Time and Again
Prologue to Chapter 6
by M-n-M
© July 1997
Prologue
Spring Break, 3/21
"It's all yours, Mr. Sandburg." Dr. Hathaway said with a flourish. "Dr. Osaka had to fly back to Japan for a family emergency, and you came highly recommended to take over for her. You're now officially helming the project."
Blair sat perched on the conference table with a smile on his face. Dr. Hathaway was putting him in charge of the Cultural Rituals and Taboos Exhibit. It was an awesome responsibility and would require weeks-if not months-of work, but Blair was up to the task. He relished the challenge.
"The artifacts have been arriving for some time now, and are being stored in the basement of the exhibit hall," Dr. Hathaway continued, checking off something in his notebook.
"I'll go down there right now and take a look at what we have; get myself up to speed on what Dr. Osaka was doing," Blair replied.
"Yes, do so," Dr. Hathaway agreed. "Dr. Osaka had begun marking placement for the artifacts, and designing a rough draft exhibit layout. You'll want to go over those; as well as the all the paperwork--just to acquaint yourself. Also, even though we've received a large number of the pieces, you'll probably still be inundated with artifacts. Some will be appropriate to the exhibit and others will not. It will be up to you to decide which pieces will be in the show."
Blair nodded. He expected that. Dr. Hathaway's artifact collection had a notoriety all its own. It had taken the professor many years to establish his collection, and Sandburg knew the exhibit would draw a big crowd. He just hoped that the exhibit wouldn't be diminished by its controversy.
The professor was speaking again. "You can use the people that Dr. Osaka had been using, or you may want to form a small team of individuals of your own. The choice is yours. The grand opening is set for two months from now, but it will likely require all that time to set up the exhibit. All the artifacts should be in in the next week or so--the ones that have been delayed were due to red tape."
"All right, Dr. H. I have a couple of people in mind already. I'll give them a call and we'll get started." Blair hopped down to the floor.
"Good. Very good. I knew you were the perfect man for the job, Sandburg." Dr. Hathaway rubbed his hands together. "I'll be overseeing the project and if you have any questions, feel free to contact me. I leave everything in your capable hands."
"Thanks, Dr. H., for this wonderful opportunity." Blair walked with Dr. Hathaway to the door.
"No. Thank you, Mr. Sandburg. The Cultural Rituals and Taboos Exhibit is going to be a smashing success. I can feel it in my bones." The professor slapped Blair on the back and strode down the hall. Blair smiled as he saw the professor disappear down around the corner.
Blair rubbed his hands in anticipation. Finally a project he could sink his teeth into. He hadn't been this excited since he'd started the sentinel project. Of course, nothing could top meeting Jim. Blair allowed himself to be momentarily distracted. Jim. He still couldn't believe his good fortune. Their friendship had been a bonus, too. It was almost like it was written in the stars. They worked so well together that sometimes it scared Blair. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, though. With thoughts of Sentinels and artifacts dancing in his head, he practically skipped toward the elevator that would take him to the treasures from around the world.
Whistling, he exited the elevator. Looking around, he spotted two large wooden crates off to his left. Hefting the crowbar he'd picked up from his office on the way down, the young anthropologist approached the first crate. He popped the lid and rifled through the yellow straw. He grinned in excitement. It felt like Christmas.
Blair knew what it was as his hand closed on the hilt. His eyes widened as he hefted the broadsword out of the crate. Balancing the sword on the palms of his hands, he held it up to the light. The cold, hard iron lay heavy in his grip. He took hold of the handle in his right hand and clumsily swung it in a wide arc. It was too heavy and he nearly dropped it. Blair carefully laid the sword on the table. It was beautiful, but he didn't feel comfortable with it. He reached back into the crate and pulled out two large boxes. Setting the boxes next to the sword, Blair opened the top one first. Nestled in packing paper was an old English uniform.
'Redcoats,' Blair thought as he fingered the finely woven red material. The briefest of shudders coursed through him. 'Strange,' he thought, 'why should an old 18th century military uniform bother me?' Blair shook his head. Maybe he was misinterpreting his reaction. He was probably just cold. He returned his focus to the uniform. He eyed the once shiny buttons that marched like soldiers along the center. A uniform could convey many things--safety, protection, fear, tyranny.
Blair ran a hand through his hair and replaced the lid. The anthropologist pulled out the other box and opened it. He swallowed as he gazed down upon the second outfit. The green and white plaid contrasted sharply with the white paper. Blair reached in and removed the Scottish kilt. It was beautiful. He placed it against his hips and for a moment, imagined himself wearing it. He laughed to himself, ````thinking he wasn't even remotely Scottish. At least he didn't think so. Maybe. His father...Blair rolled his eyes and laid the kilt down on the table. He didn't know anything about his father so he couldn't really say he wasn't Scottish. His brow knitted as he discovered another item in the box. Blair reached in again and pulled out the swatch of plaid. It was a battle sash. He held it in his hands almost reverently. He was beginning to get the picture. The Scots fighting the Redcoats.
Frowning, Blair placed the two outfits side-by-side and pondered how he was going to place them in an exhibit that dealt with cultural rituals and taboos. He'd do a little research and create a tableau to place them into context. The young man shrugged. If he couldn't figure out how to fit them in the main exhibit, he'd just create a very small one. He could do it. Blair smiled as he repacked the clothing. He was definitely going to have fun with this.
The young teacher reached back into the crate. He was in seventh heaven for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter 1
He was floating on waves of sound; buoyed by something unseen. As if he had wings, and could fly. On some level he knew he was dreaming. Still...
Sounds of battle filled the air. Through eyes fogged by mist and smoke he could see men...men fighting. It was a sword fight... No, it was more than that. This was on a large scale--men all around him fighting, swords clashing against other swords; the sounds of men screaming as they were fatally wounded...
Monday, 3/24
The normal sounds of the police station hurt his ears this morning. Blair found himself wanting to clap his hands over them, or bury his head in a pillow. His eyes ached too, as if he'd been exposed to smoke for a long period of time. He hadn't slept well last night...had had strange dreams of sword battles. It wasn't the first time, but it had been the most vivid dream so far. He shrugged and stepped from the elevator, moving on autopilot toward Jim's desk. His partner looked up at his approach--not surprising, since he'd probably heard his heartbeat several minutes ago.
"Hey, Chief." Jim frowned as he looked at Blair. "You okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine, man. Just a little tired. What's up today?" "Paperwork for a start. Forensics sent back the report from the Hoskins case. Want to get started on it for me? I need to run down to the lab for one other report." Jim stood up and walked around his desk, thoughts already focusing on the task at hand. Blair pulled out his glasses. "Sure." He slid into the chair Jim vacated. "Oh, hey, Jim?" Jim turned back toward Blair. "Yeah?" "I need to leave around lunch-time -- I have to get over to the university. Big meeting today." "Sure, Chief, but come back afterward--we've still got work to do."
Blair moved across campus on automatic, scarcely aware of where he was going. The meeting this afternoon had gone well; Dr. Hathaway could really turn on the charm when he wanted to, and now they had the Cascade Museum of Art's curator practically falling all over himself to donate some of the Egyptian artifacts. Blair smirked to himself. Mitchell Parker thought he was pretty smooth, sitting there in the conference room spouting off about the historical value of the artifacts, and their importance, and what would happen should anything happen to them... He hadn't stood a chance against Dr. Hathaway. That man's powers of persuasion were incredible. Blair felt like he was learning from a master. Unfortunately, the meeting had also run over; now, in addition to still needing to set up separate meetings with his two targeted personnel, he was about to be late for his meeting with Jim. He sighed and picked up his pace.
"Blair!"
The anthropologist turned to see a blond-haired woman running across the quad toward him.
"Sarina." Blair smiled when the woman reached him. "You're just the person I wanted to see."
"Really?" Sarina squeaked, her green eyes lighting up.
"Uh-huh," Blair tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. The sunlight caught his exposed earrings and they glinted. "I need you."
Sarina's smile grew even wider. "You need me? What can I do for you?"
"I'm putting together an exhibit for Dr. Hathaway. It's a major project and I'm going to need some serious help. You're getting your Master's in anthro with a concentration in African cultures. I could certainly use you on this project. We have several crates of African artifacts and your expertise will come in handy." Blair grinned at her, doing his own bit of 'turning on the charm'. Blair continued, "This will give you a chance to exercise what you know. Think you're up to it?"
"Oh, am I ever!" On impulse, she threw her arms around Blair in a hug.
Caught by surprise, he hugged her back. "Okay, then. We'll be having a meeting in a few days. When I can arrange it." He pulled away from Sarina and checked his watch. "I've got to track down Michael and ask him to help out, as well."
Sarina smiled, happily. "Michael Patterson? Isn't he that really tall basketball player?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah. He's helped me out on an anthro project before. He's really great to work with. You two will get along great."
"Sounds good."
"Well, I really gotta go. I'm late already. I've got to meet my roommate at work in a half hour. Doesn't look like it's gonna happen." Blair wasn't *too* concerned. Jim was used to him being late.
"Okay, Blair. Thanks for asking me to help you. I can't wait to get started."
"Great! That's the attitude I was hoping for. It'll be fun, you'll see." Blair's excitement threatened to overpower them both. "I'll give you a call later, okay?"
"I'll be waiting."
Blair smiled and nodded. With a wave of his hand, he walked away. If he had turned around, Blair would have noticed Sarina watching him. Unfortunately for Sarina, his thoughts had almost immediately veered to his next target, Michael.
Blair walked into the gym and glanced into the weight room. Michael wasn't there. Shrugging, he made his way to the basketball court where a one-on-one game was in progress. He watched Michael dribble the ball and aim at the basket from the three-point line. Blair clapped as the ball swished through the basket.
"Nothing but net!" he called as he walked over to the lanky redhead.
"Hey, Blair. How's it going?" Michael nodded to his basketball partner as the anthropologist peered up at him.
Blair noticed the nod. "Oh, hey. Don't mean to interrupt, man. This shouldn't take long."
"Give us five minutes, okay, Craig?" Michael asked and the other man nodded. Michael turned to the anthropologist. "Okay, man. What's up?"
Blair quickly explained the exhibit project and asked Michael if he'd be interested in helping out.
"Sounds great! Wouldn't miss it. Just call me and let me know when you want to start."
Blair nodded. "Hopefully we can get together in the next few days. I've got Sarina Collins helping, too. "
"Oh, yeah. I've seen her around campus. I hear she really knows her African culture stuff." Michael picked up the basketball.
"She does. That's what makes her an invaluable asset to our team."
"You sound like a coach, Blair," Michael was laughing.
Blair grinned and shrugged. "Whatever works. Listen, go on and get back to your game. I should have been on the road ten minutes ago."
Michael nodded. "I'll talk to you later. See ya."
Blair was still smiling when he unlocked the Corvair. 'Now that I have my team, I can really start planning this exhibit. There is so much I have to do.' His good mood vanished when the car refused to start. He couldn't even get the engine to turn over. Damn! Had he left the lights on again? He checked the switch. Nope...but that didn't mean that that wasn't ultimately the cause. He'd done it a couple of times in the recent past, and it had probably caught up with him. Blair sighed as he headed for the bus stop. Maybe Jim would jump him...jump the car, yeah, that's what he meant...after work tonight. The downtown bus arrived just a few minutes later, and Blair climbed aboard. He pondered over the exhibit all the way back to the police station. He hoped that Jim wouldn't be too angry with his tardy partner.
His fears over being late were unrealized when he entered the station and found his partner at his desk, absorbed in whatever he was reading on the computer.
Jim looked up from the computer screen with a frown. "This case is getting on my nerves, Chief. Do you think you could help me out here? I need to see if these files coordinate with anything in the Central Database. And the damn thing won't let me in..." Jim snarled the last few words at the screen, and Blair bit back a grin. He nodded and glanced down at his partner. "Easy, man. Don't take out your frustrations on helpless silicon. Move over, let me see what I can do." He gestured Jim out of his chair, and the bigger man slid out.
Jim moved to stand behind Sandburg, and watched in awe as the younger man's fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in commands and codes, calling up the information needed. "I hate computers," he muttered as he shifted a little closer to read the screen. Too, if he were being truly honest with himself he decided, he wasn't moving closer just to read the screen. He'd become aware of a growing need to surround himself with the heat and scent of his Guide; felt a rising desire to test for himself if Blair's lips tasted as good as they looked.
Blair stifled a chuckle at Jim's words, figuring it wouldn't add anything to the other man's mood.
The two men spent the better part of the next two hours huddled around Jim's computer, reading the cross-indexed computer files. Blair felt like his fingers were beginning to cramp up from switching back and forth between files so often.
The door to the office across from Jim's desk opened up, and Simon walked out, carrying his coat. Both his best detective and his Guide-turned-partner had their heads bent over the computer, obviously intent on whatever they were reading. Simon stopped in front of Ellison's desk. "Any progress?" Jim looked up from the computer file he was studying. "Actually, Sir, we may have a lead," Jim replied. "The body we discovered yesterday can be linked with the bank president who disappeared two weeks ago. It seems the two men had a joint real estate venture that turned sour."
Simon smiled broadly. "Good work, you two." Blair clicked on the print option, and the printer next to Jim's desk began whirring noisily. Jim winced. "God, I wish that thing was quieter. What're you printing, Chief?" He leaned back in toward the screen, trying to ignore his reaction to the scent from Blair's hair. He needed to have all of his attention focused on the project at hand, not on thoughts about his Guide. "I found a file on the Sunshineland real estate project. Looks like the guy's been brought up on charges of fraud in the past...it's cross-filed with another real-estate scam, under a different name. That one was down in San Jose, California. Went under about a year ago." Jim pulled the report off the printer, and glanced through it. "It looks like we have a motive, Simon. And a murder suspect."
Simon nodded. "I hope so. The mayor is starting to put pressure on me to get this thing solved." "Doesn't this mean that it is almost solved, though? I mean, like, if you have the suspect and motive, can't you just go get him?" Blair asked. He was hoping that Jim wouldn't need him so much in the next few weeks. The exhibit was going to be a pretty demanding job. "We know who the suspect is, Chief, but we have to find him before we can arrest him," Jim replied, reaching around his partner to place the file and report on his desk. He yawned and stretched his body up, joints popping and creaking as he did so. "God, I'm ready to call it quits for today." Jim stretched again and reached for his coat. "You ready, Sandburg?" Blair nodded absently as he closed the files in the computer and backed out of the system.
Simon checked his watch. "Guess I'll call it a day, too," he said. "It's nearly seven o'clock." He headed for the door. "Make sure you keep me informed, Jim. Let me know when you're getting close, so I can let the mayor know." Jim nodded. "Good night you two. See you in the morning." "Night, Simon," Jim and Blair called together. Blair shut the computer off and stood up, doing his own joint-torturing stretch. "Seven o'clock. Man, it really sucks that there's only twenty- four hours in a day. I need some thirty-six hour ones here," he grumbled as he slipped on his coat.
Jim snorted as he buttoned his coat. "You'd get to the point, Sandburg, where thirty-six wouldn't be enough. Just be grateful for what you've got." He put a hand on the small of Blair's back and gave a gentle push. "Let's go."
"Just waitin' for you, man." Blair bounced alongside Jim to the elevator, and his partner found himself wondering where the younger man got all his energy. The kid never seemed to tire. "That was pretty good work," Blair continued as they waited for the elevator to the parking garage level. "What made you think that there was a connection between the murder and the bank president?" The elevator pinged its arrival, and the two men entered. Blair pushed the button for garage level, and watched Jim.
"Well, like I told Simon, there's the motive--although I'm still not sure entirely about *where* the connection is. I know they were real estate partners...and that some of the deals went sour. But without the land titles to prove it..." Jim's voice drifted off, and Blair glanced at his friend to see the older man's face drawn in contemplation. He smiled--he was very familiar with the 'detective look', as he called it. Usually meant Jim was concentrating on something. Of course, the down side to that was the possibility of a zone out...
"Jim. Hey, Jim. With me, buddy?"
"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Just following my thoughts around." The door to the elevator opened, and the two men exited, following the corridor around to the entrance to the garage. "Couldn't have done it without you, Chief," the Sentinel continued. "I can handle someone staring me down with a .45, but put a computer in front of me..." he broke off, and both men laughed. Jim wasn't completely computer-impaired, but it was close.
They were still laughing when they reached the truck, although Jim's chuckles were rapidly turning into yawns that became larger and more frequent as seconds passed. He unlocked Blair's side, then moved around to get in himself. "Hey, where's the Corvair?" Jim looked around, suddenly noticing that Blair was getting in with him.
His partner grinned sheepishly. "I took the bus this afternoon--it wouldn't start again. Guess I need a new battery."
Jim rolled his eyes, but left the subject alone. "Hey," Blair turned to his partner as the truck began to move. "Will you drop me at the university? I need to do a few things." Ellison frowned and glanced at Blair before returning his gaze to the road. "Isn't it a little late, Chief? Can't whatever it is you have to do wait 'til morning?" "No. It's really important I get going on this project." Jim yawned again, feeling the pull on his jaw with that one. It had *really* been a long day. "What project?" "Oh, man." The excitement in Blair's voice was evident. "I'm in charge of this major exhibit that Rainier is sponsoring. It's going to be so cool. The Mayan pieces alone are spectacular. There was this really neat..." The detective yawned again and tuned out the lecture. He drove to the university feeling totally exhausted. Blair chattered on, unaware that his friend was no longer paying attention. He was so excited about the exhibit that he didn't notice how quiet Jim had gotten. Jim pulled up in front of the anthropology building. "Call me when you're ready and I'll come pick you up," he said, wearily. Blair got out of the truck. "Don't worry about it, man. I'll just stay in my office. Probably won't get much sleep, anyway. I've got a lot to do." To himself he added, 'and maybe I can keep the dream away.' "Sandburg, I'll come pick you up."
Blair noticed for the first time how tired Jim looked. He shook his head. "No, man. That's all right. It won't be the first time I've slept in my office." If Jim hadn't been so exhausted, he may have noticed the obsessive quality in Blair's tone and questioned it. "Fine, Chief, whatever." "I'll call you tomorrow. You can grab me a change of clothes and pick me up on the way to work." Blair started to close his door, then pulled it back open. "I'll need a jump in the morning, too." 'I'd like to jump more than your car,' rang in Jim's mind as he answered, "Sure thing, Chief. See you tomorrow."
The tired detective made a U-turn and drove toward the loft. The cab of the truck was suddenly silent and it unnerved him. Whether or not he actually listened to Blair wasn't the issue. It wasn't the words that were so important, but the melodic sound. His Guide's voice was reassuring and it often soothed him. Jim had never stopped to analyze it. He just knew that Blair's tone often had a calming effect. Pulling into his parking space, he realized that he missed the enthusiastic presence, which often filled the emptiness beside him.
Ellison walked up the stairs and entered the darkened loft, frowning as he considered Blair's decision to stay on campus all night. It shouldn't be necessary for the younger man to sleep in his office, not when he had a perfectly good bed to come home to. The idea to go after his friend briefly crossed Jim's mind, but he dismissed it. Blair wanted to stay at the university.
He climbed into bed still thinking about Blair. No other heartbeat mingled with his and for the first time in a long time, the Sentinel felt lonely. He had trouble sleeping that night.
Blair watched the truck turn around, then headed for the anthro building, and the basement workroom.
He had a lot of cataloguing and separating to do, but the crate he'd opened a couple of days ago drew him. Blair walked toward the box that contained the Scottish kilt. Opening the lid, he removed the object that had fascinated him when he first found it--and still fascinated him. Blair held the bayonet in his hands. He turned it over and over, feeling its heavy presence. The mighty weapon scared him more than the sword he'd tried to lift a few days ago, and despite his aversion it fascinated him. He never tired of studying it. The young man held it a moment longer before putting it back in the crate. 'Enough playing,' he thought. 'Time to get back to work.' Blair was soon engrossed in cataloguing the artifacts. Sometime around midnight, Blair stood and stretched. His muscles groaned loudly and his stomach growled. Searching his pockets, the graduate student came up with two crumpled dollars and some change. This would get him a soda, and maybe a candy bar. He shrugged. Not the best food in the world but it would do for now. He climbed the stairs to the first floor where the vending machines were kept. He took a bite of his chocolate bar as he came back down the stairs. As Blair neared the entrance to the storage room, he stopped and frowned. What was that? When the sound he'd heard didn't happen again, he moved into the basement. Blair set down his soda on the table and finished his candy bar. He was reaching for a Zulu headdress piece when he heard the noise again. The anthropologist froze. 'There's no one here but me,' he thought. 'It's probably the wind whistling outside. Yeah, that has to be it.' Blair tried to shake the feeling he was being watched. He picked up the headdress. No other noise was heard and Blair soon forgot about his earlier fear. He worked steadily until early morning before he fell asleep on the floor, amid the artifacts.
It was a dizzying view...panoramic in its entirety. He could see the entire battlefield... Swords clashing with other swords...bayonets being stabbed...pistols firing...men fighting each other in hand-to-hand combat. Then the view changed, became more focused, and he was seeing through the eyes of one, rather than the eyes of all; still distanced, still dreamlike... but more real...
A tall young man turned in surprise when he sensed the English soldier behind him, and gasped at the first taste of steel against his skin, when the bayonet stabbed him. He cried out with the pain as the steel pierced through him, and another young man, who'd been walking just ahead of him, rushed back toward him in a panic, closing the distance.
Images rushed past him then, swirling around him in a miasma of incoherence and ambiguity. On one level he could feel the wound from the bayonet; on another he was merely observing, watching one man cradling another...hearing the heartfelt wail as the one gave up...
Tuesday, 3/25
"*CHIEF*!"
"Huh?" Blair sat up with a start, his muscles screaming in protest as he stretched them out.
"You okay, Chief?"
Blair stared stupidly at him, trying to figure out what was going on. He looked down at himself, wondering where the hole from the bayonet wound was. There should be one, shouldn't there?
"Blair! Are you okay?" Jim's voice was heavy with concern. Blair finally processed what was going on around him, and looked at Jim with recognition.
"Yeah, man...Fine. Weird dream." 'Again,' his mind threw out. So much for frantic activity stalling it out...
"Shit, you really slept in here, didn't you?" Jim shook his head in bemusement. "It started getting late, and you didn't call, so I thought I better come over here and look for you. You weren't in your office...but the secretary in the Anthropology office said you might be down here. I brought you some clothes, Chief. You need to get cleaned up--we have to get going."
"Going?" Blair rubbed his eyes, trying to bring the world into focus.
"Going. As in 'to work'? Something that most productive, useful people engage in?"
Blair snorted. "You're funny, man. What else do you do? Juggle? You need something to go with the stand-up routine."
Jim smiled and stretched a hand out to help his partner to his feet. Blair sighed, then groaned as his back spasmed.
"No more sleeping on floors, Chief. You're getting too old for that sort of thing," the older man cautioned with a glint of humor in his eyes as he watched Blair clutch at the sore muscles.
Sandburg snorted in disgust. "Ha. Don't be giving up your day job, man, if that's the best you can do." He reached for the small over-night bag that Jim was handing toward him, and headed for the bathroom down the hall.
"I'll meet you in your office, Chief," he heard Jim call to him.
"Right. Put some coffee on?" he called back over his shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later a reasonably clean, decently clad Blair was heading toward the Expedition, partner by his side, chattering excitedly on about the depth and breadth of things covered in the exhibit. He paused to catch his breath, and shot Jim an accusatory look.
"You're not even listening to me, are you?"
Jim bit his lip to keep from smiling. "I'm listening, Chief. I just have some other things on my mind, too."
"Yeah, I guess so. Sorry. I'm just really psyched about this."
Jim sighed dramatically. "You'd never be able to tell."
Blair grinned. "Okay. So I'm a tad over-enthusiastic. Part of my natural charm, man. Hey, let's get a bagel--I'm starved." There was a pause, then Blair swore, "Shit! We forgot to jump the Corvair. Oh well, never mind, man," he added, when Jim looked like he was going to turn around. "I'll just have campus security jump it this afternoon. Come on...bagels. I'm *really* hungry this morning."
Jim swung the Expedition into the shopping center they were passing, and shook his head as he watched Blair hop out and head into the deli.
Both men were silent for the remainder of the drive, their minds focused on things they needed to get done that day for their respective projects.
Thursday, 3/27
Blair, Michael and Sarina sat around a table in the student union, drinking coffee and exchanging ideas on how to best go about setting up the exhibit. Blair tuned the two younger students out for a minute, reflecting back on that morning, getting ready for the day.
It'd been a couple of days since he'd fallen asleep on the floor of the anthro building basement, and he was still having that damned dream every night. Each night revealed a tiny new detail...he expected any day now to be able to make out what the characters in the dream were saying.
He'd woke up with a gasp that morning, sure that something had happened, but not sure what that something was. His heart was pounding so hard and so loudly he was surprised he hadn't woken Jim up yet. He really dreaded the thought that that might happen--it'd be hard to explain to his friend how he was having a bad dream...well, not so bad as repetitious. Of course, to make matters worse still, overlaid on the battlefield dream were the remnants of a very erotic dream that had starred Jim Ellison as the principal figure.
He sighed to himself as he remembered *that* dream--Jim kissing him, caressing him...going down on him. Blair stifled a small gasp and quickly turned his thoughts back to the conversation going on around him. Things could quickly get out of hand if he didn't rein in those thoughts.
"Do we have all the artifacts in yet?" Michael was asking. Blair tuned into the conversation, and answered like he'd been listening all along.
"Most, but not all. Dr. H said they'd probably all be in by the end of this week, but I expect we'll have stragglers for several weeks." Blair looked down at his open notebook, and scribbled a notation next to the note 'dates'.
"Blair, what about additional personnel to help out? I don't think the three of us are going to be enough." Sarina had her own notebook in her lap and was busily making notes as her brain processed ideas.
"Good thought, Sarina. Go ahead each of you and ask--within a reasonable amount--whoever you feel you need to help with this. We're also going to have a couple classes of declared anthro majors assisting with the grunt stuff. So keep that in mind when you're asking around." Blair made another note. "Do either of you have a problem with working nights, or pulling the occasional all-nighter?"
Michael grinned. "Do we get paid extra?"
"Who said you were getting paid to start with?" Blair smirked at him. "Consider this an outstanding opportunity to view the inner workings of academia, man."
Sarina shook her head at the two of them. "Children...back on track, please. I have a class in 20 minutes."
Blair turned his attention back to their subject. "Seriously. Will there be a problem?"
Sarina shook her head. "Not as long as it doesn't interfere with my classes. I'll let you know."
"Fine. Michael?"
"Nah--my SO's an academic. Academics understand these things." He grinned at them, and Blair smiled back, thinking, 'unlike a certain police detective...' Not that Jim was his significant other...would he ever be so lucky in this life? More than likely not. He sighed.
"Okay, that's all I have for the moment. We'll meet each morning at 9:00, right?, to go over any questions, new developments, whatever. Good for you?" Michael and Sarina both nodded, and Blair continued. "Okay--let's plan to meet in the basement meeting room tomorrow night then, and get to work. I'll see you two there."
He gave them both a thumbs up sign, and began gathering up his voluminous amounts of paperwork. The other two did the same, then moved off in separate directions.
Jim eyed the empty chair next to his desk. Blair was busy at the university and probably wouldn't be into the station at all. That had been more and more the case lately. The anthropologist was increasingly spending time on some sort of project that kept him from his duties as guide. Jim knew--and expected--Blair to have to work at the university. It just felt weird that the man he considered his partner seemed to have disappeared.
It also worried Jim that his Guide hadn't been acting himself lately. Spending the night at the university was not completely in character. He remembered back to a few days ago when he had walked into the basement of the anthropology building. Seeing Blair curled up on the floor in the throes of some nightmare evoked every protective instinct in Jim. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and soothe the troubled young man. Jim knew it wasn't the first time his friend had had nightmares.
For a couple of nights now, Ellison had awakened to the thundering heartbeat of his Guide. Not wanting to intrude, not knowing if Blair needed him, or would welcome his help had kept Jim upstairs in his bed. All he could do was clench his fists, trying to control the achy feeling in his chest at his ineptitude and wishing that Blair would confide in him.
He sighed and hoped that whatever was bothering his partner would work itself out. He rose from his chair and went to get a cup of coffee.
Tuesday, 4/1
The moon peeked out of the clouds and did nothing to illuminate the university campus. Darkness clung to everything like cotton candy to a stick.
Inside the anthropology department, the activity had not diminished with the sunlight. Oblivious to the time, Blair and his team were busy in the conference room. The industrious group had managed to sort through some of the artifacts before moving to the conference room to discuss strategy.
"All right." Blair sat cross-legged on his chair, Sarina and Michael on either side of him at the round table. "Some more crates came in today and we still have yesterday's two crates to finish up."
Sarina nodded. "We got through some of the artifacts yesterday. But there's quite a bit to go through."
"Dr. H. has quite a collection," Blair agreed. "It all needs to be separated and labeled. I know we worked on some of that this afternoon. Any of you been having any problems?"
Michael spoke up. "There are some odd pieces to the collection. I'm not sure we're going to be able to use them in the exhibit."
