The Jamie Series #19 A Parents Eyes. by Gillian   Jim tilted the mike on his headset and murmured into it. "Alpha team in position." The earpiece rested behind his ear, but the sentinel still heard the responses clearly. "Beta team in position." "Gamma team in position and rarin’ to go." Suppressing a grin at Rafe’s cocky expression, Jim gave the order. "Team leader Alpha. Go, go, go!" Jim’s team stormed the front door, knocking it in with a battering ram, just as Joel’s team kicked in the back door and flooded the disreputable old house. Rafe’s team covered the windows facing the alley, and they were the lucky cops to catch the surprised criminals spilling out. Taking the house room by room the cops covered the interior, communicating with the other teams via their headsets, and eventually just by calling to one another. Within fifteen minutes the place was declared clear. "We got five of them, team leader," Rafe yelled through the headset. "Including Gould!" A cheer rang through the house and Jim grinned, a feeling of relief loosening his chest. This thing had gone down by the numbers, a textbook bust, and it had netted just the big fish they were after. "We got a room full of Meth back here," Joel reported, sticking his head out of a door. "Good job, guys," Jim congratulated. "The captain is gonna be kicking himself that he couldn’t be here today." "Detective?" Jim’s brow creased at the choked call coming from the back room, and he automatically sharpened his hearing, detecting the heartbeats of the two uniformed cops who had headed down there minutes earlier. "Detective Ellison?" Jim took the length of the hall at a near run, senses other than his sentinel ones telling him something was seriously wrong. He met one of the cops in the doorway, his face white, his fingers fumbling for the buckles of his flak jacket as if the tight collar were choking him. The other cop was standing by an open drawer in a dingily lit room, one hand covering his mouth. "We were searching and we found… these." The young cop gestured towards the open drawer and Jim focused automatically, instantly understanding both men’s behavior. "It’s okay," he said quietly. "Go get Captain Taggert." The young cop nodded, still white-faced, disappearing down the hall. Fervently wishing he could do the same, the detective approached the desk, taking in the photographs and crudely put together magazines, while trying to actually see as little as possible. Joel appeared in the doorway behind him. "Jim?" "Kiddie porn, Joel," Jim said, jaw tight and expression under control, closing the door and hiding the horrible evidence. He opened the next drawer and quickly slid it closed again. "Drawers of it." "Damn," Joel said sickly. "Did you have any idea Gould was into this?" "No," Jim said shortly. The images on the pictures seemed burned into his mind, and he spoke quickly to cover them. "We need to get a special team here for this, Joel. This is some seriously hard-core stuff." The captain stepped over and laid a hand on his friend’s arm. "You okay, buddy?" Swallowing, Jim closed his eyes for a moment, allowing some of what he was feeling to show for the first time. Hearing footsteps in the hall outside, he quickly covered his momentary weakness, nodding quickly. "I’m okay, Joel," he said thickly. "I just wasn’t prepared, you know?" "I don’t think you can ever be prepared for something like that," Joel said sympathetically. 000 Things were a lot more subdued in the house after that, most of the teams breaking up and heading back to make their reports. Jim stayed until the end, presiding over the logging in of both the drugs and arms, and the room full of pornography. Fortunately, a special team from Vice was sent out to take control of that part of the investigation. Jim stood back gratefully and let them get on with it, for once having no problem sharing a bust with another department. He watched the grim-faced men and women bagging and boxing the evidence, stacking video tapes into cartons and sliding piles of photographs and magazines into thick black bags. "I don’t envy you, going through that stuff," Jim murmured to the detective in charge. The woman sighed. "I’ve been on this task force three months, and it feels like three years already," she muttered, pushing a strand of red hair behind one ear. "I hear that," Jim returned as the last of the evidence was logged and carried out. "You gonna sit in on the interrogations?" "A girl’s gotta have some fun," she returned grimly. "I’ll bring the rubber hoses." 