Soul Shadows

Danae

Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me.  They belong to Pet
Fly.  I'm just borrowing them for a bit.  I mean no harm,
infringement, or disrespect and I certainly am not getting paid
for this.  I'm just having some fun.

As ever, thanks to my wonderful betas, Beth, Missy, Laura and
Paulette.  Thanks to Nickerbits for bidding for this story in the
auction.  This one's for you!  Thanks to Michelle, my friend and
inspiration!  And last but not least, to everyone that writes me
with feedback and encourages me with their words of support.  

There are some references to and some spoilers for S2, BMB, and
Cypher.  And some references to the deaths of various vehicles
<g>.  And a few bad words.  Hmmmm, can't think of anything else.

Soul Shadows  Part 2

Danae

_________________


"He's really pissed off, Jim,"  Simon whispered to Jim as they
made their way out of the hospital.  Jim watched as Blair's eyes
scanned the ER parking lot and located Jim's truck.  Without
looking back, his guide headed straight for it.

"I know."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"I have no idea.  I suppose I'll have to tell him the truth.
Which, of course, is just going to convince him further."

"Hell, Jim, it's convincing me."

Jim rubbed his temples with one hand.  "Damned if I do, damned if
I don't." he mumbled, more to himself than to Simon.

"The rock and the hard place, my friend." Simon squeezed his
shoulder in a gesture of support.

"Yeah.  Oh shit!  I left those diaries on the damn seat!"  Jim
took off at a run.

"What?"  Simon called after him.

"I'll explain later!"  Jim yelled back without turning.  He had
to get to the truck before Blair and Blair was almost there.  He
needed to get those books out of sight, under the seat before
Blair got a good look at them.  He was not going to make it.
Blair had too much of a headstart.  He swore silently as the
younger man made it to the truck, tried the door only to find it
locked then tilted his head as though trying to make out
something inside the truck.  Jim swore aloud.  Blair had seen the
diaries.  Jim stopped running only a few feet from the truck and
leaned over to place his hands on his knees and catch his breath.
"Blair--"

"What are those books, Jim?  They look really old.  What are you
doing with really old books, Jim?"

"I can't read some old books, Chief?" Jim straightened.

"I know you're hiding something from me, Jim.  Wouldn't have
anything to do with those books, would it, Jim?  They sort of
look like diaries or journals.  No titles that I can see.  Why
don't you open the door for me, Jim, so I can see if I can find
some titles?  Might be something of interest to an anthropologist
in old books like those."  Accusation flowed through Blair's
words.

Jim sighed heavily.  "Blair--" he started again only to be cut
off again.

"You found Camille Parks, didn't you?  She was next on my list.
I guess she was first on yours.  Are those her research on the
case?  Her father's journals?  Or..." Jim saw Blair bite his lip
and swallow.  "Or are they Sarah Radcliff's diaries?"

"I was just going to read through them first, Blair.  To see if
they would provide something useful or if they would just do more
harm."

"But I thought you didn't believe in ghosts, Jim.  The Strausman
case was just an ordinary murder-suicide."

"Damn it, Blair!  You know very well that this has nothing to do
with the Strausman case!  This has to do with you!  Your peace of
mind, Chief.  You've been acting weird and you have all these
wild ideas.  I was trying to help."

"What happened today, Jim?"

"I said we'd talk about it when we got home."

"Can't get home if you don't let me in the truck, Jim."

Jim flung his arms up in frustration.  "You are not making this
easy, Sandburg!"

"I want to see those diaries, Jim and I want to know what
happened to me that makes you so nervous that you can't tell me
about it! I don't think I'm asking for too much, damn it!  This
is my life we're talking about!"

"Fine!  You freaked out and thought you were Van Radcliff!  And
that I was Douglas Dawson coming to save you from your sisters!
It was like you really were Radcliff!  Nothing of Blair Sandburg
was there!  I *saw* your eyes and you weren't *you*!  Damn it to
hell, Blair Sandburg, you scared the *hell* out of me and I
couldn't get through to you!"

Blair was stunned.  Jim could see the fear in his eyes.  "Then it
is true," he stated sadly.  "I was hoping maybe, well, I don't
know what I was hoping.  But it's really true."

"NO!  I *won't* believe that!  That woman, that so-called doctor,
she influenced you, put ideas in your head while she had you
under hypnosis.  You told her what you were looking for and you
had just enough of the story from that webpage for her to give
you what you wanted to find."

"What!?  You think I wanted to find out that I was abused and
murdered in a past life?!  Do you think I'm that sick?  If that's
what you think, I'm surprised that you didn't let Sullivan commit
me!  I've been trying to find another explanation, Jim, but there
isn't one."

"But you did tell her that you thought you might have been Van
Radcliff in some previous life, didn't you?"  When Blair did not
answer, he asked again, louder. "Didn't you?!"

"Yes!  Okay, yes.  Happy?"

"Far from it, Chief." He came forward and unlocked Blair's door.
"Don't touch those diaries yet.  You got me?"

Blair gave him a dirty look.  "Yeah, I got you."

"Why don't I believe you?" Jim asked as he circled the truck and
unlocked and opened his own door.

"You said 'yet.' I can wait so you can believe me."

"Sure you can.  You'll be ready to explode by dinner."  Jim slid
into the driver's seat.

"Thanks for the faith, Jim." Blair rolled his eyes as he snapped
on his seatbelt.  "I need to get my car from Dr. Winston's
office."

"Yeah, I'd like to have a talk with Dr. Winston."

"Leave her alone, Jim.  She only did what I asked her to."

"And how do you know that, Sandburg?  You were under hypnosis,
right?  You don't know what she did to you.  But I know that when
she got done you were somebody else besides my friend.  And I
don't like it, Blair.  I don't like it at all."

"Jim--"

"Discussion over."

"Jackass."

Jim ignored the mumbled insult.  Name-calling was not going to
stop him from getting to the bottom of this whole mess.  He was
not going to accept this reincarnation thing.  He just was not
going to do that.  There was a perfectly logical explanation and
he was going to find it.  He refused to be Douglas Dawson
recycled and he would be damned if he was going to let Blair have
ever lived Van Radcliff's life.  Ever.  Not his Guide.  Not his
friend.

_________________________________________________________________


Simon had watched the confrontation between the two members of
his best team from across the parking lot.  Parts of it had been
so loud that he could even hear it.  It had not sounded pleasant.
As he drove back to the station, he contemplated the strange
events from the past few days and found himself wishing that he
had never called Jim and Blair into the Strausman case.  Of
course, how could he have known that what should have been a
simple investigation would turn into the most bizarre mystery
the two men had ever been wrapped up in?  Murder, okay.  Suicide,
been there.  But ghosts, past lives and reincarnation, incest and
abuse.  He shook his head.  It could only happen to Ellison and
Sandburg.  Only to them.  It just did not seem fair.  He had
already reported to the commissioner that he and his men could
find no evidence to suggest any third party involvement in the
deaths of the Strausmans.  The news had not been well received
but the official case was closed.  Neither Jim or Blair had any
reason to return to Radcliff House.

