Disclaimers:
Summary:
Warnings:
Notes:
|
"
by
Blair Sandburg rushed through the halls of Rainier. He was late. Really late and Jim was going to be pissed. Of that he was certain. Jim had spent nearly an hour that morning telling him how important it was for him to be on time that afternoon. And he had planned on being there on time, early even. But, as is the usual, the anthropologist was sidetracked.
An unexpected department meeting, mid-terms, and unrelenting students whining about grades all contributed to his being late and he hoped that whatever it was they were supposed to do this afternoon wasn't on a tight time schedule.
Parking his car hurriedly, Blair made his way through the precinct into Major Crimes. His eyes swept the room, looking for his Sentinel. Finding the desk empty, Blair worried that Jim had already left.
"You're late." Henri Brown laughed in his ear from behind him.
Blair whirled around. "Yeah, I know."
H nodded his head towards Simon's office. Blair followed the motion and found Jim listening to something the captain was saying. Whatever it was brought a scowl to Jim's face and not for the first time, Blair wished he had Jim's senses.
Shaking his head, he sat down in front of Jim's computer and began working on some of the never-ending paperwork. Whatever it was that had Jim frowning, he would hear about it soon enough.
****
"This case is very high profile. I can't afford to have anyone else working on it. You're my best team." Simon looked over at Jim to make sure he was paying attention. "Where is Sandburg anyway?"
Jim nodded his head slightly towards his desk, where Blair looked to be engrossed in paperwork. He had heard the familiar beat of his Guide's heart long before he had made his way into Major Crimes.
Simon followed his gaze and nodded. "Good." He waved his hands toward the door. "Get going." Simon watched as his best detective left his office and made his way towards his partner. He wondered briefly if he would ever understand the dynamics of their relationship, and then just as briefly wondered if he really wanted to.
****
"Hey, Chief, let's go." Jim grabbed his jacked and headed towards the door, not even pausing to see if Blair would follow him.
Once Blair climbed into the truck he turned to his best friend. "Jim, man, I'm sorry about being late. I had this impromptu meeting, and then some students were asking about their grades, and mid-terms, and." he paused, realizing Jim hadn't said anything, "Jim, man, you okay? What did Simon say?"
Jim listened to Blair's explanation and was soothed by the sound of his voice. He had been on edge all week and his caseload had doubled, causing him to lose more nights of sleep than he could actively remember. His Guide's work at the university had caused them to not see much of each other except the hurried morning when they were both rushing out to work.
He had been so adamant about Blair not being late more because he wanted to make sure he'd actually make it to the station than because he had an appointment they couldn't miss. But then this case had been thrown in their laps and he was glad to have Blair with him. Too glad to even be upset that the anthropologist was late. He was always late.
"Jim?" The voice was questioning, but yet soothing in its calmness as a hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder lightly. "You alright?"
Jim blinked, bringing reality back into focus. He turned his head slightly and smiled reassuringly. "Yeah. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
Jim handed him a folder that he had thrown onto the dash of his truck and waited for the anthropologist to read through the information there.
Blair read through all the information and looked up at Jim. "Gina Villarandes? Is she related to that body that was found from that case we worked last year? Or is this just a coincidence?"
Jim smiled. "I don't believe in coincidences."
"I didn't think so. So, where are we going? And do we actually expect to find anything?"
"That warehouse they were using last year was cleared out, but we never went back after that explosion. I was hoping maybe something might have been left behind." Jim explained as he turned off of the freeway.
Blair nodded. He had a feeling there was something else Jim wasn't saying, but knew that when he was ready, he'd talk about it. As the truck was pulled into the parking lot, Blair remembered the last time that they had been here. It wasn't a pleasant memory.
John Villarandes had been a mercenary who was stockpiling weapons and explosives. It was uncertain what exactly he was going to do with them. Sell them to the highest bidder maybe? Finance his own little war? They weren't sure, and never found out.
They had tracked him to this warehouse and had gone in after him. Jim had had a major zone-out. Sensory overload had nearly cost him his life. Blair had barely pulled him out of there before the first explosion hit. Several more had followed and it had taken a team nearly a week to find all the body parts left from their mercenary friend.
The case had been closed but there had always seemed like there was something else. some piece of the puzzle that they had missed. There was something about that day at the warehouse that Jim had never told him. Some reason behind the near-fatale zone-out that the detective had failed to share.
It was this event, more than any other, which had brought several events in the anthropologist's life into focus. Things he could no longer ignore, but yet had continued to hide. He wondered if this new case was going to bring the past forward to bite him in the ass.
