by Carol Roi
"Hey, I don't plan on shooting myself again, man," Blair said, trying to make light of the situation.
Jim grabbed his arm as he moved past him to get the silverware. "I'm not kidding, Blair. If you put yourself in danger like that again, I swear I will kill you myself."
Blair looked up into his anguished blue eyes, seeing perhaps for the first time what his death would do to the older man. "Okay, okay, I promise to be careful. No more heroics, at least for a long while. But if you're in trouble, man, all bets are off." Now it was his turn to nail Ellison with a look.
"If I'm in trouble, you call Simon. That's an order." He released the anthropologist and went looking for his beer.
Dinner was pretty silent after that heated exchange, or at least silent as Blair got. He rose several times during the meal to check on their sleeping guest, and once it was over, he piled the dishes in the sink, yawned, and announced that he would take care of the mess in the morning. Jim agreed, seeing that it was close to midnight as it was.
Sandburg wandered into his room, and emerged a few minutes later carrying a pillow and a blanket. Jim raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm gonna sleep out here on the other couch, in case Dee wakes up. She's likely to be confused, and I don't want her falling and hurting herself."
"Suit yourself, Chief," Jim replied, heading upstairs to his bedroom. "Good night." Even though he was exhausted, Jim was still awake by the time the other man had fallen asleep. He listened to his guide's heartbeat and steady even breathing, once again giving thanks to the powers that be for keeping him in this world. He rolled over, slightly irritated with himself. He could thank some unknown deity, but he couldn't find it in his heart to thank the person who had really saved Blair. Maybe once he viewed the tape of the robbery, and did that background check, he would be able to tell her how much he owed her. Closing his eyes, Jim tuned in to his guide again, barely registering as he drifted off to sleep the sound of another heart echoing the rhythm of his partner's.
****
Diandra awoke slowly, awareness gradually returning as a small whimper reached her ears. She opened her eyes, and after a few brief seconds, they adjusted to the low light coming through the French doors and the skylight. The sound came again, a little louder, and this time it was followed by troubled breathing. She quickly spotted Blair on the opposite couch, sunk in the depths of a nightmare.
Moving to his side, Dee called his name softly, not wanting to startle him. Blair only struggled further, beginning to hyperventilate. "Lobo," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "you're dreaming. Come on, wake up, Blair."
Unconsciously, Blair's hand clutched at his chest, and he gasped for air. He was reliving the shooting, Dee realized. She moved her hand over his heart, gently massaging the area. "It's okay, Lobo. You're just fine. Take a deep breath and hold it, Blair. Now let it out slowly….and again, Blair." Her quiet voice seemed to be reaching him, and she felt his racing heart slow under her fingertips. His muscles relaxed, and he took another long breath, his eyes opening.
"Jim?" was the first word out of his mouth.
"Right here, buddy," Jim's voice replied from behind Dee.
Startled, she jumped at his presence. She had been so focused on helping Blair that she hadn't heard him come down the stairs. Rising to her feet, she stepped back, allowing the Sentinel to tend to his Guide.
"It's okay, Chief, you just had a nightmare," Jim told him, seating himself next to his guide, his hand brushing Blair's sweat-tangled hair out of his face. He continued to reassure him as the younger man tried to breathe deeply, forcing the dream images from his mind.
Sensing she was no longer needed, Dee grabbed her shoes from the floor next to the other couch, and padded across the loft, taking her trenchcoat from its hook as she slid out the door and across the hall to her own apartment. She dropped the shoes just inside the door, and threw the coat over the back of a dining room chair. A long sweep of her arm shoved a row of boxes off her sofa, and collapsing face down on it, she was soon asleep.
****
Jim pushed the pause button on the remote, and stared at the TV screen. He had not imagined it. Visible to his enhanced sight, he could clearly make out the image in the security mirror. The camera had been focused on the front door of the store, and the cashiers' area, but in the upper right corner of the picture, it showed the large, round mirror. Jim rewound the tape and viewed it from the beginning, this time concentrating on the images in the mirror. He could see Blair and Diandra shopping, both of them smiling and laughing. When the thieves entered the store, both Diandra and Blair ducked down, Blair using his cell phone to call the police. He watched as Blair started toward the front of the store, and Dee stopped him. When she looked up, he realized she had seen something in the mirror, and he paused the tape again, until he too spotted the second suspect.
Hitting play again, Jim ignored what was happening with Blair in the foreground of the tape. He had already watched that horror once, and that was enough. Dee slipped out of the mirror's coverage for a moment, and then she was back, stealthily creeping up behind the second robber, and bringing him down with an expert grip on his neck. Even Jim doubted he could have executed the maneuver any better. Her whole body jerked in reaction to the shot, and then she moved rapidly to the front of the store, her swift actions quickly sending Danny to join his partner on the floor.