The realty company was stuck with the house as far as Simon was
concerned.  For most of Simon's life, to his knowledge, the house
had stood empty, the legend making the Victorian style home a
favorite place for Halloween partiers and tricksters.  A Rainier
fraternity had even gotten permission from the city to set up a
haunted house there for a few years.  It had been a family from
California that bought the house from the city and renovated it.
Two years later, they were dead, the first of the murder-suicides
to add to the legend of Radcliff House.  It was resold quickly by
the sister of the dead owner.  A Cascade historian, his wife and
two kids moved in.  They lasted less than a year before their
bodies were found in the house by the maid.  The wife and
children had been stabbed.  The husband had apparently shot
himself.   Van Radcliff and Sarah Radcliff had been stabbed and
Maggie Radcliff had been shot, only she had not shot herself.
Still, more coincidence.  Then the Strausmans, the wife stabbed,
the husband shot in the head, an apparent murder-suicide.

Perhaps he needed to look into this more thoroughly and from a
different perspective.  One that Jim was refusing to consider.
He would never hear the end of it but perhaps he needed to ask
around in Homicide for the names of some of their psychics.
Simon had never been one to believe in that nonsense and the
fiasco with that Charlie What's-his-face that Blair's mom brought
around had confirmed his disbelief. However, something was not
right and coincidence could not explain it all.  He would talk to
Jim about it.  Or not.  Jim would probably not be receptive.  He
sighed.  Was it just impossible for him to have a normal day?
Was it just part of being captain that put him in these kinds of
messes?  No.  It was being Jim's captain that put him in these
messes.  "The man better be glad I consider him a friend or the
traffic division would be dealing with his butt by now," he
muttered.  "Then again, the motor pool couldn't afford to keep
providing him with cars."

_______________________________________________________________

"Get out of the truck." Jim ordered and Blair shot him another
dirty look, which Jim promptly ignored.

"I'm getting," Blair snapped.  "What's the matter with you?  Now
I can't even sit in the truck."

"Not with these diaries here, no."

Blair purposely slammed the truck door very hard.  "Happy?"

"Nope, still far from it.  Are you coming in here with me or are
you heading on home?" Jim asked even as Blair pulled the Volvo's
keys from his pocket.

"I don't know.  On the one hand, Dr. Winston may need some
protection.  On the other hand, I have no desire to have you
embarrass the hell out of me by behaving like my overbearing
father."

"Go home then.  I'm not going to do any damage to her or her
office.  I'll be calm, cool, and collected while I inform her of
the possible lawsuit she's looking at."

"Great, Jim.  That's just great.  She was only trying to help.
She only did what I asked her to do!  There is not going to be
any lawsuit, Jim!  You can't make me file a lawsuit and you can't
file one for me unless you are my legal guardian.  And guess
what, Jim!  You aren't!  I'm an adult.  I can do whatever I
want!"

"Apparently that includes acting like an idiot and letting some
stranger poke around in your head!  You need a damn guardian!"

"Oh, that's it!  I've had it!  You've gone too far this time.
I'm outta here." Blair spun around and marched toward his car.

"Blair!  You better be there when I get home!"

"And what if I'm not, Big Man?  Whatcha gonna do?" Blair turned
and walked backwards away from Jim, his arms out, his hands
motioning a challenge.  The challenge ended though and he jumped
when Jim's fist slammed into the fender of the truck.  He
wondered if he had gone too far himself.

Jim seemed to take a moment to compose himself then.  When he
spoke again, it was quiet and calm.  "Blair, I'm sorry. I was
outta line.  You're not an idiot.  You are, however, under a lot
of stress.  You have not had the best couple of days here. 
Neither have I.  You're off balance so I'm off balance and I'm
not handling any of this very well.  Not to mention that I think
I just did myself some damage here." He shook out his hand.  "I
swear to you, I won't do or say anything to embarrass you.  I
will just ask her some questions about what happened so that
maybe we can figure this thing out together.  But we can't figure
anything out if you aren't there.  Please, Chief, I promise, I
just want to help."

Blair listened to Jim and suddenly felt a little ashamed of his
own behavior as well.  He kicked at the pavement beneath his feet
and gave Jim a lop-sided grin.  "Guess neither of us have been
behaving very sensibly.  I'm sorry, too.  Let me see your hand."
He moved swiftly back to his friend and gingerly pulled the
injured hand up.  "I don't think it's broken."

"No, Chief, it's not broken.  It'll be bruised but I'll live.
Just go on home and rest until I get there.  You didn't get much
sleep last night after your little adventure in the Radcliff
garden.  You have to be tired.  I'll be there soon and we'll talk
like sensible people.  Okay?"

"Okay." Blair grinned at him.  "See you at home."

"Yeah."

Blair waved as he walked back to the Volvo once again.  He
watched Jim disappear into the office building then started the
car and resolutely ignored the whispers that had started again as
soon as Jim was out of sight.  He bit his lip and drove.  He
would not listen.  He would not listen.

_______________________________________________________________

"I'm here to see Dr. Winston," Jim announced to the receptionist.

"Do you have an appointment, sir?"

Jim counted backwards from ten as he got out his badge.  He had
promised Blair calm, cool, and collected.  He would stay calm,
cool, and collected.  "Do I need one?  I need to talk to the
doctor about one of her patients that ended up in Cascade General
this afternoon."  He showed her the badge.

She gulped. "I'll see if she's busy."  She pressed the intercom
button next to her computer.  "Dr. Winston, there's a policeman
here to see you."

"Send him in." came the static reply.

"Thank you." Jim smiled at the woman before entering Dr.
Winston's office.

He quickly sized up the woman he saw behind the big mahogany
desk.  Dr. Winston was close to his own age, auburn-haired and
brown eyed, attractive.  She stood and tried to smile at him but
the smile was a little shaky.  "Dr. Winston, I'm Detective Jim
Ellison."

"Dr. Diana Winston." She held out her hand to him and he took it
after a hesitation that most people would not have noticed. 
Apparently, she did because her smile faltered just a little
more.  "I assume this is about Blair Sandburg."

"Yes, ma'am, it is.  I want to ask you some questions about how
he ended up in the hospital waiting on a psych evaluation."  He
could not help the hard edge in his voice.

"I honestly don't know, Detective.  I've never had anything like
that happen before."

"You're a doctor of what, Dr. Winston?"

"Psychology."

"And you..." Jim stopped to try to figure out a way to soften his
sarcastic tone.  He gave up. "And you believe in and encourage
your patients' belief in past lives and reincarnation?"

She tilted her head at him and gave him a tight, indulgent smile.
"Yes, I do.  And if you don't mind my saying so, I hardly think
that it's your place to judge my or my patients' beliefs."

"Actually, Doc, I do mind.  Let's get something straight.  Blair
Sandburg is my partner.  I didn't like, not one little bit,
getting the call from my captain telling me that my *partner* was
in the hospital after visiting your office."

"I see.  Then this is personal for you.  I would think that it
would be a conflict of interest for you to be investigating what
happened to Blair."

