The jungle slid over his vision, and where Jim had been a moment before, he was now gone. Vanished into thin air.
"Jim!" he screamed, trying to twist from Simon's firm grasp. Ellison had been right there, right in front of him, and something had happened. Something had carried him away. "Jim, where are you?"
"He's here. Open your eyes again," Simon insisted, taking his hand and making him touch something, but the surface beneath his fingers felt cold and clammy and not at all like a live body. Not Jim. It wasn't Jim.
"No," he mumbled, trying to pull his hand away.
"Yes, it's Jim," Simon repeated. "He's here."
"No. Not Jim. Dead."
"No, Jim's not dead. He's right here. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he's right here, and he's alive, and he's breathing, and his pulse is normal."
"Nothing is normal. I just want it to be normal," Blair breathed, knowing he sounded like a tired child as he settled back against Simon, resting his throbbing head against the captain's chest. Where are you, Jim? Don't leave me. His ankle hurt. He was suddenly aware of his body, his aches and pains and the throbbing agony in his foot. "Simon, my ankle--"
The captain knew what he needed. "I'll get you a painkiller in a few minutes. Can you just sit quietly here for now? I'm going to make a few phone calls."
He could do that. Maybe. But Jim . . .
There was a soft chirping sound, the buttons of a cell phone being pressed. Then Simon's voice. "Harvey? Yes, it's Simon Banks. I've got a major problem here."
Not as big as my problem. I've lost Jim.
"No, it's both of them. I came over to the loft -- that's where they live -- and found them; hell, I don't even know how to describe this."
Tell him Jim is gone. I don't know where he is. I have to find him.
"Sure. They were sleeping, I think, but I couldn't wake them up. Sandburg needs to take his medication at regular intervals, and I think he's missed a few doses already while he's been asleep."
Weren't sleeping. We were hunting. Then something happened and Jim was gone.
"I tried shaking them, slapping them, shouting at them . . ."
I didn't hear you.
". . . but nothing worked."
I didn't see you.
"Then I pulled Sandburg away from Ellison."
Simon . . . Simon, you did this? You?
"He screamed. Sounded like he was being tortured."
Jim screamed? What happened to him?
"No, the first time Jim noticed and suddenly was choking me trying to get the kid back. I gave him back and they curled up and fell asleep again."
Huh?
"About thirty minutes ago. I tried again just now and this time Jim didn't seem to hear him, which is ridiculous. The man can hear a pin drop two floors away."
Who screamed, then? Me? It could have been me. Was it me, Simon?
"Sandburg's semi-coherent . . . No, I don't think he's entirely aware of where he is."
In my bedroom at the loft. But I haven't lived here for a while, Simon. I've been with Jim . . . somewhere else. Not here. Why am I here now?
"I spoke to him yesterday afternoon. Jim was okay then, just a little disturbed by something that was bothering him."
What? What was wrong? Why didn't he tell me?
"Nothing really. Just something with his senses."
Simon? What aren't you telling him? You were evading the question. But I've got to know, Simon. You've got to tell me, okay, man? It's really important.
"Sure. I'll try anything. Who else am I going to call?" Banks sounded irritated, Blair thought, then the captain shifted him slightly and pressed the cell phone against Sandburg's ear. "Say hello, kid."
"Hello?" Sandburg whispered into the air, hearing his breath whistle.
"Hey, Blair. It's Harvey. Are you there?" a voice said, in his ear, into his brain.
The voice. He knew that voice.
His head hurt. His stomach muscles clenched, cramping. "Oh, god." He couldn't breathe. No air. No air. He couldn't breathe.
Then Simon said it out loud. "He's not breathing!"
Harvey's voice. "Blair? Listen, buddy. I want you to just relax for me. Breathe out. Slowly, push it out. Good work, buddy. Now breathe in slowly; let your lungs fill up. Stop now and . . . and let the air out slowly. Again, breathe."
It was Harvey. Harvey Somebody. The man with the Guide's voice from so long ago.
