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).



Chapter Three

Jim listened to Blair cheerfully describe having verbally eviscerated some student unlucky enough to have plagiarized a paper in a week when Blair was really feeling frustrated. Jim almost felt bad for the twerp, or he might have if not for the fact that he was distracted.

They'd had a shadow for three blocks now. The man was older, gray hair and a calm expression suggested that he was just one more person enjoying the rare sunny weather. However, he moved with a caution and attentiveness that jangled Jim's nerves and made him think of the military. Jim had turned twice, his hand on Blair's shoulder aiming him in a new direction, and Blair had shot him an odd look, but he'd kept right on with his story, his hands moving to punctuate the high points.

If even half of Blair's story was true, his student was going to need therapy. More importantly, he was going to be too afraid to ever cheat again. At each turn, their shadow lagged behind them, leisurely following only after Jim and Blair were some way down the block. The behavior was too casual to be truly casual.

"So, I'm pretty sure he'll never be cheating again," Blair finished as they got to the loft.

"I'm pretty sure he's going to be in therapy, Chief," Jim pointed out.

Blair snorted. "He deserves it." His voice dropped to a faint whisper. "What's up, Jim?"

Jim turned so that he was casually leaning against a car. The stranger was there, still strolling as he went by them on the sidewalk. However, Jim suspected he was going to only go as far as the next corner and then find a nice place to settle down and watch. Jim turned his head away from their watcher. "Blair, go up to the loft and call Simon."

"Call him what?” Blair asked in a sort of playfulness, but the voice was strained. Blair knew something was wrong, but he hadn't spotted their follower. “Oh man, okay," Blair whispered after a second, "What am I telling him?”

"We have a stalker."

"We… what?" Blair started to look around, and Jim reached out and caught his head, cradling Blair's cheeks between his palms in a lover's touch. Blair immediately settled, his eyes focusing on Jim. Anyone passing by on the street would assume they were lovers sharing an intimate moment, which wasn't exactly wrong. Jim leaned closer.

"Tell him there's one man, following for three blocks; he moves like military."

Blair closed his eyes for a second, blocking Jim from seeing the fear. Blair might have more guts than almost anyone Jim had ever known, but he wasn't a cop-he wasn't a soldier. He'd never been trained to deal with emergencies, so there was always this moment when he needed to gather himself. Only then did he turn stubborn.

"No way am I going upstairs if there’s trouble down here," Blair hissed, his stubborn streak showing up right on schedule.

"I need you to call Simon."

Blair brought his own hand up to cup Jim's cheek, his expression softening as if listening to some endearment. "Use your damn cell phone." The contrast between Blair's love-struck appearance and his words nearly made Jim laugh.

Jim shifted his hands to Blair's shoulders and leaned in closer, his mouth beside Blair's ear as he whispered. "I don’t want to tip this guy off."

"For all he knows, you’re calling for pizza."

Jim leaned down until their foreheads touched. "Sandburg," he said wearily.

"Ellison," Blair returned in exactly the same tone. His hands were resting on Jim's waist now, holding on as Blair silently shouted his unwillingness to leave Jim alone to deal with their watcher.

Jim clenched his teeth and counted to ten. Maybe he could have pushed Blair around a year ago. Maybe. But now that he was Jim’s lover, Blair’s stubborn streak was front and center. Not that it had been all that deeply hidden before. “Blair, as a cop, I am asking you to go for backup,” Jim said, his voice as tightly controlled as he could make it. They'd made a deal when they'd first found themselves sharing a bed. If Jim resorted to using his status as a cop, that meant that Blair needed to stop thinking like a lover and listen like a ride-along who had an obligation to follow his partner's lead. The other half of that was that when Blair resorted to his status as a researcher, Jim had to back off his knee-jerk habit of shoving his lover away and tell Blair the truth about the senses.

“That’s playing dirty,” Blair muttered, but he headed for the loft, moving as fast as he could. Jim knew without a doubt that he’d be back down on the street as soon as he made that call, which gave Jim a very limited amount of time to work. Jim sure as hell wasn’t trying anything with Blair in the middle. With Blair safely upstairs, Jim turned to head back toward his truck

The man was standing in the shadow near the bakery’s entry. His head was bowed, but his head had a slight angle that allowed him to watch Jim in the reflection of the plate glass window. It was an old trick. And the man looked the type to know all the old tricks. He was a large man with curled gray hair and a weathered face. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, but his clothing was neat and pressed, so he wasn’t roughing it. He had a sort of quiet in the way he moved that made Jim nervous. This was a man who had been taught to be aware of his body, and very few people ever had that kind of training.

