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not my characters, not for money, S2 spoilers.
STRANGE WORLD
*****
I am on the outside of your strange world.
--Sarah McLachlan, Strange World
*****
[Damn you, Sandburg,] Simon thought, scowling in the direction of Jim's desk. [This is your fault.]
Simon's current problem had begun about a week earlier, when the most unusual member of Major Crimes had made the peculiar decision to pop his head into Simon's office and ask if he could have a word -- in private.
Simon had been prepared to say that he doubted it when he'd realized that Jim was nowhere in sight.
"Gone out for doughnuts," the kid had told him. "He thinks I don't know he eats them. He won't be long, though, so could we..."
Knowing that the only way to deal with Blair Sandburg's desire to talk was to damned well get it over with, Simon had gestured at the chair in front of his desk.
"Have a seat."
"Thanks." After carefully shutting the door, Blair had launched into his speech before he'd even sat down. "The thing is, there's this guy in Seattle who was just in Columbia, and he's found out a few things about Sentinels. I'm supposed to go to Seattle on Wednesday and spend a few days there, so what I wanted to ask was--
"You want to know if Jim can have some time off to go along?"
Blair's eyes had widened almost comically.
"No! That's exactly what I *don't* want. You think I want to try doing serious research with him glaring over my shoulder? He is, like, the *least* objective man on the planet. God, if I could've found a way to run tests on him without his being there, I would have."
That had seemed fair enough to Simon, but he couldn't really see the problem.
"So, tell Jim he's not invited. God knows, that's fair enough. Isn't it?"
"Yes, absolutely, but it won't play out that way. You think he's going to let me ditch him for three days? I'm lucky he lets me leave my room. Remember the first day I went back to Rainier?"
Simon had thought back and understood.
"So you're asking me to ask him to back off."
"No ... nothing that overt. Just tell him you need him here. Keep him busy. It's only for three days. I need to talk to this guy ... and I *really* need a little time without someone checking my pulse every five minutes. Please, Simon, it's just three days..."
Now Simon was two and a half days into those three days, and already desperately sorry that he'd agreed to help Sandburg escape. Not that Jim had admitted to being upset by Blair's absence. It didn't bother him at all. If Jim had bitten off the heads of everyone in sight, if his voice alternated between an irritated hiss and a flat out yell, if nothing was good enough for him ... that was simply because nobody was capable of doing anything right.
Simon looked at the clock and decided that there was no way Jim could make it to Seattle before Blair left to return to Cascade. No harm in sending Jim home, and the entire department would thank him.
He leaned out his office door and was about to speak when the elevator doors opened and the lupus in fabula himself entered the room.
Jim met him before he'd taken more than a few steps and Blair threw his arms around Jim's shoulders. Jim, who hadn't smiled in days, laughed and hugged his partner so close that Blair was lifted off the ground for a moment. The relief of everyone in the bullpen was obvious.
"Did I miss anything?" Blair asked when Jim set him down.
"No," Jim answered, shooting a dirty look at Simon. "It's been pretty quiet."
Simon ignored that and crossed the room to them anyway. He was used to being the bad guy.
"All right, I admit it. I misjudged the workload. Tell you what -- let Sandburg go home and unpack, and at six I'll take both of you out to dinner."
The combination of surprise and gratitude on Blair's face entertained Simon immensely. He knew the kid would spend the rest of the night wondering why Simon had done that, and he was free to wonder. Simon would never in a million years admit that he might have been just the slightest bit worried himself.
**********
"...and he showed me this amazing ritual," Blair was saying, hands moving quickly over a barely touched plate of pasta. "It was a bonding ritual between Sentinels and their partners. He went through the first part of it with me, just to show me how it went. You do the first part on the new moon, and then there's a second part you do on the full moon."
"Hold on a minute, Chief." Jim was frowning. Simon saw the frown and shook his head. He couldn't get over how seriously Jim took these things. Sandburg had really done a number on him. "You did some kind of a bonding ritual with this guy?"
"Yeah -- it doesn't mean anything. He's not a Sentinel. He was just showing me the moves, you know?"
