Jim sighed and sat back, watching the sun set as he focused on Blair in the kitchen below him. His partner wasn't prone to talking to himself unless he was working up the courage to do something, so Jim rarely picked up on any clues when he decided to try and eavesdrop. Tonight was no different, as the only sounds he could pick up on were the boiling of noodles, and something being chopped up. He watched the last of the glow fade from the sky and water, then opened his vision to allow a safe retreat back off the roof via the truck. When he walked back inside, he noticed the musty smell of the house had finally been replaced with fresher, salt air that blended with the subtle pasta salad smells as Blair mixed steaming noodles with the fresh vegetables he had finished cutting up.
"Hey man, dinner's on." Blair turned to him for a moment, then back to the salad. "How's the roof?"
Jim reached into a box and retrieved the two plates he had packed, and two sets of silverware, then set them on the counter. "Not too bad." He waited while Blair filled both plates, then took his and a beer from the fridge and walked back to the couch. "I can't believe how this area has grown in such a short time." He sat down and Blair sat at the other end, as the couch was the only piece of furniture in the house, other than the one small bed.
"So, what are you going to do with this place?"
Jim frowned a little, shaking his head. "I think we should slap up a fresh coat of paint in here, then go find a realtor and unload it." He twisted the top off the beer bottle and took a drink, setting it on the floor when he finished.
"Unload it? Seems like a shame."
"You want it?"
Blair laughed. "Right, Jim. The taxes alone are out of my league. I just mean someone leaves you a house in their will, it seems a shame to just sell it off."
Jim shook his head, "Ted wouldn't have expected me to move out here, and Carolyn doesn't want anything to do with the place. I can't see putting a lot of money into it, then trying to rent it out from Cascade. In fact, with the taxes due at the end of this year, I might be lucky to come out even." He put another forkful of pasta in his mouth, watching Blair. His partner was looking thoughtful, playing with his dinner more than eating it.
"What kind of man was this guy, anyway?"
Jim finished chewing, then took another drink and set the bottle back down before answering. "He was a real loner. A hermit, most of the time. Maybe that's why he and I got along so well." He paused a moment, remembering. "Most of Carolyn's family is a little strange, but Ted was all right. He and I would go off fishing and leave the rest of the family to sit around and gossip. He was old fashioned, believed in hard work. Just generally a great guy." He ate more salad, then shook his head. "I didn't see him more than maybe once or twice a year the whole time Carolyn and I were together. I was surprised when he left this place to the both of us, knowing we were divorced."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crashing waves outside, mixed with the sounds of a woman shouting at her husband, three teenage girls laughing, and a stereo from somewhere down the block. When they were finished, Blair took both plates to the kitchen and rinsed them off.
"You know, Jim, I think you might have the right idea about selling this place after all." The ocean could hardly be heard now for the mixture of stereos and shouts outside. He pulled the kitchen window shut as Jim shut the front door, dampening the clamor slightly.
"I tell ya, Chief, a couple of years ago and this place would have been downright peaceful." Jim went into the bedroom and pulled the window down in there also. The noise outside was reduced, but he had to turn down his hearing to get any respite. While in the room he looked around, checking for fresh mouse droppings. The tiny closet showed signs of abuse, with sagging hinges and a door frame that looked ready to fall apart. There were no more droppings anywhere that he could see, and the carpet had cleaned up nicely, a stark contrast to the stained walls. Before leaving the room, Jim checked the small bed, sitting on it carefully to test its stability. Surprisingly, it held his weight and sprang back with little resistance. One small favor. No, keeping the old place was no longer something Jim wanted to consider. He'd gotten the kitchen and bathroom to look rather clean, and the carpeting was holding up well. A fresh coat of paint, and he'd unload it to the first realtor to make an offer. A profit from the old house was out of the question, he knew, but breaking even against the property taxes would help. What he hadn't wanted to admit to Blair, was that Ted was a nut. More so as the man got older, but during the last year of his life, Jim would have classified him as genuinely crazy. He always suspected it had something to do with spending so much time alone, avoiding contact with others, even family, except when absolutely necessary. He took friendship seriously, but preferred to see even his closest friends only once or twice a year. Jim could understand privacy, and even solitude, but there came a time when friends were needed.
Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead and listening to Blair as he cleaned the dishes. If he couldn't get his partner to open up about what was bothering him, then maybe he could open up to Blair. Ever since Peru, and the panther that Blair had labeled his spirit guide had spoken to him, he'd wanted to have a talk with his Guide about their future. But, each time he thought Blair was ready to discuss the issue, he'd mention something like today, about getting antsy if he stayed in one place too long. And then overhearing Simon talk about getting Jim a new partner would send Blair into one of his quiet moods, giving Jim cause to think that maybe he was ready for a commitment. He just didn't know what Blair was thinking anymore. One thing he did know, he needed his partner, and he had made up his mind to keep Blair around. But was Blair ready for such a permanent idea? Did Jim have the right to ask him? He rubbed his eyes again and got off the bed. Whatever the answer was going to be, he needed to know this weekend. He didn't want a repeat of Peru, when his senses left him as they reached the jungle. But, if his Guide was going to leave, he'd need time to readjust to normal life again.
