A
groan from the bottom bunk dragged Jim from his dire thoughts and back into his
dire reality. He rolled off the top
bunk, landing on his feet, before pulling over a chair and sitting down.
Chase's eyelids fluttered twice then slowly opened. Another groan and his eyes closed again. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.
"Feeling's
mutual," Jim said.
Chase
was startled. "What
the…?" His eyes focused on
Jim. "Great. No private rooms available, huh?"
"Sorry,
thought you meant me with that little epithet."
"Well,
it applies but no. Didn't see
you." He struggled to sit up but
Jim pushed him back down.
"Your
ankle's broken, and I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. Don't move around."
"How
long was I out?"
"A
few hours, actually. I was getting
worried."
"Worried? About me?" He laughed bitterly.
"Yeah, right, tell me another one."
Jim
frowned. "What the hell did I ever
do to you? Tell me that, please,
because I do not understand why you hate me so much. You have Blair now; I'm not a sentinel anymore, so why this
complete and total hatred?"
"Whoa,
wait. What you mean I have Blair? What are you talking about?"
Jim
shook his head. "He's your guide
now. I'm not a threat to you."
"Why
the fuck do I need to a guide?" He
tried to sit up again, but this time his own pain and weakness stopped him and
he, more or less, fell back onto the mattress. "Damn it. I cannot believe I managed to fuck up this
badly."
Jim
was confused. "You're a sentinel,
right? A sentinel needs a guide to
watch his back…"
"Stop,
stop, stop. Right there, you can
stop. I am not a sentinel. Where the hell did you get that stupid
idea?"
"Then
why the interest in Blair? Look, I've
done this before, you know. Barnes
tried to take Blair as her guide. I figure a sentinel without a guide is drawn
to–"
"You
can stop again," Chase interrupted.
"First of all, I say again, I am not a sentinel. Secondly, I don't want to take Blair
anywhere for anything. I don't have
Blair. Blair has himself. He's free, and that was my only
concern."
"So
you did all this out of the goodness of your heart?" Jim put all his powers of sarcasm into the
question.
Chase
looked at him like he had grown a second head.
"Fuck you, Ellison. You
don't know shit."
"Then
enlighten me." Jim sat back in his
chair and folded his arms across his chest.
"Okay,
fucker, here's some enlightenment for you.
Pete is my boss. He said we had
a job to do. I take my work very
seriously, so I was going to do the job, regardless. Now, it just so happens that I also got this message telling me I
had to help, because one shaman is obligated to help another. Get it now?
Believe me, I could have done without the complications of the spirit
plane sending a dead guy I had never seen before to tell me to get off my ass
and help my brother."
Jim
was dumbfounded. He sat up in his
chair, his arms unfolding. "You
mean –"
"We're
brothers, me and Blair, spirit brothers, man.
Shamans. I was summoned, I guess
is the best word for it, by some guy that Blair calls In –"
"Incacha."
"Yeah."
Jim
ran one hand over his face.
"Damn."
"Yeah."
"We're
in trouble," he stated flatly.
"This
is just now occurring to you? Where
have you been, man?"
Jim
waved his hand to dismiss Chase's remarks.
"You don't understand. I
thought you were a sentinel."
"Thought
wrong."
"Yeah,
yeah, but I told Baker and Rose that you were."
"What?!" Chase shot up, only to gasp in pain and sway
dangerously near the edge of the bed.
Jim
caught him and tried to put him down again, but Chase pushed his hands away.
"Are
you nuts?! Why would you do
that?!"
"Baker
was going to kill you. I had to do
something."
Chase
opened his mouth several times as if he was trying to find words, but could
find none to adequately express the myriad of emotions and thoughts Jim could
see plainly on his face. Finally, he
settled on, "Holy shit."
Jim
almost smiled. "Yeah, no
kidding."
"Well,
I guess I did wonder why I was still alive.
Baker hates me."
"I
gathered that."
"But
I'm dead anyway, now. I'm not a sentinel
and I can't fake that I am."
Jim
had already thought of that and dismissed it, but they were not out of options
yet. "That's true, but you can do
something that they want. Maybe that
will be enough to save you."
"What?"
"You
can guide."
Chase
sputtered then glared at him.
"What makes you think that?"
"You're
a shaman. Incacha was my first guide;
he was a shaman. Blair was my second;
he was a shaman. Holloway was not a
shaman, and he was useless as a guide.
I'm thinking that it stands to reason that shamans can guide. Maybe you don't have to be a shaman to be a
guide or a guide to be a shaman, but maybe it makes it easier. Even if you aren't actually a guide, you can
fake that, at least for a while.
Right?"
Chase
was shaking his head. "You really
are incredibly thick, aren't you?"
Jim
sighed and sat back again. "What?
Explain it to me then."
"Being
a shaman is a calling. Sometimes even a
birth rite. Being a guide is a
choice."
"So
make the damn choice!" Jim snapped.
"It's the only way to keep your sorry ass breathing!"
"No! I will not make that choice! God!
You have no idea, do you?"
He paused, wincing and reaching for his broken ankle. He stopped short, however, thinking better
of it, Jim supposed. Frowning, he tried
to gingerly rearrange himself on the bank so that he could face Jim. "Maybe I should rephrase myself. Being a guide is a commitment. You have no idea what Blair's done, do
you?"
"I
know what he's done for me. I will
never forget it, and I can never repay it.
Don't lecture me on Blair. You
can't say anything I haven't said to myself thousands of times."
"Shut
up, Ellison, and listen. You said
Incacha was your first guide, but that's not true. He may have guided you, but he was never 'your' guide. He was 'a' guide. More than likely, he once had a sentinel and that sentinel
probably died. His commitment was to
someone else. He knew how to guide and
he may have helped you out of responsibility, decency, whatever, but he would
never be your guide. In fact, it was
probably hard for him to act as your guide."
"What
the hell are you talking about?"
"According
to legends in my culture, sentinels were called guardians and guides were
called protectors. The guardians
guarded the tribe and the protectors protected the guardian and thus the
tribe. The protector was always a
shaman, you got that part right, but this shaman was different. This shaman made a commitment to the guardian. He tied his soul to the soul of the
guardian. Pledged his life to the guardian. That bond could not be broken, even in
death. If one died, the other could
live on, but inside something would always be missing, like a part of his soul
was gone. A protector could guide
another, but it would be a constant reminder of that missing piece. Another could guide the guardian, but the
bond was never made so the partnership was not as successful. That's the legend. Incacha was not your guide.
Blair is your guide. He's tied
to your soul. He's made the
commitment."
"How
would you know?"
"I'm
a shaman. I know. Somewhere down the line, he was given a
choice. He chose you, though I have no
idea why."
Jim
ignored the cheap shot at the end of the sentence, instead focusing on the
meaning of what Chase had said.
"The fountain."
"Pardon?"
"He
came back. The jaguar and the wolf
merged in the vision."
"Exactly,
there you go. He made the choice. A choice I will not make. No way, no how. I will not tie my soul to anybody. My luck, I'd end up with a jackass like Blair did."
"Dear
God," Jim breathed.
Chase
frowned at him. "Do you get it
now? Do you understand what you really
did? The sad part is that the bond is
not broken. Blair is torn up over
this. Scared to stay, scared to
leave. Hurt down to the soul with no
way to heal. I would love it if he
never came back to you, if he never looked back, but that's gonna hurt like
hell every day of his life. You don't
deserve him, but he doesn't deserve to feel that empty space inside
either. So I'm torn myself. He listens to me, you see? Do I convince him to stay with us, make a
new life, however painful that may be?
Or do I send him back to you so you can fuck up his life again? Catch 22.
Damned one way or the other. For
a while, I thought the more abstract pain would be better, but I watched him
and already he was struggling. I
realized something that I should have just known. You can't live without your soul, even a little piece. I doubt those ancient sentinels and guides
had much of a life if they lost their partners. So anyway, here I am, trying to keep your sorry ass breathing, to
use your own words. Even though I know
you'll just hurt him again and again. I
know you wonder why I care. I can see
it on your face. I barely know either
of you. But I know enough. What you did was, to my mind,
unforgivable. I'd have shot you if I
were Blair. Lucky for you, I'm
not. And as for Blair, like I said, brothers. Fuck with one shaman, fuck with us
all."
"I
didn't know. I didn't mean to."
"Well,
I don't even understand how you could.
You must be one really cold, repressed son of a bitch to not feel that
hurt in him. If he's tied to your soul,
you're tied to his. Don't you feel
anything?"
"Of
course, I do!" Jim shouted, coming
out of his chair and shoving it hard so that it smacked the wall of their small
cell. "I just…" He paced.
He did not know how to explain.
"I just don't, can't.
Ahh!" he screamed in frustration.
"I have a job to do! I
can't let emotions get in the way!
I—"
"Check
'em at the door? Heard Pete say that
before. Usually right before he screws
something up big time. You ignored his
feelings. Hell, you ignore your own, so
no big deal. But it is a big deal. Look where you are now. Look where we are, thank you, since I seem
to have been picked up for the trip.
You took a wrong turn, buddy.
You're lost. You're
clueless. You're a fool."
"Well,
you know what, Chase? Fuck you
too."
Chase
laughed. "You already have,
Ellison. Look at me. How's that old song go? 'Stuck in the middle with you.'"
"Well,
smart ass, I suggest that you learn to fake being a guide PDQ or you won't be
stuck here in the middle with me for very long, now will you? I didn't ask you to come after me. I didn't want your help, but you're here
now, so perhaps you'd like to put aside your hatred for me long enough for us
to stay alive and work together to get out of here."
"I
don't hate you, Ellison. I just dislike
you. Very intensely. As for the rest, Jess was with me. I'm guessing he got away. He'll be back with Pete and Alex and
possibly lots of folks. They won't
leave us here to die. I can't fake
being a guide, but they don't really know what being a guide entails, so they
won't know that, huh? Thing is, you
aren't a sentinel anymore, so you say.
So who am I supposed to guide?"
"Alex
Barnes."
"I
was afraid you were going to say that."
"It's
that or let Baker's goons take you out and shoot you."
"Gee,
what a choice."
Rose
had come and taken Chase away a few hours later. Jim had helped the man into the wheelchair as the two of them
told the "good" doctor that he did not, in fact, have another
sentinel, but a guide. Rose was in the
space of one breath both disappointed and elated. Suddenly, Jim could see that Chase was going to be treated with
kid gloves, at least by Rose. Jim had
worried that Chase's broken ankle would half-heartedly treated until that
moment. Rose had what he needed most,
or so he thought, and he needed Chase unimpaired.
As
Jim sat mulling over the events of the night, he could not help but think,
rather uncharitably, that if Chase was forced to be Barnes' guide, at least
Blair would be safe from Rose. He had
one sentinel, however insane she was, and he would have one guide. Sort of.
Maybe, just maybe, they would lose interest in Blair altogether. After all, Baker was obviously not too keen
on Blair anyway.
His
thoughts turned entirely to Blair then.
If what Chase had told him was true, not true just to Chase, but the
real truth of sentinels and guides, what did that mean for Blair? What did that mean for him, for that
matter? One selfish part of him
screamed that Blair would have to come home, that he would have to forgive Jim. The more selfless part though whispered that
he did not want to cause Blair any more pain, and one way or another, he should
just hope that Blair was happy and healthy.
Funny how a whisper could be so much louder than a scream. "Whatever happens, Chief, please be
safe. Just be happy."
Chase
said that the one left behind would feel like a piece of himself was
missing. That was how Jim felt. Had felt for a long time. It had started as soon as he got the
reactivation call. The realization hit,
and he nearly cried. He had tried to
break the bond. He had been the one to
try to walk away. Blair may have been
the one to physically leave him behind, but Jim had already turned his heart
away from Blair. "My fault,
Chief. All my fault."
He
did not deserve Blair. Incacha had said
it. Chase had said it. They were right. But right did not stop him from begging, pleading with whatever
powers steered the universe to give him back his guide. More than that. His best friend. His brother.
Now,
he did cry. No wonder men went insane
in solitary, he thought crazily. Too
many truths waiting to be discovered.
Too much time to dig them all up and examine them, to lament bad
decisions and wrongdoings, to see yourself as others see you.
Chase
had held up a very unflattering mirror.
Jim had looked at it and seen a cold, unfeeling man reflected back at
him. His father, came the comparison,
unwanted but painfully true. Lock out
your emotions and lock out that which makes you human. That was what Chase was saying. But he could not let his emotions rule
him. That was wrong, too. He had ignored Blair's feelings many, many
times. The Ventriss case, for
sure. His solitary fishing trip that
nearly ended in disaster. He should
have learned something then and there.
Reading the dissertation, big mistake.
Yet not as big as jumping to conclusions about it afterward. Ruthlessly shoving Blair out of his life
over and over since that call, deep down knowing what that was doing to his
partner, but not willing to find another way.
He could try to call it duty or loyalty to his oath, but it was
not. It was fear. Afraid to hold on, afraid to let go. Hurt down to his soul with no way to heal,
Chase had said about Blair. But it was
not just about Blair, was it? No, the
bond went both ways.
"Goddamn
you, Chase. Why did you have to make me
see?" One hand moved to his chest
without any conscious thought on his part, seemingly trying to cover the gaping
hole Jim finally allowed himself to feel.
Alex
stared at his new friend and student.
The demolitions lesson had gone well.
Blair had not been too shocked by Alex's arsenal. Add that to the fact that he was finally
able to keep his eyes open while shooting and was hitting the target much of
the time, and Alex was able to believe for the first time that Blair just might
make it with the agency. He was not ready
for fieldwork, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was learning. Of course, the improvement could be
attributed to Blair's absolute determination to help Ellison despite everything
they had done to each other. Kit might
be determined to blame it all on Ellison, but even Blair admitted that they had
both made serious mistakes and was carrying around quite a bit of guilt. At the moment, however, Blair simply stared
off into the woods, one hand clutched to his chest.
"Are
you hurting?" Alex asked finally.
"What?"
Blair turned his head to face him.
Alex
gestured at the hand still on Blair's chest.
"Oh!"
He moved his hand quickly, his face showing his surprise at finding it there in
the first place. "No, I—uh, I
don't know why I was doing that."
Alex
moved from the doorway of the cabin to the rocking chair on the other side of
Blair's. He sat down and gently rocked
back and forth. Blair's eyes drifted
back to focus on the woods again, or perhaps focus was the wrong word. Alex wondered if he saw the trees at
all. "Pete won't be back until
morning. He won't come back here at
night. Too dangerous," he told his
guest. That was what the younger man
was looking for out there, he surmised.
"We
should have gone with him."
"And
do what? Wring our hands and fret while
he talks incessantly on that cell phone?
That's all we could do, you know."
"Still."
"Still,
we can wring our hands and fret here, which is exactly what you are doing. Right?"
"You
are so damn calm."
"I
am so damn practical. Not calm. Not really.
I am worried. I am angry. I am very tired of waiting, but I can't let
those things make me careless."
"You
remind me of Jim."
"How's
that?"
"'Check
your emotions at the door, Blair. You
can't get personally involved,'" he mimicked Ellison's so-serious tone so
well.
Alex
chuckled. "All black and white
with him, isn't it?"
Blair
looked at him, an odd expression on his face.
"Been
there, done that," Alex continued.
"Actually, I assure you, I am feeling. My emotions are in play; they simply don't call all the
moves."
"Chess
analogies? Black and white, moves in
play?"
"Leave
it to me." Alex smiled. "Anyway, it's a balance. I can be personally involved and still be
practical and get the job done. There
was a time that wasn't true. I have run
the gamut, but I finally found some balance.
Kit helped me with that. Though
I will never admit that to him and don't you say a word. I'll deny everything. He's good though, that one. Makes you see yourself, all the things you
are, all the things you aren't, and all the things you'd like to be, good, bad
or indifferent. Sort of like looking at
yourself through a prism. You are still
just one person, but there are a multitude of little faces reflected back at
you, not all pretty and nice, but all parts of you. If he weren't such a smart ass while doing it, you might even be
inclined to thank him someday, but alas, he is a smart ass. Little bastard."
It
was Blair's turn to chuckle. "He
is sort of a smart ass sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "And a
chameleon. I think his own prism must
have thousands of faces. You would
think that he would stick out like a sore thumb in certain circumstances, most
even. He's quite striking, all that
hair and such. But he always seems to
fit in seamlessly. Like you, I
think. Had I not been told I would
never have pictured you with Ellison or as part of a police department. He finds ways to fit in, changes to suit his
environment without changing the essentials that make him Kit. I think you have that talent too. Maybe it's part of the shaman thing. Kit says that you are like him, so maybe
that's part of the talent of it."