"It might be, if this were an official investigation but it's
not.  Yet.  I want to know what happened here this afternoon."

"I can claim doctor/patient confidentiality, you know?"

"And then this would be an official investigation of criminal
negligence and I would have to get a court order and subpoena
your records of your session with Blair.  Is that what you want,
Dr. Winston?  Seems like an awful lot of trouble to avoid
answering my questions now, doesn't it?  And in case, you're
wondering, yes, Blair does know I'm here.  Now, I promised him
that I would be calm and that I would not do or say anything to
embarrass him.  I'm trying very hard to keep that promise.
Although, I might have already blown it. I just want to help my
partner.  That's it, that's all.  Something is going screwy
somewhere.  I don't and won't believe that he's losing his mind.
He's too sharp for that.  But I'm having a very hard time
swallowing past lives and ghosts here.  All I'm asking is for you
to help me help him."

Winston seemed to consider his words for a moment then she sat
down.  When she looked back up at him, he could see in her eyes
that she had decided to cooperate.  He could also tell that she
was worried about what had taken place in her office.  She
motioned for him to take a seat.  He did and patiently waited for
her to begin talking.  "I guided Blair into a trance and took him
through a past life regression meditation.  At first everything
seemed fine.  He remembered a peaceful life lived in a jungle
somewhere.  He was married, had children, grandchildren.  He was
the village healer.  His death was violent.  'Civilization'
arrived and he was shot trying to stop the destruction of his
village by bulldozers.  That was his last life before this one.
Then I took him back further and that's where the trouble
started.  Immediately, he became agitated.  He cried for most of
that part of the session.  Quite frankly, Detective, so did I.
It was a horrible life.  He was tormented and abused.  I really
rather not go into details here.  He might not want anyone to
know--"

"I'm aware of the details." Jim said sharply.

"I see.  This was the life that he was wondering about, though.
He had mentioned the name Van Radcliff before we started and
during this part of the session he said his name was Van.  I was
just about to try to take him back further, get him out of that
life and into the one before it.  I was worried about his level
of anxiety.  But he wouldn't respond.  He just got more agitated.
So then I tried to pull him out entirely.  He started saying over
and over that he had to get away.  He started begging for help
from somebody named Douglas.  He tried to leave the office and I
cut him off and then he started screaming that I had to let him
go, that she was coming for him.  She was going to kill him.
That's when he crawled under my desk and wouldn't come out.
Meanwhile, I'm still trying to pull him out.  I tried, Detective,
I swear to you, I tried everything I know to pull him out before
I called the ambulance."

Jim rubbed at his tired eyes with one hand.  Blair as a tribal
healer, he could see that.  Blair as Van Radcliff, he did not
want to see.  "You really believe that he was reliving
experiences from past lives?"

"Yes.  Let me explain why. I believe that there are only a finite
number of souls.  Some souls live only once and go on to
wherever it is we go.  But some souls live many times.  Whether
they have work left undone, the higher power feels they are owed
something more, or they're souls that are in some way special and
are needed here at various times in various personas to do
certain work."

"Tell me something.  Are some of these souls, in your opinion,
connected to each other?"

"You mean, do they meet over and over as different people in
different lives?  Maybe.  Why do you ask that?"

"Just something someone else suggested.  No reason really.  You
know, I don't want to believe any of this."

"I see that."

"And you didn't suggest anything to him while he was under to
lead him?  I mean, he knew quite a bit of Van Radcliff's life
before he ever came here.  Could you have led him into what you
thought he wanted to hear?"

"Absolutely not.  I will say this though, if he knew enough about
Radcliff, he might have led himself in that direction.  But that
doesn't explain why I couldn't pull him out of the trance and I
know he was still under.  And his fear was very, very real."

Jim sighed then stood slowly.  "Thank for your time but do me a
big favor.  If Blair comes back here, please don't have an
appointment open.  Please."

The look of her face clearly expressed her thoughts.  Her
expression flickered from confused to indignant to relieved.  "I
never meant for anything to happen to your friend, Detective.  I
must admit that it scared the hell out of me.  I don't think it's
fair of you to decide for him what he should or shouldn't do but
I think perhaps this experience was enough pain for him to go
through.  I'd like to have left him with something more pleasant
to remember but... Let's just leave it at this.  If he comes
back, I will try very hard to dissuade him.  You must realize,
however, that I am not the only person he could go to for
regression therapy."

Jim nodded.  "Right.  Have a nice evening, Dr. Winston."  Jim
left the office, more confused than ever, just as angry as
before, and extremely worried.  He had found nothing to disprove
Blair's wild idea of reincarnation.  Worse than that, all he had
managed to find was more evidence to support it.  Enough evidence
to even halfway convince himself that it was a possibility.  He
got into the truck and threw a distasteful look toward the
diaries on the seat next to him.  He was not sure that he even
wanted to see what was in them anymore.  Not when, with every
passing hour, he began to see Blair and Van Radcliff as the same
person.

___________________________________________________________

Simon Banks unlocked the door of the Radcliff House and let the
woman with him step inside first.  He was probably wasting his
time.  Jim would think that he had lost his mind but he just knew
that something more was going on than could be explained away
with logic and strange coincidences.  This visit to the house
would be the test.  If Sylvia Claremont could prove to him here
that she was indeed a psychic, their next stop would be Jim's. 
The woman's hand went immediately to her throat as she crossed
the threshold.

"There's a lot of negative energy here.  I can tell you that a
lot of people have died here," she told him as he walked in
behind her.

Simon thought to himself that anyone who knew the Radcliff House
legend would know that much.  This had been a stupid idea.  "What
else can you tell me?"

"Recent deaths." she muttered.

"That was on the news, Ms. Claremont." Did his tone sound
condescending?  Yes, but he could not help the skepticism.  He
felt ridiculous.

"Here." She pointed to the bottom of the steps.  "Three deaths
here.  Two were stabbed, the other shot."

"When?"

"One, a few days ago.  The other two a very long time ago.  And
in there," she headed toward the study, "three more.  All of them
recent."  She continued to wander through the house with Simon
following her.  She walked up the stairs and pointed out where
each of the children of the two families with children had died
while Simon checked her accuracy by the facts in the files he
carried.  Back down the stairs and out into the backyard garden.
She grasped his arm and dragged him to the middle of the garden.
"This one started it all.  He died right here."  Simon looked
down at his feet.  Withered, brown flower petals surrounded the
area where the two of them stood.  "This place is full of pain
and hatred."

Maybe he had not made a mistake after all.  What were the odds
that she would know all the details of all the murders and
suicides in the house?  Now, he had to ask the questions that he
feared would make him sound the most foolish.  "Ms. Claremont, do
you sense any presences here?  Hear any voices besides mine and
yours?"

"No.  Just the emotions and the deaths.  No entities and no
voices."

"Okay.  Could there have been something here recently?  Like a
few days ago?"

"I can't tell that, Captain Banks.  You seem to think that there
was.  Why?"

"A friend felt something here.  He's been upset and well, not
himself since."

"I need to meet your friend, Captain.  The entity that he felt
may have attached itself to him."

