Progression Series 19 Last Call for Marcus Grant

by Beth Manz

  He lunged forward and reached out. His fingers brushed against the cool steel. But before he could get a grip on it, he felt hands grab at his left ankle and pull. Blair cried out in surprise. Looking backward, over his shoulder, he saw Grant. He had grabbed his leg and was dragging him on his stomach, pulling him away from the weapon.

  Drawing his free leg forward, Blair kicked at him, trying to detach him from his leg. But Grant held tight. Blair grunted with the effort as he was forced to deliver blow after blow.

  The fifth strike did the trick and Grant was jolted backward, away from him. Blair didn't hesitate. Scrambling forward, he grabbed for the gun. As his hand closed around the cold steel, Grant screamed from behind him. The sound was filled with anger and frustration and Blair felt his heart jerk hard against his chest. Seconds later he felt Grant's hands on him again, pulling at him, turning him over. He found himself lying flat on his back, staring once more into the face of evil-into the face of Marcus Grant.

  Blair raised his weapon and pointed it at the man looming over him. But he was met by a mirror image--Grant aiming his own weapon down at him.

  "All I wanted was to be your friend," the man ground out.

  "You don't know anything about being a friend! You never have!"

  "You wouldn't let me! Because of him!" Grant gestured toward Ellison. "He's the problem!" And as he said the words, Marcus Grant changed the direction of his gun, swinging around and aiming straight at Jim. "And this is the solution."

  "No!" Blair cried out in anguish...and pulled the trigger.

  /

  /

  /

  Jim could feel his senses gradually coming back on line, the darkness of the zone slowly giving way to the sounds and feelings of the present. He kept his eyes closed, concentrated on the comforting warmth he could feel against his face, the warmth that moved with infinite care across his skin.

  "Jim?" The voice was far away, yet Jim recognized it.

  "Chief," he breathed out, hearing his guide draw in a relieved breath at the sound of Jim's voice.

  "Come on, buddy," Blair was pleading, "you can do it. It's time to come back now. Please."

  The warm fingers moved against his face again, tracing their way from his forehead down across his cheeks. Blair's hands continued to caress his face and he could now sense how near his guide was to him.

  Forcing his eyes open, he looked up into the worried face of his friend. "Chief," he repeated. He was surprised to see moisture standing in Blair's haunted eyes. "Hey," he breathed out, "what's wrong?"

  But Blair only shook his head. He removed his hands from Jim's face and leaned over him, unlocking the cuffs that held Jim's hands to an old wooden chair. And as Sandburg's body came briefly into contact with his own, Jim could feel the violent shivers that wracked his partner's frame, hear the faltering, labored breaths.

  Concern for his friend forced all lingering vestiges of the zone from him. As he searched his mind for an explanation for Blair's distress and for their current predicament, reality...and remembrance...slammed into him. He'd been headed to the deli on the corner when a sharp noise stopped him in his tracks. Even as his hands had gone to his ears, pain radiating through his mind, he had seen....

  "Grant!" he spat out, his tone urgent. "Where is he?"

  "It's all right, Jim," Blair reassured him softly, his voice hollow, tired.

  The bonds fell away at the exact moment that Jim picked up the unmistakable smell of blood. Panic wound through him. As Blair stepped back, his task completed, Jim pushed to his feet and grasped his guide's arms. "You're hurt."

  "No, I'm okay," Blair told him, looking up at him with tired eyes.

  Jim examined Blair visually, ran his hands across his guide's arms. "I smell blood," he insisted.

  "It's not mine," Blair replied in that same hollow voice. And as Jim stared at his guide, Blair turned his head to the right. Following Sandburg's line of vision, Jim turned to see Marcus Grant lying on the floor about twenty feet away. Even without the use of his heightened senses, Jim could tell that the man was dead.

  "Chief," Jim whispered as he turned back to Blair. He moved his hands from his guide's arms, reached up to run them across his hair and then rested them against his face. Blair looked exhausted, spent, and tears spilled silently down his face.