000 "You look like you could use some coffee," Simon said sympathetically as Jim peered in his door. "Sit down." Jim sat with a sigh. "Joel told me how it went down," the captain said, placing a mug of coffee with a Cascade PD logo on the side in front of Jim. "They’re gonna be talking about this bust for a while." "Thirty kilos of Meth, equipment and enough ordinance to start a small war," Jim reported. "And the porn," Simon said softly. Images flashed before Jim’s eyes again and he squinted, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Yeah." "What does Gould have to say?" "The usual crap. It wasn’t his place, he was just visiting, he had no idea, blah-blah-blah." Jim laughed without humor. "Nguyen’s in there with him now. The woman is a pitbull. Ninety-five pounds soaking wet and she’s in Gould’s face, taunting him about the porn. Quite a sight." Simon huffed a laugh around his cigar. "Sorry to have missed that." "Gould is running scared, Captain. I have the feeling he could take the heat over the drugs and the weapons, but the porn… There’s a story there that we’re not hearing yet." "You don’t think it’s his?" the captain asked shrewdly. Jim quirked a brow. "Frankly? I don’t think so. He was pretty uncomfortable about it." "As well he might be. He’s a three-time loser anyway, but going down for drugs is one thing, going down for that sick trash isn’t gonna make him any friends inside." "His lawyers are screaming plant." "Let ‘em scream," Simon said complacently. "It was a clean bust." "Put either of those uniformed guys who found it on the stand," Jim said wearily. "Let a jury decide." "Why don’t you go home?" the captain suggested. "Let Nguyen finish with Gould.. You won’t get anything more out of him tonight." "Home," Jim said longingly. "No, not yet. I want to finish this tonight. I don’t want to go home with any part of this on me." "None of it’s on you, Jim," Simon lectured quietly. "We caught some bad guys today, and took some sick, dangerous stuff off the streets. Just keep that in your mind." "Yeah," Jim agreed, not very convincingly. "I’m just… I’m glad Blair wasn’t there." Simon nodded. "Yeah." 000 It was after ten when Jim finally unlocked the front door to the loft. He closed it behind him and stood for a long moment, just absorbing the atmosphere of his home. Three heartbeats, one on sleep rhythm, one wide awake, Rosie’s fast and furious. Fading scents of dinner, gentle pools of lamplight. "Jim?" Blair peered over the railing, and a moment later he padded down the stairs on stockinged feet. "Hey." "Hey," Jim greeted, welcoming his lover’s warm weight against him. Blair was wearing old sweats, incredibly soft to Jim’s touch. "Coffee? Beer?" Blair asked, strong hands stroking his partner’s chest. "Chief, my back teeth are floating," Jim said tiredly, leaning against Blair’s sturdy form gratefully. "Interrogation room coffee?" Blair guessed, leading Jim over to the couch and pushing him down gently. "Did you eat?" Feeling his stomach turn over at the mention of food, Jim held a hand out. "It’s not food I need now," he said quietly, and with a sigh Blair sat down next to him, curling into his side. "Mmm," the tired cop sighed, eyes closing. "This is what I need." "Simon called," Blair said quietly. "He told me what went down." Images flashed behind Jim’s eyelids, sick, violent images, faces twisted in pain. "I don’t want to talk about it," he said. "I don’t blame you," Blair said, hand again stroking Jim’s chest. "I’m serious," Jim warned. "I know." "I just… keep seeing it, you know?" Jim frowned, unable to look into Blair’s wide blue eyes. "I feel... tainted by it." Blair nodded. "It would be hard not to. I remember coming across some stuff on the net once, by accident. For days afterwards it kept flashing into my mind." "Yeah," Jim said, finally turning to gaze down into his lover’s understanding eyes. "I know. I’ve dealt with this stuff before, Chief. Maybe it’s because this was so unexpected. It’s just hitting me harder this time." "You weren’t a father before, Jim," Blair said carefully. "That’s got nothing to do with it," Jim argued. He stood up, groaning wearily. "I need a shower and then some sleep." Turning down the hall toward the bathroom, he paused outside the nursery, taking a quick look inside. Jamie was a huddled lump under the covers, soft sweet snores echoing around the small room. Rosie lay on her mat by his bed, one ear cocked in her sleep. "Jamie okay?" "He’s fine. He drew you a picture." Blair nodded towards the fridge. Jim chuckled. Not surprisingly the drawing was of Rosie, larger than life and bright purple to boot. Images flashed behind Jim’s eyes again and his smile faded. "I need a shower." 