by Beth Manz
"That's Jim, Hannah!" Joel called again. "He wants to talk to you!"
"Jim is in jail!" Hannah yelled back at the detective. "He can't call me!"
The phone continued to ring, the harsh sound sending sharp pain through Blair's already aching head. "Just answer the damn phone!" he yelled, squeezing his eyes shut against the discomfort.
The sound of quick, efficient footsteps approached him. Opening his eyes again, he looked up at the woman who now stood over him. She glared down, her eyes dark with anger.
"You are in no position to be giving orders, Blair," she informed him coldly. Using her foot, she shoved him roughly onto his back.
Blair cried out at the renewed trauma to his already aching side. And as he breathed in and out, waiting for the pain to ebb, he realized for the first time that the area around the wound in his side was warm and wet. He groaned. He was bleeding again--probably had been since Hannah hit him with the candlestick. The phone continued to ring, the sound bringing his thoughts back to the woman standing over him. "Just talk to Jim," he pleaded softly.
It wasn't until she crouched down beside him that he noticed the large knife in her hand, the knife she now pressed to his neck. He swallowed hard, his throat constricting. "Hannah--"
"I wasn't going kill you here," she whispered, her gaze locked thoughtfully on the blade. "I was going to take you somewhere else. But now..." Her voice trailed off as the knife pressed harder.
"You kill me," Blair choked out, "and Jim will never have anything to do with you."
Her gaze shifted up to Blair's face. The knife did not move. "You're wrong. He'll understand, realize I'm doing this for both of us."
The phone on the bedside table continued ringing.
"That's Jim," Blair whispered, never taking his eyes from hers. "Ask him yourself if that's true."
Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at him, clearly contemplating what he had just told her. Finally, exhaling a long, frustrated breath, she pulled the knife away, stood, and crossed to the phone. "Hello?" she said into the receiver, her voice cool, curt.
As Blair watched, the anger that had been driving her drained away. "Yes, he's here, Jim... No, he's all right." Hannah's gaze flitted in Blair's direction, but he could tell that her attention was riveted on the sound of Jim's voice. Blair was amazed to find that where there had been rage only moments before, fond affection now warmed her eyes and features, as if just the sound of Jim's voice could calm and soothe her.
"Yes," she whispered out after several seconds. "Of course I'll wait for you." She paused, listening again. "No, darling, I won't do anything until you get here. But hurry. Please hurry."
Hanging up, she turned back to Blair, smiling sweetly, confidently. "Jim's on his way. He asked me not to do anything until he arrives." Her smile widened. "When he gets here, I'm sure I'll be able to convince him that all of this is for the best. This time he'll listen to me, Blair, I just know it. And then... Jim and I can end your life, together."
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/
Jim pushed open the front door to Hannah's house. It had been unlocked, just as he had requested. It would have been easy for Joel and his team to make their way into the house, but Jim still felt he'd made the right decision in instructing Joel to pull back. Blair's life was at stake and Jim knew that any forced entry would only serve to put Blair in an even more precarious situation.
The ride from Berne had been tense, and no matter how hard Jim had pushed the powerful patrol car, it seemed at times that they would never reach Cascade. All Jim had been able to think about during the trip was Hannah's insane notion that Blair was an obstacle between them. She'd been the coolly calculating orchestrator of the previous attempts on Blair's life, and Jim doubted she'd show any mercy to the young man under the current circumstances.
Pausing in the small foyer, he extended his hearing until he was able to pick up on two soft heartbeats coming from the rear of the house. Fine-tuning his hearing, he pushed past Hannah's heartbeat and focused in on Blair's. It was slightly elevated, stressed, but relief at the sound flooded Jim just the same. Blair was still alive, and that was all that mattered.
Following the sound of his guide's heart, he made his way to the back room. The door stood ajar about six inches. Reaching out to push it aside, he called, "Hannah? It's me, Jim. I'm coming in now."
When there was no response, Jim slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. His partner was on his knees in the middle of the room, facing the door. His hands were secured at his back. Behind Sandburg stood Hannah, holding a knife to the young man's throat.
Jim's gaze skimmed Hannah's face, then he focused his attention on Blair. Sweat was beading on Sandburg's forehead and there were lines of pain and exhaustion around his eyes. An ugly gash lined the side of his forehead; the wound looked deep and sore, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Jim looked down at Blair's side where a large, dark blotch of blood had stained his shirt. He cursed silently; Blair had obviously pulled the stitches in his side.
