William Ellison moaned as the agonizing fire in his back became unbearable. Without opening his eyes he knew he was moving and, judging from the sounds around him, he was in an ambulance. The vehicle's motion jarred the stretcher he was on, causing him to gasp again.
"Can't you do anything for the pain?" His son's voice cut through the fog.
"I've given him all I can. We're almost there."
A cool hand came to rest on the elder Ellison's forehead, soothing away some of his distress. "We're almost there, Dad." William Ellison could barely remember the last time he had heard such concern in his son's voice. Concern for him. "You're going to be okay."
Forcing his eyes open, he looked up into his son's face. "I know," he whispered. "Thank God you're all right. I thought..."
Stroking back the hair from his father's brow, Jim hushed the older man. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Swallowing hard, he blinked against tears. "I'm sorry, Dad. We...I let you down." The sentinel watched as his father's hand, creased with age but still possessing impressive strength, came to rest on his arm.
"You didn't let me down, Jim." He gave his son's arm a squeeze. "I know you did your best." He saw the younger man's mouth open to protest. "No buts...
Not trusting his voice, the detective could only nod.
"Sandburg?"
"He got knocked around in the crash. But he's okay," Jim lied. "You just rest." He had no idea how his friend was. His insides twisted as he thought about the last time he had seen his partner. Blair's still unconscious form was being pulled from the wreck. He could only hold onto the knowledge that his guide's heartbeat had been strong and steady as they placed him on the stretcher. Climbing into the ambulance with his father, leaving behind a friend he loved like a brother, had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. The shooter was going to pay and pay dearly.
"Look, I told you I'm fine. When are you going to let me out of here?" Blair's pleas had become almost a whine. Ellison smiled as he heard Sandburg's voice coming from one of the cubicles in Emergency. Zeroing in, using smell and sound, he easily found his friend perched on the edge of a bed, glaring at an intern.
"Hey Chief." The detective's smile broadened when Blair launched himself from where he sat, giving him a bear hug.
"Jim! You're all right!" Sandburg shot the medic a black look. "Nobody could tell me anything. Joel told me that you had left with your dad. He said that you weren't hurt. But I wanted to see for myself." He took a step back and looked his partner up and down. "You are okay, right?"
"I'm fine, buddy." Turning to look at the physician, he asked, "How's he doing?"
"Right now, I'd say that Mr. Sandburg is doing well."
"Uh, let's not talk about me like I'm not in the room," Blair interrupted.
Ignoring the anthropologist, the doctor continued. "But that's because we've given him a mild painkiller. In a few hours he's going to be very sore. There was a lot of bruising, nothing broken. He was remarkably lucky considering he was in a truck that overturned."
"Are you going to release him? He was unconscious for a long time."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Will someone address at least a small part of this conversation to me?"
The intern favoured Sandburg with a smile. "He seems alert but I think we should still be wary of a possible concussion. He assures me that you have some medical training?"
Jim nodded, pulling Blair in closer to his side. "I'll look after him. Trust me, he'll be better off with me." He grinned down at his partner. "I'm sure if you check his records here you'll find he has a red flag by his name. They never keep him longer than they have to."
"Thanks, Jim." Sandburg's tone dripped sarcasm.
The doctor scribbled something on his clipboard and then handed a slip of paper to the detective. "Prescription for the painkillers. Can't give him anything stronger until we know for certain that he's not suffering from a mild concussion." With that, the man gave Blair's shoulder a pat and left the small room.
"Jim? How's your dad? Joel told me what happened."
"Holding his own, Chief," the big man sighed. "He's still in surgery. I spoke with the surgeon and he was pretty optimistic. Luckily the bullet managed to miss the major organs. He said that they were looking at a lot of tissue damage though and that surgery could take a while." Walking to the bed, he grabbed Blair's jacket. "Let's get this filled and then you can get a ride back to the loft with Joel."
"You can forget that, man," Sandburg's voice was firm. "There's no way I'm going anywhere until I know your dad's going to be okay."
"You're sure?" The detective hated to admit that he was feeling just selfish enough to want his friend with him. Everything felt as if it was about to become unhinged. The game with Carolyn had been sick enough to frighten him and it was now more deadly. Rucker and his father were the sniper's first victories and so far it had been no contest. The fear that had lodged itself in the sentinel's stomach over a week ago was slowly eating away at his confidence. It was all too personal...all too painful. Each hit of the gunman's bullet tore another hole in him as he was left a helpless spectator forced to wait and anticipate the next attack. It didn't take a genius to know who could be next on the list. Stephen and Blair were the only ones who were close enough to him to matter.
"Hey Jim, you still with me?" Blair's voice was laced with concern. "You kinda stepped out there for a minute. You sure you're okay?"
Ellison smiled at his friend. If his world was about to fall apart then the person standing in front of him would be the only thing that would hold it together. His guide had saved his sanity and his soul when everything that had been James Ellison had shattered into sensory overloaded chaos. Sandburg was his anchor and his balance. He wasn't ready to let the younger man out of his sight just yet.
"I'm okay, partner. Let's go check on my Dad."
"You have mail."
The harsh white glow of the computer monitor was the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. Grey eyes, that reflected the cold light, never wavered from the mail that now filled the screen. A new set of instructions and a new agenda. His superior was becoming anxious to see an end to the game. Things would be sped up. The news was both disappointing and exhilarating. His toying with Ellison would soon come to an end but the fun would be just that much more lethal. It would be interesting to see how long Ellison could last.
A little trip to the hospital was in order.
The elevator ride up from the bowels of Cascade General had been anything but pleasant. The overpowering smells of ammonia and other things that he didn't care to think about assaulted Stephen Ellison's nose. The police van had deposited him and the two detectives near the morgue entrance.
"Stop looking so scared," Ellison snapped at the two men. "I told you that I take full responsibility for my safety."
The younger of the detectives could only grimace. "But will you take responsibility for ours?" His accented voice was barely audible over the groan of the ancient elevator.
Leaning back against the far wall of the car, the tall black man nodded in agreement. "Yeah, if anything happens to you, your brother is going to kill us." He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. "Jim Ellison is one scary guy when he's mad."
Giving them a lopsided grin, the younger of the Ellison brothers could only agree. "Tell me about it, he's my brother. But it's my father, too, that's been hurt. I need to know that he's going to be all right."
The elevator doors opened slowly onto the surgical ward, depositing the three men. Rafe and Brown exited the car first and scanned the empty corridors, hands gripping police service revolvers that were still holstered.
"All clear Henri?" Rafe waited for his partner's nod before allowing Stephen Ellison out into the hallway.
Forgetting the threat that existed, Ellison shoved his way by the two men to look for his brother. A shout from behind him drew his attention. Jim was charging down the corridor yelling for him to get down. Brown and Rafe suddenly had their guns in hand and were focusing on something at the other end of the long hallway. The sound of gunfire erupted just as his brother's body collided with his.
