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 nocturna