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Part III

Chapter Eleven

Jaguar jumped into the fray without any intention of fighting the enemy. One pounce, and he was next to Eagle. Another pounce, and he was free of the ants, with Eagle dangling from his mouth. He raced toward the river, pleased to hear paws falling behind him. At the river's edge, he plunged in, shivering at the coolness as the ants washed away.

He looked around as he heard two more splashes: Cougar and Wolf, with Meerkat in Wolf's powerful jaws. Meerkat struggled to free herself, and made a plopping sound as she dunked beneath the cleansing waters, then popped back up, chittering her complaints. She made it to the riverbank and crawled out. Wolf joined her, licking her fur dry. Cougar bounded out after them, moving down shore just a little so he could shake himself to a less-than-dripping state.

Jaguar brought Eagle to the bank and stared at her. She tried to dry herself by flapping her wings, but she was too weak, so she lay there, her eyes never leaving Jaguar's. He took his broad tongue and removed the excess water, always careful to brush in the direction of her ruffled feathers. Eagle chirped to show her appreciation, and Jaguar purred at the praise.

But he was too wet and uncomfortable to listen to her sing his many attributes, and Eagle also needed to rest, so he padded off a few meters, shook himself, then removed the remaining water with his tongue. While he performed his grooming, Jaguar thought of what he needed to do come morning. The ants always rested at night, so the jungle would be safe until Sun awakened to heat the sky. Poor Eagle. She had seen movement in the nest, and assumed there was a tasty morsel to be had. By the time she'd realized her error, she'd gotten too close and was set upon by the vile beasts. A terrible accident. But one that wouldn't happen again. He was going to move ahead of the creatures in the morning, and clear the jungle denizens out of their path. He would also warn those of the night to steer clear of the dark mass.

However, for now, he had his own personal tribe to take care of. They were too exposed here at the river's edge. Together, they would move into the brush and protect each other while bites healed. He started back toward Eagle, stopping in mid-step when a shudder ran along his spine, causing his fur to stand on end. Soul-Snatcher! His own soul cringed as he recognized his old foe. Soul-Snatcher was an entity of stealth, of darkness, who had robbed Jaguar of many companions without warning. Who had he come for now? With a snarl, he turned and focused on his friends gathered at the river. Meerkat was grooming Wolf, and Cougar was watching the process with an amused grin. That left-- He darted to Eagle's side, although he knew she didn't reside in the shell of golden feathers anymore.

Jaguar threw his head back and cried.

Jim jerked awake with a gasp, thinking for a moment that he'd actually heard the jaguar's anguished scream. What the--? He jumped to his feet, grabbed his robe, and stepped out into the hall. The floor was empty of people, which he had expected. They were all in Carolyn's room, fighting to revive her. He knew that as clearly as he knew his name, even before he listened in on the terse orders and desperate measures being taken. Grim-faced, he took a step toward her room, but veered toward Blair's. The doctors didn't need him to witness their failure.

He didn't wake Blair; he merely sat in the chair he'd occupied twice already. He sat and waited for someone to find him, for someone to offer their apologies and condolences, and spout crap about how it was sudden, and that she hadn't suffered. That stuff he already knew. Soul-Snatcher wasn't that sort of killer. He didn't toy with his victims as Flesh-Eater and Mind-Taker did. He came. He took. He left. It was just that simple.

And you, my friend, are dancing dangerously close to the razor's edge, aren't you? That's why you came here, to your anchor. You expect him to ground you, to tether you to the real world even while he sleeps. But what are you going to do when he's thousands of miles away? Where will you seek help then? Can you make it until he returns? Or will you allow yourself to be carried off into the madness that beckoned before he came into your life? And if he doesn't return, what then?

"Jim?"

He looked up at Lynne, who stood just inside the door. Not wanting to disturb Blair, he motioned that he would join her in the hall. He looked at his sleeping partner one last time, fixing an image in his head that he'd be able to recall in the next few painful moments. Taking a deep breath, he left the room.

"The staff has been looking all over for you," Lynne scolded worriedly. "You should be in bed at this time of night."

"Thank you, Lynne, for arranging for me to visit them twice today. Carolyn and I were able to say some things we should have said before...."

Lynne's brown eyes stared at him wonderingly. "You know."

He nodded.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "We don't know what happened, Jim. The toxin levels were decreasing. The dyspnea was abating, and her temperature was approaching normal. Why she--"

He gave a sad smile. "Sometimes there aren't any answers. Sometimes shit happens, and you just have to deal with it as best you can."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Is that what you're doing, Jim? Are you dealing with it?"

He snorted, leaning back against the wall. "I haven't a clue in hell what I'm doing right now, Lynne. Going to see Sandburg seemed to be the most sensible thing to do, so that's what I did."

"Seeing him helps?"

"He helps. I've given up trying to figure out the hows and whys of it. I just know when I'm falling...he saves me." He wiped his hand wearily across his face. "Of course, in the light of day I will deny I said any of this."

"How did you know what happened, Jim? Were you sneaking out of bed to visit her and saw us working on her?"

Jim shrugged. "That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

"But it's not the truth?"

"Truth is such an abstract term. Can I go back to Sandburg now?"

Lynne sighed. He had her quite curious now, but apparently he was in no condition to answer her questions, which was a shame because an off-balance Jim would be more likely to tell her the truth. Maybe when all this was over, she could get him drunk. "Just one more thing. You may accept 'shit happens' as a valid answer, but the other doctors and I are scientists, which means we want a more definitive answer. As Ms. Plummer's listed next-of-kin, we would appreciate it if you would allow us to--"

"Just tell me where to sign," he said, interrupting her.

She nodded. "I understand that her parents are living? Afterwards, we'll have the chaplain--"

"No! That's the one thing she specifically wanted me to do for her-- tell her parents."

Well, that was the most emotion she'd heard from him in the past five minutes. Maybe he wasn't going to shut down completely on her, which was a surprise. She'd always thought it a failing that military personnel were taught to effectively deny their emotions in basic training. Maybe it made the "perfect" soldier, but it played havoc with the human being beneath the uniform. "No decisions are going to be made tonight about notification, Jim. We want to have at least a few answers before we go public."

"Spin control," he said bitterly.

"Truth," she countered gravely. "Some of us just want to know the truth. What we do with it afterwards can be debated later."

Tired eyes widened at her honesty. A nurse handed Lynne a clipboard, which she passed on to Jim. He dutifully scribbled his name on the X-marked lines, and turned to go back into Sandburg's room. Lynne started to protest, but couldn't. She could see the grief balancing on the broad shoulders, and if he fell now, the weight would hold him down for a long time. If his partner could save him from plummeting, so be it.

"I'll tell the staff not to disturb you," she called softly.

He smiled his thanks, and closed the door.

*****

When he opened his eyes to see Jim in the same chair he'd been in when he'd closed them, Blair's first thought was-- Geez, man, you're taking this guardian gig way too seriously. His second thought, upon seeing the sadness in the eyes staring at him was-- Geez, who died? Suddenly remembering where he was and why, Blair realized the question wasn't merely a rhetorical one.

"Who?" he asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"The eagle."

The ea-- Blair paled. "Oh, God, Jim. Not Carolyn? Oh, man. What happened? I thought we were all getting better. I mean, I feel a lot better. Is that why you're here, watching me, because you--"

"No," Jim said quietly, shushing his partner with the single word. "You're not dying. Neither is Naomi or Simon. The ants didn't kill Eagle; Soul-Snatcher took her away."

Soul-Snatch.... Blair looked at his friend closely. Dark circles stood out in stark relief against the pale visage. He wondered how long it'd been since Jim had any substantial sleep. The night before Carolyn arrived, perhaps? So that would be what? Seventy-two hours with barely a catnap or two? No wonder Jim wasn't making any sense. Or maybe he was. "Eagle didn't die from the ant bites? How do you know?"

"There was no pain. Soul-Snatcher works too quickly. He came and took Eagle as she rested by the river. Jaguar didn't hear his approach; even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to stop him. Nothing stops Soul-Snatcher."

O...kay. Jim was definitely on the wrong side of exhaustion if he was speaking so openly about his dreams. The scientist in Blair craved to ask Jim more questions while he was in this state, the friend in him chided that he'd be taking advantage of his partner if he gave into the craving, and the Guide in him threatened to kick his ass if he didn't do something to alleviate his Sentinel's pain. "What time is it, Jim?"

"A little after eight a.m."

"What time did, uh, Soul-Snatcher strike?"

"12:13 a.m."

How precise. "And how long have you been sitting in that chair?" A shrug. "Did you sleep at all?"

Jim smiled ruefully. "I think I'm getting the message, Chief. You've seen better looking Halloween masks, right?"

"I've seen better looking roadkill, man. Were you trying to avoid another dream?"

"No."

Blair could tell from Jim's startled look that the thought had never crossed the man's mind. That was good. From his studies of such phenomena, Blair had concluded that prophetic dreams rarely could be circumvented. They just found more dangerous ways to manifest themselves. "Go to bed, Jim."

Jim turned toward the door, and Blair watched it open to admit an African-American woman with a distinct glare focused on Jim.

"Don't tell me you've been here all night, Ellison," she reprimanded.

Blair bristled at her tone, and turned to Jim, silently demanding to know why he wasn't tearing this woman a new one.

"Chief, this is Colonel Lynne Reese. Lynne, Detective Blair Sandburg."

Lynne. Jim's friend from USAMRIID. Still, she didn't have to be so abrasive. Couldn't she see that Jim was tired? "Before you interrupted, Colonel, Jim and I were discussing his need for rest."

Lynne's eyes fell on the man in the bed, and she realized she'd behaved rudely. "I apologize for barging into your room, Detective Sandburg. It's just that I've been looking for Jim. I have the results of--"

"What did you find?" Jim asked. She tilted her head in Blair's direction. "You can talk in front of him. We have no secrets."

"Ms. Plummer's death was the result of a congenital heart defect. It was a flaw deep within the organ; only a post mortem would have detected it. There was nothing we could have done."

"But it was the added strain of the disease which caused the defect to be fatal, right?" Blair asked. It sounded as if the government was prepared to blame Carolyn completely for her own death. Typical.

"Actually, most people who have the type of defect Ms. Plummer had usually don't survive the journey down the birth canal. If they do, they rarely make it past the stage of walking upright; the heart cannot withstand the pressure change. By all rights, she shouldn't have seen her first birthday."

"Instead, she saw thirty-eight of them, " Jim said, rubbing at his forehead. "An excellent tagline for your report, don't you think?"

