The Jamie Series #21

Jamie and the Gun.

by Gillian

Jamie heard his Dad coming from three streets away and immediately called to his father. "Dad's coming! Dad's coming!"

"I hope you've tidied your room then," Blair called from the kitchen.

Casting a guilty look over his shoulder Jamie quickly pushed his books into his school bag and climbed down from the table. "Almost," he assured Blair, hurrying to his room and beginning to push his stuff under his bed and into the closet.

"And don't just push it under the bed or into the closet," his father warned, still in the kitchen with his back to him. With a sigh Jamie tugged his dirty clothes back out and bundled them up. It was hard enough having a Sentinel father, without the other one being psychic. He trudged down the hall and dumped everything in the laundry hamper and arrived back in time to hear the elevator grinding its way upstairs.

"Will you guys have time to play catch before you go out?" Jamie asked plaintively.

Blair dried his hands on a towel and turned to quirk a look at him. "I already told you, piglet, we have to go straight back out. Your Dad just has time to shower."

Jamie kicked the metal leg of the breakfast stool. "It's not fair," he complained. "Why can't I come? I wanna see Dad get his reward."

His father crouched in front of him and tweaked his chin, his eyes creased as he smiled. Jamie crinkled his nose at the gesture, feeling the familiar safe glow he always felt in his dad's presence.

"It's an award, not a reward," Blair corrected. "Though the two things are pretty similar. And I already told you; it's just going to be a lot of boring old speeches. You'll have a lot more fun with Sean. Okay?"

Jamie's heart lifted at the thought of spending the night with his best bud. "We're sleeping in our sleeping bags," he beamed and his father chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. "Dad!" Jamie protested, just as the front door opened.

"Did I hear my name?" his dad joked, eyes twinkling.

"Dad!" Jamie called happily, feeling his grin all over his face. He ran across the room and leapt, blissfully confident that his dad would catch him as always.

"Oof," his dad said, like he always did. "You're getting too big for your old dad to throw around, piglet."

"No, I'm not," Jamie corrected confidently.

Blair ruffled his hair and leaned forward for his own kiss. Jamie wrinkled his nose again as his two dads lips met and lingered.

"No time for kissing!" he protested. "You're running late, remember?"

Their lips parted and his dad blew a raspberry on his cheek before depositing him on the ground. "Look who's reminding us about the time?" he marveled. "Go pack your bag," he ordered, wrapping his arm around Blair's shoulder. "I have to have a quick shower."

"My bag is packed," Jamie informed him. Dad was now nuzzling Blair's neck and Jamie shook his head. Didn't these guys ever get tired of kissing?

"Then watch TV or something," his dad ordered, whispering something in Blair's ear. Jamie could have listened but he'd been taught it wasn't polite to eavesdrop. Besides, all that lovey dovey talk was enough to make a six year old puke.

"I'll get the water warmed up for you," Blair offered and his Dad bounded up the stairs to their bedroom.

Jamie trotted up the stairs and watched his Dad pull off his watch and tug his wallet out of his pocket. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yes, Jamie?" Jim now hung his jacket up and unbuckled his shoulder holster, checking his gun briefly before bundling the whole lot up and pushing it into the safe built into the bedside table. He slammed the door and spun the dial before straightening and looking over his shoulder. "Anything wrong?"

"I wondered if I could take my Mom's picture to school tomorrow."

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at him soberly. "Of course you can, son. Be careful with it though."

Jamie nodded. "It's for Show and Tell," he confided.

"I guess it's okay then."

"Dad? Can I take her cross too?"

Jim frowned thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, son," he said regretfully. "Not this time."

"I'll be real careful with it," Jamie pleaded, but his Dad had that stubborn look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Sometime when your father and I can go to school with you maybe. But if you lose it now you'll always be sorry, okay?"

Jamie turned his mouth down, but nodded anyway. He knew it was no good to argue with his dad when he got that look on his face.

Jim hauled him close and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Good boy."

