Title: Response to a Challenge

Author/pseudonym: Sentarla

Rating: PG

Status: Finished

Date: 25/07/99

Archive: Yes ohhhhh PLEASE do!!!!!!

Series/Sequel: Non (for now <g>)

Spoliers: Umm, there are a few, but none related to 4th season.

My Website: http://www.oocities.org/sentarla

E-mail: Sentarla (Please be nice)

Notes: This story is my first challenge story, so please be nice. I found this on Killash The Great's page, address will be found at the bottom of story. I don't want to spoil it for anyone, but I will say that it was Challenge Number six, and now after this one is finished I am thinking about making a trilogy with challenge numbers five and seven <g>. Thank you sooo much for my Beta Bonnie, without her, this story would have heaps of errors. You are the best oh wise one. J

Response to a Challenge

As Simon walked down the three levels to the police gym, rec. center and cafeteria, he knew he would meet resistance. In his hand he held the memo that had been faxed to his office, requesting Jim’s presence for a special Detective/ex-forces conference in California. Someone had got it into their head, that people with backgrounds like Jim’s must be having problems fitting in, and needed to form support groups or something. Pausing at the stairwell door, Simon shook his head again; Jim was not going to be happy.

Punching the bag, Jim was aware of his captain walking down the stairs. When the Gym door opened, Jim gave one last furious high kick and turned towards Simon, leaving the equipment to grab a towel. Jim took in the rapid heartbeat, increased breathing, random eye movements, and general unease of his Captain. After all this registered, Jim took the shiny white crumpled paper clutched in ‘the dark sweaty hand and let out a breath he had not even realized he had been holding; it was not about Blair.

"What’s up, Simon?"

"Okay, Jim, before you go off, this is not my fault. I tried to tell them you were too busy and were needed here, but they just said they would send someone from another station to cover your cases. Please know that I tried everything, you have no choice."

Not really liking where this was going, Jim narrowed his eyes and read the paper.

"Great." Jim sighed, knowing that his captain would have tried everything. "When do I leave?"

"Mmmmm," Simon mumbled

"Excuse me, Simon?"

"Tomorrow."

"No way, Simon. Blair and I have tickets to the benefit dinner with Ray Charles."

Nodding his head, Simon shrugged his shoulders. "I tried, I’m sorry."

"Fine, you and someone else go, Blair will not be happy."

"Umm, Jim, you need to read the second paragraph."

Quickly looking down, Jim read it, then his face took on a molten red color.

"’No partners allowed; any brought will be sent back with a reprimand on their records�Eamp;quot;. What the hell is this all about, sir!?"

"Look, Jim, just make the best of it. Think about all the times you have wanted to take off without the kid -- this time you can; you have to."

Knowing he was getting nowhere, Simon stood straighter and took on a more commanding tone.

"Ellison. Like it or not, you are going. I will look out for Sandburg and if need be take him to the benefit myself. Now, you have the rest of the day off, go pack or whatever."

At the end of their conversation, Jim nodded his head and went back to his workout, deciding he needed at least another half and hour on the punching bag, before he would be sociable enough to talk to anyone.

Sighing, Simon left him to it and called Sandburg on the way back to his office. With the way the red punching bag was coping with the kicks and punches, it would not last long.

When Blair entered the gym, he saw his partner coming out of the changing room, his jaw slightly tense and his movements very controlled.

"Hey, Jim, had a good workout?"

Nodding his head, Jim was about to say something when another voice piped up.

"Good! Ha ha! Hairboy, see that chain dangling over there? That used to belong to that boxing bag that is cowering in the corner. Ellison totally pulverized it."

Closely looking at his partner, Blair nodded to Henry who was now standing next to him and asked Jim again if he was okay.

Not wanting to talk in front of an audience, Jim nodded his head and headed out of the gym, knowing his Guide would follow.

Once Jim had reached the garage, he stopped and looked at the quiet Blair.

"Chief, you know the benefit we were going to tomorrow night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I can’t go, I have to leave tomorrow morning for a conference in California."

"Awwh, man, that is so not fair. There’s no way I can get a date this late, and I am not going by myself."

"Don’t worry, I’ve given my ticket to Simon, he’ll go with you."