****
Gina Villarandes looked through her binoculars and smiled. Perfect. She knew it was only a matter of time before they took the bait and ensnared themselves in her trap. Then, she could finish what was started, and her cousin would have his justice.
****
Jim looked around the charred wreckage carefully. His eyes scanning every inch of space, seeing things no one else could possibly see, and still, finding nothing. He extended his senses as far as he could, without zoning, hoping for something, anything that would give him a clue as to what John Villarandes had been doing in this warehouse, and where they could find Gina.
She was an enigma, as far as he could tell. When they had tracked John to Cascade, and to the warehouse, little was known about his partner. Only that he had one, and they were just as dangerous, if not more so than John himself. However when John died in an explosion of his own creation, nothing was ever discovered about his partner, or their whereabouts.
As time passed, and the case was stamped unsolved, Jim had moved on to other cases. But there was always something about that one that never made sense. Some piece of information he had been missing. He had no doubt that eventually the elusive partner would resurface. It looked like that time had come.
"Jim." Blair's voice came from somewhere behind him.
"What is it, Chief?" Jim turned around to find his partner digging through a pile of burned wood and plastic.
"I think I found something." Blair began throwing the burnt pieces around, trying to reach a heavily singed metal box, which had been buried. After several seconds, he reached the handle and pulled it forth.
"A safe box?" Jim asked incredulously. "In the middle of a warehouse?" He shook his head. That didn't seem right.
Blair ignored his question and began trying to pry the latch on the box. Nearly a minute later the pop of the latch being broken sounded in the silent warehouse. "Got it."
Jim stepped forward and pulled the lid opened, carefully. He wasn't sure what he had expected to be in there, but whatever it was, it wasn't what he found.
"Well, what do we have here?" Jim looked at his partner with a raised eyebrow.
Blair matched the expression with one of his own. Inside the metal box was money. Lots of it, stacked neatly. At the very top was a small slip of paper with a name and an address.
"Brian Whitaker. Should I know that name?" Blair asked aloud.
"No, but I should." Jim grabbed the box and started walking out of the warehouse, Blair following behind him.
****
Gina Villarandes watched through binoculars as her prey left the warehouse, bait firmly in hand. She smiled to herself. The trap was set. It was only a matter of time.
Once they were gone, Gina made her way towards the warehouse herself. After coating every conceivable surface liberally with gasoline, she made a trail from the center of the building out to just outside the door, where she lit the fuse, as it were, with a book of matches.
She was nearly two blocks away by the time the explosion was felt shaking the very foundation of the road. Turning around briefly, she saw the flash of flames and the billowing smoke they created. Shaking her head at the mess, Gina disappeared down a side road.
She knew that it was unlikely that there had been anything in the warehouse to help Ellison in his search for answers, but she couldn't take that chance. Blowing up the building seemed like the safest course of action. Besides the building itself held the key to what it was her and her cousin had been doing in Cascade, and she couldn't take the risk of anyone finding out what had happened here, and why.
****
Blair watched his best friend carefully. Jim was driving down the road, steadily, not paying more attention than was necessary to operate the truck. Something was bothering him. His face was set in a stony mask and his jaw kept clenching and unclenching.
"You gonna tell me who Brian Whitaker is?" Blair asked quietly after several minutes.
Jim ignored him until they pulled into the parking lot of the Cascade PD. "No."
Blair nodded to himself as he climbed out of the truck.
Jim was nearly inside the building when he realized that Blair wasn't following him. He turned around and saw Blair open the door to his own car, several yards away. "Chief?"
Blair stopped and turned around. "I have work to do. When you're ready to talk about whatever has you all tied up. you know where to find me." Blair climbed into his car and started the engine, thanking whatever God that would listen that it actually started.
He sat in the car, waiting, hoping, that Jim would stop him. That he would come over and tell him not to leave. That he would trust him enough to share whatever it was that was bothering him. When he dared to look up, he saw that Jim wasn't even there anymore. He had gone inside, leaving Blair alone. Always alone.
Isn't that what it always amounted to?
Blair backed out of his parking space as he thought about his situation. He wasn't entirely certain what it was he was doing. He didn't need Jim anymore, at least not for his research. And Jim certainly didn't need him. So why? Why did he continue to follow him around? Why did he still live with him? Why did he continue to insinuate himself into Jim's life, knowing all the while that he was more of an annoyance than anything else?
The answer was simple. Love. Such as simple word for such a complex emotion. Although it wasn't complex. Not really. Blair loved Jim. He probably had from that very first moment when he had walked into that hospital room and made some excuse about the pronunciation of the name of the doctor he was impersonating.
One look into those eyes, and he knew that he could get lost there, and he had. Completely and utterly lost. He knew, even then that his life would never be the same. The moment he had seen Jim come into his office, he knew that his fate had been sealed.
