Archive of Our Own ^beta

Simon Banks, Captain of Major Crime, left the elevator and headed for the bullpen, wishing this week, and this Friday in particular, would end. Sometimes there weren't enough successes to balance the dark side of taking care of a city this size. He felt worn down and worn out.

Every detective in his department was working overtime, which meant he had to turn around and justify the expense. Budget meetings, like the one he'd just attended, were becoming a nightmare. Budgets. If it wasn't work, it was the home front. The process of negotiating Daryl through high school and into college with a hostile ex-wife was taking its toll. He needed to have another conversation with Joan about their son's college selection and financing his tuition. Another one of the many joys of parenthood he'd miscalculated on. Why had he ever thought that just opening up a savings account would do the trick?

Pushing those thoughts aside, he concentrated on locating Ellison and Sandburg. Despite the fact that the duo had the best case closure rate in the city, they were also tops on Simon's worry list. Hopefully, at least one of them was back from court. The legal system moved at a snail's pace, and no one seemed to understand that when detectives were stuck in court, they weren't out catching criminals. If they'd wrapped up testimony on the Carson murders, he had a few hotspots that needed their unique skills.

The desks which represented Sandburg-Ellison in absentia were accurate reflections of their owners. Jim's desk looked like no one worked at it, with the exception of an overflowing in-box. Perfectly arranged and sparing in every respect. Sandburg's - well, that was another story. Simon remembered seeing Blair's office at Rainier once or twice. It had been a hovel, with every surface covered with books, papers, artifacts and general clutter. Simon was certain that the only reason Sandburg's clutter hadn't taken over Major Crime was because it would have to get past Ellison's neat-freak desk to get there.

To his surprise, Sandburg's chair had an occupant. Simon Banks, like every cop at any level, went through an internal checklist as automatic as breathing. Male, Caucasian, sandy hair, slender, sixteen or seventeen, sporting a letterman's jacket. Maybe six-foot, but on his way to becoming taller. Backpack at his feet, reading a chemistry book. This was definitely not your usual visitor to Major Crime.

"Young man," he barked, "are you supposed to be here?" Simon regretted his tone when the kid jumped a foot. Sometimes he forgot he wasn't always yelling at other cops or criminals. He had a tough time shifting gears - just ask his ex-wife and son.

"Uh - yes. I checked in at the desk." The boy began frantically searching the outer pockets of his backpack. "He gave me a visitors thingy, and said I could come up."

"Take it easy, son," Simon said, trying to tone it down. "I didn't mean to spook you. We just don't usually leave the general public loose in the working areas. Can I help you? Have you been sitting here long?"

"What time is it?" the boy asked, looking a little worried. He spotted a wall clock, and sighed in relief. "I guess I've been here longer than I thought. I was supposed to meet Blair...uh, I mean, Detective Sandburg. He told me I might have to wait, so I brought my chemistry. I can go." He started stuffing the thick chemistry text into the backpack.

Simon snagged a chair and sat down. If first impressions counted, he liked this kid. "Hold on there. You don't have to leave. Why are you meeting Sandburg? Is this about a case?"

"Oh no." The boy stopped wrestling with his chemistry book. "Blair is my tutor. He was going to help me out with some scholarship paperwork I just got."

Simon was puzzled. This couldn't be a college kid from Blair's Rainier days. He was way to young. Although Sandburg was great about helping Daryl off and on, he hadn't mentioned tutoring on the side. "Scholarships, huh? Are you a senior? My boy is. All he does is complain about filling out forms, and all I do is nag him about doing them."

To Simon's relief, the boy seemed to shift from scared to interested. "Really? Well, I hate 'em, too, and Blair tells me I'm just starting. Where does your son go? You're so tall - does he play basketball? Maybe I've played against him."

Simon smiled. Daryl's attempts at basketball were an inside family joke. "Afraid not. He's a football player at Washington High. His technique is pretty much the same in either sport. I think he holds the world's record for fouling out. Finesse just isn't his strong suit."

Their young visitor laughed at that comment. "Well, I'm pretty much hopeless on a football field, so fair's fair." His gray blue eyes danced. "Too bad, though. I bet he would have made a great post player."

Now it was Simon's turn to chuckle. "Now let me guess, spoken like a true guard?" He was rewarded with a wide grin. "Point or shooting?"

"Point. Good guess. That must be why you're a detective." Simon looked at the letterman's jacket again, and it finally clicked. Evergreen Prep, and the basketball team. "Wait a minute. Some detective I am. Are you the one that helped us out with the gambling-murder case last year? Dustin, isn't it?" The boy nodded. "I didn't know Sandburg was still in touch."

"He helped me a lot over the summer, especially with my PSAT this fall."

"So you're a junior, huh? Then what's the scholarship for?" Simon asked. He was enjoying this now. It was certainly more fun than banging his head against a budget for another hour.

"I'm applying for the U-Doc Program for the summer at University of Washington. Blair says it will really help me next year when I'm doing the whole college admissions thing." Simon nodded. Blair was certainly his resident expert for all Daryl's college stuff.

"Hey, Dustin! Glad you're still here." A smiling Jim Ellison came through the door. "Blair's still stuck, so I came over. Obviously you've met our Captain. Did he bite you?" He gave the boy a nudge. "His bark is worse than his bite."

Dustin laughed, clearly pleased to see Jim. "No barks, no bites. Actually, I should go if Blair is tied up. I have a game tonight." The boy had stood up to greet Jim and was nearly as tall. Despite the gangly limbs of adolescence, he moved with the grace of a natural athlete. Seeing them standing together, Simon realized Jim must have looked a lot like this in high school.

"Not till eight, right?" Jim asked. "You don't have to rush."

"Well, I need to ride the bus and that takes a little longer." Dustin had hauled his backpack to his shoulder. "I'll call Blair and we'll set up another time. Are you guys off on Sunday?"

"Slow down, ace. We'll leave a note for Sandburg, and I'll drive you over. I've been wanting to see one of your games. This will be perfect." Jim grabbed some paper and started to scratch out a message for his partner. "We can stop for some dinner, because I'm starved and if you've been waiting here, you haven't eaten either."

"You don't have to do that..." Dustin started, but Jim silenced him with a raised hand. "Of course I don't have to, I want to. Okay with you if I take off a little early, Simon?"

Simon reconsidered his earlier plans. It wasn't as if his detective hadn't put in a full week and then some. "No problem, Jim. I'll touch base with you on Monday." He gave Dustin a slap on the back. "Never turn down free food, son. Don't let him take you to WonderBurger, either."

Just as the two were ready to leave, Dustin turned back. "It was nice to meet you, Captain. Sometime I'd like to meet your football player."

"Sure thing." Simon watched them go, acutely aware of how much he'd miss Daryl when he finally left for college.

*****

Jim watched with quiet amusement as Dustin wolfed down a plate of spaghetti. Good thing it was early, or the kid wouldn't have time to digest before he started running up and down the court. Oh, to be young and be an eating machine. He wondered how Sally had ever kept the Ellison brothers fed. It bothered him a little, though. Some nagging instinct told him that something wasn't quite right with his young friend. "For someone who wasn't hungry, you sure discovered an appetite," he commented.