"Simon," Blair groaned, not liking where this was going.

"Look, Sandburg, I don’t want to go, but I have no choice; we just have to make the best of it."

Knowing it was not his fault, Jim still felt guilty. "How about we go out for dinner tonight, you choose the place?"

Not wanting to look a gift Sentinel in the mouth, Blair suggested the new restaurant that had opened a few blocks from the loft. The owners had both spent years in Panama and the food was supposed to be fantastic.

Dinner went well, the food was hot, the restaurant not too busy and the music excellent. It was during dinner that Blair suddenly told Jim to stop talking, and listen. Hearing his Guide‘s voice, Jim tilted his head and tried to filter out all the normal dining sounds.

Shaking his partner‘s shoulder, Blair got Jim’s attention.

"Not that way, big guy, listen to the music."

The music was a taped recording of tribal songs and dances. The one playing sounded familiar, but Jim could not place nor understand it. When it ended, Jim picked up his fork again and waited for the anthropological lecture he knew was sure to follow.

"Wow, that was so cool, man. That was a special tribal story. It was about the Curu Indians. The Tribe Shaman does battle with the goddess Muu over the soul of a mother who is struggling through childbirth. The shaman ends up beating Muu’s power and because Muu is the goddess of procreation and only occasionally abuses her power, she makes up with the Shaman and asks when will he come visit again. In the village, the Shaman was all-powerful and had many spirit guardians. I studied that culture a few years back, I think I understand now why the Shaman mentioned a Grey wolf to me; he could see my animal spirit. It this place wicked or what?"

Smiling at his Guide, Jim soaked up the good vibes he gave off and reflected on the fact that although he talked too much, continually bombarding Jim with useless anthropological stories and facts, there was no way he would ever trade his partner for a real cop.

The next day saw Blair madly rushing around, finishing off the last of his semester assignments. He had made a deal with himself; unless he finished the two off, he would not be going out. With no Sentinel present to complain about the paper strewn all over the loft, Blair happily worked away, trying to meet his deadline.

When six-thirty crept upon Blair, a large fist knocked on the door. Jumping slightly, Blair typed in the last few words and pressed save with a satisfied smile.

Simon was feeling pretty smug; for the first time in years, he had been able to knock on the door before anyone could open it; maybe sometimes there were advantages to the resident Sentinel going away.

Once he had been let in, Simon could not help but shake his head. The loft was a disaster, with paper everywhere; the only clear area was the chair where Blair must have been sitting.

"You ready yet, kid?"

"Ummm." Blair replied while pushing his hair back from his face and looking around the disaster zone. "Yeah, sure. Give me ten, I just have to change clothes."

Twenty minutes later, the two were off, Simon grumbling about being late, while Blair simply bounced along.

Simon had heard about the benefit night, but had no idea what was going to happen. Tickets were about two hundred each, and nearly impossible to get. Blair's were a gift, but neither Blair nor Jim had any idea who they were from.

Simon found himself sitting at a table with a handful of local celebrities, as well as the generous Mr. Hotflake, the owner/operator of three Cascade McDonald stores.

After spending fifteen minutes talking and getting to know each other, the festivities began. For the most part, no one knew who was going to perform. Everyone had been told to expect Ray Charles and other musical greats. As the room went dim and a hush fell over the eager crowd, the harsh sound of a motorbike revving up was heard. Simon's initial reaction was to slightly tense up, remembering a crime not so long ago, when a group on bikes rode into a karaoki bar and murdered some patrons. Laughing at his reaction, Simon realized a song was playing in the background and it sounded familiar, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Everyone's head turned towards the back of the room as the large doors opened and in road Meatloaf on a classic Harley Davison. The music was getting louder and louder. When he road up the stage, Meatloaf got off, grabbed a microphone and started singing. Before long, the crowd was bopping along to the song, "I would do anything for love"

As the night progressed, performers such as Silver Chair, five, Bee Gees, Stevie Wonder, Spice Girls, Billy Idol, and Sarah McLachlan appeared, leading up to the main event, Ray Charles.

