Title: Unto You a Child is Born

Author/pseudonym: Amethyst

Email Address: ameth01@rochester.rr.com

Gen/Slash: general

Rating: PG13

Pairings: none

Status: series

Feedback: if you feel moved to generousity<g>

Author's website: http://www.arkwolf.com/amethyst/index.html

Disclaimers: see header

Notes: none

Summary: Sometimes the offer of a unexpected gift graces both the receiver and the sender. Naomi visits.

Warnings: none

Archive: Yes if the archive has parental controls software in place, No if not, please.

This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.

Thank you to my betas Spacepixell and Lee, for all their hard work and marvelous suggestions.
my personal site at: http://www.arkwolf.com/amethyst/index.html

The Father Figure Series 21: Unto You a Child is Born
by Amethyst

Jim stared out of the truck’s windshield at the isolated, deserted cabin. It had been months since Blair and Darryl had been rescued from Marcus Keyes’ secluded mountain dungeon. Even that hadn’t been long enough to blur the pain and rage Jim experienced at the memory of the abuse and torture the two boys had been subjected to by the perverted animal.

A sudden flash of the room Blair had been found in blazed across the sentinel’s mind. A burst of hot pain stabbed Jim in the gut, making the man draw in a sharp gasp of air at the unwanted memory.

Turning quickly away from the view out his window, Jim jumped from the truck. He spent a moment regaining control of his thoughts and the instinctive responses to the hostile environment, reassuring himself that there was no longer any threat from the abandoned dwelling.

Jim skirted around the small cabin, slowly and methodically scanning the area looking for signs of disturbed vegetation or earth. Jim knew Keyes had disposed of every scrap of evidence of his illegal activity, including the boys’ clothing.

Jim also knew that even if Keyes had done the most convenient and obvious action of burning the clothing, there would be parts that wouldn’t burn. Metal zippers, buttons and rivets from the jeans and items in the pockets like coins, keys and hopefully, blue lapis good luck charms.

Jim had worked the area over two days after the boys were found, but with the stress of Blair being injured and unable to help him focus his senses, the search hadn’t produced a single piece of admissible evidence. Jim was hoping he would be better focused now that the threat to his family had been eliminated.

His eyes fell on the old fire pit several yards from the back of the cabin. Methodically working his way to the stone ring edging the outer perimeter of the scorched earth, Jim knelt and began to sift through the ash and debris within the circle.

Jim worked his way around the ring letting sentinel sight, smell and sense of touch catalogue and examine each inch of ground and residue. Time and weather had erased much over the few intervening months, but the man still held out hope that the ancient artifact would have survived. After all, it had lasted through several centuries until Burke and his men had given it to Blair.

Jim let pebbles and ash filter through his fingers, focusing his sense of touch on each object, looking for the deep carved markings and smooth polished surface that set the lapis fetish apart from the natural forest elements.

Concentrating on his senses Jim started at the sudden hoot of an owl. It was late morning, overcast but still moderately bright, and the sound of night creatures out during the daylight hours quickly drew his attention.

Glancing up, Jim caught sight of a small brown and white owl perched only a few feet away on the edge of a hollowed out tree. A sudden urge to investigate the unusual bird close up pulled Jim to his feet.

Distracted by the owl's piercing gaze, Jim let the last of the ash and stones fall from his hand. The sentinel fumbled for the last chunk of material as it left his fingertips, suddenly aware of a difference in the object’s texture.

Catching the blackened lump before it hit the ground, Jim brushed at it with both hands and rubbed the surface over his own corduroy pant leg. Revealed beneath the crust of dirt and ash lay deep blue coloring. Several more vigorous rubs over his rough-textured pant leg uncovered the head of an eagle and a glimpse of a serpent.

Jim grinned delightedly at his find. Blair’s secret Christmas wish was about to be granted. His elation was tempered with regret over not having found the charm months ago. If he had, no one would have to be reliving these awful memories again, at least not over this.

Determined not to expend energy over past failures, Jim pocketed the object of his treasure hunt and turned back towards his truck. He planned to drop the fetish off at the local jeweler to be cleaned. With Christmas only a week away, he needed to give the jeweler plenty of time to restore the abused charm.

Another unexpected series of hoots pulled Jim’s attention back to the hollowed tree. Jim watched as the tiny owl blinked slowly at him and let out another string of distinctive calls.

Certain it had the man’s attention, the owl flew from its perch and landed on the ground several yards to the right of the tree. Pausing to look over its shoulder at its captive audience, the bird shouldered aside a low bush and disappeared down a hole in the ground, leaving no trace it had ever been there.

Jim blinked at the scene he had just witnessed as Blair’s words flashed through his mind, describing Olivia’s dream owl, her ‘spirit guide’, and the history of the burrowing owl.

The owl, companion to tribal guardians, deliverer of messages and warnings in North American Indian tribal lore, had just given the sentinel a sign.

Reluctantly, Jim slowly walked over to the hollowed tree and examined the area. Turning up his sense of sight and smell, he peered into the chest high opening where the owl had been perched. The acrid smell of wood ash and the faint hint of lighter fluid wafted up from the bowels of the tree. The same smell that the fire pit still reeked of.

Jim slipped a pocket flashlight into the small space and caught the glimmer of metal shining in the glow of the small penlight. Narrowing his vision, Jim could make out several individual teeth from a zipper and a smooth metal button that still proudly proclaimed ‘Levi’.