Dustin gave him a chagrined look and put down his fork. "Well, I got hungry when the food came. I hope I wasn't a pig. My mom would kill me."

Jim smiled. "You're safe from the manners police. What happened, you miss lunch?" For some reason, the question made Dustin uneasy. Jim was a little puzzled.

"Well, kinda," the young man answered, now busy shredding his napkin.

"Kinda, meaning yes?" Jim paused, stringing together the available information. No lunch, no ride. He decided not to push it. "Well, come on. Let's get you to the gym, and I'll see if Sandburg's meeting us there or not."

After twenty minutes of the Evergreen Prep pep band, Jim was cursing whatever had Sandburg so delayed. He dialed his hearing down another notch, hoping that Sandburg would have some aspirin on him. He noticed a group of adults milling around with the varsity players near the gym entrance. Dustin was standing off to the side, looking like a lost soul. Whatever was going on, Dustin wasn't very happy about it.

Figuring he could pass it off as a trip to the concession stand, Jim wandered down. At least he could stay away from the band for awhile. Dustin smiled weakly as Jim approached. "What's up, D? I was going for some popcorn and hit the traffic jam."

Before he could answer a woman carrying a clipboard interrupted the conversation. "Dustin, you didn't give me your information, and now we're almost ready to start." She was tapping a pencil on the edge of the metal, waiting impatiently.

"Uh...why don't I just skip this, Mrs. Lawrence." Dustin blushed the color of a sunset. The woman pushed back her stylish hair and glared at him. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "It's an Evergreen tradition. I just need your parents' names for the announcer." Distracted by some questions shouted from across the hall, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll be right back. Don't you move, young man."

Jim's heart sank. Parents' night. He couldn't count the number of times his dad hadn't shown up for one of these things. All these years and the ache was still fresh. "Dustin," Jim asked softly, "Where's your Mom?"

"Working," Dustin mumbled. "That dumb Mrs. Lawrence just won't get a clue."

"I thought you told Blair that she got all your game nights off. You were real happy about it."

"Well, I was, but she got laid off, and now she's working two jobs, and the car broke, and..." Dustin looked down, fighting with his emotions. "I can't bother her with stuff like this, you know? Why can't they just leave me off their stupid list for their stupid introductions?"

"Because you're not a motherless child," answered Blair's clear, firm voice. He gave Dustin a quick hug. "I heard. You're proud of your mom, she's proud of you, and everyone in the world should know it."

"Nice timing, Sandburg," growled Jim, fervently glad that his partner had picked this moment to show up. This was definitely more Blair's area. "Where have you been?"

"Reviewing my testimony with our over-anxious assistant DA," Blair grumbled. "As if it wouldn't wait until Monday. As for you," he said, turning to Dustin, "get the lady back over here and we'll get this straightened out."

As if on cue, Mrs. Lawrence appeared. Jim stood back, enjoying the show. When Blair turned on the high beams and took charge, it was fun to watch. Blair graced her with his most dazzling smile. "Excuse us a moment," he said, leaving Dustin with Jim. Guiding the flustered woman a few steps away, he gently took the clipboard and liberated the pencil. "I'm Detective Sandburg, Cascade PD." Finding Dustin's name, he began printing in bold block letters, explaining as he wrote.

Jim wrapped a comforting arm around Dustin's shoulders. "I'm sorry if she embarrassed you, ace. I went solo to quite a few of these things, myself." Dustin's eyes widened in surprise. "I just had my dad, you know, and he didn't always have time for family. I know how it feels. So does Blair."

"Jim, would you and Blair go out with me? It would be less - lonely." If Jim had any thoughts of saying no, the look on Dustin's face changed his mind.

"Of course we will." He walked Dustin over to where Blair was still talking vigorously to Mrs. Lawrence, who looked about ready to burst, but couldn't get a word in edgewise. "Tell your announcer to read this exactly as I've written it. Dustin Smithson is the son of Ms. Dara Smithson. Mrs. Smithson is unable to join us this evening due to a previous engagement."

"You need to add a bit, Chief. We'll be walking out with Dustin." He pointed to the clipboard. "Tack on Dustin is accompanied by blah blah blah."

"Cool," answered Blair, adding to his notes. Any thought of protest from Mrs. Lawrence died under Jim's baleful stare. Defeated, she took her clipboard and retreated.

"Thanks, guys," murmured Dustin. "You didn't have to do that, but I'm glad you did,"

Blair gave him a rakish grin. "Someday I'll have to tell you about parents' night with Naomi. This is nothing, man. Just make sure you give the carnation to Jim. It goes with his masculine image, don't you think?"

Dustin cracked up. He was still laughing when Jim flashed his partner a discrete version of the universal salute. Blair's only answer was a victorious smirk.

Evergreen's gym emptied out quickly after the game. Small groups of people, probably waiting for individual players to shower and dress, dotted the gym. Blair and Jim stayed in the stands, content to relax for a few minutes after a long day.

"Dustin played well tonight," commented Blair. "It was great to come. Could you eat? I know you had dinner already, but other than two bags of popcorn, I'm running on empty. We can touch base with our favorite point guard and go that new Chinese place on the way home."

"You'll have to put your stomach on hold for awhile, Sandburg. I have a feeling we need to take Dustin home." Jim quickly filled Blair in on the bits and pieces he'd gleaned from their young friend.

"I can't believe this," Blair sputtered. "He never said a word to me. When did Dara lose her job? How long has the car been dead?"

"I don't know, but I'll bet there's not much in the fridge at home."

"And I bet they're doing one hundred ways to eat tuna fish. Sounds like we need to invite ourselves for Sunday dinner and bring the fixings, with a few extras thrown in," Blair replied, his voice thoughtful. "I still need to help Dustin with those U-Doc forms. Think quick, Jim, why can't we do it at the loft? We need an excuse."

"Uh, I don't know. Do we need to wax the floors?"

Blair gave him a withering look. "Lame, Jim, very lame. Right up there with 'I have to wash my hair'. We don't want them to catch on, or they'll turn us down."

"It's a great idea, but you're the obfuscation man. You think of something," Jim answered, exasperated. He gave Sandburg a poke. "Showtime, Chief. Here he comes."

A very tired Dustin plopped onto the bleacher below them. "You guys didn't have to stay. I'm glad we didn't blow it at the end. It'd be pretty bad to have a cheering section and then lose." He looked around. Jim followed his gaze. The clock again.

"You're not riding the bus home, my friend," he said knowingly. "If you have time, we'll stop for some food." He playfully whapped Sandburg on the head. "Somebody claims to be hungry."

Dustin started to protest and Jim cut him off. "Either way, you're going to give us the straight story. May as well come clean now."

