caillech2000@yahoo.com

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

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

Thank you to Spacepixell and Rhonda for beta-ing.

A special thank you to Loopy for beta duty as well inspiration for this story.

%%%

Blair was seated cross-legged on the floor behind Jim’s desk, an open textbook on his lap, several more stacked on the floor next to him. When he didn’t have a class, a tutoring session or the like to distract him, the youngster could often be found in the bullpen.

After becoming first Jim’s foster son, then his legal ward, Blair had soon become the unofficial mascot of the Major Crimes unit. The teenager enthusiastically helped out with filing, miscellaneous errands, coffee runs and other day-to-day tasks.

Simon Banks tolerated the unorthodox arrangement on the condition that Blair’s activities be confined to duties of a ‘gopher’; with the additional, non-negotiable edict to ‘stay out of the way’ strictly enforced.

At around 4:45PM, Blair became aware of a buzz of activity near the front of Jim’s desk. H and Rafe had appeared first, followed by Simon a few minutes later. Jim stopped pecking away at his keyboard and leaned back in his chair, ready to give his undivided attention to the three men just as a fourth man approached.

Captain Joel Taggart, from the bomb squad, had joined the small group.

Something was up.

Blair abandoned the courting rituals of the tribe he’d been reading about just as Joel looked his way.

"Hey, Blair!" A bemused look crossed Joel’s face. "What’re you doing down there?"

Blair looked pointedly up at Jim with a circumspect glare, as he answered Joel in an exasperated voice. "Staying out of the way."

A warm smile lit up Joel’s face and the big man laughed softly. "Tryin’ to be ‘helpful’ again?"

The youngster’s eyebrows shot up and an impatient wiggle began as Blair started to explain. "No! I was just curious about the way you guys handle booking procedures, so I was just…"

"Can it, junior." Jim swiveled his chair to face his charge, bestowing a ‘cut the crap’ look on the youngster.

H and Rafe snorted in amusement as Blair slumped back against the wall with a ‘humph’, yielding the point to Jim.

Joel decided to change the subject. "How’d the driver’s test go?"

Expecting the animated response any teenager would normally give to that question, Joel was surprised by the tense silence that descended. Judging by the somber looks of the detectives clustered around the desk, Joel belatedly realized he’d touched upon the wrong subject. Not being part of the day-to-day activities in the MC bullpen had its drawbacks.

A muffled, barely audible response drifted up from the deflated figure on the floor.

"I failed."

"You what?" Joel was unable to keep the surprise from his voice. "How? I mean, I know some of the questions are tricky, but I know you’ve studied, I know you know…"

"Not the written exam…I aced that." Blair stared at the floor, absently playing with the frayed hem of his jeans. "I failed the behind the wheel part."

"Awwww, Blair…how? What happened?" Like all the other detectives in the room, Joel knew how much Blair was looking forward to getting his license and finally being able to drive the Corvair his Uncle Seth had given him. They were all also aware of the month long suspension of driving privileges that would be imposed once the youngster had his license. Failing his driver’s test put a serious dent in Blair’s plans for the coveted teenage dream of freedom from dependence on public transportation, ambulation, or the chauffeuring availability of parental units.

"Speeding."

All heads turned to look at Jim.

"Changing lanes too quickly and without signaling."

Quizzical looks, furrowed brows and raised eyebrows were directed at Jim.

"Turning corners too sharply."

At this point, the looks became accusatory and Jim threw his hands up in the air.

"All right… I’ve said I’m sorry. Someone else can take him practice driving and give him pointers." Jim leaned toward Blair and tapped the boy affectionately on the top of the head. "Okay, kiddo?"

Blair looked up at Jim, assessing the older man’s suggestion. The two of them had been enjoying the time they got to spend together during the lessons and Blair didn’t want Jim to think he didn’t appreciate the older man’s efforts. The look on Jim’s face let the boy know that he was okay with relinquishing this particular facet of Blair’s education in favor of what would be best for Blair.

Blair’s apprehension melted away. He furrowed his brows and pursed his lips as if having to give the idea serious consideration. Then he shrugged and smiled good-naturedly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Yeah, sure…that’d be great, Jim. Thanks."

Simon cleared his throat, pulling everyone’s attention back to the reason for the late afternoon parley.

Blair immediately perked up, eager to listen in on whatever was going on.

The five older men got down to business.

"We’re still on for your place tonight, right Jim?"

"Yup."

"Eight o’clock?"

"Eight’s fine."

"I’ll bring the chips."

"I’ve got the sandwiches."

"Do you need me to bring beer?"

"Nope…just your money."

Blair rolled his eyes and groaned.

As with any other operation carried out by the Major Crimes unit, the bi-weekly poker game would have to be planned and coordinated in meticulous detail. Well…planned and coordinated, anyway.

Since Blair had moved in with Jim, tonight would be only the second time the bi-weekly game would be held at the loft.

The first time had been in mid summer. Blair had paid it no mind. Jim and Blair were still in the process of settling into their new relationship. The sixteen year old had no interest in being a part of the male bonding rituals of off duty cops. The youngster had seized the opportunity to finagle an hour extension to his normal 11 PM curfew out of his overly zealous foster father in order to attend a rock concert at the waterfront. Mistakenly assuming Jim would be too pre-occupied with beer guzzling and card playing to notice, Blair had stayed out an extra half hour beyond the agreed upon time.

Without bothering to call.

Big mistake.

Upon slipping into the loft at 12:31 AM, the youngster was treated to Jim’s malevolent glare, as well as the ominous head shaking of Simon, H and Rafe. The fifth card player…a detective from Vice Blair had never met…had gathered up his winnings and departed earlier, once it became evident the game had been forfeited to the growing concern over the late teenager’s whereabouts.

