Disclaimer: All characters, etc from The Sentinel are not mine. If they were I would be rich and popular. I'd also never get my daughter out of the house.
Java Head
Blair Sandburg was walking to the bus stop. His car was in the shop. Again.
He had walked uptown after classes. It was a nice day and he wanted to check out a new second hand book store. He figured he could catch the bus that would take him a couple blocks from home.
His captors grabbed him right off the street. In broad daylight. During evening rush hour. Quite clever, really. Nobody notices anyone else. They are all in a hurry to get through the crowd to get home or wherever it is so vital for them to go. Pushing, yelling and falling are not unusual, and even commonplace.
Two big men, dressed as gang members, muscled up to Sandburg as he was walking at the back of a crowd crossing an intersection. One grabbed his arm and slid his hand over Blair's mouth while the other simultaneously pushed up the sleeve of Blair's jacket and expertly injected him with a fast acting tranquilizer. As Blair slumped forward, his back pack slid to the street before Thug #2 dropped the syringe to grab Blair's arm.
They quickly whisked the small man into the abandoned building behind them. No struggle. No witnesses. Just one missing anthropologist.
The unattended pack was kicked around a few feet before some honest kid picked it up and turned it into the police station. The rookie assigned to the front desk had a bad feeling when he recognized Sandburg's I.D. and called upstairs to Detective James Ellison. It wasn't proper procedure, but there would be the devil to pay if Ellison didn't hear about this first.
Blair's first awareness of consciousness was a feeling of nausea and dizziness. He had a memory of being pushed then grabbed on the street. Grabbed. Abducted. By aliens? He didn't think so. Psychos? More than likely. He seemed to be a psycho magnet. They either wanted to kill him or just plain wanted him. Blair wasn't sure which was worse.
He was lying on his back on an uncovered concrete floor. He opened his eyes slowly. The spinning in his head made him cautious, forcing him to take slow, careful breaths. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness around him. He moved his head carefully, scanning his surroundings. The room he was in was about the size of a jail cell no imagination among psychos. The walls were gray cinder block. There was one small window which provided scant daylight. No furniture or rugs. His back pack was gone, as were his shoes and most of his clothes. He was wearing only his jeans and undershirt and his feet were bare.
He seemed to remember having dropped his back pack on the street when he was grabbed. A small flicker of hope appeared within him. Maybe someone would find it and turn it in. Jim would know that something bad had happened to him. Blair was very attached to his pack and would never be so careless as to just "lose" it. There was a chance that it would be stolen, but Blair was an honest man and, in turn, believed in the basic honesty of others. He didn't know if Jim could find any clues to his disappearance, but at least he would know he was missing and Blair knew his Sentinel would never stop looking until he'd found his Guide.
He slowly rolled over and shakily pushed himself to his knees. Palms resting on the floor, his head hanging down. He closed his eyes and breathed careful, shallow breaths, willing himself not to throw up.
"I will not puke. I will not puke," he whispered over and over. "I will not... oh to heck with it!" And he gave up the struggle with his stomach as he vomited in the corner where he crouched. Dunno what's the big deal about throwing up anyway. Do it all the time. It's true what people say. You really do feel better afterward, Blair thought as he leaned back against the wall, letting his head rest against the cold brick. "Oh man, I hate throwing up," he mumbled.
Jim Ellison paced his Captain's office like a caged tiger. "He's out there, Simon. Alive. I don't know where. Or who. Or why. Yet. But I will."
Simon sat at his desk, chomping his unlit cigar, watching the detective struggling to hold onto his fragile control. He knew Jim needed to pace. He would probably have a heart attack if he stood still.
"Did you and Taggart find anything at the spot where Blair's pack was found?"
"Nothing except the syringe. There were no fingerprints, but Blair's blood was on the needle. It contained a fast acting tranquilizer. Unbelievable that on a busy street in broad daylight there were no witnesses.
"Blair's office and the loft were both investigated. His car is in the shop being repaired, but it was searched as well. Nothing. Whoever abducted him has been watching him. Following him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to move on him. How else would they know he was on foot yesterday instead of driving as usual?
"I'm going back to the U tomorrow. Somebody on campus had to have noticed someone new, someone out of place, around the Anthro department. I'm going to talk to everyone. Somebody saw something and I'm going to find out what!"
Simon took his cigar out of his mouth. "Good Jim. Find the kid! But tonight you need to go home and rest. At least eat and shower. Blair needs you at your best. Go home. Come back in the morning."
Jim stopped pacing and folded his arms in front of him, looking at the floor. "Yes Sir. See you tomorrow." He turned and strode from the room.
Simon sighed tiredly, watching Jim leave. He knew Jim wouldn't go home. Not for hours, anyway. He prayed Jim would be careful. For Blair's sake and for his own. He knew Sandburg was like a brother, even a son, to Ellison. He could imagine how he, himself, would feel if Daryl had been kidnapped. Probably in worse shape than Jim.
Blair was sitting against the walls, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to control his trembling. He was thinking about the last time he and Jim went to a movie. They saw "Castaway" with Tom Hanks. The movie was a let down, but they still had fun.
Any time with Jim was good. Blair was interested in how the character survived all alone for five years. His scientist's mind always enjoyed learning. But Jim was bored and when Jim got bored he tended to act like a 9-year old. Blair was wondering what use Hanks was going to make of VCR tapes when Jim started to chuck popcorn at him.
