Mortal Combat

*Damn.* Jim Ellison's jaw tightened as he swept a glare over the gang of
teenagers, most of them sixteen to nineteen years of age. He'd slipped
up, and now the Tolsas had the advantage. He'd been staking out their
headquarters, listening in to privileged conversations regarding a drug
shipment, and he'd ended up zoning. While Sandburg had been trying to
pull him out of the zone, the gang members had gotten the drop on them.

Victor, the leader, scanned the two sets of ID's he'd confiscated from
Jim and Blair and then tossed them to another man. The gang members were
all dressed in black and purple, their ethnicities varied, ranging from
Caucasian, to hispanic, to black. One of them held Blair's backpack in
front of him as he rifled curiously through the contents.

"Detective Ellison," Victor spat, his dark eyes hard as they darted back
and forth between Jim and Blair, "and, uh," he turned his gaze onto
Sandburg, taking in the long, unruly hair and worn clothing, "just what
does an 'observer' do?"

"Observe," Blair answered dryly.

Jim glanced heavenward. *Keep a lid on that trap of yours, Sandburg.*

Victor snorted and looked back at Ellison. "You invaded my territory,
cop."

Jim raised an eyebrow, his face otherwise expressionless. "Funny, I
thought it belonged to the City of Cascade."

Victor's fist lashed out and clipped Blair on the jaw, sending the young
man backward. A shocked grunt escaped the anthropologist as he crashed
to the pavement, stunned.

"Hey!" Jim had a fist full of Victor's jacket in his hands before he
knew what he was doing, but three gang members sprang to action,
grabbing his arms and holding him steady.

Victor looked down at his crumpled jacket and smoothed the wrinkles.
"You mouth off again, cop, your partner pays." He looked at Sandburg as
the young man slowly rose to his feet, a trickle of blood on his chin.
With a smile, Victor turned his attention back to Ellison.

"No one crosses the Tolsas," he stated flatly, "but we got our own code
of honor. Combat. One of you fights one of us. Whoever wins, walks away.
Whoever loses, dies. You win, you and your buddy leave. You lose, you
both die."

A spark of hope flared inside Jim. He scanned the group of ten young men
critically and suppressed a small smile. He could take any one of them
in a fair fight. Hell, even in an unfair fight. He was sure whoever he
fought would play dirty, but he'd seen all the tricks and had quite a
few of his own.

The smile peeked through, tweaking his lips, and he met the leader's
steady gaze. "You're on."

Victor grinned. "Good. I'll be the one fighting." He reached into his
jeans pocket and withdrew a quarter. "Heads, you fight. Tails, your
buddy fights."

Jim's smile vanished. He hadn't expected that Sandburg might have to
fight. "No deal. You fight me."

Victor shook his head. "Rules are rules, Hombre."

He flipped the coin and Jim's eyes zoomed into the small disc as it
tumbled through the air. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Gravity won the
battle, pulling the coin back down toward Victor's open palm. Heads.
Tails. Heads.

Victor snatched the coin out of the air a moment before it would have
dropped into his palm.

Jim tensed. *No.*

With an amused smile, he slapped the coin onto the back of his other
hand and uncovered the face. Jim saw immediately which side had landed
up, but he knew Blair would be unable to make out the coin's face in the
darkness.

"Tails," Victor announced casually, looking pointedly at Blair.

"What?" Sandburg took a step back, shaking his head, his hands raised
defensively in front of him. "Look, man, you don't want to fight me. I'm
nothing. I'm an anthropologist, for crying out loud. A teacher. I wear
glasses and read books and spend my time in libraries. I'm a certified
geek. A wimp. You fight me and you'll be the laughing stock of this
town." Nervously, Blair glanced at Jim, then looked quickly back at
Victor. "You want him," he said, jabbing his thumb toward the Sentinel.

*What?* Jim raised both eyebrows. While Sandburg abhorred violence, he
was no coward, so the younger man's frantic words surprised him.

"He used to be an army ranger," the grad student continued. "Now he's a
cop. One of the best. He works out at the gym -- total testosterone. You
beat him, you'll get some *real* respect."

Victor's expression never wavered as he stared at Sandburg, and Jim had
a
sudden epiphany. The gang leader had never intended to fight him because
he knew he'd lose. Instead, the coin flip had been rigged to turn up
tails so that it would appear that random chance had chosen Blair,
someone the guy was probably sure he could beat -- and he was probably
right, too.

"You disgust me, coward!" Victor spat, grabbing Blair's black leather
jacket and pulling him forward. "You fight or you both die!"

Blair swallowed hard, looking nervously over his shoulder back at Jim.
His face had turned two shades whiter and his eyes held a wild, panicked
look.

