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THERE'S A CHILL IN THE AIR by Wintersrose Spoilers:
“Cypher”
spoilers and a couple for “Blind Man’s Bluff” and “Sentinel Too,
Part Two”. Rating
of Story:
Hmm… PG-15 – Characters
in Story:
Blair, Jim, Simon and some minor OCs Warnings:
Angst. Comfort.
Angst. Cold.
Angst. Owies.
Angst. Did I forget
to say angst? Plot
Blurb: On
the way home from school, Blair runs into a little problem…. Special
Note:
This story was originally posted on the SentinelAngst list, however, it
has been changed, updated and modified since then. Feedback:
Wintersrose craves, needs
and wants your feedback, much like she craves and wants chocolate!
Please, keep her writing! ***** PART
ONE “Just…
freaking… great.” As
he rushed from the back door of Hargrove Hall on the campus of “Fantastic,”
he sighed. “Swell.
And would you like to do anything else to punish me?”
The
week had been, in a word, hell. Too
many hours of working very late to finish off two projects, grade papers
and another set of exams as well as working with his partner, Jim
Ellison, during what was surely a case made only to frustrate.
Blair closed his eyes for a moment then opened him as he
negotiated the last set of steps that led down to the parking lot where
he parked his car. Start
tonight, baby. I’m too
tired to mess with your whimsies.
The
insistent chirp of his cell phone caused him to jump and he nearly
slipped on an icy patch of sidewalk in an attempt to pull the phone out
of his jacket pocket. Gloved
hands fumbled for a moment with the right button before he grimaced and
ripped one glove off with his teeth before he hit the right button on
the phone. “Hello?”
“Sandburg.
Where are you?” the
sound of an overprotective, sometimes overbearing and always mother hen
of a Sentinel. Blair heaved
a sigh as he used his other hand – the one not holding the phone –
to fumble his keys from his pocket. “Just
leaving the school now, Jim,” Blair commented, thinking of the warmth
and security and comfort of “Yeah,
it started snowing a while ago,” Jim said.
“I tried to call you earlier.” “Sorry,
man,” Blair managed to get the keys into the lock of his car and get
it opened. “I had the
phones turned off; I was so close to being done, I didn’t want to be
interrupted. Sorry if I
worried you.” “I
was about to come looking for you, Chief,” Blair could just imagine
the expression on the other man’s face and he sighed.
He hoped Jim got this out of his system before Blair got home.
He was too tired to deal with hyperactively worried Jim Ellison
in full Blessed Protector Mode.
“I’ll
be home soon,” Blair said. “Or
as soon as the snow allows me.” “Take
it easy, Chief. Sure you
don’t want me to come get you? Might
be safer.” Blair
managed not to laugh at that, though he was tempted.
After all, Jim Ellison was not what one would call the safest
driver on the planet. And
while he wouldn’t mind a ride home – saving him from having to drive
himself – he wasn’t about to have Jim come out in this muck.
“I’ll
be fine, Mom,” Blair said. “I’m
in my car now. I’d better
hang up so I can concentrate on driving.” “Watch
out for snowplows,” Jim commented and hung up. Blair
disconnected and threw the phone onto the seat beside him, put his other
glove back onto his hand and, shivering once, started the car.
The chill in the air went right through the heavy jacket he wore
and he reached into the backseat and pulled out his heavy hat, pulling
the flaps down to cover his ears. Hot
tea. Coffee.
Soup. Maybe ostrich
chili. Something to keep him
warm would be good when he got home. He
got the car out of the parking lot with a minimum of fuss.
The car slid a little as he made the turn out onto the street and
it took some time for him to get the car to straighten again.
He sighed and rubbed at his hair.
He stopped – slid to a stop that is – at a stop sign and
looked both ways. The
streets of Cascade were practically deserted; everyone in their right
mind was already inside, warmed by cozy fires or hot burning furnaces or
by cuddling with loved ones. Blair
Sandburg was in an unreliable car, freezing as he tried to get the
reluctant heater to spew out more heat and listening to the wind outside
pick-up. Just
great,
he thought again. He got to
a crossroads and debated for a moment which way he wanted to take back
to the loft. His usual way
was fairly fast but went through not so pleasant territory.
The other way was more out of the way but would take him through
less turns but there’d be one hill he’d have to convince his car to
climb and he wasn’t sure he could do that. Normal
way it is,
he made the turn with the car and continued onward, thinking only of
warmth, of his bed, of how he wanted to hibernate until this nasty
snowfall went away. What
is it doing snowing in Cascade anyway?