But it worked; he could feel the tension ease. He could breathe again without it feeling like someone was covering his mouth. It felt good to breathe, the air sliding in and out rhythmically.
Nice.
Yeah . . .
And, oh! Look. There's Jim.
* * *
.
Harvey Leek stared at his computer monitor, watching the SIU insignia tumble in cyberspace on his screen saver as he strained to hear what was happening up in Cascade, Washington. "Blair? Blair?" he said urgently into his telephone receiver, then when there was no response, tried, "Simon?"
"Just a minute," he heard distantly, the clamor of the phone being dropped echoing immediately after. There were rustling noises, and he could hear Simon's voice talking quietly in the background. It didn't sound like there was any big emergency at that moment, so he held onto the line, waiting, trying to rack his brain for some advice for the police captain.
His eyes met those of Nash Bridges, looking up from his desk. Nash's eyebrows rose in question; he had caught immediately that something was up. "Harv?" The head of SIU closed the file he was working on and came over to Harvey's desk. "What do you have?"
"It's Simon Banks. There's a problem."
The sharp eyes widened, then frowned as the implications registered. "What? Where are they? In Cascade?"
"Right."
"Media related? Internal Investigations? Or . . .?" The question trailed off, as it could be so many things, all of them intensely personal. Nash knew well that recovery would take time, considering what had happened to Evan and Blair. Evan was staying at his home this week, under doctor's supervision, and Blair would be in the same situation. They both needed time for their wounds to heal and their spirits to be restored.
Harvey shrugged. "I'm not sure what's wrong. Simon is over at Ellison's apartment -- it's Blair's place, too -- and there's a problem. He can't wake them up."
"Why not? Are they drugged?" Joe asked, appearing from somewhere and pouncing on the conversation, settling one hip on Harvey's desk. Joe Dominguez never waited to be invited into a consultation; he just assumed that if something was happening, he needed to know. And usually he did; it was just that this time, he hadn't met the other players before, and Harvey wasn't sure what exactly Nash had told him.
Bridges scratched at his chin, ignoring Joe. "Evan's been sleeping a lot yesterday and most of today. The doctor said it's normal and not to worry about it."
Harvey nodded impatiently, still holding the receiver to his ear. "But Simon couldn't wake them up. And when he took Blair away from Jim's side, the first time Ellison tried to strangle him and the second time the kid freaked until he was curled up with his partner again in bed."
"Oh, I didn't know they were gay," Joe said, with a shrug. "Maybe they just need more down time."
"It's not like that," Harvey said, rubbing his eyes. "It's got nothing to do with anything like that."
"So they're not gay?" Joe persisted. "I thought you said they lived together."
"Leave it alone, Bubba." Nash waved Joe silent, those same sharp eyes now piercing through Harvey's exasperation. The eyes stayed with him, cataloging, putting together the picture as only Nash could. "It's that other business, isn't it?" Bridges asked quietly, his face screwed in a wince.
Harvey nodded, saying nothing more, still listening on the phone. Nash sighed, turned, and spoke quietly to Joe, enough so the other man left them, taking with him the case file Harvey had been working on when the call came, then clearing another case file from Nash's desk, effectively freeing them
both to continue. Harvey hit the 'speaker' button and put down the receiver. It was quiet enough in their area to let Nash in on what was happening. Joe was efficiently rerouting anyone heading in their direction.
"Harvey?" Simon Banks voice came back on, and he sat up straight. Nash leaned closer, elbows on the desk.
"I'm here. What's happening now?" Harvey asked, staring at the speaker phone.
"Damned if I know. Whatever you said put the kid to sleep. I got him lying down, and Ellison moved long enough to envelop him again. Sandburg does respond a bit now when I poke or prod him, which is better than his partner. Ellison still doesn't respond at all to any stimuli now that Sandburg is back. He just lies there."
"Can you put the phone by Jim's ear? I might as well try that, too."
"Anything." More rustling, then Simon's voice again, distant. "Okay. The receiver's in place."
