Family Ties

 

Danae

 

Disclaimer:  Not mine…good enough.

Notes and Warnings:  I think this qualifies as a March themefic.  Never wrote one before but Dawn wanted dark.  This is pretty dark, I think.  I'll let Dawn be the judge.  It was an idea I had for an original character and I may still use it or some variation of it one day if I get that story to work out.  Call it AU to be safe, I suppose…There are some spoilers for S2 and Prisoner X.  PG-13 for language and discussed violence.  Thanks to Autumn and Hephaistos for the great <and fast> beta work on this one!  I appreciate your hard work so much!  There is one little note at the bottom.

 

 

Blair stared at the computer screen until the words blurred and his head began to ache.  Finally, he dropped his head and sighed.  "Thank you ever so much, Naomi," he muttered.  Leave it to his mom to drop a bombshell like this from all the way around the world via e-mail.  For thirty years, not a word.  Then, this horror story with the message, "Do something, Blair."  Do what exactly?  It was too damn late now to do anything.  Why had she not done something all those years ago?  Because she's Naomi, that was why.  Because she never made anything easy.  Times were different then, she said.  No one would listen.  It would not have made any difference back then.  But now, something had to be done.

 

"Something wrong, Chief?"

 

Blair nearly jumped out of his skin.  He had not heard Jim approaching.  He quickly closed the e-mail window and pasted a smile on his face.  This was not something he wanted to share just yet.  If ever.  He looked up.  "Nothing's wrong.  Just heard from Naomi."

 

"Great.  How is she?"  Jim leaned against the desk and picked up the Perkins file, flipping through it. 

 

"Fine.  Um, look, Jim, I'm going to, um…"

 

"What?"  The file hit the desk and Jim's laser eyes bored into him.

 

"I've got to go out of town tomorrow.  Can you do without me for a day?"

 

Skepticism was written all over Jim's face.  "Yeah."  The word was spoken slowly, almost a question, rather than a statement.  "Anything I can help with?"

 

"No."  He answered a little too fast and cringed as Jim's skepticism turned to suspicion.  Blair shook his head.  "It's just something Naomi asked me to do.  It's nothing, really.  I'll be back in a day.  Promise."

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Clallam Bay."

 

"What's in Clallam Bay?"

 

"Somebody Naomi wants me to talk to."

 

"O-kay.  I won't push then."

 

"Thanks, man."

 

"No problem, Chief."  Blair watched his best friend walk away and frowned.  Now Jim was upset with him.  He could tell.  It was in the set of his shoulders, in the tone of his voice.  Jim had trust issues.  Blair understood that.  As a matter of fact, right now, in this time and place, he understood trust issues more than ever before. 

 

Jim knocked on his captain's door and peeked into the office.  Simon waved him in even as he ended his phone call and hung up.  "Well, for once, we're getting a budget boost instead of a cut.  I'm a happy man.  All I need now is for you to tell me that you have something on the Perkins case."

 

"'Fraid not, Captain.  In fact, I was hoping that I could have tomorrow off."

 

"Tomorrow?"

 

"Yeah."  Jim looked anywhere but at his captain; he did not want to see the frown on Simon's face.  He wore a frown of his own after all.  Simon must think he had lost his mind.  With the Perkins case hanging, Jim wanted time off?  He would not give himself time off now if he were in Simon's shoes. 

 

"What aren't you saying, Jim?"

 

"That transparent?" Jim did finally look at the man.  Simon's tone had told him that he  was in friend mode, the captain tucked away for the time being.

"Sit down, Jim.  What's up?"

 

"It's Sandburg."  Jim sat and nodded in the general direction of his own desk where he had left Blair.

 

Simon sat up and searched for Jim's unofficial partner.  "What's up with the kid?"

 

"I don't know exactly, but when I walked up, his heart rate went through the roof and his attempt to shut down his e-mail without looking suspicious failed miserably.  Then he tells me he has to go to Clallam Bay tomorrow.  Claims it's something for Naomi."

 

"So he wants you to go with him?"

