DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Television and Pet Fly Productions. No money has been or will be made from this work of fiction. This story belongs to the author. Permission is given to archive.

RATING: G

THANKS TO: The many friends, fans and writers in the Sentinel universe for friendship and inspiration. Special thanks to Barb, as always, for beta reading and all the rest.

This story was originally created as a May themefic for the Sentinelangst List. For Jane.

Feedback is always welcome.

Jim glanced over at the weary man standing by his side, fiddling with his earpiece and loudly slurping a double tall latte.

"Chief, didn't your mother ever teach you how to drink quietly? You're making so much noise drinking that latte that it's echoing through your microphone. I don't need to hear you slurping in stereo."

Blair barely gave him a sideways glance.

"It's hot, Jim, and this way it cools just enough to drink. And if I don't get some caffeine in me quick, I'm gonna fall asleep on my feet and you're gonna have to hold me up."

"You'll survive, we've only got another hour or so and then we're out of here. Then you can sleep as long as you want, since we've got the next two days off."

Even as he gave his partner a hard time, Jim took a second look at Blair and could see that the last two weeks had taken their toll. Dark smudges of fatigue circled under dulled blue eyes, and he moved slowly and tiredly as he finished adjusting the earpiece. The semi-annual "Take Back The Streets" campaign had begun, the politicians and city leaders embarking on their usual effort to convince the citizens of the city of Cascade that they took the war on crime seriously. As a result, every department, including Major Crimes, had been pushed to the max to increase their presence in the community, solve old unsolved crimes, and increase their arrest and conviction rates. Everyone worked double shifts, practically around the clock.

Blair had valiantly put in his own extra effort, even as he taught his two classes and took a graduate seminar at the University. Jim knew that it was a tough schedule, even for his partner, but every member of Major Crimes had come to appreciate Blair's sharp mind and his unique way of looking at things. On more than one occasion it had led to a different approach on a case that had made all of the difference. As much of a strain as it had put on the observer, Jim knew that he took pride in the contributions that he made to Major Crimes and was not about to give less than his best.

And the last two weeks had been no exception. Several old cases had been solved as the team brainstormed, with Blair's help, and had come up with different ways to analyze the cases and the evidence. Dozens of cases had been reviewed, and many remained still unsolved. Some of them had been particularly ugly ones, and despite Blair's efforts to put up a calm and professional façade, Jim could see how they had unsettled his partner. He had never truly learned to check his emotions at the door, and it took an emotional toll on top of the physical toll of the long two weeks. Because Major Crimes handled many high-profile crimes that would otherwise be assigned to another department, the unsolved cases covered almost any type of crime that could be imagined.

Today was the final event of the campaign, and they were at the big community rally to wrap it up. Since most of the City Council and the Mayor would be there, it had been determined that there would be a large security contingent. A few death threats had been received at City Hall, probably as a result of the crimp in the profits of a few criminals because of the increased police efforts. So they had been stuck with attending the rally as plainclothes security, and had already spent the better part of two hours walking the grounds. Other than catching a pickpocket in the act, and warning a number of people about littering, it had been uneventful so far.

Finishing his latte and tossing the cup into a nearby wastebasket, Blair sighed and tugged his coat closer around him against the cool spring breeze.

"OK, I'm ready for another lap, Jim."

They started walking the perimeter of the crowd, scanning the area around them for any sign of unusual activity. Occasionally they used their microphones and earpieces to call in and listen to the reports of the other six teams on patrol.

Jim was fully occupied with scanning the crowds, using his heightened sense of smell to attempt to detect any scent of gun oil, to see if anyone was carrying a gun that shouldn't be, when he suddenly realized that Blair was no longer walking beside him. He stopped and turned, and spotted his partner standing ten feet behind him. He was staring past Jim, a cold and angry expression on his face. Jim strode to his side quickly.

"Chief, what is it?"

He was shocked by the icy tone of the reply.