Harvey clasped his hands in front of him, staring thoughtfully at his interlocked fingers. What was he supposed to say? What could he possibly say to reach the sentinel? When they were in Seattle, though, Blair had said that Harvey had the right timbre for a Guide voice. It was the tone more than anything that was able to catch a sentinel's attention, slipping around whatever guards the sentinel had placed.
"Jim? It's Harvey. Harvey Leek. I'm in San Francisco. Listen, Jim, I know you can hear me. I know the sound of my voice is registering on your ears, and whether or not you're able to respond, you're at least hearing my words."
He paused, just ready to continue when Simon's voice said quietly in the background, "He shifted his head on the pillow."
Nash nodded encouragingly. "He's hearing you."
"Yeah, maybe." It was good news, though. It was something, at least. "Hey, Jim, it's pretty important that you wake up for a brief time and fill us in on what's going on. We could really use some help with this. We don't have enough information to figure out what's happening, and it would be great if you could fill us in."
"No response to that," Simon said, after a brief pause.
Another idea came to mind, and he leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone. "Jim, Blair needs to take his medication. If you see him there with you, can you send him back to get his medication? Do you understand, Jim? You must send Blair back to get his medication."
Nash was staring at Harvey. "Send Blair back from where?" he whispered softly, his face crinkling with curiosity.
"Long story. I'm not sure if I'm even close on this one yet. It's just the beginnings of an idea, really," Harvey replied, softly. He tried again. "Jim, send Blair back. Let him take his medication, then he can go back with you for a while."
* * *
.
Ellison froze, then crouched low as he pivoted, eyes flittering over the jungle vegetation. Something was wrong. He felt it, a dry whisper of uncertainty that hovered in the air around him, elevating his pulse. "Sandburg?"
Where did the kid go now? They had been walking together, talking, Sandburg following him along the trail. Then, a strange vibration through his senses alerted the sentinel.
Sandburg was nowhere in sight. It had happened earlier, just for a moment, as though his guide had just stepped behind some greenery, lost to even sentinel sight. Then Blair was back, a little dazed, but unable to say what had happened to him. Ellison had decided they had been out in the sun too much, and maybe they should just camp for the night.
And now this. He waited, counting the seconds, wondering if the kid would suddenly reappear again. "Sandburg?" he said louder, standing, straining to hear the reassuring mumble of his partner, a heart beat, a faint intake of breath. No connection.
He sniffed the area, the foliage and undergrowth, searching past the identifiable scents of animals and birds. No evidence of his partner nor the homemade suntan concoction the guide had plastered over his fair skin. Minutes passed.
Sight. Hearing. Scent.
Nothing.
He moved quickly, searching now.
He could hear voices, men talking. Far away, miles and miles away, but still he recognized one of the voices and thought he might recognize another. He tried to hear them, but the effort only tired him, draining his resources. Sounds hammered at his mind, voice overlaid with jungle noise, the insects and birds and animals and even the scrape of a leaf against another.
Green and brown gave way to shades of blue. Ellison crouched low to the ground, hands splayed on the uneven surface of the jungle path. Dizziness overwhelmed him; he couldn't think, couldn't carry a thought. His head fell lower, lower, until his cheek rested on the trampled grasses, his eyes closing as his body curled.
There was a faint rustle, then suddenly a presence he knew well was lying at his side. Sandburg. He leaned closer, inhaling the fragrance, his clenched fist unfolding to rest over his partner's heart. He was back. It had taken longer this time. He ran his senses over the sleeping form, checking, making sure he wasn't injured. No, just sleeping.
He pondered whether to wake Sandburg, then decided against it. He'd check him again in the morning. His guide needed to sleep; his guide was injured. Had been injured. Before. Someplace else.
He couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but it was okay now. He was making it okay. His guide would be safe with him now. Here.
A voice tickled the edge of his consciousness, catching his fading attention. It was closer now.
"Jim? It's Harvey. Harvey Leek. I'm in San Francisco. Listen, Jim, I know you can hear me. I know the sound of my voice is registering on your ears, and whether or not you're able to respond, you're at least hearing my words."