 

"No, he doesn't want me to go with him, which is why I'm going to follow him."

 

"Jim, that's not the best idea you've ever had.  Sandburg is a grown man.  I don't think he'll appreciate you following him around."

 

"Simon, whatever this is, it's got him upset.  I'm just worried about him.  If it's nothing, I'll leave.  But you know how he is!  He gets himself into the biggest messes by just being Sandburg."

 

"I think you're overreacting."

 

"But…"

 

Simon raised one hand to cut him off.  "I'm not saying I don't understand.  I do.  Since the Barnes thing and the fountain, well, let's just say sometimes I find myself wanting to put a leash on him so I won't have to go through that again.  But Jim, he has the right to some privacy."

 

"Which I'll give him once I figure out if this is trouble or not."

 

His captain shook his head.  "You can have the day, Jim, but if he catches you and gets pissed, I'm going to say I told you so."

"I wouldn't expect any different."  Jim turned to leave.

 

"One of the state prisons is in Clallam Bay."

 

"I know.  Now do you see why I'm worried?"

 

"Anybody we know there?"

 

"I don't know, but I'm going to try to find out.  If somebody we sent up is bothering him, I'll take care of it.  And then choke him for not turning to me first."

 

Simon nodded.  "Good luck."

 

He waited a full five minutes before he followed.  He had rented a nondescript sedan the afternoon before and had the rental agency park it across the street from the loft.  The truck would have been easily spotted.  Not that Blair would be looking to be followed.  The kid was too trusting.  That was one of the problems. 

 

Jim pulled onto the highway and let his sentinel eyes seek out the little green Volvo that his guide loved so much.  He found it closer than he thought he would.  Blair was taking his time.  He listened to Blair's radio as he drove far enough behind to just keep him in sight.  Feeling vaguely guilty, he realized that Simon was right.  Blair was a grown man.   But there was something wrong.  Jim had seen it in the smile that was not quite right on Blair's face.  He had heard it in the racing heartbeat.  And Blair had not slept the night before. 

 

Jim frowned and gripped the steering wheel tightly.  Maybe he was hovering but he had good reason to hover.  It had not even been a full month since he had nearly lost Blair to Alex Barnes in that damned fountain.  He was painfully aware that he had not handled that situation well.  Neither during nor after had he managed to behave like anything other than a jackass.  Maybe he still was, following Blair around like a criminal under surveillance. 

 

"Shit," Jim mumbled, rubbing one hand over his face.  That was exactly what he was doing.  He would turn around at the next exit.  He still had time to get to work after all, and the Perkins case was waiting for him. 

 

"Damn it, Naomi!"

 

Jim's attention snapped back to the green Volvo at Blair's mumbled words.

 

"What am I supposed to say to the man?  'Hello, I'm your son.  Not that I'm thrilled about that seeing as how you're in prison, you fucker.'"

 

That did it.  The Perkins case would have to wait.  Jim was going to Clallam Bay.

 

Blair's mind drifted as he drove.  He had not seen Linda Solomon in nearly twenty years.  He had called her Aunt Linda because Naomi told him to despite the fact that she was not related.  Of course, maybe she was sort of related after all.  Not by blood, but in a way, he supposed she might have been his stepmother under different circumstances.  When he had opened Naomi's e-mail and gotten the whole sordid story, including the current threat to Aunt Linda's safety, he had nearly been sick.  Do something, Naomi had pleaded.  At first, he had no idea what he could possibly do.  Knowing Naomi, she probably wanted him to appeal to the man's humanity or something--- although she, of all people, had reason enough to believe that he had no humanity.  Blair was certainly not going to put any faith in the idea of finding a penitent man.  A man who routinely sent death threats to his ex-wife was not sorry about his crimes.  Blair had gone through various ideas and scenarios, and after some research on the situation and after reading Naomi's second e-mail, the one Jim almost caught him reading, he decided on one that he was sure Jim would not approve of.   He swallowed hard.  Jim would never understand what he was about to do.  He hated himself for not having the courage to tell Jim, but he was not ready to face the ugly truth himself, much less see and live through Jim's reaction to it.