"I
thought it was the anthropologist in me."
"Ah,
but why Anthropology? Did you choose it
or did it choose you?"
That
gave Blair something else to focus on, which had been Alex's goal all
along. Hours later, when Blair's eyes
were struggling to remain open and Alex talked him into going to bed, Alex had
learned more about human culture and its development than he ever knew
existed. Alex had thought he was well
versed on world cultures. He had been
wrong, apparently. As he turned off the
last of the lights, he said a short prayer for Kit's safety. And Ellison's too. He sighed and started up the stairs to his bedroom. A soft inquiry stopped him.
"Alex,
what if I was supposed to balance Jim?
Like Kit did for you? What if
that was my job?"
Alex
turned to see Blair moving to the steps.
"You can't take responsibility for someone else's problems,
Blair."
"But
I was his guide. His shaman. I should have been able to help him."
"First,
he had to want help. He had to accept
help. You can lead a jackass to water,
but you can't make him drink."
"Horse,
Alex. It's—it's a horse."
"Oh? I thought we were talking about
Ellison." Alex grinned.
In
the moonlight, he saw Blair's smile.
"Harsh, man, very harsh."
"But
very true. Don't believe me? Ask Ellison. I think he would agree."
Blair
lowered his head for a long moment.
"He is sorry, you know. I
could tell. I was just so mad."
"With
every right to be so," Alex pointed out.
"He
meant well."
"The
road to hell."
"Damn
it! Make up your mind! Do you want me to forgive him or not?"
Alex
walked back down the stairs and placed his hands on Blair's shoulders. "Blair, I want you to do what's right
for you. But I want you to really know
what that is before you do anything.
This is one of those times when you have to use that balance we were
talking about. You can't make this
decision with just your head, or just your heart. And you can't let me or anyone else tell you what you should
do. I think I've learned a little from
Kit. I'm trying to—"
"Hold
up a prism?"
"Yeah,
of a sort." He dropped his hands.
"Playing
devil's advocate?"
"That's
it, precisely." Alex smiled and
pointed a finger at him.
"So
whatever I lean toward, you'll push me the other way?"
"No,
whatever you feel, I'm going to try to make you think about. And whatever you think about, I'm going to
try to make you feel."
"That
sucks."
"Well,
it's what Kit would be doing if he were more objective. He's already decided he hates Ellison, so I
don't think he can help with this."
"He
really does hate him. Wonder why."
"If
you ask me, I'd say an overdeveloped sense of morality and the absolute
conviction that he is always right," Alex said, not quite serious and not
quite joking. "I think it goes
back to Kit's understanding of what this sentinel business is all about. There are legends in Kit's culture about
them and because of them, he expected better from Ellison. Ellison failed to live up to the standards
of those legends in Kit's mind and thus must be condemned."
"But
he's only human."
"Ah,
is he?"
"What
are you saying?"
"I'm
not saying anything. I'm asking."
Blair
sat on the steps. "You're asking
if I'm under some delusion that he's somehow more than human?"
"Are
you?"
"No,
he disabused me of that notion a long time ago." Blair laughed, but it had a sad sound to Alex's ears.
Alex
sat beside him. "Well, to Kit, he
was the living embodiment of a revered legend who fell woefully short of Kit's
ideal. Thus the animosity. And despite your words, I think there were
still times when you looked at him and saw an 'S' across his chest."
Blair
grinned. "Yeah, that's true, I
guess. He's larger than life
sometimes. Or he was, anyway."
"And
that adds to the hurt, doesn't it?"
"You're
a smart guy."
"Smart?" Alex shrugged, though secretly pleased at
the compliment. "I'm just good at
psycho-babble. Had to hear it for 30
days of my life. Did me no good at all,
but to learn to do it others."
"What?"
"Nothing. Bad time in my life and a very long
story. Rather not go into it if you
don't mind. Besides, we need to sleep. Tomorrow, Pete will have more news, and hopefully,
a workable plan."
Blair
nodded a little. "I do understand,
and I hope you're right. About the
plan, I mean. Good night, Alex." He stood.
"Good
night, Blair. Again."
"Last
time, I swear." Blair laughed as he headed down the hall.
Alex
watched him go then looked out of the nearest window at the silvery
moonlight. "Good night,
Eliza," he whispered.
Pete
sat cross-legged in the middle of his hotel bed. He frowned as he studied the layout of the grounds of the
Millennium Research Center's San Francisco facility, the blueprints of the
building itself, and some aerial photos the SFPD had taken and graciously given
to Chad Ryan. Frontal assault would be
dangerous, and Jim and Kit would be dead before they even got through the
gate. The FBI wanted that frontal
assault, but Pete had nixed that right away.
Ryan's people were not coming in until Jim and Kit were safely out of
Rose and Baker's custody. That meant getting
in quietly first. Jesse had explained
that the security system at the facility had a backup system. That was how Kit had gotten caught. Cut the power, reroute the power, or dispute
the power in any way and the backup switch was thrown automatically, resulting
in a window of about one minute. Enough
for Kit to get to the top of that stupid electric fence. Not enough for an assault group to get in,
that was sure.
What
was worse, Kit's success getting into the Baltimore facility might have even
been the reason for the new security measures.
He had practically waltzed in back in Baltimore. Maybe San Francisco was better guarded all
along. Who knew, but Jesse felt
incredibly guilty for not catching the problem in time to keep Kit from being
captured. At any rate, sneaking in was
not an option.
They
also were not going to bluff their way in this time. They were expected. He
picked up one of the aerial shots. The
picture was of the front gate. There
was a delivery truck at the gate. He
could not see what was written on it.
He put the photo back on the bed and tapped it with one finger. That was their way in. He was not sure how Simon Banks and his crew
were going to feel about hijacking a truck, not to mention how the FBI would
react, but it was easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission. Besides, Chad knew him well enough to know
that he would go to any extreme, up to and including blowing the whole place to
kingdom come, to retrieve one of his men.
As long as Pete got the evidence that the FBI wanted to get Baker, Ryan
would cover his ass for anything Pete did.
And he did have tentative blessings from the Pentagon and the CIA.
He
just needed the name of the company on that truck. Not a problem with Jesse around.
He would take the picture to Jesse, and in less time than it took Pete
to talk Mrs. Riviera into making him a batch of cookies, they would be in
business. Pete grinned. Jesse's mom made the best damn cookies he
had ever eaten and all it took was a smile, a wink, and a please and he would
have those cookies. His mouth actually
watered at the thought.
The
next thought wiped the smile off his face.
He did have just one little problem.
Not that little, about five foot eight worth of problem actually. Blair Sandburg. What to do with Blair, Pete did not have a clue. His newest employee would not appreciate
being left out of this operation, but he was not ready to go into the
field. Leaving him behind was not
exactly an ideal situation either. Pete
did not have a man available to protect him.
He would be safe at Alex's though, if he stayed there. But he would not stay without a guard. "Wait, the traps. Alex's traps. He can't leave with all those traps. Ah-ha." He
grinned. "If they can keep people
out, they can keep one anthropologist in.
Hopefully." He absently
chewed on his bottom lip. Of course,
Blair would be furious at being left behind, but Jim would be furious if Pete
brought Blair along. Leaving Blair
behind was best.
They
had plenty of help. Banks had four of
his people coming with him to help with the assault. How he had managed to wrangle the simultaneous time off for his
entire core group, Pete would never know.
It probably took hours of meetings with multitudes of bureaucrats. The thought was just too unsavory to
contemplate. The fact that they were
going to retrieve Cascade's Cop of the Year, two years running, probably
helped. Also, Pete knew that Ryan had
had a word or two with the Police Commissioner. With the Major Crimes group, Alex, Jesse and him, he had a
good-sized assault team. Ryan's team
would only have to come in and roundup the bad guys and sweep away the
debris.
He
picked up his cell again. He had to
arrange a meeting place with Banks.
L.A. was the best choice.
Baker's people would stake out San Francisco, after all. And Jesse and his mom's cookies were in
L.A. He smiled again.
Then
he had a twinge of guilt. Kit was in
trouble, possibly dead, and he was thinking about cookies. He thought back to Jess's frantic call. Jesse had been near tears. He had been forced to leave Kit behind. Pete knew how that felt. It was not a good feeling. "Fuck," he whispered, running his
free hand over his short hair, leaving it standing on end. But the state of his hair was the very least
of his worries. He stared at the cell
phone still in his other hand. He
thumbed the power button and dialed up Cascade. Time to get the show on the road.
"So
you knew Pete before, huh?" Kit asked the man on the top bunk. He had to take his mind off of the cast on
his left leg. It was itching already. It was psychosomatic, he realized, but that
did not stop the itch.
"Yeah,"
his unwilling roommate answered flatly.
A
moment of silence told Kit that nothing more was forthcoming. "What was Pete like when he was young
and impetuous?"
"Young
and impetuous."
"Jackass,"
Kit muttered, but not without humor.
That was just the sort of answer he would have given, after all.
"Look,
I don't like you, and you don't like me.
I think that makes it acceptable for us to completely ignore one
another. Let's try that, shall we?"
"No,
you look!" Kit rolled off the
bunk, wincing as he accidentally put weight on his ankle. Impatiently, he shoved his long, tangled
hair out of his face. "I came
after you. I was here to help you, so I
think a little courtesy wouldn't kill you!
Besides, wasn't it you who said that we needed to work together to get out
of here?"
Ellison's
blue eyes regarded him in the gloom of their cell. For a moment, Kit was worried that the man might attack him. He was in no shape to defend himself. His head was pounding, and his ankle was
throbbing. He hopped back a little to
get ready for it, though, just in case.
But the eyes softened a little and Ellison sighed. He sat up on his bunk. "Sorry," he mumbled, through the
hands that ran over his face. "I
just—I'm not at my best right now."
"Gee,
I hope not." Kit instantly
regretted the smart remark.
"Sorry, sorry. You tend to
bring out my bad side."
"More
like your brutally honest side."
Kit
raised one eyebrow. "Say
again?"
Ellison
jumped down from the top bunk and grabbed Kit's arm. Kit started to pull away, but before he could, he realized that
Ellison was only steering him gently to a chair. Once Kit was seated, the man pulled the chair over to Kit's bunk
and propped Kit's ankle on the mattress.
"You should keep that elevated," he explained before sitting
on the bunk himself.
"Who
are you?" Kit asked sarcastically.
"Jim
Ellison, nice to meet you." He
offered his hand.
Kit
looked at him, then his hand, then back at him. Tentatively, he held out his own hand. Ellison took it in a firm grasp.
"Kit Chase, still deciding if it's nice to meet you or not."
"Understandable. You know, I was really pissed at you."
"Was?" Kit almost smiled.
"Maybe
still am a little. But I have been
thinking about what you said. You made
some good points."
"I
try."
"Do
you ever stop being such a smart ass?"
"Can't
help it. The rest of me ain't dumb
either." This time, Kit did smile
while Ellison shook his head.
"Alex says I'm annoying."
"He's
right. You are."
Kit
laughed. "Part of my job,
though. My grandfather says that a
shaman must think with both his head and his heart, but there's just one
problem. Most men think with something
considerably lower than either of those things." Ellison almost smiled.
Kit went on. "He actually
attributes that last part of the lesson to my grandmother, however. At any rate, you weren't using your head or
your heart. You were thinking with your
pride, and there's nothing more dangerous or hurtful than that."
"You're
right."
"But
I was also wrong."
"Meaning?"
"I
forgot something. You're still
human. Humans make mistakes. In fact, we are entitled to make them. How else would we learn? So I was expecting the great legend, the
Guardian of the tribe. I got Jim Ellison,
the man, the human. It pissed me
off. I did some thinking too. Didn't have much else to do, and it was
useful to drown out Rose's inane theories about what you are and what I
am. Alex tried to tell me all of this,
you know. But I wasn't listening. I should have known better but—"
"You're
human. You're entitled to your
mistakes."
"He
can be taught!" Kit smiled to soften the sarcasm. "Blair made mistakes too. Mostly from not being aware of what he is
and what he can do. I'm trying to fix that,
by the way."
"Good."
"He
does miss you."
"I
miss him, but I don't want him here."
"Then
we agree on something then."
"If
we both want Blair safe and healthy, then yes, we have common
ground." Ellison offered his hand
again and Kit did not hesitate to take it.
"I
still think you're a jackass." He
could not help the impulse to say it.
Ellison
chuckled. "Yeah, and you're still
an annoying smart ass."
"Fair
enough," he said as Ellison helped him back onto his bunk.
"Good
night, Chase."
"Good
night, Ellison." Kit waited until
the other man was on his bunk, then added, "I still want to know the dirt
on Pete."
"Well,
there's plenty of it. Another night
though. All of this emotional
soul-searching is exhausting."
"I
suppose that'll be okay. Gotta take it
easy on my elders."
"Chase?"
"What?"
"Don't
make me kick your ass."
"I'm
an injured man. You wouldn't."
"Don't
count on that."
"You
can't fool me, Ellison. For all your
faults, you are still a decent man."
There
was a silence so long that Kit began to believe that his fellow prisoner had
fallen asleep, but he had not.
"Thanks. I needed to hear
that right now."
"You're
welcome," Kit answered honestly.
He shifted on the bunk, trying to get comfortable with the heavy
cast. He sighed. It was impossible. He would never get to sleep.
He
was wrong.
Jim
listened to his cellmate's even breathing.
He had known the moment that Chase drifted off to sleep. He was telling the truth; he was exhausted. However, his mind stubbornly refused to
cooperate with him and shut down. Chase
said that he was a decent man. Why
couldn't the mercenary continue to hate him?
Now, he felt all the more guilt over the direction his earlier thoughts
had taken. Guilt or no, however, he
could not help his feelings. Better
Chase than Blair. He hoped Pete had the
good sense to keep Blair far from here.
Of course, he was once again assuming that Blair would care what
happened to him. Chase said that Blair
missed him, but he did not say Blair forgave him. Huge difference there.
There
was no reason for Blair to come back anyway.
Jim's senses were gone. He did
not need a guide. He had lost even that
to bring Blair back to him. Blair had a
chance to get his doctorate now and go on with his life. Traveling the world, learning everything he
could, that was Blair's real joy in life.
As long as Blair was learning something, he was happy. His second joy was teaching what he had learned. Jim had nearly destroyed his chances to do
those things. No, Blair was better off
without Jim. There was just one
problem. Jim was not better off without
Blair.
It
was the same result every time he took that round trip in his head. He needed Blair. Blair did not need him.
He wanted Blair to come home, but had no right to expect it or even ask
it.
Georgetown. Blair had a chance to go to Georgetown. No one deserved it more. He should go. He should get his doctorate.
And yet, what would his thesis be?
It could not be the sentinel thesis.
Jim had not been exposed as a sentinel.
The world thought Jim simply had experienced a few isolated instances of
heightened hearing, if he remembered the final version of the story right. He could not publish on Barnes, not with
Baker and Rose out there. If Pete took
them down, maybe then he could. But
that thought made Jim nervous. Even
after all that they had been through, the idea that Blair might make heightened
senses public knowledge made his heart pound in his chest. Once the world knew, how long before his
secret was exposed, regardless of who the dissertation named?
Which
brought him to the old argument. Why
the hell had Blair put his name in the damn paper to begin with? They had talked about it, and argued about
it until both of them were blue in the face.
Blair saying that it was just the rough draft and that the final would
not have named him, pointing out that the introductory chapter had long since
been turned in and properly cleansed of Jim's name. Then Jim arguing that it was still careless of him to have his
name in it at all and for him to leave it sitting around for just anybody to
see. Which had started the argument
about Naomi. Absent and absent-minded
Naomi. Jim was still angry with
her. She had taken off pretty quickly
after turning their lives upside down and left Blair wounded by her last
words. Yes, she had been all smiles in
the bullpen, pretending to be the supportive mother while everyone was looking,
but once she got Blair alone, it was a whole new ballgame. She had made it clear that she could not
accept her son becoming a cop. She had
even told Blair that if he went through with the Academy she would not be
around for him anymore. As if she ever
had been.
Another
argument had ensued between he and Blair as Blair waffled between being Jim's
partner and his mother's son. Jim could
admit now that he had browbeaten Blair into the Academy. Blair would never have been happy as a cop. He hated acknowledging that, because, in a
way, it made Naomi right. He
frowned. He had to stop thinking
now. Whenever he came to the conclusion
that Naomi was right, it was a bad sign for his sanity. A zone would be nice, he decided. But instead of a zone, he finally succumbed
to sleep.
"If
you try to leave me here, I'll follow you."