"Jim, please," Blair entreated his friend. "There was nothing you could have done! He wasn't even supposed to be there." He reached out and snagged the sleeve of the other man's jacket, halting his step. "Will you please listen to me?"
"I am listening. I heard what you said." Fury twisted his features. "It doesn't change anything. Both my father and brother are lying in that hospital because I couldn't protect them!" He pulled his arm from his guide's grasp and went to lean against the kitchen counter, hands shoved angrily into the pockets of his jeans. "Tell me that's not what happened." Walking over to the table, he pushed two large envelopes from it, scattering their contents to the floor. The envelopes had been found tacked to the door of the loft. "I even have the damn pictures to prove it."
Sighing, Sandburg dropped onto the couch. "You're not Superman. There was no way you could have stopped what happened. You did everything right with your Dad. They should have kept on going. That was the plan, the whole reason you set up the decoy." His partner's stance never relaxed. "He's going to be fine."
Ellison's laugh was derisive. "Yeah...fine. He just spent the last 4 hours in surgery, Chief. And when he wakes up I have to tell him about Stephen."
"What about Stephen?" Exasperated, the younger man sprang from the couch to stand next to his friend. "Something happen that I don't remember? Jim you knocked him out of the way!" He turned the detective roughly to face him. "If you hadn't smelled that compound and gone searching, Stephen would probably be dead right now. But you were there, man. Instead of being in the morgue he's nursing a few stitches. You. Were. There!" In complete frustration, Blair ran a hand through his hair. His words may as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the effect they had.
"It all could've ended tonight," Ellison argued. "Don't you see? If I had been prepared that bastard would never have left the hospital alive. I should have taken him down." Groaning, he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands. "Instead, he's still out there somewhere and Stephen has to play dead until we can track him down."
Blair pulled his friend's hands down from his face, forcing him to took at him. "Don't do this to yourself. You weren't the only police officer there. Rafe and Henri were there too and they were caught off guard. No one expected him to show at the hospital." A thought occurred to the anthropologist. "It's almost like he has inside information or maybe..."
"I want you out of here." The harsh words interrupted his thought.
The demand had nearly slipped by him. "What?!" Blair had known that the conversation would eventually reach this point. "No, I'm staying. We've been over this. Where could I go that I would be any safer than here with you?"
"Safe?" The sentinel was incredulous. "Being around me doesn't make you safe. It makes you a target."
"It probably wouldn't matter where I was, Jim, I'd still be a target. You know that. You've figured out this guy's game." Sandburg tried reason rather than argument. "You need me here and I need to be here. I'm your partner."
"I know you are. But I need you safe. Alive and well." Jim's eyes softened as he smiled. "So far I haven't been doing such a great job at keeping anyone who's important to me any of those things. You agreed that it was the best way to protect my father and brother. Why is it any different for you? You can't argue it both ways, Chief."
"Oh c'mon, Jim," Blair grinned. "You know me better than that. Besides, there's one big difference. This is what I signed on for. You're the Sentinel and I'm the thorn in your side. We're a team." His grin widened. "I'm the brains and you're the brawn."
"Is that so, Einstein?" the detective laughed. Turning serious, he cupped a hand around the back of the younger man's neck. "If you're so smart, then why are you still here? It's getting to be too dangerous."
"If you want me out then you're going to have to throw me out. That's the only way I'm leaving, Ellison."
Giving his partner's neck a gentle shake, Jim looked into earnest blue eyes. "Thanks kid," he sighed. In answer to Sandburg's questioning look, he continued, "Thanks for still believing in me. God only knows why you do, when I don't."
"That's because I know you better than you do, Jim." Blair reached up and held onto the wrist that rested on his shoulder. "I know that there isn't anyone else who would work harder at keeping me safe. So you see, my motivations are really selfish."
Nodding, the older man felt his breath catch in his throat. "Selfish, that's you all over, Sandburg. Now why don't you go lie down before you fall down. You've had one hell of a day."
"Like you haven't," Blair sighed. "Are you going to be able to get any sleep?"
"Not yet. Thought I'd try to find a movie or something. I'm too wound up." Grabbing the remote and the television listings, the detective made himself comfortable on the couch. "I'll see you in the morning, Chief."
Even though his body was begging for a nice soft bed, Blair couldn't do it. He knew that Jim would only sit there and berate himself for everything that had happened. Shaking his head, he went into his room and grabbed a pillow and blanket. No way, pal. You are not going to sit out here alone. He crossed behind the couch to sit at the other end.
"I kind of feel like a movie, too," he lied, knowing it was an easy one to see through. Resting his pillow up against the armrest, the young anthropologist tried to find the least painful position. The intern had been right. He could feel every battered and bruised inch of his body.
Rising from the couch, Jim took the blanket and draped it over his friend. "Here, why don't you stretch out. Did you take any of those pills?" Smiling at Sandburg's sleepy nod, he bent down to push the coffee table out of the way. Moving to the floor, he propped himself against the couch, happy for the company. He snagged a cushion from the other sofa and began to look for a decent movie. A sigh from behind him drew Ellison's gaze from the television screen and back to Blair.
"I know you're feeling really bad about all of this, Jim, and you're not going to feel better until you catch this guy." He watched as his partner turned away and absently began to run through the channels. Blair sometimes wondered if he was the only one privileged enough to see this James Ellison. No stone mask hid the feelings inside. The sarcastic humour, that acted as a shield against revealing too much, gone. No more the sentinel, the cop or the ex-ranger, just his friend. "But you will get him. It's going to be okay."
"Thanks Blair," Jim had trouble getting the words past the tightness in his throat. He couldn't trust himself to look at Sandburg. The day had taken its toll emotionally. It was enough to know that he still had the trust and support of his friend and wouldn't have to face his tomorrows alone. "Get some sleep."
Daryl Banks ran up the seven flights of stairs to Major Crimes. The man had told him he had 20 minutes to get the envelope to Jim. The cross-town bus had been slow and his 20 minutes were almost up. He skidded to a halt as he reached the doors. The teen had been so sure that the envelope had something to do with Blair. He thought that Blair was in trouble. But there he was sitting at Jim's computer. Breathing a sigh of relief, he hurried over to the desk.
Sandburg's smile was brilliant as he looked up to see Daryl crossing the room. "Hey, what brings you all the way down here?" He looked quickly at his watch. "Isn't it kind of late for you to be roaming around town on your own?"
Still trying to catch his breath after the mad dash to the station, the younger Banks could only grin. He threw himself into the chair next to the desk and handed the anthropologist the package. "Some guy asked me to deliver this to Jim. Said it was important and that I had 20 minutes to get it to him. Weird." The teen looked around the room and into his father's office. "Where is he? And where's Dad?"
Blair's smile faded as he took the package. He'd already seen too many of them not to recognize it. "Who gave this to you, Daryl?" He caught some movement in the corner of his eye and saw Jim entering the bullpen. "What did he say?"