000 By morning Jim felt one hundred-percent better, and he shrugged off the problems of the day before in his usual style. By the time Blair wandered downstairs the coffee was perking and breakfast was nearly done. "Smells good," he called on his way to the bathroom. "It’s nearly done," Jim prompted him. Laying the spatula on the counter Jim crossed the kitchen and looked into Jamie’s room. The little boy was on the floor in his pj’s, playing with his train set. Rosie was on his lap, her feather duster tail swishing happily. "Mornin’, Piglet," Jim greeted. Jamie looked up, smiling widely. "Look, Dad!" he said happily, scrambling to his feet and dislodging a nimble Rosie. "Dry bed!" Sweeping back the covers, Jamie exposed his unstained sheets proudly. "Oh, good boy!" Jim praised. He held his arms out and Jamie jumped into them joyfully. "You’re getting to be such a grown-up boy." "Rosie woke me up and I went to potty all by my own," Jamie confided, squeezing his father around the neck. Jim huffed a laugh, enjoying the fresh morning scent and sleep warmed feel of his boy. Suddenly he was assaulted by images, terrible images, not just from the day before, but from years before when he had worked Vice. His hands suddenly seemed too large and clumsy on Jamie’s narrow back, his body burned where his son rested against him. Hastily he deposited Jamie back onto the floor, stepping back. His heart was beating furiously, and a feeling of horror was running through him. Jamie didn’t notice, he was back on the floor with his trains. Rosie cocked her head curiously, though, as Jim backed from the room, groping at the door jamb blindly. Blair was by the stove, dishing up three plates of eggs. He glanced over quickly. "Jamie not up?" Then he glanced back again, putting the pan back on the stove. "Jim?" he asked in concern. "You okay?" Jim tried to pull himself together, wondering what was showing on his face. The parade of images was gone, but in their place was a sick feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach. "I, uh." He swallowed, trying to put into words what he was feeling. "I… I need to get to work early." Giving up, Jim hurried to the door and pulled his jacket on. His gun was still locked in the safe upstairs, but he didn’t care. He would get his back-up from work. "Jim?" Blair said anxiously, but the older man ignored him, closing the door on his beloved blue-stubbled face and fleeing the apartment as if all the devils in hell were at his heels. Long minutes later he was driving, dimly noticing how much more quiet the roads were at this time of the morning. He flicked a brief glance at his watch, noting absently that he was a full hour earlier than usual. Jim wound the window down and let the fresh morning air hit his face, breathing long gulps in gratefully. "Okay," he murmured to himself. "Get it in perspective. It was just a flashback, you’ve had plenty of them before." But, goddamnit - he swore to himself - at that moment, innocently holding his son, to be assaulted by those images. It felt like a desecration, as if he had soiled his boy by his presence. As if his touch was somehow tainted. By the time Jim arrived at the station his head was pounding with a tension headache. The place was quiet, the last of the night shift working at their desks. Major Crime, who operated normal shifts only, was deserted, and Jim sat gratefully at his desk, pulling out his back-up gun and strapping the holster on. Hand rubbing his brow, Jim sat for long moments, enjoying the rare quiet of this normally bustling room. He glanced at the phone, tempted to ring his partner. He knew Blair would be worried, but he honestly didn’t know what to say to him. I’m sorry I freaked. I’m not sure what happened. I can’t handle something I practically strolled through ten years ago. "Damn," Jim said softly. In the distance he heard the elevator ping, and he smelled a woman’s distinctive scent. Lifting his head he tracked the woman’s progress down the hall to her small office by the break room. Shunned by any who weren’t specifically ordered to see her, Dr. Peta Morley, the department shrink, was in early. Without stopping to