Dustin swiveled around on the bleachers to face the two detectives above him. Any adrenaline rush from the winning game disappeared. "It all happened at once. I should have gone back to public school right away, or quit basketball to get a part-time job. Mom wouldn't let me. She got a day shift down in South Cascade assembling computer components. She does that, comes home for a little while, then does the evening shift at this creepy warehouse down by the waterfront. It's all minimum wage, and they don't have benefits. She keeps saying how it's only one more year and then I'll get a scholarship for college and it will all work out. Then the car breaks, and some bills came due, so we had to just let the car go."

Blair sat up. He'd done more than his share of bus time, and he could do the math. It was the price you paid for owning a "classic" like the Corvair or the Volvo. "Dustin, that's hours every day on the bus alone!"

"Don't I know. I never see her, and she's tired all the time. I just wish she'd let me help."

"Moms are like that. God only knows Naomi doesn't take direction from me very well." Blair shook his head ruefully. "I just wish you had told me. We're both charter members of the 'sons of single mothers' club." Blair scooted down a couple of bleachers to sit next to him. "You need to trust your friends, Dustin."

"I don't like it," Jim interrupted. "It's not safe to be waiting for public transportation in that part of town at night. What time does she get off tonight?"

"Eleven thirty. By the time she punches out, I think she catches the bus just before midnight."

"Well, that settles it. We'll take food back to the loft, eat, and go pick her up. In the meantime we can plan some alternatives. Go get your stuff."

As soon as Dustin was out of earshot, Blair whispered, "Protecting the tribe, oh great Sentinel?"

"Oh, shut up, Shaman of the City," Jim answered, pretending to be annoyed. "As if you have any objections."

Although Jim hated the Volvo, it was the only vehicle that would seat four. Shortly after eleven they stuffed Dustin in the back seat, and followed his directions to Dara Smithson's night job. Jim's apprehension grew block by block. This was a truly bad part of town. It was far enough away from downtown to be in the North Precinct, the least effective unit in the Cascade Police Department. A trained eye could spot the deficiencies even on a drive-through. A sideways glance told him Sandburg was thinking the same thing.

They'd been delayed on the bridge by a small traffic accident, and the warehouse was dark when they pulled up. The area looked deserted. Dara Smithson was nowhere in sight. "Know where your mom's stop is, Dustin?" Blair asked.

"She told me she had to walk three blocks. That's all I know. She always takes an umbrella in case it rains. She always says she can smack someone with it if she has to."

Jim swore under his breath. "Drive a grid, Chief," he growled. "I'll be the lookout."

Blair clicked on the high beams and drove three blocks, then turned, giving Jim time to search each street. Without giving any explanation, Jim rolled down his window. His hearing might be more helpful than his vision. The results were surprising. Apparently there was more activity in the shadows that a first glance revealed.

Blair was making his third turn when Jim heard it - a woman's voice and sounds of a scuffle. "Turn left," he barked. "Step on it." Blair had just hit the gas when the screams began.

"Mom! That's my mom!" Dustin shouted, bouncing in the back seat. "Where is she? Hurry!"

"Next block - STOP!" Silhouetted in Blair's headlights were two figures, struggling. Jim was out of the car and on the run almost before it skidded to a stop. Dustin had the same idea before Blair lunged over the back seat and caught him by the collar.

"Stay!"

"My mom..."

"No." Blair was already dialing. "We need backup at the corner of 230^th and Marshall. Assault in progress. Off-duty officers responding." They were both out of the Volvo by then, but Blair had a firm hold on Dustin's arm. He shoved him back against the car. "Stay here until I tell you it's okay."

Dara Smithson was fighting back, kicking, screaming, trying desperately to pull away from her attacker. It wasn't enough. As Jim came hurtling down the street, shouting, "Cascade PD - freeze!" another attacker came out of the shadows, firing. Jim ducked for cover. Twenty yards behind him, Blair went to one knee and returned fire.

Standing by the Volvo, Dustin Smithson screamed his horror into the night as he watched his mother's first attacker strike her once, then a second time, with what turned out to be section of pipe. She slumped to the ground as the two attackers fled, Jim in hot pursuit.

He was still screaming when he dropped to the pavement at his mother's side, watching helplessly as Blair tried to staunch the blood from her horribly crushed skull.

*****

I hate hospitals, I hate ambulances, and I hate ICU the most.

Why did it have to be Dara? Why couldn't we have gotten there two minutes sooner?

Real productive, Ellison. Try to think of something useful. He checked his watch. Nearly 3AM. Blair had called twice, once before Dara went into surgery and once to let Jim know they were moving her into ICU. At least she had gotten that far.

The elevator chimed as it came to a stop. Sixth floor, been here a time or three. Jim checked in with the desk. In hushed tones, he was motioned down the hall to the family waiting area. Blair was seated next to an ashen-faced Dustin, an arm securely wrapped around his shoulders. They were listening intently to an older man dressed in blue scrubs.

Eyes swiveled his direction. The physician halted his explanation. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison, friend of the family," Jim said firmly. The two men shook hands. Jim sat on a low chair next to Dustin, hoping the guy would get the idea that he wasn't leaving.

"Dr. Kramer, head of neurology. I assisted with Ms. Smithson's surgery." He hesitated a moment.

"He can stay, just like Blair." Dustin's voice was strained, as if each word scraped his throat. "Please tell us the rest, Doctor."

"As I said, the skull fracture was severe. There is a great deal of damage, and of course, swelling, which we're trying to control with a shunt. I expect that we'll have complications. She's in a coma, on life support. The next few hours will be critical."

"Just tell me if she'll live."

"I don't know, son. We'll do our very best."

"Can I see her? Can Blair and Jim come with me?" Dustin leaned closer to Blair, clearly panicked.

"The nurse take you back right now. We usually allow only one family member at a time, but under the circumstances, we'll let one of them go back with you, but only for a few minutes."

Dustin managed a nod. Blair shepherded him out toward the nurse's station. Dr. Kramer turned his attention toward Jim. "You're close to the family, Detective? Is there anyone else we can call?"

Jim shook his head. "As far as I know, there is no other family. Neither Dara or Dustin have mentioned anyone."

"Does she have a will? Any legal representation?" the doctor asked, keeping his voice down.

"I'll ask Dustin, or I can go over to their apartment and look. Should I do that? Is it that bad?"

"Honestly, Detective, I don't think she'll survive the night. How old is the young man?"

"Uh, sixteen. I think his birthday is in April, if I remember right." Jim thought for a moment. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure of that. Sandburg took him out to practice for his driver's license."

Kramer sighed. "Then I should contact Child Protective Services. He'll have to go into foster care."

"Doctor, can't you just release him to the two of us? We know him, and I think right now we'd be a lot better than foster care."

"It's irregular, but I'll allow it temporarily. Honestly, Detective, I think you'd better go to their apartment if the boy can't tell you anything more."

"I'll do that. Thank you, Dr. Kramer." Jim sorted through his options. He'd call Simon in the morning. If anyone could navigate the morass of Child Protective Services, it was the Captain of Major Crime. Alone in the tiny room, Jim let his hearing reach out until he could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor and Dustin's quiet sobs.

