Earl, I thought you took that boy's keys from him."

Earl looked up from his newspaper and nodded, tossing a set of car keys in the air and catching them again. "Got 'em right here, Mike."

"Well, they may be car keys, but they're not to the truck he was drivin'. The boy's gone." Mike turned from the window and shot Earl a frown. "That youngster was pretty drunk, Earl."

"God damn brat." Earl slammed down the keys on the bar and reached for the phone to dial the local sheriff's office. "I hope his old man wallops the tar of out of him when he gets home. Good thing I memorized his name and address." Earl pulled the receiver closer to his ear as the phone on the other end of the line was picked up. "Hey, Dave. Earl, down at the Sunrise. I got a little fish for you to catch….Nah, just catch him before he hurts himself, let his old man do the fryin'."

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

Jim made one more circuit around the living room and ended up next to the phone again. Commanding the phone to ring by sheer force of will, he leveled his best glare at the inanimate object until a surly growl from across the room interrupted his concentration. "You can't intimidate a phone into ringing, Jim."

"How will we ever know? You keep interrupting before it breaks down." Jim ran a hand across his cropped hair, absently noting the thin feel of the soft strands, and turned around to face his friend. "I don't know how much more waiting I can take, Simon. It's almost six o'clock. He's been missing for over seven hours. My truck isn't exactly easy to overlook."

"They'll call as soon as they find something. All we can do is wait, Jim." Simon turned away from the balcony doors and sipped listlessly at his cup of coffee.

"Yeah, I know. I just hate this part. Waiting, wondering where he is, when he's going to come home. I never appreciated the hours my father must have spent doing this."

"It's part of being a parent, Jim. No one likes it, but we all go through it at one time or another. Just think of it as another part of your introduction to parenthood." Simon gave Jim an uncertain glance and decided he had to ask. "What was Naomi doing here, anyway, Jim? I thought after the last warning you gave her she wouldn't have dared show her face anywhere in the state of Washington, let alone Cascade."

Jim sighed and rested both hands on his hips. He stood tall and defiant, his posture slightly defensive and guarded like he was subconsciously warning off possible interlopers to his territory. "She was some piece of work, Simon. You don't know how thankful I am that Blair didn't want to talk to her right then. She was pretty angry that she didn't get a chance to talk to him though. She said she was leaving the country for good, just wanted to say one last final goodbye and that I wouldn't have to worry about her any more." Jim sighed and ran a hand across the back of his neck, rubbing the tension-filled muscles. "I don't know why, but I just didn't trust her. I kept her busy long enough that she wouldn't be able to follow Blair and as soon as she took off, I did the same. I was following Blair to the library to make sure she didn't show up on his tail when the dog ran out in front of me. I was so busy keeping an eye out for her I missed the damn dog."

Simon studied his coffee, sloshing the remainder of the cold liquid around in the bottom of the porcelain cup. Steeling himself for the explosion, Simon took a deep breath and took the plunge into the icy waters of Lake Ellison. "I talked with the guys down at the coroner's office. I wanted to triple check on her identity. They went through her list of belongings for me. As well as a number of traveler's checks and a large sum of cash, she had two tickets to Argentina in her bag."

"Two?" Jim frowned in confusion for all of half a second before the light went on. "She was going to try and take Blair with her. That lying bitch."

"That looks like the plan, Jim. How she thought she was going to convince him to go is beyond me, but the ticket was there."

Jim pounded a fist into the wall beside the phone. He fairly bristled with anger and outrage as memories from the morning flooded back to him. "Christ, Simon. I've been so preoccupied with everything that's happened today, I almost forgot a couple of little things that have been bugging me. There were two guys sitting in a car two spaces down from where she was standing. I remember thinking that those guys were paying to a lot of attention to us. Like they were just waiting for something to happen. I can't believe it. She had muscle with her. She was going to play out this big goodbye scene to make me think she was sincere about leaving and then she was going to grab him and leave the country. The bitch was going to kidnap him again."

"The coroner's office said two men showed up around mid-afternoon and left a number for them to call when her body was going to be released. I had it traced. You won't be surprised to hear it belongs to Michael Rosien."

"Damn it, Simon. How much more is Blair supposed to be able to take from these people? Why can't they just leave him alone?" Frustrated and feeling helpless, Jim rubbed brutally at his bruised hand as he paced the length of the room.

"We may not have to worry about Naomi anymore, but Rosien is a much craftier opponent than Naomi Sandburg ever was. She was in it for the money. Rosien has a legacy at stake. The future isn't clear just because Naomi is dead, Jim. I think we have to be even more on guard than before."

"It would be a lot easier to do it if I knew just where the hell Blair was." The sudden ringing of the phone sounded shrill in the tense atmosphere of the loft. Jim bounded across the room to grab the phone on the second ring.

"Ellison….Yes, Blair lives here, who is this? Where is he?…….. I'm his father, James Ellison….….Is he alright? .……… How drunk was he exactly when he decided to drive off?…….uh huh……terrific…….…Can you give me directions? ………okay….yeah I got it….. I'd appreciate it if you'd hang onto his keys…..…..No, they probably are to his car, he just happens to be driving mine…..Thanks Mr. Watt…..okay, Earl…..I appreciate the call…..I've been worried……We've all been worried…….We had a little misunderstanding here this morning and he's not thinking straight…. …Yes, I'm leaving now. Thanks again, sir….Earl."

Jim hung up the phone and grabbed his coat and Blair's off the hooks by the door. "Come on, Simon. We've got a four-hour drive in front of us. I'll tell you about it on the way. County Sheriffs in the area are on the lookout for him. He's drunk and on the road."

"What? God damn his young ass." Simon's angry concerned scowl was only out scowled by Jim's. "Jim, if you don't tan his hide when we find him, I swear I will."

"I don't think there'll be any problem there, Simon. But we just may have to get in line behind Earl." Jim walked out of the loft and down the stairs, Simon hard on his heels.

"Who the hell is Earl?" The stairway door closed and both men raced down the steps to the front lobby.

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

"Can't you step on it a little, Simon?"