The
wind howled even louder around the car, sending chills, this time not of
cold but of anxiety, down his spine.
He shivered again and clutched the steering wheel a little harder
as he crept along at a solid 30 miles an hour, begging the wheels to
keep their traction on the icy road beneath.
Fortunately the road he was taking was one of the ones the
snowplows had hit already. While
the roads were still slick, at least he was going to… “I
can be you…..”
Blair
jumped and jerked the wheel sideways.
He had presence of mind enough to put his foot on the brakes and
slow down before he corrected his course and he shivered again.
What the heck? Where did
that come from? “Who
am I now?” Blair
jerked again, this time nearly running the car off the road.
He swore he heard that voice.
David Lash’s voice. David
Lash in his head. David Lash
telling him that he was going to become Blair. “What
do you think man, do I make a good you?” Blair
heard the voice as clearly as if David Lash still lived and was not dead
of 5 gunshot wounds to the chest. Jim
swore to him, over and over and over again that David Lash was dead.
Dead. The man
wouldn’t ever become anyone else ever again. But
the voice sounded so real. Which
means I must be cracking up totally.
It wasn’t totally unconceivable that he’d be cracking up,
after all he was tired, exhausted and in need of some serious
downtime. If
it wasn’t the middle of winter, he’d suggest going camping.
At this point he might take camping in the snow over cracking up
over David Lash, who had been dead for two and a half years.
But
you were dead too, Blair,
Blair heard his own voice in his head now and he shivered.
You came back.
If you can come back, why can’t he? Oooh,
great,
he thought a moment later. Pretty soon you’re going to believe that people are going around
cutting off each other’s heads and fighting for some grand prize in a
great Game that mere mortals can’t understand.
Sure, Blair. How
about a trip to Mars while you’re at it?
Now. Quit.
Freaking. Out!
Blair
took several deep, calming, breaths as he continued his wary trek down
the ice and snow-covered Cascade streets.
He’d been told, both by the medical doctors and his
psychiatrist that he might have flashbacks of either Lash, the Golden,
being shot, being killed by Alex Barnes or the other things that
happened to him since meeting Jim, anytime he got overly stressed,
overly tired or anxious about something.
Tonight he was all three. No
wonder he was having a freak attack about a guy who’d been dead a long
time. At
least it wasn’t the golden people. Carefully,
the grad student negotiated another turn and was glad he only had four
more left before he turned onto the familiarity of The
flash of light came without warning… …he
put on the brakes, trying to stop before he hit something but…
suddenly… He
felt the car slam, hard, against something.
Blair slammed forward against the steering wheel. Something
fell on him and a moment later, he no longer cared about the dark.
**
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** PART
TWO “Come
on… come on!” Jim
Ellison glared at the television and dared, actually dared the Jags to
lose the game they were currently playing against the Jim
threw a pillow at the television as they failed, once again, to stop a
drive by the Sixers and another two-point shot went into the basket,
putting the Jags behind 87 to 78. Nine
points. 2 minutes left in
the game. Where
the heck is Sandburg?
It was not the first time Jim thought that tonight.
He’d been trying to call the wayward grad student since he got
home from work and he worried about his friend being out in the cold and
snow. It was the worst day
of weather they had in a very long time, maybe for a couple of years
now. To make matters worse
it was only November. It
didn’t snow in November. November
was meant for lots of rain and mid-fifty temperatures but not for
snow. “Yes!”
Jim cheered when the Jags got a three-point shot off into the basket.
He glanced at his watch and frowned; it was nearly Unable
to sit, the Sentinel started pacing, contemplating going out to his
truck to drive and find Sandburg. The
more he thought about it, the better that idea sounded.
Something hit him in the pit of his stomach then, telling him
that his friend needed him.
Decided,
Ellison pulled on his heaviest coat, hat and gloves and grabbed his keys
and cell phone off the table by the door.
He pulled on his heavy boots and raced down the stairs, not
bothering with the elevator, to the ground level of the building.
“All
right, Sweetheart,” Jim climbed into his old truck and sat for a
moment. “We’re going on
a little trip. It’s cold
out. It’s snowing.
And you are absolutely not allowed to break down, go off the road
or any other weird ideas you might get out there.