"I'm not going to be offended by your attitude," Lynne said patiently. "I know as well as you do how our government loves a good cover-up. That's why I personally observed the procedure." She'd noticed his avoidance of the word autopsy. "I saw the defect for myself. It was very real. You have my word on that, Jim."

Jim dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry, Lynne. It's just been a long night."

Blair couldn't take his friend's suffering anymore. "Jim."

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Go to bed."

"But Mom and Dad--"

"Need you strong and rested, man. You're the only one they have to lean on. I'm stuck in this bed, and Wendy-- well, you know how Wendy is. I'm sure its going to be several hours before the government has the paperwork the way they want it--" he looked meaningfully at the colonel, who obediently nodded-- "so you have some time to grab a nap."

"I am a little tired," Jim admitted reluctantly.

"Then you should rest. For Paul and Louise's sake."

Jim stood, laying his hand briefly against Blair's wrist. "You are better, and you're also right. I'll see you in a few hours, 'kay?"

"Something tells me I'll be waiting right here," Blair said with a warm smile.

"Mind if I stay for a minute, Detective Sandburg?" Lynne asked, sidestepping from the door so Jim could pass. "I haven't had the pleasure of personally going over your charts."

"In other words, you want to ask me some nosy questions. I can deal," Blair said lightly, waving Jim out the door. "What is it you want to know, Colonel?"

"First, I'd really like to know how you're feeling. Your test results are encouraging, but obviously, we can't rely completely on the results to tell us the total health of our patients."

Blair looked at her speculatively. "Carolyn's death was a blow to you guys, wasn't it? I spent most of my adult life involved in research. I know it must have been a heady feeling thinking that you'd defeated a disease like anthrax. This version had been reported to have a ninety percent mortality rate, and you thought that with your intervention, you had completely defeated it. But now, let's see.... Four people contracted the disease, one death. Twenty-five percent mortality."

"Still a dramatic improvement over the expected ninety," Lynne pointed out defensively.

"But not as good as zero percent."

"Tell me. Do you hold all doctors in such contempt, or just government ones?"

Blair thought about the question. It was a fair one. Goading her had been a show of contempt. "I prefer holistic medicine, but I don't think I've been openly hostile to the medical profession as a whole."

"So, it's the insignia that offends you?"

"Jim and I-- especially Jim-- have had some run-ins with your species."

"Jim is my friend."

"And if I had a dollar for every time Jim has heard that and was subsequently betrayed, my picture would be right beside Gates' on the Forbes 500 list." Blair took a deep, centering breath. "I'm sorry. You haven't caught me at my best. I don't do 'patient' well."

"And you're in pain."

"Some. It doesn't feel like there's a ten-ton anvil sitting on my chest anymore, but it does feel like there had been one, you know? Like the ache after a bad muscle cramp. But the worst part about all of this is that it's keeping me from helping Jim. He's hurting so badly right now, and all I can do is lie in this stupid bed and let him watch me." A fist lightly pummeled the mattress.

"He said that helped."

"What?"

"Seeing you helps him. That's what he told me when I found him in here after Ms. Plummer-- He knew. Did he tell you that? That he knew she had died before I could tell him."

"12:13 a.m."

Lynne took the chair Jim had vacated. "That's the recorded time on the cardiac monitor. We tried to revive her for nearly an hour after that. Time of death wasn't called until after one o'clock." Blair didn't react to the information. "Were they close? Jim said the term ex-wife was misleading."

"They remained good friends after the divorce, and Jim is very close to her family. In time, I think the two of them would have been close again." Blair closed his eyes in deference to the pain he was sure Jim was feeling. There had been signs of how Jim and Carolyn had spent their night in his bed together, how they'd probably spent the morning before he and Simon had descended upon them. Blair had noticed a certain spryness about Jim, an air of happiness. Now.... The really sad thing about it all was that this wasn't the first time he'd had to survive something like this. Jim had slept with Lila, and she'd been killed in front of him. He'd slept with Veronica, and she'd been killed in front of him. Now, he'd slept with Carolyn, and.... Damn. He wouldn't be surprised if the man headed for a monastery after this.

"He not only knew when Ms. Plummer died, but that it was not a direct result of the anthrax." Lynne was deliberately casual.

Blair cracked open an eyelid. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to play me. Don't go looking for something that isn't there. Don't give Jim something else to worry about. Don't make Jim add you to his list of betrayals."

"You always fight his battles for him, Detective Sandburg?"

"Actually, Colonel, I'm fighting yours. You and your colleagues should know how dangerous it is to corner an injured animal. Jim won't strike back honorably, nor will he play by the rules."

"We are not the enemy. I am not Jim's enemy."

"Glad to hear it." He shifted uncomfortably.

"Would you like me to up your pain meds?"

"Nah. I can deal. I can't operate a dial like Jim can, but I manage." Blair tossed out the comment, wanting to see if the colonel was willing to let the matter drop as she'd indicated.

"About Jim--" he sighed at her expected response, "--do you think I should prescribe him a sedative?"

"No!" he said quickly, but with relief. "The last thing Jim needs is unnecessary meds running around inside him. He heals better on his own."

"Well, you seem to be the expert on your partner, Detective. Is there anything you need before I leave?"

"Check on my mom for me? She probably senses the bad vibes around the place, and she might think they have something to do with me."

"Your mother is like Jim?"

Blair laughed. "Not by a long shot. She's just highly attuned to emotions, that's all."

Lynne nodded. "I'll let your mother know you're okay. Did she know Ms. Plummer well?"

"No. They'd only just met. But Mom's still going to be bothered by her death. However, Captain Banks was a good friend of Carolyn's. A little care in telling him will be appreciated."

Lynne stood at the door and looked back at him. "You take care of your family and friends quite well, Detective."

"The same way they take care of me, Colonel."

Blair watched the door close slowly behind her, and tried to get more comfortable in the bed. "Sleep, Sentinel," he whispered just in case Jim was listening. "All is well."

In the room two doors away, the Sentinel stirred, and fell into a deep sleep.

*****

"Plummer's dead."

Lambert looked up sharply from the box he was carefully unpacking. He'd learned that as long as he could recreate his desk from one office to the next, he could work anywhere. He was sure the idiosyncrasy had some deep, perhaps perverted, psychological meaning, but hell, it worked. And that was more than could be said of some other aspects of his life. "I thought the antibiotics were working."

"She had an undetectable heart condition. You know, it feels good to get a break in all this."

"This isn't a break, Freer."

"Yes, it is. Plummer was the only witness to the actual data. Whatever she shared with the others is now merely hearsay. And we don't have to worry about it happening again, because security protocols have been tightened." Freer plopped down on the corner of the desk, and frowned in consternation at his superior. "Okay, what's wrong now?"

Lambert shook his head, and set out a paperweight obviously made by a child. "You just don't understand."

Freer sighed. "Why don't you enlighten me, sir?"

"Yesterday, we just had an irate husband after us. Now, we have a vengeful widower. His code of honor will demand he find us and make us pay for our crime."

"I wouldn't worry about your soldier boy. Pretty soon he'll have greater worries than us," Freer predicted.

Lambert made no reply as he fingered the paperweight. Once upon a time he'd been a vengeful widower, and despite the fact it had cost him his family, he'd satisfied his code of honor. Just as Ellison would, greater worries or no. It was all just a matter of time.

Chapter Twelve

"Sleeping Beauty awakes."

Sleep-filled eyes peered at him. "What? Who are you calling a beauty, man. I'm not the one who's all tarted up."

Jim laughed, looking down at the suit he was wearing, the top button of the shirt undone, and the tie hanging loosely around his neck. "Now I'll never be able to wear a suit and not think of myself as being 'tarted up.' Thank you for that, Sandburg."

"You're welcome," Blair replied, more awake now. "You're going to tell Carolyn's parents?"

Jim placed his left ankle on his right knee. "I've already told them, Chief. They're in a motel right down the street from here."

"They're here? How did they get here so quick?"

Jim shook his head. "Not quick, Chief. It's after nine o'clock at night."

Blair swiveled his head, forgetting his room had no window. "What do you mean it's nine o'clock at night? What happened to the day?"

"You slept through it. A nice, long, healing sleep. Guess I wasn't the only one who needed it."

"How about you, Jim? Did you sleep?"

"A few hours. Then I had a long argument with the big guys about telling Paul and Louise in person. I lost. So I told them over the phone, and arranged for a helicopter to bring them here to the hospital."

"Why? I mean, why bring them here?"

Jim rubbed at a spot on his highly polished shoes. Maybe he was tarted up. He'd requested clothing so he didn't have to greet his former in-laws wearing a gown. A seaman had shown up with two suits. "Carolyn has to be-- cremated. Biological hazard concerns. The family priest is coming in the morning to say rites over the body, then the procedure will be done. There's a wake scheduled tomorrow night in Bellingham, sort of a memorial service for those who knew Carolyn as a child. The funeral mass will be held in Cascade the next morning."

"Cascade?"

The older man nodded. "Mom and Dad want her to be here with me. Her remains will be placed in the columbarium at Glenwood."

Where Jim already had a plot. "That sounds nice. Why are you frowning?"

"They want her here with me, Chief. They don't blame me," Jim replied wonderingly.

"Blame you? For what?" Blair narrowed his eyes. "You aren't blaming yourself for anything, are you, Jim? None of this is your fault, you know that, right?"

"She came to me for help."

"And you did all that was humanly possible. Even more than that. She-- all of us-- might have died from anthrax if you hadn't been aware of our exposure. Carolyn didn't die because of what you promised to protect her from. She died because-- because Soul-Snatcher took her. And Soul-Snatcher can't be stopped."

Jim paled. "I told you?"

"Yes, you told me."

Jim shook his head. "I was pretty out of it last night."

"I know. How much did you eat yesterday?"

A shrug. "Whatever it was they served around here."

"What about today?"

"I ate with Paul and Louise in the cafeteria downstairs. Why?"

"I think you were hypoglycemic last night, Jim. Your blood sugar level dropped too low because you hadn't eaten enough. It all goes back to what I was saying at the loft. You burn a lot of energy as a sentinel, so you regulate your food intake accordingly. But you couldn't do that here, and you came up short last night. Hence, your overwhelming fatigue and mild confusion."

"Is this anything I should worry about?"

"Nah, man. I'll just add a candy bar to the SCK, and you'll be back in business in no time. I can't believe they wouldn't let me bring it here. 'Items from the premises might be contaminated,' they said."

"The SCK?"

"Sentinel Care Kit. Uh, don't tell me you haven't noticed I'm still carrying a backpack around, Jim?"