Harvey Leek? How could he hear Harvey Leek all the way in San Francisco? It didn't make sense. He was hundreds of miles from--
He blinked, his eyes opening. Where exactly was he? This wasn't Cascade. Peru? He couldn't be in Peru. How would he have--?
Ellison shook his head trying to think, trying to clear the fog.
Again, the voice. "Hey, Jim, it's pretty important that you wake up for a brief time and fill us in on what's going on. We could really use some help with this. We don't have enough information to figure out what's happening, and it would be great if you could fill us in."
He had no response for that. What could he say? 'I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Or, for that matter, how I am even speaking with you.'
"Jim, Blair needs to take his medication. If you see him there with you, can you send him back to get his medication? Do you understand, Jim? You must send Blair back to get his medication."
Ellison pushed himself upright, awake now. He frowned at Sandburg's tightly curled body, at the pain lines visible on his face even in the fading light of the jungle night, the sheen of perspiration on his slightly fevered skin. Yes, it was clear to see the kid was in pain, but where did Harvey expect him to go? To San Francisco? Take him back where?
He shifted closer to Sandburg, gathering him in his arms. No, he'd keep his guide quiet, maybe take him to the river and cool his temperature. The pain would fade. The journey to San Francisco would take too long and would be too hard on Sandburg. This was better.
"Jim? Are you listening to me?"
'Not anymore,' the sentinel thought, in passing. 'I'll take care of him myself, Harvey.' He pulled the woven sleeping mat over them, hiding them from the voices.
* * *
.
While Harvey still called Jim's name into the telephone, he watched as Nash Bridges turned, reaching to take the phone messages held out to him from a uniformed officer. Nash tucked them in his jacket pocket without reading them and continued his monitoring of the situation in Cascade. It was a simple gesture, probably not even one that Nash had spent a moment's consideration for, but Harvey noticed it nonetheless and glanced up at his boss, his face showing his gratitude that Nash was still beside him. It was keeping him focused on the case at hand, and not feeling like he was doing personal things on work time. Nash was angry, not at Jim nor Simon, not even at Blair, but at the men who had caused the p
roblem in the first place, and Nash's anger and Harvey's frustration felt right in the cosmos.
Two weeks ago, Harvey had never heard of Ellison or Sandburg or Banks, but in the space of a few short hours they had been flung into that strange category of brothers made under fire. Comrades. They had fought to get Evan and Blair back alive, and they had won, but it had not been without cost to the two young men. And now one of the rescued, one of the ransomed, was in pain and it made them angry all over again.
Yet even as he struggled for words, Harvey was half prepared to tell Simon Banks to just call in a nice padded wagon for both men. He really didn't know what to do, and he wasn't getting anywhere.
Simon's words said basically the same thing. "It's not working, Harvey. I can't get Blair from Jim's grasp without hurting him."
"Damn it, Simon, I wish I had some great idea here, but I really don't know what to do, man. Blair's supposed to be your expert at this stuff; I'm strictly an underpaid amateur. Jim's fighting me on this."
"But he's fighting you at least," Nash countered. "He's doing something, responding to something. It's more than Simon or I could have accomplished."
"Nash is right. Harvey, don't back out on me now. Give me some suggestions. I'm completely tapped here."
Harvey rubbed at his eyes, straining to think of what he could do. " Let me try something else. Can you put the phone by his ear again?"
"Okay. It's in place."
"Jim? It's Harvey. Listen, I know you want to keep Blair safe, but you can't take care of him there. Look around you. Should you even be there? Think, man! Where are you? How did you get there?"
Nash's voice floated down to him. "Where do you think he is, Harvey?"
"I don't know. But they're obviously linked somehow."
"Linked?" Nash asked, skeptically, a touch of a smile on his face.
It sounded hokey; Harvey knew that. "Subconsciously."
"Subconsciously," Nash repeated. "They're linked subconsciously." Harvey started to object, but Nash held up his hands indicating he was not trying to be sarcastic. "I'm just trying to understand what's happening."
And Dream that I am Home Again Page 9
