Jim was just a few feet from Blair and he turned, leaning forward with one hand raised. "Don't start this again, Sandburg, I'm not in the mood."
Blair's heart didn't stop this time, but his face flushed and it took all of his self control not to flinch away.
"I'm going to bed." Jim turned and walked upstairs.
"Right." Blair shook his head and went to his room, shutting the doors with a little more force than might have been called for. He didn't want to go to sleep. He didn't even want to sit still. What he wanted to do, was go out that front door, just to prove he could. But he wouldn't.
"At this rate, there'd be too many muzzle flashes to track," he mumbled, not caring that Jim would hear what he said.
Blair paced his room for a few minutes, trying to sort out what he felt from what he deserved to feel. Sure, Jim had told him to stay inside, to wait for Simon to call. He hadn't said it was a matter of life or death that Blair not go out. In fact, at the time, it was Jim who was in danger, not Blair. He'd gone out to confront a suspect, and he'd gone out alone. When his snitch called, there wasn't anything to do but meet with him in Jim's place. Blair had tried to call, but the cell phone was busy. What was he supposed to do? He'd even tried Simon's office once, but the Captain was on the phone. If he hadn't gone, Sneaks wouldn't have waited. Then Jim would have come home to find he'd missed whatever his snitch had, and he'd have been mad.
Of course, he was still mad. And he'd jumped down Blair's throat the instant he walked in. Jim's anger had frightened him, and that fact made him angry, which in turn changed to frustration.
It was that frustration that was keeping him awake now. "All right, Sandburg, just get over it." Blair pulled off his shirt and tossed it across the room. "You're stressed out. Jim's stressed out." He kicked off his shoes and let them stay where they landed. "You've done a fine job getting the entire Department stressed." He sat down hard on the bed and pushed his hair back with both hands. "Just shoot me now and get it over with."
"If you don't shut up, I will!" Jim's voice called down from upstairs.
Blair shot the ceiling a dirty look. He hadn't realized his running monologue was out loud. Instead of apologizing, he fell back on the bed, resigned to the fact that he'd be awake all night. God, he wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.
It came all too quickly. Blair rolled over, seeing the clock just as it flipped from 5:59 to 6:00. He slapped off the alarm before it had a chance to go off, then swung his legs out from under the sheet before he had a chance to change his mind. Jim was still upstairs, probably still asleep as usual, so Blair walked into the bathroom. He wasn't sure if he was going in with his partner or not, but until he heard otherwise, he decided to proceed with his usual morning routine anyway. Hell, they might not even be partners anymore. But, with Blair's luck, Jim was going to make him ride this out right there in the front lines. No hiding till things cooled off, not with James Ellison. No sirree. You make a mistake, you stand up front and take the heat for it.
Or a bullet, if it turned out that way. Blair finished brushing his teeth, and splashed cold water over his face to wake himself up. A sudden mental image of Jim facing Naomi, trying to explain why he'd just killed her only son, made Blair nearly laugh. He turned on the shower and tossed his shorts into the hamper. Yeah, let him take her on. He stood under the spray and closed his eyes, picturing his mom tearing the great and mighty Detective Ellison into little bits. Blair considered how long he could make his shower last, but with the new hot water tank, he'd be a prune before he could use up all the hot water.
He lathered up and rinsed off, thinking of what would be left of Jim and Simon after his mom went on another rampage. They thought they'd seen her mad that night in the Captain's office, but Blair knew better. No one did righteous anger as well as Naomi Sandburg.
Blair closed his eyes as the water rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair. Suddenly, the image of his partner being torn apart by his mom was replaced with the very real memory of Jim lying on the couch, bleeding to death from a bullet wound to his shoulder.