Jim had appeared clearly beside himself with worry when Blair had arrived, but recovered admirably to deliver a reassuring hug to the boy, followed by a searing fifteen-minute lecture in a deceptively calm, measured voice. The three other men had silently provided reinforcement of Jim’s message by nods of agreement and grunts of approval.

By the time Jim had finished, Blair’s curfew had been pulled back to 10:00PM for two weeks and medieval tortures involving bathroom-cleaning duty and revoked TV viewing privileges had been assigned. Blair had opened his mouth to voice his protest of the inhumane treatment he was being subjected to, but before any words made it past his lips, he had been sent to his room…propelled by a well-aimed swat to his butt.

Blair chuckled silently and shook his head at the memory, finding it a little odd that he had so easily accepted the older man’s antiquated forms of discipline.

Blair stretched sideways; grabbing his backpack from the spot he’d dropped it near the desk. He pulled out a notebook and pen and began hastily scribbling notes.

Now firmly entrenched in Jim’s life, Blair’s earlier disdain for the gang’s off duty recreational pursuits was replaced with an overly enthusiastic desire to be included. That desire, coupled with a newfound interest in ritualistic behavior of any kind, prompted the observance and documentation of the planning session. A halfway decent paper for his Anthro 101 class might be gleaned from the exchange.

Having established the preliminaries of when and where the activity would take place, as well as assignment of refreshment responsibilities, the next phase quickly commenced.

Posturing.

"My money’ll be there, but I don’t think it’ll be in any danger."

"Yeah, that’s what you said last time."

"I feel lucky tonight."

"You’re gonna need more than luck…the game of poker requires skill, gentlemen."

"And finesse."

"And a poker face…which you ain’t got, my friend."

"Whaddya mean? What’s he mean by that?"

"What I mean is…anytime you have a full house, your left eyebrow twitches, a pair and you rub your nose, three of a kind and…"

"Yeah…you might as well just throw your money at us."

"A royal flush and you…"

"You’re fulla shit; I’ve never held a royal flush in my life."

By this time, Blair was laughing so hard he could hardly write. Now if he could just find a group of women planning a Tupperware party he’d be able to make some interesting comparisons.

Simon wrapped up the planning session by shooing everyone away from Jim’s desk, admonishing his team to close up shop and head out.

Jim readily complied, shutting down his computer and helping Blair to his feet. The youngster hastily gathered his books, stuffing them into his backpack as they headed to the elevator.

Reaching Jim’s parking spot, they stopped and stared at the truck for a moment. Questioning looks were exchanged. They laughed in unison and climbed into their customary places in the truck, silently agreeing that no more driving lessons from Jim was a prudent idea.

%%%

Simon swore softly as he flipped his cell phone shut. He threw his cards on the table and began pocketing his winnings. "I was bluffing anyway." He stood and walked to the door. "That was Becker from Homicide. We’ve got the break we were waiting for and the bust is going down." He shrugged into his coat and pulled a cigar out of one of the pockets. "I hate to take your money and run, gentlemen, but it can’t be helped." He flashed the group a self-satisfied smile, shoved the unlit cigar between his teeth and let himself out.

"Looks like it’s the last hand, fellas…how much more do you feel like contributing to the Ellison fund for the upkeep of a hyperactive, bottomless pit teenage boy?"

Blair had been leaning across the kitchen island, forearms resting on the surface, watching the game with interest. He straightened at Jim’s remark and threw a wadded up napkin at the back of Jim’s head while blowing a loud raspberry.

"I’m out. I’ve seen the way hairboy eats and I think I’ve contributed my fair share." H laid his cards down and slid his chair back from the table to watch the hand play out.

Joel surveyed the size of the pot, his fellow players, and his own depleted funds before taking another look at the cards in his hands. "Fold." He placed his cards facedown on the table, got up and joined Blair in the kitchen, snatching the last sandwich from the platter on the island.

Rafe absent-mindedly rubbed at his nose with his right forefinger. He counted out the appropriate amount of money from the small stash in front of him and placed it in the center of the table. "Call." He looked smugly at Jim. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

Jim fanned his cards face up on the table in front of him. "Two pair…threes and sixes." He reached into the center of the table and began raking the cash toward him.

The smug look slid off Rafe’s face and he warily questioned Jim’s actions. "Hang on…don’t you even wanna see what I’ve got?"

"No need."

"Whaddaya mean? Why not?"

Four amused voices rang out in unison. "You rubbed your nose!"

Blair moved to the table, sitting in the chair Simon had vacated a few minutes earlier. He bounced excitedly on the edge of his seat and looked expectantly at his companions.

"Deal me in?"

Jim shook his head. "I don’t think so, junior."

"Come on, man…please?" A moderately pleading whine crept into Blair’s voice as he cajoled and puppy-dog eyed Jim eagerly. The older man finally relented…realizing he was outnumbered four to one as H, Rafe and Joel allied with Blair, reasoning the kid needed to learn the finer points of poker at some point in his life and who better to learn from if not experts such as themselves.

Not able to disagree with this argument, Jim dealt Blair in. He insisted, to Blair’s exaggerated eye rolling, that the stakes be lowered to playing for chips only. After two hands, everyone agreed it had been a smart move; Blair’s expressive face, excited bouncing and agitated hand waving made it impossible for any of them to keep a straight face.

After a few more hands, all pretense of continuing a real game had been abandoned in favor of a tutorial. H and Rafe patiently explained strategies, wagering, and the subtle art of bluffing to an attentive Blair, while Jim and Joel began clearing away the empty chip bowls and beer bottles.

As Blair eagerly absorbed all the information being shared, he noticed the ease with which H and Rafe worked together. Judging by appearances only, they seemed unsuited to be partners. But as Blair observed their interaction, it became obvious the match was a good one. If one of the two was unsure of something, the other immediately came to his aid, backing him up. They bantered back and forth, teasing and joking with each other comfortably.