"Addison," Blair growled out. Jim turned and followed his line of sight, and spotted the man that his partner had identified.

Standing on the stage in the center of the park was City Councilman Addison, smiling and waving to the crowd. The apparent embodiment of the All-American Boy, he was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. After starring on his college football team, he had followed in the footsteps of his wealthy father and gone to law school and then into politics. TV cameras loved his flashing smile and quick wit.

Standing next to him, his father's hand firmly on his shoulder, was his nine-year-old son Brett. In stark contrast to his father's ready smile, Brett seemed overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise. His face held a slightly shell-shocked expression until his father gave his shoulder a hard squeeze and he quickly plastered a strained smile on his face.

Ever since Addison's wife had died two years before in a tragic automobile accident, reporters had made great press of his grief and his total dedication to his motherless son. It had also made him the most eligible widower in the city of Cascade, which had increased the number of posh social events to which he had been invited. Barely a week passed without pictures of the father and son at some event, or of Addison with the arm of an eligible woman among Cascade's social elite.

Jim knew, looking at Blair's angry face, that he had other images in mind. Because of the social and political position of Councilman Richard Addison, Major Crimes had been called in when there had been an allegation of child abuse against him. A teacher at Brett's school had made the report, saying that she had observed an unusually large number of sick days for Brett, along with spotting bruises and other minor injuries that seemed far more frequent than for the other children his age.

Child Protective Services had performed an investigation, but when Brett denied that his father or anyone else had abused him, there was not much more that could be done. Addison was publicly cleared, and he had made quite a show of praising the agency for their fine work. A social worker had confided to Jim and Blair in secret that she was personally convinced that Addison was abusing his son, but that she was not interested in losing her job by pressing it. Blair had talked informally with the boy on one occasion, and he had also gotten a strong feeling that the boy was too afraid of his father to admit that he was the offender. It had been one of those cases that Blair had never been able to forget, and Jim had seen him more than once bristling at the image of the councilman on TV.

Jim walked back and clapped his partner on the shoulder.

"Come on, Chief, let's keep moving. We've got a job to do here."

Blair started walking and scanning the crowd again. Every few minutes he looked up to the stage again, the presence of the smiling politician driving any hint of pleasure from his own face.

A short while later the two men found themselves breaking up a disagreement in the crowd, a couple of the onlookers having hit the bars early in the day. After dispatching the men to opposite ends of the park, Jim excused himself to go and find the temporary facilities set up around the perimeter of the park, promising to meet Blair near the east end of the stage.

Blair wandered around, eventually noticing that Addison and son had left the stage. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on not letting the man ruin his day any further. Heading towards the stage area, he thought that he heard an angry voice behind the stage backdrop and decided to investigate.

Walking around the end of the stage and into the quiet area behind the black fabric backdrop, he found himself facing Addison and son. An angry Addison, and a cowering son. The boy had his head down as his father roughly shook one shoulder, his voice raised in anger.

"…and don't you embarrass me like that again, you hear me?"

Blair felt his anger flare as he quickly strode towards them.

"Hey, lighten up, man. Leave the kid alone, you're scaring him."

Addison barely looked up as he growled, "It's none of your business, mister. Beat it."

Continuing to approach, Blair was almost to the boy's side when Addison raised his hand as if to strike the boy in the face. Running up, Blair grabbed his arm and pulled him off-balance.

"Don't hit him!"

Addison jerked his arm free, his face twisted in rage.

"Why you little…"

He swung wildly, still somewhat off-balance, and Blair ducked just in time. Addison stumbled back into his son, shoving the trembling boy off of him angrily.

Watching the callous way that Addison handled the boy, Blair felt his anger explode.

"Don't hurt him!" he shouted as he launched himself at Addison.

Surprised by the attack, Addison was knocked down when Blair's shoulder connected with his midsection. Blair grunted and rolled, scrambling to his feet. Quickly regaining his feet and his balance, Addison faced Blair with his fists up and at the ready.

