Flesh and Blood and Heart

[lit_gal]

Flesh and Blood and Heart
Sentinel x Mag 7 (Tucson 7 AU)
Jim/Blair (established relationship)
2010 Moonridge story


A call reveals a truth about Jim's past that he's not ready for. Blair is enough family for him, so the thought that he's related to a con artist in Tuscon does not please him. Unfortunately for Jim, once you poke the Tucson 7, they're likely to poke back.

Curious about these Tucson guys?  Check out Sunstroke, Insanity, and Faith (which introduces a very odd group of law enforcement officers/con men/vigilantes).


( Chapters One and Two )

( Chapters Three and Four )

( Chapters Five and Six )

Chapter 7

Jim lay in bed with the faint first light of morning cutting through the air where the curtains weren't pulled all the way shut. Motes of dust hovered in the light, and Jim watched the slow dance. His brother. Jim didn't even know how he was supposed to feel, much less how he did.

Blair shifted in bed, rolling over and throwing an arm over Jim's waist without waking up. Jim brought his own hand down and laid it on Blair's forearm. He'd always had difficult relationships with men, and Jim had enough psychology credits to know it came from his history with his father and brother. William Ellison was such a firm believer in capitalism and competition that he honestly thought that Jim would be a better man if he felt an endless need to beat his brother. Steven had soaked in more of that lesson than Jim. Even after his mother had left, Jim had tried to be the kind of man his mother wanted him to be.

When Steven had broken his toys and dropped caramel sauce on Jim's baseball glove, Jim kept telling himself that one day Steven would grow up to be his best friend. His mother had promised him that, and Jim wanted so much to believe her. After all, it had been his mother that sat in his bed and read stories late into the night. Sometimes Jim had gone to school so tired that he'd doze through class, something that always got him in trouble with teachers and his father, but it was worth it. On those nights when his mother sat and read him Tom Sawyer, using different voices for the different characters, on those nights Jim felt like he was the center of her world. He'd take all the groundings and spankings in the world to get that time with his mother. So, long after she disappeared, Jim had believed she would come back, that she'd show up at school and whisk him away to some adventure that his father would disapprove of.

Instead, she was off having another son. She'd raised this Ezra, taught him to be the sort of asshole that didn't love Blair at first sight, taught him to respect others' choices in lovers, taught him to dress like a model out of a fancy magazine while Jim put white socks with black shoes. Ezra seemed to have a love for designer suits that rivaled Rafe's, and that was pure Grace Ellison.

"Sweetie, having a good inside is fine," Grace said as she carefully lifted her gown so she could go to one knee without getting the delicate blue fabric dirty. Jim must have been five or six at the time. "But if people look at your outside and make a judgment about you, they'll never get to know the real you." She had her blonde hair swept up and she sparkled so that Jim had brought his fingers up to touch her brilliant necklace. She'd laughed. "That's my son… always go for the diamonds. Colored gemstones are entirely too ostentatious. Diamonds are classic and dignified."

Jim could unroll the memory like a little treasure and remember her soft finger stroking his cheek, the musk and fruit of her perfume, the beading sewn into the top of her evening gown.

"Make an impression, James, always make an impression."

Blinking away the Sentinel-sharp memory, Jim wondered what other lessons she'd taught Ezra. The discomfort and disinterest he'd felt for his brother earlier was quickly turning to dislike. Jim knew that it was unreasonable to resent Ezra when the man hadn't had a choice. He certainly couldn't have, as a baby, told his mother to go back to her first family. Jim doubted that Grace Ellison or Maude Standish--or whatever she was calling herself now--had ever admitted to having two sons that she'd abandoned to a man who had the emotional depth of a goldfish.

"Man, you are thinking way too loud," Blair muttered.

"You're supposed to be asleep."

Blair groaned and pushed himself up onto one elbow. "You could help wake me up," Blair offered with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jim pursed his lips and made a game out of studying Blair. "And what would I get out of this deal?"

"Access to the best little ass in Arizona."

"I don't know, Chief. Did you see the girl at the check-in desk? She had a sweet ass on her." Jim laughed when Blair landed a punch right in his stomach.

"The check-in girl?" Blair got out of bed and threw the pillow as hard as he could at Jim's head. "Man, you are going to be couch surfing for a month. The check-in girl?"

Jim swung his legs out of bed. "I helped you wake up, though," Jim pointed out.

"The check-in girl?" Blair put his hands on his hips and stood right in front of Jim, glaring down.

"It was a very round ass," Jim said as he ran his hands up Blair's legs. "Maybe I should inspect your ass. If you're making claims without evidence, that might be fraud, Chief." Jim let his hands wander up to Blair's ass. The thin cotton pajamas allowed him to feel every curve and every twitch of every muscle.

"Fraud, huh? I could get arrested for that." Blair's voice was soft and husky now; his hands came to rest on Jim's shoulders as he leaned closer. Jim squeezed Blair's ass and then ran his hands up Blair's back, feeling the hot skin under his fingers. Leaning even closer, Blair massaged Jim's shoulder before letting his hands dip down to stroke over his back. Jim breathed in Blair's musk, his cock getting harder.

Then a knock came at the door.

Blair sagged, letting Jim's shoulders catch his weight. "Fuck. Man, if that is some weird travelling salesman who tortures hotel guests, I'm killing him and letting you hide the body."

"You kill 'em, you hide 'em, That's the rule," Jim said. With a pat on Blair's side, he urged Blair out of his way before reaching for his weapon. Without even being asked, Blair moved to the wall where someone at the door wouldn't have quick access to him, and Jim double checked that the heavy duty latch was in place and his weapon's safety was off before he cracked the door open.

