DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Television and Pet Fly Productions. No money has or will be made from the use of these characters or stories. This story belongs to the author. Permission is given to archive.

RATING: G

THANKS TO: The many friends, fans and writers in the Sentinel universe for friendship and inspiration. Special thanks to Barb for beta reading, guidance, and especially friendship.

This story was a December themefic for the SentinelAngst List.

Feedback is always welcome!

Jim looked up from the book he was reading to see Blair walking purposefully toward the loft door.

“Heading out again, Sandburg?  I could swear that you don’t live here anymore, you’re just visiting once in a while.”

Blair replied with a smile as he picked his leather jacket off the hook by the door.

“Tis the season, Jim.  Anyway, after Saturday, all my finals and papers will be graded and posted, and you’ll probably get tired of seeing me lying around the loft soaking up the Christmas spirit.”

“I hope you’re not staying out too late tonight.  We’ve got another storm scheduled to blow in, they’re predicting heavy rain and 50 to 60 mile an hour winds.”

“Winter in Cascade, you gotta love it.  I shouldn’t be too late, unless we hang around chatting afterward.  Gotta go, see you later.”

Just as Jim was about to ask “after what?” Blair blew out the door, slamming it behind him. His partner and roommate had been out four nights per week for the last three weeks, even as he had given his best to juggle his demands of class, teaching, and civilian ride-along to a sentinel police detective.  Jim didn’t think that he had that many night classes, and had wondered what Blair had been up to all of these evenings, but had never gotten the chance to ask.  Oh, well, it wasn’t really his business, he mused, let the kid have some time to himself.

Jim hung up the phone and massaged his temples for the fourth or twelfth time that afternoon.  Most people might think of the Christmas season as a season of peace on earth, good will toward man, but cops, emergency rooms, and mental health crisis services saw the other side of the season. 

It had been his turn at desk duty that afternoon, and the duty officer in Captain Banks’ absence for Saturday.  He had taken call after call involving intoxication, drug abuse, domestic violence and suicidal people, not to mention pickpockets and robbers determined to take advantage of careless shoppers.  During the holidays, Major Crimes helped out the other departments as much as they could, to enable as many officers and detectives as possible to have time with their families and still keep the city and citizens of Cascade safe and happy.

The phone rang again and he took a deep breath before picking up the receiver.

“Ellison.”

//”Hey, Jim, it’s Blair.  You didn’t forget that you’re coming down to the mission after work, did you?”//

“Sandburg, how could I possibly forget?  You’ve only reminded me at least once a day for the last two weeks.”

//”Oh, I haven’t been that bad, have I?”//

“Sandburg…"// 

//”All right, all right,” Blair chuckled.  “Guilty as charged.  So I’ll see you in about an hour, then?”//

“See you there.  See if you can save me a piece of pie, okay?”

//”You bet, Jim.  Thanks, man.  You know what this means to me.”//

“See you, Chief.”

He hung up with a sigh.  Last Christmas, the first one with Blair as roommate, he had been out of town.  They’d exchanged impersonal gifts before he left, but it hadn’t been much of a celebration, and they hadn’t known each other long enough or well enough to buy each other anything special.  Blair had visited with friends for Christmas dinner, he thought, but he really hadn’t paid much attention.

This year was an entirely different matter.  Both men were going to be staying in Cascade for the holidays, and had decided to decorate the loft and have a traditional Christmas together.  Blair had set up a menorah, but had made it quite clear that he loved celebrating both holidays equally.  And their unique “working” relationship had become a surprisingly good friendship, especially considering his initial impressions of the grad student.  It was one of the things that he’d be grateful for this holiday season.

Last weekend they had picked out a tree together, squabbling good-humoredly over what kind of tree to buy, how big, and what the attributes of a truly great Christmas tree were.  From the gleam in Blair’s eye as he stared in admiration at the 8’ noble fir they finally agreed upon, he’d guessed that it was far more than Blair had been able to afford to buy for himself for some time.  Blair had finally admitted that his usual Christmas trees had made Charlie Brown’s tree look impressive by comparison.

After getting home and setting up the tree near the balcony windows, and warming up with a couple of cups of hot cocoa, they headed out again to buy ornaments and lights.  Jim hadn’t decorated the loft for Christmas since his divorce, and the few ornaments and decorations that Carolyn had left him looked worn and dated.  Blair had picked out most of the ornaments, while he had been searching for the small, white, non-blinking lights that he preferred.  By the time they had gotten home after shopping and fighting the parking and crowds, both men were exhausted and waited until the next day to decorate.

