Father Knows Best?

by  Freya-Kendra

Summary:  One of Blair's students has an over-protective, angry and abusive father who decides he needs a target for his aggression -- Blair.

Note:  This story was inspired by a disturbing bit of news that showed up in my local paper, in the "Police Briefs" section.  A 52-year-old man did pretty much what the father in this story does, although I use some necessary leeway in setting up the scenario.  His reason as cited was simply because he "despised" his daughter's boyfriend.  "Despise" was the word noted.  No reasons for his hatred were given in the article.

* * *

Jim was cleaning up after dinner when he cued in to the scent of lavender.  Extending his senses outward to the hallway beyond the loft’s front door, he detected the light but anxious footfalls of what must be a young woman.  Her heart was racing.  Her breathing came in a series of gasps until one long, determined intake was followed by a slow, steady exhalation.

“Sandburg?” Jim called out to his roommate, who had set up shop in the living room to grade a massive pile of essays.  “Your date’s here.”

“What date?  I don’t have a date.  I don’t have time to have a date.  I’m--.”  Blair cut off his rant when the visitor finally knocked on the door.  “And how do you know it’s for me, anyway?” He added.

“Trust me.”  Jim wiped his hands and tossed the dishtowel casually over his left shoulder as he made his way toward the door.  When he opened it, he recognized the woman from a handful of encounters in Blair’s office at Rainier.

“Amy, isn’t it?” He asked, smiling. 

She smiled back, but it was just a quick upturn of her lips.  She was clearly not geared up for small talk.  “That’s right,” she answered anyway, seeming distracted.  “And you’re Jim, right?”

He nodded as Blair moved up beside him, and then backed away to give the two some privacy.

“Amy?” Sandburg greeted.  “What are you doing here?  I didn’t—”

“I’m sorry to bother you like this,” she interrupted.  “I know you’re busy, but I just, I wanted to say goodbye in person.”

“Goodbye?  What … are you leaving for Borneo already?  I didn’t think that was—”

“No.”  She raised her hand to stop him and shook her head emphatically.  “Not that, Blair.  I’m not … I’m not going to Borneo.  I’m not going … anywhere, except home to Seattle.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s no use.  My dad, he … he’s just so angry about … about everything.  He refuses to accept my going into anthropology.  He calls it a stupid, worthless waste of my time and his money.”

“If it’s about funding, there are fellowships and—”

“It’s not really about money, Blair.  It’s about … I don’t know.  He’s old fashioned, you know?  He doesn’t like the idea of me getting my hands dirty and traipsing through jungles with a bunch of animals—”

“And by ‘animals,’” Blair interrupted, “he’s including people like me, isn’t he?”

As Jim put another dish into the draining rack he noticed Amy did not answer.

“I’m sorry, Amy,” Blair went on.  “This is all my fault.”

“How?” She prodded, the volume of her voice rising.  “How is it your fault?  How can I blame you for encouraging me to go with my heart for a change?  How can I blame you for helping me to finally get excited about something?  No, Blair.  The only one at fault is my dad.  Somehow, someday I’ll get through to him, but for now….”

“Look, Amy, I don’t … I know it’s none of my business, but you know you don’t need your dad’s approval to—”

“Legally, no, I don’t.  But emotionally, yeah, I do.  He’s my dad, Blair.  And for all his faults….”

Her voice trailed away as Jim detected an increase in her heartbeat.  There was a change in her scent as well.  She was afraid.  He heard her mention the word ‘love’ to explain her feelings for her dad, but Jim could tell the word that really belonged there was ‘fear.’  She was afraid of her own father.

Jim barely knew her, but he felt a sudden strong inclination to help – an inclination he had to suppress.  It was none of his business.  He shook his head and turned back toward the two in the doorway in time to see Blair grab his jacket and keys.

“Hey, Jim,” Sandburg said lightly.  “We’re just going for a short drive.  I won’t be long.”

When the door closed behind his roommate, Jim felt his own heartbeat increasing.  The inclination to help was gnawing away at him like never before.  He fought against the urge to follow Blair and Amy by trying to pace off a growing sense of urgency.   

* * * * *

Amy's dad was waiting outside.

"Get away from her, you no good piece of shit."

Blair heard the voice behind him and tensed.