"Cut it out, man! I'm watching the movie." Secretly pleased at being the target of Jim's attention.
By the time Hanks was getting ready to knock out his tooth with an ice skate blade, Jim had finished his soft drink and was trying to drop ice down the front of Blair's shirt.
"Man, you are so dead!" Blair said, declaring war and retaliated by throwing raisinettes at Jim. Jim returned the volley with raisinettes he'd caught and more ice. Unbelievably, some people actually wanted to see the movie and it was a wonder they didn't get thrown out of the theater. They finally decided to leave on their own before they did get kicked out. Instead they rented 'Chicken Run' to watch at home. Jim would rather have watched a Bruce Willis flick, but he had selected Castaway so it was Blair's turn. Blair loved the sheer lunacy of the movie and Jim loved listening to his Guide having such a good time.
Blair's thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and two really huge men walked in. They were followed by another man, almost as big but not as beefy. The two largest men flanked Blair, one on each side of him. They were all in black. Blair recalled an image of two men in black grabbing him on the street. He was pretty sure they were the same guys. Then they had been dressed like motorcycle gang members. Now they were more conservative in black jeans and button down shirts. Their square featured faces and low, angry eyebrows reminded Blair of Lurch off the Addams Family.
The Lurch twins bent down and, grabbing Blair by the arms, pulled him to his feet. Blair stood still a moment, a bit dazed. The other man stepped toward him and Blair instinctively tried to step back, but the Lurch twins held him in place. Blair was scared, but looked the man in the eye. Lesson One in resisting intimidation: always look them in the eye. It gives the illusion that you're not afraid of them. The man looked like a Marine poster boy. At least as tall as Jim, powerfully built, almost as big as Jim Almost. Jim's bigger, more powerful. Jim's my friend, 'my' partner, 'my' big brother, 'my' Sentinel. Wow. Cool. Neat. Hey, big guy, where are you? I'm babbling. Gee, can you babble in your mind? Yep. Definitely. Would be and interesting study. Mind babbling. Better pay attention. This guy looked like he would love to beat Blair up for the fun of it. Bet he had been the playground bully. Beating up on the Blairs of the playground all his life. What's the thing with big guys beating up on little guys? If not for working with Jim and Simon, Blair might wonder if all big guys hated little guys. He figured that this one was probably pals with Kincaid.
"Hey, what's with the Gestapo act, man? You don't think I'm gonna beat you up, do you?" Blair asked, trying to laugh.
"Mr. Sandburg, I know your reputation for being disrespectful and flippant. Be very careful. You are in a precarious position. Our work is very important and only your knowledge is valuable to us. You, however, are not. Your kind is an abhorrance to us. We're forced to keep you alive and relatively well for the time being. How long that is depends only upon how useful and cooperative you are."
Now Sandburg was mad. "Listen, man, I kind of think kidnapping was a little disrespectful. If I'm an 'abhorrance' to you, why don't you just let me get myself out of your hair and let me go home?" One of the Lurch Twins grabbed a handful of Blair's hair and jerked painfully, pulling his head back. "Ow! Who are you and what do you want from me? And how do you know my name?"
"We've been paying attention to you for some time, Mr. Sandburg. In spite of your 'less than desirable' lineage, you really are quite intelligent. The fact that most of your colleagues hold your theories in contempt doesn't matter to us. We are very interested in your research.
Blair looked up at the man, trying desperately not to freak out. "Uh, just exactly what theories are you talking about?" Oh man, oh man, oh man. Now what?
"Your Sentinel research, Mr. Sandburg. We have studied Burton's research. But that was over one hundred years ago and we've found very little reliable recent information. Until 'you' came along."
Blair's eyes flew open wide, his heart rate suddenly escalating. He covered his shock with feigned laughter. "You went through the trouble of kidnapping me to ask about a 'legend'?" His voice went higher and louder with each word. "Oh man! This is so rich! Look, man, I study ancient civilizations all over the world. That includes the legends of their gods. Their myths."
The man nodded at the Lurch Twins and one of the slapped Blair with force that threw his head back.
"Tell us what you know about present day Sentinels."
A deep breath. "The Sentinels were legendary. Like Superman." He spoke slowly as though talking to a mentally challenged child. He barely caught the nod before he was slapped again. Ow. That one's gonna bruise.
"Uh, look Mr. 'Whoever You Are', I don't know anything beyond what is in Burton's book..." he was cut off as a Lurch drove a fist into his ribs.
"You have spent the last several years continuing to research Sentinels. Tell us what you have found."
"Actually, I've kind of given up that study. I haven't been able to find out anything to warrant my continuing to search for infor..." Another fist, this time to his jaw.
"Our investigators assure us that you have continued to search for more information on the Sentinels. Tell us what else you know."
He paused. This really sucked. Oh, well, die all, die merrily. "Look, you see, I can't find out anything else..." Again, this time in his stomach.
Blair hung there, suspended by Lurch 1& 2, gasping for breath, trying not to retch. Ow, ow, ow. Well, one good thing. At least he wasn't hungry anymore.
"We'll give you a little time to enjoy our accommodations and think your situation over. Remember, Mr. Sandburg, your survival depends solely upon how useful you are to us." He nodded to the Lurches. They let go of Blair's arms and dropped him unceremoniously in a loose heap. The three walked to the door and let themselves out. Blair heard the door lock.
