A CHRISTMAS STORY
"Quote Blair Sandburg…Christmas sucks," Jim Ellison grumbled as he kicked the door shut behind him. "Home at last."
'Well, to be perfectly accurate, Sandburg never said Christmas sucks. In fact, the kid's acting like one of Santa's elves, he's so damned cheerful.' Jim shook his head and dropped the two shopping bags on the floor next to the couch then went to the refrigerator and got a cold bottle of water.
"I hate malls," Jim spoke to no one in particular. He sat on the couch and leaned back with a sigh. "I hate shopping. I hate crowds." He thought for a few seconds to make sure he'd covered everything. "Yep, I hate it all." He opened the bottled water and took a long drink. Then he wearily stared at the shopping bags. "Should get that wrapped before Sandburg gets home and starts snooping around." Instead, he leaned his head against the back of the couch and contentedly sighed. "Peace and quiet. At last."
Just as his eyes closed, he caught sight of the blinking red light on the answering machine. Silently debating for nearly a minute on whether to check the message, he finally leaned over and hit the 'play' button.
'Hey, Jim, it's me!'
Jim winced at Blair's cheery tone. "Great, Santa's little helper."
"I just called to let you know I put a casserole in the oven. All you gotta do is heat it up. There are some fresh rolls, too. And a salad in the 'fridge. I'll be at Benji's for the Christmas party tonight. His number's sticking on the refrigerator door under the Santa Claus magnet."
Jim glanced at the machine when Blair paused.
"Ummm…if you want to meet me at the party, you know you're invited, right, man? You know, if you want to come…uhhh…I guess I pushed the party a little much lately, huh? Sorry about that. I just really get into this stuff, you know? Didn't mean to push or make you uncomfortable or anything…soooo…well, I'll see ya tonight one way or the other, right? Or maybe in the morning. You know you don't have to wait up. Anyway, you'd probably rather have a nice quiet evening to yourself anyway, huh? I'll…uh…see ya later, Jim."
Jim stared at the machine as it clicked 'off'. "Let's see…a nice quiet evening to myself or a loud crowded smoky party with Sandburg and his university buddies." He stroked his chin. "That's a hard one, Ellison. Maybe you better think on it while you heat up that casserole."
"You are pathetic, Slick."
Jim jumped to his feet, reaching for his gun. He froze, seeing the figure standing behind the couch. "Jack?" he whispered.
Jack Pendergrast spread his arms and grinned. "In the flesh…so to speak."
Jim shook his head and drew his weapon. "Hands up, whoever you are."
Jack grinned in admiration. "You're still a suspicious SOB, aren't you?" He put his hands on the back of the couch. "One. If you fire, you're just going to waste a bullet and put a hole in that nice wall behind me. Two. Can you hear anybody's heartbeat in here other than your own?"
Startled, Jim nearly dropped his weapon. "What?"
"Heartbeat, Slick," Jack laughed. "C'mon, I know that kid, Sandburg, has taught you better than that."
"No," Jim automatically replied. "I don't hear anyone's heartbeat except mine."
"Bingo." Jack looked around. "Hey, I like what you've done with the place. 'Course, that's none of your doin', right?"
Jim slowly lowered his weapon. "Okay, for this I call Sandburg. I'm going nuts."
"No, you're not," Jack assured him.
"What’s going on?" Jim demanded, wondering if he was having a conversation with a ghost or his own partially demented mind.
"Put it together, detective," Jack ordered. "I'm a ghost. This is the Christmas season. Therefore…" He spread his arms and waited.
"Not the 'Scrooge' stuff," Jim groaned. "Assuming I believe this is actually happening and I'm not asleep, drunk, or crazy…" He put the gun on the table. "Can't we do ‘It's A Wonderful Life’?"
"No can do, Sport," Jack sighed. "I don't have enough seniority for that one." He stepped over the back of the couch and patted the cushions. "C'mon. Let's get started. If we get done in time, maybe we can catch the Jags game."
Jim put his hands on his hips. "You're not taking this very seriously."
Jack shrugged. "And you always took stuff way too seriously. Now sit down." He reached for the remote and pointed it at the TV. "Let's see. Christmas past, yeah," Jack nodded. "I need to show you how great your past Christmases were."
"Oh, this should be interesting," Jim grumbled as he sat on the far end of the couch and stared at the TV screen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jimmy Ellison eyed the large package under the tree with his name on it. It was larger than any of his brother's gifts. He just knew it was the Johnny-7 gun he'd been wanting. It had to be.
Jimmy tried to be patient as he watched his younger brother, Steven, slowly open his presents. Jimmy had eagerly ripped into his first present, angering his father when pieces of paper and ribbon littered the floor. William had irritably told Jimmy he'd have to wait until Steven opened all his gifts.