"How are you doing, Chief?" Jim asked softly, purposely ignoring the woman who stood behind his partner.
"Been better," Blair answered him just as softly. Jim saw his guide swallow deeply, saw him close his eyes and clench his jaw as Hannah pressed the blade of the knife deeper into the skin at his neck.
"Hannah." Jim raised his eyes to the young woman's face. "There's no need for you to hurt Blair. Let him go and you and I can talk this out--"
"I can't do that, Jim," she interrupted, shaking her head slightly. "Don't you see? He's the last obstacle standing between us. He has to be taken care of."
"He's not an obstacle, Hannah. He's my partner and my friend. Let him go."
"He'll only come between us," she insisted. "He doesn't want us to be together."
"You do this, Hannah, and I'll never forgive you. Is that what you want? Do you want me to hate you?"
Her cool demeanor slipped for the slightest moment--Jim saw it in the quick shifting of her eyes, in the glint of doubt that briefly crossed their depths.
"You could forgive me," she reasoned quietly, quickly regaining her composure. "Once you came to realize that what I've been telling you is true, you could forgive me. You'd come to realize that Blair was in the way...that we had no choice but to rid ourselves of him."
We had no choice! Jim bit back an angry retort. The fact that she had pulled him into her scheme of getting rid of his partner--that she was talking as though it was something they both needed to do--rankled the detective. It was all he could do to keep himself from charging Hannah, overpowering her. But another quick glance at the blade against Blair's throat--at the small line of blood that was now trickling down Blair's neck--persuaded him to remain calm.
"You told me you loved me," Jim offered at last. "Did you really mean that?"
Hannah huffed out a small laugh. "You know I meant it, Jim. You know I did."
"All right, then. If you truly love me, you won't hurt Blair. You'll let him go. Now."
She shook her head, adamantly this time. "I don't see why my hurting Blair should make a difference one way or another. You and I being together is our destiny, darling. Can't you see that? Our fate is bigger than both of us--we were meant to be together. So whether I kill Blair or not, you'd learn to love me either way."
"No, Hannah, I wouldn't. Blair is more than just my partner and my friend. He's a part of me, a part of who I am." Jim shifted his attention to his guide. He stared up at Jim, eyes wide, unblinking, trust radiating from the blue depths. Locking his gaze with Blair's, Jim spoke again, his voice low: "You destroy him and you'll destroy me as well." He looked up at Hannah again. "Is that what you want?"
Again, her serene façade faltered, and she wasn't able to regain it so easily this time. "What I want is for you to love me," she whispered quietly, her eyes filling with tears. "I want us to be together. That's all I ever wanted..."
Jim extended his hand in her direction and gave her what h
e hoped was an encouraging smile. "If you let Blair go, I'll take you away with me. Now. Today."
The knife at Blair's throat lowered a fraction of an inch. The minute slump of relief that Jim saw in Blair's shoulders mirrored his own. This has to work... He had Hannah's attention, now he just needed to remain calm, needed to convince her to move away from Blair. "We'll go back to Berne or out of state," he promised her warmly, "even out of the country. Anywhere you want."
"You mean that?" she questioned, her shaking hand lowering the knife a bit more.
"You want me to love you, don't you? This is the only way." Tentatively, Jim took a small step in her direction, his hand still extended. "Give me the chance to learn to love you, Hannah. Let Blair go and come away with me."
Her arm moved slowly away from Blair's throat, then her fingers released the knife she'd been holding. It fell to the floor, landing with a dull thud on the thick pile carpet. Ignoring her former captive completely, her eyes locked on Jim, she moved around Sandburg and walked up to the detective. She smiled up into his face, her eyes alight with joy. "You'll never regret this, Jim," she breathed out. "You'll come to love me, I know it." Her eyes flitted momentarily toward the open door of the bedroom. Returning her attention to Jim, she reached for his hand and pulled gently. "Come with me, my love," she whispered, stepping toward the door. "Now we can be together."
Jim gripped her hand in his and pulled her toward him. He moved his hand to her wrist and tightened his hold.
"Jim," she cried. "You're hurting me!"
He ignored her protest, looked instead toward the open bedroom door. "Simon?" he called out loudly.
He heard the captain's voice answering him, coming from the end of the hallway.
"You and the others can come in now. It's over."
"What?" Hannah screamed, beginning to struggle against the hold he had on her. "What are you doing? This isn't how it's supposed to be! You're ruining everything! We're supposed to be together!"