Blair didn't move. It felt kind of nice there on the hard, cold floor. Thought he'd stay awhile. He heard the door open again and heard footsteps come toward him. He didn't move, but saw black, military boots pause in front of him, then saw a bottle of water being set on the floor in front of him. The boots disappeared and the sound of the footsteps returned to the door and back out again, locking him in once more and leaving him alone. "Fine. Good riddance. Lousy company anyway." Blair pushed himself into a sitting position, holding his stomach. "Two punches. Not too bad. Definitely had worse."
He reached out and took the bottle of water in his hand. He unscrewed the lid and took a few careful sips, letting the liquid trickle down to ease his dry, aching throat. Forcing himself to stop drinking, he recapped the bottle and set it down. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Gotta save it for later." It was the only water he'd had since he'd been brought here. His thirst sated, Blair tried not to think about his empty stomach. "'S okay. I could lose a few pounds. Been letting Jim drag me to Wonderburger too much lately."
These guys wanted information out of him in a hurry. That accounted for the desperate measures. Or maybe they just enjoyed treating him like crap. Prejudice was high here. What was it? The hair? The earrings? His size? His academic status? Because he worked with the P.D.? Because he was Jewish? He figured he'd hear about it from them soon enough. Egotistical and crazy people (and these guys were both, it seemed) loved to flap their lips. Whatever the reason that they didn't think much of him, they wouldn't keep him around for long. Maybe they were worried that Cascade P.D. would find him too soon.
Blair lay carefully down on his side with his back against the wall. He pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his arms in front of his chest with his hands tucked under his arms, trying to hold in some body heat. He missed his pillow. And that afghan that Jim kept on the back of the sofa because he knew Blair got cold a lot.
Jim, buddy. Sure would like to see you soon. Getting a little worried here. I know you're out there looking for me. I know you're not sleeping. Probably not even eating. Hope Simon's keeping an eye on you. Don't zone, man. Be careful. Please, be careful. Blair squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep waves of hopelessness from overpowering him. He lay still, thoughts silent for a moment.
I won't be mad if you don't make it in time, Jim. I know you're nearly killing yourself trying to find me. Doing your best, maybe even the impossible. But there's not much to go on. I don't even know where I am. Don't be too hard on yourself. Sure would love to see you again, man. Blair swallowed against his tears. He clenched his fists. No! He would not say his good byes! Not yet! Jim would find him! Alive! Still alive. Not leaving. Not quitting. Not giving up. Jim would find him. He'd seen Jim do the most amazing things. Yeah, he had his Sentinel abilities to achieve the near impossible, but Blair knew that much of the Jim Ellison that the world saw had nothing to do with being a Sentinel. The man was an enigma. He was, for starters, the most tenacious (okay, stubborn), persistent, so-and-so Blair had ever seen. And he used that part of his personality to do the unheard of. There was very little that Jim set out to do that he didn't accomplish. That's why Jim went to see Blair when they first met, in the first place. Yeah, Blair had tricked him into believing he was a doctor at first, but he saw it in Jim's eyes that he didn't believe him for a minute. And then when he actually went to Blair's 'office' at the U... man, what a moment! Blair chuckled to himself. Who'd ever believe that this huge, tightly controlled and controlling man, who was the total opposite of Blair, would give him such trust and even control over his life and treat him as an equal. And that they were friends. That's the whole thing with Jim that blew away his mind more than anything. Of all that Blair had seen since he met Jim, the fact that they were friends was the most amazing thing that had ever happened. Not just that they were so not suited to each other, but that nobody had ever been so close to Blair. Or to Jim.
Despair suddenly overwhelmed him and he couldn't stop the flood of tears that ran down his face. He buried his face in his arms and sobbed. Oh, Jim. Please find me. I'm so cold and I'm so empty without you! And then he could think rationally no longer for the heartbreaking sobs that wracked his body so overwhelmed his soul and mind that his entire being was filled with the pain of being separated from his soul mate. Time and space and all reality ceased to exist for the young Guide and he floated alone and aimless in his misery.
Jim had spent half the night driving around Cascade searching for Blair. Searching, listening, smelling, using all five of his senses in every way possible, looking for his friend. He couldn't bear to return to the empty loft. With every room, every corner a reminder, a memory of his guide.
He thought about how Blair had slowly but surely transformed the stark, bare loft into a warm home after he'd moved in. Like a forest in the spring, the loft had become a sanctuary of color and comfort. Painted walls, tasteful colorful pictures and tapestries, wooden shelves filled with books and artifacts, plants, pillows. The place was full of the personality of the happy-go-lucky yet deeply sensitive Blair Sandburg. It would never again be 'Jim's house'. Now and forever it was 'Jim and Blair's home'.
Finally, in exhaustion, he went home. Not thinking what he was doing, Jim found himself in Blair's room. His eyes roaming the walls, the shelves. Brainy books that only an anthropologist could love or understand. Strange figures and pottery. Evidence of obscure civilizations. Foreign, yet beautiful wall hangings. And the little things that made Blair, 'Blair'. His basketball gear and boxing memorabilia. Who would've thought that an academic pacifist would love contact sports? His coffee mugs. Jim almost laughed. For a health food junkie, the kid sure loved his coffee.
