SquidgeWorld Archive

SANTA'S GUIDE
by Jamie Ritchey

Blair Sandburg burst through the elevator doors and into the Major Crime bullpen, giving a wave to a grinning Henri Brown as he bounced his way toward his partner's desk. The jovial detective was putting the final touches on a colorfully wrapped Christmas gift which soon joined a mountain of others in a box by his desk. Blair came to an abrupt halt when he spied two large brown boxes with an "Archie's Costume Emporium" logo on them occupying most of the space in front of Jim's computer. Executing a sharp about-face that Jim would have been proud of, had he been around to see it, Blair hustled his way back towards the elevators. He thought he'd made good his escape when the doors slid open before he could press the button, but the two biggest barriers to his
freedom exited the car.

With military precision, Jim Ellison and Simon Banks split to either side of him in a perfect flanking maneuver, each grabbing an arm and hoisting a vigorously protesting police observer backwards into the room he'd just left. "Noooo! You can't make me do it. I'm a civilian, remember, Simon? You remind me of it often enough," Blair shouted as he tried to plant his feet to get some leverage
against their grip, but the larger men had the advantage of weight and size, doubled. Blair's toes were the only part of him that reached the floor, leaving squeaking streaks of shoe leather in his wake.

Unceremoniously dumped on his chair by Jim's desk, the dreaded boxes level with his nose, Blair immediately sprang to his feet to make a break for it, but two large hands were squeezing his shoulders, shoving him back down onto his seat. Blair was of the opinion that if this was a show of sympathy for his plight, it sucked.

Crossing his arms across his chest, a mulish pout on his face, Blair whined, "I saw what Rafe had to wear last year. No way am I putting on some lame costume that consists of embarrassingly tight...uh...tights under a skimpy little tunic." Pointing an accusing finger at the innocent boxes in front of him, he continued his tirade. "And those stupid, pointy shoes with the bells on the toes! Puhleeze. I already have enough trouble getting any respect around here."

Blair leaned toward Jim and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "How in hell did you let yourself get roped into playing Santa this year, Jim? The noise from all those kids and the bells, plus having to wear an itchy white beard is going to drive your senses off the wall!"

Jim just sighed and shrugged. "It was my turn, Chief. Everyone else in Major Crime, including Simon, has already played Santa for the shelter before. I couldn't in good conscience refuse," he answered, then continued with a self-satisfied grin and a pinch to Blair's cheek, "and since you're my partner, that means you get to be Santa's little helper." Blair winced at the tweak from Jim's fingers and cringed back. "I'm not that little," he muttered under his breath.

"C'mon, Sandburg. Think of the kids," Simon cajoled. "The shelter has a record number of families this year, and those children are there through no fault of their own. The Cascade PD's annual Share Your Christmas program is probably the only way those kids are going to get any presents at all. I thought you'd be more sympathetic."

Blair bent his head back at an angle that was almost painful in order to look his tall captain in the face. "I have no problem with the program, Simon. It's a worthy cause," Blair said, holding his hands out in a gesture of empathy. "I came close to being homeless myself after my warehouse blew up." Blair threw a grateful smile at Jim. "I'm more than happy to help bring a little holiday cheer into their lives. Give me that big ol' sack of toys and I'll be there. Just not with bells on!"

Jim slipped his hand onto the back of Blair's neck, the warmth of the gesture helping to settle Blair's frazzled nerves. "Relax, Ebenezer. I picked up the costumes myself. I just couldn't picture you as an elf so I picked out something else for you to wear. Trust me. I think I've found the real you," Jim said with just a hint of a twinkle in his eye.

The warmth fled as Blair pondered what kind of embarrassment he was being set up for. As if he was touching something slimy, Blair lifted Jim's hand away from his neck in a two-fingered grip and let it drop on the desk in front of him, then hissed at his partner, "Why am I not reassured?"

****************

The Major Crime contingent arrived at the Star of Hope Family Shelter in a very visible entourage of police vehicles, providing a distraction so that Jim and Blair, along with the toys, could be smuggled in unnoticed through the kitchen entrance, where they were whisked away to a storeroom to change into their costumes. After donning the traditional red and white outfit, Jim found that he was surprisingly comfortable in the role of the jolly old elf, albeit a very tall one. Gazing at himself in a mirror provided by the staff, he checked himself out, front and side, and decided that for a while he could hide behind the beard and just let himself go.