She knelt beside Blair then, and put her hands on his chest, over the wound. Jim could see her close her eyes, and take a deep breath. He focused his attention on her hands then, and even with his heightened sight, it was difficult to make out what was happening on the black and white tape, but it looked like there was some sort of electrical energy flowing from her hands into Blair. He watched until it was over, and he had entered the store. It was strange seeing himself in a zone out, and even stranger to see a now perfectly fine Blair springing to his feet to help his partner.
"Jim? JIM!"
Shaking off the beginning of a zone with an effort, Jim clicked off the tape, and turned to find his captain standing behind him, a horrified look on his face. "What in the hell is that?!" Simon asked. "Is that Sandburg?"
Jim eased himself off the edge of the conference table and stood up. "Sorry, I'm using your office, Simon, but I wanted to view this in private."
"And I can see why! When the hell did this happen?"
"Last night. Sandburg was involved in a robbery attempt at the market down the street from the loft."
"I'd say he was a little more than involved, Ellison. From where I'm standing, it looked like he took a bullet point blank in the chest, and then a couple minutes later jumped up and was fine. Is this some kind of joke? Because I'm not laughing." Simon crossed to his desk and took his seat behind it.
Sighing, Jim pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Banks. "I'm not sure I understand what happened myself, but Sandburg is fine. No injury at all, except for what looks like a small burn mark on his chest. He showed it to me this morning."
"But he was shot; that tape is not doctored in any way, no special effects?"
"No, it's exactly what it is. A security tape of Sandburg getting shot, and then being healed." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping to find some kind of explanation by going over it using my senses, but all I've discovered is that my new neighbor is a female Rambo. And she had the power to save Blair's life."
Simon took a cigar out of his desk and rolled it between his fingers, pondering the situation. "Are the suspects in custody?"
"Yes, one is downstairs, and the other is in the hospital with a broken wrist and injured jaw."
"And we have witnesses that can place them at the scene, committing the crime of robbery?"
Jim nodded slowly, seeing where his captain was heading. "Yes, the cashier, Blair and Dr. Pallas can all testify to that."
Simon laid down his cigar and started to make his first pot of coffee for the day. "Then I don't see any reason we need that tape as evidence. And I certainly don't have
any desire to know what really happened, as long as Sandburg is okay. I have to put up with enough strange stuff from the two of you already."
"Thanks, Captain. If the media ever got a hold of it…"
"It would be a nightmare. Now is there anything else you need, Jim?"
Rising, Jim ejected the tape from the VCR. "Um, yeah. I want to run a background check on my neighbor, find out if she was ever in the military, and see if she's hiding anything more sinister than an ability to heal people."
Banks looked back at Ellison, a little surprised. "She bother you that much?"
"She makes my skin crawl, actually, and Sandburg is really taken with her. I just don't want him getting burned," Jim replied.
"You don't think she's another Alex Barnes, do you?"
Jim had not thought about that possibility. "If you're asking if I think she has Sentinel abilities, she hasn't shown any signs of them. Do I think she might be a murdering psychopath? I don't know that either. But either way, all my instincts are telling me she's trouble."
"All right, Jim, I trust your judgement. Just don't step on too many toes when you go poking around in her past. You know the military doesn't take too kindly to people sticking their noses in where they don't belong."
"Thanks, Simon," Jim said as he exited the captain's office.
He spent the next several hours on the computer and the telephone and came up with some unusual, if not suspicious answers. First of all, there was not much record of Diandra Pallas in the US up until about two years ago, when she had come to America from Australia, using a Greek passport. She had entered the US in Seacouver, WA, and after a week's stay there, had traveled to Paris, France. She had remained in France for several months, then returned to the US, and judging by her credit card statements, had spent a good deal of time in New York City. He also discovered she seemed to have a steady supply of money, as her bills were always paid in full, and she had paid cash for her apartment across from the loft. He called a couple of the contractors he remembered as having worked on the place, and found that she had paid them in cash also.
Growing more puzzled by the moment, Jim advanced to her professional life. He found out from calling Rainier that the last job listed on her resume was as a guest lecturer at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. There was a gap of eight months between that position and the one at Rainier. Picking up the phone again, he called Georgetown, and from the English department's secretary, he got the name and the extension of one of the professors she had worked closely with, a Dr. Anna Klein. As luck would have it, Dr. Klein was in her office.
"Dr. Klein, my name is Jim Ellison. I'm a detective with the Cascade, WA police department. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about one of your former co-workers, a Dr. Diandra Pallas?"
"Dee's not in any kind of trouble, is she?" Jim could hear the worried tone in her voice.
"No, no, just doing a routine check. Has she been in trouble before?"
"No, not really, I don't think. We weren't very close, she just helped me coach the fencing team, and we had lunch together a couple times." Dr. Klein paused, and Jim swore he could hear the wheels turning in her mind. "Though there was that incident with her boyfriend…"
"It would be really helpful if you could remember anything at all."
