Out of Harm's Way

by K Ryn

  "I'd like to check it out myself," Jim interrupted, glancing at Simon meaningfully. "I know what we're looking for. I was with him when he bought it."

  "The lab's down next to pathology. That's the first level below the lobby. Take a left out of the elevator. I'll let them know that you're on the way."

  "Do you want some company?" Simon asked softly as the doctor moved to the phone.

  Jim hesitated, his gaze shifting to Blair once again.

  "Rafe's out in the waiting room," Simon offered. "He could just as easily cool his heels in here." Grateful that the older man understood, Jim nodded. "Thanks, Simon. I'm going to have to push my senses to find the answers we need and I'm a little frayed at the edges right now. I'd appreciate the backup. I just didn't want Blair to wake up and find himself alone. Not after what he's been through."

  "All right, I'll play Guide for a while," Simon agreed. "Just as long as you realize that this is a temporary situation. Once Sandburg's back on his feet, the job's all his."

  "No offense, Simon," Jim replied with a faint smile. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

  Their quiet exchange was interrupted as the doctor rejoined them. "They're expecting you downstairs, gentlemen." She met Jim's still slightly hostile gaze evenly. "I'm sorry if what I said upset you, detective. I didn't mean..."

  "I know," Jim answered, his expression softening. "I didn't mean to jump down your throat either. I'm just..."

  "Worried?" She smiled. "I understand. Believe me. We'll do our best to pull your friend through. I'm going to contact a colleague of mine who specializes in alternative medicines. If you're right about the tea, he might have some insights that will be valuable regarding the course of treatment. He'll want a sample to study, I'm sure." "And if there is a poison out on the street, we need to put a stop to any further distribution," Simon added grimly. "Who knows how many other people might be affected by this?" The doctor nodded and headed for the door. "Let me know if you find anything. I'll be in my office or in here checking on your friend. Just have them page me from the nurses station."

  "I'll get Rafe. Take a minute," Banks ordered. He gestured with a lift of his chin toward the bed and followed the doctor out.

  Finally alone with his Guide, the Sentinel took the younger man's hand and squeezed it gently.

  "I'm going to leave for a while, Blair," he whispered. "But you're not going to be alone. Rafe's going to stay with you until I get back." Jim reached out and brushed a stray curl away from the younger man's forehead. "I won't be long, buddy. I'm going to find out what caused this and we're going to get you well. Don't worry. Simon's going to be looking out for me, but between you and me, I think he's a little nervous. He knows he's got big shoes to fill."

  The Sentinel paused, hoping for some sign that his Guide had heard him, but the blue eyes that he so eagerly wanted to see didn't open. He heard the sound of uneven footsteps in the corridor and knew that it was time to go. With a sigh, he released Blair's hand. Nodding to Rafe as he hobbled in on his crutches, Jim headed out into the corridor to join Simon at the elevator.

  Location Unknown

  Time Streams Conjoined

  The door was open.

  Light, warmth and safety poured out into the hallway, enveloping the Guide. He had waited and his Sentinel had come, sweeping away the soul crushing emptiness and terror with his presence.

  Blair wanted to move -- to rise to his feet and step through the doorway, but pain held him pinned to the floor.

  Something was still wrong. The dream hadn't ended.

  Desperate to re-enter his own world, his immobility panicked him for a moment, but the Sentinel's clear, deep voice chased it away.

  He wasn't alone.

  Jim had promised he would return.

  His Sentinel never lied.

  He would wait.

  Cascade

  Sunday

  1:40 a.m.

  The elevator ride down to the lab was made in silence. Simon watched Jim carefully. Behind the detective's stoic facade, he was certain that there was a raging storm of emotions, battling for release. Normally it was Sandburg who rode the eye of that hurricane, keeping Ellison grounded both professionally and personally. With Blair out of action, the duty fell to him. He just hoped he was up to the task.