"Well it was weird, like I said," Daryl paused to grin up at Ellison, who had thrown an arm around his shoulders. "I was on my way home from basketball practice and this guy comes up to me and asks me if I'm Daryl Banks. I felt pretty safe, I was with a bunch of my friends and there were still a lot of people around, so I said yeah, I was. He hands me that envelope and tells me that I have to get it to Jim in 20 minutes."
"And that was it?" Jim asked.
Daryl shook his head. "No. I told him that I didn't think I could make it here that fast and that he should bring it to you. He kinda scared me then. He was big. And man, I mean big. I betcha my Dad would have to look up at him." He laughed nervously. "He hands me a bus ticket and tells me to get on the next bus downtown, like he never heard me say I didn't want to do it. So I did what he said. He stood there and waited for the bus to come and for me to get on it. I saw him walk away when the bus pulled out."
Jim took the envelope from Blair and looked quickly inside. What he saw there made his heart miss a beat. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile and turned to the teenager. "Yep, been waiting for this information. Must have been one of my snitches. I'll have to talk to him about using the boss's son as a courier." He closed the flap of package. "Now how about getting you a ride home?"
"Nah, that's okay, Jim. I'll just get my Dad to take me home. Where is he anyway? He's never outta here before 6:00."
"He's still in a meeting with the Mayor. He called earlier to say that he probably would head straight home from there. I think I saw Joel getting ready to go. So why don't we see if you can grab a ride with him." He patted the boy on the shoulder and went in search of Taggart.
Blair and Daryl barely had time enough to get into a heavy debate about the Jags chances of making it to the playoffs when Jim returned with Joel.
"Hey Daryl," Taggart's voice boomed from across the room. "Let's ride, kid!"
The boy exchanged a quick good-bye with Sandburg and waved at Ellison as he raced to catch up with Joel at the elevators. Jim watched the two of them, waiting for the doors to close, and then returned to his desk.
"You're scaring me, Jim." Blair knew his partner well enough to know when the man was shaken. "What's in the envelope?"
Ellison's face was grim as he dumped the packet of papers onto the desk. He quickly flipped to the last page, the photograph, dreading what he would find there. "Dear God." Sandburg turned the picture for a better look and blanched. "Simon."
Opening his eyes, Banks' first reaction was to immediately shut them tight against the pounding in his head. He could feel where the skin had split at the back of his skull and the warm trickle of blood that ran down his neck. He carefully opened his eyes once more. He was in the oldest part of town. He could see the backs of the old apartment buildings that now stood vacant. Cascade had grown and left this far behind.
The police captain chided himself. He had been such a fool. After how many years on the force, he had still made himself an easy target. One phone call, that was all it had taken, and he had went rushing out. Never mentioned to a soul what had happened or where he was going. The caller had said that Daryl had been injured and he went running. Never bothering to ask for details, those he could get later.
"Yeah, right," he sighed to himself. And there he stood. Bait. Trussed up like a package waiting to be delivered. Thick rope held him firmly to an old lamp post that stood in a neighbourhood that would never hear the laughter of children or sounds of life. Not until it was razed to the ground and rebuilt. He looked up into the starless night sky and sighed once more. At least it didn't look like rain.
"You're awake. Perfect timing." The stranger's voice came from behind Simon. "While I was waiting for you to join me, I had some time to think and I think I came up with a creative little twist," the man laughed. "Sorry, small joke." He stepped around to stand in front of Simon.
An involuntary gasp broke the silence as Simon gazed up at the man who stood at least five inches taller than him. His blond hair was cut in the regulation crew cut to match the fatigues he wore. A rifle was slung across one shoulder and Banks recognized it as being the same model recorded in the sniper's logs. Russian hollow points were neatly tucked into an ammunition belt. The captain watched, mesmerized, as the man wound a long string of piano wire in his hands, twisting the ends into small knobs.
"Ya see," the gunman continued. "I was thinking, just to make it more interesting, that I'd tie this around your neck and the pole. But I had to wait until you were awake. I didn't want you to cut yourself if you leaned into it." He gave Banks a wide grin.
"How considerate of you," Simon said dryly.
"Think nothing of it," the man smiled and went to stand behind the pole. "You coulda sliced a vein or artery and bled to death before Ellison got here." He carefully looped the wire around his captive's neck. "There really is no value in a dead hostage."
Simon could feel the wire bite into his neck as the ends were twisted together. There was no give in it at all. He could only look straight ahead. "Ellison is going to be hard to surprise. He's going to be ready."
"I know," was blondie's smug reply. "It won't matter. He's going to have to rescue you." He stepped from behind Simon and stood looking down at him, hands resting calmly on his hips. "He's the hero. Always does the right thing." Reaching into a pouch of his jacket, he pulled out a roll of duct tape. "It's not that I haven't enjoyed our little talk, I have. I just don't need any more distractions." He pulled a piece from the roll and placed it over the captain's mouth. Giving Simon's cheek a quick pat, he noiselessly jogged into the shadows of the buildings.
With a groan of desperation, Banks tested the ropes that bound his hands. The cords held fast. He was going to have to remain in the role of hostage and bait. He only hoped that Jim was thinking more clearly than he had and wouldn't come alone. The vision of seeing his friend... friends, he knew that Blair would never let Jim out of his sight... gunned down in front of him began to take form with alarming clarity.
Will Gowling stood looking over Sandburg's shoulder. A map of the older sections of Cascade covered Ellison's desk.
"Here, this is where the picture was taken," Jim pointed to and circled a name on the map. "You can just barely make out the names on the street sign just behind Simon." He squinted up at Gowling from his hunched position over his desk. "You know the area, Will. If you were the sniper where would you be?"
Resting a hand on Blair's shoulder, the ballistics expert slowly straightened. "As long as nothing's changed, Jim, I think he'd probably be here." Gowling pulled the photograph closer and pointed to a building off to Simon's right. "This area in behind is too low and wouldn't offer him much cover and the area directly in front of him was demo'd last year."
The detective looked at his watch. "The note said not to be there before 11:00, we've got a little less than 2 hours to set up and get out there. Maybe we can get a couple of sharp shooters of our own in there without him noticing."
Will nodded. "I'll call down and see what can be arranged." He rubbed at his chin. "It's strange though. He hasn't made any demands, set any rules. It's like he doesn't care if you go alone or with half of Cascade's police force."
Blair looked at the picture. Simon was tied to a pole, obviously unconscious, or worse. The picture had been taken during daylight hours. Glancing through the windows of Major Crimes, he frowned at the darkness. "How long do you think he's been out there?" He started to ask the question that had been plaguing him since the package had been delivered. "Do you think that he's..."
Tight lines of fatigue and guilt were etched into the skin around the sentinel's eyes. "We just have to believe he is, Chief." He rubbed at his face with both hands, sighing as he did so. "This time there was no target sheet. He's using Simon as bait." Sinking into his desk chair, he braced himself for his partner's reaction. "So you sit this one out, Sandburg. I'll take one of the other guys with me and arrange for some back up."