"Relax, if Earl's directions were any good we're almost there. And it's only taken us a little over three hours. I have been stepping on it. I had Rhonda call and give the County Sheriff's department our cell phone numbers and they promised to call the minute they found something. Relax."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I just have a bad feeling about this." Jim shifted restlessly in his seat and rubbed at his forehead in an effort to ease the slight pounding at his temples. As they had neared the area where Blair had last been spotted, Jim had turned his senses up high, scanning the surrounding countryside for sensory input from his young guide. So far, he hadn't been able to detect a heartbeat or a scent that told his hyperactive nerves that Blair was near and safe.

"That's the mile marker Earl said was about three miles outside of his place. We're almost there." Relief batted the worry in Jim's voice down a notch, but Simon still heard the tension in his friend's words. Simon knew how he'd feel if it was Darryl they were tracking down. He had no doubt Jim would be at his side then too if their roles were reversed. A tension-filled but companionable silence settled over them.

One mile outside of Earl's Sunrise Bar and Grille, Simon's cell phone's soft trilling shocked both men from their silent contemplation of the possible unpleasant outcomes that might be awaiting them. Simon wrestled the small device out of his coat pocket and answered.

"Banks…Hello Sgt. Phillpy….yes, we're just outside of a place called the Sunrise Bar and Grille…..Is he alright?" Simon nodded vigorously at Jim's controlled but anxiously expression. Ellison tracked both sides of the conversation until a passing semi-truck drowned out the other end. "Okay…………… yes………..I understand……………………………uh…..…..….His father is with me, yes……………...We'll meet you there……………………...Five miles to the stop sign, turn left, twelve miles straight through town and then follow the hospital signs……………….Thank you, Sgt. Both his father and I appreciate the concern and cooperation."

"The hospital? How bad is he hurt, Simon?" Jim's handsome face took on a pinched look of worry and dread.

Simon flipped the phone closed and dropped it back into his pocket. "He's okay. He's being taken to the emergency room of the local hospital to be checked out. Bump on his head and a little hypothermia is all according to the paramedics at the scene. They found him off the road about ten miles from here." Simon threw Jim a sympathetic glance. "Sorry, Jim, it looks like he missed a curve and sideswiped a tree with your truck. The damage jammed both doors somehow and he couldn't get out. He fell asleep in the cab. Looks like he was there about 3-4 hours before someone drove by and spotted the truck. The deputy said it should only take us about twenty minutes to get there. Hold on."

"Thank god someone came along. This doesn't exactly look like a high traffic area. He could have been there all night. Passed out in the cab, no coat, no heat, drunk, probably hasn't eaten all day either, and still thinking I had something to do with Naomi's accident. Christ what a mess, Simon. What the hell was he thinking? Sometimes I just don't know what to do with him, I really don't. How long before he learns that running away isn't the answer?"

Frustration and anger shoved worry aside for a moment as Jim questioned if his influence and love for Blair would be enough to make a difference in Blair's self-destructive behavior. "Naomi really made her mark on him, Simon."

"He wasn't thinking, Jim, you know that. Not that it excuses what he did, but you know how the kid reacts to emotional pressure. Put him in the middle of a tricky situation that requires quick wits and courage and he shines, but bruise his heart and he shatters into pieces until someone comes along and helps him pick up the pieces." Simon sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck to the ease the tension from hours of driving. "I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Naomi never even noticed when Blair was hurting. She was never there for him the way you are. The kid knows that, he's just fighting a lifetime of conditioning. The deputy said the kid's done nothing but ask for you since he woke up. You make a difference, Jim don't ever think you haven't."

Simon's calm reassuring voice soothed his friend and eased some of the worry lines from around Jim's eyes and mouth. Shaking himself out of his misery, Jim sighed. "You're right. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Worrying about how this is making me feel instead of trying to understand what Blair is going through. God, I wish I'd known what he was thinking at the loft, I'd never have taken my eyes off of him."

"No one knew what the kid was thinking. Be honest and fair with yourself, Jim. Who else but Blair could eavesdrop his way into a misunderstanding as huge as this one has turned out to be? If he'd come to any one of us--me, Joel, Brown Rafe or even you when he started overhearing things and asked us what we were talking about, this never would have happened."

"I can see the list on the refrigerator growing as we speak. I never thought I'd have to add 'not stealing the truck' or 'driving drunk' to it, but the 'eavesdropping' thing is what started it all. Man, Simon, we go one step forward and three steps back with his insecurities."

"It's the same with any kid, Jim. Trust me. Even though life in the 'Sandburg zone' is a lot more volatile and interesting, raising Darryl has had its ups and downs as well. Especially these teenage years. They're the hardest of all and the most rewarding. When this has all been straightened out and you have him under lock and key, I'll come over and tell you about a few of my own adventures. It'll help put it all into perspective for you."

Jim managed a sympathetic smile and patted Simon on the shoulder. "It's a plan. You bring the pizza, I'll supply the beer, Simon. Since Blair will be spending the next ten years in his room, we'll just slide a slice of pizza under his door."

Simon grinned and shoved a cigar into the side of his mouth. "Now that, my man, is a plan."

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

Blair snuggled down further into the mountain of warmed blankets literally covering him from head to toe and glanced guiltily at the police officer standing quietly in the corner of the room. Blair turned his head to be able to see the curtained opening of his cubicle better. He winced as the shift in pressure renewed the dull ache from the small lump on the back of his skull and the sting in the back of his hand from the IV catheter inserted in it.

Having already thrown up once, his stomach was actually feeling fine, even a little hungry if he was honest with himself. The only real pain he was experiencing was a dull, throbbing headache and a heavy, aching heart.

Thoughts of the day's fast-paced and confusing events burst across his still cold-slurred and fuzzy mind. Hot tears burned at the back of his reddened and swollen eyes. Blair quickly closed them before fresh drops could fall and he sucked in a ragged breath to help fight them down. Temporarily successful, he shifted restlessly again and looked up as a nurse pushed aside the curtain.

"How are you feeling, Blair?" The nurse's stern look didn't match the sympathy he heard in her soft voice.

Abashed, but trying to be as cooperative as possible to make up for taking up space in an emergency room because of injuries caused by his own foolishness, Blair dropped his gaze and worked on keeping his raw voice steady. "I'm good, really. Much better than when I got here. I'm ready to go home. Does anyone know where my dad is?"

The nurse busied herself taking his blood pressure and silenced him for a moment by rechecking his temperature. She smiled a little and reassured him as he suffered through the every fifteen-minute routine again. "The Deputy in the room with you told you already. Your father and a Captain Banks are on their way. They were only a few miles from here when the Sheriff's Office contacted them, so I'm expecting them any minute."