Jim pulled back from the opening and turned to rest his body against the tree trunk. The realization that he had finally found what was left of Daryl and Blair’s clothing from that nightmare ordeal caused a sudden crushing tightness to clench at his heart. If Daryl and Blair’s clothing remains were here, chances were that Keyes had hidden the remains of other victim’s belongings here too. The remnants of how many lost young lives were at the bottom of the old tree stump?

Pulling out his cell phone, Jim straightened and pushed away from the tree. Jim dialed Banks’ extension, casting a thoughtful glance at the nearly invisible burrow in the ground. He made a mental note to check on Olivia and her father sometime soon.

********

"Hello, Sweetie."

Naomi Sandburg stepped through the loft door and reached out to embrace the young man in front of her. The smile on her face slipped a bit as Blair backed away from her extended arms until he was well out of her reach. Naomi followed Blair into the room and closed the door softly behind her.

"Blair?"

Naomi forced her smile wider and tipped her head questioningly to one side, taken back by Blair’s unusually reluctant behavior. Each of her earlier impromptu visits to the loft had evoked a delighted response from the young grad student. Blair’s characteristic smile and bounce were conspicuously missing.

"Sweetie? What is it?"

Naomi dropped her bag onto the sofa nearest the door, covered it with her discarded cape and advanced a few more steps into the room.

Blair unconsciously retreated an equal distance. Schooling his face into as neutral an expression as possible, Blair decided that here was as good a place as any to stand his ground whether he was ready to or not. He needed to face this demon once and for all. Surrounded by the safety of home was the best place. Only one thing could make it better and that would be Jim.

Desperately wishing the older man would walk through the door, Blair glanced at the wall clock by the fireplace. He realized it would be some time before his Blessed Protector even left the PD for the day. Pulling in a calming breath, Blair accepted the fact he was on his own for the time being.

Looking up into the puzzled face of the woman standing completely still three feet in front of him, Blair suddenly realized he didn’t know who this person was. She looked like his mother, sounded like his mother, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t even his friend; she was a complete stranger.

She was the person who had taken him from his real mother. The one who had stolen him from his family, denied him the security of a home and friends for most of his young life, even denying him the simple comfort of a stuffed toy.

Even worse, she was his kidnapper.

Blair’s neutral mask fell away as fear settled over his features. His respirations increased until his breath came in shallow gasps and his skin turned clammy, fingers and toes growing numb from hyperventilation.

Heart pounding in his chest, Blair bolted to the far side of the kitchen table. Steadying himself with a hand to the back of a straight-backed chair, he pulled in another deep breath and willed his racing heart to settle back down to a less frantic pace.

"Blair? What is it? It’s me, sweetie, your mom." Naomi took a brisk step forward but froze in place at the sound of a hoarse but firm, "No."

Naomi’s smile faltered, transforming her face into a mask of confusion and trepidation. "No? No what, Blair?"

"No, you’re not my mom. You’re not anything to me. You’re—you’re—a criminal." The coarse whisper left no mistake about his feelings.

"My kidnapper." Saying the words out loud drained what little color Blair had left, leaving him white and shaking.

Naomi’s sharp gasp cut through the sudden stillness in the loft. Blair watched as her face transformed into an ugly expression he had never seen before. He reflexively stepped back half a pace and swallowed the sudden lump of unease that lodged in his throat.

"Ellison told you. That bastard." The piercing, brittle words cut through Blair like a knife.

"No one here is a bastard, Naomi, not even me. You let me live my whole life believing that lie. My whole life."

An unexpected burst of heat flushed through his body as anger and fear triggered his body’s defense responses. Leaning forward, Blair caught her cold stare in his own hurt gaze.

"Jim didn’t have to say anything. Michael Rosien sent someone to pay us a visit. I know."

Naomi’s hands clutched nervously at the scarf around her neck while her eyes darted around the room unsuccessfully seeking a believable excuse for Rosien’s unexpected betrayal of their decades long agreement.

"But you don’t understand, Blair."

Struggling to keep his voice steady, Blair let the pain of her betrayal bleed into his next words. "I understand just fine. You were paid to-to steal me."

"Blair, Sweetie, it wasn’t like that. I love you, Blair." Desperate words from a clearly desperate woman. "You have to believe me. Your mother begged me to protect you, to hide you."

Tears brimmed in Blair’s eyes but he refused to let them fall. "Just stop it! I don’t believe you. You did it for the money, not for me."

Naomi flinched back at the harsh words from the normally soft-spoken youth. "Yes, I accepted the money, but it was for you, Blair—for food, clothes and travel expenses. It was all for you, Sweetie."

"And my ransom paid for it all. Tell me mom just how much is the going rate for kidnapping and imprisonment these days? Must have been a hell of a lot to keep you interested for this long. Because that’s what it was—prison."

Anger sparked in Naomi eyes and she moved two paces closer to Blair. "I gave you the world."

"The world? I wanted a home."

Pain-filled blue eyes stared at Naomi, preventing her from moving closer for the moment.

"Do you think I cared about seeing the world? I’d have traded ‘the world’ for a home, a best friend or someone who was there when I got home from school. Do you think I don’t remember all the times I was pawned off on some unsuspecting but convenient stranger while you traveled and partied? The times I spent alone and frightened, wondering if you were ever coming back?"

"Blair! How can you say that? You had everything." Bitterness made Naomi’s voice hard and uncaring.

Blair shook his head in denial and cautiously walked around the table. "Nothing that mattered to me. You kept me starved, Naomi. Starved for love and acceptance. You know, it was actually a relief finding out that you aren’t my real mother."

Abnormally still, Blair looked very young and forlorn. His voice was tight with emotion, pain and confusion strangling his words into a grief filled whisper. "Now I understand why you didn’t love me. It wasn’t me, it was you."