Will looked from one man to the other and cleared his throat. "I think I know where this is going. I'll head down and start collecting what you're going to need."
Blair watched Gowling walk away. "Smart man," he said quietly. "Knows when it's going to hit the fan."
"Sandburg..." Ellison's tone was definitely threatening.
"What?" The anthropologist's expression was guileless. "You're going to have to go in there with all senses wide open, Jim. I'm not the target. You are. He's made that pretty clear. Everyone he's gone for has had one thing in common. They're Ellisons. Or were. I think that's why Carolyn was just a warning." He leaned forward on the desk and lowered his voice making Jim almost strain to hear him. "You're going to need me there."
"Sorry professor," the detective's face was set. "There are plenty of holes in your theory. We don't know who the target is. And the Ellison family name... that doesn't count for much. No one's shown us the party guest list. There's nothing to say that you're not at the top of that list or that Simon's not on it." He was adamant. "It's too dangerous and you're not going to risk yourself because of some misguided sense of duty." He knew as soon as he had said it, it was a mistake.
"Misguided?" Blair's face was stone. "You are too much sometimes. You know that?" He stood straight, giving himself the vantage point of being able to glare down at his friend. "It's a good thing one of us puts some value on your life."
"Which I appreciate, Blair. But this goes both ways. I value your safety too much to let you go out there tonight." Jim's eyes begged for understanding. "Please Chief, go along with me on this one. I'm not going to be able to handle any more guilt."
"Guilt?" Sandburg's features softened. "We talked about this." He crossed to his friend's side of the desk and sat on its edge. Placing a hand on his partner's too tense shoulder, he waited for Jim to look up at him. "You can't take responsibility for any of this. You've done everything you could to protect the people you care about."
"It hasn't been enough." Emotion made the words rough. "He got to Stephen. He got to my father. They were both supposed to be safe! Rucker, now Simon," Jim leaned back in his chair, breaking his contact with Blair. "What happens the next time, Chief?"
"I don't know, Jim. All I know is that I want to be there." He watched his friend's face and knew that the detective would never go along with it. Sighing, he admitted defeat. "Okay, but wear a wire at least. Talk to me while you're out there. I've gotta know that you're okay."
For the first time, in a long time, the sentinel realized he had just won an argument with his guide. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks Blair. It'll be a lot easier knowing you're here. Safe." He got up and started to make his way to the elevators. "Better get ready if I'm going to make that deadline." Half way to the doors he realized that he was alone. Turning, he called, "Coming down with me?"
Letting out a long breath, Blair slid from where he sat on the desk and followed his sentinel to the elevators.
Henri Brown sat quietly in the seat next to Ellison. Each man wore a kevlar vest and headset. The plan had been a simple one. Go in and get Simon out. The fact that the S.W.A.T. team would be out there, covering their backs, helped the young detective relax. A little. He stole a quick glance at his partner, wondering if Jim was as wired as he was about this. If he had to judge by outward appearances, he would have guessed that Ellison wasn't worried in the least. Only the white knuckled grip on the steering wheel belied the older man's emotions.
"Can't believe you talked Sandburg out of going with you, Jim." Henri elected to break the silence. Conversation always relaxed him.
"Every once in a while he listens to reason, H." The older detective gave Brown a quick grin and then laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Sandburg, I've got my headset on, he just said he heard that." Ellison consciously relaxed his tense muscles. Knowing that his guide was only a whisper away had given him the reassurance he was going to need. Blair had been right. He was going to be needed out there if Jim wanted to attempt the piggybacking of two or three senses. This way he had the best of both worlds. Sandburg was out of the line of fire but still with him in case he zoned.
It was just after 11:00 when the old truck turned down the last street. Simon would be just ahead. Most of the street lights were out, either broken or turned off to save the taxpayers money, so much of the detectives' path was lit by headlights only. Henri Brown leaned forward in his seat, pulling against the seatbelt, trying to peer through the darkness. The buildings on either side of the street were just deeper shades of black being swallowed up into the night.
"It's almost impossible to see anything, Jim," Brown's voice seemed quiet in deference to the almost absolute silence of the world outside the truck. "I can barely see past the headlights." With slow and deliberate movements he undid the buckle of the seatbelt and pulled his revolver from its holster. He laid it on the seat next to him.
The narrow street came to a sudden end. A concrete barricade crossed it, making it impossible to drive any further. The old Ford slowed to a halt, its tires crunching over stone and debris. "He's just up ahead, H." Jim gestured straight ahead. "Chief?" Jim spoke into the headphones. "We're here. You with me?"
Henri still couldn't see a thing in front of him but Ellison sounded pretty sure of himself. The younger man assumed he had caught something in the reflection of the truck's lights. "If you say so, Jim." With a sigh he got out of the truck and followed his partner up the street.
Ellison cautiously proceeded to his captain. Simon was only twenty or thirty feet away, standing very still. Zeroing in his sight, the detective was certain he could make out the small patch of grey that covered the man's mouth. It was with little effort that he could hear the panicked beating of his captain's heart. Blair's voice spoke softly into his ear, asking him what he saw, what he was hearing.
"Can't say this place is going to be on the cover of Homes and Gardens anytime soon, Sandburg." He stopped to scan the surrounding buildings. "He's too well hidden. I can't see him. I can hear him." He placed a hand to the headset. "Yeah, I want to try it." Jim held out his arm, halting Brown's step. "I think I heard something. Hang on a minute." Seeing Henri nod, he turned his attention to the rooftops. Sight piggybacked hearing as he searched for a clue to the sniper's whereabouts. He started with the building that Will suggested and was immediately rewarded. He could hear another heart beating with a strong and steady rhythm and the soft sigh of calm, easy breaths.
Brown stood patiently waiting for Ellison's signal to move. His partner seemed mesmerized by something on one of the buildings. Try as hard as he could, he might as well have been blind for all he could see.
"Uh Jim?" He gently grabbed the older detective's arm. "You okay, man?"
Fifteen miles away, sitting alone in Simon's office, Blair heard Henri's worried voice. Shit. "Jim, you're going to have to pull back a little. You're starting to freak Brown out, big guy." He waited for his friend to answer. "That's it, follow my voice back." Finally Jim's voice could be heard through the speaker and he released the breath he had been holding. "Welcome back, Jim." He laid his head down on folded arms. This would be the first and last time he let his partner talk him into being a long distance guide.
"Sorry H. Let the S.W.A.T. guys know that we may have a possible location on the shooter. The building that Gowling pointed out."
Ellison and Brown quietly jogged the rest of the distance to where Banks stood. Jim could hear Brown passing along the information to the tactical team leader. Keeping his hearing and sight turned up, he scanned the area for any others that might be ahead of him. Everyone had been working on the assumption that there would be only one shooter but experience in the military had taught him that snipers often worked in teams. The way ahead of him seemed clear.
