"How bad, Jim?" Simon Banks asked as he entered his department.

Jim Ellison pulled his tired gaze away from the computer screen. "Bad." He leaned back, tilting his desk chair to the point the back of his head brushed the wall behind him.

Lifting eyebrows in concern, Simon sighed. "But it's over, right? I heard he's in custody."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, just wish we'd stopped the sick bastard before he added number six to his list."

"At least there won't be a seventh."

"Doesn't mean shit to the young couple that had to ID their kid." Jim stood, tired joints creaking and stiff muscles protesting. He had a headache, a gift from the pine wreath Rhonda had hung on Simon's door. The twinkling lights on Rafe's desk annoyed him. He wanted to rip its plug from the wall.

"Jim, you know the score. We had nothing to go on. Hell, it's amazing we stopped him at all. Now, go home and catch up on some well deserved sleep."

"Right." Jim shut down his computer. His shift wasn't over, but he was spent, pissed and worthless right now. Simon knew him well enough to recognize the signs.

He just needed to collect Blair and go.

Rafe entered the bullpen, eyes wide with shock. "You guys are never going to believe this."

"What?" Simon asked.

"I just heard Blair screaming at Wallace over in Robbery." Rafe jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Never seen him so mad."

"What the hell is your problem, Sandburg?"

Blair punished his teeth, grinding them together with Herculean strength, his jaw muscles trembling from the pressure. His face burned hot with anger. He pushed forward on his toes, getting into Wallace's personal space another good three inches, pushing the taller cop into the wall. "Right now it's you, asshole!"

The larger, older and armed detective's eyes narrowed into angry flints of brown. "Watch your mouth, punk. You may be Ellison's pet monkey, but take a good look around - notice this isn't major crimes?"

"Only thing I see is one major jerk right now. I can't believe you, man. Who are you to judge those people? They just lost their kid, dammit!"

"I am entitled to my opinion. Those two hippies should have taken better care of their kid. Hell, they lost her in a mall!" Wallace retorted.

Blair poked the cop in the shoulder. "The killer stole her! And then took her to an abandoned house and cut her into pieces! Who the hell expects that the week before Christmas! Who the HELL expects that at all!" Blair screamed the last part directly into the cop's face.

"NORMAL PARENTS!" the cop screamed back. "Too bad you appeared never to have any!"

Erupting in fury, Blair swung his fist. A month of frustration drove his aim. Visions of the small girl lying in a pool of warm, cranberry-red blood burned his soul.

The fist never reached the target.

A strong palm caught it inches before it landed. Moving like a freight train, Jim Ellison drove between them, forcibly knocking the robbery detective into a filing cabinet as he shoved Blair backwards, swung him around, folded his right arm behind his back and used it to propel him out into the hallway.

Blair caught the tall blur of Simon Banks in passing. The captain's angry words to Wallace were cut off as Jim pushed him into a waiting, empty elevator and the door closed behind them. The entire move was over in seconds.

"JIM!"

A shove sent Blair into the elevator wall. Jim released his arm and Blair was able to catch himself before smashing his nose into the shiny, stainless steel paneling.

"Calm down," Jim ordered.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Blair shouted. He smacked the wall with both fists, ignoring the pain that lanced up his arms. He hit the wall again and closed his eyes, for some reason unable to face his best friend yet. Bing Crosby crooned over the elevator intercom system about a walking in a winter wonderland. Blair wanted pluck out Jim's gun and empty the clip into the speaker. "I've had it with stupid pigs, their stupid pig minds and their stupid pig words!"

Jim jabbed the button for the parking garage.

A taped notice to an office potluck caught Blair's eye and he lunged at it, tearing it from the wall and ripping it in half, then quarters before crumbling it into a mass of green and red construction paper and spiking it like a football at Jim's feet. "Damn it, Jim, thirty stupid minutes. Why couldn't we have gotten there sooner? Thirty minutes!"

The elevator halted at the third floor and the doors glided open. Four women stood patiently, waiting to get on. Jim held out his hand and punched the button to close the doors. "Sorry ladies."