"Blair! I always loved you. I still do, with all my heart. You have to believe me." Naomi reached out with one hand and Blair pointedly moved away from her almost touch.

"No!" Blair closed his eyes and took a gulped breath to compose himself. "I know what it’s like to be really loved now, not just tolerated. Loved and protected and wanted. Jim is always here for me."

Blair ran his hands through his hair and down over his face. His growing anxiety made it difficult to think clearly. Uncertainty pushed at all of his instincts to turn and run.

Blair gestured hesitantly towards the loft door. "I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore unless Jim is here." Desperate eyes pleaded with the woman to understand.

Naomi spit back her reply, blatantly ignoring Blair’s request. "Jim. Jim Ellison has been trying to poison you against me since my first visit. He treats you like a child. He doesn’t respect you, Sweetie, not like I do."

"You can keep your ‘respect’. I’ll take Jim’s love. He’s the only real parent I’ve ever had. And the only one I need now." Pulling in a ragged breath to calm his shaky resolve Blair walked in a wide arc around Naomi and stopped a few feet from the door, his intent clear. "I’d like you to leave. Now."

Naomi’s eyes widened in surprise then narrowed as her gaze hardened to match her heart. Her words were forced out through clenched teeth. "You can’t mean that! He has you confused."

Naomi snagged Blair’s shirtsleeve and tugged beseechingly despite her harsh tone. Blair twisted his arm free of Naomi’s clutches.

"No, Jim doesn’t. I’m seeing things a lot clearer every minute that passes here. You are not my mother. You never were, you never will be. You sold yourself to Michael Rosien. You’re nothing but-but a-a whore."

The slap was so unexpected Blair couldn’t prepare for it. He staggered and fell back against the wall, replacing the small table by the door with his own body. Blood trickled from a thin, shallow groove at the corner of his mouth, mute evidence of the force of her attack.

Blinking hard to clear his blurred vision, Blair flinched and raised a defensive arm at the swinging hand that came into his field of vision. Ducking his head, he waited dumbfounded and paralyzed for the next blow to fall.

The loft door burst open, startling them both. Immediately a familiar wall of warm, hard muscle nudged Blair securely to the wall, shielding him from any further assault and insulating him in a protective cloak of safety. Blair leaned forward with a sigh of relief and rested his forehead in the middle of the solid back inches from his face.

Jim’s smooth, low voice halted all movement in the room momentarily, including Blair’s breathing. "Go ahead. Finish it, Naomi. I’d enjoy adding assaulting a police officer to the kidnapping, forgery and fraud charges."

Jim stood squarely in front of Naomi, both arms hanging casually at his sides, a slight smile of anticipation on his smooth, chiseled face.

Naomi stood frozen in place, arm motionless in mid-air, ready to strike another backhanded blow. Realization that Jim was not only Blair’s self-appointed protector and surrogate father, but also a Major Crime’s detective as well, slowly seeped through the layers of her frustration and anger at being exposure as a fraud.

Naomi slowly lowered her arm and retreated behind the sofa. Her body language projected defeat but her eyes snapped with burning defiance and anger, betraying her true feelings.

Blair fisted both hands into the back of Jim’s shirt and regained his balance by leaning more firmly against Jim’s back. Regret, sorrow, anger, confusion and a sense of bitter loss all battled for control of his thoughts and emotions. He had not been prepared for Naomi’s arrival or this conversation. He wasn’t sure he would ever have been ready for it.

Not knowing what to feel or which way to turn, Blair followed his instincts and wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist, burying his face in the firm muscle under his cheek. Blocking out the loft and everyone in it, he decided to leave the final confrontation with his abductor to his Blessed Protector. He needed time to sort out his own tumultuous feelings before talking with Naomi again.

Jim seemed more than ready to handle things, eager in fact. A large, warm hand wrapped around one of Blair’s wrists and a gentle pressure sent a wave of reassurance to him. Blair automatically tightened his grip in response.

Taking a cleansing breath, Naomi frantically rethought her options. She was not going to give up her source of income so easily. She was sure there was a way to tie Blair to her emotionally. If she could manipulate the boy by using his fear of abandonment she was sure she could ensure continued regular payments from Michael Rosien. She needed Blair to want her in his life and barring that, to feel guilty about throwing her out of his life. After all, she had sacrificed her whole life to raise him. The boy needed to feel guilty enough to convince his grandfather to keep paying her for her sacrifice.

Naomi forced her expression to soften, as she called out to Blair, unable to see him behind Jim’s impressive form. "Blair, baby, I’m so sorry I lost my temper. I just couldn’t believe you would use that kind of language with me. I was shocked and upset. You know I love you, sweetie. You would never have said that to me before you started living here. Blair?"

Blair clenched his eyes closed and shook his head into Jim’s back, refusing to answer. Jim understood and willingly took control of the situation. He gently extracted Blair from behind his back, guiding him around to his side.

A hushed, "It’s going be all right, Chief," broke the stillness.

Jim tucked the youth under his arm and walked him into the kitchen, keeping himself between Naomi and Blair, blocking her searching gaze from even a glimpse of the distraught young man.

"Blair? Blair, talk to me, sweetie. I’m sorry, please believe me!" Both men pointedly ignored the dramatic plea from the living room.

Pulling a cold pack from the refrigerator, Jim gently pressed it to the cut on Blair’s mouth. The older man added a soft pat to the uninjured side of Blair’s face in a familiar gesture of comfort.