"So you wanna mix it up, you punk," he sneered. "You got it."

He strode forward, using his greater height and reach, and quickly landed a jab to Blair's stomach that knocked the breath out of the smaller man. He followed with another punch to his midsection, then a swinging right to his jaw that knocked Blair off of his feet.

Jim arrived at the end of the stage just in time to see Blair stagger to his feet and launch himself again at the much larger and more muscular man. As he ran to break up the fight he saw Addison step aside quickly and land another punch to Blair's side as he danced away. Blair landed hard on his knees in the dirt, his breathing rough as Jim raced to his side.

Addison was just about to step up, one leg swinging back to plant a kick in Blair's side, when Jim thrust himself between the two men and placed a warning hand on Addison's chest.

"That's enough. What's going on here?"

The councilman stepped back as he noticed the badge on Jim's belt, a vicious gleam in his dark eyes as he glared down at the gasping form on the ground. "That punk assaulted me. I want him arrested!"

Jim knelt down at Blair's side. He was breathing harshly, tilted forward, his forehead resting on the ground as he struggled for air. Jim put an arm across his back and grasped the arm closest to him, carefully easing his partner back into a more upright position.

His chest heaving and his face red from exertion, Blair shakily brushed back his hair with one hand and slowly raised his eyes to meet those of his friend. A reddened patch on his chin and the blood leaking from a split lip showed where Addison's fist had connected.

"He was gonna hit the boy, Jim, I had to stop him," he panted.

"He's crazy. I'd never hit my son," Addison retorted.

"Oh, so it was just a misunderstanding, is that it?" Jim queried.

Addison looked long and hard at the two of them, and seemed to gather himself slightly. His aggressive sneer was gradually replaced with a politician's practiced look of reserve as he straightened his jacket and tie, only the dark glint in his eye revealing the anger of a moment before.

"Yes, a misunderstanding. No harm done. Just get him away from me."

Jim nodded and pulled Blair unsteadily to his feet, leading him slowly away, an arm across his back supporting his wavering progress as he continued to regain his breath. Several steps later, Blair raised his head, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings. He stopped in mid-stride.

"Jim, what the…Jim, he was gonna hit his son! We can't just walk away…"

"Come on, Chief, getting yourself arrested for assault isn't going to help anything. Let's go."

Blair struggled to turn back towards Addison and his son. Momentarily distracted by a brief report that came over their headphones, Jim loosened his grip and then turned to try to maintain contact with his injured partner. Both men looked up at the sound of a familiar, angry voice.

Without effort, Jim extended his hearing to take in Brett's quiet sobs as he huddled on the ground before the angry advance of his father. Addison reached down and grabbed the boy by the lapels of his suit jacket, yanking him to his feet and shaking him.

"Goddamn it, I told you not to cry. Men don't cry…"

Jim barely registered a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye before reaching out to grab two handfuls of partner. Blair had seen and heard the interaction too and was on his way to intervene again. It took all of Jim's strength to hold onto Blair as he surged against his grip.

"Jim, let me go!"

Barely keeping his balance, Jim wrapped his arms around his partner and held firm, lifting the writhing body so that the smaller man's feet just barely touched the ground. Blair struggled, cursing, unable to gain any foothold for leverage and weakening with each moment, still not recovered from Addison's blows. Jim looked up just in time to see that they were no longer alone with Addison and son behind the stage.

"Blair, stop! Look!"

Blair eased his struggles, looking up just in time to see Addison slap his son hard enough to knock him from his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw other movement, and he turned to discover that a cameraman from Channel Five News was getting it all on film. He slumped back against his partner as his adrenaline finally ran out and Jim let him back down firmly on the ground.

"For once I'm glad to see a news crew doing their job. Tonight we'll definitely watch the news at eleven, Chief."

Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, handing it to Blair as he helped steady him with his other hand. Blair took it silently and pressed it against his bleeding lip, a short hiss of pain escaping as Jim looked down into his face.