Blair searched her face to be sure she wasn't just trying to keep him happy and under control by telling him what he wanted to hear. Deciding to trust her, he nodded and waited until she removed the temperature probe before answering. "Okay, I just thought maybe they were here and filling out forms or something."

The nurse reached out and tucked the warm blankets more tightly around his nervously shifting body. "No, he isn't here yet. And I doubt that the need for paperwork to be completed will stop him from checking on you with his own eyes first. Parents are like that. Your dad is with a 'Captain', is he in the service?"

Blair cast another guilty look at the officer and quietly answered. "Ah, no. Simon is a Captain with the Cascade Police, in charge of Major Crimes. My dad is a Detective in his department." Noticing that the deputy never even blinked, Blair realized that he must already know about Jim and Simon's official status within the ranks of the Police community. Feeling more embarrassed with each passing moment, Blair sunk down under the edge of the covers. The nurse's amused toned pushed him down still further.

"Ahhh. A police officer's son. I see." The nurse gave Blair a concerned questioning look. "Something pretty important must have happened."

Blair slowly nodded and studied the edges of the covers to avoid looking at her. "Ah, yeah, something did. It's kind of personal and complicated. I just don't want to think about it yet. Not until my dad shows up and I can apologize to him for getting upset and acting like an idiot over things."

"You've a lot of things to answer for, young man, but apologizing to me because you got upset over Naomi's death isn't one of them, Chief." The slight catch in Jim's voice softened the stern tone of his words.

The familiar, reassuring voice of his Blessed Protector shook the last of the chill from around Blair's heart and he popped upright on the stretcher, tossing blankets and warmed towels to the floor in his haste.

Framed in the opening to the small cubicle, stood Jim with Simon one step behind him. Their duel expressions of relief and worry mixed with love and concern was Blair's undoing. Trembling from the effort to remain calm and composed for the benefit of his audience, Blair locked pleading eyes on his one source of unshakable strength and comfort. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Instantly enfolded in a massive bear hug, Blair turned his face to one side and buried it the crook of Jim's neck. Wrapping his arms around Jim's waist, Blair began to sob brokenly, all the tension, uncertainty and horror of the day poured out along with his tears.

Jim lifted Blair closer to the edge of the stretcher and pulled him tightly against his chest. One hand held the head of unruly curls in place while the other rubbed comforting, soothing circles down the shuddering back. "Ssh, Chief. I'm here. It's going to be okay. We're just glad you weren't badly hurt. Just relax and let it go. You're safe. Simon and I are going to take you home. Ssh." Jim reflexively held on a little tighter then slowly relaxed his grip until he was gently cradling Blair. Jim smiled over at Simon as the big man walked to the other side of the stretcher and silently lay a huge, warm hand on Blair's thin shoulder.

Sensing the presence of the other man Blair mumbled an unintelligible greeting in between sobs. Simon answered with a squeeze and a pat to the chilled flesh under his hand.

Simon happily watched the reunited father and son for a moment before removing his hand from Blair's shoulder and replacing it with several of the discarded blankets lying on the cart. Nodding briefly to Jim, Simon turned to the deputy in the room and tilted his head to indicate the hallway. Both men quietly exited the room.

Once outside of normal hearing distance of the cubicle, Simon stopped and turned to face the other man. "Sargent Phillpy? I'm Captain Simon Banks, Cascade PD. Jim and I want to thank you for everything you've done for the kid. I know he's probably in a bit of trouble here, but I hope you'll take into consideration the circumstances. The woman who raised Blair was killed in a traffic accident this morning. He overheard a few conversations and misunderstood a lot of the details about her death. He thought his father had been accidentally involved and the whole ugly mess just snowballed before we knew what had happened. He was grieving, confused and just plain scared. The poor kid thought he was going to lose both of his parents and he panicked. I know that doesn't excuse his behavior, but I'd like you to understand where he was coming from."

Sgt. Phillpy nodded his understanding and handed Simon a copy of the accident report. "Sounds like he's had a rough enough day as it is. We had an alcohol level drawn on him when he first got here. Luckily for him, he was asleep long enough for it to register below legal limits. Either the kid is a cheap drunk or the cold made his body metabolize it faster. Basically, it looks like he lost control of the truck. We know he was drunk when he left Earl's place, but without an elevated ETOH level we can't prove impairment. Since there weren't any witnesses and there isn't any physical evidence that he was traveling over the speed limit at the time of the accident, I think I can see to it that there won't be a problem from our department." Phillpy shook hands with a grateful Simon and gave the towering man a grim look. "Just make sure someone impresses on him how lucky he was here today. If he'd hit that tree head on, he'd be in a whole heap of hurt right now. Probably dead."

Simon steadied himself with a deep breath and nodded. "Don't worry, he'll be 'impressed' as hell as soon as Ellison gets him home. This won't be ignored or brushed under the carpet, I assure you, Sgt."

"I'm glad to hear it. He seems like a nice kid." The deputy tucked away his binder and glanced back at the reunion scene in Blair's room. "It would be a shame to lose him."

Simon nodded solemnly and let a little pride seep into this voice. "He's a good kid and smart, too. He's actually a grad student at the local University, getting his doctorate in anthropology, no less. Losing him for any reason would be a blow I'm not sure any of us that care about him could get over. He's like a second son to me. But Jim's got his hands full with him, that's for sure. Naomi raised him like a wild child, no roots, no chains, no commitments, no emotional attachments. It's hard to hold him still when things affect his heart."

Phillpy watched as Jim lifted Blair closer and Blair burrowed down deeper into the tight embrace. "I don't know, Captain, it looks like your friend knows just how tight to hold on to the boy. That's the quietest I've seen him all evening."

"Jim's his rock. I can't imagine how Blair would deal with Naomi's death if he didn't have Jim. I don't even want to think about it." Simon cast a fond glance at the duo and then turned to shake the Deputy's hand in farewell. "Thanks, again. I'm sure you'll be hearing from Jim after we get back. Again I appreciate the consideration and the help."

Phillpy shook hands and smiled. "I'll let Earl know we found him if it's alright with you. He was worried about the boy."