We have to go find Blair. I
expect your full cooperation.” The
Sentinel didn’t remotely care if anyone heard him talking to his
truck. He doubted anyone in
their right mind was actually out in this mess that the weathermen dared
to call weather. The truck
started with a muffled roar and he started carefully down the street,
debating what way Blair would take to the apartment from Ok.
Jim
made the turns he needed to make, driving carefully and keeping all of
his senses tuned to the sight of his partner’s car.
And
blinked. A
Panther and a Wolf lay intertwined on the hood of the Truck.
Just lay there, looking at him, blinking. Then
the Wolf began to dissolve and the Panther stood and roared into the
night.
Jim
felt empty and no state less than terrified.
Damnit, why didn’t I insist on Blair waiting for me?
Please, just let me find
him before it’s too late. Please!
Jim
put on a little more gas, heedless of the snow and ice around him, still
intent on finding that one, lone, missing car.
The feeling that something was wrong, that his friend went off
the road, grew. Don’t
give up, Chief. I’ll find
you. Just don’t give up.
I’m coming. The
words sounded hollow in his head, though.
The
wind continued to blow around him, swirling the snow in an almost
circular manner, causing him to have to slow down.
The lights on his truck did little to clear the path before him;
the snow did a very good job of almost blinding him and he had to filter
through it to see anything beyond.
Buildings,
dark shadows of buildings was all he saw beyond the snow.
A few houses littered here and there but mostly taller, darker
buildings. Light shone from
many of the windows beyond and the occasional streetlight broke through
the swirling mists of snow but Jim didn’t see what he was looking for.
A car. Blair’s car.
Don’t
zone,
he warned himself a few moments later.
He realized he was focusing more on his sight than any other
sense and the dangers of zoning while driving; he didn’t want to think
about it. Damn!
I have to find Sandburg – now!
Jim
made another turn, taking him along the longest stretch of straight road
between the loft and The
rescue vehicles stopped only two blocks further down the street, pulling
up to the left and blocking half the road.
Jim pulled up beside them. “Ellison,
Major Crimes!” he yelled through the wind to an approaching fire
fighter. He flashed his badge at the man. The paramedics were struggling
through the snow toward the car that was crashed into the lowest level
of a six-story apartment building. “This
is my partner’s car!” The
firefighter introduced himself as “Jake Malloy” and motioned toward
the car. “We just got on
the scene; we’re still checking it out, Detective.
You’d better stay back until we make sure everything is
stabilized. We’ll let you
know as soon as we can about your partner.” Ellison
glowered at the man but turned away from him, stepping to one side of
the fire truck and pushing his hearing outward, sifting out the sounds
of the snow to try to find something more familiar and more welcome.
Any sound of his friend, such as his heartbeat, his breath, even
his voice would be acceptable. He
heard nothing. Nothing but
the murmurs of firefighters and paramedics.
He saw one of the firemen break through the part of the wall
beside Blair’s door, enough so that he could open the door.
“What
the hell?” the words were easy for Jim to make out, even from where he
stood. “There’s nobody
here!” Jim
ran forward, then, heedless of the exclamations of the fireman guarding
the perimeter – not that anyone was going to want to play ‘gaper’
when it was snowing as hard as it was.
He brushed the snow from his head and went to look at the Volvo
for himself. Blair had to be
there. It was his car!
And if he wasn’t in his car, then where was he? “He
didn’t get tossed out?” his mouth felt like cotton and he swallowed
heavily before he tried again. “The
windshield is gone. What
happened to the windshield?” The
fireman looked more closely at the front of the car and frowned.
Jim knew he was right, it was obvious even from where he was
standing. “Let me
through,” he told the paramedic in his way and he stepped around, over
and past a major amount of debris littering his path before he got into
the building itself. Where
are you, Chief?
he thought as he looked around.
Come on, Blair, don’t do this to me. It
didn’t help. He found the
windshield, cracked into four pieces, laying on the ground in front of
the car. He
looked inside and saw two familiar objects.
Blair’s backpack and his cell phone, both sitting on the front
seat of the car. He inhaled
once, picking up the familiar scents that said ‘Blair’ to him.
In
it mingled other scents. A
musky, almost perfume-like, odor. And
another metallic, more alarming scent.
Blood. Blair’s
blood. “Someone
took him out of the car,” Jim said.
“Someone broke his damned windshield open and pulled him out.
He’s injured…” “Yeah,”
the paramedic kneeling beside Blair’s front seat agreed.