Pete
observed the stubborn face of Blair Sandburg, but he had no intention of giving
in. "You can't. You'll just hurt yourself. Alex has traps all over these woods. Don't even try it, because we are not coming
back for you. We don't have the
time. You'll be stuck here and
injured."
"No,
I won't. Kit pointed out all of Alex's
traps. I have them mapped out in my
head. Unless he's changed them in the
last week, I know where each and every one of them is located." Arms crossed over his chest, Blair gave Pete
a smug grin.
Pete
looked to Alex who half-shrugged at him.
"So
then, it's settled. I'll go get my
things." Blair left them standing
in the living room of the cabin.
"Is
he bluffing?" Pete finally asked aloud.
"Don't
know. Maybe, maybe not. Kit does know where my traps are, and I
haven't changed them since we've been here."
"Fuck!"
"Sorry,
Pete."
Pete
sighed. "Fine. Better not take the chance."
"As
much as I know he's not ready, I'd rather him be with us than trailing behind
us, unprotected. He is getting pretty
good with a gun."
"He
did hold his own in El Salvador that time.
Damn it! It's too soon
after—well, you know." He
gestured.
"His
breakdown? I seem to recall I wasn't
long back from my little trip to Looneyville when you hired me."
Pete
turned sharply to look at his friend, thinking that perhaps he had managed to
insult Alex. But he was smiling so Pete
just tried to qualify his doubts.
"That was different."
"Yes,
I suppose so, but to tell you the truth, if anything, Blair is more stable that
I was. He'll be fine."
Pete
grimaced and flung his hands up in surrender.
"I can not believe that Kit showed him all those traps!"
"He
needed to. They were planning to be in
the woods quite a bit, you know."
"Well,
what's done is done. Let's just go get
him."
"So
you can kill him yourself?" Alex
chuckled.
"Thought
did cross my mind. The little—"
"Bastard,"
Alex finished, laughing.
"Why
is my life so complicated?" Pete
whined.
"Karma,"
came the answer from a blue flannelled, curly-headed blur that passed by him on
its way to the door. "Let's
go. Time's wasting." Blair opened the door and gestured for them to
precede him.
"Blair,
where's your gun?" Alex was
surprisingly nonchalant about the question.
"In
my backpack."
"Where
you can't get to it," Alex calmly pointed out.
"Oh,
there is that." The idea was
obviously just striking the anthropologist.
Pete
was not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.
"Karma," he muttered as he walked out of the door.
"Good
morning, Mr. Chase. If you would,
please, come with me."
Kit
glanced at Ellison. The man was focused
on Rose, however. He regarded the man
with blank eyes, but Kit knew better.
He knew that Ellison would have his own unpleasantness to face once Kit
was gone and that he was trying to be stoic.
"See you later."
Ellison
gave him a half-nod and went back to his breakfast.
Kit
grabbed his crutches and hobbled out the door.
Rose placed one hand on the small of Kit's back as they made their way
down the hall. The hand made Kit's skin
crawl. "Where are we going?"
"To
meet your new sentinel."
"Lovely."
"Yes,
actually, she is. You remember her,
don't you?"
"Of
course."
"Mr.
Chase, do I have to tell you what will happen to you if you don't succeed with
Ms. Barnes?"
"No."
"Good,
good. That's wonderful. Ready?"
"Not
really."
Rose
laughed as he came to a stop outside a door.
"She's
crazy, you know. No one may be able to
help her."
"Mr.
Chase, Kit. May I call you Kit?"
"No,
I would really prefer that you didn't."
Rose
laughed again. "Mr. Chase,
then. You had better help her or you
die." He turned to the door behind
him. He slid his passkey through the
sensor and the door opened. "After
you."
"How
do I know you'll follow me?"
"I
have no intention of following. I'll be
in the observation room." Rose
ever so gently but firmly pulled Kit toward the door then pushed him through
it. The door closed and Kit stood,
balanced on his good leg and the crutches, inside a padded room.
When
he did not immediately see Alex Barnes, the back of his head started tingling.
Slowly, he turned. Before he could face
her, however, she slammed into him, knocking him to the floor. His crutches clattered loudly on the tiled
floor, and she released him and grabbed her head. She whimpered and crawled away.
He lay there for a moment, trying to regain his breath. Pain lanced up his leg, and his head was
suddenly pounding once again. When he
could breath again, he sat up. His
vision was slightly out of focus, but he located her quickly. She was huddled in the far corner of the
room. He opened his mind to her and
gasped at what he saw. There before him
was the spotted jaguar, but that was not the shock. The shock came when he caught sight of the tiny cub she was
curled around. He shifted his sight,
drawing his consciousness out of the spirit plane. Looking now at the blond woman he could see the slight protrusion
of her abdomen. She was pregnant.
Rage
rolled through him, making him hot and nauseated. He cursed Rose not quite under his breath, and she whimpered
again, obviously frightened by his anger.
He glared at the mirror where he knew Rose was watching. He did not expect a response from the man, and
he did not get one. Sighing and cursing
again, he crawled slowly over to her.
Even as he did, the battle raged.
This
woman was a criminal. She had tried to
kill Blair Sandburg and almost succeeded.
She had killed others. She was a
thief. But she was hurting and
scared. And carrying another life
inside her. That life was innocent of
her crimes. He was torn, but her pain
called out to him, and he continued to move toward her, not away. He could not help himself.
Rose
was a monster. How could a man do such
a horrible thing? Barnes was no angel,
true, but in her present state, she was helpless to defend herself. She had probably been drugged into
submission. Kit felt sick and he fought
down the bile that threatened in the back of his throat. Did she even understand what had happened,
what was happening? His vision showed
her spirit self protecting the cub, but that did not mean that Alex Barnes knew
or understood that she was pregnant.
Why would Rose do this?
Actually, he had not, Kit realized.
White-hot truth set his veins on fire.
Not Rose. Not exactly anyway. Ellison.
Ellison was the father of that child.
Portions of the file they had found flashed through Kit's head like
pictures on a screen. Rose wanted to
start a breeding program and he had.
The medical report on Ellison had listed a sperm count, meaning they had
taken samples. Rose had impregnated
Alex Barnes with Ellison's sperm. It
was the only explanation, as Kit could not see Ellison willingly having sex
with her. He repressed the urge to
curse again as he settled himself in front of Barnes. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Ever so cautiously, he lifted one hand to
show her that it was empty. She eyed
him warily, but did not move. Gently,
he smoothed her hair away from her face and tried to smile at her. She reached out to him, her hand mimicking
his, touching his hair softly. She
smiled, almost shyly.
Then
the world shifted out of focus again as she snatched him into her world. The spotted jaguar circled him as he shifted
to his animal shape. The jag stepped
back from the cougar and sniffed the air.
Then she circled again. He only
watched her. Then she nudged him and
seemed to wait for a response. When he
did not respond, she roared at him.
Still, he did not move. She lay
down, confusion showing on the feline face.
Kit
exerted his will once again and regained his human form. He held out a hand to her, hoping that she
would shift as well, but she did not.
Finally, he understood. She was
stuck in this form, thus the feral behavior she exhibited. He pulled them both from the spirit plane,
only to find Rose standing over them.
"What—"
Rose
never got to finish his question as Kit surged up, disregarding the pain in his
leg and punched the man in the face.
Rose stumbled back and hit the floor.
In seconds, Barnes was on him, clawing him mercilessly.
"Shit." Kit tried to pull her off. Then the room was flooded with men. Kit was dragged away and pinned to the wall
as Alex was torn away from her prey. It
took four men to accomplish just that.
"Let
me go!" Kit struggled against his
captors. "I can help, damn
it!" But they did not let go. Instead, Rose pulled himself up as she was
dragged down to the floor. His face and
neck bleeding, he half-stumbled over to her and plunged a needle into her hip.
"You
son of a bitch!" Kit screamed at him.
"You could hurt the baby, you bastard!"
On
the floor, Alex stopped struggling and succumbed to the sedative.
"It
was unavoidable," Rose said blandly.
"Get me something for this," he told one of the men as he
gestured to his face.
"Unavoidable,
my ass. This whole thing is your
fault. You did this to her! Your fault!"
Rose
simply turned and picked up Kit's crutches.
He seemed calm as he walked over to Kit, but when he held out the
crutches, Kit could see his hands trembling.
"Let him go."
When
he was free, Kit grabbed the crutches.
"You are such a fucking snake, Rose. I hope she kills you. I
hope I'm there to see it."
"What
happened in here?" Rose ignored
his statements. "The two of you
seemed to connect. Did you communicate
with her at all?"
"Fuck
you. I'm not telling you
anything."
"Do
you have a death wish, Mr. Chase?"
"Yeah,
yours."
Rose
grabbed the gauze pads from the man who rushed to his side and dabbed at his
face with them. "If you don't
cooperate, you will die."
"Oh,
I'm going to help her. I have to. You made sure of that, didn't you? And when she's put back together and that
baby is born, I'm going to help her come after you, you fucker. I swear it.
We will kill you!" Rose
blinked and swallowed hard and Kit smirked at him.
Rose
cleared his throat. "Take him back
to his cell." His voice shook just
a bit.
Kit
tilted his head then and gave Rose a thoughtful look. "Then again, when I tell Ellison what you've done, he may
just kill you before I can get Alex ready for you." Rose's men started pulling him away. "Hey, wanna come by the old cell
later? Jim'll be glad to see you! You are dead, Rose! One way or another, you're a
corpse!" He snatched his arms out
of his captors' grasps. He nearly lost
his balance, but he used his crutches to stay upright. "I don't need your help. Don't fucking touch me."
They
followed him down the hallway as he tried to slow his breathing. His head felt like an over-ripe melon
now. His heart pounded against his
ribs, the sound of it so loud in his ears that he could barely hear anything
else. Had he lost his mind? Could he really help her? Did he really want to? His words, skirting the edges of a life-long
commitment to a mad woman, pulsed through his mind to the rhythm of his
heart. He could help. That much he knew. But should he? He had
told Ellison that he would not ever make that choice. Nothing less than a bond to a guide would ever be able to save
her, though. He could get her out of
her spirit form without a bond, but repairing her shattered mind and soul would
require a bond, a permanent connection to a guide, if it could be done at
all. But she was still a thief and a
killer. He could not tie himself to
that. But the baby. Two sentinels would produce a sentinel
child. Perhaps he could control her,
direct her abilities to something good.
She would not be the only member of The Devereaux Agency with a criminal
past. No. He could not, would not be a guide. He had his own life to lead; he had a calling. What about the baby, his conscience
demanded. He could not let Baker and
Rose ruin the child's life. Dear God,
he had to tell Jim Ellison, too.
"God,
it's too much. All too much," he
muttered his prayer. His escorts
ignored him. He was breathing hard and
trying to force his eyes to focus by the time one of the men behind him grabbed
his shoulder to stop him. He turned to
face the door to his prison. His chest
was hurting now and his head was tingling as he was pushed through the door. Ellison sat up on the top bunk and looked at
him.
"Chase? You all right?" Ellison's face looked concerned and Kit
vaguely wondered why.
Then
again, maybe he knew why, he thought as the edges of the world started to get
fuzzy and gray. "Help
me?" Had he said that?
"Oh,
shit." Ellison jumped down and Kit
thought it quite strange that the other man could walk on the wall like
that. Then the world faded to black.
Jim
tried to catch Chase before he hit the floor, but he was too late. The door slammed shut as Jim knelt beside
the younger man. He felt for a
pulse. It was fast, but strong. He scooped Chase up and deposited him on his
own bunk. He stepped into the small
bathroom and wet down one of the washcloths there. He squeezed the excess water from it and moved back to the bed to
place the cloth on Chase's forehead. He
pulled up the chair and sat down.
He
looked the other man over critically.
He did not appear to be hurt any more than he had been before, though,
and Jim wondered what had happened to cause his collapse. Perhaps just too much activity too
soon. Maybe he hyperventilated. He was breathing normally now, however. With the absence of any evidence of new
injury, Jim would simply have to wait until he came around to ask him what happened.
That
annoyed him. He wanted to know what was going on with Barnes. Was she catatonic like the last time he had
seen her? Rose had said once that she
was feral. That was his word. To Jim, that meant violent. Had she attacked Chase and aggravated his
concussion? Or had Chase been able to
reach her? The thought gave him a jolt
of something very like jealousy, and he ruthlessly crushed the feeling, even as
he wondered why he had felt it at all.
Rose had also said that she still had her sentinel senses. That hardly seemed fair. She had done many things much worse than he
and he did not have his senses anymore.
She had tried to kill a guide, for crying out loud. But Blair had not been her guide. No, that was not the explanation. Technically, Blair had not been his guide at
the time either, if he believed Chase's version of the legend. Blair had made his choice after… after
what? His death, Jim admitted. He had come back to be Jim's guide. Their spirits had merged and then Blair had
been his guide. Before, Blair had been
a shaman who was able to guide. But
just when their bond should have gotten stronger, Jim had pulled away. Just when Blair made his commitment, a
commitment that he proved once and for all when he threw away his future to
save Jim's ass, Jim had deserted him.
Jim knew the pain of abandonment intimately. The thought of the pain Blair must have felt brought tears to
Jim's eyes. How could he have bore that
kind of pain? How could Jim have
inflicted that kind of pain on someone, knowing how it felt? His face burned with shame.
Before
he could slip into a full-blown guilt trip, a moan drew his attention once more
to the man in the bottom bunk.
"Chase? You back with me?" Jim leaned over him and tapped his face
lightly.
"What?" Chase blinked at him. "Whoa man, back up a little." Chase pushed his hands away.
"What
happened?"
Chase
looked at him blankly for a minute.
Then there was a flash of something in his eyes. It disappeared before Jim could name
it. "Yeah, um, can we talk about
it later? It was kind of intense. I need to—I need some time here to sort out
what—you know, later."
Jim
stared at him. "You want to
process? That it?"
"Yeah,
process. Okay?"
He
was hiding something. Jim could feel
it, but he decided not to push at the moment.
Chase did look tired and more than a little freaked out. "Are you okay, at least? Did she hurt you?"
"I
think I just kinda lost it. It was me,
not her."
"Anxiety
attack?"
"Maybe,
something like that. I think I hyperventilated
or something."
Jim
nodded. That had been one of his
theories. "I don't think you
should sleep though. Try to stay awake
for a while, just in case."
"Whatever,
man. Can you maybe disappear?"
"It's
a small room, Chase."
"Just
go up there." He pointed to Jim's
bunk.
Jim
sighed but climbed up into his bunk. He
heard Chase muttering to himself, but he did not try to listen. He frowned.
He wanted some damn information.
He rubbed one hand down his face and tried to keep from screaming in
frustration.
Simon
Banks waved Pete off and left him talking to himself when he saw Blair step out
onto the porch of the Riviera home.
Blair seemed almost shy as he approached his old friends from Major
Crimes. The Major Crimes people were
not so timid. Henri Brown, whom Pete
remembered briefly meeting before, swept Blair up and spun him around. Inspector Connor seemed to check him over to
see if his time with Pete and the agency had injured him in any way. Pete had to laugh at the serious examination
as he reassured her that her friend was indeed in one piece. Banks hung back as the others slapped Blair
on the back, shook his hand, and generally made a fuss over him. Only when they were done did Banks step
forward. For a long moment, the two men
just looked at each other and for a moment, Pete thought that maybe Banks was
angry with Blair. The man's face was so
stern. Apparently, Blair was a little
worried too. He looked down at his
feet.
"Uh,
hi Simon," he said finally. Banks
reached out and cupped one big hand around Blair's short curls. The bear hug that followed made Pete's ribs
ache in sympathy.
When
the joyful and somewhat tearful reunion was over, Rosa Riviera hustled them all
into her kitchen where she had made the cookies Pete so dearly loved. The whole group gathered around her
table. Blair was wrangled in between
Banks and Connor. Taggart was beside
Banks. Jesse sat backwards in the chair
next to Pete. Brown and the other man
who was introduced as Brian Rafe sat side by side on the other side of Connor.
One person was not at the table, however.
Pete knew that Alex had positioned himself in the doorway behind him,
physically guarding his back even among friends. It was a very "Alex" thing to do.
A
plate came over Pete's head and he snagged a cookie off of it before Rosa could
even put it down. She laughed at him
and he looked up at her, attempting to look innocent. Problem was, Pete's innocent look was guiltier than most people's
guilty look. It was not news to
him. He was well aware that innocence
was not his strong suit. But Rosa liked
him anyway, which was a tribute to what a kind lady she really was. He sunk his teeth into the soft, warm cookie
and closed his eyes to savor the wonderful taste. The cookie just melted in his mouth, and for just one moment, he
held on to the simple pleasure before facing complex reality. Banks cleared his throat and drew Pete's
attention back to the matter at hand.