"Please. And let him know we'll be stopping by tomorrow. Jim wants to thank him for being so conscientious and caring enough to put a call out to you himself."

"Will do. Goodnight, Captain. Tell Detective Ellison the same. Have a safe trip back to Cascade." Phillpy turned and walked out of the ED, leaving Simon standing in the hallway.

"We need to find a decent hotel for the night and some food. The kid is too beat to make the drive home tonight." The big man muttered under his breath, mainly to himself, but was startled to see Jim give him a thumbs up and a nod in response. Remembering his best friend was a Sentinel as well as his best detective occasionally slipped Simon's mind until some mundane event rudely reminded him. Snorting in mild disgust, Simon trudged off to find a phone book.

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

The dreary winter sunshine filtered through the hotel window and softly illuminated the three men in the room. Morning brought with it the harsh reality that the last twenty-four hours hadn't been a surreal nightmare for Blair.

He woke with a dull headache and several small aches and pains in his shoulders and neck from the impact of the accident. He had swallowed down the Motrin his Blessed Protector had silently handed him and quietly worked his way through the fast food breakfast Simon had thoughtfully provided while he had been in the shower.

Moving stiffly through the morning routine, Blair had traded uncertain glances with Jim's stern ones. Occasional quick looks at Simon had done nothing to ease his trepidation, every glance confirming the knowledge that there were consequences to his recent behavior looming in his near future. Finally, Blair knew the nerve-wrecking wait was over when Simon finished his own breakfast and stood to pull on his coat, obviously intending to leave the two of them alone.

"I think I'll take a walk around. See it I can get directions back to the Sunrise Bar to pick up Blair's keys. Maybe I can find out where they towed your truck to and what it'll take to get it back to Cascade. I should be about an hour." Simon gave Jim a meaningful look that Jim accepted with a sharp nod of approval.

"That sounds about right. Thanks, Simon I appreciate it. An hour should be fine." Jim watched Blair squirm in his chair from the corner of his eye. Blair was quietly accepting what he knew was coming. Maybe Jim was beginning to make a difference in Blair's coping abilities. "The sooner we can get back on familiar territory the better for all of us, I think."

Simon casted a speculative glance at Blair's wide-eyed, pale face and sighed. Shadows bruised the skin under the kid's eyes and accentuated his too-thin features. Home was definitely the place they needed to be to sort all this out. With a grunt of goodbye, Simon shoved an unlit cigar in his mouth and left the room, solidly closing the door behind him.

Blair jumped as the sudden thud of the closing door jarred him from his wandering thoughts. Finding himself alone in the room with Jim, he darted an apprehensive look at the older man.

Seeing the scared, but accepting look in Blair's expression, Jim sat down at the foot of one of the double beds and gestured for Blair to join him by patting the mattress. "Come here, Chief. We've got some things to discuss and deal with before we hit the road home."

Blair swallowed hard and sighed a ragged, resigned breath of part relief, part anxiety over the coming 'discussion'. Part of him was thrilled, but still surprised, that Jim had come after him, still cared enough to look for him, still wanted him, still loved him. And part of him was reluctant to accept a caring commitment. He was sure deep in his heart that letting a family grow into something he actually needed and wanted would be the biggest hurt of all.

The sudden truth about his birthmother and the subsequent departure of Naomi from his life months before had been very hard for Blair. Her unexpected death had rocked his perspective on life and the devastatingly incorrect assumption that Jim would be taken from him as well had been impossible for him to deal with. Jim had explained everything to Blair last night. Jim's accident with the dog, Naomi's accident, and Blair's misunderstanding of the facts.

They had also discussed Blair's tendency to run from difficult emotional situations in some detail with Jim reassuring his young charge over and over again that he no longer needed to escape personal crisis or deal with them on his own. He was loved and cherished and belonged to a family now. He wasn't alone and he needed to stop reacting like he was. Blair needed to realize that his impulsive acts hurt not only himself, but his family as well.

Having discussed two out of three of the new problems they had encountered, Jim felt it was time to take care of the biggest and most dangerous of them all before they moved on. While the eavesdropping and running frustrated Jim, the drinking and driving incident, no matter what the circumstances, had frightened him. He would not lose Blair to such a senseless act. And Blair was about to find out just how serious Jim was about it.

Blair settled onto the bedspread beside Jim and nervously rubbed his sweaty palms over the knees of his jeans. Knowing what was coming next and willingly walking into the fire were two different things as far as he was concerned.

Even though Blair accepted and even agreed with the coming punishment, he wasn't ready for its delivery. He knew he had hurt both Jim and Simon with his actions and the heaviness in his heart weighed down his ability to cope normally with the situation.

One look at the familiar hairbrush lying beside Jim's thigh made his throat tighten and he choked back a sob of dread. Jim had only used the hairbrush once before and Blair still remembered how the burning sting had lasted for days. Realizing the magnitude of this offense, Blair accepted that he deserved it for frightening the people who loved him.

"Okay, Jim. I'm--I'm ready." Blair glanced up to meet Jim's eyes and choked a little when a sob of regret broke free.

Jim reached out and drew Blair's head to him with one hand on the back of Blair's neck. He planted a quick, reassuring kiss to Blair's temple. "It'll be over in a few minutes, Chief. Just remember I love you. I won't lose you to something as stupid as drunk driving. I have to know you'll remember that." Jim rubbed a warm hand down the slender back beside him.

Tears trickled silently down Blair's face as he gave a jerky nod of understanding. Blair stood up and unfastened his jeans, slowly lowering them to puddle at his knees. He let Jim take over and guide his body down across Jim's lap, mentally trying to disconnect from thoughts of the coming punishment and pain. He barely noticed when his shorts were pulled down, but the first heavy slap of the flat of the thick brush on his exposed backside jarred his mind back to the business at hand.

Blair gasped and grabbed for a more secure hold on the bedspread. Upper body resting on the mattress, waist pinned tightly to Jim's chest and legs free to kick ineffectively within the confines of his twisted jeans, Blair struggled to keep his cries and yelps of pain from alerting the entire hotel to his predicament. Quickly reduced to ravaged sobbing by the methodical pattern of heavy swats, Blair didn't even try to plead his way out of the much-deserved spanking.