Jim strolled toward his truck, trying to lure the guy away from the building. If he had backup, they would have to shift to account for the fact that Jim and Blair had split up. Either that, or they would have to focus on Jim. He strained to hear any chatter, any whisper of radios with a team leader redirecting his men. Instead he caught the whir of tires against asphalt and the clicking of the mechanics inside the crosswalk sign and the distant cry of a child. He had his hearing dangerously open, but Jim still couldn't get any information on their tail.

Maybe the guy was working alone. With a wolfish smile, Jim hoped that was the case. If it was, Jim was going to rip him a new asshole. If this was some process server trying to get a signature, Jim was going to scare him out of a year of life, that’s for damn sure. And if he was a random stalker, Jim was arresting his ass.

Jim leaned against the side of his truck and watched the man. At first, the guy just kept browsing the bakery window as if wedding cake designs were the most interesting thing in the world. Eventually, though, he turned to look at Jim. With a nod of his head, the guy acknowledged Jim and started moving slowly and steadily toward the truck. His hands hung loosely at his sides, so either he wasn’t armed or he was trying to make Jim feel at ease. It wasn’t working. Jim waited as the man finally got close enough to speak.

“It’s either a brave man or a foolish one that invites trouble over for a conversation,” the man said. Jim’s eyebrows went up.

“So, you’re trouble?”

He shrugged. “I try not to be, but I fear that I fail on a regular basis.” He grinned, the expression self-depreciating. “Josiah Sanchez.” He held his hand out, but Jim only looked at it. If the man wanted polite manners, he should have introduced himself before stalking them.

Josiah dropped his hand and moved to lean on the truck next to Jim. “I did warn Chris; I’m out of practice.”

“Oh?” Jim’s skin was crawling from having Josiah at his side, but he was far enough away to not pose an immediate danger, and Jim wanted something solid at his back, particularly if there was another player involved.

“I prefer construction work… that and saving the occasional soul. I’m afraid that my days of gathering intel are past.”

Jim looked around, his guts knotting as this guy talked without actually saying much. “Why are you following me?” Jim flat out demanded.

Josiah didn’t answer right away. He looked off into the sky and seemed to think about that for a long time. “I suppose I was wondering why you were so interested in Ezra.”

“Ezra Standish?” Jim pushed away from the truck and took an aggressive step forward. Josiah kept staring at the sky, his hands crossed over his chest and a peaceful look on his face. The man had moved like a soldier a few minutes ago, but now he looked like a stoner watching the clouds drift past.

“That is the only Ezra I know,” Josiah agreed after an uncomfortable silence.

This man knew Jim's brother. While Jim didn’t expect that to make a bit of difference, it did somehow. How was his brother connected to this very odd character? Was this Ezra’s father or an uncle? Was this the man Jim’s mother had hooked up with? Jim studied Josiah more carefully. If his mother had gone from William Ellison to this man, she had a wider range of tastes than even Naomi. Jim's father was controlled, impeccable, the sort of man who had a million emotions inside and who showed none of them. Josiah had a hippy vibe going, a sort of casual interest in watching the world go by, but then when he moved, Jim could see the military training. He wore jeans that had the marks of a man who did hard labor, and his hands were scarred, but not with the knuckle scarring of a fighter.

“What’s he to you?” Jim demanded.

“A friend,” Josiah said, and that answer told Jim nothing. Josiah smiled. “A friend who is very concerned about why a police officer from Washington would be interested in him and his past.”

“I stopped looking. He doesn't have to worry about me,” Jim answered. A few days after he'd started poking around, Simon had received an official request from the FBI that he stop his background search, so Jim figured Ezra was target of a pretty big investigation. Jim had no intention of tipping his brother off--if he was a criminal, then Jim had no more loyalty to Ezra Standish than he had to any other criminal.

“All humans have reason to worry,” Josiah said. Blair appeared on the sidewalk, looking around. The second he spotted them, his whole body went stiff. Jim sent up a prayer that Blair would be smart and go right back up to the loft. Clearly his power of prayer was lacking because Blair’s face set in a stubborn expression and he came striding over.

“Hey!” Blair broke into a trot, and Jim moved to the side so his body was between his idiotic guide and Josiah. “Hey,” Blair repeated when he reached Jim’s side. “I’m Blair Sandburg.” Before Jim could stop him, Blair stuck his hand out. The only way Jim could minimize the damage was by grabbing Blair’s arm and keeping him close. That forced Josiah to step forward and take Blair’s hand.

“Josiah Sanchez.”

“Josiah, whoa. That is a seriously unusual name.”