They were almost to Simon when the first shot rang out. The bullet struck the dirt directly in front of the police captain, sending grit and stone flying into the air around him. Ellison saw his friend jerk in surprise and then heard his painfilled moan. His first thought was that the bullet had ricocheted and had hit Banks. Focusing his sight a little more, he caught the slight glint of the wire around Simon's neck. A second shot impacted against the pole just above Banks' head, causing the man to flinch once again.
"Henri, tell them to take that guy out if they can." The urgency in Ellison's voice didn't go unnoticed by Sandburg. Jim quickly explained the situation. "He's got some kind of wire tied around Simon's neck, Chief. Every time he moves it cuts into him."
The two men reached Simon's side just as a volley of shots erupted from behind them. Cascade's S.W.A.T. team had finally moved into position and were returning fire. Ellison had to give Brown credit. The younger detective was still with him, never faltering, even though the sniper's rifle could have been turned on them at any moment.
Gunfire ended almost as soon as it had started and the victorious shout of one of the police marksmen could be heard. Brown's headset crackled and he confirmed what he and Ellison had already guessed. "They got him, Jim."
Jim reached out, grabbing Simon's arms and holding him steady. "See if you can do something about the wire H, I'll hold him still." He looked into his captain's weary but gratitude filled face and was sure the tape hid a smile. "I'll get that tape off of you in just a minute, sir." Glancing behind Banks to Brown, he could see that the ends of the wire had almost been twisted apart.
"Okay, Jim. It's off." Henri added his support as Simon suddenly sagged forward. Quickly untying the ropes, he helped Ellison lower the man to the ground. Kneeling behind his captain, Brown offered him something more comfortable to lean against. He watched as Jim took the corner of the duct tape in his hand and gave it quick yank, apologizing that it was going to hurt. He could only wince in sympathy.
"Get the paramedics in here, H."
Simon waved a hand in the air. "No, no. I'm all right." It came out as a wheeze. "Just get me out of here." He pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and held it against one of the shallow cuts where the wire had bitten into his neck. "Help me up."
"Simon, I really think..."
"That was an order, detective." Banks' voice found its strength, silencing the protests of both men.
"At least let them take a look at your neck, Simon," Jim insisted. "Those cuts look nasty."
Simon nodded his agreement. "All right, they can do that much," he sighed. "Where's your shadow?" He thought Sandburg's absence seemed strange.
"I'm pinch hitting for Hairboy today, sir," Brown chuckled. "Jim actually convinced him to stay behind."
Simon shook his head in wonderment and immediately regretted it. "Had me worried there for a minute." He gave Ellison a grin and leaned back against Brown once again to wait for the paramedics.
"He said he was worried, Sandburg, not that he cared," Jim laughed into the headset. "Yes, he seems fine, we're just getting him checked out." The sentinel looked heavenward and sighed. "Yes, I'll keep you updated. Oh and Blair? We got the shooter." Even through the headphones both Banks and Brown could hear the exuberant shout of "great!" that made Ellison wince and pull the earphone away from his head. "We'll see you back at the station, Chief."
"I don't know who he is," Ellison stood looking down at the body on the coroner's table. "I'm sure I've never seen him before. Hopefully prints will give us something."
"You're sure?" Simon sounded as if that couldn't be possible.
The detective nodded. "I'm sure. But you think I'd recognize someone who has systematically gone through my entire family, making them targets." His eyes caught the flash of white on Simon's neck that hid the cuts. "Family and friends," he corrected. "I thought that seeing him would give me some answers. I wanted to make some sense out of this."
Blair could hear the fatigue in his friend's voice and the slump of Simon's shoulder's warned that the captain wasn't doing much better. "The connection is there, Jim. We'll just have to dig a little deeper for it, I guess. But you both look dead on your feet. Can we call it a night?" He raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly from one man to the other. "The threat is over, you can figure out the whys tomorrow."
Simon looked down at this watch, surprised to see that it was only a little after midnight. "My body's telling me I'm exhausted but my mind isn't ready to shut down yet." He pulled the white sheet back up over the body. "You two get on home. I'll see you tomorrow. I mean later on today."
"I'm not sure I could sleep right now either, Simon," Jim admitted. "And Sandburg...he never sleeps." He gave his friend a light shove with an elbow. "Why don't you come on back to the loft with us and unwind for a while?"
Banks considered the offer. The thought of going back to an empty apartment didn't seem all that appealing. At least not yet. Being used as a pawn and tied to that pole for hours had shaken him badly. Maybe some downtime with friends, and a chance to talk it all out, would help him sleep. "Thanks Jim. I think I will. But to be honest, I don't know if I'm ready to get behind the wheel just yet." He held slightly shaky hands out for both men to see.
"Not a problem," Blair grinned. "I can drive." His smile grew wider at Simon's pretended gasp of horror. "It'll be fun, sir. Just ask Jim."
Ellison pushed the younger man out the doors of the coroner's room and glanced back at Banks. "You can always ride with me, Simon." He laughed softly, knowing that the offer was like putting the man between a rock and a hard place. The police captain had had to sign too many accident and damage reports with the name of James Ellison attached to them.
"I think I'll take my chances with Sandburg, Jim." Simon chuckled, relieved that he finally could. "Nothing personal."
"I'll try to live with the hurt, sir."
The quiet drive back to the loft gave Ellison time to go over the night's events. It nagged at him that he didn't recognize the sniper. He had been sure that the man would have worn the face of some enemy. There had been no identification on the body, not that he had expected any. The only identifying mark had been the tattoo of a grinning skull. It had roused some deeply buried memories but nothing concrete enough to hold on to. It only added to the frustration of not having all the pieces of the puzzle. He looked to the empty seat beside him, missing the soothing presence of his partner. Blair would have been talking non-stop, doing everything he could to take his always brooding partner's mind off of the problem at hand. He could hear his guide's voice telling him to just let it go. And maybe for tonight he would. Regardless of the shooter's identity still being a mystery, it didn't change the fact that he was lying stone cold dead back at the morgue. Checking the rearview mirror, he smiled. Simon was listening intently to a story his partner was relating and somehow Sandburg had the man smiling. Taking a deep and cleansing breath, as his guide called it, he let the stress of the last couple weeks flow out of him.
The blue Ford pulled into its spot in front of the apartment on Prospect, the quiet of the night restored as the hum of the engine died. Getting out of the truck, Jim waited for Simon's sedan to pull up. Blair would have to park it out on the street. He leaned against the truck's fender and closed his eyes. The cool night breeze was light against his skin as he enjoyed the peace of the early hours. He heard car doors opening and Simon's laugh. Heaven only knew what tales the kid was telling him.
"It's true, Simon," Blair's voice drifted across the distance. "Although you'll never get Jim to admit it."
Ellison opened his eyes at that and stood a little straighter. He watched as the younger man gave Banks a conspiratorial wink and nodded in his direction. "See what I mean?"