  "It's over," Blair managed brokenly as he stared up at his partner. "It's finally over."

  "I'm sorry," Jim said, regretting the fact that his guide had to be the one to kill Grant. His gaze flickered to the doctor's body then back down at his friend. "You gonna be all right?" he asked quietly, running his thumbs across Blair's cheeks, wiping away the tears.

  "I...I had to shoot him," Blair said, not answering the question asked, his troubled gaze never leaving Ellison's face. "I had to, Jim. I...I couldn't let him kill you."

  "I know," Jim said quietly, reaching around and drawing his trembling partner into his arms. "I know."

  /

  /

  /

  Eli stood at the sound of a key turning in the loft door. Relief washed over him as Blair walked inside, but the feeling was short-lived when he realized the young man was alone.

  "Where's Jim?" Eli questioned, worried. "Is he okay?"

  "He's fine, Professor," Blair said, dropping his keys in the basket beside the door. "He's still at the scene."

  "At the scene of his abduction?"

  Blair shuffled wearily past Stoddard and dropped down onto the couch facing the balcony. Then, leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands. It was another moment before Eli realized he was weeping.

  Eli crossed to him in three quick strides and, sitting beside him, slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Blair, what is it? What happened?"

  "I killed Grant," he said, so low Eli had to strain to hear him.

  "Oh, Blair, I'm so sorry," he whispered, tightening his hold on the young man. But he said nothing more, just held Blair, hoping he could offer him some kind of comfort.

  "Jim stayed with the body," Blair said after a time. "He wants to make sure it's all handled right, that I'm not charged. He thinks it was self defense." He pulled away from Eli and looked up him, his eyes wide, troubled. "But you and I know it wasn't. You and I know the truth."

  "What truth?" Grabbing Blair's hands, Stoddard held on tightly, staring into the young man's large eyes.

  "We both know that I murdered Marcus Grant."

  "Wh--what!" the professor stammered, appalled at what Blair had said. "You expect me to believe you walked up to Grant, pulled out that weapon, and just shot him in cold blood?" He shook his head as he squeezed the hands he still held. "I don't know what happened tonight but I know you, Blair. I know you could never do that. Never."

  "No," Blair clarified, "I didn't just shoot him. There was more to it than that...." Wearily, Blair relayed the details of what had transpired in the old tenement.

  Eli listened with patience as the story wound out. Then, when it was clear Blair was finished, he took Blair's face between his hands and whispered intensely, "Why did you shoot Marcus Grant?"

  Blair blinked once, his gaze tired, lost. "He was going to kill Jim," he answered a moment later, his brow slightly creased.

  "Exactly. It wasn't murder, Blair! You shot him to protect your partner."

  "But when I left here--"

  "What you felt in your heart when you left here doesn't matter. What matters is what was in your heart when you aimed that gun at Marcus Grant and pulled the trigger."

  "But--"

  "Blair," Eli said, not giving him time to argue again, "did you want Grant to give up? Did you give him the opportunity to do that?"

  "Yes," Blair admitted softly, closing his eyes. "I tried to get him to stop." A choked sob wracked Sandburg's body and a fresh track of tears ran freely down his face. "That's all I ever wanted him to do - just stop!"

  "So you didn't want to kill him," Eli clarified.

  "No. Not really. I...I had no choice."<
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  "Exactly!" Eli lowered his hands from Blair's face, smiling warmly as Blair looked at him again. "Blair, Marcus Grant forced you into a situation where you had to defend yourself...and your partner. You did the only thing you could."

  Blair sniffed, wiping at his nose. "You really believe that?"

  "I do. Given the same set of circumstances, I'm sure I'd have done the same thing."

  Blair's eyes widened at the statement. "No, Dr. Stoddard, I don't think you would have. I remember our talks when I first got to Rainier. I know how deeply you believe in pacifism." He dropped his gaze. "But I appreciate you saying it."

