Java Head
Day One
Jim Ellison woke up to small noises coming from downstairs. He cracked open his eyes to look at the clock on the small night stand beside his pillow. 5:01 a.m. A bit early, even for him. Craning his head to see over the top of his pillow, he looked downstairs into the kitchen.
Sandburg was padding around in his sweats and T-shirt, making coffee. Sensing a change above him, Blair looked up to see the Sentinel's eyes watching him. "Oh. Uh... morning, Jim. Want some coffee?"
Jim grunted noncommittally. Blair saw the top of his head disappear, and heard soft, rustling sounds. A moment later, Jim walked downstairs.
"I never pegged you as an early riser, Chief," Jim said, leaning on the kitchen island.
Blair looked up, surprised. "Uh... what time is it?"
"A little after five."
Blair winced. "Oh man. I didn't even notice the time. Sorry I woke you."
"Couldn't sleep? I thought you liked my sofa."
"Sofa's good. I like your sofa. Kinda short, but soft. No lumps. I guess having my apartment blown up kind of messed up my sleep pattern. How late did we get in, anyway?"
"Around one."
"Good thing I'm accustomed to pulling all nighters." Blair sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.
Jim sat down in the other chair. "You need help carrying the rest of your stuff up later, Chief? We can put it in my extra room down here."
Blair ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I could use the help. If that's okay. Most of it's in boxes. We can stack them in the corner until until I... uh... find another place. There's some of it that I can keep in my office for awhile."
"Chief, I've seen your office. You barely have room to sit in there. You can keep it here for a few days."
"Oh... okay. Uh, thanks man."
"Sandburg, what's with you? Last night you were begging to stay here, but this morning it's like you're walking around on egg shells."
"Well, last night I was kinda desperate and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that I'm here, it just feels kind of weird."
"You've slept on my couch a couple of times."
"That was different. That was just for a few hours. Late night cases. Doing tests with you. This is more... uh..." He wanted to say 'permanent', but he didn't want Jim to think he was getting any ideas.
"Permanent?" Jim supplied.
"Yeah," Blair said. Then quickly added, "For lack of a better word."
Jim patted Blair reassuringly on the shoulder. "It's okay, Chief. I realize I was kind of hesitant last night about letting you stay here and I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome. But you're not imposing." He squeezed the younger man's shoulder. "Okay?"
Blair nodded his head and gave a little smile. "Thanks, man."
Jim headed back to the stairway. "I'm going back to bed, Sandburg. You look like you should, too."
"What about the coffee?"
Jim walked back over and flipped the 'off' switch of the coffee maker. "No big deal. We'll make fresh later." He glanced at the sofa. "You got enough blankets?"
Blair grinned. "I'm good. Thanks, Jim."
"Night, Chief."
Blair listened as Jim climbed the stairs to his room and slid under his sheets and blankets. He sat a moment, letting the silence of the loft settle around him. He jumped when he heard Jim's voice above him. "Sandburg, go to bed."
Smiling, Blair got up and moved toward the sofa. "Yes, Dad."
"And don't wake the chimp."
"Barbary Ape," Blair muttered, as he tucked himself back under the blankets. He peered across the room where the cage sat next to the TV set. Larry likes it here. He pondered as he observed the small, sleeping primate. Funny that Larry likes Jim. Usually, he's suspicious and jumpy around strangers. Gotta find a better spot for the cage. More out of the way. Maybe in that extra room Jim mentioned. Wonder how much of my stuff I can get in there.
"Sandburg! Go to sleep!" Jim's voice growled from above.
"Sheesh, man. I'm just laying here."
"I can practically hear you thinking."
"So-Ree!"
"Blair."
"What?"
"Don't worry about your stuff. We'll work it out."
"Now, you're a psychic."
"No, you're just easy to read."
"Don't tell my dates that."
"Good night, Sandburg."
"Night, Jim." This time they both fell asleep.
Until Jim started snoring.
