Confessions
By Taleya

Hot, hot, hot.

Too damn hot.  Jim unpeeled himself from the sticky sheets and moved restlessly around his room.  A glance at the clock told him it was 6:30.  Too late to try and salvage some sleep anyway.

Padding into the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face and glared at his own red-eyed reflection.  It wasn't supposed to be this hot in Cascade.  That was one of the reasons why he moved there.  Grabbing a glass of water in the kitchen, he leaned against the counter.  Already he could feel himself sticking to the formica surface.

Way too hot.

Lured by the steady twin heartbeats, Jim cracked open the lower bedroom door.  His partner was sprawled on his back, a blissful smile curving his lips even in sleep.  Jim resisted the urge to pour the water on his head.  Blair would like weather like this.  Dayna was sitting up in her cot, quietly moving a string of coloured beads back and forth. She looked up and tilted her head at him, and Jim was struck again by the apparent wisdom in those green eyes.

Holding a finger to his lips, he slid inside the room and picked her up. "Hey Dayna, how's it going?" he whispered. Big green eyes twinkled at him as she solemnly reached out and pressed his nose with her finger.  Grinning in return, he snagged the change bag from the desk and moved into the lounge.  Ten smelly minutes later,  he grabbed his robe and towed the toddler downstairs for the ritual morning trip to the dumpster.

Climbing the stairs, he scooped up the paper and paused in front of the Loft door. Pushing it open, he surveyed the apartment one last time.

Moving day.

The words brought up a stir of old excitement.  A fresh start, a new beginning.  Finding all those little things that had disappeared over the years.  He shook his head and let Dayna down to the floor.  It was only across the hall.  He'd been around Sandburg too long.

The subject of his musings came out of the lower bedroom, stretching contentedly.  Unlike winter, where Jim generally needed a chain hoist to haul the tired and grumpy anthropologist out of bed, Blair relished summer mornings. "Morning Jim, Dayna," he bent down to receive a sloppy good morning kiss and headed to the fridge. "You want some juice, Jim?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks."  Jim unfolded the paper, tossing the usual plain brown envelope on the counter as Blair poured two glasses and a baby mug of juice.  Reaching down, he tugged Dayna into his lap as Blair circled the counter, depositing the glass and mug in front of him and taking the seat opposite.

Dayna sat contentedly in the Sentinel's lap, sucking the mouthpiece of her mug and watching the pictures as Jim turned the pages.  Blair was busy reading the back pages of the paper.  Jim turned another page and winced at the article.  Full page spread on the detective of the year award, with a highly unflattering picture of himself.

Dayna dropped her mug into her lap and reached eagerly for the paper. " 'ts Ji!" she cried out, pointing a chubby finger to the picture.   Jim sighed and spread the paper out onto the table, fishing for the mug.  Already he could feel the juice soaking into his boxers.

Blair leaned over the table and peered at the paper.  "Hey Jim, is it me, or are you scratching your butt there?" he snickered, pointing to the offending picture.

"Funny, Sandburg."  Jim finally found the mug and pushed it onto the table.  Lifting Dayna in his arms, he passed her across to his partner.  "I gotta go clear this juice off."  Shifting uncomfortably in his wet boxers, he headed for his bedroom.

The Major Crimes Moving Company arrived a little after ten.  Blair looked up from wrapping boxes, a tail of masking tape hanging from his hair. "Jim, can you get that?" Dayna was staring fascinated at that strip of tape, reaching out every so often to bat or try and grab it.

The Sentinel opened the door and was nearly flattened by the rush of stampeding big tough mushballs wanting to say hello to Dayna.

Simon plucked the giggling toddler from Brown's arms with a stern captain's glare, grinning as she grabbed his glasses. "How's my girl?" He pulled his glasses back  and blew a loud raspberry on her stomach, glaring at the staring faces of the cops and one sniggering observer around him. "What?"

"Nothin' man," Blair chuckled. "Not. A. Thing."

"What the hell are you laughing at Brown? We got work to do."

The first thing they set up was the  playpen.  Everyone agreed their job would be a lot easier without Dayna roaming around.  But Blair insisted that they let her move some of her toys first.  Dayna rolled back and forth across the hall with her trolley loaded with soft toys and blocks, then quite contentedly settled down to play while the others tackled the heavy furniture.