*He knows he can't win and he was trying to save us,* Jim realized, warm
admiration creeping into his chest. *He knows if he loses we both die,
so he was trying to convince Victor to fight me because he knows I'd
win.*

Jim tensed, but the arms that held him tightened their grip. "Wait a
minute, Victor! He's right. Look, you take me on, you got a shot at
gaining some real respect. You take on him, you're nothing. You know you
can't beat me, so you rigged it so that you'd end up fighting Sandburg.
You're no leader, man. You're a coward."

"Shut up!" Victor yelled, his eyes bright with rage. "He got picked fair
and square and he'll fight. One more word and I'll kill you both."

Jim clamped his jaw shut, his stomach twisting. He had to think of
something and fast because he knew there was little chance of his
partner beating the younger man in hand-to-hand combat. While Sandburg
could take care of himself, the gang leader towered a good five inches
over Blair and had been hardened by the street.

Victor turned his attention back to Blair, apparently satisfied that his
message had gotten through to Jim. "Now we start this."

Blair tensed, glancing desperately at Jim, his eyes pleading for a way
out of the situation.

*Damn.* Jim looked around, searching for an opening. He could probably
twist out of the arms holding him and get the drop on --

A gun cocked near his right ear, putting a premature end to his
strategizing.

"Say your prayers, White Boy." Victor lunged and Blair sidestepped just
in time to avoid the gang leader.

*No, damnit.* Every muscle in Jim's body tensed as he watched the fight.

Victor attacked again and Blair twisted to his right, grabbing the back
of Victor's jacket and pulling him forward off his feet. The younger man
hit the pavement hard, snarling with rage as he shot back to his feet.

"No more playing!" He spun into a roundhouse kick, but Blair arched
backward, missing the foot by an inch.

Moving swiftly, Blair saw his opportunity and took it, dropping to the
ground and sweeping one leg in front of him as Victor finished the kick.

*Yes!* Jim almost shouted, nodding absently with approval and urging
Blair on silently. *You got him, Chief!* Damn, Sandburg had surprised
him. Where had the kid learned those moves?

Blair's leg contacted Victor's, sweeping the gang leader off his feet.
The young man went down hard, landing flat on his back, his head
contacting the blacktop. Blair hesitated a moment, apparently unsure
what to do next, and his hesitation cost him.

With a growl, Victor's arm whipped over the pavement and something small
and hard hit the anthropologist square in the face. Blair yelped, his
body snapping backward to slam into the ground. The gang leader wasted
no time and scrambled over to his fallen opponent to finish the job.

"No!" Jim moved forward, but the hands pulled him back and the barrel of
the gun was pressed hard against his right ear as warning.

Blair groaned and raised his head long enough for Jim to see the blood
pouring out of his nose. The grad student saw Victor coming toward him
and rolled quickly to the right, bringing his left leg up and catching
the gang leader in the chin.

*Way to go, Chief. Now follow through,* Jim urged silently.

Victor grunted, his head whipping back, but the blow wasn't hard enough
to stun him. Blair scrambled to his feet at the same time Victor rose to
his and the two men crouched, facing one another, with Blair
anticipating the next attack and Victor looking for an opening.

The gang leader moved to the left and, as Blair ducked to the right,
Victor spun around, his leg catching Blair in the stomach and doubling
him over. Sandburg dropped to his knees, his breathing coming in quick,
shallow gasps as he struggled to take in air, his diaphragm no doubt
shocked from the blow.

Victor followed through with a kick to Blair's head which spun the
smaller man around and sent him face-first into the pavement.

*No.* Jim clenched his fists, frustration tearing at him. To his
surprise, Blair rolled away as Victor tried to follow through with
another kick. Blair made it to his feet with impressive speed and faced
the gang leader again, but he swayed slightly and it was obvious that he
hadn't yet recovered from the blows.

Victor lunged forward with a punch aimed at Blair's jaw, but the
anthropologist deflected the blow with his left arm and followed through
with a punch to Victor's gut.

*I'll be damned.* Jim couldn't believe his partner had lasted this long.
Blair had never demonstrated the best combat skills. Sure, the young man
could take care of himself and had demonstrated a willingness to fight
when necessary, but his greatest asset had always been his mind. He
often found his way out of situations using nothing but good
old-fashioned ingenuity. Perhaps this time, though, desperation was
urging the normally
peace-loving anthropologist toward victory.

Victor hunched over, obviously hurting from the punch. Jim saw the gang
leader reach into his pocket and withdraw a long, metallic object -- a
switchblade knife.

"Look out, Bl --" A sharp butt to his head with the gun silenced him and
left his ears ringing.