He opened his eyes, smiled and shrugged a little in apology. Jesse picked up a cookie himself, but he
only held it in his hand. His youngest
operative was hurting over this mess.
He frowned.
"Let's
get started, shall we?" Pete
reached back and Alex placed the rolled up aerial shots and blueprints of the
facility in his hand. As he unrolled
the paper, he took in the people around him.
Brown and Rafe were partners apparently, and as oddly matched as Jim and
Blair. Or he and Jesse, for that
matter. He had already seen the level
of comfort in the partnership, however. They might not have looked much alike, but they would work well
together. That was what mattered. The Major Crimes unit was accustomed to one
another. His people were accustomed to
one another, too. What remained to be
seen was whether the two groups could work together. Of course, both groups had a life at stake and that was a great
motivator. He took a deep breath and
began outlining his plan. "We'll
go in through the loading dock, here."
"How
do we get to the loading dock?" Banks asked. "Wouldn't it be simpler to go in here?" He pointed to a point on the other side of
the building where the fence was closest to the structure.
"The
security system has proven to be a problem.
We aren't getting through that fence without them knowing that we're there." Pete glanced at Jess who frowned deeply and
shifted lower in his seat.
"Jess?"
"I'm
okay."
"'kay,
anyway, trust me, I have a plan."
"Why
does it make me so nervous when you say that?" Blair asked.
"You
hung around Kit too long. Nothing to worry
about. Now be quiet and listen."
"Ever
thought about having kids, Ellison?"
Jim
nearly jumped out of his skin as Chase's voice plucked him from the edge of
sleep. "About time you decided to
join the real world again." It had
been quite some time since Chase had returned from his visit with Barnes. For a while, he had just mumbled to himself,
and then he had fallen asleep, despite Jim's advice not to do so.
"Just
answer the question." Chase
sounded impatient.
"Yeah,
I suppose I have thought about it. But
most of those thoughts have been reasons not to have kids. Why?"
Jim turned on his side on the bunk.
"What
reasons did you come up with?"
"Why
are we talking about this?" Jim
was the one getting impatient now.
"Are
you—I mean, do you know, um, what Rose has planned?"
"You
mean, stud service?" Jim allowed
his tone to convey his disgust.
"Yeah. So you do know?"
"Okay,
get to the point." Jim stuck his
head over the edge of his bunk and glared at his irritating cellmate. This was not a comfortable subject, damn
it. He did not want to talk about
it. Especially with Kit Chase.
"I'm
going to help her, I think."
"Excuse
me?" Jim snapped.
"I'm
going to guide her. I have to."
"Holy
shit!" Jim rolled off the
bunk. "Have you lost your
mind?"
"Probably."
"Goddamn
it! She is a criminal. What the fuck are you thinking? She will probably kill you. Remember what she did to Sandburg? You'll be next, Chase!"
Chase
turned away from him. "I don't
have a choice."
"The
hell you don't! You said yourself,
being a guide is a choice. You said you
would never make that choice. Now
you're going to guide Alex Barnes? I
think you hit your damn head again!"
Chase
sighed and sat up. "Listen to me,
Ellison. Think I'm happy about
this? Think again. But things are more complicated than you can
imagine. You—I don't, you don't
understand."
"Is
that what you were doing earlier?
Talking yourself into it?
What?"
"I
was praying."
"Praying? Praying for some sense, I hope!"
"No! Praying for you. And for her. And for your
child."
"For—what?"
"It's
started, Ellison. You gave Rose a sperm
sample, right? Well, he used it."
Jim
flinched and his knees nearly buckled on him.
"Oh God." He staggered
back to the chair and fell into it.
"Now
you understand? I have to help her,
because she's carrying your baby. If I
don't do this, Baker and Rose get your child and they teach it to hate. I'm a shaman. I can't let that happen.
No matter what she's done, the child is innocent. I can't let them corrupt that
innocence."
Jim
was shaking. The air in the room seemed
thin, stale. He could not breathe. He looked down at his hands. He had never noticed that callous. He wondered how it got there. He focused on it. Then someone was shaking him. He blinked and looked up into Kit Chase's dark brown eyes. But they were not just brown. There were actually spots of true black in
the other man's irises. Lemon, he could
smell lemon. And sweat. And fear.
Chase's hands were too hot and his voice too loud. He pushed the man away. He scrambled for the dials Blair had taught
him to use. Before he could find them,
the room turned green, the walls sprouting leaves and the climate controlled
air dissipating as a warm tropical heat swept over him.
"Incacha?"
The
man materialized from the foliage as if summoned by his name. "You understand the bond?"
"Yes. I'm sorry.
I didn't realize."
"You
must choose again."
"What
about the child? Will my child be a
sentinel? Can Chase save her? Can he save my child?"
"He
is strong, but the sentinel will choose her own fate."
"Incacha,
tell me what to do!"
"Choose. Will you fulfill your destiny? Will you accept your responsibility? Will you protect your guide as he protects
you?"
"Blair? I can still—he'll come home?"
"Choose."
"I
choose to be a sentinel."
"And
you deserve to be. Be well,
Enquiri."
"Incacha! The baby?"
The
man shook his head. "I know not
what fate holds for the child." He
was gone then and so was the jungle.
Chase
sat on the floor looking up at him.
"Welcome back."
"Sorry."
"You
have your senses back, don't you?" Chase asked.
"Yeah,"
Jim answered almost absently as he tried the dials to reassure himself.
Chase
chuckled a little. "Cool."
"Why
now? Why not when I could help Blair
with them?"
"Don't
know. Maybe someone decided that you
had learned your lesson. Maybe because
you may need them to save your child."
"A
reward?"
"Why
not?"
"For
what? For not getting Blair killed in
this mess? Not actually having sex with
Barnes on the beach after she tried to kill my best friend? For only screwing up a few lives as opposed
to lots of lives?"
"For
being decent. Not perfect. But decent.
You have some good points, you know."
Jim
snorted in disbelief.
"Besides,
don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
Take it and move on. Maybe
that's one of the things you were supposed to learn. Don't blow it now by obsessing over the past."
Jim
nodded. "Point taken. He wouldn't tell me about the baby."
"The
future isn't written yet, Jim. He
couldn't know for sure."
"It's
a mistake for you to become her guide, Chase.
He seemed pretty sure than she wouldn't change, regardless of not
knowing the future for sure."
"He
said that?"
"He
said she would decide her own fate."
"That's
not the same thing as saying she wouldn't change! I have to try."
"No,
there's other ways. Don't do this. It's a mistake. I just know it is."
Chase
looked down at the floor. "I'll
think about that."
"You
called me Jim a minute ago."
"So? That's your name."
Jim
smiled a little. "Thank you for
everything."
Chase
blinked. "You're welcome."
Sleep
eluded Jim. Chase's revelations and the return of his senses had shaken
him to his very core. Alex Barnes was pregnant with his child. He
swallowed, trying to force his dinner back down as it threatened a
reappearance. After his behavior in Sierra Verde, what would Blair
say? He was already so angry. No, he was not giving Blair enough
credit. Blair would know this was not his choice. Not the child's
fault either. If they
managed to get out of this, perhaps he could raise his child. Blair would
help him. That would be perfect. Blair would have to come home if
Jim's child was a sentinel.
Then he wanted to kick himself. That was not fair, not right.
Besides, he did not want Blair to come back only out of a sense of
obligation. He wanted Blair to come home because he wanted to come home.
Still, that little voice whispered in the back of his head. He was a
sentinel again and a sentinel needed a guide. What if Blair never came
back? What would happen to him? It would no less than he deserved if he
ended up in a mental hospital. He had sent Blair off to one, after
all. He repressed the urge to scream. It would bring the guards
running and probably scare the hell out of Chase.
Speaking of his cellmate, he was awake as well. Jim knew the younger man was
torn. He only hoped that he had talked Chase out of being Barnes's
guide. That would be a huge mistake. Chase was under the delusion
that he could change the woman. Jim was under no such illusion. The
beach had taught him that if nothing else. Even as she wrapped herself
around Jim, she was still prepared to kill Blair. All Blair had ever done
was try to help her. It was Blair's nature. It was Chase's nature
too, Jim supposed. Compassion could be a heavy burden to bear sometimes.
The military had taught Jim that. Then taught him to squash his
compassion under duty. Though he often claimed to be able to do just
that, he was not as successful as he let others believe. Blair
included. And he was even less successful once he let Blair into his life
and heart.
It was if Blair felt so much so strongly that he projected those feelings onto
those around him. Jim, being in the closest proximity, caught the brunt
of that. Now it sounded like he was
complaining. He was not, however. Blair had put him back in touch
with his compassion. Made him acknowledge it, rather than stifle it.
Actually, it was a relief in many ways. It was hard to deal with in the
moment, but afterward he was left feeling somehow cleaner, freer, as opposed to
the sick feeling he had sometimes felt for days after a particularly bad
case. Thinking back, Jim could now see that almost from
day one, Blair had been a shaman. His shaman. Doing what needed to
be done; giving Jim the support he needed. And the shoves that he may
have needed but definitely did not want. He sighed. No matter what
happened with Barnes, the child, Rose, Baker, or this whole damn mess, the one
thing Jim knew he must do was reconcile with Blair. Even if he had to
crawl after his shaman on his knees through hell, he would not rest until Blair
no longer hated him.
Pete hung up the phone. Chad's people were ready. He turned to the
men waiting anxiously behind him. "It's on. We go
tomorrow. We take the delivery truck at 1:45. By 2:00, we are in
the facility. We have until 2:30 to find Jim and Kit. Alex, are you
ready?"
Alex only nodded at him.
"Good. Remember, Captain Banks, all of you, this is not a police
operation. This is dirty pool,
gentlemen. And lady. Anyone with a gun is a target whether they are
pointing it at you or whether it's holstered. They have just two options,
disarm and drop or get shot. I will not haggle. Neither will
you. I say again; if that's a problem, stay here. Mrs. Riviera is a
wonderful hostess. We will make every effort to make sure those unarmed
go unscathed, but they must be controlled. Any questions?"
"None," Banks answered. The others shook their heads.
"Fine then. You might all want to try to get some sleep. I
need you sharp tomorrow." He left the room then. He made his
way out to the front porch and sat down in the old green glider-rocker
there. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Then Peter
Devereaux prayed. He had lost men before. They led dangerous
lives. But the thought of losing Kit Chase was just too much to
contemplate. The younger man had been working for him less than
two years and yet, his loss would be devastating to the agency. To Pete
personally as well. There were men that worked for Pete that he thought
of as friends, some that he barely knew, and some that he personally did not
even like. Then there were those that
had become almost family. Jesse was
first. Alex was next. Then Kit.
He was odd, infuriating, and sometimes completely unpredictable, but he
was also honest, compassionate, and a stabling force. Such a
paradox. And he was a true friend. In Pete's line of work, he did
not have many of those. He had people who owed him favors, people he owed
favors, and lots of acquaintances, but few friends. Kit had to be
alive. He simply had to be.
The opening of the front door brought him out of his thoughts. He turned
to see Inspector Connor standing there, staring at him as though she could see
right into his soul.
"Inspector," he said in greeting.
"Mr. Devereaux."
"What can I do for you?"
She took a breath and shook her head. "Nothing. Just thought
you might like some company."
He smiled and scooted over to make room for her to sit. "Maybe I
would."
They sat, just gently rocking, until she broke the silence. "You're
worried."
"Yes. Not about Jim. Actually, they need Jim. They won't
hurt him."
"But your man. Kit?"
He nodded. "He's had a little run-in with Baker before. Baker
would like nothing better than to kill him. I'm not even sure he'll be
alive when we get there. He might be dead. Might have been long
dead." He nearly strangled on the words. "If he's dead, Baker
will die. But he'll suffer first. I probably shouldn't be saying this to
a cop." He laughed bitterly. "It may not happen tomorrow, but
it will happen."
She only nodded and turned to look up at the sky. His eyes followed hers
and silence reigned again.
"Mr. Baker, I don't think you understand!" Rose swore under his
breath. Baker had finally deemed him worthy enough to call back, and now
the man would not listen. "Chase is a guide. He made some progress
with Alex today."
"What kind of progress?"
"Well, for one thing, she didn't try to kill him. That's a definite
sign there. Before unless she was drugged or restrained, she attacked
anyone who came into the room, including me. They somehow connected in a
way that I have been unable to achieve with anyone else. I think he can
work with her. I think he can guide
her. We will have a functioning sentinel. And if nothing else, when
the child is born, he can work with the child. Mr. Baker, I realize that
you are unhappy about his ethnic background—"
"That's a gentle euphemism for a fucking half-breed."
"Sir, this does mean, however, that we will not need Blair Sandburg."
"Great. I get rid of the Jewish bastard and have to take the
half-breed instead. Now, you listen to me, Rose. Find me a white
Anglo-Saxon Protestant guide, damn it! You can keep your prairie nigger
pet for a while longer, but he will be put down. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I understand." Robert hung up the phone
without another word. Baker was a lunatic. When Chase had Alex at
least under control, the three of them were getting out of this hellhole and
away from Baker and his militia. He thought about the numerous guards
Baker had here watching his every move. It would be tricky, but he had
other friends willing to help. Robert had shopped around while Baker's
back was turned. The Chinese were interested. So were several other
private organizations not quite as
restrictive as Baker. With Alex's experience as a thief and Chase's
experience as a mercenary, they could make a fortune. Baker thought he
had Robert under his thumb. That might be true while Alex was so out
of control, but perhaps that was about
to change. Then it would simply be a matter of controlling Chase.
He could leave that to Alex. The boy could see, after all. From what he
knew of Alex before her unfortunate breakdown, she was a charming and sensuous
woman. And if that did not work, there was the child. Robert had
noticed Chase's concern over Alex's unborn child. That concern could and would
be used against him. Still annoyed but oddly satisfied that things were
going to get better, he closed his notes file and shut down his computer.
Jesse stared at his laptop screen, not really seeing it.
"Fuck," he whispered to himself. Ever since he had had to leave
his best friend on the other side of that electric fence, he had felt sick to
his stomach. His mother was fussing over him, and his dad had tried to
reassure him that there was nothing he could have done. But Jess knew better.
He had been sidetracked when he had found Rose's personal files and was not
paying enough attention to what he was supposed to be doing. Pete had
tried to relieve him of the responsibility, too. He shook his head
sadly. Kit could be dead, and it was his fault.
Suddenly, he had company. He looked up at Henri Brown and Brian
Rafe. "Hi, what's up?"
"Um—" Rafe looked at his partner and then back at Jesse.
"We were wondering, um, how do your parents feel about, you know, what you
do for a living?"
Jesse shrugged, a reluctant smile pulling at his lips. "They weren't
thrilled at first, but they got used to it. I didn't tell 'em for
years. I'd been working for the agency for about three years before I
came clean and told them the truth. I had to. Got into a bad
situation, kind of like this one, and had to hide out. Mom pried the
truth out of me. She was furious, but then Pete came and charmed her and
we've been fine since."
"Amazing," Henri said.
"I'm lucky, I guess. Rico, that's one of the other guys, his family
thinks he's a restaurant manager. Frank's family thinks he's an
accountant. You have to see Frank to understand how ludicrous that
is. The man is like a mountain. David's family thinks he's a
computer programmer. That was my cover, too. Still is with the
IRS. Very few of us have told our families what we do. Few of us
are married and the few who are, their wives generally know but no one
else. Kinda sticky, you know."
"Yeah, I suppose it would be. So, what exactly do you do?"
"Lots of things. My specialty is computers, electronics,
communication, that kind of thing. Like, I broke into Millennium's
computer system. I missed the backup alarm system because I had
inadvertently gotten into Rose's personal files."
"Cool. What did you find?"
Jess stared at Brown for several moments, unable to answer. Because he
had no answer. He had not really looked at the files he downloaded.
He was so upset over Kit that the files had just sat there. Pete had not
even asked to see them either. That was unusual and an indication of how
upset Pete was as well. He finally managed, "I haven't looked at
them."
"Well, open 'em up, kid! Let's find out what's there!"
Jesse nodded as he turned back to his computer screen.
"Who's
Eliza?" Blair whispered, just loud enough for the other man to hear him.
Alex
spun around and glared at him.
"Eavesdropping, were you?"
"Not
intentionally. I just heard you say
goodnight to her, you know, the other night, and I wondered." Blair sat down at the kitchen table. For long moments, Alex remained at the
window, and Blair thought that not only was he not going to get answer, he had
damaged the still new friendship with the obviously personal question. Then Alex sighed and moved to the
table. He pulled out a chair and slowly
sat down. He stared at the flowered
tablecloth. "Never mind…"
"No,
no. It's all right." Alex tried to smile but pain was the
prominent emotion on his face.