Blair sighed as he pulled into a parking space at Rainier University. He needed to get his mind off of Jim and on to something he actually had control over.
The university was all but abandoned this time of evening, and that suited him just fine. He walked into his office and settled down in his desk and began to go over midterms. It was nearly three hours later when his vision started to blur and he closed the program he was working on.
He had finished working on his notes for his next class and had begun the final draft of his dissertation. He had had to do some creative editing in order to keep Jim's name out of it, but in the end, he felt that it was not only worth it, but the study had not been compromised by his altering of the facts.
Feeling confident with what he had written, Blair saved the file and began to print a fresh copy out. He had an appointment with the Dissertation committee in three days, and wanted to give Jim time to read and approve of the final draft.
As the printer began spitting out pages, Blair turned to his window and looked out at the stars shining outside, and was lost once again in his own thoughts. He needed to decide what to do. Should he look for another place to live? Should he leave Cascade?
He wanted desperately to stay, to continue to be Jim's Guide, for the rest of his life. But the reality was that Jim didn't really need a Guide anymore, and he certainly didn't need him as a partner, nor did he probably want one.
But could he leave? Could he pack up his things and walk out of Jim's life? He didn't think so, but he may not have a choice in the matter.
So lost in his own thoughts, Blair failed to hear the sound. It wasn't until he felt the cold metal against his back that he realized he wasn't alone.
*****
Jim rubbed his eyes as he looked at his computer screen. He was tired, and he hadn't gotten very far in finding the information he needed. He tried not to look at the clock. Not to notice how late it was, or the fact that Blair hadn't called him, or gone home himself.
He had checked. He had called the loft no less than half a dozen times in the past two hours. No answer. He was tempted to call Blair's cell phone, but refused to let his Guide know that he cared that much.
He still had no answer to the questions that Blair had asked. He wasn't even sure he knew what the questions were. This case was bringing about memories he had wanted to stay buried. John Villarandes died because of his own stupidity, but it was Jim's inaction, his refusal to use the weapons at his disposal, which had haunted him.
His near-fatale zone-out which had caused the explosion. And the reasons behind that Zone-out were something he wasn't ready to admit, yet. At least not to Blair. There was too much at stake to take that risk.
Jim shook his head, clearing his thoughts away, until he had time to deal with them. Right now, he had work to do. Typing in some new information into the computer, he waited for the results to be pulled up.
Nearly forty minutes later, he was emersed in a file. He compared the information in John Villarandes file with what he knew of Brian Whitaker, trying to come up with some connection. Something, anything that would explain his name with the money they had found.
As he searched his mind for the answers, he felt a cold chill run down his spine. He froze. Blair was in trouble. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did.
Jumping away from his desk, the Sentinel rushed away from Major Crimes and practically ran to his truck. His Guide was in trouble.
Blair stiffened at the feel of the metal through his shirt. He continued looking outside, and waited for the intruder to say something. When no further sound was heard, Blair began to relax, if only slightly.
He recognized that he was in a very precarious position, but there wasn't much he could do at this point, not until the person with the gun made some sort of move.
"Are we going to stand here all night?" He knew that one day his mouth would get him into trouble and maybe today was that day.
Blair felt the weapon removed from his back and started to turn around cautiously. He had barely turned to face his attacker when he felt that same cold metal smacked up against his forehead. He could feel his feet giving out under him just as the pain started to reverberate in his head. And then everything went black.
Gina Villarandes watched the body fall to the ground and smiled. She walked back out to the hall as she holstered her gun. When she reached the deserted hallway she nodded to the two men who were waiting outside.
"Put him in the truck and take him back to the warehouse."
One of the men, Paul Brandison, looked up at her. He was young, but his eyes were hard, as if he had seen a lot of death in his young life. "Where are you going?"
Gina smiled viciously. "I have a message to deliver to our dear Detective Ellison."
Paul nodded and went into Blair's office to retrieve the body.
After they were gone, Gina re-entered the office and left a calling card on the anthropologist's desk. She knew that he would know it was a trap, but it was doubtful he would be able to resist going anyway.
He would risk his life to save his partners, just as he had all those months ago. Blair Sandburg was Jim Ellison's weak link, and she intended to exploit it.
****
Jim Ellison wasted no time in getting to the University. He wasn't entirely certain what it was that drove him. What had caused his sudden insight to know that Blair was in trouble, or how he knew exactly where to find him. It was rather late, and on a normal night, Blair would most likely have been long gone by now.
But somehow, despite all of that, Jim knew he would find his Guide there. At least he hoped he did. But the closer he got to Blair's office, the more wrong everything seemed.
