The cry of anguish -- how often had Simon heard it in his years on the police force? How many deaths mourned by loved ones? Never had one affected him, though, like Ellison's cry of denial at that fountain, bent over the lifeless body of his friend. Not even Sandburg's sobs aroused such a clenching in his own heart, echoing his friend's pain.
Banks rubbed blindly at his face, suddenly aware of tears that threatened to stream down his cheeks. Damn. He hadn't cried since … Sometimes those horrible moments a month before at the fountain at Rainier were far too vivid, too clear in his memory.
This was okay, though, he told himself firmly … Blair was alive. Jim was alive. I'll do what I can. They all would. Sandburg's alive, Jim. He's alive. Just hang cool.
Simon swallowed, allowing himself a moment to get it all back under control. He looked from Sandburg to Ellison. His focus had been on the younger man, but the older one was in need, as well. Blair was injured -- physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually -- and they would all make sure he was taken care of. Doctors, counselors, friends. Whatever he needed, they would provide for him. But Jim was injured, too, and they had passed over him, focusing on the more obvious need of his partner. Ellison's wounds were deeper, perhaps, some self-inflicted, all neglected and hastily patched so he could do what he needed to do to keep Sandburg alive. Whether motivated by guilt or by extreme need, or by some other passion or directive, Ellison was doing everything in his power to restore his guide, without regard to his own health or safety, without even knowing what he was doing.
When Sandburg was better, they would discuss it. Maybe Blair would have some answers, some explanation for the strange new connection between them. Something had happened when Sandburg came back to life, and something else had happened when Ellison was in the grotto in Mexico. Much as he'd like to ignore it, Simon knew he had to find out what that was. For now, though, he was left watching them, hoping -- praying -- that the situation wouldn't deteriorate and the sentinel wouldn't kill himself trying to save his guide.
Ellison needed Sandburg to live.
Sandburg needed Ellison, too. Maybe even to live.
And more importantly, right now they both needed him.
So...
Now what? No brilliant flashes of insight came to him.
"Is Jim okay?" Harvey Leek asked, drawing nearer. "He doesn't look well."
Banks lightly tapped the side of Ellison's face, feeling the cool, shocky skin. "Jim!" he whispered urgently. "Come on, snap out of it." How did they bring him out of it last time? For some reason, he couldn't remember. He looked up, meeting Nash Bridges' eyes. "I'm not sure exactly what to do," he admitted.
Bridges stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly open as though he were about to offer some advice, but the words got trapped in his throat somewhere. He ended up just shaking his head, his shoulders hitching in a brief shrug. "Don't look at me. He's your detective."
"Thanks," Banks muttered dryly and looked back to the sentinel and guide. At least he should be grateful that Harvey and Nash were calm; their eyes weren't damning him for his ignorance. "Any ideas?"
Nash glanced over to Harvey, then cleared his throat. "Well, uh, he's done this before, hasn't he?" Bridges said, finally, as though that solved everything. "At the hospital when Blair stopped breathing, and later that night in the motel room. Isn't this the same thing? Won't he just come out of it in a few minutes?"
How should I know? They haven't given me the damn manual. "I don't know."
Ellison continued to lie there, his chest scarcely rising, and Simon felt his irritation growing. "I'm sure he'll be fine. These things happen now and again with them," he muttered.
"He took some of Blair's pain," Harvey said softly, a fascinated smile on his face as he looked down at them.
Banks froze for a moment, still not comfortable with others knowing about the sentinel. But Jim trusted these people, and more importantly somehow, Blair trusted them. Over the last three years, Simon had learned to go along with Blair's gut feelings on these things. "Jim did something, but I'm not sure what he did," he conceded.
Harvey continued to watch them. "But he only erased the emotional pain, not the physical. I don't think he can physically remove his partner's pain. He can just ease the emotional hurt: the heartache, the desperation, the fear."
Banks turned as Harvey Leek spoke, facing him. "Do you actually know what's happening?" Banks asked, hope building suddenly. The offbeat SIU detective sounded so sure of himself.
