By JudyL

August 29, 2003

Okay, this one is to explain Blair's lack of enthusiasm around guns. I wanted to do one about his time "flying Apaches" but it's been well done in

Shedoc's "Apache" and Toshua's "When Secrets Fall From the Sky." I recommend you read both of these wonderful stories. I think either would fall in quite well with my Sentinel universe. I've borrowed on their premise that Blair was in the military for my story. Both these authors can be found at the Cascade Library.

Disclaimer: If the military can have them, why can't I?

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Detective Jim Ellison watched nervously from the observation room above the pistol range. His partner was lined up with the other cadets below ready to start their qualifying rounds. He looked at his captain sitting beside him.

"I'm worried, Simon. He kept putting me off when I offered to coach him. I don't think he's ready for this."

Captain Simon Banks frowned at his detective and best friend. "You don't think he'd go in there cold turkey do you? That would be setting himself up to fail. I can't see Sandburg doing something like that."

"I don't know, Simon. All I know is that he went to the procedural classes, but never logged any time on the firing range." His attention returned to the room below as an announcement sounded over the speakers.

"Cadets, you have two minutes to warm up before we begin this round. Begin now."

Jim watched Blair Sandburg. He held the pistol with an ease that indicated practice, lots of practice. Jim frowned, realizing that Blair had always known how to hold a weapon, regardless of how much he complained. Right from the first time with the Switchman down to the rifle at his cousin Rucker's lighthouse.

"Looks like he's been practicing to me, Jim," Simon commented, also noting the experienced handling Blair exhibited.

On the range, unaware of the scrutiny he was under, Blair raised his pistol, aimed and fired. He hit the outer ring of the target. Aim, fire, aim, fire. He repeated until the magazine was empty. He hit the switch to bring the target to him and grunted. The holes lined up in an almost perfect line across the center of the target. Looks like you never forget this either, he thought sourly.

Ellison focused his Sentinel sight on his partner trying to see the target, but it was obscured by the partition. He sighed as the announcement to cease-fire was made. The cadets were instructed to reload and prepare for the test.

Blair carefully rolled the test target and stuffed it in his back pants pocket then prepared his weapon for the real test. When the command to begin was given, he sited the target and fired. Aim, fire, aim, fire.

They were only given ten shots for this test and had to get eight of the ten within the center three circles. Blair finished his mag, flicked the safety on and laid the gun down on the ledge in front of him.

The cease-fire order was given again to ensure no weapons were aimed down the range while the instructors viewed the targets. All three men scored each target, marked it with the grade and cadet's name and moved onto the next lane.

Jim and Simon watched anxiously as the instructors approached Blair’s target. The targets could not be seen from the observation room. Don’t even know why they call it an observation room, Simon fumed, what good does it do if we can’t see the targets?

"What’s taking them so long?" Jim asked.

The instructors seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time at Sandburg’s target. Finally, they moved on and finished grading the other cadets.

The speakers came to life once again. "Cadets, retrieve your targets. Your scores have been recorded, if you have any questions, please talk to one of us now. Those of you who have qualified to continue, meet at the rifle range this afternoon at 3 p.m. Thank you."

Blair retrieved his target and sighed as he folded it in half before turning to leave the room.

Jim saw the sigh and bolted out of the room intent on intercepting his partner. Simon followed close on his heels.

The hall outside the pistol range filled briefly with cadets, most talking excitedly about the upcoming rifle qualification. Blair grinned and spoke to a few of the cadets as they walked, but couldn’t work up the same enthusiasm as his classmates.

The hall was mostly emptied by the time Jim and Simon entered and saw Sandburg.

Jim slowed and collected himself, not wanting to push his friend too hard. "Hey, Chief. How’d it go?" It was hard to hide the worry from his Guide.

Blair looked up surprised, then smiled at his roommate. "Hey, I didn’t expect to see you two here today."

"Just thought we’d check up on our investment, Sandburg," Simon teased.

Blair grinned, the target clenched in one hand, apparently forgotten.

Jim hadn’t forgotten though. He pointed casually at the target. "So, can I see?"

Blair’s grin faded, but he handed the target to his partner. Not like it’s gonna be a secret anymore.

Ellison opened it and stared. He looked at Blair, then back at the target, noting the perfect score at the top and the hole in the center where the bullseye used to be. "I don’t understand." Jim handed the target to Simon.

Banks smiled at the score, then frowned in confusion. "I didn’t think you liked guns, Blair. When did you learn to shoot this well?"

Blair sighed. "Can we go somewhere?" The others nodded and followed the younger man out of the building.