"Hey, Chief, how about a fire?" Jim entered the living room and stepped over to the small fireplace, glancing around for any sign of matches.
"Is that thing safe?" Blair asked, walking out to stand next to Jim. "There's wood at the side of the house."
"Let's check." Jim got down on hands and knees, parting the metal curtain to peer up the chimney. He had to focus through the dark, but once he did, he could make out clear night sky above. "Looks clear." He pulled his head back out and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Why don't you bring in some wood, I've got a newspaper and some matches in the truck." He stood and followed Blair out the front door, squinting a little against the shriek of a young girl running from her brother down the street. No wonder Ted left this place for a trailer in the woods.
Within a half hour they had a nice fire going, warming the small room. Jim was sitting on the couch, facing the flames, with Blair sitting on the floor next to the fireplace. The temperature was dropping significantly in the late spring evening, but the fire warmed the small house quickly and easily. Most of the noise from outside had subsided, as the younger ones went to bed and the other houses closed their doors and windows against the chill.
"Hey Jim, you've never mentioned why you left the army. I mean, what made you leave all that and become a Detective?"
Blair's question startled Jim a little. He realized then that was one of the few subjects his partner had never asked him about before. "It was a lot of things." Jim shrugged, watching Blair's face for clues as to what might be going on behind that wall of his. "After they found me, I was pretty tired. I mean really tired. That's mostly what I remember from there, just being tired and needing a serious change. After the de-briefing and about a year's worth of paperwork that followed, I needed a new direction." He paused, thinking. It wasn't any easier to explain than it was for him to understand. All he knew, was that he needed a new path. "After the kind of work I was used to, being a cop seemed like a natural progression."
"And no regrets?" Blair asked, a little quietly.
Jim shook his head. "No, Chief, no regrets. I had one career, then changed to another. And then this whole Sentinel thing happened, and I feel like I'm on a totally different path. Things change. You start out with one plan, and somewhere along the way, something happens, and you change with it." Blair was just sitting there, nodding. "What about you? You've gone through some changes lately."
Blair shrugged and glanced around the room, "No, man, my life's right on track."
Jim sighed. Now would be a good time to come out and discuss the issue that was nagging at him, but he suddenly found he couldn't. It was Borneo all over again, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do if Blair announced he wanted to move on, that he was done with his research and ready to get on with his own life. Jim knew Blair had a very casual outlook on life, and friendship, and was used to coming and going in and out of people's lives, just as most people had done with him all of his life. Even his own mother saw him once or twice a year, as they both enjoyed very transient lives. The last time Blair had mentioned leaving was to go with Dr. Stoddard. Jim hadn't wanted him to leave, but he knew he had no right to stand in Blair's way in the face of such an opportunity. But the threat of his Guide leaving, coupled with the loss of his Sentinel senses, gave Jim a clear view of what his life would be returned to if he lost his new partner. He might not lose the abilities altogether, but he would most definitely lose most of his control. Now was the time to get this straightened out, get an answer from Blair, and get on with whatever the future held. But now, sitting there, he suddenly didn't want to know.
"Well, I'm gonna turn in. Shall we flip for the bed?"
Blair shook his head and stood up. "It's your place, Jim. Besides, that couch is too short for you."
Jim glanced at the couch as he stood. "Okay, I won't argue." They each retrieved their sleeping bags from next to the door and Blair tossed his onto the couch. Jim put another log on the fire before going down the hall to the bedroom. The whole house was pretty warm, and they had enough wood for the night, but he pulled out a sweatshirt from his bag and walked back out to the living room. "Here, Chief, you might need this."
Blair accepted the sweatshirt that was tossed at him. "What about you?"
"I'm fine. Good night." Jim returned to the bedroom and unfolded his sleeping bag on top of the bed. He had a second sweatshirt, just in case, but he always preferred it cooler than his housemate. In the morning, they'd slap up some fresh paint, fix a few doors, call a realtor, and get this whole partnership issue out in the open. Maybe not in that order.
Part 3
* * *
Blair stood in the trees, watching Jim retreat into the jungle, following the panther. He had just told Jim he was leaving, going to Borneo, and expected an argument, but there was none. Instead, Jim just nodded, then turned and followed the panther, away from Blair and into the jungle. He had told Jim to follow it. He told him the panther was his spirit guide, and he needed to see what it wanted. But standing there, watching him go, Blair knew he wasn't coming back. He wanted to tell him he wasn't going to go to Borneo after all, but Jim couldn't hear him anymore. He was running after a panther Blair couldn't see, a panther that was replacing him, and it was his own fault. He had told Jim he was leaving, and he had told Jim to follow the cat, and now he stood, alone, watching his life run into the jungle. There was something approaching from behind him, something large, pounding the ground in a rhythmic beat. Blair stirred, trying to turn around and see what it was. He couldn't move at first, and his feet felt like they were tangled in vines. The pounding was louder now, getting closer. In a panic, he looked down at his feet, but instead of vines, he saw cloth.