Five minutes every hour. Not much time to give strength, or draw on it. Blair kept Dustin talking in between, about his mother, his childhood memories. Blair told him about growing up with Naomi. Some of the stories Jim had heard, but not all. When he could, Dustin tried to answer more specific questions. Were there papers, or a safe deposit box? Did he remember any relatives at all? At five o'clock, after another brief moment at Dara's side, Jim brought them juice and hot chocolate from a nearby vending machine, and set out for the Smithson apartment.

He called Simon at six. Simon promised to do what he could.

Jim had just found Dustin's birth certificate in a skinny little file marked "Important" when the phone rang. Dara Elaine Smithson had died without regaining consciousness.

*****

Jim turned his key in the lock as quietly as he could. He could hear two heartbeats, but hopefully Blair and Dustin were both asleep. Despite his efforts, Blair stirred on the couch as soon as he came in. "Hi." Jim dropped his keys in the basket. "Where is he?" he asked softly.

Blair sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "In my room. I sat with him for a long time. He finally crashed about a half hour ago." Blair started to get up, and Jim waved him back to the couch. "Stay there, Chief. We all need to get some rest before we tackle anything else. Want some milk?"

Blair nodded, then leaned back on the cushions with a yawn. "I turned up the heat. Hope you don't mind. He was so cold; he just couldn't get warm."

"Of course I don't mind." He handed Blair his milk and sank into the nearest chair himself. "He was probably in shock. He's going to have a rough time."

"Did you find anything at the apartment, or are we all he's got?"

"For now, we're it. I stalled the hospital on CPS, and Simon's trying to get us temporary custody. We'll make it protective custody and tie it to the case if we have to. I found Dustin's birth certificate, and Dara's. Henri is going to come in and do the paper chase, see if we can locate a grandparent or a maybe a sibling of Dara's." Jim took another long drink of milk, feeling the icy liquid slide down his throat. "There's no father listed on the birth certificate, Chief."

"Damn. Jim, my greatest fear all my life was losing my mom and being all alone. Dustin's living out my worst nightmare. I'm so emotional myself I'm not doing him any good."

"Not true. Of all the people he could be with, you understand where he is right now better than anyone. If you couldn't see that at the hospital, I sure could." Jim downed the rest of his milk and yawned himself. "I did some more of the paperwork, but we're going to have to go back in."

Blair cast a worried glance toward his tiny room. "We can't leave him alone right now, Jim."

"Agreed. We'll tag team it. If it's okay with you, I want the first thing on my list to be paying a visit to North Precinct. It's their case, but they damn well better do it right. I want those bastards caught."

"I'll take care of the funeral arrangements. I made a bank transfer before we came home, and made the first phone calls. Thanks, Jim. Thanks for not blinking an eye about bringing him here."

"No way was I going to let CPS dump him with strangers." His voice softened. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to take a shower, but I can listen for Dustin."

Jim made it as far as the bathroom before he looked back at Blair. "Sleep, Sandburg. You have to close your eyes before it can happen. Quit thinking. We'll work it out, somehow."

By midmorning, after a few meager hours of sleep, they separated. Jim left for the station and his pre-emptive visit to North. Blair got Dustin into the shower, and was putting the finishing touches on an early lunch the kid probably wouldn't touch. A yellow legal pad lay on the counter, half full of notes, questions he needed to ask Dustin, and things he needed to do. Blair stirred the soup, and jotted himself another note. He needed phone numbers for Dustin's coach and principal at Evergreen Prep. A knock at the door interrupted his scribbling.

"Hey, Simon." Blair was glad to see his Captain, but a bit puzzled. "I hope this isn't bad news."

"Get me some coffee, and I'll tell you." Both men heard the shower turn off. "Is that Jim or the boy?"

"Dustin," Blair answered. "Jim left earlier. I sent him with my report to North, and he was going to go over the crime scene." The two men drifted off into the kitchen.

Simon grimaced. "Translation, I should be expecting a call from Captain Fuller any minute now, telling me to get my damn crazy detective out of his precinct. His nice, complacent, dysfunctional precinct, but his precinct, nonetheless."

Blair smiled and poured Simon a cup of coffee. "Oh, maybe not any minute. I'd give Jim at least another hour before they're ready to throw him out. Okay, tell me the worst."

"I went to Judge Carpenter first. Officially, Dustin is here under protective custody related to the murder of his mother. CPS has rules. You and Jim aren't licensed foster parents, and the loft has to be inspected, the list goes on and on. I set up a meeting with Carpenter for tomorrow evening, so she can meet Dustin and advise us. According to Henri, both of Dara's parents are deceased and there's no record of siblings. Officially, that makes the State his guardian, unless Dara had a will and specified someone."

"Blair? Is he here to arrest me or something?" Dustin was standing wide-eyed in the hallway, a pair of Jim's sweats cinched up around his waist, topped by a sweatshirt of Blair's.

Simon was off his chair in a heartbeat. "Of course not. Things are just a little confused right now while we sort things out." Dustin looked - empty, and scared. Simon had seen this look on Daryl's face, the night he'd told him about the divorce. He grasped him by both shoulders. "You'll be staying right here, at least for the time being."

"Hey, D," Blair said brightly, "Simon's staying for lunch." He gave his captain what might be called a 'significant' look and pulled down a third bowl for soup. "He's going to help us work through some of this stuff. Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup." Blair had no intention of letting anyone off the hook. Simon would cooperate for Dustin's sake, and Dustin would be more manageable with another adult to do the coaxing. As he dished up the first bowl, he added, "We're even going to break into Jim's secret stash of tortilla chips. The one he thinks I don't know about."

****

Jim had only been at North Precinct for twenty minutes and his temper was already flaring. Of all the slipshod, ineffective, disorganized...he stopped himself. He wasn't going to get any cooperation by losing it, but oh, how he wanted to take these guys to task.

No one could find the case file. The perimeter search for the attackers had been called off after minimal effort. They had no plans to follow up with Dara Smithson's employers or coworkers to find out if there had been any previous trouble. They hadn't even filed the request to have the partial prints on the pipe run against the database. This case was going straight to "Unsolved - Inactive" without so much as a whimper.

The duty sergeant shuffled back. "Sorry, Detective Ellison. The case has been assigned, but I can't reach either Stanton or Wagner. I'll pass along your concerns. They'll be back in on Monday. Oh wait, it might be Tuesday. I think they were taking Monday off."

"Monday? Maybe Tuesday?" Jim's control snapped. "What are you people thinking? You don't let a fresh homicide sit for two days until you can get around to it! Who's on duty now?"

"Well, excuse me, Ellison, but Captain Fuller has guidelines for us to follow, and I follow them. Last time I looked, a detective from Central didn't overrule the Captain in North." He grabbed a blank sheet of paper and slapped it down on the desk in front of Jim. "Why don't you leave a nice, long note for Captain Fuller from the Officer of the Year about how you'd like things done, and I'll make sure he gets it. On Monday." The man sat back in his chair, clearly insulted.

Jim knew a dead end when he saw it. "Thank you for your time, Sergeant," he ground out in icy tones. "It's been most enlightening." Jim couldn't get out the doors and into the truck fast enough.