The women wordlessly watched the doors closed. Jim hit the button for the garage again.

Still breathing hard, Blair looked from something else to destroy. Nothing, not a damn thing left, except the sentinel that stood silently before him. Over the elevator's speaker, Bing finished his song and Barbara Streisand began, complaining about the late December weather in southern California.

Blair kicked the wall... hard.

When the doors opened again, Simon Banks stood on the other side, looking slightly out of breath. He held both Jim and Blair's coats in his hand and Blair's backpack.

Jim took them with a nod. "Thanks."

"Take tomorrow off," Simon said. "I'll call if something needs your attention."

"Sounds good." Jim slipped the pack over one shoulder and draped both coats over his left arm. His right hand reached for Blair.

Expecting a fight, Jim was surprised when his guide offered no resistance. Still, he held Blair's upper arm in a firm grip until they reached the Expedition's rear bumper. He was thankful the garage was deserted.

Blair slammed the door.

Road construction bottlenecked the intersection ahead. Jim frowned at his lack of foresight. Turning right, he guided the vehicle through the heavy traffic until he reached a seldom used side road that took them near a popular park. The short days brought an early dusk and streetlights were beginning to come on. Bare trees laced with white strings of light brightened the sidewalks.

Blair's unnatural silence caused Jim to pull over. A distant crowd milled around a small ice skating rink set up in the center of the park.

"Come on." Jim tossed Blair his coat and grabbed his own before getting out. Not looking back to see if Blair was with him, Jim headed for an empty bench on the far side of the rink. He sat down and buttoned up his coat. After a few minutes Blair joined him.

They watched the ice skaters. The weather was pleasant with clouds and no rain. The breeze was light, just enough to stir the dead leaves across the brown lawn.

"We don't always get to save the day, Chief," Jim said.

"I know." Blair rubbed his eyes, his head bent. "I didn't mean... when I said pigs... I didn't mean you."

"Stupid pigs."

"What?"

Jim smiled down at his friend. "You said `stupid pigs' and, for the record, you nailed Wallace perfectly with that description."

"He's a shit head," Blair muttered.

"Still, you can't go around punching `shit head' detectives, Sandburg. There are laws."

On the rink an old man guided an old woman protectively. They both smiled, looking younger than their years, eternal and alive.

"God, Jim. Thirty minutes...."

"I know."

A business man circled the rink, his cheeks tinged with red. He had rolled the cuffs of his pants and laughed when a teenage boy nearly tripped him up. The sky was growing darker by the minute and the park took on a Currier and Ives glow. Jim turned his coat collar up.

"I'm expecting the lecture," Blair said quietly, "About not separating myself."

Jim watched a six year old girl cling to a woman's hand. She tottered like a newborn fawn on her skates, looking up in wonder as the two completed a full trip around the rink.

"You kept it together when you needed to. You helped me zero in on the killer before he could get away." Jim momentarily leaned away to allow room to drop an arm around Blair's shoulders. "No lectures."

Blair leaned in to Jim's side, crossed his arms and ducked his chin into his coat collar. "Simon better not ask me to apologize to that idiot."

"He won't."

Another ten minutes of watching. The cold began to soak into Jim's back, butt and thighs. He dialed it down.

"You have a shitty job, man," Blair mumbled with quiet acceptance.

"I know."

Thirty minutes had passed. Most of the smaller kids were being led away by their parents. Those left were gliding gracefully around in lazy circles. Traffic began to thin out and faint strands of Christmas music floated on the night air.

"How are Jennifer's parents ever going to enjoy Christmas again, Jim?"

"I don't know," Jim answered. "But they have each other. They have family and friends. It'll be hard. The pain fades." He could feel Blair's shivers. The temperatures were dropping.

"It sucks. It sucks rocks."

Jim patted Blair's shoulder before standing. Blair was more relaxed now. His face looked cooled, hopefully his emotions as well. "Come on, partner. Let's go home."

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