Day Two
Tiredly, Blair looked up from the book he was studying and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Gazing around the room, his eyes fell on the stack of boxes that still filled one corner of the living room. Oh, man. How'd I get so much junk? Didn't seem as much at the warehouse. He felt the loss of his spacious former residence. But then, I had the place all to myself, didn't care how messy it was, and wasn't trying to stay out of the way of a certain compulsively clean, occasionally grumpy and impressively big detective.
Blair wasn't really afraid of Ellison. He could tell the tall man kind of liked him. But messy and disorganized tended to make Jim cranky, and a happy Ellison was a much more pleasant person to be around.
The two men had worked several hours yesterday and today after work, carrying Blair's stuff upstairs from their vehicles and trying to stash it somewhere.
"Holy cow, Sandburg. What's in all these boxes?" Jim asked breathlessly, trying not to drop the box that he'd just hauled through the door.
Stumbling into the room behind him, Blair answered through gritted teeth. "Mostly books, paper files, artifacts. Some collections." Blair set his box on the sofa.
"What are you collecting? Bricks? This weighs a ton." Jim grunted as he carefully eased the box to the floor.
Blair blew out a puff of air as he plopped down next to the box. "That box has my baseball memorabilia in it. I think."
They were interrupted by a voice in the doorway. "Hey, Mr. Sandburg! Where does this one go?"
Blair jumped up as a large figure entered the room. "Here, Terry. Just set it along that wall." The young man, who towered over Jim, looked like a recruit for WWF, with his shaved head, goatee and earring.
Terry carefully put the box where Blair indicated and turned around. "I think that's the last one, Mr. Sandburg. Is there anything else?"
"No thanks, Terry. I really appreciate your help. You want a beer?"
"No thank you. I promised my mom I wouldn't drink when I was at college." He smiled sheepishly. "And I can't lie to my mom. It'd break her heart."
Momentarily stunned by the young man's untypical behavior, Blair blinked then said, "Well, make sure you let me know when you're ready to move next month. I'll be glad to return the favor."
"You bet. See you in class." With a smile and a wave, Terry was gone.
Jim looked at Blair. "Not exactly your average student."
"Archeology major. Straight A's. Preacher's kid."
"He'd make a good undercover cop. Vice, of course." His eyes twinkled at Blair. Blair answered with a glare. With Sandburg's own unconventional style of dress, everyone thought he was working undercover for Vice.
Jim walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He held it out to the younger man. "You want one, or did you make a promise to your mom, too?"
Blair pushed himself off the sofa and walked to the sink. "No thanks. I'll just have water." He got a glass out of the drainer and filled it with cold tap water.
"Not all Archeologists -- or Anthropologists -- are puny, little geeks, Jim," he said with a smile.
"I never said you were a puny geek, Chief."
"Neo-hippie, witch-doctor punk, then."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "I was so mad I couldn't even remember. 'Zat what I called you?"
"Word for word."
Jim smiled. "Well, Simon called you a..."
Blair looked interested. "A what?"
"A... uh... neo-hippie flower child."
"Flower child! My mom woulda loved that!"
"Why?"
"She was one."
"A flower child?"
"In full bloom."
Jim grinned. "That explains a lot."
"Yeah, I guess it would."
Jim looked at his watch. "It's late, Chief. How 'bout take-out pizza? My treat."
"That'd be great, man. I'm starving."
"I've got plenty to snack on, Sandburg. Help yourself."
"Well, not that I don't appreciate it, Jim. But your snacks are... well, they're..."
"You saying you don't like my food, Sandburg?"
"Well, gee, Jim. Potato chips, Ding Dong's and Snicker bars aren't exactly health food. If you could see nutrition reports on what that stuff does to your body..."
"I've seen the reports, Sandburg. I don't care. You might as well tell me what hot dogs are made of. You probably want me to eat that bird seed and moss you have in the refrigerator."
"That's nuts and trail mix. And the 'moss' is a salad."
"It's not salad without croutons and Ranch dressing. The stuff you eat is gross."
"It's good for me. It's called 'health food' for a reason."
"And pizza is health food?"
"It's acceptable with wheat crust."
"I can live with wheat crust, Chief. I'll call it in. The dessert pizza's all mine. You can eat your moss."