"I bet," Simon commented, picking up his coffee cup. Blair laughed.
"Not like that. Seriously, this ritual, I don't think it *does* anything, exactly. The tribe just told him it formalized a commitment. I guess it strengthens the attachment, but any ritual can do that for psychological reasons. Like a wedding."
Simon looked at Jim, one divorced man to another. Jim shrugged, then turned his attention back to Blair.
"I thought you had respect for these things."
"I would if it was for real," Blair answered. His tone was affectionate but serious, and Simon suddenly felt that he might be in the way. He decided to keep still and hold his tongue, because Jim and Blair barely seemed to notice him.
"Look, Jim," Blair went on, "I was just learning the ritual. Studying. I wasn't ... it wasn't like I put my heart into it. Okay?"
Jim looked into Blair's eyes for a long time before he nodded.
"Okay."
Blair smiled, the seriousness gone as if it had never been there.
"Good. Hey, I forget to tell you about this awesome band I saw last night..."
Simon waved the waitress over to refill his coffee cup. Obviously they were going to be there for awhile.
**********
"Something's wrong."
Simon had been in the middle of briefing Jim on a new case when he'd seen Jim leave the room. Sure, Jim was still parked in the chair, still looking at Simon, but he was unquestionably AWOL where it counted.
"What was that, Jim?"
"Something's wrong, Simon. I have to go."
He stood up, eyes unfocused, and headed for the elevators. Simon hesitated for a moment, then sighed. This might be bullshit, but it was his life.
"Wait up, Jim. I'm coming along."
Jim was silent all the way to the loft, and Simon quickly gave up on asking questions. He supposed he'd find out what was going on soon enough.
The truck had barely stopped when Jim got out and ran for the building, not even shutting the door behind him. It was strange behaviour. Simon didn't like it.
He chased Jim up the stairs, two at a time.
The loft door was open when they got to the third floor, and that was pretty chilling, because neither Jim nor Blair would ever leave their door unlocked. Not after the events of the past three years. Simon entered the loft on Jim's heels and almost ran right into him, because he'd stopped dead just inside the door.
"Blair..."
Simon moved slightly to one side and saw what Jim was seeing -- Blair, curled up on the floor in front of the couch, trying not to cry.
"He's gone," Blair said softly. His voice was shaking. "He must have known you were coming. He left before ... he left before anything happened."
Jim went to Blair and knelt in front of him. He placed one hand under Blair's chin and raised his face. Simon winced at the sight of bruises around the kid's eyes, a cut on his cheek that seemed to match the corner of the coffee table. His shirt was open, and Simon could see the edges of another, larger bruise starting on one shoulder.
"What happened?" Jim asked. His voice was cold, but Blair didn't seem to mind. He knew better than to think the coldness was for him.
"Tonight's the full moon," Blair told him. Simon thought at first that Blair might have a concussion, and searched his eyes for uneven pupils before he saw that this line of conversation somehow made sense to Jim.
"He came here to finish the ritual?"
Simon looked sharply at Jim, then remembered what Blair had said in the restaurant the night he'd come back from Seattle.
"What? I thought you said that wasn't anything serious," he said, touching Blair's shoulder. "Why would he come all the way here ... and what in hell is the second part of that ritual, anyway?"
Blair looked down, and his shoulders began to shake. Simon realized that he was crying. Jim put his arms around Blair and rocked him gently.
"Shh ... it's okay, Chief. I've got you."
Simon saw another bruise coming in on Blair's back. He didn't know how bad the kid was hurt, and it made him uneasy.
"Do you need to go to a hospital?"
Blair didn't say anything, but he gave a quick shake of his head. Jim pressed his face into Blair's curls and held him tighter.
"It's okay. It's okay."
He raised his head to look at Simon, letting Simon see what his voice carefully hid. Jim was scared.
Simon sat down beside them and placed a hand on Blair's back, careful not to press too hard.
"Blair, you have to tell us what happened."
It took a few minutes for Blair to calm down enough to speak, and when he finally did answer Simon, he kept his face pressed against Jim's shoulder.
