by Autumn Skies

Summary: Blair turns to the past when he runs into a little trouble with his self-defense class. Post TSbyBS. Takes place prior to an earlier story, Grasp the Sparrow's Tail. References to KF:TLC. Rated G.

Notes: This was written for the SA List and Dawn's Mary Sue Challenge where the author includes herself in the story as a minor character. Quotes were taken from Deb Walsh's Kung Fu: The Legend Continues Episode Guide. Many thanks as always to Kathleen, for the beta.

Warnings: See above. Blair attends the police academy.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Written strictly for fun.

"Focus, Grady, focus!" The instructor's voice rose loudly over the two sweaty figures grappling on the mat. The larger of the two had an arm locked around the neck of his opponent. The shorter one gripped his elbow, pushing up and kicking backward at the same time. The taller man jerked aside, avoiding the kick and tightened his hold.

The whistle blew sharply. Both recruits broke apart, panting.

"No, you've gotta move faster than that," admonished the instructor. "Here, choke me."

Jill Grady took a deep breath, stepped behind the muscular instructor, put an elbow across his throat and began to squeeze. Within seconds her hold was broken and she found herself off-balance. With a quick pivot and sweep of the instructor's leg, she hit the mat with a loud thwack. As she got to her feet, Frank McNeil turned and faced the group sitting on the polished gym floor.

"Listen people, if you get grabbed out on the streets, you don't have the luxury of deciding which move to use next. You've got to react immediately. There's more than your life at stake here. Think about your partner, your spouse, your children and your friends. A lot of people are counting on you to stay alive. Remember that." His sharp gaze surveyed the recruits' faces. "Okay, Alvarez, it's your turn."

Jill dabbed at her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Damn, that's hard," she muttered to the man sitting cross-legged next to her.

"It's only the second week. You're doing fine," he whispered back.

"Yeah? Well, I practice, but I can't seem to make it work consistently, especially on the bigger guys."

"It takes time, Jill, you know that."

"I guess." She rubbed her hip. "Ow, that smarts." She stopped and watched Alvarez grab the arm across his throat. He fell to the mat as his opponent kicked his legs out from under him. He struggled ineffectually for a few seconds until the whistle blew.

"See? Even Alvarez is having trouble."

"I don't know about you, Blair, but I'm a little tired of feeling like one huge bruise all over."

Blair Sandburg grinned at her. "Trust me, I know the feeling." Jill and Alvarez weren't the only ones having trouble with certain moves. He watched closely as Alvarez struggled once more against the chokehold, finally breaking it.

"Better, but you need to push and turn at the same time," said McNeil.

Alvarez nodded and sat down with his classmates while the instructor picked out another recruit.

"McNeil makes it sound so easy," grumbled Jill. "It's just not fair."

"I know." Blair nudged her knee with his. "Look, here comes Maxine."

Maxine Turner stood on the mat, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. She paused only for a second as her opponent's arm crossed her neck before grabbing, twisting and pivoting away from the chokehold.

"That girl's an Amazon. With her size she could probably take out half this class," said Jill. "I tell you, being short is a real pain here."

"Maybe, but there are ways to compensate for that, you know?"

"Yeah? How?"

"Sandburg!" The instructor stood arms akimbo and glared down at him. "You're next."

Blair rose from his cross-legged position. Wiping his hands on his sweatpants, he walked onto the practice mat.

******** ********

"Thanks for your help today, Ron." Frank McNeil sat on a bench and picked up the clipboard next to him.

The assistant instructor nodded back. "Sure, no problem. I'll see you after lunch." Grabbing his towel, he walked toward the locker room.

"Can I speak to you for a minute, sir?"

"Hold on." Frank continued making a few notes on his sheet before looking up at the recruit standing in front of him. "What is it, Sandburg?"

Blair unfolded his arms. "I was hoping I could talk to you about that rear chokehold move we've been practicing."

"What about it?"

"I've been having trouble with it, and I'm sure you've noticed I'm not the only one."

The instructor shrugged. "It takes some people a little longer to master it than others."

"That's true. I just thought there might be another move we could try." He swallowed after noticing the look on the instructor's face. "Something that would give us better leverage against larger opponents."

McNeil cut in, his voice carrying an undertone of sarcasm. "Tell me something Sandburg. Do you consider yourself a self-defense expert?"

"No, not at all."