"But I've seen you stick files and stuff in there. I thought you'd just gotten used to hauling the thing around, so you continued even when you didn't need it."

"Earplugs. Eye mask. Unscented baby wipes. Hyper-allergenic eye drops, lotion, and soap. Bottled water. Antibiotic cream. Bandaids and bandages. Extra cell phone battery. A hypo of epinephrine for severe reactions; Benadryl for lesser ones. Some of that stuff that you punch and it becomes an ice pack. A couple of herbal mixtures you can tolerate. The notebook of medicines that you react to...."

Jim listened in fascination as Blair counted off the items using his fingers. "I guess you better put me together a kit before you leave for Duke."

"I've already decided to give Simon one. Hmm, I better make that two, so he can pass one along to whoever you're going to be partnered with during my absence. There's already an abbreviated kit in the truck."

"That insulated lunch bag thingie behind the seat?"

Blair nodded. "And the medicine cabinet in the bathroom needs to be restocked. Man, I need to make a list of what needs to be done before I leave. Guess I better make sure I save enough money to fly home for Christmas, so I can set you up for the next semester."

Jim tried to stop the smile he felt coming but couldn't. "You're going to come home for Christmas?" Home. That sounded nice.

"Yeah, and I better find you in peak condition, or else Simon is going to have to answer to me."

"So he's my designated babysitter?"

"Sentinel-sitter," Blair corrected with a grin.

"Oh, that sounds so much better," Jim replied dryly. "Guess I need to scout out a Blair-sitter. I'll ask Naomi about that guy of hers. There's also a couple of guys I know at Ft. Bragg."

"Come on, man, you can't be serious," Blair said, and Jim just stared at him. "I'll be good, Jim. I swear. No hostage situations. No trying to rescue fair maidens. I won't even tell anyone I'm a cop. I'll just be average Joe College, you see? The bad guys won't even give me a second glance."

"We'll see, Sandburg," Jim said carefully. Maybe Blair could pull off staying out of trouble-- and maybe he couldn't. A little bit of backup already in place wouldn't hurt.

"Nothing really bad ever happens in North Carolina anyway," Blair added, looking for a more definitive answer from his partner.

"Hurricane Floyd ring any bells, Chief?" The storm had devastated the eastern part of North Carolina. Now, nearly a year later, the inhabitants were still trying to get back on their feet.

"Fine, whatever," Blair pouted. He glanced at Jim. "You're all right with all of this, right?"

Jim nodded. "I want you to be all that you can be, Chief."

"Hey, I may have joined the police force, but I'm not going into the Army," he joked, playing on the familiar Army theme: Be All That You Can Be-- In The Army!

"What about the Marines? I hear they're looking for a few good men."

"Cut your hair, and suddenly everyone's planning your life," Blair muttered, his smile belying his grumbling. "Speaking of the military, Captain Ellison...."

"A temporary solution to a temporary situation, Chief."

"You aren't going to be compromised by this, are you? Your friend, Colonel Reese, was asking questions about you last night."

"And then you threatened her, and she backed off. She told me all about it. You know, I'm starting to think I can't take you anywhere," Jim berated jokingly. "And you say I can't play nicely with others."

"I'm serious about this, Jim. I cannot go across the country without knowing that you're safe-- well, safe from being carted off to some government facility for study. As for the rest, I'll just cross my fingers every time the phone rings."

Jim put his right hand over his heart and held up his left. "I swear to you, Blair, that if I disappear into the night, it will be of my own accord, and I promise to send you a post card with my whereabouts."

"Better yet, just stop by and pick me up on the way."

Jim chuckled. "You got it, Chief." He tugged on the loosened tie and stood. "I really should be going to bed and letting you go back to sleep. But first, I want to thank you."

Blair looked at him in surprise. "For what?"

"For making me smile. I haven't done much of that today."

"Do you know how frustrating it is to be in this bed, and not by your side while you deal with all of this? You shouldn't have to come to me to find your smile. I should just be there."

"You are, Chief. Wherever I am, you'll always be."

Blair blinked and looked away. "Get out of here, Jim. You need your rest."

Jim smiled. The kid was good at dishing it out, but he didn't take it all that well. "Goodnight, Chief."

"Night, Jim."

*****

No matter how nicely appointed, a funeral home was a funeral home. Jim had taken Benadryl so he wouldn't sneeze himself to death due to the massive amount of flowers, but that didn't stop the heavy floral scent from turning his stomach. Flowers from a florist didn't smell like real flowers; there was something fake-- plastic-- about the smell, probably because they were grown in a greenhouse and not in the wild.

"Jim, you okay?"

He looked down into the concerned eyes of Wendy Plummer. "I'm fine. Just drifted away for a few seconds." Perfectly acceptable at a wake. "What about you, kiddo? This isn't getting to be too much for you, is it?" Since this was her hometown, Wendy knew a lot more of the people than Jim did, so she had to put up with more of the sympathetic gestures. She had confided that the sympathy made her feel worse rather than better.

"I'll survive, and I have you to thank for that."

"Me?"

She nodded, and smiled impishly. "They're so busy wanting to know about your and Carolyn's current relationship that they gloss over the sympathy part and go directly for, 'Were they getting back together?' Let me tell you, that's a much better topic than, 'She was such a sweet little girl. I remember, blah, blah, blah.' I know she's gone, but it creeps me out to talk about her in the past tense. I guess it's just too soon."

"You don't have to make excuses, Wen. Grieve in your own way, in your own time. Quite frankly, I doubt if Carolyn would've been pleased with all these people standing around talking about her. She was a very private person."

"So private that I didn't even know you two were back together," Wendy said. "You could have given me a clue, you know."

A small lie to explain Carolyn's presence in Cascade. Paul and Louise had agreed that they would keep the danger Carolyn had been in to themselves, since it had nothing to do with her death. "We weren't back together, Wen, but we were working on it." Not a lie.

"I always hoped the two of you would find your way to each other again. But even if you hadn't, I was just happy that you hadn't divorced our family when you separated. I really need a big brother, someone who listens patiently when I call at three a.m., whining about the stupidity of men."

"Listen?" Jim looked at her with mock horror. "I'm supposed to listen? No, Little Sister. According to the 'Being An Understanding Older Brother' handbook, all I have to do is answer the phone, make appropriately sympathetic grunts every so often, and try not to snore audibly until you're ready to hang up, or the maligned boyfriend sees the error of his ways and pops up on call waiting."

Wendy swatted him gently on the arm.

"Assaulting an officer. Want us to run her in, Jim?"

Jim turned to see Joel, Rafe, and Brown. "Hey, guys. I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow."

"Well, the captain here has us working tomorrow," Brown said with an aggrieved sigh, "So, when he said he was driving up here tonight, we told him it was only fair that he take us with him."

"And we would have been here sooner," Joel said, throwing a baleful glance at his companions, "if they hadn't wasted fifteen minutes arguing about who got to ride in the front seat."

Jim laughed, earning him a frown from several bystanders. Like he cared. "Wendy, I would introduce them as Cascade's finest, but I want you to feel safe when you're in the city tomorrow, so I'll just say this is Captain Joel Taggert, Detective Brian Rafe, and Detective Henri Brown. Gentlemen, this is Wendy Plummer, Carolyn's sister."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Joel said, taking her hand. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister. We worked together on several cases, and shared many jokes."

Wendy smiled. "I don't think anyone else in this place knows about Carolyn's wicked sense of humor. Let me introduce you guys to my parents, then we'll take this conversation out to the parking lot where we won't be so stifled."

The group headed over to where the elder Plummers were. A man stood with them, and something about him pricked at Jim's senses. He didn't know why; the guy looked normal enough. Maybe he was just running low on sugar again.

"Jim, Wendy," Louise Plummer called. "This is Robert Walker. He knew Carolyn in Oregon." So maybe his sugar level was just fine. "Mr. Walker, this is Carolyn's husband, Jim, and her sister, Wendy."

"Ah, the ex-husband," Walker said with a sneer as he shook Jim's hand. "I would have thought you'd be more god-like."

Everyone froze. "Excuse me?" Jim asked, his jaw clenching.

"Carolyn described you in such glowing terms that I was convinced you had to be more than just a mere mortal."

Jim felt Wendy squeeze his arm anxiously. "I'm sorry, Mr. Walker. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're upsetting my family."

"Your family? You certainly have audacity. Playing the widower, although you and Carolyn were divorced. I offered her marriage, damn it, and you know what she offered me? A pitiful, 'I've been married once, and I don't think I could handle another divorce.' Like it was inevitable or something."

"As inevitable as the restraining order she was going to have taken out against you," Jim whispered harshly. He turned to his comrades from Cascade. "Hey, guys, why don't you escort Wendy and her parents to the next room? The air in this one is getting stale."

"It's funny, isn't it, Ellison, that she was going to take out a restraining order against me, but you're the one who ended up killing her!"

"My daughter died of a heart defect!" Louise hissed in Jim's defense.

"Your daughter ran to this man because she was frightened, and instead of protecting her, he allowed her to be killed!"

"Shut up," Jim said softly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Walker grinned, a glitter of madness in his eyes. "You wanna bet? I'm not one of those stupid cops you're used to working with. People were calling me, asking me if I knew where Carolyn would go if she thought she was in danger. To that fucking god of an ex-husband of hers, I told them."

Jim's hand shot out to grip Walker's upper arm. "You told them?"

"You let them kill her. How could you be so negligent? Or were you? Maybe you didn't care what they did to Carolyn. Maybe you let them kill her so she wouldn't be clinging to you anymore. Maybe you--" Walker's words were stopped abruptly by Jim's fist.

The funeral director hurried over. "Gentlemen, I must insist--"

"Get him out of here," Jim growled.

"We got it, Jim," Brown said as he and Rafe grabbed Walker's arms.

"You killed her, you son of a bitch!" Walker yelled as they dragged him out of the room. "You'll pay for that, motherfucker!"

Whatever else he had to say was cut off by Brown's hand coming across his mouth, and a hastily whispered, "If you bite me, you'll be sent back to Oregon in a box-- several boxes."

Jim stopped focusing on Walker and turned back to his family. Louise was too pale, so he guided her to a chair and asked for a glass of water. "I need you to just breathe for me, Mom. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Louise asked.

Jim stared into a face that Carolyn's would have eventually grown into-- lightly lined in all the right places-- and eyes that used years of life to search the soul. "Sorry that Walker disrupted this gathering."

"Did you invite him here?"

"No."

"Did you tell him to spout nonsense and disturb us?"

Jim shook his head.