"He lied to me. He ... he must be a Sentinel, because the ritual means something to him. He was trying to ... trap me in to working with him. I think he thinks this ritual creates a real bond, something you can't just back out of."
Jim was still rocking Blair absently, staring over his shoulder at the far wall of the loft.
"What was the second part of the ritual, Blair?" he asked evenly. Simon knew it was a good thing Blair couldn't see how dead white Jim's skin had gone.
"He said he just happened to know about my research," Blair continued, ignoring Jim's question. "He said he heard about it from a friend, but he must have been following it on his own. I probably led him to that tribe, indirectly. He recognized himself in what I wrote. And he got it in his head that I was going to help him. When he came here, he thought ... I'd go along with it. When I told him I wouldn't, he was pretty fucking annoyed with me ..."
"He tried to force you into it," Jim said. Blair nodded. His arms were around Jim's waist, holding so tight that Simon knew it had to hurt. "What was the second part of the ritual?"
Blair was silent. He'd started to cry again. Jim met Simon's eyes.
"Simon ... I think maybe Blair and I should be alone."
Simon carefully shut his mouth on all the things he wanted to say.
"Call me," he said in their place, "if you need anything."
He shut the door behind him as he left.
**********
Jim showed up at work the next day, Blair a few days later. They didn't discuss what had happened ... not with Simon, anyway, and he was pretty sure they wouldn't say a word about it to anyone else.
He did hear Brown ask Blair where he'd acquired the bruises, and he'd gone to his office and shut the door as soon as he heard Blair's response.
"I got into a fight with another anthropologist," Blair had said with a bright smile, "over a tribal rite."
Simon had never liked the darker side of Blair's sense of humour.
He would've liked to let it go, but there was a crime involved, and he was concerned that Jim might intend to do something about that. After a week of silence, he chose a time when Blair was at the university, and called Jim into his office.
"What is it, sir?" Jim asked, standing near the door.
So that was how it was going to be. Simon pointed at the chair.
"Sit down, Jim."
Jim did so, raising his eyebrows.
"Something wrong, sir?"
"Jim, a week ago we went back to your loft and found--"
"I know what we found, Simon. I was there."
Obviously it was still a sore point for Jim.
"I still don't know exactly what happened, because the two of you have elected not to tell me, which by the way probably means that you're failing to report a felony..."
"It's all right, sir. The person who did it seems to have left the country." Jim took a deep breath. "And Sandburg thinks he won't be coming back."
"Did you have ... uh .... words with him?"
Jim smiled.
"No. I'd love to, but he left the day it happened. He had a flight booked to Bogota. Apparently he didn't know I was a Sentinel ... he somehow sensed it as I was driving to the loft. Seems to have scared him off."
Simon shook his head.
"Sentinels everywhere. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"
"Sandburg's been at this for years, looking for Sentinels. I swear he's probably mentioned this search of his to everyone in his field. He gets information on Sentinels from his colleagues all the time. It shouldn't be a big surprise that he finds the real thing every once in awhile. I just wish he'd give it up, because most of us don't seem to be particularly nice people."
Simon suspected Jim might be including himself, but he left it alone. As he'd told Blair on one occasion, he wasn't running an encounter group.
"I find it hard to believe that he spent three days with one and didn't know. Hell, I find it hard to believe that *you* didn't know."
Jim shrugged.
"If he had his senses turned down and didn't do anything strange, Blair wouldn't have any way of knowing. I agree, I should have known, but I guess it makes a difference that he wasn't in Cascade. I did feel weird the day he showed up here, right from the time his plane would've arrived. And the weird feeling went away around the time Blair said he would've left for Bogota."
Simon leaned forward and caught Jim's eye.
"Jim ... what did happen to Sandburg?"
That revealing little muscle at the edge of Jim's jaw twitched.
"I'm sorry, sir. He's asked me not to talk about that."
Simon sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Fine," he said, giving up. "Just answer me honestly on this one -- is he all right?"
Jim ran his hands over the arms of the chair.
"Yeah. More or less. He'll be okay."