*****

Dustin managed half of the soup and one sandwich before he pinned the two older men like bugs to the display mat. "Captain Banks, you said I'm here for now, and that's good, but I want you to tell me in plain English what it means for the State to be my guardian."

Simon looked at Dustin for a long moment before answering. "Are you sure you want to talk about that right now?"

"Yes," Dustin answered firmly. "I know I'm legally a kid, but I'm not helpless. My mom didn't raise me to be helpless. " He swallowed and forced himself up straighter. "Tell me."

"The short version is that the State will provide you a home, schooling and medical care, at least until you are eighteen."

"You mean a foster home," Dustin answered, his voice tinged with disgust. "My mom always told me that when I was born, she could have given me up and put me in foster care. How it would have been the easy way out, but she was interested in the right way, not the easy way." He tapped the table for emphasis. "That was a big thing to her. She never, ever wanted me to be in foster care." Blair wondered if they weren't seeing a replay of a frequent mother-son discussion. Naomi used to talk to him that way. Dustin frowned at Simon. "Why can't I stay in our old apartment and take care of myself?"

Simon nodded sympathetically. "It's just not usually done that way. There are lots of rules and regulations to follow, but it's all meant to be in your best interests. That's why I set up a time with Judge Carpenter privately. She's an old friend, and she'll be able to explain it better than I can."

"Okay. So I can wait for the judge. You said schooling. They won't let me stay at Evergreen, will they? You meant public school?"

Blair interrupted. "Dustin, do you know how much your mom paid in tuition? I know you have a scholarship, but what did you have to pay?"

"School was huge for my mom. She wanted me at Evergreen more that anything else. My school bill and the rent always got paid first. It's paid through April. She was worried about it. That's why she got that warehouse job." Dustin swallowed, fighting down the tears. "She died because of that job."

"No, Dustin. I can see where this is going, how it's going to be all your fault," answered Blair. "Well, it's not. Her murderer is to blame, not you or anything related to you."

"Blair's right," Simon chimed in. "It may be hard to see now, but he's absolutely right." He waited until Dustin gave him a reluctant nod. "Okay, so we have a few months to work out the school situation. You don't remember anything about your mom having a will?"

Dustin shook his head. "When she paid bills, I filed them. We did it that way since I learned to read. I always had part of the job, because she said we were a team. We have a folder for the stuff with the apartment and the title to the car, birth certificates, and Jim found it. If it's not there, it isn't anywhere. I'm pretty sure."

Blair and Simon exchanged looks. They had tougher ground to cover, and there was no way to avoid it. Blair knew it was his responsibility, and he dreaded it. He couldn't even contemplate answering these questions about Naomi. "This is hard, D. Do you have any idea what your mom would have wanted - for her passing?" Dustin's eyes clouded over again. "It's not the kind of thing most people talk about unless they have a reason. I'm sorry I have to ask. We need to start the arrangements."

Dustin didn't answer right away. When he did, each word was a struggle. "But I do know. There's a spot - out by the lighthouse." Blair nodded. He knew the spot. Waves straight from the Pacific pounded over two huge outcrops of rock. "My grandparents died right after I was born, and she scattered their ashes there. We'd go there sometimes, when she was upset. We'd sit on the rocks and watch the waves. She said it was good to have a certain place to visit them." Silent tears streamed down his face.

"Is that what you want to do?" Blair whispered. Dustin nodded, and in the next moment was sobbing in his friend's arms. "It's okay. Let it out," Blair crooned. "She knows, D. She knows."

Simon could only watch, painfully aware of how badly he wanted to hug his own son right at that moment.

****

Jim's anger was on slow simmer. Even without the reports, he could tell the crime scene still needed a thorough search. It didn't look like forensics had even been called in. He could see smudges of blood that weren't Dara's, and he was sure there was more to find. Last night he'd chased the assailants a couple of blocks before he'd lost them. That left a lot of uncovered territory.

He could probably talk Serena into coming down to collect the blood evidence. She'd do it as a favor, and she'd be discrete enough not to tick off the people at North. He really needed Sandburg here to do the rest of it, and do it right. It was out of the question to bring Dustin down here. The kid was fragile enough as it was. The logistics would be tricky, but he dialed the loft anyway. Jim had no intention of letting Dara Smithson's killers go uncaught and unpunished.

*****

Simon got the phone. Blair had Dustin over on the couch, talking softly. The worst of the first emotional storm was over, but they didn't need to be interrupted right now. "Banks here."

"Simon? Is Sandburg there? Is everything all right?"

"We're doing as well as can be expected." Simon retreated to the kitchen. "The kid broke down for a bit, but Blair's got him calmed down. Any luck on your end?"

"Damn. Captain, North doesn't even have the case going to detectives until Monday or Tuesday."

"What?" Simon hissed. "That isn't inept, it's unconscionable!" Then it clicked in. Fuller was always so smug when everyone else was getting chewed out for not making their budget targets. That was one way to make it work; no overtime. It didn't get the job done either.

"Look, sir, it's a mess. Serena's coming down, as a favor, but I really need Blair. I don't know what to do. I know Dustin needs him right now, but this is his mother's killer we're trying to catch."

Simon looked at the two figures still on the couch. Despite the trauma, Sandburg had worked Dustin through a lot of the stuff that needed to be dealt with immediately. They'd taken care of the funeral home, and notified Dustin's coach and school. He thought back to his first meeting with Dustin. Yeah. Daryl was savvy enough to do the right thing. Maybe they could make this work. "Jim, I'll call you back. I have an idea."

"Was that Jim?" Blair asked. "Don't tell me. The guys at North already have him locked in a holding cell."

"They'll probably wish they had," Simon answered with more than a touch of sarcasm. He turned all his attention to Dustin. He laid a hand on Dustin's knee. "This is the situation. I know this isn't easy for you, but I'm going to put it to, man to man. Ellison isn't happy about the way the investigation into your mother's murder is being handled." Dustin struggled a bit, but he hung on. "You may not realize this, but he and Sandburg have a unique way of going about things, and that's what makes them the best. Jim thinks he needs Blair at the scene to do the job right."

"No, Simon." Blair shook his head adamantly. "That's just not going to happen."

"It's okay, Blair," Dustin interrupted. "Go on, Captain. If you need them, I can handle it by myself."

"Well, that's not exactly what I was going to suggest. I agree with Blair, alone is just not an option right now. Just remember, this is totally your choice. No one's trying to ditch you here." Dustin nodded, so he kept talking. "I was going to take Daryl to visit North Pacific College this afternoon. You could come with us while Jim and Blair do their thing."

"Simon..." Blair said reproachfully.

"I can do that," Dustin answered firmly. "We talked about North Pacific, Blair. You said they had a good pre-med program, and the coach has already contacted me about basketball." He waved off Blair's protests. "This is about my mom, Blair. I can go for a car ride and walk around a campus without losing it. Captain Banks will take good care of me." He caught his breath, searching for the right words. "Mom was big on doing what needed to be done, whether you wanted to or not. This is no disrespect to her memory. Please. I want you to catch them more than I want you to stay here and hold my hand. I can put it on auto-pilot and walk around for an afternoon."

