Home Journeys

Series: Running
Author: Sammi M.U.
Email: sammi4@eathlink.net
Rating: PG-13 for language
Date completed: December 13, 2004
Summary: Three ways of getting there

Archive: If you could link to the story at the Simon Shrine at http://majorcrimes.freeservers.com/onsitefic.htm

Feedback (kudos, comments, constructive criticism) is always welcome and private is preferred.

Disclaimers: If I were making any money off these guys, do you honestly think I would be sitting here mourning the loss of my wonderfully wished for vacation. Instead, I would be happily taking the guys along on said vacation … in as little as possible (them, not me).

Notes: I started this series two years ago and I posted the first two stories to SentinelAngst. This is the conclusion of "Running" which started with "When Sorry Isn’t Enough" and "Frustrations". All three guys are speaking.

Special note: Happy birthday, Ma. Looks like we both get a present today.

Spoilers: Finkleman's Folly

This won't be a "Tupperware" ending – it is me, after all – but it should offer some satisfaction. At least that's what I tell myself in my delusions.

Home Journeys
By Sammi M.U.

Blair:

"Man, this really sucks," I commented to Jim as my friendly nurse wheeled me back to my room. I worked hard at containing my moan of pain, but judging by Jim’s wince, I wasn’t too successful. Today marks my third week of torture and I'm feeling every bit of it. I know I was warned that this time it wasn't going to be a walk in the park, but I figured they were just exaggerating. Note to self: only expect exaggeration in fishing stories and sexual conquests.

"They did try to warn you, Chief." Jim offered me one of his most sadistic grins. "I seem to recall you proclaiming that you could handle it." He winked at my nurse with conspiratorial glee. "You're not wimping out are you?"

"Hell yes, I'm wimping out." After three weeks, I can honestly proclaim… physical therapy sucks! "Screw torture; prisoners of war get better treatment. And don't get me started on the therapists. It takes a really evil person to stay bright and bubbly in the midst of someone else's intense pain. Now I know what happened to all of those "Cheerleaders from Hell" that I used to avoid in high school."

This time, my moan was from frustration as the beautiful, but very married Sherry giggled. "I know that it seems pretty bad right now, Blair, but you're going to look at this as a godsend when you're up and about."

A part of me appreciated her saying that – but a much larger part of me seriously felt like playing up the agony so that I could sic my Blessed Protector on my therapist's ass. I bet he'd think twice about pushing me on that "last" rep after he went twelve rounds with my Super Cop-of-the-Year.

Sherry's gasp and Jim's raucous laughter clued me in pretty fast that my mouth had run ahead of me and that I had broadcast that little piece of sunshine to the room. I tried to offer Sherry a sheepish grin, but I was dying with too much embarrassment.

"Well, okay then. I guess I'll just leave you to spend some quality time with your friend." Some of the sparkle came back into her eyes. "Buzz me if you need anything."

Yeah, right, if I could ignore my shame – which wasn't going to happen any time soon with Jim practically busting a gut, laughing. "Yeah, laugh it up, Buzz Boy, while you still can. The only thing that kept me sane down in that house of horrors they call a therapy room was thinking about all of the wonderfully minute and irritating little tests I could use on you."

Amazingly, the laughter stopped. "That's not fair. I've pretty much been here every day, supporting and watching out for you. That kind of thing does not warrant your infernal tests."

"Normally, it wouldn't. But, since I've been on the mend, you've deliberately sabotaged possible future dates with two gorgeous nurses, changed my menu three times so that 'burgers and fries' were the main course cause *you* were hungry, and ate my favourite Jell-O, lying badly about it cause even a blind man could see that your mouth was blue. But, of course, the topper of all, you implied to Charles, the humongous and very gay orderly, that I appreciated his help a lot more than the others and that I really looked forward to seeing him throughout the day."

By the end of my little list, Jim was almost on the floor. A part of me wanted to go at him with every bothersome test I could think of – and boy, could I think of some with my imagination. But, the biggest part of me was enjoying Jim's laughter. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him - Jim hadn't laughed a lot lately. In fact, it looked like Jim hadn't done a lot of things lately, like eating or sleeping. There were huge bags under his eyes, his clothes were rumpled and creased, and he looked thinner than when I first awakened.

