Unavoidable

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Blair drove carefully, ignoring the grumbles of the grouchy Sentinel in the seat next to him. Jim's truck was in the shop, and the detective was not happy about it. He'd stopped making bad jokes about the Volvo, though. At least for now. Blair knew they'd start up again as soon as Sweetheart was back on the road.

He'd take the break, he thought, stealing a glance over at Jim. It got old. The Sentinel was teasing, Blair knew that. But still...

He sighed, turning his attention back to the road. They'd been on their way home when Jim's cell phone rang, summoning them to a hostage situation. Halfway there, it had rung again, with an all-clear. Rather than take the long way around, Blair had decided to cut through a new suburban development. Although the roads were marked for thirty-five, he was playing it safe, knowing there were kids in those houses.

Moving at thirty miles an hour was driving Jim nuts. Blair listened to him shifting about in the passenger seat, but knew he wouldn't say a word. Some of the curves were sharp, and a child in the street wouldn't have a chance. He glanced over again, smiling at the utter martydom he could see on Jim's face.

Pulling his eyes away from the Sentinel, he looked ahead. Swearing, he jammed his foot hard onto the brake pedal, shuddering as he felt the impact. A soft thud sounded as the car came to a stop. Turning it off, he leaped out, Jim joining him as they looked under the car. Blair bit his lip as he saw the small white dog who lay, whining and wiggling, beneath the engine.

Swallowing hard as the little dog crawled out from under the Volvo, Blair reached for him, ignoring Jim's low-voiced warning. He cradled the injured animal gently, watching helplessly as he gasped for breath, once-pink tongue fading to stark white as Blair shook his head in denial. He raised imploring eyes to Jim, knowing it was too late.

Jerked from a pleasant daydream of swinging around the curves at speeds he knew he'd never actually use while driving them, Jim flinched at the sound of his Guide's curse. Bracing as the car came to an abrupt halt, he swore himself as he heard the sickening crack of breaking bones and a small yelp. Swinging the door open, he closed his eyes briefly as he saw what they'd hit.

The little dog crawled out, his gasping cries almost inaudible even to Jim. As he neared the edge of the car, Blair reached for him, not hesitating at Jim's sharp caution. It didn't really matter, Jim knew. Although in most instances touching a dog hit by a car is likely to get you bitten, this little one was too far gone already. The Sentinel could see the flail chest from multiple broken ribs, could hear the blood pouring out of the ruptured aorta.

Within seconds every trace of color was gone as the dog bled out internally. As Blair raised pleading eyes to Jim, he heard the tiny heart stop. His own heart aching, he shook his head, wincing at the utter desolation he saw in Blair's face.

"No, it wasn't, Jim," Blair answered, running his hand gently over the still body, flinching as he felt the air that Jim could see moving beneath the skin, proof of collapsed lungs. Sliding his fingers under the dog's collar, he looked back at Jim. "I couldn't have avoided hitting him, that's true. But his owners could have kept him out of the street."

Jim sighed, nodding slowly. "Yeah. They could have." He hesitated, then went on. "We have to locate them, Chief."

Blair smiled, his expression heartbreakingly sad. He looked over at the house they were stopped in front of. "That won't be hard, Jim," he said, nodding to the woman who had just stepped onto the porch. Jim watched as she looked around, gasping as she saw the two men. As she ran over to them, crying already, he looked back at his friend, expecting anger but seeing only grief. As he waited for Blair to point out the existence of leashes and fences, he could only wonder as Blair spoke.

Notes:
This is in memory of Sparky, one of the brightest, happiest little dogs that I have ever met. I first saw him as a seven-week pup with a horrible skin infection caused by the uncleanliness of his breeders. Once we got that cleared up, we had to deal with the immense pain caused by the hip dysplasia that he was born with. At four months of age, he was diagnosed with a disease called mandibular osteopathy, a rare bone disease that kills 99% of the animals who develop it before they are a year old. It was beginning to look like he was going to be in the one percent that go into remission. He was hit by a car today, because he just ran out in front of it. From the condition of his body, and the reports of his owners, he died very much as I have described.

In his short eight months of life, Sparky dealt with more pain than eight years should have held. He shouldn't have died like that. I couldn't say anything to his owners about leashes or fences - they'll be telling themselves for a long time. But please, please, those of you with dogs that you love, keep them out of the streets. For everybody's sake.