"In here." Jim opened a door and gently pushed Blair into the small room, then he turned and shut the door, locking it. "Sit down, Chief."
"God! What was that?!" Blair didn't sit, but instead began to pace the small room. "Jim, he's gonna get off. He's gonna get off."
"Sandburg, sit down." God, he was falling apart. He'd made it through in there and now he was going to fall victim to all the stress and crap he'd been through.
"Who was on trial in there, Jim?"
"Sandburg." Jim walked to him, put a hand on Blair's shoulder, and pushed down until he relented and sat. Blair would have gotten up the instant Jim removed his hand, so he didn't. "Calm down, it'll be all right."
Blair was shaking his head, a definite look of disagreement on his face. "No. No. It's not going to be all right, Jim."
"Blair..."
"No, Jim. It's not going to be all right."
Blair was shaking now, visibly and uncontrollably. He kept shaking his head, and the muscles in his shoulder, under Jim's restraining hand, were incredibly tense with unreleased anger. "Blair, take it easy."
"How, Jim? How am I supposed to take it easy?"
Jim sighed, and moved around behind Blair, holding him down with a hand on each shoulder. Blair was a ball of uncontrolled energy, and would have sprung to his feet and paced the room if allowed. Jim knew he'd have to hold him still, if he was to get through that confused mind. "Listen, Chief, that was typical lawyer guerilla tactics in there." Jim moved his hands and began to massage Blair's shoulders, holding him in the chair while trying to work out some of the tension there. Blair was still shaking his head, and didn't seem to notice he was even sitting down.
"Jim..."
"Blair, listen." Jim continued to try and work out the tension balling up Blair's neck and shoulders. "It's not over, not in there. What happened was typical, and you have to trust Beverly to know how to handle it." He had stopped shaking his head, but now his foot was bobbing up and down with uncontrolled energy. Jim knew if he wasn't there, Blair could have run a marathon with that much tension.
"I dunno, man."
"I do know. The trial's not over yet. Kostov is coming in to testify today. I know what it felt like up there..."
"No, you don't know, Jim." Blair turned quickly and with enough force to knock Jim's hands away, then he stood. "You don't know. I was on trial in there!"
Jim reached out and grabbed Blair by the shoulders, holding him in place. "Yes, Blair, I do know." He kept his voice calm, but gripped his shoulders in an effort to get his point through. "I do know. It's happened to me, as it's happened to everyone who has ever gone up there. It's what they do, Chief, when they don't have a case or a leg to stand on." There was anger in his partner's eyes, but it was an anger not directed at him. Jim sighed. "Listen, there's no way anyone's going to fall for you having done this to yourself. You could no more have injected that drug into your own neck than I or anyone else could have. And the Golden was never your fault. We've been over that, and it's all in the report, what really happened."
"Yeah, but Jim..."
"But nothing, Chief. Listen to me." Blair's gaze had fallen to the floor and Jim waited until he looked up again. "It's going to be all right." He kept his hands on Blair, and tried to force his partner to maintain eye contact, so he'd know Blair was listening. "It was hell in there, I know. But you did good. You did very good. You kept your cool, didn't get angry or upset, and answered every question just right." Blair glanced around the room for a moment, as if trying to recall the last 30 minutes. The trembling Jim could feel was slowly subsiding, so he released his hold on Blair's shoulders and stood in front of him. "I was proud of you in there, Sandburg. You were calm, direct, and never once flinched."
Blair looked at Jim, eyebrows raised. "You're kidding, right? Jim, I was scared to death in there."
Jim smiled, shaking his head slightly. There were times, like right now, when the self-assured, confident Blair Sandburg was so in need of reassurance, Jim had to wonder who would have given him the support he needed if Jim wasn't there. "It didn't show, Chief, trust me." He sighed, then glanced at his watch. "Why don't we get some lunch, then I'll drive you to the University."
Blair nodded, slowly pushing the hair back that had fallen into his face. His hands were still shaking, but it was hardly noticeable. "Thanks, Jim."
"No problem, Chief." Jim patted Blair's arm and directed him towards the door.