Jim was obviously hurting. Because of …

"Stop looking at me like that, Sandburg. I'm fine."

Great. I'd been caught staring. I hadn't even noticed he'd stopped laughing. Oh well, time for some damage control. "Sorry, Jim. Didn't mean to stare." Aw, to hell with it! "No, I take it back. I did mean to stare cause, my friend, you look bad. Have you looked in a mirror lately? I'm surprised the staff hasn't ganged up and admitted you."

"So tell me what you really think, Sandburg," Jim commented in that droll tone of his.

"Okay, I will." Note to everyone else: never give me permission. "Killing yourself slowly is not going to bring him back."

"I never said it would," Jim replied coolly. Stone Ellison was now in place. "Worrying about your relapse and things being stressful at work are bogging me down. That's all."

One thing I'd learned from living with Jim is knowing when to push and this wasn't the time. "So, tell me about work. What's going on? Who's pulling head duty?"

The relief on Jim's face as I took the safer option almost brought tears to my eyes. "Joel drew the short straw this time. I think he's seriously re-thinking keeping his rank on paper. The money is not worth the amount of paperwork and hassle the job creates." Jim shook his head and grinned. "We didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on a procedure the other day and I almost felt sorry for him having to deal with me. Almost. Didn't change my mind about it, but I did have that momentary sympathy."

"Have to look for improvement where you can find it, man. This is a good thing. You can only go up from here." I moved around a bit in hopes of getting comfortable. Didn't work, but it was worth the trouble. "So, what procedure did you disagree on?"

"I wanted more time at one of the scenes and Joel didn't understand. He was catching flak from the coroner's office to get to the body and it was taking me a little more time to do my thing without you there. He pulled me aside before I was finished allowing the meat wagon guys to move in and I kind of blew up at him." Jim shook his head in disgust, "Simon always ran interference for me no matter how long it took. If he'd been there…" I watched him pause to gather his thoughts. "But he wasn't."

See. I knew if I just let him, he'd get there on his own. "Has anyone heard anything from him?"

"Nope. The last contact anyone had was when he called Amy and I scared him off. I tried Joan again in hopes that she would see how worried and concerned we were, but she was pretty panicked herself."

"Why? What happened?"

"Simon hasn't shown up at the next spot on his itinerary. Joan's had money waiting for him for the last two weeks and she figures he's either pretty low or out by now."

"What about his phone? Last I heard you guys had traced it."

Jim stood and moved to my window, not really looking at anything. "We did track it down, but it wasn't Simon. All we can figure is that he either lost it, left it or someone took … took it from him. We don't have a clue where he is. His parents and Daryl are frantic and he hasn't checked up on you." I had to strain to hear his next comment. "I'm really worried about him. This isn't Simon. He doesn't do things like this."

I had to know. "Jim, do you think something has happened to him?"

"I don't know. As a cop, all of the evidence is screaming something is wrong. As his friend, I don't want to believe it."

"So, you've actually forgiven him?"

Turning back to face me, I could see the anguish in Jim's eyes. "I realise now there was nothing to forgive. I got the whole story out of Joel and Rhonda. Simon's back was to the wall. He fought the commissioner so hard that Bachman had every intention of firing him when he got back from the administrative leave." He ran his hand roughly through his hair. "I can't understand why I went after him. I know Simon. I know how much he cares for you. He wouldn't have risked your life like that."

"I don't understand then. If you knew him – knew *that* - why did you go after him?"

"You said it before – I needed a target and he was the most convenient." Jim cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, trying to ease his tension. "I hate to admit this, but there was a part of me that could see how much he was hurting and how he was blaming himself and that part of me wanted him to suffer as much as I was suffering. So, I ignored that voice that was trying to warn me and I attacked.

"I figured he would come back at me like he usually did, but he just seemed to shrink right in front of me. He didn't fight back and, sadly, that made me angrier. I lashed out more and probably would have made it worse if the nurse hadn't come in and told me that you were coming round." Jim's light blue eyes begged me to understand. "If I had known how close he was to breaking, I wouldn't have pushed…"

"I know you wouldn't have." He needed to hear that I believed him – believed *in* him. "When Simon gets back, he'll know it too."