The shrill ring of the detective's cellphone stopped him from listening any further. Jim would find out what stories his partner had been telling about him later. He had left instructions to be called as soon as an identity had been discovered for their John Doe. This might be the one piece he needed to fill in the rest of the puzzle.
"Ellison." He held the phone to his ear as he watched Blair cross to Simon's side of the car and stand on the sidewalk. Banks still seemed a little shaky but waved off Sandburg's help.
"Say good-bye to your partner." The voice on the other end rasped.
Oh God. He started to run towards the street. "Blair! Get down!" Jim saw the younger man's head jerk around to look in his direction. But the warning had come too late. The whine of the bullet as it sailed towards its target registered with sentinel hearing seconds before he saw his best friend's eyes widen in surprise. The momentum of the bullet slammed the anthropologist into the car. In slow motion he saw Simon reach out to catch Sandburg as he sank to the pavement.
Jim was only vaguely aware of Simon's urgent commands into a cellphone. Blair lay against the captain, his blood already pooling onto the sidewalk. In the stark moonlight its bright red was robbed of colour, turning it black. The sight and smell of it became so intense that it had the sentinel's senses reeling as he held his hand firmly against the wound. He watched as the thin rivulets seeped between his fingers. Touch gone wild could feel his guide's heart as it beat...could feel the surge of wetness against his hand with every pulse. He heard each struggle for breath and felt the thin stream of air as it escaped through the chest wall.
"Don't...zone on me, Jim." Blair saw his friend's eyes start to lose their focus and reached to grab the sleeve of his jacket. "Please." The words were almost agony to force out. "Not strong enough..." He watched, relieved to see awareness return to his partner's gaze.
"I'm right here, Chief," Jim spoke softly, brushing his hand against his partner's cheek. "Help's on the way." He glanced quickly at Banks for confirmation.
Simon felt the slight body in his arms suddenly tense in pain and cursed his helplessness. "It's on its way Sandburg. You just hang tight." Turning his attention to his detective he asked, "Jim, you okay?" Seeing the man nod, he continued, "I want you to hold onto Blair. I think it's time I put some of those first aid lessons to use." He slowly and carefully moved the anthropologist to lean against Ellison. Catching the detective's puzzled look, he tried to smile with some reassurance. "I'm going to get the first aid supplies from my car."
"That's good," Blair's words came out in a wheeze. "I was afraid...he was talking...emergency surgery." Grimacing, he tried to pull more air into his lungs.
Patting Sandburg on the arm, the captain smiled gently. "I missed that week." He dug his keys from his pocket and quickly went to pop open the trunk of his car. Within seconds he was once again kneeling with the two men, the first aid kit sat open beside him. Pulling out a small roll of cellophane, he tore a piece from it, then took the adhesive tape and cut three pieces. "Okay Blair, let's see if we can't do something to help your breathing." He looked up into Jim's face and saw that the detective understood. "Ready?" Both Simon and Jim heard the rush of air as Jim removed his hand. Pulling back Sandburg's shirt and jacket, and placing the wrap over the wound, Banks quickly taped it down on three sides. He held his breath as he waited to see if the makeshift bandage would do the job.
"Nice work, Simon. A flutter valve." Jim smiled down into the face of his partner. "That should help, Chief." The smile faded when he saw Blair's eyes begin to close. "C'mon Blair try to stay awake, okay?" Ellison swallowed hard against the panic and held his guide closer. Sandburg's cheek felt cool and clammy under his hand. He knew his friend was losing ground with each passing minute.
"Tired, Jim." Sandburg forced his eyes open. "Really tired," he sighed. "And cold."
"Give me the keys to the loft, Jim. I'll get some blankets." The captain checked his watch. "The EMTs will probably be another ten minutes at least." Grabbing the keys tossed to him, he ran for the apartment building.
Settling himself to sit on the pavement, Jim leaned against Simon's car and lifted his guide to his lap, getting him off the cold concrete. Sandburg had started to tremble against the cold so the detective wrapped his jacket around him as best he could, offering body heat until Simon returned with the blankets. "Better?" He felt, more than saw, Blair's nod against his shoulder. Resting his cheek against the top of Blair's head, he whispered, "Stay with me, kid."
"I want to." A wave of pain stole away his breath, leaving the younger man barely enough for a gasp. His fingers dug into the solid muscle of the arm that held him close and he tried to burrow more deeply into his partner, hoping to draw on his strength. The arms around him tightened as he heard Jim's quiet apology.
"I'm sorry, Blair. I thought we were safe." Ellison held his breath as he felt another tremor of pain course through his friend. It was taking too long. Where was the ambulance? It had seemed like hours since Simon had contacted them. "I know it hurts. It won't be much longer. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."
"Jim...I can't..."
The sentinel heard the echo of his guide's heartbeat begin to slow. "C'mon, Chief, don't start lying to me now." Ellison didn't care that his voice broke or that the overwhelming fear of losing his guide brought the burning sting of unshed tears.
"Never...lied..."
"You promised me that I wouldn't lose anyone." Silence was his only answer. Looking down, Jim saw the dark lashes slowly lower. "Blair?"
"Your family's okay," came the sigh. "Haven't lost anyone."
"You're my family, Sandburg!" Jim's words shook with emotion. "Don't ever doubt that."
Peering through the nightscope of the sniper rifle, the man sneered. He couldn't tell if Sandburg was dead or not, but judging from the look of grief on Ellison's face it didn't really matter. He had gotten what he wanted. With Tolbert's help he had managed to hurt everyone Ellison was close to. He had chipped away at the smug cop who had been responsible for his brother's death. Tolbert had been a useful tool, inflicting just enough pain...doing just enough damage. He had wanted Ellison to feel the guilt and the loss he had felt when he lost his brother. But he had wanted to toy with him first. Failure was heaped upon failure and in the shadows he watched the cop bend with each one. He knew that the killing stroke would be Sandburg's death. He had watched the detective for months before starting his attack, plotting out every step of his plan. It hadn't taken him long to determine whose death would hurt Ellison most.
Now it was down to just the two of them. He didn't want his brother's killer to die by some anonymous sniper's bullet. It was too personal for that. They would meet and the detective would know the face of his executioner. The cop would hear the reasons why he alone was to blame for the pain his family had suffered. He would hopefully carry that and the guilt of his partner's death to his grave.
Soon.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Simon had latched onto Jim's arm, spinning him around to face him. "Ellison, come on...stop it!"
The sentinel blinked hard and took a breath. The strong odour of disinfectant and sickness assaulted his senses. "Simon?" Feeling disoriented, he looked around. "I zoned?"
Pulling on the arm he still had in his grip, Banks dragged the detective to a nearby chair. "Why do you do it, Jim?" He forcefully pushed the other man into the chair and then sank into the one next to him.
Ellison's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the captain's question. "Why do I zone?"
"No, Jim," he said softly. "Why do you listen? It can't be easy for you. Does Sandburg know you do this?" He saw the detective shake his head. "I didn't think so. He'd have a fit, you know."