"Well, it was all rather confusing, and she was pretty torn up about it. There was this woman that was killed, very gruesome, the papers said someone cut her head off. Diandra happened to be one of the last people to see her alive. Not that she had anything to do with the woman's murder, but her boyfriend, Diandra's boyfriend, worked for the FBI, and he had to question her about it. I don't know if he suspected her or not, but she thought he did. They broke up shortly after that, and then Dee left at the end of the semester. She had an option for the spring semester too, but she backed out of it. Sorry I don't know much else."
"You've been very helpful, Dr. Klein. Thank you for your time." Jim hung up the phone slowly, feeling frustrated. The questions he had been asking all morning had led not to answers, but to more questions. He flipped through the Rolodex on his desk and found the number of his friend at FBI headquarters in DC.
Placing the call, he was once again lucky to find his friend in the office. "Hey, Jim, great to hear from you! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
"I'm trying to find out some information on a witness to a crime here in Cascade, Jerry. Her name is Diandra Pallas, and I was told she was questioned by the FBI as part of a murder investigation about 8 months ago."
Jim could hear Jerry's fingers clicking over the keys on his computer. "Pallas, Pallas…ah, here we are. The murder victim was a young woman by the name of Violette Crane. She was found beheaded in one of the federal parks, here, which is why the FBI was involved. The case is still open by the way. Not much in the file on the Pallas woman, just that she spoke to Crane the night of the murder after her class."
Remembering what Anna Klein had said about the boyfriend, Jim asked, "Who was the investigating agent on the case?"
More key taps filtered through the phone wire. "Oh, this is a good one. This was Spooky's case."
"Spooky?"
"Yeah, Spooky Mulder. He ends up with all the weird shit down in the basement. And now that Mulder's name has entered the picture, there was another beheading a couple weeks after the Crane woman. And what's really nuts, Jim, is that it happened right here in the FBI parking garage, after hours. Let me see if I can pull that record up. Yeah, yeah, this one is still unsolved too. I bet Mulder got his ass chewed good over this one. The woman that was killed? She was a Scotland Yard Inspector. Same MO, forensics said it was done with some kind of sword, though there were quite a few differences in the crime scenes, and the ME didn't think the same sword was used on both victims. Something about the edges being different."
"Jerry, I can't tell you how helpful you've been."
"Say, you haven't had any beheadings out there have you?"
"No, no, and I sure hope we don't. Do you have a number where I can reach Agent Mulder?" Jim wrote the number down when his friend gave it to him. "Thanks again, Jerry." He disconnected the call and leaned back in his chair.
Well, well, well, this was becoming very interesting. He now had one professor who helped coach a fencing team linked to two murders committed with swords. Agent Mulder must have been blind not to see any connection. "Ah, but you're forgetting, Jim, he was sleeping with her," he reminded himself. "And that makes a hell of a lot of difference." So would Mulder have looked the other way? A good question and one Jim would be sure to ask him.
****
The sound of insistent knocking woke Diandra. Groggily, she sat up, rubbing her cheek where the ribbed pattern of the sofa cushion had imprinted itself. She stumbled to the door, tripping over her shoes, which were still lying where she had dropped them the night before. Kicking them out of the way with a muttered oath, she opened the door to find Blair waiting patiently, his arms full of groceries, his face beaming. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "Are you feeling better?" Without waiting for her reply, he continued. "I picked you up some stuff, since you never did get any supplies last night. Just the basics, milk, eggs, bread, coffee…"
At the mention of coffee, Dee grabbed his arm and dragged him inside, pulling him into the kitchen. "You don't know how much I need a shot of caffeine," she told him. "You're a life saver." As Blair set his packages down on the counter, she leaned over and impulsively kissed him on the cheek. He flushed beet red, but Dee had already turned away, hunting for the coffee maker, which she located under the sink. Setting it on the cabinet top, she plugged it in. "Would you mind?" she asked, waving her hand towards it. "I really need to take a shower and get out of these clothes."
"Sure, no problem," Blair replied, biting back the first suggestive answer that came to his mind. Giving him a broad smile, Dee headed upstairs. A few moments later, he could hear her cursing, followed by a thump, then she called over the railing, "It's okay,
I just forgot the mattresses were in front of the bathroom door." The sound of running water filled the loft shortly thereafter. Humming softly to himself, Blair set about unpacking the groceries and locating her dishes.
When Dee came downstairs again, having changed into biking shorts and a T-shirt and pulled her still damp hair up in a ponytail, she found Blair had cleaned off her dining room table and set it with a small feast. There were bagels and cream cheese, strawberries, grapes, orange slices, and melon arranged artistically on a large platter. He'd even managed to find two coffee mugs and her silverware.
She paused in the passageway between the studio and the entertainment center to compose herself. "Oh, Lobo," she thought, "you are making it so easy for me to fall for you, and that wouldn't be good for either of us." She felt the rush of emotion hit her then, painful memories of what her involvement with Fox had done to him. She would not make that mistake again; Blair was already too precious to her. Swallowing past the large lump in her throat, she entered the dining area. "Hey," she said quietly.