Not receiving the usual verbal clues from Blair about his tolerance for the spanking, Jim used the boy's weakening physical squirms to help decide when to bring the punishment to an end. Tossing the brush onto the bed beside them, Jim eased Blair's shorts back into place and forced Blair to stand while Jim pulled his jeans up over Blair's hips. If Simon returned early, Jim wanted Blair to have as much personal dignity in place as possible. "Just hang on, Chief. It's all over."

Ignoring the whimpers and grunts of pain and distress from Blair, Jim scooped the slender form into his arms and settled back against the head of the bed. He positioned Blair along his side and tucked Blair's head under his chin. Running soothing hands up and down Blair's shuddering side and back, Jim whispered soft, comforting words meant to reassure and console.

"Ssh, it's all over for now, the worst is over. You're all right, everything's going to be alright. Ssh, ssh, kiddo. You did good, it's over. Don't ever scare me again like that, Junior, or this will look like a cake walk in comparison to the spanking you'll get then. Just catch your breath and calm down. That's it. Calm down." Jim patted the curls under his chin and pushed them out of Blair's tear-stained face. "Once Simon gets back, we'll hit the road for home. I'll bet home sounds like a great idea right about now, huh?"

A jerky nod and an unintelligible mumble Jim took as agreement was murmured into his neck. Jim combed his fingers through the tear-dampened curls and basked in the feel of his guide's regular, healthy heartbeat thumping against his rib cage. Despite the less than pleasant circumstances, Jim took strength from the knowledge that his child and guide was safely back within the protective circle of his care. Realizing today was just the start of many days of stress and emotional upheaval, Jim took advantage of the peaceful moment and snuggled Blair closer to him, waiting for the return of a fellow protector and nurturer in the complex battle to raise his guide.

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

Jim pushed open the door to the Sunrise Bar and Grille and waited for Blair to slip past him into the room. Following a few steps behind, he let Blair pick his way through the scattered tables and chairs on his way to the bar. Looking over the three old timers sitting at one end of the counter, Jim decided they weren't a threat to his charge and stopped just short of the two men on the outside of the bar. The third man stood behind the counter top and eyed the newcomers with a hard look.

Blair flushed with embarrassment, the cheeks of his pale face burning with small spots of bright red. Moving gingerly so as not to irritate his still blazing backside, Blair tried to compose his voice into something resembling normal. "Ah, hi, Mr. Watt. I think you might remember me from yesterday when I was in here. I left you my car keys. I--we're on our way home and I needed to stop and apologize for deceiving you and ask for my keys back, sir."

Earl remained silent and stared Blair down until the young man began to fidget in place. Earl transferred his appraising glare to Jim and then onto Simon, who was waiting by the door. Switching his glare back to Jim, Earl studied the broad shoulders and stern, handsome face searching for signs of a connection between the big man and the boy. Seeing blues eyes and an attitude of protective possessiveness he recognized as a parent's natural instinct, Earl lightened his unhappy expression a tad and nodded a stubble-covered chin in Blair's direction. "This conniving pup belong to you?"

Blair's cheeks burned brighter and he dropped his gaze to the floor as Jim stepped protectively closer to his back. A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder and Blair recovered his nerve enough to throw a grateful look up at Jim.

"Yes, he's mine. My name's Jim Ellison. I want to thank you for calling the Sheriff's department and alerting them to be on the lookout for him. I'm grateful."

Earl liked the straightforward tone and the no nonsense attitude the man radiated. He also liked the protective streak the man showed toward his son. "You're welcome. My kids are long gone and grown, but I still remember their teenage years. Worse god damn time of my life." Transfering his attention back to Blair, Earl hardened his tone again. "Ain't you got anything to say to me, boy?"

Blair darted a startled look up at the gruff man and stuttered out another apology. "Yes, sir. Ah, I'm sorry I let you think you had the keys to the car I was driving. I didn't mean to trick you. You asked for my keys and I gave them to you. I was drunk. I automatically handed my keys over. I'm sorry I let you think otherwise. It was wrong."

"It sure as hell was, you little brat. I have a business to run. If I let young fools like you get drunk and drive out of here, how long do you think I'd have a license? You tryin' to ruin my livelihood? Huh? Did you think about how your reckless behavior affected anyone but yourself? Did ya', boy?"

Blair swallowed hard to get passed the lump of guilt lodged in his throat and looked up to lock tearful wide blue eyes with Earl's hard stare. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about anything but my mom dying and my dad--I just--I--I'm sorry." The last of the sentence tapered off into a hoarse whisper and Blair had to choke back a sob of distress. Two strong hands gripped his shoulders this time and he was gently drawn backward to rest against Jim's chest in a protective, supportive embrace.

Earl's unyielding stare melted away to shock at the revelation of the true cause of Blair's 'woman problems' from yesterday. "Your mother died yesterday, son?"

"The one who raised me until I was thirteen. But she wasn't really my mom, I just thought she was until recently. It's all kind of…complicated." Blair steadied himself and stood a little taller, but never made a move to leave Jim's personal space.

No wonder the boy was confused, Earl was confused just listening to it. Earl glanced at his two local companions then looked up to throw his voice to the front of the room where Simon was standing. "In that case, why don't you gentlemen pull up a couple of stools. The boy can bend my ear for a bit and talk me into giving his keys back and I can buy you two gentlemen a couple of beers. I'll even spring for a coke for the brat. Take a seat boy."

Blair glanced at Jim and moved slowly towards the bar at the accepting nod from his father. He watched as Simon joined them and the two Cascade police detectives traded introductions with the locals.

Earl stepped around to the front of the bar and pulled out a stool. He patted the seat, indicating Blair should join them at the bar. Shifting restlessly to try and ease the burning of his sore butt, Blair shook his head and grimaced. "Ah, no thanks, man. I think I'll just stand."

Earl gave him a surprised look and then a sly, knowing grin slowly spread across his worn face. "I think I like your old man already, boy."

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

"Chief, I think it's time we took a look at your list. I'm thinking it needs an update after this past week, don't you?" Jim set down the evening paper and watched his young charge open the refrigerator to grab a bottle of juice.

Blair had been wandering aimlessly around the loft for the last fifteen minutes, backside too sore to sit, but too restless to lie down for long. Being grounded for the next month was already starting to wear on his nerves and it had only been two days since they had returned home from his little side trip to Eagle Harbor.

