Work Text:
EVERYTHING BUT THE RING
Gena
Simon Banks’ gaze fell on the photo he kept on his desk. Damn, his son was a fine looking boy. Realization hit like a physical blow, Daryl was seventeen, not a little boy any longer but a young man. His son’s phone call, the excited, nervous confession of a first real date had thrown Banks. Where had all the time gone?
It seemed like only yesterday he and Joan had been diapering their little boy and now, in reality, their child could be on the verge of finding a girl of his own and beginning a
family. He quashed that thought, determined not to tempt the gods and stalked out into the bullpen. He did not want to think about that, nor did he want to think about Joan and her impending re-marriage. He marched over to the one source of stability in the world. Jim Ellison glanced up, his face held a look of concern.
With Blair out of town for the weekend, Simon had readily assured the younger man he would watch over Ellison but it looked like a two-way street. Banks pushed aside his resentment, all thoughts of Joan’s upcoming wedding and let himself anticipate
the coming evening. That’s what he needed, a night with another single guy in this married world.
Squaring his shoulders, Simon handed over the file, his grim expression finding its
match in Jim Ellison. “Here’s the Dupont file. Tacoma PD finally nailed the bastard.”
“As long as he’s off the streets I’m happy,” Jim swore. He shifted through the papers, frowning at something before tossing it into a pile of other similar folders.
Banks watched him a moment, he knew Jim had worked hard on the case only
to have a rival PD solve it. Still, Jim meant what he said, as long as the scum got scraped off the streets he didn’t care who did it.
While Banks was standing there, the phone on Ellison’s desk rang.
“Ellison.” He watched the hard expression melt and knew exactly who was on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Chief. How was the flight? Well, turbulence happens all the time, it’s not a plot
against you.” He laughed at something, smile wide and beaming.
“No, I got it covered. Simon and I are on our way home right now. I told you I’m fine, don’t worry. Yeah, be careful, Sandburg. Any trouble call me.”
Simon smiled at that, knowing how much trouble Sandburg could get into and the lengths Ellison would go to solve the problem. “Bye, Chief.” Ellison hung up the phone with a shake of his head.
“Kid was worried?” Simon asked. He knew how much this conference meant to the young student but Sandburg’s attendance had almost been scraped. A bust gone
wrong, a chemical vat spilling its contents and Jim Ellison in its path had almost ended the trip Blair had planned.. Ellison, soaked to the knees, had staggered and gone down in the middle of the chase.
Only Sandburg’s quick actions saved his life, but still the sentinel fell into a coma. For two days Blair refused to leave the hospital, staying beside his partner day and night.
Jim recovered, but Blair’s worries lingered, he didn’t like the thought of going away
when his sentinel might need help. It had took a lot of talking on Jim’s part to get him to reconsider, and finally Simon stepped in, seeing the guilt in his detective’s face, he’d promised Sandburg he would continue to watch over Jim for the weekend. Only that solemn vow pried Blair from his appointed duty.
“Worried? Sandburg worried,” Jim asked, “whatever gave you that idea?” Memories of Joan’s concern, her nurturing love whenever he’d come home with some injury made Simon look away.
He was not going to wallow in self pity, his ex-wife was just that - Ex-wife. He joined Jim with a laugh and they headed out the door. “I need to stop for some supplies,” Jim told his captain.
“You mean now that Sandburg isn’t around we can eat porkrinds and frozen pizza while we watch the game?”
“Are you implying I have to sneak around in my own home to do what I want?” Jim pulled to a stop at the Super Saver. With Simon trailing, he quickly found a cart and headed inside.
“It was like that with Joan,” Simon said shrugging. “I couldn’t smoke my cigars inside because Daryl was allergic. It’s hard living with a another person, they want you to do
all kinds of crazy things and stop doing the fun things.”
“Sandburg isn’t like that,” Jim said quickly. He rolled the cart into the produce isle, scanning the vegetables with a critical eye. “You miss being married?”
Simon thought about it a second, “yeah, I do sometimes. I think the companionship is the hardest to give up. I mean Joan and I did everything together in the beginning.”
Ellison chuckled and Simon waved a hand at him. “Nah, I mean things like this.
