Sentinel - Progression Series 12 'Til Death Do Us Part

by Beth Manz

  Blair's eyes widened. "I didn't hear you complaining about how I smelled when I dragged your sorry butt out of that car!"

  "That's because I was unconscious," Jim countered. "Believe me, Sandburg, if I'd been awake, I would have been complaining." He gave Blair a quick once over. "Loudly."

  "Fine," Blair said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender and moving backward. "But I'm going to remember this the next time you need me to get you out of trouble."

  Jim chuckled and dropped his hand away from his face. "So you dragged me out of that car, huh? Thanks, buddy."

  Blair shrugged, a teasing grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, well, I thought it was the least I could do. After all, you've gotten me out a jam or two in the past."

  Jim smiled at the comment, then his features darkened. "Chief," he began, his voice serious, "what about Hannah? Did she make it?"

  "Um, no, man. She didn't." The young man shook his head apologetically. "Both of you were in that car too long.... In fact, the doc said it was miracle you survived."

  Jim sighed deeply and closed his eyes. So, Hannah Merrick is dead. He didn't really take any pleasure in the fact. A part of him was happy that he would no longer have to worry about her coming after him or his partner, but he would have rather seen her locked away, perhaps helped in some manner....

  "You okay, Jim?"

  Ellison opened his eyes and looked over at his partner, who was standing several feet away from the bed, obediently keeping his distance. "Yeah, I'm okay." He offered Blair a crooked smile and said softly, "You know, Chief, I wouldn't have made it without you."

  Blair shrugged and colored a bit at the praise. "All I did was drag you out of there, Jim. Thankfully you were still breathing--"

  "I was breathing because of you."

  "What? What do you mean?" Obviously forgetting about his muddied and pungent state, Blair moved closer to his partner again. Jim gave him a look of feigned distaste as he approached the bed, but this time Blair waved the sentinel's concerns away with one hand. "Dial it down, man," he instructed succinctly.

  Jim chuckled then did as he was told. He caught Blair's gaze. "When the fumes started getting to me I knew it would only be a few minutes before I lost consciousness. Hannah was already out so I knew there was no way I was going to have another chance to talk her out of what she was doing. And it was also pretty obvious that I wasn't going to be getting out of that car under my own power....

  "Then I remembered how relaxed I always become when you walk me through those memory exercises. I could hear your voice in my head, telling me to relax, to breathe more slowly." Jim raised an eyebrow and grinned up at his partner. "I just stopped fighting the fumes and concentrated on becoming completely relaxed. I remember feeling my breathing and respiration slowing down. Then I lost consciousness."

  "Jim, I appreciate what you're saying, but that could have happened to anyone--"

  "It couldn't have," Jim interrupted softly, firmly. "It was your voice, your instructions, that saved me, Chief." He smiled mischievously. "C'mon! Don't be so modest, Sandburg. As a teacher you should be happy to learn I've been listening to your instructions all this time, even when you didn't think I was."

  Blair colored a bit, but an expression of profound pleasure had spread its way across his features. "Yeah, that's cool, man," he said quietly. "That's very, very cool."

  "You think?" Jim teased.

  "Yeah," Blair rasped out quietly, raw emotion lacing his tone. "Thanks, man. Thanks for telling me."

  Jim looked around the room then, spotting his jacket on a nearby chair. Slowly he pushed himself up on the bed, forcing back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. "I'm ready to get out of here," he breathed out past the queasiness and the increased pounding in his head. He glanced at Blair. "You?"

  "Fine by me." Sandburg grasped Jim's arm to steady the detective as he rose from the side of the bed.

  "Chief?" Jim began as he pushed his feet into his shoes. "I have to tell you.... If the interior of my pickup looks"--he grabbed at his nose with one hand and cast another disgusted glance in Sandburg's direction--"or smells like you do right now, we're going to have a problem. You know that, don't you?"

  Epilogue

  Jim thumbed the remote's off button, then lay the device on the coffee table. The local news, which aired at 10:00 each evening, had just ended--and though it was still early for the detective, he found himself feeling tired and weary enough to head up to bed. Standing, he stretched his arms above his head, twisted his upper body in an effort to stretch cramped muscles, and yawned mightily.

  He flipped the lamp off and stood quietly for a moment as he automatically turned his attention toward Sandburg's room. Blair had gone to bed early as well, and Jim smiled at the sounds of even breathing and a relaxed heartbeat that emanated from the room beneath the stairs. Looked like the kid was down for the count....

  As Jim retrieved his coffee mug from the coffee table and made his way to the kitchen, his mind turned back to the conversation he and his partner had had earlier in the afternoon. Blair had been doggedly insistent that Jim take at least another day off, even though Jim's local doctor had given the detective a clean bill of health and signed the mandatory release form that would allow him to return to work. But it had been two full days since the incident in Berne, and Jim was--quite frankly--beginning to suffer from a pretty serious case of cabin fever....

  He placed the mug in the sink and smiled as the conversation played itself though his mind...

  "Chief," he argued. "I'm fine."

  "You're not fine, Jim!" his stubborn guide insisted, moving in close and poking at his chest with his index finger. "You're tired, lethargic, and obviously in no shape for work. Besides, we still can't be sure if prolonged exposure to that car exhaust is going to have some residual affects on your heightened senses."

  But Jim couldn't feel any negative affects to his senses. Only the prolonged fatigue that was to be expected after inhaling such toxic fumes. "I'm telling you I'm fine, Sandburg,"

  But Blair rolled his eyes and refused to be taken in by Jim's assurances. "Just twenty-four more hours, man. That's all I'm asking." He stared up at him insistently, jaw set stubbornly, wide blue eyes imploring.