Jim leaned his head back against the wall, struggling with his emotions. Blair had been in trouble before but they always had a trail to follow. This trail was seemingly dead. And Jim didn't know what to do.
When his captors first started asking Blair about Sentinels, he was scared because he thought they knew about Jim. But he soon realized that they only wanted his knowledge about Sentinels in general.
They knew all about Burton's book and his own research. Nothing had been printed, as of yet, but it seemed that rumors of Blair's Sentinel research had made the X-Files circuit along with Atlantis and Conspiracy Theories. And these guys believed it! All of it! Blair wondered if they had tickets to ride the Hale-Bopp Comet. 'They' had not yet made the connection between Blair and Jim. Sandburg was relieved. Still plenty scared, though.
Scared, cold and hungry. He hated to be cold. And that brought a fresh rush of 'Jim' memories. Jim needed the loft to be kept cool. Helped 'turn down' his sense of touch. That's why Blair usually dressed in layers. It was a 'cool' look, too. There were plenty of blankets and afghans at home, though. Tender memories of Jim throwing an extra blanket on him when he was on the edge of sleep overwhelmed Blair and he gave in once again to the rush of tears and despair as he wrapped his arms around his knees in an attempt to hold in his body heat. Finally, exhausted by his emotions, Blair gave in to sleep and dreamed of having morning coffee with Jim.
Blair looked around the room he had been taken to. Just a room. White walls. White ceiling. Bare linoleum floor. White. Nice change from grey brick and concrete. Blinding fluorescent lights. He had been tied to a chair like the ones found in hospital waiting rooms. He snorted. Spent enough time in these to know. Waiting for Jim to have a bullet removed, a hole patched, Simon, Joel......
He stopped that flow of thought before he started to cry. Plenty of opportunity for that later when he was alone in his cold concrete room.
Consistent with the hospital theme, his hands and ankles were bound to the chair with hospital restraints. Whoever invented those suckers sure knew what he was doing. Blair doubted that even Houdini could get out of them.
The only other object in the room was a table with a TV and VCR. Blair was once again flanked by the Lurch Twins. Mr. Big (what Blair had finally taken to calling the Marine poster boy) walked into the room. He stepped over to stand beside the table to face Blair. "Mr. Sandburg," he began.
"Say, why don't you tell me your name? It'd be much better than what anything else I've been inspired to call you?"
Lurch backhanded him, hurting the already bruised cheek.
"You don't need to know my name, Mr. Sandburg."
"Then how about the name of whatever whacked out terrorist guerilla group that you work for. I mean I'm a pretty tolerant and accepting guy. I accept the basic doctrinal beliefs of most groups of people no matter how strange and bizarre they may..."
Lurch slammed a fist into his ribs. Blair was bent over as far as the restraints would allow him, gasping for breath. Ow. Ow. Hate the rib thing. Amazing the number of things that injured ribs handicapped you from doing. Running, breathing.
Mr. Big took a 'patient' breath. "Mr. Sandburg." he paused, daring Blair to speak again. Honestly, he would have but he was just too busy trying to breathe. Later, maybe. Mr. Big continued. "You have been very stubborn in answering our questions. We feel we've been more than patient."
Blair gasped and forced hoarse, breathless words past his parched throat Really gonna have to do something about the water situation. he thought. "You already know about my research. Why keep me here any longer?"
"We only know the rumors of your research. You haven't submitted any papers or research for publication. We need -- no, we want for you to tell us about all of your research."
"Sorry man, no can do. You see, my thesis research is controversial at best. To submit any info early would invalidate..." Mr. Big stepped up to Blair and leaned into his face and spoke quietly. Blair involuntarily leaned back, thinking that the guy must have gone to the same intimidation class as Jim.
"Perhaps you resist because you think you have a chance of being rescued. That you may escape. Hope of continuing your... life?" Blair swallowed nervously at the implied threat, but remained silent.
"Perhaps you need convincing, Mr. Sandburg, that you have no 'life' to return to." He walked back to the table. "See what happens to obstacles to anything in our way." He flipped on the TV.
Blair's heart was racing. He was really creaped out. What was this guy talking about? What did they do? Mr. Big pushed the VCR play button.
It was a tape of Jim. He was walking down the sidewalk in town at night. "Jim!" Blair spoke his name, shocked. "What's going on?" Blair watched helplessly, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He was frozen. Even if he hadn't been restrained, he couldn't have moved.
Suddenly, on the screen before him, two guys in black jumped out of the shadows and shot Jim, twice each, in the chest. Blair jumped and screamed, "No!" The shadows thankfully hid the look on Jim's face as he fell to the ground, gasping for breath, hand to his chest.
Blair was suddenly aware that he was screaming and crying, "No, Jim! No!" over and over again. Mr. Big stopped his hysterical outburst when he once again stepped in front of Blair and leaned directly into his face. Straining at his bonds, Blair turned shocked, anguished eyes up to meet those of Mr. Big. "Why?" he whispered hoarsely. Then he screamed, "Why? Why him? You have me! Why him?"
"Now we have removed any reason for you to resist us, Mr. Sandburg. With your friend and partner dead, all hope of rejoining your life is gone. Your other friends will search for you, but not as tenacious as this one. He would never give up. The others will, eventually. And, Mr. Sandburg, you are far away from home. All trails to you have ended. Your friends will stop. You will never be 'found'." He straightened up, and stepped back. He waited for his words to sink in. "Now," he spoke very quietly, "tell me what we want to know."