"What?!"  Simon's skin crawled at the thought.

"If he did indeed feel and hear something and it's not here now,
that would be a logical explanation."

"Lady, none of this is logical!" Simon flung one arm up in
frustration.

"Still, whether you like it or not, it's the most probable.  Is
that better?"

"Not by much.  Either way, Sandburg's in trouble."

______________________________________________________________

Jim extended his hearing up the stairs, hoping to hear the even
breathing that would signify a peaceful rest for his partner.
He almost knew that it was too much to ask for even before the
pleading sobs and pounding heartbeat reached his Sentinel ears. 
He took the stairs two and three at a time.  He reached the loft
only to be frustrated by the locked door.  He pounded on the door
with one hand while he fumbled with his keys with the other. 
"Blair!  Open the door, buddy!  Come on, Chief!  It's Jim!" he
yelled, praying that the noise he was making would end his
Guide's nightmare.

His enhanced hearing made the pleas very clear and he swore
vehemently.  He finally got his key into the door and flung the
barrier between he and his friend aside.  He ran into Blair's
room to find him on the floor in the corner by his closet.

"Please!  No, don't.  I don't want to! Please, Sarah, please,
don't make me.  NO!"  Tears streamed down Blair's face and Jim
dropped to his knees in front of him.

Tentatively, he reached out and touched him.  The reaction was
explosive.  Jim found himself looking at the ceiling as Blair
knocked him backward and tried to escape.  Jim tried to grab his
leg as he passed by him but he missed.  He scrambled up and
chased Blair out into the living room.  He caught up with him and
wrapped both arms around his chest. "Blair!  Stop it!  Wake up,
damn it!"

The younger man suddenly sagged against him and Jim lowered him
to the floor, following him down.  Blue eyes blinked at him and
awareness seeped into them slowly.  A choked sob caused a pain in
Jim's chest and he rocked his Guide slowly in his arms while
Blair cried.

Jim lost all track of time as they sat there on the living room
floor.  Perhaps he had even zoned out because when Blair shifted
in his arms and then gently pulled away, Jim was startled by the
movements.  Blair gave him a shaky smile as he dried his face on
the tail of his flannel shirt.  "Are you okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Nothing to be sorry for."  Jim paused to try to find a way to
phrase the questions battling to get past his clenched jaw.
Talking was not his forte, even with pleasant subject matter and
this was far from pleasant.  "You, um, had a nightmare, huh?"

Blair nodded and got up from the floor.  He offered his hand to
Jim and Jim took it, still getting up mostly on his own power,
however.  Blair looked like a good stiff wind would blow him
over.  "I was in the garden and Sarah..."  Blair grimaced and ran
both hands through his tangled hair.  "It seemed so real, Jim."
The younger man shuffled to the couch and all but collapsed onto
the soft cushions.

"*You* weren't in the garden, Blair.  That was Van Radcliff." Jim
sat down on the opposite end of the couch as he spoke softly.

"But it felt real," Blair insisted.

Jim sighed and allowed his head to roll back to rest on the
cushions.  "Chief, I don't know what to say.  I just don't
understand any of this.  But if you say that it's happening, that
it feels real, then I believe you.  But Blair, I don't want it to
be happening and I damn sure don't want it to be happening to
you.  I wish I knew what to do."

"I know you do.  It's not your fault.  You can only protect me
from things you can beat up, shoot or arrest." Blair's smile was
a little less shaky this time.

Jim chuckled a little.  "You think you're funny over there,
Chief?"

"Well, you laughed," Blair accused.  "So, what did you say to Dr.
Winston?"

"I think I kept my promise.  I was calm.  But I couldn't help
some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Sarcasm, mostly.  Then when she didn't want to talk to me, I
threatened her with a full investigation, court orders, and
subpoenas."

"You call that not embarrassing me, Jim?  I would hate to see
what you could come up with to really embarrass me then."

"I'm sorry, Blair.  I am trying to get a handle on this--- this
situation.  What you've been telling me goes against everything I
was raised to believe.  In the Ellison household, we only lived
once and there were no such things as ghosts.  And yet, here we
are.  You, living memories from a previous life and being scared
half out of your wits by voices that I can't hear even with my
ears and me, trying to figure out why some dead sheriff named
Douglas Dawson could be my twin."

"Excuse me?"  Jim could feel Blair's body tense and blue eyes
pinned him to the couch like a bug in a science project.

"I wasn't really hiding that from you, Blair.  I just got
sidetracked with all that's happened between my visit to Camille
Parks and your visit to the hospital.  Anyway, I guess that's why
you thought I was Dawson when I first got to the hospital."

"So you were going to tell me if it hadn't been for that, right?"
Skepticism tinged Blair's tone, making the normally soothing
voice sound harsh.

"Eventually." Jim admitted, knowing he could not lie.  Blair
might say that Jim was a human lie detector but Blair was a Jim
lie detector.  His Guide knew him too well and instantly picked
up on any untruth.

"That's what I thought.  Jim, you have to start talking to me--"

Jim cut him off.  "I know, I know."

"I would have thought that we both learned that lesson very well
with Alex Barnes."

"We did, I did.  Please, could we just not discuss that again?
This doesn't even come close to that.  I said I was sorry and I
meant it.  I was a bastard.  But this time, I was really trying
to help, okay?  I just thought it would best not to say anything
until I could find a logical explanation for all this."

"And have you?"

"No."

"So, I look like him and you look like Douglas Dawson.  What are
the odds?"  Blair stared up at the ceiling, contemplating this
new information, no doubt.

Jim frowned but did not get a chance to redirect the conversation
as he caught the scent of cigars.  "Simon's here, Chief.  We'll
finish this discussion later."  Jim got up and strode to the
door.  He opened it just as Simon raised his fist to knock.  He
grinned as his captain jumped a little.  The man was not alone,
Jim noticed.  "Hey Simon, come on in."

"I hate it when you do that." Simon muttered as he motioned for
the woman with him to go in first.  She smiled as she passed by
Jim and Jim returned it.  "Jim, Blair, this is Sylvia Claremont.
Ms Claremont might be able to shed some light on what's
happening."

Jim was puzzled.  "How?" he asked Simon instead of the blonde
woman that stood near the table.

"Ms. Claremont is a--"

"They're here!" the woman exclaimed as she spun back to Simon.
"Two of them."

"What the--"

"Jim, she's a psychic."

"Simon!  Have you lost your mind?!"

"You.  They want you." the woman declared as she moved quickly to
where Blair was still sitting on the couch, pointing at him.

Jim felt his temperature rise to the boiling point.  He just had
to decide who to blow up at first, Simon or this strange woman
who had just caused Blair's heart rate to go through the roof.
She was muttering something to Blair and Jim was just about to
find out what when Simon's hand on his shoulder distracted him.

"Jim. I know what you're thinking--"

"Do you, Simon?  I just got him calm from a bad dream he had and
you bring *her* here!"  He turned from Simon and headed for his
Guide.  "Blair, just calm down."

"They can't actually hurt you.  You are in this world and they
are caught in between worlds, unable to affect this one or go on
to the next," the woman was telling Blair.

