DISCLAIMER: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel
and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely
for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans.
No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Rating: G

Notes: The inspiration for this story comes from Terri, who mentioned
picturing Blair playing Santa. A lively IRC session later, and the
basic story was outlined. This story is dedicated to her.

Many thanks to Kimberly Workman for giving me a quick-and-dirty beta
so I could get this posted before Valentine's Day. {g}

Summary: The Cascade Police Department celebrates Christmas for a
group of needy kids.



THE GIFT OF CHRISTMAS
  by Nancy Taylor
  nat1228@comcast.net

"Nope. Nuh-uh. No way." Blair backed up until he was pressed against
the doors to Major Crime, his exit blocked by the snickering
detectives standing just outside in the hall.

"Come on, Sandburg, it's for the kids," Captain Banks coaxed.

"It'll be fun," Jim added. "Cute little kids. You *like* kids! And
these are from poor families. Without the toy drive, they wouldn't
even be having a Christmas. They *need* to sit on Santa's lap. You
wouldn't deny them that, would you?"

The look in Blair's eyes softened, but he was still doubtful. "Joel
would make a great Santa," he suggested. "Why not ask him?"

"Joel volunteered to make balloon animals for the kids and entertain
them with some magic tricks," Simon explained. "We really need a
Santa, and you haven't volunteered for anything yet."

"Weeelllll. . . ." Blair drawled. "Okay, on one condition."

"And that is?" Simon asked.

"That Jim be my elf helper." The grad student grinned wickedly at the
tall detective.

"Sandburg!" Ellison bore down on his shorter partner, going for
intimidation through height. Unfortunately for him, Blair wasn't
fooled by the display.

"Take it or leave it," he smiled at the captain.

"I'll take it," Banks growled, turning on his detective with a
determined look. "And you, Ellison, will be an elf!" His extra two
inches on the tough detective were enough. Jim *knew* his captain
didn't bluff.

Walking out of the bullpen together a few minutes later, Blair turned
to his companion. "Who ever heard of a Jewish Santa?"

Jim chuckled. "So when did *you* finally get religion? I've yet to see
you celebrate Hanukkah or go to Temple."

"Pretty smart mouth for an ELF!" Blair spat back playfully.

Jim punched him in the shoulder as they boarded the elevator, heading
for home.

-------------------------

Christmas Eve, Cascade Community Center:

The party looked like it was going to be a rousing success. The
twelve-foot Christmas tree in the corner was bedecked with lights and
shiny glass ornaments, and filled to overflowing beneath with hundreds
of toys for needy kids in the community. A buffet table was spread
with turkey and ham, dressing, cranberries, sweet potatoes with
marshmallows, pies, cookies and fudge. Everything imaginable for a
perfect Christmas dinner.

Detectives and uniformed officers mingled beside their spouses and
children with the less fortunate families of Cascade. As the line
began to form at the buffet, Captain Banks positioned himself near the
table, Bible in hand. Opening to Luke 2:1, he began to read the
traditional Christmas story; his rich, deep voice carrying well over
the general commotion.

When everyone was finally seated, a local minister offered up a prayer
of praise and thanksgiving. The adults attacked their dinners with
enthusiasm. The children, however, were edgy and anxious for dinner to
be over so Santa would appear. Parents had their hands full trying to
get a modicum of nourishment into excited mouths.

Finally, the anticipated time arrived. From behind a deep blue curtain
stepped Santa Claus. Short and "chubby," with a riot of dark brown
curls cascading from beneath his bright red cap, glasses perched
precariously across the tip of his nose, and a long white beard, Santa
seated himself in the large chair provided for him. Behind him stood
his elf helper, a tall, grim vision in green tights--hat tipped
jauntily over one ear, with bells on the tips of the curled toes of
his green satin slippers.

The children looked with excitement at Santa before turning hesitant
eyes on the elf behind him. Finally, a boy of about eight got up the
courage to approach. He climbed into Santa's lap, and with a brief
glance at the intimidating elf, turned his attention to the man in
red.