“There’s blood here, on the steering wheel, the dashboard and
the floor.” “All
right, I want all of you to clear out.
This is a crime scene now. Please
just get back and let me take care of this.” Jim
pulled out his cell phone. Simon
wasn’t going to like this at all.
**
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** PART
THREE Freezing.
The
cold so bitter it went through his jacket, his hat, through even the
heavy shoes and socks he wore on his feet.
Cold that took any hope of heat along with it, almost causing him
to forget what warm was like.
He
was wet. The snow that
accumulated on his clothing and skin melted because of his body heat,
eventually causing all of his clothing to become just as wet too.
His
body hurt; he didn’t mind that at all.
If it didn’t hurt he would most likely be suffering from
something worse than the pain. Frostbite?
Hypothermia? His mind
felt sluggish as he tried to remember the words.
Or
as he tried to remember what happened. He
remembered driving back from Who
am I now?
Blair
Sandburg shivered as he remembered the voice, so clear, it was as if
David Lash sat next to him in the car.
He blinked, causing snow that fell even on his eyelids to blink
off. He tried to remember
more. Driving.
Getting closer to home. His
whole body felt sluggish.
Then
the light. There had been a
light.
Then
a crash? Why did he remember
a crash? Oh.
Yeah. The ghost.
Hadn’t that happened already?
Wait. David Lash.
Had he been in a wreck with him? He
remembered the darkness and nothing for awhile. He
woke up here. His nose hurt,
like… like someone had punched him.
He must have hit it on the steering wheel when he crashed.
His head hurt too but when he tried to reach a hand up to feel
along his head he couldn’t. He
remembered trying that before, just a few minutes ago, when he first
woke up. And not being able
to move his hands. He
was chained outside. Chained
outside, to a fire escape. Freezing.
He cared that he was freezing.
Didn’t care about much else.
His teeth were chattering. And
it was becoming harder to move, like his muscles didn’t want to
cooperate with him. He was
pretty sure he’d heard the word for the condition once.
Didn’t feel like trying to remember what it was.
Didn’t care. He
wanted to scream, he really did, but he’d been gagged on top of
everything else. Not so much
that he couldn’t still breathe but enough that it muted any noise he
attempted to make. Took
too much effort. He
once joked that ‘cold and wet is my world.’ It
was a total reality now. Cold
and wet. Hypothermia.
Frostbite. Death.
Blair
struggled futilely with the chains, trying to figure out why this
happened to him. Why was he chained out here?
Why was someone trying to kill him like this?
He felt so… used up. Like
everything was starting to shut down on him.
Another
face swam before his vision and he blinked away more snow and shook his
head, grimacing through the pain as he tried to clear away the snow.
His hands stung from the cold, a bad sign that he didn’t want
to think about. Why?
He
couldn’t shake the thought, couldn’t shake the desire to know why
someone had pulled him, injured, from his car and chained him up
here? His
thoughts became more sluggish and he shook his head again, despite the
pain, to force himself to stay awake.
He had to stay awake. Jim
would want me to stay awake. He
wouldn’t want me to go to sleep.
Blair
shivered again and was glad that he at least had the protection of his
jacket and hat and gloves as well as the rest of his clothes.
Whomever did this may be wanting it to look like an
accident. Who?
Who, who, who?
The
face swam before his vision again. David
Lash. He recognized
him. No.
Not David Lash. Just
someone who had the same sort of build as David Lash. I’m
hallucinating,
Blair decided. I’m
exhausted, I’m tired, I’m stressed, I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m
hurt and I’m hallucinating. David
Lash is dead. Dead.
5 bullets worth of dead. “Who
am I now?” Blair
jerked and looked upward – at nothing.
He blinked back tears that threatened to fall.
His eyes would freeze shut if he started crying now!
“Help!”
he tried to scream it out, seeing a whirl of lights below him.
Of
course the gag made it sound like the pathetic mewling of a drowned
cat. “Help!”
He’d
have to keep trying, keep calling, until Jim came.
Jim would hear him. Jim
would work through all the noise of the wind and the fire truck and the
people and hear him. Lash
had him. Lash had him, of
course Lash had him. And
Jim heard him. Jim always
heard him. Didn’t
he? He
blinked in confusion, staring at the door that was only two feet away,
trying to remember why he couldn’t go through it.
Oh yeah. The chains.
Couldn’t move his arms.