"Then why are you apologizing, Jimmy? We know what happened to Carolyn. We know you weren't responsible." Her voice rose so that everyone could hear her. "You loved my Carolyn and she loved you. No piece of paper changed that. Living in different states didn't change that. When Carolyn thought of home, she thought of you. That's why she's going to rest in peace in Cascade. Because that was her home, the place where her heart lived. Where it will always live. Don't let that fool twist things in your heart and head, son. It hasn't for me, or your dad."

Paul put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Your mom's right; you loved my baby girl. That's all a dad can ask for. Come on, let's get your mom home. She's had enough excitement for one evening, I think."

An hour later, Jim stood on the Plummer porch, waiting for his military escort back to the hospital.

"You gonna be okay?"

He smiled faintly at the woman coming to join him. "Yeah, Wen. How about you? Are you guys going to be okay tonight? I don't care what the military wants. I'll stay if you guys need me."

"Mom and Dad are already asleep, and I can feel today catching up with me, so I won't be too far behind them." She leaned against his arm. "How much of what Walker said is true? Not the part about you killing Carolyn," Wendy hastily added when she felt his muscles gather themselves beneath her head, "but about someone being after her."

"She stumbled into something accidentally. She thought I could help, that I could protect her.... I tried, Wendy. God help me, I tried."

She lifted a hand to his face, and wiped away the tear she found there. "But they not only got to her, but to you, and Blair, and your friends. There was something about some weird mold found in your place in Cascade. That's why you're in a military hospital, and why Blair can't be with us through all of this."

"Yes."

"But it wasn't a mold. You were attacked."

"Yes."

"And Carolyn died."

Jim shook his head. "Carolyn really did die from a congenital heart defect. Everyone else affected is getting better-- Blair included."

"Good. I don't think I can bury more than one sibling at a time."

He didn't reply, quietly sliding his arm around her and pulling her close.

"Either way, it's not your fault, Jim," she continued, her voice muffled against his chest. "She was safer with you. We're all safer with you. I don't know what you do. I don't know what that sentinel stuff was about last year. But I know Blair's not a liar, and I know there's something special about you. Carolyn was right to go to you. She died knowing she was loved. That's pretty special, Jim, and that's the thought that's going to get us all through this dark period. You included."

"My ride's here," he said hoarsely, relaxing his grip on her. A moment later, car lights appeared around the corner. "If you need me--"

"We'll call. I promise. Say hey to my kid brother for me."

"I will. He hates not being here."

"I know. But as much as I enjoy his company, I'd rather have him recuperating, instead of draining his strength here."

Jim kissed her forehead, and started down the walk to the car parked at the end of it. As he got into the backseat, he saw Wendy still standing on the porch, her arms crossed as she leaned back against the door. So like her sister.

As the car pulled away from the curb, he was grateful for the concealing darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

"Guess I can't grumble about paying my taxes this year," Paul Plummer said from the back of the funeral home limo, which was taking his family from the helipad to the church. "The government's been flying us all over the place in their helicopters, putting us up in the motel out on the island...."

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Jim said. "Human compassion is just a part of the program." He smiled at the looks of disbelief that statement received. They needed to take advantage of whatever "light" moments they could get today. The funeral mass and the deposition of Carolyn's ashes in the columbarium would wring them dry emotionally.

"So which official did you put the screws to in order to access this human compassion?" Wendy asked dryly.

"That information is on a need-to-know basis," Jim intoned, squaring his shoulders. "But, if you ever need to know, just give me a call." He felt the long car slowing down. "We're here."

The mortuary's assistants helped them out, and out of habit, Jim stopped to scan the area. He saw a number of police officials, which was to be expected because Carolyn had worked with the force, but he also saw officers who appeared to be on duty. He excused himself from the family and walked over to a just arriving Joel.

"Why the security?" Jim asked bluntly.

"To make sure Walker doesn't make an appearance. There was nothing we could do last night in Bellingham. But this is Cascade," Joel said meaningfully.

Jim's jaw clenched. "Any sign of him?"

"No. Even if he does show, you have nothing to worry about. We'll take care of it."

"Thanks." Jim patted Joel's shoulder, turned to walk away, and froze.

"Jim?" Joel reached for his radio.

"It's okay, Joel. Just a couple of people I need to see."

Joel followed the intense gaze to two gentlemen, and nodded before going to get a seat inside the church.

"Dad. Steven."

The elder Ellison gave a grim smile. "Surprised to see us here, Jimmy?"

"Yes," Jim answered honestly. Neither had shown for the wedding, and to his knowledge, they'd never even met Carolyn.

"We know we're running years behind, Jim," Steven said, "but we're hoping to make up for past mistakes."

Jim nodded. "Thank you for coming. I mean that. Although Carolyn and I were divorced...."

"You still loved her," William Ellison said softly. "I think maybe that's something we've all learned lately-- that separation, for whatever reason, doesn't change the love you feel for someone."

"Yeah, Dad." Jim embraced his father, then his brother. "I have to get back to the family. But it's nice knowing you're here."

He took his place beside Wendy as her escort. "Who are they, Jim?" she asked, having watched him with the men.

"My father and brother."

"Oh."

Jim was grateful for the strict rituals in the Catholic service. He read, knelt, and prayed at the appropriate places, but never really allowed himself to consider where he was-- or why he was there. It was only as the priest was reverently placing the urn with Carolyn's ashes in the proper recess that Jim accepted what was happening. The realization almost buckled his knees, but he gritted his teeth, dug his blunt nails into his palms, and kept upright.

He was also grateful for the pair of shades he had in his pocket when he stepped out of the building into the pale sunlight. His control of his senses was becoming ragged, body and spirit weakened. But all he had to do was to get through the condolences and goodbyes. Afterwards, he could go back to the hospital and be with Blair.

"Jim."

Jim joined Joel, saw that he was accompanied by Brown and Rafe, and knew his return to the hospital was going to be delayed. "What's up? You catch Walker?"

Brown shook his head. "We're not here about Walker, my brother. It's the loft."

*****

Blair didn't understand his restlessness, but he knew he had to get out of his room or start screaming. Earlier in the day, he'd been allowed to walk to the bathroom as long as he dragged his IV of antibiotics with him, so he figured as long as he was accompanied by "Ivy", he should be able to manage a trip down the hall to see his mother. Since this was an isolated floor, with only a minimum staff now that they were on their way to recovery, he made the trip without being seen.

Pushing the door open a crack, he saw Naomi sitting lotus-style on the bed. "They said they were hiding a pretty woman in here," he said, opening the door wider.

"Blair!" She held out her arm. "Come!"

He did so gratefully. Not only had he missed his mom, but the short walk had taxed his strength. "You're looking good."

"So are you, honey. But I knew you were okay. I could feel your vibes, and Jim came by faithfully every day to tell me how you were."

"You saw Jim today?"

She nodded. "He was on his way to the funeral. Pain clouded his aura."

"I know. That's why I'm mad I was asleep when he came by my room. I haven't seen him since yesterday, before the cremation."

"It hurts not being with him?"

Blair settled on the bed. "Oh, Mom, you have no idea. Jim can be so full of bull when he's hurting, and I'm afraid if I'm not there, he's going to either shut down or come undone. I'm not sure which one's worse."

"He's handled grief alone before."

"Yeah, and lost chunks of his life while he was at it," he muttered. Naomi looked at him curiously. He shook his head. "The point is, Ma, that he shouldn't have to handle anything alone anymore."

"You're not his only friend, sweetheart."

But I *am* his only Guide. "No, I'm not his only friend. But Simon is down the hall, just as stuck in this place as I am, and the others can only get so close because he's here in isolation. Besides, Jim's very particular about who he reveals his real self to."

"No one taught him that it was okay for a man to cry," Naomi said sadly.

"He's had to rely on himself for so long that he's never had time to cry; it was an indulgence he couldn't afford."

"But now he can, because he has you to rely on."

"Supposedly. I told you we talked about this Duke thing, Mom. We agree that I should go. But it's starting to feel wrong."

Naomi patted his knee. "You're just worried about him, honey. Once we're out of here, and things return to normal, you'll see you both made the right decision."

"I hope you're right, Mom." He gave her a quick smile. "So, how are you doing? Really?"

"I feel fine. This has been kind of a meditational retreat. Few distractions, food delivered to me. My mind has never been clearer."

Blair shook his head. Leave it to his mom to turn being quarantined into a cleansing getaway. "I'm glad you found the time productive. I'm also glad you're okay. When I saw Jim's face after Carolyn died, the first thought that came to my mind was that something had happened to you."

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "My time will come when it comes, honey. When it happens, don't mourn too much, okay? My spirit will be happy wherever I am."

"You mind if I don't think about that for a while?"

"Oh, Blair." She patted her lap and he put his head down. "I didn't know Carolyn long or well, but I get the feeling she's soaring around above us, free forever."

"Jim says she's a golden eagle. Maybe the two of you should get together and compare notes. After all, you also knew about the danger Carolyn was in before we told you."

"It didn't take a special gift to know that, baby. The tension and fear oozed from all three of you. It just all came together and bopped me on the head because I was meditating. Besides, you're the one with the real gift. You, my darling, are an empath. You feel what others feel, and when necessary, you make them feel what you want them to."

He turned his head to look up at her. "What?"

"How many people have you talked into doing what you want them to do? How many times have you confronted frightened people and convinced them they were safe?"

"That's just because I know Jim will always come for me."

"But the others don't know that. You give them your confidence, your surety. You say, 'Fight because my partner is coming,' and they fight because you've shrouded them in your emotion."

"I think they need to cut back on your antibiotics," Blair said with a skeptical chuckle.

"You know my words are true, Blair."

Well, he had convinced that neighborhood to stand up to the gangs, and Stacy Newman had trusted him enough to go with him when he'd found her. His students had always found him incredibly easy to talk to, like Rick telling him about what Brad Ventriss had done to his girlfriend, Jill. Lindsay Conkle had given her father a chance when he'd prodded her, and the guys at the station often took his advice. Maybe....

"And there's Jim," Naomi said softly. "He listens to you, baby. He seeks your counsel."

"I'm his Guide," Blair explained.

"Yes, you are."

Shit. Is that why Incacha had named him a shaman? Was that why Jim had reluctantly trusted him from the beginning? Did it have less to do with saving Jim from the garbage truck, and more with him emotionally pushing Jim into relying on another person? What about the whole roommate thing? He'd asked, cajoled, begged Jim for a week-- four years ago. Jim admitted to needing him now, but what about before? How much of what they had become, had not been of Jim's own free will? How much had he unwittingly manipulated the man?

