#03 in the Construction Series

caillech2000@yahoo.com

http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html

Author’s Notes: This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned.

Thanks to my two hard working betas, Loopy and Spacepixell.

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Jim Ellison once again glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen and then at his guest. He smiled politely, and ran a hand over his short hair down along the back of his head, stopping to rub absently at the base of his neck. His gaze wandered to the front door and back again to the clock before returning to the figure seated across from him in his meticulously cleaned living room.

"Can I get you some more lemonade?" Jim started to rise from the couch, reaching for the full glass sitting on the coffee table in front of Frannie O’Keefe.

The woman from social services looked up from the notebook in which she had been writing for the past few minutes and smiled sweetly at the agitated detective. "No thank you, I’m fine."

Jim’s hand stilled in mid-reach and he sat back down, a contrite look on his face. "I’m sorry Ms. O’Keefe. I’m sure Blair will be here any minute. He knows you were coming today. He was looking forward to seeing you again."

"It’s all right, Jim. I know how teenagers are. Let’s give him a few more minutes, shall we?" She gave Jim another sweet smile, this time accompanied by a patient look that stated Frannie was quite used to dealing with these situations. "Where did you say he was?"

This was the woman who had arranged for Blair to be placed in Jim’s care. The entire concept of being a foster parent was still new to Jim. Ever since he had first met the energetic youngster, Jim had felt a protective streak toward Blair that he still did not fully understand. But it was a feeling that Jim knew was right…he knew that he and Blair belonged together.

The past month had been a blur of constant activity during which Blair had moved in, ground rules had been established, and a firm foundation had been laid for this to become a permanent thing. When the foster papers had been signed, Frannie stated that she would check in with the pair at a later date. Jim had done his best to whip the loft into what he considered acceptable shape for the no-nonsense woman’s inspection.

"Well, um…that is…I…I’m not sure. He was supposed to be here." Jim let his nervousness show as he ran the palms of his hands up and down his thighs. "He had a tutoring assignment this morning, then he was going to spend some time at the campus library. He should have been home a couple of hours ago. I can assure you, I don’t let him just…"

Frannie cut him off with a wave of her hand and a soft, pleasant sounding laugh. "Stop, Jim. Blair is sixteen years old, extremely smart, energetic and involved in numerous activities. I hardly expect that you’ll be able to keep constant track of him."

Jim chuckled to himself at the innocently spoken remark. ‘You have noooooo idea.’ His thoughts strayed to the merry-go-round of events that his life had been since Blair had entered it.

The detective assumed his best authoritative tone. "I realize that. And I don’t expect him to report in at all times, but I have set certain guidelines and limits that I do expect him to adhere to." He wanted to be sure that Frannie understood that he was taking his role as foster parent seriously. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for during this ‘inspection’ and didn’t want anything to jeopardize Blair remaining with him.

The sentinel registered the familiar cadence of Blair’s heartbeat in the hall just moments before several short hard raps pounded against the loft’s door. With a sigh of relief, Jim walked to the door. "Here he is now…his arms must be full…he’s always hauling stacks of books home." As he reached the door, Jim grabbed the knob and turned back toward Frannie as he swung the door open. "I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation as to why he’s late."

"I’m sure." The dry remark was accented by a questioning expression as Frannie looked past Jim.

Jim hung his head. Judging by the look on Frannie’s face he suspected he wasn’t going to like what he saw. He slowly swung his head up around to take in the sight that waited.

Standing in the open doorway was a uniformed police officer, holding a quietly simmering Blair Sandburg by a firm grasp on the youth’s upper arm.

"Detective Ellison?" Jim nodded in response to the officer’s identification request, his eyes glued to Blair.

"I was asked to escort this young man home. This is where he belongs, right?" The officer, of course, had heard of hard-as-nails Ellison and found himself slightly unnerved in his presence. He waited patiently for another affirmative nod from the man holding the open door before releasing his hold on the antsy boy.

Blair stormed into the loft…Jim’s gaze still firmly attached to him. He paced wildly across the apartment, oblivious to the presence of the lady from social services. Upon reaching the base of the stairs, he did a graceful pirouette and stalked back toward Jim, ready to launch into a descriptive verbal barrage against the hapless Officer Parker and the man’s entire ancestry.

He was stopped dead in his tracks by a single finger pointed at him and a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. Taking a few steps back, Blair crossed his arms and huffily slammed his back up against the loft’s central post.

