Author's Note: This story takes place somewhere after Murder 101 and before Four Point Shot, and contains spoilers to several episodes that came before. I claim no ownership on characters owned by PetFly/Paramount, so don't be a Scrooge and let us have our non-profit fun! Comments always welcome.
“What do you mean you don’t have it?” Ellison demanded, a hard note creeping into his voice as he swivelled his chair around to glare at his partner.
“I have it somewhere,” Blair replied, double checking the papers and folders that had erupted from his backpack in search of the report in question. “Just not here, apparently.”
“Great,” the detective said with a martyred sigh. “That really helps. Thanks, Chief.”
“I must have left it at Rainier,” the anthropologist told him sheepishly.
“Where else?” Jim muttered. “You’ve been there most of the week.”
“Come on, man,” Sandburg rebutted, cramming the papers back into his bag. “You know I’m swamped this time of year. Finals and term papers and...”
“And,” the sentinel interrupted. “If you say you’re going to do something, you should do it.”
“I DID do it,” Blair protested.
“Yeah, and left it somewhere at Rainier for Joe the Janitor to see.”
“It’s just a summary report, Jim,” the anthropologist argued. “It’s hardly a classified document.”
“That’s not the point,” the detective barked at his friend. “The point is, it’s somewhere in that black hole you call an office, instead of here, where I need it.”
“Look, I’m sorry...”
“I don’t want any apologies,” Ellison seethed, fixing a cool stare on his partner. “I’m tired of the ‘I’m sorry’s and I’m tired of the excuses. You either pull your weight around here, Sandburg, or don’t bother coming in at all.” He turned his back on the younger man and began flipping through some files on his desk.
“Fine, if that’s the way you feel about it.” Blair stood up from where he’d been perched on the corner of his friend’s desk and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He hesitated a moment, as if waiting for the sentinel to say something else. But when it became obvious the discussion was over, he turned and quickly walked out of the Major Crimes Unit.
Jim glanced up, watching him walk away. Sandburg had obviously been angry, and hurt, and the detective was already starting to feel a little bad for losing his temper. But when he looked over and saw Megan frowning at him, the righteous indignation he’d felt began to boil up anew.
“What?”
“That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” the inspector asked him.
“No, I don’t think,” Ellison replied defensively. “And why is it your concern?”
“It’s not like he’s getting paid for this, you know,” Connor reminded him. “Sandy’s helping you out as a favor. I just think you could forgive him a small mistake here and there, especially on Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, please,” the sentinel sneered, rolling his eyes. “You aren’t going to give me that ‘peace on Earth, goodwill to men’ crap are you?”
Megan placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes as she studied the man seated before her.
“I know you’ve repeatedly proven yourself to be a classic hard-ass,” she said finally. “But surely not even you can be that much of a Scrooge.”
Jim tossed the folder in his hand back down onto the desk and stood up, pushing his chair back forcefully and grabbing his coat from the hook next to his desk. On his way out, he stopped in front of his coworker, slapping the lovely inspector gently on the shoulder.
“Bah, humbug,” he told her, before turning and exiting the squad.
The loft was dark and quiet, much to Ellison’s relief as he unlocked the door and let himself inside. He knew he owed his partner an apology, but he was not in the mood to offer it now, nor was he in the mood to deal with his friend shooting him those hurt little looks that were so effective at making him feel guilty. With a sigh, the detective took off his jacket and hung it up, tossing his keys down on the table by the door as he turned on the light. And he immediately froze as he realized he wasn’t alone.
“You,” he hissed, drawing his gun with lightening speed and pointing it at the figure reclining comfortably in the living room.
“I suppose I deserve that,” the intruder drawled casually. If he was worried about the firearm trained on his heart, he didn’t show it. Instead he uncrossed his legs and rose from his seat.
“Don’t move,” the detective barked harshly. “Don’t even breathe.” He flicked the safety off his weapon with a deliberate gesture. “Or I will kill you.”
“You can try,” the man shrugged with a friendly smile.
“What are you doing here, Kincaid?”
“Oh, you could say I just stopped by for a little friendly conversation.”
The sentinel paused, suddenly realizing that something was very wrong. He could see the man before him, plain as day. And hear everything he was saying. But try as he might, he could pick up no heartbeat. No respirations. None of the smells that usually accompanied a human, like sweat or cologne or fabric softener. He took two steps closer, until he was almost within reach of Kincaid, and still could detect nothing. No leather smell from his jacket. No body heat. No life.