Jim continued leading his charge through the kitchen to the doors of Blair’s bedroom. Jim firmly pressed a hand to Blair’s back and slipped him into the room. A quick ruffle of Blair’s hair accompanied Jim’s quiet command to "Lie down and stay put". The glass paned doors shook slightly with the solid thud that closed them.

Naomi’s attempt to be calm dissolved with the closing of the bedroom door. She bristled at being ignored. Raising her voice she called out to Blair. "Blair, I didn’t want to hurt you. You made me! You called me a ‘whore’. I won’t tolerate that from you, no mother would. Blair!"

Jim advanced rapidly into the room and happily invaded Naomi’s personal space. "You’re going to listen, Naomi, then you’re going to leave and never come near that kid again, ever."

"You have nothing to say about this. Blair is over 21. He can talk for himself. Let me see him"

Naomi made a move toward the closed doors. Jim instantly blocked her action by stepping in front of her, his chest bumping her none too gently away from Blair’s room.

"Yes, you’re right, he can, but he doesn’t want to. He’s handed that responsibility over to me. So you listen, Naomi, and listen well. I won’t be repeating myself."

Jim’s expression hardened into a cold unrelenting stare. He moved forward slowly, forcing Naomi to back into the living room. He didn’t stop until he had edged both of their bodies to just in front of the loft door.

"As to my having nothing to say about any of this, you’re wrong. I’m so involved as a parent to Blair that you don’t even exist any more in that role. Not that you ever did. You were never his mother. He knows that. That even makes it easier for him to accept all the years of neglect. As a little friend of ours says, you aren’t real. He doesn’t need you anymore."

Defiance flashed in Naomi’s determined eyes. "He’s always needed me, always. And he will again."

"Wrong. He doesn’t. He has a family now. Family that loves him and cares for him, not one that uses him for a meal ticket. When I think of all the ways you manipulated and twisted his feelings and emotions to justify your own sick charade as a mother, I want to vomit." Jim slowly continued advancing on his uninvited visitor.

"You can’t talk to me this way." Naomi jumped as her back bumped suddenly into the front door.

"You’re in my house, assaulting someone who lives under my roof and who’s under my protection. The only reason you’re not wearing cuffs at this point is because of that boy in there. I don’t want that to be his last memory of you. And this meeting will be the last time he sees you."

"You can’t keep me away."

"I can arrest you. There’s no statute of limitations on kidnapping. I’m giving you one chance and one chance only to leave Cascade on your own. After you walk out that door, there’s not going to be any more breaks or second chances, no more turning a blind eye to your crimes. If I even suspect you or anyone else from Rosien’s organization is near Blair, I’ll hunt you down myself."

"Blair would hate you."

"Blair is a smart boy, he’d learn to understand. He knows that the right thing isn’t necessarily the easiest thing to do. He’d get over it just like he’ll eventually get over you. Nightmares eventually fade away and so will his memories of you."

Jim reached over and snagged Naomi’s cape and bag off of his couch as he talked. Shoving them into Naomi’s hands, he deftly nudged her past the doorframe, and pulled open the door.

"Now get out. You’re not welcome here. And that means Cascade not just the loft."

"I want to say goodbye. At least give me that much."

"No. He’s not a toy you can just pick up and play with whenever you decide to come around. You left his life years ago. There isn’t a reason to bother with the words now. Just go."

Realizing she was up against a brick wall, Naomi pulled her cape on. Backing out into the hallway, she straightened her shoulders and tilted back her head to get a good look at the man responsible for stealing her ‘son’s’ affections and trust. Stealing away the most profitable source of income she had. It certainly wasn’t her only source of revenue but it was the best. Good enough it deserved a fight to keep.

"I’m not done--."

The loft door shut in Naomi’s face and the distinctive sound of the latch turning in the lock filled the sudden stillness. The rattle of the chain adding a chill and final ring to the air.

Naomi pursed her lips and swung around sharply. Draping her winter cape more dramatically over her shoulder, she hurried to the elevator, mentally calculating how long she had before Jim made good on his threat to have her arrested. Mere moments, if she used the detective’s present mood to gauge his decision by. Naomi fled to the snow-covered sidewalk and ran to her car.

Jim’s tight control over his instincts faltered. He leaned back against the closed door and pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, struggling to push back the overpowering urge to drag Naomi back into the loft and strangle her.

He had let her off too easy. He should have arrested her. He should have made sure Blair would never be confronted with a situation like this again. He should have wiped Naomi Sandburg off the face of the earth.

But that would have meant committing a crime and Blair would have been left alone again while Jim wasted away his prime years in jail or in hiding. Either way, that wasn’t the kind of life he wanted to give Blair. Naomi was free to slip away—for the moment. Jim knew there would be another time.

Jim padded silently across the room. He quietly pushed open the door to the downstairs bedroom, then paused a moment to take in the sight of his young charge huddled on the far edge of his bed.

Blair had pressed the front of his body between the far wall and the bed, face turned into the crack, arms entwined tightly over his chest, knees awkwardly drawn up towards his trunk—a child’s effort to block out the unmanageable world waiting beyond the imagined safety of his bedroom doors. Blair looked small, very young, and very forlorn.

Jim caught a brief glimpse of the frightened toddler Blair must have been during his years with the sorry-excuse-for-a-mother he had just tossed out of their home. The fierce grip of protective need settled in Jim’s chest and his instinct to shield, nurture and comfort his own bloomed full force.

Jim settled down onto the bed and propped his back up against the headboard and wall. Twisting his upper body to one side, he reached over and slid one arm under the unresisting form beside him. Startled by the feel of something silky soft, Jim raised an eyebrow in surprise until he recognized the feel of Blair’s stuffed bear.