Blair's eyes shot open and a shiver sent goose bumps coursing over his skin despite the hot water. He quickly shut off the shower and pushed the curtain open. His heart was racing as he toweled off, trying to shake the vision of Jim covered in blood. God, what was he thinking? Jim could have--he'd nearly died. All the fear and panic came rushing back and Blair had to sit on the edge of the tub for a minute to calm down. Jim hadn't deserved Blair's attitude last night. But Blair hadn't entirely deserved Jim's. They were both stressed, and falling victim to things that were beyond both of them. Maybe now that they knew who was behind the shootings, they could focus on finding her, and some of the rest of it would just blow over.
Blair stood up and finished drying off, then went to his room to get dressed. Jim was just coming down the stairs, and one look at his face told Blair it hadn't blown over. Not yet. Wordlessly they passed in front of Blair's room, Jim walking into the bathroom and Blair into his room. Both men shut the doors.
"Great. This is going to be fun." Blair pushed wet hair from his face and found a clean pair of boxers. He dressed, listening to the shower and trying not to think out loud. Not that there was much to think about. He felt like a kid. Like he'd just been caught doing something he'd been forbidden to do, and was now being given the silent treatment. That was always the ultimate punishment for Blair. He'd been a student of body language even as a kid. Little things people did he heard as keenly as being shouted at. Naomi had known it. So did Jim.
Breakfast was toast, coffee, and silence. Blair couldn't quite tell if Jim's silence was due to last night, or if maybe he was just working this whole case out in his mind. He could stay quiet for a long time, even in a good mood. Blair had learned over the months that silence with Jim wasn't always a bad sign. But after last night, it probably wasn't such a good one.
"Come on, Chief." Jim stood, finishing his coffee.
"What's the plan, Jim?" Blair dumped the contents of his own cup in the sink. He wasn't sure if the humble approach or the let's forget it method would work best, so he tried a simple, straight question to test the water.
"Keeping you alive and finding our shooter." Jim clipped his holster on the back of his belt and walked to the door.
"Yeah, great." Blair kept his voice low, speaking to the far wall before he turned to join Jim at the door. His partner's simple, straight answer did little to make him feel better.
Halfway to the Station was more than he could take. "Jim, I'm sorry about last night."
"Not now, Sandburg."
"Well, when, then?" Last night's frustration came rushing back. "Jim, we need to talk about this."
"Not now." Jim turned to look at him just before pulling into the parking garage. His voice was quiet, but the tone was uncompromising.
"Great." Blair unclipped his seatbelt as Jim parked, then opened the door and got out, stopping just short of slamming it shut. "That's just great."
Three uniformed officers turned to watch them walk to the elevator, and Blair hoped they enjoyed the show. Maybe this was what it all boiled down to. Maybe Jim really was taking sides, only the side he had taken wasn't the one he thought. Maybe his partner had been fooling himself all this time, as well as fooling Blair. He'd been a cop for a long time, and before that a Captain in the army. Those feelings of solidarity were hammered in during training, and weren't easy to override. You could consciously make a choice, and tell yourself and the world that you had, but deep down inside, sometimes it didn't matter.
The elevator took forever to reach the 7th floor. By the time it did, he was resigned to having a really bad day. Jim marched straight to Simon's office and Blair followed, staying behind and to one side as Jim stood in front of the Captain's desk.
"Jim. Sandburg." Simon nodded to each of them, then pointed to the coffee pot. "Help yourselves."
"No, thank you, Captain," Jim replied.
Blair simply shook his head.
/> Simon looked at them both, then shoved his glasses back on. "We came up empty in Perry's apartment last night. She's disappeared." He opened a file folder and flipped through a few pages. "Emptied her bank account, took a few clothes and personal, items according to her neighbor, and vanished." He closed the file and looked at Jim. "Maybe getting that close to her yesterday scared her off. She may have reconsidered her position and skipped town."
Jim shook his head. "I doubt that, Simon. Anyone that distraught isn't going to seek revenge, then quit after two failed attempts."
"Maybe they weren't failed, Jim." Blair had been thinking about that for a few hours, but only had the nerve to voice his opinion in front of Simon. Not that the Captain held him in very high regard right now, but where Jim was concerned, he'd at least listen.
Jim and Simon both looked at Blair, waiting for him to explain himself.