  Banks was no stranger to shouldering responsibility -- he wouldn't have made captain, otherwise -- but he knew he'd just volunteered to substitute in an area where he was painfully ill prepared. He'd gotten used to taking for granted that his best detective would stay focused and get the job -- whatever it was -- done. What he hadn't truly realized until now was just how big a role one long-haired anthropologist played in making that happen. It made him more than just a little bit nervous.

  Especially now that you're the one responsible, not just for Jim's sanity and safety, but for Sandburg's life as well.

  Simon knew he was only pinch hitting. There was no way he could take Blair's place. The young man filled a void in Jim's life and played a critical role in the Sentinel's. As strange as it seemed on the surface, their partnership was almost symbiotic. It was imperative that they find the answers they needed to help Sandburg -- and soon. If they didn't, the Sentinel's control would crumble. Without Blair...

  Don't even go there, Banks, he admonished himself. Just concentrate on what you're supposed to be doing, which is guiding Jim.

  Following Ellison out of the elevator and toward the lab, Simon found himself wishing he'd paid a lot more attention to the anthropologist's rambling explanations of how Jim's Sentinel senses worked.

  Just how the hell does the kid do this? What does he do?

  Lost in his own thoughts, Simon nearly collided with Jim who had paused at the door of the lab, one hand on the knob. He took a step back and watched as the Sentinel closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

  Like he's preparing for something, Simon mused. The significance of the action hit him abruptly. Of course, he is! There are probably a hundred or more things inside that could overwhelm his senses if he isn't ready to handle them. Damn. Was I supposed to do something... say something to remind him?

  Before he could question himself or Jim's actions any further, the detective was in motion again, turning the knob and thrusting the door open. Simon scrambled to join him.

  The lab was large and brightly lit, the overhead lights bouncing almost painfully off of the sterile white counters and gleaming metal appliances. Simon glanced at Jim who was focused on the only occupant of the room. Relieved to see that the Sentinel appeared unaffected by the shining brilliance, Simon turned his own attention to the young man who suddenly looked up from the slides he was preparing.

  He was young, no older than Sandburg, with short cropped brown hair and hazel eyes. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he had the rumpled look of someone just pulled from his bed. He probably had been, considering the hour, Simon realized. Seated on a stool in front of one of the counters, he was surrounded on both sides by bottles and cans of varying shapes and sizes.

  "You must be the officers that Dr. Henderson called down about," the younger man called out in greeting, waving them forward.

  "Captain Simon Banks, Detective Jim Ellison," Simon offered in introduction. "The patient, Blair Sandburg is a friend and Ellison's partner. You're the one doing the analysis?"

  "Yep. Me and the staff down at poison control. My name's Dave Tilman." He laid the last of the slides he was working on aside and looked up at them quizzically. "Doc said you thought there might have been something in the tea that he was drinking?"

  "It's a theory," Jim answered. "I'd like to take a look at whatever was brought here from the loft."

  "Sure thing." Tilman slid off the stool and gestured for them to follow him. There were a half-dozen cardboard boxes on a counter on the far side of the room. "I've already gone through most of the non-food items. These are all the dry or packaged goods. I've got another box in the lab cooler that was collected from the refrigerator. The black tra
sh bag over there's the garbage that was in the apartment. We looking for loose tea or bags?" he asked as he peered into one of the boxes.

  "Bags," Jim answered absently. Grabbing a pair of latex gloves out of a dispenser, he started sorting through the familiar items. Simon donned a pair as well and opened a third box.

  "I hope you're right about the tea," Tilman murmured. "It doesn't happen often, but to tell the truth, this has me stumped."

  "Did you do the initial tox screen?" Simon asked.

  "Yeah. I usually work the straight research end of things, but they called me in because of the nature of the emergency. I'm sort of the resident 'specialist' on caustic poisoning. I worked for a couple of big chemical companies before I went back to school to get my doctorate."

  Simon noted that Jim had finished one box and was starting on another. He watched the detective's jaw clenching with a vengeance. There were no overt signs that the Sentinel was using his extraordinary senses, but Simon knew differently. He went back to sorting his own box, wondering again if there was something he should be doing on the 'Guide' end to help.