 

"Fuck," he whispered as he noticed the sign for his turn off.  He looked at his watch quickly.  He must have been pretty deep in thought to lose that much time.  It was a wonder he had not had an accident.  He was not ready to be there and yet he was there—here, whatever.  There was still a little ways to go before he got to the prison.  He would have to prepare himself quickly.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to Clallam Bay Corrections Center.  He rolled down the window as the guard stepped out of the gatehouse.

 

"Blair Sandburg.  I called yesterday about seeing a prisoner."

 

The guard checked his clipboard.  "Yes, sir.  Harrison Dupree, right?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Go ahead, sir."  He stepped back into the gatehouse and the gate started to open. 

 

Blair took a deep breath and drove through.  He parked the car and walked briskly toward the building.  Now that he was there, everything had to be done quickly, before he could change his mind and run away screaming back to Cascade and beg Jim to handle this for him. 

 

He entered the visitor's center and went through the various checkpoints, then found himself sitting in front of a thick sheet of plate glass in a little cubicle, a phone on the wall to his right. Waiting.  Exactly what he did not want to have to do.

 

Jim considered staying outside the prison walls for about half a second before he pulled up to the guard station and flashed his badge.  For the most part, he told the truth.  He even knew the right name, thanks to Blair's long-range senses training.  Officially, he was following his partner to come and see Harrison Dupree.  There was the usual disbelief that Blair was a cop which Jim did not explain or dispel, and a small hesitation because Jim was not on the list, which Jim explained by saying that he thought he was not going to be able to come but his plans changed.  The guard bought it and let him inside.  Jim decided not to go inside the prison itself however.  He'd had enough of prisons during his undercover stint a while back, and inside he ran a bigger chance of being seen by Blair.  Unless there was trouble, Blair would never know he had been followed. 

 

Jim parked his rental and leaned back, preparing to focus his hearing on his wayward guide.  "Please don't let there be any trouble," he muttered to the god he had abandoned when he left his father's house.  Funny, he had been calling on that god an awful lot lately.  So far, the deity had been listening and granting his prayers.

 

Blair nearly jumped out of his skin when someone suddenly appeared on the other side of the glass.  The guy pointed at the phone on his side of the window before grabbing it.  Blair bit his lip and picked up his own phone.

 

"Who are you?  And what do you want?" a gruff voice reached his ear.

 

"Harrison Dupree?"  He was so proud that his voice did not crack.

 

"Yeah.  What's it to you?"

 

Blair stared at the man in front of him, looking for any sign of himself in the man's hardened face.  He had blue eyes.  Maybe the face was shaped vaguely like his own.  There was no hair to compare.  It was not a natural baldness, however, because Blair could see the dark shadow of stubble on the man's head. 

 

Suddenly, the man banged his phone receiver on the glass.  "Hey!" he could hear the man yell through the partition.  "I ain't got all day, kid."

 

Blair closed his eyes and steeled himself for his next words.  "I want you to leave Linda Solomon alone."

 

The man laughed at him.

 

"I mean it.  I know you're getting out and I know that you've been threatening her, but I want you to stay away from her."

 

"My ex-old lady sent you, a hippie kid, to warn me off?  She's lost her fucking mind.  Listen, kid, you tell her that she better sleep with one eye open.  You tell her that."

 

"I don't think so.  See, you can either leave her alone or I can make sure that you spend the rest of your life in prison."

 

"I served my time, kid.  I'm leaving here."  He was so smug, leaning back in his chair and letting one long arm drop between his legs. 

 

That was when Blair saw it.  The swastika tattoo on his forearm.  Nausea swept through him and he had to swallow several times to keep his breakfast down.  When he was sure it was going to stay down, he shook his head and continued.  "That's true.  You did serve your time for the crime they convicted you of in 1969, several counts of armed robbery, assault, murder.  But I know where you were in September of 1968.  I know what you did and I have evidence."

 

"What?  You weren't even alive in '68, I'll bet." Dupree grinned at him. 

 

"No, I was born in May of 1969."