"Give him a break, dad," Amy called out as she stepped into Blair's Volvo.  "Give *me* a break."  Then she turned to Blair. "Ignore him."

Blair did as she asked and pulled out of his parking spot, keeping a watchful eye on his rear-view mirror.  He'd barely gotten a block away before he saw the front end of an SUV racing up behind him.

"So much for giving us a break," he said, carefully pressing down on his accelerator to stay well in front of Amy's dad.

Amy looked back over her shoulder.  "I don't believe him!"  She waved her hands, gesturing for her father to back off.

He didn't.  Instead, he moved closer.  The SUV bumped the rear of the Volvo.

"God!" Amy shouted.

"Is there something I should know about your father?" Blair shouted as he tried to maintain control of his car.  He eyed an approaching red light with concern.

"You mean besides the fact that he's out of his mind?  Honestly, he's never done anything this crazy before."

"Nothing *this* crazy?  Does that mean he's done *some* crazy before?"

The SUV bumped them again.  Blair struggled with his steering wheel as his car veered toward oncoming traffic.

"What is he trying to do?"  He shouted.  "Doesn't he know you're in the car, too?"

"He doesn't care, Blair.  He's just totally freaked.  All he wants is to...."  She looked at Blair, and did not finish her sentence.

Blair glanced her way until he noticed the SUV begin to cruise up alongside him.  "What, Amy?" He shouted as he hit the brake in time to come to a screeching halt at the red light.  "He wants to *what*?"

The SUV flew across the intersection to a blare of angry horns, and then spun around, leaving a black trail of melted tire tread.

"I don't know, Blair!"  Amy shouted back.  "Okay?  I don't know.  I just know he thinks you screwed up my life by getting me into anthropology."

The SUV was coming at them head-on.  Blair hit the gas and turned right just as the light switched to green.  He heard the squeal of tires as the SUV peeled after him.  An instant later, it bumped into his driver's side door and held there.  Blair wasn't sure about the physics of it all, whether it was simple momentum or whether Amy's dad actually had some amount of control over the two vehicles, but the Volvo was pushed up the curb alongside a convenience store.

"Get out," he shouted to Amy, never taking his eyes off the SUV.

"What?"

"Go inside.  Tell them to call the police.  Tell them to--"

Blair ducked and bolted sideways as a crowbar slammed into his side window.  He felt more than heard Amy jump out of the car, and then scrambled to follow her.  He landed on one knee in a patch of gravel and glass-strewn grass.

"Dad!" Amy screamed.  "What are you doing?  Stop it!  Stop it!"

A flash of something black caught Blair's eye and he swiveled sideways just as the crowbar slammed down on his open passenger door.

"What the hell's wrong with you, man?"  Blair pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand between Amy and her father.

"Me?" The older man shouted.  "What's wrong with *me*?  It's you, maggot.  You're what's wrong!"  He tossed the crowbar to the ground, lurched forward, grabbed the collar of Blair's shirt and threw him away from his daughter with more strength than his thin frame suggested he might possess.

*Adrenaline,* Blair realized.  Then a fist was rammed into his face, again and again, and the only thing Blair could give any thought to at all was how the hell he could get it to stop.

* * * * *

They were not hard to follow. 

Jim had shifted from pacing mode to blessed protector mode the instant he heard the one-sided shouting match coming from the parking lot below.  By the time he heard the bump of metal-on-metal when Amy's dad first rammed Sandburg's Volvo, Jim was already in his truck.  The rest was like following a trail of loaf-sized bread crumbs; between the sounds of pursuit and the fresh tire marks in the road it was easy for Jim to track them down.

He arrived on the scene to find two young women struggling to pull Amy's father away from the crumpled form of Blair Sandburg.

The first woman, an employee of the convenience store, was thrown into the brick wall of the building.  She grabbed her arm and then caught sight of Jim, flashing him a pained and frightened look as a silent plea for help. Giving his attention back to the struggle, Jim saw Amy get thrown to the ground. 

Jim jumped in just as Amy's father raised his arm once more toward Blair.  Grabbing the arm before it could land another punch, Jim threw his other fist into the man's jaw hard enough to result in a sharp *crack.*  Another punch to the gut caused the man to double over, and a third dropped him to the ground.  Jim wasted no time after that, making sure Amy's dad was handcuffed and sufficiently rendered incapable of causing any further harm. 