Blair was actually too tired and worn out to really do anything more than rest, read, nap and eat, but his thoughts were still in rapid-paced turmoil over Naomi's death. Feelings of guilt over not having talked to her were impossible for him to shrug off. Naomi had raised him, no matter how haphazardly or for whatever reason, and she had provided an interesting and at times fun, if very lonely, childhood for him. Even if she had been using him for a paycheck, she had been the only mother he had known. Good or bad, Naomi had been it. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the feeling of loss since her death.

Once Jim had quietly discussed what Naomi had said, the presence of the two men in the car and the tickets that had been found on her body, Blair had even more conflicted feelings to sort out. He had spent hours trying to figure out what kind of person looked at kidnapping as a way to get what they wanted from another human being.

Naomi had made a career out of deceit and running away. Thinking back on his childhood, Blair couldn't remember a single surname of anyone Naomi had left him with. He couldn't remember staying anywhere that was a permanent address or Naomi actually even owning a car or a house or an apartment. They always used a friend for transportation and stayed with other people. His dorm room at college had been the first permanent address in his life. And the loft with Jim had been his first stable home.

Pulled back from his distracting, fragmented thoughts by the sound of Jim's voice, Blair realized he had been asked a question that he hadn't even heard. "What, Jim? Sorry, I was just…thinking." Blair grabbed a bottle of juice and closed the refrigerator.

As Blair made to head into the living room, Jim repeated himself. "I said bring the list, Chief." Blair hesitated half a second before sighing and turning around to retrieve the dreaded list from the side of the old icebox. List in one hand, juice in the other, he trudged reluctantly over to the couch and handed the list to Jim.

"Looks like we need to add a few things to this. Got a pencil, John Hancock?" Jim looked up at Blair's exasperated expression and smiled.

The younger man trudged off to grab a pen off the phone stand then returned to take a seat next to Jim. As reluctant as he was to add new rules to 'the list', his guilt over his reckless, unthinking actions two days ago prevented him from compounding the offenses with surly, defiant behavior. After how much he had upset everyone, Blair knew he deserved whatever punishments Jim chose to give him. But that didn't make it any easier to walk into the lion's, or should he say, panther's den.

"I don't think we even need to discuss the reason for adding this first one, Junior. Just put it on the paper. Number ten. I think you know what I'm talking about."

Blair bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling and wrote "no drinking and driving" in bold print on the list. Brushing hastily at a stray tear that rebelliously escaped, Blair swallowed hard and wiped his hand off on his jeans. The memory of the sound spanking he had received with Jim's hairbrush was still ablaze in both his mind and his sore backside.

"Okay. I think there's room for a few more here. What was the cause of all this to begin with, Chief? What did you do with more than one conversation you weren't supposed to be involved in?" Jim waited expectantly as Blair tried hard not to roll his eyes at the leading question.

"Eavesdropping. I was eavesdropping on all your conversations and misunderstood most of what I heard because I didn't hear all of what was being said. I jumped to conclusions. I'm guessing you want to add "no eavesdropping" to the list."

"Make that number eleven." Nodding, Jim's expression turned from amused to caring and thoughtful.

Blair sighed and took a deep breath. "I was really upset and you barely noticed." His hurt expression tugged at the small sore spot of guilt Jim's heart harbored over that fact.

Reaching out, Jim gently ran a hand down Blair's arm. "You suffered a lot of unnecessary stress and pain over that little problem, Chief. I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it earlier. If something you hear upsets you, come to me. We'll talk it out, get the facts and I'll try to be more aware of what you're feeling. You can come to me with anything, I hope you know that by now."

Blair lifted his gaze from the paper to meet Jim's eyes. Reading the sincerity and love in them made his own eyes grow bright with unshed tears that he blinked back with a mighty effort. "I know. I just couldn't think straight."

"I know." Jim smiled reassuringly and gestured silently towards the list.

Resting the worn paper on his thigh, Blair carefully added number eleven to the list. Darting a resigned look at his patiently watching father, Blair wrote the number twelve and silently added "no running away". Handing over the slightly crumpled and creased paper, Blair shifted restlessly on the sofa cushion.

Two spankings in three days, one with the energetic use of a hairbrush, had taken a toll on his tender backside and his dignity. Reduced to uncontrolled bouts of heartbreaking sobs both days had left him feeling exhausted and drained, too tired to even think past the mundane chores of their day to day lives. Blair had a sneaking suspicion that was part of his Blessed Protector's plan to keep his mind from delving too deeply into recent events. And he had one more spanking to go.

Jim accepted the list and ran a critical eye over it. "I think that wraps things up pretty well. A nice even number." Jim stood up and walked it back to its place of infamy on the fridge. "I don't really think we need to put 'no stealing cars' there. I doubt it’s a trend you intend to keep up, Chief."

Blair blushed and ducked his head in embarrassment. "No. A life of crime isn't in my future Jim, even if it's in my genes." Stealing and damaging Jim's truck had earned him a month's grounding and an obligation to meet the deducible on the truck's insurance. Blair took some relief in the knowledge that the month's grounding would allow him the time he needed to finish up several articles for publication. The fees from their publishing would more than cover the cost of the insurance.

Jim picked up the trace of disgust in Blair's voice when he mentioned his genetic legacy. He knew the young man was thinking of his crime mogul grandfather. "There's nothing wrong with your genes, Chief. If anything, their to be applauded. With all the disadvantages you had thrown your way growing up you still turned into a great person. Don't knock yourself."

With a shy, pleased smile Blair accepted the compliment. "Thanks, Jim."

"You're welcome." Jim tousled Blair's curls affectionately before reclaiming his seat on the couch and turning the conversation to serious matters again. "By the way, Simon called me last night to tell us that Rosien claimed Naomi's body yesterday. He's having it shipped back to France for burial."

"Why to France?"

"Does it matter?" Jim was relieved to see that Blair's expression was only one of confusion. No trace of longing or anger could be detected in his innocent face and a quick scan of his vitals signs let Jim know that Blair was calm about the matter.

"No, not really. Just curious, I guess. Seems like a lot of trouble to go to for an employee."

"Not if you consider that she was an employee who raised his only grandson. Maybe Rosien thought of her as someone hired as a lifetime retainer, like some butlers and nannies are. Maybe, he thought he owed it to her, Chief." Jim voice was surprisingly gentle and calm about the subject. As much as he wanted Rosien to stay as far from their lives as possible, he wouldn't foster the idea that Blair had come from a line of heartless, low-class criminals, either.