 

"Then you ain't got shit.  Not that I'm saying there's anything you could have."

 

The more the bastard talked the angrier Blair got and the easier it was to continue.  "Oh, you're wrong.  I have lots of evidence.  Evidence that can be pretty damning.  Evidence that they couldn't have gotten back then, but is damn easy to get now.  You'll go down."

 

"What kind of evidence?"  Some of the smugness was gone now.  Cold eyes tried to bore into him.

 

"DNA."

 

"What?"

 

"D. N. fucking A."

 

Dupree's eyes clouded over and Blair knew he was doing the math.  When Dupree looked back, Blair could see that he had come to the correct conclusion.  "No."

 

"Yep.  I guess this is where I'm supposed to say, 'hi, Dad.'"

 

Dupree shook his head and laughed nervously.  "Don't matter.  Been thirty fucking years.  You can't get me on that."

 

"Wanna bet?  Gordon Grayhorse died, you son of a bitch.  There's no statute of limitations on murder.  And you were on reservation land.  That makes it Federal.  The FBI wasn't interested back then.  It was just one dead Indian and one hippie girl claiming rape.  But now, the Native lobby is stronger and I have some connections.  I will make sure you go down and go down hard.  I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.  You raped my mother, you bastard, and you killed her friend.  And I'm all the proof they'll need to lock you up and throw away the key."  Blair could hardly believe the rage he felt, and he barely recognized his own voice because of the hatred that laced his words.  "Or, you can leave Linda Solomon alone; I walk away and so do you."

 

"Why?"

 

"My mother came to your trial.  She saw you on TV and recognized you so she came.  She found out that Linda was the one that turned you in and they talked.  They became friends.  In fact, I call your ex-wife 'Aunt Linda.'  How's that for irony?"

 

Dupree turned his head away and pursed his lips in thought.  He turned back.  "So, you're my son, my kid."

 

Blair shook his head.  "No fucking way, man.  Don't even think it.  I never want to see your ass again after I leave here today."

 

"I'm your father, kid."

 

"NO!  You are the monster that raped my mother!  That's it and that's all!  Don't come near me.  Don't come near my mother and don't come near Linda.  That's the deal.  If I ever turn around and see you, I will fry your ass.  You got that?"  Blair felt himself trembling and tried to control it, only to tremble even more.

 

"Yeah."

 

"So?  Do we have a deal?  Or do I call up the FBI and give them a blood sample?"

 

"Deal," Dupree said tersely. 

 

Blair glared at him.  "Good.  Oh, by the way, you don't want me as a son anyway."  Blair smiled and did not like the reflection he saw in the glass.  "You fathered a half-Jewish bastard, Dupree.  Just a little more irony for you."  He pointed to the tattooed forearm.  "Guess you didn't ask her name before you raped her, huh?"

 

"Go to hell, you little bastard."

 

"You know, I just might do that so I can fuck with you for eternity."  Blair hung up the phone and walked away to the sounds of Dupree going crazy, beating the glass and screaming at him.  He heard the guards hitting the man, slamming him down to restrain him.  Blair drew a shaky breath and continued on his way.  He did not look back.

 

Jim was pacing outside his rental car.  "Son of a bitch.  I'm gonna kill him.  I'm absolutely going to kill him.  No, first I'll let him attempt to explain this shit and then I'll kill him because there is no fucking acceptable explanation."  Blair was on his way out but Jim was not hiding.  No, he fully intended for Blair to see him.  The man should at least get a chance to see Jim coming before he killed him.  The door to the visitor's center opened and Jim whirled to meet Blair face to face.  Blair came to an abrupt halt at the curb, met Jim's eyes, and crumbled to the pavement.

 

"Shit!"  Jim ran to his side.  Blair was sitting there on the curb, silent tears streaming down his face.  Jim slowly lowered himself down beside him.  All thoughts of killing his friend were gone now as he touched Blair's shoulder.  "Chief?"

 

"You followed me," he stated simply.

 

"I was worried about you."  He still was, even more than ever, but he did not say that aloud.  The situation was obviously hitting Blair hard. 