"I'll give you a piece of advice then. Talk less to your buddies and pay more attention in class. Maybe you'll learn something." The instructor looked down at his watch. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting."

Blair took the hint and left. McNeil's reaction was not unexpected but he had hoped the instructor would be a bit more willing to listen. After his last class, he went to the parking lot, dropped his notebooks on the passenger seat and started up his Volvo for the trip home.

Back at the loft, he debated whether or not to turn to his roommate. He knew Jim was itching to help in any way he could, and this was right up his alley. But, as usual, the timing sucked. Jim had been teamed with Joel Taggert to investigate the apparent suicide of a prominent, local businessman. With the department under pressure from the Police Chief and the media, Jim needed to stay alert and focused on his current assignment. Despite Simon's assurance Joel would keep close tabs on his partner, Blair still worried. Jim couldn't afford to be distracted right now.

Frustrated, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony. Over the years, it had become one of his favorite thinking spots. Leaning against the railing, Blair looked out over the city. A soft breeze blew against his face, ruffling his curls. He put a hand up automatically, before remembering that his hair had been shorn. Slowly, he put his hand down. Jim had been surprised when he cut it, but reluctantly agreed when Blair pointed out that it was important he blend in with his fellow recruits. It would grow out again, in time.

What was it that Heraclitus had said?

Nothing endures but change.

It was painful, but true. Entering the police academy was a new path for him, scary in some ways yet exciting in others. After spending four years alongside Jim, he'd often wondered if he would measure up to the challenges of being a cop. Jim seemed to think so, as did Simon, not to mention a few other detectives in Major Crime. Their quiet support sharpened his determination to succeed and graduate.

First things first. He had to figure out what do with that pesky chokehold.

Blair tilted his head slightly at the sound of music swirling around him. Someone across the street was playing the flute. He listened as the simple melody nudged loose memories of another time and place. And a face. He remembered a man with wispy brown hair and an unassuming demeanor. A fellow traveler who had also seen much of the world and had yet to settle in one place.

Blair closed his eyes.

Had it been sixteen years already?

******** ********

It had been the sound of a flute on a warm summer's day, he recalled, that had lured him across a busy street into the alleyways of San Francisco's Chinatown. Moving past groups of tourists busily sightseeing, he'd followed the lilting song to a small courtyard, behind a gift store. He tried to peer through the cracks in the wooden gate, but failed to find the musician.

Disappointed, he turned around and tried to retrace his steps, except he couldn't quite remember which street he'd come up. Mentally flipping a coin, he decided to go the right. After a few yards, he stopped when he came to another tour group, bunched around the side of a tea shop. They were watching three elderly Chinese, two men and a woman, moving slowly, in unison. They balanced on one leg and pivoted around quickly.

Blair recognized what they were practicing. He had seen live demonstrations of tai chi chuan before and the movements, as always, fascinated him. He moved closer for a better look, straining on tiptoes to see over the shoulder of one of the tourists. The baldheaded man in the gaudy floral print shirt in front of him was broad and stocky. He shifted unexpectedly and his shoulder bag banged hard into Blair, who would've have fallen to the ground, if not for the hand that suddenly gripped his elbow and kept him steady.

Blair turned around, wondering which member of the tour group had helped him. His eyes widened in surprise. The man standing next to him was no tourist. He looked more like a drifter, dressed simply in sandals and a beige shirt worn loose over his dark brown pants, a battered looking fedora on his head. Naomi had warned him to be cautious of strangers, but Blair felt instantly at ease.

"Thanks, Mister," he said automatically, before noticing the instrument in the man's hand. He smiled in delight. "Oh, you play the flute."

"Yes, I do," the man replied. "Do you like it?"

"Very much," said Blair.

The man nodded at the trio still moving in unison. "Do you also like tai chi?"

"Yes! I want to learn it," answered Blair eagerly. "I just wish I could find someone to teach me."

The man gazed at him for a long moment, a look of sadness flitting across his face.

Blair looked up at him, concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

The man shook his head. "No. It's just that you remind me of someone," he said softly.

"Really? Who?"

"My son."

"Oh. Where is he?"

"I am afraid he passed away."

"I'm sorry." Blair blinked up at him solemnly.

"Thank you."

"You must miss him a lot."

"I do, but I admit I find it comforting to see a bit of his spirit in others, like yourself."