The room was quiet as Ray first talked and then sang. After the seventh song, Ray held up his hand and stood up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight in the audience is a very special person. I met this young man about twenty three years ago. This bright eight year-old helped me one night as I was surrounded by a gang and then continued to help me as I went into a writing slump over the year. I invited this man tonight, along with his good friend Captain Simon Banks of Cascade Major Crime, to say thank you after all these years. You have no idea how hard it was to find him in one place for any length of time, before this. Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for Mr. Blair Sandburg. Comm on Blair, come up here."

With the clapping like thunder booming in his ear, a dazed Blair looked over to Simon. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Simon lightly pushed Blair, reminding the stunned anthropologist that he had to get up.

No longer able to hear the people around him, Blair felt like he was inside a bubble as he walked up the stairs towards the legend, Ray Charles.

"Hi, Blair, how are you doing?"

"Ummm, fine, sir."

"Don't ‘sir�Eme boy. I'll always be Sunshine to you."

Holding up his hand for silence, Ray waited for the last few claps to stop.

"Next, Blair and I are going to sing Georgia. This song is very dear to me because when I first met Blair, we were both traveling through the beautiful state of Georgia. For everyone in this room, this will be a special treat. This boy has a voice that could rival even mine, so listen up."

Turning back to Blair, Ray squeezed his hand. "You ready, Blair?"

"Yeah."

As if it was only yesterday, Blair moved into his old position behind Ray's shoulder to the left and sang in a clear loud voice along with one of his idols. By the end of the song, there was not a single dry eye in the place; even Simon had been moved.

Needing a small break, Ray announced a ten minute break and spent the time quietly talked to Blair, trading addresses and generally catching up on old times. After the break, Blair went back to his seat and Ray went back to his regular Jazz numbers.

The rest of the benefit passed in a blur for Blair, who was still too over whelmed by the night. Simon took him home, and Blair pulled out his Ray Charles collection, which he had hidden from Jim, and spent till dawn listening to the soft, heartfelt music.

Jim was mad; no, mad was too nice of a word--wrathful or furious was maybe a little better. The trip to California had been miserable. Without his Guide to distract him, Jim had great difficulty trying to tune out the sounds of crying babies, nervous fliers and the other sounds on the airplane. When it landed, rain was pouring down. Then to make matters worse, the cabby taking him to the hotel would not shut up.

After a sleepless night, Jim turned up at the convention to find a room full of hard, ramrod straight men and women of military bearing.

Signing in, Jim grabbed an information pack and ID badge and walked over to a distant corner, relieved to find two people who looked at least remotely human.

"WOW, James Ellison, in the flesh. This is an honor."

"James Ellison, no kidding?"

With a slight smile on his face, Jim shook their hands.

"Hi, where are you guys from?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm Randy Houston from LA. and this young lady is Michelle Dunlop from Denver. Both ex-seals."

Nodding his head, Jim looked over the room again.

"Stuck-up bunch, aren't they?"

Turing back to Randy, Jim nodded his head.

"Yeah, no one talks to anyone, and can you see one wrinkle in their clothes? No, sir. The scary part is some of them have been out of the service for ten years or so."

Shaking his head, Jim realized that for the most part, this was what he would have still been like, if Sandburg had not come into his life.

"Ellison, Ellison. Jim, you with us?"

Turning back to Michelle, Jim nodded. "Sorry, lost in thought."

As the three talked, Jim could not help feeling his partner's absence keenly.

Soon the seminar started and everyone went through the three-day itinerary.

After several hours, the group had retired for a break. Now, the sun was high, and everyone was full from a large lunch as they walked through a graveyard. Not being able to help himself, Jim smiled; Blair would have loved this part of the seminar.

As the large group walked towards the back of the graveyard, Jim felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Discreetly looking around at the group, Jim also sent his senses out on a sweep. Not finding anything, but still feeling on edge, Jim pulled out his phone, wanting to touch base with his Guide. Looking at his watched, Jim calculated it to be 11am in Cascade. Blair should be at the station where Simon could keep an eye on him as he promised.

"The cell customer you are trying to reach is either." Cutting the connection, Jim became annoyed. How many times had he told his Guide to keep the phone charged and on? Not wanting to get Simon's attention, Jim rang Rhonda, hoping she could tell Blair to ring him.