  Does Sandburg ever feel this way? The kid always seems so confident -- so sure that there's a reason for every new wrinkle with Jim's senses. So fast with the right answer...

  A sharp hiss made Simon look toward Jim in concern. The Sentinel had his eyes closed and was shaking his head in distress. In his hands was an open, quart- sized ziplock bag filled with tea bags.

  "Jim?"

  "This is it," Jim wheezed, handing the bag to Simon. "This is the tea he bought last week. I recognize the smell. But there's also a heavy chemical odor."

  "Tilman, run a test on these," Simon said tersely.

  He handed the bag to the younger man who scurried back to his workstation eagerly. Banks reached out, grabbed Jim's arm and turned the detective toward him. The Sentinel's eyes were tearing and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

  "Jim, are you all right?" Simon asked anxiously. He grabbed a box of tissues and thrust them toward the detective.

  "Yeah," Jim rasped, wiping at his eyes gingerly. "Just got a stronger whiff of that stuff than I should have. The fumes were pretty intense."

  Simon grimaced. "I should have been paying more attention."

  "Not your fault, Simon," Jim answered with a shake of his head. "Blair's run me through tests on sealed evidence before. I should have turned down the dials a little further before opening it. I'll be fine. Let's see what Tilman can tell us," he suggested, moving toward the younger man.

  Tilman had torn apart one of the bags and was busy examining the contents. Separating the solid ingredients to one pile, he took the wrapper and placed it in a beaker.

  "Looks like there's a residue of some kind on the paper itself. There's a quick test I can run to determine the presence of caustics," he explained as he worked. "I can run a similar test on the tea separately. It'll just take a minute to set up."

  Tilman filled another beaker with water and placed it in the lab's microwave. "I want to see what happens when the bag's immersed as well. I'm going to use regular tap water to start with, since that most closely parallels what your friend would have done when he brewed the tea. That way I can test both the solid substances and the liquid."

  "Whatever poisoned Blair is there," Jim said firmly. "Will you be able to determine exactly what it was?" Jim asked.

  "Not with this test, but it'll narrow the field a bit," Tilman answered with a shake of his head. "I'll have to run a full spectrum analysis to determine the specific chemicals that show up. Then we'll compare it to the original tox screen."

  Simon leaned against the counter and removed his glasses, rubbing at tired eyes. One look at Jim told him that the Sentinel was as exhausted as he was. "You seem pretty familiar with the procedures for this kind of situation," Simon remarked to the younger man as he watched Jim begin to pace off his frustration.

  "Painfully so," Tilman sighed, busily setting up the samples he wanted to run. "I've seen far too many cases, most of them children. The colors and shapes of the bottles are just too tempting for the kids to pass up I guess. That and the fact that a lot of parents aren't very good at either locking the stuff up, or educating the munchkins on what should or shouldn't go into their mouths."

  The tech looked up to meet Simon's gaze. "Obviously that wasn't the situation with your friend. Still, the incidence of accidental poisoning by caustics in adults is staggering." He gestured to the assortment of containers on the counter. "Even with the diluted household brands like these, the opportunity for serious medical problems exists."

  Simon nodded and glanced at Jim. He could see the Sentinel's gaze flickering over the items on the counter and thought that he saw an expression of guilty recognition in the detective's eyes.

  "These are all from the loft," Jim said softly.

  Tilman nodded. "I've seen most of these commercial brands before. The chemical compounds are pretty easy to identify. There are a couple that I'm still testing. Mostly organic mixtures, though. Actually this is a pretty unusual collection considering the circumstances."

  "Why do you say that?" Simon asked.

  "Because it suggests that your friend is very conscious of the products that he brings into his home. For example, most of these have little if any scent to them, particularly the organic-based stuff. There's nothing here that comes close to the level of chemical potency that the tox screen revealed."

  Score another point in Sandburg's favor, Simon mused. He was getting a much clearer picture of just what lengths the young Guide went to in order to ensure his Sentinel's comfort and safety.