"No, I mean it, Jim." Blair walked, but turned to look at him before opening the door. "Thanks."
Jim nodded, pulling the door open. "You're welcome."
* * *
Blair reached over to unlock the door, then noticed Jim had turned off the engine and was getting out as well. He gave his partner a puzzled glance.
"I thought I'd hang out here, and wait for you." Jim said in reply to the look. He got out and shut the door. "No sense in going back to the Station just to avoid paperwork for two hours and come back here."
"Jim, I can always get a ride home." Blair swung his pack over one shoulder and walked to the front of the truck. Oh God, he probably thinks I'm going to freak out again.
"No problem, Chief." Jim walked closer and lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. "To tell you the truth, I need a place to hide out, maybe catch up on some reading. The paperwork can wait."
"Wait for me, you mean?"
Jim nodded, smiling as though the thought had just then occurred to him. "Yeah."
Blair laughed, then started to walk towards the building the housed his office. "What about Simon?"
Jim was still smiling. "He's in meetings with the Commissioner all day. He'll never miss me."
Right, Jim. Well, if that was what he wanted Blair to think, then he'd play along. During the drive to the school, Blair had calmed down quite a bit, but he still wasn't able to get the visions out of his mind. Visions that the lawyers had forced back to the forefront. Visions Blair had thought he was rid of. He tried to filter through the flashes, and find something in them he could hold onto, to force the rest of it away. In each one, there was only one constant, one thing he could try to grasp. Jim was there. He'd been there with him every step of the way when Brackett had returned. He'd been there when Blair had ingested the Golden, and he'd stayed with him the entire time Blair was in the hospital, spending all day and most of the nights after Blair had regained consciousness. He later learned from the nurses that Jim had stayed with him even when he was on the respirator, leaving only once with Simon to complete the case. And there he'd been again, helping Blair through the trial, and more importantly, its aftermath. Not only helping him, but being proud of him. Blair's biggest concern, aside from getting to and from the witness chair without falling apart, had been making sure he did nothing to embarrass Jim. The man was a rock, and never let his emotions rule what he said or how he acted or reacted. Blair hoped some of Jim's influence had rubbed off, giving him the emotional fuel to get through the ordeal. But he'd found himself forcing calmness while on the stand, instead of it coming naturally. And this, after he had so recently given Jim a lecture on remaining calm and in control.
They were in Blair's office now, and he had to gather up yesterday's still ungraded tests to take with him to class. He'd use the time to finish grading them, then be that much more close to having the quarter out of the way. And maybe get Jim into the lab to work on his hearing.
"So, you're just going to hang out here?" Blair was ready to leave, but he felt odd having Jim just sitting there, at his desk, preparing to wait for 2 hours.
"Don't worry, Sandburg, I'm not going to read your diary or anything." Jim was sitting at the desk, and he put both feet up on a corner, leaning back in the chair. "I think if you can kill time waiting for me, then I should be able to do the same."
Blair laughed, shaking his head. "Well, knock yourself out, man. The diary's right behind you." He left then, still shaking his head. Jim might just as well read it, he was the only one mentioned. Jim and his Sent
inel discoveries, that is. In fact, aside from the tests he was giving and papers he was grading, all Jim would find in the immediate area would be papers and notes about him and his senses. Except for the....Oh man! There was no time to rush back to the office, he'd be late if he did. Jim was sure to find the notes Blair had left outlining the new tests he wanted to talk his Sentinel partner into taking, to test his hearing limits. Jim hated tests. He hated it when Blair talked him into coming into his make-shift lab and working out one or more of his senses. But, after Jim's impacted wax had been cleared up, and they discovered his hearing was so much more than it had been, Blair had a million ways to test him out. A million ways to explore Jim's range, but more importantly, Blair was dying to test out Jim's ability to piggy-back his senses on top of one another. If he could make his hearing give his eyesight direction, as well as a boost in range, then what could the other senses do if coupled with each other? Their discovery that afternoon had given Blair so much more fuel for his thesis, and so much more respect for his partner's talents. If only he could take some credit for it. Blair had to settle for standing next to greatness.