It was now time to move forward out of all of this mess. "What are you doing to find him?"

"We've got people in Washington, Oregon, Nevada, California, and Idaho looking for him and all of the hotels on the route he and Joan had plotted out know to alert us if he shows up. Joan's, Daryl's and Simon's parents' places are being monitored and Major Crimes is taking shifts to watch over Simon's house. If there's any word or if he's found, I'll be the first to know."

"And when you find him, what are you gonna do? What are you going to say to him to keep him here?"

"I don't know, Chief. I just know I want – no, *need* – the chance to figure it out. I'm not sure what I'd do if I don't get that chance."

Jim:

"Dammit, Jim, I'm sick of this attitude!" Joel glared at me like he was at the end of his rope. "We're doing everything we can to find him. Our guys are working their regular shifts and then going out afterwards to research everything – to rattle some cages, just in case. You can't expect them to do any more!"

"Then let me out there! I know I could find him." I know I wasn't sounding particularly rational, but I felt like it was up to me to bring Simon home. I'd run him off – it only seemed right if I brought him back.

Joel looked like I'd hit him. "Do you have any idea how demeaning that sounded? Do you think you're the only one good enough to find him? The Great and Powerful Jim Ellison can do what no other detective can. Do you even think I'm worthy enough to be leading this search?"

Oh crap. "Joel, you know that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Jim? Talk to me. Help me understand why you don't think the rest of us can do this. Explain to me why you don't believe my best is good enough to find my friend."

I've always been a man of actions. If something needed to be fixed, I was right there, getting my hands dirty, making sure it was right. It made sense that I would go into the military and then police work. I needed to fix the problems around me and those were the best avenues to do it. Emotions and feelings weren't required. It was the "doing" that got the job done and that was all that mattered.

I needed to be out there searching. It was nothing against the guys – Simon only picked the best for his squad. I just felt like this was something *I* had to do. I just wasn't sure if I could convey that to Joel without sounding like more of an asshole.

I was saved from stumbling out a response when Joel released a heavy breath. "You know what, Jim? Never mind. I know you didn't mean it the way it sounded. I know you and I recognise how much this is killing you having to sit on the sidelines." He pinched the bridge of his nose and then raised his eyes to meet mine. "But you have to understand. I can't let you out there right now. I'm not sure how much control of your emotions you have." He shook his head. "You're too close to this – too much guilt."

I startled at that. How could he know? "Guilt?"

A sad little smile crossed Joel's face. "Go home, Jim. Take a few days. Get some rest. Spend some extra time with Blair. Do something – just do it away from here."

My relief at Joel not pushing the guilt thing couldn't cover my disbelief. He was sending me home! This wasn't what I wanted – no needed. What I needed was to be out there following every limited lead, questioning the people who took Simon's phone, searching every town between here and the East Coast if necessary until I found him.

"I will make this an order if you push it. Do us both a favour and don't make me." Joel sighed. "If we hear anything, I promise I'll call."

I suppose I couldn't ask for more than that and I really didn't want to put Joel in the position where he'd have to make my going home official. Most people looked forward to time off. Unfortunately, I wasn't most people – especially not when I felt like I was needed to help.

I stood there for a little while and then turned on my heel, opened the door to the office and headed to my desk to grab my things. It would seem that I had some down time coming to me – however much I didn't want it. As I got into the elevator, I tried to put a positive spin on what had happened – a little time off could help me get a clearer perspective. Disconnecting from everything for a little while could be a good thing.

The thought crossed my mind that maybe that was what Simon was doing. Maybe he was simply disconnecting from everything.

But how long would his disconnection last and would Simon ever want to re-connect?

I thought about going to the hospital, but changed my mind. I was suddenly tired of worrying about everyone else. I was going to do something for myself – I just didn't know what that was.

My thoughts were so wrapped up in possibilities I barely remembered driving home.

Once there, I looked around the loft. God, the place looked awful. I had been so busy at work and at the hospital I'd let it go. Here was something I could do. I gathered up my supplies and spent the rest of the day focused on the mindless chores I'd neglected. I hoped it would be enough to keep my mind away from everything.