"Yes?" Jim asked suspiciously. The man outside looked respectable. He had on a nice button up shirt and smelled of antiseptic and soap—the unmistakable scents of a hospital.

"Jim Ellison?"

"Yes?" Jim narrowed his eyes in a warning for this guy to get to the point.

"I'm Nathan Jackson. Chris Larabee asked me to drop by."

"Why?"

"There's a small problem, and he wanted you to have a heads up."

"Oh?" Jim didn't move, but Blair did. He pushed the door closed and flipped the security latch off before Jim could offer even a token protest.

"Ignore him. He really does know how to do more than just offer monosyllabic grunts," Blair said as he swung the door wide open. "Blair Sandburg." He stuck his hand out.

"Nathan Jackson. I've heard a lot about you."

"And now he's seen a lot of you," Jim pointed out. His own pajamas were constructed a little better than Blair's. One glance down, and Blair started blushing.

"Oh man. Okay, that is…. I'll be in the bathroom." Blair grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor and headed for the bathroom.

"Hey, I’m a medical student. Trust me, I've seen a whole lot of naked parts. Don't worry about it," Nathan shouted after him. The door slammed and Nathan sighed. "Please let him know that I'm really not offended. After you have to irrigate open sores on a six hundred pound man's infected penis, a naked body doesn't even cause a twitch."

Jim just put his weapon on the top of the dresser where he could access it easily and then crossed his arms. "What's the message?"

Nathan looked him up and down for a second, and Jim just glared right back. Blair might react, but the army had pretty much driven any modesty out of Jim. As long as he had a gun, he was dressed enough.

Nathan looked away first. "Yeah, you're as subtle as Ezra. I can see the family attitude." Nathan walked in and moved toward the table, giving Jim space, which was good because Jim was starting to get cranky about the number of people who knew his business. "Unfortunately, Ezra found out that you're in town, and he recognized your name as the cop who ran his records."

Jim's lips tightened into a thin line as he tried hard to not shoot the messenger. "Found out? Exactly how did he find out?"

Nathan shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he browbeat it out of J.D. or Buck said something stupid when he was distracted by some pretty girl or Josiah decided that he had some higher calling that required him to tell Ezra about you. Who the hell knows? I just know that secrets don't last very long around here, not with the seven of us."

Jim rubbed a hand over his face and considered the damage. Ezra was not going to let them near the Players Only now, so Blair's tests were out of the question.

"So, what's up?" Blair asked as he came out of the bathroom, this time fully clothed. Now Jim was the only half-naked man in the room.

"Ezra knows I'm the cop who ran a background check on him," Jim said. Blair's face twisted with horror.

"Oh man, that is so not cool. Who spilled the beans?"

"If I find out, someone's going to regret it," Jim warned in a dark voice.

"Well he knows more than that." Nathan sat down in one of the hotel chairs. "He called his mother to warn her that a cop was checking up on them."

Jim's guts twisted like someone had punched him, and then Blair was there at his side, warm hands supporting him.

"Yeah," Nathan said softly. "It's that bad. Maude told him that you were his brother. Apparently she flew into Phoenix in the wee hours of the morning and she's driving down right now. Ezra's over at Players Only getting shit faced drunk and complaining about his mother's ability to drop the verbal equivalent of a nuclear bomb onto any conversation"

"Fuck." Jim breathed the word like a prayer. He found it more than a little ironic that Ezra was complaining; Ezra never came home from school to find that the bomb his mother had dropped was a quick case of abandonment.

"Yeah," Nathan agreed. "Chris didn't think you needed to get hit with that without at least a little warning and a chance to get the hell out of Dodge."

"Jim?" Blair leaned closer, his hand resting on Jim's arm as he looked up in concern. Jim didn't have any reassurances for Blair; he didn't know how he even felt. After a second, Blair turned on Nathan. "Man, you guys are way beyond the pale. Way. You have crossed so many lines I don't even know where to start. If Jim wanted that asshole to know they were brothers, Jim would have told him."

Holding up both hands, Nathan started to shake his head. "Hey, I didn't tell him anything. That's why Chris sent me—because he knows I wasn't the one who screwed you over. But let me tell you something about that asshole." He paused for a second and then shrugged. "And Ezra is a first-class asshole."

Jim blinked. He'd expected some impassioned defense of Ezra, not agreement.

"If you want to find out how much of an asshole he is, get him started on the topics of race and poverty some time. That man is so far right he thinks Newt Gingrich is a liberal. As far as he's concerned, the government should leave people on the streets, and that would teach them to go out and get jobs. And his attitude on affirmative action…?" Nathan let his voice trail off, but it was clear that he didn't exactly agree with Ezra. "However, he's also a damn good man. The first time he met Buck and Vin, those two were knee deep in shit and wading deeper in. He could have invited them to get the hell out and called the cops." Nathan frowned. "Of course knowing Ezra's allergy to law enforcement, he wouldn't have called. However, he could have locked himself in the club and avoided the whole mess. Instead, he followed Buck; he held Vin and protected him after he got shot by asshole drug dealers who'd kidnapped Josiah. He went wading into the middle of a fight because it was the right thing to do. So before you go focusing on all of Ezra's negative qualities, and he does have more than most men, you make sure you're seeing the whole picture." In the middle of his speech, Nathan had gotten up from his chair and he'd started poking the air with a finger.

"Vin. Vin Tanner?" Jim asked.

Clearly Jim had surprised Nathan because he seemed to lose a little of his fury. "Yeah. He took a bullet trying to get Josiah out of the drop house where they'd taken him."

Jim turned and gave Blair a look. From the way Blair's eyes went big, Blair was thinking about the same little piece of trivia Jim was.