Josiah’s eyebrow twitched, but he managed to not make a comment about Blair’s name. “My momma didn't name me that,” Josiah admitted. It was more information than Jim had gotten out of him so far. “My generation forged a new path, and the group I fell in with decided to take the names of heroes whose beliefs we wanted to emulate.”

“So, Josiah…?” Blair waved a hand, obviously waiting for the full name of this guy’s patron namesake.

Josiah gave a slow smile. “Josiah Wedgwood, an abolitionist who put his beliefs ahead of his professional aspirations," answered, his tone making it clear he admired the man. Either that or he was making up a story that was sure to appeal to Blair, and from the look on Blair's face, the story was working.

“Cool,” Blair said. “My mom named me after the Battle of Blair Mountain, not that she admired the fighting, but she totally respected the working classes for standing up for their rights.” Josiah backed away a step while still smiling at Blair’s enthusiasm, and Blair might have followed him, except Jim kept a tight hold on his arm. “So, what’s up?” Blair asked, looking from Josiah to Jim and back.

“I’m still trying to decide that,” Jim said as he studied the man. “Stalking a police officer is a serious crime.” Sadly, Jim also knew that it was a crime that wasn’t going to get anyone too upset. His last stalker had dumped a load of horse manure in Jim’s loft, blown an undercover operation, and nearly gotten Jim killed, and the judge had given him four months. This time Jim was determined to keep his cool and not aggravate the nutcase.

“I'm simply curious about why Detective Ellison would show such interest in a friend.” Josiah leaned against Jim’s truck and watched them. “And now that I'm here, I am inclined to believe that you aren’t a threat.”

“A friend?” Blair was still looking confused.

“Ezra Standish,” Josiah said before Jim could figure out a way to cut this conversation short. Blair’s eyes went big. Josiah took some interest in that reaction. “Ah, you know our Mr. Standish.”

“Know about him,” Blair said carefully. He looked at Jim, and Jim could tell that he was itching to tell Josiah the truth. However, Jim did not plan to deal himself into the middle of an FBI investigation. If the FBI wanted Standish’s ass, they could have it. They could have Josiah Sanchez’s, too.

"We don't know him," Jim said firmly. He figured his tone would make it pretty clear that he wasn't interested in getting to know him, either. Josiah turned his head and truly studied Jim, making Jim itch to put his hand on his gun. After a long and tense moment, Josiah returned to studying the shapes of the clouds.

“A wise man understands that none of us can truly know each other,” Josiah offered. “Judge not, lest ye be judged, for with what measure you judge, so shall ye be judged.”

“I leave the judging for others. I just arrest criminals,” Jim said before Blair could go off onto some philosophical discussion.

Josiah nodded. “But how does one define criminal?”

“Someone who breaks the law,” Jim said firmly. If his brother was putting out feelers to see if Jim was vulnerable to bribery, Jim was going to go all the way to Tucson to break a few heads.

Josiah watched the sky and sucked air through his front teeth. “If I leave my country to avoid becoming a killer, am I a criminal? If I follow the law and kill for my country, does that make me an innocent man?” Josiah kept his eyes on the sky.

“Oh man, nothing is that clear-cut,” Blair said.

“When it comes to the law, it is,” Jim said firmly. He pulled Blair back toward the door. In the distance, he could hear the sirens of the world’s slowest backup. “Come on, Chief.”

Josiah Sanchez remained standing next to Jim’s truck, watching them.

“Geez, he’s not doing anything,” Blair whispered furiously.

“He’s annoying me. It’s enough,” Jim answered. Blair gave a big sigh. The patrol car pulled up in front of the building and Jim nodded at the officer who got out.

“Sir, you called for backup?” The officer seemed confused, so Jim was guessing Blair hadn’t pushed the panic button when he called--either that or Simon had chosen to assume Blair was exaggerating the danger.

“Yes,” Jim said. “Josiah Sanchez over there is loitering. Ticket him.” Jim looked over at Josiah, daring him to argue with just a look. Josiah didn’t even bother moving away from Jim’s truck.

“Sir?” the officer asked, still confused.

“And get official identification. He already admitted that Josiah is an alias.” Jim crossed his arms and waited for some sort of protest, but Josiah just watched with a sort of detached amusement that annoyed the shit out of Jim.

“Maybe we should--” Blair whispered, but Jim cut him off. “Forget it, Chief. He’s hiding something.” Jim didn’t bother keeping his voice down, but Josiah certainly didn’t deny the charge. Jim watched as the officer pulled out his ticket book and headed over. Jim corralled Blair while the officer got the man’s identification. Jim would run a background check later. Right now, Blair looked ready to explode, so Jim urged him into the first floor lobby of the building.

