PART 3
Jim Ellison stomped out of the small artifact room that was currently the office of one Blair Sandburg. He couldn't believe the spiel that the little punk had tried to dish out. He opened the door with a hard push and hurried down the steps.
He should arrest the little creep, just for the principle of the thing. He strode across the lawn and out into the street.
A loud noise caught his attention and he turned toward the sound. The first thing that caught his attention was the bright redness of the in flight Frisbee. The surrounding scene faded from his vision until only the redness remained, swirling around and through him. It was mesmerizing.
"LOOK OUT!"
Jim felt himself being hit by a solid mass and the ground came up to meet him. He felt something pass over him and he instinctively lowered his head.
"WOW! Oh that really sucked man!"
Jim shook himself and climbed to his feet.
"What happened?" Jim noticed the longhaired young man that he had left just moments ago.
"It was that thing I was trying to warn you about," the young man had a slight look of shock on his face. "The Zone-out factor."
"I guess I did save your life, huh?" the soft voice interrupted.
"Sure did."
"Cool."
"Yeah, cool," Jim smiled at the hint of pride in the other man's voice. "How's your head?"
"Good," the voice trailed off and the breathing became deep and even.
"Well, this is just great, Ellison," Jim muttered to himself as he adjusted the now limp body that rested against him. "Now what are you going to do?"
Jim didn't really have to think about it. He was just glad his Guide was pain free at the moment. He reached over and grabbed the remote control that rested next to his partner and flipped on the television, turning the volume down so as not to disturb the sleeping man.
Satisfaction filled him; it was going well so far. Blair had settled in quickly, showing minimal signs of the confusion and fear that had plagued him while he was in the hospital.
Jim let a quick sigh escape as he got into a more comfortable position and
leaned a heavy head against the back of the couch. He pulled his Guide closer
and closed weary eyes.
Jim awoke at Blair's first movement. He groaned at the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. He had not meant to fall asleep himself, but the last few days had taken its toll on him as well. Blair shifted again.
"Chief, you okay?" he asked, reaching up to pat his partner's face gently. "Blair?"
The younger man seemed to be caught in an intense dream. Jim watched as his eyes rolled beneath closed eyelids, wondering if he should try and wake his friend.
The decision was taken out of his hands when Blair's eyes flew open and he sit up with a gasp.
"Sandburg?" Jim reached out and took hold of his friend's shoulders. "You okay, buddy?"
The eyes that turned his way held a disorientated look, but quickly cleared as recognition dawned.
"Man!" Blair took a deep breath and swung his feet to the floor and using Jim's chest as support, he pushed himself up"
"You okay?" Jim asked again.
"Ah huh," Blair pushed sweat soaked curls back away from his face. "Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"What is Desert Storm?"
"Why do you ask that?" Jim asked with a frown.
"I was dreaming...and...and," Blair took a shuddering breath.
"And?" Jim prompted.
"I was holding a gun on someone," Blair turned back toward the older man. "And I said......"
"What?" Jim put a calming hand on Blair's right forearm. "What did you say?"
"I said....I told the man...the one I was holding the gun on...." the voice faded.
"What did you tell him, Blair?" Jim remembered the incident clearly, but he wanted Blair to make the connection on his own. "What did you say?"
"I told him I flew Apaches in Desert Storm."
Jim gave a big sigh and then smiled at his partner.
"That wasn't a dream, Chief," Jim told him. "That really happened."
"I really flew Apaches?" Blair sent a frown his way.
"No, no, no," Jim shook his head.
"I didn't?"
"No, you weren't in Desert Storm."
"But you said..." Confusion began to grow on Blair's face. "What's Desert Storm, anyway?"
"It was a war that..." Jim started to explain.
"A war! I was in a war?"
"No, I just told you that you weren't."
"But, you said that really happened."
"Sandburg!" Jim sat up and leaned forward. "Would you let me get in a word edgewise, here?"
Blair drew back, sending a cautious glance toward the bigger man.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "Oh, I hate this!"
"I know, Buddy," Jim reached out to pat the tense back. "Just try to calm down here."
"Jim," Blair looked over at Jim, eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "Please....help me."
"I'm trying, partner," Jim pulled his Guide close.
"I'm getting so confused."