Draping his other arm around Blair’s waist he easily lifted and turned the slender, quaking body until it came to rest against his own solid length, making room for the comfort bear as well. Laying Blair half on his chest, half along his side, Jim tucked the silent young man as close as possible to his heart and held onto him tightly in silent comfort.

Blair remained oddly still and unresisting, his body rigid with tension, as he clutched the bear tightly to his chest. He lay where Jim placed him, never turning his head or lifting his arms away from his body on his own. No sounds of protest, either refusal or agreement came from the usually verbose young man. Blair’s clenched eyes never opened. Jim monitored the youth by listening to Blair’s heartbeat and breathing pattern, which had accelerated, when he had walked into the bedroom.

Realizing this was Blair’s way of shutting out the trauma of Naomi’s visit until he could prepare himself to deal with it, Jim remained silent but supportive. He wordlessly rubbed his large, warm hands countless times over Blair’s shivering back and shoulders, unhappily noting the rapid increase in the tremors.

A bare wisp of a voice finally stuttered out a word into Jim’s chest. "C-cold."

"Ssh. Okay, Chief." Jim wrapped one arm more tightly around Blair while he released his other one to drag the edge of the comforter out from the space by the wall. Securing a grip on the blanket, he cocooned Blair in the plush down-filled duvet, tucking the free edges under his side, sealing out any stray drafts in the room.

Jim knew it was shock chilling Blair and not the air temperature of the room, but the psychological comfort and security of being physically encased and held in the blanket’s warmth and Jim’s arms would be a big step in easing the boy’s distress.

"C-can’t s-stop shake-shaking, ‘im." Blair’s voice shook with a rising panic. Shivers had turned into shudders so strong that they threatened to dislodge Jim’s hold. Blair still hadn’t opened his eyes.

"Ssh, it’s all right. I’ve got you. I’ve got you Chief. We’ll get through this."

Jim tucked Blair’s head under his chin and pinned it in place with his jaw. He increased the strength of his hold, rapidly running both hands over the thin trunk of Blair’s body while entwining his legs around Blair’s.

Jim continued to whisper soft words of nonsense, his tone and inflection radiating comfort and reassurance into the curly head resting against his cheek. He purposely let the warmth of his breath get caught in the soft hair, seeping into the curls and scalp below. His voice resonated against Blair’s skull, subtly transmitting strength and power to the overwhelmed youth and providing an anchor for Blair to hold onto without having to consciously look for it.

The mere act of being held fulfilled Blair’s temporary need for total dependence and slowly the shudders and spasms quieted as warmth seeped back into his body easing the stiffness from his tortured limbs.

Jim monitored the racing beat of Blair’s heart and the near frantic gulps for air until they settled into a less panicked rhythm. He felt a tiny burst of relief when he could track small fingertips as they ghosted over his shirt. Movement meant Blair was coming back to him. Jim’s soft litany of sounds continued, proclaiming and fortifying his chosen role of father and now, Blair’s only parental figure.

A hesitant hand gathered together small folds of fabric, eventually coming to rest on Jim’s side. Blair shifted his body a minute degree to bring him into greater contact with Jim, his source of comfort.

Blair’s eyes briefly found Jim’s, desperate for assurance that he was safe. At the sight of his protector his relief-filled eyes closed again, but with the return of darkness the vision of Naomi returned as well and the tremors began to worsen. Jim brought the edge of the blanket up, and tucked it more tightly around Blair, frowning at the shaking, tightly curled body beside him on the bed.

Jim continued to rub a hand up and down Blair’s side and shoulder, offering both complete, unquestioning love and total acceptance with the simple gesture. It satisfied the older man no end to find the offer eagerly absorbed by his young charge.

Shivers faded to small tremors then gradually eased into oblivion. Blair suddenly heaved a huge sigh, slowly allowing the air to escape, taking most of his body tension with it. "My head hurts," he whispered, eyes still closed.

"I’ll bet it does. That was a bit much to have to handle out of the blue like that." Small, soothing circles massaged Blair's pounding temple, Jim’s sensitive fingertips zeroing in on the hammering pulse. The motion immediately began to ease the nauseating pressure to nearly acceptable levels for Blair. "Let me go get you something for it."

Blair desperately tightened his grasp on Jim’s shirt and pleaded, "No! Please, it’ll be okay. What you’re doing is helping. I don’t think I could keep pills down anyway."

Hugging his body still closer to Jim’s, he croaked a whisper for sentinel ears only, "I don’t want-want you to go, t-too."

Jim closed his eyes for a moment, trying to work past the desperation and hurt in the broken words. He wordlessly relaxed back against the pillows and pulled his armful of confusion and pain up further onto his chest. Locking his legs around Blair’s again, Jim slowly began rocking Blair up and down, using his arms and shoulders to provide the needed momentum while his hands once again rubbed comfort into Blair’s body and soul.

Jim dropped his head until his lips were next to Blair’s ear. Tenderly he whispered, "I’m not going anywhere, Chief. Not now, not anytime in the foreseeable future, either. You’re stuck with me, Buddy Boy. Tomorrow you’ll be begging me to give you some breathing room."

A faint smile touched Blair’s lips as he shook his head slightly against Jim’s neck and shoulder. His voice was full of conviction as he whispered back, "I don’t think so, man. I can breath just fine. Better than I’ve been able to since I got the chicken pox, I think. There isn’t that heavy weight sitting on my chest anymore, waiting for the first time my mom," he swallowed convulsively, "I mean, Naomi would turn up again."

