Spoilers:  none

Rating of Story:  PG

Characters in Story: Jim and Blair, Rafe, Megan, Simon

Warnings: Violence

Plot Blurb:  What is it with Blair and knives, anyway?

Special Note:  I dedicate this to a great friend and sometimes writing partner - Sentinel Dreamweaver - you rock, my friend!

Feedback:  totally.  Yes!  Love feedback!  Feedback rocks!  Where you say?  Oh!  rokiahda@yahoo.com.  Totally :)

  ***

“Chief?”

Blair Sandburg stared at the large cell phone in his left hand, blue eyes wide with shock as he tried to concentrate.

“Sandburg?”

Even without the phone right next to his ear, Blair heard the sounds of his partner, Jim Ellison loud and clear.  The curly-haired young man lacked the energy to respond, however.  He fell down to his knees very slowly and stared at something else instead -the six inch knife sticking through the upper bicep of his right arm.

At first he felt no pain, just an incredulous feeling of astonishment.  A knife? In his arm?

What’s a knife doing in my arm?

“Sandburg!  Blair!  Answer me, damnit!”  Blair looked back at his phone again as he slid further down to lean against his old Volvo.

“Knife,” he murmured, knowing that Jim, unlike the rest of mankind, would hear it loud and clear.  “Knife in my arm.  There’s a knife in my arm.”

He spoke over and over again as his vision continued to wash out on him. 

“Chief? Did you just say knife in your arm?”  the strident voice demanded.

Blair continued to repeat it, like a mantra, until his vision grayed out entirely and he fell over to one side, totally unconscious.

- - - -  - - - -  - - - -  - - - -  - - - -  - - - -

Jim Ellison threw his cell phone down onto the passenger seat of his old blue Ford Truck and threw the shift into drive before he tore out of the parking lot at the police department building in downtown Cascade Washington.  He kept a tight hold on all of his senses – no way could he afford to zone out now, not in the middle of an unknown situation.  Knife in my arm.  What the hell had Blair meant by that? 

Jim grabbed his phone again and closed the precious connection with Blair and hit another number on his speed dial.  A few moments later a voice barked at him.

“Banks!”

“Simon, it’s Jim,” he stated clearly.  “I’m heading over to Rainier.  I swear Sandburg just told me that he had a knife in his arm.  He passed out while we were talking.  Can you get an ambulance there and back-up?  I’ve no idea what happened and we’d been talking for nearly five minutes.”

“Did you hear anything?”  his boss, Simon Banks, Captain of the Cascade Major Crimes Unit, asked.

Jim thought about that a moment.  “Yeah,” he admitted a moment later.  “I heard something.  I swear I heard him flirting with a girl – but I was sidetracked trying to decide where we were going to eat tonight.”

Simon swore under his breath.

“Rafe and Connor are on their way,” Simon said a moment later.  “And there should be a squad meeting you there.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Find out what you can.”

Jim agreed and hung up, tossing the phone back onto the seat as he nearly went to two wheels while going around a corner.  It took far longer than he wanted, despite running his lights and sirens the whole way.  When he arrived he saw the squad car parked near Sandburg’s Volvo and the two officers kneeling beside the younger man.

Jim slammed his door shut as he raced over to his partner’s side and listened.  A few moments later he took a deep breath.  Heart beat.  Breathing.  Whatever else, his partner was alive, if unconscious.

“Detective Ellison.”  Ellison flashed his badge at the two officers.  “This is my partner, Blair Sandburg; he’s an observer in Major Crimes, assigned to me.  He also works as a teaching fellow here at Rainier.  I was on the phone with him when he said something about a knife in his arm.  Did you see anyone here or anything unusual after you arrived?”

“We just got here about a minute before you did, Detective,” the taller of the two officers, an Officer Vance, stated.  “The victim was laying on the ground; we didn’t want to disturb the knife in his arm but we checked his vitals and my partner just got the blanket to cover him.  There’s an ambulance already on the way.  Nobody else was in the area that we saw.”

“Start canvassing the area,” Ellison ordered brusquely.  “I want to see if anyone saw what happened.  I’m pretty sure he was talking to a girl while we were on the phone together but I can’t really tell you anything about her.”