"Hello, Captain Banks' Office."

"Hi Rhonda, it's Jim, is Blair around?"

"Ohh, Jim, umm, he's, arrh, Blair's not around at the moment, he's, ahh, a bit busy. Do you want me to pass on a message?"

Hearing the strained undertone in Rhonda's voice and her heart beating over time, as if she was upset and trying to cover something up, Jim tensed up.

"Rhonda, what's going on, are you okay?"

"Yeah..sure, Jim, you have a message for Blair?"

Hearing her voice rise slightly on his Guide's name, Jim decided he had had enough.

"Rhonda, could you put Simon on please?"

"Umm, sorry, Jim, Simon's busy."

Fearing Rhonda was going to stroke out, her heart going so fast, Jim clenched the phone.

"Okay Rhonda, something's up and I don't like it. I'm going to hang up this phone and I expect Simon to call me as soon as he gets in and I want answers, okay?!"

Cutting the connection before Rhonda could even reply, Jim let out a breath he had been holding in; something was up and he did not like it.

"You okay, Ellison?"

As Jim turned back to answer Michelle, he saw a streak of black in his peripheral vision. Looking around, Jim saw a Black Panther up ahead. As the people in front stopped in front of two headstones, they were unaware of the large Panther perched atop the left one.

Pushing through the group, Jim made his way to the front. What was his Spirit Guide on about?

The group leader for the tour was explaining about the grave on the right and how the officer buried here was an ex-marine, who decided that a police burial was more fitting than Arlington cemetery. The idea of the whole visit was to shock the stiff robots into feeling some sort of emotion. Once Jim reached the front, he looked first at the watchful Panther, and then down at the tombstone. Blair Sandburg

1969 - 1997

Hardworking, loyal

and, above all else,

a friend.

Nearly falling to his knees in shock, Jim looked up at the Spirit Guide, whispering "No." The clear blue eyes pierced his soul and Jim knew this was an omen.

The group leader saw Jim's attention on the other headstone and went over to him as the others talked amongst themselves.

"Are you okay, Detective Ellison?"

Dragging his eyes from the headstone, Jim pointed.

"Oh, yes, that grave gets a lot of visitors. I think Clair got more visitors dead, then she ever did alive."

With confusion evident in his eyes, Jim looked back at the grave; no, it still said Blair.

"Clair?"

"Ohh, the name. When they placed the stone, they realized that they had put the wrong name on it, her real name was Clair, not Blair. Unfortunately her family could not afford to replace the headstone, so it sort of became a tourist attraction. I think she drowned."

Flashing to his partner's face after Lash had tried to drug Blair so he could drown him, Jim shuddered; he had had enough, he was going home. The panther growled his approval and then leaped from the wrongly named tombstone and disappeared.

"Okay everyone, if you will head back to the bus, the next stop is the local museum, they are having a special viewing of war artifacts."

"Excuse me?" Jim asked the group leader. "Where is the nearest bus stop?"

"Why?" the puzzled man replied.

"I'm leaving, thanks for inviting me, but I have to get back to Cascade."

"Wh. what, no you can't, you have orders to stay."

Pinning the man with the famous Ellison glare, Jim replied.

"No. I. Don't. The paper my captain was sent says that I had to come to the conference in California that goes for three days. It did not say I had to stay for the three days and I'm not. I am leaving."

Nodding goodbye to Michelle and Randy, Jim stiffly walked off, intending to find a bus or cab himself. All his instincts were screaming at him to get back to Cascade.

The day was looking good, Simon thought, as he glanced over at Blair. With Jim out of town and no University, Blair had offered to look over Simon's computer and upgrade the current software, maybe even installing 'solitile': yes, Simon thought, today was looking good.

"I sure wish I had a camera with me last night, you should have seen your face Sandburg, totally priceless."

Giving the larger man a smile, Blair looked back out the window, not really wanting to talk about his Cascade singing debut.

"Jim is never going to believe me when I tell him. No sirree. Hang on a sec, I know. I wonder if one of the reporters will give me a copy, some of them owe me big."

Simon, smiling smugly at Blair, looked fully like the cat who ate the cream. The expression quickly died as Simon narrowed his eyes. He did not like the calculating twinkle he could see forming in his passenger's eyes.