"It's going to be alright, Chief," the Sentinel said, concern flooding through him as he felt the rise of his friend's blood pressure and the increase in his heartrate.
"Please, tell me," the plea came in a trembling voice.
"Okay, Chief, okay," Jim soothed.
Garrett Kincaid opened the helicopter door and pointed his gun downward. Blair took a deep breath and pushed against the man, sending him tumbling out the open door. When he moved to sit back up, his foot brushed against the box at his feet.
Flair guns, the box was full of flare guns. Slowly reaching down, he opened the box and grabbed a gun.
"Take us back!" Jim Ellison's voice drifted into the helicopter.
"NO!" Kincaid screamed at Jim. "You have to kill me first!"
"Have it your way!" Jim said.
"Walters!" Kincaid's voice was suddenly filled with fear. "Get this thing back now!"
The pilot looked back in disbelief. "He's nuts if he thinks I'm flying into this dragnet."
Blair chose that time to jump onto the second person in the helicopter and point the gun at Walters. "And if you don't," he screamed above the noise. "We're all gonna die. You hear me? We're all going to die!"
"Yeah," Walter's didn't lose the look of disbelief. "Kill me and we all go down, buddy."
"I don't think so, punk. I flew Apaches in Desert Storm!"
Jim stopped as Blair's questioning look turned into a glare.
"I didn't say that...."
"Oh yes," Jim grinned cheekily. "You did."
"I must be crazy," Blair leaned back on the couch and covered his eyes with one arm.
"Must be," Jim agreed, laughing as Blair moved his arm to glare at the detective once more.
"Something tells me our life is not boring," Blair said.
Jim stood up and stretched, trying to work out the stiffness that resulted from the uncomfortable position in which he had slept. "Definitely not boring," he agreed.
Blair sat up again and looked around.
"What time is it?" he asked, realizing that they had both slept a long while.
Jim glanced down at his watch and frowned. "It's 3:30 A.M. Chief. We've been asleep for awhile."
"I'm sorry," came the quick apology.
"Don't apologize. I think we both needed it."
Jim walked toward the kitchen. "You hungry? You didn't eat much."
"No, not hungry…"
"Thirsty. I know," Jim interrupted with a laugh.
Blair turned around and gazed over the back of the couch.
"Jim?"
"Umm?" Jim opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of orange juice and grabbed a bottle of water for himself.
"Can I...." Blair's voice sounded unsure, causing Jim to glance over at him.
"Can you what?"
"Um....maybe take a shower?"
"Do you feel up to it?" Jim asked as he poured a glass of juice and then carried it over to his partner.
"Yeah, I want to wash my hair," Blair took the glass and took a long drink. "I feel icky."
"I bet," Jim reached out to tousle the curly head. "Tell you what. You finish your juice and I'll go get you some clean clothes to wear."
"Thanks, Jim."
Blair was embarrassed at Jim's insistence in helping him and even more so when Jim stayed in the bathroom with him.
"I don't want you to get dizzy and fall, Chief," Jim said over the many protests. "Your head can't take another lick right now."
Blair finally accepted that the other man was not going to leave and turned his attention to washing his hair. The wound on the back of his head was still tender and Blair was careful as he massaged the shampoo into his scalp.
He heard Jim's chuckles as he moaned in pleasure.
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Why am I....I mean.....how come we live together?"
"Another long story, Chief."
Blair paused as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair and then reached for the soap.
"I don't care," he said. "I want to......I need to know."
"I know, Chief," Jim acknowledged. "But I think you're trying to move too fast."
"Please, Jim," came the plea. "Please."
"Okay, okay," Jim raised his hands, even though Blair couldn't see him. "Well, the warehouse where you were living...."
Blair looked around the shower curtain and gazed at Jim in disbelief. "A warehouse!" he said. "I was living in a warehouse?"
"Yes, you were living in a warehouse," Jim grabbed a towel and held it out. "You through?"
"Yeah," Blair stepped out of the tub, using Jim's shoulder as support. He took the towel from Jim and began to dry himself off, stopping only momentarily when Jim dropped a second towel over his head and began to gently pat the dripping curls dry.
"You doing okay?" he asked. "You're breathing kind of heavy there."