"Dad!" Jamie protested, stepping back and planting his fists on his hips. "I told you, I'm too big for kissing now."

His Dad looked ashamed, but Jamie wasn't fooled, those blue eyes were still twinkling. "Sorry," he apologized. "I keep forgetting." He jumped up. "Now, I have to have that shower." He grabbed his robe and disappeared down the staircase.

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs, waiting for the water to start running. If he listened closely he could hear his dads laughing and whispering, even over the water, but he didn't bother. He had bigger fish to fry.

Furtively he opened the front of the bedside table and studied the small built-in safe. How many times had he heard his Dad open it and take his gun and holster out? He knew his father kept important papers in there too, and even money.

It was also where his Mom's cross was kept.

With trembling fingers Jamie grasped the dial and focused, twisting it one way and then the other, listening for the familiar clicks. With a feeling of exhilaration he heard the tumblers clicking into place, until finally the last one fell and the handle turned.

The sound of his breath loud in his ears, Jamie pushed past the gun and the papers, reaching for the small leather pouch he knew was in there. A stained old vest was wrapped around it and Jamie pushed it aside eagerly, withdrawing the pouch and stuffing it in his pocket.

"The perfect crime," he whispered in his best Bart Simpson voice. He could just put it back tomorrow and no one would ever know. He reached out and rifled through the papers, not seeing anything interesting. Then his wrist touched the cool leather of the gun holster and his breath caught.

The gun was forbidden territory. Once he'd reached for it when his dad swung him up into his arms and Jim had actually slapped his hand away. He'd apologized afterwards, his face all sad and serious looking. Then he'd sat Jamie down with his other dad and talked to him about guns and how dangerous they were for what seemed like hours.

But his dad wore a gun every day, so just touching one couldn't be so bad, right?

Jamie pulled on the bundle, surprised at how heavy it was. It left the shelf and his little wrist bowed under the weight, forcing him to bring up his other hand to ease it out. Now he sat with the holster in his lap, only a buckle between him and the gun itself.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and he jumped a mile, totally unused to be taken by surprise. He turned and saw his father's white face only inches from his; blue eyes fixed on the gun in his lap.

"Give me that," Blair whispered and Jamie sat mute and unmoving as his father lifted the gun and gathered it close to his chest. Then he was sitting back on the bed, almost as if his legs had given away beneath him.

Guilt twisted in Jamie's chest. "I was only looking at it!" he blurted out.

"Jim," Blair whispered. "Get up here, now."

"Daddy," Jamie appealed, feeling tears well up in his eyes. His father was sitting so still, his shoulders hunched, his eyes still fixed firmly on the gun in his hands.

"It's all right, Jamie," Blair said, his even tone more frightening to the little boy than angry words. Bare feet slapped the wooden treads of the stairs as Jim rushed up, wrapped in his damp robe, freezing at the sight that greeted him. Overwhelmed by guilt Jamie wrapped his arms around his chest, still sitting on the floor by the open safe.

"Blair?" Jim gasped, one hand out.

"You didn't lock the safe," Blair said tightly. Jamie couldn't believe his ears. Didn't they know? Couldn't they tell he'd opened the safe with his Sentinel hearing?

"I... I did..." Jim broke off, his face white, his hand dropping back to his side. "I thought I did." He shot an agonized look straight at him and Jamie flinched. "My god, did he..?"

"He was holding the gun," Blair whispered.

"God," his Dad groaned, and the next thing Jamie knew he was in his dad's strong arms, caught tight against his wide damp chest. Jamie couldn't help it, he wrapped his arms around his dad's neck and started to sob. The big arms held him closer. "I'm sorry," his dad was saying, over and over again.

"Sorry?" Blair said, and Jamie winced again at the angry tone. He'd never heard his father sound so...

"The only thing I ever asked you was to keep this thing locked away. The only thing."

Jamie pulled back, wiping his eyes with his hands. "Daddy," he whispered.