Blair would never tell them. They had killed Jim, his friend, his brother. They had cut Blair's heart from his chest. If Jim was dead then his secret was all Blair had left of him and he would never tell them. The Sentinel was not just a supernatural legend. The Sentinel was Jim Ellison and Blair would protect him. Even in death.
Back in his cell, the only thing Blair felt was cold. It was almost a welcome sensation because it was familiar. It was inside him as well as outside.
Jim was dead. Murdered. The sociopaths that had abducted him had shown him the tape of Jim's murder. No doubt worried about his missing Guide, his defenses down, Jim hadn't seen the ambush coming. Gunned down in cold blood. Alone. Without Blair. Without his Guide, his partner.
The kidnappers had hoped to use this to lower Blair's resistence to their interrogations. Their torture. The image of Jim's death had been like a razor sharp knife in his heart. But it made him numb. Uncaring. Dazed. As though drugged. He felt pain, but it meant nothing. They had continued to question and beat him, but he had closed in on himself. Like an autistic child. Like a Sentinel zoned.
They had destroyed his soul. Had ripped away the other half of him. He and Jim were more than friends and partners. They were more. More than anyone could understand. They were as two parts of one person. One could not continue in life without the other. Blair's soul mate was gone. Blair didn't care about anything else. All he wanted now was for his own life to end so he could once again be with his Sentinel.
Jim had spent the day at the University. Blair's office and the classrooms he taught his classes in had already been searched and nothing found. But maybe someone had been seen around campus asking about Sandburg. Someone who didn't quite track. He finally hit paydirt. Someone had been seen around the Anthropology Department. Talking, asking questions about Blair and his Sentinel studies. Hanging around during the days and times of Blair's class times and office hours. A tall, white man. Around Simon's height and build. Around mid forties. Light brown hair cut in a military buzz. Grey eyes. Definitely stood out on campus. People said he gave off "weird vibes". He had also been in the library on the computer. Got irate when he couldn't find any of Sandburg's stuff on record.
Blair might have noticed him hanging around. He'd developed a sixth sense about those things since working with Jim. But if he'd been busy and preoccupied, as he so often was, it might not have registered.
Jim had a couple of the kids come down to the PD and help put together a composite sketch of the guy's face. They were glad to help. Seems everyone liked "Mr. Sandburg" and they were all worried about him. Worried. Jim was so beyond worried he was numb. Had to be. If he let go, he would crash.
The crash finally came. Major Crimes had gotten a lead on the man who had been asking around about Sandburg. Ex-Marine named Frank Jaffee. He had gotten a dishonorable discharge ten years before. The guy was a real mess. Dangerous and crazy. He had been accused of using unnecessary violence on the men under him. When investigated, he was found to be involved in a white supremist group as well as psychic spiritualist groups. Simon ordered Jim to go home while Brown and Rafe dug some more on the guy to try to find a location on Jaffee or the groups he was involved in.
" I know better than to tell you to get some sleep. Just go home and shower and eat. Come back in two hours. O.K.? I'll call you if we find anything before you get back."
So he went back to the loft and showered and changed into clean clothes. As he was carrying his dirty clothes down to the laundry room, he paused outside of Sandburg's room. As he stood in the open doorway, he saw dirty clothes lying around and decided to do Blair's laundry as well. An optimistic thought. The kid's gonna need clean clothes when he gets home. He pushed away the following thought that the kid probably wasn't going to feel much like doing laundry right away. Jim found himself sitting on the side of Blair's bed, holding a soft flannel shirt in his hand. He brought it up to his face and inhaled Blair's scent. His brittle control broke and he suddenly burst into tears. The loneliness that had filled him the last several days washed over him and he sobbed Blair's name over and over as he cried into the brown flannel, one of Blair's favorites. Caught up in the scent of his brother and surrounded by his presence, he let go of his emotions and 'reached out' for Blair.
Frank Jaffee was mad. No, he was furious. And when Jaffee got mad, other people paid. First, Sandburg was uncooperative. Then he got defiant. Then they had shown him the tape of his partner's faked murder. He had hoped that Sandburg would give up and tell them his fascinating research on the legendary Sentinels. But he had shut down. Emotionally. He had become unresponsive. A vegetable. He had lain unresponsive in his cell ever since he had seen the tape. Refusing even to drink the water that had been left for him.
Jaffee realized that he had made a mistake in staging Ellison's death. Instead of removing an obstacle, he had destroyed the man's reason for living. Now Sandburg was useless. In spite of what Jaffee had told him, he knew they would eventually be found. He would have liked to have grabbed Ellison, too. To have used him as leverage against Sandburg for his knowledge. But time was short and Ellison was too hard to get close to. And because of Sandburg's abduction, their house was under twenty-four hour protection.
Yes, Jaffee was mad. And he figured he might as well try to beat the information out of Sandburg one more time before disposing of him.