  "So you're saying that whatever contaminated the tea bags isn't present in these," Jim prompted, gesturing to the containers on the counter.

  "Assuming the bags are contaminated..."

  "They are," Jim interrupted grimly.

  Tilman raised an eyebrow at Jim's assertive answer. "You're awfully certain about something we haven't proven yet, Detective."

  "Let's just say that Detective Ellison's got good instincts," Simon interjected hurriedly. "Especially where his partner is concerned. You still haven't answered his question."

  "My instincts say no. Let's see what the tests tell us," Tilman said, turning back to the counter.

  Simon nodded and turned to look at Jim. The expression of blind rage on the Sentinel's face brought Simon to his side. He took Jim's arm and dragged him across the room.

  "What is it?" he demanded, standing his ground against the cold blue glare and the almost palpable animosity that was flowing off Ellison in waves.

  "How could they?" Jim hissed. "How could someone we know do this to him?"

  "What are you talking about?" Simon asked in confusion.

  "The tea bags contain the poison, Simon. Tilman's test will confirm it."

  "I'm not doubting your senses, Jim, but..."

  "Simon, Blair bought that tea on Thursday afternoon. It wasn't contaminated then. I know. He made a big deal about my testing it to see if I could identify what the ingredients were."

  "So that means that it was tampered with after he bought it," Simon murmured, struggling to follow Jim's train of thought. "But we didn't find any sign of a break-in at the apartment..."

  "The tea wasn't at the loft, Simon. It was at the station."

  "Jim, you can't be suggesting that someone in the department did this!" Simon gasped in choked surprise.

  "Give me another explanation that fits the facts, Simon," Jim snarled. "I know the tea was all right when he bought it. I saw him put it into his container in the break room. All of it. Someone tampered with it at some point between Thursday afternoon and Friday when he stopped in the station to drop off our case files. You tell me, Simon. Who, besides the people that we work, with has access to that room?"

  "Hey, Detective, looks like your instincts were right!"

  Tilman's excited shout brought both Simon and Jim back to his side. The younger man was pointing at the two beakers. Simon could
see a slimy scum floating on the top of the liquid in each one.

  "Definitely chemical residue in both the wrapper and the tea," Tilman jabbered. "The tea bags are definitely the carrying agent. I'll start the spectrum analysis right away." He leaned over the beakers and took a cautious sniff of each. "Wheww... ugly stuff. Smells like an antibacterial cleaning solvent of some kind."

  "How long before we'll know exactly what it was?" asked Jim anxiously. "Henderson said that she can't do much until she knows precisely what Blair was dosed with."

  "It'll take a half-hour or so for the final results. Once we have those, we'll be able to track back the compounds. Poison Control should be able to give us a list of the products that match."

  "How long a list?" Jim demanded.

  "Depends on what the analysis reveals," Tilman answered. "Could be five possible matches, could be fifty."

  "Fifty?"

  Simon had been silent throughout the exchange, trying to connect what Jim had theorized with something that Tilman had said. The shock and despair in Jim's voice was the catalyst that brought the pieces together.

  "Wait a minute. You said it smelled like a cleaning solvent?"

  "Yeah," Tilman replied. "Pretty weird, I know, but I've kind of got a reputation for my sensitive nose. I'm right about 90 percent of the time, just by the smell. I'd bet my next paycheck that it's a cleaning product -- the kind that's used in an eating or food preparation area. Probably an industrial strength concentrate by the amount of scumming."

  "Would a janitorial service use something like that?" Simon prodded, not at all fazed by the younger man's mention of a sentinel-like ability.

  "Even if I'm wrong about the anti-bacterial additive, it could match a number of products that a building contract services crew would have on hand. But I thought these tea bags came from your friend's apartment," Tilman said, frowning in confusion.

  "They were brought to the loft, but he kept them at the station," Jim explained, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.

  "Jim, if you're right about the time-frame, that could be the answer," Simon said, meeting the Sentinel's glaring gaze. "The new janitorial service would have been in Thursday night. I know that the break room's on their list of areas to clean."