"She's a markswoman, right? Army trained? If she's good enough to remember to pick up her spent cartridge, and you're assuming she's too good to have mistaken me for Jim, then why isn't she good enough to miss when she wants to?"
"What would be the point, Sandburg?" Jim asked.
Blair shrugged. "I don't know, Jim. Fear. Suspicion." He waved his arm to indicate the bullpen as well as his partner. "This."
Jim shook his head and turned back to Simon.
"What are you getting at, Sandburg?" The Captain looked from Jim to Blair, eyebrows creased.
"Look, we're all trying to avoid the obvious because it's not pretty and we all want to deny it, but that's not helping anyone." Blair glanced at Jim, then turned back to Simon. "Polite society dictates that we monitor our feelings and reactions in deference to the people around us, when in fact that usually ends up causing more harm than good. If we could just be open and honest about how we all think and feel, we might understand each other better."
Jim looked at Blair and raised his eyebrows. "Did I hear correctly, Sandburg? You are advocating truth and honesty?"
"I'm advocating communication, Jim," Blair replied, trying to keep most of the irritation he was feeling out of his voice, with little success. "If we could just be honest about what's going on, maybe we'd get through it quicker."
"Would either of you care to communicate with me?" Simon asked, quickly becoming agitated as he looked from one man to the other.
"I haven't the faintest idea, sir." Jim shook his head.
"Yes, Jim, you do." Blair looked at his partner now, all but forgetting he was in the Captain's office. "You saved my life, and an officer was killed. Now, whether the two are independent of each other is irrelevant." He glanced at Simon and briefly wondered if anyone was going to try and contradict him. "The fact is, right now, right here, I'm the outsider. And no matter how hard the two of you might try to convince yourselves otherwise, it's true. And this just might have been her goal in the first place. Create enough confusion and accusations to get us completely divided."
Jim shook his head but wouldn't look at Blair. "No, Chief, you're wrong. You're my partner, we're on a case, and right now, someone's trying to kill one or both of us. End of story." He looked at Blair then and raised a hand to emphasize his point.
"Well that part's right." Simon slapped a folder closed that was in front of him and looked at Jim. "Forensics went through her apartment and found plenty of evidence, but we're still coming up empty finding Ms. Perry herself." He pulled a slip of paper out of the file and handed it to Jim, along with a single key. "Take a look and see if you and Mr. Social Sciences here can find anything. And keep your eyes open. I don't need any more funerals this week." Simon picked up his phone and began to dial, ending the conversation.
"Right, sir." Jim turned and Blair moved aside, opening the door.
He half expected a pat on the arm, or a hand on his back, ushering him into the bullpen. But there was nothing. Jim crossed the room and stopped at his desk, fishing through a drawer for something.
"I'll be right back, Jim." Blair kept going, heading for the men's room across the hall. No, this story wasn't over. It was far from over.
Part 9
* * *
Jim found the spare battery for his cell phone and made the switch, setting the older one back into the charger beside his desk. His headache hadn't left last night, and in fact was stronger than ever. The fact that Blair kept trying to talk about last night wasn't helping, but he did seem to be able to keep him from pushing the issue. So far. Last night had been the last straw, stress-wise, and although Jim did realize now that he'd been a little rough, he wasn't sorry. Discovering that their shooter was after Blair, and not Jim, and then coming home to find him gone--it had just too much. And then for his partner to take a simple argument, and turn it into some kind of trust issue. After all they'd been through, he could still put words in Jim's mouth that he never would have voiced. Or in this case, even felt.
What was wrong with that kid, that he could think Jim would feel that way? What kind of men had their turn in raising Blair, that would give him the impression anyone, at anytime, would change how they felt overnight? Time and time again, Jim tried to express and explain how important Blair's friendship was to him, even without the Sentinel abilities that had brought them together. And yet time and time again, Blair jumped to the wrong conclusions, faster than a speeding bullet.