 

"You mean you didn't trust me."

 

"No, I was actually worried.  You were hiding something big, I could tell, and I could tell that you were upset about it."

 

"You didn't think I was hiding another sentinel or anything, huh?  Betraying you again?"  Blair's tone was the same one that Jim had heard him take with Dupree.  It was frightening.  Jim had never heard so much hate in his guide's voice before and he never wanted to hear it again.  Not to mention that Jim knew he was only attacking him to avoid discussing what was said in the prison.

 

"I'm not going to let you do that.  You're not going to make me forget what I heard."

 

"Yeah?  Well, let's talk about what you heard!  You heard something that was none of your damn business!  This was personal, Jim!"  Blair flung himself up from the pavement and turned to stare down at Jim.

 

"I know that, and I'm partially sorry that I heard it."

 

"Partially?  How is one partially sorry, Jim?"

 

"I'm sorry that I overheard such painful and personal things, Blair.  But I'm not sorry that I know about it all now."

 

"What?  Why?"

 

"So I can help you," he paused, looking for the right words, "deal with it," he finished.

 

Blair tilted his head to one side and gave him a puzzled look.  "What, no lectures?  No screaming fits that I should've let the law handle it?"

 

Jim stood and placed his hands on Blair's shoulders.  "I'll be truthful and say that that was going to be my first response.  I was even planning your untimely demise and constructing a justifiable homicide defense for myself.  But… I don't know, Blair.  I'm looking at you now and I can see what this has cost you.  I do want to know why you didn't come to me.  Or the FBI even."

 

Blair pulled away from him and looked down at his feet.  "The FBI have nothing on the case, Jim.  They didn't even really investigate.  The times were different, as Naomi pointed out.  They thought Naomi was lying because she wasn't beaten and bruised and they blamed Grayhorse's death on random violence.  Hell, they even tried to blame Naomi for his death at first.  I guess I should be grateful that they decided it was random or else I'd have been born in prison!  Jim, she wasn't beaten because Grayhorse was injured and Dupree told her that he would let him live if she didn't fight.  She didn't fight but he died anyway.  He was hurt too badly.  Truthfully, the only thing I can prove is that Dupree was there and that he's my— you know.  I couldn't take the chance that the charges wouldn't stick, man.  They could have let him go and then I'd have no leverage to keep him away from Linda.  I was sort of hoping that he wouldn't figure that out."

 

"Naomi could testify.  They'd listen to her now."

 

"She says she can't.  Truth is, she won't.  Even with Linda in danger, Naomi said she couldn't take the stand.  They wouldn't listen to her then so she won't talk to them now.  She wanted me to do something so I did."  He gestured back at the door to the visitor's center. 

 

"Are you sure he's your father?"

 

"Naomi is sure."  Blair shrugged.

 

"Couldn't it have been that Grayhorse guy?"

 

Blair laughed a little.  "Jim, Gordon Grayhorse was nearly seventy years old.  Naomi was working for him not sleeping with him.  He ran a convenience store and she had just left home and needed a job to raise some more money to continue her cross-country trek.  Harrison Dupree is the only possibility."

 

"I thought she said there were lots—"

 

"Jim, it was either pretty lies or the ugly truth.  She chose pretty lies, man.  I can't even be mad about that.  I mean, I tell you, man, I could have lived the rest of my life without ever having to meet that bastard."

 

"Why didn't you tell me, Blair?  I could have been in there with you, supporting you.  Did you think I wouldn't help?" Jim hoped that was not the case.  He knew that he had messed up with Barnes and that Blair had every reason to distrust him.

 

"Oh man, Jim!  I—it wasn't—god!"  The tears that had stopped started up again.  "I'm a child of rape, Jim.  My father is a murderer and a rapist.  God, that hurts to say!  I couldn't tell you!  I didn't want to know it myself.  How could I admit it to you?"

 

"Blair!  What he did has nothing to do with you!  You are not responsible for the things he did!  It has no bearing on the person you are!"