As I worked, I noticed the floor just didn't seem to shine the way it should – the way I wanted. Damn it! What was wrong with it? I dropped to my hands and knees and began to scrub with a cloth I'd picked up.

Though the work was supposed to be mind-numbing, my mind still churned with various thoughts. What had gone so wrong this time? Why had Simon left? What was he so afraid of? Was it me? Was there something I did differently to send him over the edge? What did I say that was so much worse than anything before? I spoke out loud, hoping that my words would reach Simon somehow, somewhere - no matter how far away he was. "Whatever it was, I didn't mean it! I wish …I wish I could have taken it back even as I said it." I scrubbed harder. "I swear I didn't mean it. I know you didn't want Blair to get hurt. You did everything you could to keep him safe." Why wouldn't the floor shine? What more could I do? "What was going through your mind to make you leave? We've fought before! God knows we argued enough. You've always either put me in my place or sent me off to cool down. Why was this time so different?"

I suddenly was so tired. Weary, I leaned heavily into the wall near me. My mind wouldn't shut down. I couldn't forget that day – it kept replaying in my mind. I could see everything clearly now. Simon had looked so tired. He looked as if he was a hundred years old.

How could I have known? Simon hadn't let anyone in on how he was feeling or what he was going through. I tried to convince myself the whole situation was completely out of my hands. I mean I was a lot of things, but psychic wasn't one of them.

Then it really hit me. "Oh God." Who was I trying to kid? I couldn't put the blame on anyone else. Everything that had happened from the hospital to now rested solely on my shoulders.

It was too much. I'd say it as many times as I could if I could fix things. I was sorry. I was so sorry. The pain I'd been holding in began to slip. I needed to stop it. "No. I can't let this overtake me." I felt the breath force its way out of my chest. Drawing in the next gasp of air seemed impossible. I felt the sob before it tore out of me. The reality was kicking in fast. I had nearly lost everything. Blair and Simon had almost been taken forever – Simon could still be lost.

A spasm engulfed my entire body. No one was here with me – no one to help ease the pain. I couldn't fight it, so I just gave into it. I pushed out the air in slow painful pauses and cried.

&&&&&&

The sound of the phone woke me. I felt the cold from the wood floor against my face. Amazing. I had fallen asleep. More shocking, I had slept for almost nine hours. I tried to stand and felt a horrible crook that had developed in my back and neck. Who knows what position I had fallen asleep? I fumbled with the receiver "Ellison," I answered as I fought back a tired yawn.

I stumbled into a nearby chair. Who would be calling at this hour? A brief pause on the other end was followed by a familiar voice. "Jim, it's Joel. I know I told you to take some time, but we might have a development with Simon."

I sat up, instantly awake. "What is it? Have you heard from him? Is he okay?" The next pause sent pangs of worry through me. What if Simon wasn't okay? "Joel? What is it?"

"Sorry about that. Henri was saying something. No, Simon appears to be fine. If it is him."

I stood up. "Listen what's going on? What do you mean – if it is him?"

"There's some movement at his house. The guys think it's him, but we can't tell. Whoever it is isn't using any lights. Why don't you sit tight and let us handle this. I just wanted to keep my word and keep you posted. Jim, we can…"

I dropped the phone into the cradle. I'd be damned if I was going to let him handle this without me. They weren't even sure if it was Simon. It could be a burglar for all anyone knew. I ran out the door and held onto my keys like they were a lifeline. Sometimes you had to ignore orders to help out a friend. And, contrary to the way it seemed, I still considered Simon a good friend.

As I pulled up to Simon's house, I saw two familiar vehicles. I waved at Joel, Henri and Rafe as they gathered around the cars.

Joel approached my truck as I got out. "Look, I know I am supposed to sit this one out, but I figure this is not exactly official duty."

That wasn't what Joel wanted to hear, "God, do you ever listen?" I could tell by his expression, I was not on his favourites list. Still, since I was there, "Fine. Go on in and check things out." He paused. "Just be careful. And … if it is him, don't let him out of your sight."