“Who are you?” Ellison demanded, feeling an unfamiliar snake of fear curling around his spine.
“Garrett Kincaid, at your service,” the man replied. “I know it’s been awhile, but I had hoped you would remember me. I like to think I made a lasting impression.”
“You are not Kincaid,” Jim growled. He well remembered the maniac who took the entire police force hostage. But that man had had a pulse. Unless... The detective shook his head briefly. Last he’d heard, Kincaid was still alive and well. But prison was a dangerous place.
“I’m not a ghost,” the intruder quickly assured him, reading his mind.
“But you aren’t human, either.”
“Look, we don’t have time for this,” Kincaid sighed. “So why don’t you just drop that little peashooter you’ve got there and we can get on with it?”
“Get on with what?” the sentinel asked warily, not about to lower his gun.
“The reason I’m here. You’ve got some issues, Detective Ellison. And it’s time you pulled your head out of your ass and dealt with them.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Take tonight, for example,” Kincaid pointed out. “Little rough on Mr. Natural, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s rich coming from the guy who leveled a city block without batting an eye,” Jim retorted sarcastically.
“I may be a killer, but by God, I at least respect my own men,” the terrorist said affably. “You could take a lesson there, my friend.”
“Number one, I am not your friend,” Ellison spat. “And number two, I’m not about to take lessons from you on anything.”
“You don’t have to,” Kincaid promised him as he eased himself back down into his former seat. “Just go right on out that door there. Your teacher’s waiting for you.”
Jim didn’t move. He was frozen, his gun fixed on his target. The man before him had to be real. He HAD to be. And yet his senses were assuring him that he was not. The detective’s head swam as he battled the surrealness of it all, desperately wishing Sandburg was there to clue him in on what the hell was going on. For a second, he almost gave into panic as his finger twitched on the trigger, wanting to just shoot Kincaid and watch him bleed to prove that he was real and not some hallucination. But then a soft knock sounded upon the door and a familiar sounding voice called out his name.
Slowly, Ellison began backing up toward the door, never taking his aim away from Kincaid. When he reached the peephole, he spared a glance out and his gun fell to his side. Fumbling a bit with the lock, he flung the door open and greeted the man who stood there.
“Bud?” he whispered in disbelief, staring at the kind face of the guy who had meant so much to him while he was growing up. He looked exactly the way Jim remembered him, and like Kincaid, he gave off no sign of life. Although in Karl Heydash’s case, that was understandable.
“Hey, Jimmy,” the man greeted him warmly. “Ready to go?”
“Go where?” the sentinel asked helplessly, feeling overwhelmed. “Bud, what’s going on? I don’t understand...”
“I know,” Heydash told him gently. “But you will. Come on with me now.” He reached out, looping an arm that felt both solid and lifeless around Ellison’s shoulders. Jim glanced back into the loft where Kincaid gave him a jaunty wave, then he stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him as he began following his old mentor out of the building. Outside it was dark and eerily quiet, and while the sentinel could see the light dusting of snow that covered the ground, he couldn’t feel the cold, even though he wasn’t wearing a coat.
“Wait a minute,” he protested, coming to a halt. “Bud, please, just tell me what’s going on here. I know this can’t be real. I mean, you’re... you’re dead.”
“Well, reality is a matter of perception, Chief,” Heydash told him calmly. “And you can’t change it by ignoring it. I’m not going to go away, so you might as well just come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.” Bud gave him a warm smile, meeting his confused gaze. “Just trust me, Jimmy. And if you can’t do that, then trust your instincts.”
“All right,” Ellison sighed wearily, realizing he had little choice and deciding it would be easier to just go along with things until he either woke up from this hallucination or Sandburg showed up to help him make some sort of sense of it.
They started walking once more, but all of the sudden the sentinel realized they were no longer on Prospect, and it was no longer dark. Bud came to a stop in front of a very familiar house.
“What are we doing here?” Jim demanded.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” Heydash told him as he began walking up the path toward the house.
“Believe me, I’ve seen it.”
“Not for a long time,” Bud reminded him, turning back to fix a stern look on the detective, who hadn’t budged. “Let’s move it, Chief. We’re on a time frame here, so quit pouting and let’s go.”