He rolled away from Naomi and sat up. "I don't like the pictures my mind is coming up with."

"Then they are the wrong pictures," she soothed. "There is nothing perverted or abusive about what you and Jim share. His own gifts are equal to, if not greater than, your own. You haven't taken advantage of him. And, Goddess hear me, he has not taken advantage of you. I know that now."

Blair stared at her solemnly. "What made you change your mind about Jim? I know you didn't bring that letter from Duke just to show me I had another option. It was your way of getting me away from Jim, away from being a cop."

Naomi didn't pretend he was wrong. "I honestly thought you'd be miserable by now, at least on the inside. I knew you would put up a front for Jim, but I'm your mother. I would see the pain behind those beautiful blue eyes, and I wanted to have something to offer you, a way out of the situation I had unintentionally gotten you into."

Blair shrugged. "You were right; I apparently have some unresolved hostility left over from last year's events."

"But you weren't aware of it until I brought the subject up, Blair. That tells me that you were processing it, that your anger was mere residue that would've eventually cleansed itself from your soul."

"Or it could have been a firebomb waiting to explode."

Naomi shook her head. "Your empathic abilities wouldn't have allowed that. Haven't you noticed, honey, that when you're angry, you're really angry? You can't hide it, and you don't hold it back."

Blair thought back to the few times he could remember being truly pissed. When Sweet Roy had been murdered, and he thought the cops were moving too slow on the investigation.... Oh, and the whole thing with Brad Ventriss. Yeah. Jim and Simon would both attest to the fact that he didn't try to conceal his anger. Hurt, yes. Disappointment, yes. Anger, no.

"So, because I wasn't the walking poster boy for hurt and dejection, you decided Jim wasn't the controlling, domineering pig you thought he was?" he asked curiously.

Naomi looked offended. "You know I've never thought that way about Jim. Whatever faults he has come from years of being controlled, and being forced to follow ideologies other than his own."

"You thought he was a pawn."

"Yes, but in the nicest way."

Blair snorted. "You never knew him at all." The only true pawns were innocents. Jim had lost that particular virginity in a Peruvian jungle.

"I'll admit that I had preconceived notions about him, and that they might have colored my thoughts. The first time I came to visit you, there were blinders in place, and his willingness to involve you in an undercover operation didn't win him any points with me, honey. You were supposed to be safe in a classroom, not transporting stolen vehicles."

"I'm a grown, very opinionated man, Mom. Jim doesn't involve me in anything I don't want to be involved in. Not then and not now. If you only knew how hard I had to beg sometimes to be included.... I'm not saying this to hurt you, and more often than not, it's damn annoying, but Jim is way more protective of me than you are. Those instances in my teen years that you called 'growth experiences', would have Jim shuddering through nightmares for months." Blair grinned at the thought of the horror that would cross Jim's face if he ever told him about that voodoo ceremony he had participated in during a summer spent in Louisiana.

"You mentioned his nightmares. That's what made the difference, Blair. The way he spoke of his visions so openly, the way he trusted them to guide him. That told me what manner of man he is, more than any glowing report from you."

"Gee, thanks, Mom."

She smiled. "You're somewhat biased when it comes to Jim, Blair."

Blair could only smile back because she was right. But-- "It's more than just Jim that has me content here. The Major Crime Unit, others in the department-- they make me feel like I belong. They're good people, Ma, and good friends."

Naomi regarded him with a frank look. "Does this mean you've changed your mind about Duke?"

"No. I need to finish that part of my life so I can go on to the next."

"As a cop?"

"As me, Naomi, whoever or whatever that turns out to be. Will you be able to accept that now?"

"You want me to detach with love?"

"Not detach, Mom. Never that."

She reached out to embrace him. "You are so much more than I ever hoped for, Blair. I'm proud of you, and I accept you-- as whoever or whatever you are or will be."

"Thanks, Mom. Now, I need to stop by and see Simon before I'm tracked down and sent back to my cage. Maybe he has some news about Jim. He should be back from the funeral by now."

Naomi laughed. "And you claim Jim is overprotective?"

Blair shrugged and grinned. "I've picked up all kinds of bad habits from him. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, honey."

Blair gathered Ivy, and headed toward the captain's room, rapping lightly on the door before entering. Simon sat in the room's only chair, his feet up on the bed and a newspaper spread across his lap.

"What you doing rambling around the halls, Sandburg?"

"Wondering if you have any information on Jim. He should be back by now."

"He's probably just making sure his in-laws are doing okay before he leaves them. I know Joel said he was going to make sure Walker wasn't going to make any more trouble."

"Walker?" Blair sat down beside Simon's feet. "Who's Walker?"

"Jim didn't tell you?"

"I was sleeping when he left this morning. Who's Walker?"

"Some jerk Carolyn dated in Oregon. He showed up at the wake last night, and accused Jim of killing her."

"Shit."

"According to Joel and the guys, Jim was holding it together until Walker admitted he was the one who told the perps Carolyn's probable location. Even then, he only hit the guy once. Brown and Rafe tossed the guy to the sidewalk and warned him to stay away, but since it was out of our jurisdiction, nothing permanent could be done."

"And they think he might show up at the funeral?" Damn. Jim didn't need this on top of everything else.

"If he does, he's going to be taken in on a loitering charge and not allowed to see the light of day for twenty-four hours."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Ever heard of abuse of power, Captain?"

Simon gave him an evil grin. "Ever heard of 'I don't give a shit', Sandburg? You got a problem with it, take it up with IA."

"No problem at all, Simon. I'd probably be up on assault charges if I'd been there last night. Jim's already flirting with feeling guilty about this. He doesn't need anyone reinforcing the thought."

"So un-reinforce it."

"Gee, Simon, give me the easy assignments why don't you?"

"You volunteered to be his partner long before it became an assignment, Sandburg."

"Simon Banks, the man with all the answers," Blair muttered. "So how come you rate a newspaper? I couldn't even find an old magazine."

"Charm, Sandburg, charm."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Well, before it rubs off on me, I'm going to see if I can find out if Jim's on his way back. I'll see you tomorrow, Simon."

"Yeah. And if you need assistance with Jim, let me know. He's not responsible for any of this."

"I may take you up on that."

Blair slowly made his way out into the hallway, debating whether to go to his room or Jim's. The decision was made for him when he saw Jim coming in the opposite direction. He knew something was wrong immediately. For one thing, Jim still had on shades. For another, he walked as if every movement was pure agony.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said wearily. "You doing evening patrol today?"

"Thought I'd take my best girl Ivy here for a little stroll." Jim tried to smile, but it came out a grimace. "Let's take that stroll to your room, Jim," he suggested, pitching his voice low to minimize Jim's irritation. "Your control wearing a bit thin?"

"What control?" Jim mumbled. He barely heeled his shoes off before collapsing onto the bed.

"Come on, man, you're not going to feel better until you're comfortable. Let's get that tie and jacket off of you," Blair coaxed.

"I'm not going to feel better unless someone puts a bullet in my brain, Chief," Jim replied, nevertheless sitting up to shrug out of the jacket. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until Blair finally took pity on him and undid them himself.

"The funeral was that bad, huh?"

"It was a funeral. Dad and Steven put in an appearance."

"Did Walker?"

"You know about him?" Jim obediently held out his wrists so that Blair could undo the buttons on the cuffs.

Blair frowned when he saw red welts marring Jim's arms. "What's this?"

"A reaction to something in the shirt, or maybe to the soap they have around here. I got a rash the first time I used it, but I managed to adjust to it."

"Jim, rashes appear for a reason, just like pain." Shit. Why hadn't they let him bring his Sentinel Care Kit? Maybe he could get some hydrocortisone from a nurse. If it was the soap, there was probably more irritation under the T-shirt.

Jim shrugged offhandedly. "How do you know about Walker?"

"Simon told me."

"He was a no-show." He groaned, standing to remove his pants. By the time he sat back down, Blair had the covers pulled back. "I would have told you about him this morning, but I didn't want to wake you."

"I know." Blair came out of the bathroom with a wet washcloth, which he draped over Jim's eyes. "If it wasn't Walker, what brought this on, Jim? You haven't been this far off the scale for a long time." He stroked his thumb across the creased forehead, pleased when the furrows eased.

"You know how you were saying you were going to come home for Christmas, Chief? I'm sorry, but that's going to be impossible."

"Why is that, Jim?"

"No home."

Blair stopped his stroking. "What are you saying, man?"

Jim removed the towel, and pain-filled eyes sought their Blair's. "The loft, Chief. It's gone. Someone blew it up."

Chapter Fourteen

"What?" Blair sat down unsteadily on the edge of the bed.

"The loft doesn't exist anymore, Chief. Just...rubble."

"You're shitting me, right?" Blair mumbled. Not that he didn't believe Jim. His partner wouldn't tell a cruel joke like that. Neither could Jim fake the lost, anguished look in his eyes.

"I know what you're feeling. I had to see it before I believed it. Joel didn't want to take me there, but I insisted." Jim closed his eyes. "The two outer walls are completely gone, and the balcony is just so much concrete and brick littering the alley. The fire marshal was surprised that it hadn't turned into a three-alarm blaze, but there wasn't really much to burn, was there?"

"Just everything we own," Blair said softly. Jim's hand squeezed his wrist sympathetically. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No. The building was still evacuated from the 'mold scare'. And it was a real professional job; more of an implosion rather than an explosion. Most of the debris fell in, instead of out on the street where it could have hurt a pedestrian."

"Thoughtful sons of bitches, huh?"

Jim's lips narrowed grimly. "Joel and the rest of Major Crime are at the office looking at our old and current cases, trying to figure out who might have done this. But you and I both know this doesn't have anything to do with our police work."

Blair nodded. "But I don't get it, Jim. Why destroy our home?"

"I don't know. Maybe to distract us. Maybe as a warning. Maybe they had so much fun killing my wife, that they thought taking away everything else I had would be a hoot." Jim turned his head aside as his voice cracked.

Blair's eyes filled with tears for his friend. What kind of sick bastards defiled a man's home while he buried his wife? No wonder Jim had so little control left. The fact that he was still able to function at all was amazing. "What's done is done, Jim," he said, trying to focus his thought more positively. "The important thing is that no one-- including us-- was hurt. Everything else can be replaced."

Jim nodded. "And the stuff we had in storage in the basement might be salvageable. I think there are a couple of boxes left from your last exploding house." He managed a weak smile.

"At the rate I lose all my earthly goods, maybe I should become a Buddhist," Blair joked.

"And cut off all your hair?"