Practicing his "Ho, Ho, Ho", he turned around to a sight that had him laughing in earnest. Blair had stepped into the leg portions of a tent of brown felt and was struggling to raise the rest of it up his body. "Give me a hand here, man," Blair pleaded. He had managed to get his arms partially into the sleeves of the costume, and was frantically waving the dangling ends, painted-on black hooves, in Jim's direction. "How do they expect a person to zip themselves up in a costume with no fingers!?" he complained with heart-felt annoyance.

"Hold your reindeer, Chief. Let me get behind you so I can grab the shoulders and lift." Stepping behind Blair, Jim took a firm grasp on the costume and yanked upward, finally managing to settle the shoulders in place. This allowed Blair to extend his arms and hands all the way into the costume's arms but, as predicted, there was no way for him to get a grip on the zipper. Though the hands, or hooves, of the costume resembled mittens with a slot for his thumbs and a rounded area for his fingers, the smooth material was too thick. Jim smirked and said, "Allow me," and finished the job for him. All that remained was a hood with stuffed felt antlers attached to the sides that dangled from the back of the collar. Jim smoothed it up and over his head, then turned him around so that he could tuck any stray curls out of sight. That was when Blair finally caught sight of himself in the mirror.

"Oh...my...God!" he exclaimed, stepping up for a fuller examination. "Could I be any more ridiculous?"

"Yes." Jim peeked over his shoulder and looked him straight in the mirror image eye. "You could have been an elf."

Blair raised a hand - well, a hoof - and taking a long, slow look in the mirror again, responded, "Right."

Blair turned around and peeked over his shoulder, checking to see if his tail was on straight. By then, he realized he had run out of reasons to procrastinate, so he grabbed Jim's beard and hat and arranged them to his liking on Jim's head. "How's that? Any itching or irritation?" Jim shook his head no. Stepping back, Blair raised his arms out from his sides as if he'd created a masterpiece and asked, "Well then, Santa? We ready to get this show on the road? I'm sure there's a lot of kids waiting for presents out there."

"I'm sure there are, but there's one more piece of your costume you have to put on." Jim pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the tip of Blair's nose. Blair found himself staring at a big, bright, round red ball. Jim thwacked him gently on the forehead. "Don't do that! Didn't Naomi ever tell you that if you crossed your eyes like that, they could get stuck that way?" Blair was
beginning to think that his ex-Army Ranger, former covert ops, tough cop partner was enjoying himself way too much.

Blair pulled Santa's beard down by its elastic, the better for Jim to hear him since Sentinel hearing couldn't possibly cope with genuine fake Santa hair. "Why, no, Jim. I don't think Naomi ever told me that particular old wives' tale. She would never fill her son's head up with wild stories that have no basis in fact." Releasing the beard, it snapped back into place, stinging Jim's cheeks.

Simon chose that particular moment to stick his head in through the door. "Will you two get a move on? The natives are restless and I'm running out of G-rated stories to tell."

"Right behind you, sir," Jim said. He and Blair gathered up the bags full of presents and followed him out into the corridor, where they were joined by Henri and Rafe. It was obvious that their co-workers were trying, unsuccessfully, to stop themselves from smirking at the sight the two made.

"Ahhh, Blair," Henri gushed. "You look so cu-"

"Henri! If you value your next bowl of my ostrich chili, you will not finish that sentence," Blair declared, his bright red nose right in Henri's face. He then clomped down the corridor, leading Santa and the sniggering "helpers" toward the Christmas party.

****************

Blair handed another Christmas present to Jim and watched his partner blossom a little further into the marshmallow he knew resided deep in his soul. Blair himself hadn't been able to remain the Grinch for long, not after all the beaming smiles and timidly whispered thank-you's he and Jim had received. He'd already known that Jim had a soft spot for children. Simon's son, Daryl, obviously had a fondness for Jim, especially after Jim had rescued Daryl and his father after their frightening experience in the Peruvian jungle a few months back. Jim had also taken special care in handling the Indian children whose parents had been forced into harvesting the cocaine by the drug-runners. Blair had returned to Cascade with a deeper appreciation of the hidden depths of his Sentinel.