Jim's vision grayed, then came back into focus just in time to see
Victor sink the blade into Blair's side.

"NO!" Jim lunged forward, not caring about the goons holding him, but
their arms refused to yield.

He watched in horror as Blair's eyes widened with surprise and he sank
to his knees, his hands curling around the wound in his side as though
trying to stop the bleeding. He looked down at the blood, his gaze blank
as though he couldn't quite comprehend that he'd been stabbed. After
several seconds, he raised his head slowly, his eyes focusing on Jim.

"Sorry," Blair whispered, and that soft apology brought a mist of tears
to Jim's eyes.

*No, no, Chief. It's not your fault. You did good. I'm the one that
zoned. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, buddy...*

Victor raised the crimson blade to the anthropologist's throat.

"Wait! Listen!" Jim pleaded. "Don't do this. You kill us and you'll have
every cop in Cascade --"

"Quiet, cop, or I'll make it slow for him," Victor barked.

The rest of the words died in Jim's throat. He fidgeted in the arms that
held him, his stomach tight. He couldn't just stand there and watch --

Blair sucked in a deep breath, and before anybody could react, the young
man's hand clamped around Victor's crotch.

"Ugggh!" Victor hunched forward, the knife dropping from his grip and
clattering to the ground.

Blair gave Victor's "package" another hard squeeze, causing the gang
leader to drop hard to his knees. Moving quickly, Sandburg released
Victor and snatched up the knife, grunting with pain as he moved behind
the larger man and held the blade to his throat.

"I win," Blair rasped, panting hard, one hand gripping Victor's short
hair to tilt his head back while the other held the knife against his
jugular. "Say it!"

"Fuck you!"

Blair pressed the blade deep enough to draw blood, eliciting a pained
gasp from the gang leader. "Say it!"

"Okay! You win!"

"Jim and I are free to go. Right?"

"Right! Go! Get the hell out of here! You win!"

The goons released Jim and he rushed toward Blair, catching his partner
just as he sagged backward. Wrapping his arms around the young man
to hold him close against his chest, Jim looked up as Victor rose
unsteadily to his feet, tears of pain glistening his eyes. *Is he or
isn't he?* Tensing, Ellison waited for the man to make his next move.
Would he honor his word or go back on it and kill them?

The gang leader turned away and waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I
don't want to see your faces around here again."

One of the leaders tossed two wallets and Blair's backpack onto the
blacktop and turned to follow the others.

Jim released a shuddered breath and tightened his grip on Blair. He had
every intention of coming back, but he knew the Tolsa's wouldn't be
here. By the end of the hour, they'd have a new headquarters.

"Jim?" came the soft whisper.

"You're going to be okay, Chief."

He dropped his gaze to Blair, who seemed to be hovering on the verge of
consciousness, and gently scooted out from underneath the young man. He
had to stop the bleeding and call for help. Eyeing the discarded
backpack, he moved away long enough to retrieve the cell phone from the
bag. Flipping it open, he dialed 911 as he slipped out of his jacket.
Holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he kept both hands free
to gently slide the balled jacket beneath his partner's head.

He relayed the information to the dispatcher, then ended the connection
and set the phone on the pavement. Taking off his shirt, he bunched it
and held the material against the stab wound. Blair's eyes opened wide
and he gasped, moaning as he raised weak hands to push against Jim's
arms.

Jim clenched his jaw, hating the fact that he was hurting his partner
but knowing it was necessary. "No, Blair. Shhh. I've got to stop the
bleeding. Just hold on. Help's on the way."

Blair lifted his head an inch to look at Jim, his eyes clouded with
pain. "Jim?"

"Just take it easy, Chief. Relax." Jim pressed harder on the wound, but
the flow of blood continued.

"I won, right?"

Jim smiled, offering a subtle nod. "Yeah, partner, you won. You did real
good."

Blair dropped his head back on to the bunched jacket, his eyes staring
blankly at the star-speckled sky above. It was a clear night, a rarity
for Cascade during the autumn months.

"Jim?"

*Where's the damn ambulance?* "Yeah, Chief?"

"I wonder -- Can you see more stars than me?"

Jim finally heard the distant wail of sirens and took a deep breath, his
shoulders sagging with relief even as he continued the pressure on
Blair's wound. "I don't know."

"We should do a test sometime."

"Okay." Right now, he'd agree to anything the kid wanted.

"You know why I said those things, don't you?"

"What things?" The sirens were louder now, audible to normal ears. Jim
knew it was only a matter of seconds before they arrived.

"To Victor when... when I was... trying to get him to fight you."

Jim swallowed hard. "Yeah. You were trying to save us."

"I knew I couldn't win and then you would die."