"Okay, D." Blair looked searchingly at his young friend. "Okay, we'll do it your way. Give me the phone, Simon."

*****

Jim was beyond relieved when Blair finally showed up. Serena had come and gone already, taking blood samples, along with some hair and clothing fibers Jim had discovered. If they could ever find these guys, they had enough to do a DNA match. They had even located some bullets from the brief exchange of fire. He filled Blair in quickly as to what had been accomplished already.

"What have you got in mind, Jim?"

"I think these guys had a hidey-hole somewhere. If you winged the shooter, maybe there's a blood trail we can follow. It will be faint, but we haven't had rain. I wouldn't try it alone."

"I agree. Chance of a zone out would be pretty high. You'd be kind of exposed. Okay we can do this." He stepped close to Jim, with the barest pressure on his elbow. "Let it go. Concentrate and focus."

Jim was right. There was a trail to follow. Step by step, they snaked through the grimy streets and grimier alleys. The trail dead-ended at the doorway to an abandoned building. At least, the sign in the window said, "For Sale", and there was no outward sign of activity.

"There are traces of blood on the door handle, Sandburg. Here, help me with this." Jim fumbled for the sample collection tubes Serena had left with him."

"I can't see through the windows, Jim. Can you?"

Concentrating, Jim dialed up his vision, hoping to penetrate the thick white haze and dirt that covered the glass panes. "Yeah," he said after a few moments. "There are some bloody rags on the floor in there, and some discarded clothing. The door's locked. They had to have a key to get in that quickly." He gave Blair a triumphant look. "Let's go get ourselves a warrant."

****

Despite the fact that he felt like a chauffeur, Simon put Daryl and Dustin in the back seat where they could talk. The two boys had hit it off right away. Simon couldn't be any prouder of Daryl. With more poise and understanding than he thought his son possessed, Daryl had breezed through the formal introductions and then taken matters into his own hands. With a simple, "Man, I'm sorry, this really sucks," he'd given Dustin a guy to guy hug and that was it. They were bonded like only teenagers bond, and Simon was just the transportation. Although Dustin was subdued, he wasn't withdrawn. Much to Simon's chagrin, they were now swapping latchkey stories. Every once in awhile, Daryl would give him a grin and say, "Now, Dad, you don't really need to hear this."

Well, that was the truth. Sometimes it was a mixed blessing when your little boy grew up.

*****

Even under the best circumstances, it took time to get a warrant. With Dustin occupied for the next few hours, they decided to wait it out at the station. Blair was at the computer, trying to trace the ownership of the building they wanted to search. Jim was still grousing about North Precinct.

"I'm serious, Chief. It makes the whole department look bad."

"They can't be doing this kind of stuff all the time, Jim. It would catch up to them. Somebody would notice." He concentrated on the keys and the screen for a moment. Public records were a nightmare to navigate through. "Think about it. Simon has to file reports all the time. Crime statistics are how they evaluate him. Fuller's got the same problems."

"That's what I mean," Jim fumed, his thoughts still on North Precinct. "Their procedures were beyond bad." He waited as Blair scrolled through screen after screen, finally tapping at an entry in triumph. Jim nodded. "We've got to get into that building. I couldn't see a lot, but if they had a key, I'll lay odds it wasn't the first time it was used in a getaway." The phone rang on his desk and he pounced on it. "Great. How long? Another twenty minutes? No, keep it there. I'll come to you, it'll be faster." The phone clattered to its resting place. "We're in business, Chief. I'll be back to pick you up."

He was gone before Blair could say a word. Damn. If he wasn't so impatient, they could have gone together. Blair clicked a few more keys. This was it. They had an owner and an address. He hit print. Nothing to do but wait for Jim.

Blair rocked back in his chair, lost in thought. What if Jim was right? The local cops should be able to pick it up if this location was being used for repeat crimes. How would something like that go unnoticed? Maybe a little casual snooping would be in order.

*****

Simon Banks was content to listen as the Admissions counselor squired the small group around the campus of North Pacific. The wide green lawns and stately brick buildings were a far cry from the branch community college Simon had spent his time in. Night school for what seemed like an eternity. He was glad Daryl had different options.

He'd sent the two boys off to get something to eat while he'd made a quick stop at Admissions. They'd been very accommodating, and sensitive to the unusual circumstances. By the time the boys had arrived, they had prepared materials for Dustin. Their host had extended his condolences without being maudlin, and Dustin accepted with grace. The afternoon had gone smoothly, and Dustin seemed grateful for the distraction.

Simon had been impressed when Dustin had given his PSAT scores and grades. So much of his future was up in the air. All of his mother's efforts shouldn't be allowed to go down the drain. She'd wanted the same things for Dustin that he wanted for Daryl; a good start at a good college, a chance at things she hadn't enjoyed. He hoped Judge Carpenter had some good ideas.

*****

"Got it, Chief." Jim blew through the doors of Major Crime, intent on not wasting any more time. "Get your coat."

"Come look at this, Jim." Blair was totally focused on the computer screen.

Jim spotted the ownership information in the printer and grabbed it. "This is all we need. Let's go!"

"Jim, I mean it. Come look at this." Exasperated, and not afraid to show it, Jim rounded the desk.

Sandburg pulled a chair close and pointed at it. "Sit. You need to see this."

"Sandburg..." He hated it when his partner did the nutty professor thing.

"Look." Blair pointed at the screen. "This is our address."

"Okay, so what are all the dots?"

"You got me thinking. If you were doing a lousy job, how would you cover it? These are all assaults, some of them really violent ones."

"You're kidding." He had Jim's attention now. "This is what - ten, twelve square blocks? Over what time frame?"

"The last six months, not counting the reports that haven't made it to the main system yet."

"No," said Jim in disbelief. "That kind of pattern, they'd have brought it up in Admin. Formed a task force or something."

"Probably, if they actually knew they were assaults with similar MO's. That's the thing, I found it by accident. I was looking by location. Look at what these were originally coded in the system." Blair hit a couple of keys. The dots took on the colors of the rainbow. The guys at North aren't logging them as assaults. I had to pull the individual files and read the reports. Look at this. They've got theft, pandering, vandalism, harassment, gambling, you name it; hell, they've practically got them filed under littering."

"Well, that's a judgment call," countered Jim. "Even Dara's murder could have started out as a something else."

"Of course, but even if that's your call, you're still supposed to use multiple codes with the primary on the report, so you can cross reference it. They're not doing that. It conceals the overall pattern."

"So when the reports get evaluated, it looks like they have a smattering of everything." Jim stared at the screen. "Where are the bus stops in relation to this?"

"Go get me some fliers from the lobby, and we can check."

"Call Metro while I'm gone. Maybe the city transportation people keep a record of complaints." He checked his watch. "We'll give this until 3. Then we serve our warrant."

Blair was already on the phone before he left the room.