Blair was desperate. Yesterday he didn't care. Jim was dead. The image of Jim being gunned down in cold blood, alone and without his Guide, his friend, was burned into Blair's memory. It still left him feeling cold and terror-filled. It had been like a razor sharp knife. Had cut the heart from Blair. But it had left him numb, uncaring. Dazed, as though drugged. He felt pain, but it meant nothing and he had closed in on himself. He thought that he would never again see Jim's rare brilliant smile. Never again feel Jim's hand ruffle his long hair in affection. Never hear him ask, 'You okay, Chief?' That realization had made Blair give up. All his emotional walls came slamming down. He was in a box. His mind was in lockdown.
But Blair Sandburg's mind refused to stay shut down. And during his coma-like sleep that night, he felt Jim 'reaching' for him. The shock of feeling Jim's 'presence' woke him up like an electric current coursing through him and left him breathless. Jim! It was him! Using all of his self discipline to not totally freak out, Blair forced himself to calm down. He lay back down, closed his eyes and breathed deep, calming breaths. He filled his mind and heart with thoughts and memories of Jim. And he 'reached' back out for his Sentinel. Blair didn't really know if what he felt was real or a dream. He didn't really care at the moment. It was real enough and he settled into the warmth of it. Blair slept well the rest of the night and dreamed that he was back home.
The next morning, Blair woke up mad. He didn't think that Jim was dead. The more he thought about the tape, the more it bugged him. It was fake. He knew it was fake. He had been so scared and cold and hungry and thirsty and freaked out when he watched it that he wasn't thinking straight.
Besides, he was sure that last night hadn't been a dream. Jim was alive and still looking for him. He was elated. Jim was alive! Jim was looking for him! And Mr. Big still hadn't make the Sentinel connection to Jim. Jim was safe!
Then Blair got scared. Mr. Big also knew that Jim was alive and looking for Blair. For some reason, he wouldn't go after Jim. But Blair was now a liability. And he didn't think Mr. Big would hang onto him for much longer. And he sure wouldn't be letting him free.
Blair figured they would try one last time to get information from him. The other tactics hadn't worked. Fear, starvation, intimidation, and all those other fun, creative things. So now they would resort to old fashioned, brute violence. Sure, they had pounded on him a little already. But that had mostly been to get his attention or to make a point. This time it would be the real thing. And the main objective would no longer be to gain information, but satisfaction.
Blair tried to make light of his anticipated beating. Beating? Heck, I can handle that! Been there, got that T-shirt! If they think that a short, smart, long-haired, mouthy, Jewish kid with earrings can go through life without a few beatings, they're seriously deluded! He sat on the cold floor and fought to keep his fear from washing over him like an icy tidal wave. His breathing exercises were useless here. So he concentrated on Jim. His friend. His buddy. His Sentinel. His Blessed Protector. The brother of his heart. And sometimes, his father. Jim was always there. He wasn't full of mouthy sentiments and sweet nothings. Jim showed his love in the solid and concrete. Stuff that mattered. He was the only solid rock in Blair's life. Jim meant safety and stability. Jim was home. Forget the adage that home is where the heart is. Home is where Jim is because Jim was Blair Sandburg's heart.
Blair's thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and the Lurch Brothers walked in. Here we go again. Up yours guys. Not without a fight. He jumped up whoa, who make the walls move? Maybe three days without food had something to do with it and tried to run to the opposite side of the room. They blocked him in easily and moved in on him. He knew he couldn't get away. He was just biding his time by wasting as much of theirs as possible. Besides, he was now operating purely on an adrenaline surge and fighting back was highly satisfying. They finally got a grip on him, but not before he got in a few well-placed blows of his own, earning himself more bruises. The Lurches dragged him kicking and screaming all the way to Jaffee.
Sandburg was back in the restraints, but it took them much longer to get them on him. Uncooperative? I'll give you uncooperative! He got a few more bruises for his fight, but so did the Lurch Twins. Made them mad and he paid dearly after they got the restraints on. Oh, yeah, he knew what broken ribs felt like. Got a real nice collection going. He was thinking of adding them to Jim's.
Blair was scared, but Blair was elated and he was mad. And Jim was coming! He knew it! And these guys were gonna get nothing from him but a whole lotta attitude! Blair could do attitude! Gave it to Jim and Simon all the time. He just loved to see their stone rock jaws grind when he did!
The whole time the Lurches were punching on him, he was thinking about Jim and about Rocky Balboa. Naomi just hated it, but Blair had loved Rocky! Especially when Clubber Lang was pounding him to a pulp in the last fight and Rocky would not go down. Just kept getting in Clubber's face and saying, "Ain't so bad!" That's just what Blair was doing and he would not shut up! Finally, Mr. Big ordered him gagged before he gave him a headache. And they got the gag on him, but not before he bit and drew blood from the one who was unlucky enough to get to put it on him.
Blair's ears were starting to ring and the painkilling effect of his adrenaline rush was diminishing now that he couldn't run his mouth. He was just thinking how Jim would be proud of him and trying not to laugh because it made his ribs hurt, when he heard the sound of a gun cocking behind him and felt the cold barrel against the back of his head. Guess the brute violence wasn't very satisfying after all. Blair knew it was all over then. The game could go no further. He said a silent goodbye to Jim then a prayer that his partner wouldn't destroy himself with grief and guilt over Blair's death.
Suddenly he heard the most beautiful words in the world. "Cascade P.D.! Freeze!", just as Jim Ellison, Supercop, came crashing through the door with his gun in hand, which was pointed right at Mr. Big. Joel Taggart and Megan Connor were right behind Jim and then beside him, with their guns trained on the Lurch Twins.
