6:00 p.m.
Wednesday, Nov. 24th
ICU Waiting Room, Mercy General
 

Sometimes I want to be a child again, secure in my warm bed, knowing my mom and dad are down the hall in calling range, knowing my dad will keep me safe as I sleep, knowing my mom will love away the nightmares.

How long does the illusion of safety last?

For me, despite the color of my skin, the hassles of being black in a predominantly white high school during the seventies, the illusion lasted a long time - as long as my mother was around to hug me, as long as my father was alive. Oh, the edges of the illusion were a bit tattered, but I didn't lose it completely until my fourteen-year-old son was dangled out the seventh floor window of Major Crime by a sadistic madman in the name of patriotism and freedom.

I could not keep him safe, and my faith died.

Strangely enough, his faith in me - the faith I thought he'd begun to lose because of the divorce, the faith which should have been shattered after the incident with Kincaid, was renewed.

And me? Well, because of Daryl's faith in me, me - the father who could not keep him safe - I'm slowly finding my way back to faith. Faith in the existence of a higher power, faith in a loving and benevolent being.

But faith, my struggling, newborn faith, may have taken it's death blow tonight, the evening before Thanksgiving.

How can I find a blessing ...in this?

9:00 a.m.
Tuesday, November 23rd
The Bull Pen, Cascade Police Department
 

"Are you sure you don't mind? Watching the cabin while Stephen and Rachael are on their anniversary trip? You don't have any plans? I mean, I know this is only a few hours notice, but Megan's father got called away so suddenly.."

"Mind?" Blair Sandburg's face wore an incredulous look. "Mind? I'd only mind if you didn't ask me along. Man, this is so cool! I think it's great!"

"Chief, we're talking a whole week, here. Right through the Wednesday after Thanksgiving."

Ellison, seated in front of his computer, took a good look at his companion as he stood beside the desk. With his curly hair down around his shoulders, and wearing an oversized navy surplus trench coat over comfortable jeans and a red henley top, both of which had seen better days, Sandburg looked, acted, and sounded at least ten years younger than he really was.

The fact was, Jim mused, Sandburg was happy, and it showed.

Well, that made two of them.

Blair was finally his official partner.

After he defended his dissertation on "The Police as Modern Tribal Guardians", Blair accepted a job with the Cascade Police Department as a consultant. What had once seemed an elusive dream became a glad reality. Doors had begun to open for anthropologists in many formerly closed areas, and Blair had taken advantage of one of them. Granted, he held  only a 3/4 time position, but it was salaried, with full benefits, and a flexible schedule which allowed him time to teach an introductory night course at Ranier, thereby keeping his  connections with the university and its resources - resources Blair needed, because his sentinel research would never be done, not as long as the two of them were living. They not only knew that now, they also acknowledged it. Acceptance of that fact had brought an unexpected freedom to them - a freedom from fear in which they reveled  their friendship had a firmer foundation now; no more doubts, no more fears.

Oh, yes, Jim thought. They both had blessings for which to be thankful this year.

"Man, oh, man!" His partner was still enthusing. "I can't wait! A log cabin , surrounded by woods, mountains on one side, lake on the other. The ocean five miles away..."

"And 2 horses, 1 pony, 2 dogs, 1 cat, 2 kittens, 2 gerbils, 3 fish and 1 rabbit to care for and feed. Don't forget that! And Megan, too."

"How can I forget, Jim? Megan is a really neat kid! It's too bad about her dad, I know she doesn't see much of him at the best of times, but she really loves you, you know. And I think she really likes me, too. I mean, nine year-olds can be pretty whiny, but she's, well, cool. "

"Right, chief. Cool. Are you sure you fulfilled all of your English and speech requirements?"

"Yeah, Jim. I'm sure. Like, you know, 'majorly' sure."

"Right. Well, get your your coat off, and get to work on this file, or there won't be any log cabin on a lake. Steven will have to find someone else to watch  Megan and the cabin."

