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"AND A DONKEY SHALL LEAD THEM" by Wintersrose Spoilers:
none
Rating
of Story:
G Characters
in Story:
Blair, Jim, Henri (with mentions of other members of Major Crimes) Warnings:
none, unless you're allergic to donkeys... Plot
Blurb: It's
Christmas. There're nativities. And Blair has a head injury. Need I say
more? Special
Note:
This story is dedicated to the best beta west of the Feedback:
totally. Yes! Love feedback! Feedback rocks!
Where you say? Oh! zwintersrosez@yahoo.com.
Totally :) “Stay in the truck, Chief!” Jim Ellison shouted the words at his partner as he sprang out of
the truck, gun in hand, while he kept a careful eye on the two masked
gunmen who raced across the road. Outside
the warm truck, snowflakes swirled downward and dusted the pavement with
a coating of white. Inside
the truck. Blair Sandburg shivered reflexively, despite the warmth
surrounding him, and shifted his attention to the rapidly departing
backside of his partner. Some days, the order to ‘stay in the truck’ was much easier to
follow than others – like snowy days – but Blair worried.
He worried about his partner biting off more than he could chew.
He worried about Jim zoning on one of his genetically enhanced
senses. He worried
about…well…he just worried. When he lost track of Jim, Blair hesitated for a minute, then
cursed softly and climbed out of the warm truck.
Tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket,
earflaps of his old Fargo hat pulled down low, Blair moved cautiously in
the direction he last saw his partner.
Blair shivered as the cold started to replace the delicious
warmth he left behind in the truck, and he kept his head down slightly
so he could watch his footing on the slippery terrain beneath his feet. Which
way did Jim go? Blair wondered as he
looked up again, barely seeing anything through the increasing white
gathering around him. He was
half afraid that he would be caught out when Jim got back to the truck. Bloody
heck, why couldn’t he see his partner anywhere? Blair stopped and listened. He
heard nothing but an eerie silence; snowflakes rarely made a noise that
could be heard by normal human hearing.
He wondered, briefly, if Jim could hear snowflakes when they
landed and he made a mental note to test his partner on it later; maybe
Jim could use the ability to track bad guys in snowy weather.
The anthropologist learned early on that giving Jim a practical
use for a skill made it easier to get the detective to agree to a test.
If it happened to add to the fodder for Blair’s ever-growing
dissertation information, well, that was fine.
The important thing, though, was to help his friend! “Where are you, Jim?” Blair murmured.
“Give me a clue here.” Nothing. No footsteps
in the snow, no footfalls on the pavement, nothing at all gave Blair any
sign of what direction Jim went. The
darkness gathered more closely about the young man as he neared the edge
of the parking lot, away from the soft glow of street lamps that lit the
other side of the lot. The
anthropologist sighed in exasperation. Stopping to get his bearings, Blair looked across the street and
saw the large Catholic church. Now
that, he knew, was about five blocks away from the Cascade Police
Department building. The
front lawn of the church was currently decorated with a monster-sized
nativity though, the best that Blair could tell, and it wasn’t one of
those living nativities some churches sported.
The figures posed in front of the church were life-sized though,
including a large camel standing near the three wise men, two life-sized
sheep standing by the shepherds and even a regular sized donkey
pretending to graze on the grass in front of the stable where Mary,
Joseph, the baby in the manger and an angel rested.
Blair fought back the urge to debate with himself about the
appearance of the wise men. While
not Christian and only nominally familiar with the passages about the
birth of Jesus in the Bible, even he knew that the wise men weren’t
there at the birth, they got there like a year or two later or
something. Blair shook off
the thoughts and turned his attention back to the task at hand.
Finding Jim, figuring out where bad guys would have run, or going
back to the truck – he had to do one of those three things. “May as well go back to the truck,” Blair muttered helplessly a
few moments later. He turned
around to trudge back across the parking lot. Something – someone? – pushed him then, and Blair spun as he
fell – hitting his head on a concrete parking barrier.
