June 20, 2000

Opening the door seemed like popping a cork on a just shaken bottle of champagne. My office was suddenly full, crammed full, not surprisingly, being the converted storage room that it was. I looked around and discovered that I was completely surrounded by what appeared to be the entire soccer team. I didn't like the expressions on their faces, all full of determination, maybe a little bit of anger, and several of them looked so nervous they could pee their pants any second. I could feel my own nerves tensing up in response and decided I'd better take control of this situation before something bad happened. I usually recognize bad and this looked a lot like it. So, I pasted a nice smile on my face and backing casually up against my desk, looked directly at Fred Taylor, who I knew to be Captain of the team.

The thought momentarily went through my head that I should pretend to agree to change the grades, just long enough to get them out of my office. I didn't know what they had planned, but I was quite sure I wasn't going to like it.

I took a deep breath and smiled. "If you really want me to give the grades you deserve, I'd have to change those D's to F's. I was already being generous and you both know it. I gave you both multiple opportunities to do extra work to bring up those grades, but you didn't make any effort at all."

"You know we can't get anything less than a C if we want to stay on the team." Billy whined from behind Fred.

"And you should have been responsible enough to work at keeping your grades up. I

have two days before I have to turn in the official grades. I'm willing to give you both one more chance. You do that last extra credit report I gave you both last week, and manage to get at least a B on it, and that will bring your grades up to C's."

For a moment there, I thought I had them. But whatever they had planned, I guess sounded like too much fun, cause within a minute I could see Fred's face harden and I knew a decision had been made, and it wasn't one I was going to like. I didn't know what they had planned but I was sure I wasn't going to like it.

"That's not good enough." Fred said, laughing. "You're going to wish you had just fixed the grades for us."

With a nod from Fred, I suddenly found my arms pulled behind my back and a beefy hand wrapped around my mouth. Then I was being hustled out my office door. There were enough of them that they were able to completely surround me and the two guys holding me, so even if anyone happened to be walking around campus, they wouldn't see me. I went along meekly until we were outside, figuring my best chance was to pull away and run. I doubted they'd chase me for long. Somebody would be bound to see. So, all I had to do was get away long enough to take off running.

Once out of the building, they turned toward the gym building. I waited for a moment when the hands holding my wrists didn't seem quite as tight as they were. The big hand around my mouth had loosened up a little bit too, so I bit into a finger just as I twisted and ducked, pulling my arms free. But before I could slip between them to start running, I felt the weight of the earth land on me, knocking the air right out of me. I couldn't move at all, couldn't even take a breath; the weight was so heavy on me. I could feel the darkness encroaching and knew I was about to pass out. Somewhere far away, I heard a voice. It sounded like Fred, but it was like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel.

"All right, get off of him. We don't want to kill him."

on the ground. It didn't last long enough. Just as I was coming back to awareness and realizing I needed to get away, I felt my hands pulled together again behind my back and something biting into my wrists as it was pulled tight. It must have been a thin string or twine and it was way too tight. I could feel it cutting into me.

Next thing I knew I was being hustled up and moved along. Now I couldn't even see where we were going, they had me so closely surrounded. It took me a few minutes to realize that my mouth was free. I guess the big beefy hand didn't want to get bitten again. I was surprised they hadn't thought to gag me. But I guess my reaction time was a bit slow from the oxygen deprivation or something, cause before I could send the signal from my brain to my mouth to start yelling, I was being pushed inside some small room.

I looked around me and saw that some of the boys were laughing, I guess in anticipation of whatever they were getting ready to do to me. Not very comforting. Then I noticed Patrick Davis standing by the door. I guess he was the lookout, but he didn't look too happy. He actually looked rather nervous, maybe afraid, maybe even a little guilty. Maybe he didn't want to do this. Maybe he had been intimidated by the rest of the group. Maybe he was the weak link in the chain and he would help me if the opportunity came up. I made eye contact with him and gave him my best pleading look. He looked like he was going to cry, then abruptly turned away.