"Is that the time that Josiah broke man's neck with his hands tied behind his back?" Jim asked.

Nathan narrowed his eyes and a sort of defensive blankness fell over his features like a poker face. "Yeah," he agreed, but the man who had just delivered a tirade was now silent.

Jim nodded. If that was the same event, then the cop who'd been shot, the one mentioned in the report Jack Kelso got his hands on, was Vin Tanner. What the hell kind of operation included a local undercover officer, an FBI agent, a retired war hero, and an asset like Ezra Standish? The longer Jim was in Tucson, the less any of this made sense.

Blair cleared his throat. "So, it sounds like you're good friends with Ezra."

With an incredulous look, Nathan shook his head. "Friends… not exactly. Do I trust him at my back? Every damn time. So if you're Ezra's brother, you should be proud of the fact that he stands up for what's right when the time comes. He'll go walking into hell with a gun in hand if that's what it takes to get the job done. Now, until that time, he'll con you out of money, cheat in cards, talk you into investing your life's savings in some crazy scheme, and generally annoy the crap out of you. But that's just part of Ezra's charm."

Jim studied this man who seemed to know his brother so well. The description didn't fit the man Jim had met last night. Oh, he could believe that Ezra carried because he could smell the gun oil all over his hands, but Ezra had struck him as the type to hide in the bathroom while other people did the shooting.

"Look," Nathan said with a sigh, "I'm running on three hours sleep, and I'm about ready to collapse, and I've got another long night tonight. My ER rotation is kicking my ass, so if you don't mind, I'm going to let you two decide how you want to handle this, and I'm going to go find a very soft bed that I can collapse in."

Nathan turned to leave and Blair called out. "Nathan?" Blair gave Jim a quick glance before he went to Nathan and held out a hand to shake. "Thank you for the perspective on Ezra. This has all been a little… well… surreal. You know? But you didn't have to give us any sort of warning. Thank you for that."

Shaking Blair's hand, Nathan gave Blair a small smile. "Hey, trust me, I understand family drama. I've seen plenty of it myself. But look at it this way…" He turned to Jim. "You have a chance to decide whether you want to have a brother. Ezra may talk crap, but a lot of weird shit goes on around here, and he's the sort of man you want at you side through that. Before you give up on him, give him a chance to show that."

Blair was already nodding his agreement, but Jim just frowned. "Weird shit? Do you mean the sort of weird shit that would lead to a dozen different reports of Buck firing his weapon in town? Something that would explain why a local minister ended up tied up in a drug dealer's house? Maybe an explanation for why so many of you are carrying guns?" Jim looked down at Nathan's right leg before he looked back up at the man.

To his credit, Nathan didn't even try to deny that he was carrying. "There's a side of this town that is still the Wild West, Ellison. Our crime statistics are…."

"Embarrassingly bad," Blair finished for him.

Nathan gave a shrug. "It's worse than the numbers make it look. The illegal population and the legal immigrants who have family members who are illegals—they won't go to the cops. Ever. The politicians encourage that because they don't want a bunch of illegals diverting police resources away from the suburbs or increased crime statistics to make the city look bad. The gangs know they have a pool of victims who won't complain, working people who are targets for all sorts of shit. Some of these ghettos are as bad as you'd find in any third world country."

"And you seven, you step in the gap. You're vigilantes stepping in where the real cops don't bother to patrol," Jim guessed, putting the pieces together.

Nathan got a satisfied expression on his face. "Oh, I don't think anyone could call us vigilantes, but we do perform a certain service to the community. And Ezra's part of that. He puts himself out there to protect people—ironically, he protects the same people he then turns around and offends by suggesting they're all welfare-sucking liberals out to destroy life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The neighborhood cuts him some slack for being an asshole. You might want to consider doing the same." With that, Nathan nodded at each of them and headed for the door.

Jim watched the man leave.

"Man, and I thought Cascade was one weird-ass town. It has nothing on this place," Blair said quietly. Jim tended to agree.









Chapter 8

Jim came out of the shower, a cloud of steam following him as he rubbed the aftershave into his face. "You ready?" he asked Blair. Blair had his hair pulled back into a ponytail and his laptop propped up in his lap.

"Yeah, sure." Blair's voice had that distant quality that meant he'd found something interesting. Jim grabbed a hand towel to wipe his hands as headed for the bed. Over Blair's shoulder, he could see the department search window open.

"You hacked my police account?" Jim asked.

Blair barely glanced up. "Hey, if you don't want me to use your computers, stop using Jags players as your passwords."

"Considering you somehow got my bank PIN number, I think I'm just admitting defeat and not worrying about it," Jim said as he sat next to Blair and studied the screen. His mother's face was in the suspect box on the left side, her eyes had tiny lines at the corners, but her forehead and cheeks were entirely too smooth for a woman of her age, and her blonde hair was swept up into a loose bun, like she was about to step into a ballgown and go out for a night on the town instead of being booked.

"Is that her?" Blair asked softly. Jim didn't answer; reaching over, he scrolled down to read the charges.

Maude Standish AKA Maude Williams AKA Margaret Williams AKA Mary Stanfield had a half-dozen charges against her, but no convictions and no outstanding warrants. A knot in Jim's stomach loosened. For a second, he thought he was going to be faced with having to arrest the mother he hadn't seen in decades. That wasn't the reunion he'd hoped for when he'd been young.

"Whoa, she is seriously on the grift. Check forging, fraud, extortion… there are a lot of charges here."