"Right. Sure. Got it." Sandburg hung his coat up, and seated himself at his desk. "Give me that file, Jim. If we're ever going to get out of here on time, I can see I'm going to have to...Oh, no, man, no Jim....don't....not the hair, not ..."

And so, with banter and purpose, the two got down to work.

8:00 p.m.
Wednesday, Nov 24th
ICU Rm. #4 , Mercy General
 

God, these seats are hard. No wonder people do so much introspective thinking in hopital rooms. If the circumstances don't get to you, the chairs do.

You look so peaceful, lying there. Do you know, somewhere inside of you,what's happened? Or are you oblivious to it all, sedated into peace?

Not the same thing as the peace brought about by love and contentment. Not the same thing at all.

That was the beginning of it, wasn't it Jim?

After years of repressing pain, you finally became whole, healed by the touch of a good friend and the love of a little girl.

Who would have thought that Stephen's marriage would have brought so much joy to you?

A little girl you didn't know a year ago looked at you with stars in her blue eyes, smiled at you, reached out her hand and stole your heart.

Will you still have that joy, that wholeness when you wake up? Will your world even be here, when you wake up? Will you  want to stay in this world, if it isn't?

I wish your father would get Stephen back here. Soon.

3:00 p.m.
Tuesday, November 23rd
Fairy Tale Farm
Cascade, Washington
 

"Come on, Uncle Jim! Hurry up, Blair! Starman misses me, I have to tell him I'm home!"

Jim grinned at the skinny little blonde with the soulful blue eyes. Dressed in over-sized denim overalls, a long-sleeved Rugrats t-shirt, feet encased in knee-high rubber riding boots, Megan was tugging on Jim's hand insistently, trying to move him along a little faster. Her other hand was busy trying to keep the apple slices, carrots, and alfalfa cubes from falling out of her pockets.

"I think he already knows you're home, Megs! Can't you hear him?"

"Of course I can hear him, Uncle Jim! That's why I want you to hurry up!"

Jim laughed, grabbed her, hugged her hard and kissed the top of her head. Setting her down again, he swatted her butt and gently pushed her ahead. "Go on, Megatron. We'll be right there."

She flashed him a wide toothy smile and took off for the pasture where a medium-sized grey pony, tired of not being heard, stood placidly munching hay from a feeder in a run-in shed.

"O.k., Uncle Jim, but hurry up! You know I'm not allowed in with the horses! You have to hold them for me before I can go get Starman!"

"I know, Mugsley, I know. Go on!" Unconscious of  the sappy smile on his face, he turned toward Blair as he heard a suspicious chuckle.

"Oh, Jim, you are caught, my friend. Well and truly caught! I used to think you went for red-heads, but now I know...it's blue eyes, big teeth, and blonde hair!"

"Yeah, right, Sandburg. We'll see who's caught. Go grab a lead rope. You have a red-head to catch. See that mare over there..."

"Oh, no, Jim. That's not part of the deal, here...ah, no. I've never done this, come on...you're the one who grew up around horses, no, Jim,...don't leave me hanging here, Jim....come back here...

10:00 p.m.
Wednesday, November 24th
ICU Rm# 7, Mercy General
 

You never do anything by halves, either, do you Sandburg?  You throw yourself into whatever you do with a whole heart. You're just as much in love with that little girl as Jim is.

And this job. I know it wasn't easy for you when you started working with Jim. You weren't exactly welcomed with open arms, not by any of us. We didn't understand you, so most of the understanding and bending had to come from you. You managed.

I've often wondered, you know, if you ever agonized over your career change. Academic to Police consultant. Two different worlds...

Somehow, Sandburg, I don't think you grew up playing "cops and robbers", more likely it was "pigs and hippies".  With Naomi for a mother, I think ...well, never mind what I think. It was an unworthy thought, and considering the circumstances,...

She's coming you know. One of the few times I didn't have to spend hours looking for her. She's actually quite close, just an hour away by car, and that's a good thing, the doctor's tell me.

We'll know quite a lot, in the next few hours.