Decorating the tree had been another adventure.  Blair had waited impatiently for Jim to finish placing the lights just so, since he didn’t care for Blair’s rather haphazard method of stringing the lights, then took his turn at hanging most of the ornaments.  He’d left the higher spots to Jim, and they’d spent a ridiculous amount of time arguing about things like tinsel or no tinsel, and how close ornaments should be hung to the lights, but the result had been wonderful and completely different than the trees he’d shared with his ex-wife.

Now that the tree had been taken care of, Blair had shared with him another of his holiday traditions.  The Saturday before Christmas he always spent at the mission, helping to serve the free Christmas dinner to Cascade’s less fortunate citizens.  It made his own Christmas more meaningful, he’d said, and the enthusiasm that shone from those shining blue eyes was hard to resist.  Jim had reluctantly agreed to go and help out as well after completing his shift at CPD.

Glancing at his watch, he began to finish up the paperwork on his desk as the end of his shift approached.  Precisely at 3:00 he turned off his computer, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the city’s east side.

Easing past the line of humanity that stretched out of the mission door and into the street, Jim entered the building and wrinkled his nose at the odor of too many bodies in too small a space, and too many unwashed bodies at that.  He dialed down his sense of smell to a more tolerable level, and followed the line on into the dining area.

Scanning the line of servers for a familiar face, he quickly spotted one, but not the one he had expected.  Halfway down the row, the broad smile of Detective Henri Brown gleamed as he served up heaping piles of stuffing onto plates in front of him.  Resplendent in one of the more colorful Hawaiian shirts in his eclectic wardrobe, he cheerfully welcomed the hungry and the homeless. 

Smiling at the sight, Jim turned as he heard a distinctive voice.

“Hey, Jim!  Glad to see you could make it.  Come on back here." 

Blair gestured toward him, urging him through the doorway that led into the kitchen and serving area.  At least a half dozen men and women were working steadily at the stoves and counters, preparing the feast, and another five were stationed at the serving line, red and green aprons reflecting the season.  Blair had on his usual jeans, topped by a red t-shirt with the words “Santa’s Helper” printed across the front.  Damp circles under the arms and the slight sheen of sweat on his smiling face told that he’d been there for a while, and busy at that, but he looked like he was truly enjoying himself.

Taking off his coat and adding it to the pile on a bedraggled sofa, Jim glanced approvingly at the activity around him.

“Where do you need me, Chief?  I’m all yours.”

Walking up behind Henri and slapping him on the back, Blair grinned as he untied the back of Henri’s apron, green with a patch of bright red poinsettias on the front.

“Your relief is here, Henri.  Take five, man.”

Pulling the apron off over his head as he turned, Henri laughed as he spotted his replacement.

“Jim!  I wasn’t sure you’d really come.  Blair said you would, but I figured you’d be watching football back at the loft." 

Jim accepted the apron and began putting it on. 

“No game I really wanted to see, H.  So what were you dishing up?”

After a few seconds of instruction from Henri and Blair, Jim stepped up to the serving line.  Now in charge of mashed potatoes and stuffing, he began filling plates as Blair introduced him to the other men and women working around him.  Looking up occasionally at the men, women and children filing by, he made sure that the portions were large ones.  He was sure that, for some of them, it would be the only meal of the day, for others perhaps the only real meal for the week or month.

Looking around as he served, he spotted several familiar faces among the day’s helpers.  One of the women that worked in Records, a paramedic that he had seen a few times on the job, a nurse that he was fairly certain worked in the emergency room at Cascade General Hospital.  Whether serving, delivering food donated by area restaurants, or cleaning tables up quickly so the next person could sit, all had a look of contentment on their faces.  The Christmas spirit was definitely present and fully in gear.

Despite the number of people waiting in the seemingly endless line, everyone was patient and polite with each other.  He began to take pleasure in chatting briefly as people made their way through the serving line, wishing others a Merry Christmas and accepting many thanks in return. 

Blair was kept busy replacing empty serving bins with newly filled ones, making sure that none of the servers ran out of food.  He was constantly in and out of the back door, directing the volunteers delivering food from restaurants, keeping everything and everyone running smoothly.  In between his other tasks, he checked to make sure that the servers had punch or coffee to drink, and got breaks when they needed it.  Jim could see the genuine pleasure that he was taking in the afternoon, and heard the holiday tunes that his roommate was frequently humming along to the music emanating from speakers in the corners.