"Oh man!" Blair sat back, relieved and surprised to find he had been dreaming. It had seemed so real. Even the pounding...he could still hear that. Sleepily he pulled his legs out from the tangle of sleeping bag and stood, rubbing his eyes and pushing the hair away from his face. "Jim?" he could tell it was daylight through the thin curtains in the kitchen, but there was no window facing the front of the house. Blair followed the sound through the front door and out to the front of the house, where he found Jim playing basketball, alone in the driveway.
"Hey, Chief. You ready to get to work?" Jim caught the ball as it rebounded from the side of the house, having missed the old metal hoop attached to the eave.
"How long have you been up?" Blair stood there, barefoot, trying to suppress a yawn.
"Long enough to get bored." He set the ball down and walked towards the house. "Hit the shower, Sandburg, and let's get some painting done."
Blair stood there as Jim passed him and walked into the house. He couldn't believe he'd slept through Jim getting up, showering, and going outside, in the confines of that tiny house. Yet he had. Must have been the dream, he thought. I gotta shake this off. Blair followed Jim into the house and found the older man in the kitchen, taking out a pan from one of the boxes.
"Is there hot water?" Blair asked as he walked down the short hall to the bathroom.
"Should be."
Should be. Well, if there wasn't, he knew he had no one to blame but himself. How he had slept so late, he didn't know. The shower started off warm enough, but just in case, Blair made quick work out of his routine, settling for just one rinse of his hair, as he was going to have it pulled back all day anyway. When he got out and toweled off, the smell of eggs and coffee greeted him from the kitchen. The fire had long since gone out, and there was a morning chill in the house, so Blair added Jim's sweatshirt over his shirt when he dressed, then joined his partner in the kitchen for breakfast while standing at the counter. Jim seemed quiet this morning, and Blair found he had to keep up some small talk about the house and the view to keep from feeling uncomfortable. He'd seen Jim moody once before, when Jack's car had been discovered in the river, but never again since then. What on earth could be bothering him, Blair had no clue. But for the first time in a long time, he began to feel selfish for having been so moody himself. He was just working up the right way to ask Jim what was up when his partner looked at him and set his coffee cup down, rubbing both hands together and smiling slightly.
"Lets get to work."
"Painting?" Blair asked, raising his eyebrows.
Jim nodded. "Painting. I'll get the plastic from the truck."
Before Blair could comment, Jim left the house and walked out to the truck to retrieve not only the plastic, but several rolls of masking tape he had left out there. When he returned, he merely tossed Blair the tape and started to unroll a sheet of plastic. Blair caught the tape and started at one end of the living room, taping the wood trim as Jim had taught him in the loft. They each fell into a quick routine, laying out the plastic, taping up anything Jim didn't want to get paint on, then setting out the paint gallons, trays, and rollers. Blair took the roller and started on a wall, leaving Jim with a brush to do the follow up detail work. The house was so small, they had the living room and hallway done in less than an hour, and had moved into the bedroom. Neither one spoke as they continued their routine in the last room, and Blair found the silence both comforting, and unnerving. He enjoyed the fact that they could work on a project with such practiced ease as to warrant no questions. But at the same time, he was becoming more and more aware that Jim seemed to be thinking about something. Something he didn't want to talk about.
They finished with the bedroom in record time, so Blair set about removing the tape. When he reached the closet door he stopped, noticing the door trim pulling away from the frame. He was just about to mention it when Jim stepped over and took a look at the wood.
"Hold that there, I'll be right back." Jim pushed the trim back in place and held it until Blair put his hands up to hold the wood. He watched as Jim left, then turned around so he was standing inside the closet, facing out, and could hold the wood trim in place. Jim returned quickly with a large pneumatic hammer and plugged it into the wall socket next to the closet door.
"Just hold that still while I set it in place." Jim
checked the hammer, then positioned it next to Blair's right hand. "Whaddaya think? Place cleans up pretty well."
Blair glanced around the room, nodding. "Not too bad. You aren't having a change of heart, are you Jim?"
"Nah, it's not worth the headache."
Blair nodded again, gazing at the fresh white paint glistening off the walls of the room. He heard, and felt, the hammer quickly set three nails in place near his right hand. Too near. He looked down quickly as Jim moved over to the left side, noticing the nails that had pierced his sweatshirt near the wrist, now holding his arm in place against the wood frame. "Jim!" Before he could react, three more nails were in place, securing his left wrist to the opposite side of the doorway. "What the hell?"
Jim stepped back and set the hammer down, nodding. "Now, you and I are going to have a talk."
"What are you doing?!" Blair tried to pull his arms free, but couldn't. He stared back at Jim who was standing several feet away, watching him.
"There are a few things we need to discuss, that's why I brought you out here. And neither one of us is leaving until we get this worked out."
Choices Page 3