  And at that moment, Jim's mind filled with images and snatches of conversation that he and Blair had shared in their recent spiritual journey. But one solemn promise he'd made to his guide stood out above everything else: "Anywhere you feel we need to go, Chief. I'll be right beside you."

  Jim smiled warmly as the memory of the vow wound through him, and he reached out to squeeze Blair's shoulders. It was time to prove to the kid that he had learned a lesson or two himself during Blair's vision quest...

  "All right, Chief," he gave in. "I'll take another twenty-four hours if you think it's best."

  The detective almost laughed out loud at the look of sheer amazement that made it's way across his partner's features and caused the young man's mouth to drop open in surprise. "You will?" Blair asked disbelievingly.

  Jim chuckled and squeezed at Sandburg's shoulders again. "Isn't that what I just said?"

  But Blair only stared.

  "What?" Jim asked.

  The kid shook his head as if trying to clear imaginary cobwebs from his brain. "I'm just...surprised, that's all." He narrowed his eyes and studied Jim's face. "Wait a minute. That was just too easy..."

  "Hey," Jim assured him, dropping his hands away from his shoulders and giving him a teasing punch aimed toward the kid's mid-section, "You're the guide, remember? You want me to take twenty-four, I'll take twenty-four."

  Blair swatted absently at Jim's hand and stepped back a bit. A skeptical look was still plastered on Sandburg's face and he was staring openly. "Are you telling me it's always going to be this easy for me to get you to see reason from now on?"

  Jim laughed heartily. "Well, that might be asking a bit much..."

  "Uh huh. I thought so."

  "Stubbor
n tendencies, you know."

  "Deeply ingrained stubborn tendencies."

  Jim smiled warmly and stepped forward, closing the space between them. "But I'm going to try, Chief. I promise you that."

  Blair shook his head as a fond smile warmed his features. "I never thought I'd see the day..."

  Jim reached out to poke at Sandburg again. "Hey, I'd think all this acquiescence on my part would make you happy."

  "Oh, it will," Blair conceded, moving smoothly out of Jim's reach. "But 'happy' will come later. Right now I'm still dealing with 'stunned.'"

  Still smiling at the memory of the interplay between them, Jim reached the top of the stairs and made his way to his bed. Dropping down wearily, he bent over and pulled off his socks. He had just stood up in order to finish undressing when the sound of the loft telephone rang out shrilly in the darkness. Picking up the phone on his nightstand, he hit the talk button before it could ring again and disturb his sleeping loftmate.

  "Ellison," he answered softly.

  "Jim, it's Simon," the captain's voice came across the line. "I was hoping not to have to call you in on anything for a day or two, but..."

  Jim listened intently to what the captain had to tell him, then assured Simon he would be at the scene within thirty minutes. Sighing, he replaced the phone and sat back down on the bed to pull the socks he had just removed back onto his feet. Retrieving his shield, gun and holster from the nightstand drawer, he padded down the stairs and slipped his feet into a pair of worn shoes he kept beneath the coat rack. He positioned the holstered gun at his back, clipped his shield on his belt, then turned toward Blair's room.

  Again, the detective sighed. This isn't going to be easy...

  "Chief," Jim called softly as he stood over Blair's bed. His roommate lay on his back, buried beneath a mound of covers, fast asleep. "Blair," Jim tried again, then reached down to shake Sandburg's shoulder.

  "Hmmm? What...." The young man came awake rather quickly and Jim dropped down to sit on the edge of his bed. "What's wrong?" Blair asked, bringing a hand up from beneath the blankets to rub at sleepy eyes.

  "Simon just called," Jim explained to his partner. "There's been an assault reported that he wants me to investigate."

  Blair, fully awake now, scooted himself into a seated position and leaned against the wall at his back. "What? You're kidding me, right? Why did Simon call you? Can't he get someone else--"

  "He explained the situation, Sandburg. I...well, I need to take this one."

  "Man, Jim, I thought we agreed that you were going to take another day off."

  Jim closed his eyes briefly, dreading what he was about to tell his friend. "Blair, Simon called me because the assault occurred on campus."

  Blair sat up straight at the surprising news, his dark blue eyes boring into Jim's. "At Rainier?"

  "Yes. A professor was attacked there tonight."

  Blair shook his head wearily. "Oh, no."

  Jim stood as Blair threw back his blankets and got out of bed. Flipping on the table lamp, Blair moved around Jim to his dresser.

  "You know, Dr. Stoddard, Jack and I were just talking the other night about how dangerous campuses are becoming," he told Jim as he retrieved a few articles of clothing from his dresser drawers. As he pulled a sweatshirt down across his tee, his muffled voice filtered out: "What kind of attack was it? Robbery? Rape?"

  "No," Jim admitted reluctantly. "Actually...it sounds more like the MO of those attacks over in Seattle."

  "You're kidding!" Blair pulled the shirt into place and reached for a pair of blue jeans. Pants in hand, he stepped up to Jim. "A handicapped person was attacked?"

  Jim simply nodded.

  "Jim?" Blair inquired warily as he stepped even closer to Ellison. He scrutinized the sentinel, evidently reading something in Jim's eyes that unnerved him. "What aren't you telling me?"

  Jim drew in a deep breath and placed his hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chief," he answered softly, regretfully, "but the victim? It was Jack Kelso."

  The End