"Hey Simon, you know that Solitile game I downloaded the other night?"

"Yeah, " Simon slowly drawled.

"Well man, I just can't seem to remember where I put it. Maybe if I didn't feel so pressured, umm I might remember. What do you think?"

Knowing he had been totally caught, Simon growled,

"Yeah, I guess it was one of those moments you needed to be there to believe."

"Thanks, Simon, I knew I should have checked my backpack."

Before Simon could start another conversation about blackmail and police officers, the radio crackled into life.

**All units, please respond. We had a silent alarm triggered in the liquor store on the corner of Jefferson and West, over.**

Glancing over at his civilian passenger, but knowing his duties took precedent, Simon gunned the sirens and radioed in their ETA.

When the car smoothly pulled up around the corner from the liquor shop, the siren silent, Simon turned to Blair.

"Sandburg, you stay in the car. When backup comes, tell them that I've gone through the back, okay?"

Crossing his fingers, Blair nodded his head, knowing the larger man would never be persuaded to accept civilian help. Blair watched Simon pull out his gun and silently walk towards the back of the shop.

Once out of his sight, Blair opened up the car door, and walked around the vehicle so he could see, into the front of the store. Before he could find a good place to hide, a young man, obviously high on something, barreled out of the store, waving a gun as he went. Bumping into the startled observer, the man instinctively grabbed Blair around the neck and turned back towards the shop, pointing his handgun at Simon who was now coming out of the store.

"Put it down, pig, or he gets it. I mean it, man, his brains will be all over the sidewalk!"

Blair winced as the barrel of the gun smacked into his head as the kid on drugs adjusted his aim from Simon to Blair's head.

"Put it down, son, no one has to get hurt. Put it down and we can end this quietly."

Simon could not help but inwardly groan as he looked at Blair. He was sure the kid must have a large bullseye tattooed to his forehead. Jim had been gone barely twenty-four-hours and already the kid was in trouble. What he would not do for the Sentinel to be here now.

"No way, pig. If you don't chuck your gun down in ten seconds, I'm going to blow out his brain. Won't that be cool to see, or what?"

Simon could see that the guy was high, and meant every word he said. He also knew that as soon as he dropped his gun, the user would shoot him and take or shoot Sandburg.

"Ten.Nine.Eight."

As Simon looked at Blair, he could see the trust shinning in his eyes; if he hadn't known better, he would have checked over his shoulder to see if Jim had just appeared.

"Five.Seven.?"

"Simon, Shoot!"

Between Sandburg's shout and the drug-confused simultaneous utterance, "Ahh hell, six, two, one" Simon knew he had to risk the shot.

Taking aim quickly, Simon fired, praying not to miss.

Everything went in slow motion from there for Blair. One moment he was being held by the druggy, the next moment Simon's gun was fired and he knew there was a bullet traveling towards him. Just as it was about to pass him, the guy holding him pulled him up and into the path of the bullet. Blair watched in shock as small droplets of blood sprayed outwards from his upper chest and his ears distinctly heard the sound of Simon's anguished cry.

When the world around him came back to normal speed, Blair found himself on the ground, Simon pressing his bundled up coat onto his chest and the now-unarmed kid being led away by two other officers.

"Si.Simon?"

Instantly looking down, Simon smiled.

"Thank god. What the hell do you think you were doing, Sandburg, I told you to stay in the car!'

Finding it hard to breathe, Blair coughed, trying to clear his chest. Instantly a light pink froth gathered at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, kid, God, I'm sorry. Just rest, Blair, the paramedics are on their way, everything will be fine."

"Wh...what."

Thinking Blair was asking what had happened, Simon replied. "I stuffed up, kid, he moved. I'm not as good as Jim, I shot you."

Shaking his head a little, Blair tried again.

"Wh.What about.your coat?"

Groaning, Simon tried to put on his worst Captain face.

"I'm taking the cost of a new one out of your next pay, Sandburg."

Not able to help himself, Blair gave a little chuckle, which turned into a full-fledged cough, causing a bright red trickle of blood to dribble down his chin.

"Don't laugh, Sandburg, or talk; just rest and the ambulance will be here in a few minutes."