think, and maybe talk himself out of it, Jim was on his feet and down the hall before her door even clicked shut behind her. "Dr. Morley?" Peta turned, her hand coming up to her throat. "Oh!" she said, then relaxed a little. "Detective Ellison! You startled me." "Sorry," he said, taking in her neat appearance automatically. She laughed self consciously. "That’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early, that’s all." She paused, obviously waiting for Jim to speak. "Um, can I help you?" "Are you busy?" Jim asked, forging ahead despite the little voice in the back of his mind asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. "Well, no," Peta said, glancing behind her into her office. "I just came in early to catch up on some paperwork. You want to talk?" There was a slightly incredulous tone in her voice that might have made Jim smile at another time. He nodded briefly. "Well, come in then," she invited. "I was going to make coffee, would you like one?" A few minutes later they were relaxing in her office with steaming cups of instant in front of them. Peta leaned back and eyed Jim shrewdly. "Last year Captain Banks had to force you in here at gunpoint to see me," she said quietly. "Three months ago, after the Bailey shooting, you waited until the last possible moment to come see me for your mandatory counseling. Should I be concerned when you seek me out like this, of your own volition?" "Don’t gloat, Dr. Morley," Jim said dryly. She laughed, her smooth skin relaxing into easy laugh lines. Jim noted idly that a smile made her look at least ten years younger than the fifty or so he estimated her to be. "I promise, no gloating. What’s the problem, Detective?" "If I knew what the problem was, I wouldn’t be here," Jim retorted. "Then tell me the symptoms," she prompted. Jim stood, unable to stay seated. He crossed to the narrow window and looked out onto the street below. "We made a bust yesterday, a big score." "So I heard," the doctor said, when Jim paused. "Congratulations." "It went down smooth," Jim said tonelessly. "Should have been a highlight of my career." "What happened?" "We found… a pile of porn. Kiddie porn," he explained brusquely. "Go on." "The drugs and the guns we were expecting, but this stuff… It took us all by surprise." "Not something you’ve had to face in Major Crime," Peta said sympathetically. Jim turned and looked back into the room. "Not really. Not since my days on Vice." "How has it made you feel?" "I hate that question," Jim sighed. "Why is it you shrinks always ask that question?" "It’s the first thing we learn at shrink school," she returned tartly. "How you’re feeling is what this is all about, Jim. Isn’t it?" Jim relented, sitting down on a chair on the other side of the room, hands clasped loosely between his knees. "I guess," he admitted. "Washington and Copeland, the cops who found the stuff yesterday," Jim explained. "They’re young guys, almost rookies. Their reaction is understandable. But I’ve been through all this before, Doc. I shouldn’t be reacting like this." "Like what?" "Like I’m shell shocked. Like I’ve been punched in the face." The doctor looked at him shrewdly. "I’m guessing you’ve taken a few punches to the face in your career, Detective." Jim loosed a bark of laughter. "More than my share, Doc." "Then you know how it goes. The pain, the bruises. You know why it hurts, that doesn’t mean it stops hurting." The doctor shook her head. "Jim, you were punched in the face by some of the direst evil human beings can commit. I’d be surprised if it didn’t shake you for a few days." "But the flashbacks," Jim protested. "I keep getting these images in my head. In the middle of a conversation, driving home, and then this morning… I hugged my little boy, and suddenly I get this creepy feeling. Like I’m doing something wrong, like eyes are looking at me and judging me, thinking evil things." Shaken by putting it into words, Jim covered his eyes with his hands. "I feel like I tainted him with my touch." "Jim, would you ever hurt your son?" The cop shook his head wearily, knowing where this was going. "Of course not." "Of course not," the doctor repeated. "You know that, in your heart, where it counts. You know that there is nothing wrong in taking pleasure in your child’s touch. That there is nothing more innocent and beautiful than that pleasure." Peta sighed. "Unfortunately, like most things in life, a few sick fucks have screwed it up for the rest of