The time passed quickly, and the line approaching the servers never faltered.  Jim had fallen into an easy routine of serving and chatting occasionally with his co-workers.  Fully occupied with the task at hand, it was several moments before Jim noticed the sound of shouts and a scuffle from behind the building.  Stopping momentarily as he focused his hearing on the disruption, a shouted “Oh, my God, Blair!” caused him to drop his spoon and race for the back door. 

A chaos of shouting and movement greeted him in the alleyway.  To his left, it looked like several people were trying to subdue a yelling, flailing man.  To his right, a couple of men were bent over someone lying on the street.  The distinctive scent of blood reached his nostrils, and Jim quickly turned in that direction. 

Pushing aside one of the kneeling men, Jim saw that the man they were administering to was Blair.  He dropped to one knee beside his friend, automatically reaching to grasp one trembling shoulder in reassurance. 

“Damn, Chief, what happened?”

Blair struggled to sit up with a groan, and Jim helped prop him up against the wall.  While he explained, he began to check out the bloodstained slash in the thigh of Blair’s left leg. 

“Oh, man,” Blair grimaced against the pain.  “I heard an argument back here, they were getting louder and louder, and I thought I’d see what was going on.  The next thing I know, this guy was screaming and slashing around with a knife, and I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.  I guess he caught me in the leg and the arm.” 

Jim looked up and spotted the trickle of blood oozing through the fingers of Blair’s right hand, firmly grasping his left upper arm. 

“Yeah, I can see that.  It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding too badly up there, but your leg’s got a nasty slash in it.  Hold on, this is gonna hurt, but I need to try to stop the bleeding.” 

Yanking off his apron, Jim quickly folded it lengthwise and wrapped it around Blair’s leg, using the apron strings to secure it in place.  Blair’s face paled as he held his breath against the pain and new pressure on his damaged leg, then let it out cautiously. He surpressed another moan as his eyes watered and he gritted his teeth to remain in control.  Spotting Henri Brown coming through the doorway, Jim called out, asking him to call for backup and an ambulance.

“Jim, I don’t need an ambulance.  Just give me a minute…”  Blair asserted.

“Forget it, Chief.  Let’s not take any chances, okay?  And besides, I don’t want to have to clean your blood out of the truck.”

With a smile that revealed that he wasn’t seriously worried about cleaning the truck, Jim checked out the shallower cut across Blair’s bicep, then pulled out his handkerchief and tied it around the wound.  Finishing his first aid efforts, he patted Blair’s other shoulder and looked closely into his pale and damp face, checking for shock.

Henri reappeared, a blanket in hand.  Kneeling beside Blair, he helped Jim spread it over the complaining observer’s lap.

“Here you go, Sandburg, don’t want you going into shock, now.”  He stood and joined the group of men attempting to subdue Blair’s attacker.

Blair slumped back against the wall, letting his head drop back and his eyes fall closed.

“I don’t believe it, I just don’t believe it.  What’s up with that guy anyway?” he said in a pained voice.

Jim glanced over at the pile of men, now including Henri, holding Blair’s attacker face-down on the ground.  Despite his position, he continued to shout and squirm.

“I don’t know.  He acts like he’s on something.”

The welcome scream of approaching sirens grew, and soon the alley was filled with officers and paramedics.  While Jim gave a brief report to the uniformed officers, the paramedics checked Blair out and readied him for transport.  They cautiously helped him to stand on his good leg, Jim quickly catching him with an arm around the back when Blair wavered dizzily for a moment, then helped him to settle on the gurney.  The paramedics reluctantly agreed to let him ride along, so Jim left Henri in control of the crime scene and climbed into the ambulance to accompany his partner to the hospital.

Blair sat on the edge of the hospital bed, glumly staring at the wheelchair parked in front of him.

“Well, ready to go, Chief?” Jim asked with a smile.

“You bet, one night in the hospital is more than enough.  But I still think that I could manage with crutches.”

“You heard the doctor.  No crutches or cane for at least three days, so you don’t open up the stitches in your arm.  And keep that arm in that sling, if you know what’s good for you.  Come on, your chariot awaits.”

With a loud “hmmph” Blair stood carefully on his good leg and pivoted, with Jim’s help, to sit carefully in the wheelchair.  After propping Blair’s injured leg up on the footrest, Jim picked up the tote bag from the floor and slung it over one shoulder, then unlocked the chair’s brakes.  Heading out the door, orderly nearby and watching to make sure that Blair left the hospital safely, he was surprised that Blair didn’t even make small talk with the nurses as they left.  That was a first.