Day Three
Settled on the sofa, Blair looked up from his studies at the mostly empty loft. No boxes! Working after classes and after work, he and Jim had moved boxes until they were all out of the living room. Some were in the spare room that they'd cleaned out and turned into Blair's temporary bedroom. But it was a small room, so most of the boxes went downstairs in the storage room next to the laundry room.
All the bedroom had in it was a futon mattress, frame and a desk. There had been space for a couple of Blair's small bookshelves, so he'd gone ahead and set them along the walls. And since the shelves were out, he figured he might as well unpack a box of books and artifacts that he knew he'd be using that week.
While Blair was arranging stuff on the shelves, Jim walked by. He stopped, backed up to the doorway and leaned against the door jamb. Blair glanced up from his spot on the floor. "Jim. What's up?"
Jim looked around the room, seeing the books, CD's and the stereo. "Looking kinda... permanent," he mused.
Surprised, Blair looked around. "Well, my blankets were already handy and the stereo and CD's are safer here than downstairs. And these are books and stuff that I'm gonna need this week, so I just thought..."
"It's okay, Chief. This room was just collecting dust anyway." He walked away.
Now, several hours later, Jim was asleep. Blair suspected that Jim's snoring wouldn't last long. He'd noticed the night before that the snoring had stopped when Jim turned to his side. That had been around 1:30. Blair had gone to bed and either Jim had been snore free the rest of the night, or Blair had been too deep in sleep to be disturbed by it. If that remained consistent, it would be perfect. Blair was a night owl and rarely went to bed before one or two.
Sandburg was trying not to get too comfortable here or settled into routines and patterns. But it was hard. Jim had a nice place. In spite of his 'house rules' that mostly consisted of noise level limits and keeping stuff picked up. So the guy was a neat freak. Blair had already figured that one out. It fit his personality profile. He could live with that.
No, he couldn't, he told himself. He wasn't living here. This was temporary. He sighed. Finding a place to live was harder than he'd remembered. A decent place. An affordable place. He'd promised Jim he'd only need a week and he'd keep his word. He'd seen a few ads in the paper that evening. He planned to call about them tomorrow between classes.
"Sandburg."
Blair jumped at the voice. He looked up to see Jim standing over him. "Geez, man. You scared me."
"It's 1 a.m. What're you doing?"
"I'm studying."
"You stopped studying ten minutes ago."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"The sounds you make while you study are steady. Rhythmic. Your breathing is deep and even. Almost like when you sleep. The steady scratch of your pen writing. The soft, even rustle of pages turning -- what?" He quit talking when he noticed Blair grinning at him.
"That's cool. Almost poetic."
Jim shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It puts me to sleep. You quit about ten minutes ago. That's what woke me up. You okay?"
"Just spacing, I guess."
"Maybe you need to go to bed."
"I'm not finished yet. I've still got a chapter to go."
Jim turned to walk back upstairs. "Well, quit spacing and finish your chapter. You need your sleep."
Blair turned back to his book with a goofy smile on his face. Shaking his head, he said, "I'll be about an hour, man. 'Night."
Jim mumbled a 'good night' and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
Fifty minutes later, Blair had finished his chapter. Easing himself up from the sofa cushion, he silently gathered his books and papers. Glancing up toward Jim's room, he guessed Jim must have returned to his most recent position on his side, since he wasn't snoring. Smiling, he went into the small room and went to bed.
Day Four
It was midnight. Blair was in his usual spot on the sofa, studying. Or trying to. What a day!
He'd called the apartment for rent ads earlier, but they'd been a waste of his time. One had already been rented out. One, he'd discovered, was in a part of town that Blair, who was no stranger to risky situations, wouldn't go into in his most desperate moments. The last one was waaaaayy out of his price range. He'd even scanned the 'room for rent' notices in the student union. But they'd all been with guys who were known party animals. No way that he could work and study in that environment.
Feeling slightly gloomy, he'd gone home Oops, not-home-temporary-not home-felt like home-comfortable, clean, safe-not home to the loft. Dropping his pack and coat in the (not his) small bedroom, he decided to watch TV with Larry.