He had to hurry to make it down the hall and into the lecture room on time. Wouldn't do for the teacher to be late for the test.
"Good afternoon." Blair set his notebooks down on the table and began to hand out the test questions immediately. It had taken him three hours to write them, and they would need every minute of the class hour to complete them. "You know the routine." He finished handing the questions out and returned to the table at the front of the room, sitting down behind it to face the class. Without any words, they all opened their blue-books and notebooks, and got right to business. Blair put on his glasses and opened up the first of yesterday's tests. What should have been a three paragraph answer at the most, consisted of two pages. He sighed, glancing around the room. Most of the students used blue-books, and kept their answers short and to the point, like he asked. But every now and then, he counted 12 in this room alone, a student brought extra papers, and seemed to take page upon page to explain what boiled down to a two paragraph answer. Blair had to reluctantly admit it was Anthropology, not English, and just begin to read the papers.
Twenty minutes passed and he was only on the third test paper. There were 45 students in this class, and 27 more in the next hour. God, this was going to be another all-nighter. At least it was keeping his mind off the trial. Blair set the third paper aside and picked up the next one.
"What did Mr. Brackett do?" Blair shook his head. Dammit, focus! "Have you ever taken drugs, Mr. Sandburg?" He leaned forward, resting a hand on his forehead as he looked down on the test paper. "What happened to the missing bag, Mr. Sandburg?" Blair cleared his throat and shifted in the seat. "You then proceeded to the police garage, with a gun." He began to massage his forehead with the fingers propping his head up, then turned the page. "Then what did he do?"Blair cleared his throat again and glanced up at the students. "You brought this on yourself, didn't you Mr. Sandburg?" Blair shifted again. "You expect us to believe someone targeted you just to get to Detective Ellison?" Again Blair cleared his throat. "Why would someone of Detective Ellison's skill and dedication allow two people vital to his case be killed, in order to save you?" Blair pushed his glasses down and rubbed his eyes. Dammit, no one asked those questions. At least, not out loud. Had they?
"Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair looked up suddenly, seeing one of the students standing next to the desk. He quickly looked around and noticed the room was emptying out.
"When do you expect to have the grades posted?"
Blair cleared his throat again. At this rate, they'd all think he had the flu. "Tomorrow afternoon, I hope," he answered.
She smiled, then followed the rest of the class out the door. Blair looked at the pile of tests on the corner of the table and sighed. Definitely an all-nighter. No sooner had the room emptied, then it filled up again with the next class. Blair waited until they had all come in, then he once again handed out test papers. This time, he noted happily, no one had brought extra paper to cover their inability to make a quick and concise statement of fact. It might not be easy to draw correlations between tribal religious acts, but making a novel of the answer didn't make Blair's life any easier.
This time, Blair focused all of his energy on the paper in front of him, forcing any and all thoughts of the trial from his mind. He was able to get through 10 tests this time, but the effort had given him a stiff neck, and a stabbing pain between his eyes. When the last student placed his test on the corner of the desk, Blair stood and stretched. He considered calling Christine, she could give a great backrub, but he didn't have any time to waste if he was to get all of the tests graded and posted by tomorrow afternoon. If only Jim would....Oh God. He had. In that room, when Blair was falling apart like a child, Jim had been trying to calm him down, and rubbing the tension from his shoulders. And what had he done? Turned and shouted at him. Great, Sandburg. Real grown up. God, Jim must be getting tired of this. Blair stuffed the tests into his pack and swung it over one shoulder, then left the room and started back across the campus to his office.
Part 5
* * *
He expected to find Jim sound asleep in his chair, not sitting on the windowsill, notebook in hand, pouring over some of Blair's notes.
"Hey, Jim."
"All finished, Teach?" Jim looked up from the notebook and closed it.
"Yeah, for now." Blair raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the book in Jim's hand. "Entertain yourself all right?"
"Yeah." Jim set the notebook back on the desk and stood up. "Fascinating subject matter."
Blair laughed, shaking his head. "It's all about you, Jim."