"Just a little tired," Blair said as he reached for his clothes. "It just felt sooo good to get a real shower."
"I'll bet," Jim guided the young man to sit on the closed toilet. "Here, why don't you sit down."
Blair complied with the request, finding it easier to dress sitting down. Jim helped him pull on his sweat pants and then guided his head and arms into the T-shirt.
"Well?" Blair asked as Jim knelt before him and started to pull heavy socks over his feet.
"Well, what?" Jim looked up at him.
"Warehouse?"
"Oh yeah," Jim finished and then stood up. "Come on, let's get you in bed."
"Jim!" the protest was immediate.
"I'm going to tell you, Chief," Jim grabbed the younger man's shoulders and pulled him into a standing position. "I just want you to take it easy, okay?"
Blair looked at the worry that was reflected in the other man's eyes and hung his head in shame.
"I'm pushing, aren't I?" he muttered.
Jim chuckled; pushing back wet curls from deep blue eyes.
"A little," Jim admitted, then threw an arm around his friend and guided him out of the steamy bathroom. "I understand, I really do."
Jim got Blair settled into bed, noticing that it was almost 5 o'clock in the morning. The long nap that he and Blair had taken had helped, but he still felt tired.
"So?" Blair reached out and grabbed his forearm, causing Jim to smile.
"So?"
"JIIIMMM!" Blair whined.
"Alright, alright," Jim laughed as he got comfortable on the edge of the bed. "Let's see. Hmm, wel...…the warehouse where you were living blew up."
"So," Jim stepped up to Blair's car. "You meant to tell me in all the time you lived here, you never once suspected you lived next door to an ice lab?"
"Oh man, I swear that place was deserted," Blair gestured back toward the smoldering building. "I mean, last week I did start to hear some strange noises in the middle of the night, but I could have sworn it was just like the plumbing....hey Larry..... like you know the rodents or something. I don't know."
"Is this all your stuff?"
"Yeah," Blair sighed. "Most of it. I'll have to try to come back tomorrow and put the rest into storage. This is just the worst. Where am I going to stay?"
"I don't know, Jim backed up. "A hotel, hostel…something."
"That's fine for me," Blair admitted and then waved at the cage. "But what about Larry?"
"Put him in a kennel. He'll figure it out."
"I can't do that to him." Blair looked at Jim. "I mean, my project's due next Friday. Unless......"
"No, no, no…" Jim turned and headed for his truck. "No. Just forget it."
Blair followed the detective. "Come on, Jim," he begged. "Jim, please.....please. My back is up against the wall here, man. I got no where else to go."
"You didn't want me staying with you," it was a statement, rather than a question.
"Not at first," Jim admitted. He reached out and grabbed Blair's right hand, holding it with both of his. "But, Chief...something...it changed...I mean, I want you here. In fact...I don't think I can make it without you now."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like," Jim's brow furrowed as he contemplated what he wanted to say. "Um, how do I put this?"
"What?" Blair asked again, tugging on Jim's hand. "What's the matter?"
"Oh, Chief...." Jim rubbed a hand across his face. "It's this Sentinel thing..."
"But you are a Sentinel, right?"
"Yeah," Jim nodded. "And remember me telling you about you saving my life?"
"Yeah," Blair tried to sit up and Jim rushed to help him, stuffing pillows behind the young man's back to help support him.
"Well..the zone out factor..well," Jim sighed. "Well, no one can pull me out of them like you can."
"What do you mean?" Blair whispered, his eyes riveted on the man before him.
"You ground me, Chief," Jim explained. "You guide m...your voice...your touch."
"That's why you called me your Guide earlier?"
"Yep."
"How did you know I was 'your' Guide," Blair asked.
"Well...."
Jim opened up the loft door only to find a gun pointed at his chest.
"Take it easy, Detective," the gunman said. "Move in."
"All right....all right," Jim moved into the room, Blair right behind him. "Settle down."
"Keep your hands where I can see the, both of you," the man instructed. "Mr. Sandburg. Would you mind handing me Detective Ellison's weapon?"
Blair looked at Jim with uncertainty.
"Go on," Jim gave him permission.
Blair gingerly removed the gun and handed it to the gun toting man.