"Good enough. Get back to work, Ellison."
Jim stood.
"Yes, sir."
**********
"Do you think he looks sick?"
A few days had passed since Jim had declined to discuss that probably felony with Simon. Now he was keeping a speculative eye on his partner from Simon's office, his head cocked as though he was listening to something.
["I *really* need a little time without someone checking my pulse every five minutes."] Simon looked at Jim's intent expression and sighed. [I hear you, kid.]
"I don't know," Simon said. Blair did look a little pale, and his usual energy was nowhere in sight.
"He's probably just tired. You told me yourself, he's up `til three in the morning half the time, grading papers or working on that goddamned dissertation of his. Have you considered asking him if he feels all right?"
Jim took his eyes off Blair long enough to glare at Simon.
"You think he'd give me a straight answer?" He slumped down in his chair. "He said he was tired, but ... something isn't right. He doesn't smell the same."
"I don't think I need to hear this."
Jim's expression was understanding, but that didn't stop him from plowing ahead.
"Everyone has their own scent. That's how dogs track people. I smell it, too."
Simon drained his coffee cup.
"One more reason I wouldn't trade places with you."
"It's not a bad smell. Actually, it's funny ... I usually find that if I like someone, I also like their scent. Might be related to pheromones in some way..." He stopped himself. "I was talking like Sandburg again, wasn't I?"
"I have to tell you, it's a bad habit."
Jim's smile came and went quickly.
"Look, sir, he won't tell me the truth. I don't know why. He never tells me when he's sick. And besides the fact that I'm concerned about him, I *hate* it when he lies to me."
"And you want me to talk to him."
Jim stood.
"Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it."
"Hold on, cowboy. You're on your own."
Jim's eyes narrowed.
"Pardon me?"
"I don't want to spend my time being a go-between for two adults who are afraid to fight with each other. You think he's lying to you? Ask him. See what he says. Yell at him, throw things, I don't care what you do, but leave me out of it. You got that?"
Jim looked surprised, but strangely calm..
"Yes, sir," he said mildly, and left.
**********
"Simon? It's Jim. I'm going to be ... I don't know when I'll be in."
Simon didn't like the sound of that.
"What's up?"
"Sandburg's in the hospital."
Carefully controlled voice, even tones, moderate volume ... no question about it. Jim was scared.
"So he *was* sick. What's wrong with him?"
Jim hesitated before answering.
"They're not sure. They say he's severely anemic, but they don't know why. One of the doctors said something about an auto-immune disorder. They're giving him a transfusion right now."
It never failed to amaze Simon, how two grown men could need more tending than his teenaged son.
"What hospital are you at?"
"General."
"I'll meet you there."
**********
Simon stayed at the hospital for most of the day. Blair slept, doctors milled around him, and Jim paced. He told Simon that he'd found Blair passed out on the kitchen floor that morning, and Simon decided to keep his questions to a minimum. He knew Jim's nerves were badly frayed.
Jim could be a bear when Blair was in trouble, but to Simon's relief he behaved himself reasonably well. He even agreed to go home for something to eat before evening visiting hours began.
Not that he ate. Instead, he wore down the rug as he paced in front of the answering machine. Most of the messages were for Blair. Simon was amazed by the number of calls asking Blair for help with a project, begging him to cover a class, demanding his time and attention.
"Popular guy," Simon commented.
"This is nothing. His students don't have this number."
"I'm surprised we see him at the station as often as we do."
Jim looked uncomfortable.
"Sandburg says I'm a priority."
A few more messages played through before they heard something that stopped Jim in his tracks.
"Blair," a young man's voice said, "I called the university and they told me you were sick. I'm sorry ... but I told you, you *have* to complete the ritual. I realize I've backed you into a corner here, but I need help, and there aren't a lot of places I can turn. Anyway, it doesn't matter if you want to help me or not. You can't ignore this. If you don't go through with it, you're going to get sicker. You could die. Look, I know I lost it on you the last time, but this is really important. I'm willing to meet you on the next full moon. Leave a message on my machine in Seattle. Take care."