  "Blair," Eli countered softly, "if it came down to a choice of your life or Grant's, you would win every time. And if that meant shooting him in order to protect you, I would do it without regret."

  "Dr. Stoddard...." Blair choked out.

  "We protect our own, Blair. That's what you did. It's what anyone would do. I'm just happy both you and Jim came out of all this safe." At Blair's frown, a small bit of his concern resurfaced. "Jim is all right, isn't he? I just assumed since you said he was staying at the scene...."

  "No, no," Blair cut in to reassure Eli. "He's fine. Now. But when I first got there...." His voice trailed off as Blair shook his head, trembling slightly.

  "What, Blair? What happened?"

  Blair looked up at him, the fear in his eyes sending a shiver through Eli. "When I first got there," he began softly, "Jim was in the deepest zone I've ever seen. After I...after I shot Grant, I tried and tried but I couldn't get him to come out of it. And I have to tell you, Professor Stoddard, with everything we've been through, I don't think I've ever been more scared than I was in that moment." He paused, struggling with his emotions. "I thought Jim was lost to me," he admitted brokenly. "I thought I wouldn't be able to bring him back. Ever."

  "Oh, my dear, dear boy," Stoddard replied sympathetically, reaching out and gently pulling Blair into his warm embrace, "you will always be able to bring him back. You're his guide!"

  Epilogue

  "The kid's been cleared, Jim. I just got the call from upstairs."

  Jim's hand tightened around the phone, his gaze locked on Sandburg, who was standing outside on the balcony, staring at the city that stretched out before him. "That's great, sir. Blair is going to be happy to hear it."

  "How's your partner doing?"

  It had been two days since the confrontation between Blair and Grant. Two days since his guide killed the man who had been plaguing them for nearly a year. As Jim watched, the wind picked up, ruffling Sandburg's hair. The young man closed his eyes and turned his face into the wind.

  "I think he's going to be okay," Jim said softly. "I think we both are."

  "You tell him to hang in there. We're all pulling for him."

  Jim thanked his captain and hung up the phone, then he crossed the living area and stepped outside. The early evening sun was just going down in the distance. Jim paused for a moment to stare at the changing color of the sky, then stepped up to Blair.

  "That was Simon on the phone," he said, glancing down at his guide.

  Blair nodded once. "I thought it might be."

  "He says you've been cleared of all charges."

  "That's good," Blair said simply.

  Jim leaned forward and folded his arms across the balcony railing. He looked up at Sandburg. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

  Blair was silent for a long time, his gaze never leaving the distant horizon. Then he let out a long breath and said, "Grant left me no choice, Jim."

  "I know that, buddy. I just wish there'd been another way."

  Blair shook his head. "With Grant? Jim, it was inevitable. He would have kept coming, you know? Kept coming, kept pushing. I think we've known all along that one day it would be us or him."

  "I'm just glad it was him."

  "Yeah, me too."

  Jim straightened and looked down at his partner. "You want to come inside and have some tea?"

  Blair shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll stay out here a while."

  "Anything I can bring you? Anything you need?"

  Blair looked up at him, eyes expectant. "You could stay. I'd like that."

  Jim smiled in return. "So would I." He moved closer and draped his arm around Sandburg's shoulders, drawing him close to his side. "Chief," he continued softly, "one of these days I'd like to hear about what happened up at that cabin. Whenever you feel like talking about it."

  Sandburg nodded, his thoughtful gaze locked forward. Before them, the city's lights came on one by one as night claimed Cascade. Still, neither man moved.

  "Jim?" Blair said after a time, his voice sentinel-soft.

  "Yeah, buddy?"

  "Would now be a good time? To talk about Grant, I mean."

  Jim raised his eyebrows, surprised. "You think you're ready?"

  "Yeah," Sandburg replied. Turning a bit, Blair slipped his arm around Jim's waist and smiled up at him. "I think we both are."

  The End