"Ezra learned at his mother's knee," Jim said. Shit. His brother never had a chance at a normal life after being raised by a mother with this kind of record. "After the divorce, she must have started conning to make a living. She always did like to spend money. Most of their fights were about something she had bought or something she'd done that he didn't think matched his upstanding social status." Jim remembered sitting on the stairs listening to his father rant, and he'd hated that his mom had just taken all the hateful words without even trying to defend herself. Jim had rushed in exactly once. He couldn't remember how old he'd been, but Steven hadn't been born yet, and he'd flown at his father, crying and telling him to stop being mean.

His father had given him a good spanking and sent him up to his room. Laying in the dark, Jim had cried as he listened to the fight continue. His father had barely even paused long enough to give Jim the spanking before he'd gone right back to verbally attacking his wife.

It had been late when Jim's door had cracked open. His mother came in and sat on the edge of his bed and smoothed the hair back from his face, her thumb tracing the tear marks on his face.

"Sweetie, I know you were trying to help."

"He was yelling at you," Jim defended himself.

"Oh James. Yelling is pointless. When other people yell, you just remind yourself that anyone in control never has to yell. Yelling is for people who feel out of control. Sometimes your father feels out of control, and we forgive him. In fact, every time he yells, I want you to try to be extra nice to your father so he'll feel better, and then he won't yell so much. Okay, sweetie?"

Blair interrupted Jim's memories by giving a low, long whistle. "Check it out."

Blinking away the image of his mother looking down at him with sympathy in her eyes, he looked at an unrelated case. It was an old file that had been scanned as part of the department's goal to digitize the back records. The complaint was from late 1956, and a Peter Colfax described a young woman named Mary Sheffield who had conned him into investing in an advertising agency only to disappear. "Why…?" Jim frowned as he read the rest of the complaint. Peter Colfax had been an employee of the shipping company his father worked for.

"I searched for female white-collar suspects in Cascade around the time your mother lived there."

Jim narrowed his eyes at his partner.

"Hey, it's better to know, right? I mean, this agency con looks a lot like Maude Williams' insurance agency con from 1972. But Colfax dropped the charges and refused to cooperate with police after March of 1957."

"Shit." Jim rubbed a hand over his face. "My father was an executive at the company where Colfax worked. Do you want to make a bet about whether he ordered the guy to shut up or paid him off?"

Blair shrugged. "The detectives' notes say that Colfax left town in April of '57 without leaving a forwarding address."

"Which suggests bribery," Jim said wearily. "I was going to show up four or five months later, and my father made this go away." Jim wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. It was just like his father to throw money at something to make it go away. When Carolyn had put their wedding announcement in the paper, his father had shown up to pay for most of the wedding—he'd planned it, writing checks to various venders, but he'd never really talked to Jim. It was like spending the money was supposed to fix things between them. It hadn't.

"So, she was a grifter before hooking up with your dad. Whoa. That's heavy."

Jim felt like his limbs were made of lead as he sat on the bed and stared at his mother's face. He'd always thought of her as getting gray hair and smile lines around her mouth, but plastic surgery and hair dye seemed to be keeping up with time for the most part. Who was she? Jim couldn't reconcile his memories of her with the suspect described in the police files. He was still staring at the screen when Blair closed the laptop. Setting it to one side, Blair let his hand rest on Jim's knee.

"Should we head home?" he asked, his voice soft.

Jim considered it. Part of him wanted to start running, and keep running, but another part just knew that wouldn't work. Eventually, he shook his head. "She'd follow us."

"Really? Okay." Blair seemed to think for a minute. "Maybe we could leave a note saying you're just not ready to have this discussion?"

A dark laugh slipped out of Jim. "Trust me, Chief, she wouldn't care. I remember when my father would throw some fit, and she'd smile and make all the right noises, and then the minute his back was turned, she'd go and do exactly what he didn't want her to do." As a kid, there had been something exciting in the way she always thumbed her nose at William Ellison. Now, Jim wasn't quite as amused by the thought of being dismissed the way his father always had been.

"Do you really think she'd follow… I mean, even if she knew you didn't want to talk to her?"

"Yes." Jim pressed his eyes closed. "And I don't want her in Cascade."

"Oh man. That… that really sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

They sat on the bed, the silence growing longer and Blair's hand creating an island of warmth on Jim's knee when the rest of him was feeling unnaturally cold.

"So, we're still going to go meet her?" Blair asked.

Jim sighed and ran a hand over his face. He didn't want to, and he felt backed into a corner by the knowledge that she would push a meeting. For the first time in his life, Jim felt a little sympathy for his father. Not a lot, of course, but some. His father had made a difficult situation a whole lot worse by refusing to talk to Jim—refusing to explain anything or even let him talk about his mother. However, there was a little sympathy in there because getting backed into a corner was uncomfortable, to say the least. Jim pushed himself upright. "We might as well get this over with."

"Should we wait until they—"

"We're going now," Jim said. Striding across the room, he grabbed his wallet off the dresser. If he was going to have to deal with his mother, he was going to set some of the terms. The last thing he wanted was to turn over the details of this little meeting to Ezra and his mother. Right now, Jim figured the less time he gave her to make up some story, the more likely he was to get the truth. "You're driving," he said, and he threw the car keys toward Blair. Blair was so surprised he dropped them and had to grab them off the floor.

"I'm liking this woman less and less with every passing minute," Blair muttered as he followed Jim out of the room. Jim was feeling about the same. He had no idea what excuse she had for abandoning him and Steven, but it wasn't going to be good enough. "Where are we going?"

"Players Only. She'll go to Ezra first," Jim said with confidence. When his mother had been out for the evening or with his father on a trip, the first thing she did when she got back was to come up to his room while his father checked the mail.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Blair chased after him, but Jim continued to walk as fast as he could toward the elevator.