“Man, you are some piece of work,” Blair blurted the minute they were safely inside. “He knows your brother!”

“The brother that’s being investigated by the FBI? The one with the police record a mile long? That brother?”

“Hey, he’s never been convicted,” Blair said, but his tone was a little less confrontational and a little more wary now.

“Which just means he’s a smart criminal,” Jim said. “Blair, you know as well as I do that no one gets a record that looks like that without some sort of criminal involvement.”

Blair chewed on his lip. “Naomi has a police record.” Blair wasn’t even bothering to sound convinced himself.

“For protesting, not for securities fraud and check forging.”

Blair could only shrug. “Still.Josiah came all this way.”

“Because he wants something.”

“You are one suspicious bastard,” Blair pointed out.

“Yep.” Jim wasn’t even going to deny that charge. He was suspicious, more so when a criminal showed interest in him and Blair.

“So, why annoy him with a loitering ticket?” Blair looked honestly confused about that.

“To get his real information,” Jim admitted. “Now stay here.” Jim turned back toward the door and headed out into the parking lot. He needed to make sure the officer sent a copy of the ticket to him up at Major Crime.

“Manipulative and suspicious,” Blair muttered, but Jim couldn’t really disagree. He was both, and he didn’t plan to change for anyone, not even Blair.

The officer was trying to write the ticket, and Jim headed over toward them. “Any form of identification will work; it doesn’t have to be a driver’s license,” the officer was saying. Blair followed Jim back out, and Jim turned to glare at him, silently warning him to stay in the lobby. Blair crossed his arms and just glared right back. Jim finally gave in with a sigh because he needed to get back out there. Josiah Sanchez was giving the officer some grief.

Josiah raised his hands in a shrug. “Unfortunately, the only thing I have is my word.”

The officer got a sour look on his face. “Maybe you have some identification at your hotel?”

Josiah only gave the officer a bemused look. “What’s the problem?” Jim asked, not revealing to the officer or this new stranger that he'd been able to hear their conversation from across the street.

“He doesn’t have any identification, sir,” the patrol officer said.

Jim looked at the man, still annoyed by the calm way Josiah just looked back at him. “Well, it’s pretty simple,” Jim said, giving Josiah a smile. “Either you need to present some sort of official identification or this officer is going to put you in cuffs, take you down to the station, and fingerprint you.” Jim waited for the inevitable capitulation.

“Not cool. So incredibly not cool,” Blair muttered so softly that it would have taken a Sentinel to hear it.

“Everyone must do what he feels is right,” Josiah said without moving. Jim’s smile faded as the man called his bluff.

“Officer, arrest him,” Jim said.

“For loitering?” The cop looked caught between confused and alarmed.

“Yes.” Jim clenched his teeth. Yeah, Simon was going to give him crap about this, but Jim was going to find out who this guy really was, come hell or high water.

The officer hesitated for a second and then turned back toward Josiah who still had that same annoying, calm expression on his face. “Sir, turn around and put your hands on the truck, please. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law….” Without a word of complaint, Josiah turned and put his hands on Jim's truck.

Jim left the officer to arrest Josiah and he headed for the loft. He needed to call Simon and warn him before this hit the grapevine down at work.

“I seriously hope you know what you’re doing,” Blair hissed when Jim caught him by the shoulders and pushed the man toward the building.

“So do I, Chief,” Jim admitted. Josiah rang too many alarm bells in Jim’s head to let this slide, though. Whatever the hell Ezra Standish was up to, Jim was starting to fear that he was going to get pulled in, one way or another. If Jim was going to get dragged into some mess, he’d rather do it with his eyes open and with an understanding of the players involved.

Chapter Four

"Well, that’s a record, even for you. Within three minutes of meeting this guy, you have a uniformed officer arrest him.” Simon dropped a file on Jim’s desk. The tab had "Josiah Sanchez" in black block letters

“He was stalking me.”

“He was on a public street. If he chose to push this, he could demand a written reprimand be put in your file.”

Jim looked up. “Is he?”

For a second Simon looked at him. Then the man seemed to sag. “For some reason, no. However, that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with you playing cowboy.”

Once he knew Josiah wasn’t filing a complaint, Jim focused on the man’s background check. He hadn't been lying about the name. He'd been born James Stefan Sanchez in 1950, and he'd served in Vietnam from 1968 to 1973 with "Josiah" listed as a known alias. Shit. No wonder he had set off Jim’s internal alarms. The man was E company 9th Infantry Division Ranger in Vietnam. Twice decorated for meritorious service above and beyond the call, he had the sort of vague wording in his file that would suggest the man did work the Army didn’t want to make public. He’d left Vietnam and settled into life in Tucson where his life turned into a mystery. He had no arrests, no warrants, not even a speeding ticket. He also had no driver’s license issued to him, and he hadn’t worked since leaving the Army in the 70s.