Blair had enrolled in Anthropology 101 in the hopes of finding more information regarding sentinels. As it turned out the "scientific study of the origin, the behavior, and the physical, social and cultural development of humans" was quenching a thirst the youngster hadn’t even known he had. Every observation of human interaction ignited a spark in his growing enthusiasm for the subject.

"How did you two ever become partners?" The question was out of his mouth before Blair could stop himself. "I mean…look at the two of you. There had to be a lot of factors working against you. Culture, background, social, economic, race…"

"Whoa, hairboy…what’re you talkin’ about?" H was staring at Blair, a puzzled look on his face. He pointed at Rafe for emphasis. "We’re not that different."

H turned and took a long, appraising look at his partner, as if seeing the man for the first time. His expression slowly changed to bewilderment, then shock.

"My god! Rafe! You’re a white boy!" H slapped his hands to his face in mock surprise.

"I am?" Rafe deadpanned, examining his hands carefully. "You know, H, I think you might be right."

"Ha…ha…ha…very funny." Blair shook his head at the antics of the two older men. "I’m serious. You must have had a few things working against you."

H shrugged his shoulders and settled back in his chair. "Well, yeah…it wasn’t easy at first. No new partnership ever is. My old partner and I had been together for six years. He was shot in the line of duty, permanently disabled. We were in the middle of a big case and I needed a partner, fast. So…I got saddled with the rookie." H cocked his head disparagingly at his counterpart.

Rafe laughed, reached over and gave H’s shoulder a hard push. "You were lucky to get me. I was in demand."

H slapped Rafe’s hand away and shook his head condescendingly." In demand?" He snorted loudly. "In your dreams, maybe. But, yeah…I was lucky to get you."

H looked back at Blair.

"Let’s see…I was raised in a middle class neighborhood. My mom’s a nurse and my dad owns his own hardware business. I grew up in a big ole house with three brothers and two sisters, my dad’s mother and a couple of my mom’s younger brothers now and then, when they were down on their luck or between jobs. I was raised Baptist. Played saxophone in the school band, warmed the bench for the football team, and went steady with the same girl all through high school. I had two years of junior college before joining the police academy. I worked hard to make detective and…taa-daa! Here I am."

H stood at this point, made a sweeping motion with his arms, bowed dramatically, and then reclaimed his seat.

Ignoring the theatrics, Blair plunged ahead, turning his attention to Rafe. "Now you."

Seeing that Blair was genuinely interested, Rafe complied.

"Well first, to set the record straight…" He shot a seventh-grade look at his partner. "I was in demand. But I couldn’t have asked for or gotten a better partner." At this remark, the two men gave each other a homegrown version of brotherly hand slapping.

"I’m an only child. My parents are both first generation émigrés from South Africa. They both hold business degrees and work for consulting firms…very career oriented. I’d have to say we were middle class also, maybe upper middle class. We lived in a modest condo. We were Presbyterian, but I don’t remember going to church often…on Christmas and Easter, maybe. Mother insisted I take violin lessons, but I never liked it much. I played soccer…even lettered. Dated a few different girls, started college with the intention of going on to law school, but got hooked on a crimimology class I took and switched my major to criminal justice. Got my degree, went to the police academy and fast-tracked to detective."

"Cool." Blair was totally intrigued now and decided to pursue things. "So, what, exactly, do you guys think make you work together so effectively?" Blair looked from one man to the other expectantly.

H chuckled. "What is this? Twenty questions?"

Blair jumped up. "Hey, yeah! Twenty questions! That’s a great idea!" He ran off to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and looked back at the two amused detectives. "You guys want another beer?" He peered around the refrigerator door at Jim and Joel, who had been listening to the conversation. "What about you guys? You wanna play too?" Not waiting for any answers, Blair snagged two beers and hurried out to the living room, shoving the beer bottles into H and Rafe’s hands as he passed them. He launched himself onto the couch and drew his legs up under him, settling in comfortably.

H and Rafe looked at each other, cocking their heads in a ‘why not?’ fashion before following Blair into the living room. Blair waited until the two men had seated themselves before glancing over the back of the couch at Jim and Joel. "You guys in?"

Joel was trembling with silent laughter and shook his head. "Not me. I have to head out. You guys have fun." He grabbed his overcoat, folded it over his forearm and gave the gang a quick wave as he closed the door on his way out.

"Me either, chief. I’m gonna finish cleaning up here. How about putting coasters under those bottles?" Jim pinned the three offenders with a stern glare before turning back to the dishes in the sink.

The coasters were hastily found and placed on the coffee table and Blair started in with a question. "Did you ever…?"

H interrupted him. "Ah, ah, ah…it’s our turn, I believe. That’s how twenty questions is played, right?"

"Oh…yeah…right!" Blair’s face lit up with a broad smile. "Ask away."

"Let’s see…ever break any bones?"

"Once…I broke my arm falling out of a tree."

"Did either of you ever steal anything as kids?"

"Candy bars, gum…stuff like that. Rafe?"

"Same here. A comic book once."

"What about you, hairboy? Ever steal anything?"

"A microscope."

"You’re kidding. What kinda kid steals a microscope?"

Blair stuck his tongue out at H. "That’s two questions."

"Follow-up questions are allowed."

Blair just shrugged. "Me. I was the kinda kid that would steal a microscope." He furrowed his brow and bit at his lip, as if deciding whether or not to elaborate.

Rafe and H studied the youngster as his eyes narrowed and the impish face screwed itself into thoughtful contortions. He shrugged again and looked over at his friends.

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

Rafe nearly choked on the beer he had just swallowed and H laughed out loud.