As Blair popped popcorn, he had to chuckle at the thought of his research project. Watching TV with an ape. What a laugh. He'd had Larry for a couple weeks now, watching TV with him practically every night, with no noticeable change in his behavior. Maybe he needed to switch to something more obviously violent, like Stallone movies or even Freddy Kruger.
A little while later, when he opened Larry's cage to give him some popcorn, the small creature flew out at Blair, chattering and snapping his teeth at him. "Hey!" Startled, Blair stepped backward and fell over the back of the coffee table, spilling the popcorn.
Picking himself off the floor, Blair saw that Larry was sitting on top of The TV set. Talking in a soothing voice, Blair walked slowly toward the primate. "Hey, Larry. What's the matter, pal? Are you a little upset tonight? It's okay. We don't have to watch TV. How about some nice Mozart?" He was just about to reach out and pick Larry up when the ape screeched and launched himself at Blair with his fangs bared. Blair did an impressive dive into the floor, covering his head protectively with his arms.
Blair peeked out of the cover of his arms to see Larry running upstairs on the hand rail. Scrambling to his feet, Blair ran up the steps after Larry. Reaching the top of the stairway, he stopped and cautiously looked around. There was no sign of Larry. He felt a cool draft and looked at the window. With a sinking feeling, he realized it was open. Running to the window, he looked out just in time to see Larry's hindquarters disappearing around the corner of the roof top.
That was about the time that Jim got home and came really close to shooting Blair. With all the mess, he was in full Sentinel mode, thinking a major crime had gone down.
Blair knew that Jim would surely freak over the mess in the loft, but he seemed oblivious to the destruction, and was mostly concerned about Blair's well being.
But now, Blair was stuck. His research subject had flown the coop. Animal control had been alerted and the neighbors warned. Larry was probably sitting on a window sill on the other side of town, watching a Bruce Willis movie.
Blair was presently writing a letter to his professor asking for an extention on his project. Sighing, he rested his head on his open palm. Crud. What has he gonna do now? He looked at the clock. 12:15. Quietly, he stood up and walked to his -- no -- the bedroom. He was too tired to think. He'd figure it out in the morning.
Day Five
Blair was up early that morning. Having gone to bed 'early', he'd gotten plenty of sleep and was awake even before Jim. The Sentinel was an early riser, annoyingly clear headed first thing in the morning.
By the time Jim emerged from the shower, Blair had the loft spotless. There was no evidence of Larry's destruction of the night before. And when Jim came downstairs, dressed for work, Blair had a gourmet breakfast all ready.
In spite of Jim's crack about Blair's 'little courting ritual', the Anthropologist could tell he was impressed by the clean up job. Feeding him had helped a lot, too. Blair had heard the saying, 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'. Well, it was certainly true of the Sentinel.
Earlier, Blair had called the office of his professor, intending to make an appointment to ask for that extension he needed to secure another research project. The professor had left the day before on a two week vacation. Blair shared this victory with Jim over breakfast. The older man didn't say anything when Blair joked about being stuck with him.
Jim confused Blair. First, he was so reluctant to let his 'associate' stay with him when he was practically homeless. Then, he didn't say anything to refute Blair's comments about staying. Whatever went on in Ellison's head, Blair bet it confused the cop as much as it did him.
As for Jim, well, he liked having Sandburg around. He had caught himself thinking that he wasn't so lonely with the kid in the loft. Funny thing was that he hadn't even realized he was lonely before. Not to mention, Blair was a heck of a cook. That is, when you could recognize what he was cooking. With Blair's many travels, plus his penchant for 'health foods', the young man could concoct some very strange-looking dishes.
Breakfast was good. It was like being served at a four-star American restaurant. But supper that same day was a shocker. Jim looked suspiciously at the plate that his 'temporary' roommate set before him. "What the heck is this?"
"Don't question it, Jim. Just eat it."
Jim looked up at the smiling young man. "What it it?" he repeated.
"It's good for you." Blair's smile faltered.
Ellison's voice got deeper. "What is it?"
"It tastes good. Really."
Jim just looked at Sandburg, his eyebrows lowered.