"No," Jim admitted in a tone that also made it clear he wasn't changing his mind. Sometimes Blair could be absolutely obnoxious in his willingness to push an issue, but right now he was silent as they got on the elevator. The rental car's keys jingled in his hand as he fidgeted, but he didn't comment as they got out at the lobby and headed out into the desert heat.

The car ride over was silent. Jim could feel Blair's concern with every glance and nervous cough out of Blair, but Jim focused on the streets. Watching the neighborhoods pass by, watching neat lawns give way to graffiti and broken down cars was a more pleasant way to pass the time than thinking about his mother. Jim didn't even know her. He never really had known her, but he could suddenly feel the distance between them far more sharply. Before Jim was ready, Blair pulled into the Players Only lot and turned the car off. The parking lot was nearly empty with only three cars sitting in the lot. Next door, a nail salon was open for business, a bouquet of balloons waving in the sluggish breeze, but the place was empty.

"We don't have to do this," Blair said.

"Yeah, we do." Jim opened the door and headed for the bar. Ezra used the place as his home address as well as business, so Jim was guessing there were bedrooms in the second story. The lights were off, but when Jim pulled on the front door, it swung easily open, the little bell above it ringing merrily. It was a surreal moment, standing in the middle of a worn bar waiting for a mother he hadn't seen in thirty years. Blair came in the door behind him, and Blair's hand found Jim's back, resting there in silent support.

Jim walked slowly into the bar, stretching out his hearing until he found two people whispering furiously upstairs. "I'm here," Jim called out loudly, and the whispers stopped. Jim tilted his head toward the back of the bar. Behind the employee kitchens, there was a stair up to the second level, and Jim could hear footsteps coming down. One was heavy—the angry near-stomping of a grown man. The other was the click-clacking of a woman's heels against wood. Jim stiffened as he realized that he was hearing his mother. Grace Maude Mary Williams Stanfield Standish Ellison was coming down to meet him, and Jim didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to say to her.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Blair muttered, his voice almost too soft for even Jim to hear. Jim clenched his teeth and watched as the employee door swung open.

His mother. Jim's mother stood in the bar, backlit from the kitchen her face in shadows since the bar itself was lit only by the windows set high into the walls. For a second, Jim could imagine he was ten and she was standing at his bedroom door. She had the same figure—the same upswept hair—the same tilt of her shoulders and arch of her neck that he could never forget.

"James." She breathed the word like a prayer, and Jim felt a rush of emotion that threatened to swallow him. He wanted to open his arms and he wanted to curse at her and he wanted to be out of the damn room, so he did nothing. He stood, silent and motionless, as she slowly came into the main part of the bar. Someone hit a switch, and the lights over the pool tables came on so that Jim could see the way time had changed her. Despite the obvious plastic surgery, time was starting to catch up with her. Her skin was thin and flushed so that Jim could trace tiny blood vessels dangerously close to the surface. Her hands shook as she moved closer.

"Oh my James. My beautiful James," she said, her voice thick with emotion. Jim wanted to believe it—he wanted to think that his mother would react like this, but his cop instincts also pointed out that she was a con woman. She used emotions and her looks to cheat men out of money. She was the type of woman Jim had sworn to stop.

"It is you," Jim said, his own emotions carefully locked down.

"This is a rather inopportune time," Ezra said as he walked in the room. He was disheveled, his hair sticking out at odd angles like he'd been running his fingers through it. "Perhaps you'd like to come back later." Jim could hear the sharp edge of emotion in his voice, so clearly Ezra hadn't known anything until recently.

"Ezra, do not be like that. James is your brother, and you should offer him something to drink," Jim's mother said in the same sort of scolding tone she'd once used to get Jim to not put his elbows on the table. He looked at her, and her chin went up a little.

"Perhaps I would feel more charitable had he not presented himself under false pretenses."

Blair's snort suggested that he'd also seen the irony in that. Jim figured Ezra and his mother both had more experience with false pretenses than ever Jim had, even with all his undercover work.

"I never presented myself as anything," Jim pointed out.

"Yes, well you managed to get my supposed friends to do that for you, didn't you? I would be impressed, only I'm a little too annoyed right now to feel anything else."

"I never asked your friends to do anything," Jim snapped without taking his eyes off his mother. She was studying him with this lost expression that made his mouth go dry.

"I suppose that Josiah choosing to offer his opinions on faith and forgiveness is a simple coincidence?" Ezra demanded.

"Doubt it," Jim admitted. "He's a manipulative bastard."

Blair poked him in the ribs for that, and Ezra jerked upright in surprise.

"Now James, I was hoping we could be civil," his mother said with a smile that Jim couldn't bring himself to trust.

"Actually, Mother, I think manipulative bastard is a rather benign description for our Josiah. He might even agree with it himself. However, I would prefer if you left my establishment."

"Afraid I'll find something criminal in here?" Jim asked. "That was your first assumption when I did a background check."

Ezra narrowed his eyes. The charming man from last night was gone, and Jim suspected he was seeing his real brother—a man who seemed caught between fear and aggression. "While I admit that I have a certain flexibility with what I consider victimless crimes, I am not someone who normally worries too much when the law comes around."

"Really?" Jim crossed his arms. Blair sucked in a quick breath, but Jim just focused on this little family reunion. "And do you two consider fraud and theft to be victimless crimes?"

"Well, you are a prince," Ezra said sarcastically. "You come into my place of business and accuse me of a crime."

"Your rap sheet did that," Jim shot back. Jim could feel his guts knot as the situation spiraled away from him, and he couldn't seem to get control of it. He was a trained officer. He knew how to deescalate domestic violence, but his mouth seemed intent of doing the opposite. "But I didn't come here to see you," he said to try and change the topic.