Jim flipped through the pages that detailed Josiah's life. Newspaper clippings showing an old adobe church described him as a minister. Paperwork filed by a man named Carl "Buck" Wilmington listed the church as a non-profit organization serving food and spiritual instruction to an impoverished neighborhood in Tucson. “This is a more than a standard police file,” Jim commented. Simon had done some digging.

“I figured if you thought he was trouble, I’d ask records to dig a little deeper than normal,” Simon admitted. “Any reason why someone like this would be following you?”

Leaning back in his chair, Jim studied the picture of a young Sanchez in his Ranger uniform. “He said he wanted to know why I was checking on Ezra Standish.”

“The guy the FBI warned you off?”

“Yep.”

“Jim, if you kept investigating--” Simon warned darkly.

“Simon, I didn’t,” Jim cut him off. “I haven’t even typed his name into my computer for the past week, and Blair swears that he hasn’t either.”

“Do you believe him?”

Jim glared at Simon.

Simon held his hands up. “I’m just saying that the kid is curious, Jim. Sometimes too curious. You know, we wouldn’t have so many rumors about you two if you would just let the kid fight his own battles and not act like he’s some damsel in distress that you have to protect.”

“Trust me, I don’t think that. And if I did, he’d rip me a new asshole,” Jim said wryly. Blair might not be a match for Jim physically, but he was a master of verbal evisceration. “But he knows how important this is, and he would not lie about it.”

“Not even a little obfuscation, as he likes to call it?”

Jim snorted. “Not when we have the FBI involved. Blair’s too smart for that.”

With a sigh, Simon shook his head, but he didn't seem interested in continuing to argue his point. “Okay, I’ll trust your judgment on that. But there’s something else you should know.” Jim looked up, his guts tensing. “Josiah Sanchez was already picked up and his ticket paid.” Simon took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know the guy who showed up to get him.”

“Who?” Jim asked.

“I don’t have a name,” Simon said, “but I’ve seen him over at the FBI offices. Jim, he’s an agent.”

Jim let Josiah’s file fall to his desk. “An agent?”

Simon nodded. “I can’t tell you his name, but he is not an easy man to forget.”

“So, Ezra Standish is under investigation. Josiah Sanchez claims to be his friend, but he doesn’t have any identification, and a known FBI agent comes to get him out of the local jail.” Jim frowned as he tried to make sense out of those pieces.

“And he did it quietly. When was the last time you knew an FBI agent to handle something quietly?” Simon put his glasses back on.

“When they were working undercover,” Jim answered. It made sense, but if Ezra’s criminal background was part of some cover, the FBI had gone out of its way to make one hell of a perfect background for this guy. It was so perfect that it would throw up flags with anyone who looked at it-no one could get arrested that much without at least some jail time. He even had notations for a sealed juvenile record and sealed child protective services case file. This was no simple cover. But when Josiah had talked about Ezra, he'd acted like the man was a friend; that wasn't something Jim expected if Josiah was part of a team trying to bring Ezra down. None of the pieces made any sense, and Jim was the first to admit he got a little cranky when pieces didn't fit.

“What the hell did you stumble onto, Jim?” Simon demanded.

“I have no idea,” Jim had to admit. He thought about Blair at Rainier. If these people were this deep undercover, that meant they were targeting some major players. And major players had no trouble taking out anyone who seemed even peripherally involved. “I think I need to go check on Blair.”

Simon frowned. “Why Blair?”

“Simon, if we’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest this big, they’re going to target Blair as the weak link,” Jim said honestly. It wasn’t that he thought of Blair as weak; it was just that Blair tended to seem less dangerous. He was like poison ivy… it looked innocent enough until you grabbed a handful of it. Jim just didn’t want anyone grabbing Blair before they discovered that he was more dangerous than he looked.

“Whatever this is, you need to get yourselves clear, Jim. We have cases, and they will not wait until you’ve cleaned this up.”

“I know, Simon.” Jim picked up Josiah Sanchez’s file and stood up. He had open homicide cases and leads to follow up, but he couldn’t do that if he was wondering if Blair was in eminent danger, especially since it was his fault Blair was in the middle. Well, it was his DNA’s fault anyway. “I just need to follow up on this. If they’re FBI, then I’ll tell them that I’m willing to back off as long as they stay away and don’t bring their trouble up here.”

Simon snorted. “If you can get the FBI to listen, I’m promoting you to captain and retiring.”

Jim smiled. “I could never survive the paperwork, Simon.”