"That's enough.  Thank you and good-bye."  Jim snapped at her.
"Come on, Chief.  Why don't you lie down for a while?"  He
grasped Blair's shoulders and urged him to stand.

"Jim!  She knows what's happening to me!  Please, don't send her
away.  She can feel them and hear them just like I can."  Blair
pushed Jim's hands away.

"Damn it!  I don't want to deal with this kind of crap!" Jim
shouted, gesturing at Ms. Claremont.  "There are no such things
as ghosts!  I will not believe it.  I won't believe in any of
this!"

"Whether you believe or not makes no difference.  They are here
and while they can't hurt him directly, they can drive him to
hurt himself.  That's what one of them is trying to do.  The
other, I'm not sure what she wants with him but she doesn't want
him dead.  Either way, the result will probably be the same.  So,
either you deal with this crap or your friend here will either
end up dead and more than likely take you with him or in a psych
ward."

"Take Jim with me!"  Blair looked stricken.  "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Chief.  It's nonsense.  What the hell are you trying to
do, Lady?  Scare him to death right here and now?!"

"I'm trying to tell you what I sensed in Radcliff House and what
I sense here.  One of these entities has been the cause of all
the deaths in that house and she wants your friend dead.  If she
remains true to form, she will try to make him kill you before he
kills himself."

"Blair would not kill me, much less himself!  He wouldn't hurt a
fly.  A damn cricket got in here once and he made me catch the
stupid thing and put it outside rather than just squash it.
Nobody and nothing can make Blair kill somebody.  Not even a non-
existent ghost!  Simon, I can't believe that this was your idea!
What were you thinking?!" Jim turned on his boss then.

"I was thinking that perhaps it was time to stop trying to
pretend that all this stuff is a series of coincidences.  I was
thinking that maybe we could get some answers.  I was thinking
that maybe, just maybe, I could help Blair.  Excuse the hell out
of me!  You aren't the only friend he has, you know, Ellison."

"Guys!  Don't fight, okay?" Blair stood and stepped into the
space between the two larger men.

His eyes were pleading and Jim shook his head and sighed.  He
walked over to the balcony doors before muttering, "Sorry, Simon.
It's been a really bad day."

"I know.  Been there for some of it myself."

"What now?" Blair asked solemnly.

"There's someone I know that may be able to help.  He can come in
and cleanse you of the spirits, drive them away."

"Okay, I've heard enough.  Blair is plenty cleansed enough, thank
you very much.  I won't have some nut case coming in here doing
some sort of exorcism.  No way, forget it.  This isn't a movie
set and he damn sure isn't Linda Blair.  Blair's his first name
not his last and he has the wrong equipment so you can just run
along now, Ms. Claremont.  We'll handle things from here."  Jim
was guiding the woman toward the door.

"Jim!"

"Blair, don't.  We can handle this.  You and me.  No more
psychics, no exorcist."

"An exorcism is different than what I'm proposing--" she
protested.

"Lady, I don't really care what you're proposing.  I'll take care
of Blair.  Don't you worry.  Simon, thanks for trying but I think
we'll try our way first."  He opened the door and physically put
Sylvia Claremont outside the loft.

"I don't think I can blame you there, Jim.  But listen to me for
a minute, okay?  She pinpointed the location of every murder and
every suicide in that house, including the Radcliffs.  I think
she is at least right about what's happening.  I don't like any
more than you do but I think she's right, well, up to that
cleansing thing anyway."

"I'm definitely not going for that," Jim mumbled.  "That's a
little too far into the Twilight Zone for me."

"I know what you mean."

"At least take my card."  The woman tried to press her card into
Jim's hand but Jim pulled away.

"I think I can find you if, and that's a big if, I need you.  See
you later, Simon."

Simon nodded and gently coaxed Ms. Claremont toward the stairs.
Jim closed the door and turned to face his partner.  "Are you
angry with me again?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know.  All I know is that I want this to stop.  I don't
want to have anymore dreams about being Van Radcliff and I don't
want to hear those crazy women talking to me anymore."

"What do they say, Blair?"

"Maggie calls me a demon child and Sarah tells me that she loves
me.  Stuff along those lines, every time I'm alone now, that's
the kind of stuff I hear.  I want it to stop, Jim.  I can't stand
it.  The dreams are so real and I'm scared.  What if that woman
was right?  What if I lose it and try to kill you?"

"Well, first of all, that's not going to happen.  Second, I think
that I can take care of myself.  As for making it stop, we'll
find a way, Blair.  A way that doesn't involve holy water and
spinning heads."

"Not funny, Jim."

"Maybe not, but too many strangers have been messing with your
head lately, Chief.  That's not acceptable."

Blair frowned and plopped back down onto the sofa.  A long
silence followed, long enough for Jim to begin getting nervous
that perhaps Blair was angry with him after all.  He was about to
apologize when Blair looked up at him and smiled.  "The wrong
equipment, Jim?  That was pretty funny.  You made her blush with
that one."

Jim chuckled and shrugged.  "Whoops.  Hey, I thought I was
putting it nicely."

"Oh, yeah, Jim, very PC," Blair's smile got wider.

*Anything to get a smile like that out of you right now, Chief,*
Jim thought to himself. "What do I know of PC, Chief?  I'm a cop. 
PC and PD are totally different abbreviations." Jim ruffled
Blair's hair as he passed by him to sit on the couch next to him. 
He turned serious then.  "If they bug you when you're alone, then
you just won't be alone until we figure this out.  How's that?"

"Normally, Jim, that in itself would drive me insane, but right
now, I'll take whatever reprieve I can get."

"Good.  Now, we both know you're the brains of this outfit so
what do you think we should do?"

"I've been thinking about going back to the house."

"Why?"

"Well, so far, I've just been running scared.  Maybe if I went
back there and faced what happened there--"

"I don't know if I like that plan, Chief.  Even if you were Van
Radcliff, *and* I'm *not* saying that you ever were, you're not
anymore.  You can't face something that didn't happen to you."

"But it did happen to me, just not in this lifetime!" Blair
insisted.

Jim shook his head and sighed in exasperation.  "I'm not on that
page yet, okay?  I'm just not willing to accept that."

"Dr. Winston said that some souls live many lifetimes because
they're needed for special purposes, Jim.  Don't you think that a
Sentinel and Guide would be needed in different places at
different times?  What if Dawson was supposed to be a Sentinel
and Van Radcliff was supposed to be his Guide but circumstances
got in the way?"

"You're really reaching on that one, Chief," Jim said aloud but
in his mind he could hear Camille Parks saying that Douglas
Dawson thought that Van was something special.  Jim thought Blair
was something special.  Dawson tried to protect Van.  He tried to
protect Blair.  Jim raised his hand to rub his eyes.  There were
too many parallels for Jim's comfort.

"Emisae."

He heard Blair whisper the name and he snapped his head up to
stare open-mouthed at his guide.  "Where did you hear that name?"

"I just remembered it.  From my session with Dr. Winston.  All of
that is coming back to me now.  That was my name once.  I was a
shaman in a small village." Blair was smiling.