Passing through the sliding front doors, they spotted Simon waiting next to his car.

“Hey, Sandburg, how’re you doing?  Since it’s gonna be a little tough for you to climb in and out of Jim’s truck for a while, I thought I’d give you a ride home.  We can fold up your loaner wheelchair and put it in the trunk.”

“Thanks, Simon,” Blair answered, eyes downcast.

Slowly and carefully, Jim and Simon helped Blair out of the wheelchair and into the front seat of Simon’s sedan.  Both surprised at Blair’s uncharacteristic silence, their eyes met with matching frowns over his head as he eased in, and Jim shrugged.  After the door was closed, Simon walked Jim back to his truck.

“What’s up with Sandburg?  I didn’t think he was hurting that bad.  Is he all right, should he be leaving the hospital this soon?”

“I don’t know, Simon.  He’s on some pain medication, but he said it wasn’t that bad.  It seems like he’s been in a bad mood for some reason that he won’t share with me.  Maybe he’s just bummed out at being hurt during the holidays.  In any case, I’m sure he’ll be better once he’s home and has his nose in a book.”

“Well, let’s get going.  I’ve got Christmas shopping with Daryl this afternoon.  I’ll never hear the end of it from Joan if I show up late to pick him up.”

“You got it, Simon.  See you at the loft.”

Three hours later, Jim was no closer to finding out what was bothering Blair.  Despite his efforts to get Blair to talk, including an offer to run to the video store to pick up some of Blair’s favorites for them to watch together, Blair had declined and stayed instead in his room.  Jim had to settle for making him some tea and helping get Blair’s injured leg propped up in the most comfortable position possible.  He’d received a wan smile of thanks, but it quickly faded and Jim left the room still in the dark.

Puttering around the loft, critically rearranging holiday decorations for the hundredth time while he surreptitiously listened to his partner in the other room, he was surprised by a knock at the loft door.  He was surprised to see Henri at the door, a garment bag draped over his arm.

“Hey, Jim, how’s it going?  How’s Sandburg?”

“He’s in his room, but I don’t think he’s sleeping.  Come on in, I’m sure he’d be glad to see you.”  Jim ushered in his guest, and closed the door behind them.  “At least I hope he’d be glad to see you, maybe you can cheer him up.”

“Cheer him up?  Is he down in the dumps?”

“Yeah, he’s been moping around ever since he went to the hospital, and I can’t figure out why.  He says he’s fine physically, but he won’t tell me what else is going on.”

“Ah,” Henri nodded.  “I think I know.  Did he tell you his plans for the evening?”

“No.  What plans?”

Henri chuckled.  “Figures.  He has kinda kept it under his hat.  You wouldn’t figure a guy like Sandburg would be shy about anything, would you?”

“Shy about what?  Come on, H, spill it.”

“Blair has been practicing with our community choir for the last three or four weeks, and tonight is the performance of The Messiah that we’ve been preparing for.  For some reason he didn’t want me to tell anyone about it, he seems to think that his voice isn’t too great.  I’m guessing that he’s down because he thinks he can’t go with his injuries.  But I came over to pick him up and take him with me.  There’s room for his wheelchair in the front row, so there’s no reason he still can’t sing with us.”

Jim was truly surprised.  Other than singing in the shower, and humming along with Christmas carols when he heard them, he had no idea that Blair was a singer.

“I don’t see why not.  I’ll give you a hand getting him there, if he wants to go.  I’d hate for him to miss out.  And by the way, what’s in the bag?” Jim asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“A white dress shirt.  We don’t have choral robes or any kind of uniform, but everyone wears white shirts and dark pants or skirts.  I figured that Blair doesn’t own a plain white dress shirt, so I picked one up for him.”

“That’s great, H.  And you’re right, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a white dress shirt.  Well, let’s go tell him he’s got a performance to get ready for.”

Jim had been pleasantly surprised with the evening.  Since he went early with Blair and Henri, an hour before the performance so that the choir could warm up, Jim had been able to grab a seat near the front.  Surprisingly, there were already a number of audience members there before him.  As the hour passed, the large church filled completely, every pew and balcony filled to capacity.  By the time the performance started, folding chairs had been brought up from the church basement to fill any remaining space.

Not sure what to expect, Jim was nevertheless curious as he saw the orchestra, the soloists, and the choir file in.  Blair came in last, pushed by Henri, to take his place in his wheelchair in the front row.  Jim had never heard the entire Messiah, just the most popular choral numbers, and never in person.