There were only two little ones left, and Blair was looking forward to getting out of the stifling costume and heading back to the loft for some food. He pulled out the last two gifts for Jim to give to a little girl and boy, obviously brother and sister, and stepped back to watch another touching scene. Suddenly the front entrance was shoved open and a distraught man stormed through. The man forced his way through the crowds of children and grabbed the two kids who were waiting for their gifts. "Come on, Jessica, Bobby. We don't need their charity," he said, throwing the gifts back at Jim. He snatched the children into his arms and started marching back toward the door. Before he could go far he was surrounded by the officers of Major Crime, including Santa and his trusty reindeer.

"Get out of my way," the man shouted. "I'm taking my kids and we're leaving!"

Jim held his hands out in a placating gesture and moved a step closer to the man. "We don't want any trouble here. Why don't we go back over to the Christmas tree and talk about this? We just wanted to share a little of the Christmas spirit with the kids."

"Forget it. This is just some trick to take my kids away from me." The man squeezed the children tighter to him, tight enough to make the little girl moan, then started looking around as if to find a way out.

Blair stepped forward, his hooves spread outward in a gesture of peace, and said, "No one is going to take your kids away from you. I promise." Blair glanced at Simon and received a nod, letting him know that whatever he said, Simon would back him up. "Why don't you and Santa here and Captain Banks go over to the kitchen area and sit down with a cup of coffee while I take the kids back over to the Christmas tree so they can open their presents? You'll be able to see them every minute while you explain to the Captain why you think anyone wants to take your kids away. If anyone can make sure that justice is done for you and your kids, it's Captain Banks."

Simon stood with his arms crossed, relaxed but alert. "Sir, the safety of your children, as well as all the children in this room, is my only interest. I can promise you that no one is going anywhere until I hear the whole story."

The man held Simon's gaze for a few moments, and seeing the stubborn resolve there, seemed to wilt. He slowly lowered the children to the floor and watched as Blair led them over to the Christmas tree and handed them their gifts. After looking at their father and getting a small nod from him, they began to slowly open their presents, eventually tearing into the wrapping and giggling as if nothing untoward had happened. Seeing that they were totally preoccupied with their gifts, Blair rejoined Jim and Simon. The rest of the officers drifted off to help the other children play with their toys, though they would be keeping an eye on the conversation.

With slumped shoulders, the man walked over to the kitchen area and took a seat at one of the tables while one of the shelter workers got them cups of coffee. The elderly woman returned a moment later with cream and sugar, along with four servings of apple pie. "I've always found that serious discussions go down a little better with something sweet to help settle the digestion." She winked and shuffled off into the kitchen again.

Jim waited until the man had taken a sip of coffee, then tried to sample his own, but found the fake beard was making it impossible. Simon noticed his problem and, after taking a quick look around, said, "I don't think any of the kids are paying you the slightest bit of attention anymore. Once they got their gifts, Santa disappeared off their radar. I think you can take off the beard and
wig."

After taking his own look, Jim had to agree, so he removed them, running a hand over his close-cropped hair and down his chin as if to remove any reluctant fibers that might have become stuck to his face. Jim took a long sip of his coffee, then gave an appreciative sigh. "That's better," he said. Then he looked at the despondent man with a firm gaze. "Why don't we start with names. As you've already heard, this is Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade Police Department. I'm Detective Jim Ellison and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg." Blair gave him a nod, and then they waited for the man to respond.

His hands were wrapped around the ceramic mug, as if he needed the warmth. After taking another sip, he took a deep breath and said, "My name is Sam Galloway. I really didn't want to come here to the shelter, but we just didn't have anywhere else to go. We got evicted from our apartment and the damn apartment manager had a social worker with her when she threw us out. The social worker bamboozled us over here before I had time to think. Next thing you know, they're going to say I'm an unfit parent." He stared at each of them and continued belligerently. "I
can take care of my kids."