"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed Santa. "Who have we here?"

"Jimmy," the boy answered in a small voice.

Santa chuckled and glanced over his shoulder to wink at his elf. "And
what do you want for Christmas this year, Jimmy?"

"I'd like a new coat," the boy replied reasonably, "and maybe some
Legos, if that's not asking too much."

While Santa bantered with the child on his lap, Jim whispered to a
large black elf to fetch a boy's coat and a box of Legos from under
the tree. Henri Brown obliged, eyeing the child for size and digging
through the pile of warm winter coats donated by the police
department's families and the community. Rafe handed over a large box
of Legos which got passed on to Jim.

Approaching Santa's chair, the tall elf held out the gifts. Jimmy's
eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, wow!! Just what I wanted!! Thanks,
Santa!" He bounced down, the next eager child taking his place.

The gift giving went on for about a half an hour before a shy little
girl of four toddled up. Taking one look at the dour elf standing
behind Santa, she fled. Blair rocked back in his chair, turning to
chide his partner. "Lighten up, Jim! You're scaring the kids," he
stage whispered. Jim grunted, but plastered a smile on his face.

Before Blair could turn back around, an enthusiastic youngster bounded
into his lap, tipping over the precariously balanced chair. Child and
Santa tumbled backward, somersaulting off the low stage. "Oomph!"
exclaimed Blair as the child landed on his chest.

Laughing so hard that he was barely of any use, Jim plucked the
startled child from the tangle and set him on the floor. Going to the
aid of his partner, he heard a soft moan. Looking the situation over,
he noticed Blair's right leg had become entangled with the chair
during the fall, his ankle bent at an unnatural angle.

"Hang on, Chief, I'll help you." He bent over to carefully dislodge
Blair's leg from the chair. Blair sat up, reaching for his injured
ankle and cursing sentinel-soft under his breath.

"Here, let me take a look." Jim's army medic training came in handy as
he prepared to assess the damage to his friend's ankle. Removing the
shiny black boot, he inspected the damage. "Probably just a sprain,"
he announced after a few minutes, "but a nasty one. You're going to
want to get ice on that as soon as possible."

"But, Jim . . . there are still kids waiting to talk to Santa!" Blair
protested.

"You need to take care of this, or you may not be walking tomorrow."

"They're just kids. Look at them, Jim! I can't disappoint them!" He
argued. Grabbing the sleeve of his partner's costume, Blair tried to
haul himself to his feet. Stumbling, he landed hard on his behind with
a startled "Ooof!"

"Okay, Saint Nick," Jim sighed, giving the younger man a hand. "If you
insist, I can't stop you, but *please* try and be more careful?" He
slipped his hands under Blair's armpits, lifting him and balancing him
on his one good foot.

"Are you all right, Sandburg?" Simon asked, having finally worked his
way through the milling crowd of children and parents.

"I've been better," Blair grimaced, trying to put a little weight on
the injured ankle, ". . . but I've been worse. Set the chair back up,
would you, please?"

"You're not going to keep working like this, Sandburg!" Simon
insisted. "We'll get Joel or Henri to take your place. They wouldn't
even need the extra padding," he chuckled, patting Blair's waistline.

"Oh, come on, Simon!" Blair's face twisted with frustration at trying
to convince the captain he was all right. "Just let me get back to the
kids, okay?"

Simon righted the chair and helped Jim ease their injured Santa down
onto it. "You sure, Blair?" he asked.

"Look at them, Simon. . . ." Blair gestured out at the crowd of
milling children. "Without us, these kids aren't going to *have* a
Christmas this year. I can do this. Please?"

Simon exchanged doubtful glances with his detective. "I'll watch him,
Simon," Jim promised.

Shaking his head, Simon smiled gratefully. "Okay, kid, it's your show.
Just be careful, all right?"

"Gotcha, Simon." Blair gave his superior a thumbs up before turning to
the crowd and laughing merrily. "Who's next?"

-------------------------

Things finally settled down. The kids gave their wishes to Santa,
while the Sentinel Elf listened in, making sure the helper elves
brought out the appropriate gifts. By the end of the evening, Blair
was looking a little pale and worn.