"Did he ask a lot of questions?"

"He most certainly did." The man smiled as he gently herded Blair away from another group of approaching tourists. "Do you really want to learn tai chi?"

"Yes," said Blair firmly. "I like it."

"Why do you like it?"

Blair shrugged. It was hard for him to put into words, how interesting he found it. How much he liked the controlled movements that reminded him of flowing water. "It feels right to me," he said finally. "When I watch, I feel calm inside. You'll show me how to do it, won't you?"

The man stopped and raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I know anything about it?" he asked.

Blair paused. "Because you're a teacher."

"Am I?" There was a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Yes, you are. And I'm going to be your student." He hadn't meant to sound so pushy, but Blair recognized an instructor when he saw one. Even if the man before him didn't look, talk or dress like any of the teachers at his school.

The man looked at him sternly, while Blair held his breath.

Tilting his head back, the man laughed out loud, his voice floating up in the air. He reached down and gently squeezed Blair's shoulder in silent acceptance. They spent the rest of the afternoon together, walking past temples and buildings Blair had never seen before. Stopping at a bakery, they ate moon cakes. Finally, the man paused at the side door of a small shop that smelled of exotic, dried herbs. "My name is Caine. I'll be here, when you're ready."

Blair returned the next afternoon, eager to start his lesson.

The summer had passed quickly. The tai chi lessons continued into the fall and winter. By then, Blair had learned to do the fast set as well, enjoying the quick-paced rhythm as he turned and pivoted with the class. He was youngest, but then he'd always been the youngest, in just about every class he ever attended. Considering his last set of grades, he'd soon be in college. Again, the youngest of the freshman class.

By early spring, Naomi was ready to move north. Typically, she gave Blair little warning, but he'd learned early on to watch for signs of her restlessness. He said good-bye to his classmates and teachers, but found it hard to say farewell to the soft-spoken man who had taught him equally important lessons -- ones of harmony, balance and acceptance.

He shuffled unhappily, before staring into Caine's face. "I-I'll miss you," he blurted.

Caine smiled gently and put a hand on his shoulder. "I will miss you, also." He looked into Blair's eyes for a long moment. "Just remember, once a student and teacher meet, the relationship never ends," he said softly.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Blair nodded back. Reluctantly he turned and left the apothecary shop. At the end of the alleyway, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. Caine was no longer there, but he heard the sound of a flute soar through the air. It stayed with him as he made his way back across the street, to the apartment building where Naomi waited for him.

******** ********

The sound of pigeons flapping noisily by, broke his reverie. Blair opened his eyes.

"Student and teacher. Hm, I wonder..." Slipping back inside the loft, Blair closed the glass door behind him. He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello? Sally? Hi, it's me, Blair Sandburg. I'm fine, thanks. How about yourself? How's Mr. Ellison? Good. Listen, I remember you mentioning a tai chi class that's held on Saturdays. I was wondering if I could get the instructor's phone number from you. Right." He grabbed a pencil and quickly scribbled down a number. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Yes, I'll tell Jim you said hi. Bye."

It was early Saturday morning when Blair drove to the park on Eighth Street. Jim had returned home very late, from a stakeout. As was his habit, he'd left his white noise generator on so that he could sleep in peace for a few hours. Blair moved as quietly as he could in his sweats and sneakers, gulping down some orange juice and nibbling on a piece of toast. Taping a note to the refrigerator, he picked up his keys and left the loft.

After parking his Volvo, Blair jogged along the park's pathway, past a couple walking their golden retriever, toward a large oak tree in the distance. A small group of middle-aged women stood chatting. They turned their heads to watch him as he approached. Blair smiled and waved. "Hi."

They stared at him curiously for a moment then continued talking. A few minutes later, more people arrived. Soon, some twenty people stood, conversing, stretching and waiting.

Blair waited patiently on the fringes until an older Chinese woman appeared and approached the group. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she wore a long blouse over her wide-legged pants and a pair of black flats. She smiled at the group before giving Blair an appraising stare. She nodded her head and he joined the group as they lined up in three rows.

Walking to the front of the group, she turned her back and bowed, everyone bowing along with her.

"Begin," she said simply. Raising and lowering her arms slowly, she turned smoothly on her heel and slowly extended her right arm out. Everyone followed suit. From the back row, Blair matched the slow movements, glad the routine still stayed in his memory even though his form and balance needed a little work.