He entered the office cautiously, listening for any out of place sounds. Unfortunately the sound which was ever present in his mind was the one that wasn 't there. Blair's heartbeat. A sound he could track anywhere. Could find in any room, among any mass of people. It was gone. And for a split second, he feared the worst.
Pushing his fears aside, Jim made his way into the office, turning up all of his senses in an effort to figure out what may have happened. The room itself looked no different than it usually did, except he noticed that there were several sheets of paper lying on the floor beneath his desk. It looked as though they had fallen out of the printer.
Jim examined the desk, paying special attention to the printer. He noticed that it was on, and still had a piece of paper sitting in the tray, as well as several more beneath it. The computer itself was still on and showing what, at first glance, looked to be a report of some sort. On closer inspection, Jim recognized a few key phrases and realized it was Blair's dissertation.
He bent down to pick up the papers, which had fallen there. Sure enough, there was his research, all laid out in terms only a scientist could understand. Jim smiled fondly for a second, before he remembered why he was there.
Finding the office empty, and Blair's dissertation sprawled along the floor, told Jim that something had happened. His Guide never would have left his work unattended like this.
Walking away from the desk, Jim examined the room more closely, turning up his sense of smell. He could still smell Blair's scent in the air, which considering this was his office, and he had been here recently, wasn't surprising.
However, he could also smell a number of things, which he normally didn't. The faint hint of a woman's perfume, the smell of sweat from two people who were *not* his guide, the familiar odor of gun oil, and a slight hint of blood. Blair's blood.
He recognized the smell from shortly after the two had met and a dozen other times since then. He traced the smell to a small spot on the floor. It wasn't much more than a speck, and obviously wasn't caused by any significant damage.
Even so, the idea that he had been wounded, obviously by someone carrying a gun, if the smell of gun oil was any indication. He searched the room one more time, looking for any sign of what could have happened and why.
Spotting a small box on the windowsill of the office, Jim narrowed in on it with all five senses, examining it for any traces of an explosive or other danger. Finding none, the Sentinel picked up the box and carefully opened it.
Inside there was a slip of paper and a small piece of clay. He didn't recognize the clay as anything significant, but held onto it just the same. The paper was folded in half and held one word on the top.
"Boo." Jim read aloud. He opened the paper and read the taunt. "Come and get me."
The handwriting was clear and concise, but the paper held the faint trace of lotion, no doubt from the hands of the one who wrote it. He could also pick up a whiff of the perfume he smelled when he first entered the room.
He frowned, not entirely certain where to find Blair. The note had said he should come and get him. A trap, obviously, but that didn't matter. He had to find Blair, no matter the cost. The question now was were to look? There wasn' t an address provided, which was odd, considering it was a trap.
He left the office in a rush, suddenly realizing where he could go to find his missing partner.
Brian Whitaker. He hadn't heard that name for months, until earlier that day. And he would be perfectly happy to never hear it again. He had threatened to destroy his life and the most important thing in it.
After the building had exploded and John Villarandes body was discovered, in pieces, Jim had gone looking for Whitaker, only to find he had disappeared. He had been furious to find him gone, but eventually hoped that he had seen the last of him.
Now it appeared, that wasn't the case and all his fears and concerns came rushing back. He didn't know if he was ready to face the things that happened all those months ago. If he was ready to tell Blair why he had zoned. If Blair would even understand his reasons. And if he did understand, would he blame him for them? Would he hate him? He didn't know, and was afraid to find out.
Jim climbed into his truck as he pushed his fears and concerns to the back of his mind. Two blocks away from the address they had found in the box at the warehouse, Jim got a sudden chill. He didn't know what had caused it. The temperature in the truck hadn't been significantly altered. But something was wrong, he could feel it.
Suddenly, he changed gears and turned the truck around abruptly. He drove towards the industrial end of town, towards where the warehouse was located. He wasn't sure what was driving him there, but he had the sudden need to go back to where it had all started.
Pushing his foot on the gas pedal, Jim sped down the road, hoping he wasn't wasting his time, and putting his Guide's life further in danger.
****
Blair came to with a sharp pain in his head. He tried to move but found his body was hanging limply from several thick chains. With a slight groan, he opened his eyes, and shuddered at the sight which greeted him.
The warehouse. Or, at least what had once been the warehouse. It was in worse shape than it had been earlier that day when they found the safebox. And if the smell was any indication, someone had attempted to burn the building down. Attempted, and very nearly succeeded. There wasn't much left, aside from a handful of structural beams, one of which he was chained from, and charred and burnt wreckage. Smoke was still thick in the air, and burned his eyes.