Harvey shrugged. "I'm just guessing," he said quickly, brushing off his words.
"Sounds like a damned informed guess to me." Banks retrieved the washcloth and carefully wiped the sweat from Ellison's face.
Harvey crossed his arms and looked from Ellison to the Cascade police captain. "Jim's a sentinel, right? And he's found his partner, Blair -- which is amazing, when you consider it. In this day and age, the odds of him finding someone who knew what was happening with his senses would be phenomenal. I remember reading that some sentinels didn't find their partners and died young. In tribal life, where sentinels were acknowledged and revered, there would have been a search for a guide underway immediately when a new sentinel was discovered. I'm not sure what the criteria would have been then--"
Simon interrupted, with a well-practiced wave of dismissal. "So what's happening now?"
"Oh, right," Harvey nodded, as though he was as familiar as Blair with being redirected back to his main topic. "Anyway, Jim found Blair, which is cool, but I don't know how much they've … I hate to use the word 'bonded'. Sounds like something out of Star Trek, but I can't think of another name for it."
"Meshed?" Simon offered.
"Yeah, that's good. It's a symbiotic relationship, but it would take time to establish."
"So maybe this is just a new stage they're going through." Simon could see the color returning slowly to Jim's face.
"It's strange, though," Harvey mused, almost to himself, "I thought that usually this kind of thing goes from the partner to the sentinel. I suppose it could go both ways. It makes sense."
"What could go both ways?"
"Hmm? Oh. For lack of another term: empathic transfer." Harvey put his palms together carefully, then twisted them slightly so one hand clasped the other. "They sort of take on the other's emotions, or impart emotions to the other. Calm the other down, center the other, control the fear. It wasn't always there, from what I read, but sometimes it happened. The sentinel's partner needed to be able to keep him grounded, focused on what they were doing."
Nash cleared his throat, entering the conversation with an amazed, "Bubba, when the hell did you find time to research this stuff over the last few days?"
Harvey smiled. "Years and years ago, in college, actually. Part of my master's thesis."
"You did your thesis on sentinels?" Banks rubbed his forehead again, trying to hold back the growing headache. "Could you tell me why no one has heard of sentinels if the information is that available?"
"Well, that's the problem -- it's not that available. And my thesis wasn't on sentinels; they're just something I stumbled on while doing my research on another topic. I never even mentioned them in my paper -- I figured they were extinct. Didn't realize they were still around. Makes you wonder what other legends are true." Harvey reached out a gentle hand and rested his palm on Jim's forehead. "We need to keep him warm. He's shocky. I'm just guessing, but I'd say he went too far, and he doesn't know what he's doing. He could hurt himself, especially without his partner -- his guide -- to help him stabilize afterwards. Blair should be handling this, but he's so exhausted that unless Jim gets worse, I don't think we should wake him."
Banks quickly agreed. "Let Blair sleep for as long as he can."
"He needed to let go of some of his emotional pain," Harvey said, calmly.
They all stared at the two men for another minute. "Maybe we should move him to the other bed, let Jim stretch out properly," Nash suggested.
"No, give Jim
more time. He needs the contact," Harvey answered, and Simon was once again impressed with the sureness in the other man's words.
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, without any control, he needs his guide; Jim needs to know Blair is there and he's okay. That's probably the best medicine for Jim." Harvey paused, looking across to Simon as though something had just occurred to him. "Has Jim zoned at all in the last few days, since the long zone-out he had on Bainbridge Island?"
"A few times."
"More than usual?"
Simon shrugged. "He rarely zones now. He did at first, when it was all new to him, but he and Sandburg have worked out most of those bugs. It's been a long time since that's happened, several years since it was a problem for him. I'm sure the other evening was unusual."
"He was zoned for two and a half hours."
"When he used to zone, I'm sure it only happened for minutes, never hours."
Harvey nodded, as though it all made sense to him. "That long zone-out, then, could have been damaging for him."
"Is that what you think this is? Do you think he's zoning now?" Simon watched the two men, the two short breaths of Jim's to each of Blair's.