I watched him walk away as I turned towards the drive. If it wasn't Simon, whoever was in there was going to be very sorry.

The darkness covered the house and made shadows of everything. I crouched down as I moved closer. I figured the best way to get in was through the rear entrance. Didn't want to alert whoever was in the house before I wanted.

In my haste to get out of the loft, I realised I'd forgotten the extra key Simon had entrusted to me – just in case. Well, this counted as a 'just in case,' but I was shorthanded. I tried to remember where Simon kept his hidden key, but I was drawing a blank. I decided to check the windows, hoping that whoever it was inside might have used one of them to gain entry. No such luck – they were all locked tight. I was just about to give up when my gut led me to try the door. Surprisingly, it opened.

To be on the safe side, I pulled my gun, but I wasn't getting a bad feeling about this. Deep down, I knew – it was Simon. I could tell he was in the family room moving things around. The closer I moved towards the room, the more certain I was that he had finally come home. I stopped right before the doorway, holstered my gun, and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, things were getting back on track. We were going to fix this.

And then, I saw him and my shock caused me to gasp, "Simon?"

Simon:

Get in, grab the stuff and get out as fast I can. That mantra kept running through my mind. It helped me do what I needed to because I couldn't think about anything else or I'd lose my focus. I couldn't dwell on the feelings that were eating away at me as soon as I entered Cascade and headed to my house.

If I hadn't needed my pictures, I wouldn't have come back. I was heading in the opposite direction, on my way to disappearing, when I remembered that in my earlier haste to get away I hadn't grabbed my treasures. It was totally a mental thing, but I felt that wherever I ended up I wouldn't be able to settle without them. They were the only things I couldn't forget – they were worth more to me than any other possession I owned. That made them worth taking the chance on going back.

I know pictures aren’t as important as the people in them, but I couldn’t access the people as easily as I could my pictures. Besides, I didn’t know where I was heading and I couldn’t expect anyone to just drop whatever they were doing to go with me. And staying just wasn’t an option.

When I first walked through my back door, it was like I was entering someone else's home. None of it seemed familiar. None of it seemed to belong to me – at least not the "me" I was now.

I'd always had a sense of pride about everything that I placed in my home. Every piece was carefully picked out and lovingly positioned. This was *my* home – not my parents', not mine and Joan's. Mine. And I did everything in my power to make sure that my home – my sanctuary - was a joy to walk into everyday.

That joy was now gone. It had been replaced by an uncontrollable sadness and an overwhelming need to get away as soon as possible. Joy had fallen to the feeling that I was being hunted.

I figured after my total disappearing act, the house was being watched. I was hoping that my non-use of any lights had slowed the guys down. It was too much to expect it had totally thrown them off – my unit was too good for that. They'd be on my trail pretty soon, but I was planning on being halfway out the door by then. I'd be able to get by them easier – I'd gotten better at running.

Even with no lights, I'd gathered most of the pictures that I wanted pretty quickly. I knew exactly where each one was so I could find them even if I were blind. My pile had grown steadily until I had just about every picture of Daryl and my parents that had ever been taken. My pack would be heavy, but it would be worth it – these things were irreplaceable.

Just as I was adding some old photos of Joan, I heard several car doors close and I froze. All I could think was that they were here too soon. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest and my mind kept trying to come up with different escape routes. My rational thoughts were quickly being replaced by the overwhelming need to run. I was starting to feel light-headed from holding what little breath I'd managed to suck in when I noticed there were no other sounds near the house.

Calming myself, I looked around to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything when my gaze fell on one picture on the mantle. All of the calm feelings vanished as I focused on the three grinning faces staring out at me.

In the blink of an eye, my traitorous mind carried me back to that day in glorious Technicolor™. Jim, Blair and I had won an all-expense paid weekend at the Cedar Ridge Mountain Lodge from Henri's church raffle and we had packed up all our gear and headed to the hills. Everything had been perfect. The fish were biting, the lodge and its surroundings were spectacular, and our friendship was on the level of the stratosphere. We thought that nothing could destroy the bond we reinforced that weekend.

We were wrong.