“Yes, Detective,” Officer Vance agreed. 

Jim dialed down his hearing just in time to mostly block the loud siren of the arriving ambulance but he refused to move too far from Sandburg when the attendant’s ran over with a gurney.  He allowed them enough room to maneuver, take vital signs and contact the base station but beyond that, he hovered anxiously.

Detectives Brian Rafe and Megan Connor arrived just as the med techs were loading Blair up onto the gurney for transfer into the ambulance.  Megan, a tall red-head from Australia, stopped by the gurney and looked down at Blair for a moment.

“Sandy!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, dear, what happened?”

“We don’t know yet, Connor.”  Jim tried not to be too impatient with his Australian colleague but currently he wanted to focus more on Blair than her.  “The uniforms are canvassing the area – we won’t know more until he wakes up.  You guys can take it from here?”

“Yeah, Jim,” Brian Rafe agreed.  GQ to the end, the younger officer wore a very nice suit and tie.  “We’ve got it under control.  Call us when you know anything.”

Jim agreed.  He climbed into the back of the ambulance with Blair, ignoring the protest of the attendant. 

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 

“Nothing so far,” Rafe rubbed the back of his head as he stared up at his very tall, African American captain.  Simon Banks stood by the crime scene, an imposing expression on his face.  The Captain looked around, studying the scene with an experienced eye and looked about.

“CSI been here yet?” he asked idly.

“STILL on the way,” Rafe groused.  “And I called them nearly thirty minutes ago.  I’ve no idea why they’re taking their time.”

“Jim give you anymore information?” Banks continued, ignoring the rant.

“No sir.” Rafe peered closely down at the ground; the blood splatter was fairly mild for such a grievous wound.  He peered even more closely when he saw something.  He knelt down and studied what he saw without touching it.  “An earring, pearl, obviously a woman’s unless Sandburg’s tastes have changed.”

“Jim mentioned Sandburg talking to a woman while they were on the phone together.  Did you get a look at the knife in Sandburg’s arm?”

Rafe shook his head.  “Just a glance, mostly.  It was long, though. Six or so inches, I’d say.  There was absolutely nothing graceful about it.”

“I agree,” Megan Connor’s clipped Australian tones stated.  “I had more of a look at the thing.  It was ugly, built for one purpose.  It was in his upper bicep, and sticking out the back – they had Sandy laying on his side.”

“Any witnesses yet?” Simon continued his usual list of questions.

“So far, no, however the uniforms are still canvassing.  Nobody seems willing to come forward if they did see anything.  I’m not sure if this is an opportunity attempt, a rage attempt, a revenge attempt or something else.  We may not know anything until Blair wakes up.”

Simon sighed.  “I’m going to head to the hospital.  Continue with what you’re doing and keep in touch with me.”

“Jim left his truck here.  I’ll drive it over to the hospital later,” Connor volunteered.

“RAFE will drive it to the hospital later,” Simon ordered.

“I don’t want her driving my car either,” Rafe complained.  “She’s a menace to the streets.”

Megan hit Rafe on the back of the head and went back to work. 

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- 

Jim hated waiting rooms.

No, he despised, loathed and utterly abhorred waiting rooms in every shape, fashion and form.  Waiting meant… waiting.  Nothing to do, nothing but wait and worry and wonder and wish the blasted doctors might take a few minutes of their precious time to talk to you.

He finally settled back into his chair and zeroed in on his partner.  So far, everything sounded okay, though the doctors were concerned about how close the knife was to the artery in his arm.  He hated how they dilly-dallyed about, never making a decisive move until they talked and debated things to death.

Jim looked back up when he sensed more than saw his Captain arrive.  Simon slid his tall form into one of the too-small seats.

“Anything?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Jim groused and he glowered at the door to the surgery again. 

“Heard anything?” the slight emphasis on heard was only detectible to the sentinel.

“Just a bunch of wishy-washyness,” Jim groused again.

“Mmm,” Simon stated noncommittally. 

They seemed to wait for hours more, though in reality it was only about forty-five minutes.  By that time Jim paced the small waiting room five times, walked up and down the nearest flight of stairs five times and generally drove Simon to want a hard drink.