They ended up at a bench under some trees near the track. Even in the middle of the day, several joggers could be seen taking advantage of down time to work out.

Blair motioned toward the benches, indicating that his friends should sit. He remained standing, pacing just a little as he collected his thoughts.

"It can’t be that bad, Sandburg," Simon sighed.

The cadet stopped pacing and stared at the captain. They could see him visibly work to keep from snapping off a reply he would regret. Blair took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Actually, it could, Simon." Blue eyes opened dark with remembered anguish and landed first on Simon and then Jim.

Ellison winced in sympathy for his Guide. "Please tell us, Blair."

Blair nodded slowly and started to speak. "You know I went into the military when I turned eighteen? To help pay for school."

The other two nodded recalling the story behind Blair’s now infamous "I flew Apaches in Desert Storm" line.

"Well, in basic, my sergeant noticed I had really good hand-eye coordination. He suggested I try my hand at the shooting range. I was young and stupid and even though Naomi had preached against guns and violence all my life, it hadn’t sunk in. None of that had ever really affected me." He glanced at Jim. "Regardless of how it seems, she really did do her best to keep me safe and protected from the "real" world.

Anyway, I jumped at the chance and excelled…"

"Wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Sandburg," Simon interjected.

A small grin tipped one corner of Blair’s mouth at the praise. "Yeah, 150%, that’s what I put into my marksmanship. I was good at it and damn proud of my ability. I just didn’t realize how good the military is at training you to react as needed when needed."

Blair stared at the ground as he continued. "I went through the whole gambit, pistols, rifles, semi-automatics. All practiced on human sized dummies with the target right over the heart." He snorted with self-derision.

"I thought I was so smart. I could hit the smallest target from almost any distance with pretty much anything you put in my hand. I figured if I was good enough, I could still follow Naomi's teachings, you know," he looked at Jim willing him to understand.

Jim nodded. He did understand. He had been trained the same way and discovered the same thing in Covert Ops. It didn't matter that you could hit the center of a nickel from five hundred yards. When push came to shove and you found yourself in a life or death situation, the training kicked in and you aimed for the target you'd always aimed for, the heart.

"I truly didn't realize that they had trained me to "shoot to kill." I wouldn't figure that out until much later. Meanwhile, I was content to live in my own fantasy world. I thought I would be able to use my perfect aim to disarm or injure, without having to kill." Blair stood in front of them, his arms crossed defensively.

"Then what happened?" Jim asked softly.

Blair exhaled noisily. "I was assigned to a unit stationed in south Texas at the border. We were helping patrol the Rio Grande to keep illegals from crossing the river. For the most part we just turned people back peacefully. Our presence was enough to dissuade people from trying to cross.

I guess I'd been there a couple of months when we got word that a shipment of drugs might be smuggled through one of the border stations. When the truck with the drugs was stopped for a search all hell broke loose. Several of the cars that had passed through the gate before the truck and several behind the truck contained fellow smugglers.

A firefight broke out and we had several casualties right away. I managed to get behind the corner of a building and started picking off the guys I could see." Blair rubbed one hand over his face and continued.

"It probably didn't last three maybe four minutes and everything went quiet. My commander called for a report and those of us that were still standing sounded off. Four of the guys in the unit were dead. Two others had been wounded. One of the border guards had also been killed. All of the smugglers were dead.

We took care of our guys first, waiting for the local police to assist with the other bodies. As we worked to clear the road, I got a good look at the smugglers." Blair paused, licked his lips and continued.

"There were fourteen in all. Two of them might have been in their mid-twenties, but all the rest were teenagers. Sixteen, seventeen, some might have been younger. It was hard to tell through the dirt and the ragged clothes. But they'd all been armed with semi-automatics. Only the finest weapons for the poor. I still wonder what they were promised in return for taking those drugs across the border. Cause I know they weren't the real drug smugglers, they were just a decoy."

Blair raised his head and met his friends' eyes. He saw the understanding and mutual frustration at the situation. He shrugged. "After that I requested a transfer. I knew that I couldn't continue working in a situation where I might be required to take that kind of action every day. It would have destroyed my soul.

I spoke to a psychologist on the base and he helped me get transferred. That's how I ended up with the Apaches."

Jim regarded his friend with dismay. "You never told me this. How can you put aside what is obviously a very strong personal belief, Chief?"

Blair moved to sit on the bench beside his friends. "I was eighteen, Jim. I truly hadn't figured out what I thought was right or wrong, good or evil. All I had to go on was what Naomi had drilled into my head for eighteen years. And that was that guns killed. And there I was looking at proof of that in fourteen dead children. Some of which I had killed.