Why
was he chained out here? He
blinked again. Closed his
eyes for a moment. His
teeth chattered then and he wondered if he’d really be able to hold on
much longer. The thread of
consciousness he held onto was getting slippery, harder to hold.
He shook his head again. The
pain, though, was not as strong as before.
No, his head was much colder.
He snapped his eyes open. Had
to stay awake. Right?
Why
did he have to stay awake again? Oh
yeah. Cause Jim wanted him
to stay awake. That’s why.
Yeah. He could do it
for Jim. Snow
fell off his hat and onto his shoulders.
Great. He needed more
snow on his shoulders. He’d
better yell again. “Help!”
He
started rubbing his gag against a shoulder.
Maybe he could get it off and get off one good scream before he
passed out. He realized,
though, that the gag was tied tight enough and over his mouth enough to
make it a hard won deal. At
least it wasn’t duct tape. Duct
tape was the stickiest stuff on the whole planet.
No wonder MacGyver used it to make bombs and always carried it
around with his Swiss Army Knife. Yeah.
That’s right. MacGyver
was the coolest guy ever to be on a TV show.
Except maybe that Daniel guy (ok, so he was an archaeologist, not
an anthropologist, but he was still cool).
The gag didn’t move. Didn’t
move. Too weak to try.
Didn’t matter. He’d
just leave it on. Better to
just leave it on.
You’re
drifting, Sandburg,
he warned himself. Stay
with it. Jim wants you to.
Jim.
Where was Jim? Was he
in the cold too? Had he been
chained in the cold? Why was
he in the cold? He hated the
cold, absolutely hated the cold. And
he hated being wet. And the
snow was wet. But wasn’t
snow supposed to be warm if built up on you?
Didn’t Eskimos live in igloos made of snow and ice and stay
really warm? You’re
really, really drifting, Sandburg. Cut
it out.
He
blinked again, opening his eyes really wide, then closing them, then
opening them wide, then closing them.
He just had to stay awake a while longer.
Wouldn’t they find him up here? “HELP!”
And
then, for good measure. “JIM!”
He
tried to pull on the chains. Body
didn’t want to cooperate. Nothing
did. It was harder to keep
his eyes open. He wanted to
sleep. But Jim wouldn’t
let him sleep. No, no, Jim
would be very mad if he went to sleep and there was nothing at all like
a mad sentinel. No.
He wasn’t going to deal with a mad sentinel.
No, no, no. He pulled
again. Tried to shift a
little. Kick
something. Legs
refused to cooperate.
Then
he heard the laughter. Great.
Now he was imagining things.
Delusional. Delusions.
Lethargy. Shivering.
Loss of Motor coordination. Yep,
yep, yep, yep. Just great.
Where had that… “There’s
no way you’re getting away, dude,” a low voice hissed in his
ear. He
turned and saw him. The man. No.
The guy who just looked like David Lash because Lash was dead
with five bullets in his chest. Jim
said so. And Jim wouldn’t
lie to him about that. Simon
agreed. Dead.
Lash was dead and this man wasn’t Lash but he looked like
Lash. “You
shouldn’t have done it,” the man hissed in his ear.
“Shouldn’t have let them kill him.” Blair
stared up at the man who was standing over him and the man slapped him.
He blinked. He
screamed through the gag. “Shut
up,” the man hissed. “He
was the greatest. The
GREATEST! And you killed
him!” It
wasn’t me, man,
Blair thought blearily, his head aching anew.
It was him. Jim
killed him. Cause he wanted
me to swim with the ducks. I
didn’t want to swim with the ducks. Don’t
like ducks, man. And he made
a lousy me. He wasn’t me
at all. “You’re
going to freeze up here. You’ll
be a popsicle by the time your partner realizes this is where you are.
And I’ll be off. Rebuilding
his legacy. He could be
anyone.” The
voice leaned in real close. Blair
felt the other man’s warm breath on his ear but his words sent another
non-cold related chill right down his spine, freezing him in
place. “I
can be him.” **
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** PART
FOUR
“Detective,
take this.” Jim
turned when he heard a voice behind him and shook off the hand that was
trying to wrap a blanket around him.
He couldn’t concentrate with all of this outside stimulation
going on around him. He did,
however, accept a cup of very hot coffee and sip on it, gratefully
allowing it to warm him inside, while trying not to think, for the
moment, what his friend and guide was going through. Jim
had called Simon and had been right.