"Uf. Watch where you swing it, H!" Blair yelled, narrowly avoiding a collision with the doorframe as he backed into the apartment.

"Quit whining," the detective snapped back.  "It's just a couch."

"Yeah, but it's my head you're jamming in the door here, man!"  Blair tripped over the lintel and twisted to one side, heart thumping overtime as the couch tipped over, narrowly avoiding his head.

"Jesus!" Brown clambered over the couch blocking the door. "You ok, Sandburg?"

"Yeah, " Blair accepted the proffered hand up, running a hand through his hair. "Just think I need a pacemaker."

The other three men materialised in the doorway.  "What happened?" Jim quizzed, automatically scanning his partner.  Heartrate and breathing a little fast, but steady.

Blair shrugged.  "Nothing, Jim.  H here just tried to make my head into a giant pizza."

"Hey!" Brown held his hands up in self-defence. "It was an accident."

"Simon, Rafe, give me a hand here."  Jim easily hefted his end of the couch, and with the captain's help moved it into the lounge.  Rafe grabbed a few scattered cushions and tossed them in, pausing to return Dayna's wave.

Joel staggered in with an over-laden cardboard box. "Where do I dump this?"

"Careful, man!" Blair rescued the box and put it carefully down on the floor, out of the path of traffic. "All my artefacts are in there," he tugged a few pieces out and inspected them with an eagle eye.  "They're extremely fragile, you gotta  be careful with them."

Jim grinned. "Something about 'eggs in one basket', Chief?" he teased, pulling out a few beers. Now seemed like a good time for a break.

Pulling a face, Blair whisked his tape deck from Simon's hands and plugged it in for mood music, turning it onto an oldies station in deference to the other men.

'Just let me hear some of that rock and roll music...'

Dayna squealed, shouted and jumped up and down inside her playpen with her hands held up pleadingly.  Blair grinned and swooped down on his daughter, scooping her up into his arms.  Plonking her on his hip, he gripped one tiny hand and boogied through the moving disaster zone, dipping and twirling the toddler as the others watched in amusement.

"Man, whatever that kid's taking, I want a dose." Brown took a pull of his beer and shook his head in amazement as Blair swung around in a dizzying circle, hair flying,  bawling the words out at the top of his lungs and laughing wildly with his daughter.

"Algae shakes, nuts and berries." Jim deadpanned. "I'd pass if I were you."

Blair pulled the final box out of the emergency escape corridor that served as his storeroom, pausing to run his fingers over the name written across the top.

DAYNA

Peeling back the tape, he opened the flaps.  Everything was in here, the consummation of a life lived to the full, snuffed out too soon.  Clothes, knicknacks, small momentoes, easily slipped into a backpack, ready to travel.  The box had been given to him as next of kin.

He opened a tissue package and pulled out a locket, feeling the smooth metal slip over his fingers.  Dayna had always worn this.  Always.  She had slept, bathed, eaten, swum in it.  She had never taken it off, until...Blair shut his eyes and closed his hand over the cold silver.

Until she was dead.

Blair had kept it, an heirloom, a memory for Dayna, her daughter.  He undid the tiny slip on the locket, fingers ghosting over the pictures inside.  One side, Dayna's mother, a small, darkhaired woman with blue-green eyes.  On the other...himself and Dayna.  Covered in mud, arms slung casually around each other, grinning cheesily at the camera.

Close to my heart, Blair.  Always.

He bowed his head and cried, tears spilling onto the back of his hand.

There was a hesitant knock on the door, then Rafe poked his head around.  "Sandburg?"  He entered the room and knelt by the anthropologist's side.  "Blair?"

Blair shook his head and opened his hand.  He heard the young detective's breath catch in his throat, and turned as Rafe slumped bonelessly to the floor next to him, eyes wet with tears of his own.  "Oh God.  She was so beautiful," he whispered brokenly.

"You're Dayna's father." Blair whispered in realisation.

All Content Copyright © 2001 Taleya Joinson
Last modified: November 12, 2010