"Okay, let's get to it." Fred said.

PART 2

A backpack appeared on the seat of the lawn tractor and Fred opened it and started pulling things out. It took me a minute to realize what the main object of their attention was. It was a clear glass tube, about ten inches long and two to three inches wide.

My wrists were getting numb behind me and I tried to move a little to ease the pressure on them but I guess one of them must have thought I was trying to make a move, cause the next thing I knew I had gotten a boot in the side and was gasping for breath again. Man, these guys were really starting to piss me off. I suddenly realized I had a mouth and I wasn't using it. Silly me. One of my best defenses and I was sitting here wasting it.

"Sure thing, Mr. Sandburg. We're just letting you party with us." Billy answered in a cheerful, laughing voice. "You like to party, don't you?"

"Actually, no, I don't." I said. "I kind of have an allergy to pot smoke. Last time I tried it, I was in the hospital for a week, almost died." I said, patting myself on the back for my quick thinking. These guys didn't want to kill anybody. I was sure of that. Maybe if they were convinced they could kill me, they'd give up this idea.

"Bull shit!" Fred said, laughing at me. "You're a pot smoker if I ever saw one and don't give us any bull shit stories about allergies. There's no such thing as an allergy to pot smoke. We know you don't smoke now, but that's cause you're a teacher and you live with a cop. You could get caught too easy and lose your job, and who knows, your cop roommate might even lock your ass up. So, we're going to let you forget all of that tonight and get stoned."

I resolved at that moment not to inhale anything. They could put the pipe up to my mouth but they couldn't make me inhale the smoke.

I was wrong.

"Just relax and enjoy it, Mr. Sandburg. You'll be feeling great soon." Billy said, kneeling down beside me.

Then Fred knelt down on the other side and from behind me someone, the guy with the big hands, I could tell cause as he grabbed my head I saw the bloody bite mark on his finger, held my head still. I tried to duck my head down, figuring to diminish the target, but the guy with big hands was pretty strong. I felt like my head was held in a vice.

"Just relax and accept it, man. You know it feels good." Fred said, pulling at my chin.

"Now open up like a good boy."

I clamped my mouth shut as hard as I could, feeling my jaw muscles tense, briefly wondering if my mouth looked like Jim's does when he clenches his jaw during moments of stress.

Another boy had gotten the bong ready and was lighting it, sucking smoke through the glass tube.

"All right, enough, don't hog it." Fred yelled. "Bring it over here."

The boy, I think his name is Todd, came over and held the end of the bong up to my mouth. I stubbornly refused to breath it in, but then I found Fred's hand over my eyes and his thumb and finger pinching my nose shut. I could only hold my breath so long, and then I had to open my mouth. Gasping for air, my lungs filled up with smoke and I coughed and choked, but I felt it almost right away, that feeling of being buzzed. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that this must be pretty good pot for it to hit me so quickly. Either that, or it's just cause I'm not used to it, having only smoked pot two or three times in my life and that being at least fifteen years ago.

The voices were far away and I didn't really care what they were saying, but I could still hear them. My point of view changed at some point, cause I was seeing everything sideways, and I didn't feel anyone holding me anymore. The smoke had stopped coming too but I didn't even know if I was breathing, much less if it was clean air.

"We gave him too much. It's not going to work." Billy said.

"Mr. Sandburg, hey, Wake up." Fred's voice called. "Yeah, you're right. He's never going to be able to drive like this. We'll have to change the plan a little."

"What are we going to do? He has to be seen like this. He has to get in trouble." Billy whined.

"Don't worry. He'll get in trouble, maybe even locked up." Fred said.

"What are we going to do?" Billy asked.

I had called his cell phone and his office phone and didn't get an answer. He knew I was grilling steaks tonight and he was at least four hours late. I looked at the clock again.