"She was my wife. We were
both in her majesty's service. She had
told a little white lie to be able to meet me on assignment and give me some
news and the situation went bad. To
make things worse, when the smoke cleared, I found out that she was killed by
'friendly fire.'"
"What
was the news?"
"She was pregnant."
Blair's
heart leapt in his chest. "Oh
man. I am so sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Blair. It's okay.
But it is just between you and I.
Pete knows, and Kit knows, but no one else does."
"Why
did you tell me?"
"Because
you asked. And because I have been
preaching at you for a bit, and you deserved to know where I was coming
from. I was devastated and more than a
little damaged. Perhaps I still am, but
I'm coping, I think. Sometimes, that's
all we can hope for, the ability to cope."
"Yeah,
I know what you mean."
"Simon?"
"Yeah,
Joel?" Simon moved out of the
shadow of the big oak tree and into the light.
Joel
came down the steps and walked to greet him.
"Are you okay with this plan of Devereaux's?"
"Joel,
I'll be honest. I don't think that I
will ever be quite comfortable with any plan of Peter Devereaux's. But, I will also say this. I think his way is the only way in this
case. The FBI's way, Jim and Chase
would be dead before we got through the gate.
He's also right about the delivery truck. We can't take the chance that the company is sympathetic to
Baker. We have to take it en
route. And we do have to consider
everyone inside that building a threat."
"I
think the others handled the news about Jim pretty calmly."
"Well,
it's like Brown said, they are detectives.
They had put two and two together minutes after the news hit and never
had believed Blair's retraction for a second.
The evidence was clear. Jim was
lousy at hiding his senses anyway."
"True. Of course, I did buy his cover story for a
while."
Simon
chuckled. "He should have realized
that he wouldn't get away with that crap forever though."
Joel
snickered. "Remember the time with
the carrots? Somebody asked Jim how he
could see something. I forget what. And Blair's explanation was—"
"He
eats a lot of carrots." Simon
laughed. "Yeah, I
remember." He shook his head, a
fond smile still on his face.
"Well, now everyone who needs to know knows. Jim will no doubt be pissed off, but that's
life."
"I
don't know, Simon. After all this, I'd
like to think that he has some perspective on things now. Maybe he'll just be happy to have a life
after this. Don't you think?"
"God,
Joel, I hope so. I really hope
so."
"Banks!" Simon and Joel turned to face
Devereaux. "We have a problem." The man turned and went back into the house
without an explanation.
"What
now?" Simon hesitated, trying to
steel himself for the news, then hurried into the house with Joel hot on his
heels. Everyone was gathered around
Riviera and his laptop in the living room.
"What's going on?" Simon looked into the stricken face of
Blair Sandburg and knew he was not going to like what he was about to hear.
"She's
pregnant." Blair swallowed, as
though he was fighting the urge to vomit; something Simon understood
completely. After all, he did not have
to ask to whom Blair was referring. He
knew. He closed his eyes and wiped the
back of his hand over his mouth.
"Rose
did it. He used—you know, and he—"
"I
get it, Blair." Simon held up one
hand to stop the uncomfortable and unnecessary explanation.
"God,
Simon, what are we going to do?"
Simon
looked over Blair's head to Peter Devereaux.
Devereaux only shrugged. Simon
put his hand on Blair's shoulder.
"We get Jim out of there and figure the rest out later. Not much of an answer, I know. But it's the only one I have this
time."
It
had been a sleepless night after the revelation of Alex Barnes's
pregnancy. Pete had tossed and turned,
never really getting his mind to shut down long enough for sleep to take hold
of him. Now, he stood in the parking
lot of a run-down paint and body shop waiting for Jesse. Jess had been right about his cousins. Pete had wanted an old clunker and Jess said
they had plenty. They had picked him
one that ran, but just barely. He
looked at the old brown LTD and sighed.
He hoped it would get them out to the lonely road that led to their
target. Pete thanked Baker silently,
sarcastically for the paranoia that drove him to put his facility way off the
beaten path. Even so close to San
Francisco, the road was deserted most days with the exception of the traffic in
and out of Millennium. The truck
hijacking would be the easiest thing they would do today, however. As he walked slowly around the car, he ran
through the plan in his head again. If
they could control the loading docks and Alex succeeded in blocking all the
other exits, it should work. Rose would
bring Jim and Kit to them. Easy
stuff. If Rose did not cooperate, at
least the majority of the people would be out of their way. At best, though, it would be a barely
controlled chaos.
Jesse
slapped him on the back, startling him out of his thoughts. "Let's go, man. The others will be waiting."
"This
thing is going to get us there, right?" he asked again.
"It
will get us there, Pete. Not
comfortably, but it will get us there.
If you'll ever get in, that is."
"They
do know that they might not get this back, right? And even if they do, it won't be running."
"Yes,
yes, get in the car."
Pete
smiled and waved at the two Hispanic men who stood in the doorway of the shop
before opening the passenger door. Jess
was already in the driver's seat. He
cranked the car, which sputtered and backfired. Pete cringed and wiped his now dusty hands on his jeans. "Well, our truck driver won't have any
trouble believing our car broke down, now will he?"
Jess
only grinned at him and put the car in gear.
The old heap lurched forward twice, giving Pete's head a good snatch
backward. "Whiplash. I don't suppose I can sue," he grumbled.
"Nope. Free car, man."
"Just
as well. I wouldn't want anyone to find
out I was in this car in the first place."
Jesse
laughed at him. "Pete, you are
such a snob sometimes."
Pete
sighed in disgust as he spotted the grease stain on his jeans. Where had that come from? He hoped it was not all over his ass. It was going to be a long trip to San
Francisco.
"Is
being a guide hereditary?" Rose asked, not even looking up from the file.
Kit
sat with his elbows on the table and his head propped in his head. "Not exactly."
Rose
sat up in his chair. "Explain, not
exactly."
Kit
looked up at him. "I don't know
how to explain!" Rose had dragged
him out of bed and into this lab at the crack of dawn. He had already drawn blood, which a guy in a
lab coat had whisked away. Then the
questions had started. When did he know
he was a guide? Did contact with a
sentinel prompt his abilities? What
made him a guide? How could he explain
any of that to a man who would be unable and unwilling to understand? It would be a waste of time. It was a waste of time. He could be helping Alex Barnes, but instead
he was here, looking at Rose's ugly, pinched face.
"Well,
I suppose that's a step up from Blair Sandburg's answers."
"Blair
couldn't tell you anything. He didn't
understand it all himself. He was still
trying to learn when you started fucking with him."
"You
aren't telling me much more, Mr. Chase.
Yet, you sound as though you are more knowledgeable and
experienced."
"Not
more experienced. Maybe more
knowledge. Anyway, you ask stupid
questions. Is a person born with the
ability to be a guide? Maybe. Can a person learn to be a guide? Depends on the person. This is not something set in stone,
man. It's not science. It's… I don't know, spirituality,
understanding, emotion, compassion. All
the things that you don't have.
Sentinels are born sentinels.
There must be something genetic there, but a guide? Who the fuck knows? It's not the same. All I can tell you is that it's a life-long commitment that most
people would never be willing to make.
If it weren't for that baby, I'd never do it. Blair did it for Ellison, but I don't understand why."
"But
Ellison says he's lost his senses.
Where does that leave Sandburg?
And if it's genetic, is it possible for Ellison to lose his
senses?"
"I
don't know."
"Wonderful. Back to Blair's answer. All right.
Is Sandburg functional?"
"He's
a fucking person, Dr. Frankenstein!
People aren't functional. Can we
just get to the point, so I can try to help that woman and her baby?"
"We're
going to do some tests."
"What
kind of tests?"
"I'd
like to get a CAT scan, so I can compare it to Sandburg's, to start with."
"Great. Fine, let's go."
Rose
smiled. "I appreciate your
cooperation."
"Yeah,
fuck you."
Jim
pushed the bland lunch around on the plate, too worried to eat. Rose had taken Chase out hours ago and he
had not come back since. Jim could only
hope that he had gotten through to the younger man. Chase could not possibly understand just how dangerous Barnes
was. Sure, he knew the story, but he
had not lived it. No one who had not
been there would ever be able to understand just how close she had come to
killing thousands of people. How close
she had come to taking Blair away from him forever.
Chase
wanting to help the baby, he could understand, but doing that did not have to
entail tying himself to a criminal. If
they got out of this mess, they could just wait until the baby was born, leave
Barnes to her madness, and raise the child.
But could Chase guide Jim's child?
He would be so much older. If
they did not get out of this mess, what would happen to them all?
Jim
shoved the tray away. Before Chase
arrived, Jim had contemplated escape a few times. He would probably not have succeeded, but he could hold onto the
hope just the same. Now, things had
changed. Chase would not be able to
keep up and Jim had a baby on the way, so to speak, that he could not leave
behind. He was back to depending Pete
and Simon to do something. He knew they
would come for him, but the waiting and wondering were driving him insane. He was so tired of mentally chasing his own
tail. If they did not get him out soon,
he would be as crazy as Barnes.
The
door opened then and Jim got up and stepped back from the tray. The guard ignored it, however, and motioned
for Jim to come with him. More, tests,
Jim realized. Rose was not giving up. He wondered what it would be this time. Hearing?
Sight? It did not matter. He would simply dial everything down to normal. Yes, he had his senses back, but he would
never let Rose know that. In fact,
maybe, he would just dial down below normal and really piss the man off.
"It's
about damn time!" Simon stormed
out of the thick bush as Devereaux and Riviera finally made an appearance. They parked the old LTD right in the middle
of the road and got out. "Your
father left us here nearly an hour ago.
What took you so long?"
Riviera
shrugged. "You got to ride in
Dad's new SUV. We had to ride in
this. You figure it out." The young man was smirking at him. Simon hated that.
Devereaux,
in the meantime, seemed to be trying, without much success, to check out his
own ass.
"What
the hell are you doing?"
"Do
I have grease all over me?"
"Jesus,
Devereaux! What does it matter? Your car is supposedly broken down. You should have grease on you."
Devereaux
rolled his eyes. "Are we
ready?"
"Yeah,
everyone's in place."
"Everyone
but you." Then Devereaux had the
audacity to shoo him back toward the side of the road. "Go, go. It's almost time for the truck.
Jess, pop the hood of that wreck."
Simon
watched as Riviera followed the instruction then reached in and snatched the
distributor wires. He stuffed the wires
in a bag and tossed the bag to Devereaux.
"Now,
'Truck Boy' can't follow us."
Devereaux's grin was positively demonic. The man could be damned scary when he wanted to be. Simon shook his head and backed into the
cover off the road. He got into
position next to Joel and waited.
"Shouldn't
be long now," Joel said quietly.
Simon
nodded. Time to pray, he thought, but
said nothing.
The
temperature change was the oddest thing.
The room was cool, almost cold, but the jungle was hot. One part of Kit's brain registered the
oddity, even while the rest of his mind focused on his task here. She was there, straight ahead, on the steps
of a temple. The scene was
familiar. He had met Blair Sandburg on
these same steps, but Blair had retained his human shape, not allowing his
spirit guide to possess him. Alex Barnes
was the spotted jaguar. She could not
be anything else. To her mind, she was
only the jaguar. Did she even remember
being human at all? He would have to
remind her. To do that, he would have
to touch her. He allowed his own animal
spirit to change him and approached her on padded paws. Slowly, he ascended the steps. She growled, warning him away, as she
wrapped her tail around her sleeping cub.
He did not stop, however. He
took the last step to her, ducking his golden head to her spotted one. The touch was electric, and before she could
pull away and attack, he grasped her head with now human hands and pulled her
with him. A shove nearly sent him down
the stairs.
"What
have you done?" she demanded.
He
looked up into her blue eyes.
"Hello, Alex."
"Who
are you? Where are we?"
Kit
looked down at her feet. The cub was
gone, now a part of the woman before him.
"You know where we are."
"The
temple. Where's Ellison?"
"Not
here."
"What
happened to me?"
"A
lot. I can help you though. If you'll let me."
"Like
Sandburg helped? No thanks. Nobody's going to control me."
"It's
not control. It's a partnership."
She
laughed. "Every partner I have
ever had has either tried to screw me or kill me. I rather work alone.
Leave here. Leave now."
"I've
helped you already. It's been over a
year since you were at the temple.
You've been trapped here. I can
help you find your way back."
"You're
lying!"
"No,
I'm not. Let me help. Take my hand."
She
reached out to him, whether to take his hand or try to kill him, he would never
know, as something grabbed him and he spiraled into darkness.
The
cold floor registered first, then the shadow looming over him. Rose, he knew instinctively. He opened his eyes. "You idiot! You just had to interfere!"
"What
happened? What were you doing? Sitting and staring at her isn't going to
accomplish anything," Rose complained.
Kit
shoved the man. Rose hit the floor
hard. "You are a jackass! You don't understand and you won't
understand. I can't do this if you
won't stay the hell out of my way!" Kit screamed at him. "Fuck!" He moved over to Barnes once again. She was no longer the feral creature she had been. Now, she appeared catatonic. She was still at the temple on the spirit
plane, stuck there as surely as Blair had been. He would simply have to try again. But first, he had to get Rose to go away. He looked at the annoying bastard. It was not going to be easy.
Jim
fidgeted. Not something he was prone to
do. It was more of a Sandburg thing,
but he had been left in this office for at least an hour, he was sure. He did not have a watch, but it must have
been an hour. Maybe two. Damn.
He tried to relax. He could
not. This could not be a good thing. He got up and nearly tried the door
again. He stopped himself. It would still be locked.
He
ran one hand over his head. His hair
was getting too long. He needed a
haircut. Pretty soon he would look
like—he stopped the thought. They had
cut Blair's hair. His heart skipped a
beat. His fault. His brilliant idea. Lock Blair away and then he would only have
to deal with what he had done on visiting days. Although he doubted that he would ever get to visit at the
time.
But
Blair had not stayed locked away.
Neither in his own mind or in the mental hospital. He was out there somewhere, learning to be a
mercenary. The man who did not really
want to be a cop was now learning to be a merc. Was irony the right word to use?
Jim
paced the room. It was a nice office,
complete with plush gray carpet, oak desk, and leather chairs. This was not Rose's office. The knowledge only added to Jim's
anxiety. This was no doubt Baker's
office. Why would he be brought
here? One last chance to be useful
perhaps before he was killed? No, that could
not be it. He was their prize stud now.
"Jesus,
can we just get this over with?"
As
if the powers that be had answered his wish, the door opened, and Jim was
almost relieved. Almost. George Baker entered the room with two other
men. "Have a seat, Ellison."
"What
is this about, Baker?"
"Sit. I have a proposition for you." Baker moved to the leather chair behind his
desk and sat down.
"I'm
not interested."
"I
have invited you to sit and you're still standing. Do I have to have my men assist you?"
Jim
glanced at the guards then walked back to the chair. He slowly lowered himself into the seat.
"Thank
you. Now then, let me lay this out for
you, Jim. I realize that you have lost
your sentinel abilities so I'm not expecting you to perform in that
capacity. Rose assures me that Ms.
Barnes will be functioning soon now that she has a guide. Much to my chagrin, that guide is Kit Chase. We'll have to find another guide at some
point, but for now, I'll leave Rose with his toys. He also thinks that you will one day recover your abilities, but
in the meantime, it seems a shame to have you sitting around idle in your
cell. A man with your training would be
an asset to my organization even without heightened senses."
"Even
the prize bull has to pull the plough sometimes. That it?"
"Exactly,
Jim. You don't want to spend the rest
of your life in a cell, only getting out to 'perform' in the lab."
Perform. The word made Jim's stomach flip. He looked over at the nearly empty bookshelf
to his right.
"I'm
offering you a chance to serve your country again."
"My
country? You must be joking."
"Not
at all. This country is going to hell,
Jim, and the white race is being overrun.
This is our country. It's time
to start taking it back. I'm giving you
a chance to be part of the revolution."
"I
think Chase would take exception to part of your argument there, Baker. Well, gee, let me think about that 'offer'
for a while. Um, no."
"Then
perhaps I should rephrase it. Let's try
it this way. As long as you cooperate
and do what you are told, Kit Chase lives.
And Blair Sandburg lives. Refuse
and Chase dies first. Then we hunt down
Sandburg and he dies. That change your
mind?"
Jim
closed his eyes and nodded once. What
could he say? What could he do? Besides hold onto the hope of rescue before
he actually had to do anything for Baker.
Any time now, Pete, he thought.