Jim rubbed his cheek over the top of Blair’s head and smiled despite the gravity of the situation. His child was made of stronger stuff than most people were. They would make it through this crisis like they did all the others—intact and stronger as a family then they were before it happened. He carefully carded his fingers through Blair’s hair, keeping the stroking motion slow and rhythmic, comforting and solid, letting touch send silent messages of love to the cherished child beneath the caress.

Blair sighed again and melted completely into the comfort being offered. Opening his eyes and tilting his face up to look Jim in the face, he gnawed at his lower lip before he asked, "Usually, I’d just let all this stress inside of me just explode and flood your shirt, but I’m just too tired right now to even cry. Would it be okay if I slept here, like this, with you here, for a little while?"

Jim felt the few remaining insulating walls around his heart vanish with one look at the bright pleading, innocent eyes peeking up at him from inches away. Blair’s sincerity and blatant need for love and reassurance showed clearly on his young face. Jim pushed Blair’s head back down to turn the burning gaze down to a level where the normally stoic man could manage it without adding tears of his own to the mix.

"Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Close your eyes and rest, Chief. I’ll be right here when you wake up." Jim’s heavy hand securely pinned the curly head to its earlier warm spot on his chest, done mostly, Jim knew, out of a need for self-preservation.

"Promise?" Blair shakily demanded, his voice slightly muffled by the bear pressed to his face.

Jim tugged gently at a few strands of hair that were around his fingers for emphasis as he answered. "I said so didn’t I?" Silence was Blair’s only response. Jim immediately relented and said the words Blair needed to hear out loud. "I promise. I’m not going anywhere."

Thoughts clouded by indescribable pain and clearly expecting abandonment for a second time, Blair whimpered, "I can’t lose you, too. I-I just can’t."

Jim fiercely hugged Blair to him and whispered over and over again, "You’ll never have to. I swear. I’ll be here, always. I love you, Blair." Jim’s voice grew rough with barely suppressed emotions, cracking and fading over each word being spoken like a sacred oath.

Within minutes, Jim knew the exact moment Blair faded off to sleep. The limp body and shallow, regular breaths matched the relaxed rhythm of the boy’s slowing heartbeat. Jim continued the gentle stroking of Blair’s back and head, wanting comfort and every ounce of love he could transmit to follow the youth into the dark world of dreams.

So many times in the past this had been the place Blair’s insecurities came to seek him out, the only place where his Blessed Protector couldn’t easily come to his aid. Determined to try and make sure now wasn’t one of those times, Jim began to add a new, comforting sound to the loving embrace and gentle rocking motion. A little rusty at first, Jim softly began to recite a favorite bedtime story from decades ago.

The late afternoon shadows swept across the loft to the soothing tones of unconditional fatherly love and "The Velveteen Rabbit".

**********

Jim walked into his home and closed the door, relieved to be out of the biting December weather and into the warmth. He was dressed slightly more formal than usual and the dress shirt he wore chafed at his neck. Jim sighed with relief as he unbuttoned his collar. Hooking his overcoat on the coat rack, he turned to take in the sight of his home. Lit by Christmas tree lights and a cheery fire in the stove, warmth, comfort and security radiated out of the room. The rich smells of fresh coffee mixed with the aroma of baking apple pie completed the much-appreciated welcome home.

Spying a curly topped lump of blankets on the far couch, Jim tracked Blair’s heartbeat to be sure the youth was still sound asleep. He then removed a bundle of documents from his suit coat pocket and placed them in a drawer in the kitchen where he kept important papers to be dealt with.

He had spent the morning in court and the better part of the afternoon at his lawyer’s office. The family retainer had insisted Jim drop by before the end of the year to rearrange a few items and shift assets in his two trust funds, childhood gifts from both sets of grandparents. Jim decided to make the trip worth the time and added a few personal items to the list of documents that he wanted taken care of. After hours of listening to his lawyer’s advice and a hesitant phone call to his father, Jim had left the office with a smile on his face and the requested legal papers in his pocket.

Detouring one last time before heading home, Jim had dropped by the jewelry store that was cleaning Blair’s Mayan fetish. With only two days until Christmas, Jim wanted to have plenty of time to prepare for this year’s gift giving.

It was Blair’s first Christmas with Jim and the older man intended to make it as special and fun for Blair as he was able. The heavy lapis stone looked weathered but beautiful, and its solid weight reminded Jim of its presence in his pants pocket. As an after thought, Jim slipped it into the drawer for safe keeping as well.

Jim poured a cup of the tantalizing coffee and peeked into the oven. An apple pie, heavy with cinnamon and bubbling with sugar, took center stage on the rack, a sure sign Mrs. Pritchard from downstairs had been by this afternoon.

The sly senior citizen had a sharp eye and an even sharper sense of mothering instinct which she used full force on both of the occupants in the loft. Ever since the night Lash had broken into the loft and kidnapped Blair, Mrs. Pritchard had been on alert. Once she found out that Blair had been kidnapped and hurt, she was always finding reasons to stop by the loft and check on things, both the apartment and its owners. She was a hell of a good baker and both men enjoyed her sarcastic wit.

She had been a lifesaver to Jim while Blair was down with the chicken pox, stopping by during the day to check on the sick youth and making sure Blair had eaten and taken his medications. Norris Pritchard was like Olivia’s burrowing owl, checking and watching and warning when things didn’t seem right, out to keep the guardian and his small family safe. Jim tried to remind himself to ask her if she knew anything about owls the next time he saw her.