I was just getting ready to go out and look for him. I mean he did seem to get in trouble pretty easily, so maybe he needed my help. So, I was just about to walk out the door, when a smell hit me. It was almost overwhelming at first, but I was able to dial it down, thanks to Sandburg's lessons. Once I got it under control, I realized it was the odor of stale pot smoke. It had been awhile since I smelled it. We don't come in contact with too many pot smokers in Major Crimes, usually going after bigger fish, more serious crimes than a little pot smoking or dealing.

So, why was I smelling pot smoke coming from the hallway outside my own home?

Surely, everyone in the building knew a cop lived here and wouldn't be flaunting an illegal activity right under my nose. I listened, trying to determine who was out there, not really wanting to have to lock up one of my neighbors, figuring I'd let them get into their apartment before I walked out into the hall. So, I listened. Nobody was out there, but I could hear the elevator coming up and the closer it got, the stronger the smell was getting.

Maybe breaking up with Lisa the other day had him depressed and his reaction to depression was to smoke pot like some people, including himself, would get drunk. But getting drunk was legal, as long as you didn't drive. Smoking pot was illegal, and smoking pot and then coming home to your cop roommate was stupid. Blair Sandburg wasn't stupid.

The door opened and Sandburg stumbled in, catching himself from falling by grabbing onto the kitchen counter. He didn't see me at first, standing by the coat rack waiting to be noticed. I watched him quietly to see what he would do, expecting him to look for me, maybe to be worried that I'd catch him in this condition, but he seemed to have forgotten that I existed, at least for the moment. He seemed to be in a single minded pursuit of food, yanking the refrigerator door open, then slamming it shut, only to grab a box of crackers off the counter, rip them open and start shoving them into his mouth.

Suddenly, I felt angry. Not only was he betraying me by showing up here stoned and reeking of pot smoke, he was ignoring me, as if he didn't care what my reaction was.

I grabbed the crackers and threw them back onto the counter. He ignored me and reached to get the crackers. The feelings of anger and betrayal welled up in me and I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him across the room. He landed on his back on the floor behind the couch. As I crossed over to him, he was trying to push himself up. I yanked him up by his jacket and stood him on his feet in front of me.

"Sandburg, what is going on here?" I yelled in my most demanding, intimidating voice.

"I'm hungry. Let me go!" He yelled back, pulling away, trying to get back to the crackers.

"No." I yelled, grabbing him again by the collar of his jacket and shoving him against the wall.

He struggled, trying to get loose, then gave up and relaxed against the wall, first giggling, then crying, real tears streaming down his face. I just held him there and looked at him, waiting for some kind of explanation to flow from that eloquent mind of his. Right from the start I had gotten the impression that his ability to talk himself out of any situation was his strongest asset. He was disappointing me. Apparently he wasn't good for much more than incoherent babbling when he was stoned.

I yanked him away from the wall and threw him back again trying to get his attention.

"What is with you?" I demanded. "How could you do this?"

The tears flowed down his face and he looked at me, staring into my soul.

I decided the best thing to do was to put him to bed and let him sleep it off. Maybe I'd get my answers in the morning. Maybe I'd lose my partner and best friend in the morning, but I had to hope there was some explanation for this. Maybe I would even accept an intense apology and a promise that it would never happen again. Maybe for him, I could ignore the technicality of the law for a moment, just this one time.

I reached my hands down to help him up. "Come on Chief, I'll help you to bed."

I looked at Jim and thought about how short this great friendship had been. I had wanted it to last forever. And of course, there went my dissertation subject. But, it surprised me for a second when I realized that wasn't what was making me so sad. I just didn't want to lose Jim. I didn't want him to hate me. He was already the best friend I had ever had and I didn't want to lose him.

He threw me against the wall and I knew he was angry but he also looked puzzled like he was trying to figure something out. He was talking to me but I was too upset to even hear what he was saying. Then he pulled me away from the wall and shoved me back again, still looking at me like he was waiting for some great revelation. Somewhere along the way I had lost the connection between my brain and my mouth. I think I said something but I'm not even sure. But then I found myself sliding down the wall and landing on the floor. I guess he let me go. I looked up, trying to blink the tears out of my eyes, and looked at him. He said something and I heard him call me Chief, and at that moment I thought it must be okay. He wouldn't be calling me Chief if he hated me. But then the next moment I saw his hands reaching down toward me and I thought he was going to pick me up by my collar again and throw me against the wall, so I put my arms up in front of me, trying to keep him from grabbing me.