"Good! Tomorrow morning you'll begin training with
my men. It means a change of scenery
for you. You'll be picked up this
evening and taken to the training camp.
That will give you time to say goodbye to your little friend. Be sure and tell him that you've saved his
life. Oh, and tell him that his
cooperation will ensure your continued health as well." Baker looked past Jim to the guards. "Take him back to his cell."
This
was it. If Baker got him off at some
training camp, Pete and the others would never find him. Escape would be impossible. Oh, he could escape. Easily, more than likely, but Chase would be
dead. Maybe Blair would be dead
too. Chase was not his best
friend. He respected the man, but he
did not really even like him. Still, he
could not be responsible for his death.
And he had already been responsible for too much pain in Blair's
life. Hell, he had been responsible for
Blair's death. He just got lucky that
Blair was willing and able to come back when Jim called. He could not risk Blair again. I did this, he thought miserably as
Baker's men hauled him up from the chair by his arms. I could always get myself killed on my first
'assignment.' That would be best
for everyone concerned. Except him, of
course.
"Here's
our boy," Pete said over the wire he wore. "Get ready, people."
He
and Jesse took up their positions in the road, making it impossible for the
truck to pass them without leaving the road.
The truck came to a stop and Pete approached the driver's side. "Thanks for stopping," he said as
he stepped up on the runner by the driver's door.
"Got
car trouble?" the driver asked as he slid his door open. "I can radio for a tow truck for
you."
"That
won't be necessary." Pete showed
the man his gun. "We'll just
borrow your truck, if you don't mind."
Banks
opened the passenger door while Jess, Alex, and the others opened the rear
doors and climbed in the back. Blair
quickly closed the doors behind them.
"What
is this, man? All I have is
uniforms!"
"We
need uniforms, dude. Go
figure." Jesse grinned as he
crouched by the driver.
"Oh,
god, don't shoot me. Take the
truck."
"Thank
you. We will. Now, come on, out you go."
The
driver stumbled out and Pete stepped up into his vacated seat. Banks got into the passenger's seat.
"That
car really doesn't run, but if you wait here, you may be able to find out how
to get your truck back. But whatever
you do, do not come to Millennium. Show
up and we will just have to assume that you're one of the bad guys we're
after. Understand?" Pete told the
man.
"Yeah. Who are you?"
"Believe
it or not, we're the good guys."
Pete smiled. "The FBI will
be through here shortly. It you are one
of the bad guys, you'd better disappear."
He slammed the door closed, put the truck in gear and drove around the
LTD. "Okay, gentlemen and lady,
that was the easy part. Next, we take
the gate."
The
truck was quiet, only the sound of the engine and the tires on the road filled
Pete's ears. This was it. All or nothing time. If this worked, cool. If it did not, they could all be dead before
the FBI even got there. Behind him, the
others began to pull on some of the uniforms.
He took a deep breath and rolled his head on his shoulders. It would work.
Moments
later, he pulled the truck up to the front gate of Millennium Research. The guard walked over to the truck. Pete slid the door open and grabbed the man
by the collar, dragging him inside before the other man could even react. "Hello, come on in." He literally tossed the man into the back
where Brown and Rafe promptly tied his hand and feet with hard plastic
ties. Connor gagged him just as
quickly. So far so good.
Taggert,
who had found a guard uniform among the white coats and scrubs, hopped out of
the back. Alex threw him a box. As soon as Pete pulled the truck forward,
Taggert started setting the explosive charges.
Anyone trying to leave the compound would get a rude awakening. Pete moved on, slowing as the truck reached
the eastern wing of the building. Alex
jumped out, taking with him another box of explosives. There were three exits besides the loading
bays at the north end. It was Alex's
job to take out the few outside guards they had seen and then blow those exits,
forcing the occupants to exit through the docks. Now, all that remained was to take control of those loading docks
and wait for the fireworks. Pete prayed
that they would find the bays mostly deserted.
It was later than he wanted for this operation, but the truck had been
their best way in and it did not run until after lunch. Besides, Ryan's people could not get in
place in time to hit any earlier. He
hoped that these people opted for late lunches. He had actually expected more outside guards than the three he
had seen so far. Either way, Alex would
take care of them; that he trusted. He
pulled up to the first loading bay, backing in just as a regular delivery
would.
"How
many do you see?" he whispered.
"I
got three on my side," Banks answered.
"Six." Jesse was at the rear doors, peeking out of
the window. "And one in an office
off your side, Pete."
"Ten,
not bad. We can do this. How many armed?"
"About
half, I'd say." That was Brown.
"We've
got them outgunned for the moment.
Don't expect that to last. Get
ready. Here comes our first
target."
A
man approached Pete's door. "Hey,
Mike. You're a little late."
"And
I'm not Mike." Pete got out, gun
leveled at the man who raised his arms in surrender. "Come here."
Pete motioned with his gun. He
took the man by the front of his shirt and spun him, wrapping an arm around his
throat to use him as a shield. He
banged on the side of the truck, the signal to the others.
The
next few minutes passed in the blink of an eye as Pete's assault group poured
out of the vehicle and subdued the guards in the bay. After Pete disabled the phones and the radios, civilians and
gunmen alike were rounded up and locked in the office. Then the first explosion, the one closest to
them, hit. The noise of it nearly
deafened them so that the succeeding two explosions sounded more like champagne
corks popping than the loud booms that they were. Fire alarms screamed and the sprinkler system came on. Jess climbed back into the truck and opened
his laptop. A few keystrokes and the
alarms and the sprinklers were off.
Pete waited for the mass exodus to begin, hoping that Alex had blocked
the other exits sufficiently to force everyone out this way, or at the very
least, Taggert or Alex would let them know if the plan had failed.
He
was so distracted that when the doors suddenly flew open, he jumped. People spilled into the loading bays. Most of them ran right past and out of the
building, never even noticing the men with guns. Until one of the Baker's armed men noticed them and the firefight
began. Pete shoved a woman down to the
floor and fired at the man taking aim at him.
The man fell and Pete moved to take cover, still firing at anyone with a
gun. He winced as he saw a civilian go
down. The man was alive, however.
"Stay
down!"
The
man froze and Pete turned his attention back to the guards. "So much for controlled chaos!"
Jim
was almost back to his cell with his guards when the explosions rocked the
building. A moment's hesitation on the
part of his jailers was all Jim needed.
He slammed a fist into the jaw of the man on his right, snatching the
man's gun away even as he slumped to the floor. Jim spun and shot the other man.
He turned back to the first guard to find him unconscious. He left him alive.
This
had to be the rescue attempt he had been waiting for. If it wasn't, he had just killed Kit Chase. Right now, though, he was free. People were pouring out into the hallways
and Jim wound his way through them. He
had to find Chase. He slowly opened his
senses, trying to filter out as he did.
It was no use, however. There
were too many people, too much noise.
If he had been looking for Blair, maybe he could have done it. But he did not know Chase with his senses
the way he did Blair. He dialed back
down to normal. Around him, people
screamed and shoved to get out of the building. He could have told them that the building was not burning. That was not the point. He needed them out of his way though. He pushed his way upstream. He had to find Chase the old-fashioned way.
Jesse
took aim from the back of the truck and fired.
Another armed man down, lots more to go though, and still no sign of Kit
or Ellison. He glanced at Blair. He seemed to be holding his own, firing at
the guards just as diligently as the rest of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex run into the loading bay. Four gunmen went down as the man unerringly
picked them off as he took up position next to Pete. "Damn," he whispered.
Alex was scary sometimes. Jess
flinched as a bullet came dangerously close to his head, striking the truck
just inches from him. "Damn
it." Alex shot the man before
Jesse had even recovered his position.
Most
of the first wave of civilians were out of the way now. They would be coming in waves, however, as
each wing of the building found their exit blocked and had to backtrack to the
loading docks. The next wave should be
arriving at any time. It was going to
be a bloodbath. Jess's Catholic
upbringing kicked in and he whispered to himself, "Hail Mary, full of
grace…." He hated killing; yet he fired again.
Rose
was panicked. He had locked the door
and refused to leave. The guard in the
room with them was upset. He wanted
out. Kit watched the two of them argue
from his position on the floor next to Alex Barnes.
"I
have to get out there! That's
gunfire. We are under attack!"
"We
have to protect the sentinel and guide.
We're safe here and here we are staying."
"Then
you stay! I'm going!" He tried to shove his way past Rose.
"Okay,
Alex, it's time to get out of here," Kit whispered to the catatonic
woman. He rose, using the wall as
support. When he was upright, he
propelled himself into the guard, taking him down. He slammed the man's head into the hard tile floor and came up
with the M-16. The guard was out. Kit
turned to Rose, who stood against the door, a stunned look on his face."
"Open
the door."
"Mr.
Chase, it's a madhouse out there. You
could be killed. Listen to reason
here. We should just stay here until
it's over."
"No
way. Baker is not going to let me
live. I am leaving here, and you are
going to help me."
"Why
would I do that?"
"Because
I have a big gun and absolutely no reason not to shoot you and go out that door
without you. It'll be more difficult,
but I can do it. Done harder shit,
after all. Now, unlock that door, then
go get Barnes over here. She's going
too."
Rose
hesitated and Kit shook his head.
"Okay, fine then. Good
night, fucker."
"Wait! All right!" Rose turned and ran his card key through the slot. The door opened and Rose hurried over to
Barnes. He pulled her up from the
floor.
"After
you." Kit motioned with the
gun. He left his crutches behind and
limped out after Rose and his burden.
Now, if he could just find Ellison or Pete. Ellison and Pete would be even better, but he would settle for
one or the other at the moment.
The
second wave of civilians brought with them a second wave of gunmen. It was expected, but definitely not
welcome. Simon swore out loud as Rafe
took a bullet in his shoulder. It was
his left, though, and Simon could not help the pride he felt as Rafe got up
still firing.
He
made a quick check of the rest of his people, his eyes resting on Sandburg just
a split second longer than the others.
Blair was silent, his face a blank mask as he fired on their
adversaries. He would never have believed
it if he had not seen it for himself.
Sandburg was not firing over their heads or at their feet. He was shooting at them and hitting
them. Somehow, it made him sad. He shook his head. He needed to pay attention or he would manage to get himself killed.
He
was getting worried, however. There was
still no sign of either Jim or Kit.
Simon began to worry that the men had been moved. It was entirely possible, for that matter,
that they had never been there at all.
But he could not dwell on that, though, as the third wave of people
spilled into the loading bays. They
were early, damn it. The terrified
people realized quickly that they would be safer in the building than in the
bays, however. They reversed their
course. Unfortunately, the armed guards
were not so easily deterred. They
joined their compatriots in the firefight.
Too bad for them that they were out in the open, Simon thought, as he
picked off another one from the relative safety of his cover. Despite the lousy odds, the good guys, as
Devereaux had proclaimed them, were going to win this one. Now, if Jim would only show up.
Jim
moved swiftly through the now deserted halls, trying doors as he went. So far, he had found nothing and no
one. He swore. Rose might have hustled Chase and Barnes out
of the building and taken off with them by now, for all he knew. He wanted desperately to call out, but he
knew it was not as safe as it seemed.
Baker was in the building. A few
small explosions and a fire alarm would not fool him. He would not let go that easily.
He would fight. Jim extended his
hearing cautiously. The sounds of
several pairs of boots were headed his way.
He ducked into an office and waited, listening.
"Find
them! And get me some more help
searching this building."
"Sir,
most of the others are in the loading bay, holding off the intruders."
"Surely,
not all of them need to be there! I
want Ellison, Chase and Barnes found.
Now, soldier!"
"Yes
sir, Mr. Baker." The footsteps
dispersed in different directions. The
man Baker had been speaking to called on his radio as he passed the office
where Jim hid. "We need some help
in here. The prisoners are loose."
//"We
need help out here! We're being
slaughtered. They're entrenched and
we're in the open! Get your asses out
here!"// came the reply.
Jim
almost laughed. As the man turned the
next corner, Jim slipped back out into the hallway. So Chase and Barnes were free too. If he were Chase, where would he be? On the way to the loading docks maybe. No, Barnes was a problem.
He could not walk into a firefight with a feral Alex Barnes in tow. Chase would know that. Jim moved away from the loading docks. Chase would be trying to find another way
out somewhere.
Jim
was not coming out. Neither was
Kit. Blair sat down on the floor and
thought about his options. While they
were stuck in the loading bay, Rose or Baker could be sneaking off with Jim and
Kit. And Alex Barnes and Jim's baby, he
reminded himself. No, that was not
acceptable. He had to get in that
building and find them. He just had
to. If he could slip around the boxes
on the left, he could possibly circle around the guards and slip through the
door before anyone knew he was gone.
Pete would kill him. If Simon
did not beat him to it. But he could
not wait any longer. He tucked the 9mm
in his belt and with one more glance to make sure that no one was looking,
began inching his way over to the left side of the room and the boxes that
would hopefully shield him from sight.
It
had not occurred to Pete that Blair Sandburg had been much too quiet, much too
invisible for far too long until he caught sight of him moving silently around
the perimeter of the docks. He was
trying to get around the gunmen and get to the door to the rest of the
building.
"Damn
it! Banks!" When the other man looked at him, he pointed
with his gun.
"God
damn it!"
Pete
switched on his mic. "Blair, what
are you doing?" The calm,
nonchalant tone was an effort.
"They're
not coming out. I'm going to look for
them."
"I've
got him, Pete." Alex suddenly
disappeared from his side.
"Will
you people just wait, damn it, and we'll all go look for them!" That was Banks.
"Screw
this. This is stupid. One grenade, Pete, and we can clear this
place!" Jesse's patience had
reached its end. He shot another
guard.
"Yes,
and clear it of us, too, Jess. Too
close."
"Not
if we get around to that door and throw it back in with them."
"That
might work." Connor, that time.
"It's
a fucking mutiny!" Pete dropped
back onto his ass and thought about it for a second. They were cutting down the guards, but the bastards kept
coming. Baker had been more prepared
than Pete had thought. The lack of
outside guards was no doubt an attempt to fool them into overconfidence. But if they blew the bays, how would they
get out? The damn thing could collapse
on them and they would be trapped. The
windows were bulletproof so it would be hard as hell to get out that way. "The truck."
"What
about the truck?" Banks asked.
"We
could blow the truck. It's outside the
bay, but it'll still make them run for cover, giving us a chance to get by
them. Jess—"
"On
it."
"On
three, then. Ready, people? One, two, three!" Pete left cover just as Jess threw the
grenade into the back of the truck. It
was a hell of a risk. They headed for
the door at a flat run. For a moment,
the Millennium gunmen seemed confused then one of them yelled,
"Grenade!"
Instantly,
they dived for cover, allowing Pete and the others to run right past them. "Go, go, go!" Banks shoved his people ahead of him. "Sandburg, I'm going to kick your ass when
this is over!"
Blair
did not even acknowledge the threat as he passed through the door, Alex right
behind him. Pete counted off…Jesse,
Connor, Brown helping his partner, Rafe, then Banks. Finally, he made it through the door, just as the blast hit,
basically throwing him into the wall.
Banks slammed the door.
"If
this were the army, you'd all be on report.
You know this, right?" Pete
groaned as he starting pulling himself up from the floor.
"Don't
look at me, Devereaux. I was with
you." Banks grabbed his arm and
helped him into a full standing position.
"Oh
no, don't give me that. I heard you say
we'd all go look for them in a minute, or something to that effect. Help me find something to block this door. Let's keep them out there now. Good idea, yes? And remember, we ran some of the civilians back into the
building, so be on the lookout for them.
A fucking mutiny. I can't
believe it." Alex only grinned at
him. It was infuriating. Brown brought him a large office chair, and
they wedged it between the door and wall.
It would hold for a little while.
Then he heard them. Sirens and
choppers. He glanced at his watch. "Damn FBI. They are never on time."
"I
can make you a very wealthy man, Chase."
"Shut
up and keep moving."
"I
have people willing to pay for the services of a sentinel and guide. If you can get her functioning, we all could
be very rich."
Kit
grabbed the man by his thinning hair, snatched his head back, and growled in
his face, "Let's get some things clear here. One, she is a person, not a machine. Two, if I'm the guide and she's the sentinel, what the fuck do we
need you for? Three, I'm just not
interested. Four, you get me out of
this building now and do it quietly, or I will shoot you and leave your
miserable carcass bleeding in this hallway.
I am not in a good mood. Do you
understand me?" He released the
man, shoving him forward, almost causing Alex to fall. He grabbed her and she turned to look at
him. They ended up steadying each
other.
"It's
working," Kit heard Rose whisper.
Kit
glared at him. "I said, keep
moving. And you had better not be lying
about that other exit."