The evening flew by.  He was amazed by the beauty and complexity of the music, the faith it represented, and certainly by the talents of all involved.  Having never been a particularly religious man, he was surprised by the warmth of emotion that the music inspired in him.

Taking advantage of his Sentinel senses, he was able to pick Henri and Blair out of the chorus as he listened.  He’d heard Henri sing before, and recognized his rich voice soaring with the chorus.  Blair’s voice was a revelation, not as powerful as some, but somehow pure and rich with emotion.  His face was filled with concentration and determination, as well as an indefinable something that might have been described as joy.

He was impressed by the talents of the soloists, the apparent skill of the choir director, and all involved.  The rousing Hallelujah Chorus moved him more than he expected, with many in the audience singing along as urged.  As the performance drew to a close, topped off by the Amen Chorus, he saw tears in the eyes of many a choir member, as well as many in the audience.  He stood with the others for a long and vigorous applause.

Later, offering a warm goodnight to Henri after he’d dropped them off at home, he closed the door and turned back into the loft.  Lighting the Christmas tree and the fireplace, he turned off all but a few lights and joined Blair in front of the tree.

Blair was sitting in front of the tree, a look of peace and contentment in his eyes as he surveyed it.  Covered with small white lights, red wooden apples, and numerous small wooden carved and painted ornaments, it was just the kind of simple but beautiful tree that he always appreciated.  Presents were scattered under the tree, and Jim could see the curiosity in his eyes as he checked them over.

Preparing a couple of cups of hot cocoa, Jim brought Blair one and sat in the chair next to him.  They sipped appreciatively, enjoying the warmth and comfort of their home.

Blair spoke up first.

“Thanks, Jim.  For everything…helping out at the Mission, the tree, coming to the concert…this has been a great Christmas.  Thanks for making it feel like home.”

“No, thank you, Blair.  The performance was wonderful.  I can’t believe that I’ve never heard the Messiah like that before.  You and Henri were both great.  But why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d be interested or not.  Lots of people aren’t interested in religious music, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to go just because I was singing.”

“Blair, I’m glad I went.  Really.  It was beautiful, really moving.”

“It was, wasn’t it.  It’s another of my holiday traditions.  I was in choir in high school, and we sang a couple of the most popular pieces of the Messiah.  I really loved that music.  Once I found that Cascade has a community Messiah sing every Christmas season, I started going.  There’s just something about the music, the season, the message…even for a Jewish boy like me, it’s a meaningful part of my holiday traditions.  People from all faiths are welcome.  It means a lot that you were there for me tonight.”

“I enjoyed it, Chief.  Sounds like a Christmas tradition that I could get into, too.” 

Enjoying the ambience for a few moments longer, this time Jim spoke up.

“Hey, why don’t we each open one present tonight?  It just feels like the night for it.”

With a gleam in his eye, Blair nodded eagerly, and pointed out the present that he wanted after Jim picked out one for himself.

“Go ahead, Jim, you first.”

Pulling the wrapping neatly and carefully from the box, ignoring Blair’s snort of disdain, Jim uncovered a medium-sized square box.  Opening it, he discovered a sound machine, one that made several different sounds of nature, from the trickle of a brook to the gentle wash of waves upon a seashore.  He turned it on, and a pleased look spread across his face as he tested several of the sounds.

“This is great, Chief!  Thank you.”

“I thought it would be great for you to have something like this that you could keep next to your bed, for when your senses are going nuts or you can’t sleep.  Most of the sounds are quite restful.”

“Oh, yeah.  It’s gotta sound much better than the Ogden boy’s drum set.  Thanks for such a thoughtful gift.  Now yours.”

Blair wasted no time in tearing the wrapping on his package to shreds, flinging the pieces all around him.  He found a small box and opened it carefully.  Inside he found two wallet-sized cards, and peered at them intently.  Reading them quickly, he grinned in pleasure.

“All right!  Two season passes for the classic film series at the Rialto, and two season passes for the Art Museum special exhibits.  Thanks, Jim!  These are terrific.”

“I’m glad you like them.  And you have two passes there, so you can always take a date.  I saw them advertised on TV and I immediately thought of you.”

“They’re super, Jim.  Just what I wanted.  Thanks.”

Comfortable, relaxed, and warmed by not only the fire but the company, they shared cocoa and holiday stories late into the night.  Home for the holidays had developed a new meaning that night, and both knew it was truly the gift to be treasured.

THE END