The only answer Simon gave was a snort before he walked away. Jim headed in the opposite direction. If there was trouble, Blair was going to find the center and pitch a tent in it. Jim had spent his adult life around soldiers and cops, petty criminals and gang lords-and Blair managed to find trouble more consistently than all those people put together. In the elevator, he tried calling Blair's office, only to have the phone go to an answering machine. Jim cursed colorfully just as the elevator opened on the second floor, and two uniformed officers were standing there with wide eyes. Both backed away from the elevator, and Jim gave them a cold glare as he punched the 'close doors' button. If they were such children that they were shocked with a few choice pieces of profanity, they were in the wrong profession.

Jim tried the new cell phone he'd bought for Blair as he walked across the parking level, but Blair didn't answer. If the man didn't start carrying it, Jim was going to handcuff it to Blair's wrist. The logical part of Jim's brain pointed out that Blair was probably out having a long lunch with a friend or grading papers on the lawn where he could enjoy the sun and rare good weather. The little primitive part of Jim's brain wanted to find Blair and shove him in a little room where Jim could guard the door.

Instead of doing either, Jim tried to drive reasonably safely as he dialed Jack Kelso. The wheelchair might keep Jack from going on missions, and his tell-all book might have led some in the intelligence community to shun him, but if Josiah Sanchez was still in the game, Jack could find out. No way would someone with the kind of special ops training his file hinted at go home and play minister and hand out food. Jim knew better than most that once you learned to get in and fight, you didn't walk away. Even when Jim tried, even when he quit the service, he still ended up a cop. In some ways, he'd put himself in even more danger working vice than he did doing special ops because he'd worked undercover without backup with some of the most disgusting slime in the city. His transfer to Major Crime had changed how he fought, but he still fought. Unlearning the sorts of lessons covert ops taught you-it wasn't possible, and Jim refused to believe that Josiah Sanchez had earned commendations in the middle of one of the nastiest arenas of war only to come home and become some sort of saint.

Jim cursed softly as he listened to Jack’s phone ring several times before he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Jack, it's Jim Ellison."

There was a moment’s pause before Jack answered. "Jim. How nice to hear from you, but do I take it from the tone that this isn't entirely a social call?"

"I was hoping you could check on someone for me."

There was a longer silence from the other end, and Jim cursed softly when he hit a red right. "Is this for an official case?" Jack asked carefully.

"Not exactly," Jim admitted. "Someone is just showing a little more interest in me and in Blair than I like."

"Blair?" That was the magic word. Jim could hear Jack start to type. "Do you have a name?"

"He goes by Josiah Sanchez now, but in the service he was James Stefan Sanchez, born January 18, 1950. He's living in Tucson, but he came up here because of a background check I did on an Ezra Standish, a two-bit criminal with a talent for avoiding convictions."

"You think they're working together?"

"Or Sanchez is investigating Standish and he doesn't want me getting close. I don't know. But I don't like the fact that he was doing surveillance on me at home and he was a little too quick to introduce himself to Blair. He gave Blair some line about taking the name Josiah from an abolitionist, because he admired the man."

"A line that would appeal to our Blair," Jack said with a sigh. Jim could feel his guts unknot just a little. At least Jack was taking this mess seriously, and seriously worrying about a man who would tailor a story to Blair’s emotional soft spot. With Jack on his side, Jim might be able to talk a little sense into Blair, convince him to stick closer to the loft and answer his damn cell phone.

"Exactly. I don't like the fact that it appealed so well. If he's here targeting us, I want to know who he's working for. Jack, if it's the FBI, they can have Sanchez and Standish for all I care. I am not trying to get in a pissing match over jurisdiction."

"That's a bit of an unusual stance for you to take," Jack interrupted.

"Yeah, well I don't want to have anything to do with a Tucson case-it's a little out of my jurisdiction."

“And you sound less than comfortable that they are targeting our Blair,” Jack said in a sympathetic tone of voice.

“You could say that,” Jim admitted. He figured Jack knew about them. Blair was certainly less circumspect than Jim when it came to coming out of the closet. “Anyone who goes for Blair first worries me.”

"Understood,” Jack said, his voice all business and the sound of computer keys clacking in the background. “Give me an hour or so and I should be able to get you some preliminary information. Are you at the station?"

Jim checked his blind spot before cutting off a Toyota to make a right turn. "I'm actually heading your way. Sanchez got bailed out by an FBI agent trying to move quietly, so I'm heading over to the university."

"You think he could target Blair?" Jack spoke softly, but his voice had a wariness to it.

"I think Sanchez was quick to try and make friends with Blair."

