Jim, Blair and the rest of The Sentinel are the legal property of Pet Fly Productions and Paramount. This story was written purely for the entertainment value and no money has ever exchanged hands.

I was just cleaning out my old files when I came across this short piece. I know it first appeared in the zine Come To Your Senses but, unfortunately, I cannot recall which one. It is several years old.

UNION

(post Reunion)

Pulling out of the parking lot at Rossburg General Hospital, Jim Ellison glanced at his companion. "Want to get a motel room tonight, Sandburg? Head back to Cascade in the morning?"

"Sounds good to me, man," agreed the anthropologist, running a hand through his hair. "I'm beat." He turned a bleary-eyed look on the detective. "You must be wiped, Jim. Want me to drive?"

"Nah, I'm all right; it won't be that long. The ED admitting clerk told me about a decent motel just on the outskirts of town."

"Good. By the time we get back to Cascade, Simon should be able to have visitors. We can check on him before heading home."

"My plan exactly." After braking for a red light, Ellison rubbed his neck. "God, what a weekend. I think it would've been more restful if we had been mauled by a Sasquatch."

"Better for Simon, that's for sure."

Hearing the imperfectly hidden worry, Jim sighed. "Simon is going to be all right, buddy. Yeah, he lost a lot of blood, but the doctor said he would make a full recovery. You know they wouldn't have let the copter take him back to Cascade unless he was stable."

"I know that, Jim." Sandburg gave a sigh of his own. "It's just that..." His voice trailed off.

"What, Chief?"

"I just can't believe that Becker guy! He went to school with both Simon and Peggy, and then he ends up killing poor Peggy and trying to frame Simon for it!" Turning in his seat to face his partner, Blair said intensely, "I just can't figure out how friendship can turn into that kind of hate, man."

"Well, first of all, I don't think Simon and Becker were ever that close of friends, Chief," answered Ellison. "Remember, Simon said they were complete opposites in high school."

"I guess." Sandburg gave another sigh. "Becker sure hated him at the end, though. He even killed one of his own just to tighten the noose around Simon's neck."

"A cop dirty enough to murder an innocent woman isn't going to have any qualms about killing as many people as it would take to keep himself out of prison," pointed out Ellison, slowing for the left hand turn into the motel.

"That's the part I'm having a little trouble swallowing," admitted Sandburg as they pulled into a parking space near the motel lobby and stopped. "The dirty cop bit, I mean. Guess I've been hanging around you, Simon, and the gang at Major Crimes too long. Forgot cops can be just as dirty as anybody else."

Giving a tired half-grin, the big cop started to climb out of the truck. Seeing the younger man opening his door, Ellison said, "No reason for both of us to go in, Sandburg. I'll get us registered. Be back in a minute."

"Whatever." Closing his eyes, Blair wearily leaned his head against his window, trying to get his tumbling emotions into some semblance of order. He couldn't figure out just why he was in such a turmoil in the first place. Yes, he was upset and worried about Simon--the big Cascade PD captain was a good friend for all of Banks' blustering and growling--but instinctively, Blair knew there was something more stirring his emotional pot. Now, if he could only just figure it out...

Eyes popping open once more at the sound of the truck door, he asked, "We all set, then?"

"Yeah." Ellison leaned into the truck. "Night manager said they don't have a restaurant attached, but he gave me the phone numbers of a couple delivery places if we wanted takeout."

Stomach clenching at the mere thought of food, Blair shook his head. "I'm not really hungry, Jim. You can if you want, though."

Ellison shook his head. "I'm too tired to eat, Chief. Let's just get to bed, and worry about eating in the morning."

"I'm down with that." Climbing out, the grad student reached into the truck's bed for his duffel bag. "Where to?"

"Right along here," said Jim, retrieving his own bag. "Number seven."

"Seven, huh?" Blair gave a grin. "Cool."

Pausing in the act of opening the door to their room, the cop asked, "What's so special about the number seven, Sandburg?" He ushered his partner in, closing and double-locking the door behind them. "Or do I even want to know?"

"Seven's my lucky number, man." Blair was inspecting the bathroom. He came back out into the main room, shrugging. "Typical motel bathroom--but at least it's clean and there's plenty of towels."

"Let's just hope the beds are in the same condition." Dropping his bag onto the luggage stand at the bottom of the bed nearest the door, Ellison gingerly pulled back the heavy bedspread. "Thank you, God," he sighed as the crisp, white linens came into view. "Dibs on the first shower, Chief." Ellison unzipped his duffel, rummaging for his toiletries.

"Sure, man." Finding the remote, Sandburg stretched out on his bed, back against the head board. Turning on the TV, he began to channel surf as his partner vanished into the bathroom.

Some fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door re-opened to let both a cloud of steam and Ellison exit. "All yours, Sandburg," he announced.

"Thanks, Jim." Climbing to his feet, Blair added, "We made the local news, man."

"Are you surprised?" Ellison slid into bed and pulled the sheet up over his shoulder. "This has to be the most excitement Rossburg has ever had."

"Yeah."

Used to his roommate's lengthy showers, Ellison was more than a bit surprised when, a scant twenty minutes later, Sandburg emerged from the bathroom. He shrugged it off, though, and merely uttered, "Night, Chief" as Sandburg extinguished the lights and retreated to his own bed.