After a few minutes, the instructor stopped and turned around, watching closely as the group continued the routine. Eventually she moved to the last row, observing Blair as he balanced on one leg then took a step back. She moved up to the front row just as the exercise finished. Despite the slow, leisurely pace, Blair felt revved up, his hands tingling with warmth.

One of the ladies next to him smiled. "It gets your chi flowing, doesn't it?"

Blair grinned back, opening and closing his hands. "It sure does."

He stood and watched as the members of the group paired off and began to practice against each other.

The short, middle-aged woman who had spoken to him earlier waved him over to join her. "My name is Autumn," she said, adjusting her glasses as Blair approached. "Would you like to try some t'ui shou?"

"I'm Blair and yes, I'd love to do some push hands. But I have to warn you, I'm a bit rusty."

"Not a problem."

They bowed, facing each other and took a step forward, putting their right foot out. Raising his right arm, he pressed the back of his wrist against hers, and relaxed. She rocked forward and Blair immediately leaned back, as they created a gentle circular motion with their arms. Blair matched her pace, keeping himself balanced. Shifting back and forth, the rhythmical repetition lulled him even further into a state of relaxed awareness.

Midway through a rotation, Autumn abruptly shifted her rhythm, giving Blair a forceful push. He took a half-step backward. "Whoa." He shook his head, chagrinned. He'd gotten a little too relaxed. Push hands was more than a simple exercise. It was a way of testing one's balance and state of alertness as well.

He settled back into position and put his right arm up. "Okay, let's try that again."

Finally Autumn signaled a stop.

"I was just getting warmed up," protested Blair.

"My thighs are killing me," she said ruefully. "I'm afraid you'll have to pick on someone your own age."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Blair nodded his head at the tai chi instructor standing with her back to them, a few feet away. "Does Master Chen also teach self-defense as well?"

"On occasion she'll demonstrate some moves. She usually picks on the biggest guy in class, too," grinned Autumn. "It's not flashy, like kung fu or karate, but it's effective."

"Great. Thanks."

After class, Blair waited until most of the students left before approaching the instructor.

"Master Chen?"

She turned and looked at Blair. "Yes?"

"My name is Blair Sandburg. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"You are the one who called me the other day." Master Chen scrutinized him closely. "You do not look like a policeman."

"I'm not one yet, but I'm training at the police academy right now."

"I see. What is it that you would like to know?"

******** ********

In the middle of the academy gymnasium, two figures grappled with each other. Suddenly one hit the mat with a resounding slap.

"Yeah, just like that," grunted Blair, looking up at his opponent.

Jill Grady grinned as she held out her hand and helped pull him up. "This is so cool! Where'd you learn this?"

"It's just something I picked up."

"I have to say, it works. I don't have to struggle so hard." She picked up her towel and wiped her brow. "Can we do it again? "

"If you insist," groaned Blair, rubbing his hip. He got up and moved behind Jill, raising his arms.

"Okay, ready."

"Hold on a minute." Blair and Jill paused as Frank McNeil walked up them. The other recruits around them continued practicing their throws. "What the hell are you two doing?"

Blair glanced at Jill then took a step forward. "I was showing Grady how to break a rear chokehold, sir."

"Then why aren't you practicing what I showed you last week, Sandburg?"

"Since we were having trouble with it, I thought I'd show her another way to do it."

McNeil folded his arms and frowned at him sharply. "You questioning my methods, recruit?"

Blair shook his head. "No, sir. But there's more than one way to defend yourself."

"Oh, so now you're the expert. In that case, why don't you show me, no wait, show the class, how it should be done," he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. He blew his whistle. The practicing recruits stopped and turned to face the pair.

"Listen up. Sandburg, here, would like to demonstrate another way of breaking the rear chokehold."

Blair gulped inwardly. The instructor was taller, heavier and very experienced. No reason to be nervous. Yeah, right. He felt his palms begin to sweat.

"You can do this," whispered Jill. She stood back and smiled at him confidently.

Unfortunately, Blair had a strong feeling he was going to end up looking more like a car's crumpled rear bumper by the time McNeil was done with him.

"Find your center." Blair blinked in surprise as a familiar-sounding voice suddenly flashed through his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McNeil move into position behind him. He could feel the instructor's presence, like a sheet of rough canvas pressing against his skin.

