The End

Danae

Disclaimer: Not mine. :P

This was the part that Jim had been dreading. He closed the door behind himself and watched as Blair walked over to the couch. It had been a long and emotionally draining day. He almost decided to wait until they both had had some sleep, but then he realized that would not help. Then they would just have to go through another day of emotional shit before they got back to being partners and friends. Jim took two more steps into the loft, dropping his keys onto the table, while he regarded the man who had just days before thrown away his life's work to protect Jim. Blair Sandburg sat with his head thrown back onto the back of the couch and one arm over his eyes. He was tired. Jim understood that feeling well. He leaned on his cane for a moment and took a deep breath.

"So," he started hesitantly, "you never really said how you feel about entering the Academy."

"I'm still a little stunned, I guess." His partner sat up, his arm falling away so Jim could now see his eyes.

Jim moved to the chair and sat down. The impromptu party that had followed the announcement in the bullpen of the offer for Blair to become Jim's official partner had prevented any serious discussion. Jim was not ignorant to the fact that Blair had never said anything to indicate whether this was something he wanted to do or not. Now it was time for Blair to make a decision. An informed decision, he thought bitterly. "There are some things you need to know first." Jim sighed and leaned forward. "There are stipulations, Chief."

Blair tilted his head to one side and regarded Jim with curiosity. "I guess this could cause some problems, huh? Okay, what?"

"Well, for one thing, you aren't allowed to sign off on any reports."

"I don't sign them now. Go on."

"You can't take credit for any bust, and you can't be interviewed by the press."

"And?" The tone was neutral, too neutral.

Jim swallowed hard. "They can't keep you from being called to testify but you are not to dispute any lawyer who discredits you on the stand. You have to take it and then let me do damage control. As the senior partner, my word carries more weight anyway. If there's any way around it, you won't be called anyway. That's the reason for the other stipulations. If you can't be connected with the case, you won't be called."

"They'll know I'm supposed to be your partner though." The voice was not so neutral anymore. It was hoarse with suppressed emotion.

Jim did not want to go on, but he had to. "I know. We'll do what we can to save the case if you're called. There's more. You'll be in Major Crimes but you'll make a patrolman's salary. And there won't be any promotions. You'll get cost of living raises but nothing for merit or advancement." Jim stared at his feet. He did not want to see the effect of his words.

Blair was silent for a long time. He stood and walked over to the balcony. Jim finally looked up from the floor, his gaze falling on Sandburg's back. He flinched when Blair spoke. "I'm to be invisible. Not seen or heard, huh? I should have seen that coming, I suppose. I'm an embarrassment to them, just like I was to the university. They have to take me for your sake but they don't want me. Welcome, just don't make us look at you or talk to you. I'll be dead inside a few weeks, won't I?"

"What?" Jim got up and stormed over to stand next to him.

"Come on, Jim. I know how closed societies work. If they don't want you there, they get rid of you, one way or another. If they can't do it overtly, they do it covertly. Slow backup, maybe even friendly fire. If you are my partner, you're just as dead."

"Don't be ridiculous!" He spun Sandburg around by his shoulder.

"Don't be naïve, Jim! There are going to be hard feelings, fucking stipulations or not. The guys in Major Crimes are not the ones I'm worried about. Not all of them anyway. Whether you want to admit it or not, there are a few of them who don't like me, never have, but they aren't the biggest problem, Jim! The problem is the uniforms, other departments, hell, even the dispatchers that would rather be working the streets."

"We'll watch each other's backs then. Don't you trust me?"

"Why should I? You don't trust me."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Of course, I trust you!" Jim felt anger flush through his entire body.

"Really? That reporter stuck his microphone in our faces and what was your first response? And I quote, 'what did you do?' That's trust. You thought I sold you out. You accused me of ruining your life for money. Hey, let's go back a little further. You read my introductory chapter without my permission!"

"I didn't need your fucking permission! It was my life you were writing about!"

