For the second time that day Jim wearily pulled his truckinto the parking lot of 852 Prospect. Glancing out the side window he checkedfor...yes. It was still there. At least for now. His partner's green Volvo.
"I can explain."
He switched the key to off and slumped back against the
seat.Lord, he was tired, and his headache was still in residence. Maybe
he could just sit there.Relax a little before he went up to the loft. Before
he had to face
Sandburg.His guide.
"I can explain."
Tired. He was so tired. God, would this day never end? Wasn't there someone somewhere who took pity on shell-shocked sentinels? If so, weren't they a little overdue for an appearance? On the other hand, wasn't that theoretically part of the guide's job description? Page three, second paragraph? "Thou shalt not subject thy sentinel to emotional upheaval or allow their tribal leaders to inflict overtime on them when they are so stressed?"
Huh. Simon in a loincloth and red face paint. No, don't go there.
"I can explain."
Damn it! Why wouldn't that refrain get out of his head?
What was there to explain? His guide had bills, but no job - just the promise
of one. He'd thought that was a sure thing. Of course, Blair wanted to
be his partner. Hehad
been for years. This would just make it official.
Right. So why was Blair signing up with a Job Find service? And why hadn't he told him?
"I can explain."
Sure.
Jim shifted on the seat, reflecting on the fact that he had a very comfortable bed up in the loft, but for some reason he couldn't seem to fathom, he preferred to stay in the truck.
Maybe because his guide was up there?
"I can explain."
Maybe because he didn't want to face him?
"I..."
Maybe because Simon had called him to replace Rafe on a stakeout just as Blair came through the loft door and realized what Jim was listening to?
"...can..."
Maybe because he had rushed out the loft without explaining to Blair why he didn't want him with him?
"...explain."
Maybe - because he didn't want to hear the explanation.
Jim looked up toward the loft window. No lights on, but he already knew that. Was his guide still up? Could he avoid a confrontation? Take his headache and his doubts to bed? Deal with explanations later when he had slept and felt better? He upped the dial on his hearing, knowing that if Blair were still up he'd be making noise. There...sure enough. Blair was on the phone.
"...No. No, Simon, I can't tell him, at least not yet. I'm not sure. You know I haven't agreed yet..."
"No. I just need a little more time to think about it."
"I can't do that, Simon. You know how much he's been looking forward to the two of us..."
"Right I'll be the one to tell him. Just promise me you'll watch out for him when I'm gone. If I'm gone."
"Yes. I'll agree to that much. Look, from what you've told me, he should be home by now. I don't want him to walk in on this conversation. Especially since I haven't made a decision yet."
"Right. Good night, Simon."
Jim turned his hearing down and closed his eyes. You can explain, huh, Chief? Just what is it you were going to explain? Just how honored you were by the offer, but it just "wasn't you"? How you "didn't want to hurt me", but you couldn't follow through with the Academy training? "Thanks, but no thanks"?
Part of Jim knew he was over-reacting. Part of him knew
that he should go upstairs, sit down with his guide and discuss whatever
was going on . Part of him knew he would only compound the problem if he
refused to
allow Blair his opportunity to explain.
There was another part of Jim that had a pounding headache and should have been in bed hours ago after a good meal he hadn't eaten. That was the part that was too tired, too heartsick and too scared to listen to the voice of experience and reason. That was the part that turned the key in the ignition, backed the truck out of its parking space and drove off down Prospect Avenue with no destination in mind. That was the part of Jim that refused to hear the memory of his guide's voice.