"Find your center," whispered the voice again. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Blair shut his eyes and lowered his awareness to a point, two inches below his navel. The tan tien. His center of gravity.

"Relax and focus." Allowing the voice from the past to guide him, he opened his eyes and let his gaze fall on the far wall of the gymnasium.

The mat creaked underneath McNeil's feet as he took a step forward, raising his arms to encircle Blair's neck.

Almost immediately, Blair took a large step backward, throwing his right arm up abruptly at the same time. His timing caught McNeil off-guard, his shoulder knocking the taller man back. Pivoting around, he gripped the instructor's wrist with one hand and his elbow with the other, yanking McNeil even further off balance. Without hesitation, Blair pushed forcefully against the joint, sending his opponent sprawling on the mat. It was over in the blink of an eye.

There was silence in the gym.

Panting, Blair looked around at the faces staring back at him. Some were surprised, others were smiling, but quickly changed their expressions to neutral as McNeil got to his feet. The instructor's face was anything but amused.

Blair swallowed as McNeil faced him again.

******** ********

Reaching the front door of the loft, Blair let out a long exhale. He was glad to be home and even more relieved it was Friday. Hopefully, the inevitable talk about what happened that morning in self-defense class would be old news by the end of the weekend. Monday, however, was another story. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, letting his backpack slide to the ground. "McNeil's going to kill me," he muttered to himself as he opened the door, "if Jim doesn't first."

Thankfully Jim was still at the PD. Kicking his backpack along the floor, Blair pushed it against the wall and stopped to slowly unzip his jacket. He winced as he peeled it off, leaving it hanging over one arm. He trudged wearily to his room.

A few minutes later he emerged, sans shoes and socks and walked into the bathroom. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he stepped into the shower and turned the water up as hot as he could stand it. He sighed happily as the heat began to loosen the throbbing muscles in his back and shoulders. "Ahhhh."

Washing himself and shampooing his hair one-handed was difficult, but he managed. He dried himself with a towel and padded to his room again. Donning a faded pair of jeans and one of Jim's old work shirts, he went back to the kitchen and opened the freezer. He pulled out a bag of frozen peas and draped it over his arm. Filling his mug with tap water, he stuck in it the microwave to heat. As soon as the water was hot, he dropped a tea bag in it and carried the cup into the living room where he gingerly settled himself on the couch and pointed the remote at the television.

The condensation on the bag began to drip. "Oh, great," he muttered and got up to retrieve a dish towel, knowing that Jim would not appreciate finding a soggy couch cushion. He returned to his seat, put the towel over the peas and settled back to watch the local news. The drone of the announcer's voice, coupled with the exertions of the day soon made him drowsy. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

******** ********

Jim Ellison hit the print key and sat back, looking satisfied. After several days, he and Joel had finally gotten the break they'd been looking for in the apparent suicide of businessman, Gregory Shaw. Shaw's girlfriend claimed that he had used a .22 rifle to shoot himself in the head. However, her accelerated heartbeat and respiration coupled with some bruises on Shaw's midsection, alerted Jim there was more to the death than she was telling. With Joel's help, he began interviewing immediate family members about Shaw and his business dealings. Shaw's ex-wife in particular, had much to say about her former husband, his associates and his current girlfriend.

Gathering up the latest findings from the medical examiner, Jim knocked on Simon's door.

"Come in."

Jim stepped inside the office. The captain scrawled something at the bottom of a memo and tossed it into his tray. He looked up at his detective. "What have you got there?"

"It's the ME's report and the interview with Doreen Shaw." Jim placed the papers on Simon's desk blotter.

Simon picked up the autopsy report first and scanned the pages. He whistled. "So it's a homicide after all, not a suicide."

"Right, which coincides with what the former Mrs. Shaw has been saying all along."

Simon grabbed the next sheet and read it. "According to her, Shaw's girlfriend had a hand in his death."

Jim nodded back. "Doreen claims the girlfriend had been seeing another guy behind Shaw's back, someone named Tommy Ricci. It's possible Ricci may have been the one who actually pulled the trigger."

"Were they going after Shaw's money?"

"That would be my guess. Joel's trying to track Ricci down. As soon as we get an address, we'll bring him in for questioning."

"Good work, Jim." Simon put the papers aside and glanced at the clock on his desk. He had been recently cleared for full-time duty and was slowly getting back up to speed. He sighed wearily. "It's certainly been a long day. I take it you're going home now."