How will Naomi meditate this away?

Dear God, Sandburg. How will any of us work our way though this?

5:00 p.m.
Tuesday, November 23rd
Fairy Tale Farm
 

"Here, Blair. Give me one more piece. I can take more that you think I can." The little girl, obviously struggling with the load of wood she already held in her arms, begged for just one more piece. Hair flying around her head, falling in her face, almost bouncing on her toes, she was a picture of happy impatience.

Blair really wanted to laugh, but he held it in, knowing her dignity would be terribly offended. "Honey, I think that's enough. If you take any more there won't be any left for me."

"All right, Blair, but hurry. Uncle Jim says I can help him make the sphagetti sauce. I make really good sphagetti sauce, you know. Aunt Rachael told me how. If I don't get in there real quick, he'll maybe get the wrong jar, and if he gets the wrong jar, it just won't taste right, you know."

"I know, honey, I know. You have to keep a close eye on Jim. The stories I could tell you about him and food..."

"Uncle Jim told me about you and food, Blair. And I've seen you eat out with Uncle Jim. You know, Aunt Rachael  says you have to be careful about what you eat, fast food isn't very... Are you o.k., Blair? Did you swallow wrong? Do you need me to go get ..."

" No, no, Megan. I'm fine. I just, ah, look, Honey, let's just get this wood in so I can start a fire in the living room fireplace, and you can help Jim, o.k.?"

"O.k., Blair. "

(snicker, snicker)

"Blair, are you sure you're all right?"

(snicker, snicker)

11:00 p.m.
Wednesday, November 24th
ICU Waiting Room, Mercy General

Rafe, Brown, Connor, Taggart...all here. The night before Thanksgiving, but they're all here.

Bless Rhonda's heart. She told me they would want to be here, and she was right. All she had to do was let them know.

Brothers. Brothers-in-Arms. Brothers in blue.

Comrades. Protectors. Servants of the law and of the people.

These men and women. Brothers and sisters, comrades.

Servants.

To the law, to the people, to each other.

They live, they breathe, they love.

The law, their people, "Justice".

Each other.

Flawed and fragile human beings.

Capable of making mistakes.

But honorable.

Not jack-booted Nazi's or pawns of a socialist state.

My people.

God, I am so proud of them. Of them and of...

8:00 p.m.
Tuesday, November 23rd
Fairy Tale Farm

"Mmmm...Uncle Jim, you're snuggly..."

The little girl, dressed in a favorite old flannel night gown, was sitting snugged up in Jim's lap, blissfully content with two little kittens wrapped around each other, purring, in her lap.

"I am, am I?"

Jim, in his turn was seated in a huge armchair in front of a fieldstone fireplace. From the expression on his face, it was evident he, too, was blissfully content. Moments like these had been woefully missing from his childhood, and so he gloried in them now.

Contentment and completion, things he had never missed because he had never had them, now his.

Brought to him through the agency of his senses, senses he had cursed , but now blessed.

They had brought him so much.

A researcher who understood his senses, if not the world he would be thrown into because of them, who became his friend. A friend who became a partner, a brother.

A brother regained through their agency after years apart. Oh, at first it had been hard, for both of them. Their reunion had not been comfortable, after all; but because of the senses, those genetic gifts, he had tried hard to rebuild a relationship. Sandburg had been right. Stephen's children had the same chance to inheirit the senses as any of his own. It was only right that the truth be told.

A father, regained again through the agency of his job, saved through the agency of his senses. A father who was at least trying, after all these years, to bend. To the point of asking forgiveness.

Through Stephen he had gained a sister, Rachael. Not what he would have thought was Stephen's type. Not glamorous, not a go-getter. Not without dependents. Just an average woman, with a good heart. Exactly what Stephen had needed.

And Megan. Rachael's neice. Living almost exclusively with Rachael and Stephen because her father traveled so much in his job, and because she had no other family. Bright, happy, loving Megan.

Who loved her Uncle Jim, and thought he could do anything.