"Chief, that name is Chopec.  It means 'bright sun,'" Jim told
him.  Jim took in the stunned look on Blair's face before
continuing.  "And that's not all.  Emisae was the name of
Incacha's father.  He died trying to stop bulldozers from tearing
down their village."

"Jim, that's how--"

"I know.  Winston told me.  There's just one more thing."

"Emisae was a Guide.  I remember it all, Jim.  My...his Sentinel
had died young from an illness about nine years before Emisae
did.  Emisae was older than his Sentinel and he always blamed
himself because he was supposed to the shaman and he couldn't
cure him, couldn't save him."

Jim could not sit there any longer.  He practically flew off the
sofa and started pacing the room.  "No!  This can't be.  I don't
want to hear anymore."

"But Jim--"

"Blair!  No!" Jim whirled around to shake a finger at him and was
shocked to see Blair flinch back as though he expected to be
struck.  Jim swore under his breath and ran the hand he had
extended toward the younger man over his own short hair.  "Just
no, okay.  I'm sorry I yelled," he said calmly.  "Winston didn't
say anything about any of that."

"Man, I hope *I* didn't say anything about it!  I wonder if I
did.  Even if I did, she probably didn't understand it."

"No, probably not.  Why would she?  And there's no way to connect
that to us anyway.  But now do you see why I don't want strangers
messing around with your head, Chief?"

"Yeah.  Jim, I still want to go back to Radcliff House."

Jim sank into the chair nearest him.  "If that's what you want,
we'll go tomorrow.  Right now, it's dark and we both need some
extra sleep.  What do you say we turn in early?"

"What about dinner?"

"I sorta lost my appetite, Chief."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"So, let's just get some rest."

Blair nodded.  Jim stood and offered his hand to his friend. 
Blair took it and Jim pulled him up.

"Now, go get ready for bed.  I'm not going to the bathroom with
you, Chief, but if you want, I'll set up a cot in your room
tonight.  I was going to sleep down here tonight anyway so cot,
couch, not much difference."

"Why were you sleeping down here?"

"'Cause you aren't getting out that door again without me, Chief.
I don't know how you managed to get past me last night but it
won't be happening again."

"I'm really sorry about that, Jim."

"Don't worry about it.  So do I get the cot or what?"

"You don't mind?"

Jim made a face at his partner meant to convey a "don't be silly"
message and then turned him by his shoulders and sent him off
with a swat on the head.  Blair grinned over his shoulder at him
and headed for the bathroom.  Jim watched him go, pasting a
return smile on his lips while his stomach churned and his head
pounded.  He was angry, he was tense.  He did not like the detour
their lives had taken and he wanted off this road but he could
not find an exit ramp.  As Blair was so fond of saying, this
sucked.

______________________________________________________________

Blair was surprised to see his room flooded with light when he
opened his eyes.  He smiled.  Apparently, he had slept through
the night without incident or nightmare.  He turned to direct his
smile toward the man who had made that possible.  His smile got
wider as his eyes met Jim's.

"Morning, Chief."

"Morning.  Did you sleep okay?"  Blair sat up in bed.

Jim smiled back at him.  "Yeah, pretty good.  Especially since
you decided to stay put and not take another trip."

Blair felt the blush spread over his cheeks.  "Thanks, Jim."

"You're welcome.  Now, how about breakfast?  I'm starved."  Jim
said, throwing his legs over the edge of the cot.

"Me, too."

"Go hop in the shower.  I'll do breakfast this morning,"  the
Sentinel told him as he stood and stretched.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."  Without warning, Jim grabbed his covers and
snatched them off.  Blair yelped in surprise and Jim chuckled.
"Now, hit it, Junior, before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir." Blair grinned and gave Jim his best military style
salute.

A raised eyebrow and a muttered, "Yeah, right," was the response
he received for it as Jim headed out of the room.

Then Blair was alone.  He closed his eyes as the feeling of being
watched came over him once again and the whispers started all
around him.  He felt crowded and he moved quickly out of bed and
into the bathroom.  They were still there.  He could not get away
from them and he suddenly dreaded taking a shower.  What if one
of them touched him like they had at Radcliff House.  No matter
what anyone said, Jim or that psychic lady, something had touched
him in that house.

"Blair, are you okay?" Jim's worried voice from the other side of
the closed bathroom door cut into his thoughts.

*Damn, he can hear my heart racing,* he realized.  He took a deep
breath and tried to calm down.  "I'm okay, Jim."

"You weren't this freaked yesterday morning and that was after
your little trip.  What's going on, Chief?"

Blair flipped through his memory and came to the only conclusion
he could.  Jim was right, it was worse.  He had only heard them
occasionally and they were in his dreams, but since his visit
with Dr. Winston, he heard them whenever he was alone.  Jim had
kept the voices and the dreams away only by staying in the same
room with him.  "I think maybe the trip to Dr. Winston and
remembering it all may have given them more access to me."

He stared at his reflection in the mirror as Jim cursed
vehemently outside the door.  He could not make out everything
Jim said, but he got the general idea.  He bowed down until his
forehead met the edge of the sink. "I'm really sorry, Jim.  I
thought it would help, not make it worse.  Please, don't be mad
at me.  I didn't mean to mess things up." Blair felt like he
would just splinter into a million shards of brittle glass at any
moment.  He was shaking as he raised himself up and looked into
the mirror again.  He gasped as he saw her behind him.  It was
Maggie, her cold eyes distinguishing her from her sister.  She
reached out one hand toward him.  He barely missed being hit by
the door as Jim burst in.  Maggie was gone.  Jim grabbed his arms
and held on as Blair almost lost his balance in his haste to get
out of the way of the door.

"What is it?  Are you all right?" Jim was looking over his head
and around the small room.

"She was going to touch me.  Don't let them touch me, Jim."

"It's okay, Chief.  Nobody here but us now," Jim pulled him
closer and cupped his face with both big hands.  "You hear me?
Nobody's gonna hurt you."

Blair nodded.

"Good." Jim released him and slipped past him to turn on the
water in the shower.  He tested the temperature and turned back
to Blair.  "Now, get in there and take a shower.  I'm gonna leave
the door open.  You need me, just call."

"Like I have to call," Blair remarked with a rueful little
laugh.  No need to call when the other man could hear his heart
beat from probably down the street.  *Something to test!*
whispered the part of his brain where he stored everything he had
learned and the questions that he still had no answers to about
Jim.

Jim laughed too as he moved past Blair again, ruffling his
already ruffled hair on the way.  "I'll be right in the kitchen.
Breakfast isn't going to be fit to eat if I don't get back in
there.  Glad I hadn't started the eggs yet."

Blair wanted to tell him that it would not matter, that right in
the kitchen could be the other side of town.  As soon as Blair
was alone, they would start again.  He said nothing, however.  He
had to get a grip.  He was acting like a scared kid.  Jim was
gone and the voices started again.  He frowned and closed his
eyes for a long moment.  When he opened them again, he refused to
look in the mirror.  Instead, he quickly stripped off his t-shirt
and boxers and stepped into the shower.  He ran various
anthropology facts and theories through his head as he reached
for his shampoo and started his shower.