"Yes, sir. Unless you've got something else for me."

"Nope. Tell Sandburg I said hello." Simon leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I hate to admit it, but it hasn't been the same here without him." He shook a stern finger at Jim. "Don't you dare tell him I said that."

"I won't, sir." Jim smiled back and left the office.

It was true though, thought Jim as he made his way home through the evening traffic. The bullpen wasn't quite the same without Sandburg's sunny presence and constant chatter. Inwardly, he was counting the weeks until Blair was ready to graduate. He understood Simon's decision to have either Joel or Megan accompany him in the field, but he chafed under the supervision. Despite all good intentions, he and Megan still clashed a bit from time to time.

She was a good detective, no question, but Jim had gotten more spoiled than he realized, having someone like Sandburg by his side. Along with helping him with his senses, Blair could anticipate his moods and way of working, including when to press and when to step back. Compared to their old, tight working rhythm, he felt somewhat out of sync with both Megan and Joel.

Jim unconsciously gripped the steering wheel hard before reminding himself to relax. He had been more tense than he realized, over the past few days. Most of it was due to the pressures of his current case. The latest findings from the medical examiner wasn't going to make Simon's life any easier, since the newspaper and television reports had been touting Shaw's death as a suicide. However, the captain was used to dealing with the media and their relentless pursuit of a story.

At least the reporters had ceased hounding Sandburg.

The look of deep sadness in Blair's eyes after the press conference still haunted him, bringing a lump to Jim's throat. No one had ever sacrificed so much on his behalf before. The aftermath had been difficult for them both, but he could see the personal toll it had taken on Blair. Jim exhaled loudly in frustration. So much heartache could have been avoided if only Naomi had stayed out of it and not released the dissertation her so-called friend, Sid Graham.

It was too late though. He couldn't change the past. For now, all he could do was lend Blair as much support as he could. With everything going on at Major Crime, there had been little chance to ask Blair how his classes were coming along. The best way to catch up was over a meal, he thought. Jim pursed his lips for a moment, before turning left at the next intersection. It was a little out of the way, but he decided to stop by the Thai restaurant on Ocean Avenue and pick up a carton or two of their noodles with shrimp that Blair liked so much, along with some beef and chicken satay for himself.

Carrying a bag of food in one arm, Jim rode up the small elevator to the third floor of his building. Once in the hallway, he quickly walked to the front door. Inside, he heard the television going and nothing else beyond that, except for some steady breathing.

He opened the door and closed it quietly behind him. After setting the food down on the kitchen counter, he shrugged off his coat and peered into the living room. Blair was asleep on the couch, his head tilted back on the cushion and his legs stretched out on the floor. Jim moved closer and picked up the TV remote. After lowering the volume, he crinkled his nose at the smell of wet plastic.

Blair had loosely draped one of the dish towels over the bag of peas covering his left arm. Jim leaned down, gently picked up the towel up and set it on the coffee table. His eyes narrowed when he lifted the bag off Blair's arm.

"Christ," he muttered to himself, looking at the swollen wrist.

Blair stirred. "Jim? Is that you?" He opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at his roommate. Noticing Jim's scowl, Blair shifted, putting weight on his injured arm. "Ow!"

"Hey, take it easy." Jim put the soggy bag on the towel and turned to face Blair. "What the hell happened, Chief?"

"I sprained my wrist."

"I can see that." Jim got up and went into the bathroom.

Blair heard a drawer open and close. Jim returned, holding an Ace bandage roll in one hand. He sat next to Blair and motioned for him to show him his wrist. Blair sighed and extended his arm. Jim held it and pressed his fingers against the cool skin. He slid his thumb carefully along the underside of Blair wrist. Relieved to find nothing more serious than a pulled ligament, he unhooked one end of the bandage.

"One more time. What happened today?"

"You know how it is. Some days I'm a klutz." Blair shrugged nonchalantly.

Jim gave him a skeptical look. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your self-defense class, would it?"

Sniffing the air, Blair turned his head, glancing at bags sitting on the kitchen counter. His expression immediately brightened. "C'mon, man, it's not that big a deal. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Recognizing the delay tactic, Jim decided to let it go for the moment. He finished wrapping the wrist and stood up. "Fine. I'll get some plates."