I don't know if it was to throw it into the fireplace or to pull it close to me in remembrance of a time now lost, but my hand raised to grasp the frame. Just as my fingers touched the edge, I heard a gasp and my name uttered in disbelief behind me and I whirled around to face the intruder with such force that I sent the picture flying onto the floor, shattering the glass into a million pieces.

No! Not here, not now, not my picture, not him!

Run!

I could feel my heart starting to race, my body breaking out in a cold sweat and my adrenaline pumping in preparation of flight as I realised HE was here and blocking my escape route. Of all the people who could have infiltrated my home, why did it have to be him – why did it have to be Jim?

I had to get out of there. I couldn't stay. I couldn't look at him. It was all right there.

"Simon? You have to calm down. No one's going to hurt you here. *I'm* not going to hurt you."

He moved forward just a bit and I automatically stepped back. I couldn't afford for him to get too close. I had to hold it together long enough to run as soon as I had an opening.

Jim must have sensed my thoughts because he instantly manoeuvred himself so that I couldn't use either route out of here. "Simon, I can't let you leave here. We've been searching five states looking for you. Everyone's really worried. We thought – well, when we found your phone – we…" His voice broke and he seemed to be struggling to continue. "We thought something had happened."

If I had any humour left in me, I would have laughed. Something had happened.

I broke. I ran.

"Simon?" Jim called. "I know I'm the last person to be asking you to give this another chance, but I am. Let us help you make your way back. Please."

I watched as he offered his hand, but it meant nothing to me. I couldn't grasp his offering or the concept. With a rusty voice from disuse, I whispered, "I can't."

"Yes, you can, Simon." Jim's hand stayed outstretched as he took a deep, steadying breath. I could literally see him shoring up every ounce of strength he had to bring me home. I just wasn't sure if it would be enough. "I know you're tired and I know you feel shattered, but that's where Daryl and Joan and Blair and Joel and Henri and Rafe and…" He suddenly stopped and dropped his head.

I wanted to run so badly, but my back was against the wall. I couldn't think; I couldn't breath. All those names kept circling around in my head, making garbled promises that I couldn't understand and I wasn't sure I wanted to understand. Without thinking, I just wanted to tame the turmoil that was threatening to overtake me by demanding that Jim finish what he'd started saying. "And?"

It felt like hours and days before he raised his head, looked at me and started re-aligning my world. For the first time in so long, the pieces weren't fragmented beyond hope and repair. For the first time since this all began, everything that had been screaming at me to run fast and far was silent.

For the first time since I'd met him, I saw Jim Ellison crying. "And me, Simon. That's where I could be there for you. Help you put those pieces back together - the pieces of you that you lost because of me." Like a predator who knows his prey has no where else to run, Jim inched closer to me – that damn hand still outstretched. But, his eyes weren't threatening to tear me apart; they were begging me to let him come closer, for a chance, for forgiveness.

"I know I don't deserve a chance to fix the damage, but I have to try. For our friendship and what it means to me. I'm not going to try to pull you back by making stupid excuses for why I said what I did or make impossible promises that it won't happen again. You deserve more than that.

"What I am promising is I'm going to do everything in my power to make you feel safe here again. Safe with me so that you never have to doubt that I'm always here – that you never have to run again." He was so close. "Just give me your hand, Simon, and I'll face head-on whatever punishment you feel I deserve to make things right."

I shook my head and closed my eyes in denial, "No." This wasn't right. There wasn't any need for punishment. Even as messed up as I was, I knew that friends didn't punish each other – friends healed each other. They fixed the problems together even if one of them caused it.

With that tiny bit of clarity clawing its way through the chaos in my head, I opened my eyes and saw the damage my response had garnered.

Though his hand was still opened to me, his shoulders and head had dropped. As only Jim Ellison can, he was closing himself off right in front of me. A part of me started screaming that him shutting down was what started it all in the first place and that I should prepare myself for the worst vitriol I'd ever experienced. But, I couldn't listen to it. All I could see was a man, my friend, offering me what could be my last chance to stop running.

So, I did the only thing I could.

I reached out and grabbed his hand and held on with everything I had left in me.

I knew it wasn't the end of our problems. I knew we really hadn't solved anything.

But there was hope and, right then, that meant … home.

Fini