The oven timer went off as Jim stood there savoring the enticing smells. He instantly shut it off and automatically glanced over to the couch when Blair stirred. Pulling the pie from the oven and shutting the stove off, Jim gently set the dessert on a hot pad to cool, ever respectful of the culinary delight in his near future.

Grabbing his coffee cup, he walked over to the sofa and sat down just as Blair’s tousled head popped up from beneath its veil of covers.

Blair blinked rapidly to clear some of the blurring from his vision and worked at getting his still heavy lidded eyes to focus. The amused voice so close made him jump and twist around on the couch, blankets and throw pillows scattering to the floor in his haste.

"Hey, Little Boy Blue. Looks like you need to clean up your haystack there." Jim took another sip from his cup to hide the gleeful smile on his lips. It really was fun to watch a sleepy Blair trying to reconnect with the conscious world before he was ready to.

"Oh, man, Jim! I didn’t hear you come in. You startled me." Blinking owlishly, Blair tried to stand, feet tangling in the fabric around his legs. Instantly defeated, he gave up and plopped back down in his seat. The innocent look of wounded surprise caused Jim’s smile to widen with affectionate amusement.

"I see that, Grace." Jim grinned at the sour look shot his way then let gentle concern mute the edges of the teasing tone. "I’m glad you got some rest. We’ve had a couple of rough days here. You needed it."

The sour expression on Blair’s face lasted only a moment before he shyly returned the loving smile. He nodded toward the tree in front of two of the patio windows and said, "I got the rest of the presents under the tree. Simon stopped by around lunchtime and dropped off his and the ones from the station. He might be back later through. He ran into Mrs. Pritchard in the hall on the way out. We’re lucky that pie made it in the door, man. He was sweet talking her something fierce."

Jim snickered at the mental vision of 6 foot 5 inches of imposing police captain trying to wheedle his way around the 4 foot 11 inches of pure iron will and razor sharp instincts that were Norris Pritchard.

"I have complete faith in Mrs. Pritchard’s ability to protect what’s hers, Chief. Simon never stood a chance."

"Yeah. I think that’s why he’s coming back. Easier to mooch off of us than tangle with her again. Ah, Big Guy, she brought you a pan of brownies, too." Blair leered and waggled his eyebrows at the blushing man. "Just for you. She said they were for ‘my handsome father’." Blair couldn’t resist adding a pleased chuckle to the story.

Jim chuckled and decided to plunge into a conversation he had planned on having with Blair before Christmas day. Not fully prepared but sensing an appropriate opening, he did the usual Jim thing and plowed ahead, consequences to be dealt with if they occurred and not before.

Jim pinned Blair’s gazed in place with a serious expression and launched his frontal attack with a less than stellar verbal onslaught. Luckily he gathered confidence and a more fluid speech as his heart took over the conversation.

"Blair? About that father thing? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some things and the time seems right now, what with the Naomi thing over and—things, feelings, being pretty clear between you and me."

"Yeah, Jim?" Confusion and fear crept into Blair’s expression. Just what exactly was Jim trying to say to him? Was he put out over another confrontation with Blair's confusing past?

Jim stood up and walked over to the kitchen drawer. He pulled out the papers he had put there only moments earlier and walked back over to sit closely beside Blair, tossing wayward blankets from the floor onto the sofa behind him as he approached.

Jim spent a moment reading the emotions evident on Blair’s young face before he opened the legal papers in his hand. The fear in Blair’s eyes convinced him that now was the time to do this. More waiting and wondering wouldn’t heal the pain Naomi had caused. The unguarded love that shone through the fear also convinced Jim that he was doing exactly what both of them needed. This would be the cement that glued his family by choice together in uncertain times, a tangible, legal piece of reality that was an unquestioning proof of intentions, dedication, faith and love.

Blair shifted nervously on the couch and darted his eyes to the papers, Jim’s face and down to the floor, finally resting back on his surrogate father’s eyes.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" Worry was added to Blair’s already confused emotions.

Jim’s hand shot out and firmly gripped Blair’s shoulder. He reassured, "Don’t worry, Chief, it’s nothing bad. It’s good actually, real good, I hope." The hold relaxed into a soothing rub and Jim massaged absently at the tense muscles of Blair’s neck.

"You hope?" The worry in Blair’s eyes became more subdued but remained in the shadows along with the ever-present fear and uncertainty.

Jim gave him a crooked smile and nodded his head. "Yeah. I see it as a good thing and I hope you do too."

"Well, spill, man. I’m dying here." Blair darted another sidelong glance at the papers, noting the attorney’s letterhead. "Though I can’t think of anything good that needs paperwork from a lawyer’s office."

Blair suddenly thought of one thing it could be and any trace of emotion left his features. Turning to face Jim fully Blair said, "It isn’t a restraining order against Naomi, is it?"

Mild confusion clouded Jim’s expression until he refocused his thoughts on the thread that Blair was erroneously weaving.

"No, no, this has nothing to do with her. Well, that’s not right either. It does, but not in that way." Jim considered Blair’s suggestion with a detective’s eye. "Not that that isn’t a good idea, too. But no, Chief, this is good. Good for you and me. At least, I want it to be something good for us."

"I’m confused here, Jim. What is it?" Perplexed, Blair shook his head as he softly said, "Cause I gotta tell ya, man, I could use a little ‘real good’ right about now, you know?"

Blair’s attempt to lighten the moment heartened Jim and made it possible for him to forge ahead with his precious gift. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he smoothed folds out of the papers.

"It’s a gift, for you, an early Christmas present."

