Blessed Giver

Email: sammi4@earthlink.net
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Series/Serial: Blessed Simon
Date completed: November 14, 1999

This little snippet came to me while I was trying to work on tons of other things and wouldn't let me go. As you'll prolly notice, my muse can be a fickle little wench. I never know if I'm an angst queen, a smarm babe or a humour nut on any given day.

This one is dedicated to all those who absolutely hated my two dues stories because of the angst level and to one person in particular. :-) You've had a taste of my dark side, so here's a glimpse of yet another side of me. Yeah, I have lots of sides. DID has been bandied around after I've left a room on more than one occasion. //EG//

Disclaimer: They are not mine. I play with them and because this is not reality, there is a magic reset button, so there is no *real* damage done.

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Detective Jim Ellison frowned and cocked his eyebrow at the mysterious brown box that resided on the corner of his immaculate desk. "I'm not." Figuring it would be better to be safe than sorry, the Sentinel called upon his senses and examined the box both inside and out before they came too close. "What the…?" Picking up his pace a bit more, he walked up to the side of his designated area and whipped off the box top and just stared frozenly at what was inside.

Blair's heartbeat had picked up with his friend's strange words and even stranger actions. Hesitantly, he peered over Jim's shoulders and gasped at what he saw.

Inside the nondescript box was a much smaller box. That wasn't what had surprised the two men – they were used to finding puzzles within puzzles. No, what had them so shocked were the bright and cheery paper that the smaller box was wrapped in and the large package of peanut M&Ms™ that rested on top.

"He or she struck again, huh?" Blair asked as his partner pulled out his gifts.

"Looks like it, Chief," Jim answered as he looked over the brown box hoping for some telltale sign of who the mysterious gift-giver was. When nothing leaped out at him, he reverently lowered the outer box to the floor and focused in on the gaily-wrapped parcel left. Lifting the candies, he read the gift card on the package. "'This special bag of all-blue Peanut M&Ms™ was created especially for you by someone who really cares.' Damn! Whoever it is knows the blue, peanut ones are my favourites.

"Well, that narrows it down to someone on this floor at least. I mean, this kind of detail coupled with the others proves that our 'Secret Santa' has to be around here with some frequency. We could even go so far as to further narrow it down to this department because only someone from here would be around to hear Rhonda's complaints about your eating all of the blue ones out of her candy dish." Blair frowned as his friend looked at him with a smirk. "What?"

Jim tousled the newly grown curls of his partner and winked. 'We'll make a first-grade detective out of you yet."

Giving his friend the 'royal' salute, Blair made a face at his comrade and pointed to the untouched parcel. "Yeah, yeah. So, you gonna open it or are you waiting for the Ogoyabi Gift God to give you a sign?"

"The Ogo-what?"

"The Ogoyabi Gift God. The Ogoyabi are a small tribe that resides in a remote area in the Central African Republic. They have this complex ritual of gift-giving that lasts for three days and is culminated by the god Orifu giving a sign for the recipient to open his or her gift. Even though they have no concept of more advanced peoples use of wrapping paper, they cover the gifts with ornate, hand-painted animal hides that the artisans of the village spent weeks to create." Really getting into his lecture, Blair's eyes began to sparkle as he continued. "The Ogoyabi don't give presents for the same reasons we do. Gift-giving is reserved for coming-of-age, first hunt, marriage, the birth of a first daughter and the fortieth rain cycle which represents good luck for the tribe. The gifts are created from materials that each person, young and old, of the tribe donates. The…"

"Whoa, whoa, Professor. Thanks for the lecture, but our time is somewhat limited before Simon starts yelling about some case or another." Under his breath, the larger man muttered, "This has got to be my punishment for having a Ph.D. for a partner. Mini-dissertations on obscure tribal rituals that are obscure for a reason."

Blair punched Jim in the arm. "I heard that. Sheesh! You try to broaden someone's horizons and this is the thanks you get. Maybe I should go find Joel. He always appreciates my ramblings."

Jim reached for the package and started to unwrap it speaking slightly louder over the crinkling sound of the wrapping paper. "Of course he does. The man used to dismantle bombs for a living – anything is a welcome relief after that." The detective whistled as he caught a glance at the embossed lettering on the box. "Wilson's. Wow."

"Wow is right. Don't expect your gift to be cheap. They are the most expensive hardware and sporting goods store on the whole West Coast." He shook his head. "Somebody *really* likes you."

Nodding, Jim opened the box and pushed aside the silky tissue paper and brought out two gold envelopes with his name on them. Placing one on his desk, he gently opened the other and pulled out a calligraphy-written paper. "'To Detective James Ellison. Thank you for going above and beyond the call of duty to protect Cascade. Please accept these gifts as a small token of our appreciation for what you do.'" He flipped over the sheet and used his enhanced sight to search for any distinguishing marks. "As usual, no signature, watermarks or prints. Whoever this person is, they are thorough."