Although just past six, Steven was a quick learner. So he slowly and deliberately opened each and every gift under the close eye of their father. The younger boy carefully stacked his gifts in a neat pile as he opened them. Finally, he was finished; and William nodded at his older son.
Jimmy quickly reached for the big package. Restraining his enthusiasm, he carefully untied the ribbon and picked at the tape on the wrapping paper. The bright blue wrapping paper was carefully removed to reveal a plain box. Fingers trembled in anticipation as he opened the box to see….
Lying end to end was a pair of highly polished black riding boots.
"Nice, aren't they?" William smiled. "You enjoy riding so I thought you should have the proper equipment."
To Jimmy, riding meant wearing jeans, scuffed boots, and a neat cowboy hat. The young boy glanced at the rest of his packages. No Johnny-7 gun. With a deep breath, he looked at his father.
"Thank you, Dad."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack stared at the TV screen. "Huh…well…" He glanced at Jim. "You ever get that Johnny-7 gun?"
"What do you think?" Jim calmly answered.
"I think your old man needed a good kick in the ass is what I think," Jack pronounced.
Jim slightly smiled. "It's better now."
"I hope so," Jack shook his head. "That was…riding boots?!. Hell, that bites, Slick."
Jim waved a hand towards the blank TV screen. "So, what's next? Christmas present?"
"I see your attitude hasn't improved much," Jack snarled. He tapped the remote control. "Let's see. Brother? No, he's in Aspen for the holidays." He glanced at Jim. "Why didn't you accept his invitation?"
"Because I'm working," Jim calmly replied. "You know most of the guys in Major Crime have families, remember? Dad's gone to Aspen with Steven, and Sandburg is flitting from party to party."
"Okay, that let's out Daddy, thank God," Jack muttered. After a moment, he grinned. "So the kid's partying, huh?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Look, Jack. Let's cut to the chase, okay? I'm in a rotten mood today. Too many crowds. Too much artificial cheer. You know, I'd rather have one single Merry Christmas that meant something rather than hear a million Merry Christmas' that are just substitutes for Have A Nice Day. Which, by the way, doesn't mean anything anymore either." Jim got to his feet. "Christmas decorations are put up before Thanksgiving is over. And the day after Thanksgiving come Christmas carols. By the time the first week of December is over, you've heard every Christmas carol at least a dozen times…and you don't want to hear any more." He ran a hand through his short hair. "Hell, by the time Christmas arrives, you're so sick of it, you can't even enjoy it!" He glared at his former partner. "When did Christmas stop being special?"
"Don’t hold back, Ellison. Tell me how you really feel," Jack smirked.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Just what I need. A smart-ass ghost."
Jack rubbed his jaw. "So you're saying this is just temporary?"
"No, I get this way every year," Jim assured him.
"Hmmm…so it's just a normal reaction to the over-commercialization of a religious holiday?"
Jim stared at the ghost. "You sound like Sandburg."
"Having never met him, I'm not sure if I was just insulted or complimented." Jack leaned back into the couch and stretched out his legs. "You're not anti-Christmas. Just anti-starting Christmas starting before Thanksgiving. So grab a couple of beers, and let's check out that Jags game."
Jim retrieved the remote control and pointed it at the television. "No beers. I'm sitting here talking with a ghost. I'm not drinking anything alcoholic." He pressed the 'on' button and found the station broadcasting the basketball game.
"You're a lousy host, Slick."
"You're a ghost. You're probably prohibited from drinking."
"So now you're a squealer?" Jack grunted. He saw Jim's smirk and waited until Jim took another drink of water. "Speaking of being a squealer…and, by the way, I have no idea if you are a squealer…why haven't you banged Sandburg yet?" He heartily laughed as water spewed from Jim's mouth to land on the floor and coffee table.
Jim hurriedly wiped his mouth then angrily stalked into the kitchen for a dishtowel. As he wiped water from the coffee table and wooden floor, he grew angrier and angrier as Jack continued to laugh.
"Okay, you can go now!" Jim finally snapped, throwing the damp dishtowel on the coffee table.
"Ease up, Slick," Jack chuckled. "It's a legitimate question. After all, you want to bang the kid, don't 'cha?"
"That's none of your business."
Jack blinked at the sudden coldness in Jim's voice. Then he slowly smiled. "Struck a nerve, huh?"
"Jack, I swear to God, I'm warning you…"
"Spare me," Jack sighed. "Look, Ellison. All you gotta do is answer the question. Do you want the kid nor not?"
Jim snatched the dishtowel from the floor and threw it in the direction of the kitchen sink. He turned to see Jack also on his feet. His blue eyes widened as a glow surrounded the dead man.
"Or is this the Christmas you want for the rest of your life?" Jack pointed at the television.