"And I told you you'd see it when it was done! But you just couldn't wait. Why? Because you didn't trust me to let you see it! You didn't trust me not to, I don't know, screw you over in it, I guess! And you want to talk about trust!" Jim stepped back to avoid the flying hands. "Damn it! Who am I kidding?!" Blair turned his back to Jim again and started pacing. "No one is ever going to trust me again! I'm a fraud! I think the brass made that pretty clear, didn't they? No signing, no credit, no promotions, I'm a pariah. Persona non grata. I have to hide behind you the rest of my life! And I can't even defend myself. Dear God, what have I done!?"

If he had not been angry, he never would have said it. He would spend the rest of his life regretting it but hindsight was ever clearer, without the haze of emotion to cloud the view. "You brought it on yourself." He heard himself say it and was horrified.

"What?"

"I—"

"I brought it on myself. That's what you said."

"Sandburg—" Jim held out one hand and opened his mouth to… to what? Apologize, explain, he was not sure.

"I see."

"No, you don't. That didn't—" he was interrupted again.

"Didn't what? Didn't come out right? Oh, I think it came out just fine. You're right. I did bring it on myself." Jim had never seen Sandburg this angry. His face was flushed and his eyes were hard. "If you had just been the lab rat you accused me of making you, I'd be rich right now. Famous too. Renowned in my field. But no, I had to give a damn about you. I had to let you get to me. Mom was right; detach with love. It's the only way. You care; you hurt."

"What the fuck are you talking about now? Did you just call me a lab rat?" This was just too much! Jim itched to reach out and choke the little bastard in front of him until he took that back. How could his guide talk about him that way? How dare he?

"That would be all you would hear, wouldn't it? I'm not surprised. It's all about Jim, right? You know, when I gave that press conference, I had resigned myself to not having a future in Anthropology anymore. I had resigned myself to losing my doctorate and my teaching position, but I never thought I would lose my identity. I would still be Blair Sandburg, no matter what. Nobody could take that away. I was wrong. The badge was a surprise, and for just a little while, I thought somebody saw some worth in me still. But that badge is already tarnished and I would have to reduce myself to a shadow to even have it offered to me. I would be no one, Jim. Nothing. Do you see that? Well, I can't do that. I'm Blair Sandburg and I won't let them make me Jim Ellison's shadow. Tell Simon I said thank you but no thanks. I can't accept that badge."

"And what about me, Sandburg? What happens to me? All about Jim, you say? What about you? All I have heard is what you gave up and what you can and can't accept! A sentinel needs a guide. You said that. I'm still a sentinel. I need my guide. This is the only way!" Ungrateful little snot, he thought bitterly. He could not believe Sandburg was about to hang him out to dry. "'I'll be dead inside a few weeks,'" he mimicked Sandburg's comment from earlier, sarcasm poured heavy over the words. "You just detach with love, buddy-boy, and bury me in a nice spot when I zone out and some bastard shoots me on the street. That make you happy? Or maybe you'd like to do the deed yourself! Save some time and aggravation." The voice of reason in the back of his head telling him to shut up was ignored. But he is right, the voice insisted. Anger beat down reason and turned its attention back to Blair Sandburg, traitor bastard. " I knew I could never trust you!"

Sandburg's head tilted back and he glared at Jim with icy eyes. "Thank you. You just made my point. You need a partner you can trust. Your own words. I will give Megan all my notes. She'll make a good guide for you."

"Get out. Get your shit and get out of my house."

"I fully intended to."

That was all Jim could take. His fist connected before his brain could raise any objection, and he stared in half-horror, half-satisfaction as Sandburg hit the balcony door and slid down it, glass from the broken window showering down around him.