The next thing I knew, my jacket was being pulled off, and then my shirt, and I was sitting there in my jeans and t-shirt. I looked at my wrists then, cause I suddenly noticed they were really sore, and no wonder, they were all torn up and bloody.

Jim had disappeared, but then he came back, kneeling down in front of me, sitting a bowl of water on the floor beside him. He pulled a rag out of the bowl and wrung it out, then took my hand and held onto it while he cleaned off my wrist with the warm wet rag. It hurt a little but it also felt good that he was taking care of me. I looked up at him and saw the worried look in his eyes.

"I didn't do it. They made me do it. They blew smoke down my throat. It hurt. I kept choking on it, but they wouldn't let me breathe. They wanted to put me in my car and make me get locked up. I heard them talking. They got mad when I got too stoned and they knew I couldn't drive." My voice was hoarse and raspy but at least I had found it again and could explain.

"Who were they, Chief? Did you know them?" Jim asked.

"Students." I answered. "Jim, are you mad at me? Please don't be mad at me. I didn't want to do it. I told them I was allergic to pot but they laughed and didn't believe me. I told them it would kill me but they forced it on me anyway."

Why I can't giggle without it turning to tears I don't know, but the next thing I knew I was crying away and Jim pulled me up and hugged me. It felt so good, so comforting. I hugged him back and I had to force myself to let go when he laid me back down on my bed. He covered me up and got up, heading for the door.

"Don't worry, Chief. We'll figure this all out in the morning. I know you're not responsible here. It's okay."

I went up to bed, setting my alarm to wake me early in the morning. I wanted to make sure I was up before Blair in case he needed me. I had never smoked pot before, but I figured if you got that wasted on something, there had to be some price to pay in the morning. He probably wasn't going to be feeling all that great.

I stumbled into the loft and was immediately thrown across the room. When I got to my feet and looked around, I saw that it was Jim. He was standing there, glaring at me.

He took a step toward me and pulled out his handcuffs.

"You know I have to lock you up, Sandburg." He said angrily. "You should know

better than to get stoned. I let you live with me and you have the nerve to come home like this. What have you been doing, selling the stuff?"

"No Jim, I would never do that!" I yelled. "I don't even smoke pot."

He grabbed my arm and slapped a cuff on it, then reached for the other arm, but I pulled away and ran for the door. Just as I got to it, the door opened. There was Simon

Banks, dressed in uniform, gun drawn.

"Give it up Sandburg." He said. "You're going to jail." He laughed as I ran away.

"I knew from the start that you were no good, Sandburg. I tried to warn Jim but he wouldn't listen to me." Simon said. "You see it now, don't you Jim?"

"Yes sir, I do." Jim said, sadly. "You really disappointed me Chief."

Then he looked at Simon. "Would you mind taking care of this, sir? I really don't want to have anything more to do with this scum."

"Sure thing, Jim." Simon said, grabbing my handcuffed arms and pulling me up.

"Jim, please, it wasn't my fault." I screamed. "Jim, don't send me away."

But Jim turned away and stared out the window as Simon pulled me along out the door. I kept screaming all the way down in the elevator.

The screaming woke me up almost right away. I got up and went downstairs, waiting by his curtained doorway to see if he'd fall back to sleep. But he was calling me and getting louder by the second. I couldn't let him wake all the neighbors, could I? So, I went in and pulled him up into a hug. "It's okay, Chief. I'm here. It's okay. You're not in any trouble."

At first he tried to pull away, but then he seemed to wake up and focus on me. I laid him back down on the bed and pulled the covers up for him.

"It's okay, Chief. Go back to sleep. You were dreaming." I said, taking a step toward the door.