Jim sat down hard on the couch. Simon put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sounds to me like that crazy bastard has got the kid so wound up that he's making himself sick."
Jim tensed under his hand.
"Tell me something, Simon ... do you think I'm imagining my senses?"
Simon frowned.
[Where did that come from?]
"No, of course not. Why--"
"Blair isn't imagining this. This is as real as my senses, as real as my knowing when Alex was around and knowing he was in that damned fountain before I turned around, it's *all* real, and Blair and I do not have the luxury of not believing in it!"
Simon took a seat on the back of the couch. He didn't know what to say. He was aware that Jim's life had taken a serious turn for the weird a few years earlier, and he knew that Jim and Blair had been through things he didn't even *want* to understand, but most of the time ... he chose to forget.
Overall, he thought Sandburg had been good for Jim, even if he would rather have chewed his arm off than admit it. The entire department had enjoyed the benefits of a kinder, gentler Jim Ellison ... and most of the time, Simon was pretty sure the man was happy. But he desperately wished that it didn't have to come at the price of Jim living with one foot in a place Simon couldn't even find.
"Okay," he said finally. "It's real. What do we do now?"
"We go back to the hospital," Jim said, lifting his face from his hands, "and find out what my partner has been keeping from me."
**********
"Damn it, Jim, the kid is in no condition to be yelled at!"
Jim whirled around from the bed to glare at Simon.
"Stay out of this. Sandburg knows how important this is, and he *knows*," he added, turning back to Blair, "that he should have been honest with me from the beginning."
Blair was awake, but in spite of the blood dripping into his arm, he was still nearly as pale as the sheets surrounding him. His eyes were locked on Jim.
"I'm sorry," he said. Simon could barely hear him, but since this was aimed at Jim, he supposed volume didn't matter.
Jim sat on the corner of the bed and took Blair's hand. The bluster was gone.
"Talk to me, Sandburg."
"I didn't know what he was in Seattle. He lied to me. I found out when he showed up at the loft. He said that since I'd already done the first part of the ritual, I'd have to do the second, or I'd get sick. Some kind of curse, I don't know. I thought he was making it up to convince me."
Jim shut his eyes.
"Don't lie. Stop it."
Simon hadn't seen any sign of a lie on Blair's face or in his voice, but Jim heard his heartbeat and caught his scent, so Jim would always know. Blair sank a little farther into his pillow.
"Okay ... I thought it might be true, but I wasn't going to do it anyway." He pressed Jim's hand. "Apart from ... the obvious ... I wasn't about to commit myself to working with him. This ritual ... it's more than I thought it was. I would have had to stay with him. I wouldn't have had any choice."
Jim shook his head.
"You have any bright ideas, Darwin?"
"Yeah. He wasn't the only one on that expedition. I know one of the other anthropologists. I'll call her and see if the tribe's shaman mentioned any way to get out of this." He blinked sleepily and shifted his gaze to Simon.
"Hi, Simon. Sorry about this."
Simon patted his leg.
"I'm sure you can't help it, Sandburg. You were probably born this way."
Blair smiled, shut his eyes, and went back to sleep. Jim stayed on the edge of the bed, watching him.
Simon stood at the foot of the bed and kept watch over both of them until visiting hours were over. Jim was still there when he left.
**********
"Hide this," Simon said, handing a wrapped package to Blair. "They don't allow food in hospitals."
Blair laughed and obediently stashed the package between his bed and the night stand.
"They're letting me out tomorrow anyway."
Simon looked him over. He had more colour, still not enough, but he didn't look like a sheet of paper anymore. There was some life in his eyes.
"You seem improved."
Blair shrugged.
"Figuring about a pint every two months for the past ten years, and considering my active lifestyle since I met Jim, I think I've now taken about as much blood back as I ever donated. Pretty soon, my karma will be seriously compromised."
Simon pulled up a chair.
"They ever figure out what was wrong?"
Blair shook his head.
"No, and they haven't fixed it, either. I have to come back for more blood next week. They said I was destroying my red blood cells. You know what one of the doctors said to me? He said, `quit it'. How many years do you think he went to school for that?"