Despite himself, Jim turned his head and stared at the television screen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hi, Uncle Jim! We love you! Merry Christmas!"
Jim's tired eyes blinked away tears as he stared at the screen. The quality of the disk was superb. Even without enhanced sight and hearing he could see each bright smile and hear each individual voice.
"Okay, shoo! My turn now. Go on…scoot."
Long hair tied back at the nape of his neck, Blair laughed as he sat in front of the camera. "Hey, big guy! Merry Christmas from Bolivia!"
"Merry Christmas, Jim!"
Jim laughed when he saw Blair stick out his tongue at someone off screen.
"Excuse me, Kirsten, lovely wife and light of my life. I'm talking here."
Jim briefly looked away from the happy look on Blair's face, then looked back at the screen.
"We got the shipment. Man, you are just way too generous. You're spoiling these kids!" Blair leaned closer to the camera and lowered his voice. "But you're a lifesaver, man. You know that, right?"
"Back at 'cha, Chief," Jim muttered. He leaned back in his chair and let the sound of Blair's voice wash over him. He'd listen to the disk later to actually hear the words. All he knew was that Blair was still happy.
The young anthropologist had met his wife while on an expedition to South Africa as a favor to his mentor, Eli Stoddard. Kirsten van der Hoff was an activist determined to save as many children as possible from the horrors of mankind.
Kirsten and Blair had been inseparable from the minute they'd met until Blair had boarded a plane back to Cascade. And it hadn't taken Jim long to see that Blair was painfully torn between the woman he loved and his best friend. So Jim had cut Blair loose.
His Guide hadn't gone willingly or without protest. But as Incacha had said…a Sentinel will be a Sentinel as long as he chooses to be. Jim chose not to be a Sentinel. He'd gradually muted his senses until Blair had finally seen that Jim could work on his own. Now the best Jim could do on a good day was just under barely a quarter of the abilities he'd used when Blair had been with him.
But Blair was happy.
Jim smiled as he caught glimpses of children running behind Blair, happily shouting and playing. Blair and Kirsten's four children – Jimmy, Peace, Aurora, and Simone. There were countless others that came and went. But there were others who stayed and became a part of the Sandburg clan – Jorge, Jesus, Maria, Magdalena, Carlos, Anna, Danilo.
Jim sighed and began paying attention to Blair's words.
"You better not be staying in the loft by yourself on Christmas," Blair warned. "You better be having dinner at Simon's or Daryl's." He suddenly grinned. "Maybe you went with Steven to Aspen? He asks you to go every year."
Jim's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that, Chief?"
Blair waved his hands. "Hey, c'mon, Steven and I talk, too, you know."
Jim grumbled under his breath, not a bit surprised that Blair would know what he was thinking.
"But I don't want to hear any arguments about this. You're spending next Christmas here with us. So start planning on it." Blair leaned back in his chair. "I mean, even if you don't want to see me, then look into this little one's eyes and tell her that Uncle Jim won't be here for Christmas."
Jim leaned forward as Kirsten placed a small baby in Blair's arms, then sat next to him, a wide smile on her tired face.
"Jim, meet Naomi, our youngest daughter. Just a few weeks old."
Jim stared into the bright blue eyes of the baby, then smiled. He could swear those eyes were giving him the patented Sandburg 'puppy dog' look.
"We wanted to surprise you," Kirsten explained. "That's why I've only been a voice and not on screen." She stroked the baby's head.
"So you gotta come, big guy," Blair urged. "Little Naomi just might grow up to be like her namesake. So it's your duty to show her a different path, right?" The rest of the children crowded around the adults.
"No excuses, Jim. You're coming to us." Blair's voice became that of a Shaman and Guide. His eyes narrowed. "Christmas at the latest."
As the children and Kirsten called out their farewells, Jim clearly heard Blair's voice. "No more excuses."
Jim watched the screen go dark, then leaned back on the couch. His eyes strayed to the medical papers on the coffee table. "Guess I'd better make that trip before Christmas, Chief."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, that was damn depressing!"
Jack snorted. "Exactly what did you expect, Ellison? Cherubs and a choir?"
Jim threw his former partner an angry glare. "I’m supposed to think that future's engraved in stone?"
Jack's eyes momentarily glowed. "Dunno. Call it a…distinct probability."
Jim crossed his arms across his chest. "Say I change things. Then Sandburg doesn't go to South Africa and meet Kirsten. Their kids aren't born. They don't save those other kids."
Jack scratched his jaw. "Hmm…so maybe that wasn't the best alternative to show you, huh?"
Jim swore under his breath only to see Jack grin at him.
"How much of that was real and how much of it was fiction?"