Jim sighed and shook his head. He should have known better, with all the shit going on at the Station right now, all the talk he was hearing from down hallways and inside rooms about Blair versus Janet, Jim saving Blair and letting a fine officer die. He knew Blair couldn't hear half of what he did. But he had to know Jim was defending him. Hell, he'd told Blair he was sticking with him, no matter what.
Jim glanced around, wondering just how long Blair was going to take in there. He started to walk down the hall, and heard the voices.
"...you get Ellison killed over this, I'd worry if I were you."
It wasn't Carpenter, but Jim did recognize the voice.
"I think Jim can take care of himself."
"He'd be better off alone, than with someone like you."
God, who was that? Jim quickened his pace when he realized there was more than one officer in there. When he burst through the door, he found Blair standing at the sink, facing Fredrickson and Stewart.
All three turned to face Jim when he entered. "Sandburg, you coming or what?" Blair glared at Jim, and for a moment, he thought the kid was going to stay in there. Finally, he pushed past the other two and stormed out of the room, marching straight past Jim, heading for the elevators. After a stern look directed at the men in the bathroom, Jim turned to follow.
Blair was at the elevator, shaking his head. "That was just great, man. Next time will you come to the University and beat up the big guy for me?"
"What?" Now who wasn't communicating?
"You're really a piece of work, you know that?"
The elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside. Jim was completely puzzled. His partner was making no sense at all. "I thought you said something about liking this Blessed Protector bit. Now I'm getting crap from you for having gone in there? I don't get you, Chief."
"No, Jim, obviously, you don't." Blair pushed some curls out of his face and looked at the floor.
God, here we go again! "You mind explaining? Or is this some unwritten cultural rule I should already know about?"
"Just forget it, Jim." Blair waved both hands in the air, then stepped forward when the elevator doors opened.
Jim shook his head in exasperation and followed his partner into the parking garage. "I don't want to just forget it, Sandburg. I want to know what the hell's wrong with you lately." They reached the truck and Jim stopped, facing Blair.
"Not now, Jim." Blair glanced around the garage.
There were a few officers in the garage, fueling up their rigs and talking to each other. Jim didn't care, even though it was obvious they were watching. "Yes, Chief, now. Everything I say to you, you've been turning around into some
thing else. If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to believe the worst."
"No, Jim, I think it's more a case of you not wanting to believe the truth." Blair shot a glance towards the other officers in the garage. "You're really no different from them on this, and until you realize that, we're not going to get anywhere."
Jim's eyebrows both shot up in disbelief. "Now you're calling me a liar, Chief?"
"No, Jim." Blair looked around again, then pointed to the truck. "Can we not do this here?"
"Where would you rather we did this?" Jim looked at the two officers nearest them. "They're enjoying the show, why stop now?"
"This is great, Jim." Blair shook his head then walked to the truck and got inside, slamming the door.
Jim sighed, then turned and walked to the driver's door. His ears tuned in to the pair beside the gas pumps just in time to hear their remarks. Lover's spat. Well, it wasn't the first time he'd heard that one. Blair was clenching his jaw in an almost comical attempt at anger. If Jim wasn't so frustrated with his partner right then, he might have laughed.
He started the truck and drove out of the garage, waiting for Blair to continue the conversation and explain himself. Three blocks later, he realized that wasn't going to happen.
"So, are you going to explain yourself or do I keep guessing?" Jim glanced at him while at a red light.
"Jim, it's simple." Blair looked at him, turning slightly in the seat. "You've been a cop for a long time. And the army isn't any different. Your natural allegiance is with them at a time like this. I was prepared to deal with that." He looked out the windshield and shook his head. "I wasn't prepared to deal with this."
If this was his idea of direct communication, Jim wasn't going to get anywhere. "Deal with what? I've told you where I stand here, Chief. And obviously you don't believe me."
"No, Jim, I don't think you believe you. You can't just ignore the facts."
"And what would those be?" Jim knew Blair was about to tell him once again he should be blaming him for Simmons' death. If this kept up, he just might.
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