Alex
Barnes pulled Kit's arm over her shoulders.
Kit was as amazed as Rose seemed to be, but he let her help him.
"The
elevator to the basement is this way.
The tunnel leads to a small storage building at the rear of the
property. We can get out that
way."
"I'm
sorry. Did I fucking ask for an
explanation? No, no, I don't think I
did. I said, quietly! I hate the sound of your voice, man. Get it?"
"Yes,
of course." Rose moved a little
faster. Now that Alex was supporting
him, he could move faster as well. He
had to get out of the building.
The
sound of an explosion startled him.
"That came from the north."
"Yes,
I think—"
"I
said, shut up! That wasn't a
question! Jesus, you don't understand
English, do you?" Kit shook his
head. That had been the direction of
the gunfire. He hoped that Pete had set
off the explosion rather than being caught in it.
Jim
ducked into an office and cocked his head to one side. There were sirens, helicopters, and closer
to him, voices coming down the hall. He
pressed his ear to the door.
"Chase." Yes, finally. He opened the door just a crack.
Rose passed by first. Then Jim
saw her. She was supporting Chase. He thought that when he saw her again, he
might feel some of the same feelings as before, either the stifling
territorialism or the overwhelming lust, but he felt neither. She turned as he opened the door and their
eyes met. Something was different about
her.
"Damn
it, Ellison, I nearly shot you!"
Chase broke him out of the near zone.
"Sorry."
"Rose
says that Baker has an emergency exit out of here."
"Let's
move then." Jim stepped fully into
the hall. Barnes was still looking at
him. Then one hand fluttered down to
her abdomen. Jim opened his mouth to
say something, but found that he did not really know what to say to her.
She
said nothing, just transferred the hand back to Chase and continued to help him
as they started moving again.
"He's
awfully quiet," Jim whispered, nodding toward Rose.
"I
told him I'd shoot him if he didn't shut up.
Maybe he finally got the message."
Rose
only glanced back, giving them both a dirty look, before turning away.
A
familiar feeling swept over Jim then.
He stopped Chase.
"Wait. What the hell is
that?"
"What's
what?"
Then
it clicked. "Blair. Blair's here. He's in the building. I
can feel him close by. What the—"
Chase
slapped him in the head. "You
always could, idiot, if you had let yourself.
Where is he?"
"Heading
this way, I think. Feels like he's
getting closer anyway."
"Use
your senses. Is he alone, or is he
bringing the cavalry?"
"But
he lost—"
"Shut
up!" both of them snapped.
Jim
smiled. "The cavalry. There are helicopters and cars outside
too."
"Yeah,
heard them. Anybody hurt? Can you tell?"
"I
can smell blood." Jim nodded. "It's not Blair. I can tell that much. That's all."
"Move,
Rose." Chase shoved the man with
the M-16.
"Baker
is here, you know."
"Yeah,
he said so." Chase indicated Rose.
Jim
looked at Barnes who was still eerily silent.
Her complete attention was on Chase.
"Did you do it?"
"Not
yet. Came really close but dumbass
there got in the way." He motioned
to Rose with the gun. "Look, I'm
as surprised as you about her. She was
completely catatonic until just a few minutes ago."
"Well,
I think she's made her choice."
"Really?" Chase stopped and looked him in the face.
"Yeah,
really."
An
almost smile ghosted across Chase's face, then was gone. "We have to get out of here. Then I can deal with this." He started moving again.
Jim
followed, his heart in his throat and mixed emotions rumbling through his brain
like a herd of buffalo. As they came to
the center of the building, however, time seemed to stop as Jim caught sight of
his guide.
"Jim!"
Simon shouted.
But
Jim could not look away from Blair.
Around him, greetings were shouted.
Pete and Riviera went to take Chase from Barnes, only to have her growl
at them. Still, Jim stared at Blair,
who seemed just as transfixed. Volumes
were spoken without words. There was so
much still between them; some of it pulling them together, but some of it still
pushing them apart. Simon was talking
to him. Someone slapped him on the
back. He blinked and the connection was
broken, causing a flash of real pain to sear through his body.
"There's
another exit? Damn it! That means Baker could be long
gone!" Pete grabbed Rose and shook
him. "Where?"
"Down
the elevator to the basement. It's a
tunnel to the storage building."
"What
fucking elevator? The plans didn't
mention a fucking elevator! Never
mind. Son of a bitch! Let's move, people. Baker absolutely must not get away from
us. Kit, you okay with her?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Rose, that elevator, now."
Jim
looked back to where Blair had been, but he was not there anymore. He quickly sought him out again. He was with Alex Morrow. At least he would be safe with him. Jim decided to deal with something
easier. "Rafe, you okay?"
"Making
it, Jim. Thanks." The younger detective smiled through the
pain.
The
elevator was not far. Rose led them
around the reception area to a hidden area behind it. There was the elevator.
They would have missed it entirely.
Pete tossed Rose into the car and they all followed him in. Once in the basement, they hurried into the
tunnel. At the end of it was a
ladder. Pete started up it, but Jim
grabbed his pants leg. He put a finger
to his lips to stop the question.
"They're
up there," he told him.
"Baker?"
"And
several guards. They're trying to
figure out how to get past the feds."
"How
close are they to the door?"
The
fact that Blair had spoken to him shocked him for a split second, and he could
not seem to answer. "They're not near
our door, Chief." The nickname,
slipped out and he waited for the rebuke.
It did not come. Instead, he
asked another question.
"If
we surprise them, can we take 'em?"
"Maybe. I'd say there are at least six guards and
Baker."
"We
have them outnumbered."
He
turned to Pete. "We have two
injured and one that is still not quite in this reality. That sort of negates out number
advantage."
"We
have to do something. If Baker gets out
of here, he will come after us with everything he's got. If we live through it, you may find yourself
right back in a cell. That what you
want? We cannot take the chance that
he'll escape. I like Chad Ryan. He's a friend, but the vast majority of the
feds I've met, I wouldn't trust to help me across an empty street in Backwater,
U.S.A. without getting me run down by the one and only working motor vehicle in
town!"
Jim
put his hand over Pete's mouth. "I
get the point."
Pete
pulled his hand away. "Where
exactly are they?"
Jim
listened for a moment. "To the
left of us, maybe 500 feet max."
"That
close? Oh well. Rafe, you stay
here. Kit, same for you."
"No. I can still shoot, Pete. My ankle doesn't affect my aim."
"Oh,
and the ladder is certainly no obstacle.
You gonna fly up there? Stay
here, Kit. That's an order. I'm up first."
"I'm
right behind you." Jim checked his
weapon then turned to look at Blair again.
"Will you stay here?"
"No." It was a simple, firm answer, and Jim
realized that he had no right to push.
"Be
careful."
Blair
nodded.
"Alex?" Chase's voice made both of them turn.
"What?"
Alex Morrow glared at him.
"Not
you. Alex?" Barnes was moving toward Blair. Jim's hands itched to pull him away, but he
could not seem to breathe, much less move.
She
raised one hand to Blair's face. Blair
flinched and tried to lean away from her, but she managed to touch his
jaw. Chase limped over to them. She turned away and took Chase in her arms
again. Jim realized that she was, in
her own way, apologizing.
The
tense moment was over and once again, Pete started up the ladder.
"They're
getting ready to leave," Jim told him.
"They're going to try to get to Baker's car and go through the
fence."
Pete
nodded and lifted the door above his head just a bit and peeked through the
crack. He closed it. "They're facing away. Now or never. We ready?"
"Go." Simon assured him.
Very
slowly, Pete lifted the door again.
Below him on the ladder, Jim prayed that the hinges would not
squeak. They did not and Pete silently
rolled into the room. Jim followed. Pete had gone left and was hidden behind
some boxes. Jim went right. Simon was next. One by one, they took up positions behind Baker and his men.
Later,
Jim would scold himself for not considering Rose a threat any longer. The man shouted a warning to Baker just as
Brown cleared the hole in the floor.
Below, he heard Chase's stolen M-16 fire. Robert Rose would never bother any of them again. But Jim had bigger problems at the moment as
Baker and the guards turned on them.
Kit
heard the firefight break out over his head as he kicked Rose's dead body. He had warned the man. Alex was rubbing off on him. He glanced behind him to locate the other
Alex, the woman he was going to guide, but she was not where he had left her.
"Fuck!" He looked up. There, on the ladder.
"Alex, no!" He tried
to pull her down, but he missed the hem of her scrubs as she continued to climb. He looked at Rafe. The man was getting weak from blood loss. He would be no help. Swearing, he threw the strap of the M-16
over his head and started up the ladder himself.
"Wait,"
Rafe called.
"Can't. She's gonna get killed!" It was hard with a cast, but he struggled up
the ladder. He had to protect her.
Baker
was still trying to get away, he and his men making it out of the building,
forcing Pete to follow. He did not have
to look back to know that he was not alone as he made his way out. There were a few trees and a couple of small
trailers to take cover behind. He got
off a shot just as one of the men left his cover. He went down. Jim got
another one. Two down, five to go. Four, as Banks got another. Pete could see a couple of the feds racing
to help them. Baker was caught between
the two groups. This was almost over. Pete saw the knowledge in Baker's eyes as
the man stepped out of his cover. Was
he surrendering? But Baker looked away
from Pete and Pete followed his gaze.
"No!" Pete could see his target. "Kit!
Get down!" Why the hell had
he not stayed below? Then he saw
why. Alex Barnes was a few feet to
Kit's left. He was trying to catch up
to her. Pete saw Baker raise the gun.
"Oh god." Pete took aim, but
Baker dived for cover just as his gun went off. Pete's bullet hit the tree Baker ducked behind. Pete forced himself to turn and look, fearing
that his friend was dead. But he was
not dead. Kit was pulling himself from
under the prone figure of Alex Barnes.
"Kit!" Pete stumbled to them, feeling the heat of a
bullet pass by his head even as he reached them. He grabbed them both and dragged them back into the storage
building. To Pete's amazement, Kit
pulled the woman into his arms and rocked her gently.
"Why?"
he asked her.
"My
guide," she whispered as one blood red hand reached up to touch his long
black hair. "Had to protect my
guide." Her hand dropped.
Pete
had never seen Kit Chase cry before. He
looked down at the woman's wound, somehow the sight of it less disturbing than
the sight of tears on Kit's face. She
was gone.
"If
only I'd found her years ago, Pete."
Pete
put one hand on Kit's shoulder. Kit
looked at him, his face and hair streaked with blood and tears. "Stay here. Okay?"
Kit
nodded and Pete left him there, grieving a murderess he had hardly known.
Why
would they not just give up? Blair
could not understand it. They were
pinned down, surrounded on all sides now and still they fought. Fanaticism, that was the only
explanation. He watched as another of
Baker's men went down. He was not sure
who fired the shot, but he did know it did not come from him. He had stopped firing. Somehow, it did not seem right to fire on
people who were so hopelessly outnumbered and apparently too stupid to just
surrender.
To
make matters worse, he had seen Alex Barnes get shot. He had watched her throw herself in front of Kit to save
him. One part of his mind was
fascinated by the sacrifice. Why would
a woman who had killed, had been willing to kill so many more, suddenly put
herself in the path of a bullet for a stranger. Another part of his mind rejoiced for her redemption, while still
another protested that she could not be redeemed after the things she had
done. And what about the baby? Jim's baby.
He wiped impatiently at the tears that welled up in his eyes.
He
hazarded a glance to Jim's last location.
There he was, sentinel and cop, one in determination to end this threat
once and for all. He should be at Jim's
side. A sentinel needed a guide to
watch his back. Could he still be Jim's
guide? After all they had done to each
other, could they fix what they had broken?
Blair stared at the gun battle going on around him for a moment. Another man went down. The last remaining guard dropped his gun and
held up his hands. But where was Baker?
"Give
it up, Baker!" That was Pete's
voice. Blair could see him crouched next
to one of the trailers. "There's
no way you're getting out of here!"
Blair
sighed in relief as a gun came flying out from behind a tree. It was over. He stood and moved toward Jim.
He had to find out if their friendship could be salvaged. He saw Baker step out and the feds began
rushing forward to take him. But just
as he was about to turn his attention back to Jim, he caught a glimpse of
sunlight on metal. "Gun!"
Jim
saw Blair coming toward him. He turned
to smile at his guide. Now, they could
really talk. But then Blair yelled
about a gun. Jim spun, ready to face
the threat, but the world seemed to slow down.
Baker
screamed something about sentinels and raised his weapon, leveling it at
Jim. Then he could no longer see Baker
as someone stepped in front of him.
"Blair!"
The gunshot echoed in Jim's head as Blair's body jerked with the impact of the
bullet. Jim caught him and they fell
together. Then the world clicked back into
real time. Jim watched as Alex Morrow
emptied his 9mm into Baker's body. Pete
called to Morrow frantically, but the man did not seem to hear. As Baker's body hit the dirt, Morrow looked
at Jim, his face tight and cold.
Jim
sent the man silent thanks and held Blair closer.
"Jim?"
His
name, his first name spoken by the most important person in his life, was
bittersweet music. "Chief, why did
you do that?"
"Had
to. Jim, I'm tired of fighting. It hurts too much. Can we fix it? I just
want to come home."
"Then
you come home, buddy. Come home,
Blair."
Blair's
eyes closed, but Jim could see that he was just tired and in pain. He was going to be okay. He looked around them at the
destruction. Everyone stood as if
shell-shocked. No one quite knew what
to do, it seemed.
"We
have an ambulance on the premises."
"Get
it back here then." Jim did not
even bother to look at Chad Ryan as he spoke.
Jesse
Riviera ran past him, back into the building.
He was checking on Chase. Then
it hit him. Alex Barnes. Pete was standing over him. He looked up. "Barnes?"
"Sorry,
Jim."
Jim
nodded. Maybe it would matter
later. Right now, the only person who
mattered was in his arms.
"How
is he?" Pete asked.
"He'll
be okay. Caught him high since Baker
was aiming at me."
Pete
grinned. "Might be the first time
in his life he'll be thankful that he's short."
Morrow
picked up a gun from the ground a few feet away and Jim realized that it must
have been Blair's. Morrow shook his head and
Jim sighed.
Kit
tapped his unbroken foot impatiently.
He was fine, but Pete had insisted that his ankle get x-rayed again to
make sure it was set right. He had sent
Jess to get him a Dr. Pepper and he was beginning to believe the guy got
lost. The exam room door opened.
"About
time."
"Didn't
know I was expected. I'd have come
sooner."
Kit
jerked his head up. He chuckled a
little. "You weren't expected,
Ellison. You don't happen to have my
Dr. Pepper, do you?"
"Nope,
sorry. How're you doing?"
"I'm
fine, damn it! I tried to tell Pete
that, but he's stubborn as hell!"
"Birds
of a feather, Chase."
"Screw
you," he remarked, but he was smiling.
Ellison was right. He and Pete
deserved one another. "How's
Blair?"
"In
surgery, but he'll be fine. Bullet tore
up some muscle and bruised his lung, but didn't go in. Rafe's going to be okay too. That bullet went all the way through. They're fixing him up, giving him some
blood."
"That's
good."
There
was a long moment of silence which both of them tried to break at the some
time. Kit deferred to Ellison.
"I'm
sorry about Barnes."
Kit's
heart flipped. "I'm sorry about
your baby."
"Well,
I'm not sure how I feel about that right now.
Don't think I'm ready to deal with that one."
"When
you are, let somebody help, okay?"
"Yeah,
okay. What about you? You were ready to be her guide. How are you—"
Kit
held up one hand to stop him. "You
know, it's funny. I was so sure I'd
never want to be a guide, but there was this need that I could fill, and I
couldn't help but want to fill it. I'd
like to say it was just the baby, but it wasn't. And she wanted me. She
called me her guide before she died.
Now, god, Ellison, I'm so glad I didn't do it. She's gone. She's
dead. Do you realize what that would
have meant for me if I had gone through with it? I would have done it too.
I was so close. If Rose hadn't
interrupted… No offense, man, but I
hope I never come into contact with another sentinel. Fucks with my head too much." Something occurred to him.
"Oh, man, Alex. Has anybody
talked to Alex?"
"Pete's
with the feds. Jesse's been with
you. I don't think so."
"Find
him. Is he here? Did he know about Barnes and the baby?"
"Yeah,
apparently they all knew."
"Find
him now."
"Why?"
"I
really shouldn't tell you this, but his wife died in a firefight."
"Pete
told me. What's the problem?"
"Did
Pete tell you his wife was pregnant? I
might be overreacting, but he doesn't handle things like this very well
sometimes. Find him for me
please?"