His dad cuddled him closer. "Look, Blair, I'm more sorry than I can say about leaving the safe unlocked. But I've told you all along that we're only buying trouble with this attitude. To make something totally forbidden is to make it a temptation."

"Daddy," Jamie whispered again, shaking his dad's shoulder.

"So now it's my fault?" Blair demanded, standing up angrily. "Because I don't want my six year old son touching a gun?"

"I'm sorry, daddy!" Jamie yelled. He fought his father's arms and wriggled down.

"Jamie," his father said, running a hand through his long hair.

"Don't yell and fight!" Jamie yelled, choking on his tears. "I opened up the safe! It was my fault!"

His dad and his father where staring at each other now, and Jamie sniffled and wiped his eyes. "I just wanted my mom's cross, that's all," he said miserably. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the leather bag. "I'm sorry."

Jim groped his way over to the bed and sat down, reaching for the bag. "Your mom's cross," he repeated.

Blair covered his hand with his mouth.

"I know I shouldn't ought to have touched the gun," Jamie said, trailing away when he realised he had no excuse. He knew he shouldn't have touched the gun but he did it anyway. He knew he shouldn't have opened the safe and taken his mom's cross too.

"Thank god I didn't leave the safe open," Jim groaned, and to Jamie's horror he saw his dad's cheeks were wet. He'd made his dad cry.

"I'm so-sorry," he choked, tears flooding his face again. His dad reached for him and gathered him close again, and Jamie curved against his dad's strong body.

"I'm sorry too," Blair whispered, and Jamie knew he was talking to Jim, not him. His dad's strong arms wrapped Blair close too and Jamie felt his father's arm around him, his long curls brushing his face as they all held each other close for long minutes.

000

Jamie woke up in his bed, his jeans and sneakers gone. It was dark in the room except for his cowboy nightlight. He blinked his eyes, which felt hot and swollen. He'd been crying. Then he remembered why and tears welled again.

On sock clad feet Jamie crept down the hall to the lounge room. His dads were sitting on the couch, curled quietly together, soft music playing in the background, the lamp throwing a circle of golden light around them. Blair was sitting in the corner of the couch, Jim's head on his shoulder.

Sometimes when Jamie saw them like this he got a kind of ache in his chest. It kind of felt like the lonely feeling he got when he was away from Sean for a long time. Seeing them so close, so... complete without him, it was like there was no place for him in that circle of light.

Then Blair opened his eyes and looked over at him.

And he smiled.

Feet like wings Jamie hurried to the couch and stood by the arm. Blair's hand came up and tweaked his chin and Jamie tried to smile. For a moment his heart hurt too much, and then his dad was opening his eyes and reaching for him, hauling him up on the couch between them.

"Are you mad at me, dad?" Jamie whispered into Jim's chest, finally able to ask the question now he was a little more sure of the answer.

"Disappointed," his dad corrected and Jamie nodded solemnly.

"We don't tell you something is dangerous for no reason, son," Blair said, stroking his hair.

"Guns are weapons, and they only belong in the hands of grown up people," Jim said softly.

"But we understand that you're curious about something your dad works with every day," Blair picked up.

Jamie looked back and forward between them. He shook his head. "No way," he protested. "I don't want to touch a gun again."

Jim smiled sadly. "You had a scare today, piglet. So did we." He looked at Blair over Jamie's head, then turned back to him with a determined expression. "But we all live in a world that touches my work. And my work involves guns sometimes." His Dad took a deep breath. "So your father and I have decided you need to understand the way to handle a gun safely."

Jamie frowned. "I can touch a gun?"

"When your dad and I are present," Blair said quickly. "You need to see there's nothing wonderful or mysterious about guns. Do you understand?"

Jamie shrugged, not sure he did. Jim smiled and kissed his brow.

"You will," he promised.

Jamie laid his head down on his dad's broad shoulder, feeling the tension drain out of him. If his dad said he'd understand then he would. Another kiss on his head and he felt himself nodding off.

Safe in his fathers arms.

The End

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