As he lifted his head and the world spun around him, he focused
on one thing as he passed out. “Jim… z’at’s donkey…” **
** ** ** ** Handcuffs. A
rope. Locks
that only Jim could undo, inside and outside. Maybe
a cage. Sandburg-proof
padlocks! Any or all of the above, it was past time for Jim Ellison,
detective and bearer of enhanced senses, to come up with a way to keep
his partner in the truck when ordered.
Arriving back at the truck, both of his would-be thieves in tow,
he was a little dismayed – and annoyed – to see the truck empty and
absolutely no sign of his partner anywhere.
Jim frowned and reached out with his very enhanced vision to scan
the area. “Lose something, Ellison?” Henri Brown, fellow Major Crimes
detective, walked up to Jim, startling the Sentinel out of his search
for his partner. “My partner,” Jim frowned, while debating the idea of superglue
on the seat. It would ruin
the upholstery but it might keep Sandburg in place when ordered.
Sometimes things were more important than upholstery.
“What are you doing here?” “I was in the area when the call for back-up came in,” Henri
said. “Where’d you see
Sandburg last?” “My truck,” Jim pointed behind him.
Two uniformed officers were taking custody of Jim’s crooks and
leading them to a nearby unit to place them in the back seat.
“Where I told him to stay!” “Well, he stayed long enough to call this in,” Henri offered
helpfully. “Of course, I
realize that’s not good enough.” Nails.
Steal all his clothes. Duct
tape! “You’re right,” Ellison smiled grimly.
“It’s not good enough.” The senior detective set out across the street, making his way into
the parking lot. He
stretched out with his vision again and his hearing, damning the
snowflakes for interfering with both.
Who would have thought snow could be so loud?
He heard his partner’s voice in his head, reminding him to
filter out the snow and to listen or look for sounds or sights beyond
that. It only took a moment to see the huddled form slumped on the ground
on the other side of the parking lot.
Jim took off running, ignoring the surprised shout from Henri
behind him. Jim stopped when
he made it Blair’s side; the anthropologist was lying on the ground,
unconscious, a small pool of blood underneath his head. “Chief!” Jim exclaimed as he knelt beside Sandburg.
“Come on, Chief, talk to me.
Look up at me.” Jim held his breath until he heard Sandburg moan softly.
Eyelids fluttered upward and Jim heard an exhalation of breath
from the younger man. “Donkey,” Blair murmured. “Saw
donkey…” Jim frowned as he touched Blair’s forehead.
His partner felt ice cold already; was the younger man determined
to become an icicle? “Get an ambulance!” Jim looked over at Henri, who had appeared
beside him. “He’s been
hurt.” Henri took no time at all pulling out his cell phone and ordering
an ambulance to come and get Sandburg. “Sandburg,” Jim said a little more forcefully to Blair, trying
to get his roommate to respond to him.
“Come ON, Chief, talk to me.
What’s this about a donkey?” “Saw donkey, Jim,” Blair offered again but his eyes fluttered
and, a moment later, were closed again. ****
**** **** **** “What in the world happened, Jim?” Jim looked up to see his
boss, Simon Banks, marching into the waiting room where Jim sat, staring
blankly up at the TV screen that flashed the scores and highlights from
the day’s professional and college sports.
“You were on your way home…” “Someone robbed Antwan’s Jewelers when we were going by,” Jim
told his boss as he stretched. Why
did they always make waiting room seats so uncomfortable?
And why did they assume everyone in the seats would be five foot
five? “I stopped to chase
down the perps – I caught them by the way – and told Sandburg to
stay in the truck.” “Which he didn’t do,” Banks didn’t sound remotely surprised
by that information. He
chomped his teeth down reflexively but his ever-present cigar was not
currently present, and all he succeeded in doing was chomping his teeth
together. Bungi
cords. A leash,
Jim thought, continuing his thoughts on the ways he could force Blair to
stay in the truck when ordered. “Which he didn’t do,” Jim agreed.
