The Bridge

Danae

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money…. Etc.

Notes: Another song inspired story. Queensryche again. I love those guys. If you'd like to see the lyrics, let me know. Thanks so much to my wonderful betareaders, Susn and Nickerbits. Not in the Family Series. Spoilers for Remembrance.

"Jimmy, you can do anything you set your mind to, son. You have talent and you have brains."

Ten-year old Jimmy Ellison turned to the man to his left. The words made him feel good but they came from the wrong person. His father had not made it to the game. Again. "We lost the game, Bud. I blew it."

"One play did not lose that game, Jimmy. You did not lose that game. Now, no more of that kind of talk. You played a good game. One mistake does not make you a bad player. Let's see a smile on that face, kiddo."

Jimmy shifted on his tree stump and smiled as best he could.

"That's better. Get on home now. See you tomorrow at practice, right?"

"Sure, Bud." Jimmy got up and jogged out of the woods, turning once to wave before running in the direction of home.

As he entered the house, his father met him at the door. "You're late, Jimmy. Dinner was served and you missed it. Apparently, it was not important to you so you can just go on upstairs. There will be no dinner for you tonight."

"But, Dad, I had a game, remember? I told you about it. You said that you'd try to come."

"I have to work. Know what that is? It's what keeps this roof over your head and puts clothes on your back and food on the table for you to eat."

"I'm not allowed to eat," Jimmy muttered. His head snapped to the left as his father slapped him.

"Get upstairs and don't you let me see your face again tonight."

Thirty-eight year old Jim Ellison hung up the phone and closed his eyes.

"Who was that on the phone?" Blair asked as he came out of his room, tucking his shirt into his jeans.

"My father," Jim told his roommate and partner. "He wants me to come to dinner tomorrow night."

"Cool. You guys should spend more time together."

Jim shook his head. "What would be the point in that?"

"Jim, he's your dad." Blair said it as if it was obvious why he should put aside his life just to run back to sit at his father's table and hear how much more he could have done with his life.

"Chief, he wants to discuss his will with Steven and me. I don't want anything from him. I told him to give it all to Steven. End of discussion. No point in wasting an evening hearing all about the Ellison legacy. There's a game tomorrow."

"Jim, a game? You're burning the bridge to your family for a game?"

"I'm not burning a bridge to anything, Chief. You can't burn something that was never there."

"What do you mean?"

"He never built that bridge, Blair. When I was on the phone with him, I kept thinking about all the times I needed him to be there and he wasn't. He was too busy to be my father. The only thing I ever got from him was criticism. You know that. We've covered all this before, remember? Now, he needs me and I'm supposed to forgive and forget and be there for him? He's old and he wants his family back, he says. Well, I say he never had a family to begin with."

"He's trying to built that bridge now."

"Too little, too late."

"It's only too late when he's gone, Jim. Then it'll be too late for you. Don't make the same mistakes he did. Meet him halfway, Jim. If you don't, you'll regret it one day. Don't want to be in the will, fine. But don't leave things unresolved between you."

"It won't do any good, Sandburg! Damn it, will you stop nagging me!?"

"Okay." Blair held up his hands in surrender and walked back into his room, leaving Jim to his turbulent thoughts.

He was not going, damn it. But Blair's words would not let him sleep.

William Ellison glanced nervously at his watch once again. Steven sat placidly in the den, talking with Sally, while William paced in the foyer. "He's really not coming," he whispered to himself. He placed one hand on the wall in front of him and sighed. He had thought that he had a chance of reconciling with his oldest son when Jim saved him from that psychopath, but Jim had pulled away again as soon as the case was over. He sighed. He was halfway into the den when the doorbell sounded. He nearly ran back to the front door. He opened it. Jim stood there looking decidedly uncomfortable, but at least he was there.

"Dad," Jim nodded a little at him.

"Come on in, son."

Blair looked up as Jim entered the loft. "Well, how'd it go, Jim?"

"We started building the bridge, Chief. It's not done by any means, but we got a good start."

Blair smiled at his sentinel. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, me too." Jim headed for the stairs up to his bedroom and Blair turned back to the papers he was grading. "And, Chief?"

Blair looked over his shoulder and met Jim's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for being such a nag."

"My pleasure." Blair grinned as Jim ruffled his hair then quickly disappeared up the steps.