Frannie O’Keefe settled herself comfortably and watched quietly. The same unspoken communication between the detective and his new charge, which she had observed at the station a month ago, was again in evidence. A safe, clean living space for the boy, appropriate rules and guidelines, material needs met…these were all well and good. But it was the interaction between the two that she was really here to observe. The way the next few moments were handled would tell the astute woman all she would need to know to complete her follow-up assessment of Blair’s placement with Jim.

Jim softened his gaze, assuring Blair that the youngster would get his turn to explain what had precipitated his being escorted home by one of Cascade’s finest.

Catching a glimpse of the temporarily forgotten woman seated on his couch, Jim dismissed her presence as unimportant…for the moment. He would deal with her opinions of his parenting skills after he dealt with the matter at hand.

"Officer Parker?" Jim read the nametag on the blue shirt while extending his hand for the young man to shake. "Blair lives here with me. I’m his foster parent. You want to tell me what this is all about?"

Without turning his head, Jim raised his hand toward Blair, stopping the remarks that he knew were ready to spew forth from the unseen opened mouth of the agitated youngster.

Blair’s mouth snapped shut while his animated body language continued to tell Jim exactly what he thought of the unfairness of the present circumstance.

"There was a political rally at the campus for a candidate who’s running for state assembly." Office Parker flipped open his small notebook, wishing to look as official as possible in front of the intimidating detective. "Some members of the crowd…" The officer cleared his throat and tried to nonchalantly indicate the youngster he had escorted home by a slight nod in Blair’s direction. "Became quite boisterous in voicing their disagreement with the speaker’s point of view."

"Freedom of speech is still guaranteed under the constitution, last I heard." Jim’s dry comment wasn’t lost on the young officer. "What else happened?"

"Well, sir, a few of the um, dissenters, apparently decided that yelling and shouting wasn’t getting their point across so they, um, that is they…" Clearly distracted by Jim’s penetrating gaze, Office Parker gave up all pretense at trying to come up with a professional way to state what had happened. "They mooned the speaker."

Jim just stared dubiously at Parker for several moments before turning to level a disbelieving, you-better-tell-me-it-isn’t-true look at Blair.

A you-bet-it’s-true-and-I-would-do-it-again-in-a-heartbeat glare was thrown back at Jim with a hint of and-it-got-our-point-across thrown in for good measure.

Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Jim began a slow massaging motion while shaking his head back and forth almost imperceptibly. Fortifying himself by blowing out a long slow breath, Jim once again swung his gaze back to Officer Parker. "I’m assuming there’s more?"

"Well, the rally kind of fell apart after that. The speaker just sort of threw up his hands and left. The mayor didn’t look too happy…"

"The mayor?" Jim’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well, yeah, she and the chief of police…"

"The chief of police?" Jim’s eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, they’re both big supporters of this guy…"

Jim decided he didn’t really need to hear any more and cut off any further details with a wave of his hand. "Was Blair arrested? Charged with anything?"

Though somewhat disappointed at not being able to deliver a complete report of the events, Jim’s curt questions clearly told Parker it was time to wrap it up and move on out.

"No…nobody wanted the publicity. They decided to let it go as a juvenile prank. The three, ah, um, perpetrators were rounded up and given a talking-to by Captain Banks…"

"Captain Banks?" At the mention of his superior’s name, Jim turned once again toward the anti-establishment wannabe in the middle of the room with his best you-had-better-be-ready-to-cut-the-crap-and-have-a-good-explanation-for-all-this look.

A softly grunted ‘humph’ along with an over-emphasized repositioning of his back against the post was Blair’s response.

"Well, if you won’t be needing me for anything else, I’ll just be going now." The young police officer decided it was definitely time to be on his way and edged his way out into the hall and started toward the stairs. He stopped for a moment just before Jim closed the door and called back to the detective. "Oh, and Detective Ellison? Captain Banks said to tell you something about how he hopes you still have your instruction manual?"

Jim couldn’t help smiling at that remark, picturing Simon chortling and smirking to himself as he handed Blair off to the officer.

The smile quickly faded as Jim frantically tried to think how he was going to explain this to Frannie O’Keefe. She was here to give an official stamp of approval to the living arrangements for Blair that had been hastily thrown together when it had become known that Blair’s mother had died and the youngster had been living on his own for several months.

Jim had invested in furnishing a room for Blair, purchasing new clothes and shoes for the boy, towing the youngster to what Blair considered unnecessary doctor, dental and eye exams…the last resulting in the prescription of long-overdue glasses for the boy.

