Contrition
I took him to the beach. I didn't know what else to do.
Maybe, deep down, I selfishly thought I could do some healing to replace the hurt I inflicted the last time we walked on the sand together. Maybe I this time I could heal his heart instead of break it.
Except that his heart was already broken.
As soon as I parked the truck he had the door open and was moving away from me, past the parking lot barriers, towards the rocks scattered haphazardly down the shore. I followed slowly, giving him a little room. But only a little, and not for long.
I tagged after him carefully, keeping the same distance between us. He knew I was there but his eyes were turned inward. We walked that way for about half an hour, my focus on my partner as he wrestled with his grief. The time approached when I would no longer let him fight alone.
I waited.
He finally stopped, a lonely figure staring out to the horizon. Twilight had fallen but I could see the thin track of a warm tear as his profile turned briefly my way. The ache in my chest demanded action, anything to relieve the pain. Watching this was unbearable. Instinct, friendship, love all told me it was time.
He scrubbed a forearm over his eyes and turned to move on.
"Sandburg! Wait up!"
He stopped, his back to me.
Sentinel-soft, he said, "I don't need you right now, Jim. Just back off."
I replied just as softly, knowing he couldn't hear me. "Yes, you do. I'm gonna prove it."
I started towards him. He looked over his shoulder, probably knowing I would still come. I heard him pull in a deep breath, then turn away from me again, taking a few more steps before my words stopped him once more. I had gained ground and could speak normally now, knowing he would hear me whether he wanted to or not.
"Come on Chief, let me help."
He leaned over suddenly, resting his hands on his knees. I stepped closer, near enough to reach out and touch the curls blowing over his shoulders. My hands remained at my side.
He slowly straightened. "Jim, you—you can't fix this for me."
"I know. I'm not trying to. But you don't have to be alone."
Silently, he fell to his knees.
I knelt beside and a little behind him, not yet touching, but close enough so that when the time came I would be ready. As we both faced the incoming tide my mind replayed the afternoon.
A suspect hiding in a crack house, the room to room search, the children. The dark-haired four-year-old that attached himself to Blair and wouldn't let go until pried away screaming by the CPS agent. Blair's arms, still outstretched in denial as the kid was loaded in a car along with the others. Blair's hand, now bandaged, that had pounded again and again onto the hood of the squad car until I could reach him and pull him away.
Blair's eyes, looking at me with such horror and anguish that my own had closed in self-defense.
Now here we were on the beach and my eyes were wide open. I wouldn't close them against him again.
I looked down at the splinted hand resting at his side. There was a different
quality to his silence now, an almost quiescent desperation instilled in his breathing.
"Jim?"
"Yeah, Chief?"
"This time—" he swallowed "—this was hard. I know I wasn't real professional—"
He stopped when I rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't, Blair. Don't apologize for what happened today. That was rough, really rough. You're allowed."
He bowed his head. I tightened my grip.
"I'm a cop, I shouldn't have reacted that way."
I moved closer, still behind him, shifting my hand to his other shoulder. I was seriously in his personal space but now I felt welcome.
"You want a platitude here, Chief?" I asked softly. "Ok, how about 'you may be a cop but you're also human'? You're smarter than that. You don't need to hear to what you already know. Quit trying to fit someone else's perception of what a cop should be. There're a lot of people going to judge you pretty harshly no matter what you do. Don't add yourself to that list."
With a sigh he lowered himself onto his heels.
Right into my arms. I held him loosely, his hands coming up to grip my forearms, the splint on his fingers snagging my sweater. This is what I do. This is how I help.
We stayed until the tide drove us away, erasing our footsteps as we headed for home.
Absolution
I was so tired. Tired of the ugliness, the inhumanity, and the grief. I'm not naïve; I've seen worse things since riding with Jim. But this? Oh, man, this was hard.
I don't remember the drive to the beach. I barely remember getting out of the truck. I just remember the need to move, to distance myself from Jim. I know he wanted to comfort me, to be strong for me even though he didn't really understand my reaction today. I know the whole hand thing freaked him out.
But I wanted to feel the pain in my hand and I didn't want to be comforted. To lean into Jim's strength now somehow seemed to betray the sense of outrage that propelled me across the sand. Yet conversely, that's all I wanted to do. To give myself over to his keeping and care until the pain receded.