While Jim set the table, Blair pulled the cartons out of the bag.

"Mm, this smells great. Thanks, man." Blair eagerly opened the carton of black mushrooms and snow peas and spooned some onto his plate. "Hey, how did it go today?"

Jim picked up one of the satay skewers and dipped it in the peanut sauce. "Good. We're making progress."

"Did you talk to Shaw's ex-wife?"

Jim patiently answered his questions, knowing full well Blair was only trying to divert attention away from himself. When Blair reached for the carton holding his favorite noodles and shrimp, Jim casually snagged it and dragged it to the side of his plate.

"Hey! Those are mine."

"Here's the deal, Chief. You tell me what happened today, and I'll hand over the noodles." Jim opened the carton, popped a shrimp into his mouth and chewed while Blair gave him a disgruntled look.

"All right, all right," he grumbled, eyeing Jim's plate. "I want some of your chicken satay, too."

"Done." Jim closed the carton and stared intently at Blair.

Blair leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. "Well, it was like this. I uh, think I-gave-my-instructor-a-black-eye," he said rapidly.

"You did what?"

Blair looked up sheepishly. "I said, I think I gave my instructor a black eye."

"You mean Frank McNeil?" Jim raised an eyebrow as he pushed the noodles toward Blair.

"Yeah."

"How'd it happen?"

"It was an accident. Honest. I zigged, he zagged and the next thing I knew, wham. He kinda collided with my elbow." Blair waved his uninjured hand as he described the move.

Jim frowned and tapped the table with his fingers. "That's not how your wrist got sprained though, is it?"

"Um, no. That came afterward." Glancing at Jim's impatient expression, Blair continued. "I broke a rear chokehold first. Next he tried a frontal attack. That's when he collided with my elbow. After that, he grabbed me and threw me. Can't blame him for being a little pissed. I mean, you're not supposed to bop the teacher."

Jim shook his head. "Doesn't matter. McNeil should've been prepared for anything."

"It was my fault though. I didn't exactly follow the playbook, which threw him for a loop, so to speak."

Jim sighed inwardly. Frank McNeil was an experienced instructor and not someone who could be easily surprised. The fact that Blair had managed to do so, said something about his agility, quick thinking and ability to adapt to just about any situation. The same way Blair was willing to start over and learn to fit into Jim's world.

"Hey, Jim. Pass the rice, would you?"

He slid the steamed rice toward Blair. "Tell me about this move again. Did you improvise?"

"Not really. I just happened to remember something a Shaolin priest once showed me."

"A what?"

"You heard me," said Blair, scooping some rice onto his plate. "He's a great guy, too. You'd like him."

"Are you sure about that?"

Blair picked up a shrimp with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. "I'm sure. I remember he had a lot of sayings."

"Like what?"

"Let's see, a battle avoided cannot be lost."

Jim nodded. "That's from Sun Tzu."

"Sun Tzu? Oh, right. The Art of War."

"What else did he say?"

"He once told me the most important element of fighting."

Jim looked up quizzically. "Which is?"

"To duck."

Jim chuckled. "I like this priest of yours." He took a few more bites before glancing at Blair. The young man sat staring down at his plate, toying with his noodles.

"You know you didn't do anything wrong in class."

Blair's reply was subdued. "Maybe, but I doubt McNeil sees it that way."

"I wouldn't worry about him. He's just trying to make sure you know to take care of yourself on the streets. Whether you use his techniques or your own doesn't matter. What matters most is that you do whatever's necessary to stay alive." Jim paused and swallowed, recalling the devastation he'd felt not so long ago at the fountain. "Promise me you'll do that, Chief. I'm counting on you to stay in one piece."

Blair took a deep breath, before lifting his head to meet Jim's gaze. His eyes widened at the emotions flickering in Jim's. Nodding slowly, he smiled. "I hear that. The same goes for you, too."

Jim cleared his throat. Just in case McNeil still harbored any misconceptions about Blair, he planned to have a little chat with the instructor. The sooner the better. "Tell me, how did you meet a Shaolin priest?"

"It's a long story."

"Now there's a surprise." Jim smiled fondly as he opened another carton.

"Hah. You and your attention span." Leaning forward on his elbows, Blair's grin widened. "It just so happened Naomi and I were living in San Francisco, one summer..."

*~The End~*

Comments welcomed. AutumnSkies1@aol.com

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