us." Jim looked up in surprise at the normally placid doctor’s harsh words. Peta smiled. "I’m a parent as well as a doctor," she explained. "Cut yourself some slack, Detective. My advice, next time you get a flashback? Look it squarely in the eye. If it makes you sick, then feel sick, by all means. If it makes you angry, then get angry. Work your way through your emotions over this. And then go home and hug your son." "You make it sound simple," Jim said ruefully. "That’s the second thing they teach us at shrink school." Peta leaned forward. "It is simple, Jim. You got hurt… in here." She pointed to her head. "Let yourself heal, forgive yourself for needing to heal. Accept the evil you faced, and that your place in this world is to fight it." "And that sometimes it feels as if it rubs off," Jim murmured. "That’s what that shining armor is for," Peta smiled. Jim stood up. "Guess it’s time I jumped back on my white steed," he smiled. Peta saw him to the door. "I’d like to talk about this again, Jim. Anytime you want, okay?" "Okay," he agreed. The door closed behind him and he stood for a long time, remembering her words, weighing them up in his head. 000 "Jim?" Simon paused by his desk. "Are you okay?" Jim looked up from his computer. "Fine, Captain. They’re bringing Gould up right now. Nguyen and I are going to have another chat with him." Simon looked around at the still quiet bullpen. "Blair called me," he said lowly. "He’s worried about you." Jim sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’ll call him." "You do that." Simon said brusquely. "And Jim? I’m going to make an appointment for you with the department shrink. No," he held up a hand when Jim opened his mouth. "No arguments. I really think she can help you on this." Jim stood up, lifting a file from the desk. "I thought so, too," he agreed. "That’s why I saw her this morning." He walked away, leaving a gaping Simon behind him. "I can check on that," the captain called. Jim smiled over his shoulder, then dropped a deliberate wink. Henry, who was just arriving, caught the wink and whistled. The last thing Jim heard as he stepped onto the lift was Simon yelling and H chuckling. He smiled, himself, all the way to Interrogation. 000 "Look, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you! I had nothin’ to do with that shit! It wasn’t mine!" "We know it wasn’t yours, Gould," Jim interjected smoothly. "We found Engalls prints all over the room, we found Engalls notebook with buyers and sellers in his possession." "That dirty sonuva bitch," Gould swore. "If you know all that, why you trying to pin this on me?" "Cause we can?" Nguyen said with an evil smile. "Cause we love the idea of you walking out into the general population in your new home, with the word ‘pervert’ stamped on your butt." "You hearin’ this?" Gould appealed to his lawyer. "My client is right, Detectives," the lawyer said. "Your threats aren’t getting us anywhere. Why don’t you tell us what you’re willing to deal here?" "Deal?" Jim repeated sarcastically. "Excuse me, Councilor, but we got your boy here on weapons and drugs charges. You’re sitting next to a three-time loser who’s facing the narrow end of a life sentence. We’re just offering to make his life a little easier inside." "All we want is a little cooperation," Nguyen took up. "Engalls notebook was old, out-of-date. We’re guessing he kept it for possible blackmail use. But it gives us a hint that maybe he has something a little more up-to-date stashed somewhere." "We’d give an awful lot to find that notebook, Gould." "And it would look awful good for you to help us put this evil sonuva bitch and his friends away." Gould glanced over at his lawyer. The nicely dressed man straightened the pile of papers in front of him. "My client might be interested in helping you," he said formally. "But we’d like you to put in a few good words for him, with the DA." Jim sat back, trying not to smile. "We’ll see what we can do." 000 "This is it," Nguyen said excitedly as they left Interrogation. "This is the one that’s gonna get me off of this task force." Jim studied her curiously. "What?" she said, looking self-conscious. "You don’t blame me for wanting out of this, do you?" "Hell, no," Jim retorted. "I was just wondering how you managed to keep going this long. Three months of this? How did you cope?" "Well, for the first week I was scrambling to get out. By the second I was putting my resume together, and looking for a new job. By week three we caught a scum bag and locked him away, and things got a little easier." Nguyen leaned back against the break room table. "This is what it’s all about, Ellison. Putting a microscope on the bugs and then squashing them." Jim handed her a Styrofoam cup of coffee and then lifted his own, toasting her. "I salute you. "You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din." "You got that right," the tiny woman winked. 