Blair shoved hair from his face. "Dr. H. mentioned that. I'd like to use as much as we can, though. We can discuss the questionable pieces as they come up. Do you have any artifacts in mind?"
"Yeah," Michael replied, leaning back in his chair. "The British and Scottish stuff."
"I'll take care of those pieces, Michael," Blair said, quickly. "I have an idea for that already. Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Michael raised an eyebrow.
"Blair," Sarina spoke. "Do you know how many more crates of artifacts to expect?"
Blair rifled through the papers on the table. When he didn't find his notes there, he shifted to the short stack of notebooks. "I have it here somewhere," Blair muttered. Finally, he located a piece of napkin stuffed in one of his notebooks. Blair squinted at it through his glasses. "Dr. H. said that all the crates should be in in the next week or so, except for the central piece, which'll arrive the week before the exhibit opens."
"God, Blair," Michael teased. "A napkin?"
Blair looked sheepish. "I had lunch with Dr. Hathaway yesterday to update him on our progress. It was the only thing available."
Sarina frowned. "Dr. H. hasn't been in at all in the last week. What's the deal? He *is* still overlooking the project, right?"
Blair nodded. "Yes, but he's decided to remain in an advisory capacity. We're going to do the bulk of the work."
"What else is new?" Michael said, sarcastically.
Sarina leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "Are we going to pull an all-nighter, Blair?"
The anthropologist's eyes lit up. "I was going to ask you about that. Didn't want to make any assumptions. Are you both up to it?"
Michael nodded as Sarina replied, "Sure thing, hon. Not a problem. Anything you need."
Blair heard the endearment, but his brain was too busy moving bits of information on the project around to really take note of it. He continued to search for another piece of paper. "Here it is," he announced triumphantly. "I was doodling this morning and I came up with a possible layout for the exhibit. It's a really rough one since not all of the artifacts have come in. Here, take a look." Blair spread the schematic on the table.
Each of them was so intent on the map that they failed to notice the young woman at the door.
"Mr. Sandburg?" she spoke, tentatively.
"This can't go there," Blair muttered and marked something out on the map with his red pen.
"Mr. Sandburg?" the girl spoke louder.
Michael touched Blair's arm and pointed to the doorway.
"Yes, Karen?" Blair asked.
"There's a phone call for you."
Blair waved it away. "Take a message. I'm really busy right now."
"Mr. Sandburg, I don't think he's going to like that. He sounds angry." Karen shifted, nervously.
Out of the corner of his eye, Blair saw Michael and Sarina exchange glances. His eyebrows knitted. "Who is it?"
"He says his name is Jim Ellison."
Blair looked puzzled. He inhaled sharply as he remembered. "Oh, God. What time is it? What *day* is it?"
Sarina answered his questions. "It's Tuesday. 7:30 p.m."
"Holy Shit!" Blair uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. "I'm in big trouble." Blair rushed around the table. As he left, he shouted, "No all-nighter tonight. I've gotta go."
The two remaining students exchanged a look of amazement with Karen.
Blair snatched at the receiver and breathlessly said, "I'm sorry, Jim. I completely forgot what time it was. I'm on my way."
"Make it quick, Sandburg. We're already late." Jim growled at him.
"How 'bout I meet you there?" Blair suggested.
"No way, Sandburg. Get your ass home. We'll go in my truck. Simon's expecting you. At the rate you're going, you'll forget how to get there."
Blair bristled. "Now just a minute, Jim--"
Jim cut him off. "Twenty minutes, Chief," he said tersely, before hanging up.
Blair stared at the receiver for a moment before slamming it into the cradle. 'Man,' he thought angrily to himself. 'So I forgot about Daryl's birthday party. No, that's not true,' Blair amended. 'I knew about his birthday. I just forgot to remember it was today. Still, that doesn't give Jim the right to jump all over me.' Something in Blair's stomach fluttered at the thought of those words.
Blair clamped down tightly on his runaway thoughts and raced out of the building.
The detective paced the loft and glanced at his watch impatiently. He couldn't believe that he'd had to call Sandburg. When the young man hadn't shown up at the designated time, Jim had been uncharacteristically angry. Didn't Blair have any priorities? He was supposed to be here with Jim, not off spending every waking moment at the university.
Jim had recently begun to realize that it was important to him that Blair be at his side. Ever since meeting the young man, they had rarely been separated for very long. They worked together, lived together, vacationed together. Each thought and felt differently, but they complemented each other well. They were truly friends--partners.
Now, it felt as if the balance had shifted, like the planets were out of alignment. The permanent fixture that had been Blair was practically living at the university, leaving the Sentinel feeling bereft. Jim felt as if he had only a tenuous hold on his partner. It was as if he could lose Blair at any moment and that thought scared him. He knew with unquestionable certainty that they were irrevocably linked. He didn't know when it happened or what it meant, just that he wouldn't let anyone take his Guide away from him.
The Sentinel's head snapped up at the distinctive sound of the Corvair. He estimated that it was a little over a mile away. Knowing that they were really late, he decided to meet his overdue partner in the garage.
The Corvair screeched to a halt in its usual parking spot and Blair sent a fervent prayer of thanks to the gods. For one heart-stopping moment, his car had refused to start and he feared he'd have to have the campus police jump it again. Or worse, call Jim to come pick him up. But whoever made the world go round had seen fit to let the young man get home.
Blair locked his car and was heading for the elevator when Jim stepped out of the shadows. The younger man jumped in surprise, gasping, "You scared me, man!"
"Wasn't sure you'd make it home in that heap you call a car, Chief, until I heard it a mile away. We're already late. Figured I'd just meet you out here. Let's go."
Blair chose to ignore the aspersions made against his beloved Corvair. He could hear the anger in Jim's voice and he sighed. As he followed Jim to the truck, he pondered Jim's latest flare of temper. It was so unlike the older man to lose it over something as petty as tardiness, especially when it was more a habit than an exception for Blair. 'Something else must be bothering him,' he thought. He turned to the man in the driver's seat and opened his mouth to speak. It promptly closed when he noticed Jim's hands clenched on the steering wheel. 'This is ridiculous,' Blair thought, 'the man's anal, but even this is a little extreme.' He looked again at his companion, wondering how to approach him. 'Maybe it's just stress. Now that his case load has lightened up, Jim will be able to relax and everything will go back to normal.' Talking to himself always made Blair feel better. Thinking he had Jim's problem figured out, he was about to congratulate himself when Jim spoke.
"What is it, Sandburg?" The detective's voice still held tension. "Spit it out. You've been giving me these looks since we left the loft."
Blair started. 'Looks?' he thought, 'What kind of looks? Please, God, I hope I'm not blushing.' He shifted uncomfortably and spoke, "Are you okay, Jim? You, uh, seem a little tense."
Jim glanced quickly at him before turning onto Simon's street. "I'm fine, Chief. Just didn't want to be late, that's all. Daryl's got school in the morning and Simon was just going to have a small dinner party. We've probably missed dinner."
Blair looked down at his hands guiltily. He fiddled with the hem of his plaid shirt as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Jim. I know Simon means a lot to you--"
"Yes, he does, Blair. He's a good friend and I take friendship very seriously. Just wish you would, too." Jim's anger had lessened, only to be replaced with a touch of bitterness.
Was Jim thinking about his friendship with Simon or his friendship with him? Did Jim think he didn't take their friendship seriously? 'Where would he get an idea like that?' Blair asked himself. With sudden understanding, he realized that in his preoccupation with the exhibit, he'd neglected their friendship. The young man vowed that he would make it up to Jim. After all, the Sentinel was the most important person in his life. He wasn't afraid to admit that now.
Jim pulled to a stop in front of Simon's two-story brick house. Cutting off the engine, he turned to his partner. Blair had been awfully quiet since Jim had made that comment about friendship.
Blair shifted in his seat to look at Jim. He was intensely aware of the other man's nearness. He had a sudden urge to reach out and massage the tense shoulders, to ease the grim lines wrinkling the handsome brow. He settled for picking imaginary lint from his pants.
Jim's gaze never left his friend. "Guess we'd better go on in," he said softly, before turning away and opening the door. He had one foot on the pavement when he felt Blair's hand on his arm. Jim turned, questioningly.
"Jim," Blair spoke, softly, "I do take friendship seriously. It's important to me, too." His depth of sincerity and commitment shone brilliantly from light blue eyes.
Jim read the message and accepted the truth of it. "I know it is, Chief." The older man shook his head and got out of the truck. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. Guess I'm just tired."
Blair smiled slightly and joined Jim on the sidewalk. "Yeah, that must be it. You put a lot of hours into that last case."
"Still, that's no excuse for biting your head off back there. I'm sorry, Chief."
Blair's smile widened. "Hey, if you can't let loose with friends, what good are they?"
Jim returned the smile. "You're right, I guess. Still, you must be tired of getting it from me all the time, huh?"
Blair's smile lost some of its brilliance as he shook his head negatively, thinking, 'I don't *get* it from you at all, big guy. At least not in the way I *want* it. God, Jim, why can't you see it? You're a Sentinel and you can't even *see* it.' He'd long ago given up trying to deny his feelings for Jim Ellison.
"Ready? We've wasted enough time standing out here. I can smell Simon's famous hamburgers from here." Jim's mood had lightened considerably and his stomach now demanded attention.
"Sounds good. I'm starved," Blair replied, pushing away his runaway thoughts.
The two headed for Simon's front door and the promise of food. And, for a little while, all was right with the world.
Chapter 2
Tuesday, 4/10
Blair turned over and threw the blanket over his head. It was no use, the bright light streaming through his windows had already jarred him from sleep.
His yawn nearly cracked his jaw as he stumbled to his feet. Pulling on the t-shirt he'd taken off in the middle of the night, he straightened his boxers and headed into the kitchen. Blair could hear Jim in the shower and decided to start the coffee. He needed a cup, especially after the night he'd had.
He yawned again and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs out. He'd had another dream last night, and they were getting worse. At first, there had just been bits and pieces, but now a picture was beginning to form...and he didn't know what to make of it.
He sighed when he heard the shower shut off. Each night for the past two weeks he'd had this dream, and each night he woke up in a cold sweat. The flashing images were so real, so vivid that it often took him a moment to orient himself and realize he was at home, safe in his bed. The emotions he felt in the dream--dreams--were so *real*, and always different. One night he'd be happy, giddy even; the next he'd ache with so much sadness he sometimes woke up with wet spots on the pillow from crying. It amazed him that Jim hadn't noticed anything odd, and called him on it.
"Chief?"
Blair jumped back, startled, smacking his hand into the hot coffee pot. He yelped and jerked his hand away.
"Geez, man. Do you have to sneak up on people?" he grabbed his injured hand.
"Sandburg, I just walked right in front of you. You were a million miles away and didn't see me." Jim had been buttoning his shirt but stopped in favor of staring at Blair with concern. He reached for Blair's injured hand. "Let me take a look at that."
Blair shook his head and tucked the injured hand under his arm. "No, no. It's okay." Jim was too close and Blair could see a puckered nipple on the expansive chest peaking out of the half open shirt. Blair squeezed his eyes shut. 'Why am I looking? Why?'
Jim took Blair's momentary sightlessness to take his hand and examine it. "I think you'll live," he pronounced.
Blair opened his eyes and glared at him. "I believe I *said* that."
"Sorry, Chief, just had to make sure." Jim let go of Blair's hand and stepped back. "Why don't you go shower. I'll cook breakfast for a change. Wouldn't want you to have any more accidents."
"Sounds good." Blair went to his room for a clean change of clothes.
As the younger man headed back toward the bathroom, Jim spoke, "Don't take too long. We've got a meeting with Simon this morning."
Blair stopped, startled. "Didn't I tell you? I'm not going in with you today. I've got stuff to do at the university."
Jim put the eggs he'd pulled from the refrigerator down and looked closely at Blair. "Chief, you've been saying that for days. Yesterday morning you promised you'd come in today."
Blair's eyebrow went up. "I did? I don't remember saying that."
Jim nodded. "You'd probably remember if you'd been getting enough sleep."
A stricken look crossed Blair's face. "What? How-"
"Come on. I know you haven't been sleeping well. Even if I didn't have any sentinel abilities, I'd still notice the circles under your eyes. Face it, Sandburg, you look tired."
"I've just been having these really weird dreams, that's all," Blair mumbled.
"Well, I'm beginning to worry about you. First you haven't been sleeping well and now you haven't been going to the station. Do you know it's been days since you were down there? Man, even Simon asked me were you were yesterday."
"I'm sorry. I hadn't realized it had been that long," Blair replied, guiltily.
"What's so important at the university, Chief? Whatever it is, it can't be good." Jim finally cracked the eggs in the frying pan.
"Oh, Jim, but it is. I told you I was working on that exhibit for Dr. Hathaway."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I remember now. How long have you been working on that thing, anyway? Shouldn't you be almost done with it?"
Blair shook his head. "No, it won't be ready for awhile. We've only been working on it for two weeks."
"Great." The detective muttered. "And this madness won't end for how long?"
"Actually, the opening is in about six weeks." Blair frowned. "What do you mean, 'this madness'?"
Ellison sighed, a long-suffering sound. "When was the last time you went out? When was the last time you called a girlfriend and went out on a date?"
"What?! Are you offering, man?" Blair challenged then mentally kicked himself. He didn't seem to have any control over the words coming from his mouth lately.
Jim gave him an indecipherable look, then ignored the question. "Well, think about it. Your life has been tied into that exhibit. You've thought of nothing else, done nothing else. It's like you're obsessed."
"That's not true!" Blair exclaimed, indignantly. "I just want to do a good job, that's all. People are counting on me."
Jim gave up trying to make breakfast. He spoke, quietly, "That's right, Chief. People *are* counting on you."
Blair closed his eyes briefly and let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry, Jim. Look, let me shower and get dressed and then we'll head for the station."
Jim smiled. "Sounds good, Sandburg. Get to it."
Blair nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.
Ellison's smile left his face. 'What's going on with the kid?' He wondered. Blair was totally focused on this exhibit, and the detective didn't like it one bit.
'Why?' the little voice in his head sneered. 'Are you jealous, Ellison? You're no longer the center of the kid's universe. Maybe this is one step closer to him leaving you.' The voice taunted, relentlessly.
"No!" Jim yanked at a coffee mug, angrily. "That's not going to happen." So why all of the sudden was he afraid?
Jim shook his head and filled his mug. He was worrying about nothing. Blair was just a little busier than usual. As soon as this exhibit was over, things would go back to normal.
The Sentinel heard the blow dryer go on and he sat down to wait for his partner. He was placing his empty cup into the sink when Blair came out of the bathroom.
The young man pulled his hair into a ponytail as he walked toward Jim. "I'm ready whenever you are."
"Let's eat breakfast and get going then." Jim looked down at the frying pan and realized he hadn't turned the stove on. He shook his head. Anybody home? Jim raised his eyes to see Blair smiling at him. "Guess we'll grab something on the way to the station."
Blair snickered. "Guess we'll have to, huh, big guy? See if I let you volunteer to cook again." He smiled as he gathered their jackets up. "Ready?"
Jim nodded. "Let's go, Chief. I'm itching to track down Humphreys."
"Humphreys?" Blair frowned as he and his partner headed for the Expedition.
They were well on their way to the station before Jim answered. "Yeah, Nathan Humphreys. The bank president we suspect of killing his real estate partner, John Dvorzniak."
"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. Guess I've been a little preoccupied," Blair mumbled.
Jim let the silence speak for him as they pulled up to the station.
They entered to find Simon waiting for them. "Jim," he said. "I've got a lead for you. Humphreys' sister lives in Seattle. You need to talk to her. Chances are she'll know where her brother is. I don't want to upset her or warn him in any way so you and Sandburg need to go to Seattle."
Blair's eyes widened. He knew he'd promised to help Jim today, but he'd been hoping to get away this afternoon. Well, there was no way to get out of it. He'd have to go. Blair consoled himself with that thought that Seattle was only about an hour away. Still, this could take all afternoon and possibly tomorrow, too.
Jim looked at his partner and noticed the look of dismay on his expressive face. The detective knew that the damned exhibit was foremost in Blair's mind. Jim waited expectantly.
"Let's go," Blair said simply.
Jim raised an eyebrow and nodded.
"Be careful, you two," Simon said.
"We will. Don't worry," Jim replied.
Sentinel and Guide left the building and Cascade each in his own thoughts. Jim felt a little guilty for pushing Blair that morning, but he really did need him. His Guide belonged with the *him*, not doing some stupid project for the university. He frowned. He really needed to stop thinking this way. Blair was first and foremost an anthropologist and an educator. Still, he was not only grateful, but relieved that Sandburg had decided to come with him to Seattle.
Blair was looking out the window, watching the beautiful Cascade Mountains go by. He was deep into his own thoughts and didn't notice the silence in the truck.
Jim's words from this morning echoed back to him. 'Your life has been tied into that exhibit....It's like you're obsessed.' Was he? Blair shook his head. No. He was tackling a project the way he'd always had...with enthusiasm. But maybe Jim was right about the other thing. Maybe the exhibit was tied into his dreams. He hadn't made the connection himself until Jim had this morning. Blair had started have the dreams at around the same time he had begun working on the exhibit. Even now he shuddered as he remembered the tingling sensation of holding that bayonet, only to wake up hours later on a cold hard floor with the sounds of battle pounding in his head. He hadn't mentioned that dream or any others to Jim, preferring to deal with it himself. He didn't want the other man to think that he was some weakling that needed a Blessed Protector all of the time.
Blair sneaked a peek at his Blessed Protector and noticed the frown that marred that beautiful forehead. 'Sandburg, cut that out. Thoughts like that are just trouble waiting to happen. Jim's not gonna go for you in a million years...' But Jim was beautiful and Blair couldn't help his thoughts anymore than he could help breathing. Those hard, supple muscles that rippled under those sweaters he liked to wear sent tendrils of heat circling through the anthropologist. Blair pushed the image away. He'd get himself into trouble otherwise. 'I really need to go out on a date,' thought Blair. 'Thinking about Jim like this just is not a good idea. Maybe Molly'll be free this weekend. I think I'll call her when we get home.' Molly--or any other person--wouldn't replace in his heart what he felt for Jim Ellison, but at least it would provide a diversion.
Jim broke the silence as they entered Seattle. "You have that address, Chief?"
Blair nodded and fished the piece of paper Simon had given him as they left the station. "Yeah. Claire Humphreys...1442 Birmingham Avenue."
"Why don't you check the map for it, Blair. It'll save us time." Jim indicated the glove box.
Blair nodded and slipped into navigator mode as he spread the map across his lap. It proved a distraction from his straying thoughts and for that he was grateful.
Jim pulled up in front of a small red brick home, and smiled bemusedly at Blair. "You know Chief, we would have been here twenty minutes ago if you hadn't told me to turn right at Lincoln Street."
"Jim, it was a little mistake. We just went in the wrong direction." Blair smiled slightly.
Jim rolled his eyes and got out of the car. "Where have I heard that one before."
Blair playfully smacked him on the arm. "At least it wasn't forty miles."
They both laughed.
Jim stopped laughing abruptly and he frowned.
"What--" Blair started to ask, but Jim held up a hand. Blair realized he was listening to something only a sentinel could hear.
Jim refocused on Blair and withdrew his cell phone from his pocket. "Call the Seattle P.D. for backup. Simon should have called ahead and apprised them of the situation. Humphreys is in there and I'm going in after him." Without waiting to see if Blair complied, the detective pulled his gun and made his way around to the back of the house.
Blair frowned as he dialed 911. 'Please be careful, Jim. Please.' The mantra played like a broken record in his head as he spoke into the phone. He identified himself and Jim, and informed the dispatcher of the circumstances. As he disconnected the call he saw the front door open, and then Jim's face appeared. "It's okay, Chief. I've got him. Backup coming?"
Blair nodded and swallowed the lump that had somehow crept up in his throat. He knew he shouldn't worry. Jim was well-trained and knew what he was doing, but Blair still felt relief whenever Jim came through safely.
"Stay out here and wait for them. I can hear the sirens now." Jim was saying.
"How--" Blair started to ask then realized his error as Jim smiled at him. "Yeah. Right."
Moments later, the Seattle P.D. came screeching to a halt in front of the house. They escorted Nathan Humphreys to one of the cruisers.
One of the detectives came forward and introduced himself to Jim and Blair as Detective Bruce West.
"Bruce, thanks for helping the Cascade P.D. with this one." Jim shook his hand.
"Not a problem. Not a problem. Simon and I go way back. When he called me early--and I do mean early--this morning I was ready to help. We've been expecting your call." The Seattle detective replied, at the same time drawing deeply on the cigar in his mouth.
"You two go back a long way, huh?" Blair couldn't resist asking.
The detective smiled. "Sure do. Who do you think showed him the finer things in life--like cigars?" West chuckled before turning serious again. "Jim, we'll arrange transportation of the prisoner back to Cascade. I'll make all of the arrangements with Simon. You're done here."
"Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it. Hope to work with you again." They shook hands again, and said goodbye. Jim turned to Blair. "Come on, Chief. Time to hit the road. We should be home by late afternoon."
Blair nodded, grateful that this assignment had been this easy, and wrapped up this quickly. He headed for the truck, Jim right behind him.
Jim tossed his keys in the basket by the door as he walked into the loft, Blair close behind him. He yawned and stretched. He was tired. They had stopped off at the station on the way home to update Simon and wrap up details of the case. It was up to the DA to officially close it, but Jim had no doubt that Humphreys would sing like a bird. He was a wobbly pile of jello when Jim had arrested him. It wouldn't take much persuasion to get Humphreys to talk.
"Hey, big guy, you hungry? I could make us some pasta and a salad," Blair asked as he headed for the kitchen.
"Sure, Chief, sounds good." Jim walked over to the answering machine and noticed the red light blinking. He hit the play button.
"Blair?" A woman's lilting voice came through the speakers. "It's me, Sarina. Call me when you get in, okay? It's important. Something very weird has been happening over here and I think you should know about it. Please call me. My number is 555-2271." The tape ended and began to rewind.
Jim hit the save button and turned to his roommate. "Did you get that?"
Blair frowned and nodded. "I wonder what happened?"
Jim shrugged and headed for the fridge. "Want a beer?"
"Yeah, thanks," Blair nodded gratefully as he put a pot of water on to boil, and began throwing the salad together.
Blair took a long swallow of his beer as he added pasta to the already boiling water. "Hey, Jim. Keep an eye on the pasta. I'm going to call Sarina." Blair disappeared into his room to use the phone.
Jim checked his watch. 'A world record,' he mused. 'Usually, the kid's curiosity would have gotten to him sooner. Must be hungry.' They hadn't eaten much today. Breakfast had been a bust and lunch was a quick stop at some greasy hamburger joint.
Jim reached over and turned the burner off. The pasta was cooked. He wondered briefly what seasonings Blair intended to use when he heard his Guide's voice tense in alarm. He unabashedly tuned into the conversation.
"...how many? Three? They were all directed to Dr. H.?" Pause. "Yeah, all right. I'll check my voice mail. I just don't know why people would do that." Pause. "Sarina, it'll be okay. There are just some people out there who are close-minded." Blair paused again and Jim could hear Sarina's agitated voice on the other end. His Guide tried to interrupt. "Sarina, hey, calm down. They won't try anything. Most protesters are peaceful people." Jim knew he was thinking about his mother. "They have a right to their opinion just as much as we do. We knew there would be controversy when we started this project and it's finally happened." Jim heard Blair sigh. "Sarina, they are just protest calls. They're harmless." Another pause. "Okay, Sarina. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't worry everything will work out. Bye."
Blair came out of his room and saw Jim setting the table. He quickly walked to the stove and grabbed the pasta. He soon had it drained and seasoned.
As they sat down to eat Jim asked, "So, is everything okay at the university?"
"Yeah," Blair answered. "No big deal, really. Some people aren't too happy about the exhibit and they're complaining. Happens all the time."
Jim raised an eyebrow at his blasé attitude. "Sarina sounded pretty worried about it."
Blair glanced at him in surprise. "You were listening? Jim, that was a private phone call." The anthropologist was more angry than he cared to admit.
Jim held up his hands in surrender. "Take it easy, Chief. No harm. I don't cut into your privacy. It's just that I caught the concern in your voice and..."
"You thought that gave you permission to eavesdrop." Blair finished, sarcastically. "I really wish you wouldn't do that."
"I'm sorry, Blair. It won't happen again."
Blair glared at him, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "Who are you kidding? You're a Sentinel. It'll happen again, and I won't like it again, but I guess that's what I get for living with a man with heightened senses."
Jim grinned back. "That's probably true, Sandburg, but I'll try my best not to invade your privacy."
"Thanks, man. I'd really appreciate that," Blair said sincerely as he rose from the table. "Come on, let's leave the dishes and watch a movie."
"I don't know, Chief. House rule number--"
Blair interrupted. "Not tonight, Jim. Loosen up. Let's live dangerously and do something on the cutting edge: Let's forget the house rules--and the dishes."
Jim looked at his smiling roommate and felt his heart contract. "Okay, Sandburg, just this once. But I get to choose the movie."
"Deal."
The end credits for LETHAL WEAPON were starting to roll when Blair began to yawn.
"Why don't you hit the hay, Chief," Jim suggested as he shut the television off.
"Sounds like a plan, man. Night." Blair yawned again and walked into his room. He undressed and eased himself between the cool, crisp sheets. He was just starting to doze off when he heard water running in the kitchen. Blair snickered in the darkness. He knew Jim wouldn't be able to hold out until morning. Jim and his rules. The kitchen had to be clean.
Blair smiled and drifted off to sleep...
...and fell into the by-now-familiar panorama...except there was something markedly different about this one...it *felt* real. He was there...this was no dream, anymore, except he was reliving it through dreaming it...
Sounds of battle filled the air--the clash of swords, marked by the occasional volley of gunfire, all overlaid with the sounds of human suffering on an incredibly large scale.
A tall young man turned in surprise when he sensed the English soldier behind him, and gasped at the first taste of steel against his skin, when the bayonet stabbed him. He cried out with the pain as the steel pierced through him, and another young man, who'd been walking just ahead of him, rushed back toward him in a panic, closing the distance.
"Ky! No!" The other man charged the soldier, now standing over his friend, who was kneeling, clutching his stomach. "Ye murderin' bastard--" He knocked the soldier to the ground, pulled his head back by his hair, and drew his dirk across the soldier's throat. The soldier was dead before his head hit the ground. The young man turned around and knelt beside the wounded man. "Oh, God, Ky..." He clutched his friend around the shoulders. "How bad is it, mo cridh?"
"Bad," Ky gasped out. "I dinna think I can walk, Ian." He brought his hands away from his stomach, and stared in disbelief at the blood he found on them. Ky could feel himself shaking in Ian's protective embrace.
"We need to get awa' from here. I need to lay ye down to look at ye." Ian stood up and looked around. "There's a small hollow just a bit away," he told Ky. "I'm goin' to need yer help, Ky--I canna carry ye alone, ye're too big. Can ye help me?"
Ky groaned with the pain as Ian helped him shift into a standing position. "I'll...try...Ahhhhhh." He ended the short reply with a hiss when Ian's hand brushed against the wound. "Christ, man! Dinna touch it!"
"Och, sorry--I need to bind ye up, though, Ky. Ye're bleedin' something fierce."
"Aye--but we havena got time. Let's get goin'. I'll do for now." Ky wobbled on his legs, and Ian put the larger man's arm over his shoulders, supporting his weight, holding him up with an arm around his waist. They managed maybe a dozen steps or so before Ky's legs gave out, and he tumbled both of them to the ground. He lay there, curled in a ball with his hands clutching at his stomach, praying for the death he knew was coming.
"Ky? Hold on, mo cridh. I just have to think..." Ian broke off, looking around at the battle and carnage surrounding them.
"Ian. It's no use, mi dhu, I'm dyin'. Gie up, man, and get yerself gone from here."
"No! I'm no goin' to leave ye alone, Ky." Ian grabbed Ky under the arms and began dragging him. Ky hissed with the pain, but made no other sounds. Ian dragged him over to the tree he'd seen, and into the hollow, where they were slightly sheltered. Ky touched his arm, and Ian looked down at him. Ky could see the pain and concern in Ian's face, and knew his own reflected that. He gazed into Ian's eyes, imploring him silently before speaking the words.
"Ian. Listen to me, mi dhu. I'm dyin'--there's nothing goin' to save me now. Ye need to leave. Don't let them catch ye."
He watched Ian swallow, trying to hold back a sob. "Ye're no dyin', mo cridh. Ye can't die. What in hell will I do wi'out ye? I love ye, Ky...dinna leave me, please!" Ian couldn't hold the sobs in any longer, and bent his head to the wounded man's chest, crying against him.
Ky brought his arms up around the slighter man, and held him best as he was able. He stroked the curly black head with one hand, and murmured soft words to him. "Shhh...dinna fash, love. Ye'll manage without me. It wasna meant for us to be together in this life. We hae to accept that."
Ian brought his head up to look at Ky, grey eyes cloudy with tears. "What d'ye mean, 'no meant for us to be together in this life'? What other is there?"
