GOODBYE LETTER

Chief, this is probably the hardest letter I've ever had to write.  I never wrote one of these while in the Rangers because I figured nobody would give a damn.  But I have a need to write this letter now.  Hopefully, you'll never read it.  I may even tear it up once it's done.

I'm glad you went to that symposium in Chicago.  If you were here, you'd be trying to scam your way onto this mission.  I want you in Chicago learning more about those tribes that have the good sense to stay away from so-called western civilization.  I DON'T want you here.  Not now.

This mission is so screwed up.  The Feds have no idea how dangerous the Sunrise Patriots are.  You'd think after they blew up a building and took over the station, the Feds would have figured it out.  They say there's no possible way that Kincaid is pulling the strings from prison so we aren't dealing with the Sunrise Patriots.  We're dealing with a group called the Northwest Patriots.

Morons.  Each and every one of them.

Captain Rodgers of the SWAT team looks like he'd like to use the Feds for target practice.  He's trying to put together a couple of contingency plans when the one the Feds have blows up in our faces.

That's why I don't want you here.  You're a slippery little guppy; and I know that when this whole thing falls apart, you'd slip away to find me.

And because of my military background, I'm going to be on the front lines.  Just where you don't need to be.

So if things go horribly wrong, I want you to know a couple of things.

First, thank you.  Thank you for finding me and saving my sanity and my life.  Thank you for doing everything you did to make my life something worth living and not just something to be endured.

Second, I'm very proud of you.  Not only for what you know in that whirling dervish of a brain, but how hard you've worked to become an important part of my world.  And I'm proud of the way you've never backed down from me.  Not when it really counted.

Third, there's an envelope in the top drawer of my dresser that has your name on it.  Inside is some legal stuff along with the name of my attorney.  He's a smart man, too, Chief.  Let him fight anybody who tries to contest my will.  He's of the opinion that it can't be broken.

You see, I want you to have the loft so I've deeded it to you.  No matter where you roam, buddy, you need to have a place that's 'home'.  Not just a rented apartment for a couple of months between expeditions.  But a home. 

The rent money you've paid me has gone into investments.  You're also inheriting my investments.  Oh, yeah and the truck as well. Try not to wreck it, Junior.

I know you don't want any of this, but tough.  Deal with it.  I'd rather you have it than anyone else.  I trust you to decide what to do with the other stuff.  You know what I mean, Sandburg.  Use it.  For both of us.  The attorney can help with the legal stuff there as well.

Looks like Rodgers is calling a strategy session so I'll wrap this up.

If this goes really bad, I want you to know that as irritating as you can be, you're also one of the finest people it's been my privilege to know.  You became the little brother that I lost a long time ago.  Then you became the man I've grown to love.

Stay well, Blair.  Live a good long life for both of us.  If you don't, I swear I'll kick your ass for the rest of eternity.

Love, Jim

 

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"Damn you, Jim Ellison!"  Blair Sandburg shouted as he wiped tears from his face. 

"What did I do now?"

Blair threw the letter across the bedroom floor to rest at the top of the stairs.  "I'm not joking!"

Jim Ellison quickly walked up the stairs, confusion plainly showing on his face.  "Hey, what's wrong?" he gently asked when he saw the tears on Blair's face.

Blair silently pointed to the paper at Jim's feet.

Frowning, Jim reached down and picked it up.  Then he heavily sighed and sat down on the top step.  "I thought I'd destroyed this."

"You were saying goodbye, you bastard."  Blair wiped the tears with an angry gesture.

"Yeah, I was," Jim quietly admitted.  He folded the letter and settled his back against the wall.  "You know that whole raid went down bad."

Blair nodded.  "Simon called me in Chicago and said you were barely functioning."

Jim grimaced.  "I was functioning," he disputed.  "Just on a military level with every emotion locked down."  He took a deep breath.  "Seeing four people almost cut in half by exploding armor-piercing bullets will do that."  After a moment, he crawled across the bedroom floor and sat next to Blair.  "I honestly thought I'd destroyed the letter.  I guess it was in the stuff I threw in the footlocker that night."

Blair grunted.  "Yeah, the footlocker of stuff that gets shoved aside."  He glared at the open footlocker.  "I wonder what else is in there."

"Nothing we need to deal with."  Jim firmly replied.  "What were you doing in there anyway?"

Blair shrugged.  "Christmas is coming, you know.  Nosy little boys shouldn't be asking too many questions.  Otherwise, Santa will just leave you a lump of coal."

Jim snorted.  "Chief, there's nothing in there that would make a good Christmas present."

"Well, maybe not for you," Blair admitted.  "But Steven and I were thinking..."

"Oh, dear Lord," Jim groaned, closing his eyes.

Blair smacked Jim's arm.  "Hey, we thought about making up a couple of scrapbooks for Sally for Christmas.  One would be from you and the other from him.  So she could see what a good job she did in raising the two of you."  He shrugged.  "And your military stuff is in there."

"And you couldn't have asked me to get what you needed?" Jim questioned.

Blair sighed.  "Jim, anytime either of us goes anywhere near that damned footlocker, you act like it’s a bomb ready to explode."

Jim leaned over and kissed Blair's cheek.  "There's stuff in there that I really don't want to think about.  Much less answer questions about.  Or discuss."

"Was it all so bad?"

Jim sighed.  "No.  Some of it was good.  But sometimes it's hard for me to separate them."

"I could help."

Jim reluctantly grinned.  "You don't give up, do you?"  He got to his feet.

"I'll let Naomi tell you some stories about when I was a kid."  Blair glanced up at Jim.

The older man hesitated.  "You're a sneaky bastard, you know that?"  He glanced down at his smiling partner.

"Yep."

Jim reached out a hand and helped Blair to his feet.  "It's not that I mean to lock you out.  There are just some things I've done that I don't want touching you."

Blair nodded.  "I hear that, Jim."  He glanced at the folded paper in his partner's hand.  "Just no more letters like that, okay?  I know how you're proud of me and love me."  He grinned and lightly kissed Jim's lips.  "Besides, I already know all the legal stuff."

Jim laughed.  "Yeah, you do.  And we spent part of the rent money on the trip to Hawaii and the rest to remodel this place."  He pulled Blair against him and wrapped his arms tightly around the smaller man.  "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."  Blair contentedly snuggled against Jim.

After a moment, Jim stepped back.  "Okay, tell me what you want out of this thing before I shove it back into the closet."

"How can I tell you that if I don't know what's in there?" Blair innocently asked.

"Don't mess with me, Sandburg," Jim warned, trying not to smile.    Then he good-naturedly sighed.  "God help me.  C’mon.  Let’s go through this stuff."

With a smile, Blair knelt next to the footlocker and looked inside.


THE END 

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