"I don't actually care why you came. I've asked you to leave, and as an officer of the law, you must understand the concept of private property."

Jim's mom put her hand on Ezra's arm. "Now, Ezra, enough is enough."

The touch sent a wave of anger through Jim that he couldn't quite control. His hands curled into fists and Blair moved closer, his warmth an anchor of sanity that Jim was trying hard to hold onto. It was stupid to be this angry thirty years later, but Jim couldn't get a hold on his own emotions.

Her hand fell away from Ezra and she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the wood. "James, who is your friend?"

Jim didn't answer, and after a second, Blair took a half-step forward. "Blair Sandburg, and you are…" Blair let the words trail off.

There was a moment of hesitation, a doubt that flickered across his mother's face. Her chin went up a little. "Maude Standish. I am very pleased to meet you. Have you been friends with James for long?"

Jim grimaced at the awkward conversation she was having around him, and Blair glanced up, clearly not sure how he was supposed to react to her.

"I would have gone back to Cascade, but I suspect you would have followed," Jim said shortly. "I'm here so we can each have our say before going our separate ways."

His mother's smile failed her. When she frowned, she suddenly looked her age. “James, I never wanted to leave…”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Jim cut her off. He’d wanted to hear an explanation for so long that he didn’t trust himself to handle this logically. This was his mother. This was the woman who would come to his room and sit on the edge of his bed and read to him after his father had missed a game. This was the woman who had disappeared without any explanation. Jim really did not want to deal with this.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she said. She took the final step toward him, closing the distance between them before reaching out to rest her hand against Jim’s arm, but he jerked away and nearly flattened Blair as he tried to escape her touch.

“Look, the past is past. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one more con woman,” Jim said coldly. “And I’m a cop.” Blair’s fingers fluttered against Jim’s back, but he didn’t actually say anything or even really touch Jim. Maude… or Grace or Margaret or whatever the hell she wanted to call herself… she turned deadly white.

“Well, isn’t that charming? No doubt you learned verbal abuse at your father’s feet.” Ezra stepped up to stand next to his mother, his face twisting into a sneer.

“Now, Ezra,” Maude put her hand on her son’s arm. Her son. Ezra was clearly her son far more than Jim ever had been. He was the one she chose to keep. “We have all had a difficult day. There is never any excuse for rude behavior.”

Jim crossed his arms. He remembered his mother telling him that. Little Ronnie from down the street had thrown a rock at Jim when Jim rode past on his bike. His father had been adamant about Jim avoiding fights, so Jim had said something bad enough to make Ronnie go running home to his parents. Late at night with his butt still hurting from the spanking, Jim had been laying in bed when his mother had come in to sweep the hair back from his face. She’d told him that an Ellison didn’t need to be rude. Rudeness was for people who didn’t have faith in themselves.

“As much as I would normally agree, certain people do tend to inspire it in others.” Ezra glared at Jim.

“Hey, you are not exactly being a paragon of virtue, buddy,” Blair snapped.

“Oh, the little one is insulting me now.” Ezra turned to glare at Blair. “Perhaps you should allow Detective Ellison to fight his own battles.” Jim stepped forward, his temper frayed so badly that he wanted nothing more than to take a swing at the man.

“If I’m going to fight my own battles, I’ll start by investigating how you’ve managed to avoid jail this long.”

“James!” Maude gasped.

Jim turned a cold gaze toward her. “You lost your right to tell me what to do a long time ago, lady. And considering your past, you should be careful about who you annoy.”

Ezra puffed up like an angry porcupine. “Now see here, you are far outside your jurisdiction and even you, with your obviously limited intellectual capacity, must realize that.”

“Really?” Jim crossed his arms and really studied Ezra. He was just as annoying as Steven ever had been. “It seems to me that her cons are an ongoing criminal enterprise which started in Cascade. That means I can investigate.” Jim gave Ezra his sweetest smile. Ezra stared back, the hatred clear in his face.

“How about we all just go to our own corners,” Blair suggested. “I think we’re all saying things that tomorrow we are all going to wish we hadn’t said.” When Jim turned to look at Blair, he noticed his mother’s face. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Her eyes shone with tears that she wasn’t crying, and Jim could feel his stomach twist. He hated the guilt that clawed at him. She had no right to make him feel guilty, not after she walked out.

“I think that might be a good idea,” Maude said. “We should just all go to our own spaces and reconsider anything we might want to say to each other. Perhaps we might have a more civilized conversation tomorrow.”

"I—" Jim started to talk, but his mother turned and swept out of the room with the same grace Jim remembered from his youth. His mother had been exciting then. Now she just seemed like a manipulative shrew.

"I shall leave you to find your own way out," Ezra spat. Jim's jaw was aching from having clenched it too hard, but if he didn't keep his mouth closed a lot more hate was going to come spilling out. Ezra turned and followed his mother. Jim had to admit that this woman wasn't Grace Ellison; she wasn't his mother.

"Man, he is a real piece of work," Blair complained softly. "I know he's your brother, but he is a first class schmuck."

Jim didn't bother answering. Resting his hand on Blair's back, he steered Blair toward the door. Heat radiated off the building, and the air seemed to shimmer. Either that or Jim's vision was playing tricks on him.

"So that went well," Chris said. He was leaning against the adobe wall of Players Only, a thin cigar in hand. He puffed on it while Jim glared at him.

"If you've had your fun, the show's over," Jim snapped. Blair's hand wrapped around his arm, but Blair didn't say anything.

Chris turned to look at him, a frown on his face. "It was never about fun, Ellison." He pursed his lips. "Maude's a difficult woman to deal with. I just thought I should be here in case she pushed too many of your buttons."