"No one here is saying that you can't, Mr. Galloway," Simon said quickly, but in a no-nonsense tone of voice. They could see that Sam's clothing wasn't new but had obviously come from one of the better stores. His reddish-blond hair was overdue for a haircut but was clean and combed. His body looked like he took care of himself, at least until recently. He sat slumped in his chair, his face tired and worn with the kind of sallow-eyed stare in his pale blue eyes that came from lack of sleep rather than substance abuse or illness.

"Why did you get evicted, Mr. Galloway? And I see from your wedding ring that you're married. Where's Mrs. Galloway?" Jim asked.

A look of intense sadness descended on Sam's face. He swallowed thickly and answered. "Maggie died a couple of months ago. She was ill for over a year, and with all the time I had to spend with her and taking care of the kids, I had to take a lot of days off from work. They said that it was too much and fired me. That lost us our medical insurance coverage and the doctor and hospital bills just ate up our savings. I got behind on the rent, and here we are. I have to admit that the apartment manager was really very sympathetic. She held off as long as she could, but the owners finally gave her no choice."

"That must have been rough," Blair said, his voice softened in sympathy. "Didn't you have anyone you could go to for help? What about family?"

"Maggie's parents are gone and hell would freeze over before my dad would have anything to do with me. I haven't seen him since before the kids were born."

Jim squirmed a little in his chair. That was hitting a little too close to home. He hadn't spoken to his own father in years, and Blair was totally unaware that he had a brother. If he found out, Jim knew he'd never hear the end of the questions. Questions he didn't want to answer. He was shaken out of his unpleasant memories by Blair's inquiries.

"What happened? Was your father abusive or something?" Blair asked.

"No, nothing like that. But he was rigid and expected nothing less than perfection. I worked my tail off in college to get the degree he wanted me to have and all I heard was how I didn't get the best job afterward. And then I met Maggie. She didn't fit his image of the perfect blue-eyed, blond
daughter-in-law, and her family didn't come from money. But that was where I drew the line. She made me happy. She was beautiful and had a beautiful soul. She made me feel complete. My father refused to attend my wedding and wouldn't let my mother come either. Well, it was their loss," Sam said, gazing with paternal pride at his two dark-haired children who looked back at him with adoration in their big brown eyes.

Blair glanced back at the kids and turned back with a speculative look on his face. "Have you tried speaking to your father since? It's been a long time. Maybe he's had time to think about his decisions back then and regret how he handled things."

The kids had apparently taken their father's notice as permission to break into the conversation, because they came running up to him to show off their new toys. Jessica climbed into his lap, hugging her new doll tightly in her arms. Bobby dropped his toy on the table in front of his father, almost knocking over his coffee. "Look, papa. It's a fire truck. See, the wheels turn, and the ladder goes up and down, and it even has a siren." Bobby demonstrated by turning it on. Sam laughed and quickly turned it back off, much to the gratitude of all the adults in the room.

"This is great, Bobby. You know, I wanted to be a fireman when I was your age," Sam said, admiring the toy. He looked back up at Jim, Simon and Blair. "I'm sorry I made such a fuss when I came in. I've been trying to find another job, but with the economy the way it is, I haven't had any luck. It's hard to accept that I need help. A man should be able to provide for his family."

"I know how you feel, Mr. Galloway," Jim said, with a finger on the fire truck, making it roll back and forth from him to Bobby. "I used to be a real loner, refused to work with a partner, didn't want to depend on anyone. I'm a good cop, but Captain Banks can confirm what a pigheaded pain in the posterior I was to work with. Then a couple of years ago, I went through a period when things beyond my control were seriously messing with my head. I really believed I was gonna end up in the rubber room. But someone I never expected conned his way into my life, forced me to see that I needed some help, some guidance, and that he could be the person to show me how to get my life back under control. He literally saved my life that day, and once I unbent enough to let him continue to help me, the difference he made has been miraculous. He's become my best friend and I only hope I can return the favor some day." Jim looked over at Blair to see him staring back in stunned surprise that turned into a soft, grateful smile.

Simon cleared his throat and, after shaking his head, continued with the problem at hand. "Mr. Galloway, why don't you use my cell phone and call your parents. If you find that things haven't changed, you won't be any worse off, and in the meantime, we'll see what we can do about getting you some help. You know, I believe the Cascade Fire Department has a class that starts at the beginning of January. If you still have that dream you had as a kid, they can always use a good man. You're still young and you look fit enough." Simon pulled his cell phone from his pocket and laid it on the table in front of the stunned man. "It's your choice."