He paced me as I walked the beach, which sure felt weird. We usually walked side by side, deep into whatever emotional crisis was facing us. But there was nothing to work out now, at least not together. This was my burden. I finally, deliberately shut him out and went back over the day in my head, wishing I could have done so much more.
There was just something about the kid, a connection we made as soon as I picked him up. His soft crying had stopped almost immediately as he wound his arms around my neck, burying his face in my shoulder. He and the rest of the kids were relatively clean and seemed well fed. Child Protective Services was called as we began to sort out relationships and parentage. The little one in my arms, David, was the landlord's son. The oldest child in the group was supposed to be babysitting the rest while the adults—well, while they were otherwise occupied.
David would not let me go and I can't say I was thrilled with the idea either. I talked to him softly, working on getting a smile out of his too solemn face. When I finally did it was just awesome. He giggled and I was lost.
Then reality set in. They had to be taken into custody. Apparently David had been through this before because even at four he understood the upheaval. Then the crying had restarted in earnest, notching up to a wail as the motherly CPS rep pulled him gently from my arms. I had to unwrap his arms from my neck, making all kinds of promises and plans that would be almost impossible to fulfill. David was driven away with the rest of the children, still in the arms of the CPS agent.
My arms had felt so empty. I brought them down and was suddenly consumed with such anger and frustration that I had to change my focus. I don't recommend what I did—I broke my hand.
First I just slapped the patrol car next to me. It felt good so I did it again. And again. Next thing I knew Jim had a large hand wrapped around my wrist, cradling it against his chest and looking at me with disbelief and worry before he closed his eyes.
Now I stood looking out at the water, exhausted and drained. With dull realization I felt a tear slip out, even though I didn't feel like crying. I swiped at my wet face with my forearm and started moving again.
"Sandburg! Wait up!"
I stopped but I didn't turn. I wasn't ready for whatever Jim had to offer.
"I don't need you right now, Jim. Just back off." I whispered the words, not having the energy or the need to raise my voice above the wind and waves.
I glanced over my shoulder. Jim had moved closer, implacably drawing my solitude to an end. I feebly attempted to move away again but was stopped by the need in Jim's voice.
"Come on, Chief, let me help."
Oh God, those words undid me. My stomach clenched as I could feel myself begin to give in to an instinctive need to turn to him. I bent over, hands on my knees as if the breath had been knocked out of me by the sheer force of his desire to help.
He was close now and I made no further attempt to move away physically. I straightened up, knowing before I could allow myself to take what he offered I had to clarify one thing.
"Jim, you—you can't fix this for me." I wanted him to, so badly.
"I know. I'm not trying to. But you don't have to be alone."
Not alone. Oh, God. I sank to my knees, suddenly weary beyond words. Beyond the pain of the day was the realization that Jim was probably pretty disappointed in my lack of objectivity, something he's nailed me on before. As Jim knelt behind me I felt a different quality to that pain. No way do I ever want Jim disappointed in me.
"Jim?"
"Yeah, Chief?"
"This time—" I swallowed, not sure how to go on, "—this was hard. I know I wasn't really professional—"
His hand rested on my shoulder, a Sentinel blessing. "Don't, Blair. Don't apologize for what happened today. That was rough, really rough. You're allowed."
My head bowed under the weight of the grace he was extending me. His hand tightened, perhaps misunderstanding my reaction. I gave him another opening to express that disappointment I was sure he felt.
"I'm a cop, I shouldn't have reacted that way."
He moved closer, his hand sliding across my back to rest on my other shoulder. He was so close now I could feel the heat coming off his body, gently warming me from behind. He took a deep breath and I readied myself for whatever was coming next.
"You want a platitude here, Chief? Ok, how about 'you may be a cop but you're also human'? You're smarter than that. You don't need to hear what you already know. Quit trying to fit someone else's perception of what a cop should be. There're a lot of people going to judge you pretty harshly no matter what you do. Don't add yourself to that list."
Absolution, not judgment. I sank onto my heels in thankfulness, not at all surprised when long arms wrapped around me, drawing me back to rest against a broad chest. Despite the clumsiness of the splint I brought my hands up to clasp those arms closer, reveling in the wealth of support so effortlessly offered now.
This is why I held that press conference. This is what I receive in return. No brainer.
The tide sent us home.
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