"Anything goes, huh?" H wagged a finger at Blair. "You might embarrass Rafe." He laughed again and grinned. "I was 17."

Rafe pounded himself on his chest with a fist to clear his throat before answering. "19." He shot an annoyed look at his partner. "I was a late bloomer." He coughed, sputtered and wiped at the corners of his eyes before continuing. "What about you, Blair?"

Blair had visibly relaxed at the answers given by the older men. "I…I’m…I’m still a virgin." Blair felt a slight blush warm his cheeks but it quickly faded when he saw the looks of approval from his friends.

"Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with a man waitin’ till he’s good and ready." H winked at Blair. "I’m almost afraid to ask…but what’s your next question?"

"While we’re on the subject…sorta…ever been to a…you know…brothel?"

Rafe hung his head and shook it slowly back and forth. "We’re only on what? Question five? At this rate, I’m not sure I’ll make it through this interrogation. To answer the question…me? No."

"Nope…me either. A fine specimen such as myself hasn’t got to go shopping. The ladies swarm around me like bees to honey." A broad smile accompanied H’s pronouncement, and the grinning man looked around the room, daring anyone to dispute his claim.

"Oh, please…"

"Whatever, man…"

H ignored the feeble attempts to burst his bubble and jumped in with another question for Blair.

"I know this is a waste of a question, but now I just gotta ask…have you ever been to a brothel, hairboy?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

The third voice questioning the affirmative answer had come from the kitchen. It should have been a warning to Blair to be careful of any upcoming answers he might give. But the youngster was too preoccupied with explaining his unexpected answer to notice Jim’s voice.

Blair waggled his eyebrows comically, in a feeble attempt at being suggestive.

"When I was twelve…"

"Twelve…!"

"Get your minds out of the gutter, guys. It’s not what you think. Naomi and I went to visit a friend of hers in Reno. She had told mom she had a job at a nightclub there. It turns out she lost that job and took the ‘job’ at the brothel just until things turned around for her. I guess that didn’t happen. It wasn’t working out like she planned. She was miserable and didn’t know what to do; we stayed one night. Mom stayed up all night with her, talking. And the next day she left with us. She traveled with us for a few months and then mom hooked her up with these other friends in San Francisco who helped her find a job and last I heard she went back to college."

"Your mom sounds like quite a lady."

"Yeah…she was." Blair blew out a breath and shook himself to chase the memory away. He took a few gulps of his water, and then resumed the game.

"Where’s the most exotic place you’ve ever been?"

Rafe closed his eyes and sighed, breathing out his answer in near ecstasy. "Fiji. Warm, sultry nights, white sand beaches, clear blue water, half naked women…"

Blair bounced excitedly. "Oh, yeah! Fiji is great…we lived there for four months when I was about ten, I think. Naomi and I went to one of the smaller islands with a cultural exchange group to help rebuild some schools and clinics after a monsoon and…"

"Hey, hey, hey…I thought it was our turn to answer?" Rafe was mildly irritated, not at all happy about the images of alluring, sarong-clad beauties being abruptly supplanted by the less than appealing image of a scrawny, half naked munchkin.

"Oh…yeah…sorry…um…what about you, H? Most exotic place?"

H answered in a deep-throated rasp, eyelids fluttering, in mock imitation of his partner. "Manny’s Blue Hawaii Bar and Grill…over on Second Avenue. Smoke filled air, sticky floors, biker chicks in tight leather outfits…" Two throw pillows hit H in rapid succession, cutting short his reply. He fell to his side on the couch, chuckling.

Having finished cleaning up, Jim remained in the kitchen, not wanting to intrude upon the bull session taking place in the other room. Content to hang back, he leaned up against the counter next to the fridge, sipping his beer. He listened intently, happy for the chance to learn more about his charge and pleased at the way his friends and co-workers so readily took to the youngster.

Rafe asked the next question, hoping to bring the game back to more mundane topics.

"Do you have any phobias?"

"Yeah…acrophobia. Do not like high places. Nope. Nuh-huh, no way."

"Favorite color?"

"Chartreuse."

"Charcoal gray"

"Ever go skinny dippin’?"

"Growing up with a flower child from the sixties? What do you think?"

"Are you a…" Blair shuddered dramatically. "Cat person?"

"A cat person? What kind of a question is that?"

"I like cats." H nodded emphatically. "They’re very tasty."

Blair nodded solemnly along with H for a few seconds, and then they both broke down and giggled.

"You a morning person or a night person, hairboy?"

Blair pointedly raised his voice, making sure that a certain guardian, father-type person would be sure to hear. "Night person. Definitely. As in…the night is young. As in…later than 11PM."

"Nice try, chief." Jim walked up behind Blair and gently swatted the back of the curly head. "Maybe we’ll discuss it again when you’re 18." No longer feeling he might disrupt the easy banter of the other three, Jim moved around the end of couch, looking for a place to sit.

Blair jumped up, indicating Jim should take his spot. The youngster resettled himself on the floor, his back up against the couch next to Jim’s legs.

Blair shrugged good-naturedly. "It was worth a shot, man. Now, where were we? My turn." A mischievous twinkle sparkled in the blue eyes as Blair looked first at Jim then at H and Rafe.

"Were either of you ever spanked as kids?"

"No."

"Never?" Blair’s voice held a mixture of surprise and wary disbelief.

"Nope. My parents were firm believers in whatever form of non-corporal punishment was being promoted in the latest psycho-babble book on child rearing." Rafe smiled apologetically at Blair; well aware of the fact Jim had spanked the youngster on more than one occasion. He suspected his partner would have an answer more in line with what Blair was expecting. "H?"

Blair opened his mouth to interject a comment for Jim’s benefit, but H jumped in, cutting him off.