Ky shook his head. "I love ye, mi dhu. I'll love ye forever--ye're my heart, soul, breath and life."
Tears flooded the grey eyes again, and Ky was hard-pressed not to cry with him. His voice sounded noticeably weaker now, even to himself, and his skin felt cold and clammy. He was dying...it was just a matter of time. Ian bent his head to Ky's, and gently kissed him. "An' I love ye, Kythe Cameron MacKenzie. Ye've only been my lover for a few months, but they were the best months of my life. And the years ye've been my friend..." Ian broke off, and Ky knew he was trying not to cry, to be brave for him.
Ian shifted them around, so that Ky's head and shoulders lay in his lap, and he could hold him a little easier. Ky felt his breathing becoming more labored and irregular, and there were pauses now and again between breaths where there'd not been before. Ky could feel Ian tense up beneath him each time there was a break in his breathing, and he silently implored God to end this soon--for Ian's sake as much as for his own.
Ian held him for what seemed like hours, although he knew realistically it wasn't that long. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost imagine that they'd just made love, and Ian was simply holding him, waiting for sleep to claim them, held in his lover's arms like so many times before. His life force was fading quickly; the tenuous threads that held him to this life, this body, were breaking one by one. He needed to hurry. There were things he needed to share with Ian... Ky shifted minutely, and couldn't prevent the faint groan that fell from his lips. He opened his eyes to see Ian staring down at him. Ky opened his mouth to speak, and Ian leaned in closer to hear the weak voice.
"I love ye, Ian Patrick MacKenzie. Now, forever, for always. We'll be together again...We're meant to be. I promise ye, mi dhu--I'll forever watch for ye, and I will find ye again, no matter how many years or lifetimes it takes."
"Oh, God, Ky...please...I canna bear it...dinna leave me...take me wi' ye..."
"Ye're no meant to go yet, Ian. I hae to do this alone--as ye're meant to go on your journey alone. Now kiss me again, mi dhu...send me on my way wi' the taste of ye on my lips."
Ian complied, bending to kiss Ky, his tears mingling with the kiss, wetting their lips. He pulled away from Ky to find the other man staring sightlessly up at the sky, the life gone from his body.
Sobs racked the other man then; great heart-wrenching sobs that spoke of deep grief. He gathered Ky's lifeless body to his chest, and sat there, rocking back and forth, mindless of the carnage around him...
Friday, 4/11
Blair sat up in bed with a gasp, clutching at his stomach. He'd felt the bayonet this time--felt it actually piercing his stomach. He shuddered. God, that was weird. How many times in a row was he going to have this dream, anyway? This one had been more intense than the last one--and more detailed, too. Even to the point of looking down from somewhere, watching a strange-yet surprisingly familiar--man clutch a dead body to him, crying.
He shook his head, and smoothed his hair back from his eyes, then swung his legs out of bed and got up. It was nearly time for the alarm to go off anyway, might as well get a jump start on the morning. He pulled a T-shirt on, and headed out to make coffee.
A sleepy voice called down from the loft upstairs, "Chief? Everything all right?"
Blair called back, "Fine, man. I just had a weird dream...it kinda freaked me out. Go back to sleep." He heard a soft snort and smiled, then reached for the can of coffee.
He wasn't surprised to hear footsteps a few minutes later. Once Jim was up, he was up. He glanced over toward the stairs, and felt his mouth go dry when he saw Jim walking casually toward him, just now pulling a T-shirt over his head. God, what he'd give to be able to touch that chest... He shoved that thought down quickly, and tried to rearrange his face into a neutral mask.
"'Morning, Jim."
"Hey, Chief. How long before the coffee's ready?"
"Just put it on. Sorry about waking you up."
"S'okay--it was almost time to get up anyway. What happened?"
Blair shook his head and pulled mugs from the cupboard. "Just a weird dream, man. Seemed real--like I was right there in it. But," Blair laughed at himself, "I guess all dreams do, right? That's the reason they can scare us so bad."
Jim smiled slightly at his partner. "If you say so, Chief. I don't dream much myself."
Blair sighed in mock resignation. "Figures." He pulled open the refrigerator and stared inside. "What do you want for breakfast? I think it's my turn."
"Yeah, it is...but I'm not really hungry this morning." Jim reached around Blair and took out the container of creamer, then backed away, stretching. Blair tried not to watch, but found himself looking out of the corner of his eye. The way all those muscles tightened like that...
"Me neither." He closed the door with another sigh. "Guess I'll just get a bagel later."
"Mmm. You goin' to the station today?" Jim poured them both a mug of coffee and handed one to Blair.
Blair shook his head negatively. "I have a class--to teach-and then some other stuff to take care of on campus. Got some work to do on the exhibit, too. Why?" The two men walked into the living room and took up seats on the couch and loveseat.
Jim shrugged. "Just wondered. I like to know what's going on."
They sat there in companionable silence, drinking their coffee, enjoying the beginning of the day. Blair tossed the thought round and round in his head, then looked up at Jim--to find the other man studying him. "What?"
Jim shook his head. "You really look tired. Is everything okay? After those phone calls..."
Blair shrugged. "Don't start again. I told you--it's no big deal. You're as bad as Sarina. Hey, man--do you believe in reincarnation?"
"What? Where'd that come from, Chief?"
"I don't know--just wondering, I guess. Do you?"
"What, like past lives, and that sort of stuff?"
"Yeah."
Jim shook his head. "Don't even go there with me. That's just so much nonsense." He looked at Blair's face. "Don't tell you believe in that?"
"Well, sure, man. I mean, it makes sense, right? Don't you ever just *know* something--or someone--and wonder how that got there?"
Jim shook his head. "I never really thought about it. But," he set his mug down and stood up, "I still don't buy it. One life, Chief. Make it count." He stretched again, then headed up the stairs to get dressed for work. Halfway up he stopped and called down, "You need a ride to campus?"
"No, I'm gonna drive. Thanks though."
"Sure." Jim's voice floated down to him.
Blair headed into his own room, a vague sense of frustration filling him. That dream meant something, or he wouldn't keep having it. Not the same dream, varying only slightly with regard to detail. And dreams weren't usually that detailed. Maybe he was having a past-life flashback? Or just losing his mind? Too many viewings of BRAVEHEART? Blair smiled as he pulled off his T-shirt and shorts. He really liked that movie. There was something about that movie--about Mel Gibson's character-that reminded him somewhat of Jim. A man fighting for a cause he believed in. He glanced at the clock and put all thoughts of reincarnation and related topics out of his mind. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and that wouldn't be good.
Jim was still upstairs when Blair emerged from his room a scant ten minutes later. He grabbed keys, backpack and jacket, and called out, "See you later, man; you're cooking tonight," and was gone before Jim could reply.
Blair didn't see Jim again until later that evening.
"Catch any bad guys today?" he asked as they sat down to eat dinner.
Jim broke off a piece of bread and put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before answering. "No. It was pretty slow today. Ended up catching up on paperwork." He grimaced. "Wish you'd been there."
Blair quickly glanced down at his plate. He could feel the slight flush beginning to creep up his neck and he hoped to God Jim didn't notice. Jim's comment had been innocent enough--he just meant that he could have used Blair's help with the paperwork--but it still felt good that Jim needed him, missed him.
"Chief, you okay?" Jim was looking at him in concern.
So he had noticed.
Blair looked up. "I'm fine," he lied as his brain scrambled for an excuse for his odd behavior.
Jim was watching him closely, a frown on his face. "You don't look fine. Are you feverish? You looked kind of flushed." Jim reached out to place a hand on Blair's forehead.
It took all of Blair's willpower not to jerk away. That would have set Jim's alarm bells off. Lately Jim's touch had been more of a torture than a comfort. It was so familiar to him, so expected, yet Blair was feeling guilty for the thoughts that passed through his mind at those innocent touches.
Jim was talking to him again. "Chief? Blair? What's wrong? You zoned out on me for a couple of minutes there." Jim's hand moved from Blair's forehead to his shoulder and stayed there.
Blair swallowed. He needed something to distract Jim, distract himself.
"I'm okay, Jim, really." Blair forced himself to take a bite of potato. It felt dry and stuck in his throat. Jim's hand remained on his shoulder. 'This is ridiculous, Sandburg. Why are you so nervous? You're making much too big a deal here,' he berated himself.
Blair smiled, slightly. "We had a bit of excitement with the exhibit today, that's all."
Jim removed his hand from Blair's shoulder. Leaning back in his chair, he studied his partner. For a few minutes there, Blair's body heat had risen and his heart had been racing. Could this excitement Blair was talking about be the cause? He hoped it was the case. He really didn't like it when Blair kept things from him. The young man's state of being was very important to him. Jim frowned. Where had that come from? He mentally shook himself. It had probably always been there. He just never put it into words, not even to himself.
"What kind of excitement, Chief?" Jim asked, letting his thoughts drift. He'd never really stopped to analyze his protective feelings toward Blair. It was instinct. The need to protect his mate. Jim's frown deepened. Mate? Roommate. He was sure he meant roommate.
"...death threats. Pretty wild, man," Blair was saying when Jim tuned back into the conversation.
"Death threats?" 'Don't panic now, Jim. Let's just hear what he has to say.'
"Yeah." Blair nodded his head.
"Who's getting these threats?" Jim looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Was this what Sarina was talking about on the phone yesterday? Are any of the threats aimed at you?"
Blair swallowed a piece of roast beef. Finally, a safer topic if you could call it that. "Well, yes...and no. I'm not receiving any threats." Blair sipped his water. "Not really, anyway." He amended.
"What is *that* supposed to mean?" Jim leaned forward in his chair, his anxiety level starting to climb.
Blair shrugged. "Well, the phone calls come in, asking for Dr. Hathaway. He's the one in charge of the exhibit. But the calls threaten the anthro department in general and the exhibit team in particular."
"Dammit, Blair!" Ellison slammed an open palm on the table. "What the hell is going on at that university?!"
Blair looked slightly surprised. "Jim, I told you what was coming up. The exhibit, remember?"
Jim glared at him. "I remember the exhibit--you've been eating, sleeping, breathing, living it for weeks now. What is *up* with it though? What are you exhibiting?"
"It's nothing that should be that big of a deal..."
"Sandburg..."
"All right." Blair pushed his hair out of his face. "It's quite a large exhibit really, and we're doing it in tandem with the history department. The major theme is Cultural Rituals and Taboos."
"Go on," Jim said when Blair paused.
Blair looked at him. "You really should try *listening* to me, man. I told you all this ages ago."
"Don't push, Chief. Talk."
"Okay, okay. The unusual thing about this exhibit is that it isn't focused on any one particular culture. It involves many. For example, the Native American culture here in the United States, the Zulu culture in Africa, the Mayan culture in South America--"
"I got it, Chief," Jim interrupted his Guide's recitation. He recognized Sandburg's lecture mode.
"Dr. Hathaway has been working on it for almost three years. Unfortunately, there are some people who don't approve of the exhibit and are trying to shut it down. It will be up and running, though." Blair's excitement at the exhibit was evident in his eyes.
Jim sat back down and said softly, "At who's expense, Blair?"
"Come on, Jim." It was Blair's turn to get up. "You've got to look at the bigger picture here. It's not *who* that's important. It's *what*. It's freedom, Jim. Freedom to communicate, freedom to educate. If we give in to these threats, what is that saying about us and where will it stop?"
"I see where you're coming from. I really do. But you have to be careful. There are a bunch of crazy people out there." Jim was looking at him, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.
Blair nodded and sat back down across from Jim. "I know. And we will be careful. But we have a job to do and nothing will stop us from doing it. It's too important."
Jim let out a breath. "All right, Chief. How about the calls themselves? You did report it to the police, didn't you?"
Blair avoided Jim's gaze. "Not yet. Dr. Hathaway thought they were someone's idea of a joke."
Jim's curse brought Blair's head up. "Blair, you should have reported it immediately. Whether it's a joke or not, you should cover all bases."
"Yeah, I know. I've been around you long enough to know not to take anything for granted. Give me a little credit." Blair's tone was filled with exasperation. "I convinced him we need to let someone know. He said he'd file a report."
Jim nodded. "Okay. He should have done it right after it happened, but later is better than never."
Blair got up and removed the dishes from the table. "Dr. H is pretty stubborn. It took me at least an hour to convince him it was the right thing to do."
"Powers of persuasion not what they used to be, Chief?" Jim teased.
"Ha, ha." Blair ran water in the sink.
Jim smiled, but the tension lines remained between his eyes. "You promise me that if it escalates beyond phone calls you'll let me know immediately, okay?" He stared at Blair until the younger man squirmed. "Okay?"
"Okay. I promise."
"Thanks, Chief. I worry about you. Be careful, okay?"
"Always, my friend."
The evening passed without further argument, chastising, or general dissention. Blair graded papers, and made notes on his dissertation. Jim tidied up the living room, and read the paper. Finally, at ten o'clock Jim decided to call it a night. He glanced at Blair.
"You going to bed soon?"
"Mmmm..."
"Sandburg."
Blair glanced up. "Yeah?"
"You going to bed soon?"
Blair took his glasses off and stretched. Jim forced his eyes not to follow the lines of Blair's body. "What time is it, man?"
"A little after ten."
"Yeah, I guess so. I need to get up early again tomorrow."
"Okay." Jim headed for the kitchen and turned off the lights. "I'll see you in the morning."
"'Night, Jim."
"'Night, Chief."
Blair hesitated just slightly before stripping down for bed. He'd called Jarvis Deacon that morning, and left a message on his voice mail. He and Jarvis had been friends for a long time, and his friend was now a grad student in Psych. Maybe he could help Blair figure out what the dreams meant.
Blair turned out his light, and settled into bed. A few minutes later, he was sound asleep.
...Sounds of battle filled the air--the clash of swords, marked by the occasional volley of gunfire, all overlaid with the sounds of human suffering on an incredibly large scale.
Blair moved restlessly in his sleep. This dream was so familiar now...He knew what was coming, but was helpless to stop it...
...Ky turned in surprise when he sensed the English soldier behind him, and gasped at the first taste of steel against his skin, when the bayonet stabbed him. He cried out with the pain as the steel pierced through him. Ian, who'd been walking just ahead of him, rushed back toward him in a panic, quickly closing the distance.
"Ky! No!" Ian charged the soldier, now standing over his friend, who was kneeling, clutching his stomach. "Ye murderin' bastard--" He knocked the soldier to the ground, pulled his head back by his hair, and drew his dirk across the soldier's throat. The soldier was dead before his head hit the ground. Ian turned around and knelt beside the wounded man. "Oh, God, Ky..." He clutched his friend around the shoulders. "How bad is it, mo cridh?"
"Bad," Ky gasped out. "I dinna think I can walk, Ian." He brought his hands away from his stomach, and stared in disbelief at the blood he found on them. Ian could feel Ky shaking beneath him.
"We need to get awa' from here. I need to lay ye down to look at ye." Ian stood up and looked around, considering. There was a small hollow just a bit away. "I'm goin' to need yer help, Ky--I canna carry ye alone, ye're too big. Can ye help me?"
Ky groaned with the pain as Ian helped him shift into a standing position. "I'll...try...Ahhhhhh." He ended the short reply with a hiss when Ian's hand brushed against the wound. "Christ, man! Dinna touch it!"
Blair rolled his head on his pillow, and moaned with vaguely remembered pain.
"Och, sorry--I need to bind ye up, though, Ky. Ye're bleedin' something fierce."
"Aye--but we havena got time. Let's get goin'. I'll do for now." Ky wobbled on his legs, and Ian put the larger man's arm over his shoulders, supporting his weight, holding him up with an arm around his waist. They managed maybe a dozen steps or so before Ky's legs gave out, and he tumbled both of them to the ground. He lay there, curled in a ball with his hands clutching at his stomach, praying for the death he knew was coming...
Death? He was dying? No! He couldn't die...that would mean leaving--someone--alone again...
Saturday, 4/12
"Ahhh!" Blair sat up in bed with a loud gasp, heart pounding. He'd been dying! No, *he* hadn't--not Blair Sandburg, at any rate. Who was he in that dream? God, that was *so* weird! His hands were shaking, he noted, when he reached for the small bedside lamp.
Why couldn't he remember when he was awake? *Was* this a past life experience? Why have the flashbacks now? Why at all? He glanced at his clock. Four a.m. This was way to early to be waking up. He listened intently for a minute, praying he hadn't woke Jim up when he yelled, then sighed in relief when all remained quiet above stairs. He nearly jumped off the bed when a quiet voice spoke from the darkness just beyond his door.
"Chief? You okay in there?"
Damn! "Yeah, I'm fine. I just--had another dream."
"Can I come in?"
"Sure." Blair settled back onto his bed and watched Jim walk into the small room. It immediately felt even smaller. Jim had a...a *presence*, for lack of a better word. He kind of filled whatever room he was in.
Jim sat on the side of the bed. "You sure you're okay?" He reached out and patted Blair's shoulder.
"Fine." Oh, good--he'd sounded almost normal. This was all he needed--a half-naked Jim, sitting on his bed, patting his shoulder in the middle of the night. Blair snorted. Only in his dreams could it get any better than this. Of course, not if you considered the dreams he'd been having lately... "Huh?" Jim was looking at him intently, and he realized he'd missed the question.
"I'm worried about you, Chief. This is two nights in a row."
'Way more than that, actually,' Blair thought to himself. 'But I was quiet for those.' Aloud he said, "I've got a friend--he's a psych major--I'm gonna try to get in touch with. He might have some insight I'm totally overlooking. Probably just stress, man. Don't worry about it. Go on, go back to bed." Blair tried to wave Jim away, but the bigger man wasn't having any of it.
"Nah, I'm already up--might as well make use of it. Want to go get some breakfast? My treat."
"You're buying breakfast out? Sure. Where?"
Jim shrugged, an overly casual expression on his face. "Want to go to Calico's?"
Blair grinned. "You're really hooked on those crepes, aren't you?"
Jim grinned back, and threatened playfully, "Breathe a word to anyone, Sandburg, and your ass is mine."
'I wish.' "I wouldn't dream of telling a soul that big, tough Jim Ellison likes raspberry crepes. Your secret's safe with me, man." Blair rolled his eyes at the ceiling, then yelped when Jim grabbed him by the waist and began tickling him. "Hey! No fair picking on your roommate...Jim!" He sputtered as Jim started running his fingers across his ribs, and struggled to get loose.
"It is when that roommate wakes you up in the middle of the night." Jim grunted as Blair kicked out, squirming in an effort to get away from the bigger man's merciless fingers. He let go of Blair and rolled off the bed. "Get dressed, Chief. Now that I'm up, I'm hungry."
"Be ready in a few, man. Hey, close the door on your way out, okay?" Blair turned away from Jim, hoping to hide the erection that had sprung up from the unexpected contact with Jim's body. He didn't even hear Jim's reply, mind focused too intently on the memory of that hard body rubbing against his own.
He wrapped his hand around his aching flesh, and began stroking. He pictured Jim's hand around him, caressing him...bending down to kiss him, sliding his tongue in and out... Blair groaned quietly as his body convulsed, and he felt his warm seed slide over his hand. He sighed as he wiped his hand off on a towel he found in the corner of his room. It would do to relieve pressure, but it was like siphoning off a bit of steam a little at a time. If he didn't find a way to shut if off, and soon, something was going to blow.
Jim stood in the shower, leaning against the tile. He caressed himself with one hand, felt the erection surging forward. He tried to think of women he knew...had dated, slept with...but found his thoughts straying to Blair. Blair's face, mouth, hands...that mouth on him, kissing him...sucking him... Jim groaned and thrust hard against his hand, feeling the exquisite pleasure as his fluids burst from his body in a rush. No. No *way*. No way did he just come, thinking of Blair. Absolutely not. Odd thoughts about how attractive his roommate was...watching him move around the apartment, stuff like that was okay. Jerking off while imagining that perfect mouth wrapped around his cock? Jim shook his head, and finished with his shower quickly, wondering when life had suddenly spiraled out of control.
Chapter 3
Sunday, 4/13
"Hey, Jim," Blair called as he ejected the videotape from the VCR.
"Yeah?" Jim asked, walking back from the kitchen. He handed Sandburg the other cassette, saying, "Here's the other movie we rented."
Blair took the proffered tape and inserted it into the VCR. They were spending a quiet Sunday evening, watching the two movies they had rented. Jim wanted to celebrate the end to another successful case and Blair, who had spent all day Saturday polishing swords, decided to stay home and relax. He always enjoyed these down times with Jim.
"Sandburg--what were you going to ask me?" Jim sat down on the sofa.
"Hmm? Oh. Yeah." Blair remembered his earlier thought. He scooted back until he could lean against the couch next to Jim. Hitting the mute button as the previews played, Blair spoke, "Since you don't have any pressing cases..." he trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.
"Go on," Jim prodded, watching his partner tuck a silky strand of hair behind his ear.
"Would you mind if I didn't come into the station this week? I really need to get some work done, man. What with the exhibit and all, things have really piled up." Blair turned wide, blue eyes on the detective.
Ellison felt a stab of resentment. 'This damned exhibit is really beginning to bug me. Can't wait for it to be over so that I can have my Guide back,' he thought and then frowned. Blair wasn't something that was his to have. When had he gotten so possessive of the younger man? Wait. He wasn't possessive of Blair. 'It's just that I depend on him to help me with my senses. Back me up.' Jim switched off the alarm in his head that had been triggered by his thoughts. He was suddenly aware of Blair's intense gaze upon his face.
Jim shrugged, nonchalantly. "Sure, Sandburg, I don't think I'll need you too much this week. You go ahead and work at the university."
"Are you sure, Jim?" Blair pressed. He didn't want any misunderstanding between them. The discussion about friendship on the way to Daryl's birthday party had been less than a week ago. It was still fresh in Blair's mind and it was one of the reasons he'd suggested that they rent movies and spend a quiet night at home. Blair didn't want to disrupt the peace which had settled over both of them. Tension was something that Jim didn't need so he patiently waited for Jim's reply.
"Go for it, Chief. It should be a slow week." Jim leaned back slightly, relaxing. "Movie's about to start."
Startled, Blair swung his head around toward the television. He pushed the mute button and the Scottish burr of Mel Gibson filtered from the speakers. Blair smiled. He'd been wanting to see this movie again.
Monday, 4/14
Blair hurried into Jarvis' office. He hated running late, and it seemed like more and more that was all he was doing. He smiled at his friend, and said breathlessly, "Sorry--got caught in traffic."
Jarvis smiled back, and Blair wondered why it was he never could love this man as more than a friend. Jarvis was probably the most beautiful man he'd ever seen--next to Jim. He smiled at the thought and shook his head.
"Have a seat, Blair. How you been, man?"
"Fine, Jarv. You?" Blair sat down in the chair next to Jarvis' desk, noticing that his friend was as messy as he was. Peas in a pod. He shook his head again, and Jarvis caught the motion.
"What's up?"
"Just a thought, man. Never mind."
"No...tell me. What're you shaking your head for?" Jarvis swiveled his chair, and poured two cups of coffee from the pot behind him. He turned back around and handed one to Blair. "C'mon, Bear...what is it?"
Blair blushed and smiled at the forgotten nickname. "Just thoughts about the past."
"You mean about us." It wasn't a question, and Jarvis wasn't teasing any more.
"Yeah." Blair took a swallow of his coffee. "How come I couldn't love you?" he blurted out, tension from the dream destroying his ability to verbally spar. God, he was tired!
Jarvis raised an eyebrow. "I thought we settled this about six years ago."
"Yeah--we did. But I mean, how come I couldn't then? I liked you a lot...we had great sex together... What was missing, Jarv?" Blair furrowed his brow, trying to remember why he and Jarvis had parted ways romantically--and how they'd managed to stay friends.
"I wasn't the right person for you. You knew that, on some level. You're waiting for someone, Blair. You've always been waiting for this person, and you'll know them when you find them."
"Are you sure?"
"About what?"
"That I'll know them."
"Why do you ask that?" Jarvis steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. Blair grinned; his friend looked so like the 'typical' college professor.
"Well, 'cause I'm pretty sure I found that person...but they don't know it."
"You're being awfully careful with your pronouns, Bear. What is it you're not telling me?"
Blair sighed and looked down at the coffee cup. "My roommate, Jim." He looked up at Jarvis. "Man...he's the greatest. Personality, looks, intelligence...a body to die for; I'd do anything for him."
"Sounds like you're in love with him. But?"
"But what?"
"That's what I want you to tell me."
Blair sighed again, and closed his eyes. "I am in love with him--or falling fast, which pretty much amounts to the same thing. But Jarv, man, Jim Ellison is the *straightest* guy you'd ever meet. No *way* is he gonna fall in love with another man--especially not a college grad student. I'm like at the top of the 'no can-do' list."
Jarvis grimaced in sympathy. "That's rough, man. You don't think you can talk to him about it at all?"
Blair shook his head. "Not about this. I don't want to risk our friendship. He means too much to me. I'd rather just love him and be around him as a friend, then to not have him at all-no matter how much it drives me crazy." Blair looked up. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to dump all of this on you."
Jarvis laughed gently. "Hey, what're friends for?" He sobered then. "What's the real reason you're here, Blair? I know I don't see you often enough to judge anymore, but you look stressed, man. If it's the roommate thing we can still talk, of course, but it's deeper than that, isn't it?
Blair nodded, grateful that Jarvis still knew him so well. "Yeah. I've been having...Gods, this sounds too weird to even say out loud." Blair ran a hand through his curls.
"Go on."
"A dream, Jarv. Except it's not like any other dream I've ever had. It's got me weirded out in a major way."
"Like how? I mean, what's the dream about?"
Blair sighed. "It's complicated. And I get more details every time I have it. It's like... I'm watching someone die in this dream, and at the same time *I'm* feeling everything. The pain, the sadness...all of it! Too weird." Blair shook his head, remembering waking up countless times now, clutching at his stomach in alarm.
Jarvis looked at him curiously. "You can *feel* in the dream?"
"Yeah. So?"
"You don't generally feel physical stuff in a dream, Blair. I think--" The phone on Jarvis' desk rang, and he held a finger up. "Hold that thought." Jarvis picked up the receiver. "Jarvis Deacon, can I help you?"
Blair watched his friend's face move from happy to concerned, and sighed. Well, whatever his dream meant, they weren't going to cover it today. Jarvis hung up the phone. "That was a student I've been working with--I need to get over to the Crisis Center right away. Can you come back later?" Jarvis stood up and Blair did the same, shaking his head as he did so.
"Not today, man. Too much goin' on."
Jarvis frowned. "I don't like to leave you hangin', Bear, but this student is high risk. Hey! How 'bout dinner tonight? Come on over; I'll cook for you, you can tell me about the dream."
Blair mentally ran through his calendar for the day, and crossed his fingers that he wasn't forgetting something. "Sure. What time?"
"Seven?"
"Sounds good. Still on High View Street?"
Jarvis nodded and smiled, "Same old ugly house."
Blair laughed. "That works then, man. Thanks."
"I'm sorry I can't do it now, Blair. I'll see you at seven."
Blair gave Jarvis a grin, then headed out the door for the parking lot. He didn't have any classes today, so he was going to go home and start working through the monster load of papers he had.
Blair arrived at Jarvis' house about ten minutes early. He hadn't had a lot of free time lately, and given his recent obsession with the exhibit, 'Jim's opinion, not mine,' his brain added; he'd been hesitant all day to work on it. After calling to let his roommate know he wouldn't be home for dinner, Blair had gone back to the loft and actually did some work on his dissertation. *That* had felt good.
He knocked on the door, and recoiled slightly in surprise when Michael Patterson opened the door.
"Hey, man, what're you doin' here?"
Michael grinned at Blair's expression. "I live here, Blair. C'mon in--Jarv's got dinner about ready."
Blair shook his head as he stepped through the door. He followed Michael down the hall toward the kitchen, nose wrinkling appreciatively. "Lasagna," he guessed with some satisfaction. Jarvis was still one of the best cooks he'd ever known...most of what he knew about cooking he'd learned from his friend.
Michael nodded. "Veggie--hope that's okay with you. Jarv got a new recipe last week."
Blair sniffed deeply and smiled. "Fine by me, man."
They walked into the kitchen where the air was redolent with Italian spices and the smell of fresh baked bread. Blair took another deep breath, and let it out, sighing with pleasure. Jarvis smiled a greeting at him, but glowed in Michael's direction, and Blair made the immediate connection.
"Hey, since when are you two seeing each other?"
Michael and Jarvis exchanged looks and Jarvis answered, "About four months now."
Blair shook his head. "Man, I am like so out of touch with some of the gossip. I'm gonna have to start listening to my students more often." His eyes sparkled mischievously. "So...picked out patterns yet?"
Michael blushed and Jarvis gave him a silly grin. "As a matter of fact..."
"You son-of-a-gun! Well, congrats, guys." Blair embraced Jarvis and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and hugged Michael. "When did this happen?" he asked when he pulled back.
"I only asked him last night." Jarvis sounded kind of awed by the whole thing. Blair couldn't blame him--this was a major commitment his friend was talking about.