"And willing to shell out some big bucks," Blair commented in awe as he checked out the contents of the second envelope. "This is a certificate of ownership for a top-of-the-line surfboard and wetsuit of your choice."

"What?! Lemme see that." Jim grabbed the certificate from his friend and his eyes widened in disbelief. "This is too much!"

"Obviously not. You forgot the other piece of paper in the envelope you were looking at." The younger man held up another of the certificates and waved in front of Jim. "This says you are also the proud owner of one 'Handyman's Dream Toolkit and Workbench'. I repeat, somebody *really* likes *you*."

Jim dropped into his chair with an audible thump and shook his head. "This guy must have money to burn. I mean, I dreamed about that kit and bench, but that's all it was – a dream."

"Hey, maybe we can use that as a way to figure out who's been doing all of this. You said having that kit was a dream – how many people could know about your dreams."

"Try a couple of dozen. Remember when we were all called out to Wilson's a few months ago for Sabra Wilson's murder? Well, Simon and I were looking around and we came up on the display for it. Simon and I both talked about having one and several of the other officers and detectives did as well. Then we saw the price tag and there went that dream." He looked down at the certificate in Blair's hand. "Well, until now."

"Okay, so let's try a different tack. Who could afford all of the gifts that we've received? I mean, all of them have been kind of high-priced, quality stuff."

"Has everyone received something now?"

"Yep. You were the last out of the whole Major Crimes division. All of the detectives and uniforms assigned here received something, but only you, me, Rhonda, Simon, Joel, Henri, Rafe and Megan received really expensive gifts."

"So that means whoever it is knows about our inner circle." Jim frowned as he thought about their mystery. "Do you remember what everyone was given?"

Blair walked over to his desk, reached in and pulled out a notepad. He returned to his partner and began to read. "Let's see. H was first. He came in after having been away to a box of imported chocolate goodies, a huge assortment of flavoured cocoas, one of those Espresso/ hot chocolate makers and a variety of mugs. I was next. It was right after my graduation and I'd forgotten my jacket up here. I came back up and found the gold and onyx nameplate with 'Blair Sandburg, Ph.D. Special Consultant' engraved on it and the gold and onyx desk set."

Jim glanced over at the items in question and grinned. "I remembered you shouting so loud for me that I thought someone had you."

"I thought it was from you and you were trying to surprise me." He shrugged. "It just seemed like the kind of cool thing you'd do."

Ellison's smile grew at that. "Thanks, Chief."

"Yeah, well. Anyway, the next surprise was for Rafe. He received a call from Elena Martinov telling him she had a reserved ticket for him to attend the Cascade International Men's Charity Fashion Faire. He thought there'd been a mistake cause he couldn't afford the exclusive ticket, but Elena told him it was a gift. The day after the Faire, he came in and found a gold, Justice tie-clip along with a certificate for one of the suits he'd liked at his desk." Blair grinned. "Talk about somebody being in seventh heaven."

"He *was* pretty happy. I had to dial down my sight every time he came into the bullpen cause he was almost glowing." Jim chuckled a bit as he remembered who was next. "I think Rhonda and Megan received their gifts on the same day."

"Uh huh. A delivery guy dropped off an open-ended, round-trip airline ticket to Australia that morning and a delivery gal dropped off Rhonda's pass for an all expense paid weekend at the Norther Spa and Retreat that afternoon." He shook his head and joined in with his companion's laughter. "I'm surprised all of us didn't go deaf after all of that screaming and crying."

"Wait a minute, neither of them screamed. I think you're remembering Simon's reaction to that humidor full of cigars he found in his office. *That* could definitely be considered a girly scream."

Blair nodded as he winced. "Oh yeah. That was Simon. But can you blame him? I mean if somebody had just left me with almost six hundred dollars worth of Limited Reserve Partagas Dominican cigars, I think I'd scream too. Those things are rare to the extreme."

"Okay, so maybe he was justified, but he is definitely *not* a bass with that range of his. I don't care what he says."

They shared another secret smile and Blair continued, "Joel was the last before yours. I thought he was gonna cry right in the bullpen when he opened up his box and found that whole set of rare African Art books his grandfather had written. He'd been searching forever to find the complete set and suddenly, there they were."

"See, that's what makes me think it's somebody here. How else would he/she know what we'd really like or want?"

"Yeah, but all of us received pretty expensive gifts. If it was someone here, why'd he/she spend that kind of money on him/her self?"

Jim shook his head and looked back at his own presents. He couldn't understand why someone would be doing something like this for no apparent reason. If it had been his or any of the others' birthday, he might could have justified it. But, this seemed totally random and exceedingly generous. "It just doesn't make any sense, Chief."