"That’s two days away."

"I know. I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want you to have to wait. After all the confusion and stress of the past few days, I wanted to give you something that would let you know how much you mean to me, Chief." Jim took in the silent, expectant look on Blair’s face and raced ahead to stop any wrong ideas from popping into that curly head before he had a chance to explain.

"Blair, I want to do something, give you something that would let you know that your place here is a given in our home. My life, my present, my future, my world is only going to be right if you’re here to live it with me. Whether you’re being my guide, my partner or my best friend, I want you to know, really know in your heart, that no matter which role you’re in, to me, you do every one of them as my son."

"Holy sh--." A gentle bop to the head transmitted the older man’s disapproval of the term, but never slowed the conversation.

"You're my guide and my son, my partner and my son, my best friend and my son. You’re so many things but whatever you are, bottom line, Chief, you’re always my son."

Huge, astonished eyes stared unblinkingly back at Jim. "So what do we need pap-papers for?"

Jim turned hopeful eyes to the young man’s shocked gaze. "These top five papers make you my legal heir if I should die and power of attorney if I become mentally incompetent or disabled. The loft, trust funds and all my investments are outlined here."

"Jim! Your dad—"

"My dad knows all about this and most of it was done according to his suggestions." A look of grudging admiration settled over Jim. "He really is a smart businessman. He had Pollack revising clauses for two hours to get it just right. He knows and he approves, Blair. Relax."

"He does? Wow."

"He does. And he’ll be there to help you if it comes to that." Jim reached out and took hold of both of Blair’s shoulders. "He loves you too. We both want you to understand that your place in this family is permanent and non-negotiable, Junior."

Jim watched as tears formed in the corners of Blair’s eyes. Blair tried desperately to blink them back, but Jim’s next words caused them to spill unheeded down his flushed face at an alarming rate.

"Your birth parents are gone and Naomi Sandburg will never be a part of your life again, but you haven’t been discarded or abandoned, Blair. I’ve heard your nightmares the past four nights and I know you’re afraid that this ‘family’ we have will disappear too someday."

Blair whimpered and tried to pull away. Jim’s response was to pull him closer and cradle Blair to his chest. Blair resisted briefly, but lost the fight when the effort to breathe through the choked sobs and stuffy nose sapped his meager strength away.

"But it won’t, son. I swear, it won’t. You couldn’t be more loved or cherished than if you had been born to me. I feel it and my dad knows it. Simon and Joel, even Brown and Rafe are an extended part of it too. You know this in your heart, Chief, but now you'll know it in you mind. Anytime you have a question about my commitment to you, you just pull these papers out and read them over. They’re real, solid proof that you belong to me, with me, bloodlines, DNA and birth certificates be damned."

Tears flowed unchecked and Blair gave into the wave of released tension that came with Jim’s confession of knowing what Blair’s biggest fear was right now. The huge shadow of doubt that had plagued his thoughts and dreams since Naomi’s visit and before. The idea that one day even Jim would walk away from him.

Now, Jim had suddenly presented him with the gift of a future, of a family, of a permanent place in the heart of a man who loved him and accepted him as he was. Jim wasn’t put off by his dubious lineage, his fraudulently constructed past, or his risky and problem filled future.

Jim brushed all that aside as unimportant and embraced the young person buried beneath circumstances that were beyond his control. Jim saw the frightened youth behind the carefree, fast talking obfuscation that was known as Blair Sandburg and eagerly gathered him up and locked him in his heart. And if the crushing hug was any indication, Jim had already thrown away the key.

Heaving a desperate sigh for oxygen, Blair struggled to regain control over his rampant emotions and equally rampant responses. Pulling back when Jim reluctantly loosened his hold, Blair plucked the papers from Jim’s hand. Barely able to read through the tears and myopic vision, he scanned over the precious gift, marveling at the generosity and love the documents represented.

Finding a single sheet separated from the rest at the back of the stack, Blair moved it to the top of the pile and gazed up at Jim and asked, "What’s this one? I can’t see it very well right now."

Jim glanced at the paper and worried his lower lip for a half second before answering. "It’s only if you want it. That’s why it’s separate, incase you just want to throw it away or, I don’t know, maybe save it for later."

"What is it?"

"A petition."

"Petition? For what?"

"To petition the court to allow a name change." Jim blew out a puff of air, releasing his uncertainty over the document's purpose along with the air. "That is, if you want it."

"To change my name? To Rosien?" Blair's voice actually squeaked the last question out.

"No, Darwin, not to Rosien. I was hoping it would be to Ellison."

Blair stared so long at Jim that the older man's hopes began to wilt. Just when he thought he had heaped too much on the vulnerable young man's plate, Blair surged forward and returned Jim's earlier bear hug with undeniable enthusiasm.

Sentinel hearing filtered out the fresh sobs and desperate sounding chuckles to hear a soft, but frantic word repeated over and over into his neck. Jim smiled, closed his eyes, and opened his heart to the definite note of joy in Blair's mantra of "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

Jim pulled his son tighter into his embrace. He let his tear-glazed eyes wander over his home. His gaze came to rest on the lighted tree and the various gifts beneath it.

This was more than enough gift giving for one day, Jim decided. Old Huitzilopochtli, the mighty warrior sun god, would just have to wait in the kitchen drawer. Right now, Jim was too busy basking in the radiant glow of happiness and love given off by his own son to bother with the charm.

After ten centuries, what were a few more days to a mighty sun god lucky piece? Besides, Jim felt the luck in this family had just improved. Then again, maybe the damn thing worked after all.

End