He was wrapped around her little finger. He never would have thought it of himself, not ten years ago, not five years ago, not a year ago; but just a year ago he had gone to dinner with Stephen and his fiancee' and met  a small  bundle of impatient energy. Fly-away blonde hair , big blue eyes, loving heart. Go figure.

So much he had been given. So much for him to treasure.

"Time for bed, Meg. Up you go. Bring the kittens and I'll tuck you in." Setting her carefully on her feet, Jim rose from the chair.

"O.k., Uncle Jim. Will you read me a story, too? And hear my prayers?"

"Sure thing, Megs. Let's go."

So the tall man and the little girl walked out of the room hand in hand, while the  man in the other armchair smiled and wiped away what looked suspiciously like a tear.

11:15 p.m.
Wednesday, November 24th
Rm 304, Mercy General

Little girl, what are we going to tell you, when you wake up? How are we going to explain how such a thing could happen in this day and age, in this country? In your home?

You're only nine years old. Loved and sheltered and protected your entire life. You believe in fairy tales and angels, magic rings and Cinderella. How will you react to this...horror, when you wake up?

God, dear God. She looks so small, lying there, oxygen tubes and IV lines running every which way.

Asthma. They say it wasn't as bad as it could have been, given her history. They say it was brought on by stress, by what she saw.

They say she's young, that she'll bounce back.

But will she understand? Will she have the same light in her eyes?

And why do I care? What is she to me, that I should care?

One of my people. The people I have sworn to protect and serve. Someone who depended on me, and others like me.

Someone who was betrayed.

Will she lose her faith?

1:45 a.m.
Wednesday, November 24th
Fairy Tale Farm
 

Thunder. Rolling, crashing. Pounding rain. A late november storm.

Dial it down.

There. Comfort, once again. Can't hear much, but comfort counts for a lot.
 

"Jim! Jim! Come here..."

Blair? In the kitchen? At this hour?

"Uncle Jim! What's...There's someone..."

Megan?

"Jim! Come..."

There's someone outside, at the french doors, what is going...

"Nooooo! Alfie! Come back! Uncle Jim!!!!"

Megan? Sweetheart? Are you... there's someone in the basement! Blair!

"Freeze! Don't move, or I'll shoot!"

Who the hell are...

"Uncle Jimmmm! Help...."

"Put that weapon up! I'm a ..."

Pain. Sharp and dull. Falling... Megan? Are you all right? Blair? What's...

12:00 p.m.
Wednesday, November 24th
ICU Waiting Room, Mercy General

"Sir?"

A voice, a voice he recognized, was speaking to him.

"Captain Banks? You need to wake up, sir. Ms. Sandburg is here. She told me not to wake you just yet, but I thought you'd want to know. Jim's family is here, too. The little girl's aunt is with her, and Jim's father and brother  are on their way up."

"Thank you, Connor. You're right, I did want to know. I shouldn't have fallen asleep like that. " He rubbed his hands on his face, wearily trying to make himself a bit more alert.

"You were tired, sir. You've had a long day, and worry just makes it longer."

He took the coffee she held out and took a scalding sip. Hot and bitter and foul tasting. Just what he need to jolt himself awake. What business did he have  falling asleep when...

"Connor, has the doctor been through?"

"The doctor?..."

Wait a minute! What were they saying on the television?

" Rafe! Turn the volume up! Hurry!"

Rafe turned the volume up as a commentator came on the screen.

"Good evening, folks. This is Wendell Caldwell ,of Cascade Tonight, bringing you tonight's top news story. Early this morning, on a farm on the outskirts of Cascade, a "home invasion" took place, one with  a unique twist, involving Cascade's own twice decorated "Officer of the Year", but not as an officer of the law. This time Detective James Ellison was a ..."

"That's enough, Rafe. Turn it off. How did they..."

Damn. Of course it was all over the news. What had he expected, anyway?

5:00 a.m.
Simon Banks apartment
Cascade, Washington
 

Ringing, ringing, ringing...