"I hope you're not referring to the Hobson murder case. I was kinda hoping we could wrap this one up soon." Captain Simon Banks intoned as he walked up to his best detective's desk. "Has something happened with the case I should know about?"

Jim smiled up at his boss and shook his head. "Nothing's changed, Simon. We still expect to run Gilbert to ground for the murder soon. Sandburg and I were just discussing our expensive gift-giver. Seems that he/she has struck again."

"Who is it this time?"

Blair nodded at his partner, "None other than the good detective himself." He picked up the two certificates and handed them to their boss. "Check out what Jim got."

Simon read both of the sheets and let out a low whistle. "Boy, somebody *really* likes you. This stuff's not cheap by any means."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Nothing this guy's sent to anyone has been." He motioned toward Simon. "You got any ideas about our mystery benefactor, sir?"

"Not a one, Jim. I've tried every tactic I know to find out who and what, but I've come up with nothing." He shook his head and frowned. "Whoever it is knows that without a solid trail leading back to him or her, we can't even return any of the gifts – not that I'm saying we'd want to, but department policy and all."

"Well, maybe something will turn up and we'll be able to figure it out. Even, if we can't figure out a way to send them back, it would be nice just to say thank you." Blair released a deep breath and looked at both his friends. "I mean, for a little while, whoever it is gave each of us a little bit of joy. He/she deserves something for that, dontcha think?"

Simon smiled. "Sometimes, seeing people happy is thanks enough." He shrugged. "Who knows. Whoever our guy or girl is, they had their reasons. I'm just kind of glad there's somebody out there who does appreciate us."

Jim was just about to comment when the phone on his desk rang. Answering it with a brusque, "Ellison," he listened to the caller for a few minutes and then hung up. Standing, he nodded to his partner. "Looks like we caught ourselves another break. Gilbert was just spotted over in his old neighbourhood. If we hurry, we might be able to catch up with him, Chief."

Blair was behind his friend in no time, "I am so ready for that. I think we'll all sleep a little better knowing he's not out there running loose any more." As the two men headed for the doors, the younger looked back. "We'll let you know how things go, Captain."

"Just see that you do, Sandburg. I'll be expecting your call." Simon watched as the elevator closed on his best friends. He let out a simple sigh, chuckling at the earlier conversation and headed for his office.

Once he was inside, he couldn't resist the full-fledged smile that broke over his face as his eyes rested on the ornate cherry wood humidor on his desk. Before he knew it, he was laughing so hard tears started running down his face. Shaking his head, he made his way to his chair and managed to sit down without any mishaps even though he was still laughing pretty hard.

He couldn't believe he'd managed to pull one over on his detectives and Rhonda. None of them suspected that he was the mysterious gift-giver. He'd ensured that when he'd sent himself the cigars. Granted six hundred dollars wasn't something to sneeze at, but, since he was planning on getting them anyway, it had worked out perfectly in his plans.

While he was silently congratulating himself on his cunning, his mind wandered back to how the whole thing had started. Henri Brown's father had passed away and though he returned to work soon after the funeral, his heart hadn't really been in it. Simon had noticed his detective's depression and had come up with an idea he hoped would lift H's spirits. Giving the man an extended weekend off to spend with his family, the captain had gathered together the things that he knew Brown liked and had it delivered early to the precinct.

Though he'd known it wouldn't make up for what Henri had lost, he'd hoped it would at least lift his detective's spirits. When he'd finally made it into the office after a meeting with Chief Warren, he'd been rewarded for his efforts by the absolutely humongous smile on H's face. The man had seemed to almost bounce with excitement and he was showing everyone what some kind soul had given him.

After that, whenever his people suffered a personal tragedy or came off a horrific case or needed a special congratulations for a job well done, he'd made it his personal mission to bring a little bit of joy into their lives.

It had cost him big time – money and favours – but it was well worth it to see the sparkle in their eyes or the spring in their step. He was forever grateful for the money his father had left him when he died, because it gave him a better chance of doing more than a Captain's salary ever could. Besides, knowing what a captain made, the others' suspicions of him were fleeting – especially after his own gift had arrived.

Glancing back at the humidor, he reached over and lifted the lid. He selected one of the smaller cigars of the assortment and happily lifted it to his mouth. Leaning back in his chair, he thought back to what Blair had said about wanting to say thank you to their benefactor. Simon's smile grew larger as he relaxed in his chair. "I appreciate that, Sandburg, but sometimes just seeing your people happy is thanks enough."

Breathing in the wonderful scent of his Dominican cigar, he lifted it from his mouth as if giving a toast, "Besides, I didn't really do much. I was just making sure the best people received exactly what they deserved. Only the best for the best."

Finis