Sucking in a breath to calm his nerves, the anthropologist looked around frantically, searching for any sign of his kidnapper.
"Good, you're awake. I'd hate for you to sleep through the good stuff."
Blair turned his head around, trying to face the voice. It was a woman's voice he didn't recognize, but he had a pretty good idea he knew who it was.
"The good stuff?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and his heart from beating out of his chest.
The woman walked around so Blair could see her clearly. She was smiling, but it wasn't a nice expression. "Why, your death of course."
Blair nodded carefully. "Of course." He jiggled his chains trying to get loose, to no avail.
"Don't you even care why you're going to die?" The woman asked, curious as to why he didn't seemed surprised by his eminent death.
Blair tried to shrug, but not very successfully. "Let me guess. You want to get to Detective Ellison, for some contrived reason, and you think kidnapping me, or killing me, or whatever, is the way to do it." He paused and took a deep breath. "But it won't work."
Gina Villarandes arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"
Blair closed his eyes as his head continued to throb. "Because, either he'll get here and stop you before you kill me. Or, he'll get here after you kill me. Either way, you'll be in jail, and he'll go on with his life." He spoke the words as calmly as he could muster, all the while hoping that Jim wouldn't be able to move on with his life quite so easily.
Gina laughed. "Even if you are correct, and I did go to jail, you're Mr. Ellison would be tortured with the knowledge that he could have saved you and didn't. He failed."
Blair opened his eyes at the grating sound of her laughter. "You overestimate my importance." Blair groaned as his wrists scraped against the chains.
"Gina waved him away. "Enough talk." She walked around him and he strained to see what she was doing, but the angle prevented him from moving. So he closed his eyes and tried to listen instead. He didn't have Jim's senses but he could still use what he did have.
He heard her walk several feet behind him and speak to someone. The words were whispered and he couldn't make out much of anything. After a few minutes she started walking towards him once again, still staying behind him.
He heard her stop just behind him. If he had been capable of moving in a more fluid manner he might have had a chance of taking her out. But as it was, he could do little more than hang like some bass caught on a fishing line. He felt her press something to his back, just a couple of inches above his tailbone, and instinctively knew it was a gun.
"You may be right, but I don't think so." She spoke softly. "Say goodnight Mr. Sandburg."
Blair closed his eyes in resignation. "Goodnight Mr. Sandburg."
He heard the trigger being pulled just milliseconds before he felt the pain. It ripped through his body, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He tried to remain conscious as he felt his own blood sliding down his body. His body went limp as he struggled to stay awake. The pain was spiraling through him as his head continued to pound furiously.
His entire body began to go numb as he slipped from consciousness, and drifted into death.
****
The instant Jim drove into the parking lot, he knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong. That feeling was only multiplied when he climbed out of his truck and made his way towards the building at light speed. It wasn't the charred wreckage of what had been a fairly safe warehouse only hours before, or even the knowledge that someone had purpose destroyed the building, obviously right after he and Blair had left. It wasn't even the absence of any vehicles as far as he could see.
It was the silence. A stillness that didn't seem natural. The air itself seemed stagnant, despite the fact that the warehouse no longer had a roof to speak of, giving it an 'open-air' quality.
Even with his senses dialed down, he could smell the burned wood and plastic and the feel of the smoke stung his eyes. He turned his senses up slightly, searching for something, anything that would tell him what had happened here and why.
At first there was nothing. Nothing but the smell of burnt wreckage, gasoline and smoke, and the faint hint of the chemicals, which had caused the original explosion, were still drifting through the air. The sight of all the broken beams and fused metal was like a kaleidoscope on his sensitive eyes.
What startled him the most was the silence. He had been so sure that Blair would be here, but he couldn't sense him. Couldn't see him among the wreckage, for which he was thankful. He couldn't hear his breathing or the sound of his heart. He couldn't even smell him, not above the thick smoke, which was still visible in the air, if he looked hard enough.
Jim concentrated, turning down his taste and touch, while turning up his sense of smell and hearing, hoping to find some trace of Blair somewhere, or something that would tell him he had been wrong and Blair wasn't here at all.
Suddenly, he heard it. The faint sounds of a heart beating. It was weak, and accompanied by the ragged sounds of shallow breathing. Stepping closer to where he thought the sound was coming from, Jim's sensitive nose picked up the smell of blood.
Blair's blood. He would recognize the scent anywhere. And this time, unlike earlier in the office, there was a lot of it. He tore through a heavy sheet of metal, which was obstructing his way into a back section of the warehouse.
When he reached his destination, he looked around frantically for his Guide, all his senses now trained on the rapidly dwindling heartbeat.