Jack waved his hand back and forth. "A little of this…a little of that." Before Jim could explode, he stepped forward. "The point is that you're going to be spending a lot of Christmas' alone, my friend. A lot of time in this place. Alone." He shrugged. “Who’s to say that together the two of you will stay in Cascade? Maybe together your paths lie elsewhere.” He smacked Jim on the arm. "Time to put up or shut up, Slick."
"Put up or shut up?" Jim rubbed his arm. "Is that your ghostly advice?"
"Yep," Jack nodded. He turned to walk away, then smiled over his shoulder. "By the way, I'm cool about Emily."
Jim's knees gave away and he sank down onto the couch. "Emily? You…know…"
"Yeah." Jack's voice was soft.
Jim buried his hands in his face. "I'm sorry about that, Jack. So damned sorry."
"I know. So's Emily. You want to make it right? You think about those changes, Jim. Really think about them."
Jim nodded then looked up. "Jack?" Stumbling to his feet, he banged his shin on the coffee table. "Dammit!" He looked around at the empty loft. "Jack!" He spun around when the television suddenly came on…broadcasting the Jags game.
-------------------------
Blair Sandburg shivered slightly as the cold air hit him. Benji’s apartment had been very crowded and over-heated. So the cold air seemed colder than it actually was. Digging into his pocket for his car keys, he slowed down as he saw someone lounging against the side of his Volvo.
The older man straightened and held out his arms to either side. "Easy, kid. I don't mean you any harm."
Blair stopped well away from the other man. "Okay. So…you just walk away, and I'll get in my car and drive away."
"I need to talk to you, Blair Sandburg."
Blair's blue eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"
"The important question is do you know my name? Jack Pendergrast?"
Blair took a step backwards. "Jack Pendergrast is dead." His eyes widened in shock as the air between the two shimmered. The visage of the man before him shifted…altered…then settled back into the pleasant features of a man he'd only briefly seen in a picture several years old.
"Don't worry, kid. I'm not here to hurt anybody," Jack assured the younger man.
Blair's keys nervously jingled. "Ummm…so why are you here?"
Jack grinned. "We need to do something about our mutual friend, not to mention our mutual partner."
"Jim? Something's wrong with Jim? Something's gonna happen to Jim? Don't just stand there! What?!"
Jack laughed. "Kid, I bet you drive Jimbo out of his ever-lovin' mind at times. Damn, I wish I could stick around for a while and watch." His expression sobered. "Between the two of us, kid, I think we can solve his problem."
Blair frowned. "Problem?" Then he shook his head. "The problem is Jim's gonna be pissed when I call him to come and get me because now I know I'm too drunk to drive home."
"Nah, you're not too drunk," Jack scoffed. "Trust me, I know too drunk to drive." In the blink of an eye, he was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Volvo.
Blair's eyes widened in shock. Then he dropped the keys on the sidewalk when he heard Jack's voice in his mind.
"Get in the car, kid. We need to talk."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair quietly unlocked the front door to the loft. As he stepped inside, he saw lights twinkling on the Christmas tree and frowned. The tree hadn't had any lights when he'd left for the party.
"How was the party?"
Blair jumped. "Jeez, Jim! You scared me!"
"Sorry."
Blair closed the door and hung his jacket on the hook. Then he walked into the living room where Jim sat on the couch. "You've been busy."
Jim nodded and smiled up at the younger man.
"I thought you didn't want lights on the tree. You said they gave you a headache."
"I'll learn to adapt," Jim quietly answered. "If you'll help me."
"Sure, I will." Blair sat on the couch, half-turned to look at Jim and half-turned to look at the lights. "Are you okay?"
"Just thinking. About the past. The future. And the choices we make."
Blair took a deep breath. "You know, something kinda weird happened to me tonight."
"To me, too," Jim admitted.
"This is one of those pivotal moments, isn't it?" Blair hesitantly asked after a few moments of silence.
Jim slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think so." He slowly held out his hand and waited.
Blair stared at Jim's hand, then at the tree. "Sometimes being selfish is the best thing you can be," he muttered. "Because if you're not happy, then you know that whatever life you have…whatever you do…you're settling for second best." He turned his head to stare into Jim's blue eyes. "I don't wanna settle for that. You know?"
"Me neither,” Jim whispered.
Blair slowly took Jim's hand and squeezed it. "So…together…we find our path."
"Together." Jim squeezed Blair's hand in return.
Suddenly, Blair laughed. "I expect to hear a bell ring."
Jim snorted. "You're more likely to hear the clink of a glass against a bottle of Scotch."
Blair snickered and leaned back against the couch. "Merry Christmas, my love."
Jim leaned over to gently kiss Blair's lips. "Merry Christmas, my heart."
And in the far distance, the Sentinel did hear the clink of a glass against a bottle of Scotch.
April 2006
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