"I know." It came out as a sigh. "You asked me why? I can't tell you, except that I need to. It's the only way that I can feel like I haven't deserted him. I don't want Blair to be alone." Jim kneaded the back of his neck. "I know it doesn't make much sense because he doesn't know I'm there. But Simon, I could no more stop listening than I could ..."
Banks watched the colour drain from his friend's face. Ellison's head tilted, listening to words the captain could never hear. "Jim?" The other man held up a hand, silencing him. His detective's face was a stony mask, his body held rigid. Simon wasn't even certain that he was breathing. The two of them sat that way for a few tense minutes, Banks never taking his eyes off Jim's face. He knew that, whatever was going on in Emergency, he would know the outcome before Ellison even spoke a word. If the saying was true and the eyes said it all, then the fear he saw there spoke volumes. The kid was in trouble.
"Excuse me."
The harried admittance clerk looked up from the form she was typing, exasperated enough to vent her anger at the unsuspecting soul that had interrupted her. How was she expected to admit anyone to a hospital if she couldn't file the ridiculously long forms? "What is it?" Her head snapped around from the archaic typewriter to glare at the young man standing across from her. Her anger evaporated when she saw him. He looked lost, scared and truly apologetic for having disturbed her. He had a bit of the country about him, the kind of boy she wished her daughter, anyone of the five of them, would bring home and eventually marry.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I can't find my friend." The words were stammered out. "He was brought here...I went to information but there wasn't anyone there to help me." He finally raised his eyes to meet the clerk's.
"Let me see if I can help you." She smiled up into warm brown eyes. "Just tell me your friend's name and I'll see if he's been admitted."
"Sandburg...Blair Sandburg," he said, returning the smile. "And thank you ma'am."
The woman quickly tapped in the data and was rewarded. "He was brought into emergency about an hour ago. Oh my," she looked up at the man, "gunshot wound." She continued reading. "He must still be in emergency, I don't have any other information. Gunshot wound?"
"Yes ma'am. He works with the police. Blair's still in emergency?" He chewed at his lower lip. "That can't be good. Can you direct me? I haven't been in Cascade very long."
She watched the young man walk away, armed with directions to emergency. She chuckled to herself, wondering if he had four brothers. She'd get her girls married and out of the house eventually.
The detective suddenly went limp and sank back into the chair. Leaning his head back against the wall, he rubbed his face with both hands. "Thank God!" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He's okay, Simon," Jim smiled. "Got a little hairy for a minute. They couldn't inflate his lung and it was interfering with his heart. But it's okay now." He looked away as he felt tears of relief forming. He knew that his captain would understand but he still felt the need to at least give the impression of maintaining some control. The last few weeks had stripped him of so much, leaving him exhausted.
"I'll be back." Ellison rubbed his palms on his jeans before getting up. "I want to go and check on him. Maybe they'll let me see him now."
"I'll be waiting right here, Jim. Let me know what they say."
Stopping at the door, the detective glanced back at Banks. "You don't have to stay, Simon. It sounds like Sandburg's doing just fine. You really should go home."
"And I will," the captain smiled. "Just as soon as I have a chance to look in on him and say hi." He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. "You just tell him I'm waiting to see him and not to keep me waiting too long."
"I'll do that, sir."
Heading for the emergency and observation area, the detective heard his name being called. Turning around, he saw a man with a briefcase running towards him. The man was a stranger, Ellison judging him to be in his late twenties, early thirties.
"Captain Ellison!"
Giving the younger man a crooked grin, he corrected him. "That's detective, not captain. And can this wait? I was on my way to check on my partner."
"Yes sir, I understand completely." The response was crisp and Jim almost expected it to be accompanied by a salute. "But this is about Mr. Sandburg. Is there somewhere we could talk?" Deep brown eyes searched the hallway and finally spied an empty room. "Perhaps here, sir? It's about the identity of the sniper."
The detective followed the other man into the small room. He was anxious to finally have an answer to the question that had plagued him since the entire ordeal had begun. With a quick check to make sure that Blair was still doing well, he turned his complete attention to the man who now stood in front of him. "First of all, who are you?" He pulled himself to his full height, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Franklin Oliver, sir," the younger man held out his hand and stared intently as if watching for some recognition. "Civilian attachment to the Department of Defense. Your fingerprint search caused quite a stir. Dwayne Tolbert...the man suspected of the sniper shootings...has been assumed dead or missing in action for the last 5 years. Is the name familiar to you at all?"
Shaking his head, the sentinel felt the beginnings of unease. Oliver's heartrate was a little too fast for normal and his breathing seemed too shallow. The light sheen of perspiration could have been the result of his jog down the hospital hallway but the detective thought he looked too healthy for that. Blair had once referred to his being a human lie detector and perhaps he was because alarm bells were starting to go off. "Can I see some identification, Mr. Oliver?"
"Of course," Oliver smiled. "I have it here in my briefcase." The briefcase sat on a small table that stood between the two men. The clasps snapped open. "I can understand your being cautious, sir." He flipped the lid up. The faint scent of a friction compound wafted into the air.
"Blair?" Simon Banks poked his head into the room. He was surprised to find the anthropologist alone. "How you feeling, son?" Nearing the bed, he noticed Sandburg's obvious fatigue and inwardly shuddered when he saw the chest tube that protruded from under the sheet and blankets. "I've been waiting for that partner of yours to come back and tell me how you were doing. So I decided to see for myself."
"Thanks Simon." Blair's smile was a pale version of his usual. "I've been waiting for him too. Don't know how much longer I can stay awake." A twinge of pain drove the smile from his face as he clutched the blanket. Seeing Banks reach for the call button, he stopped him. "No don't, the doctors told me what to expect. It's okay...honest."
"Why don't I go find Jim. Knowing him, he's got your doctor cornered somewhere," the captain laughed softly. "Interrogating him."
"You really don't know where he is?" A look of panic crossed the young guide's face. "But there are other cops around. Right?" Not thinking, he tried to sit up but the pain drove him back down. "What if that guy is here?" Breathing was once again becoming an agony that radiated in his chest and shoulder.
"Sandburg, relax." Banks held the anthropologist still. "We have men on this floor. If anyone approaches your door he'll be stopped. You're safe."
Another wave of pain stole Sandburg's breath. "I'm not worried about me. He's not after me." The throbbing in his chest was becoming more severe. "Go find him, Simon. Please." Getting the captain's reassurances that his friend was just fine, Blair waited for him to leave the room before reaching for the call button. He knew that Simon wouldn't have left if he had known that he was in pain. The anthroplogist's side felt as if it had been enveloped in white hot fire. "He's not fine," Sandburg forced out through gritted teeth. "If you're listening big guy, help's on the way."
"You still don't get it do you?" Franklin Oliver held the gun in both hands. "You still don't know why I wanted to take out your family, one by one." His laugh was humourless. "Are you that arrogant? You can kill a man's brother and then just forget about it?"