Michael spoke up then, "Want a beer, Blair?" and Blair could see he was still a little uncomfortable with discussing the relationship.
"Yeah, thanks, Michael." Blair sat down at the kitchen table. It was nice to see friends happy--and happy together was even better. Michael handed him the beer, then excused himself. Blair took a drink, then looked up at Jarvis. "How long's he been out?" he asked his friend softly.
Jarvis smiled. "Since we started dating."
Blair shook his head, a grin breaking out on his face. "What *is* it about you? Me, Michael...who else, man?"
Jarvis pasted an innocent look on his face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Bear. I'm just minding my own business."
Blair snorted in amusement, nearly choking on the swallow of beer he'd just taken. When he'd regained his voice he said, "Yeah, right. You're like the poster child for Gay America, man. 'Declare and be free', and all that."
"Didn't lead you astray, did I?"
"No, but I'm bi, and you know that's different. Anyway, I didn't say you did." Blair smiled at his friend. "I'm just giving you a hard time, Jarv, 'cause it seems like everyone you date ends up 'coming out' at some point in the relationship."
"Must be my winning personality."
"Must be." Blair rolled his eyes.
Jarvis turned to the oven and opened it. The pleasant odor of baking lasagna wafted through the room, and Blair's stomach growled. He blushed slightly when Jarvis turned to look at him. "You'll be glad to hear it's done," the other man informed him dryly.
"Good--I'm starved. Missed lunch somewhere along the line. Can I do anything?"
"Yeah--grab the bread, would you?" Jarvis pulled the hot dish out of the oven, and headed for the dining room.
Blair nodded to his back and followed him, basket of fresh hot bread in one hand, beer in the other. Michael joined them shortly, and the three men tore into the meal.
Dinner was dispatched efficiently, with comfortable small talk throughout. Blair and Jarvis teased each other with the familiarity of old friends, and kept Michael amused with stories of their freshman year chemistry class. Blair soon had Michael totally at ease with the non-academic side of himself, and enjoyed getting to know on a more personal level the man who'd caught an old friend's heart--for good.
After dinner Michael left to meet some friends for a game of basketball, giving Blair and Jarvis some privacy to discuss Blair's dream. The two men took care of the dishes first, Blair washing and Jarvis drying and putting away; then settled on the comfortable sofa with coffee. Blair looked at Jarvis, a question in his eyes. "So, what now? I've never had a dream like this before--what do you want to know?"
"Well, start by telling me about the dream...and how long you've had it. Does it change at all, or is it the same dream? Are you watching, or participating? You said that you can feel during it--what are you feeling: physical or emotional, or both."
Blair watched his friend sit back with a note pad, and was struck by the incongruity of the situation. No wonder Jim got grumpy sometimes. It was disconcerting to be considered a research subject. He made a mental note to be a little more considerate of Jim's feelings in the future, then leaned back into the sofa and began to talk.
He described the dream, and how it varied slightly in detail-but never changed overall. He'd had them--it--for a couple of weeks now, and he was always a participant, experiencing the events that were happening. *He'd* felt love for the man called Ian. He'd felt Ian's kisses, his touches. He'd felt the bayonet stabbing into his stomach, and his blood flowing from his body. Felt that body growing cold...
"Blair? Blair, you in there?" Jarvis was waving a hand in front of his face.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, man. The memory is just totally too intense." Blair shivered.
Jarvis studied him intently. "You just said 'memory'. It sounds like a past life experience, Blair. Dreams can mean things, of course, but they're not usually that detailed, all the way through."
"Yeah, but *why*, man? Why now?"
"Is there anything going on in your life that's different than usual? Something that could have triggered a buried memory?"
Blair snorted. "My life doesn't subscribe to 'usual', Jarvis. I go with Jim, and do the police thing. There's nothing ordinary about that. It's so un-ordinary that it's become ordinary."
Jarvis considered him. "What about at school? You're involved in the exhibit, right? Running it, if I'm not mistaken. That's not ordinary."
Blair stared off into space for a moment, thinking about how he'd been totally swept up into the exhibit. "The exhibit is the only thing in my life that's different. Do you think there's something about that that's triggering this? What do I do, if this is a past life memory like you think?"
"I know someone you could talk to, Blair. He's a former prof of mine, who's in private practice now. He does regression hypnosis--which I think you should consider. It would at least confirm if it's your own memory of another life." Jarvis sat back on the couch and watched his friend.
Blair's only reply was to raise an eyebrow, and Jarvis sighed. "What, Bear? His name is Grant. Grant Thomas, and he's a fully certified psychotherapist. He's trained in hypnosis, and does quite a bit of regression therapy. Past life stuff is a little over my head, or I'd do it for you."
"You're sure I can trust this guy?"
Jarvis nodded, "With your life, man. However many there are."
Blair stared at him for a minute, then started laughing at the joke. Jarvis grinned back at him. "More coffee, Bear?"
Blair stood and stretched. "Nah--I need to get going; have to sub in a class tomorrow, and I need to read over the material so I know what I'm talking about."
Jarvis stood too. "Yeah, it's always good to not look like a fool in front of the class." He handed Blair a piece of paper. "Here's Grant's phone number and address. Give him a call tomorrow--he'll probably be able to work you in, just make sure you tell him I referred you; otherwise you may still be waiting for an appointment come Christmas."
Blair smiled, and leaned over to hug Jarvis. "Thanks, man. I appreciate this."
"You're more than welcome, Blair. I'm glad I could help at all. Wish I could do more."
"Take care of Michael--he's a cool kid."
"Yeah, I know." Jarvis walked Blair to the front door, and pushed it open. "Let me know how it goes, okay? With the regression...and the roommate."
"Will do. See ya round, man."
"'Bye, Blair."
Blair jogged down the steps that led from Jarvis' house to the street where he'd parked, the paper with Dr. Thomas' number crinkling in his pocket as he went. He'd call first thing tomorrow--maybe then he could start to get some answers.
Tuesday, 4/15
Blair strode rapidly across the parking lot toward his office. A light mist drifted past his face and he could see the branches of nearby trees swaying in the wind; their leaves flowing to and fro. The sky was a pale blue-gray lighted ever so slightly by the sun partially hidden behind darkening clouds. "April showers..." He muttered as he ran the last few steps to the building. The young man had just managed to step under the awning of the anthro building when a crack of thunder filled his ears and the clouds opened up.
He hefted the umbrella and was thankful Jim had forced it into his hands this morning. Yesterday had been bright and warm and Blair had been skeptical for the need of one. No mention of a storm had been talked about in the weather forecast, either. His Sentinel, however, had told him otherwise, saying that he could smell it. Blair never questioned Jim's senses and he took the umbrella. He was now glad he did. No telling how long a Cascade storm would last. It could be over in minutes or, like the time he and Jim and to save a kidnapped Simon from Quinn, a few days. Blair smiled and walked down the hallway to his office. "Cold and wet is my world," he said, softly.
"Couldn't agree with you more," a voice spoke up. "Looks like they sucked up all the water in the Sound and dumped it here. We're going to need a rowboat to get home this afternoon."
Blair chuckled along with the newcomer. "Hey, Sarina. You're here early."
The blonde nodded as they continued toward the stairs. "I'm really anxious to get to work and since I have a class this afternoon, I came in early. Glad I did. If I'd come later I'd probably would have gotten drenched. There was no mention of any storm."
Blair glanced at her as they walked down the stairs. "Yeah. It was pretty sudden."
Sarina indicated the umbrella. "You came prepared, though."
He grinned. "A friend of mine had a feeling."
Sarina walked toward the crate she'd been working on last week. "A feeling, huh? People make fortunes with feelings like that."
Blair watched her pry the lid open and pull out a large pottery figurine. "I'll tell him."
They smiled at each other and went to work.
A few hours later, Blair jerked his head up at the sound of thunder. The rain had stopped, but now lightening licked the sky. It was going to rain again. Thunder rolled once more and the rain began to fall, hitting the windows in a slow, steady rhythm.
"There it goes again," Sarina said from above him.
Blair glanced up from his sitting position on the floor. Sarina was looking down at him. In one fluid motion, she was kneeling next to Blair. She leaned forward and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear.
Blair swallowed. Sarina was leaning in pretty close, invading his personal space. Her eyes blazed with something he hadn't seen before--or at least hadn't noticed. "Uh, Sarina," he began tentatively.
Sarina smiled, her eyes half closed.
Blair knew then that Sarina meant to kiss him. He felt helpless to stop it. Sarina was a nice girl and he didn't want to hurt her. He cursed inwardly. He should have seen the signs earlier.
Blair was shocked out of his reverie. Sarina's face was mere inches from his own. He tried again. "Sarina--" He was cut off as Sarina's lips descended. He opened his mouth to protest and Sarina took the opportunity to roam the inside of his mouth with her tongue. A bolt of lightening accompanied by a loud bang of thunder caused the lights to flicker and go out.
Blair tried to push Sarina away when he felt her hands on his chest. Under the cover of darkness, soft hands slipped inside his shirt, and he gasped as she brushed his nipple. He felt it harden and he moaned into her mouth. His nipples were a definite erogenous zone for him. Blair imagined for a moment that it was Jim teasing and pinching and he moaned louder.
"Like that, do you?" Sarina's husky voice floated to him.
Blair froze as the lights flickered again. "Sarina, stop. We can't do this."
"Yes, we can, Blair. You want this. I can tell. Look, why don't you come over to my place for dinner tonight. We'd have a real good time." Sarina said seductively, and leaned in to kiss him again.
The lights flickered on and Blair stared into her eyes. He pushed here away and stood. There would be no more kissing. "No, Sarina. No more. I-I'm not interested."
"That's not how it felt to me!" Sarina was suddenly angry. She rose to her feet and glared at Blair. "You seemed pretty responsive."
"I'm sorry. Really, I am. Things weren't meant to get out of hand." Blair felt helpless. Why did these things always happen to him?
Sarina stared at him for a moment. With a sigh, the tension left her body and she slumped. Her head bent forward, she whispered, "No. It's me who should apologize, Blair. I shouldn't have pushed it. I knew you didn't like me in that way or you'd have noticed by now."
"It's okay. No harm done. It happens to the best of us." Blair thought of his own situation, and sympathized with her. "Can we still be friends?"
Sarina's head snapped up. "You want us to still be friends with? Work together?"
He nodded. "Yeah. You don't expect me to do this all by myself, do you?" He waved absently toward the crates.
Sarina smiled, relief evident in her eyes. "No, I don't expect you to do this all by yourself. Guess we'd better get back to work, huh?"
"Good idea." Blair turned back to the crate he was working out of.
"Hey, Blair?" Sarina spoke. Blair glanced at her over his shoulder. "Thanks."
He smiled. "No problem."
They worked for a few hours longer before Sarina had to leave for her afternoon classes, and Blair for his p.m. lecture.
Wednesday, 4/16
Blair parked the Corvair on the street in front of the house. He'd already figured out from the area that it was residential--the guy must work out of his home. It was a nice looking house...regression therapy must pay well. Blair snickered. No wonder there were so many psych majors-it obviously paid better than anthro did.
Jarvis had been right--until Blair mentioned his friend's name the good doctor had been ready to schedule him for sometime later in the summer. A quick comment about being referred by Jarvis had freed up an appointment today--Tuesday afternoon-only though, the doctor explained, because he'd had a cancellation.
The man who answered the door didn't look at all like Blair had imagined someone named Grant Thomas would look. He looked more like...well, like himself. Sort of neo-hippie. Blair felt better already.
"Dr. Thomas?"
"Hi--you must be Blair?"
"Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you." Blair stuck his hand out, and Dr. Thomas grasped it.
"Come in, come in." He gestured Blair through the door, and closed it behind them. "So, Jarvis sent you to me, hmm?"
"Yes, he did."
"He called me early yesterday before you did, and mentioned that you'd probably be calling. He didn't say what the problem is, just that you're pretty shaken up."
"Yeah. Well, I don't know. I mean, shaken's maybe not the right word--more like it's really bugging me. I'm curious, but I'm kind of freaked out by it all the same. It's really weird. I understand, and believe in the past life/reincarnation thing...but to think it's going on inside my own head--man, that's like so bizarre."
"Tell me about the dream, and what you experienced during it."
So, for the second time in as many days, Blair found himself talking about his dreams of the last week. Dr. Thomas listened quietly, using a tape recorder rather than a notebook. He asked occasional questions, but let Blair do most of the talking. Blair wound down by telling him what Jarvis had said about being hypnotized to remember the details--to remember the life.
"Do you want to be hypnotized, Blair?"
"If it'll help me figure out what's going on, yeah."
"Regression hypnosis is something that takes some time. It's not a 'find out your life history in one easy step' type of thing. This could takes weeks, or months."
Blair held up his hands. "Whoa, man. I just want to find out about this one life. Not all --if there are more-- of them. Just this one, and who Ian is." 'Because I'm starting to have an idea.'
"You believe Ian is someone important to you in this life, don't you?"
Blair looked at Dr. Thomas, a suspicious frown on his face. "Hey, man, are you psychic, too? That's *way* too spooky. I was just thinking..."
"Blair, oftentimes we have the same group of souls in most of our lives. They are different people generally, but sometimes they repeat a role in our life. For instance, the soul who is your mother now, may also have been your mother in another life. Jarvis could have been your brother at some point. See what I'm getting at?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know all that, man. Ian is--I know someone right now who reminds me of the glimpses I've seen of him in my dreams. Someone I...have feelings for." Blair looked down at his hands, then back up again.
Dr. Thomas smiled reassuringly and reached for a pad of paper and a pen this time. "I need to get some additional information about your background, then we'll talk some about the hypnosis process, and I'll answer any questions you have."
"You're not going to hypnotize me today?"
"No--I need to get the information from you, and you need to get to know me. Hypnosis is something that works best if there's an element of trust present; if you don't feel comfortable with me, then we're not going to get very good results."
"Oh." Blair was quiet for a minute, considering Thomas' words. "What if I said I trust you because Jarvis told me I can?"
Dr. Thomas smiled. "Then I would say you're a very trusting individual...but that we're still not going to do it today, because I don't have the time with this session. A hypnosis session is longer than a 'regular' session; we have to have more time to explore whatever you're finding."
Blair nodded; that made sense. "Do you have any more openings this week then that we can do the hypnosis?"
Dr. Thomas gave Blair a look he had trouble interpreting. "Why are you pushing so hard with this?"
Blair shook his head. "I don't know...but I almost feel as if I *have* to. Like unlocking secrets--I have to have the answer because time is running out. I can't explain it, but it's a feeling inside of me that I've had ever since I started having the dreams. Almost as if I'm like being warned or something. You know--like a Star Trek show where there's parallel universes, and one of the incarnations shows up to one of the other ones and tells the Captain what they have to do to avoid something from happening that's gonna affect the whole space-time continuum? That's how I feel right now. Totally on edge."
The doctor was silent for a long moment, just watching Blair, eyes searching the young man's face. Finally he stood up, exhaling in a big sigh. "I have some time on Friday if you can come by--we can start the hypnosis then. Mind you, I'd still prefer to have a couple of sessions before beginning the regression, but..." he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. "How can I resist a plea like that?"
Blair smiled at him and pocketed the appointment card.
Wednesday night, 4/16
Like a beacon in the night, only one light blazed from a building on campus, lighting a dark corner. It was well past midnight and the community enjoyed the nocturnal stillness.
Blair strode purposefully around the lighted room, making notes in a small notebook. He absently paused, pushing at his glasses which had carelessly slipped down his nose. He scanned the room, noting the progress they'd made in almost three weeks of constant work. His eyes were drawn to the two mannequins in the corner. One was dressed in the old British military uniform; the other in the Scottish kilt. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the tension and, for a moment, the sounds of sword upon flesh, bayonets clanging and bagpipes wailing filled his ears.
He closed his eyes and was back in his dream. The battlefield strewn with the sacrifices to the gods of war laid itself across closed eyelids. Among the stains of blood and death cries, knelt one figure cradling a lifeless one. Blair choked back a sob and opened his eyes, trying to eradicate the vision. That particular dream always ended that way and it brought him such pain, as if his heart had been squeezed like an overripe peach. Blair was beginning to understand its significance. He hoped his regression hypnosis therapy session on Friday with Dr. Thomas would yield results. After his initial meeting this afternoon with the doctor, Blair had high hopes of coming to grips with his dreams.
'Day after tomorrow, maybe I'll find out how *real* my dreams are.' Blair took a deep breath. He moved closer to the life-like figures and brushed lightly at the Scottish uniform still remembering. He really couldn't wait to meet Dr. Thomas and settle this.
Moving away, he spied the latest delivery for the exhibit. It was the biggest shipment by far and Dr. Hathaway's pride and joy. The Egyptian artifacts--minus one more piece that would be here at the last minute--were central to the exhibit and he had been holding himself back from delving into the crates. He knew treasures awaited him under the closed lids, but he was going to wait for the museum pieces to be delivered on Friday. It would be easier to process and arrange all the Egyptian segments at once.
Coordinating this part of the exhibit was the most difficult because it was the central piece and had the largest number of artifacts. In addition, Dr. Osaka had not made any provisions for it because of her sudden departure to Japan. It left Blair holding the bag and he had to make most of the arrangements-some at the last minute. Procuring the Great Exhibition Hall had severely tested Blair's diplomacy skills. At first, Dr. Hathaway had meant to showcase the exhibit in the large basement which also doubled as a gallery. Blair had nixed that idea almost immediately. It would take time and people, but they would get all the artifacts upstairs to the GEH.
The anthropologist was going to be busier than he had ever been. He had his work cut out for him. Between lecturing and grading; the exhibit, and working with Jim, he felt pulled in too many different directions.
'Not that I've been such a great help to Jim lately,' he mused. 'He's probably forgotten what I look like.' A flash a guilt almost made him wince. He hadn't seen Jim very much in the first two days, had barely spoken to him beyond the early morning courtesies. Their pleasant evening spent together watching movies a few nights ago seemed but a dream now. Blair decided that he would leave early tomorrow and make dinner.
The line of friendship was becoming hazy and Blair didn't know how much longer he could keep himself together. His feelings for Jim had always been complex. Because of the sentinel abilities and Blair's role as guide, the younger man was privy to Jim's inner self, and the relationship borne out of such knowledge left him closer to Jim Ellison than most. Now, though, Blair had unconsciously brought the relationship to another more intimate level. Or, rather, that's where he wanted it brought. He wouldn't ruin their friendship over it, though. He would leave Jim first before that happened. An almost physical pain erupted in his chest over that thought and he took in a few calming breaths. He could never leave Jim.
Blair was startled out of his musings by a loud thump from above. The young man froze and his eyebrows crinkled in concentration. It was that noise again. The one he thought he'd imagined the last time he was alone with the artifacts.
'Who could it be?' Blair wondered. Unbidden, the answer came to him. 'Whoever's threatening the exhibit, you idiot.' Trepidation played along Blair's nerves like a fine tune on a violin. He wished suddenly that Jim were here, but it was his fault he wasn't.
Blair grimaced and his thoughts drifted back to yesterday...
He'd just gotten back from his afternoon lecture and was settling into his chair when a knock sounded at his office door. Without bothering to look up, he called, "Come in."
It was Karen and she handed Blair an envelope. He looked at it, puzzled. The envelope had no return address or postmark-just his name and department in bold, typewritten letters.
With a scholar's curiosity, Blair tore open the envelope. A frown marred his handsome features as he read the contents of the note. It seemed the phone calls weren't enough. Disgusted, Blair crumpled the note in disgust and heaved it across the room toward the trash can.
A shuffling noise above him brought the young man back to the present once again. He frowned at his own foolishness. He'd blown off the note, thinking it was a cheap scare tactic. Blair realized with sudden clarity that he was probably in danger, and cursed himself again for breaking his promise to Jim. He hadn't mentioned the note to the detective. He'd totally forgotten about it.
He strained to hear movement and not for the first time wished for Jim's sentinel abilities. The only thing he heard was his heart beating triple time with fear. His situation was grim. There was no phone in the basement and he'd left his backpack with his cell phone in his office.
Apprehensively, Blair ducked down behind one of the newer crates. The basement was suddenly plunged into darkness. He felt along the floor hoping for something to use as a weapon. His fingers touched the crowbar, and he grasped it, relieved. He rose slightly to peer around the crate. Someone was out there and that was bad news. Despite the fear coursing through his veins, the young man tiptoed forward and tried to peer around the box. It was too dark for him to make out anyone. Gripping the crowbar hard, he wondered what to do next. A movement to his left startled him and he swung around, the crowbar slicing through the air. Adrenaline surging through his body, he risked rising into a half-standing position.
Out of nowhere, the wooden African mask appeared, floating gently in the air. It's grotesquely gaping mouth seemed to reach forward to eat him. Blair swung the crowbar like a baseball bat, but he missed the spectral mask. His eyes widened in shock as the wooden carving came toward him. Having no time to throw his arms up to protect himself, it connected with his head with a sharp crack, and blackness descended.
Jim Ellison landed hard on the floor, gasping. Cold beads of sweat slipped down his hot skin over tense muscles. He lifted a trembling hand to pull himself up and back into bed. Jim didn't know how long the nightmare had held him in its tight grip, nor could he remember what it was about. All he knew was that it had disturbed him, badly.
He eased himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Jim hadn't had a nightmare in a long time. The Sentinel could hear his own heart racing and his blood pounding. Unconsciously following the instructions of his Guide, Jim began to take deep breaths. In moments, the breathing exercises had settled his thumping heart and his nerves.
It was then that he realized that he only heard his heartbeat. No other existed in the loft where there should have been one. Frowning, Jim glanced at his clock. The digital display read two in the morning. Blair should have been home hours ago.
Where the hell was he?
Chapter 4
Thursday morning, 4/17
"Blair?" called an anxious voice, distantly. "Blair, honey, wake up."
Blair moaned and shifted, trying to get away from the water drifting into his ears. Eyes still closed, he wiped awkwardly at his face and found the wet washcloth lying against his forehead. He groaned and moved the cloth, seeking to remove the source of the water dribbling down the side of his face and into his hair.
Blair groaned again and struggled to obey the command. His head ached painfully, throbbing with each beat of his heart. Slowly, his eyelids raised and he stared fuzzily at his savior.
"There. That's better." Sarina sat back on her heels, her eyes never leaving Blair's face.
"Sarina?" Blair choked out as he tried to raise himself from his prone position on the floor. Soft hands held him down.
"Yeah, it's me. I think you should rest a bit before you try to get up. You've got a nasty bump on the head."
Blair managed a slight nod without driving more spikes of pain through his brain. He took a few deep calming breaths, trying to stop the room from spinning. "Sarina?" he whispered. "What time is it?"
Sarina appeared startled by the question. Looking at her watch, she replied, "It's almost six in the morning."
"I've been out that long?" Blair was incredulous.
Sarina shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how long you've been out. I just got here. Wanted to get started early. What happened to you?" She was still looking at Blair concerned.
The young man finally made it into a sitting position. Rubbing the top of his head where a bump had already formed, he answered, "I was working late and I heard a noise. Next thing I know someone's hitting me over the head with one of the African masks. It happened hours ago."
Sarina's eyes widened in horror. Before Blair could react, she'd thrown her arms around him and clutched him to her chest. "Oh my God, Blair. You could have been killed. We've got to report this to the police."
The mention of the police brought forth another groan from Blair. He wasn't going to tell Jim about this. Blair wasn't in the mood for an "I-told-you-so" speech which he would get for not reporting the threatening note.
Blair realized he was still enfolded in Sarina's embrace. Gently, he disentangled himself from her arms and slowly rose to his feet. "No. We're not going to report this. It would only cause trouble for the exhibit which is what the attacker probably wants." If Blair didn't report it, Jim wouldn't find out.
Sarina stood and looked at him doubtfully. "Assuming the attack had anything to do with the exhibit."
Blair threw his arms in a wide gesture. "It's gotta be related to the exhibit. It's too much of a coincidence." If he'd learned anything from Jim, it was that here was no such thing as a coincidence. In light of the note he'd received, Blair knew it was all tied together.
Sarina was still looking at him and Blair noticed the adoration shining in her eyes. She was so obviously in love with him. Blair wondered how he could have been so blind. 'Man,' he thought to himself. 'Am *I* that obvious about Jim?" He certainly hoped not. Blair did not handle rejection well and therefore, tried to keep his relationships light. It had worked with Emily and Molly and even Sam, but he knew it wouldn't work with Jim. They already had a close friendship. He shook his head, trying to clear the spell he always found himself in when he thought about Jim. Blair winced as pain lanced through his head. Maybe a few hours sleep back at the loft would help. He'd come back to work later.
"Blair, are you okay?" Sarina asked the quiet anthropologist.
He smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Look, go ahead and get started. I'm going to go home and catch a few Z's."
She nodded. "Okay. You sure we shouldn't report it?"
Blair pondered the question. It really wasn't right for him to not report the incident. He was hesitant about going to Major Crimes. Somehow, breaking and entering didn't seem to fall under that category. "If it makes you feel better, I'll report it to the campus police--let them deal with it."
Sarina nodded. "It would probably be a good idea."
The young man walked toward the door and paused. "It'll be okay, Sarina. I'll tell campus security that someone broke in here, but if you're worried about being here alone, don't be. I can hear some of the staff already. You know old Mrs. Chalmers likes to be here before Dean Verastique and he's always early. Besides, Michael should be here soon. He said he'd be in by seven."
Sarina smiled. "Both Mrs. Chalmers and Dean Verastique came in at the same time that I did."
"All right," Blair replied. "I'll see you in a few hours."
"Rest, Blair. That's what you need. I'll see you later." Sarina's voice held compassion.
At the door, Blair turned and eyed the petite figure. Sarina really was quite pretty. She was also very intelligent, with a caring nature. 'Why couldn't I fall in love with her?' Blair asked himself. She was perfect for him, but she wasn't Jim. "Later, Sarina." He turned and left.
Sandburg ambled slowly toward his parked car. Each step sent a sliver of pain through his skull and he briefly wondered if maybe he was concussed and should go to the hospital. He dismissed the idea. A few hours of sleep was all he needed. Now primary concern was how he was going to get past Jim without letting on how bad his head hurt.
Blair eased into the driver's seat and started the engine. He was soon on his way to the loft. "Maybe Jim will have gone to work already." Blair spoke out loud as he eased the car into his parking spot.
It was a false hope because the first thing Blair saw as he entered the loft was a glowering, unshaven Jim Ellison.
"Where the *hell* have you been?" Jim asked in a tightly controlled voice.
Blair froze like a deer caught in headlights. That's how he felt faced with the probing glare of his detective roommate. The pounding in his head increased and he looked longingly toward his bedroom with its nice warm bed. "Jim, can't this wait until later? I'm beat, man. All I wanna do is crash for a few hours."
"Didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" Jim asked. At Blair's tentative shrug, he continued, "Well neither did I, Sandburg, and until you tell me where the hell you *were*, you're *still* not going to get any." Jim folded his arms.
Blair released a pain-laden sigh. Jim heard it and frowned. "What happened? Are you okay?"
The younger man mentally kicked himself for giving himself away. "I'm fine, Jim. Just tired. I was at the university working--"
Jim interrupted him, sarcastically, "--on the exhibit. Yeah, yeah. Seems I've heard that before. God, Chief, do you think it would have killed you to call me and let me know?"
'No,' Blair thought guiltily.
Jim went on. "All the stuff we've been through...I was imagining all sorts of things."
"Hey, man, I'm sorry. I meant to call." Blair looked contrite. He had been planning to call Jim until the crack to his head changed his plans for the night. "I really did. Guess I got busy and lost track of time. I promise to call next time."
Jim took a step toward him. "It's a promise you'd better keep Chief, because next time I might not handle the situation as calmly. I almost had an APB put out on you."
Blair nodded and licked his lips. This was calm? He'd hate to see Jim *really* worked up... He spoke, "Why didn't you?"
Jim shrugged. "I knew you'd be working on the exhibit. You've been eating, drinking, and sleeping it for weeks. And you did mention the possibility of working late when I called about dinner yesterday."
Blair sighed. "I'm really sorry, Jim."
Jim allowed a slight smile to play about his lips. "Yeah, okay. Make it up to me. Meet me for lunch."
Blair smiled back and his headache diminished slightly. "Sounds like a plan, man. Pick me up from the anthro building."
"Sure, Chief. I'll be there about one o'clock. Now I'd better shave and get to the station. Paperwork calls," Jim said as he turned to the bathroom.
Blair laughed before calling to the retreating back, "One's fine. See ya then."
"All right, Chief." Jim closed the bathroom door.
Blair was already asleep when Jim left for work twenty minutes later.
"Really, Chief, when I suggested lunch, I was thinking of steak, not rabbit food." Jim signaled left before turning the Expedition onto the college campus.
Blair was smiling. He'd been smiling since Jim picked him up almost two hours ago. "Come on, Jim. I've been wanting to try that new vegetarian restaurant. Besides, roughage is good for your diet."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Roughage, right, whatever. You just better use the spray and not the cedar chips, Chief. I don't need any splinters."
Blair was still laughing when Jim parked in front of the anthropology building.
"You going to be home early tonight?" Jim asked as the other man's laughter ceased.