"Which is not a good sign. I'll get you something in a half hour," Jack promised. "Unless you'd like me to head over to Blair's office…."

"No, I'm heading to campus, and I already know he's not in his office-either that or he's not picking up his phone. I'm probably just being paranoid, so no need to hit the panic button," Jim confessed.

"With Blair, a little paranoia is justified," Jack said with a grim laugh. "I'll call your cell with the intel."

"Thanks, Jack." Jim cut off the phone and tucked it into a pocket as he headed into the campus parking lot. The campus had a police parking spot, and Jim was hoping the campus cops weren’t squatting there as they ate lunch. He wanted the parking space. Luckily for them, they weren't and Jim parked his truck right outside Blair's building. He trotted up to the building, his hearing already searching for the familiar sounds of Blair. Jim walked faster as a familiar voice caught his attention. “Oh man, that is wild. Naomi would have loved that place!”

“The wonders of the universe did seem to open to us." That was Josiah Sanchez. He gave a chuckle and Jim slammed the front doors open. "But that might have been the drugs.” Jim was almost running when he hit the stairs. “Today, I try to find peace with the universe without the chemical assistance," Josiah offered in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

Blair laughed. “I hear you. I mean, growing up, I watched people do all sorts of stupid things. It turned me off drugs forever. At this one commune, this guy insisted he could fly when he did Transcendental Meditation, and even at five, I knew bullshit when I saw it.”

“A child had to point out that the emperor’s new clothes were nothing but a fabrication of the imagination,” Josiah said. He sounded friendly, but the idea of an ex-soldier with a covert-ops background in the same room with Blair was giving Jim hives. Even though he recognized the irony of that, Jim still wasn’t about to let Josiah near Blair if he could help it. He’d arrest the man again if he had to, FBI agent or not. Jim hit the third floor hallway and paused as he tried to orient himself. They were in a part of the building Jim didn't know well. Putting his hand on his weapon, Jim cast out his hearing to check for any backup teams.

“Exactly!” Blair shouted excitedly. His enthusiasm distracted Jim for a split second. As Jim closed in on the two of them, Blair was still talking enthusiastically. “Man, my mom was humiliated when I pointed out the guy was just stoned and his butt never left the ground. She totally lectured me. That is the only maternal lecture I think she ever gave me. She wasn’t that upset when she found Bobby Heifetz and me experimenting with our bodies behind the kitchens when I was eleven.”

“Every culture has its expectations.”

“Oh yeah! And man, my mom’s world was all about acceptance, even if you were talking to a total fruitcake.”

Josiah gave another of his dry chuckles. “Our parents were so concerned about condemning others that acceptance was the ultimate rebellion.”

“Yeah, but man, it did not leave me much to rebel against.” Blair laughed, but the sound was cut short as Jim turned the corner so that he was looking into a student lounge tucked between two offices. Jim was slightly out of breath, and he could feel his anger rising up like a tidal wave.

“Detective Ellison,” Josiah said with that same damn smug smile he’d had as the patrol officer had arrested him. Jim moved forward, his hands clenched into fists. “Listen, Sanchez, I don’t know what game you’re playing--”

“Whoa there,” Blair interrupted. Standing up, Blair held his hands out as if trying to hold Jim back. “I invited him up, Jim. He came and listened to part of one of my lectures, and I just thought some open communication might clear this up. He’s friends with Ezra back in Tucson.” Blair gave Jim a hard stare. Clearly Blair still cared about Jim reconnecting with this long-lost brother, but Jim never wanted to hear the name again.

“He’s a soldier with a background in covert ops,” Jim told Blair, but he stared at Josiah, daring him to deny it. Josiah just gazed back with that same annoyingly calm expression. It’d been a long time since Jim had such a strong desire to hit someone. “Do you normally invite trained killers to sit down for a chat?” Jim demanded. Maybe it made him a bad person, but Jim was glad to smell the slight sour stench of shame and hear Josiah’s heart pick up speed. The man might still look calm, but that barb had sunk home.

Blair crossed his arms. “Actually, sometimes I don’t invite them at all. Sometimes the trained killer comes into my office and slams me into a wall because he doesn’t like what I’m saying.” Blair glared at Jim. Even though Jim kept his poker face on, he could feel the shame as he remembered doing exactly that. "Man, you don't know Josiah, so back off."

Josiah stood and looked from Blair to Jim. "He is right about my past. I've never hidden that." Josiah pursed his lips and seemed to lose focus for a second. "However, every day I strive to rise above my mistakes."

Blair sighed and moved to Jim's side. Reaching out, he rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Jim, I asked Josiah up here because I don’t think he’s a bad guy. And yeah, I’ve been spectacularly wrong on that before, but maybe you could talk to him before arresting him for loitering again.”