Blair's patience ran out. "What? You thought he'd take a swing at his own mother or something? Man, you don't know us. Do not pretend to have our best interests in mind. Just don't."

Chris dropped the stub of his cigar to the ground and crushed it under a boot. "I'm protecting my own, here, Junior. If Ellison had done something stupid, like arrest Maude, Ezra would have gotten himself in more trouble than I could easily get him out of."

"And you thought you could stop me if I wanted to do just that?" Jim crossed his arms and squared off against Chris.

Chris sighed. "I hoped that I could talk to you--one law enforcement officer to another."

"Cops generally don't like feds," Jim pointed out. "Why not send Vin Tanner? I'm a lot more likely to listen to a local than some fed who just wants to protect his cover." The second Jim mentioned Vin, he could see Chris stiffen up. So he'd thought he was keeping that little piece of intel secret. Jim wondered how many of this little band of brothers knew that Vin was a local cop.

Looking Jim up and down, Chris nodded. "You're better than I gave you credit for."

"Yeah, I am," Jim agreed. They stared at each other for long seconds.

"Vin was steering clear so you didn't have a chance to blow his cover."

"Too late for that," Jim said with grim satisfaction at having gotten in a blow with one of Ezra's friends. Blair gave a little evil chuckle, too. Blair might talk big about forgiveness and love, but he had a mean streak as big as any other man's when push came to shove.

Chris looked at them both for a long time. "I guess it is. However, arresting Maude would still cause a whole lot of trouble."

"And why's that?" Jim asked. "Is Ezra paying you to watch his back? Is that why a fed is out here without backup drinking his way through the day?"

Blair whistled. "He's drunk? Oh man, now that is uncool."

Chris didn't bother to deny the charge. "I have backup; if it's not FBI backup, that's my choice."

Moving forward, Jim pressed his advantage. "Are you even on a case or did your bosses just stick you here to drink yourself to death?" Jim could smell the alcohol on Chris' skin, he could smell the poisons put out by an overtaxed liver that turned his body odor rancid. Jim expected an explosion. Instead, Chris looked almost amused.

"I spend less time at the bottom of a bottle these days than I used to. And if I still drink a little too much, I happen to think I have a right. You don't know anything about me, Ellison. You're in there feeling sorry for yourself because you found your family, and they're not everything you want them to be. I lost my whole family, Ellison. One houseboat fire and everyone I loved died. So before you set up your pity party, you take a second to consider that a lot people don't ever get the chance to try again. As for my job… well, that's above your pay grade. So I guess you're just going to have to keep wondering." With a curt nod, Chris turned and headed toward the parking lot. Jim watched as he got in a car and pulled out of the lot with a squeal of tires.

"Well shit. That could have gone better." Blair made a face and started for the parking lot, but Jim reached out and caught him by the arm. Blair looked at him curiously.

"Chief, am I overreacting here?"

Blair blew out a large breath. "I don't think anyone gets to tell you how to feel. I mean, your mom left you. That's huge. That's bigger than huge. I mean," Blair made a face, "mom says that she doesn't know who my dad is, and that means that he never knew about me. Back in those days, mom was a bee going from flower to flower." Jim had a word for a woman like that, but out of respect for Blair, he didn't use it. "But if my father knew about me… if he'd known me and then just walked away. No amount of processing in the world would ever make me okay with that. None. No way. So, if you want to hate your mother for doing just that, I think you're entitled."

Entitled. That wasn't quite the same thing as right, and Jim had been around Blair and his obfuscations to recognize one when he saw it. "So, I'm in the right?" he asked.

Sure enough, Blair broke eye contact. "Hey, she really did a number on you."

"So, you think I'm right?" Jim pressed.

Sighing, Blair looked up at him. "Hey, I am not here to pass judgment. I'm your partner, Jim. I am going to be on your side in this no matter what happens. No exceptions. Well, unless you decide to murder her or something, and then we really need to talk." Blair grinned at his own joke, but Jim didn't smile. Reaching out, he caught Blair around the back of the neck and pulled him close. For a long time, he just held Blair and enjoyed the feel of Blair's arms around his waist. Jim had searched the world for the sort of acceptance Blair just offered. As a child, his mother had promised that family would provide it, but Jim had learned early that he couldn't rely on his family. In the army, he'd found a camaraderie that had only lasted until his commanding officer had betrayed him and he'd buried his unit in the Peruvian jungle. But here was this neo-hippy who put up with all Jim's moods and offered the sort of love Jim hadn't felt… in a really long time.

"I'm being an ass, aren't I?" Jim asked. He rested his cheek against the top of Blair's head.

"A little bit," Blair admitted, but his arms were just as tight around Jim's waist. "But man, you are entitled." After that, Blair fell silent. Jim wanted Blair to talk, to fill all the empty silence with random words that kept him from thinking about the fact that his mother was inside the club with the son she'd chosen to stay with. He wanted the random spill of words that could distract him from his pain. Instead, Blair offered silence.

"Maybe we can stay another day and try this again." Jim wanted to grind his teeth at the thought of a repeat of today, but Blair let out a big sigh of obvious relief.

"Cool. I know how this must be eating you alive, so the fact that you're willing to do this… You are my hero. To hell with Hercules and Beowulf, the real hero faces his past. Because *that* is a horror way worse than Grendel's mother or some seven headed monster."

Even though Jim didn't answer, he agreed. He'd rather face any monster than have this conversation with his mother again tomorrow. "Let's go out for a nice lunch. I'll treat you to something nice."

"Thai or Indian?"

"Chief, we're in Tucson, I think our choices are burgers, steaks or Mexican."

"Oh please, there are Thai places everywhere. We just have to look."

