It was another typical grey, rainy Cascade day. Simon Banks picked up the collar of his trench coat and wiped futilely at his glasses as he made his way across the cemetery. It didn't take him long to get to his destination. He'd been there often enough. As he placed the bouquet of lilies on the grave, he thought back to the day he'd lost two good friends; to the day Blair had been ripped from their lives.
~~~~~~~~~~
The kid had been bouncing around the bullpen, as usual.
"Sandburg, will you sit down?"
"Sorry, Jim. It's nerves. I'm defending my dissertation tomorrow, you know?" Blair sat down at his desk and picked up his coffee cup.
"I know, I know. It's all you've talked about for the past week. At this point, I think all of us would be happy when you get it over with. You'll certainly be a lot easier to live with." Simon agreed. Besides, once Sandburg got his degree, he could work on regularizing his position. Dr. Blair Sandburg. Simon couldn't have been prouder had Blair been his own son.
Blair took a sip of his drink. "Hey, this isn't coffee."
"Nope. You keep telling me how chamomile is nature's tranquilizer." Simon couldn't believe the huge smile on Jim's face, or the answering one on Blair's. He did not want to know exactly how close that bond was. Simon turned towards his office. There was always paperwork to be done. Then he heard Blair fall.
"Chief!" Jim's shout reached across the bullpen as he knelt next to his partner. Simon and Megan joined him. The two of them began CPR, but Jim pulled them away.
"Jim! What are you doing?"
"He's gone." Simon could see Jim fight for control. His eyes glittered with the tears a man doesn't shed. "He's not there anymore. His heart, his breathing, everything just stopped. We're not going to get him back." As Jim cradled Blair's body in his arms and stroked his curls, Simon could see Megan calling for help. Tears were running down her face as she and everyone else stared at the two of them.
"Does...does anyone know how to...reach his mother? Jim?" Jim didn't answer. He was focused on Blair. It wasn't a zone-out, but it might as well have been.
"Captain?" Joel Taggart, his voice thick with grief, spoke up. "I think she just told...him...where she was, and he wrote it down in an address book. I'll...I'll look in his desk." Minutes later, Simon found himself talking to Blair's mother.
"Ms. Sandburg...I have...terrible news..."
"Blair's dead. I knew it! I could feel it! Damn that Ellison for endangering my boy!" She wasn't holding back tears.
"It wasn't Ellison. He just...died. All of a sudden, sitting here in the station, drinking chamomile tea, of all things."
"Chamomile? He's not allergic to chamomile. Simon, I'm flying out there right now. I should be there in a couple of hours. Do not let anyone cut my son open."
"No autopsy?"
"No. Arrangements. Some one has to make arrangements. I have to. Can...can you get me the number of a synagogue?" Simon gestured towards a phone book, which someone handed to him and found three listed. He gave her all three numbers.
At that point, the EMT's arrived and confirmed what Jim said. Blair's heart had stopped cold. They wrapped him in a body bag to take to the morgue, and nodded when Simon told them no autopsies until his mother arrived. Jim stood silently as Blair's body disappeared. Simon shook his head and returned his attention to the phone call.
"I'll be there soon. Captain...take care of my son's friend. I think he'll need it. Good bye."
It took longer than a couple of hours, but Naomi was in Cascade before dark. Simon had Megan pick her up at the airport since he was not going to let Jim be by himself. She brought Naomi to his house and stayed with them. Blair had wormed his way into her heart, too.
Things went by too quickly for Simon's tastes. The Jewish funeral the next day was spare and elegant, and crowded the funeral home's largest room. Blair had touched too many people's lives and they all needed to pay their respects. Simon found the plain, closed box and the lack of music and flowers disconcerting and the Hebrew confusing, but Naomi seemed to take comfort in the ritual and that's what counted. The crowd divided itself oddly. There were the cops and the people from the university and the people from Blair's volunteer work and the community, and they all had their own groups, and then there were the Jewish members of those groups who stuck with Naomi. And there was Jim, who stood silently by himself, whose very silence warded off any comfort, even that of Simon and Megan.
Later, at the cemetery, Jim insisted on burying Blair himself. Naomi seemed to approve of this. There were more prayers in Hebrew and then they all went to Simon's house, where both Naomi and Jim were staying. A couple of days later, Naomi left, and Jim insisted on going home alone.
"I'll be fine, Simon. It'll take some time, but I'll be fine."
Not even Jim believed those words, but Simon took them at face value. Jim's eyes were still dead.
After his bereavement leave, Jim returned to work. He even saw the mandatory counselor a couple of times. He didn't argue. He didn't argue with anything - not even when Simon realized he'd have to be on permanent desk duty. Jim just nodded and did his work as well as ever. He stopped smiling again. It was as if he were marking time. He also made no move to eat his gun and there were no foolish chances he could take behind a desk. People looked at him and shook their heads.