"You’re kidding, right? Nobody ever paddled your little white behind? Hmph. Me? Let’s see…momma used her hand, daddy used his hairbrush, Uncle Joe…his hand, Uncle Frank…hand, Uncle Ken…hairbrush. But it was granny you hadda watch out for. She had this big old spatula and she was not afraid to use it."

Blair stared at H skeptically. He chanced a quick look up at Jim, trying to decide if he should quit while he was ahead. Jim’s expression gave no clue as to which answer, if either, would have any influence on his way of thinking.

Blair plunged ahead.

"Yeah, but…how old were you the last time anyone spanked you?"

"That’s two questions." H held up two fingers in a victory sign and waggled them at Blair.

"Follow up."

"I was 19…almost 20. Still living at home. And I thought I was all that. Granny Tess set me straight on that score." H fidgeted, squirming in place at the memory. "I couldn’t sit for three days after the last discussion her spatula had with my butt."

Blair sat quietly for a few moments, studying the floor as he mulled over the older men’s revelations. In his estimation, both his friends had turned out to be fine men. A part of him could relate to Rafe’s upbringing and another part of him could definitely relate to H’s.

Naomi hadn’t believed in corporal punishment and Blair thought he had turned out fine up to this point in his life. But that was Naomi’s way…not Jim’s. And Blair realized, to his chagrin, he was okay with the way things were now.

The three older men exchanged quizzical looks, not sure what to make of Blair’s last line of questioning and the boy’s sudden, uncharacteristic stillness. Just as they thought the impromptu game had come to an abrupt halt, Blair sprang back to life.

He jumped up from the floor, and jiggled his left leg frantically. He stomped it vigorously a few times, and then did a sort of hop, skip, and shuffle to the opposite side of the room.

Assorted chuckles and snorts followed his movements. He turned to face his audience when he reached the fireplace, oblivious to their amused looks.

"Leg fell asleep." He hissed softly through gritted teeth and stomped his foot a few more times. "I asked the last question. Who’s next?"

Jim cleared his throat and waited until he was sure he had Blair’s attention. "Wanna tell me why it was so all-fire important to you to go down to booking today?"

"No reason." Blair shrugged, trying to appear non-committal.

"Nope." Jim shook his head and smiled fondly at the teenager. "Not gonna accept that answer. You’ve been in the bullpen plenty of times when a suspect was going down to booking. You’ve never shown any interest before. Why today?"

Blair shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted hesitantly from foot to foot. He absently kicked at the base of the fireplace a few times, and examined the floorboards before taking a deep breath and answering.

"When I was thirteen, Naomi and I participated in a demonstration outside of a military installation in Virginia. The base was a training ground for teaching interrogation techniques to foreign operatives in countries that already were in violation of international human rights mandates. We were picketing peacefully and lawfully until several of the protestors decided to scale the fence. Once that happened, all hell broke loose. Naomi was arrested. She looked really scared and alone when they took her away to book her; they wouldn’t let me go with her. I spent the night at Child Services. She never talked much about it, but I always got the feeling it was one of the worst experiences of her life." Blair paused for a moment as the memory washed over him. "When I saw how alone and scared that woman looked today, it just reminded me of Naomi and, I dunno…I guess I just wanted to make sure she was okay, that’s all."

Having finished his somber recitation, Blair smiled shyly and glanced around the room. "I’m sorry that I got a little, um…insistent."

Jim had risen from the couch about half way through Blair’s explanation. He now crossed the room to stand next to the youngster. Looking down into the young face, Jim could only imagine how alone and fearful Blair must have felt that same night. From his point of view, the fear Naomi had shown was more likely due to her concern for her son, rather than herself.

He reached out and mussed the wild curls before pulling Blair to him in a quick hug.

"It’s all right, kiddo. I’m glad you told me. If you’d like, I can arrange it with Simon for you to discreetly observe a booking, if you think’d it help. How about it?"

Blair’s gloomy mood vanished in an instant. "Really? Cool. Thanks, Jim."

The sentinel gave his guide another reassuring squeeze before releasing the boy.

"It’s getting late. How about one or two more questions and then we wrap things up for tonight?" Not waiting for the protest he was sure was coming, Jim strode off down the hall toward the bathroom.

H clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully. "Yes! I didn’t think he’d ever leave." He waved Blair over to him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the bathroom door was closed. "Come here, hairboy."

Blair shuffled over and allowed H to pull him down onto the couch. The detective wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder, drawing him into a conspiratorial huddle.

Rafe leaned forward in his seat, eyeing his partner dubiously.

Throwing one last look over his shoulder, H slid a hand into one of his pockets and withdrew a small laminated card. Holding it on edge between his thumb and forefinger, he showed the item to Blair. "Lose something?"

At first glance, seeing the picture of his own smiling face gazing back at him, Blair thought it was his student ID, and he wondered when and where he’d dropped it. Upon closer inspection, he gulped nervously and snatched at the card.

"Where’d you get that?" The youngster had paled slightly and began licking his lips, radiating nervous energy.

Down the hall, Jim had just finished washing his hands. He rubbed wearily at his tired eyes and splashed a little water on face. The sentinel started, fully alerted to his guide’s sudden agitated state. Jim cocked his head; automatically extending his hearing the way Blair had been helping him learn to do.

H quickly pulled the card back, out of Blair’s reach.

"The question is…where’d you get it? And why?" H tightened his grip on his flustered captive, rubbing the trembling shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "I’m not gonna rat on you, kid. I just wanna make sure you’re not doing anything stupid."

Blair glanced quickly over his shoulder toward the bathroom, then at Rafe before hanging his head, obscuring his scowling face behind a curtain of curls.

"What the hell have you got, H?" Rafe leaned in closer to get a look at what had caused Blair’s sudden change in demeanor.