“I already caught the thieves and was back at the truck when I
realized Sandburg wasn’t in it anymore.
It took me a few minutes to find him – and he was delirious.
He kept muttering something about a donkey.” Banks regarded his detective with a stoic expression.
“A donkey?” Jim shrugged. “That’s
what I was thinking. Maybe
he saw donkeys instead of stars. Don’t
ask me, I wasn’t paying attention.” “Where were you?” Banks asked. “That parking lot across from Antwans.
About five blocks from base.” Simon smiled. “That
big Catholic church there has a huge nativity scene out front, remember?
He may have seen that.” “Maybe,” Jim shrugged. “Whatever.
I’m going to have to kill him, sir.
Enough is enough.” Simon smiled even more broadly, his face threatening to crack in
two. “Don’t tell me,”
Simon said. “I want to be
able to lie with a good conscience.” “Detective Ellison?” both detective and Captain looked up as
the doctor walked into the room. “I
just thought I would tell you Blair is going to be okay.
He took another knock to the head, which he didn’t need, but he
only has a mild concussion and a bit of a headache to go with it.” Ellison sagged back in relief.
“That’s good. Is
he good enough for me to yell at him?” Doctor MacKenzie regarded him with a brief frown, then shrugged.
“He’ll survive.” Ellison laughed and got to his feet.
“He’s upstairs already,” MacKenzie said as Ellison headed
down the hall, hoping to find his partner behind Curtain Three.
“We’ve transferred him to a room; he needs to stay overnight.
I don’t want to hear any excuses from him, either, about how
you can do his neuro checks. He’s
here, he’s staying until I want to release him.” Jim grinned. “No
problem.” Blair was asleep when Jim got to his room; the detective and his
captain stepped inside and regarded the anthropologist for a few minutes
before Simon smiled. “Tell
him I said get well soon – and tell him to listen to you next time.
I’ll be by tomorrow.” “Thanks, Simon,” Jim said. Jim slid into the seat beside the bed, got comfortable and prepared
for his least favorite thing. Waiting. **
** ** “Zzzzjim?” the voice was muffled and fuzzy-sounding but Jim
made his name out clearly. Jim
sat up suddenly and looked around before turning to meet his partner’s
eyes. “W’happened?” “I don’t know, Chief,” Jim said.
“I was hoping you could tell me that.” Blair was quiet for a few minutes and Jim allowed him the time to
collect his scattered thoughts. “Saw a donkey. Hit my
head,” Blair said. “Donkey
kicked me!” Blair sounded so petulant Jim grinned widely.
“I don’t think the plastic donkey kicked you, Chief.” “Did so,” Blair muttered. “You
were…innkeeper. Kept sayin’…I
could stay in the stable…for just a week.” Jim continued to look amused. The
things his partner came up with! “An…Simon was wearin’ fancy robes an’ carryin’ something.
He gave it to the baby. Think
he was a wise man…” Jim sputtered. Simon
was a wise man and HE was an innkeeper. Jim debated if he should be offended or not. “Think Rafe ‘n Henri were shepherds,” Blair murmured
sleepily. “Rafe was
complainin’ about sheep doo on his suit an’ he was holdin’ a
shepherd’s hook…” Jim couldn’t help it. He
started laughing. Blair shot
an injured look at him. “S’not funny!” Blair’s eyes closed halfway.
“Was gonna…have t’use… m’ emergency cash t’pay for
dry cleanin’…and baby was….” Jim didn’t learn what the baby was because Blair was already
asleep again. He leaned forward and gently brushed Blair’s hair out of his
face, though and Blair muttered something, again, about the donkey
kickin’ him in the butt, before he subsided and soft snores filled the
room. “Merry Christmas, Chief,” Jim smiled as he leaned back in his
seat. “Merry Christmas.” And Merry Christmas to everyone out there in Sentinel Land!
THE
END
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Disclaimer: The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly
Production and UPN. We've only borrowed the characters for a few
frolics in the sun. |