Simon caught Megan staring one day, about three months later.
"Conner?"
"Sorry, Captain. They really were in love, weren't they?"
"I don't know. But he's not getting over it."
"I don't think he ever will. You know, as much as it hurts to watch him, I hope I find something like that for myself some day. I don't think I'd even care what shape it came in."
"No. " Simon smiled. "We're going to lose Jim someday. I don't know how he's hanging on."
"He hasn't gotten rid of any of Blair's things, you know. I think he sleeps in Blair's bed."
"He does. I've found him there."
"I miss Sandy, too. The place seems dead without him."
"We all do, but Jim..."
Jim looked up. His senses were working just fine and he'd obviously heard every word. He also obviously didn't care.
Three more months passed, and Naomi flew back in. It was something called an unveiling. They gathered at the cemetery again and there was a gravestone covered with a cloth. Someone said a few words and the cloth was removed.
It was very simple - a square block that said "Blair Sandburg 1969-1999. Teacher, son, friend." There were a few words in Hebrew - Blair's Hebrew name, Benyamin ben Avraham - and the Hebrew dates. There was also a carving of a wolf's head in profile at one corner.
"My son had always liked wolves. They were also the sigal of the tribe of Benjamin, so I thought it was appropriate." Simon nodded.
After the brief service, Naomi placed a stone on the headstone and gestured for the others to do the same. Jim hung back, staring at the gravestone. He'd come in his own car alone, so the others left him there. Simon was the last to leave. As he began to walk away, he could hear Jim talking to the stone, talking to Blair.
"You're really gone. All this time, even after the funeral, I missed you but it was like you'd come back some day. But that's your name there, Chief. Blair. My Blair. Graven in stone for all to see. And I never got to say all those things. I was a coward, a fool. I was *proud* of you, buddy. You were going to be a real professor and you still wanted to stay with me and the station, and help me. I needed you...I need you. I miss you. Oh, God, Blair. Beautiful Blair. I love you. I never said so, I never let you know, but I love you." Six months had passed, but finally the iron man had cracked. He fell to his knees, mindless of the mud and his good suit.
Simon could feel the sobs as they wrenched themselves from Jim's body - hoarse, unnatural sounds, the sounds a man taught never to cry makes when he no longer can control the tears.
Simon could no longer just watch. He went to Jim, and put his hands on Jim's shoulders. At first, Jim didn't seem to notice. Then he reached up and grasped Simon's hands as if to hold them there.
"I do love him, Simon. I don't know why that's supposed to be wrong, to love a man."
"It's not wrong, Jim. It made you happy."
"It made me human. Blair made me human. He wouldn't let me hide. We never slept together, you know."
"I never thought about it."
"I wanted to. He wanted to."
"Jim..."
"No, listen. We were inching towards it. Touching more. We'd even kissed once or twice...we had forever to do this, you know? We could take it slowly. Oh, God. I was a coward. And now he's gone and I'm stuck here."
"We need you, Jim."
"I'm useless. I'm riding a desk. My senses are still here but I can't really use them. I'm Sentinel with nothing to watch over."
"Jim..."
Jim reached into his suit coat, and took out his badge and his gun. "Here. Hold them for me, Simon. Until I'm fit for them again, hold them."
Simon breathed a sigh of relief. "You'll need them sooner than you think, Ellison." He put the gun and badge in his own pockets.
Jim just shook his head.
"I'd better be going, Simon. I'm driving Naomi to the airport, and I have to stop at the loft first."
Maybe Simon should have been surprised at the new later that evening, but he wasn't. Jim drove Naomi to the airport and saw her safely off.
Then he got into his truck and drove it into the mountains and through a railing. He deliberately did not wear a seatbelt. He was dead before the truck stopped rolling. The note he'd left in his apartment said, simply, "Good-bye."
~~~~~~~~~~
That was six months ago. Jim was buried with full honors in his family plot, miles away from Blair, in a regulation police funeral replete with uniforms and an elaborate casket. His father and brother were there, confused that Jim would kill himself because of his partner. His gravestone echoed Blair's as much as Simon could - his name, the dates and the word "Friend" in large letters. And he'd had a black jaguar carved on one side. There'd been lilies everywhere - Jim's favorite flower because of its subtle scent.
And Simon made certain that Daryl realized how stupid a gesture the suicide was - he was told to notice how angry everyone was at this betrayal of love and trust. Deep down, though, Simon knew that Jim was only completing what had begun six months earlier.
Simon put the lilies on the grave and straightened up. He had another grave to visit, and a stone to put upon it.
Back to Sentinel page.
Back to Fanfiction page.
Back to Main page.