"Who the hell are you?" Jim demanded in a harsh voice.
"My name's Lee Brackett and I've got the virus you're looking for," Brackett said, glancing from Jim to Blair and then back to Jim. "Aren't you curious to know why I stole it?"
Jim just glared, but Blair finally asked.
"Well, I am," he said. "If he isn't."
"Of course you are Mr. Sandburg. I admire your insatiable curiosity. Without that, who knows?" Brackett gave a little shrug. "Maybe you wouldn't have uncovered Ellison's sentinel abilities." He turned his attention back to Ellison. "I know about your special talents."
"Hence the white noise generator," Jim nodded.
"Right," Brackett gave his won little nod.
"So," Blair was still trying to understand. "Why'd you steal the virus?"
"As a bargaining chip."
Jim interrupted. "What do you want, Brackett?"
"You're going to help me commit a crime," Brackett calmly explained. "They'll be talking about you for years." He paused for a long moment. "Well, gentlemen, do I have your cooperation?"
"You got to be kidding, right?" Jim looked at the man with disbelief.
"You'd really kill several thousand people because of your pride?"
"Pride!" Jim said with a short laugh. "Mr. Brackett, why do I think you're bluffing?"
"Take a deep breath. Think about it."
Jim looked at the man for a long moment. "That white noise generator was pure CIA. But this couldn't be a sanctioned black op or you'd be long gone." He paused. So you must be rogue."
"CIA? Jim, what the hell is going on here?" Blair spoke up.
"I was CIA duty officer five years ago in Peru," Brackett explained. "I debriefed the Special Force officer who pulled you from the jungle."
"So," Blair said. "That's how you know about his Sentinel abilities."
"His report on Ellison's hallucinatory behavior in the rain forest was fascinating. I filed away the information for future reference and kept an eye on his career here in Cascade." Brackett pointed to Blair. "Yours too. I read an early undergraduate piece you wrote on primitive sentinels."
Jim walked across in front of Blair and stood staring at Brackett. Blair noticed that Jim was pointing to the lamp on the table beside him.
Brackett did not notice, but continued his explanation. "The description fit Ellison to a 'T'. I'm glad you two hooked up."
"Get to the point, Brackett," Jim was losing patience.
"Well, the point is you two are going to help me steal something."
"Wait a minute," Blair straightened. "Both of us?"
"Well," Brackett shrugged. "You're his guide, so to speak, so I'll need you too."
"That's when you knew I was your Guide?" Blair asked.
"That's when we had a name to put to it," Jim corrected. "I had...I had already figured out that you were essential to this Sentinel thing."
"WOW!"
"You are so articulate, Chief," Jim chuckled.
"This is just so...so," Blair couldn't seem to find the words.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jim agreed. "Now, why don't you lie back down and try to get a little rest."
Blair nodded and lay back, letting Jim position the pillows for him.
"I am a little tired," he admitted.
"Um," Jim pulled the blankets up around his shoulders, creating a cocoon of warmth. "Listen, Chief. Simon is going to come sit with you a little while this morning."
"Why?" Blair tensed up. "Where are you going?"
"I just have a few things I need to take care of," the detective assured "I'll be back before you know it."
"I can come with you."
"Not today," Jim shook his head. "You just got out of the hospital, remember?"
"Well, then," Blair protested. "I can stay by myself. I'm not an invalid or anything."
"I don't want you to be by yourself," Jim said. "And besides, Simon is your friend and he wants to do this."
"You're not mad at me, are you?"
"Of course not, Chief," Jim said as he rubbed Blair's arm. "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know," Blair took a deep breath. "I....I don't know." He repeated.
"I just have some things to do at the station and I don't want you to be alone just yet," the Sentinel explained. "I missed quite a bit of work since you got hurt, Chief. And I have to get back to it."
"I'm sorry," Blair reached out to finger Jim's shirt sleeve. "I don't want to be a pain."
"You might be a pain, Sandburg," Jim grabbed the hand and put it back under the blankets. "But you're my pain."
Jim's remark brought a happy smile to the young man's face.
"You're a riot, man."
"Yeah, well," Jim snorted. "Get some rest."
"Jim?"
"Hmm?"
"Who's Larry?"
DOWN MEMORY LANE part 4