"Yeah, I'll be home about ten." Blair got out of the car and closed the door. He looked thoughtful as he stuck his head in through the open passenger window. "Hey, you wanna come see some of the artifacts?"
Jim considered the suggestion. It would be nice to be allowed a look into Blair's world. It wasn't very often he got to experience anthropology the way Blair did police work. Jim nodded and the two headed for the anthropology building.
Once inside, Blair led the way down the hallway to the staircase that would lead to the basement. They had just reached it when the elevator across the hall opened and Sarina stepped out.
"Blair!" Her tone spoke obvious surprise.
The anthropologist turned, aware of Jim behind him. "Hi, Sarina. Where've you been? I came back to work on the exhibit this morning and you weren't around."
Sarina replied, "Today's Thursday, remember? I teach two classes in the morning. I had a bite for lunch and came in about one. I've been working ever since."
Blair nodded. "We must have just missed each other. I'm going down there right now to show my roommate some of the collection."
The woman glanced at the tall man behind Blair. "Oh, hi. I'm Sarina."
"Jim Ellison," the detective answered. His sentinel sense of smell sharpened as he caught the faint odor of roses. He glanced around for the source and frowned. He didn't see any flowers anywhere. There was something unnatural about it anyway; as if chemicals had been added.
"Oops, sorry." Blair looked sheepish. "I should have introduced you."
"It's okay, Chief. Let's get going. I've got to get back to work," Jim replied.
"We'll be downstairs, Sarina." Blair turned to go, then froze at Sarina's next words.
"Blair, are you okay? You weren't doing so well when I found you this morning. Maybe you should just take it easy--you know, go on home."
The Sentinel could hear Blair's heartbeat accelerate as he looked down into the face of his guide. He was about to speak when Blair turned abruptly around to face Sarina.
"I'm doing great. That thing this morning was no big deal." Blair replied, keeping his voice light.
"No big deal?" Sarina's voice was incredulous. "You said you'd been out for hours. Did you even go to the hospital to see if you had a concussion?"
Blair felt Jim stiffen behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jim was already talking.
"Sarina, what *did* happen last night?" Jim asked, sounding calm and unconcerned.
Blair wasn't fooled. He could hear the steel behind the words.
The young woman was startled. "Blair didn't tell you? It was awful. Apparently, someone broke in last night and attacked him. I found him early this morning out cold on the basement floor."
Blair fought the urge to scream...or bolt. He could already tell from the tension emanating behind him that his Blessed Protector did not like what he was hearing. Jim's next words, spoken quietly, but with intensity, confirmed that.
"Guess Blair and I haven't had a chance to discuss it."
Blair broke in. "I'm okay, Sarina. Don't worry about it. Talk to you later."
Sarina nodded, still uncertain. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ellison."
"Call me, Jim. Nice meeting you, too," Jim replied.
Sarina turned and sauntered out of the building.
A hand descended upon his shoulder and Blair swallowed. While in the presence of the lady, Jim had been deceptively mild, but Blair didn't have to turn around to know that Jim's mouth was set in a grim line, jaw muscle jumping.
"Come on, Chief. Let's go to your office." Blair didn't reply. Jim's hand was firm and unyielding as he led his Guide into the elevator that would take them to the second floor and to Blair's office.
As the elevator rose, Blair tried to turn to speak. The hand remained, keeping him firmly in place. "Jim--" he tried.
"Not now, Sandburg."
Jim steered Blair to his office. The younger man felt as if he were being marched to face a firing squad. 'Maybe I am,' he thought, dully. 'Who knows what Jim's thinking. Guess I'll find out soon enough.'
They walked into the office and Jim grabbed a chair and pulled it into the middle of the room. Blair was about to speak again when he was unceremoniously shoved into the chair. Cautiously, he shifted into a more comfortable position and looked up into Jim's worried face.
"Jim--" Blair spoke, but stopped in surprise as Jim's hands plunged into his curls. He tried to move his head away from those powerful fingers. They gently glided over his scalp, ruffling his hair. Unconsciously, Blair closed his eyes and leaned into that magic touch.
"Stay still, Sandburg," Jim muttered, strands of his guide's hair teasing sensitive fingertips. Blair's hair felt so soft; he found himself focusing on the individual strands, and the way it slid across his skin. He was pulled from his near zone-out when Blair yelped in pain.
Blair opened his eyes and looked at Jim in confusion. He'd almost let go; almost gave himself away. It was Jim's probing of the tender spot that jerked him back to reality.
Jim's fingers touched the bump on Blair's head and he winced again. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." Blair looked up at him.
Jim stepped back, a look of doubt marring his features. "Someone really did a number on you, Chief. Care to explain what happened?"
Blair nodded and told Jim about the intruder. He finished his explanation with a description of the attack.
Jim stood quietly in front of Blair, his arms folded. Finally he said, "Take me downstairs, Chief. I want to see this mask."
"Sure." Blair rose and let the way to the basement.
Jim gave a low whistle as they entered the temporary warehouse. "Seems you've gotten quite a few more artifacts since the last time I was here."
Blair nodded. "Yeah. That's why I've had to work late. Everything needs to be in order and we've only got a month left before the exhibit opens."
Jim's face darkened. "We'll discuss the exhibit and your work schedule in a minute. Right now, I want to see the mask."
Blair reached down to pick up the mask when Jim's hand on his arm stopped him. "Careful. I want to have it checked for prints."
"Jim," Blair spoke, "It wouldn't do any good. I've touched it; Sarina's touched it, and Michael's touched it."
"Still," Ellison insisted. "I want it examined."
"Jim," Blair argued, "I've already had a talk with the campus police and I'm not going to drag this out. You'd be wasting your time."
The detective's eyes narrowed. "You reported this to the campus police? What *exactly* did you tell them because I wasn't told."
Blair's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Huh? Why would anyone tell you?"
Jim replied, "If an assault report with your name on it had entered the central database, your personnel record would have been flagged and Simon would have been notified. It's standard procedure for all department personnel. So, Chief, what *did* you report?"
Blair flushed. "I reported an intruder. I didn't mention the assault."
"I see. You weren't going to say anything. Well, consider it reported, Chief. Between this attack and the phone calls, there'll be an investigation."
Blair shifted, uncomfortably. "Dr. Hathaway never reported the calls."
"What?!" Jim took a step toward him. "Damn it. I knew I should have checked. But I trusted you to do it. My mistake."
Blair flinched as the barb struck home. "I thought he'd done it, Jim. But he told me a few days ago that he forgot and it was already too late."
"It's not too late. I'm calling for backup. Having a professor attacked in his own university is cause for an investigation." Jim reached for his cell phone.
"No!" Blair exclaimed and Jim looked at him. "Jim, listen to me. It's just some protesters trying to shut down the exhibit. If we report this, the university just might do that. I can't let that happen."
"You can't let that happen?" Jim was angry. "Look, Chief. I don't give a damn about this exhibit. Do you realize you could have been killed?!" Jim's voice cracked on the last word.
Blair nodded, ignoring the emotion in Jim's tone. "Yeah, I know, but I wasn't. I can't risk the exhibit. It's too important."
"You'd rather risk your life, is that it?" Jim growled. "Well, I'm not going to let you. You won't be working on the exhibit any longer, Chief, and there will be an investigation."
Blair stood very still. When he spoke, his tone was low and quiet. "What do you mean I won't be working on the exhibit any longer?"
Jim looked him full in the face. "I mean exactly that. I don't want you having any more to do with the exhibit. It's too dangerous and I won't risk it."
Blair threw up his hands, and the anger which had been simmering under the surface bubbled forth. "I'm not asking you to risk anything, Jim. It's my decision. I can't turn my back on this project. It's too important. Maybe more important than my life. I'm defending something I believe in."
"I can't believe that you think all this--" Jim gestured at the artifacts in the room. "is more important than your life."
Blair tried a more reasonable tone. "Look, Jim. You face dangerous situations all the time. You've been hurt. I've never asked you to stop being a cop."
Jim paced the floor. "This is different, Blair."
Blair moved in front of Jim. The detective stopped and stared at him. "No, Jim. This is no different. You fight every day to protect the rights of individuals. In my own small way, I am too. I could no more stop being an anthropologist than you could stop being a cop. Don't you see? It's not just the exhibit anymore. It's what it stands for. Freedom of--"
Jim interrupted him. "Chief, we've already had this discussion. I know how you feel. I just don't happen to agree with you. Your life is worth more. If not to you then to me."
Blair sighed. "I do think my life is important, Jim. I've got way too many things to do, yet."
"Then why do you insist on putting yourself in danger?" Jim asked. His anger had ebbed and now he just wanted answers. He was concerned about Blair. More than he cared to admit.
Sandburg rolled his eyes. "We've covered this already. I really think you're blowing this out of proportion, man."
"I'm blowing this out of proportion?" Secretly though, he agreed with his friend. Lately, he'd been feeling slightly uneasy, but had chalked it up to the lack of his guide's presence at his side. "I don't think so. I'm your Blessed Protector, remember? So why don't you listen to me?"
Blair flushed and looked to the floor. "You *are* my Blessed Protector, Jim, and I know you're just trying to watch out for me." Blair shrugged, helplessly. "But this is something I have to do."
Jim sighed and Blair looked up. "I still want to report this, Chief. Assault is nothing to take lightly. Others could be in danger."
"Okay, Jim. I understand. I hadn't thought about it that way." Blair agreed, flushing guiltily. He hadn't realized the implications that the attack would have. His own selfishness could have caused someone else pain...even death. He resolved to be more thoughtful in the future.
"I'll try to run this as a low profile investigation, Chief. This way you can carry on with your exhibit."
Blair looked surprised. "You're not going to give me anymore grief over this?!" If that were the case, he'd been let off easy.
Jim smiled--slightly--for the first time. "I can't say I'm happy about it, but I can't stop you, either. But I do have one condition. Two, actually."
Blair was instantly wary. "What are the conditions?"
Jim replied, "One, don't work here alone late at night. Make sure there's someone around. In the daytime, there are lots of people in the building, but at night..." Jim trailed off at Blair's nod. "Second," Jim continued, "and this is important, trust me."
Blair was startled. "I *do* trust you, Jim. That was never an issue."
Jim just looked at him. "Blair, you weren't going to tell me about the assault. Something's wrong here, Chief. It's not like you to keep things from me."
Blair felt the guilt wash over him afresh. "I'm sorry about that, Jim. I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it."
"You let me make that call, okay? Just keep the lines of communication open between us. No more secrets. Trust, Chief, that's what it's all about."
Blair nodded. "All right, Jim. I can do that." Blair suddenly grinned. "Trust me with dinner tonight? Guess I'll be home earlier than ten." Their conversation had been way too heavy and it called for a touch of levity.
The tension left Jim's body. "Sounds good, Chief. Just no rabbit food, okay?"
"No rabbit food, got it." Blair was still grinning. He indicated to the mask on the floor with his toe. "You still want to take this?"
Jim nodded and picked up one of the dust rags Blair had been using to clean some of the artifacts. He lifted the mask, careful not to smudge any prints. "I'll take it with me now."
"Just tell them to be mindful of its importance. I'll need it back for the exhibit and I'd like it in one piece."
"No problem, Chief. I'll see you later tonight."
"Bye, Jim." Blair watched Jim walk to the door, stop, and turn to face him.
"Be careful." The command was given softly.
Blair felt a lump in his throat. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Jim stared him a moment longer as if memorizing every detail of his guide. Satisfied, he walked out the door, leaving Blair staring after him.
Friday, 4/18
Dr. Thomas greeted Blair as enthusiastically for this session as he had for the first. Blair smiled, but remained focused; he wanted to *solve* this puzzle. The sooner the better--before he began to doubt his sanity.
He settled on a futon the doctor had along one wall. Dr. Thomas turned the lights down, and drew the shades, darkening the room. He instructed Blair to relax, to imagine all his body relaxing into restfulness. Blair could hear the voice, dimly, as he relaxed on the futon, heard the doctor talking to that part of his mind that was hidden from conscious thought. He concentrated on the glowing light the doctor had told him to imagine...
...//Who are you?//
"M'name is Kythe MacKenzie. My friends call me Ky."
//Where and when do you live?//
"I live near Glenfadden, Scotland. It's the year of our Lord, 1744."
//How old are you?//
"Just turned 18."
//What is going on in your life right now?//
"All the talk aboot town is that Prince Tearlach is goin' to try to reclaim his throne. Ian's excited aboot it, but I amna."
//Why's that?//
"I dinna like fightin'. I dinna like to take lives, unless it's a necessary thing. An' I dinna see this as necessary."
//Who's Ian?//
"Och, he's my best friend. I've known him forever. We do everything together."
//Are you lovers?//
"Christ, man! What kind of question is that? Of course no! That's again' the teachings of the church. I couldna do somethin' like that."
//Are you sure? You sound pretty agitated for some reason.//
*no answer*
//Ky?//
"Aye?"
//Will you answer the question, Ky?//
*voice drops to near whisper* "God hae mercy on my soul, but I love him. But I canna ever hae him, so why subject ourselves to that misery?" Pause. "Da has a match in mind for me, to marry. Canna hae me unwed, an' prancin' around the countryside, can we."
//You sound bitter.//
"Aye, I'm bitter. I love Ian--an' I know he loves me. We're linked, he and I...meant to be together forever. But I hae a man's body, as does he...and for that we willna be permitted it."
//Okay, Ky. Take a deep breath, and relax a bit...these are just memories...that's it...relax...I want you to go forward in time, about six months. Tell me what's happening now.//
"Jesu Christus--they're goin' to do it! Scotland's goin' to fight for the Prince."
//How do you know that?//
"Ian heard the men talkin' tonight--the MacKenzie and the Battle Chieftain called a meeting of all the lairds around. We werena allowed in--most still consider us boys."
//You sound more peaceful talking about Ian.//
"Aye--my da's called off the match he was tryin' to make. The girl's father wasna honest wi' us, and we found out she had a bairn. Da was fightin' mad."
//But you're happy.//
"Aye. Ian and I are...we're lovers now. No verra often, we have to be discreet. It just feels right, somehow. He's the missing part of me. We can look at each other, an' know what the other one's thinking. When I'm wi' him, everything's right in my world."
//How does he feel about you?//
"He told me he loves me. And he calls me 'mo cridh'."
//What's that mean?//
"It means 'my heart', in the English." *pause* "I love him so much..."
//Okay...take a few more deep breaths...these are just memories, not real events. You see them happening around you, but they're in the past...relax...go forward now to the dream you've been having. What is troubling you...causing these memories to surface?//
"It's the morning of the battle."
//Which battle is that?//
"Och--Culloden, of course. We're fighting for Scotland and the Prince. Many hae died today--I can see them lyin' all around as Ian and I walk across the field."
//Where are you going?//
"To find the MacKenzie. We heard he'd fallen--want to find out for ourselves. Oh, no!"
//What's happening.//
"He's right there...He's... Oh, Christ Jesus! Oh, God, it hurts!"
//Ky, What's happening?//
"A redcoat...he's stabbed me. I could feel the blade as it slid from my body..."
//Deep breaths...it's a memory...relax...that's right...okay, relax...Good. Can you talk again?//
"Aye. Ian's here now--och, no...he's killed the soldier. He's kneeling next to me...oh, God...there's so much blood. I canna walk...and I'm too big for him to carry." *pause* "He tries. We take a few steps together, maybe a dozen. I fall, an' bring him down wi' me. Oh, Ian...I'm so sorry, love."
//What's happening now?//
*No answer*
//Ky? What's happening now?//
"I'm dyin'. I can see myself leavin' that body. Ian's cryin'...I've tried to tell him we'll meet again, but I dinna think he believes me. Ian's like that--stubborn, doesna believe in things he canna see. It's hard for him. It's been my job to guide him--now he's goin' to have to manage alone."
//It's okay...they're just memories. Go with them...relax. Good. What's happening now?//
"I've left that body, that life now."
//Are you Blair Sandburg again?//
"Yes."
//Is Ian in your present life?//
"Yes."
//Do you know who he is?//
"He's Jim."
//Who's Jim?//
"My roommate."
//Okay, Blair...we're going to bring you forward now...follow my voice. You're going to retain the memories you've uncovered here...but they'll be easy for you. No more bad dreams...follow my voice, Blair...begin the trip back...that's it...//
"Blair?"
Blair opened his eyes. The room swam slightly when he tried to sit up, and he grabbed his head. He had a killer headache. His eyes hurt, like he'd been crying. The regression... He'd died on the battlefield at Culloden. "Oh, God."
"Blair? Are you all right?"
He turned his head. Dr. Thomas. "Yeah--I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"You're the doc--you tell me."
"Do you remember?"
"Yeah." Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. "God...it was *real*. It happened."
Dr. Thomas watched him. "It's one thing to believe in reincarnation...and something else entirely to discover what that belief means, isn't it?"
"Oh, yeah." Blair closed his eyes and shuddered. "That was way too intense. I saw so *much*! Stuff that I...that I just...saw. Ian and Ky...man, they were more than just lovers." He opened his eyes again. "Ky was right--we're meant to be together." He opened his eyes to find Dr. Thomas regarding him steadily.
"Do you want to schedule another session?"
"Yeah. As freaked out as I am by this, it's also way too cool. I'll get it all settled in my head before long...and I'd like to know more about me. Them. Whoever."
"Fine. How does next Friday sound?"
"Can we do it again in a few days instead?"
"Are you sure you'll be okay by then? That's a lot of information to assimilate."
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Okay...How's Tuesday, at 10:00 a.m. sound?"
"Sounds good." Blair stood up and headed for the door. "Thanks, Dr. Thomas." He held his hand out to shake the doctor's, and Thomas slipped a tape into it. "For you, to listen to over, if you want to. It's a copy of the session. I always make two."
"Thanks. See you Tuesday."
Blair drove back to the University. He did have a lot to think about. But he also had a lot to *do*. Thinking would have to wait until tonight.
The day passed in relative quiet. If the team received another letter, he wasn't told. He taught his class, teased Michael, praised Sarina for her outstanding work in some of the arrangements, and left Rainier that night physically and mentally exhausted.
Lucky for him, Jim seemed to be feeling uncommunicative. Immediately after dinner he offered a good night, and headed for his room. Forget papers, exhibits, everything. He wanted to lay on his bed, and recall what he'd remembered. He stripped down to his boxers, and lay on top of his covers and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift.
His thoughts wandered through all that he'd seen in his mind that morning. Images of Ky going through his daily routine: at weapons practice, working in the stables, hunting in the woods near the castle. A lot of time spent with Ian, aching to tell the other young man how he felt about him--what he felt for him. Sensing Ian knew as well, and said nothing for the same reason he didn't. It was too painful, knowing they'd never be allowed to live together, loving each other publicly. Ky had spoken once or twice to Ian about the two of them taking off on their own, to 'seek out their fortunes'. What he'd really meant was to go where they could live together in peace, but Ian wouldn't hear of it. He'd told Ky it would be dishonorable to leave like that.
Ian. Blair's mind wrapped itself around the visual image of Ian MacKenzie. A man more unlike Jim in this life he'd never have imagined. Slighter in build, although not as small as Blair himself was. Muscular. A body shaped to be a warrior's body, in an age when claymore broadswords were common. An unruly mop of black curls that he wore short, but not *too* short. Grey eyes that seemed to pierce right through a person. And the part that was both Ian and Jim--an upstanding, respecting and respectful person. Stubborn to a fault, but true to what he believed in. Steady. Protective. He'd been protective of the less militarily minded Ky, much as his present-day counterpart was protective of Blair.
Blair sighed. There had been one scene in particular he'd seen, that he hadn't wanted to share with the doctor. It had felt too personal--and it was. The first time that Ky and Ian had come together as lovers...
Interlude 1
Scotland, 1745
He'd found Ian in the stables, forking hay into the troughs. It was early evening, and quiet, since most folk were at the castle, dining.
"Ian?" He'd approached slowly--the stiffness to Ian's body told him that he too had seen the rider come in.
"Aye?"
Ky ached to go to him, touch him...soothe him. He couldn't do that. What he *could* do was tell him the good news. "Da's called off the match, Ian. The wench wasna a virgin--she has a bairn. I'm no goin' to have to marry her." His voice shook slightly as he told Ian this--whether from relief, or sadness over the one he still couldn't have, he didn't know.
Ian turned and looked at him, eyes shining with tears--the same tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. "Good," he replied in a hoarse sounding voice. "I canna tell you how much I hated the thought of you and..." He broke off, and wiped at his face. "She wasna good enough for you anyway."
Ky snorted. "Aye?" He could hear the bitterness in his voice. "Like as no, there'd be those thinkin' she's too good for me, did they know who I really love."
Ian closed the distance, slight as it was, between them. "An' who would that be, Ky?"
Ky felt his stomach turn over, and heard the blood thundering in his ears. "I think ye know the answer to that, mi dhu," he whispered, daring for the first time to use the endearment he'd called Ian secretly for a long time now. He leaned in a bit toward Ian, who swayed closer and placed his hand on Ky's waist. Ky closed his eyes at the touch of warm flesh on his. "Ian..."
"Ky--mo cridh." Ian brought his mouth level with Ky's, hovering just above it.
"Oh, God, love..." Ky nearly sobbed the words, and then Ian's mouth was on his, and his world was spinning out of control.
They kissed, arms entwining around the other, drawing each other closer. It was the kiss of two people totally inexperienced with intimacy, and that made it all the sweeter for both of them. Ian opened his mouth under the onslaught of Ky's, and Ky groaned against that mouth as he felt the slickness of Ian's tongue against his. Their tongues played with each other, exchanging caresses, until Ky was gripping Ian's arms, fighting for control over his body.
Ian pulled away from Ky, panting heavily. "Let's go up to the loft," he whispered to Ky. Ky nodded, not eager to be discovered making love with his best friend in the stable.
They climbed the ladder awkwardly, trying to maintain physical contact. Once in the loft, they drew back to the far corner, as far away from the edge as possible. Ky knelt down in the straw, and drew Ian down with him. They knelt facing each other, and began to explore each other with lips and hands. Slowly, gently, they exchanged soft teasing kisses, small nips at each other's lips, sucking on each other's tongues. Ky began to unlace Ian's shirt, and felt his friend's fingers doing the same. They pulled apart long enough to draw the shirts off, then Ky was bending down to nuzzle at Ian's neck, trailing kisses across his chest, licking at the flat pink nubs that were half-hidden in the whorls of soft dark hair that surrounded them. He heard Ian's sharp intake of breath as his tongue danced across one nipple, and he repeated the action on the other. Ian grabbed onto Ky's upper arms, and groaned as Ky began suckling the tempting little bits. He pulled at Ky's head, urging him back up to where he could reach Ky's mouth, and sent a questing hand downward to rub at the erection that was poking against Ky's kilt.
"God, Ian...I want to touch ye...feel ye against me." Ky reached shaking hands down to undo Ian's kilt, then released his. They moved their bodies closer until their erect cocks were pressing against each other.
Ian leaned in to kiss Ky again, and Ky felt desire shake him to his core. He wanted this. He wanted this with Ian, over and over again, forever. Gently he pressed Ian backward, until his lover lay beneath him, hips thrusting against his own, cocks rubbing together. Ky reached a hand down to caress Ian's chest, rubbing and touching every inch he could reach. Their lips continued to tease at each other's, drifting off occasionally to nip at an ear, or the soft skin of the neck.
Ian broke away first. "I want ye inside me, Ky...I want to feel ye movin' in me...loving me." He groaned as Ky licked his throat.
"Yes, mi dhu...I want it, too." Ky leaned back over Ian and kissed him again. "I want to put myself in ye...and love ye until we explode." He drew himself off of Ian. "I amna real sure about this, Ian...Do ye...?"
Ian grinned. "I dinna know much more, but for this," he shifted up onto his knees, then onto all fours, turning his head back to talk to Ky, "I think this is right."
Ky groaned as Ian presented his ass to him. "Aye...this'll do. Oh, God, mi dhu...I want you so bad..." He knelt behind Ian, and moved up closely behind him. Ian was so tempting, there in front of him. He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on each of Ian's cheeks. Ian moaned lightly above him, and Ky smiled. He pulled back then, and sucked on a finger for a moment--instinctively sensing the need for lubrication of some sort--before inserting it gently into Ian's straining body. Ian groaned and tightened around him, then the muscles relaxed, and Ky could move his finger. He thrust gently back and forth, feeling Ian loosen up around him. He withdrew the finger, and moistened it and another, sliding in more easily this time.
Ian pushed himself back against the fingers, panting. "More, mo cridh. Take me...I burn for ye." He had bent forward on his arms, and was now stroking his cock, pushing back against Ky's fingers and thrusting against his own hand.
Ky withdrew his fingers, and spat into his hand. He rubbed the spit over his cock, combining it with the pre-ejaculate that had begun to ooze out. "Relax, Ian...I dinna want to hurt ye..." He pressed against the opening, felt it give slightly to him. Ky groaned when the pressure around his cock increased as the tight ring of muscle slowly opened to allow him entrance. Ian was so hot...so tight. He pushed in slightly, then stopped, allowing Ian time to adjust. His friend was moaning now, the sound a combination of pleasure and pain. Ky pressed forward until he was all the way inside, his balls pressing against Ian's ass. He held still for a long moment to give Ian a chance to get used to him, using the time to stroke his hands along Ian's back, admiring the way the muscles moved beneath him. Ian pushed back against him sharply, and he took the hint and began moving. Slow thrusts turned into harder and faster as they found their rhythm. Ky gripped Ian tightly by the hips, pounding into him. Ian pumped himself in time to the thrusts, his gasping cries arousing Ky further.
"Ky...it's...I-I...Oh, God..." Ian's body stiffened and shuddered underneath him, and Ky shuddered himself as he felt the muscles in Ian's anus clench around him in response to Ian's orgasm. He thrust hard into Ian's body and exploded, sending his seed deep into his lover.
They collapsed together onto the straw, and Ky rolled them so they lay spooned together, still joined. Breathing calmed and heart rates slowed as the new lovers lay together, savoring the feelings. Ky stroked the black curls off Ian's damp forehead, and placed several kisses at the nape of his neck. "I love ye, mi dhu. There is no one else for me...ever."
Ian laced his fingers with Ky's, and pulled the other's arms closer around him. "I love ye, Ky. I willna let anything ever part us...I swear it."
"Dinna make promises ye may no be able to keep, mi dhu." Ky cradled his lover in his arms. "I know ye want to, but ye canna say that nothing will ever part us--we dinna know that."
"Ky..."
"Shh, mi dhu. I love ye. Let it be enough that we hae each other for now...and worry about the rest later. Let's rest a bit here, aye? Then we hae to go home..."
"Aye. Let's rest a bit..."
They fell asleep, cuddled together in the straw.
The morning was just a hint of pink breaking through the clouds on the eastern horizon. Ian MacKenzie rolled out of his lover's arms and headed for a tree just a few yards away from him. Kythe watched him go with a fond look on his face. God, he loved him. It felt like he'd loved him for his whole life, and then some. The feelings inside him were too big to contain sometimes, and he had to remind himself that he and Ian could only be together if they were discrete. The church had definite opinions-and punishments--for men who loved other men. But there was something about Ian that moved Kythe to indiscretion.
They'd slept together last night, made love first with a fierceness that still took Ky's breath away to think about it; then Ian took him with a consummate gentleness that had brought tears to both their eyes. Normally they wouldn't have taken the chance at discovery--so many people about, even in the privacy of their little dug-out in the side of the hill--but neither one cared this time. Who knew what would happen, come daylight, and the battle?
Ian returned, shaking out his kilt as he appeared. Ky grinned as he stood up. Ian was fastidious about his personal appearance--and his space. It was a good subject to tease him on...but not this morning. They had to hurry to meet up with their regiment. They embraced and exchanged one last lingering kiss, and a caress. Then Ian pulled away.
"Come, mo cridh. Himself willna be happy if we're late."
Ky nodded and gathered up his sword, buckling it on as they began to walk. He looked at Ian, who was doing the same. "D'ye think we'll win?"
Ian shook his head. "I dinna know. God knows Prince Tearlach wants to win..." He trailed off. "We're seriously outnumbered, Ky. I listened to some of the men talkin' last night, an' we havena much chance, near as I can tell."
"Why are we fightin' then?"
Ian looked at him. "Ye know why, mo cridh. We fight for a throne for our rightful sovereign."
Ky rolled his eyes. "I dinna like fighting. Ye know that."
"Aye, I do. Ye'll hae to manage best ye can then, and stay near me."
Ky smiled in amusement. He knew Ian found it funny too. Although Ky was built like a warrior, it was the smaller Ian who was the soldier of the two. He had to coach Ky through battle training--not that either of them had had a lot...He himself had turned 19 just a few weeks past, and Ian only a month before that. Ky touched Ian's fingers with his own and whispered, "I love ye, mi dhu," before they joined the rest.
There was no more time for talking then. They fell into formation with their clan, and prepared for the battle that would restore the throne to Bonnie Prince Charlie...