"Jesus,
okay. I'm not good at emotional
stuff."
Kit
glared at the man. "You're better
at it than you think. Just go."
Ellison
went to the door then turned to look at him again. "I'm still not sure I like you, Chase, but you've earned my
respect. Thanks for everything."
"Back
at cha, exactly, man. Go." He waved him out.
Jim
found Alex Morrow outside the hospital, leaning against the wall near the ER
entrance.
"Hi."
"Hi
yourself." Morrow just stared
through him.
"Chase
is worried about you."
"Is
he now? Tell you, did he?"
"I
already knew some of it."
"I'm
okay with Barnes actually. She was a
victim and she died. It's horrible and
it's sad, but she was not Eliza. No
confusion there."
"Then
what? Something's up." Jim leaned on the wall near him.
"This
is up." Morrow pulled a 9mm from
the back of his belt and held it out to Jim.
"This is the gun I gave Blair."
Jim
took it. "Yeah. I know."
"Do
you? Do you know? At first, I thought he would be okay. He was there with us, but then at the end,
he—he dropped this gun. He could have
shot Baker and ended it, but he didn't. It was not his first instinct.
Taking the bullet was his instinct.
Damn it! Gun in his hand, an
open shot any novice could make, and he drops the gun and takes the fucking
bullet! Do you know what that means,
Ellison? Do you really?" Jim closed his eyes as Morrow's voice grew
louder and louder, more and more agitated, his fists beating the wall behind
him. "He is not a merc,
Ellison! He will never be a merc! You have to be able to pull that fucking
trigger. You have to shoot first, ask
questions if they live! As a matter of
fact, fuck the questions if it means you live!
He doesn't belong in the agency, Ellison! He won't survive!"
"I
know."
"Good!" Morrow pushed off the wall and moved to
stand in front of Jim. "The gun
will always be his last resort if he even considers it an option in the first
place. Blair is a good man. I have no doubt that he would watch my back
in a fight. But I want an extra weapon
at my back, not a shield! He'd protect
me, or you, or anyone for that matter, but with his life, not with a gun, and
that is unacceptable to me. Oddly
enough, and this may sound strange, but his instincts would make him a damn
fine cop. One that would die young, but
a good one nonetheless. But he
shouldn't have to be a cop. He should do
what he was meant to do. He's so like
Kit in so many ways. The only major
differences being that Kit does have a much stronger survival instinct and the
will to kill if he has to. But the
heart is the same. It will be up to you
to protect him if he stays in your life.
Can you? Will you?"
"I
will certainly try."
"It
won't be easy, you know. He'll make it
damn hard because he doesn't think he needs protecting."
"I
know." Jim looked up at the blue
sky. "Not to be an ass, but why do
you care?"
Morrow
raised an eyebrow at him. "I told
you, I was you once. So sure I didn't
need anyone. Until I didn't have
anyone. It was a hard lesson. I told you, I didn't have the chance to get
back what I lost, but you did. And here
it is. Are you going to take it?"
"He
said he wants to come home."
"Well,
just don't expect him tomorrow. It may
be what he wants, but he's not ready yet.
I know. He's torn between what
he wants and the fear that if he gives in to what he wants he'll be a doormat
under your feet. You're going to have
to prove yourself, Ellison. You're
going to have to change and you're going to have to work to win his
trust."
"I
figured as much."
"But
he will be back, Jim. If you let him
know that he is wanted and appreciated.
And trusted."
Jim
nodded.
"Don't
fuck this up, Ellison."
"I
won't. Not this time."
"You'd
better not." Morrow walked away
from him.
Jim
watched the white fluffy clouds move across the blue field of the sky above
him. He was not sure how long he had
been there, sifting through his emotions and thoughts, before Simon joined him.
"The
feds are happy, despite Baker's demise.
They've rounded up the whole lot of people and all the files from
Millennium and frozen all of the Coalition's assets. They'll have to sort out the guilty from the innocent for a
while. I don't envy them that
task. Devereaux seems to think the
Freedom Coalition won't recover from this bust. So much for the bad guys.
As for the good guys, Rafe's all sewn up and floating on happy
juice. Brown and Taggert went for
food. I told them to get you something
greasy and bad for you. Connor is
actually flirting with that fed, Ryan.
And Devereaux seems quite put out by that."
"Did
Chase get his Dr. Pepper?"
Simon
grinned. "Yes, he finally did. Riviera had met some cute little nurse at
the vending machines. So, how are you
holding up?"
"I'll
live."
"Good,
glad to hear it."
"You
told the others?"
"About
your senses? Yeah. They deserved to know the truth, Jim. Fact is they were not all that
shocked."
"Guess
they didn't make detective for nothing, huh?"
"Guess
not."
"Thanks
for coming for me, Simon."
"Had
to. Your paperwork's not done."
Jim
chuckled. "You're all heart."
Simon's
face got serious again. "So what
happens now?"
"I
don't know. That's up to Blair."
"Well,
you obviously got your senses back."
"Yeah."
"So
you need Sandburg back."
"Like
I said, it's up to Blair. We have a lot
to work out, and we'll do it his way, at his pace."
"You've
come a long way, Jim."
"I'll
figure out if that's an insult or a compliment when I'm not so damned tired,
Simon."
Blair's
pace was very slow indeed. He had not
come home from D.C. right away, just as Morrow had warned. He was not working at the Devereaux Agency
either though, so Jim was able to sleep most nights. Blair was at Georgetown, finishing his dissertation. A much-changed dissertation, Jim thought
with a smile. He still was not quite
comfortable, but he had finally realized that his comfort level was
irrelevant. This was Blair's life after
all. And for the most part, Jim was as
proud of the new dissertation as Blair was.
Mainly because Blair was finally acknowledging the importance of the guide,
something that Burton had overlooked.
Using Barnes and Chase, as well as old case studies of people with a few
heightened senses, Blair had put together a dissertation that was receiving
great praise from his Georgetown advisors.
Jim was there in the pages of it, almost anonymously, as a case
study. If anyone knew them, they would
be able to identify Jim. Otherwise, he
was just subject number two.
But
the road from Millennium to Georgetown's acceptance of the dissertation had
taken a long, hard eight months. Jim
had continued to work, just as a normal detective though. Using the senses was too dangerous even with
his co-workers trying to help. Jim had
also spent a lot of time and money on phone calls and airplane tickets, as he
and Blair tried to repair their partnership, and more importantly, their
friendship. The first couple of visits
had been tense, but as usual, Blair had dispelled the tension. It was a simple statement that opened the
floodgates. It was their third
visit. Jim had been toying with his
fork at dinner until Blair had reached out and stilled his hand.
"I
don't hate you. I could never hate you,
Jim."
After
that, it was all downhill. That was not
to say that everything had gone smoothly after that. Not by any means. It did
start the real work, however. Blair was
still angry and Jim knew that eventually he would have to face that anger. In the end, he had had to force the
issue. He remembered the fight word for
word, blow for blow.
//"You
have to be angry, Chief."
"I'm
not angry anymore."
"You
have to be. I would be. I lied to you. I accused you of betrayal and—"
"Jim,
shut up about it. I'm not angry."
"I
ruined your life."
"You
are not going to leave it alone, are you?"
"Chief—Blair,
we can't just act like it never happened."
"Why
not? I thought that was one of your
specialties."
Sarcasm,
now he was getting somewhere. Blair's
fuse should be pretty short. One more
remark should do it. "You seem
pretty good at it too."
Blair's
fist hit the table even as he stood.
"Okay! Okay, you want me to
be angry. I'm angry! There. Happy?"
"I
should have told you everything from the beginning, from the moment I
knew."
"You're
damn right you should have told me! I
had a fucking right to know, Jim! And
that's just one thing you fucked up!"
Kit
Chase appeared in the doorway of his kitchen then discreetly backed away. He was going to give them privacy and Jim
was grateful. "I know."
"Oh,
and that fixes everything, huh? You sit
there and say, 'I know,' and 'you have to be angry, Blair," and that fixes
everything! What about 'Sorry, Blair,'
or 'it will not happen again, Chief?'
Because it had better not happen again, Jim. I can't keep taking the hits and getting back up. I can't.
I'm not even sure I should even try.
Damn it! Why do you have to be
so fucking infuriating!? We are fucked up, Jim. You know, you told me once my love life was a train wreck. I've thought about it and I've decided
that compared to our fucked up friendship, my love life looks like a tricycle
accident!"
"I
am sorry. And I told you that."
"I
know! I know. You just keep pushing me, damn it! I'm trying to get past this, okay? It's hard. I
can't—fuck! I can't trust you,
Jim. I know you're sorry, but I don't
trust this friendship anymore. I just
keep seeing you standing in that cell and telling me you had another
guide! Telling me to do what I was
told! I was sitting there thinking,
'gee, he throws me out, moves me back in, leaves me in the hospital, accuses me
of selling him out, never even says thanks when I toss my future away, harasses
me into the Academy, then hangs me out to dry here. What else could go wrong?'
Then Rose shows me Alex Barnes.
And I'm supposed to what?
Forgive and forget? Not sure I
can, Jim. I am trying. I swear, but I am scared to death of trusting
you ever again."//
That
had hurt. Even months later just
remembering the words sent waves of pain through Jim's chest. He could not blame Blair for feeling the way
he did. In his place, Jim figured he
would have walked away and never looked back.
But Blair had looked back, and he was willing to try to repair their
friendship. They were almost
there. They just had one more little
bump in the road. Blair had never said
that he forgave Jim. He said that he
understood, but that was part of the problem.
Blair always understood, and it made it so much easier to screw someone
over when he kept giving you permission.
That was what Jim had done. He
had used Blair's own acceptance of his mistakes and trespasses as excuses to do
make the same mistakes and trespasses again and again. He knew that now. He was the one who had attained understanding now. In the meantime, Blair had been learning to
call him on his idiocy and demand the truth, all of the truth. In the end, though, he would still say he
understood. It was just his way. But thus far, in all their hours of
heart-wrenching soul-searching discussion, the word forgive had only entered
the conversation that once when Blair had said that he was not sure he could
forgive.
Now,
as Jim sat in the audience watching Blair ascend the steps to the stage to
receive his degree, his doctorate, a somewhat strained smile stretched his face
as Simon pounded him on the back. He
and Simon were the only ones to make this trip. The rest of Major Crimes was back in Cascade preparing for a
"Welcome Home" party that Jim could only hope they could actually
give. He put aside the depressing
thoughts and tried to let the mood of those around him sweep him along. He
sighed then smiled for real as Blair walked across the stage and was handed his
degree.
He
stood, applauding and whooping in a way much too undignified for the occasion,
as Blair shook hands with the chancellor of Georgetown. But he was not the only one. He glanced around himself then at Blair's
friends here in D.C. They were good
friends. Morrow had become a steadfast
watchdog, Pete had told him. Jess
seemed determined to give Morrow something to do, dragging Blair off for one
adventure after another when he was not busy with his dissertation or working
with Chase. Kit Chase was still a pain
in Jim's ass, but he had been teaching Blair everything he knew, filling in the
blanks that before Blair just had to reason out on his own. Then there was Pete, the man who once left
Jim for dead who now would go into hell for someone he barely knew. The world was a strange place sometimes, but
this time, it had been kind to Jim.
The
rest of the ceremony was dull and far too long. Jim felt like whooping again when it was finally over. He waded through the crowds, looking for one
curly-haired—long curly hairs, he might add—anthropologist. Oddly enough, it was Blair who found him.
"Jim." Blair hugged him without so much as a
warning, but Jim did not mind. He
returned the hug wholeheartedly.
"Congratulations,
Chief."
"Thanks,
man. I'm glad you came."
"Of
course, I came. I nearly cost you
this. I owed it to you to be
here."
A
shadow crossed Blair's face and Jim wondered if he had said the wrong
thing. Yes, he probably had. "Besides," he added, "I just
wanted to be here." It was the
truth, all of it. Blair deserved the
truth.
Blair
almost smiled. "Jim, um—"
"So,
now what, Doc? Hey, maybe that'll be
your new nickname." He wanted
desperately to lighten the mood.
Now
Blair really smiled. "No
thanks. I have enough of them
already. Let's see, Chief, Darwin,
Einstein, Junior and those are just the ones you've called me. Sandy, that one's Megan's. White Boy!
Kit is calling me White Boy! Can you believe it?"
Jim
laughed. He could not help
himself. But his laughter ended with
Blair's next statement. "Actually,
I have accepted a job. Two
actually."
"Really?" Jim's voice shook just a bit and his
heartbeat tripled in speed and volume.
"Yeah,
um, Senator Adams, remember him? He
sponsored this grant program where police departments could get a grant to hire
social scientists, besides psychologists, that is, as consultants to see if
their expertise could be helpful in investigative work. One of the departments that applied for the
grant and got it called me. So I called
the local university there and they were looking for a part-time anthropology
professor so I interviewed with the department and the school and got both
jobs."
Jim
had been biting his tongue through the speech.
"Where, Chief?" Did
that sound snappy? The idea of Blair
working with some other department with some other detective was making his
blood boil.
"Well,
that's what I need to talk to you about.
See, I don't know if the guy they're going to partner me with really
wants me around. He wants a partner he
can trust."
Jim's
knees tried to give way, and Blair grabbed his arms before he could fall.
"Jim! Are you okay?" Concern was etched on Blair's face.
"Please,
just say it, Blair. Please, don't do
this to me."
"Jim,
I'm sorry. I just didn't know if I was
welcome."
"After
all this time, Chief, everything we've talked about, everything I've done,
tried to do, please tell me you know how much you mean to me."
"As
much as you mean to me, I hope.
Maybe. Do you really forgive
me?"
Jim
wrapped his arms around his dense best friend.
"There was nothing to forgive you for, Chief. It was all me."
"No,
no, it wasn't. We both screwed up. There were signs I should have seen. I should have fought harder, and then I
shouldn't have walked away," Blair argued into his shoulder.
"No,
you shouldn't have had to fight for us, Chief.
I should have told you everything.
You were right to leave. I
wouldn't have learned my lesson otherwise."
"Since
you put it that way, okay." There
was a smile in the voice that made Jim shake his head as he released Blair from
his bear hug.
"But
do you forgive me? I am so sorry,
Blair. I screwed up so badly. I never meant—"
"I
forgive you, Jim."
Again,
such a simple statement, so important.
"I do trust you, Blair. I
hope you can trust me. I have missed
you. Come home, Blair."
"I'm
still learning to trust you again, but I've missed you, too. Thank you, Jim."
"No,
thank you." Jim hugged him
again. "Simon knew all about this,
huh?"
"Uh,
yeah, he sort of wrote the grant application.
It wasn't a really difficult interview either."
"That
bastard. I can't believe he didn't say
anything to me." Jim released his
guide but kept his hands on Blair's shoulders.
"We
didn't know if the proposal would go through, and then that the application
would be accepted. We didn't want to
say anything until we knew. We just
found out a few days ago. Then I asked
him to let me talk to you about it."
"Okay,
so maybe I'll let him live. We have
other folks waiting for us outside, you know.
We better get going."
"Yeah,
I guess so. Pete swears he's got a
slamming party waiting."
"Slamming? Pete's been around Riviera for too
long. Just one more question," Jim
said as they started walking to the door.
"You really going to work for Edwards?"
"Oh,
didn't I tell you? She got fired for
what she did to me. I have a formal
apology from the school, back pay, the whole nine yards. Dr. Meeks is the interim chancellor, and he
may get the job permanently. Needless
to say, that interview wasn't hard to get through either. And old Sid is out of a job too. I tell you, Pete is a bulldog, man. The way he went after Sid was scary. We settled out of court for an undisclosed
amount."
"I
knew about the apology but not the rest.
So disclose, Chief, disclose!"
"Let's
just say between the money that they paid me and the money that Pete managed to
hustle for me from that CIA guy, I will never owe you back rent again,
Jim."
"Does
this mean you'll support us in our old age?"
"Think
I'd rather take Pete's advice and spend it all on fast women and good
wine."
Jim
laughed. "Damn, I've missed
you!"
Blair
smiled. "Well, I'm back now. We can do this, Jim. We can make this work."
"And
we will, Chief. I promise you, we
will."
"Sentinel
and guide."
"Yeah,
but more than that. Brothers."
"I
can deal with that."
They
walked out of the auditorium together, and for the first time in over a year,
Jim was truly happy. Happiness was a
fragile thing, he knew, but there were things that he understood now, lessons
he had learned that would make happiness a little easier to hold onto. The sentinel had finally learned to see the
colors, learned to hear the whispers of the heart, learned to feel and accept
his own emotions. The education was
painful, but the rewards were many.
The
end…