When Jim looked over, Josiah was just watching. “I doubt it would do much good since the FBI would probably just send another agent to bail him out.”

A flicker of shock danced across Josiah’s face so fast that Jim wasn’t sure he would have caught the micro expression without his Sentinel abilities.

“FBI?” Blair turned to Josiah with wide eyes. “Holy shit. You totally had me going. You’re FBI? Man, I usually spot them from a fucking mile away.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been told, detective, but I am not FBI,” Josiah said, his voice slow and carefully controlled--too carefully. They were treading on dangerously thin ice and Josiah was trying to not say too much. That implied that he knew things.

“You’re either an agent or an asset,” Jim said bluntly. Josiah’s pupils dilated and his heart went a little faster. Bingo.

“Actually, I’m neither one,” Josiah said. Now his heart was steady and the tiny tremors in the muscles along the eye quieted, suggesting he was telling the truth. Jim really hated this guy. There was something here, and either Jim hadn’t hit the exactly truth or this man had an ability to lie that was putting him on Jim’s 'most annoying' list.

“So, you claim to be friends with Ezra Standish, the FBI warns me away from your friend--a friend who has mysteriously avoided conviction on more crimes than I can even keep track of, you get bailed out by an FBI agent, you have almost no official records connected to either of your known names, and I should believe that all this is coincidence?” Jim pursed his lips and watched to see how Josiah would react to that.

Josiah smiled and straightened up. He was an incredibly tall man when he wasn't slumping over-tall and physically imposing. “Ezra is quite good at staying clear of trouble on his own, and if I don’t have records, that’s because I have chosen a simpler way of living. I freed myself from the illusion of belonging to this world and sought peace in the wider community of man.”

Jim hated the spiritual bullshit when Naomi was spouting it, and she was basically his mother-in-law; he sure as hell didn’t feel like taking it from Josiah Sanchez. “Skip the bullshit,” he suggested. “Ezra Standish was picked up for stalking a drug dealer. Either he’s working for the FBI and he got too close to his target or he’s the dumbest man in the world.”

“There could be some debate over that point,” Josiah said, nodding his head. “I tend to believe that Ezra is a good man, at least deep down in his heart, who makes questionable choices. But sometimes Ezra's goodness is buried a little deeper than most. Then again, I am not one to judge.” Josiah had the nerve to actually look amused at his own comments.

Jim, however, was not amused at all. This smelled like a fairly major criminal sting, and he wanted these players out of his city and away from his lover. “And you came all this way because I did a background search?” Jim demanded sarcastically.

Josiah shrugged. “Ezra is bothered by the idea of anyone looking into his past. Given that you’ve seen his arrest record, I’m sure you can appreciate that he has no love of authority.”

“And he sends you?”

“I am not likely to allow things to get…" Josiah tilted his head, "out of hand,” he concluded.

Blair snorted loudly enough that both of them looked over. “Man, if this is what happens when things aren’t out of hand--arrested for loitering, your cover blown, general suspicion and verbal poking between two people who are supposed to be on the same side--I do not want to see what your life looks like when things are going bad. Because this,” Blair gestured between the three of them, “is feeling pretty damn out of hand. If Jim is right, we’re totally on the same side.”

“Forget it, Chief,” Jim reached out and put a hand on Blair’s shoulder. “The FBI are always going to be arrogant jackasses. If you want to keep your cover, then leave,” Jim told Josiah. “I’m not going to show up in Tucson. I just want you the hell out of our life.”

Josiah studied them, looking from one to the other for long minutes. “Ezra would be more reassured if he knew why you were so curious,” he finally said.

“Ezra can die of curiosity for all I care,” Jim said coldly. He could feel Blair go stiff, but Jim wasn’t about to let a brother he’d never even met push his buttons. Soft footsteps in the hall hesitated, and Jim pulled Blair to the side so that their backs weren’t to the open archway to the hall.

Josiah stood, and Jim pulled Blair closer. Yeah, Blair would lecture him later, but it was worth it to get Josiah Sanchez and Ezra Standish out of his life forever. “Blair, I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Me, too. Hey, you have my email, right?”

Jim clenched his teeth.

“I do. I’ll convince JD or Buck to help me with the computer,” Josiah promised. He headed for the hall, stopping just as he reached the edge of the lounge. “Chris,” he said, clearly surprised. Jim’s spine stiffened as he recognized the name. Chris. Josiah had said that a ‘Chris’ had sent him to do surveillance on Jim and Blair. Well shit. Jim pressed Blair toward the wall and waited to see what new trouble this brought.