No, nononono. This was his day off. He didn't have to get up.

Ringing, ringing, ringing...

The phone.  Not the alarm. The phone. Answer the phone.

"Banks. What! When? How badly? Where are they going? I'll be right there."

Damn.

How could such a thing have happened?

Ellison and Sandburg and little Megan.

A decorated cop of the year, an anthropologist /consultant, and a little nine-year -old girl.

Jim. Shot. His head grazed by a bullet, unconscious.

Blair. Shot in the left shoulder as he stooped to catch and hold a little girl shrieking in fear.

Megan. A massive asthma attack, probably brought on by the fear.

That little girl. Watching her Uncle Jim and Blair get shot, seeing her dog  killed in front of her because he defended her by growling. Damn.

What was this world coming to?

And even worse, what was law enforcement coming to?

He loved his work, because it was more than his job, it was his calling. He believed it was the calling of most of the men and women who served under him. It wasn't Blair's, he knew, except by extension. Blair's calling was to be Jim's partner. If Jim was a detective, then Blair would follow him; so, yes, he'd have to say this was Blair's calling, too.

He knew, however, that not all cops followed a calling. There were plenty of other reasons for them to be in the profession. Law enforcement, after all, was no different in many ways from any other profession. It, too, had it's rotten members.

But,...so many of them, in one place?

It had been no simple home invasion that had taken Jim and Blair down, but a bizarre twist of fate.

Eight reserve, on-call, and part-time deputies with the County Sheriff's Office had stormed Stephen and Rachael Ellison's Fairy Tale Farm.

Supposedly looking for a 22 year- old, PCP-hyped Mexican-American who had driven his girlfriend into the river in an attempt to kill her, two of the on-call and part-time reserve officers, young, inexperienced and nervous, had done a house to house search. When they were finally  told by a sleepy house-owner that "Yeah, somebody by that name lives down the road a bit, on the lake.", they had called for back-up. Made even more nervous by the late November storm thundering over-head, and afraid that with the driving rain they might miss the fugitive, the eight officers left their vehicles and surrounded the house.

They didn't announce themselves; they didn't knock.

Blair, up reading late by the fire, heard noises and went to check the yard out the living-room windows. Seeing a police car and thinking that perhaps the officers were bringing bad news about a family member, he had met them at the kitchen door.Turning the deck light on, he called out "Hello?", and found himself staring down the barrel of a 9mm pistol. According to the deputies statement he then refused to identify himself to their satisfaction  and so, when he  swung around, probably to grab Megan as she ran toward him, they  shot him. They believed he was swinging at them and attempting to flee.  They  shot the dog because it had "threatened" them as they went to remove the girl from Sandburg's arms. A 15 year -old, toothless, arthritic bassett hound. Jim had been shot in the living room as he ran toward the kitchen, trying to reach Megan and Blair .

In all, eight men had gone into the home through four different entrances. When they left, they left with two men and a little girl on stretchers.

The dog was left behind in the rain.

And the irony of the whole thing?

The driver of the car was simply drunk. He'd had a fight with his girlfriend, lost control of the vehicle, and gone over the guard rails into the river.

The girl friend, also drunk, had told a whale of story to the responding officers, and because she was known to hang out on the fringes of the "druggie" crowd, her story was taken, at first, at face value.

Until the ambulance crew found the driver passed out on the side of the road.

The officers who responded as back-up had actually been on their way home from assisting at a major accident. The driver of a tractor trailer had had a heart attack while driving and lost control of his truck.  A second truck, carrying a load of pulp wood, unable to see him because of the driving rain, or hear him because of the thunder, pulled out in front of the first truck. The impact drove both trucks across the road, through  a set of gasoline pumps, and into the front of a "mom and pop" type country store. It had been a true mess with the roads impassable for several hours.

When the officers heard a call for back-up, they responded. None of them heard the information sent out by the officer in charge of the scene at the river to "Stand-down, the fugitive has been apprehended."; they were already surounding the house.