"Drop it, Jaffee!" Jim said, standing a few feet away from them, in his Supercop stance, his eyes cold, deadly steel, his gaze and his gun never wavering from his target. Blair loved to see Jim when he did that. It was so cool! "So far you're just guilty of kidnapping and assault and being generally strange. Murder in front of half a dozen witness won't look so good on your resume. Drop it."
Mr. Big thought about it a couple of seconds. Blair was holding his breath and trying to calm his heartbeat, knowing that Jim would be trying not to listen to it for fear that he would zone.
Mr. Big put down the gun and suddenly the room was full of cops. They were all over Big and the Lurches, cuffing and Mirandaizing. Jim, of course, was beside Blair, cutting his restraints and the gag. As soon as the restraints were no longer holding him in place, Blair slumped forward, and would have fallen to the floor had Jim not caught him. Mindful of any possible cracked or broken ribs, he carefully lowered Blair to the floor.
"Jim, Buddy... good to see you, man!" He spoke as Jim checked his injuries. "I knew you were coming-ow! Watch the ribs!"
"Got a few broken ones here, Chief. We're gonna have to put up a shelf for your collection."
Blair started to laugh then stopped as he gasped back the pain from his ribs. "That's just what I was telling the Lurch Twins. Thought we could put ours together, you know? Jim, how'd you find me?"
"Jaffee was asking all over campus about you. Do you think a hard case like him could go unnoticed at the U?"
"I dunno, Jim. He looks like some of your old army buddies."
"I get strange looks when I'm on campus, Blair."
"Really? Huh! I must be getting desensitized to hard cases. Who is this guy, Jim? Why'd he want my research?"
"Jaffee is part of a group who recruits and 'collects' people who are experts about and possess supernatural abilities to use as spies and soldiers. They believe in Sentinels," he said worriedly.
Blair lifted his hand and laid it on Jim's arm, bringing Jim's eyes back to meet his own. He looked at Jim pointedly. "Yeah, but they can't find any. These guys are so way out there," he smiled.
Jim looked at Blair for a moment then reached his hand out and ruffled Blair's curls.
Blair said in a choked voice, "Jim, you have no idea how much I needed you to do that."
Two days at the hospital, then home. Blair had told Jim that he'd had all he could stand of hospital 'gear' and wanted to go home. Jim wanted Blair home, too. He knew that Blair would have to deal with the Post Traumatic Stress stuff. After all, he'd been held hostage, interrogated and tortured for four days. But he needed to do it at home. So for two days, Blair behaved himself and cooperated with all the hospital staff, hoping for an early release.
The kid looked like he'd been run over by a truck. Jim guessed the Lurch Twins were close enough. Broken ribs, bruises on his wrists and ankles from the restraints. His face had a colorful variety of cuts and bruises. He'd have to wear sunglasses for a month to hide his black eyes. He'd been dehydrated and starved. The doctor had had him on an I.V. for the first twelve hours, then was slowly letting him eat solid food again. His algae shake was probably one of the few things he could have right now.
Jim only left Blair to do necessary stuff-file police reports, go to the bathroom, etc. He even ate and slept beside Blair. He knew the kid would be having nightmares and he wanted to be able to pull him out of them as quickly as possible. So, he slept in the chair beside Blair's bed with his hand resting on Blair's head or arm, letting his Guide know he was there, even in sleep.
Jim had walked down the hallway to get a cup of coffee from the vending machine. He kept his Sentinel hearing tuned into Blair's heartbeat. The cup was almost full of extra strong translation bitter coffee when he suddenly heard Blair's heartbeat spike. Leaving the coffee in the machine, he ran down the hallway toward his guide's room. As he swung the door open he heard Blair screaming, "No! No, Jim! Look out! Jim!" Jim ran to the bedside and grabbed his shoulders in a firm grip.
"Blair! Wake up! Wake up, Chief! It's Jim!" In a quiet, urgent voice. "I'm here, buddy. I'm okay."
Blair woke up in mid-scream, sitting up, gasping for breath. "Jim..." He swallowed and squeezed Jim's elbows, the Sentinel's hands still gripping his shoulders. "Jim... oh man. I thought... I thought you were dead!" He burst into tears as the words rushed from him "They said you were dead. Showed me a tape of your murder. I watched you die!" He stopped suddenly and grabbed Jim and pulled him desperately into a hug.
"It's okay, Chief." Jim talked quietly as he rubbed soothing patterns over his friend's back. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. We're okay, Blair. We're okay."
They sat quietly, Blair surrounded by the safe force that was the arms of Jim Ellison, his Sentinel. His brother.
Blair spoke quietly, his voice full of pain. "Jim, I was really scared in there with Jaffee and his goons. I knew they planned to kill me. But when I saw you die on that tape, I didn't care anymore. I wanted to die. I didn't think I could go on living without you. I didn't even want to try."
Jim struggled with his own emotions. He tightened his arms around his young friend. "Chief." He paused, left breathless by his partner's words. "Chief, I... I don't think I deserve that."
Blair didn't move, but his voice was clearer, more controlled. "Jim, don't say that, man. I love you. You're my best friend. My Sentinel. I'm your Guide. We belong together. This is how it's supposed to be."