Jim, Blair and Simon all waited while Sam seemed to be thinking it over. Then slowly, his hand shaking a bit, he reached over and picked up the cell phone. Punching in the numbers, pausing occasionally as if he was having a hard time remembering the numbers, he turned to the side as if seeking a little privacy. The phone held tight to his ear, he hugged his daughter and slowly petted her hair.

Jim heard the phone ring at the other end a few times, then it was picked up and a voice, hoarse with age, said "Hello".

After a moment's hesitation, Sam answered, "Hi, dad. It's me, Sam." Stumbling to a halt, he seemed to be unable to think of anything else to say.

"Sam? Is it really you?" the voice on the phone jumped in. "Oh, God. I'm so glad to hear from you, son."

"I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me, with the way we left things," Sam said, still a little afraid.

"I was an old fool, Sam. I let my pride get between me and my son. Please come home so we can talk?"

Jim stopped listening at that point, satisfied that things were going to work out, at least on that front. Gesturing for Simon and Blair to follow him, he got up from the table, letting Sam and his family have their privacy.

Stopping at the door leading back towards the shelter's storage area, Jim turned around and looked out over the Christmas chaos that filled the room. There was a sea of discarded wrapping paper that was totally ignored by the happy children and parents. A few officers, along with Henri and Rafe, were trying to make some headway in cleaning it up but it looked like it would take awhile. Rubbing his padded belly, Jim said, "Well, Simon, I think we've done all we can for today. Blair and I are gonna get changed and head on out."

"What about Galloway?" Simon asked, nodding back toward the family they'd just left in the kitchen area. "What did you hear?"

"Enough to know that he'll probably be able to take his kids home for Christmas."

"Ah, that's good to hear, Jim," Simon said with a satisfied smile. "I'll stick around, make sure that the place gets cleaned up. Maybe Mr. Galloway could use a lift to his parents' house. You and Blair go on home." Simon started to walk away but turned toward them one last time. "I don't think I've ever seen a better example of the Christmas spirit than what happened today. You two have a Merry Christmas." With a little wave of his hand, Simon left them to join Sam at the table again.

Jim walked down the corridor to the storage room, an unusually quiet Blair beside him. Realizing that Blair would have just as much trouble getting out of the costume as he had getting in, he proceeded to push the hood off Blair's head and undo the zipper before he was asked. He had his Santa costume off and neatly refolded in its box before he noticed that Blair was still standing there with a goofy, contemplative look on his face.

"Problem, Chief?" he asked, trying to interpret Blair's _expression.

Blair opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again and said, "What you said out there, it really meant a lot to me. I didn't realize you felt that way."

"It's only the truth. Why do you think I picked out Rudolph for your costume?" Jim cupped Blair's face with his hands. "He guided Santa's way on that foggy Christmas Eve just like you guide me through the fog my senses can send me into. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Blair's face broke out into a brilliant smile and he grabbed Jim in a ferocious hug. At first, Jim hugged him back, but quickly became uncomfortable with the affection overload. Giving Blair a manly back-slap, he disentangled them and returned to dressing. Blair shimmied out of his costume, throwing it in its box and jamming the lid on, not even noticing a hoof hanging out over the side.

Jim picked up his box and turned toward Blair. "Ready to go, Rudy? How would you like to guide my sleigh to a Wonderburger?"

"Okay, Jim. After all you did for me and Mr. Galloway today, I think you deserve to eat whatever you want."

"No complaints?"

"No complaints."

"No badgering me about my arteries and cholesterol?"

"No badgering."

"No eye-rolling and gagging noises when I order the gut-buster deluxe with extra fries and a double thick chocolate shake?"

"Don't push it."

Jim laughed as he ushered his friend out the door. Blair walked beside him, the costume box held securely under an arm. Unfortunately, Archie's Costume Emporium would be missing a small part of its property. Blair tried to feel bad about it, truly he did, but the urge to have something to hold onto as a memento of this day was overwhelming. A bulge about the size of a bright, red ball could be seen rounding out the back pocket of his jeans.

END