At that time in my life, it was the only choice I could make and stay sane. I couldn't remain in a situation where I might have to take another life." Blair folded his hands together and leaned back on the bench.

"Things have changed a lot in the last few years. I've had multiple opportunities to reevaluate how I see the world. And it's not your fault Jim. Quite a few of the things that have happened to me would have happened whether you were around or not. And I so much prefer that you were around.

But my perspective has changed. And my priorities have changed. I'm not some eighteen-year-old hot shot out to show how good he is. I was so ashamed of my skills, Jim. That I could do something so well and all it was good for was killing." He met Jim's gaze again.

"I've learned a lot from watching you over the years. Here you are with all of this Covert Ops training, probably one of the deadliest people I know, with or without a gun and yet you are also one of the kindest, gentlest, and most compassionate people I know. I've come to realize that it's how we use our skill that counts.

As long as I use what I can do to help protect the people who need it, then I can live with myself if… when I have to use deadly force. It won't be easy, but I'll handle it. With a little help from my friends." Blair smiled gently at the two friends sitting beside him.

Jim and Simon sat staring at Sandburg in awed silence. He seemed perfectly content with his decision, still leaning casually back against the bench as he watched them watch him.

Blair grinned and glanced at his watch. "Come on guys, I'm hungry and if we're gonna eat before the next trial, we'd better get moving." He stood and waited for the other two to join him.

Jim slung an arm over Blair's shoulder as they walked. "I should have realized you were protesting way too much, Chief."

"Why would you, Jim? You had no reason to think I was anything but a life-long student."

"I should have seen it on your background check," Simon grumbled.

"Ah, yeah, well, thing is, it's not there," Blair admitted.

"How?" Simon asked.

"Why?" Jim asked at the same time.

Blair chuckled. "I just asked Uncle Sam to suppress my military records. It's usually only done for covert operations, but as long as there's nothing bad on your record, they don't care. They were a little confused by my request though."

"So am I," Jim said.

"I knew I'd be traveling into other countries quite a bit as I continued my quest for my doctorate. Some countries do thorough background checks before they let you in. A military background is not going to reassure officials in some of the countries I visited. In fact, it would have banned me from quite a few."

"Well," Simon said, "that makes sense."

Blair nodded. "Besides, it's really not who I am. It was four years done strictly to further my studies. Sure, I learned a lot and met some great people, but it's in the past, man."

Jim gave his shoulders a squeeze. "As long as you're okay with it, Chief."

"I am, Jim. I told you, I made up my mind some time ago. And you won't have to worry about me freezing up, you know as well as I do how ingrained that training is."

"Yeah, I do, Chief. But hey, what say we set up a little challenge with the rest of the gang. I bet we could get pretty good odds if we set it up right."

"Jim!" Simon exclaimed. "You wouldn't be thinking of taking advantage of their ignorance would you?"

"Of course, not, Simon. You can be in on it too." Jim and Blair grinned.

"I'd better be," Simon growled, clapping Blair on the shoulder and smiling. "Just be sure you don't let them see your scores until after the challenge."

"Right, Simon," Blair replied chuckling. "How about a little side action? I bet neither Joel or Megan bets against me."

"Ah, no deal, Chief. You're probably right about Joel, he's pretty savvy. And I think Megan has the hots for you. She'd never bet against you."

"Jim!" Blair said, aiming an elbow at his partner's ribs.

Ellison danced away with a grin, barely avoided Blair's elbow.

"You'd better watch out, Jim," Simon quipped, grinning broadly. "I understand they're gonna be giving him a gun real soon. And I hear he's a pretty good shot."

"Izzat so?" Jim drawled returning Simon's grin.

"You'd better believe it!" Blair replied with a smile that outshone them all.

Well, I made a few things up. I have no idea if there are places for spectators at pistol ranges. I also don't know anything about the weapons training in the U.S. Armed Forces or at a police academy. And I don't think you can just ask Uncle Sam to lose your time spent in his employ, however it made for good fiction I think and certainly helped explain why a background check (which I'm sure the CPD did) didn't turn up anything unusual in Blair's background.<G>

Also thanks to my cousin, Cheryl who informed me that the hanging targets are usually made of at least lightweight cardboard that don't fold very easily. The paper targets are used on fixed ranges (like attached to hay bales).

Feedback is a lovely thing. Anything, even just to let me know you read it. I even put a little link at the end -à see? Please let me know what you think. Judy

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