"Well, actually, 'dispossessed Jew' works, too," he said with a wry smile.

"Job."

Blair shook his head, knowing Jim spoke of the biblical figure who lost everything, yet still didn't curse God. "Job not only lost his possessions, he also lost his family. I still have mine, Jim. Naomi's just down the hall, and you're right here. I got nothing to complain about."

"The original 'Mr. Silver Lining'," Jim teased.

"Yep. Did I ever mention my middle name was Sunshine?" Blair quipped. His smile became broader when he saw true amusement shine out of Jim's eyes. Well, if being an empath meant he could lighten Jim's emotional load like this, then, dammit, he didn't have a problem with it.

Before either could make another comment, someone knocked on the door. They both turned to see Lynne Reese enter.

"Gentlemen," she said, looking at Blair in surprise. "Detective Sandburg, you seem to be outside your current jurisdiction. But since I come bearing good news, I'll let you stay a few more minutes before chasing you off."

"Good news?" Jim sat up, not completely able to hide a wince as his head protested the movement. "I can always use some of that, Lynne. What is it?"

She beamed at him. "You've been given a clean bill of health. You can go home tomorrow."

"Go ho...." Jim mumbled an apology, scrambled out of the bed, and sprinted to the bathroom. The faint sound of retching could be heard from behind the closed door.

"Jim?" Lynne started toward the bathroom, but stopped when Blair spoke.

"Give him a few minutes to himself, Colonel. He doesn't like anyone standing over him when he's sick."

"Sick? What's wrong with him? His blood samples have all come back anthrax free."

"It's not anthrax. Your words just threw him for a loop, that's all." Blair didn't say how close he was to joining Jim in his worship at the altar of the porcelain god.

She looked at him bewilderedly. "My words? All I said was that he could go home."

"He doesn't have one anymore. We...don't," Blair said very softly. He could see she was still confused. "While Jim was at the funeral, someone blew up the place where we lived."

"My God!" Lynne glanced anxiously at the closed door. "I didn't know. No one informed me. Dammit! Is it related to the investigation of Sirocco?"

Blair shrugged. "It's too soon to tell, but that's the prevailing theory at the moment. Further--"

"Sandburg, you in here? Good," Simon was saying even as the door was flying open. "Joel just called and--" He stopped when he saw Blair wasn't alone. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"The loft's gone. I know, Simon. Jim told me."

"He's back?" Simon looked around the room, gripping the IV stand he'd had to drag along.

"He's in the bathroom making a ritual sacrifice."

Simon grimaced. "I knew he was going to take it hard. The guys are at the station right now, digging through your files."

"And they aren't going to find a thing," Jim said, standing in the bathroom doorway. "You need to convince them that their time would be better spent working on something they can solve."

"Normally, ma'am," Simon said, hoping to stop Jim from saying something confidential, or inflammatory in front of whoever this pretty visitor was, "my men know better than to parade around in their underwear when ladies are present."

Jim snickered. "Lynne's no lady, Simon. She's a doctor and a colonel. Lynne, this is Captain Simon Banks. Simon, Colonel Lynne Reese, commander of USAMRIID."

"My pleasure, ma'am," Simon said politely, cocking an eyebrow in Jim's direction.

"It's nice to meet you while you're awake, Captain," Lynne said. "I've checked in on you occasionally."

"And now that you've been properly introduced she can ask you questions," Jim said, heading toward his bed. "Preferably in someone else's room."

"Is he going to threaten me, too?" Lynne asked. Ignoring the hint to leave, she wrapped her hand around his wrist and glanced at her watch.

"You threatened the lady, Jim?" Simon inquired, trying to get on the same page as the others.

"Call her a lady again, and she's probably going to deck you," Jim warned. "And no, I didn't threaten her. Sandburg did."

"What?"

Lynne shrugged. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. Is this the first time today you've been nauseous?"

"Yeah."

"Did you eat anything other than breakfast?" Blair asked.

"You threatened her, Sandburg?"

"You want me to prescribe something for the nausea?"

"No. Most anti-nausea drugs affect him adversely. Damn, I wish I had that SCK. There are some herbs he tolerates pretty well. But you can get me some hydrocortisone, one percent topical. See these welts--"

"You're an officer of the court now, Sandburg. You can't go around threatening--"

"What caused this?"

"Something in the shirt, perhaps, or...." Blair pulled back the sheet and thin blanket to expose Jim's legs. "Yep. It's the soap. Just use water in the morning, okay? We can send out for your soap tomorrow, and then you can take a proper shower. How the hell did you tolerate any clothing at all today?"

"I told you, I had it under control until all this other shit hit the fan."

"Under control? What exactly does that mean?"

"Don't sweat it, Lynne."

Simon got it. The doctor suspected something was "suspicious" about Jim, and Blair had warned her off. Typical. However, if the doctor was indeed a threat.... No. Jim was treating her like a friend. Shit. That was probably worse.

"Can we get that hydrocortisone, Colonel? The welts are spreading."

"I'm calling the nurse's station right now, Detective."

"Jim, I need you to relax."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that, Sandburg? Everyone's screaming around my bed--"

"No one's screaming, Jim."

"Maybe not from where you stand."

Shit, Jim. Watch your mouth. "Ellison, listen to your partner. Shut up and relax. We're just trying to help you."

"If you want to help me, find me somewhere to live. At least you were leaving anyway, Chief."

Leaving? Simon lost it again. "What do you mean he was leaving?"

"Blair's going to Duke to finish his education."

"I don't know about that, Jim. With all this coming down--"

"No way are you backing out of this, buddy. We talked, and--"

"That was before we had to rebuild our lives from scratch, Jim."

"You can rebuild in North Carolina."

"What do you mean, 'finish his education'? I thought it was finished."

"Naomi got him into Duke. It seems he really didn't do anything illegal."

"My life is not in North Carolina. It's here with you, Jim, and you are not going to use this-- misfortune of ours to get rid of me."

"I don't want to get rid of you, Chief. I told you I need you. But I don't want--"

"Duke? When were you guys planning on telling me about this? I'm still your boss, dammit."

"Shit, Jim. You're turning fire engine red here. Do your breathing exercises, man."

"Does this mean you're leaving the department, Sandburg? You think Jim can--"

"Here's the hydrocortisone, Detective Sandburg. I think-- Jim! You look awful. And you have a temperature. What the hell is going on here?"

"See? You can't leave Jim, Sandburg--"

"Stop it." Blair said the words quietly, but forcefully. "Everyone out. Now."

"I can't leave a pa--"

Simon placed a guiding hand on Lynne's back. "It's okay, Colonel Reese. As soon as we leave, Blair will make Jim comfortable, and then he'll toddle off to his own room. Right, Sandburg?" Blair ignored him to continue murmuring soothing words to Jim. Simon shook his head. "I doubt if either one of them knows we're here. Let's go, Colonel."

She didn't protest until they were out of the room. "I don't appreciate being forced out of my patient's room," she said stiffly.

"Even if it was for your patient's benefit?"

"Jim was exhibiting signs of severe allergic reaction. Detective Sandburg is not a doctor."

"But no one knows how to take better care of Jim than he does. If Jim requires medical attention, Blair will make sure he gets it." Simon turned towards his own room.

"Captain Banks," she called after him. "This doesn't faze you at all, does it?"

"Partners take care of each other, Colonel Reese. Maybe it's a cop thing."

"Or maybe it's a sentinel thing."

Simon paused. "Isn't that something you put on your dogs to keep them from getting heartworm?"

"Not according to certain archived issues of the Cascade Times."

"I wouldn't know; I stay away from the media as much as possible."

"Unlike a couple of your men. Ellison and Sandburg seem to be media favorites. Especially Ellison. He's quite the dedicated officer."

"Must be why he got Officer of the Year honors," Simon remarked dryly. "But I don't know why you're surprised. After all, it was you people who trained him."

"We can't take all the credit. Some of it had to be genetic."

Simon started back down the hall. "I don't mean to be rude, Colonel Reese, but it's been a while since I've been upright this long. I'm going to bed now, and I suggest you do the same. Maybe a good night's rest will help you straighten out certain priorities."

"Or you'll help me straighten them out?"

"Your words, Colonel, not mine."

Simon entered his room and closed the door.

*****

"This is not the way to convince me that it's safe to leave you alone for a day, much less a year," Blair said, as he dabbed ointment on the welts on Jim's arms.

"You know this isn't the usual way I handle stress, Chief."

"And your usual way is so much better, right? The silently suffering hero with the clenched jaw. Or maybe the indignant, bitching hero, with the flashing eyes. Which were you going for this time, Jim?"

"Fuck you, Sandburg."

"Oh, the bitching one. Good choice. I always thought that was better, more expressive, you know? Well, I'm here and listening, so bitch on, MacDuff. I'd just appreciate it if you kept the comments about my mother to a minimum. After all, she's just down the hall."

"You don't have to act so sacrificial," Jim muttered. "You were the one who kicked everyone else out."

"Not sacrificial-- martyred, Jim. I'm just a poor, suffering martyr to the cause."

Jim snorted, feeling a bit more under control thanks to the ointment, and a certain proximity to the one known as his Guide. "What cause?"

"The Protecting Jim Ellison From His Own Stupidity cause." Blair looked up from his ministrations. "You have to stop bottling all this up inside you, Jim. What did you do when you saw the loft? Did you yell? Did you slam your fist into the car? Did you cry? No. I know exactly what you did. You stood there, and you watched it burn, smoke, whatever, then you turned to Joel, and asked, 'Can you give me a ride back to the helipad?' You didn't let a single emotion escape, did you?"

"I'm not an emotional guy."

"That's bullshit! We're all emotional people, Jim."

"I don't see you bawling your eyes out," Jim retorted defensively.

"Then maybe you're not looking hard enough."

Jim placed his hand on top of Blair's, stopping him from applying more of the hydrocortisone. "It'll be okay, Chief. We'll fix up the loft, or if the structural damage is too bad, we'll find us another place. It's like I told Carolyn: home isn't just where you live; it's the people who live there with you."

"You and Carolyn talked quite a bit, didn't you?"

Jim nodded. "More than before, but not nearly enough."

"You were going to try again?"

"Who knows, Chief? We'd always done the early stuff easy-- the connecting, the learning of which buttons to push and which to avoid, sex.... It was the long-term stuff we couldn't handle-- living together, communicating, compromising. We probably wouldn't have made it past that point."

"I don't know. You'd probably both grown since your last attempt. I know you have. From what little I knew of Carolyn, I'd say she had, too."