Ellison hesitated, but then he shrugged and started to follow. Whatever Bud wanted to show him, it couldn’t be anything he hadn’t seen before, and dealt with long ago. And he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued. Heydash opened a front door that was conspicuously bare of evergreen or lights, unlike all the neighboring houses. They stepped inside the large home and Jim startled as he realized it was occupied.
“Look around,” Bud said quietly. “This is the past, Jimmy. They can’t see you or hear you.”
“Why?” the sentinel hissed angrily. “Why did you bring me here?”
“That’s the funny thing about the past,” Heydash told him. “You can’t touch it, but it can still touch you.”
Jim turned on his heel and was about to storm out, but he paused as his gaze landed on Sally and Stevie. He was sitting under the Christmas tree that she had put up and decorated for them, and the housekeeper was reading over the instructions to a model airplane, doing her best to help the little boy figure them out. Almost against his will, Ellison couldn’t help but watch, and he leaned against the doorway, studying them impassively until Sally excused herself to go and check the turkey. Then his breath caught in his throat as he saw the past version of himself wander into the room. A strapping ten year old, with the beginnings of a bravado swagger to mask the sadness in his eyes.
“Do you think Mom’s coming for dinner?” Stevie asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice.
“Who cares?”
Ellison winced to hear the bitterness in his young voice, and his heart ached to know that the boy did care... a lot. But it was easier to pretend that he didn’t. Less painful. He spared a glance to Bud as it started to dawn on him what he was being shown, but then his gaze swung back around as his young self plucked a football from under the tree, tossing it from hand to hand as he started toward his father’s office. The sentinel followed him.
“Hey, dad?” The boy stuck his head through the door to see his father riffling through a stack of papers at his desk.
“What?”
“Um....Thanks for the football.”
“Jimmy, I’m busy,” William said irritably, sparing his son a glance over his shoulder. “So what do you want?”
“I just thought maybe we could play catch a little bit,” the boy murmured quietly, trying to hide the hope in his voice, much like his little brother had done moments before.
“I don’t have time for that now,” the senior Ellison grumbled. “I’m working.”
“But it’s Christmas,” Jimmy protested. “Nobody has to work on Christmas.”
“Wrong.” William got up from his desk and approached his son. “You have to work every day. Jimmy, there is always going to be someone out there better than you. And the only way to get ahead is to make sure you work twice as hard as anyone else. Understand?”
The boy nodded, his head drooping in disappointment.
“Good.” William put a hand on his son’s shoulder and began steering him back out the door. “Why don’t you go outside and toss the ball with Stevie? I’ll give an extra 50 cents a week allowance to whoever can catch it the most times without dropping it, ok?”
The door shut abruptly behind the boy, and Ellison’s heart ached as he watched his younger self plod dejectedly down the hallway.
“I’ve seen enough,” the sentinel insisted gruffly, turning to Bud and giving him a no nonsense stare. “I want out of here, now.”
“All right,” Heydash agreed. “Just remember something, Chief. You can’t get to where you want to go if you forget where you came from.”
Before Jim could ask what that meant, he felt a momentary surge of dizziness. When his head cleared, he found himself standing in front of the door to the loft, alone.
“That was bizarre,” he muttered to himself, immediately chalking up the experience to some weird hallucination induced by stress or fatigue or a bad tuna hand roll. Ignoring the nagging voice in his head that was telling him he’d had a coat and keys when he left work and that he shouldn’t be standing out in the hallway without either, he opened the door and entered the loft. Only to find that he was already there. Sitting on the couch with a slice of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other, watching the Jags and cursing at the tv.
“Guess someone should have warned you about that. That’s got to be a shock, walking in on yourself.”
Ellison spun around in response to the voice in his ear, and his jaw dropped as he took in the man suddenly standing next to him.
“Jack?”
“The one and only.” Pendergrast grinned, giving him the once over. “You’re looking good, Slick. Glad to see you finally wised up and ditched the earring. The threads are better, too, although you still need a little work.”
“You’re looking good, too, Jack,” the sentinel managed to get out, realizing his whole ‘it was only a dream’ theory was rapidly going down the drain.
“For a stiff. But you know what they say: live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse.”
“Jack, I’m sorry,” Jim blurted out. “If I had only picked up the phone that night...”