_____________________________________________________________

To say that Jim was an unhappy man would have been a gross
understatement.  He was furious.  He wanted to kill somebody.
Diana Winston came to mind immediately.  Doctor, his ass.
Professional idiot came closer to the truth than the word doctor
as far as Jim was concerned.  The Radcliff sisters came to mind
as well but they did not even have the decency to be alive so
that he could kill them.  Sylvia Claremont for scaring Blair
again right here in their home.  Blair.  Jim started.  Where did
that come from?  He dropped the whisk he was using to scramble
the eggs with and it slid unheeded into the yellow mixture and
disappeared.  Kill Blair?  He shook his head.  No, he had not
meant to even think that.  Blair was just so much on his mind
that the thought had slipped in there accidently.

He looked down at his hand then as it moved seemingly on its own.
It opened the silverware drawer.  He did not know why.  The hand
closed over the handle of one of the larger knives in the drawer
and pulled it out.  Why did he need a knife?  Oh, yeah, to kill
Blair.  "No!" He flung the knife back into the drawer and slammed
it shut.  He stood there for a long moment trying to catch his
breath.  Air, he needed air.  He whirled around and went straight
to the balcony doors and fumbled with the lock.  He finally,
after what felt like an eternity, got them open and stepped out
into the morning air.  It was cool, not terribly cold, and the
air was heavy with mist.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he asked the sky.

The smoke alarm brought him out of the zone he was falling into
as the cool mist drifted down onto his upturned face and tickled
it.  "Shit!" His hands flew to his ears, the screeching catching
him unguarded.  Making the necessary adjustments to his hearing
automatically, he ran back inside and nearly collided with Blair
as the younger man came out of the bathroom just as quickly.
"I've got it, Blair." He got to the stove and turned off the heat
under the frying pan that he had left unattended.  The pan smoked
and the small amount of butter he had put in it spit and popped
as he threw the whole pan in the sink.  He watched it, aware of
the blue eyes on him.

"What happened?" Blair asked him.

"Got sidetracked, that's all.  Get dressed.  Don't want you
catching cold."

Blair looked down at the towel that he had apparently wrapped
around himself in a hurry.  "Yeah.  The alarm scared me." He
pointed up and Jim realized that he had turned his hearing down
to the point where the alarm was audible but hardly loud enough
to be heard from another room, which meant that Blair was
probably yelling.  It also meant that Blair was getting the full
effect of the annoying sound.

"We're both yelling, aren't we?"  He grinned.

Blair gave him an exaggerated nod.  "Now, could you please turn
it off?  I can't reach it without a step stool, you know."

"Gotcha, Chief." Jim gave him a salute.

Blair said something else but Jim did not hear it.  He went over
to the alarm and deftly opened the cover and pulled the battery
out.  Adjusting his hearing back to normal, he asked, "Now, what
did you just say?"

"I said, 'so that's how you do it.'"

"Yep, yours was sloppy.  Not crisp enough and you did it with the
wrong hand."

"Well, excuse me!  My mother would just freak about my doing it
at all, so I'm sorry if I'm not crisp enough, sir." Blair was
smiling.

"Sir?  I think I like that."

"Tough, I don't. I gotta get dressed.  Are we gonna have eggs or
not?"

"To be totally honest, Chief, I think we better go out for
breakfast.  This culinary experience has not been going too well
so far."

Blair laughed then, a real laugh, and the sound made Jim's heart
feel a little lighter.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The waitress placed their breakfast plates in front of them and
walked away and Jim picked up the conversation again.  "So, you
really think going back to the house will help?"

Blair shrugged.  "It's the only thing I can think of to do, Jim.
Besides, the way I see it, it can't get much worse now."

Jim sighed and slouched down in the booth seat.  "Famous last
words, Sandburg."

"Well, gee, aren't you Mr. Optimism today?"

"Blair, I'm just worried." Jim ran both hands over his face then
propped his elbows on the table.  "You know that I really don't
want to believe any of this is really happening.  I could have
gone the rest of my life without having to face this kind of
thing.  I mean, I know we've dealt with a lot of strange things
but this takes the cake.  Reincarnation and ghosts that kill
people?  That kind of stuff is only supposed to happen in
Hollywood after the director says 'action.'"

Blair put down his fork.  "So you think that they did have
something to do with the murder-suicides?"

*They* were the Radcliff sisters.  Blair avoided their names, all
of them, Sarah, Maggie, Radcliff, even Van.  It did not matter.
Jim knew who *they* were.  "I don't know.  Maybe."

"What made you change your mind?"

*Gee, I don't know, Chief.  Maybe the fact that I was seriously
considering killing you as I scrambled the eggs this morning?
Had my hand on the knife and everything.   Nope, couldn't say
that.*  Jim shrugged.  "Like Simon said, too many coincidences to
be coincidences, I suppose."

A mask of suspicion fell over Blair's usual open expression.
"What aren't you telling me, Jim?"

"Nothing, Chief." Jim tried to sound nonchalant.

"Are we really going to do this again?  One more trip on the
merry-go-round?  Let's don't tell Blair anything that might upset
him?  Jim, I don't like the ponies that go up and down and round
and round.  They make me sick.  I'm getting sick, Jim. I wanna
get off and I wanna know what you aren't telling me."

Internally, the debate raged.  One part of his head screamed at
him that he had to be honest with Blair, that he had to tell his
Guide about the incident over the scrambled eggs.  The last time
he held back, Blair had ended up clinically dead, only a miracle
and Jim's tenacity bringing him back.  Well, those things and a
wild vision that Jim was still trying to understand.  Another
part of his mind was yelling back that Blair had enough on his
plate without adding Jim's strange behavior to the mix.  Jim
would just have to stay calm and deal with it on his own.  Even
Jim was unaware which side had prevailed until he opened his
mouth.  "It's just that I trust you, Sandburg, and if I trust
you, I have to believe you.  I have to believe these feelings
you're having are real."  *Okay, so we aren't telling him.*  "I
don't like it but I guess I'm trying to accept the
possibilities."

Blair stared at him for a long moment.  "Well, I guess you'll
tell me when you're ready." He threw his napkin back on the table
and picked up his fork once more.

*Didn't fool him for a minute. Shoulda known,* Jim thought as he
did the same.  Silence descended on their little booth and Jim
finally gained an understanding of that line in that Shakespeare
play Blair had made him watch when it was made into a movie.  It
was about how someone's silence being more offensive than
anything they could say.  Maybe that was how Blair felt when Jim
would not talk to him.  Jim tried to make himself say something,
anything to end the silence but he could not.  Jim wished Blair
would start talking again.

______________________________________________________________

Blair was aware of Jim's scrutiny of him.  Finally, as they
climbed into the truck, he turned and asked, "So, are we going
out to the house or not?"

He had been so silent for so long, he supposed it was quite a
shock for Jim to hear him speak, and he got a little perverse
thrill out of the startled look on Jim's face.  "Uh, yeah, I
guess so."