Simon hadn’t been at all happy to hear from Jim and wasn’t
happy that he was having to leave his nice, safe, comfortably warm home
to come out into the now ten degrees with wind chill temperatures of the
Cascade streets. Jim had
only been here for fifteen minutes; it felt like he’d been here hours,
trying to figure out where his friend had been taken. The
cold and snow and wind was doing a lot to dampen his senses – or at
least to confuse them. He
had to spend a lot more time filtering out the excess to try to focus on
what he needed. Blair’s
scent. The smell of his
blood. The musky scent of
his kidnapper. It
would be at least a half hour before anyone else from Major Crimes
showed up here, even using lights and sirens.
The weather was not beneficial to fast driving and on a good day
it would take the nearest one – Joel Taggart – ten minutes to get
here. Still, he knew that
help was coming. And
he knew he wasn’t waiting for them.
Blair had to be in the area somewhere.
He would be cold; the building they were in was abandoned and
cold. If he was here, Blair
would be shivering. His
friend hated being cold. He’d
go to incredible lengths to stay warm if he could.
Jim
closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, sorting through the din of wind.
Inside it wasn’t so loud but outside it made the building shake
and rattle and creak and groan. He
sorted out those sounds too. “Help.”
The
sound was muffled. Barely
audible. And probably not at
all audible to anyone else in the area.
Jim knew the voice instantly, as muffled as it was.
Blair. It was
Blair’s voice. Jim
didn’t say a word, he just started running.
Say something else, chief, he thought.
Say something else. Come
on, don’t let me down now. Say
something else, please, Sandburg, please,
he begged his friend, mentally. Help
me find you! Jim
found a set of stairs and went up them cautiously, hand on the gun in
his pocket. He tested each
step before he put his full weight on it; it slowed him down but if he
fell through the steps – again – he wouldn’t be able to help
Blair. “HELP!”
Jim
stopped. That was definitely
Blair. He was getting closer
but not close enough. He
continued to climb upward. “JIM!”
The
cry chilled Jim and he went up now, heedless of whether the steps could
hold him or not. His partner
needed him. Blair was
obviously in danger wherever he was.
And the cry had been fearful. Then
he heard laughter. Someone
was laughing. “There’s
no way you’re getting away, dude.” The
voice, whomever it belonged to, wasn’t so muffled.
Not at all muffled. It
was quiet, like he was whispering or talking softly but not muffled.
The enemy. James
Joseph Ellison’s eyes narrowed dangerously and the gun came out of his
pocket. “You
shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t
have let them kill him.” Up
another flight. The voices
sounded close now. The
voices. The enemy and Blair.
Then the sound of flesh on flesh.
And Blair’s muffled scream. “Shut
up. He was the greatest.
The GREATEST! And you
killed him!” Crap.
CRAP! The greatest.
Who the crap was the greatest? “You’re
going to freeze up here. You’ll
be a popsicle by the time your partner realizes this is where you are.
And I’ll be off. Rebuilding
his legacy. He could be
anyone.” Jim
turned the corner and saw the fire escape at the end of the hallway.
He ran toward it, gun at the ready.
Saw a figure standing outside of it.
Heard the voice again say something. “I
can be him.” “Not
today, asshole,” Jim pointed the gun right at the perpetrator and
glared at the man who had attacked and kidnapped his partner.
“Maybe some other day, after a few dozen years in
jail.” The
man jumped and wide, hazel eyes stared up at Jim.
Jim almost let out a start; the man looked so much like David
“I don’t regret shooting him” Lash it was uncanny.
He had the same wild-eyed expression in his face as well, the
wild-eyed gaze of insanity. “NO!”
the man yelled. “NO!
You won’t stop me! Murderer!
Killer!” The
man swung toward him and Jim very clearly saw the gun in his hand.
Jim
fired without another thought. The
man stared at him and down at his chest as if he couldn’t believe what
he was seeing. He lifted a
blood-stained hand toward Jim then stumbled backward and slumped down on
the fire escape, eyes open and vacant to the world.
Jim didn’t care he’d shot the guy right in the heart.
He’d put Blair in danger.
Jim
raced outside, racing to his friend’s side and knelt beside Blair
while mentally accessing everything he knew about hypothermia.
You had to be careful moving hypothermia patients.
Blair’s core temperature had be down to 90 or so, maybe a
little lower. He’d be at
risk for arrhythmias before much longer, that risk would be greater if
he moved him. He needed to
get Blair inside out of the wind. The
injuries compounded everything.