Blair pushed back some of his darker thoughts about his dubious lineage and managed a smile for Jim. "Yeah, maybe he did. Thanks, Jim."

Jim pulled the sleeves of his knit sweater up until they rested at his elbows and shifted his position on the sofa into a more comfortable stance. He turned a stern, measured gaze on his wayward son and patted his thigh. Watching the wide, Bambi eyes stare balefully back at him made his heart skip a beat, but he strengthened his resolve by reminding himself what life without this bundle of trouble would be like. The truck was unimportant, but the young man could have died as a result of that accident. All the reasons Blair had to learn some discipline suddenly became crystal clear again. "Come on, Chief. Let's get this last one over. That'll wipe the slate clean and all that's left is your grounding for stealing the truck. Let's go, kiddo."

Blair's squirmed in place and shot Jim an involuntary grimace, his youthful face showing all the reluctance and frustration his mind and body had been silently nurturing these last few days. He didn’t really think he deserved three spankings. After all, Naomi had just died, he had been upset and confused. Running away was wrong, but couldn't Jim let it slide for once? Losing Naomi had hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did. Couldn't Jim understand that?

Nervously jumping up, Blair stepped a pace out of what he calculated from previous experience as Jim's arm reach and began to do a little jittery dance of anxiety and rebellion. "Why?"

Jim looked up with an incredulous expression on his face. "Why?" The hallmarks of defiant behavior Jim hadn't seen since Naomi had fought with him over Blair's immunization and Blair had suddenly realized the woman didn't actually care much about him was radiating from every fiber of Blair's being. The young man had a bad habit of masking his fear of rejection and abandonment with rebellious, unthinking responses. Jim could only guess that this was where Blair's current attitude stemmed from-insecurity and fear.

Face flushed, words unsteady and overly loud, Blair met Jim's outraged tone head on with one of his own. "Yes, 'why'. I don't think I deserve another one."

"You don't?" Jim's expression told Blair exactly what he thought of that opinion.

"I was upset. I'd just found out Naomi was gone. I thought you were in trouble. I was trying to help. I don't think I deserve to be punished for trying to help." With each new sentence Blair's volume increased, as did the nervous fidgeting of his arms and legs.

Jim's eyebrows shot up his forehead and he tilted his head to one side as if seriously contemplating Blair's statements. "Let me see if I'm understanding you. You thought running away to conceal what you believed to be evidence in a case that involved the death of another human being was helpful? If I had been the one to hit Naomi, did you expect me to lie about it? Is that about right, Chief?"

Blair slowed his frantic dance of defiance and swallowed hard. "No! No, no." Blinking back a sudden assault of blinding tears, he stammered passed the nearly suffocating tightness in his throat. "That sounds--I didn't think about it that way! God, no, Jim. I wouldn't--I didn't--I know you wouldn't--God, I don't know what I'm thinking anymore!" Blair covered his face with his hands and rubbed their chilled palms over his heated skin in the effort to try and clear away the confusion.

Jim clamped down on his overwhelming instinct to grab the confused boy and hold him until he could make all his troubles vanish. But that wouldn't teach Blair how to cope with those troubles. It wouldn't teach him there were consequences to mindless behavior. It wouldn't reassure his son that the rules and Jim were rock solid and dependable, always there, just like night and day. Even when being reminded of that fact hurt.

"You're being confused makes everything you did excusable?"

Blair pulled his hands off his face and looked Jim in the eye. "No, sir." The hoarse whisper was barely audible. Fighting with Jim felt even more wrong than feeling guilty over Naomi. Bright, blue eyes pleaded silently with Jim to make things right, to stop the out of control merry-go-round of guilt, relief, pain and fear Blair had been riding since Naomi's death.

The only way Jim could think of to reassure his son that everything was going to be all right was by keeping things normal and sticking to their family's way of doing things. "Then come over here, son."

Blair took a few hesitant steps towards the couch. Tears streamed down his face as he gave a muffled whimper of surrender and began to dutifully unbutton his jeans. Fingers numb with apprehension, he fumbled over each button.

Jim patiently watched and swallowed down his own small lump of guilt over adding to the boy distress, fiercely reminding himself that his role as a parent didn't allow him the luxury of brushing aside mistakes as large as these were in an effort to be a 'friend'. He was a father now, and the weight of that responsibility never rested more heavily than when he was handing out much-deserved discipline to his wayward child.

Jim reached out and helped Blair lower his too-loose jeans, mentally noting that Blair still needed to gain more than a few pounds. Taking him by the upper arms, Jim eased the boy down over his lap and quickly pulled Blair's shorts down. He wrapped a thick arm securely around Blair's waist, but hesitated long enough to rub a soothing hand several times over the shivering back under his grip.

Noting the blush of the two previous spankings still covered most of Blair's cheeks and upper thighs, Jim decided to make this one hard, but fast. Blair had to learn that running away was never an answer to his problems. Jim was going to see to it that Naomi's legacy of avoidance and running was going to cease to exist right along with her.

Jim felt Blair clutch blindly at his shirt with one hand and shifted a little to make the contact easier to reassure his trembling son. Little, raw gasps filled the air and Jim sensed Blair tense in preparation for the first swat. Not wanting to prolong the agony, Jim began to rain a series of rapid, heavy blows down on the tender flesh of Blair's backside. Concentrating the full force of his swing on the curve under the small, round bottom, Jim paddled each check in turn using an impressive amount of power behind every swat, placing one in between each of his cautioning words.

"You…will…stop…running…away…from…your…problems…and…your….family."

Losing count of the number of swats he landed, Jim focused on reading Blair's vital signs with his senses. When the yelps of distress turned into nearly soundless shrieks forced through congested, swollen airways, Jim planted one last spank before gently slipping off Blair's sneakers, socks and jeans. Gingerly pulling up the disarrayed shorts, he gathered up the sobbing bundle of confusion and rocked it in his laps, arms tightly embracing Blair's entire body.

When Jim was sure Blair was on his way to calming down, he shifted forward in his seat and rose from the couch. Carrying Blair into his bedroom, Jim tried to tuck him under the blankets, but Blair silently refused to release his death grip on Jim's shirt. Taking the not so subtle hint, Jim lay down on the bed and tucked his son under his arm, pressing a still sobbing face gently to his chest with one hand as the other hand fumbled to pull the comforter over them.