Blair's smile disappeared. "It's a dish I learned to make while visiting a mountain village in Taiwan. Chinese food, Jim. The main ingredients are chicken and bamboo. The rest of it is stuff I can only get at that Oriental food store a couple blocks from the U. Most of it is similar to American food." Blair gestured desperately. "I thought it'd be a good test for your sense of taste and smell. See what's familiar and what's new. Compare the unknown ingredients to stuff you're used to." His voice faded. "It's good. Really."
Jim felt like he'd just kicked a lost puppy. He suspected the kid had perfected 'the look' on his mother. "Cut it out, Sandburg," he growled. "I'll try it." Taking a careful bite, Jim tried not to notice the happy light in Blair's eyes. It was like having a nine-year-old around.
Jim was relieved to find that the dish was good. And the taste and smell test was virtually painless. Jim hated tests. He was a creature of instinct and habit, too restless for tests. Analyzing data. And Sandburg made him analyze everything. 'How does this feel, Jim? What does this make you think of? How loud? How many? How far?' It made Jim irritable. And Jim's irritation exasperated Blair.
"Look, Jim. You want control. Right? We get control through two factors. Information and training. Just like in the Army. Special Ops. That kind of skill is not instinctual. You learn it through training. You practice and practice until it becomes instinct. We have to train your senses to do what you want them to do. To stretch them or to block them out at will. Got it?" Then Jim would have to try not to laugh at Blair's wild gesticulations and myriad of facial expressions.
The kid was smart. And he make good sense. He was also stubborn and gutsy. Few people ever stood up to Jim Ellison. But Blair did and Jim respected that. He was gonna miss having the young man around.
Day Six
Soft. Warm. Dark. Blair was gently floating on a black cloud. Mmm. Nice. Blair smiled and snuggled deeper into the muffled cushion of sleep.
"Sandburg!"
"Huh... Wha... Go way."
A big hand, shaking his shoulder. "Sandburg!"
"Wha..." Blair cracked one eye open to reveal the Sentinel standing over him. "Jim. 'Zup?"
"Chief, it's 8:30. Your alarm has been going off for 45 minutes."
Blair was suddenly wide awake. "8:30! Crap! I have class in half an hour!" He jumped up and started pulling on jeans and a shirt, blankets and hair flying.
"Sandburg!" Jim said in his most commanding voice.
Blair froze. Jim grinned. That tone worked every time.
Breathless and exasperated, Blair stared at Jim. "What!"
"You told me last night that your class was cancelled today. Busted pipes or something."
Blair collapsed on the bed. "Oh yeah. Forgot." He rolled over and hugged his pillow. "Set my alarm out of habit."
"Chief, before you get comfortable..."
One eye popped open and glared at Jim. "What?" he asked grumpily.
"I could use your help with Earl Gaines."
"What?" Blair asked cautiously.
"Can you impersonate a geeky beaurocrat?"
"What!"
Day Seven
Jim quietly washed the dishes as he listened to Blair's deep breathing from the bedroom. The kid was dead to the world.
After they wrapped up business with the street gangs and Gaines, he'd gotten the call from Animal Control about Larry the Barbary Ape. They'd rushed right to the loft to find the place thoroughly trashed and Larry sitting on top of the cage watching 'The Terminator'. Ellison let the Animal Control people in, but they couldn't get near the ape. Finally, Blair convinced them to let him try. Larry seemed relieved to see Blair and let the young man pick him up and deposit him into the cage.
A quick phone call to the person who'd lent Blair the primate confirmed that Larry was indeed, legal. Blair promised to return him right away and had to pay a $50 fine (which he had to borrow from Jim) to Animal Control.
When Blair returned an hour later, Jim had cleaned the loft and started lunch. The younger man leaned wearily against the kitchen island. "Aw Jim, I'm sorry, man. I was gonna clean up as soon as I got back."
Jim shrugged and stirred the contents in the skillet. "No problem, Chief. It's a relief to get the little furball back where he belongs."
"Yeah, thanks man."
"So, what are you going to do about a new project?"
Blair perked up a bit. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I was talking to my advisor about the whole mess and he pointed out that I had enough recorded data -- what with the tapes and all -- that I can go ahead and use what I've already got. In fact, Larry's violent reaction the other night is the perfect evidence to prove the theory that TV violence created violent tendencies. It's perfect."