"No," Harvey said, scratching his head. "When I saw him zoned, he wasn't like this. I think he's on the edge of a zone, if I understand the concept correctly, but he's monitoring his partner, siphoning off the edge of pain. It would take a lot out of him, though."
"I thought you said Jim couldn't make him better."
"Not physically, not in that sense. But pain isn't just physical. It's emotional, psychological. Not just body, but soul and spirit."
"Do you think what he's done is dangerous to his health?" Simon shifted to cover them both with the blanket.
Harvey considered the idea carefully, as though pulling every scrap of information he had available and thoroughly processing it. He stood rock still, only his eyes blinking as he pondered the question.
Yes, a different version of Sandburg, Simon thought, though Blair's hands and expressive face would have been in rapid motion, his energy scarcely contained as he bounced from idea to idea.
"Has this happened before this weekend?" Harvey asked, finally. "This energy transference?"
"Not to my knowledge. Why?"
"I think Jim's letting what he's doing go too far. He probably doesn't know he's in danger doing this."
Banks met Harvey's mellow gaze, trying to decipher what exactly he had said. So, if Jim doesn't know, how do you know he's in danger? It was one thing for Blair to come up with this stuff -- after three years, Simon was becoming used to it. But there was something strange about Harvey's comments, so confident, yet obviously as off the cuff as Sandburg's usually were, operating from equally intuitive sources of information.
Come on, Sandburg. Help me out here. He desperately wanted to wake up Blair to confirm it all, but he also didn't want to disturb the kid yet. Not after listening to the heartrending sobs only a few minutes earlier.
Maybe Ellison had felt the same way, that these symptoms he was experiencing were worth it, if it brought his partner peace.
Movement behind him caught Simon's eye, and he turned to see Evan push himself upright. Nash moved to sit next to him, his arm resting lightly over the young man's shoulders. Dazed, half-awake, Evan stared at Jim and Blair, blinking to keep his focus. "What's wrong with Blair?" Evan asked softly.
"He's sleeping. How are you doing?" Nash asked, gently.
"I'm okay."
Harvey had whirled around at Evan's voice, his attention shifting as he returned to Evan's side. "I'm sorry -- I was so busy trying to figure this out, that I got distracted. How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay, Harv. How's Blair?"
"He'll be fine," Simon reassured him. They both will. "They're just resting," he added, looking back at them.
Nash joined him. "So are you just going to let them sleep?"
Simon shrugged. "What are my options? Maybe we should just get a motel room of our own and stay here for the night, instead of returning to Cascade. Neither Jim nor Blair are up to traveling." He leaned over, speaking directly into Ellison's ear, his voice low so as not to wake Sandburg. "Jim? Can you hear me?" He tried it again, several different ways, altering his voice tone, but there was no response.
"Doesn't look like he follows orders well," Bridges commented.
"Never has. There's always a first time, though." Banks offered a wry smile that turned into a grimace of frustration. "Dammit, Ellison." He rubbed his forehead, the tension headache firmly in place. Okay, now what? I'm out of ideas. I'm gonna rub the skin off my forehead if I keep this up. What do I do? Sit and wait for you to come out of it? What if you don't?
"May I try?" Harvey asked, returning to stand next to the bed.
Banks stared at the two men, then reached and brushed a curl from Sandburg's forehead and touched the back of his hand to Ellison's cool cheek. No change in either of them. "Sure. I don't know what else to do."
Harvey took Simon's place on the edge of the bed and rested one hand on the side of Ellison's face. "Jim. It's Harvey. Listen to me. Can you hear my voice?" To Banks' surprise, Ellison shifted his head slightly.
Bridges saw it, too. "Well, that's a start," the SIU captain said, moving closer.
Left alone, Evan shivered as he tried to stand up. "Harv? What are you doing? What's happening?"
"I might be able to reach him."
"Reach him? What are you talking about?" Evan wrapped his arms around himself, trying to contain his quaking knees, scarcely noticing as Nash sat him down again on the bed. "What are you talking about, Harvey? I don't understand."