Jim silently petted at the wild curls tucked under his chin until they were smoothed down to a less chaotic tumble. The shudders running through Blair's body slowed to occasional shivers as Jim ran his hand and arm over the slender back and shoulders. Turning his face to get a quick glance at Blair's, he brushed a tender kiss over the patch of forehead he had uncovered. "Ssh, honey. It's all right. It's all right. I'm here. I'm right here, Chief."

Blair sniffled and gasped, swallowing hard to choke out the few words that had been burning in his throat for days. "I'll never--never see her a-again and-and-and I never said…goodbye. I wouldn't ev-even let h-her talk to m-me." A new flood of tears followed the strangled confession. "I know-know it shouldn't, but-but her being gone h-hurts. Dad, it hurts!" Blair's last sentence was a plea for Jim to help ease the unbearable pain of loss he was being slowly consumed by.

Jim frantically wrapped his arms tighter around Blair, hugging the sobbing boy even closer, weaving the fingers of one hand through the strands of riotous curls on Blair's head to rub lovingly at the fevered scalp beneath. Pressing the smaller form to his chest as if he could actually absorb the pain and agony from Blair's heart and soul into his own, Jim closed his eyes against the sudden burn of tears and silently rocked his son in time to a rhythm only they could hear. Time passed unnoticed as father and son wept and comforted each other, both strengthened and reassured by their tightening bond of love and devotion for each other.

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

Jim stiffened slightly as he detected the soft sound of careful steps in the hallway. By the time the lingering scent of cigars triggered his sensory memories, Jim already had the door open for Simon.

"I hate it when you do that, Ellison."

"I know, Simon. That's what makes it so much fun. Come on in." Jim took Simon's long overcoat from him and hung it on the row of hooks by the door. "What brings you out?"

"Hey, how are you, Blair?" Simon acknowledged the younger man perched gingerly on the couch as he walked into the living room and settled down on to the sofa. "I had a visitor down at the station and I thought it best if I did this in person, Jim."

Blair mouthed a silent hello and gave Simon a little wave of greeting, tucking the furry brown Jimbear beside him under one arm with a cheeky grin. Hearing the concern in big man's tone, Blair squirmed in his seat and folded his legs up under himself, subtly trying to lessen the pressure on his still tender bottom.

Jim took a seat next to Blair and frowned. "Is this something to do with police business, Simon?"

"No, Jim. I wish it did." Simon shot a worried look in Blair's direction, arching one amused and curious eyebrow at the sight of the young man and his bear before continuing. "A lawyer representing Michael Rosien showed up in my office this afternoon. He was dropping off the paperwork needed to release Naomi's body to the funeral home accepting her remains. He also wanted to deliver a package." Simon pulled a thick envelope from his breast pocket and held it out to Blair. "It's for you, Blair. I told him that if it was anything of a legal nature to contact your lawyer, Jim, but he assured me it was only a personal communication from Rosien to his grandson. He said he didn't want to disturb you at home. I thought it would be best to bring it over myself."

Blair hesitated a moment before reaching out to take the thick envelope. Glancing at Jim to gauge his reaction, Blair gave the older man a wry grimace and tore open the top edge. Cautiously removing the contents, Blair pulled out a folded sheet of white writing paper and a bulky sealed, flowery, card-sized envelope. Blair's name was scrawled across the front of the envelope in Naomi's distinctive handwriting.

Simon and Jim both sat very still, apprehensively waiting for Blair to make up his mind about whether or not to read the unexpected tidings.

Battling back the urge to throw away the entire package and lock himself in his room, Blair ran a hand absently over the soft fur of the bear in his lap. He stared at the flowery script for a moment before dropping it into his lap to open the folded sheet of expensive writing paper. Reading silently for a few seconds, Blair released a small sigh of relief and handed it to Jim. "He invited me to Naomi's funeral in France. I'm to call the number on the paper and a ticket will be waiting for me at the airport tomorrow."

Jim took in a deep breath to ward off his rising sense of unease and gave Blair a tiny smile of understanding. "If it's something you want to do, Chief, just say the word."

Blair thought seriously about Jim's offer, weighing the things he'd lost recently against the things he'd gained. Blood relatives and their minions that kidnapped him, but never wanted him, against chosen family that fought for him and loved and protected him at all cost, despite the baggage that he came with. It only took seeing the look of desperate love and affection in Jim's face to make up his mind.

"Nah, I'm not interested. I think I want you to just lock this away until I'm ready to read it. Maybe in a year or two." Blair handed Jim Naomi's unopened letter and watched in astonishment as Jim swallowed hard. The knowledge that Jim had been patiently waiting for his heart to be crushed by Blair's choice brought a catch to the younger man's voice. "Besides, France is way off the list of places I'm allowed to go to when I'm grounded."

The sudden, dazzling smile on Jim's face told Blair all he needed to know. As soon as he could be heard over Simon's loud chuckle and Jim's groan of mock pain, Blair gave both men a seriously intense look. "Besides, Rosien doesn't have anything to offer me. My family's right here. Why settle for an uncaring, old coot of a grandfather when I have the greatest dad possible right here." Blair smiled his million-watt grin and ran a hand brazenly over Jim's cropped hairline. "He's working on a major bald spot, mind you, but I think it's part of his charm. What do you think, Simon?"

Simon grinned as Jim knocked Blair's hand away and swiftly pinned the wildly squirming youth to the cushions of the sofa. "I think you have to learn to move faster if you're going keep talking like that, boy." Simon shook his head in mock despair as he watched his best detective roll around on the floor like an unruly child, matching strike for strike with his own mischievous brat.

Simon's deep tsk-tsk-tsking came to an abrupt end when he was suddenly pulled from his comfortable perch on the couch to become a victim of a duel assault. Startled laughter and grunts of surprise filled the loft with the sounds of a deep, abiding love that could only be shared between close family.

Grounded for weeks, in debt to Jim, nursing an extremely tender backside, pinned under the combined weights of two large attackers, and gasping desperately for air between shrieks of laughter, Blair had never been happier.

End

WARNING: Minor character death. Naomi is accidentally killed in a traffic accident in this story.