Jim
pulled off the dead man’s jacket and wrapped it very carefully around
Blair while he looked behind his partner and saw that Blair was very
firmly chained to the fire escape railing behind him.
He was going to have to try to get those off without moving Blair
very much. Especially his
extremities. He wasn’t far
enough down to be rigid; for that Jim was very grateful. “Chief,
I’m going to get the chains off. I
don’t want you to move on your own at all.
Let me do it for you, all right?” “Trust
you… man…” Blair whispered to him.
“Just… do it… Don’t wanna swim with the ducks, Jim.
No ducks, ‘k? Don’t
like ducks. Lash-man wants
me to see the ducks. But
it’s cold, Jim…” The
words were becoming more slurred and, as Jim very carefully moved Blair
forward so he could get to the chains, the words became more
incomprehensible as well. Jim
worked as fast and as carefully as he could; the dead man hadn’t
actually padlocked the chains but they were wrapped around Blair’s
arms about ten times and twined around the railing twice.
It took a good three minutes to unwrap Blair. “Just
sit here, chief,” Jim warned his friend again.
“Don’t move, all right? Let
me doing the moving.” “k…”
the voice was slurred.
Jim
reached down, then and carefully lifted his freezing friend up into his
arms and carried him into the building itself, holding him as carefully
as he could. There was no
helping it – he wasn’t leaving the anthropologist out in the wind
and snow any longer. “Knew
you’d… find me…. Jim…” Blair whispered.
Jim gave a start when he realized something more was wrong.
Blair had stopped shivering. “Damn,”
he whispered. “Got
me, Jim…” Blair whispered. “Yeah,
Chief,” Jim said. “I
have you. I have
you.” **
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** PART
FIVE
One.
Two. Three.
Four. Five.
Six. Seven.
Eight. Nine.
Turn.
One.
Two. Three.
Four. Five.
Six. Seven.
Eight. Nine.
Turn.
Jim
continued to pace the full length of the ER waiting room as he waited
for word, any word, on his friend. Blair
had been rushed here nearly an hour and a half before, after being
treated minimally by the paramedics at the scene and Jim had come with
Blair, trusting one of his friends from Major Crime to get his truck to
the Hospital for him.
“Detective
Ellison?” he looked up to see a tall, leggy, blonde walking toward
him. She smiled as she
stepped toward him, hand outstretched to shake hands with him.
He did so. “I’m
Doctor Arrias. I’ve been
treating your friend, Mr. Sandburg?” “Yeah,”
Jim said. “How is he?” “He’s
going to be fine, Detective,” the doctor said as she motioned to one
of the seats. She sank down
into it gratefully, rubbing at the back of her head as she did so.
“He was moderately hypothermic when he came in, his core
temperature was only 86 degrees but he’s responding well, already to
therapy. You may have noticed he stopped shivering on you when you were
out there with him; that’s what happens when the body temperature
drops below 90. He’s
being treated by giving him warm fluids intravenously and we have him on
humidified oxygen as well. He’s
going to need to stay in the hospital for at least a day, until we get
his body temperature stabilized to normal.
I would prefer two to three days.
Then he’ll need to stay home and inactive for at least a week.
He’ll be more prone to pneumonia if he goes out into this cold
for very long, at least until he’s more stable.” Jim
took a deep breath and nodded. “What
do I need to do for him?” “When
he’s home keep him warm. He
shouldn’t do any strenuous exercising for several days.
Keep plying him with warm fluids – teas, hot chocolate, soup,
things like that. I won’t
let him out of here until his temperature is stabilized, as I said.
But I assure you, he’ll make a full recovery and there
shouldn’t be any complications later on down the line as long as
he’s careful for the next week or two.” Jim
nodded again. “Can I see
him?” The
doctor nodded. “For
awhile. He’s a bit out of
it right now; we had to treat his head wound and the broken nose he got
in the car crash. He’s on
an oxygen mask to help his breathing for a bit.
He’s been brought up to ICU already and he’s all snug as a
bug in the warm blankets.” Jim
smiled. Blair would like his
warm blankets – at least after he was warm enough to appreciate
it. “He
may start shivering after a bit when his temperature gets back up to 90
or 91,” the doctor told him. “Don’t
worry if it starts. Shivering
actually helps bring up a body’s core temperature faster and it will
settle as he gets warmer.” The
doctor smiled warmly. “Go
on.” Jim
went, going up the elevator to the third floor where the ICU ward was
located. He ducked into ICU
and waved a nurse that he knew a little too well – Maggie, aka
Magdalene, she of the ferocious protective streak. “Detective
Ellison,” Maggie said. “What
have you done now?” “Me?”