As Simon gathered the families around the tree for a reading of "The
Night Before Christmas," Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders.

"Time to get you out of here," he said softly.

Blair pushed himself out of the chair, crying out with surprise and
pain when he accidentally put some weight on his right foot. Jim
immediately wrapped Blair's arm around his shoulder while wrapping his
own around his partner's waist, taking most of the weight onto
himself.

"Lean on me," he told the injured man. Elf and Santa limped from the
room, leaving the crowd of contented children behind.

Without bothering to change out of the costumes, Jim led Blair out to
the parking lot and the waiting truck. With some difficulty, he
managed to get his partner into the passenger seat and safely buckled
in. Climbing in the driver's side, Jim checked on his patient.

Blair had settled in, his head tipped back against the seat, eyes
closed. The color had long since drained from his face, and his breath
came in rapid pants.

"Hang on, Blair," Jim encouraged, patting a red knee. "We'll swing by
the hospital and have that looked at."

"Just take me home, please?" Blair begged.

"That ankle should be x-rayed," Jim insisted. "Just to make sure you
didn't break it."

"Jim, if I'd broken it, I wouldn't have been able to stay and play
Santa," Blair argued reasonably. "Please, just take me home?"

Jim's guilt battled with his better sense and won. "Okay, but if we
don't see some improvement by morning, you're going to the hospital."

"Deal." Blair sighed and fell silent for the rest of the trip back to
852 Prospect.

-------------------------

Jim helped his partner as he hopped into the loft and over to the
couch. Collapsing on the cushions, Blair let his head fall back and
released a groan.

"Let's get this costume off you, Chief," Jim suggested, beginning by
removing the one remaining boot and tugging the red pants down, being
careful not to bump the tender ankle. He proceeded to remove the top
as well, leaving Blair sitting on the couch in his boxers and tee.
Grabbing the afghan from the back of the couch, Jim wrapped it around
the shaking shoulders of his cold friend. He took a moment to start a
fire in the fireplace, adding extra warmth to the large, cold room.

"Give me a minute to get something for that ankle," Jim said, moving
swiftly toward the kitchen and pulling a bag of peas from the freezer.
Returning to the couch, he lifted Blair's leg, settling his foot on a
pillow he placed on the coffee table. He draped the bag of peas over
the badly swollen appendage before settling next to his friend.
"Better?"

"Yeah, man. Thanks." Blair opened his eyes and turned his head to look
at the Sentinel. "You did a good job tonight, Jim. You helped make a
lot of kids' dreams come true."

A small smile crooked Jim's lips. "They *were* kind of cute," he
admitted.

"What amazed me was how many asked for things for their brothers and
sisters, or parents," Blair mused. "They have so little, but their
thoughts were still for others."

"Makes you think about all we have to be thankful for," Jim said.
"Like a roof over our heads. . . ."

"I'm grateful you gave me a home after mine blew up," Blair
interrupted.

Jim flung an arm across the back of the couch, not quite touching
Blair's shoulders. "We've got plenty of food. . . ."

"And we both know how to cook," Blair chuckled.

"More or less," Jim amended good-naturedly. "We're employed. . . ."

"Even though my grants barely give me enough to get by, and I
*volunteer* for the PD," Blair clarified. "I'm grateful you're
generous with your paycheck." He paused to turn serious blue eyes on
his roommate. "But you know I intend to pay back those 'loans'."

"No rush," Jim assured him. Scooting a little closer to the young
anthropologist, Jim let his arm drop to Blair's shoulders. "You know
what I'm *most* thankful for?" he asked.

Blair looked at him with wide eyes and gently shook his head, dark
curls dancing around his face.

"I'm thankful for good friends, for geeky anthropologists, for a
partner that values my life over his own, even if his devotion *is* a
bit misguided. . . . I'm thankful for *you*, Blair."

For once, the talkative grad student was struck dumb. With firelight
warming his pale features, he blushed and smiled.

~THE END~