"You doing all right? It looked like he landed a couple of solid punches there."

"Yeah, I'm all right. Nothing that a long hot bath and a couple of days' sleep won't cure." Blair looked up sheepishly. "Sorry, Jim. I just couldn't stand by and watch him hit his son again. Maybe now that there are witnesses and filmed evidence the investigation will be re-opened and the boy will be taken someplace safe."

"I hope so, Chief. I don't think he's going to be able to weasel out of this one. But next time, Chief, think before you act. I hate to see you attacking someone's fist with your stomach like that."

A short burst of laughter was followed by a groan.

"Funny, man. You think of that one all by yourself?"

"Yeah. Come on, Rocky, let's get moving. We gotta take Councilman Addison and his son in, and call Social Services. He patted his aching partner gently on the back. "Let's get it over with so we can get you home."

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

Paying off the delivery boy, Jim kicked the loft door closed, both hands full of carry-out bags. Setting them down on the table, he walked across the room and down the hall, pounding on the bathroom door when he reached it.

"Hey, Chief, you stay in there much longer and you're gonna look like a prune. Anyway, the food's here. Come and get it."

He stood and waited a moment for a reply, but none was forthcoming. Dialing up his sense of hearing, he could hear that his partner's heartbeat was slow and relaxed, sounding as if he might be asleep. With just another quick knock, he opened the door and stuck his head in.

Blair was indeed asleep in the tub, soaking in hot water almost up to his chin, his head resting against a folded-up towel at one end and the ends of his hair floating lightly on the surface. Jim's nose crinkled slightly at the herbal scent rising from the green-tinged water, but once he dialed it down a bit, he didn't find it too offensive. Blair swore by the herbal concoction to soak sore muscles, and it seemed to work well enough to allow him to fall asleep despite the bruises rising on his face and torso.

With a smile on his face, Jim reached down and gently shook the nearest shoulder. Moments later, tired blue eyes slid open as Blair awakened with a yawn.

"Hmmm? Oh, Jim…"

"Hey, Chief, you fell asleep. The food's already here, so climb out and get dressed. You can go right back to sleep, in your bed, after dinner."

"Hmmm…" Blair's eyes slid closed and he made no movement toward getting out of the tub.

Jim reached in and pulled the plug, finally getting a reaction as he splashed a little water into Blair's drowsy face.

"Hey! No fair, man…"

Chuckling, Jim left the bathroom quickly before Blair could splash him back. He concentrated on getting plates, glasses and silverware on the table, then grabbed a beer and picked up the TV remote. Clicking his way to a baseball game and turning the sound down to low, he turned back into the kitchen as he heard soft footfalls behind him.

Blair was shuffling out of his room, tying his damp hair back. In a gray thermal undershirt, red flannel shirt, and heavy gray sweatpants, he looked like he was dressed for a Cascade winter, not late spring. But Jim knew that when Blair was tired and hurting, he tended to feel chilled. He walked over to the fireplace and started it up as Blair wandered into the kitchen. As Jim turned he saw Blair pick up the teakettle and fill it at the sink. He could tell that Blair was barely awake, his eyelids at half mast, as he replaced the kettle on the stove. Turning away and forgetting to turn on the burner, Blair slowly made his way to the table and eased himself down into a chair.

Jim watched him sit down and eye the containers of food in front of him blearily. After turning the stove on to warm up the water for Blair's tea, Jim joined him at the table and picked up Blair's plate from in front of him.

"It's food, Chief. You put some on your plate and then you eat it." He spooned out some of the contents of each of the containers onto Blair's plate and then set it down in front of him.

Blair responded with a glare and a weary snort. "You are some comedian tonight, man. I'm just beat, you know? Cut me some slack here."

Jim placed a hand on a tired shoulder. "I know you're beat, in more ways than one. How are you feeling? Your lip is swelling up pretty good."