Simon Banks hung up his phone and stared at it for a moment. What the hell could have happened? He pulled himself out of his recliner and wiped his face. Should he call or just go over there? Dear God, a domestic disturbance call at Jim's. They had been getting along great at the station. Smiles and talk of Blair being able to join their ranks officially was all he had seen. Now, this. The caller had said that she heard shouting and something breaking. The dispatcher, recognizing Jim's address and remembering the new regulation regarding domestic violence, called Simon rather than sending out a black and white. He picked up the phone and dialed Jim's number.

He's not moving, Jim realized. His satisfaction wavered and then disappeared. Horror moved into Jim's heart and brain, making both race. He took a step closer. Red, the collar of Blair's shirt was turning red. "Oh, Jesus," he whispered as he gingerly lifted Blair's head away from the door. His fingers encountered warm wetness and Jim cursed himself. The phone rang and he shakily rose from the floor. He had to get rid of the person on the other end. He had to call an ambulance.

He reached out to pick up the phone and gasped at the blood he saw on his hand. He quickly wiped it on his pants and picked up the receiver.

"Jim, what is going on over there? Dispatch got a domestic disturbance call."

"Um, we had a fight, Simon. I can't talk right now. I need to call an ambulance. Blair's hurt." He was surprised at the deadness of his own voice.

"What did you do? Please tell me you didn't do it, Jim."

"I can't do that."

"Jim, the new regulation—"

Jim had supported that regulation. Any cop arrested for domestic violence was automatically suspended. If he was convicted, he lost his job. It would not matter that he and Blair were only roommates, not lovers or family. Domestic violence was domestic violence. "I know. I'll turn in my badge."

"Let's not jump the gun here, Jim. If Sandburg doesn't press charges, we don't have a problem. I'm on my way over. Just stay put."

"I can't, Simon! He's bleeding and unconscious. I have to call an ambulance."

"Damn it! Which hospital?"

"General."

"See you there then." Simon hung up, leaving Jim staring at the phone in his hand as though he had forgotten how to use it.

I'm in shock, he realized, as he pulled himself out of a near zone on the number pad. He called 911 and asked for an ambulance. As he hung up and made his way back over to his fallen friend, the gravity of what had happened really hit him. This was it. This was the end. Blair would be leaving now. Jim's heart dropped into his feet and he sat down heavily on the floor next to his soon-to-be former best friend. He used his own shirt to staunch the blood from the gash in the back of Blair's head. He would have to get a haircut now, Jim thought as he tried to move blood-wet hair out of the way to put pressure on the wound. He would never be able to do enough, say enough to make up for this.

Simon found his friend and detective sitting along in the ER waiting room, his shirt brown with dried blood. It was an awful lot of blood and Simon's feet quickened. "Jim?"

He gestured to the bloodstains.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it. It's too late though. I said it. I did it. I can't take it back."

"Jesus! Is he—"

"He's alive. Head wounds bleed a lot, you know. How could we, Simon? How could we even think that he would be happy as a cop? Especially the kind of cop they expected him to be? Arrogance. I thought he'd be so happy to be my little lap dog that he wouldn't care that he had no future. Then I had the nerve to get angry with him because he wasn't. I hit him, Simon. I hit him hard. He fell back into the balcony door and busted his head. And for a minute there, I was happy that I'd done it. I actually felt he deserved it. What a bastard. I deserve to be prosecuted. He has to press charges. I just keep running through everything he said. He was right. I knew it and that just made me that much madder."

A shadow fell across them and they both looked up at an unfamiliar doctor. "He has a concussion, a black eye, a hairline crack in his jaw, and a gash in the back of his head. Another inch or so lower back there and he'd be dead. We put thirteen stitches in his scalp and we're keeping him overnight. He's awake and coherent. Unfortunately, he's decided on a cover story already. According to him, he tripped. You know better and so do I. That bruise on his face looks remarkably like the imprint of a fist. I'm guessing, your fist. I know you're a cop. One of the nurses volunteered that information, in case you're wondering. Maybe you think that means you can get away with this, but I'm telling you, I'm not letting it go. Any man who beats his lover is not fit to protect and serve the rest of us."