"You won, Chief. You beat him."

A small groan escaped the injured man and Jim felt him tense beneath his
hands.

"Hang on. The ambulance is almost here. You hear them?"

"I hurt."

"I know, Chief. Hold on."

Three police cars and an ambulance descended upon the scene and Jim
found himself surrounded. Two blue-clad paramedics dropped next to him,
immediately working on the injured man, and Jim moved back to give them
room.

"Ellison?"

Jim looked up to see Captain Banks standing behind him, his eyes dark
with concern. "What happened?"

"The Tolsas got the drop on us and forced Sandburg to fight. Them or us
kind of thing. Sandburg won and they left us alone." It was the
bare-bones explanation, but it was all Jim had the energy for at the
moment. Although he hadn't been the one fighting, he still felt as
though he'd just gone ten rounds with Hulk Hogan.

"Looks good," one of the paramedics mumbled and Jim's head snapped back
to his partner. Blair's face was pale and his forehead beaded with
sweat. His eyelids drooped halfway, but his gaze drifted lazily around
the various people hovering around him as though he wasn't quite sure
what was happening.

Jim looked to the EMT who had spoken, his heart pounding with hope. "So
he's going to be okay?"

The man nodded. "I think so. Can't say for sure 'til we get him to the
hospital, but his vitals are strong and stable and we've stopped the
bleeding. Fortunately, I don't *think* any organs were damaged."

Jim smiled with relief and rose to his feet. The paramedics lifted Blair
onto a stretcher and Jim followed quickly, hopping into the back of the
ambulance and taking up a position on the small bench next to the
stretcher.

~~~~~

"You're telling me Hairboy beat the crap out of the leader of the
Tolsas?" Brown shook his head, looking back and forth between Jim and
Simon as the Major Crimes gang huddled in the small hospital room
waiting for word on their friend.

Jim nodded, grinning. "Yeah, he was somethin' else, H. You should have
seen him. I didn't know he even *knew* those moves. He kept sidestepping
the guy, using mostly defensive tactics. Victor just kept getting more
and more pissed until..." his smile faded, his face darkening with
anger, "well, until he decided to play dirty and pull the knife.
Damn..." He closed his eyes briefly, remembering the horror he'd felt as
he'd watched the blade sink into Blair's flesh and emerged wet with
blood.

"Jim? Hey, man, he's going to be okay," Brown reassured him.

"Yeah, I know." Jim took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking at
the concerned faces around him. Simon, Joel, Rafe, Brown, and Megan had
all turned out to await word on the young man even though the paramedic
had seemed confident that Blair would pull through just fine.

As though summoned by Jim's thoughts, a man dressed in a white lab
jacket walked into the waiting room, gaining the attention of every
officer.

"Detective Ellison?"

Jim rose. "Yes, that's me. How's Sandburg?"

The doctor extended his hand. "I'm Doctor Herman. Mr. Sandburg will make
a full recovery."

Jim smiled and pumped the man's hand vigorously. "Thank you, Doctor.
Thank you. Can I see him, now?"

Herman smiled, chuckling softly. "Yes. He's been asking about you,
anyway."

~~~~~~

Jim walked into the small hospital room and saw Blair laying on a bed,
hooked up to an EKG and an IV. His eyes were open but glazed and he
turned his head to look at Jim.

"Hey," Blair croaked. "You okay?"

With a chuckle, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, Chief. You're the one laying
in a hospital bed, after all."

A small grin answered him. "You got hit on the head, though. Shoulda
figured you'd be okay. Hard head."

Jim raised his eyebrows and dropped into the chair stationed
conveniently next to the bed. "Smartass."

"You can call me Conan, now."

Jim laughed, relieved to hear Blair joking. The kid couldn't be feeling
*too* bad if he was making cracks. Placing a firm hand on Blair's arm,
he met the younger man's tired gaze. "You did good out there, Chief. I'm
impressed."

Blair smiled, his cheeks flushing red. "Thanks, Jim."

"Thank *you,* Blair. You saved our lives tonight. You won."

Blair's smile faded and he swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Jim to
stare up at the ceiling. "If I hadn't..."

"Shhh." Jim gave his partner a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. You did.
We'll talk about it later. Right now, you've got to get your rest."

"Yeah, okay." Blair's eyes drooped closed, his breathing evening out as
the medication pulled him into a thick slumber.

"Thanks, buddy," Jim whispered, patting his friend's arm. "I owe you
one." *At least a test. Next one, I'll take without grumbling. Maybe if
I'd done more of your tests I wouldn't have zoned tonight.*

With a sigh, he settled back into the chair and waited for someone to
come in and kick him out.

~~~ The End ~~~

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