"Jim, something happened, didn't it? Are you mad at me?" A timid voice asked quietly.

"I'm not mad at you. Everything's okay. Something happened but it's going to be okay in the morning. Just get some sleep now."

"Okay." He said, closing his eyes.

I laughed as I started the car and pulled out onto the road. As I drove the road seemed to move from side to side, winding a wiggly path. The scenery went by faster and faster and when I glanced down to the speedometer it said I was going 95mph. It seemed so funny to be going that fast.

I wondered if Jim would be able to keep up with me in the truck. Just as that thought occurred to me, I heard the siren coming up behind me. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Jim's truck catching up with me. He was chasing me and suddenly I was afraid. Jim wouldn't be chasing me. Surely he didn't know who was in this car. He probably thought my car had been stolen and he was trying to catch up with the thief.

I didn't want him to know it was me. Suddenly it seemed really important for me to get away from him. I jammed my foot on the gas and the car shot out, picking up speed. I was going too fast to take the time to look down at the speedometer. The wind whipped thru my hair from the open windows and I felt so free I thought I could almost fly away.

Then suddenly, someone walked out onto the road in front of me. It was Jim. He stood there and looked up at me and I couldn't stop. I hit the break with all of my strength but the car didn't even slow down, and then it was too late.

I felt the car ram into him and I saw Jim's body fly up and fall back down onto the hood of the car. I sat in the now stopped car and stared through the windshield at my Sentinel's dead eyes staring at me through the bloody glass.

I screamed.

The scream woke me right away. It was terrible, the most painful wretched scream I had ever heard. I was in by his side within moments and I shook him, pulling him out of his nightmare.

"Chief!" I called, shaking him gently. "Wake up. It's okay."

His eyes popped open and he looked at me, his face overcome with an expression of relief, and he sighed.

"Oh, Jim." He said. "Jim, man, you're okay."

I smiled at him. "Yeah, Chief, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

He smiled at me, a big smile. "I'm great now. Just fine. As long as you're okay."

I settled him back down and covered him back up and started out the door. It seemed like it had been a terribly long night already. I hoped we could both get some decent sleep now. I took one more look at him before walking out the door.

"You going to be able to sleep now, Chief?"

"Goodnight then." I said, pulling the curtain closed behind me.

I carried a cup of coffee in and set it on his table, sitting beside him on the bed. He looked so innocent and at peace in his sleep. Once I had gotten him settled after the last nightmare, he had slept the rest of the night and into the morning. It was almost noon now and I felt like I should wake him up and make sure he was okay. Also, I wanted to find out who was responsible for getting him so stoned last night. I wanted to lock somebody up. I hoped he wasn't going to give me any trouble about telling me who it was. All he had said last night was students. He'd better be willing to name names.

"Chief." I said quietly, lightly touching his shoulder. "Wake up now."

He stirred and squinted his eyes open, looking at me, then around the room, as if confused about where he was.

"Jim?" His voice was hoarse and scratchy sounding.

I stood up and got his coffee. "Here, sit up Chief. I brought you some coffee."

He started to scoot himself up in the bed, but suddenly moaned and flopped back down.

I set the coffee back down and went to him. "What is it? Does something hurt?"

"My side." He said, touching his left side. "I got kicked in it."

I lifted his shirt to take a look. The bruise was purple and black and looked pretty painful. I felt around it but didn't detect any more serious damage. Sometimes a bruise is just a bruise, an impressive one, but just a bruise. Considering where it was, I was thankful that it hadn't been worse. A kick just an inch or two higher could have broken ribs, which could have punctured his lung. Maybe he was a trouble magnet, but he was a lucky trouble magnet.

I handed him his coffee and he smiled, sipping it reverently.

"So, I guess you want to know how I ended up coming home high."

"You said somebody forced it on you." Jim said. "And I saw your wrists. You were tied up."