Jim released Blair from his embrace and gave Blair's ponytail a tug. "Let me put it this way: you have a choice of burgers, steaks or Mexican because that's where I'm going."

"Philistine," Blair complained, but he did it with a laugh. Feeling a little better, Jim swung his arm over Blair's shoulders and started toward the parking lot.

"You'll change your tune once you have a nice big steak in front of you, Chief."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair laughed, his arm going around Jim's waist. Jim might not have the mother he wanted, but he did have the lover he'd always needed. Maybe Chris Larabee was right; maybe he needed to cancel the pity party before he lost himself in it. Jim would just have to—he'd have to be calmer tomorrow.

"So, am I still driving?" Blair asked almost hesitantly.

Jim thought about that. His vision was still wavering a little, and he wasn't totally convinced it was the heat. "Yeah."

"No problem. I can drive any time you need. Any time. I'm always here, you know."

"I do know, Chief." Jim tightened the arm he'd thrown over Blair shoulders. "Even though I don't say it enough, I love you for that."

"Hey, I totally love you right back… even when you're being a little…" Blair waggled his hand in some sort of gesture Jim didn't understand. He suspected it wasn't a compliment.

"I'll try to be better tomorrow," Jim promised. He frowned as something tickled the edge of his senses. He turned and his mother was already nearly to them, tennis shoes masking her footsteps and an unfamiliar perfume drifting from her.

"So, I told Ezra not to disturb me because I was lying down for a nap. Where are we going to lunch?" she asked brightly as she covered the final distance between them and stopped by the rental car. Jim traded a confused look with Blair. "If you don't know Tucson, I would recommend Ha Long Bay, a wonderful little Vietnamese restaurant over on Broadway Boulevard. The food is exquisite." Reaching out, she pulled on the door to the backseat, but it was locked. "Blair, would you open the door, please, I find standing in this sun quite unbearable."

Blair looked over at Jim, and unsure about what else he could do without creating more conflict, he gave a nod. When Blair hit the unlock button, Maude smiled and slipped right into the backseat. Jim's guts twisted. Well, shit. He was going to lunch with his mother.

Comments

Flesh And Blood And Heart 3

[slashpuppy.livejournal.com]

First?

Re: Flesh And Blood And Heart 3

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

The throne is yours. :)

Re: Flesh And Blood And Heart 3

[slashpuppy.livejournal.com]

That was a fraught little encounter between Jim/Ezra/their mom.

I'm not liking Jim's mom - though I do wonder why she walked out on him when he was a kid.

Looking forward to the next chapter.

Re: Flesh And Blood And Heart 3

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Maude is a little mercenary in canon, but she has her reasons. I can't imagine that the marriage with William Ellison was even close to civil.

[samson28.livejournal.com]

Wow, great encounter. I felt the stress and was sitting at the edge of my seat reading. :)

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Grace/Maude walked out twenty years ago, and no matter how stoic Jim pretends to be, you know that hurts.

[1orelei.livejournal.com]

WOW! A tear-down, knuckle-dragging, all-sorts-of-phrases-I'm-mangling FIGHT! Very intense! Does that make you my hero? (Hee Hee, Beowulf!)

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Awwwwww. This story really doesn't have the big villain, so getting in a fight scene was a tough balancing act with everyone acting in a way they thought "right"

[1orelei.livejournal.com]

And yet, despite all that harshness, I didn't lose respect for anyone involved! Impressive! (Granted, I don't yet hold Grace/Maude in high esteem... but that could be because all I know of her has come through other's thoughts/mouths. Am curious where my opinions will be after lunch!)

[history-doc.livejournal.com]

So, so, good! The tension is so realistic within every encounter!
I'm on the edge of my seat every time I read a new chapter, and can't
wait for the next one!

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. I really did want a realistic description of the pain Jim has gone through. And after watching M7, I can see Maude doing something exactly like this. She may love Ezra (and any other children she has has) but she will be practical about that love when required.

[tobiasven.livejournal.com]

Hahaha, Nathan's description of Ezra is awesome. It's like Jim and Blair's evil babies!

And I fear what would happen if Naomi and Maude were locked in a room together...apocalypse me thinks.

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Oh god... the two mothers. Yeah, that would not even be a little pretty, despite the fact that they are both strong, counter-culture figures with more love than common sense.

[zilentdreamer.livejournal.com]

Gah!!!!!

This is amazing! The tension...the feeling...amazing!!!!!

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! This is not a happy family reunion.

[boogieshoes.livejournal.com]

i'm a bit too bushed to make a real comment, so i'll just sit here and grin like a loon. :-D

-bs

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

I hope you're off having a nice sleep, and I'm glad I could give you a smile before bed.

[mab-browne.livejournal.com]

I've now caught up, and I really enjoyed the complicated emotions here.

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. I do usually have a bad guy somewhere, but this time it's all about the tangled emotions.

[wordwitch.livejournal.com]

I've just started reading through all this. This is a very painful, painful story: for Jim to be the son of Maude Standish seems to me the epitome of ironic betrayal.

Of course, you do pain so very well, my dear. I look forward to learning your resolution to all this.

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

I do like to wallow in the angst, I'll give you that. I just wanted to give Jim a chance to meet his mother and an explanation for why his mother left him.

[dragonyphoenix.livejournal.com]

Whoa, what a family!

And looking forward to the lunch. ;-)

[lil-coyote.livejournal.com]

And we're back to all of the hurtful emotional punches. I don't think he'd be dealing without Blair firmly by his side.

[yanagi-wa.livejournal.com]

Well, that was ... anti-climatic, in an understated but explosive sort of way. I do love all the names for Maude(?). Great work.