“What? I wouldn’t be dead?” Pendergrast shook his head slightly. “It wasn’t your fault, Slick.”
“Yes, it was,” Ellison muttered brokenly. “You were my partner.”
“Yeah, and in your absence I was supposed to call for backup, which I didn’t do. Look, the deal went sour and I bought it. It’s just the way things happened.” Jack reached out, slinging a friendly arm around his former partner. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Slick. It’s all forgiven and forgotten, ok? Now let’s move out of the past and focus on the present.”
“This isn’t the present,” Jim said slowly, glancing around the loft.
“Point taken. We’re actually about four years back.”
“So, what are we looking at?” Ellison asked, confused as to what was so significant about basketball and cold pizza.
“Earlier on this day, you told Cap that this was the greatest period of your life so far.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Just seems a little funny to me. I mean, that’s not the face of a man who’s having the time of his life.”
“What was I supposed to say when Simon kept asking me how I was doing?” the sentinel demanded in a flash of temper. “That I’d been miserable ever since Carolyn left me?”
“You were miserable before that,” Pendergrast reminded him sagely. “That’s one of the reasons why she left you.”
“What is your point?” Jim asked harshly.
“My point is, it wasn’t just Carolyn. She was just the latest in the long line that started with your mother. You were alienated from your father and your brother, you lost comrades and friends in the military, not to mention your whole unit in Peru. Face it, Slick. You’ve got a history. Everyone leaves you sooner or later. Friends, family, women... partners. And that’s how we ended up here.”
Ellison took a good look at the slightly younger version of himself, so intent on the game. At the time, he’d really thought he had it all. King of his castle, with no one to answer to. He had to answer to Simon at work, but he was the lone wolf, running his investigations on his own terms. It was a marvelous feeling, being so free and independent and unattached. And yet, the man sitting before him didn’t look like he was enjoying it a bit. He merely looked... lonely. But better to be lonely than hurt, right? That was why he never let himself get emotionally attached. Run everyone else off before they could leave him. That way it was on his terms, and he never had to feel the pain of loss again. But how was that any way to live? So closed off and remote and joyless and... alone.
“Ok, I get your point,” Jim said quietly, a sobering melancholy replacing his anger.
“Then let’s check out the present. The present present this time.”
Instantly the loft changed. The bleak sterility was gone, brightened by all manner of decoration. Art on the walls, trinkets on the shelves, warmth and color and life permeating every corner. Ellison saw he was still seated on the sofa watching the game, but this time he wasn’t alone. Sandburg came bouncing over to hand him a beer as he sat down beside him.
“Well, if what we just saw was the greatest time of your life, then what is this?” Jack asked. “You’re a kick ass cop with super powers. But more importantly, no more lonely dinners in front of the tv. You’ve got someone to talk to, joke around with. Go fishing with. A partner you can trust with your life, and a friend you can trust with your heart. Doesn’t seem too shabby to me, Slick.”
“This isn’t the present, either,” Jim whispered, watching as he bantered back and forth with his roommate, laughing and teasing. It had been awhile since things had been that easy between them. Not since...before Sandburg had written the introductory chapter to his thesis.
“Why isn’t this the present?”
Ellison sighed, knowing that his former partner was really asking why the scene before them wasn’t happening now in the present. And it wasn’t an answer he could readily give. As Blair had teased him about the introductory chapter, Jim had been hit with the startling realization that the time had come for the dissertation. And once that was written and Sandburg had his PhD, there wouldn’t be any more reason for him to hang around. It was then that the sentinel finally realized how much he had come to depend on and care about the kid, and just how much he was going to miss him when he left. But before he could even start to come to grips with that, Blair had left him, seemingly for good. When they’d drug him from the fountain with no heartbeat, Jim had felt a pain so intense he thought that he’d die, too. And he never, ever wanted to feel that again. So instead of celebrating the miracle that he’d been given, he started pushing Blair away, just like he’d always done to anyone he started feeling attached to. It was the only way he would ever survive losing his guide. He had to sever the ties first.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Ellison said angrily, his frustration stemming from his inability to articulate such deep rooted feelings and the knowledge that his misery was all self- inflicted.
“If you keep living in the past, Slick, you’re doomed to repeat it.”