Understanding dawned as H showed him the item in question. Rafe quickly scanned the card, which at first glance did, indeed, appear to be a student ID. Closer scrutiny immediately cleared up the misconception. "A fake ID?"

"I found it on the floor behind Jim’s desk after they’d left. I was looking for a file from the Miller case and thought I might have left it on Jim’s desk when we were finalizing tonight’s plans." H eyed his partner meaningfully and turned his attention back to Blair.

"I figured it must have dropped out of your backpack when you were in detention." H waited for a moment to see if Blair would volunteer any information.

Down the hall, Jim waited too…effortlessly tuned in to every word being spoken, noting Blair’s rapid heartbeat and shallow breaths.

Finally, Blair looked up, running his palms up and down the length of his thighs in an effort to calm himself. Glancing nervously over his shoulder one more time, he at last offered a very brief explanation.

"I wanted to check some books out of the adult section of the Cascade Public Library."

"With this?" H snorted and chuckled softly. His gaze traveled pointedly from the young face at his side to the even younger looking face on the card he held. "You really thought anyone would think you were 24? You’d have more luck using it to get children’s admission at the mall cinema."

Blair looked stricken by the offhand remark. Taking advantage of H’s relaxed state, Blair quickly grabbed the card and jumped up off the couch. He traversed the short distance to the balcony doors and paused, staring out into the dark alley below.

In an amused voice, H asked, "Did it work? Were you able to pull the wool over their eyes and abscond with any illicit grown up reading material?"

Blair looked down at the card, remembering the day he had presented it at the circulation counter of the library. He snorted softly, and then began to chuckle. He turned back toward the couch, shoving his hands, the card along with one of them, into the front pockets of his jeans and smiled sheepishly.

"No." He snorted again, a little louder, and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Miss Meredith took one look at the books I had chosen, one look at my face, one very close look at the card and politely told me ‘Nice try, young man’ before sliding the books out of my grasp."

H hooted and slapped a hand on his partner’s thigh, causing the younger man to jump back out of his reach. "Miss Meredith? You tried to put one over on Miss Meredith? You’re a braver man than I am."

At his listening post, Jim relaxed his stance and smirked. A picture of Miss Meredith entered his thoughts and he shook his head in fond memory. Miss Meredith…ever vigilant, self-appointed guardian in the fight to safeguard the young men of Cascade from the scandalous urges of their own overactive teenage hormones.

A moment later, Jim snapped back to attention as Blair’s heart rate again sped up. He gently nudged the door open and peered down the hall. Blair stood directly in his line of sight, standing sideways to him, facing the living room. Apparently another question had been asked while Jim was reminiscing.

To the sentinel, there was no mistaking the obfuscation delivered in the one word, slightly hesitant answer that Blair uttered.

"N-no."

To the sentinel’s attuned senses, the boy’s body vibrated with all the telltale signs of deception that Blair himself had been coaching Jim to recognize.

Jim stepped into the hall and Blair caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. As Jim approached, Blair fidgeted, alerting the other two men. Blair’s eyes darted from Jim to H, who winked and nodded at the boy, indicating his promise not to bust him still held.

"Hey, big guy, we just finished up here."

H popped to his feet. "Yup…we’re headed out. It was an interesting evening. I had a great time. Thanks, guys."

H yanked a slightly befuddled Rafe to his feet and steered him to the door.

The younger detective allowed himself to be dragged along, absently rubbing at the stinging sensation left on his thigh by H’s slap. A sharp jab to his ribcage, delivered by H’s elbow, accompanied by a quick head jerk in Jim’s direction cleared his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah…thanks, guys. G’night"

Blair waved his good night and as Jim closed and locked the door, he began gathering the cards that had been abandoned on the table earlier.

Having overheard the conversation about the fake ID Blair had in his possession, as well as the less than truthful negative response the boy had stammered, Jim had a pretty good idea what the unheard question might have been.

He moved to the table and helped Blair tidy up. Once everything was cleared and put away, Jim decided it was time for his own version of twenty questions…minus about nineteen.

Blair had his hands on his hips, thoughtfully surveying the loft for any debris that might have been overlooked. Not finding anything, he turned to say goodnight to Jim.

The big guy was leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed. When Blair faced him, he got right down to business.

"Let’s see it."

The young face clouded over in puzzlement. "See what?"

Jim pinned his charge with a no nonsense look. "Know all those tests and exercises you’ve been having me do to prove your little theory about this sentinel business?" He didn’t wait for an answer. "They’ve paid off. I heard everything that went on out here. Now hand it over."

The look on Blair’s face was priceless…a mixture of unadulterated excitement and pure dread. He hesitated only a moment before digging into his pocket and retrieving the incriminating little piece of evidence.

Jim examined the card, and noting Blair’s agitated fidgeting, decided not to prolong the inevitable.

"We’re going to play one more game tonight…my way. It’s kind of a cross between twenty questions and truth or dare. The rules are simple. I’ll ask a question, you’ll give me an answer, and I dare you not to tell the truth."

Blair’s blue eyes opened wide, he swallowed what little saliva seemed to be left in his mouth, and nodded vigorously in mute comprehension.

Jim held the little card up and pointed at it, so there would be no confusion regarding his inquiry, and arched his brows.

"Have you used this card anywhere besides the library?" H’s question…almost verbatim.

Jim didn’t need to be a sentinel to discern the split second of indecision that shot through the youngster’s body before Blair cleared his throat and answered.

"Yes."

Not waiting for Jim to make use of his follow up option, Blair continued. "Twice…to get in to The Basement. I guess the bouncers could get a few pointers from Miss Meredith on how to spot a fake ID, huh?" A wary, lop-sided grin tried to break out across the teenager’s face.