000 Blair showed up at lunch time, just as Jim was opening a cheese sandwich from the machine. "Hi, guys," he said as he was greeted by the cops in the room. "Hi, H." "I’d watch it if I was you, Hairboy," Henry cracked. "I saw your partner winking at our esteemed leader this morning." "Better get my dueling pistols out," Blair joked, miming a shot at the black detective. Laughing loudly, Henry departed. Blair’s face was quite sober by the time he reached Jim’s desk. "What’s this I hear about you and Simon?" "I was going to tell you, Chief," Jim deadpanned. "We’re running away together." Blair sat down. "Can I come?" "It means I have to tell the Mayor he can’t," Jim said doubtfully. "I came to ask you to lunch." Jim looked at his cheese sandwich. "Sounds like a plan." Over lunch Jim took the bull by the horns. "Sorry about this morning, Chief." "I was worried about you," Blair said soberly. Jim put his hand out and Blair clasped his fingers briefly. "I know, and I’m sorry. I worried myself, too." "I phoned Simon," Blair admitted. "He told me." Jim scratched his head. "He wanted me to see the shrink, but I beat him to it." "You what?" Blair frowned, sipping his iced tea. "I talked to Doc Morley this morning. She’s okay." "Excuse me?" Blair said, looking stunned. "You went to the department shrink without a gun to your head?" "Yeah," Jim laughed. "What is this, I got a rep or somethin’?" Blair narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who are you, and what have you done with my partner?" "Seriously, Blair. I needed to talk. I’m just sorry I couldn’t talk to you about it." Jim held his breath, worried about Blair’s reaction. "Well, I’m not, if she helped you," Blair said easily. Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "What did you talk about? When you got up this morning you seemed… okay. Better, anyway." "I thought I was," Jim admitted. "But I kept getting these flashbacks to those damn photographs. And then this morning I was cuddling Jamie and…" "Yeah?" Blair frowned. "What?" "I just started feeling creepy," Jim said, hating to put it into words again. "I flashed back to the pictures… and, it was the craziest thing. I started feeling like I was doing something wrong. It made me sick to my stomach." Blair’s eyes widened in shock. "Oh, man. Jim, why didn’t you say something?" "I just couldn’t handle it," Jim admitted. "I felt terrible. There I am holding my son, and suddenly it’s like I’m seeing us through a stranger’s eyes, comparing it to those pictures." "There’s no comparison, Jim," Blair said firmly. "I know," Jim agreed. "But it was a hell of a shock." "You know what, I’m glad you talked to the shrink," Blair said. "I can’t even begin to imagine what to say to you over this. Except that I love you, and I understand why these pictures hit you so hard." "I wish I understood it better," Jim said in exasperation, running fingers through his hair. "I feel ashamed of myself. Cops face stuff like this every day, and here I am falling apart over a few pictures." "First of all, you didn’t fall apart," Blair pointed out. "And second of all, what I said last night, about things being different now that you’re a father? I meant that, Jim." Jim allowed himself to think about it. "Everything’s changed since we became parents," he admitted. "Exactly," Blair agreed. "I can’t see a news story about a lost child without thinking about Jamie. Can’t hear a story about child abuse without my mind flashing to him. So many of my perspectives have changed, so many of my ideas are different, now that I’m a father. Now that I have a child of my own to worry about." "Yeah," Jim said thoughtfully. "I know this, Blair, in my mind. And in my heart, too, just like the doctor said. I’m sorry I worried you over this." "You feeling better?" Blair probed. Jim shrugged. "I feel like I might start to feel better soon." 000 The next day Engalls notebook was recovered, along with a storage locker full of pornography. Nguyen and her team were congratulated, and Major Crime received a