“Enough with the riddles,” Jim exploded. “I’ve played your stupid game, but I’m done now, all right? It was good seeing you, Jack, but now get the hell out, ok?”
The loft went dark and silent. For a few moments, the sentinel was a bit disoriented. But then he began blindly groping for a lamp, after discovering that opening his sight wasn’t allowing him to see through the gloom as it usually did. Nothing seemed to be where it should have been, and he began to grow nervous until a light flickered on behind him.
“Hello, Jim.”
A curvaceous female form moved seductively into the small arc of light that surrounded him.
“Alex,” he acknowledged curtly. The last time he’d seen her, he’d been operating on full instinct. Unexplainably attracted to her, and driven by a need to protect her. But now, beautiful as she was, he felt only cold rage toward the woman who had murdered his best friend, the man who had tried to help her.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” she purred, trailing a finger lightly down his arm.
“I’m not,” he replied, catching her hand and stopping her touch. “So why don’t we cut to the chase here, huh? Just show me my future and then you can get out of my sight.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Jim.”
“Come on,” he laughed humorlessly. “I’m hip to the whole Dickens thing here. Unhappy childhood, loveless family, divorced, friends dying... and now I’m being an asshole to the one person who cares the most about me. I get it, ok? So just show me the future, with Sandburg gimping around on crutches if I don’t mend my ways, and we can get this whole nightmare over with.”
“No, Jim, you don’t get it,” Alex told him, dropping her flirtatious attitude and growing serious. “I can’t show you your future.”
“Why not?” Ellison demanded.
“You tell me, detective.”
He thought about it, and realized there could only be one answer. One that he hated to think about, but finally, he did get it.
“Because I don’t have one without Blair,” he concluded in a whisper.
“I know what you went through, Jim,” Alex said compassionately. “I know exactly. Not knowing what’s happening to you. Your senses all going out of control, causing you pain. Living in fear of not knowing when things are going to go haywire. Everyone around you thinking that you’re crazy until you start to believe that they’re right. And I know that sense of relief you felt when Blair helped you make sense of it all. And the power you felt after he helped you gain control.”
“That’s in the past,” the sentinel snapped. “What’s that have to do with the future?”
“Why didn’t you go back to the grotto in Mexico?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he shouted.
“Just answer the question,” she continued patiently. “Why didn’t you go back to the pool a second time? I know you wanted to.”
“I don’t know,” Ellison said in exasperation, throwing up his hands. “I guess... I don’t know. There was something holding me back.”
“That’s the difference between you and I,” Alex explained. “I went back, and it was too much. My senses all overloaded. You didn’t go back, because you had a guide to anchor you to the world. And that’s not the only time Blair’s saved you. How many times has he saved your life when you were undone by a sensory spike and left vulnerable? You need him. But you don’t just owe him your physical life, do you?”
Jim shook his head slightly, then buried his face in his hands. She was right. Blair had saved his life, more than once. But he had done so much more. Against all resistence, he had forced his way into his sentinel’s life. Turning his house into a home, his job into a partnership, and a working relationship into a friendship. And without Ellison even realizing it, Sandburg had shown him that it was okay to love someone again. The pain of losing that... It hurt to even think about it. But Jim suddenly realized that it hurt more to throw it away. Blair might leave, one way or another. But the sentinel knew he was the biggest fool on earth to be trying to drive him away, instead of enjoying the gift of his guide in his life while he had him.
Ellison looked up, his brow wrinkling in confusion as he saw he was lying on the couch, covered with the afghan. He sat up quickly, looking around. The lamp by the door was on, and the fire was burning. Jim opened up his sight and looked through the shadows, but everything in the loft was just how it should have been. And he was alone, at least as far as he could tell. He glanced at his watch and slumped back down with a sigh, rubbing a hand tiredly over his forehead and swearing to himself that he was never eating roadside vendor sushi ever again.
His heart skipped a beat and he bolted back up as he heard someone at the door, for he was emotionally exhausted and couldn’t take anymore unearthly visitors. But then he relaxed as the door opened and his roommate entered the loft, a living, breathing human with a pulse.
“Hey,” Blair said quietly upon catching sight of him on the couch. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t,” Ellison assured him. “But it’s 2:30 in the morning. Where’ve you been?”
“Rainier,” Sandburg confessed. “I went back to my office and looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find that report. So I rewrote it.”