Blair moaned as his hand rubbed his own erection. The memories of his--of Ky's--first time had been too intense. He clamped his lips together, not wanting Jim to hear him, but he could hardly control himself. Those memories, combined with his barely- contained thoughts of Jim, served to heighten his arousal to nearly unbearable levels. His hand moved faster as he began thrusting against it, feeling the slickness as his cock began to ooze. If he concentrated he could *feel* the shared memories, and imagined it was Jim's mouth sliding across his nipples, sucking on them...Jim's hand wrapping around his aching cock...Jim's cock thrusting into him...
He came with a gasp, his body convulsing over and over again as he spurted his seed onto his belly and thighs.
Blair sighed and let go of his now-softening cock. Twice in just a couple of days. This must be some kind of record for him. He was going to have to figure out how to approach Jim pretty soon, before he went insane from the wanting.
Jim turned over in bed, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of Blair's arousal spreading through the air. It triggered a corresponding ache in his groin that he steadfastly tried to ignore. He could write off the other morning off as a fluke, but not twice in a couple of days. His ears heard a faint moan...then another. Without conscious thought he focused his hearing in on Blair, was able to make out the sounds of flesh meeting flesh...and knew that Blair was masturbating. The sounds became more frequent, and the moaning was almost continuous. He knew Blair was trying to be quiet...and losing the battle. He felt his body jerk in response when the sharp tangy scent of semen filled the air. Jim rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, determined to ignore his body's reaction to the deluge of hormones and pheromones in the air.
Sleep would prove elusive that night for both the occupants of the loft.
Chapter 5
Early Saturday Morning, 4/19
Blair was still lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling at almost two in the morning. He wasn't tired in spite of the fact that he hadn't got much sleep this week. Instead, his mind was going as fast as a roach on amphetamines. So far the memories uncovered had raised more questions than they'd answered, the most important question being how did Jim figure into all of this? Blair was certain Jim had been an important part of some of his past lives. Probably just as important as in this one. It would take more sessions with Dr. Thomas to find out.
There was a knock on the door. "Chief?"
Blair turned his head. "Come in."
Jim opened the door and peered in. Blair noticed that the detective was fully dressed and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
"That was Simon on the phone. Duty calls." Jim's gaze lingered on his roommate's bare chest and he swallowed, the memory of his body's reaction to Blair's scent earlier in the evening rising unbidden in him. Blair didn't seem to notice. "Get dressed, Chief. I'll meet you in the living room."
Blair mumbled something about not hearing the phone and stood. He grabbed his clothes from where he'd dropped them earlier and pulled them on. He took a leather tie from his night stand and tied his hair back. He walked out of his room yawning, and said, "Okay, I'm ready."
"Let's go."
"What's up, Jim?" Blair asked as they headed out the door and down the stairs.
"Vacation's over, Chief. There's been a break-in at the Cascade Museum of Art."
"A break-in at the museum, huh?" Blair questioned as Jim guided the Expedition through the empty streets.
Jim nodded and Blair continued. "What happened? Anything stolen?"
The detective threw a quick glance at his partner. "Simon didn't give me many details. He said that there was some vandalism, but he was waiting for the curator to discuss possible theft. He's the only one who knows the inventory."
"Yeah," Blair replied, "Mr. Parker knows that place inside and out."
"Well, Simon's dragged him out of bed." Jim turned right at the light.
"Any ideas as to who did it?" Blair questioned.
"No. We won't know anything until we get there," Jim said reasonably.
Blair nodded in agreement. "Vandalism. Hope it's not too bad. There are some pretty valuable things in that museum, most of it irreplaceable."
Ellison didn't reply as they came upon the flashing red lights of the police cars surrounding the museum. Jim pulled into the parking lot and got out, with Blair close behind him.
"Detective Ellison," a female in uniform approached them. "Captain Banks is waiting for you inside."
"Thanks, Lopez." Jim grabbed Blair's jacket sleeve and pulled him along. "Come on. Let's check it out."
Blair increased his pace in order to keep up. He loved the feel of Jim's hand on his arm. The younger man stumbled as Jim stopped abruptly.
"What is it, Jim?" Blair asked, looking around for Simon.
"Don't you notice it, Chief?" Jim answered with a question of his own.
Blair looked puzzled and Jim explained. "Nothing in this area has been touched. It's okay."
"Most of the rooms are like this. Untouched." Simon joined them, cigar clamped between his teeth. "In fact, it looks like a false alarm." He spared a glance at Sandburg. "You okay? I heard about what happened."
Blair nodded. He had expected that Jim would tell Simon about was going on at the university.
Jim didn't seem to hear them. His eyes narrowed and he sniffed the air. "But it isn't a false alarm. I smell spray paint." 'Spray paint,' he thought, 'and something else. Roses?' Jim looked around for the thorny flowers and spotted them sitting on the greetings table in the front hall. He frowned, instinctively knowing that they weren't the source of the odor. This was different...more manufactured. Jim couldn't quite define the elusive scent and he concentrated.
"Jim?" Blair waved a hand in front of his face. "Jim! Come on, buddy."
Jim slowly turned to his Guide. "Yeah, Chief?"
"You back with us, man? For a minute there, I thought you zoned out."
Banks was watching the detective, a frown on his face. "What was it, Jim?"
Jim shook his head. "Thought I smelled something. Roses."
Simon nodded toward the vase on the table. "There are some over there."
"Yeah, that must have been it," Ellison replied uneasily. Those weren't the roses he had smelled. He hoped it would come to him in time.
Blair was looking at him quizzically, obviously not believing him. The anthropologist didn't say anything, however, knowing that Jim would probably tell him later. He'd find out one way or another.
Simon didn't look too convinced, either, but also kept quiet. "Come take a look at this." He led the way toward the back of the museum.
Blair's eyes widened as they stepped into the Egyptian gallery. Pedestals lay crashed upon the ground amidst pieces of shattered glass from empty display cases. Scrawled across the walls in red spray paint was the phrase "Stop the Blasphemy". Next to it, done in black marker was a strange looking symbol...almost like a sun with hands for rays.
Jim looked around. "Looks like they made off with all the stuff here."
"We're waiting on the curator, Mr. Parker. He'll be able to tell us more." Simon eyed the destruction and shook his head.
Something nagged at Blair's mind. He wrinkled his brow in concentration. Suddenly, the memory fell into place. "No," he said aloud, startling his two companions. "Nothing's missing."
"He's absolutely right." A white-haired gentleman, wearing a pair of black slacks and a matching sweater, walked up to them. "There was nothing here for them to take. This...destruction, however, is something else entirely." The man's mustache quivered in indignation.
Jim, who had been frowning at his partner's cryptic statement, turned to the newcomer. Noting the anger in the older man's face he spoke, "I agree with you, Sir. James Ellison, Cascade PD. This is my captain, Simon Banks, and my partner, Blair Sandburg. You must be the curator?" Jim held his hand out the man, and it was grasped firmly.
"I am. I'm Mitchell Parker. Nice to meet you both. The good professor and I are already acquainted."
Blair winced slightly. He wasn't a full-fledged professor, but Mr. Parker didn't seem to care about the distinction. He supposed he should be flattered but it sounded too pretentious. "Mr. Parker, if you need any assistance here, I'm sure I can get some students to come out and help clean this up," Blair offered.
The curator waved him off. "That won't be necessary. The insurance will take care of it. It's the act behind the destruction that bothers me. I suppose though, it could have been much worse. The things of value usually stored in this room could have been damaged or stolen."
Ellison glanced around. "What *was* in here, and where is it now?"
Mr. Parker indicated the broken cases. "We kept scarabs, amulets and other Egyptian jewelry in those. In addition, we had a few bronze figurines of the Egyptian gods. In fact, we have a very rare one of Set. He was Osiris' brother only they didn't get along very well. Set eventually killed him." Mr. Parker paused, waiting for the inevitable request for an explanation. He shrugged and continued when no one spoke. "The British Museum has only two Set statues. We're very fortunate to have one."
Simon shifted impatiently. "Anything else?"
Mr. Parker nodded. "We have some wooden canopic chests, some mummified animals--cat, monkey, antelope--some Ushabiti figures, some--"
Jim interrupted. "Where's the stuff if it's not here?"
Blair opened his mouth to answer, but Mr. Parker beat him to it. "The *stuff* as you put it, is at the university."
Jim's gaze shifted to his Guide.
Blair shrugged. "We've borrowed the museum's exhibit to supplement ours. I received everything today--yesterday--Friday. It's all stored in the university's vault."
Jim's eyes narrowed. "Who knew that the things in this room were being transferred to the university?"
Mr. Parker shrugged again. "Myself, a couple of my staff, and the people involved with the university exhibit, I suppose." He turned to Blair for confirmation.
Blair nodded. "A handful of us knew that the museum was loaning their Egyptian pieces."
Jim placed his hands on his hips. "So why all this?"
"What are you getting at, Jim?" Simon asked.
"It's too pat, too neat, Simon," Jim replied. "The museum has had this exhibit up for a while, right?"
Mr. Parker answered. "Of course, it's part of the museum's permanent collection. It's changed and updated periodically, but the core pieces are on display year-round."
Jim nodded. "That's what I thought." He turned to Simon, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It isn't an attempted robbery like we first thought. Why try it now? It's too much of a coincidence that someone should try to rob the museum at the time the artifacts are somewhere else. And there's the fact that no other area of the museum has been touched. No," Jim shook his head. "There's something else going on here. Someone is sending a message. That's why the vandalism."
Simon reread the words scrawled along the walls, and noted the strange symbol in the center. "So you're saying that whoever broke in here tonight knew that the artifacts had been moved."
"Not only that," Jim agreed, "But they probably also knew where the artifacts went."
Simon sighed and reached for his cell phone. Punching a few numbers into the phone, he was soon issuing orders. "This is Banks. I need you to get a hold of the dean of the anthropology department--his name is--" Simon looked questioningly at Blair.
"Benito Verastique," the young man answered.
Simon repeated the name into the receiver and continued with his instructions. "Tell him to meet us at the university in about an hour. I want drive-by patrols and a man on the inside keeping an eye on the artifacts. We've already had one assault--I don't want any more. I'll report in again shortly. Just be sure to have people in place by the time I get to the university."
Blair stared at the symbol of the sun disc crudely drawn with black marker amidst the red spray paint. He was trying to ignore Simon's conversation. Being reminded of his assault with Jim standing a few feet behind him made Blair feel guilty all over again.
"Chief?"
The anthropologist didn't acknowledge Jim. He frowned, wondering why the symbol looked so familiar to him. Following the rays that emanated from the disc symbol of the sun, he noticed that they ended in hands. The young man could swear he had seen the symbol before, but where he'd seen it or what it meant proved to be too elusive for his tired mind.
"Chief!" Jim's voice was more insistent.
Blair turned, startled. "What?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "You really have to stop day dreaming, Sandburg." He smiled to let Blair knew he was only kidding. The younger man answered with a smile of his own, and for a minute the barrier that had developed between them shimmered out of existence. Jim indicated the wall. The symbol had been bothering him, too. "Do you know what it means?"
Blair shrugged. "Actually, I think I do, but I just can't remember..." Blair trailed off, once again turning to stare at the symbol.
Jim stood, marveling at the look of intense concentration on his friend's face. He always enjoyed the expressions which danced across that handsome countenance as Blair performed mental gymnastics. Mostly though, Jim loved how his partner's pupils would dilate, almost obscuring the blue of his eyes during a particularly deep thought. 'You could lose yourself in eyes like that.' He sighed in frustration. He'd been having these thoughts about his partner for weeks now, and Jim was running out of explanations.
The snap of Blair's fingers drew Jim's attention to the physical presence at his side. He was through mentally wrestling over Blair. Something stirred in the nether regions of Jim's body at the thought of *any* kind of wrestling with his Guide, and he became annoyed all over again at the reaction. He hadn't reacted to another man like this in years--and even then never this intensely. A trip to the gym this weekend was definitely in order. Anything to work off the excessive energy his body was producing.
He tuned back into Blair and was startled to see the look of surprise on his partner's face. "You recognize it now?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah, it's the same symbol on the note I got this week. Knew I'd seen it before..."
Jim frowned. "Note? What note?" He shifted uneasily. His cop instincts told him that Blair's note meant trouble. His feeling was confirmed when his Guide flushed a guilty red. "Blair," Jim started to ask, but was interrupted by the curator.
"You don't recognize the symbol, young man?" Parker raised an eyebrow.
Blair ducked his head in embarrassment. "No, sir, I don't. I know I should--"
"Of course you should!" Parker's voice boomed, catching even Simon's attention. The older man continued, "It's the symbol of the cult of Aten."
"Oh, man!" Blair's head snapped up. "That's right. It all makes sense now."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain, Chief?"
Blair took a deep breath, and Jim braced himself as a look of studious intensity settled over his features. He recognized the teacher beginning a lecture.
"During the New Kingdom period of Egyptian history, there was this new religion--the cult of Aten. Amenophis IV, known more commonly as Amen-hetep, the fourth, was the heretical leader of this group of disk worshippers."
Simon jerked a thumb toward the wall. "The symbol."
Blair nodded and continued, "Anyway, Amen-hetep was treated like a god by royal court members. His wife, Nefertiti, was too. He must have been pretty amazing because some people chose him over Amen-Ra."
"Amen-Ra was the traditional god of Egypt," Mr. Parker interrupted.
No one spared him a glance. Mr. Parker reluctantly let Blair finish.
"It really wasn't a very popular religion among the common people since it had no statues to worship. It was a solar-monotheistic religion which emphasized the king as all powerful." Blair shrugged and began to gesture expansively. "The cult died off fairly soon after the death of the king. Eventually, when King Tutankhaman came to the throne, the old temples were restored and Amen-hetep's name was removed from everything. His tomb had never been found."
Mitchell Parker crossed his arms. "Until now."
Blair nodded, smiling broadly. "Dr. Hathaway discovered it about three years ago while on an archeological expedition. I don't know how he did it, but he's managed to keep it secret. Dr. H. is planning to unveil the king's mummy at the university exhibit." The anthropologist concluded his lecture with an emphasizing jab of his fingers, excitement evident in every line of his body.
Ellison smiled at his partner's enthusiasm. He could see why Blair was a popular teacher. If he brought this much energy to teaching, the students were bound to be interested in what they were learning. In fact, Blair's attitude was contagious. "Okay, Chief. Now we know how the break-in ties into the university exhibit."
Simon spoke up. "We'll have to question everyone who was aware of the loan from the museum and those who know about the king's sarcophagus."
"Definitely, Captain," Jim agreed. "I can come back later this morning to talk to the museum staff. The university people will have to wait until Monday."
Mr. Parker cleared his throat. "You're actually in luck, Detective. I'd called a meeting for this morning. We wanted to discuss possibilities for filling this space up while the pieces were on loan. No need to have an empty museum. Everyone should be arriving about ten-thirty."
"Thank you, sir," Jim replied. "I'll be sure to be here." The detective turned to his partner. "One question, Chief."
Blair's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Go for it," he said, throwing his arms wide.
Jim swallowed at the sight. 'Should I take what you're so innocently offering, Blair?' He growled low in his throat, trying to shake the sudden image that filled his mind of Sandburg naked beneath him, their lips and bodies joined. What was with him? Besides obvious sexual frustration? He really needed to find an outlet to relieve the tension, and suddenly found himself wishing desperately for everything to return to normal, before he lost control.
"Jim?" Blair touched his arm, concerned. "You okay, man?"
"Just fine, Chief," Jim replied, trying to rein in the feelings that Blair's touch provoked.
Sandburg gazed at him a moment longer. "What's the question?"
He blinked, then smiled. He'd almost forgotten. "Oh, yeah. Is the king's coffin at the university?"
"You mean the mummy and it's accoutrements," Blair corrected. "No. It'll be arriving from Egypt in about two weeks. Dr. Hathaway had some difficulty securing permission from the Egyptian government to get it released. They don't like any of their artifacts leaving the country."
"Quite true, Mr. Sandburg. The Egyptians are very particular about preserving their history and culture. And it is the body of a king, after all; even if he was considered a heretic," Mr. Parker added.
Jim nodded. "Do either of you know any details concerning its arrival?"
Blair replied, "Dr. Hathaway is supposed to give me the particulars next week. I'll let you know when I find out anything."
"Sounds good, Chief." Jim turned to Simon. "We all finished here, sir?"
Banks nodded. "Yeah. Let's get to the university and get everything set up. I'd like to catch a few hours of sleep before sunrise."
Blair and Jim chuckled. "Okay, Captain. We'll meet you there." Jim turned to the curator. "We'll be in touch."
"Thank you, detective. I'll see you later this morning."
"Come on, Sandburg, let's go." Jim led the way out.
Blair leaned against the seat and yawned. He hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours. He had just closed his eyes when Jim's voice startled him alert.
"Chief, you said something about a note. Care to explain?"
Blair hadn't forgotten his mention of the note, but he'd hoped Jim would, thereby avoiding a long explanation. He should have known better. Jim always remembered important things. With a sigh and a fervent prayer to escape the following conversation alive, the younger man described the letter to Jim. He was careful not to leave anything out as *any* omission would only land him deeper into trouble.
The cab of the truck was silent as Jim considered Blair's story. The anthropologist prepared himself for the explosion that would make Mount St. Helena look like a canned special effect in a cheap "B" movie.
"What happened, Chief? Why'd you break your promise? You said you'd tell me if you got anything other than phone calls."
Instead of a bang it was a whimper, but the effect was no less cutting. In fact, Jim's quiet, hurt tone cut through him more powerfully than any amount of yelling would have.
"I know I promised, Jim," Blair returned softly. "I was going to tell you, but then I...well, had the accident at the university and I forgot." He shrugged, trying to minimize its importance. "Anyway, it wasn't like the phone calls. No death threats--just general protest aimed at the exhibit."
Jim's jaw clenched as he remembered the assault. "Blair, I don't care what type of note it *was*, just that you received it. A general note of protest doesn't just suddenly escalate into a crack over the head in a basement. Whatever's happening here, it's dangerous. If you don't tell me what's going on, I can't protect you."
Blair inhaled sharply as unexpected tears sprang to his eyes. Could he love this man any more? He knew that love may never be returned in the way he wanted it, but he also knew Jim loved him, in his own way. He wouldn't care so much if he didn't. And that knowledge touched him in a way nothing else could.
Without thinking, the young man reached out and laid a hand on Jim's arm. "I..." Blair paused. He'd almost said it. He tried again. "I...know you're trying to look out for me, big guy, and you'll probably never know how much that means to me. But...things happen, sometimes beyond your control. Call it fate, destiny, whatever. We do the best we can and live life accordingly. You can't be there watching out for me all the time. You're a Sentinel, not a superhero."
Jim understood the message behind the soft-spoken words. He even saw the logic. But he knew with great certainty that if something happened to Blair that he could prevent, he'd never survive it. He sighed, "Chief, all I ask is that you make my job--my life--a little easier. You think you could let me know if you get any more notes--or anything else--no matter what kind they are?"
Blair's smile was rueful. "Sure, Jim. I guess there's been so much going on lately that I haven't been really with it. I'll do better about keeping you informed."
"You do that. Is there *anything* else you've forgotten to tell me?"
"No. You've been brought up to speed."
Jim nodded as he pulled along side Simon's car and parked. "Let's get this over with. I don't know about you, but I could use some sleep."
"Amen," Blair replied.
Monday 4/21
Jim walked down the stairs flexing and rolling his shoulder, trying to relieve the persistent ache. He'd overdone it yesterday, lifting more and doing more reps than he really should have done. He just couldn't get thoughts of his Guide out of his mind no matter how much exercise he did. Even the after-burn of working out hadn't helped. He'd punished his body, and his mind was still spinning out of control.
When had these thoughts started? Jim shook his head as he moved into the kitchen, trying to pin-point when he'd first become *aware* of Blair. Sexually aware. Oh, shit...that was scary to put to words, even just mentally. What was going on here? He was happy with his relationship with him the way it was--wasn't he? 'Yeah, Jimbo...that explains why you dream about his lips; dream about what he tastes like; fantasize about him.' The other factor was Blair himself. He had no way of knowing without asking how the man felt--if he was interested--and wasn't ready to sacrifice their friendship for something he wasn't entirely sure of himself.
"Morning, Jim."
He flinched slightly at the quiet greeting, sure that Blair could see his thoughts tattooed on the outside of his head. "'Morning, Chief."
Blair reached around him for a coffee mug, and Jim took the opportunity to do some deep breathing, trying to savor the scent of his Guide that rose around him. He winced as he shifted to move out of Blair's way, and his partner turned questioning eyes on him.
"You okay, big guy?"
Jim nodded and flexed the shoulder once more. "Just over-did it at the gym yesterday."
"Mmm. Didja put anything on it?"
"Yeah--some of that icy-heat stuff. Didn't help."
"Try turning down the pain dial?"
Jim took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten. "Yes. I did. It didn't help either. Okay?"
Sandburg stepped back from him a pace or two, and cocked his head, studying him. "No...not okay," he said slowly. "You can't walk around all day, working on an investigation, with an achy shoulder. Go sit at the table."
"Why?"
"I'm gonna give you a rub-down. That should help."
"Sandburg, I don't have time for this."
"You don't have the time to *not* do this, Jim. You need to be at your best to do your job--how're you gonna do that if you're walking around favoring it, and wincing every time you move?"
Ellison shook his head. How'd Blair do it? Every time he was certain he was going to remain firm on something, his Guide pushed his way through his defenses. He sat down slowly, the muscles protesting any flexing. He looked up and saw Blair studying him. "What?"
"Take your shirt off--I don't want to get liniment on it."
"Blair--" Great. In his current state of mind, he did *not* need to have Blair's hands on his naked skin--regardless of which part was naked. 'Of course, the more naked the better,' his mind sang out cheerfully. He shuddered.
"Jim?"
"Never mind. Just do it," he commanded tersely, every muscle in his body tight with tension as he stripped off his shirt.
"You're gonna have to relax if I'm gonna be able to do this," Blair stated, looking at the solid mass of tightened muscles.
Jim made a valiant effort to relax, and closed his eyes. Over the scent of the liniment and the coffee in the cup in front of him, he could smell Blair. The aloe and evergreen of his shampoo; the faint coffee smell on his breath, as well as a minty smell, probably toothpaste. He could even detect a faint whiff of... No! He wasn't going there. He knew what *that* scent was--he'd smelled it on his Guide often enough lately. He'd decided the other day that Blair must be going through a second adolescence of some sort, to be jerking off so often.
The hands on his shoulders felt wonderful, and Jim felt a groan rising from him as Blair attacked a knot in the one he'd overworked. "Ahhh...God," he sighed as the muscles smoothed out under his Guide's hands.
"Feel good?" Jim could hear the smile in Blair's voice, and smiled slightly in response.
"Yeah, it does--Ouch! That didn't! Be careful." Jim tried to focus on the feel of Blair's fingers, and not the pain of the muscles relaxing after being tense for so long.
"Sorry." Blair reached for the liniment again, and began rubbing more into Jim's shoulder.
The combination of hot and cold from the liniment, as well as the feel of Blair's fingers stroking across his skin, digging into the hard muscle, combined into a mass of sensory input that manifested itself in a very embarrassing manner. Jim shifted in his chair as he realized he was getting hard. 'Great...' he groaned silently. 'Just what I *didn't* need to happen.' He sat, tense and uncomfortable as Blair finished up the shoulder rub.
"There," the younger man said as he rubbed his hands on a towel. "Go shower and let the hot water soak into it--should feel a lot better."
Jim slowly rotated the shoulder, feeling the newly loosened muscles. "It does. Thanks." He shifted again, wondering how he could get past Blair to the bathroom. What he actually wanted to do was grab Blair up, and... His cock throbbed uncomfortably inside the now-tight sweats as he axed that thought abruptly.
Blair turned to go into the kitchen and wash his hands, and Jim took that opportunity to dash--as quickly as he could, in his condition--to the bathroom.
He stood under the hot water allowing it to run down onto his shoulders and back, the heat very soothing. And distracting. What he needed right now was a *cold* shower. His groin throbbed uncomfortably, and Jim sighed. Not much to do about it now, except finish himself off. He leaned back against the shower and ran his hands down his body, pausing as he skimmed over his nipples to pinch them lightly, imagining Blair's hands roaming over him. Blair. Jim sighed again as he reached down to lightly stroke his cock. He closed his eyes, and it was his Guide's face he saw...and this time he didn't try to change that face.
He made a fist, creating a tunnel to surround his aching flesh. He began pumping in and out of his fist, imagining Blair's lips on his, their tongues merging. Gentle hands--as gentle as they'd been on his shoulder--reaching for him; gripping him...stroking him. Reaching down to cup his balls: stroking and grasping, rolling gently; then not so gently. Hard, fast...more intense as the fire in the pit of his belly began to burn out of control. Jim pumped himself fast and furious, and came then in a explosion of lust, desire and uncertainty.
He finished the shower quickly, and dressed, then left the relative safety of the bathroom. Blair had breakfast on the table; a plate of biscuits and some fresh fruit. He gave him a look that Jim had trouble interpreting.
"Shoulder okay?"
"Yeah--a lot better, thanks." Jim sat down at the table and Blair brought over two glasses of orange juice, then sat down across from him. Jim felt a thread of heat curl through his stomach as he watched Blair; those elegant hands fixing a biscuit, dishing up fruit. He heaved a mental sigh, and settled down to his own breakfast, determined to put this morning out of his mind.
Inward thoughts turned to thoughts about the day, and Jim and Blair fell into a familiar if not wholly comfortable conversation about the upcoming day.
"I'm glad you made this list for me, Chief." Jim was scanning the names of those people working on the university exhibit. They both stood in Blair's office ready to begin the investigation.
"Not a problem, man." Blair gestured to the piece of paper in Jim's hands. "Actually, there are only a few people who are in the know, so to speak. The others are just students helping out with the manual labor. You know, shifting crates, moving artifacts, set up--stuff like that."
Jim nodded. "All right, then. We'll concentrate on the individuals you have starred." He leaned against one of Blair's bookshelves, managing to knock a few books to the floor in the process.
"Don't worry about it," Blair said when Jim made a move to pick them up.
"Dr. Hathaway is in charge of the exhibit?" Jim asked, pointing to the name at the top of the list.
"Yeah. A lot of the artifacts belong to him. He's been on various digs around the world and he's collected quite a bit." Blair perched on his desk. "It's his exhibit and he'll be given the credit, but I'm really in charge. He's far too busy to take an active role in the proceedings."
"That so." Jim looked skeptical. "No offense, Chief, but if I'd spent my whole life working toward this I wouldn't just turn around and leave it in the hands of a grad student."
Blair smiled. "You'd be surprised, Jim. Why do the work when you can get some student to shoulder the burden while you reap the praise."
"Sounds familiar." Jim returned the smile. "I'll start with him. Where is his office located?"
"I'll walk you there," Blair offered and stood. "Hey, Jim. It's okay if we work on the exhibit, right? Since nothing's really happened here?"
Jim frowned and followed his partner out into the hallway. "You can work on it, Chief. The security Simon posted is there twenty-four hours. Just make sure you keep business hours, okay? I don't want you alone."
"Cool." Blair stopped in front of a wooden door marked Dr. Noah Hathaway, and gestured. "He should be in there. I'll be in the basement working. Come on down when you're through. Sarina and Michael will be with me, and they're the other two main people on the list."
"All right. See you in a few." Jim knocked on the door as Blair headed for the staircase on the opposite end of the hallway. The Sentinel watched his Guide disappear down the stairs as the door opened.
"Can I help you?" A short middle-aged man peered across the top of his bifocals at Jim.
"Yes, Dr. Hathaway?"
"That's me, young man." The professor gestured for Jim to enter the office.
Jim smiled. He hadn't been referred to as a "young man" in years. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison. I have a few questions to ask you about the exhibit."
"Sit down, Detective. You know, you really should be talking to Blair Sandburg. He's in charge."
"Yes sir, I know--and I will. I'd like to talk to you, as well, though." Jim settled in the chair the professor indicated.
"All right Detective, I'll help as best as I can. Go ahead." Dr. Hathaway looked expectantly at him.
"First, I'd like to know..." Jim began.
A half hour later, Jim left the professor's office no closer to knowing the answers than before. He sighed. This investigation was hitting a little too close to home and all he wanted was to have it solved *right now*, as in yesterday. The irony of the situation was that it was going to be a long and difficult case.
Moving toward the staircase that would lead him down to Blair, Jim paused on the top step and looked back down the hall he'd just left. Seeing no one, he tuned his sensitive hearing into the sound that had caught his attention.
"...I've got to get back downstairs, Sethos."
"Be very careful, Sarina. Strange spirits are about," an accented voice replied.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"One mustn't invoke the wrath of religious spirits, little one. Have a care." The man whom Sarina had identified as Sethos returned in a quiet, menacing voice.
"Whatever. I've gotta go. Blair's expecting me."
"Ah, yes, the highly enthusiastic one. I have seen him around..."
"You hang around too much and people are going to start to wonder what you're doing here."
"You let me worry about that, Sarina. Now go on before your boyfriend comes looking for you."
"Blair isn't my boyfriend."
"Ah, but you'd like him to be." Laughter.