 

"Man, Jim, I wish I could believe that right now."

 

"Blair, damn it, believe it.  I know you, Chief.  You are nothing like that bastard in there."

 

"Aren't I?"  The curly head was tilted again, and sad eyes asked him for reassurance.

 

"What?" 

 

"You heard it all.  The things I said, what I did.  I traded one man's justice away.  I traded my mother's justice away.  I'm letting a murderer and rapist walk free without paying for what he did.  What does that make me?  What if he gets out and kills someone else?  Rapes someone else?  I'm going to be responsible.  It'll be my fault."

 

"Jesus," Jim whispered.  "Chief, you were trying to save Linda Solomon's life."

 

"That won't mean a damn thing to Dupree's next victim!"

 

"Blair, there might not be a next victim!  Don't borrow trouble!  And even if there is a next victim, it will not be your fault!  You know, Blair, I take that back.  There is a next victim!  You!  Don't let him do this to you!"

 

"You wouldn't have let him walk," Blair stated softly.  "You'd have found a way, wouldn’t you?"

 

"Blair, do you care for Linda Solomon?"

 

"Of course.  She was like a second mom to me.  Why?"

 

"You did what you could to make sure she was safe, right?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Okay, so maybe I wouldn't have done it the way you did, but Blair, in the same situation I would do whatever I had to do to make sure someone I cared about was safe.  And if it were between letting a man like Dupree go free and your safety, your life, Blair, I'd choose you.  Every time, Chief.  I know things haven't been great between us.  I lost your trust and I probably didn't do much to get it back today, but I do understand why you did this and I'm here for you.  Okay?"

 

Blair searched his face for a long moment.  "Jim, I do trust you.  I thought you didn't trust me though."

 

"I was out of line when I said those things.  I trust you with my life.  Hell, if nothing else, I know now just how far you'd go to protect someone you loved."

 

"No, Jim, you have no idea how far I'd go to protect you.  This?  This was nothing compared to what I would do for you."

 

"Back at cha, Chief.  Now, let's get the hell outta here."  Jim flung one arm around Blair's shoulders and tugged him in the direction of his Volvo.  He put his guide in the car and smiled at him.  "Don't look back, Blair.  When you go out that gate, don't look back.  This is over."

 

Blair's eyes filled with tears that he blinked away as he nodded.  "Thanks for coming, Jim.  I'm glad you were here."

 

Jim touched wind-blown curls.  "You're welcome."  He closed the door and made his way back to the rental to follow his guide back home.

 

"Hey, Chief, grab me a beer while you're in there, will you?"  Jim called.

 

"Sure thing!" 

 

Jim hit the power button on the remote control and watched as Don Haas' face came into focus. 

 

"Our top story tonight is from Clallam Bay Correctional Center where an inmate being released was shot with a high-powered rifle just as he stepped outside the prison gates.  Harrison Dupree was shot—" 

 

Glass shattered behind him, distracting Jim from Haas' next few words.  Blair stood in stunned silence staring at the TV screen, broken glass and beer all around his feet. Jim got up quickly and maneuvered Blair around the glass and over to the couch, then turned his attention back to the TV. 

 

"Prison guards and Clallam Bay police arrested forty-four year old Jack Grayhorse within minutes of the shooting.  As of yet, police have no motive but Grayhorse has confessed.  Dupree is listed in critical condition in the Clallam Bay Medical Center with a gunshot wound to the chest. He is not expected to survive.  We will bring you more details as they come in.  Now, in other news—"   Jim grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. 

 

"Chief?  You okay?"

 

Blair continued to stare at the dark screen for a minute before he looked up at Jim.  "Yeah.  I'm fine."  The flat tone was frightening.  As was the nonchalance that followed.  "Hmph, better get the mop and broom.  Don't want to stain the floor."  Blair got up and brushed past him.

 

Jim could only watch Blair go, and silently promise to be there when he was needed.

 

The end.

 

Other notes: I was gonna outright kill ol' Harrison but Jane wanted the possibility of more so there… there's a possibility.  We'll see what happens… <eg>