When he found him, his heart stopped. He was chained up to one of the few standing structural beams, his body hanging limply like an animal which had recently been slaughtered, a puddle of his own blood pooling on the ground below where his feet hovered in the air, held up by the chain.
Jim's movements were so quick that he barely even recognized he was moving. He didn't even realize what he was doing until it was done. He forcefully pulled Blair from the manacles, calling 911 as he did so. He didn't even hear his own voice speaking as he gave his address to the operator.
He slumped to the floor, holding the limp body in his arms, saturating himself in his partner's blood.
"Chief, you gotta be okay." He whispered more to himself than to the slowly dying body in his arms.
His hands were covered in his Guide's blood as he felt the opening of the wound. He closed his eyes and concentrated on nothing but touch. Feeling where the hole had ripped through that precious body, leaving a gaping wound that he wanted desperately to fix. He could feel the blood as it continued to flow, the nerves as they ceased to function correctly, the damage that was even now still being done, long after the bullet had made itself at home in a body it should never have had a chance to enter.
Jim could see nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, smell nothing. Touch was all that was left. The feeling of the sticky blood oozing out of Blair's body. The feel of the heart growing weaker against his chest, the feel of the tremors as Blair struggled to breath. The feel of his own heart constricted against the shock of a loss he wasn't prepared to deal with.
Distantly, he heard the sound of a siren, but it sounded so far away, in another time and place. He could almost see movement in front of his eyes, but it was hazy, as if he wasn't really seeing anything at all. It wasn't until he felt his one connection to reality moved from his arms that he began to snap out of it.
"Sir."
Jim tried to shake his head, tried to come back to the present, but without the calming influence of his guide it wasn't working. He was lost.
"Sir. Sir, are you all right? Are you hurt?" A voice asked him, but it seemed like it was muffled by time and distance.
"I'll take care of him." Anther voice, this one slightly familiar.
"Jim?" Someone was touching him, but it wasn't the calming touch of his Guide.
"Jim, come on, snap out of it."
Jim blinked, reality suddenly coming back into focus. He turned his head towards the voice speaking to him.
He opened his mouth but was having trouble speaking. "Simon?"
"Come on. Let me take you to the hospital. Get you checked out." Simon Banks began leading Jim away from the spot he had been frozen in, for who knew how long.
"Blair. he's." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"The paramedics have him." Simon assured him, although he wasn't entirely certain how much good they would do.
Jim stopped and looked back at the scene, the blood still filling his senses, just as it covered his hands. "He was shot." Jim stated.
Simon nodded sadly. "I know." He lead Jim away, taking advantage of the fact that Jim wasn't completely coherent.
*****
Hours had passed. He wasn't sure how many. He had been pacing frantically in the waiting room for what seemed like an eternity, but what Simon had assured him was less than three hours. Three incredibly long hours. Three hours in which he had envisioned the worst possible outcomes of this nightmare come to life.
Simon had tried to get him to sit down. Rafe had tried to get him to take a walk. Henri had tried to distract him with talk of sports and the latest Jags game. Even Connor had tried to get him to talk about something, other than Blair and what was happening to him.
They all failed.
The only thing that kept him from losing it all together was the sound of Blair's heartbeat. It had gotten stronger since coming to the hospital, but still sounded far weaker than it should.
He had tracked the sound mere seconds after walking through the hospital doors. Despite the varying sounds, smells and sights, Jim could track Blair's heartbeat anywhere. It was the sound of that one heart, still beating inside his partners wounded body that calmed him, if only somewhat.
It didn't, however, stop him from pacing, or growling when someone got too close. In the back of his mind, he realized he must look like some rampant animal, accidentally let loose from its cage, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
So instead, he paced, and he waited.
****
Simon watched as his best detective snarled angrily at an orderly who tried to get him to go home and get some rest. He knew that that wasn't a possibility. They had been in the waiting room for nearly seven hours, and had no clue as to what was happening to Sandburg.
Simon was almost relived for that. He knew that as long as some sad-faced doctor hadn't come in to tell them that he had died on the operating room table, then there was still hope. A limited hope, he was aware, but hope nonetheless.
And as tightly wound as Jim was at this moment a slight hope was better than none at all. He had not been surprised when the other detectives had opted to wait it out at the station, where they would actually do some good.
It was probably for the best. Jim was in no condition to be comforted. He didn't need to be coddled and told everything would be all right, and he certainly didn't need well meaning friends trying to cheer him up.
Nothing could accomplish that, short of Sandburg himself walking into the waiting room with that grin of his that seemed to make Jim smile back, without even really realizing it.