But more importantly, and of much greater value to Jim, the big guy had invested his heart and soul into trying to establish a home for the boy that was filled with understanding, support, discipline and love. He felt his heart slowly dropping toward the pit of his stomach at the thought of not ‘passing muster’ with this woman and the unthinkable possibility that Blair might be taken from him. He had the sinking feeling that his young charge showing up late for this interview being escorted by a police officer after disrupting a political rally attended by important local officials at a time and place that Jim knew nothing about might not go over too well.

Jim looked up from his musings in time to see Blair finally take notice of their guest and attempt a hasty retreat to the imagined refuge of his small room under the stairs.

"Freeze." Jim once again relegated Ms. O’Keefe’s reason for being at the loft to a position of secondary importance as he straightened to his full six-foot-one-inch height, placing his hands on his hips in a time-honored parental stance. Jim cocked his head toward the bemused social worker, his gaze never leaving the fidgeting youngster, telegraphing, he assumed, a clear message that an apology was in order.

The wires must have been crossed because the message Blair received was a go-ahead for him to launch into an account of the events leading up to his ignominious ill-timed arrival.

"I know I was supposed to be home awhile ago, Jim, but, man…" Propelling himself away from the curtained entrance to his room, Blair began the characteristic pacing and arm waving that Jim recognized as the Sandburg accompaniment to a colorful, questionable, animated narration which would be delivered from the unique perspective of the spirited teenager.

"This guy was just un-fucking-believable! You should have heard the crap he was spouting. I didn’t even know about the rally until I ran into a couple of juniors I know who were headed to it. They’re part of a political activist group on campus. I’m tutoring one of them in English this summer…you know, I’ve told you about him Jim?"

The big guy didn’t even attempt to acknowledge the question as Blair plowed on.

"Anyway they invited me along and I thought, what the heck, I’ve got time to stop by for just a few minutes and listen to what the guy has to say. Ya have to get involved, right? So…here’s this guy up there on the platform going on and on about how he thinks military spending should be beefed up and social programs should be cut and the homeless should all go out and get jobs, like they’re homeless ‘cuz they wanna be for chrissake. And there’s the mayor and the chief of police all up there nodding their heads like this guy is making perfect sense. And all the people around us are all just nodding away…fuck! It was like a bunch of bobble-heads gone crazy. You know, those little statue things people put on their dashboards?" Blair chanced a quick look at Jim for some sort of confirmation, as if this was the most important part of the story. "So, anyway, Chris, Tony and I start shouting back at the guy and it really throws him off…like no one is supposed to have the nerve to disagree with him. This gets some of the rest of the crowd worked up and they start listening to us instead of him, which pisses him off. We see the chief signal to some of the pigs," Jim winced at this particular choice of words. "And they start heading toward us. Like we’re some big fuckin’ threat to the guy. And that’s when we decided to exercise our freedom of expression."

Blair’s pacing had taken him around the living room several times and he came to a stop near the balcony doors. He took a few moments to stare up at the clouds lazily rolling past, allowing himself to wind down. He exhaled slowly a few times and then turned to face the two other occupants of the loft.

While Blair contemplated the clouds, Jim studied the youngster, trying to decide what to do about the afternoon’s antics. He turned to look at Frannie, who was nonchalantly writing in her notebook…no doubt penning the order to remove Blair from the influence of Jim’s obviously less than adequate parenting.

He sensed Blair’s heartbeat speeding up and moved quickly to the boy’s side as Blair became aware of the notes being taken by the quiet woman and their possible significance.

Blair looked up at Jim…a lost, helpless look on his face. "I blew it, didn’t I?"

Jim hugged Blair to him and whispered assurances to youngster.

"Shhhh… It’s all right. It’ll be okay."

Frannie O’Keefe smiled to herself. She loved it when she was right. And she was so right about these two. She closed her notebook, placed it in her shoulder bag, and took a long sip of the cool lemonade that still sat on the coffee table. She stood, smoothed her skirt, hefted her bag to her shoulder and walked to the door. Clearing her throat to attract the attention of the distracted pair across the room she gave her assessment.

"Gentlemen. I am extremely pleased with way this arrangement is working out. Keep on doing whatever it is that you’re doing, because you are certainly doing it right. You have my number. Don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything you need." She winked at Jim, silently giving him the approval he’d been striving for.

As the door closed, sentinel and guide dissolved into laughter and hugged each other a little tighter. Jim tousled the wild curls as the tension that had descended on the loft within the last few minutes vanished.