Jim didn't trust his voice, so he just held onto Blair. He thought about this 'little brother' he held to his chest. This amazing young man whom he was so proud of.
In spite of their differences, they had been drawn to each other almost from the beginning, not understanding or barely even noticing it. They had fallen naturally, almost effortlessly into enjoying each other's company. Almost everyone who came in contact with Blair was drawn to him, but Blair had given of himself so easily to Jim that he'd become such a part of the Sentinel's life before he was even aware of it. By then, it was too late to change. There was no going back. Nor did he want to. Blair had softened and filled Jim Ellison's heart. If Blair ever left (he couldn't bring himself to even think of the word 'died'), Jim knew his heart would not heal from the damage caused by the raw, bleeding hole that would be left by the absence of Blair Sandburg.
Jim took his partner home after two days. Blair chattered happily as Jim helped him into the truck. Normally Blair would have protested Jim's fussing, but he was still pretty sore and weak, so he was glad for the help.
"All I could think of while I was missing, was being home. I kept dreaming about having coffee with you at the loft and remembering when we went to the movies last month and sleeping in my own bed and watching T.V. with you..."
Jim grinned at Blair's cheerful monologue. "Well Chief, you'll probably be tired of being home long before you're well enough to get out."
"No way, Jim. I'll never get tired of home." He flashed Jim a brilliant Sandburg smile. "Not as long as you're there, anyway."
Jim ruffled Blair's curls before he shut the door.
That first night at home, Jim slept in Blair's room. He laid his pillow and sleeping bag on the floor beside the bed. Jim knew Blair would have to deal with nightmares. Blair knew it too, and intended to face them. But this first night, at least, Jim wanted Blair to sleep in peace, knowing that the Sentinel would protect his dreams. Of course, Blair protested.
"Jim. You don't have to stay in my room, man. I'm okay. You don't have to lose your sleep worrying about me."
"Chief, I know you had nightmares in the hospital. I'll sleep better if I'm here to help you through tonight. I'm your 'Blessed Protector. So let me help you, okay?"
Blair looked at him through eyes that were both scared and embarrassed. Wanting Jim there, but feeling foolish to need him.
"Just for tonight?" Jim implored.
Blair tried not to let the obvious relief show in his face as he grinned and scooted over to make room for his 'big brother'. "Oh goody! Pajama party! Didja bring the dip?"
Jim sat down next to Blair. "Forgot the dip. Wanna play phone pranks?"
"Yeah!" Blair snickered. "Let's call Simon!"
Jim roared with laughter. "No way! I value my life more than that. How about we call Connor instead? Teach her some more about 'American culture'."
The image of Megan on the phone listening to someone asking if her refrigerator was running was too funny. Blair almost fell out of bed laughing.
Blair flashed a smile at Jim and asked, amazed, "Did you do stuff like that when you were a kid?"
"Are you kidding? My Dad would have killed me if I'd pulled phone pranks," he said, then turned serious. "As for sleepovers, you have to have a parent around for that."
They were silent for a moment. Blair was sad to see that the carefree moment dampened by Jim's unhappy memory. Jim was the one whose childhood should have been happy. A Dad and a brother, a house, the same school and neighborhood all his life. But his Dad had been a workaholic with screwed up priorities. Blair wondered if Jim would have been more open and free with himself if his Dad had hugged him and said, "I love you." once in awhile.
In his melancholy thoughts, he unconsciously laid his head on his partner's shoulder.
The gesture startled the Sentinel out of his own thoughts. Putting his arm around the younger man's shoulders, he said, "C'mon, Chief. Let's get some sleep. Okay?"
Blair looked at him with fear filled eyes. Jim's heart broke when he saw the fear and he pulled Blair into a soft, warm hug. "I'll be right here, little brother. All night long. Not going anywhere."
Blair rested in Jim's embrace until his breathing and emotions were again under control. "I feel so stupid and out of control! I hate being like this! I'm a regular basket case!" He rubbed angrily at the tears he hadn't realized were running down his face.
Jim pushed him gently down on his pillow. "It's just reaction, Chief. It's normal," he said. He laid his hand on Blair's arm and let it rest there. "It's PTS stuff and it's normal. It'll be tough, but we'll do this together. Remember, I've been there myself. I understand." He moved his hand to lightly stroke Blair's curls, lulling his guide to sleep. He continued to speak in a soft voice. "Your protector is here, Blair. Just go to sleep and I'll be on guard all night long."
Blair's breathing deepened and Jim knew he was finally asleep. He moved carefully to the floor, and drifted off to sleep. Several times, he awoke at the first sign of distress in Blair's sleep, waking the young man from his dream demons. Blair woke suddenly, but quietly, not quite in the grip of the dream. His brain quickly returning him to reality; he easily slipped back into sleep, knowing that Jim was standing guard.
Finally, Blair slipped into the deep, dreamless sleep his body and mind needed so badly. Focused on his Guide's heartbeat, the Sentinel followed and slept soundly, his hand still on Blair's arm.
They were going to be okay. His Guide was home.
The End
Hoped you liked it! I enjoyed writing it. This was actually the first story I wrote. I write when I'm on the road (which is a lot) in notebooks, then transfer my stuff to the computer, so it takes me a little longer. But I think better in longhand. Probably because I'm old and uncomfortable with computers. Java