It was with sudden dread that Simon looked up to find a doctor entering the waiting room. She looked to be in her early forties and on the high side of exhaustion. She looked around the room, searching for someone.
"Detective Ellison?" She asked the room at large.
Jim stepped closer, fear etched in his features. "Yes." He paused, not sure if he could continue.
"How is he?" Simon asked stepping forward. "Blair Sandburg. Will he be alright?"
The doctor smiled slightly, but her eyes held a sadness in them. "He'll live," She told them.
Jim sighed in relief and then looked up at the doctor as his mind registered something. "But?"
The doctor reached out a hand and placed it on his arm in reassurance. "There's been some complications."
******
Blair felt light-headed. For a minute he thought maybe he had been meditating too long. Then he felt it. A breeze. He opened his eyes and felt a gasp trying to work its way through. He shut his mouth and looked around, slightly surprised by his surroundings.
He was in a jungle, lush and green, and full of life. The life of creatures he had never seen, except in this place, this time. Where everything was still. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, except that which existed here, in this perfect place. This place of beauty and wonderment.
This place that wasn't real. Not in the conventional sense of the word. But reality was relative.
Blair looked around as he stood up carefully, not wanting to disturb anything. He could sense the birds watching him, but was hesitant to look up. It would somehow lessen the experience for them to see him watching them as they were watching him.
He heard a growling noise from somewhere to his right and turned his attention that way.
There was a panther standing about three yards away, watching him intently, waiting. Waiting for what, Blair wasn't certain.
Blair stepped forward cautiously. "Who are you?"
The animal cocked its head slightly as if thinking about the question. After a moment it turned around and disappeared behind some trees and bushes. They looked too lush and green to be real, but somehow, Blair knew they were.
He wanted to follow the panther, but was afraid. To do so would be handing over something, which he was not sure, he was brave enough to relinquish. He froze, there in the middle of the jungle. Not sure whether to stay in this spot, or follow the magnificent animal.
"You do not know what to do." The softly spoken words startled him and he looked around, searching for the source, although he was keenly away that they seemed to come from within as opposed to without. Still he looked.
There was a large owl perched on an extended tree branch inches from his face. The owl was staring at him, searching him for. something, although he didn't know what.
"Are you speaking to me?" Blair asked, aware that that was a stupid question.
The owl's head rotated slightly, although it's eyes still remained focused on Blair. "Of course, silly. Who else would come here, to me?"
Blair looked around again. "Where is here?"
"This is the beginning. And the ending." The owl moved and Blair reached out a hand. The creature perched itself on his arm.
Blair turned his attention away from the animal and looked around again, a memory threatening to reassert itself.
"I have been here before." It was a statement, not a question.
"And you will be again."
Blair stepped forward, moving towards the trees the panther had disappeared through. He walked in silence for several minutes, finally reaching the mouth of a cave. The cave was familiar but he could not remember ever being there before.
The silence was broken by a painful howl, which reverberated, through the jungle, followed by the anguished cry of another animal.
"What was that?" Blair asked the owl.
"Here, the Panther is guided by its mate. The one who gives it a reason to protect all that it is, and ever shall be." The owl spoke gently. "Without it' s mate, the panther is lost. Without reason, without purpose. Its rage is tangible."
Blair felt his heart going out to the animal. "What happened to its mate?"
The owl's wings flapped slightly. "See for yourself."
They were standing right at the entrance of the cave now and Blair took a cautious step forward, unsure of what he would see once he went inside. He placed a hand on the coolness of the wall of the cave.
It was dark inside and he struggled with his vision. After several long seconds, he could make out movement in front of him. He inched closer, trying to discern what it was he was seeing.
There, in the central area of the cave was the panther, large and sleek, and commanding. But what was so noticeable about it was the way it moved. It paced the confines of the cave, fury emanating from its sleek body.
The panther turned its head and stared at Blair, as if it was trying to decide if it was friend or foe. Finally, the Panther turned back to it's pacing. Every few minutes it would get a little too close to the other occupant of the cave and a fierce growl could be heard, warning the panther away.
The growl seemed to injure the panther in a way that wasn't physical. Blair could feel the pain that etched itself in the eyes of the panther every time the growl was heard.
He stepped closer to the animal, trying to get a look at the other creature, which was causing this magnificent panther such pain.
There, in one dark corner of the cave lay another animal. But this one was not a panther, or even a member of the feline family. It was a wolf. It was hard to discern its true color in the darkness of the cave, but it looked to be light in color. Grey, or almost white.
But it wasn't it's coloring, or even the power he could sense in its body that drew Blair's attention. It was its eyes. So filled with pain and anguish. It was huddled in the corner, trying to make itself invisible. Invisible from it's own pain and the pain it was causing its mate.