"That was close, man. I was, like, so sure she was gonna bust us up. I’m so sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean to be late and I didn’t mean to worry you and keep you both waiting and I sure didn’t mean to get into trouble at the campus."

"Breathe, kiddo." Jim laughed as he squeezed the youngster’s shoulder again before letting go and stepping back. He leaned his long frame up against the back of the nearest couch. Resting his butt on the top he stretched his legs and crossed his ankles out in front of him. Crossing his arms, Jim waited until he had Blair’s full attention before continuing.

"About the ‘trouble at the campus’…" Jim began.

Mistakenly thinking Jim needed further clarification of the events, and dying to go into the details of his short time spent as a protestor, Blair began bouncing eagerly. "Yeah, like I said…"

"Ah, ah, ah…you had your turn." Jim’s low calm voice and stern gaze zapped the spring right out of the balls of Blair’s feet. "Now it’s mine." He could almost hear the gears in the overactive young mind grind to a halt. "I can understand you wanting to stop off at the rally, I don’t have a problem with that. Although, in the future, I do expect to get a call if you’re going to be late or if your plans change, especially when you know that I’m expecting you. I do have a problem with your behavior at the rally. And I don’t mean voicing your disagreement with the speaker." Jim noticed the slight blush that spread slowly across Blair’s cheeks. "Your actions could have landed you in a lot of trouble, young man. Disorderly conduct. Disturbing the peace. Indecent exposure."

Blair hung his head; his long curls masked a contrite look and nervous lip chewing. He dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slightly slumped as his feet began an anxious shuffling.

"You want to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t exercise my freedom of expression on the seat of your pants?"

Blair’s head shot up, curls flying, as he gave Jim his best wide-eyed, innocent who-me look. "What? You’re kidding, right? I mean, man, nothing happened. I was just sorta, you know, caught up in the moment. No harm done." Blair started edging toward his room.

The sentinel immediately sensed the changes in his guide’s heart rate, perspiration, and voice inflections that signaled the youngster was being less than truthful. "What is it that you’re not telling me?" Jim’s calm voice lured Blair into a false sense of security.

Blair’s fidgeting lessened and he laughed nervously as he filled Jim in on a few little details that had been left out of the story.

"I, um, I kinda told the mayor what I thought she could do with her political views. I may have been, um, sorta…colorful in my description. Who’d a thought someone’s cheeks could turn that shade of red?"

"Let’s find out, shall we?"

Blair’s nimble mind immediately caught the double meaning and the youngster made a futile attempt to elude the reach of his guardian.

Jim took two longs steps and snagged his little nonconformist easily. Seating himself on the second step of the nearby staircase, Jim effortlessly flipped Blair across his knees and vigorously demonstrated ‘freedom of expression’, Ellison-style, to the squirming maverick’s butt.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Ouch! Jim! Please don’t! Owwwww!" Blair tried to wiggle off Jim’s lap, but his attempt was short-lived as Jim simply re-secured his hold.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"You’re just lucky, young man…" Smack. Smack. Smack. "That I wasn’t at the campus when you decided…" Smack. Smack. Smack. "To ‘express’ yourself." Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. "You are going to…" Smack. Smack. Smack. "Apologize to the mayor…" Smack. Smack. "And the chief." Smack. Smack. "And Simon." Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. "I would never…" Smack. Smack. "Forbid you or discourage you…" Smack. Smack. Smack. "From voicing your opinion." Smack. Smack. "But there are appropriate ways to do it." Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Okay! Okay! I got it! Ouch! Ow! Ow! OWWW!"

Jim released Blair and pulled him into a hug before the youngster could retreat to his room. Blair struggled against Jim’s hold for a moment, but then relaxed into it as he felt the love and security the big guy enveloped him in, remembering the panic that had gripped him earlier at the thought of losing his place here with Jim.

Blair was Naomi’s child…and always would be. He was free-spirited, impetuous, out-spoken, over-active, curious, and big-hearted. And Jim had no intention of changing any of those traits about Blair. He did intend to add his own influence on the young man, building upon Blair’s strong character and providing the love and discipline the boy needed. Deep in his heart, the sentinel awakened a little more, ready to do his part in the nurturing and development of his high-spirited young guide.

Jim hugged Blair a little tighter and chuckled softly as sentinel hearing picked up his guide’s next words.

"Jeeeez, Jim. That really smarts." The wry observation was mumbled into the broad chest that Blair was clinging to. "I’m sure the mayor’s cheeks weren’t that red."

End.