"We're not—"

"Whatever." The man cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've already contacted a shelter, and if I have anything to do with it, he won't be back under your fist."

"Well, it's really not up to you, is it?" Jim stood and stepped toward the man. It was time to intervene.

"Jim, Dr.—" Simon got up and moved between them.

"Pierson."

"Dr. Pierson, I'm Captain Simon Banks. I assure you that this will be dealt with and it will not happen again."

Pierson's eyes changed from green to gold as he regarded Simon skeptically. He shook his head. "Of course, Captain Banks. I'm sure it will be dealt with. Swept nice and neat under the nearest rug. Have a nice night."

"I'd like to see Sandburg," Simon told him.

"So would I," Jim added quickly and Simon grimaced.

"Not a chance in hell. Both of you go home. Nobody is getting in there before he talks to a counselor and that's my final word."

"Adam!" A small blond man called to the good doctor and he walked away without another word.

"Nosy bastard," Jim muttered as he sat back down. "Simon—"

"Don't, Jim. I am pissed off with you right now. Jesus, you could have killed that kid. What the hell is wrong with you? He said some things that you didn't like so you punch him so hard that you give him a concussion and crack his jaw? We are leaving here. You are going home. Say thank you, Jim, because it could have been a holding cell."

"Thank you. It should be a holding cell."

"You're right. It should. Then tomorrow, I will talk to Blair. Not you. When I'm done and if he wants to see you, I'll call."

"Simon!"

"Jim, you brought this on yourself." Simon walked away.

Hearing his own words come back at him was like a knife in the heart for Jim. He stood there trying to catch his breath for several moments. When he could breathe again, he extended his hearing, searching for Blair's voice. He heard it finally. Apparently, the little blond man was the counselor. Jim swore quietly as he heard Blair tell the man that he was not an abused boyfriend, just an abandoned friend. Simon was back then, grabbing Jim's arm and pulling him toward the exit. "This is it, Simon. It's over now." Jim stopped. "I just know that if I walk out that door, it's the end. He'll never come back. We'll never work it out."

"You're overreacting, Jim. Blair cares for you. Though I'm not sure he should, I think he will forgive you."

"It's not just that, Simon. I can't offer him a future here. I can't expect him to live like they want him to. It's not fair. I ruined his life."

"Jim—"

"I should have trusted him. I should have helped him. I let him hang himself and then kicked him when he was down. I can't leave here though. I can't."

"You can and you will. Pierson is dangerous. If he presses this, you could lose your badge. Do you understand me? You need to be out of his sight. He's just the type to call someone to remove you, and then it's not between you, me, and Blair anymore. Now, let's go."

He let Simon lead him along, resigning himself to the end of the best friendship he had ever had.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Jim asked softly. Morning had come and found Jim still awake. He heard Simon sigh over the phone line. "Just say it."

"Yeah, Jim, he's gone. Pierson won't tell me anything. He left AMA but I know Pierson knows where he is."

"It's okay, Simon. I knew. It's okay really. It's all I deserve."

"Jim, we can find him."

"No, no. Leave him alone. Let him find a life out there somewhere. I just hope he's happy. That's all." Jim hung up the phone and rubbed his tired, aching eyes. Another tear escaped, and he turned over in his sleepless bed, hugging his pillow. He was alone again.

Dr. Pierson was as good as his word. There was a job waiting on him when he arrived, and a small but nice apartment to sublet. He wiped down the bar as he listened to the soft sounds of his boss's blues guitar. It had been weeks and still he woke up every morning with a feeling of disbelief. He could not believe he had actually walked away from Jim. But he could not stay. The friendship, if it ever had been friendship, was over. He was not going back to be nothing, worse than nothing. A disgrace. So maybe bartender in a small blues bar was not the doctorate that he had worked so hard for, but no one here knew or cared about his disgrace. He was Blair Sandburg. No one's shadow, no one's pariah. That chapter of his life was over. That's all, folks. The End.