"Brother." Ellison couldn't see any family resemblance but there was only one Oliver that could have caused him this much pain. "Norman Oliver."
Oliver sneered at him, taking a step closer. "You really are a detective. That didn't take you too long to figure out."
If you're listening big guy, help's on the way. Jim's heart skipped a beat and he had to bite back the relieved smile. His guide was awake and that was all that mattered. "You waited a long time to avenge your brother's death. That was almost three years ago." The sentinel could hear Simon's urgent whispers to the uniformed policemen. One had spotted him, and Oliver, going into the small room. "He couldn't have been that important to you."
"My brother was important to me!" The sentence was vehemently spat out. "Norm was all the family I had." Oliver squeezed the handle of the gun, causing it to quiver in his grip. "Three years. Yeah, well I have you to thank for that too. When he died and the drug shipment never made it through, I ended up being an unwilling guest of the Cali cartel. It took me almost three years to get away from them."
"And now here you are," Jim smirked. The detective could hear several heartbeats just behind the door. The odour of Simon's cigars, that hung about the man whether he had one lit or not, had begun to tickle his nose. He knew they were almost ready to make their move. If he could keep Oliver just angry enough they would be able to catch him completely off guard.
"You don't seem to be taking this very seriously." Oliver's eyes narrowed. "You're not walking away from this."
"What do you want me to do?" Ellison saw the door open ever so slightly. "I could lie to you and tell you I wasn't responsible for your brother's death. But we both know what happened." He had to force himself to not look at the door. "I could beg you for my life, but I doubt you would consider it." Jim shrugged his shoulders. "I'm all out of ideas."
"Why don't you beg me for your partner's life." Oliver saw the flicker of emotion and smiled. "Right after I'm done with you, I'm going to finish what I started." He took another step closer, moving around the table that separated them. "He wasn't supposed to live."
"Sandburg rarely does what he's supposed to." The detective's smile was genuine. Jim, get away from the door. We're coming in. "But there is something I should tell you...company's coming."
Jim wasn't sure if Simon had heard him or if his timing was just that impeccable. As if on cue the door was shoved inward, drawing Oliver's attention. The gun shifted from its target as Oliver spun to see the cause of the noise, surprise evident on his face. Banks entered the room followed by three uniformed policemen. Seeing his chance, Ellison lunged for the wrist that held the gun before it swung to point at the captain. Both men went down heavily with the detective landing on top. The muffled pop of gunfire suddenly filled the room and the two figures on the floor stopped struggling.
"Ellison!" Simon watched, stunned. Breathing a sigh of relief, he saw Jim start to get up. "Just because we're in a hospital doesn't mean you can give me a heart attack," Banks growled out as he went to his detective to help him stand. "Give me your hand."
"Thanks Simon," Jim groaned. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself, wishing the world would stop turning. "You better get a doctor in here." He nodded towards Oliver. "He's hit."
With just a look from the police captain, one of the officers left in search of medical help. The other began to apply first aid to Oliver. Banks' grip on Jim's arm tightened and he guided the sentinel to a chair. "What about you? Are you all right?" He could never remember seeing his friend look so pale.
With a weary smile Ellison nodded and got to his feet. "For the first time in weeks, I think I am. Or at least I will be." He stopped at the door. "Just wanna check on Sandburg and then I think I'm going to sleep for a week."
"I'll just..uh...tidy up things here." Simon gave his friend's shoulder a gentle push. "Better let Sandburg know you're okay. I don't think they're having much luck keeping him in bed." Looking back to the semi-conscious man lying on the floor, Banks knew he couldn't wait to have his curiosity satisfied. "Jim, hold up a minute. Who is this guy?"
"Simon Banks, let me introduce to you Franklin Oliver." He knew, from the puzzled lift of his captain's eyebrows, that Simon needed more answers. And in time, he would get them.
"No, wait. Don't give me anything to sleep just yet." The sentinel could hear his partner pleading with the doctor. The words were coming out in painful wheezes. "I'll lie still. I promise. I just need..."
"You just need to follow orders, Chief," Jim admonished his friend. Crossing the room, he went to stand opposite the doctor and at Blair's side. He acknowledged the physician with a smile and then turned his attention back to his friend. "You need to rest, kid. You look like hell."
"You checked a mirror lately, man?" Sandburg smiled tiredly, sinking back into the pillows. The strain of staying awake and fighting the pain was beginning to take its toll. "Can't possibly look any worse than you."
"Don't tire him out too much, detective," the doctor warned. "But I suspect your being here will calm him more than a sedative." He set a small cup, containing the pills, on the night stand next to the bed. "I'll leave these here...just in case." After adding a quick note to the chart that hung from the end of the bed, he stopped to look at Ellison. "Your friend's right, you know. You do look worse than he does. Get some rest, the both of you. And you," he pointed at Sandburg, "I'll see later on today." With a shake of his head he left the room.
Folding his arms, Jim chuckled warmly and leaned his hip against the bed. "I think we've been told." Amusement gave way to concern as he took stock of his partner. "How're you feeling Chief?" He didn't like the look of the dark circles that seemed as black as the lower lashes that rested against them. His eyes strayed to the tube as he heard the soft bubbles of air that escaped from it into a bottle. Emergency surgery hadn't repaired all the damage. A light touch on his hand brought his gaze back to his guide's.
"I was worried about you," Blair's voice was just more than a whisper. "What happened?" He followed his partner's movements as Jim reached for a chair and drew it up to the bed. Strong fingers wrapped around his and he smiled.
"I'll tell you all of it after you've had some rest," Ellison promised. "Now I just want you to get some sleep. But it's over. Really over this time."
His friend's face became a blur and the words were losing some of their meaning as fatigue started to win out. Blair was sure, though, that Jim had said it was over. "The other...?"
The detective nodded and squeezed the younger man's hand. "We got him. He won't be able to hurt anyone again." He leaned his forehead against Blair's arm, taking a deep breath, before being able to look again into his guide's weary eyes. "I'm so sorry he hurt you."
"Not your fault," Sandburg replied. "No one blames you."
Swallowing hard, Jim had to look away. "I do." There was so much forgiveness in his partner's words, in his gaze. Forgiveness he didn't think he yet deserved. Blair's fingers curled around his, holding on tightly.
"I know you do," he sighed. "No use going for the sympathy vote." His eyelids fluttered as he fought off sleep. "Got you beat...hands down."
Standing, Jim felt Blair's grip slacken as he finally gave in to sleep. "Yeah, I guess you do," he smiled down affectionately at his friend. Laying his hand against the side of Sandburg's face, he softly stroked his cheek with his thumb. "I love ya, kid," he told his sleeping guide. "Sleep well."
Simon Banks let the door to the hospital room slowly swing shut. After years of being the detective's captain and friend, he knew that the man would be suffering. Guilt and self-reproach would be weighing him down. But standing at the door, listening, and knowing that his entering would have been an intrusion, his worry lessened. Ellison had found his solace and now both he and Sandburg could heal.