Brothers in arms.

No way in hell.

He had to get to the hospital. He had brothers and a little girl to check on.

12:30 a.m.
Thursday, November 25th
ICU Waiting Room, Mercy General

"Simon?"

Simon rose to his feet as Naomi Sandburg walked toward him.

"Ms. Sandburg?"

"Simon, the doctor wants to talk to the families. I thought you might want to be there."

"Yes, yes, I would. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No, Simon. I want you  there. Come with me. He's meeting with us just down the hall."

"Thank you, Ms. Sandburg, I appreciate this."

"Naomi, Simon. Call me Naomi."

12:00 Noon
Sunday, November 28th
Fairy Tale Farm

Megan Saunders, honorary  Ellison, looked around the dining room of her home.

Thanksgiving Day. Maybe not the one on the calendar, but the real one, none-the-less, for her, and for her family.

She was warm and full and surrounded by the people and animals she loved.

Her father.  He loved her, she knew that; he just couldn't always be where she needed him to be.

Her Aunt Rachael. Warmth and safety. Hugs and kisses.

Uncle Stephen.  Almost as good an uncle as her Uncle Jim. Best of all, he made her Aunt Rachael happy.

Blair. An older brother, even if he was almost as old Uncle Stephen.

Uncle Simon. Daryl. Two more people to add to her collection. Two more people to love.

Naomi. Not very motherly, but she could work on her. She needed a grandmother, and Blair did love her a lot.

Mr. Ellison. He'd told her to call him "Grandfather". Hmmm. That didn't quite fit, but, well, she could work on him, too. There was plenty of time.

Uncle Jim. Her wonderful, wonderful Uncle Jim. There was no one quite like him, and they needed each other. He needed a little girl, and she needed...him.

They were all here, and they were all watching her.

She was fine, though; they'd figure that out, sooner or later, and they'd all stop watching her. Then she could go back to the way things were.

In the meantime she'd just enjoy it.

12:15 p.m.
Sunday, November 28th
Fairy Tale Farm

Simon was happier than he had been in several days.

Megan had gone home with Stephen and Rachael after a 24-hour stay in pediatrics and a visit from a child counselor.She'd need to make more than a few visits with the counselor before her family was satisfied she'd be all right, but that was o.k., caution in a case like this was a good thing.

Jim had been allowed to come home at the same time, since the doctors were satisfied there was no swelling from the concussion.

Blair had spent an additional 24 hours in the hospital. His arm was in a sling, would be for at least 10 days, and he'd need therapy; but he, too, would be fine eventually.

Apologies had been tendered to Jim and Blair, and to the Ellison family for Megan, by most of the officers involved. They had been truly heartsick when they realized what had happened and how much worse the situation could have been. The County Sheriff's Office was revising their continuing education policies and requiring more substanial refresher courses for their reserve and on-call personnel.

Simon was also puzzled.

How could Megan sit there, so calm, so...content?

Nine years old, and she'd lived through something he knew would have given him nightmares even at his present age, but there she sat. Calm, quiet, and content.

And maybe that was the answer.

Megan sat in Jim's lap, with her family surrounding her. At Jim's feet lay the family dog, a slobbery golden retriever. For Simon it was a grim reminder of the dog that was gone. What must it for her?

She looked over at him, and smiled. Big blue eyes; wide, toothy smile. She looked over at Daryl,  back at Simon, and smiled again.

No. She's only nine-years-old. She doesn't have the wisdom of the ages. She doesn't have all the answers.

But maybe she doesn't have to.

Maybe she just "knows",  the way I did, when I was a child.

She's had more losses than I did at her age, and she still has faith. And love. She's surrounded by it.

He looked around the room and realized that he, too, was surrounded by love. His son at his side, his friends around him.

Back at the precinct were the men and women  with whom he worked; officers of the law who held themselves to a code of honor and the highest standards of police work.

Faith can be regained. It can be reborn.

When it's nurtured by love.

Back to Stand-Alone Stories
Back to Home Page