*****

Simon and Daryl had found a comfortable seat, and were sharing a course catalog. Not that Daryl had any real idea what he wanted to major in, but still, it was a start. Dustin was making a quick visit with the basketball coach, since they were already acquainted, and the Banks contingent had opted to wait. Simon gave up on the catalog and pulled out the sheet that listed financial aid, vowing to get the rest of the FAFSA form done that weekend. If Daryl could qualify, he might not have to clean out all his savings to pay tuition. He wasn't in great financial shape after he and Joan split up.

"Dad, I know we're supposed to go to the basketball game tonight and all, but I think we should go home."

Simon looked at his son in surprise. He was pretty sure Daryl had been more interested in attending a college basketball game than the more serious stuff. "Sure, Daryl." Before he could ask his next question, Daryl answered it.

"Dustin's really tired. I can tell. I know you said you'd come back up and get me, but I'd rather go with the two of you. Maybe we can get a pizza or something before we take him back to the loft."

"Any particular reason?" Simon asked. "I thought you were really looking forward to this."

"Well, it's hard to explain, but this is like fairyland or something. When Dustin goes home, it's like going back to reality. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Dad, but after you and Mom split up, it was going home that was the hardest." Simon held his breath. Daryl hardly ever spoke about his parent's divorce. "It's not the same, but I think I can imagine how awful he must feel right now. I guess I don't mind giving him a little more time, and a little extra company."

Simon handed the financial aid sheet back to his son, nodding in agreement. "Daryl, sometimes I forget to tell you how proud I am that you're my boy. I'll go bring the car around."

*****

Jim carefully scanned the street before proceeding. Their plans had changed. All the evidence they had been able to collect pointed to an organized ring. If they could confirm this site was being used as a base, they'd do a stakeout rather than a more visible search. They'd been in touch with Simon, who had approved the operation, even though it treaded on someone else's turf. The fact that North Precinct hadn't shown a lot of interest in Dara Smithson's murder up to this point was sufficient justification for him.

Using a back entrance, Jim swiftly evaded the pathetic excuse for a lock. Picking their way carefully through the dimly lit rooms and corridors, their suspicions were confirmed. Hidden in a poorly concealed cardboard box were dark windbreaker jackets, ski masks, gloves and a variety of crude weapons. Taking care not to leave any trace of their activities, they collected more forensic evidence to match with what Jim had located earlier. They took a scrap of bloody rag to match with the blood smears. Jim was certain the blood would be from the original assault, or from the guy carrying Sandburg's bullet.

They were on their way back out when Jim noticed a closet door, just slightly ajar. On the floor, wrapped in another rag, was a handgun. The caliber matched the bullets from last night's exchange of fire. Jim flashed a thumbs-up sign at his partner.

They slipped out the way they came. It took all the discipline they possessed not to run all the way back to the truck. They had a stakeout to set up, and a murderer to catch.

****

Blair pulled the truck into the parking lot, relieved to see Simon's sedan still there. He didn't want to leave Jim in the lurch, but both men agreed that Dustin needed to come first. He wasn't sure how much to tell Dustin about the investigation. He didn't want to get his hopes up too soon, but this was way more progress than could have been expected. It wouldn't bring Dara Smithson back to her son, but maybe the capture of her killers would make it easier to pick up the pieces.

When he located his friends at their table, he could tell it was time to go. Dustin looked beyond exhausted, but he still flashed a small smile Blair's direction. He quickly scooted his chair over to make room, and looked expectantly at Blair.

"The stakeout's in place. Jim's staying with that end of the operation. Don't get your hopes up, but it's promising. Simon, Jim wanted you to call him on his cell when you have a chance."

"Will do," Simon confirmed. In a gentler tone, he continued. "I think our guest is ready to go. We wore him out."

"Captain Banks, I really appreciated everything." Dustin made a valiant attempt at another smile. "It made the day easier." His voice was strained, and he stood up. Blair grabbed his coat, ready to leave. Dustin paused, looking back. "Uh...Daryl...I..." He choked on the words.

"Ah, man." Daryl bounded out of his chair. He gathered Dustin into a hug. "Don't even go there." Dustin stifled a sob. "Get going. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Or come by."

Dustin managed to mumble a 'thanks' or something close to it, and Blair took it from there.

Daryl watched them go, clearly distressed. "What's going to happen to him, Dad? He doesn't deserve this."

"I don't know, Daryl," Simon answered, wishing he could reassure his son. "I just don't know."

****

Over the next two days, reality hit home. Dustin slept well into the next day, physically and emotionally spent. Jim made a couple of brief stops at the loft to catch a nap, but he was completely absorbed with the stakeout and running down additional leads for a case that wasn't officially theirs to begin with. Simon knew he was risking a major blow out with his superiors, but continued to give his unconditional support. If it went down badly, he had every intention of taking the heat.

While Dustin had held together well the day before, the second day was much, much more difficult. School friends, his mother's friends, his coach and teammates, all called and came by in a never-ending stream. While Dustin was deeply touched, the outpouring of emotion was overwhelming. Time and again, he ended up turning to Blair for support and comfort. By the end of the day, Blair was as wrung out as his young charge.

The meeting with Judge Carpenter was disheartening. While she was very sympathetic, she seriously doubted that Jim or Blair could be certified as foster parents with the loft as their primary residence. It simply didn't fit all the rules and regulations specified by state law. In the end, her considered opinion was that their best chances were if Blair moved into the Smithson's apartment and filed for certification as a foster parent from there. Realistically, while working, single people were welcome as foster parents, the hours Blair kept as Jim's partner would be a disqualifying factor. She suggested Blair consider reassignment for the year until Dustin turned 18. Dustin was no fool. He knew how close his friends were, and immediately assumed it was impossible. He broke down, choking back the tears.

As Blair tried to console Dustin, Jim felt the knife in his gut. He knew how responsible Blair felt for the young man. Blair would never forgive himself if something happened to Dustin. But for the grace of God, Blair could have been in the same spot. Certain that he would be losing the only person he really cared about, Jim made his choice. He was on his feet and his mouth was moving before his brain really caught up.

"Judge Carpenter, I want to thank you for your time." His eyes strayed to Blair and Dustin. "You're absolutely correct," he continued calmly. "If Blair's willing, I think we should proceed at once." He was vaguely aware of Simon's shock, but his focus was drawn to the stunned face of his partner.

"Jim? Are you sure...?" Blair started hesitantly. He didn't finish. The room had narrowed to just the two of them.

Looking into Blair's eyes, Jim repeated what had been Dara's litany at the end of her life. "It's only a year, Chief." Blair, equally stricken, nodded his agreement. There was nothing to say. They both knew what the stakes were.

Monday evaporated. With a little intervention from Judge Carpenter concerning the arrangements, Blair had preliminary meetings with CPS. When he needed to go to the station to conference with Simon about a new assignment, Daryl took some time off from school to visit with Dustin, picked up some clothes for him from the apartment, and drove him to practice. Jim stayed with the stakeout, refusing to think about the day Blair would be moving out of the loft. His way of coping was to put every ounce of energy into catching Dara's killers.