Simon rolled his eyes.
"You're preaching to the choir, Sandburg. Did you get ahold of that friend of yours?"
Blair looked down so quickly that Simon wished he could bite back his words.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I talked to her this morning."
"And?"
"And there is a way to deal with this, but ... I don't know if it's worth it."
Simon stared at him.
"Assuming we believe in all this ritual/curse mumbo jumbo..."
Blair smiled quickly.
"Yeah, let's assume that."
"... you could die if this doesn't get straightened out."
Blair nodded. He was looking at the blankets again.
"So," Simon continued, "it pretty well has to be worth it. Right?" ' Blair met his eyes. Simon wished he hadn't done that.
"Tomorrow night's the new moon. If I start again, do the first part of the ritual again with another Sentinel, and then complete it on the full moon, that'll take care of it."
"Well, good," Simon said. "You know another Sentinel. Where's the problem?"
"The problem is that I don't want to involve Jim in this. I don't want him to put him through this ritual, and I don't want him to be permanently stuck with me. I can't do that to him."
Simon reached for a cigar before remembering that he was in a hospital. Blair saw the move and smiled.
"You should quit anyway."
"I have a very irritating life. I will not give up my small pleasures." He put a hand on Blair's arm. "Blair, I have seen Jim under circumstances that you were not ... around for. I can tell you a few things about him that you should know but apparently don't ... and you will *never* tell him that I spoke to you about these things. You are going to promise me that before I go on."
"I won't tell him."
"All right. First of all, Jim is involved in anything you are involved in, God help him. I think that's crazy and always have, but I don't think he makes any distinction between your lives. That will not stop being true if you die. Do you understand me?"
Blair nodded, his eyes huge. He said nothing.
"Good. You don't want him stuck with you. You know what my mother used to say? She said turnabout was fair play. You couldn't shake him if you tried. If you tie him to you with some witch doctor hocus pocus, I doubt he will even notice the difference. Am I making it clear that I don't care for any of this?"
"Yes, sir."
Simon pressed Blair's arm.
"I believe in being your own man. I don't like it that Jim has become some inseparable part of something else. It offends me. If I have grown to like you, Blair, it only means I'm offended on your behalf as well. However," Simon added, "this isn't something I can change. And the truth is, it seems to work for you. It seems wrong to me, but maybe it's not wrong for you and Jim. I can't deny that you're the best team I've ever worked with." He let go of Blair's arm and stood. "What any of us think about this isn't important. Things are what they are, and if you pretend otherwise, you're going to make mistakes."
One corner of Blair's mouth curved up.
"Simon, you new-age guru."
Simon grabbed an extra blanket off the end of the bed and threw it at Blair's head.
"Shut up, Sandburg. If you ever mention this talk again, I will take out my gun and shoot you."
Even as he stepped into the elevator, he could still hear Blair laughing.
**********
Jim was entering the hospital as Simon left. Simon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Find anything in Seattle?"
Jim had a sour look on his face.
"Guy hasn't been there in weeks. Sandburg was right -- he's checking his messages. We could put a trace on the line, but if he's in South America ... " He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You were just upstairs?"
"Yeah. He's doing pretty well. Says they're sending him home tomorrow."
"They still don't know what's wrong with him," Jim said, glancing over Simon's shoulder as though he was afraid of being overheard. "I guess you can't blame them. You didn't tell him where I was, did you?"
"He didn't ask and I didn't offer."
"Good." Jim shook his head. "I know it's petty, but he told me I'd be wasting my time, and ..."
Simon held up a hand.
"No need to explain. There's nothing worse than the kid being right."
**********
Simon had intended to leave them alone for a few days, but the next night he found himself driving by the loft on his way home and decided that it wouldn't hurt to stick his head in for a minute, see how the kid was holding up.
When he got to their door and heard the sounds of a scuffle combined with helpless laughter, he decided to turn and leave ... but as usual, Jim knew he was there. The door swung open, treating Simon to the sight of his best detective covering in red paint and grinning like a maniac.