Nash rested his arm around Evan's shoulders. "Just let him work, son. Harvey's voice seems to reach Ellison sometimes."
"What do you mean?" Cortez's dark eyes remained alarmed at what was going on. "What's happening?" he repeated, louder, a touch of anger in his voice. "What's Harvey doing there?"
Harvey looked back at him and smiled suddenly, disarming the agitation. "I promise I'll tell you later, okay? For now -- why don't you go with Nash into the other room?"
"Why?" Cortez shook his head stubbornly as Bridges helped him stand. "Why?"
"Later, Evan." Harvey's voice was final, allowing no further argument. "Just go with Nash, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Cortez said, reluctantly. "But you owe me a huge explanation on this one." He accepted Bridges' assistance into the adjoining room.
"Jim? You paying attention here?" Harvey asked, and Simon was once again amazed that Ellison's head moved, indicating he had at least heard, if not understood, Harvey's question.
"Jim, listen to my voice. Follow my voice. I know you can hear me. Blair's okay now. He's sleeping. You need to let him go for a while. You're not ready for this yet. You're moving too fast. I know you want to help him, but you've got to let him go through this naturally. You can't take this away from him."
Ellison's hold tightened on his partner, but Harvey continued, undaunted.
"I'm giving you a choice here, man. Either you open your eyes now and come out of this, or I'm going to have to move Blair to the next room. He won't be far away, and he'll be fine there, we'll keep close watch on him, but I need you to pay attention for a few minutes and you can't do that with Blair here."
Banks took another good look at his two friends, noting the firm grasp Ellison had on his partner. "I don't understand, Harvey," he asked softly, although Jim could probably hear him just as easily as if he'd shouted it. "Why do you want to move Sandburg?"
"Because I think Jim's 'locked' on him. To bring him out of it, we have to get him to look for Blair. Nash told me that when you first found Blair and took him to the hospital, he stopped breathing and Jim revived him. The doctor removed him from Jim's grasp and that left Jim able to focus. He recovered within ten or fifteen minutes."
"Right."
"Well, I'm going to do the same thing here." Harvey pried the sentinel's fingers from around Sandburg's shoulders. "Help me
."
It took both of them to free Blair, then carry him to the bed in the other room, where Nash and Evan covered the still-sleeping man in blankets.
"Now what?" Banks asked, when they returned to Jim's side. Ellison's hand was stretched out, hovering over where Blair had been, as though some trace of aura still existed there. Hell, maybe it did.
"Now we get his attention." Harvey closed his eyes, then reopened them. He grinned at Simon suddenly. "I have an idea -- straight out of Star Trek, too." He then gently, but firmly, slapped Ellison across the face.
* * *
.
Sandburg woke, disoriented. "What?" he murmured to the two anxious faces hovering over him. Jim?
"Blair?"
Evan and Nash. Not Jim. He blinked, trying to focus, looking around the room, then up at Cortez. "Evan? Evan, what's wrong? What's happened?" he asked, sitting up partway. He was back in the other motel room. Nash's room. "Where's Jim?"
He tried to get up, but Nash stopped him. "Just take it easy, Blair." Bridges sat down beside him, easing his shoulders back to the mattress.
His leg hurt. A lot. But the rest of him felt okay, considering. I just want to be back with Jim. I was with Jim, and now I'm not.
"Jim? Where's Jim? He's not here. Where--?" The words tumbled from Blair's mouth, slurred because he was only half-awake.
"He's just in the next room," Nash said.
"Why? I was with him. Why am I in here?" Blair struggled again to sit up. "Is something wrong with him?" I knew it. Something's wrong.
"He's just resting--"
"No!" Blair whispered. "It's something else. Where is he? How long was I asleep?"
"You were asleep an hour, you woke up for a short time, then you've been back asleep maybe ten or fifteen minutes."
That didn't make any sense. He felt like he'd been sleeping for hours. "Where's Jim?" he demanded.
"He's resting," Nash said firmly. "How are you feeling?"
"What?"
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine." Just a little freaked. "Why won't you let me see Jim?"
And Dream that I am Home Again Page 2