"Bye, Sethos."
"Sarina..."
Jim frowned as he ran down the hall on stealthy feet. Leaning against the wall, he cautiously peeked around the corner just in time to see a dark looking man leave the building. Sarina was heading toward Jim.
The detective stepped out in front of her, startling the petite woman.
"Mr. Ellison! What are you doing here?"
"Sorry I startled you, Sarina. I was actually looking for Blair, but I need to talk to you." Jim smiled easily.
"Really? What about?"
Jim gestured forward. "Can we walk down to the exhibit while we talk? I've got to see Michael, too."
Sarina nodded and fell into step beside Jim. "What's going on?"
"Well, I'm sure you've heard about the break-in at the museum."
"What break-in?" The blonde looked puzzled.
Jim explained what had happened over the weekend and proceeded to ask her about the exhibit, the incoming treasure of the cult of Aten and if she knew of others who may know anything about the artifacts. He was careful to note her expertise in African culture and by the time they'd entered the basement, he was ready to talk to Michael.
Jim leaned against the counter, watching his Guide. "Okay, Chief...I want to go back to the museum tomorrow, take another look around. I was thinking about ten or so. How's that sound?"
Blair looked up from the computer where he'd been making notes, and shook his head. "No can do, Jim. I have a doctor's appointment at ten."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth Blair wished them back in. He watched the surprise, then shock, then fear...then anger, race across Jim's face. He sighed and closed his eyes, bracing himself, waiting for the inevitable explosion. When it didn't come he opened his eyes, a little fearful and a lot curious. "Jim?"
The older man was staring at him, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you sick? Why didn't you say anything?"
Blair shook his head. "No, man, it's not like that. I'm seeing a...a..." Blair stopped helplessly. How to explain this one to Jim? "My friend, Jarvis, referred me to a therapist to help me with those dreams. That's all," he finished, hoping Jim would buy it.
Ellison sighed, breath leaving his body in a near-explosion. "God, I thought..." his voice trailed off, and he looked at Blair. "You *would* tell me if something was wrong, right? You'd let me know if you were sick?"
"Of course I would! What kind of question is that?"
Jim shook his head and began pacing. "A legitimate one. I know things haven't been...I know we haven't been talking lately like we usually do. But you know I--I'm here if you need me, Chief."
Blair stared at his friend. Where'd all this come from? "Jim," he began gently. "I'm fine...but if I weren't, you'd be the first one to know. Okay?"
Jim nodded, a strange expression lighting his eyes. "Okay." He exhaled, wanting to lighten the mood somewhat. "Is it working?"
"Is what working?" Blair turned off the computer and stood up, not seeing how Jim's eyes followed the movements of his body as he stretched.
"The doctor thing. Your dreams. Still having them?"
"Nope--not for the last couple of nights."
"Well, good. Guess I'll go to the museum tomorrow then while you're at the doctor's --you available afterward?"
Blair frowned slightly, mentally reviewing his calendar. "Probably, but check with me then, okay? Gods know what'll come up between now and then."
Jim smiled finally at the almost petulant tone in Blair's voice. Could be his Guide was a bit over-extended, and finally feeling it.
Tuesday 4/22
Blair rolled over when the alarm went off, groaning loudly as muscles and joints protested movement from all night sleeping in one position. It was nice to not be stabbed in his sleep every night anymore; he'd gotten so used to sleeping poorly that it was amazing to him how well he was sleeping now.
He realized that today's session might be rather strange; with the other one he'd had half an idea of what he would find... no such a thing with this one. More of Ian and Ky? Another life? Would that one be with or without Jim? Blair sighed as he sat up. When he had a little free time he was going to go to the bookstore and see what he could find on the subject of soul-mates, since he was feeling pretty sure that Jim was his.
The feelings that Ky and Ian had shared between them seemed to indicate more than just two people who'd fallen in love. The tragedy there was that they didn't get to spend more time together--that Ky's life was cut so short. Too bad they didn't live in a day and age that would let them be together, and be happy. Blair snorted with bitter amusement at *that* thought --most of the gay people he knew in this lifetime were still waiting for the same thing.
He shook his head and began moving, getting ready for his day. His appointment was at ten, and he had a lot to do before then.
Jim was already up and moving around. Blair felt heat rush through his body when he saw the tall, solid form in the kitchen. It looked as if Jim had just woke as well, since he was walking around in nothing more than boxers. Blair swallowed convulsively. Man, if things in life didn't settle down soon and give him a chance to think about how to talk to Jim about this... His body reacted to the sight of Jim's, and Blair headed quickly for the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and traitorous anatomy hopefully under control, Blair headed for the kitchen.
"Hey, Jim."
"Morning, Chief. Sleep okay?"
"Yeah, man. You?" Blair poured himself a mug of coffee, and gestured toward Jim's cup with the pot.
"No thanks. Yeah, I slept okay. Getting itchy though--I want to get this case *solved*, Chief. It's starting to wear on me, you know?"
Blair nodded, and took his coffee cup into the living room to put his shoes on. "Yeah. It's beginning to affect everything, not just the exhibit." A veiled reference to Jim's reaction of the night before; outbursts like that usually only occurred when Jim was over-tired, or unusually frustrated by something.
He finished tying his shoes and stood up. "I gotta run, man. Stuff to do before I meet with the doc. You coming by after you go to the museum, or what?"
Jim shook his head. "I don't know yet. I'll call you and let you know, okay?"
"Sure man, whatever. See you round, Jim."
"Yeah, Chief."
Jim watched Blair leave the loft, his eyes troubled. What had prompted such an obvious display of protectiveness on his part last night? Sexual attraction to his Guide was one thing, but these other feelings manifesting themselves lately smacked more of emotional involvement--of a kind he wasn't ready to explore yet.
Blair settled onto the futon, comfortable with the thought of discovering more of 'himself', even if it wasn't actually him. He grinned. How many different times could you say something like that without being labeled 'weird'?
"Something funny, Blair?"
"Just my thoughts, Doc. Are we ready?"
"As soon as you are."
"Okay, then." Blair settled back and closed his eyes and listened to Thomas' voice lulling him into a trance; urging his mind and memory backward in time...
//You can remember everything, every experience you have ever had.//
Blair nodded automatically.
//I want you to think back past the battle of Culloden; cast yourself back. These are just memories of past experiences; nothing here will hurt you. Open your mind and see what you can see.//
"I see...It's dark. And cold. I'm wet. They're all yelling at me...hands are reaching for me, but it's too late. I--I..."
//It's okay, Blair. Just float above the experience. This is just a memory...you can't be hurt now. That's it...//
"I'm not in that body any longer."
//What were you doing in that body?//
"My sister and I were aboard a boat. We were far out to sea when a storm broke out. A wave washed me overboard."
//What happened to the rest of the people?//
"I don't know."
//How old were you?//
"Fourteen, maybe. Young."
//Okay, you've left that life. I want you to continue backward, see where you go. Remember, these are just memories. They won't hurt you.//
"I'm standing up before a lot of people...holding hands with a young man. I'm wearing a dress--it's my wedding day."
//Do you know the young man?//
"Yes. It's Jarvis. He and I were married...a long time. I can see...we had a little girl. She died one winter, when it was very cold."
//Do you know where you are?//
"Northern Minnesota. We live in a settlement outside of a large city--I don't know the name."
//What year is it?//
"I'm not...it's 1894. We tried once more to have children, but I couldn't. The doctors told me I was barren."
//Easy...just memories. Relax into them, don't fight them. Where are you now?//
"I'm...dying. I'm an old woman. My husband is holding my hand and crying. I can feel the life force leaving me, but it's okay. I'm warm and comfortable..."
//Have you left that life now?//
"Yes."
//Are you able to go to any others from there? Can you see any other paths to follow right now? Any memories beckoning you?//
"Yes. I see... I see a large man. He's a foreigner, but I...I love him. He's taking care of me."
//Who are you?//
"My name is Bran."
//What year is it?//
"It's 1067."
//What's the man's name.//
"Geoffrey d'Langue. He's one of William's men."
//William?//
"William the Conqueror."
//Do you know him?//
"Yes. He's Jim.
//Geoffrey is Jim?//
"Yes."
//What is going on here? What do you see?//
"Geoffrey and I are lying in bed...laughing. It's winter, so we can go to bed early. M'lord is pleased with his Saxon because I helped him figure out the best way to redo the store houses in the spring. He leans down and kisses me."
//You're lovers in this lifetime?//
"Yes. I love him very much--and I think he feels that way about me, although he doesn't say it often. I was all alone until he came. I should have been upset with the king giving away my birthright, but since I get to stay on, it matters not."
//What else is happening?//
"Geoff is kissing me, and covering me with his body. He wants to take me tonight, and I want him to...but the door flies open, and--"
//Just memories. Easy, go with them. Nothing can hurt you now. Float above them, and watch them happening.//
*whispered* "Geoff's men come into the room--there are seven of them altogether. Two grab him, and hold him against the wall, two others grab me. I struggle, but can't break free."
"They say...they say that they're not happy with the way their lord is putting 'Saxon swine' above them, and they're going to fix that." //Is it because you're sleeping with him?//
"I don't know. I don't think so. Geoffrey's told me he's been with other men before, tho' he did say I'd be the last. No, I think it's because I'm a Saxon--they hate me for that." *voice drops to a whisper* "They're going to fix it by killing me--I can hear it in their voices. I look at Geoffrey, begging silently for him to say or do something, but he doesn't. Oh, God!"
//What's happening?//
"They've stabbed me! One took his sword and, oh, god, it hurts...I can feel it cutting through me...I'm bleeding now, and they're making Geoffrey watch. Oh, God, I can stand dying...but I can't stand them making him have to watch--I can see tears on his face, he's crying for me. Oh, no, sweet Jesus, they've cut his throat! Oh, God, my lord..."
//Easy, you're okay. They're just memories. Relax. They can't touch you now, you're just remembering what's already happened. All right?//
*nods head* "He's dead. My Geoffrey is dead...and I'm dying...I can feel the life leaving this body. I'll see Geoffrey again, someday...and I hold that thought as the lights around me are getting dimmer..."
//What's happening now?//
"I've left that body. I'm floating free right now."
//Okay, Blair. I want you to listen to the sound of my voice, and follow it back. Count...five, four, three, two...at the next number you'll awaken. Ready...One.//
Blair woke with tears on his face, and a throbbing headache. This was the only part of the hypnosis he didn't like-the headache afterwards. Although from what Dr. Thomas told him it was more likely the regression itself than the hypnosis. He sighed and scrubbed at his face. "God, man."
"I told you this wouldn't be easy, Blair."
"Yeah, I know. Still..." he broke off, considering. "Is it possible that people can be soul-mates, but still be destined to not be with each other? That's twice now that Jim and I have had lives together, and had them cut short."
Dr. Thomas nodded. "Soul mates aren't always together, through the entire life. There might be a reason for you to be separated, one that doesn't make sense at the time, but becomes clear later. For example, perhaps it wasn't meant for the two of you to be men and be lovers at those points in history."
"But that's so totally unfair."
"Life is often unfair, Blair. It sounds as if Bran shared a great love with Geoffrey, even if it didn't last."
"Yeah." Blair rubbed his eyes again. Now he was going to have to walk around all day with sore, dry eyes. Shit.
Jim entered the museum wondering what exactly Blair's session with his therapist would entail. He'd known his Guide was having a lot of dreams, but he wasn't aware until now how bad they actually were. Blair must have been seriously alarmed by them to seek a doctor's counsel. The older man hoped everything was going well and that his Guide would be okay.
Since the Egyptian gallery had been the only area to suffer damage, Mr. Parker had decided to go ahead and maintain regular hours. In spite of the earliness of the day it was already filling up, and the detective had to skirt around the group of elementary kids giggling in the hallway as he made his way to the cordoned off area.
Ellison ducked under the yellow barricade tape and entered the sabotaged room. Everything was as he had left it Saturday morning, after questioning the museum personnel. His jaw tightened as he recalled what a waste of time that had been. No one had any information that would help with the case, and he was back to square one, depending on the university staff to provide the answers.
A few straggling tourists paused to stare on their way past the gallery, but the barricade tape and the uniformed guard stationed across the hall discouraged anyone from trying to enter. Jim had made sure that the curator and the guards knew that no one but authorized police personnel were to be allowed in, pending the investigation.
He moved over to the wall and studied the symbol and its accompanying message. Remembering Blair's lecture on the cult of Aten, Jim came to the conclusion that the cult must've been resurrected. And with the arrival of the body of their god-like king, it was certain that the situation would escalate. He felt a stab of fear course through his body as he pictured Blair in the middle of it. 'Snap out of it,' Jim commanded himself silently. 'You'll just have to keep a closer eye on him.' He took a deep breath, hoping to ease the sudden tension in his body.
His sensitive nose caught the faintest of odors and he swiveled his head sharply looking for the source. He couldn't identify it, couldn't locate it. 'Damn it, I know that smell if only I could remember why...' The Sentinel pulled in all of his senses but smell, and focused solely on that. Nostrils flaring wide, he relaxed and let the smell carry him. Roses...roses...where? When? Jim's mind refused to make the connection. He reached out to embrace the smell more fully. Unaware of his actions, he fell to his knees and began to pant shallowly as his body tried to take in oxygen.
His mind blindly searched for the answer to his puzzle. He'd smelled the roses before and he knew where. The university...
Coherent thought began fading then as his body started to shut down. His brain focused solely on the center that was processing the scent of roses, and he swayed on his knees, dangerously close to losing consciousness.
"Hey mister," came a high-pitched voice from far away. "Hey mister, we can't find our teacher. Canya help us?"
"Yeah, please help us," another more timid voice joined the first.
Reality came crashing back and he took several deep lungfuls of air, gasping a little as everything came back on line. Focusing on the two little girls, he stumbled to his feet. "You lost your teacher? Come on, we'll find her." He held out his hands and each of the little girls took one.
Jim had recovered--physically--from his zone out by the time he'd safely deposited the girls into their teacher's care. Deeply shaken, he sat in the truck and pondered what had just happened. He hadn't zoned out that badly in a long time, and he'd never been alone for one before. Jim raised a trembling hand to start the truck, reconsidering the implications of working without his Guide. Up until an hour ago it had just been inconvenient, and a little lonely. But this... Of course, if Blair knew he would never let Jim out of his sight, and that wasn't right either.
Jim put the truck into gear and headed back to the station, for once grateful for lost school children.
Simon was waiting for him and indicated for the detective to join him in his office. He watched as Jim settled himself into a chair. "So, did you uncover anything new?"
Ellison nodded. "I may have a lead, Captain, but I'd like to play it out first. If I'm off base here, we could ruin our chances of closing the case." 'Not to mention losing a good friendship,' Jim added to himself.
Banks frowned, but nodded. "It's your call. Just be sure you keep me informed. There's a lot at stake here."
"Of course. Thanks, Captain." Jim rose to leave.
Simon stopped him. "What's wrong, Jim? You look all done in."
Jim sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"Spit it out, Ellison," his captain commanded, voice sounding alarmed.
Jim leaned against the door and folded his arms. "I zoned out big time today while I was at the museum."
Simon's eyes widened. "How did you snap out of it? The kid wasn't with you, was he? No, he wouldn't have been," Simon answered the question himself, "or you wouldn't be telling me this."
"No, he wasn't. A couple of lost school kids happened by, looking for their teacher. Good thing, too. I don't know... if I'd gone any deeper--" his voice cut off, and he looked at his captain.
"Have you told Sandburg? What'd he have to say?"
Jim gazed intently at his captain. "I haven't told him and I'm not going to. And neither are you."
Simon frowned. "Isn't that why he hangs around? To prevent things like this from happening?"
"Yeah, but he's been under a lot of pressure lately what with the exhibit and all. I don't want to give him anything else to worry about. If he knew I'd zoned he'd drop everything else, and he can't do that. Promise me you won't tell him, Simon."
Simon shook his head. "Fine, Jim. I won't tell the kid--but I hope you know what you're doing."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Go on home--you look like you could use the rest."
"Yeah." Jim nodded. "Later, Simon."
This was familiar, Blair thought. Lying here on the bed, remembering things that he'd forgotten in the many lifetimes since that one. Today's session had been very intense...more than just one life uncovered, and the big one had been draining. 'Jarvis and I have been together too. I need to call him...tell him some of this.' His mind skirted around the real memory that was poking at him, not quite ready to recall the pain that came with it. A tear slid down his cheek, and Blair brushed it away impatiently. Why was he crying? For two men who'd lived ten centuries ago, that he didn't know? Even if one of those men had housed the soul he now called his own? He closed his eyes, deep breathing calming him, centering him.
Interlude 2
England, 1067
Bran lay on the bed, naked skin shimmering in the firelight. He reached a hand out to stroke it across his lover's chest, and a big hand caught it, raising it up to place a kiss on the palm. Bran smiled.
"I love you, Bran," the older man vowed as he kissed each finger in turn.
"I'll love you forever, Geoff. You're everything to me. You've been everything to me." Bran turned onto his side and snuggled close to his lover, head tilting back for the kisses he knew would be offered.
Geoff didn't disappoint him, and brought warm lips down to cover his own. A soft tongue pressed against his mouth, and Bran opened to let it stroke across his. The kiss went on and on, deepening until the two men were pressed tightly against one another, bodies straining for the other's touch. Bran flung his head back and arched his chest, begging silently for Geoff's touch.
His lover--once the conqueror, now the conquered--pressed him down onto the soft mattress and began sprinkling kisses all along the well-formed torso. He reached Bran's nipples and licked them lovingly. Bran could feel Geoff smile against his chest when he whimpered and arched into the warm mouth. A tongue came out and flicked against the tight little buds mercilessly, and Bran grabbed Geoff's head, holding it tight against him. He shifted and thrust his hips against the other man's, groaning when Geoff thrust back.
He was released and rolled onto his stomach. Bran felt his stomach tense in anticipation, and had to work to relax his body when a slick warm finger began probing at his anus. He arched his back slightly, and spread his legs. Geoff sighed above him, and he turned to look over his shoulder.
"You've got the most perfect ass I've ever seen, love," Geoff told him as he inserted a second finger and began thrusting gently back and forth.
"You've got quite a nice one yourself," Bran gasped, hips raising off the mattress to meet Geoff's thrusts. "For God's sake, Geoff, don't tease. I need you inside me, lover."
"Anything for you, Bran. Anything." Geoff moved on top of Bran and placed the head of his cock at the younger man's entrance. Bran willed his body to relax, and felt the engorged organ sliding into his body, it's way eased by the warm oil they'd pilfered earlier.
"Ahh, lover...yes..." Bran groaned, his heart contracting as it did every time they did this. He didn't think it was possible to love anyone as much as he loved Geoff. He clenched his body around his lover's, and was rewarded by a gasp. "Like that, eh?" He tightened again, then smiled when warm hands slid along his arms, reaching to entwine their fingers together.
"Keep it up, lad, and this'll be over before it begins," Geoff hissed in his ear.
Bran groaned as Geoff began moving within him, thrusting long and hard. He arched into the thrusts, body beginning its own rhythm, carrying him along for the ride. He ground his cock into the mattress, the weight of their bodies against it providing just enough pressure to increase his arousal.
Geoff began nipping at his neck, sucking at the light bites. Bran turned his head, and Geoff bit him at the juncture of neck and shoulder. He growled at the feel of the teeth against his skin, and tightened around Geoff again. The older man shoved himself deep into him, and Bran felt his body disintegrating as his climax rose over him. He shouted Geoff's name as he came, and was rewarded by the rush of warmth through his mid-section as Geoff came inside him.
They lay together for a long time, bodies still joined. Bran finally shifted as Geoff's weight became a bit much, just pressing down on him. He rolled, and felt Geoff move, disengaging from him. A large warm hand stroked his hair as he lay there with his eyes closed. He opened those eyes to gaze at Geoff, wondering aloud, "How'd I get so lucky to have you in my life?"
Geoff shrugged, his fingers smoothing down Bran's chest. "I was wondering how *I* got so lucky, Bran. I've never been so happy with anyone before."
Bran smiled and stretched into the lazy caresses. "I'd never known such happiness could exist. It's like you complete me...make me whole. I could never be happy without you. M'lord." He said the last to tease, since Geoffrey had long ago insisted he stop calling him that. He did so now only after they'd loved, when Geoffrey was amiable to being teased thusly.
"Bran," the older man growled at him. His eyes reflected love and happiness though, so Bran didn't worry about it.
"I sometimes wonder what would have happened had the King given these estates to another."
"You wouldn't be as well educated, I'm certain," Geoffrey teased him in turn.
*That* was a direct reference to how he'd spent last winter, learning new languages and higher mathematics; rhetoric and religion. All the things that a young nobleman needed to know to succeed at court. It was also an indirect reminder to how he-- they--had spent those cold winter nights; Geoffrey tutoring him in the art of love.
"I don't want to go to court, Geoff. I'm not cut out to fawn over a king."
"Few are--altho' those who are do it well," was the answer. "You'll not go without me, be certain. I'd not let you from my sight, mon cher. You're too precious."
"So I don't have to go?"
"We'll both go, in the spring. King William likes to see nobles; know how they fare."
"You'll be given a wife, Geoff."
"There'll come a time, love, when both of us will be given a wife."
"I don't want anyone but you."
"You've got me for all time, Bran. Wives are something that men of stature are required to have...we don't have to do anything with them but get some heirs; then we leave them to their lives and we have ours."
Bran laughed. "That's cold, my love."
"Perhaps, but that's the way of things."
They were silent for a while, just enjoying each other's nearness, before Geoff turned the conversation to the plans they'd outlined earlier for redoing the storage sheds come spring. Bran had redesigned them to maximize the space available, and Geoff started making noises about having him redo the plans for the new crofters cottages they'd be doing at the same time. Both men laughed, enjoying the ease of their time together.
Bran rolled over and kissed Geoff. God but he loved this man. Had loved him since he saw him riding up to the manor house, proud but undemanding; the new owner of *his* estates. The fact that the Norman lord was comfortable enough with himself to make a place in his life--and his heart--for the young Saxon still impressed Bran. There had been no quibbling over who had rights to the manor. It belonged to Geoff by order of the King, but Bran would assist him in running the estate, since he was familiar with it. Somewhere along the way they became friends, then lovers; falling in love with a fierceness that still astonished them both.
They lost themselves in each other again, kisses lengthening and deepening. Bran heard the door creak, but dismissed it as an old house.
It crashed open with a deafening noise, and seven large men pushed into the bedchamber before shutting the door behind them. They grabbed Bran from Geoff's side, pinning him against the wall. He watched, struggling, as two others grabbed Geoff up and pinned him against the opposite wall.
"We've come to take care of the Saxon for you, Lord." Donald, the head knight spoke. Bran recognized the others, but couldn't recall their names as his heart sent adrenaline surging through his system.
"What mean you, 'take care of him'?" Geoff's voice sounded shocked and angry.
"Why, he's obviously ensorcelled you, Lord. We mean to rectify that."
"No!" Bran shouted, struggling with the men holding him. All that served to do was get him cuffed upside the head. He raised his head back up, lip bleeding from where it had struck his teeth. "I haven't ensorcelled anyone. Tell them, Geoffrey!" He begged his lover further with his eyes, pleading silently for him to do something to end this nightmare.
But Geoffrey remained silent, either unable or unwilling to speak. Bran wasn't sure which, but figured it was more unable--his lover looked totally in shock now.
"The Saxon needs to remember his place--and it's not in the bed of our lord. The best place for a Saxon swine like him is in the ground--feeding the plants." The big knight drew his sword. Light flashed from it, fire glinting in the darkness. Bran sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes against what was coming.
The blade pierced his skin, then ran through his body to contact the wall behind him. He could feel the slight vibration as the metal hit the stone. A scream rose from his throat as it was pulled back out and he looked down to see his blood flowing freely from the wound in his stomach.
A muffled sound caught his attention away from that horror, and he looked over toward the other wall to see Geoffrey, cheeks wet with tears, struggling against the two men holding him. One held a hand over Geoffrey's mouth, silencing his protests. Oh, God...that they'd make him watch this! It wasn't bad enough that the pigs had to kill him; end the happiness and utter contentedness they'd shared, they were going to force his lover to watch him die.
Just as he'd gathered enough breath to protest this, one of the other men drew his dagger from its sheathe, and ran it across Geoffrey's throat. Bran sagged against his captor's arms as he watched Geoffrey's eyes widen in shock and alarm, then slowly fade as the life flowed from him. Bran's own cheeks were wet now, and he could feel the life force within him weakening. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be borne away on the darkness...
Blair lay on his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. What an awful way for a love to end! And all because some men thought that one of them wasn't good enough for the other. He sighed and scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe the tears away. Why is it that Jim and I are separated so early in each of these lives? What is it that is causing that, and how do we prevent it in this lifetime?
They maybe weren't lovers--yet--but if they ever got to that point, Blair didn't want to have it snatched from him like in the last two lives he'd shared with Jim. He snuffled once more, then rolled onto his side, his breathing already evening out into sleep, drained from the heavy emotional recall.
Jim lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The sounds of tears had ceased sometime ago, but the feeling within him, the desire to comfort Blair, remained. He clenched his fists around the sheets, wondering what had caused the tears--praying he wasn't the source of pain. He and Blair had certainly had their ups and downs lately. A deep longing rose up within him, and Jim had to concentrate to keep himself from getting up and going downstairs to hold his friend. He closed his eyes and tried counting sheep; finally, lulled by the gentle sounds of Blair's heartbeat and breathing, Jim slept.
Chapter 6
Wednesday, 4/23
When Jim came down the stairs the next morning Blair was already up and dressed, and sitting at the table with some coffee. Well, he was sitting at the table, *staring* at some coffee.
"Morning, Chief," Jim greeted him, wincing slightly at the red eyes that lifted to look at him.
"Hey, Jim," was the quiet response. "How's your shoulder?" Blair gestured to the limb that had caused Jim so much pain a couple of days--*just* a couple of days?!--ago.
Jim shrugged, and moved toward his roommate. "Fine. I haven't noticed it at all since you worked the knots out. Hey, Blair..." Jim hesitated, on unsure footing here. He lifted his hands and rested them gently on Blair's shoulders, fingertips just barely brushing the silky-looking strands of hair hanging near there. "You okay, buddy? You sounded, ah, upset last night, and I..." he trailed off when Blair tensed under his hands. "Sorry. I wasn't listening on purpose...I was just concerned," he finished awkwardly, relief coursing through him when Blair's body relaxed under his fingers.
Blair shrugged slightly, not wanting to push the hands away. "S'okay, Jim. Just some, uh, you know, that dream stuff. Some of it's kind of upsetting sometimes. I'm okay."
Jim removed his hands. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks though...for asking."
"Yeah." Jim stood behind Blair for a second longer, enjoying the heat of his Guide's body, and greedily trying to absorb it. "What do you want for breakfast?"
Blair shrugged again. "I'm not hungry--but there're some muffins in the fridge, if you want them."
"Okay. Guess I'll do that." He turned to go into the kitchen.
Blair pushed his chair back and stood up. "I gotta get to campus. Need to get some work done before classes."
Jim nodded, and watched as Blair grabbed his backpack and left the loft.
'Why'd he have to touch me? I can do okay with it as long as he doesn't touch me.' Blair shrugged the thoughts off and instead remembered how nice Jim's hands had felt, resting on his shoulders. That perked his mood up a bit, and he smiled the rest of the way to the university.
Ellison strode into Blair's office later that morning, just in time to catch his Guide in the middle of a monster yawn.
"No sleeping on the job, Chief."
Blair smiled in surprise at him. "Hey. What brings you down here--business, or pleasure. Er, that didn't come out right. Never mind. What's up, man?"
Jim smiled slightly at Sandburg's sudden discomfiture, then frowned as he recalled the reason for his visit. "Business. I've got a few more people I wanted to talk to, and I was wondering if I could use your office as a base?"
"No problem," Blair said, rising. "I've got a seminar to attend that starts in about ten minutes. The guest lecturer is visiting from Samoa."
"Thanks, Chief." Jim poured himself a cup of coffee, then turned and casually asked, "Hey, I need to see Sarina again, too. Know where she's at?"
"Cruising university campuses for dates now, Jim?" Blair asked, just barely managing to keep his tone light. 'Damn, that's great--show the man you're jealous. Good work, Blair.' He snorted in disgust with himself.
Jim frowned. What did Blair mean by that? "No, I just need to ask her a few more questions."
Sandburg shrugged. "I'm not sure where she's at, man. You might want to try the basement."
Jim nodded as his cell phone rang. He reached for it at the same time Blair said "Later", and left the room.
Just down the hall Blair paused, remembering the list of questions he'd wanted to take to the lecture. He turned around and headed back toward his office.
As he approached the door he heard Jim say, "Great. Like I needed something else to worry about." There was a long pause, then Jim's voice again, "No, I told you--I'm not gonna tell him I zoned. And you promised me too, Simon." Pause. "Yeah, well, it's my mistake to make. Right. Okay, Simon. Later."