"Captain, you okay?"

As Brown approached the crouched man, he was able to see who was lying on the ground.

"Blair. Shivers, what happen man?"

Looking from Brown to Simon, Blair waited.

"I shot him, Brown. I want you to call Rhonda and tell her to cancel all my appointments and tell her what's happened. I'll be going with Sandburg to the hospital. Contact Taggert too so he can handle the scene and co-ordinate I.A. No matter what, if Jim calls, DON'T tell him what has happened. When he comes back, I'll tell him."

"Sure thing, sir." Looking down at Blair, Brown continued. "I sure would like to be a fly on the wall for that one, Hairboy."

Blair heard the ambulance approach, sirens wailing; he closed his eyes against the pain, knowing he would soon be on his way to hospital.

"Sandburg, keep your eyes open. Not much longer, kid, you can do it. You have to stay awake and think of what to tell Jim. Knowing him, he has probably already figured something is wrong and on his way home. He has a sixth sense about your well-being Sandburg."

Struggling to stay conscious, Blair mumbled. "Why.do I have to .talk to Jim?"

Faking a look of stupidity, Simon answered.

"Because, kid, once Ellison finds outs, you're the only one he'll listen to; I'm dead meat."

Smiling a little, Blair relaxed and let Simon talk to the approaching paramedics.

It wasn't until Blair was loaded into the ambulance that Simon started realizing how deep in trouble he really was.

"Umm, sir."

Simon turned towards Rafe, who had been taking statements minutes before.

"Make it quick, Detective."

"Umm, Rhonda just rang. She just got off the phone with Ellison and he said that he knows something is going on. He'll be getting on the one p.m. flight and will be back in Cascade before dusk. Rhonda said, I quote, "He's pretty P!^%*#."

Groaning, Simon nodded his head; yep, Ellison was like a mother bear with her cub when Sandburg was hurt.

"Rafe, remind me that I have to give Rhonda a bunch of flowers. I know what Ellison can be like if he is given the run-around."

Nodding his head, Rafe reached in and patted Blair's leg, then left, wondering how Simon would cope with an angry ex-ranger.

Unlike the first flight, Jim found the trip back to Cascade less distracting, not that there was much that could possible distract the focused Sentinel. He knew something had happened to his Guide, but he just did not know what. Even after his second and third calls, Rhonda would not say anything. He could hear Taggert in the background talking about I.A and Simon, but that was all he could get.

When the plane landed, six hours after seeing his Spirit Guide, Jim was near the breaking point. The first two things he saw when he entered the terminal, was Brown and Rafe. Walking over to them, he took in their somber faces and nervousness.

"Where's Sandburg?" Jim demanded, holding his breath.

Looking between themselves, Brown spoke up.

"Umm, he's okay. Look, Jim, I was ordered not to say anything, Simon will fill you in. Rafe is going to get your bags and will drive the truck, I'll take you to Hairboy in my car."

Letting out his breath, Jim knew Brown spoke the truth. Nodding his head, Jim followed his fellow detective.

Three quarters into the trip, Jim realized where they were headed, Cascade General. With his jaw nearly about to crack under the pressure, Jim clenched his fists and glared out the window; he should not have left.

Shooting Ellison concerned glances, Brown wondered if Simon really knew what he was in for.

When Brown was pulling up in front of the emergency entrance, Jim jumped out of the car, not even bothering to wait for Brown to come to a complete stop. Pulling out his badge, Jim briskly made his way to the front desk and asked for information on his partner. When directed to the third floor, with the knowledge that Blair had received a gunshot wound, Jim mentally cursed his trouble-prone partner.

Closing his cell phone, Simon saw the agitated Sentinel exit the elevator.

"Sir, what the hell is going on, is Sandburg okay?"

Not wanting to tell Jim without the protection of Sandburg, Simon motioned to the nearby room, letting Jim enter before him.

Seeing his partner awake, barely, Jim moved quickly to the bed. The small figure of his partner was pale with an IV in his arm and his upper right chest bandaged.

"Chief, how you doing?"

Doped up and not up to talking, Blair simply gave a weak smile.