It was nearly midnight when Blair heard the key turn in the lock. He'd been sitting in semi-darkness, watching the fire. After soothing Dustin through two nightmares, he'd called his own mother. Unable to sleep, he tried to meditate without much success. It was a relief to have Jim home.

"Hey, Chief."

"Hey, yourself. You're early."

Jim tossed his keys into the basket and headed to the kitchen. He came back with two bottles of beer. Handing one to Blair, he raised the bottle in salute. "Damn, we got them. Lock, stock, barrel, hand in the cookie jar, got 'em."

"You're kidding. There's no doubt?"

"None. Brown was covering one of the bus kiosks. He tailed them right back to the hideout and we nailed them. Once the DNA evidence is in, we can throw away the key." He took a long sip. "Rafe and Brown are doing the closing. Simon and Captain Fuller were shouting at each other over the phone when I left. North Precinct has a lot of explaining to do. I think their detectives hadn't even made labels for the file yet." Jim looked thoughtfully at the closed French doors. "Maybe it will make tomorrow go down a little easier."

Blair's elation faded. "Nothing is going to make tomorrow easier, I'm afraid. Should we wake him?"

Jim shook his head. "Needs his rest. We all do." He picked at the label of the bottle. "Chief, we don't really need to talk about it, but I just want you to know. The day Dustin turns 18, I want you back. Both of you. I hope when the time comes, that's what you want, too."

Blair leaned over, and clinked their bottles in a toast. "Here's to a year. Only one year."

*****

"Dustin? Sandburg will be back in a minute, and it's time to go." Jim rapped softly on the French doors again. "Hey, buddy, you doing okay in there?" Slowly he cracked the door open, peeking around the edge.

Dustin was standing in the middle of the tiny room, tears streaming down his face. At least he'd managed to get dressed. He was in standing in stocking feet facing a tiny mirror perched on Blair's dresser. A blue tie hung limply around the neck of his freshly pressed white dress shirt. "Not okay," he whispered. His eyes dropped to the floor.

Jim wrapped a large hand around the back of the young man's neck, wishing for the right words. Blair had been providing most of the solace for their grieving houseguest, but obviously it was his turn. "You shouldn't be embarrassed, Dustin. Everyone understands."

Dustin leaned into the taller man beside him. "My mom bought me this tie - for my interview at Evergreen," Dustin stammered. "She wanted everything to be perfect. She stood on a chair and fixed it just so. I...can't...will you do it for me?"

Without a word Jim gently turned him by the shoulders until they were facing. With great care and typical precision left from his days in the military, he began to knot the silk. He could smell the salt of the boy's tears.

"Why are you letting Blair come live with me? You must hate me. I'm nothing but trouble to you."

Jim's hands stilled. He was at war with himself over this very question, torn between two overwhelming needs. The Sentinel in him responded to the duty to protect and safeguard this young man. Dustin was a mirror, reminding him of his own teenage years, somehow trying to navigate the shoals of youth without the love and security of a mother. The same Sentinel nature recoiled at any hint of life without Sandburg at his side.

With no change in expression, Jim continued his work on the tie. "I don't hate you, D," he answered softly. "You know that. Blair wants to do this, and I wouldn't stop him. I wouldn't want to stop him." He pulled the knot snugly into the shirt collar. "I won't lie to you - I'll miss him. I wish we could work it out so it wasn't necessary."

Jim stepped back. Dustin's eyes, filled with doubt, never left his face. He tried to say something, but ended up biting his lip instead, still on the raw edge of tears.

"Dustin, do you understand the concept of duty? Duty is what gets you through something difficult, to complete it for the greater good. Sometimes it's a sacrifice. You, me, Sandburg - we're going to see this through, with all it's imperfections, because it's the best solution for all of us. Of the three, you've got the tougher road, my man."

"You're sure?"

Jim picked up the navy blazer from the end of the futon on held it open. As Dustin slipped his arms into the sleeves, he answered. "I'm sure, D, and on the day you turn eighteen, the first thing you're going to see is me and a packing box, waiting to move both of you back home. You got that?"

"Yeah, I got it," came the answer. "I'm really glad you're here, Jim." With near-perfect composure, Dustin Smithson turned, squared his shoulders and walked through the French doors to face the most agonizing goodbye of his young life.

The service for Dara Smithson was held at the base of the lighthouse. One of Dustin's teammates had remembered that Dustin had given his mother yellow roses on her birthday. Every student from Evergreen Prep that was in attendance carried one. The police chaplain gave the blessing, remembering a life tragically cut short. Blair, at Dustin's request, spoke movingly of what it was to be a family of mother and son. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, if there had been a house.

When the students began to file past to give Dustin their condolences, one of them spontaneously tossed their rose into the ocean beyond. Soon the waves were dotted with splashes of yellow.

When they were nearly alone, Blair and Dustin walked to the outermost rocks. Jim, Simon and Daryl remained, knowing this was the most painful moment. Dustin carefully shook the ashes into the waves. He and Blair sat for a long time at the edge, outlined by the pale February sun. Only Jim could hear Dustin's agonized whisper as he curled into Blair's arms. "I miss her. I miss her so bad."

Jim Ellison, whose own life had been marred with so much loss and abandonment, felt the echo in his own soul. With a quiet goodbye to Simon and Daryl, he remained on watch until his friends were ready to leave.

Simon drove back to Cascade in silence. Somehow, all his worries didn't seem very important. Not the political mess at the PD, or hassling with Joan, or losing Sandburg and Ellison as a team. All minor, compared to the fact that his boy was safe and by his side.

"Daddy, would CPS not be so picky if Blair had kids of his own? Or if the loft was more - normal?"

"I don't know, Daryl. Probably." Daryl never called him 'Daddy' any more. Something was up, but he couldn't quite guess how to respond. They lapsed into silence again.

"Daddy, I know a place with, you know, a regular bedroom. A regular parent, too"

Simon answered sharply, his patience drawn thin with the emotion of the day. He hated it when he wasn't in sync with his boy. "Daryl, what are you babbling..." Daryl was grinning. "What did you say?"

"I said, a regular room and a regular parent. Even a regular brother." Simon pulled the car to the shoulder and faced his son. Daryl was looking at him expectantly, wearing his 'Dad don't be a slow learner' expression. "One more time, Daddy. A REGULAR parent. A REGULAR room. A REGULAR brother, even if we don't exactly match. Get it?"

Simon started to laugh. Daryl's face lit up.

"Daryl, are you sure about this? This is serious."

"Daddy, our family had room for one more," Daryl answered seriously. He struggled to explain. "It's like, Dustin has this big empty spot in his life, but we do, too, ya know? Ever since..."

"I know, son. I wish it could have been different. So does your mom."

"I know that, Dad. I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just...I think, if we could be good for Dustin, Dustin could be just as good for us. It's not like Jim and Blair won't be right there, too. We just fit all the silly rules better."

Simon put the car into gear. Still shaking his head, he answered his son, "So I need to make a few calls. I'll remember that, Daryl. A regular room, a regular parent, and a regular brother. How can they turn us down?"

The End