"Way to go with the cavalry, Jim," Blair said, his speech slightly slurred.

Jim turned toward his friend. "That's what I'm here for," he answered lightly despite the anger still seething within him as he began to assess the damage to his friend. "To serve and protect."

Blair's left eye was already swelling shut, and blood was streaming along the right side of his face from a gash near his eyebrow.  His bottom lip was split, sending more blood down his chin.  But Jim was far more concerned about the way Sandburg was holding his arm against his stomach.  When the sentinel placed his hand on Blair's abdomen and pressed gently, the responding hiss from his guide confirmed he had reason to be concerned.

"Looks like it might take a little more than a bag of frozen peas to fix you up this time, Chief."

"Blair!" Amy knelt down beside them before Sandburg could respond.  "I am so sorry about this.  I can't believe--"

"Get away from him, Amy!" Her dad shouted out.

Jim saw Amy close her eyes.  She seemed to be forcing herself to ignore the man.

"I said get away from that piece of garbage!  He's scum; the scum of the earth.  He doesn't deserve anything from you!"

Jim could hear the first sounds of sirens approaching as Amy swiveled around to confront her father.  "He doesn't deserve this from you! And neither do I!"

"I ought to--"

"What?  What are you going to do, Dad, huh?  Slap me?  Not this time.  Not anytime ever again.  Guess what?  I'm staying in school.  In fact, I'm going to Borneo.  I can't believe I was going to let you win.  But you're the one who blew it.  You blew it, Dad.  You, not me."  She started to sob, and the convenience store clerk wrapped a protective arm around her.

Jim nodded to the clerk as she began to lead Amy toward the store's front entrance, making way for the uniformed officers who had just arrived.

"Damn," Blair said softly.  "You know, Jim, sometimes I really wish I could have known my father; but then, sometimes, like now...."  He shook his head, cringed in pain, and then took a shaky breath.  "I wonder if I'm better off not knowing," he added finally.

As the uniforms put Amy's dad into the back of a squad car, Jim couldn't help but think of his own father.

"It's hard to say, Chief," he answered then.  "Just be glad for what you did have.  Naomi may not exactly be Mrs. Cleaver, but as far as parents go, I wouldn't complain if I were you."

"I wouldn't dream of complaining.  Are you kidding?  I wouldn't want that kind of karma hanging over my head."  Blair laughed softly, cringed again and closed his eyes.  "Hey, Jim?  You mind driving me home, man?  I think my car's going to need some work."

"Sure.  I'll drive you home.  Right after the hospital says I can."

"Hospital?  No, Jim.  Come on.  I'm ...."  Blair cringed and groaned.  "Fine, man.  I'm fine."

"Yeah.  Sure you are.  And so is your car."

Jim smiled as he moved out of the way to allow the newly arrived EMT's to do their job.  Then he looked over to where Amy was giving her statement to another officer, and he realized he had a job to do as well.  Major Crimes might not exactly be the department normally called upon to handle domestic disputes, but this particular dispute had crossed a line.  Jim would personally see to it that sufficient charges were filed against Amy's father to ensure both her own ongoing well-being and Sandburg's.  And then he would personally see to it that Amy did not lose the courage she had shown tonight, a courage that had undoubtedly been inspired by one Blair Sandburg. 

Sandburg might be a trouble magnet, but he was also a damn good teacher, mentor, and, most importantly, friend.  Jim would never admit it aloud, but he liked the idea of being Blair's 'blessed protector.'  In fact, he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * * * *

<end>

End Note:  The real story did involve a car chase.  There was bumping involved, and the dad did force the boyfriend's car off the road -- and yes, the daughter was in the car as well; that didn't seem to bother the dad at all.  They ended up outside a party store (i.e. a liquor store) rather than a convenience store.  There was a female clerk who tried to help the daughter get the dad to stop beating up the boyfriend.  Charges to be filed included felonious assault, misdemeanor assault, and another charge I can't remember at the moment.  I also believe the clerk did suffer a shoulder injury.  I don't know if the boyfriend is a 'good person' or not, but if I was the daughter, I can't see how I could ever forgive the dad.....

~ end ~