"Tell me about it," Blair grimaced as he carefully felt at his lip and chin. "The guy packed quite a punch. At least he won't be using it on his son anymore. Will he?"

"I doubt it. While you were using up the hot water tank, I caught the newsbreak on Channel Five. There he was, in all his glory. They didn't waste any time getting that little film clip on the air. It's out now, he can't cover it up anymore. They said that Brett would be staying with an aunt out of town for now."

"Good. I hope he never gets another chance at him."

"We'll see, Chief, we'll see. For now, eat your Chinese before it gets cold."

He joined Blair at the table and they managed to eat their way through the majority of their carry-out feast. Both men hadn't eaten since breakfast, and they made up for lost time. Finally reaching their fill, both men sat back in contentment.

"Mmmm. Thanks, Jim. That hit the spot."

"Good. You wanna catch the rest of the game before hitting the sack?"

Blair rubbed wearily at his forehead as he nodded. "Sure. Let me grab some tea."

He rose to his feet, wavering momentarily, one hand to his aching head. Jim stepped over quickly to grab one arm and steady him.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Blair brushed off his arm, grumbling. "I'm fine, just tired and sore. A cup of tea, a couple of aspirin, and a week of sleep, and I'll be good as new."

Jim backed off but watched critically as Blair shuffled into the kitchen, groaning as he reached up into the cupboard for a mug and some of his favorite tea, bruised abdominal muscles making themselves known as he stretched. He slowly measured out the loose tea then groaned again as he replaced the container in the cupboard, stopping for a jaw-cracking yawn. Picking up the mug, he turned and slowly made his way into the living room and sank down into the sofa. He kept the mug gripped tightly in one hand, even though he had forgetten to stop and fill it with hot water in the process.

Surpressing a chuckle, Jim picked the kettle off of the stove and carried it into the living room. Leaning over his partner, he took the mug from Blair's hand and filled it with hot water before setting it down on the coffee table in front of him.

"I think you forgot something, Chief."

Blair looked blankly at him, then the mug, then the kettle, then back at him again before Jim's actions finally registered. "Oh, right."

Returning the kettle to the kitchen, Jim grabbed another beer and a couple of aspirin out of the cupboard and rejoined his half-asleep partner in the living room. Looking over at Blair on the other sofa, he could see that his roommate was struggling mightily to keep his eyes open, but was definitely losing the battle. He walked over and held out the hand with the aspirin.

"Here you go, buddy, take these."

It took a moment for Blair to focus on Jim's hand, then take the aspirin and wash them down with a gulp of tea. The mug tilted precariously in his grip before Jim reached quickly to rescue it and set it down on the table.

"I think it's time for you to hit the sack, Blair. You're practically asleep already."

Blair shook his head stubbornly, his voice slurring with exhaustion. "No way. Wanna watch Joey hit a home run."

Jim shook his own head in amusement as he reached down to grab the front of Blair's shirts and pull him carefully to his feet. "Now I know you're not really awake. Joey doesn't even play for the Mariners any more, Chief."

Wobbling on his feet, Blair barely resisted as Jim put a supportive arm around his back and guided him toward his bedroom. The day's activities and the weeks of overtime had finally caught up with him and he had definitely run out of the adrenaline that had been sustaining him.

"Oh, yeah, forgot. Maybe next year."

"Right, buddy, maybe next year."

Blair seemed barely conscious as Jim yanked back the covers of the bed with one hand and eased Blair down with the other. Deciding to not bother with trying to undress his sagging friend, he just pulled his legs up onto the bed and pulled the covers up again. Sighing, Blair curled up on one side in contentment, mumbling into the pillow.

"…just a little nap…catch the final innings…"

Jim turned off the light as he left the room, leaving the door open a crack so he could be sure to hear if Blair had any difficulties from his injuries during the night.

"Take all the nap you need, Chief. Sleep well."

Both men slept the sleep of the just that night.

THE END

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