“Chief, you didn’t have to do that,” Jim murmured, stunned that he would go to so much trouble, and on Christmas Eve, no less.
“No, you were right.” The anthropologist hung up his coat before entering the living room and easing himself down into a chair. “I promised I’d do it, and you were counting on me. It was my responsibility.”
“Look, I was way out of line tonight,” Ellison began. “And I owe you an explanation. I never told you this, but my mom left us on Christmas Eve. It’s just not an easy time of year for me. Not that it’s any excuse for biting your head off.”
“It’s ok...”
“No, it isn’t.” The sentinel took a deep breath and met his guide’s calm blue gaze. “Because it wasn’t just tonight. I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately, but it’s just because... I’ve been going through some things, and I guess I’ve been taking it out on you. But you don’t deserve that, Chief, and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Sandburg said quietly, surprised at the honest feeling he was getting from his normally remote partner. “But how’s that going? That stuff you were going through. Did you get it worked out?”
“Yeah.” Jim gave his friend a grin, honestly able to admit that he felt better than he had in a long time, now that he finally understood his past, his present, and how to improve the future. “I think I did.”
“Good.” Blair was quiet for a few minutes, and Ellison could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “Can I...?”
“Go ahead,” the sentinel interrupted wryly. “Ask.”
“You never talk about your mom,” Sandburg pointed out. “I was just wondering what you remember about her.”
“Not much,” Jim answered. “I was only eight when she left, and we hardly ever saw her after that. Only a few times over the next three years, when she died in that car crash.” He sighed, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “She didn’t even say goodbye, you know? Just walked out the door, and never came back.” He glanced over at his friend, seeing him deep in thought. “Why?”
“Ok, I know this is going to sound like the product of sleep deprivation, but just hear me out, all right? What if your sentinel abilities were hereditary, and your mom had them, too?”
“Sandburg, this has been one strange night, but that remark puts it all to shame. You’ve really lost your mind.”
“Why?” Blair protested, his speech getting faster as his excitement grew. “I mean, it would explain a lot. No mother just walks out on her kids without a good reason. If she was suffering from sensory overload and not understanding what was happening, it makes perfect sense. Maybe she thought she was crazy, and having two little boys certainly didn’t help out of control senses. She probably thought she was doing everyone a favor. You know, her wacky senses weren’t allowing her to be a good mother, and she didn’t want you and Steven to have to see her like that. That could even be why your dad was so hard on you. He saw these hyper senses drive his wife nuts, so he did all he could to try to repress them so the same thing wouldn’t happen to you. Jim, I know you’re not going to like this, but you have to set up a meeting for me with your dad. I really think I could be on to something here, and I’ve got to ask him some questions.”
“Breathe, Junior,” Ellison commanded, before his partner could start to hyperventilate. “Personally, I think you’ve been sniffing too much White Out, but you can talk to my father tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’m going to call him in the morning and invite him to dinner.”
“You are?”
“Well, with Steven going to his in-laws for Christmas, I’m sure the old man doesn’t have anything else to do. I mean, by ignoring him, I’m just turning into everything I ever despised about him. Maybe he’ll come, and maybe he won’t. But I figure why not lay it out there and let him decide. After all, we can’t have a future if we keep living in the past. Besides, you went and bought a twenty pound turkey. We can’t eat all that ourselves.”
“Hello! Does Thanksgiving ring a bell?” Blair reminded him sarcastically.
“Well, if he does come, you can spring your little interrogation on him before dinner. That way if he walks out, there’ll be more for us.” Ellison grinned as he got to his feet, stretching slightly. “I’m going to bed. And you should do the same. Santa Claus won’t come if you’re not asleep.”
“What happened to you tonight, man?” Sandburg laughed. “I mean, I’m digging this change of heart and all, but a few hours ago you were acting like a total...”
“Scrooge?” Jim supplied.
“Well, I was going to say ‘dick’, but yeah, that works, too,” Blair snickered.
“It’s a long story, buddy,” the sentinel told him evasively.
“And you aren’t going to tell me,” Sandburg concluded. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’m just glad to know that whatever it was, it had a happy ending.”
“That it did.” Ellison started for the stairs, but then he turned back and intercepted his friend as he started for his room, pulling the surprised younger man into a warm hug.
“Merry Christmas, Blair."
“Merry Christmas, Jim.”
Finis