We’d go to the store together just for milk. It was like unthinkable to be apart. We’d meander down the aisles and pick up little things for each other.” He watched Ellison
hone in on the kiwi, selecting several which met his standards, before studying the containers of tofu.
“Sounds nice.” Jim said. He wheeled the cart towards the meat department, hesitating as they passed glistening packages of tongue before moving on. “Carolyn and I never did things like that.”
“Well after a year or so Joan and I didn’t either,” Simon confessed. “I suppose after you’ve been together for awhile you tend to forget the other person might appreciate a
little thoughtfulness, I guess.”
Jim made a non-committal sound, shrugging as he scanned the magazine rack. He snatched up the last copy of Archaeology magazine, found a Handyman Projects and tossed in a TV Guide before heading to the checkout. Neither man spoke on the ride to the loft, each lost in his own thoughts.
Once Jim got the truck parked and they hauled the sacks of groceries upstairs, Jim set about making supper. “Grab a beer and warm up the set, Simon,” Jim called as he got things cooking.
Banks got his drink then sank down onto the couch and hit the remote. They still had an hour before the Jags took on the Sonics so he found the channel but his attention
wandered during the local special on potholes. Banks amused himself by looking
around the apartment. Ellison’s place had changed in the last few years; knickknacks lined the shelves, colorful throws were draped across the couches, a new paint job had brightened the whole feel of the apartment. It felt like a home now, not just a
place where Ellison slept. Spying his host busy at some activity, Banks wandered over to check it out. Jim, pots boiling and tantalizing aromas filling the kitchen, was standing at the counter sorting through a stack of mail, dividing it into two piles.
“I always hated making out the checks,” Simon recalled. “Seemed like Joan was constantly buying things and not telling me the money was spent. Guess you don’t have that problem with Sandburg.”
“Sandburg knows better than to surprise me,” Jim said with a smile. He picked up one envelope and glanced at the statement. “Still we could have bought a new car for what he spent on tires.”
Simon raised an eyebrow but held his tongue as Jim completed the task, took Blair’s share of letters into his room and emerged with an armful of dirty clothes.
“Think you’ll ever get married again?” Banks called as Jim headed for the hamper in the bathroom. There was silence for a moment or two then Jim came back into view.
“No, I don’t.” Jim shook his head. “I’m too set in my ways, I don’t think I could make the changes something like that would demand.” He stirred their dinner, putting the
finishing touches on his world famous meatloaf. “I used to think I would, after Carolyn,” he shrugged, “but lately I just don’t feel the need.”
Simon nodded. “With Blair here, I have someone to talk to, someone to yell at.” He grinned at that. “He’s better than cable for entertainment value. I don’t need a dictionary or encyclopedia.”
“No down side?” Simon asked.
“Well, other than I spend a small fortune on cleaning supplies, no.” The smile on Jim’s face faltered, his expression grew serious, “it’s a need, Simon. Blair and me -
it’s a need with us.”
Banks shook his head and picked up a framed photo, studying the image displayed. He remembered the occasion of its taking; Daryl’s last birthday. He’d been doing the dad thing, taking snap after snap of his son opening presents, looking awed or
embarrassed whichever the gift warranted, when he’d turned to find Jim and Blair standing on the outskirts of that ring of well-wishers. Their expressions focused solely on one another, oblivious to the whole world, had reminded him of something and before he could decide what it was, he’d taken their picture. They stood, arms loosely around each other, Blair looking up at Jim, Jim looking down at Blair. Later Simon had shown the picture to Jim and been pleased when Ellison asked him a copy.
“Joan’s getting remarried this weekend.” Simon said softly. He remembered the good times of his marriage, the happiness, the acceptance and joy of discovery. “I just feel like I’ll never know what it’s like again.” He took a deep breath, and looked up
into Jim’s eyes. “Do you ever feel like that? That you’ll never have anyone in your life again, someone who knows you?”
Ellison paused, a contented smile lighting his face. “No,” he said softly, “not at all.”
Banks glanced down at the photo in his hand again and memory assailed him; another couple on a special day. He remembered it clearly, the joy they found in each
other simply by looking, the depth of feeling they carried at that moment. He still had the photo, Joan had never said a word when he carefully slipped it from their wedding album. He looked at it from time to time, remembering. And hoping.