It was wounded, that much Blair could see, although he wasn't certain how. He was leery to get too close to the animal. Judging from the occasional anguished howls and the fierce growls emanating from the wolf, it was safe to assume it wanted to be left alone.
Easier said than done. It was obvious the panther had no intention of leaving the wolf alone, to die, in its own misery. Blair stepped closer to the wolf, cautiously. The wolf looked up, and their eyes locked and for a moment, Blair saw himself in those dark, pain-filled eyes.
Then everything was gone. The wolf, the panther, the owl. The jungle still surrounded him, but he was alone.
*****
"Complications?" Jim asked, trying to remain standing on his own two feet, despite the fear that had settled itself in his gut.
The doctor smiled slightly. "Why don't we go to my office?" He motioned towards the door leading out of the waiting room.
Jim was frozen in his place, unable to move, or even think clearly. He felt Simon's hand on his shoulder as he guided him out of the waiting room and down the hall. They were following the doctor, but Jim was only barely aware of the movement or his surroundings.
The doctor stopped in front of a large door with a window. She pushed the door open and walked inside, holding the door open for Simon and Jim. Once they had entered, she closed the door behind them and walked around to the desk, motioning for the men to sit down.
Jim sat down heavily in a large chair and waited for the doctor to speak. She seemed to be struggling with what to say.
"What's wrong with Sandburg? Blair?" Simon corrected.
The doctor looked from Simon to Jim, back to Simon again, finally deciding he would probably be easier to speak to.
"The bullet was lodged in his spine. Considering the angle of entry, its location was not surprising." She paused, unsure of how she could explain what she had found during surgery.
Jim's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Did you get it out?" He asked, his voice sounding hollow, even to himself. "The bullet? Did you remove it?"
The doctor looked down to her desk, avoiding the detective's eyes.
"Doctor?" Simon asked, suddenly growing concerned.
The doctor looked up at Simon, compassion showing in her eyes. "Hamilton. Marguerite Hamilton." She told him softly and then turned sad eyes to Jim. "We did remove the bullet."
"But?" Jim asked, knowing there was more.
"The bullet was unlike anything I have ever seen." She sighed. "Whoever made it, knew what they were doing." She opened a folder sitting on her desk and took out a piece of paper and handed it over to the two men. "It was covered in." she pointed across the desk to the report. ".Some chemical we can't identify."
"A chemical?" Jim asked as he took a closer look at the report.
Doctor Hamilton nodded. "We don't know what it is, but we do know what it does."
Simon took a deep breath. "What does it do?" He dreaded the answer.
"It completely emersed itself in Mr. Sandburg's body."
"You make it sound like a poison." Simon commented, trying to figure out what exactly the doctor was telling them.
Doctor Hamilton thought about that. "In a way I guess it is. The chemical's purpose was to subvert several of the nerves in his body. It was very successful."
Jim stood up and began pacing angrily. "What exactly are you telling me? That the person, who shot him, wasn't trying to kill him, but had something else in mind? For what purpose?"
Marguerite Hamilton stood up and turned to face the detective. "No. If you hadn't found him when you did, and the bullet hadn't been removed, he would have died. A slow, and excruciatingly painful death." She walked around the desk and took Jim's hand in her own. "When he was brought into surgery, the bullet had already began to destabilize."
"Destabilize?" Simon's voice was heavy with worry now. This did not sound like any ordinary gunshot wound.
Doctor Hamilton sighed heavily. "I don't pretend to know who shot him or why, but I can tell you whoever did it, went to a lot of trouble to cause this much damage. I don't know if they were trying to hurt Mr. Sandburg, or those he left behind, but there isn't much I can do to fix the damage that's already been done." She paused and turned back to Jim. "I can and have prevented any further damage from being done, however."
Jim sat down heavily in the chair. His mind was swirling over all this new information. He wasn't sure if he had grasped all of it yet, he was still stunned, and his brain refused to believe that Blair wouldn't fully recover.
"What exactly is the damage?" Simon asked quietly.
"He's lost some mobility. The nerves in the lower portion of his body have been completely severed. They cannot be repaired."
Jim opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words would come out. He heard Simon's voice, but it sounded distant again.
"You mean.?" Simon asked, not wanting to voice what he believed the doctor was saying.
"It's unlikely Mr. Sandburg will ever walk again." The doctor nodded sadly.
"Oh god."
The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly Productions.
All series, movies and characters are the properties of their respective owners. No infringement of those rights is intended. All fics on this site are the copyrighted property of their respective authors.
Site and design copyright © the other g.m.
All Rights Reserved.