"Night, Jim," came the soft echo.

An unknown length of time later, Ellison found himself abruptly awake. As had become habit when he awoke in the middle of the night, he first reached out for his Guide's heartbeat, and frowned. The reassuring sound was slightly faster than it should be for a sleeping Sandburg and it didn't seem to be coming from the bed next to him. Zeroing in his hearing, he finally figured out that Blair must be sitting in the lone over-stuffed chair in the far corner of the room.

"Why the hell aren't you in bed where you belong, Sandburg?" Concern made the question sharper than Ellison had intended.

"Jeez, man--don't do that!" Sandburg's heart rate eased back from its shocked spike.

"At the risk of repeating myself," Ellison drawled, "why the hell aren't you in bed, asleep?"

"Didn't mean to wake you, Jim; thought I was being quiet. Go on back to sleep."

The cop gave another frown, unable to place the odd undertone in the husky voice. "That's not what I asked, Chief."

"I have some thinking to do," Blair said quietly. "Don't worry; I'll go back to bed before long." 'Please, just accept that, will you, Jim?' he prayed mentally. Unable to sleep after he'd gone to bed, Sandburg had felt himself getting more and more restless and fidgety. Quietly easing from his bed, he had settled himself into the chair for some heavy duty processing. Listening to the quiet, even breathing coming from the bed nearest the door, Blair had finally been able to see to the heart of his tumultuous emotions. Considerably startled by how unstartled he was at the revelation, he was still mulling over his discovery when Ellison had spooked him. While he had personally come to terms with it, he felt distinctly uneasy at facing his sharp-eyed partner until he had worked out a plan for dealing with his sudden breakthrough.

Coming upright in exasperation, Ellison clicked on the bedside lamp. Blinking rapidly against the painful brightness, Jim's glare softened as he gazed over at his younger partner, who was himself trying to adjust to the sudden light. 'Baggy sweats, rat-nest hair, heavy beard stubble and all, he is still the most beautiful and desirable man I have ever known.' Allowing himself a wry grin, Ellison then ruthlessly shoved the errant thought back into its closet. Now was certainly not the time to give in to his long-held, wistful dreams. Bringing his attention back to his partner, the cop noticed that, although Sandburg's eyes had adjusted, he was still refusing to meet the other man's gaze. Quickly changing gears, he asked quietly, "What's bothering you, Chief? Is it Simon?"

Eyes determinedly down, Sandburg gave a half-shrug. "No, not really." Mind working furiously, Blair tried to come up with something his friend would accept. Lying was not an option; he had never lied to Jim and besides, the Sentinel would immediately know Blair was lying. Still debating what to say, Blair made the tactical mistake of looking up. Mesmerized by the frank look of affection in the cornflower blue eyes, he said weakly, "I just got to thinking about Peggy and Simon, that's all."

"Peggy and Simon?" While Jim was used to being left in the dust when Blair's mind took an abrupt left turn, this had him completely bemused. "What about `em?"

"Well, you said Peggy was Simon's first love, and it was pretty evident that he still had feelings for her," began Sandburg. 'God, how do I get myself in these predicaments!?'

"So?" Ellison frowned in confusion.

"So..." Taking a deep breath, Sandburg said quickly, "I was just thinking about Simon being so up at seeing Peggy again and...and how awful it was that she died without knowing she was loved, at least a little. I know, man, I know!" he burst out, seeing his partner about to speak. "I know how pathetic that sounds, but I can't help it. Nobody should have to go through that, Jim. I don't know who I feel sorrier for--Simon for never getting a chance to say it, or Peggy for never getting a chance to hear it."

As breathless as if he'd been gut punched, Ellison took a moment to re-group in the face of the grad student's fierceness. "That's not always a good idea, Chief," he refuted, striving to maintain an even tone. "Sometimes there's a very good reason for not telling someone."

"Like what?" demanded Sandburg, aware his bridges were already burned and having no where to go but ahead.

"The other person might not want to know, might not reciprocate the feelings." Ellison felt as though he was maneuvering through a mine field.

"Won't hold up, man." Blair shook his head firmly. "How can you know how the other person feels if you don't tell them? Maybe they've been just as afraid of your reaction as you've been of theirs."

"So damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead? Is that what you're saying?" Jaw muscle firming, Ellison locked gazes with his partner.

"Yeah." Sandburg didn't flinch away from the eyes boring into his.

Two voices spoke as one. "I love you."

Blair, being the first to recover, drew a trembling breath. "Oh, boy."

A bit slower on the uptake, but gaining rapidly, Ellison echoed, "Oh, boy." Then, a wide grin spread across the usually stoic features. "Such a brilliant conversationalist," he teased, suddenly feeling as giddy as a teenager. "You go to college to learn big words like that?"

"Don't be more of a dick than necessary," shot back Sandburg, his blinding smile out-shining the lamp.

"So tell me, Chief," Jim said casually, leaning back against the headboard. "What are you still doing way over there?"

The Apache war cry enough of a forewarning, he had no difficulty catching the warm bundle that hurtled into his arms. Quickly becoming entangled in a hot press of Blair, Jim had time for one coherent thought before going under for the final time.

Reunions are nice...but unions are better.

End Union by PJ: NeedACon@aol.com

Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.