personal visit from the Mayor himself. Slowly, as the days passed, Jim found the flashbacks easier to handle, until finally the memory of the terrible things he had seen faded to no more than a pang in his chest, when he dwelled on them too closely. He took the doctor’s advice and confronted his horror over the pictures, recognizing the very personal aspect in his rage and anger over the violations depicted in the pornography. Slowly, and just as the doctor had predicted, he healed. "Sometimes I think about getting out of this business," he said to Blair over supper. It had been four days since the bust. Blair paused with a forkful of lasagna in the air. "You’re kidding." Jim reached over and used Jamie’s napkin to wipe at a drip of sauce on the lad’s chin. "No, I’m not kidding." Blair laid his fork on the plate and studied Jim for long moments. "I can’t imagine you as anything but a cop," he said honestly. Jim shrugged. "Once I couldn’t imagine myself as anything but a soldier, but when the time came I left it behind." "And you think the time might have come for you to leave being a cop behind?" Jamie managed to get a forkful of lasagna into his mouth without a drip, and he grinned at his father triumphantly. "I think that time might be coming," Jim admitted. "What do you think about that?" "Me?" Blair finally began to eat again. "I think I’m happy if you’re happy. If being a cop stops making you happy…" "I’m just sick of the baggage that goes with being a cop," Jim admitted. "I’ve seen too many marriages fail because the cop couldn’t leave it at work. This business with Gould and Engalls…" Jim shot a glance at his son, but Jamie was absorbed in the delights of Blair’s vegetarian cooking. "I hated the way that made me feel." "You seem better now," Blair said gently. Jim reached over and tousled Jamie’s hair. "I am. I needed to get it into perspective, and I have. Evil brushed up against me, but it didn’t rub off." 000 That night Jim was awakened by Jamie’s sobs, and he was out of bed and on his feet before his eyes were open. Fumbling for his robe, Jim made his way downstairs. Jamie was standing by his bed wearing only his pajama top. The smell of urine assaulted the sentinel, but he ignored it to pick up his crying son. "It’s okay, Jamie," he soothed, holding the damp boy against him. Rosie whined at his feet, and he spared a comforting pat for her. "Wet," Jamie sobbed. He hated wetting the bed. "It was just an accident," Jim crooned. "We’ll get you all cleaned up." Blair appeared behind him, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, dear," he said gently. Stroking Jamie’s hair back, Blair laid a kiss on a creased brow. "Don’t worry, Daddy will fix it." Jim left Blair stripping the bed, while he carried the shivering little boy down the hall to the bathroom and gave him a quick wash. He patted him dry and then made him giggle a little by scattering talcum powder on him. Wrapping him in a dry towel he carried him back to his room, arriving just as Blair was tucking in a fresh sheet. He bundled the soiled ones up and bore them away while Jim drew a fresh pair of pajama’s onto the yawning boy. "Okay?" Jim said softly. Jamie nodded and curled his flushed little face into his father’s neck. Jim cuddled him close and sat back on the rocking chair, allowing himself to enjoy the soft scented feel of his boy in his arms. Blair came back in the room and perched on the edge of the bed. "He okay?" he whispered. Jim looked down. Jamie’s sooty lashes were dark crescents against his cheekbones. The lines on his forehead had smoothed out as he drifted deeper into sleep. "He’s fine," Jim whispered. Horrors battered at the edges of his mind, but Jim faced them down, challenging their sickness to compete with the embodiment of love he held in his arms. The cop laid a tender kiss on a smooth brow. "He’s just fine." Blair turned back the crisp sheet and Jim lay Jamie down, smiling as the boy turned on his side, curling into a huddled ball in his usual method of rest. Rosie studied them with alert brown eyes, not laying back down on her mat until they had both turned to leave the room. Back in bed Blair laid down and Jim gratefully curled into his arms, laying a heavy head on a broad shoulder. "The whole world is different through a parent’s eyes," he murmured. "Mmm," Blair agreed, eyes closed. "It’s harder than it ever was, but you know what?’ "Mmm?" "I wouldn’t change a thing." "Mmm. Me, either." The End. Back