"Maybe. But we'll never know, will we?" Jim turned his head away from Blair, his eyes closed. "You believe in curses, Sandburg?"

Blair looked at him in surprise. "You think you're cursed?"

Jim shrugged. "Maybe all the Ellison men are. Dad couldn't keep Mom. Steven couldn't keep his wife. I just buried mine today."

"Don't do this, Jim. Don't start blaming curses for everything that goes wrong in your life. It's not healthy. Bad shit just happens, you know that."

"But does it always have to happen to me?" Jim's eyes widened as soon as he closed his mouth. "I didn't just say that, did I?"

"Yep, Jim. You just committed the ultimate whine," Blair replied solemnly. "Next stop: the talk shows. And then the researchers will come out of the woodwork, writing books on when the Ellison curse began," he continued, when he saw Jim appreciated the lightening of the mood. "Probably had something to do with sheep."

Jim gave an amused snort. "Sheep? You're a sick man, Sandburg."

"Me? I didn't say how the sheep were involved, did I? That was your own sick mind, Ellison" Blair pulled back the covers and inspected Jim's legs. The fiery welts had subsided to pink spots. He put the covers back into place, closed the ointment, and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

When he returned to Jim's bedside, he saw that his partner had curled up on his side, tears leaking from the corners of his tightly closed eyes. He sighed. The contrary bastard. If it had been something impersonal like a screw-up in court, Jim would have stomped around with a growl, banged his fist into a wall, yelled at someone, or found some other way of releasing his feelings. But when it was personal, when it affected that giant, sensitive heart of his, Jim closed up like a tulip at night, protecting his fragile center from the creatures of the dark and shadows.

"You're tired, Chief," Jim said, his voice a mere whisper. "Go on to your room. I'll be okay now."

"You shouldn't be alone."

The red-rimmed eyes opened. "I'm not."

Blair nodded, and pulled "Ivy" slightly behind him. "Goodnight, Jim."

"Night."

Just as Blair closed the door, he heard Jim call to him, "And neither are you, Chief."

Blair smiled, and wearily made his way back to his room.

Chapter Fifteen

"Do we have a problem, Sandburg?" Simon demanded as he walked into Blair's room late the next morning.

"I don't know. What have you done?" Blair asked as he stretched. He would still be asleep if the resident bloodsuckers hadn't come around for their morning extractions.

"I'm talking about Colonel Reese," Simon explained, taking a chair.

Blair could see from the bandages on his captain's arm that the bloodsuckers had descended upon him as well. At least Ivy had been detached and sent to the corner of the room. "I don't know. What have you done?" Blair repeated.

"Dodged a handful of leading questions. She's been messing around in the archives of the Cascade Times."

"Fuck. The only thing I can say is that Jim considers her a friend."

"That's not very reassuring, Sandburg. One, she's a female. Two, she's a friend of Jim's. Three, she's a friend of Jim's. You see where I'm going with this?"

"You and I are Jim's friends, Simon. What does that say about us?"

"That the law of averages works."

Blair had to laugh. "He'd kill us if he knew we were sitting around plotting how to keep him safe."

"Well, to kill us he'd have to be free, and not locked away in some government facility."

Blair sobered. "That's true. I don't know what to tell you, Captain. Jim's being given the green light today, so maybe with him gone, she'll head back to Maryland, curious but unsatisfied."

"She doesn't look like the type who settles for anything less than total satisfaction."

"Then we'll just have to rely on Jim's charm to get him through this. He can work her, Simon. It wasn't mere duty that sent her three-thousand plus miles to help him."

"Jim isn't in any condition to be charming, Sandburg. He's hurting, and you know how that affects him."

"Good morning, everyone!" Jim said, coming into the room. He was dressed in the slacks from one of his suits, topped by a well-fitting T-shirt. A pair of shades stuck up from the shirt pocket, adding an air of "Californian" to the Sentinel.

"What the hell have they pumped into you now?" Blair asked angrily. "I told the colonel not to--"

"Whoa, Chief!" Jim said hastily. "I'm not 'on' anything. I have an appointment with a realtor, and I want to give the image that I'm the kind of person you can trust your furnished suburban home with for a few weeks. I figured 'dangerous cop whose home was blown up' just wouldn't cut it."

Blair frowned. "The suburbs? Why are you trying to find something in the suburbs? We've done the 'burbs, Jim. It wasn't pretty, remember? Gun clubs in the garage, swingers and assassins next door."

"Sorry, Chief, but we need somewhere for you guys to recuperate. An air mattress on the floor of some apartment is fine for me, but you're going to need furniture. I figured a sublet for a month, maybe less if I can get away with it."

"You can bunk with me for a while, Jim," Simon offered.

"Thanks, Captain, and we might take that option later. But you, Blair, and Naomi all need beds. I just think it'll be easier in a bigger place."

"I have to admit the thought of my bed does sound nice," Simon sighed. "Nobody waking me up at the crack of dawn to stick a needle in me, no mattress that hisses every time I turn over. How the hell did you stand it, Jim?"

The automatically adjusting beds were supposed to alleviate the possibility of bedsores, but Jim figured at least with bedsores he would have had at least one decent night's sleep. "I didn't. That's why despite not having a home to go to, I am getting out of here today. Sleeping at my desk has to be better than this."

"So, did the colonel say anything about when we'll get sprung?" Blair asked eagerly.

"Maybe a couple of days. But you're going to be on oral antibiotics for at least a month." Jim glanced at his watch, which had been returned to him along with the other personal items he had, like his keys and wallet. "I have to go or I'm going to miss my ride to Cascade. Anything you need me to pick up at the office for you, Simon? I have to go by there to pick up the truck. Traffic was kind enough to have both vehicles towed to the garage, instead of leaving them outside the loft."

"Joel seems to have everything under control, but you can ask him if he needs to get something to me."

"Will do, sir. You two stay out of trouble while I'm gone. I'll be back this afternoon to check on you. And take it easy on Lynne. She's curious, but she's not dangerous."

Blair smiled. "Okay, Jim. We'll take your word for it and behave ourselves."

"Yeah, what he says, Jim," Simon said agreeably.

Simon waited until he figured Jim was too far away to hear him. "'She's not dangerous,' he says."

"I swear I felt someone walk across his grave when he said it," Blair admitted. "Maybe we should try some of that charm stuff ourselves, Simon."

"Double-team her, huh?"

Blair grinned. "Sounds like a plan, Captain."

*****

Jim made it to the relative safety of the station's elevator before he dared to ratchet his touch dial up a notch. Why everyone who offered their condolences felt the need to pat, punch, squeeze, or otherwise assault his shoulder, he had no idea. However, it was heartwarming to know so many people cared about what happened to him and Blair.

Stepping out onto the sixth floor, he turned the dial back down again just in time as Brown came down the hall. "Jim, my man, how's it hanging?" the detective asked, thumping his colleague on the back.

"We're surviving, H. Anything new in the investigation?"

"We're still on the outside. Marshal Avery hasn't cleared the way for forensics to go on-scene yet. Most of the damage was done to your place, but apparently the explosions did a number on the building's struts."

"Explosions?"

Brown nodded as they walked into the Major Crime bullpen. "Aerial shots show at least three different blast points. It looks like an expert wiring job."

"Only the best to take out my home," Jim said dryly.

A shoulder squeeze this time. "It'll be all right, bro. We look after our own, you know."

"Brown speaks for all of us," Joel said, approaching them. "It's good to see you, Jim. You and Blair doing okay?"

"I think Blair's still in a state of shock. Probably won't become real to him until he sees it for himself."

"Like you."

"Like me," Jim agreed. "I just came by to pick up the truck so I can run some errands. I'm supposed to meet the insurance agent at the site, then stop by the bank and rearrange some funds. I'm also scheduled to meet with a real estate agent."

"Sounds like a busy day. But if you can squeeze me in a few minutes, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure, Joel. Is now good?" Jim asked. He smiled at the other Major Crime members who were patting him as they passed. Humans and the Comfort of Touch. Sounded like another good anthropological dissertation topic. Who knew the police department was so rife with fodder for the anthropological crowd?

"Come on in to Simon's office." Joel shut the door behind them, and unlocked a file drawer. He extracted an envelope and handed it to Jim. "This is for you and Blair. The fund was started even before we got back from the site yesterday."

Jim looked down at the bills stuffed into the envelope, and felt his throat close up. "Tell everyone thanks," he rasped. "We-- Blair and I-- appreciate this. We really do."

"As Henri said, we take care of our own, Jim. And so do the citizens of Cascade." He reached into the drawer and brought out a handful of multicolored, multi-sized mail. "This stuff has been arriving all morning. The front desk says that people just come in and drop them on the desk without a word."

Jim saw more bills and checks in the envelopes. "Damn," he whispered.

"You've been good to the people, Jim. I think they relish the opportunity to give something back to you. The money may not equal the peace of mind you've given them over the years, but it makes them feel good to do something, you know?"

Jim just nodded, overwhelmed by the generosity of strangers. He looked at Joel in disbelief when the captain handed him two more envelopes. "Your brother dropped these off."

"Looks like I'm going to be using all my spare time writing thank-you notes," Jim said, awkwardly joking. "Think I'll go over to my desk and sort these out before I go to the bank."

"It's your desk, Jim."

"Yeah, it's nice to know something of mine still exists."

Jim had put the cash in a discreet pile in the shadow of his computer, and the checks in another pile. Even though he was in a police station, he didn't want to become too big of a target for criminals; after all, he'd hate to have to murder someone on what was turning into a very nice day. He shook his head as he added another check to the stack. Five thousand, from Steven, with a nice note asking about Blair, and offering his help in any way. Beneath that one was one from William; no note, just a clear statement on the memo line of the check-- Gift, not loan.

"Jim?"

He looked up to find Joel next to his desk, with a well dressed man standing beside him. "Yes, Captain?"

"This is Andrew Blevins. He's an attorney for Wilkenson."

"The Wilkenson?" Wealthiest man in the city. Had this huge building named after him to prove it.

"Mr. Wilkenson asked me to see that you received this personally."

Another envelope. Someone was going to top William's generous twenty-five thousand dollar check? Jim's sensitive fingers told him immediately it wasn't a check. He ripped open the envelope and two plastic cards fell out. Some kind of key cards. "What's this?" he asked the lawyer curiously.

"Keys to the penthouse at Wilkenson Tower. It's yours to use for however long you and Detective Sandburg need it. It's fully furnished, and the refrigerator was stocked this morning for you."