Jim stared innocently at the woman.
“I didn’t do anything.” “You
sure?” Maggie grinned.
“I’m
sure.” Jim
ducked into the room where Blair was laying and saw that, as the doctor
said, he was all tucked in underneath warm blankets.
An IV was running into one of his arms and there was an oxygen
mask on his face, helping him to breathe. Jim
slid into the chair beside Blair’s bed and put his hand on the blanket
over Blair’s hand. He
gently stroked a lock of Blair’s long hair out of his face and Blair
murmured something but didn’t wake up. “This
was too close, Chief,” Jim said in a soft voice to his friend.
“Way too close this time.” He
closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling.
He sifted through the usual hospital smells and to find Blair’s
unique scent, masked as it was by the efforts the hospital was going
through to save his life. He
leaned close and concentrated on sounds, once again sifting out
extraneous hospital sounds so that he could hear Blair’s heartbeat.
It was still a little slower than usual but it was there.
Beating. Reminding
Jim that his friend was still alive. Sight
told him that Blair lived as well, though it was an unnatural sight to
see Blair so still. He moved
his hand up along the arm to Blair’s chest and through the blanket he
could feel the heartbeat he had heard only moments before.
A gentle finger to Blair’s cheek told him that, while his skin
was cold, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been after Jim rescued
him from the fire escape. He
got up and bent over to kiss the place that he touched, to affirm his
friend’s life with his last sense.
Taste. He licked his
lips and tasted Blair there. Jim
settled back in his seat, keeping vigil over the young man who had so
changed his life. **
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** PART
SIX
Warm.
Everything
around him was so nice and very warm.
The blankets tucked around him were pouring heat into his cold
skin. Something attached to
his arm was warm. Even the
mask on his face was warm as it sent oxygen into his lungs and eased his
once-labored breathing. Blair
lay in a stupor, unmoving, content with the peace that all this warmth
gave him and he sighed contentedly, wondering if he could persuade
everyone to let him just stay here forever. All
too soon, though, his mind began to come alive, reminding him of
everything that had happened. Things
he thought he had forgotten while he was freezing to death out on that
fire escape were starting to come back to him.
Blair shivered then, as the realization that death had been so
close came to him. But
he was alive. He was alive
and warm and his sentinel had rescued him again. Rescued
him. Blair
forced one eye to open and he looked to one side and saw the familiar
face of his best friend sitting in a chair that didn’t look very
comfortable, head leaned back as he napped.
Blair smiled, seeing that Jim was watching over him even when he
was out of danger and closed his eye again, grateful for the warm,
grateful for love of a good friend. Grateful
for life. He
went home two days later, wrapped up in wool, in the heaviest coat that
Jim had been able to buy, in a special suit provided by the hospital and
went right from the warmth of the hospital into the warmth of Jim’s
truck, pulled up in front of the hospital doors and invitingly warm
inside. He didn’t shiver
once as they drove back to the loft, even when he had to get out in the
front and go inside of the somewhat chilly building.
The old, rickety, elevator managed to get them up to the third
floor and Blair waited for Jim to unlock the door. He
blinked when he saw everything inside.
It was very warm, for one thing and for another, there was a huge
banner draped across the back wall. “Welcome
home, Blair” Blair
grinned when he saw the balloons and the cards on the dining room table
and on the coffee table and smelled the lavender candles that were
burning cheerily on the bookcase.
“SURPRISE!”
He
jumped when the door to his room burst open and all of his friends from
Major Crime came out. “Wow!”
Blair grinned and bobbed a little, smiling from one person to another.
He looked back at Jim who looked all together too pleased with
himself. “Welcome
home, Snowboy!” Henri gave Blair a big bear hug – something that
made Jim glare and pull Blair away.
“Careful,”
Jim ordered. “No rough
handling for a while, remember?” “Jim,
I’m not hypothermic anymore, they can hug me if they want,” Blair
reminded his friend. “They
can wait for a few days,” Jim glared.
“Let’s get you unwrapped and into one of those nice new
sweaters on your bed. I got
some of those really thin but very warm gloves too…” “Jim,
it’s like a furnace in here,” Blair told his friend.
“I’m fine. I
don’t need…” |