"Exactly." Jim was grinning ear to ear in a playful manner. "Come on, let's hit the road."
Blair laughed again, then shouldered his pack and checked the desk for any stray tests he had forgotten to gather up. Jim was in a fine mood, smiling and happy. He must have a good feeling about the trial, or maybe he had learned something during those two hours? Blair hurried out of the office, pushing the door shut, then followed Jim out to the parking lot. His partner was still grinning as they drove out of the crowded lot and onto the main street.
"Tell me something, Sandburg."
"What?"
"Sentinels have been around for centuries, right?"
"Yeah." Blair had been looking out at the traffic, but now he turned his attention to Jim.
"So presumably Guides have been around that long too, right?"
Blair's eyebrows raised. "I guess, yeah."
Jim glanced at him for a moment, then back to the road. "Then, why hasn't there been a study made of them?"
"What?"
"A study of the Guides, Chief." Jim glanced at him again. "I mean, if they're that important, then someone should study them, right?"
"Jim, most people don't even understand the Sentinel theory, why would anyone be interested in a study made of Guides?"
"I would." Jim replied simply.
"You would." Blair was perplexed now. "Why, Jim?"
"What do you mean, why?" Jim shook his head in mild amazement. "Sandburg, I live with one. I've got a Guide following me everywhere I go. I'd be interested in finding out what makes one tick."
Blair just stared at Jim, unsure of what he was saying, or what to say himself.
"I mean, what qualifications does it take to be a Guide, huh?" Jim glanced at Blair as he looked down the road before making a turn. "Is it genetic, like being a Sentinel? Is it personality? Luck? What?"
"Jim, I'm not a genetic throwback to some ancient cult of Guides or anything. I was just lucky enough to find you, and I knew about Sentinels and Guides because it's my life's study."
Jim shook his head. "No, I don't buy that, Chief."
"You don't?"
"Nope." Jim looked at Blair, shaking his head once. "I think you are a throwback, Sandburg. This is just all too natural for you, too easy."
Blair
shook his head and made a face. "Thanks, Jim."
"No, I'm serious. I saw all those papers and notes back in your office. And those little tests of yours we need to talk about."
"Jim..."
"Hell, you know more about these senses than I do, and I'm the one who has them." They were in front of their building now and Jim parked the truck. "Face it, Chief, you're a natural." Jim shut off the engine and opened his door.
Blair sat there for a few seconds, completely perplexed. This turn of conversation was so totally unexpected, he had no idea how to react. Helping Jim work out what to do and how to do it just seemed to come naturally, but Blair knew that was due to his years of study. He felt in control, and able to understand and interpret Jim's thoughts and moods when they were "on the job". It was now, when Jim was just being Jim, that Blair often faltered, and had no idea what to say or when to say it. He did remember to get out of the truck, though, and follow his partner up to the loft.
Once inside, Blair tossed his pack to the table, and it suddenly dawned on him what Jim had done. For at least fifteen minutes, Blair hadn't once thought about the trial, or Lee Brackett. That was it. Damn, he's good. A study of Guides, indeed.
"You hungry? I was going to order a pizza."
Blair's stomach suddenly turned. "No, thanks."
Jim turned and quickly set the phone down. "Sorry, Blair. How about Chinese?"
"No, man, you go ahead. I'm not hungry." Blair was pulling tests out of his pack and he turned to Jim. "Really, it's okay." He sometimes wondered if he could ever eat pizza again. Maybe in a few more months.
"I think I'll get Chinese."
"Jim, it's okay."
"Sandburg, if I want Chinese, I'll order Chinese." Jim had been dialing, and now held up the phone and placed his order for Chinese food.
Blair just shook his head and finished removing the tests from his pack, then went to his room for another red pen and his small alarm clock. When he came back out, Jim was in front of the television and had fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen. Blair set the alarm for 1:00 a.m., hoping that would be enough time, taking the odd hour or two of completely drifting off again into consideration. He waited until the coffee was finished, poured himself a large cup, then sat down at the table and with a sigh, opened up the first of many.
Shadow of a Doubt Page 6