Blair heard the click as Jim closed the phone through the red haze of anger surrounding him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and reached a hand out to open his door. To his surprise it swung open. Jim stood there, an oddly defensive look on his face. "You heard every word, didn't you?"
"I heard enough." Seminar forgotten, Blair walked across the room and flung himself into his chair, facing Jim. Teacher facing student. "Why didn't you tell me you'd zoned out? When did it happen? How'd you get out of it? Dammit, Jim!" The anger in his voice surprised even him, and he breathed through his nose, trying to control it.
Jim stared at him, face deceptively calm. His next words carried the impact of molten metal though. "I didn't think it was important."
The younger man flushed hotly, and flinched, hearing his own words thrown back into his face. "That's not fair, man."
"Probably not, Chief," Jim agreed. "But now you know how I felt."
Blair felt his temperature--and his temper--soar higher. "Hey, I apologized for that, Jim. What is this? Revenge? You know, you're not following your own advice. What was it you said? 'Keep the lines of communication open. Trust. That's what it's all about, Chief.' Well, trust is a two-way street!"
"You're right, Blair, it is." Jim moved to crouch next to his partner. "I'm sorry for that. No, this wasn't a revenge thing, and I should've told you."
"Yeah, you should've." Blair didn't want to be placated--as long as he was angry with Jim he could ignore the guilt that was beginning to gnaw at him. Zone outs weren't something to take lightly--they were capable of rendering Jim unconscious, or worse, dead. Jim could have gone under to the point where nothing would have brought him back...and it would've been *his* fault for not being there for him.
That thought brought him up short and Blair knew what he had to do. He made a vow to himself to stick close to Jim for the remainder of the investigation.
Unaware of Blair's thoughts and inner-agonizing, Jim laid a hand on his friend's knee and spoke quietly. "I guess we've both learned something, haven't we? No more secrets between us. Deal?"
Blair blinked at the hand on his leg then smiled. "Deal. Wanna get some lunch?"
Jim shifted, moving his hand away. "I thought you had some seminar to get to."
The anthropologist shrugged and stood. "I'm out of the mood now. No big deal; I'll catch the next one. Besides, I'm starved. No breakfast, remember?"
Jim nodded and followed Blair out into the hallway. "Guess I'll do the questioning later...maybe catch Sarina then too."
"Yeah. She'll be working on the exhibit all day tomorrow, at least."
"Speaking of the exhibit, Chief, Simon told me something you'll be interested in hearing."
"Yeah?" The two men walked across the quad to the parking lot. "What's going on?"
Jim told Blair what Simon had said. "The sarcophagus is coming in at the end of next week. It's being accompanied by the Egyptian Ambassador.
Blair whistled as he settled himself into the passenger seat of the truck. "Wow. An ambassador."
"Yeah--fitting for a king, even if he's dead, huh?" Jim smiled briefly. "We're going to be providing extra security for him. What do you feel like eating?" Jim started the truck.
Blair shrugged. "At this point, I could eat anything." He shot his partner a sly grin. "You're buying, right?"
Friday, 4/25
Blair woke with an odd sensation; a stinging in his stomach. 'Not again,' he groaned silently. He thought he'd been done with the dreams. He rolled over and looked at his clock--four thirty-six, in the morning. Well, at least it was Friday morning, and he had his next regression scheduled for nine am. He rolled his head to look at the clock again, and sighed. It wouldn't be time to get up for nearly two hours. Shit.
He settled back onto his bed, and tried to relax enough to fall sleep again. He didn't want to wake Jim up; it was bad enough he was up without disturbing his friend's sleep as well.
After lying there for what seemed like hours, Blair rolled his head to look once more at the clock. It read four forty-nine. Damn. He got out of bed, his body recognizing the urgent need to relieve itself. He crept around the downstairs, trying not to make any noise. His heart sank when he exited the bathroom to find Jim sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for him.
"What's wrong, Chief?"
Blair shook his head. "Man, I am so sorry. I had another dream...it woke me up. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn't wake you."
His partner smiled. "You wouldn't have bothered anyone else." A pause. "Come on over here, Chief. Sit down for a while."
Blair gave his own little smile and headed for the couch. He sank down onto the end, sighing.
"I thought you weren't having the dreams anymore. I thought that was the whole point to going to the doctor." Jim's voice carried a tinge of concern in it, and Blair turned to look at the Sentinel.
"I guess I'm not cured then, am I? I don't know, Jim--this is an imprecise science. I have another session later today with Dr. Thomas--I'll ask him about it then." Jim's presence was reassuring, and Blair leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He was still so tired.
Jim heard the younger man's breathing beginning to lengthen and deepen as he slipped back into sleep. He inched closer and sighed with pleasure as Blair's head tilted toward him, finally coming to rest on his shoulder. His Guide gave a sleepy little sigh and snuggled into him. Jim smiled. At least like this, caught between reality and dreams, he could enjoy Blair. He leaned toward his partner, then caught himself. He couldn't kiss him--not without some serious explaining if his roommate woke up during it. A longing spread through him at the thought of tasting that incredible looking mouth, and Jim groaned silently. Capitulating slightly he tilted his head down and brushed his lips across Blair's head. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do for now.
Jim shifted his arm around, and brought it up so that Blair was situated into the crook, leaning against him. Tired himself, Jim soon found he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Without conscious thought, he leaned his head against his Guide's, and allowed sleep to take him.
Blair woke with a stiff neck and a delicious body-wide glow of warmth. He shifted slightly and discovered that he was sitting on the couch, snuggled into Jim's arm--and had apparently been there for a while. He frowned, trying to remember what had happened. He'd woke from a dream of some sort, feeling like he'd been stabbed. A short time later he'd gone out to the couch, and obviously fallen asleep on the couch--with Jim holding him.
'How really weird,' he thought. 'Nice way to wake up though.' A nice way to wake up, but one that would undoubtedly throw Jim into a tizzy. He gently extricated himself and slid off the couch.
Jim woke, feeling bereft. He'd gone to sleep with Blair in his arms, and woke alone. An extension of his hearing confirmed that Blair was still in the loft; his Guide was getting dressed and ready for the day. This was proven when Blair emerged from his room a few minutes later, dressed down to shoes with his backpack slung from his shoulder.
"Hey, man. I'm late--got my appointment at nine today. What's goin' on today?"
Jim shrugged, trying to wake his brain up. "How 'bout I call you, Chief--let you know?"
"You do that, Jim. If I haven't heard from you by lunchtime I'll come down to the station, okay?"
"Sure."
"See you then, big guy."
"Later, Blair."
The door slammed behind the younger man, and Jim sighed, his mind screaming about how empty the loft was without Blair in it. Jim stood up and sighed again, thinking that life had just gotten immensely more confusing.
"Hey, Doc. Man, I had another weird dream last night." Blair breezed into Thomas' office with the assurance of someone who had the right to be there.
Dr. Thomas looked up from his notes and smiled a greeting. "Do you remember the dream?"
"No--just the sensation of being stabbed again. Like in the Ky regression."
The doctor frowned. "It's possible there's more to that time that's bothering you...something we didn't uncover before. Did you want to do regression today?"
Blair nodded, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Yeah--I want to know what's going on inside my head. I've been thinking about the regressions, and soul-mates; it's like the more I uncover the more I want."
Dr. Thomas nodded encouragingly, and Blair took a deep breath. "I've talked to Jim--briefly, a while ago--about past lives, and all that...and man, he's like a total non-believer. Why is it I've remembered, and he hasn't?"
Grant handed him a cup of coffee. "First of all, there are a *lot* of people who don't believe in reincarnation and past lives--never mind soul mates--so Jim's not unusual. As far as the memories, well... not everyone remembers their past lives, whether they accept the idea or reincarnation or not, and some people have regressions in the form of dreams, and simply consider them as such--and never believe in reincarnation. As for your remembering, things act as triggers. I believe we talked about the sword and how it's played an central role in your life--and death--in your past lives. Why don't we start the regression, and see where we go today?"
Blair nodded.
"Okay then, lie back and relax."
Blair settled onto the futon and closed his eyes, allowing his body to begin relaxing, willing himself to open his mind. He listened to Dr. Thomas' voice, the soothing words drawing him further back into his own but not his own, memories...
//Where are you, Blair?//
"I'm in a room."
//Can you describe it?//
"It's big. Wide, very open. The walls are white."
//Do you know who you are?//
*nodding head* "My name is Silas. I'm a slave."
//A slave to whom? Where are you living?//
"My master's name is Marcus. His house is just outside Naples."
//When?//
"I don't know...the year. My sister was killed last year for being a heretic."
//A heretic?//
"She practiced the new religion, Christianity."
//Are you a Christian?//
"No."
//Do you know your master in this life?//
"Yes. He's Simon."
//Are you mistreated as a slave?//
"No. My life is actually a good one. I'm content.
//What's happening in this life?//
"Nothing happens. I live my life out, and die, an old man surrounded by family.
//You have a family?//
"My master didn't care if I married as long as I knew my children were slaves as well. It didn't matter--he treated us all well."
//Are you still in that life now?//
"No--I've left it.
//Follow the path of the memories, watch where they lead you. Picture yourself stopping in front of a door, and opening that door.//
*smiles*
//Where are you?//
"Sleepin'."
//Who are you?//
"Sarah."
//How old are you, Sarah?//
"Six."
//And you're sleeping?//
"'sposed to be. Me and Jennie are still awake."
//Who's Jennie?//
"My sister. We sleep in the same bed."
//Why aren't you asleep? What's going on?//
"Mama's havin' 'nother baby. I think she had it, 'cause I hear a baby cryin' now."
//Do you know Jennie in your life now?//
"Uh-huh--it's Naomi."
//And the new baby?//
"Jim."
//Really?//
"Yeah. I'm a big sister!"
//Is there anything else in that life?//
"Uh-uh."
//Okay. Picture yourself moving along to the next door then, and stopping in front of it.//
"Okay."
//Reach forward and open the door, and tell me what you see there.//
"I'm in a battle."
//Who are you?//
"Corporal Andrew Hawkes, First Regiment, Alpha Company, Army of Tennessee."
//You're a soldier in the Army?//
"Yes."
//Where are you? Who're you fighting?//
"We're at Chickamauga, fighting against General Rosecrans' army.//
//Do you recognize anyone?//
"No." *pause* "Yes." *pause* "Oh God! Joshua--"
//What's happening? Who's Joshua?//
"Joshua's my...friend. But my enemy too."
//What do you mean?//
"We were best friends as boys, but he chose to fight for the Union, and I went with what I believed."
//You believed in the Confederacy?//
"I believe in the south, and our right to have slaves or not as we choose."
//Do you believe in slavery?//
"Not for myself... Joshua..."
//What's happening with Joshua? Do you know him now?//
*pause* "Yes. He's Jim." *pause* "I see him from a distance. I wish I could talk to him." *pause* "Oh my God!"
//What's happening? Tell me.//
"I've been stabbed! I turned my back for a moment, and the blade slid into me. Oh, no..." *pause* "Joshua's killed me...oh, Joshua..." *crying*
//Joshua's killed you? Easy, just memories...relax, let them flow around you...//
*sobbing* "It hurts...and he's here, kneeling next to me...I never got to tell him how much I loved him...I can't tell him now, because I can't seem to speak..."
//Easy now...Just let the memories slide over you. They can't hurt you...the pain has already happened, in another time. You're simply remembering it. Okay?//
*nods head*
//Were you and Joshua lovers?//
*shakes head* "We never got the chance. I've loved him for a long time...and I think he loved me too, altho' he never said. Men don't love each other like that tho', so we didn't."
//What's happening now?//
"I'm dying...I can't speak, but I'm trying to tell Joshua with my eyes. He's crying, and it's raining, and it's all mingling together with my blood... Oh! He kissed me. A goodbye kiss... Farewell, love... We'll meet again, I know we will. Oh, God, this hurts..."
//Are you still in that life?//
*nods* "Something won't let me go. It's Joshua--he won't release me. I have to find the strength to tell him... He's crying and I'm crying...'I love you, Joshua'...it's growing dark now..."
//Andrew?//
"I've left that life now. I'm nearby--I can see Joshua, still holding the body, crying over it. He's covered in blood and wet, but he won't let go of the body." *long pause* "Joshua didn't understand that our bodies are merely temporary housing for the souls within, and that our two souls are connected and will meet up again."
//Who's speaking now?//
"There are masters at each level of spiritual development, and I am one of those. His is half a soul, meant to be connected with the other's. They complete each other; although they can be content without the other one, together they are whole. Lessons are often hard, and must be repeated before being learned as a whole. We have to accept love in all forms. Gender is not an issue as we do not have a gender. Only bodies have a gender, and they are temporary vessels."
//Will he remember this?//
"Some of it."
//Does he get to progress to the next level?//
"This soul is already at an advanced level. His is an ancient soul, who has learned many lessons. The unfortunate thing is that his soul-companion is a new soul, and has many more lessons to learn. It will be difficult for them, but we believe that the other soul has learned the lesson it needed to in the past."
//They'll be allowed to stay together?//
"That is not what I said; merely that the lesson has likely been learned. Only time will show for sure, and time, like anything else can separate them as well as keep them together."
//No reassurances?//
*silence*
//Who are you now?//
"Blair."
//Are you ready to return now?//
"Yes."
//Follow my voice back through the night, going past all the doors. Do not stop to open them, continue on. You're returning...waking up...//
Blair opened his eyes with a groan. "Oh, *man*, that was intense."
Dr. Thomas eyed him. "What do you remember?"
Blair shook his head. "Images, mostly. That's usually the case though, until I can sit and go over everything."
An absent nod in his direction. "That's good, going over everything. Apparently the sword is a factor in this life as well...do you remember that?"
Blair sighed. "Yeah. Man, this is like so weird--me dying from swords in three different lives--lives I shared with Jim! And here's a sword in this life too now." He paused, reflecting. "Of course, the up side to this one is that *that* sword is just part of an exhibition, and safely locked away."
Friday evening, 4/25
'Don't keep secrets from me, Chief.' Jim's words rang in Blair's head for the rest of the day. All through class; through following Jim around the station, guarding his Sentinel; through the drive home, dinner and dishes.
'I need to talk to him about this. How do I start? 'Gosh, Jim...do you realize we've had at least four previous lives together, and three of those we were lovers--or close'? Yeah, right. *After* he finished wiping the floor with me, he'd throw me out of the loft.' Blair's thoughts buzzed around inside his head as he sat on the couch, reading through some of his notes from the exhibit. He raised his head to see Jim sitting at the other end, concentrating on the paper.
He took a deep breath and screwed up his courage. "Uh, Jim?"
Jim looked over the paper. "Yeah?"
"Do you ever wonder... Do you think we could've had lives together before?"
"Before *what*?"
Blair sighed. This already wasn't going well. "Just before. As in 'before this one'. Past lives, man. You know: different people, different times, that sort of thing."
Jim shook his head, sighing in a combination of bemusement and resignation. "We've already covered this once, Chief. I told you I don't subscribe to those beliefs. One life, no more."
"Come on, Jim. How do you explain stuff like people just *knowing* something about someone else, or just knowing each other, or being so...so..."
"So what, Chief?" Jim sounded exasperated now. "What's your point here?"
Blair shoved a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face. "Connected, man. Some people meet, and *BAM*--you feel this connection, like you've known each other all along, when you've never even met before. The French have a term for it: Deja vu."
Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm getting a sense of deja vu right now, Sandburg, as in we've already talked about this. You know my opinion on the subject."
"Only too well," Blair muttered under his breath.
The Sentinel heard it anyway, as Blair no doubt intended him to. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Blair rose from his comfortable spot on the couch and began pacing. "That means that you're intractable. Close-minded, if you will. Man, you sit there--you're the living embodiment of something that most other people would scoff at; 'heightened senses'? No way! But at the same time you'll reject the idea of something simply because it seems too left-field to be believable."
Jim stared at his Guide, disbelief etched on his features as he watched Blair work himself into a frenzy over this. He narrowed his gaze then as Blair's words sunk in. "Hey, I'm entitled to my own opinion. If you can't respect that, who's being close-minded?"
Blair sighed, and fight went out of him. He felt so tired all of a sudden. "You're right, Jim. Just forget I mentioned it. I'm going to bed." He turned and headed for his room.
Jim sighed in frustration and exasperation as the door closed in an almost-but-not-quite slam. He felt very ...odd... about that whole exchange. Almost as if Blair had been trying to tell him something that went beyond just the 'do you believe in reincarnation' thing. His sensitive ears caught the faint sound of gasping breath, and Jim extended his sense of hearing to his Guide's room; listened with a aching heart to the quiet sound of sobbing emanating from within.
Blair threw himself on his bed, tears of frustration already forming. There were too many conflicting emotions running through him right now to begin to sort any out into specifics, but he knew that hurt was at the top of the list. How were he and Jim ever going to connect in this lifetime if Jim kept refusing to let him open the topic? He knew the older man didn't recognize him as his soul-mate, and suspected that was as much due to the way he was raised as anything. Jim had had a whole different upbringing than Blair, who'd been taught to accept that nothing was impossible or improbable...and in all likelihood, plausible. He snuffled a couple of times, the tears coming again in a fresh wave when he thought about how Jim had cut him off.
The sobs tapered off, then began anew. Jim frowned and got up to pace the living room. He needed to do something--needed to make amends. It was his fault Blair was upset...he should've allowed the younger man to speak his piece, and he shouldn't've jumped on him like he did. Making the decision in his mind, Jim knocked on the door and stuck his head in.
"Mind if I come in?"
Blair sat up on the bed, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "What do you want?"
Jim gestured toward the bed. "Can I sit down?"
"What's up, man?"
"I wanted to--" Jim broke off, unsure of how to proceed. "Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump all over you, I'm just on edge right now... If you want, when this is all wrapped up, we can sit down and discuss past lives--and you can tell me why you feel so strongly about them."
Blair nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Blair? Is something wrong? I mean *really* wrong?"
"Man, you didn't just jump on me, you were condescending. Just because you *don't* believe doesn't make it not true. I can accept your opinions and beliefs, but man, don't make fun of mine. Okay?"
Jim gazed at his partner, saw the hurt in his eyes. "I really am sorry, Blair. I didn't mean to be condescending--you just really got under my skin with all that." The image jumped into Jim's mind of Blair getting under his skin in an entirely different manner, and he flushed.
Blair watched the warm red spread across Jim's face, and wondered what his friend was thinking that would cause *him* to blush. He shook his head and sighed, wishing he'd never started the damn exhibit; never found the sword; had never started regression therapy. To have all this knowledge and be unable to share it with Jim--the one other person who *should* have it... Tears welled up once again, and Blair bent his head down, not wanting Jim to see him cry.
Jim saw the tears and heard the minute changes in Blair's breathing--the little catches that were indicative of sobs, and acted then on pure instinct. He turned and gathered Blair into his arms, and held him while his Guide cried. Every atom of his body craved the contact with Blair, and he held him as tightly as he dared, rocking them gently.
It was several minutes at least before Blair pulled himself together, cheeks crimson with embarrassment over *that* scene. It'd felt so good having Jim hold him though--he'd needed that. He moved out of Jim's arms, regretting that the larger man let him go.
"Thanks."
"Sure. You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah--just tired, man. Lotta stress, you know? Too much going on in life lately that's all emotion-based. Can't wait for the exhibit to open, and for the case to be wrapped." Blair stopped talking and looked at Jim. "I'm glad you came in here. And I do want to discuss this further, after things settle down."
Jim nodded. Blair didn't say so in as many words, but he seemed to be indicating he wanted him to leave, so he got off the bed. "I'm glad I did too." At the door he paused and turned. "Sleep well, partner."
"You too, man."
He closed his eyes and let his thoughts begin to wander backward as he remembered the latest regression.
Interlude 3
Outside Lexington, Kentucky, 1855
"Friends forever?" The blond-haired, blue-eyed boy questioned solemnly.
"Forever," Andrew confirmed with a smile.
He'd just finished fishing the other kid out of the creek behind his Pa's house. He'd never met a boy who couldn't swim, but Joshua told him that he'd never had the chance--he'd spent his whole life in the city of Philadelphia up until two weeks ago. Andrew had asked what was different about now, and Joshua told him that his father had died recently, and he and his mother had come down to Kentucky to live with his mother's sister.
Their vow of friends forever wasn't taken lightly by either boy. They supported each other in any way they could for the next six years. Joshua was there through Andrew's broken arm; his sister's death from pneumonia; his mother's death a year later from milk-fever after delivering the sixth child. Andrew supported Joshua through learning how to swim, and hunt; integrating into a new society; his mother's remarriage, and the subsequent abuse at the hands of that stepfather.
Andrew always felt a kinship with his friend; as they were friends longer and longer the feeling grew until he began to feel as though he'd never be complete with Joshua in his life. He turned down one invitation after another to go walking with a girl, or dancing, or any other activity that couldn't or didn't include Joshua. At times he felt very strange about these strong feelings for his friend, since "men" didn't "feel that way" about other men. He asked an older brother once about those feelings, without telling him who generated them.
"Sounds like you got it bad, Andy," Sean commented.
"Got what bad?"
"Love, kiddo. Sounds like you're in love. Who is she?"
Andrew shook his head. He couldn't be in love with Joshua, could he? Pa said that men didn't love other men, and had awful names for those who did. Except maybe that only meant men who had physical relations with other men...as long as he never did that, it was okay, wasn't it? He raised his eyes to see Sean staring at him, and smiled weakly. "Sorry. No one you know, Sean."
He asked Joshua one time what their friendship meant to him, and the other boy's eyes lit up. "You're my best friend, Andy," he'd replied enthusiastically. "You know that. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Andrew felt a warm glow spread through him with those words, and he played them over and over in his mind at night, when he went to sleep.
The summer they turned seventeen everything changed.
It started so innocently; when the lawyer from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln, ran for President. He was elected, and the bottom fell out from their world, as their country began dividing around them; brothers and best friends turning against each other.
In April of 1861, just before he turned eighteen, Fort Sumter fell, and Andrew began entertaining thoughts of enlisting in the Army. He and Joshua had their first real argument about it.
"No, I can't go off and fight for something I don't believe in," Joshua told his friend, heat coloring his voice.
"What don't you believe in, Josh?"
"I don't cotton to the idea of slavery, for one. C'mon, Andy...you don't want to go off fighting for King Cotton, do you?"
Andrew felt himself stiffen. "I'm a southerner by birth," he told Joshua. "I feel very strongly about that. I don't believe in slavery--you know my family doesn't--but I do believe in the south; we have a right to do as we see fit, as much as any other folk."
Joshua shook his head, and Andrew's heart broke at the sadness in his friend's eyes. "Not when it comes down to the treatment of other human beings, Andy. No one has the right to own anyone else."
"I *know*, Josh. I feel the same way!"
"But you're willing to fight to preserve the right to do just that. Andy--listen to what you're saying. If you fight for the south, you're condoning slavery--which is as good as owning slaves, if you ask me."
"I didn't though, did I?"
"Yeah you did--when we started this whole argument."
"Well I'm ending it," Andy stated, eyes stinging with the tears he refused to show his friend.
"Fine. I'm going home."
"Fine."
Andrew watched Josh leave, a deep sadness moving through his body. That they could agree on everything else, and disagree on such an important issue...
On May 30 1861, they received word in Lexington that the state of Kentucky had elected to remain neutral in the increasingly hostile relations between the Confederacy and the United States.
Three days after his eighteenth birthday Andrew joined the Army; enlisting in the Army of Kentucky, which was an extension of the Army of Tennessee--part of the Confederacy.
He ran over to Joshua's house to tell him the news. His friend was on the front porch whittling. Andrew pulled up short, suddenly afraid of what Josh's reaction would be. He hadn't been very approachable since their big argument all those months ago, and Andrew had missed his friend badly. He walked around feeling like a hole had replaced his heart.
"Hey," he called softly as he walked up to the porch.
"Hey," Josh returned, eyes looking down at his hands.
"I--" Andrew broke off, a lump forming in his throat. This would be goodbye, he knew it. As soon as he said the words, his 'friends forever' friendship would be over. He tried again. "I joined today, Josh."
"The army?"
"Yes."
"Who're you fightin' for, Andy?"
Andrew sighed and sat down on the porch step in front of Josh. "You know the answer to that without asking. I leave tomorrow, Josh."
"Didn't give you much time, did they?"
Andrew shook his head. "Come with me?" he asked, desperate to have his friend with him. He realized with sudden clarity what he felt for this man, and knew that it was doomed.
"I can't do that, Andy." Josh was silent for a long moment after that, then he spoke again. "I leave in three days for home. I'm going to enlist too--for the Union."
Andrew felt the sense of doom grow, and spread from his stomach to his entire body. "We'll be sworn enemies," he whispered, unable to even voice it aloud.
Josh nodded mutely. Andrew turned to look straight at his friend and realized with a sense of shock that Josh was crying. He felt the tears he'd been holding break free, and with a wordless cry flung himself into Josh's arms. The other man clutched at him, first in surprise, then just to hold him. Andrew cried while Josh rocked him gently back and forth, his tears running into Andy's hair.
"It's okay, Andy. War can't last forever." Josh stroked Andrew's hair gently as he rocked him.
"I know. I--" he broke off as tears threatened again. "I just wish it didn't have to be like this. You're so much a part of me...we've been best friends..."
"Forever," Josh finished for him, voice sounding inutterably sad.
"I'll find you afterward," Andrew vowed, voice breaking with the strain of not crying again. "We'll be together again afterward. You'll see. Friends forever." He clung tightly for a minute longer, then pulled back whispering, "I love you, Josh."
"Yes," Josh said, releasing him.
"I'll see you here after the war." Andrew backed down the steps, trying to memorize his friend's features.
"I'll be here, Andy. Waiting for you."
Andrew choked back a sob, then turned on his heel; ran as if the devil himself were chasing him. Perhaps he was. Never in his life had anything hurt as badly as that had--not even losing his mother and sister. Joshua was an extension of himself, the other half that made him whole. They were meant to be together, and he'd just broken the bond between them.
There were no letters exchanged between the two, for how to explain corresponding with the enemy? Andrew accepted that he couldn't be friends with his best friend--his love--as long as the country was at war with itself. He did hear from his father from time to time that Joshua was making quite a name for himself with General Rosecrans' division, but other than that, nothing.
September 19, 1863 dawned just like every other day that he'd been in this stinking Army, and Andrew didn't expect it would be much different. He was wrong--the General decided today would be the day to keep the Union troops from getting through to Chattanooga.
The sun was barely up when the fighting commenced, thick and hard. Andrew was soul-weary of all the killing--like most of the young men who joined that war he had romanticized it, not realizing the realities of battle. He stopped for a brief moment when he thought he spotted Joshua--he hadn't seen him for so long he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then he blinked and the apparition was gone; if he'd ever really been there.
He turned to head for the back line, and a few moments later a blinding, searing pain shot through him as a bayonet slid through his mid-section to emerge, red with his blood, on the front side of him.
Andrew stared at it, disbelieving he was seeing what his eyes told him was there. The landscape swam in front of him, and he sank slowly to his knees as the metal was withdrawn. A loud, shocked voice cried out, "Oh my God! Andrew!"
He turned pain-dulled eyes to see Joshua standing there. A sudden tremor ran through him as he realized it had been his friend wielding the bayonet. His eyes filled, and he watched Joshua, suddenly unable to speak.
His friend knelt down next to him and cradled his head in his lap. "Andrew...say something, oh my god..." Joshua was crying now, and Andrew felt his tears falling on his face as well. The skies opened up then and the heavens cried with them.
Andrew closed his eyes against the pain in his stomach. God, it hurt! He knew he was dying...his only regret was not being able to tell Joshua how much he loved him--what he really meant to him. He could feel the other man's hands holding him, but his body was beginning to grow cold with impending death. He sighed, a tiny sound escaping his lips, and his breathing began to falter slightly.
"Andrew...I love you, Andrew. Don't leave, please. Friends forever, remember? Except that you mean so much more than that to me...oh, God...don't take him, don't take him from me..."
Andrew smiled faintly before a surge of pain turned it to a grimace. He opened his eyes, stared into the sky-blue eyes hovering above him. 'I love you too, Josh,' he sent with his heart and his mind, wishing Josh could hear him. He closed his eyes again against another wave of pain, then felt soft warm lips press down against his.
"Don't leave me, Andy. You told me once that you love me...if you do you won't leave me..." Those eyes begged, and Andrew felt so helpless. He shuddered. He needed to go, and Josh wasn't letting him. He reached deep into himself and gathered all remaining strength.
"...love you too, Josh. Let me go, love. Please. We'll be together again..." he stopped to cough, and felt Josh's tears falling on his face. "Promise--let me go, please." It hurt so bad to stay here, the pull was so strong in him.
Josh nodded, and covered his mouth once more. "I love you," he whispered again. "Goodbye, friend. Love."
The world grew dark and cold, save for the one warm spot where Josh held him. Andrew held on to that for as long as he was able, until the ties to this world were severed...
Blair shuddered as he opened his eyes. Jesus. That one was worse than the other two! He'd actually felt Andrew dying. A shiver raced up his spine and he gasped aloud. Three lives, three deaths, three times separated. He was going to break that cycle in this life, no matter what it took.
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