As he pulled the diminutive woman close to him, she immediately ceased her struggling. Jim looked down at her, giving her a self-satisfied smile. "Not in this lifetime," he ground out.
Simon appeared at the bedroom door and Jim gladly turned Hannah over to him. She remained silent during the exchange, her face a mask of shock and despair. Jim could hear Simon quietly informing her of her rights as he cuffed her and led her away.
Jim turned back to Blair. His partner had not moved. He still knelt in the exact same spot, but his eyes had slipped closed. His breathing was shallow, labored.
"Chief?" Jim called out softly. Crouching down in front of Sandburg, he placed his hand gently against the younger man's pale cheek. His skin felt warm. "Blair?"
"I think she ripped out my stitches," Blair hissed through clenched teeth. He looked up at Jim, blinking at the sweat that dripped into his eyes. "My entire side is throbbing."
"We're going to get you taken care of," Jim promised. Standing, he moved behind Blair so he could free his hands from the fabric belt Hannah had used to bind him. He worked quickly but carefully, doing his best not to jostle his guide, not wanting to cause him any additional discomfort.
"Jim," Blair said, turning his head slightly so he could see his partner behind him. "You should see what's in her closet. A shrine to you. It's the eeriest thing I've ever seen."
"A shrine, huh?" Jim raised an eyebrow as he finished with the final knot and pulled the belt away, releasing Blair's wrists. "Well, I've always thought I was shrine material." He moved around in front of his guide again and, reaching down, gripped him by the upper arms.
"Oh, please," Blair groaned as Jim helped him to his feet. "We could build a shrine to your ego, maybe."
Jim chuckled, carefully pulling Blair's shirt up so he could check the damage to his side. The stitches were jagged in his flesh, but the cut had stopped bleeding. Jim lowered the shirt. "I think we need to get you to the hospital, buddy."
Blair nodded, swaying slightly where he stood. "Oh man," he murmured, his hand reaching out to grasp Jim's arm. "I just got really dizzy."
Jim shook his head. "Come on, Sandburg. Let's go while you can still walk." He put an arm around Blair's shoulders and began leading him toward the door. "Because I'm sure as hell not carrying you out of here."
Blair snorted quietly. "Now, that would be humiliating."
As they moved slowly down the hallway, Jim monitored his friend. It was obvious the kid was having a bit of trouble putting one foot in front of the other. Jim was sure he hadn't eaten today and now with the blood he'd lost... He tightened his grip around his partner's shoulders.
"You know something, Jim?" Blair asked, slipping his arm around Ellison's waist, holding tightly to his jacket for support. "I have to tell you, you have the worst taste in women."
"What!?" Jim sputtered after a moment's stunned surprise. He stopped and moved back a step so he could look down at his friend. "You're the one who kept bugging me for months to ask Hannah out!"
"Exactly," Blair replied as Jim moved close again and they resumed their trek. "I mean, I can't believe you listened to me, of all people. Someone with my track record. Come on!"
Jim laughed and shook his head. "Fine. From now on, I'm not listening to you when it comes to women, so don't even try."
"We're both pretty sad in the female department," Blair agreed. He came to a slow stop and looked up at Jim, his eyes sparking mischief in spite of the pain he was obviously feeling. "Hey, you know what we should do? You remember how you tracked Iris on the department database?"
"Yeah." Jim gently prodded Blair forward again, wanting to get him to the hospital.
"Well," Blair continued, "maybe we should just make that a standard procedure."
"You mean screen all our potential dates for shady activity in their pasts?"
"Exactly. And you know, I think there's something else we need to do."
Jim chuckled. "What's that?"
"Psych profiles, man" Blair stated firmly, gesturing with his free hand. "I can get some real good ones at the university. And I'm not talking about those twenty-question survey things that don't mean anything, either. I'm talking huge, five-hour tests that ask the same questions over and over, only in different ways." He nodded to himself as though he was quite pleased with his own suggestion. "You can't cheat on those, you know."
The two men had come to the front entry and Jim moved forward to open the door. Grasping Blair by the upper arm, he helped him navigate the three steps down to the sidewalk. "A standard procedure of background checks and psych profiles for all future dates. Is that what I'm hearing here, Chief?" Jim asked as they made their way toward the driveway.
"You have to admit, it could only help."
Jim laughed as he guided Blair toward the cruiser he'd 'borrowed' from Sheriff Dryer. "I think you may have something there, partner. I think you may just have something there."
The end.