Jim chuckled and lightly slapped Blair on the shoulder. "That's great, Chief. I'm relieved for you."
"Yeah, me too. There's no way I could put together a decent project in just two weeks."
"You ready to eat?"
"I'm starved. What smells so good?"
"Something recognizable. Beef stroganoff." Jim spooned generous helpings onto two plates and set them on the table, where silverware and a bowl of salad had already been set. The men sat down and began to eat.
"Jim, this is great. You're a pretty good cook."
"Caroline wasn't much of a cook. I mean, she tried. But we were both so busy working and it really wasn't her thing. So, I learned to cook a little myself. If I ever wanted to get in her good graces, I'd cook a good meal for her."
Jim noticed that Blair was starting to droop. "You alright, Chief?"
"Oh yeah, man. I'm just a little tired. I didn't sleep very well on Mrs. DuBois' sofa last night."
"Why don't you go take a nap while I do the dishes?"
"I can do the dishes, Jim. You fixed lunch."
"I'm okay, Chief. Go take your nap."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'll work it outta you some other time."
Blair gave a lettle laugh. "Thanks, Jim." He shuffled to the bedroom and dropped on the bed. He fell asleep immediately.
Blair wandered out of the bedroom an hour and a half later to find Jim asleep on the sofa. Feeling a little guilty, he realized that Jim must have had no sleep at all the night before. He'd been running around Cascade helping Gaines prove his innocence.
The Anthropologist tread quietly to the kitchen. He carefully filled the tea kettle with water. He knew there was no way he could keep Jim from hearing him, but if he was quiet enough, maybe the Sentinel would go back to sleep.
After putting the kettle on the stove to heat up, Blair went back to the bedroom. He got so involved in what he was doing, that he forgot about the water on the stove. Straightening up from the box in front of him, he turned to see Jim standing in the doorway holding two steaming mugs.
"Cripes, man. I really wish you'd quit that."
"Sorry, Chief. But you were so engrossed in your job, I doubt you'd have heard another bomb go off." Jim held out one of the mugs to the younger man.
Blair accepted the warm mug. "Ha ha. Thanks, Jim."
Jim gestured to the half full boxes on the bed. "Packing?"
Blair thought he heard a hint of... regret in Jim's voice. Averting his gaze from Jim's he set his tea down and resumed packing. "Yeah. I finally found a place. Can you believe it?"
"Where is it?"
"Little four room place on Kerry Avenue. Right next to BB's Watering Hole."
Jim thought a moment. "East or West?"
"East."
Jim's brow furrowed in disapproval. "Sandburg, that side of town's a dump."
"It's a nice place, Jim. And the price is right."
"It's not safe," Jim said flatly.
"It can be temporary. I'll look for a place in a better part of town after I get settled." Blair continued packing.
Jim looked around the little room, annoyed at the direction his thoughts were taking him. The room was beginning to resume its sterile, empty appearance of the pre-Sandburg days. He sighed heavily. "Blair."
"Yeah?" He kept packing.
"Chief."
Blair turned to look at the tall man. "What?"
"You could stay... awhile."
"Stay?" Blair tried to push the hope down in case this wasn't what it sounded like.
"You could stay. Live here."
"Awhile?"
"For as long as it works."
"You sure, man?"
"Yeah. I don't want to have to worry about you living someplace that's not safe."
"What about the other place?"
"Have you signed anything?"
"No, they weren't too particular about paperwork. I was supposed to do all that and pay my first month's rent today."
"We'll make a phone call. No problem."
"We?" Blair smiled.
"I'll talk to the landlord if you want. I can be pretty convincing, even on the phone."
Blair chuckled. "No, that's okay, man. I think I can handle it." Blair headed to the living room to use the phone. Blair turned to look at Jim. "What about rent?"
Jim followed him out of the bedroom. "We'll discuss it over supper."
"I'll cook this time. I've got this recipe I learned in Rwanda a few years ago..."
"Uh, Chief, about your food... well, I've got this system using color coded Tupperware..."
The End