"Simon," he said with expansive good humour. "Come on in!"
Simon looked inside. Blair was crouched behind the kitchen table, laughing, red paint drying in his hair.
"Uh ... I don't want to interrupt ..."
"Don't worry about it," Jim told him, putting one big red hand on Simon's favourite coat and herding him inside. "We're having a small tribal ritual."
"That's funny," Simon said, swatting Jim's hand off his shoulder. "Looks to me like a paint fight."
"There was an accident," Blair said.
"Sandburg, you *are* an accident."
Blair actually stuck his tongue out at Jim.
"Leave my parentage out of this." He looked at Simon. "I was trying to do Jim's face paint, and the jar tipped over."
"Typical," Simon commented. Blair didn't seem fazed. He stood up, then sat down quickly on the nearest chair. Jim shot him a concerned look.
"You feeling all right, Chief?"
"Yeah ... I guess I'm a little tired."
Jim went to him and pulled him to his feet.
"Go have a shower and get the paint out of your hair. I'll clean this up."
Blair shook his head.
"Jim, we have to..."
"I know. We'll try again once I have the paint cleaned up, okay? I want to get it before it dries."
Once the shower started running, Simon caught Jim's eye.
"Do you know what you're getting into here?"
Jim casually turned away, focusing his attention on a spot of paint on the floor near the couch. Simon was pretty sure he'd seen Jim smile.
"Do *you* know what I'm getting into?"
"No," Simon admitted. "Not exactly. But it sounded pretty ... intense."
Jim switched to scrubbing the table.
"Has to be done," he said.
"Are you okay with that?"
Jim set the washcloth down. There were times when he reminded Simon of a huge cat, and never more so than at this moment. His expression was lazy, content, and just the faintest bit smug. When he smiled, Simon thought for a moment that he saw bright yellow feathers at the corners of Jim's mouth.
"Come on, Simon. When did I ever have any choice?"
Simon took a step back.
"It's getting late. I just wanted to see how Sandburg was feeling." The loft didn't feel right ... too warm, humid, and Simon could've sworn he heard things moving through brush that wasn't there. He took one more look at Jim's face, and thought it was possible that he didn't know his friend at all. It was also possible that he didn't want to.
"I'll leave the two of you be."
**********
After a week of not seeing any sign of Blair and dealing with an increasingly distracted detective, Simon cornered Jim in the break room.
"Where's Sandburg? Still sick?"
Jim was standing at the coffee machine. Simon couldn't see his face, but his back stiffened.
"No. He went in for tests two days ago and his red cell count was back to normal. The doctors can't explain it."
Simon sat at the table and waited. When Jim turned around, Simon pushed a chair toward him. Jim remained standing.
"I really have to get back to--"
"Now, Jim ... it won't hurt to sit down and talk with your captain for a few minutes, will it?"
Jim obviously didn't like that, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He sat.
"What's up, Simon?"
"I'm just wondering why I haven't seen your partner around."
Jim's mouth twitched.
"I thought you wanted to be left out of these things, sir."
Simon spread his hands.
"I said I didn't want to be a go-between. That doesn't mean I'm not interested when a member of this department is conspicuously absent for days on end."
"I wish I had that on tape. I'd love to play it back for Sandburg."
Simon was staring at the vending machine, considering one of those new double chocolate Coffee Crisps. Maybe later.
"Jim, you know I'll deny we ever had this talk. You still haven't told me why you're working alone."
Jim was starting to look uncomfortable.
"Well, he had a lot of work to catch up on at the university, since he's been sick..."
"Is that what he told you?"
Jim looked up sharply, and Simon chuckled.
"Unfortunately, after three years, I know what Sandburg sounds like -- even when it's coming out of your mouth."
Jim was frowning at his coffee cup.
"We're having some personal problems. It's not a fight. We'll get over it." He looked at Simon again. "And, as requested, I'm leaving you out of it."
He took his coffee and went back to his desk. Simon stayed in the break room for awhile, contemplating the endless mystery of why he wasn't happier about getting his own way.