"Cool.  Let's get this over with."  Blair turned in the seat
again to face forward.  Jim was staring at him still.  "Jim,
let's go, sometime today would be good."

"Yeah."  The truck came to life as Jim finally seemed to snap out
of whatever kind of zone he was in.

The next twenty minutes felt like eternity for Blair as he
gripped the armrest with one hand and twisted one end of his
shirttail with the other.  Suddenly, there was a warm touch on
his hand.  He looked down at it.  Jim's big hand covered his. 
"What?" he asked sincerely.

"You're going to ruin that shirt, Blair.  Stop.  Where did this
habit come from anyway?  You were doing that last night too."

*Van Radcliff,* came the unbidden answer to Jim's question.
Blair dropped the shirttail and snatched his hand away from Jim.
"Sorry."

"Hey, it's not my shirt but I thought I'd just point it out in
case it was one of your favorites."

"Thanks."  Blair sighed and looked out the window at the
beautiful houses that lined the street.  They were almost there.
Blair tried to swallow his anxiety as the big house came into
view.  Jim was slowing down and then he was turning into the
driveway.  His anxiety came back up on him and almost brought
breakfast with it.  He fought the nausea and took a deep breath.
He exhaled slowly.  By the time Jim stopped the truck and turned
off the ignition, Blair felt ready to face whatever would happen.

______________________________________________________________

Jim did not feel ready for this at all.  The more he thought
about the whole situation, the madder he got.  God, the Fates, or
just the stupid luck of the draw had brought them to this place
and had not given them the time nor the knowledge they needed to
deal with this, whatever *this* was.  Blair got out of the truck
and he followed for lack of a better idea.  Besides, he had the
keys to the house.  The investigation was officially over, dying
a lot quicker than Jim had thought possible, but he, as the lead
investigator, had been given a set of keys.  He had forgotten to
return them to Simon.  He held them up to his partner just as
Blair realized that the door was locked.  Blair took them and
tried to smile.  It was probably the most unsuccessful attempt he
had ever seen from Blair, but he understood.  He felt the same
way.  

The door was opened and Blair walked inside.  Jim watched him as
he carefully stepped around the area where Frances Strausman had
lain just two days before.  Had it only been two days? It seemed
like an eternity to Jim.  Blair was halfway up the stairs before
Jim realized that he himself was still standing in the doorway. 
He sighed and rubbed one hand over his face before hurrying to
catch up.  When he got to the top of the stairs, Blair took a
right and then stopped by the door to the first bedroom.  Jim
stopped just behind him and waited for Blair to speak or move on.

"This was Maggie's room and down there was my room.  I mean,
Van's room." He pointed and then headed off in that direction.
He stopped again at another door.  Jim saw and heard him take a
deep breath before he opened it.  Jim followed him into the
room.  "Sarah's room was on the other side of the stairs and so
was their parent's room.  Maggie wouldn't ever go in there so
that's where Sarah would take me.  There or in the garden or the
attic.  The attic."  Blair turned and strode past Jim.  He was
pulling down a set of steps from the ceiling by the time Jim
caught up to him.  He pulled them down and then just stared up
them.

"What is it?" Jim asked softly.

"I-- Van used to try to hide up there from Maggie when she was
angry at him.  When Maggie would leave or just get tired of
looking, Sarah would come up and..." his voice trailed off and
Jim swore under his breath.

"Let's go, Chief.  I don't think this was a good idea after all."
Jim tugged on his elbow but Blair would not move.

"I have to go to the garden, Jim.  They're waiting there for me."

"What?  What are you talking about?  Do you hear them?"

"Not exactly.  I just know."

"Why, Blair?  Why do they want you there?"

Blair shook his head and looked at Jim as though he had asked a
strange question before moving around the attic steps and nearly
running down the stairs.  Again, Jim followed.  Blair was
standing at the French doors that led out into the garden when
Jim made his way down to the first floor.

"Jim, why did this happen?"

"Why did what happen, Chief?"

"All of it.  Why did Van live that way, die that way?  Why am I
here now?  And you here now?"

"I don't know, Blair."

Blair did not ask any more questions nor did he wait for any more
answers.  He simply opened the doors and wandered into the garden
almost as though he was a tourist fascinated by some spectacle.
Jim waited in the doorway for something to happen.  He was not
sure exactly what he was expecting to see but he was vigilant
just the same.  He was moving before he realized it.  He felt
drawn to the center of the garden, to the perfect rectangle of
dead flower petals where he had found Blair at three-thirty in
the morning not so very long ago.  His hand moved to his gun and
slowly pulled it from its holster.  He stared at it for a long
moment, turning it as he did to look at it from all angles. 
Strangely, he did not know why he had even pulled it out.

"I don't understand.  I can't feel them now."  Blair's voice
broke his concentration and he looked up at his partner.  His
hand followed the line of his eyes as he did.  "Jim, why do have
your gun out?"

"I don't know."  Jim's brow furrowed as he struggled to force his
hand, his gun back down, away from his partner and friend.

Blair drew a quick breath.  "Jim, you're pointing that gun at
me."

He looked at it then back at Blair.  "I can't move it, Blair.  I
don't know what's happening."  He could feel panic rising in his
chest and the sound of his own heartbeat nearly drowned out
everything else.  He had to concentrate to hear Blair when he
spoke again.

"The psychic was wrong.  I'm not going to try to kill you, Jim. 
You're going to kill me." Blair pointed at him.

Jim shook his head.  No, that was not possible.  Somewhere in the
back of his mind, something whispered to him to pull the trigger.
Still another whisper berated him for not telling Blair about the
earlier incident.  Could it be possible?  Were *they* controlling
him?  Would he actually fire at his Guide?  *No!*  Jim silently
ordered the voices in his head to be quiet.  He had to think.  He
had to concentrate.  He had to lower his damn gun.  "I would
never do that, Chief.  You know that.  Don't you?"

"I know but you aren't in control here.  You have to fight this,
Jim.  Please." Blair held out his hand toward the gun.  "Give it
to me."

"I'm trying but I can't.  You'll have to take it.  Please, Blair,
take it out my hand."

Blair's hand closed over the barrel and Jim felt the metal slide
away from his fingers and felt the hard cold ground under his
knees as they buckled, sending him down in the middle of the dead
flowers.  Blair tossed the gun a few feet away and knelt in front
of him.  "This was a mistake.  This is their territory.  She
wanted me to bring you here.  We have to leave now, Jim."

"My gun."

"I'll get it."  Blair stood and helped Jim up.  They made their
way out of the garden, Blair picking up his gun on the way and
tucking it into the back of his jeans.  Once out of the garden,
Jim felt control of his body return to him and he shook himself
and pulled away from Blair's support.

"Damn, Blair.  I--don't know what--I'm sorry."  Chills ran up
Jim's spine at the thought of what could have happened.

Blair looked at him with sad eyes and opened his mouth as if to
say something but he never got the words out as his eyes rolled
back and he collapsed into Jim's arms.

________________________________________________________________

On to part 2