Moving over to the other side of the bed, able to see Ellison, but having Sandburg between them, Simon explained that Blair had been shot in the chest and the bullet had nicked his right lung, but the doctors believed the kid would make a full recovery.

Hearing the rapid beat of Simon's heart, Jim knew there was still something he was not being told.

"Simon, what aren't you telling me? I know I told you to look after Blair, but you can't blame yourself." Jim's head quickly shot up, so his attention was fully on his Captain as he heard the heart miss a beat at his last statement.

Not backing down from the intense blue eyes, but letting one hand rest on Blair's undamaged left arm, Simon knew he had no choice but to come clean.

"Umm, Jim. Blair was shot while riding with me, he was taken hostage and the perp was going to blow Sandburg's brains out; he was totally high."

With a look of confusion, Jim looked back down at his now blissfully unaware partner. The combination of drugs and the knowledge that his Sentinel was there to protect him had allowed him to fall into a deep slumber.

"So the perp shot him?"

Taking a deep breath, Simon looked the Sentinel in the eye and continued.

"Jim, I was aiming for the drugged-out perp, but I got Blair instead. I shot Blair."

Simon could not tell what happened next. Somehow Jim was beside him, with both hands tightly locked around Simon's throat.

"Jim.Jim, let go." Not listening to the man who had hurt his Guide, Jim was acting fully on instincts.

Brown chose this moment to rush into the quiet room.

"Come on Ellison, let him go, Ellison, it's not worth it, it was an accident." Using all their strength, Simon and Brown tried to break Jim's hold; neither succeeded. The Sentinel was going primal, 'protect the Guide' rebounding through his head.

As if sensing his Sentinel's anger, Blair struggled to awaken. When he did finally open his eyes a few moments later, he saw one towering, angry Sentinel growling and slowly strangling Banks to death, the large dark man's lips turning blue. Sucking in a painful breath, Blair tried to get his partner's attention.

"Ji.Jim, come on, man. Let Simon go."

Seeing no reaction, and Simon's eyes pleading for help, Blair tried again.

"Jim, I need you."

With those four simple words, Jim was back in control. He instantly let Simon go and went straight to his Guide's side.

"Chief, you okay? What's wrong?"

Sighing in relief, Blair nodded his head. "Yeah, big guy, just lay off Simon."

Turning back to Simon, Jim glared, not wanting to upset Blair any further.

Rubbing his sore, slightly red throat, Simon knew he had to say something, anything to try and appease the protective man.

"Jim, it was an accident. I had to take the shot, otherwise Blair and I were dead. The kid was so high, that there was no way to reason with him; just as I took the shot, he pulled Blair up into the line of fire. We have him in custody, Taggert's looking after the booking. I have an appointment with IA tomorrow, and there is nothing you could say that could make me feel worse then I already do. I know I let you and the kid down, but it was a life and death situation and I did the best I could."

Feeling a tug on his hand, Jim looked down at his injured Guide.

"Jim, Simon saved my life. Shake hands and make up." With that, Blair closed his eyes; what little strength he had, had been exhausted.

Hearing the truth in his Guide's voice, Jim looked once more at the man he called his friend and to whom he had entrusted his Guide's care, and slowly let the anger go.

"Jim, I'm sorry." Not sure what else to say, Simon waited.

Closing his eyes, Jim took a deep breath. Blair had told him to let it go, and Jim knew that Simon would never intentionally hurt his Guide, so Jim slowly let out his breath and held out his hand; truce.

Simon could tell by the look in his detective's eye, there would be a serious talk in the not too-distant future, but for now, Ellison was willing to put his anger aside and let Simon off the hook. Giving Blair a light squeeze and whispering to him to rest, Simon nodded his head and slowly left the room, keeping his distance from the Sentinel and ever thankful for the calming influence of Blair, a young man he had come to admire and respect.

~Fin~

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Challenge Info

Okay, for those still wondering, the challenge was to write a story where Simon shoots Blair and the following elements had to appear: Jim working out, a classic Harley Davidson bike, an anthropological fact, a tombstone with the wrong name on it and Ray Charles singing 'Georgia'.

Killash the Great, the person who issued the challenge can be found at http://www.oocities.org/Hollywood/Chateau/9499

Story Page