Jim was clearly not amused by Blair’s attempt at levity and the grin quickly vanished.

Jim had assumed the kid used the ID to purchase beer, or rent an adult video. The Basement was a dirty, disreputable bar favored by college students for its grunge rock music, cheap beer and easy access for underage patrons. It had been raided more times than Jim cared to count.

"The Basement? I don’t believe it. What were you thinking?" Blair seemed ready to offer an explanation, but Jim cut him off. "No…don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter."

An uncomfortable silence descended on the loft.

Blair made a mental tally of all the rules he’d broken as he studied Jim, waiting for his sentence to be pronounced. He didn’t even try to fool himself into thinking that he could talk his way out of any punishment. Watching Jim’s expression, Blair thought that instead of the anger he expected, what he saw was disappointment…and perhaps a hint of uncertainty in how to deal with Blair’s transgressions.

Blair was more than a little confused. Even before Jim had taken it upon himself to become Blair’s foster father, he’d never hesitated to put Blair over his knee when he thought the youngster deserved it.

Several minutes passed; Blair worried his lower lip anxiously and began a nervous fidgeting.

Finally, he decided he couldn’t take the silence any longer; the not knowing what Jim was going to do was grating at his nerves. In the past, when Jim had spanked him, Blair had always thought the punishment was unfair while it was being delivered; accepting that it had been deserved came later.

This time it was different. Blair knew he deserved to be punished. And he knew the method of punishment Jim used; in the past few months he’d experienced it more times than he cared to remember.

‘As Jim would say…time to cut the crap, chief’, Blair thought to himself.

Pulling in a deep breath to fortify his resolve, Blair cleared his throat to get Jim’s attention and gazed resolutely at his guardian.

"Can we just get it over with? Please?"

Blair needn’t have worried that Jim might be having a hard time deciding whether or not a spanking was deserved. The older man had learned through years of experience as a cop how to keep his inner feelings in check, not allowing his face to betray his thoughts.

What Blair had read as a hesitancy to mete out punishment, was in fact a delaying tactic.

Jim’s only uncertainty had been how long it would take before his anger would subside to a level where he felt he could deal with the youngster without skinning him alive.

Surprised by Blair’s initiative in asking for the upcoming spanking to commence, and thinking it would be unfair to make him wait any longer in light of it, Jim decided to comply with the youngster’s request.

"Wait for me in your room."

Blair nodded once and retreated to his room. Once there, he paced back and forth across the short expanse several times before coming to a halt in the middle of the room. He waited, then, wrapping his arms around himself, nervously bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet.

A few minutes later, Jim appeared at the door. Blair’s eyes immediately went to the object clutched tightly in Jim’s right hand…the largest, sturdiest spatula that Jim owned.

"Maybe Granny Tess had the right idea." Jim’s voice was grim, with just the slightest hint of humor.

Blair gulped and watched, eyes fixed on the spatula, as Jim came into the room and seated himself on the edge of Blair’s bed. He set the spatula on the bed, next to his right leg.

"Jeans and boxers down, kiddo."

Blair groaned softly but quickly complied. He fumbled awkwardly with the buttons for several seconds and then slid his jeans down to his knees; his boxers quickly followed.

Jim reached out and guided the youngster down across his thighs, positioning him so that the small butt lay directly in the center of his lap.

"We both know why you’re in this position, chief."

Blair tensed and drew in a breath as he felt Jim reach for the spatula.

Two swift hard smacks landed…one on each cheek, and a fiery sting, unlike anything Jim’s hand could produce, ignited across Blair’s backside.

"YEOOOOOUCH! No! Ow…ow…ow…" Blair wiggled frantically, wondering how he could ever have willingly agreed to this; only two smacks and already his butt was on fire.

It took a moment for Blair to realize that no more smacks followed. The spatula rested on his butt, immobile.

"That certainly seems to have gotten your attention. I guess Granny Tess was right." Jim tossed the object aside. "The next time you do something serious enough for me to use it, I won’t be stopping at just two smacks. Understood?"

"Yes! Understood, big guy." Blair’s head was nodding frantically, in total agreement.

"Good. Now where were we?"

Jim resumed the spanking with his hand, walloping the squirming bottom soundly.

The two distinct red marks left by the spatula soon became indistinguishable, melting away into a uniform deep pink blush that swiftly spread over the entire surface of Blair’s butt.

For the first few moments, Blair could still feel the two separate initial spanks where the spatula had imprinted its lesson. But these, too, quickly blended into a homogenous, rapidly growing, hot, stinging sensation.

Blair wiggled and squirmed and twisted and writhed. He hissed and groaned and pleaded and grumbled. He uttered half hearted apologies and colorful expletives.

Jim shook his head in amazement. He had always stoically endured the butt scorching spankings his father had handed out with gritted teeth and in grim silence. As he tightened his hold on the struggling youngster, another very creative string of swear words met his ears. Jim stifled a laugh. He really shouldn’t be surprised at the boy’s actions; Blair did everything to the accompaniment of animated body language and constant vocalizations.

"We really need to have a little talk one of these days regarding that mouth of yours, junior." Jim delivered six rapid swats to the center of Blair’s butt and halted the spanking.

Blair tried to launch himself off Jim’s lap, but his efforts were stopped by one additional spank and increased pressure from the arm holding him in place.

The youngster twisted his upper body and turned his head so he could see Jim, peering apprehensively through a tangled mass of curls. "Ah, Jim? Um…gonna let me up now?"

"Not yet."

Blair muttered something under his breath and resumed his vain attempt to wiggle out of Jim’s hold. Judging by the tone of voice Blair had used, and not recognizing the language, Jim could only assume it must have been another creative curse.

"I want to be sure we’ve covered everything."