Jim was flabbergasted. "Uh, tell Mr. Wilkenson that we thank him, but we couldn't possibly--"

"That's why I was asked to deliver this personally, Detective Ellison. By accepting this offer, you are in no way violating any laws. Mr. Wilkenson is not asking, nor will he ever ask, for anything in return. The penthouse is for foreign members of staff who travel with their families, and therefore remains empty ninety-nine percent of the time. When he saw the remains of your home on the evening news last night, he immediately thought of the wasted space at the top of his building and concluded that if anyone deserved to know that they had a roof over their heads, it was you and Detective Sandburg. The Mayor, Police Commissioner, and State Attorney General agree."

"How the hell can I say no after that?" Jim mumbled.

"Exactly, Detective. The penthouse has a separate entrance and private elevator. Security will show you around. Have a nice day." The attorney left before Jim could find his voice again.

"Guess you can cross the real estate agent off your list," Joel said. He patted Jim's hand, chuckling at the detective's bewildered expression. "People like you, Jim. You're just going to have to get used to it."

Jim nodded. "Sandburg's made a lot of friends."

"It's sorta hard not to like him. In fact, I don't see how people do it. It's like that thing about how it takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown. I think it takes less effort to like Blair than it does to dislike him."

"Don't I know, Joel. How the hell do you think I went from letting him stay with me for a week, to putting his voice on the answering machine?" Jim asked with a self-mocking grin.

"Yeah, poor Jim," Joel said, rolling his eyes. "By the way, here's some more envelopes for you." He placed them on the desk, and walked away. A second later, he was back, bending across the desk to reach Jim's ear. "And it's not just Blair who's made friends, Jim. We both know that."

Whistling a jaunty tune, Joel made his way back to his temporary office, while Jim sat back, allowing a somewhat goofy smile to widen into a dazzling grin.

*****

"Colonel Reese, we're glad you could see us."

Lynne nodded carefully at Captain Banks as she entered Detective Sandburg's room. The request to see her had been a surprise, and she was wary of what they wanted to talk about. "Captain Banks, Detective Sandburg. What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"You can accept our apologies," Blair said. "We realize we've let our paranoia get the best of us, and we're sorry. It's just that, as I said earlier, we've run into government types before and the experiences haven't been pleasant. Also, Captain Banks informed me that you've been researching the media. That was also a difficult situation."

Lynne sat in the chair they obviously intended her to take. "Jim's...different, isn't he?"

A careful shrug. "We're all different, Colonel."

She nodded. So that was the way the conversation was going to go; nothing admitted to, but implied. Just a typical military dialogue. "But sometimes differences are good things, and should be shared, maybe even explored."

"I think that was the rationale for the first zoo, wasn't it?" Blair replied, his bitterness not far from the surface.

"But think of the species zoos have preserved."

"But how much are we interfering with nature when we do that, Colonel?" Blair argued. "Some things are meant to be, when they are meant to be. By preserving them past their time, we might be interfering with nature's long-range plans. What if that niche we protect is supposed to belong to some upcoming species? By preserving the old, we could be limiting the future."

"If Jim were to be labeled, which would you label him as-- future or past?"

"Jim would be one of the rare creatures who spans both worlds. A symbol of the past, perhaps a direction for the future."

"So he should be preserved," she posed.

"Not preserved, but protected."

"Can they not be one and the same?"

"No. Not within these confines. We live in an age where mysteries are consigned to the dark, catalogued and hidden away supposedly for the good of the people and the mysteries themselves." Blair lifted an eyebrow. "Ever hear of Area 51?"

"That's not on any map I've ever seen, Detective."

"Exactly, Colonel. Wouldn't you hate for Jim not to appear on any map as well?"

Lynne shook her head. "That wouldn't happen. Hypothetically speaking, if Jim is what your thesis said he is, certain persons would probably want to study him, test him surely, but-- "

"Study him from the inside out? Test his blood, his cells, dissect him--"

Lynne looked at Blair in amazement. "I was prepared to overlook the Area 51 reference, but I think you are the one misled by the media, Detective."

"That's right, Colonel. I lie. The media lies. But the Army is one-hundred percent above board, right? You haven't kidnapped psychics and tried to recreate them. You haven't taken children and tried to redirect their brain signals. You know nothing at all about experiments in remote viewing and--"

"What my officer is trying to say, Colonel," Simon interrupted, "is that it would only take one overzealous scientist to perhaps go too far in studying the differences in certain people, or in trying to duplicate those differences, and Jim would be in grave danger. I'm a policeman, ma'am, and I know all about trying to police your own people. No matter how hard you try, someone is going to slip through the cracks. We just don't want Jim to run into one of those."

Lynne looked into the captain's brown eyes and saw the same fear she saw in the blue ones that she also faced. Damn. She wished she could assure them that they truly were being paranoid, but she couldn't. She knew all too well just how excited some would become at the thought of a-- what had Detective Sandburg called him?-- yes, a sentinel actually existing. Hell, she'd already had to restrain some of them in the lab because of the anthrax. They'd wanted a closer study of the victims, and although she hadn't said anything to Jim, Ms. Plummer's autopsy had been extremely "thorough". She could imagine her colleagues not only wanting to understand what Jim could do, but wanting to "make" more Jims. So dangerous.

She thought back to their time in the jungle. She hadn't noticed Jim do anything out of the ordinary, other than keep them alive. So could she honestly say she believed what she'd read in the paper. And Detective Sandburg had renounced his findings. Who was she to call the man a liar? Still.... "What happens if these differences occur in someone else? Shouldn't there be documentation? Shouldn't someone have knowledge of what's going on?"

"Someone does, Colonel." Simon looked at Blair.

Lynne gave a wry smile. Why else would a former anthropologist become a cop? Why else would he have put together such an extensive notebook on allergies, and know instantly what drugs his partner could or could not tolerate? "Will that person's findings ever be shared?"

Blair shrugged. "If necessary. Or when the information can't hurt the subject anymore."

Lynne closed her eyes, trying to decide if she could do what these men wanted her to do. She knew she had been manipulated, and part of her was angry at their change in tactics. At least the animosity was honest. But she could also sense the desperation underlying their words. Sandburg had mentioned twice that Jim had already undergone some kind of trauma because of what he was. Would she, for the sake of the science that was her life's work, put him at risk again? "I met Jim under very trying conditions," she said softly. "My team and I were trapped between warring guerillas in the bush of Brazil. An arrogant captain with eyes so cold that I shivered in humid ninety degree heat, told me that if we listened to him, we would survive. There were times, instances, where I didn't believe him. But every time I was about to give up, this arrogant captain would manage to make me laugh, and the hope that I thought was lost would make a glorious reappearance. I went another mile, and another, and he was right: we survived. To this day, Brazil has been the single most frightening event in my life. But thanks to Jim Ellison, it doesn't haunt me.

"I owe him, gentlemen. I owe him the hope he gave me in Brazil. Whatever I know, whatever I think I know about him, will remain within my heart and my mind. But I want a promise from the two of you: if he ever needs my help, I want you to call me. I know you're gun-shy of military types like me, but I'm truly not your enemy. I'm not his enemy." She stood and held out her hand. "Do we have a deal, gentlemen?"

"I think it's more of a pact," Blair said. "And since it protects Jim, I definitely agree to it." He shook her hand warmly.

"Count me in," Simon said, also taking her hand.

"Well, in honor of this pact, I'm going to see about getting all of you sprung in the next day or so. I think the less time he spends around here, the better."

"Thank you, Colonel. For everything," Blair said with a blinding smile.

She had to answer it with one of her own. "You're welcome."

Simon waited until he thought she was out of range. "You almost blew it, Sandburg. The idea was to finesse her, not get her hackles up."

"I know, I know. But she hit a nerve when she started playing that whole 'denial' game, and--"

"What 'denial' game? And I distinctly remember telling you two to behave."

Blair and Simon looked guiltily at the door where Jim stood, his arms folded in disapproval.

"Hey, Jim! You back already?" Blair asked perkily.

"I've been gone the entire day, Sandburg," Jim reminded him. "And if I don't want to spend the night here again, I have to be leaving soon. The last ferry back to the mainland departs in a hour."

"Ferry? You drove here?"

"Yeah. It feels good not to have to rely on anyone else for transportation. So, what have the two of you been up to? Harassing my friends again?"

"Actually, Detective, we've been making friends," Simon said haughtily. "Sandburg and I realized we were being paranoid, and we acted to make amends."

"If you're such good friends now, what was the crack about the 'denial' game?" Jim asked shrewdly.

"Friends can disagree," Blair replied. "Since you're determined not to spend the night here, does that mean you have somewhere else to spend it?"

"When I left here, Sandburg, I said I was going to find us somewhere to stay. I'm a man of my word."

"Just how 'burb-y' is it, man? Is the lawn well-manicured? Are flags and other outdoor ornaments outlawed? Can you park the truck in the drive, or must such a vehicle be hidden in the garage? How thick is the CCR manual?"

"CCR?" Simon inquired, eager to participate in Blair's distraction ploy.

"Yeah. Covenants, Codes, and Restrictions. It's a Satan's pact you have to sign before they let you move into 'the best' neighborhoods. It explains what's 'appropriate' in certain residential areas. No flags, no trucks, boats, or RVs in plain sight. No outdoor pets, no children--"

"Sounds like a bunch of elitist crap," the captain snarled. "Probably no black folk either, right?"

"It depends, Simon. I mean, are they well-trained black people? Because you know we can't have loud noises and lewd behavior marring a perfect community."

"And everyone knows I have to love hip-hop, and getting my groove on in the front yard is an absolute must." Simon's eyes glared from behind his glasses.

"Guess Jim's going to have to smuggle you in and keep you locked up in the basement, Captain. After all, in the 'burbs, conformity is necessary for safe communal living."

"Not all of us can be meerkats, Sandburg," Jim said, wondering how this conversation started, and if they really expected it to distract him from investigating how they spent their day. "Speaking of, I'm going to check on Naomi for a few minutes before I leave. Also, you know exactly what I would do with a CCR agreement, Chief. Oh, and by the way, you're both full of bullshit, and I will find out what happened here today. "

"Blah, blah, blah," Blair said, mimicking a talking mouth with his hand. "Tell Mom I'll see her in the morning. And Jim, keep tomorrow open. We might need you to come get us."

Jim looked at him meaningfully. "I knew you'd been up to something. But don't worry, I'll be here, Chief. I'll feel a lot better when we're all home in Cascade."

"So say we all," Blair whispered as he nodded to his partner in crime.

Simon just winked.

Back to Sirocco Homepage, Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Comments? D.L. Witherspoon (dlspoon@skeeter63.org)