They had this bong that was like a straight pipe and they blew the smoke from the other end and one of them held my nose so I had to inhale it. I kept choking on it at first, but they kept doing it and then I must have been so stoned they just let me lay there. I could hear them talking and it sounded like they wanted to have me drive away and they were going to call and report me so I'd get pulled over. They were going to put pot in my car. I guess they figured if I got arrested, they could contest my grades, maybe say I was smoking pot before every class and didn't know what I was doing.

When they ended up getting me so wasted that I couldn't even sit up straight, I guess they had to change the plan. I heard Fred say they were just going to drive me home. But I didn't even think about what they thought would happen. I guess I was too stoned to realize what you might have thought. I mean; you haven't really known me long enough to know that I wouldn't smoke pot, but I guess you figured it out."

I looked at him, suddenly wondering if he was satisfied without a doubt that I didn't normally smoke pot. He looked at me, directly into my eyes, a serious expression on his face.

"I trust you, Chief. But, at first I was a little worried that maybe breaking up with Lisa had gotten you depressed and that maybe smoking pot was your way of dealing with it. I only thought that way for a minute before I decided you were too smart for that." Jim said. "I'm sorry I even thought that for a minute. When I saw your wrists, I wanted to go hunt somebody down and lock them up, but you weren't exactly in any condition to identify anyone last night."

"Jim, man. I've got to tell you why I broke up with Lisa. She kept getting high before I picked her up. Then she wanted me to come in and smoke with her and I told her no way, but it turns out she's pretty much a pothead and even has trouble holding a job because of it, so I told her I couldn't see her anymore."

Jim laughed. "Well then she'd be sorry she missed you last night."

"They assaulted you, Chief. We might not be able to prove they forced you to smoke pot, but we have evidence of assault here, your wrists and the bruises on your side. If we go to the equipment shed we can probably find some physical evidence. Then, we pick up a couple of the boys and question them. There's bound to be one who will crack and tell the whole story."

I suddenly remembered Patrick and the look on his face when I made eye contact.

"Patrick Davis." I burst out. Jim looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

"He's the one who will spill his guts. He didn't want to be there. I could tell. They must have talked him into it, maybe told him they'd kick him off the team if he didn't go along. The main ones involved were Fred Tomlinson and Billy Squiggins. They were the ones who wanted their grades changed. I announced the grades the other day and they were both getting D's. They needed to get C's to keep playing. I tried to help them. I gave them both extra credit assignments to do. If they had done them, they could have brought their grades up to C's. I really wasn't asking that much."

"I know, Chief. You just have to realize some people expect a free ride and when they don't get it they have to take it out on somebody."

He was right about Patrick Davis. He told us the entire story, from Fred coming up with the idea, to them dumping Sandburg off in front of the loft. We checked out the shed and found remnants of pot all over the floor and bits of bloody string. The bong was in the trunk of Fred Tomlinson's car. Before we were done questioning them, we had four boys spilling their guts. The other seven, including Fred and Billy insisted they had no involvement in any of it. They claimed they never even smoked pot or had any idea even where to get it. Of course, the fingerprints on the bong didn't support those claims.

The whole team was expelled from school and all but four of them were charged with kidnapping, false imprisonment, reckless endangerment, and first degree assault. I knew when it came down to it, most of them would get off, but I was determined that Fred and Billy would get some jail time out of this. With testimony from Patrick and several of the other boys, we could clearly show that Fred and Billy had proceeded to force Sandburg to smoke pot even after he told them it could kill him, which made it first degree assault, which made it a felony along with kidnapping and false imprisonment.

I feel like justice is being served. It'll be awhile before anything goes to court on this, but meanwhile, I still have my life, undamaged in any way, and those who would have destroyed it, have only succeeded in destroying their own. That sounds like justice to me.

Besides that, I have the added bonus of a strengthening friendship with my sentinel. He fought his conditioned response of assuming betrayal, and realized that he knew the real me. He gave me his trust and because of this, he has my absolute loyalty, not that he didn't already anyway, but it's nice to have a demonstration that he deserves it completely.