The youngster groaned softly and slowed his agitated movements. A spanking and a lecture…a lecture while his butt was still very much in harm’s way. Not good. Not good at all. Blair issued himself a silent warning to listen carefully, keep his mouth shut unless asked a question, and then to answer truthfully, remembering Jim’s comments about the benefits of his newly accepted sentinel abilities.

Immediately ignoring his own advice, Blair blurted out a rash comment. "It’s just a fake ID. What’s the big fu…? What’s the big deal?"

Jim drew a deep breath, did a hasty ten count, and ignored the backtalk.

"The big deal, junior, is that it’s dishonest…maybe not illegal in and of itself, but it is dishonest. The way you used it was definitely illegal. You don’t need or want the grief you’d get by being arrested for underage drinking. You did drink, I assume, while you were at The Basement?"

Blair heeded the warning this time. "Yes."

"You also lied to me, at least twice. At least, I’m guessing you lied, because I sure don’t remember you ever telling me you were going to a bar, using a fake ID to get in, and drinking. And then…The Basement…of all places! Now we’re talking about safety, kiddo. There’re fights there all the time, and drug dealing. I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened."

Blair considered Jim’s words, hearing as well as feeling his guardian’s concern. "I’m sorry, Jim. I just…" Blair faltered; realizing trying to make excuses for his actions wouldn’t justify them. "I’m sorry."

"I’m sure you are now, kiddo. But if H hadn’t found it, and called you on it, you would have used it again, wouldn’t you?"

Jim felt the small figure stiffen momentarily before Blair hesitantly answered. "Y-yes." There was another pause and then Blair surprised Jim by offering additional information. "I was gonna go again tomorrow night."

"You told me you were going to a movie with Andy tomorrow night and then out for pizza."

"I lied."

Jim sighed. He really wished the instruction manual covered things this. "I’m glad you owned up to everything, kiddo. We’re almost through here."

And with that, the spanking resumed. The flat of Jim’s hand descended rapidly, repeatedly smacking the already warm, pink cheeks until they reddened, and the heat radiating from them increased by a degree or two.

Blair’s pleading and squirming resumed also, in a vain attempt to avoid the stinging slaps. He soon gave up the struggle, and slumped in defeat across Jim’s thighs. Soft, muffled sobs and genuine words of regret replaced the earlier insolent swearing.

Jim delivered a final round of ten well-measured spanks to the center of Blair’s bottom. He began rubbing the boy’s back and shoulders soothingly for a few moments and then eased Blair up to his feet.

Blair stepped out of his jeans and pulled his boxers back up in to place, grimacing as the fabric brushed his tender backside.

Jim pulled the boy to him in a gentle embrace, offering solace. Blair continued to sob silently amid intermittent sniffles. For the moment, neither felt the need for words. Jim gave the trembling body a reassuring squeeze before releasing his hold.

"Let’s get you to bed, kiddo."

"’K."

Blair crawled into his bed and eased himself onto his stomach, scrunching his face into a distressed grimace as the movements accentuated the burning, throbbing sensation in his butt. Several more hiccupped sobs followed before Blair said anything.

"I really am sorry, Jim." Blair heaved a deep sigh and murmured, half jokingly, into his pillow. "I wish I hadn’t started that stupid game." One lone droplet inched its way down the tear stained young face.

Yanking the straight-backed chair out from Blair’s desk, Jim flipped it around and straddled it. He crossed his arms along the chair top, resting his chin on them. He answered seriously, "I’m not."

He grinned happily at Blair, ignoring the boy’s mumbled remark. "I’ll bet."

"I learned a lot about H and Rafe tonight…I’ve worked with the guys for years and never knew some of that stuff. They really like you. They care about what happens to you. And that’s important to me." Jim arched his eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder. "And I learned some things about you, too. You’re a good kid… No, you’re a great kid. But I sure don’t expect you to be an angel. It’s good to know that you have friends; that we have friends that I can count on to watch out for you. I might have to have a word with H about not wanting to rat on you when you do something like this…" Jim chuckled. "But, luckily, thanks to you, I seem to have a built in lie detector now."

Blair groaned and buried his face deeper into his pillow. "Yeah, right…lucky you." He pulled himself onto his elbows. Jim sensed a sudden, excited shudder run through him as his eyes lit up and a barely noticeable bouncing began. "How’d you know I was lying?"

Jim knew Blair would be taking notes mentally, and resisted the urge to reach behind him and grab a notebook from the desk. "Elevated heart rate, blood pressure for starters. But with a different rhythm than when it speeds up cuz you’re excited or happy. Same with respiration; the changes are subtle but unique. You even bounce a little, but only on the inside. And you get the tiniest bead of sweat right here." Jim indicated the spot just under his nose in the little groove above his lips.

"That is so cool. Well, not for me, obviously…" Blair flopped back down on the bed and rubbed his stinging posterior for emphasis. "But think of how this could help you on the job! I mean, it’s not like you could admit it as evidence…’I knew the suspect was lying by the way his heartbeat skyrocketed’, but you’d know and knowing’s half the battle, right?"

"If you say so, chief." Jim stood up, arching his back and stretching his arms above his head to remove the kinks that had quickly settled on his tired frame. He once again sat on the edge of Blair’s bed, and reached out a hand, smoothing tangled strands of hair from Blair’s forehead.

"I think it’s time to call it a night." He leaned down and kissed the top of Blair’s head. He rubbed Blair’s back for a few minutes, feeling the tension recede from the small body. Heavy lidded eyes began to flutter shut as Blair asked Jim one last question.

"Jim?"

"Ye-es, Blair?"

"We’ve tried Granny Tess’s way…now do you think we could try one of those psycho-babble books?"

Jim shook his head and chuckled; before he could answer, Blair drifted off to sleep.

End