“Detective Ellison?” the doctor removed his surgical mask as he walked over to where Jim once again sat.  Simon stood nearby.  “Mr. Sandburg is going to be okay.  We removed the knife and stitched up his arm.  He should be out of it for another hour or so.  We’ll be keeping an eye on him for a couple of days.”

“We need the knife,” Simon stated from where he stood.  “Evidence.”

“I know that.”  The doctor glared at Simon and turned back to Jim.  “We’ll have him moved into recovery in about five minutes then you can join him for a few minutes.  After that you have to wait until he’s moved into a regular room.”

“Thank you,” Jim agreed docilely – a rather unnatural state for the detective and sentinel. 

“A nurse will come and get you.”

He paced.

Simon wondered if Jim really had the ability to sit still.  They often teased Sandburg about his hyperactivity and super spastic movements but when it came to Sandburg, Jim became one hyperactive, militant, pacer. 

A half of forever later a nurse arrived and led Jim – and Simon – back to where Blair lay sleeping, his upper arm wrapped in a swath of bandages, hooked up to two IVs that ran through his arm and a couple of monitors.  A nurse at the station across from Blair’s bed kept a close eye on the monitors which Jim ignored in favor of his own assessment.  Heart rate strong.  Breathing deep and steady.  In many ways, Blair seemed to be asleep, rather than recovering from anesthesia. 

“He’s doing very well, Detective,” the nurse stated, voice soft so as not to disturb her patient.  “We do expect him to awaken shortly after the anesthetic starts to wear off.  The doctor doesn’t expect him to sustain any permanent damage.”

It was several hours later and Jim, once again, sat beside his partner while Simon used his cell phone to keep tabs on the investigation.  He went in and out of the small ward where Sandburg slept as he received reports.

Simon stepped out of the ward as his pocket buzzed and he rapidly walked toward one of the few areas in the hospital where cell phones were allowed and made a return phone call.

“Banks,” he barked into the phone.

“Captain, it’s Rafe.”  Simon imagined his rather GQ detective.  “We’ve got her.”

Simon’s eyebrows rose upward.  “Her?”

“Rachelle Rasmussen,” Rafe explained.  “We found two witnesses who described her perfectly and if there’s prints on that knife, they’ll be hers.  She thinks Blair is some guy named Antoine, who she says killed her little brother two months ago.  She said she’s been hunting him down since then, after the police in France refused to do anything.  She’s positive that Blair is Antoine – or she was until we told her that his name was Blair Sandburg and he hadn’t been out of Cascade in the last two months.  She swore Sandburg looks like just this Antoine fellow – but we laid into her and she admits she may not have seen this Antoine fellow as well as she thought.  Just the shoulder length, curly hair.

“Anyway, we’re bringing her down to the station for booking.”

“Good work, Rafe.  Tell Connor.”

“How’s Sandburg?”

“He’s been awake a couple of times but goes back to sleep pretty fast.  They’ve got him on pain-killers.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” Rafe sounded anxious.

“Yes,” Simon agreed.  “He’s going to be okay.  Now finish up with this case.  I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Rafe clicked off and Simon chomped down before remembering – his cigars were in the car.

Simon stepped into the room and quietly updated his senior detective.  Ellison grunted, looking somewhere between wanting to stay with Sandburg and going downtown to rip out the hair of Rachelle Rasmussen.  He opted to stay with Sandburg after a gruff look from Simon.

“Hey, S’mon,” Blair slurred as he woke up again.

“Sandburg,” Simon returned as he stepped closer to Sandburg’s bed.  “You just can’t stay out of trouble for an instant, can you?”

“Can,” Blair slurred again.  “Not fault.”

Simon snickered.  “You were stabbed by a girl, Sandburg.”

“Pretty girl,” Blair murmured.  “Long hair.  Legs up to… here…” he held his good arm up to the side of his bed.  “Sharp knife though.”

Jim laughed outright.  “Only you, Chief.  Only you.  Meet a girl, get stabbed and remember how long her legs are.”

Blair grinned as he shifted and winced when he moved his arm.  “Pretty girls.  Always remember pretty girls.”

Jim tousled his hair and shook his head.

“Go back to sleep Chief.  Go back to sleep.”

The Sentinel settled back into his chair.

END

THE END