"That's the problem, Nash. I've no idea what's happening."
"Don't stop, though."
He shrugged and tried again, speaking into the phone. "Jim," he said firmly. "You've got to let Blair go. You aren't helping him with what you're doing. You may think this is the best solution, but it's not true. You are hurting him. Take a good look at him, right now. He's sick, man. He needs his medicine and you don't have it there."
No response.
"You're tired, aren't you, Jim? I bet you're exhausted trying to keep everything in place and Blair okay. Well, Simon is right there. He'll take care of Blair, at least for a while you sleep. It's okay to sleep, man. And I'm here, too, and I'm going to help you as much as I can. So let Blair go, just for a while. Do you hear me?"
"Sandburg just opened his eyes." Simon Bank's voice was faint over the phone line.
"What?" Harvey's face lit up. "Really?"
"Sandburg's looking around. Hey, Blair. You with me here? It's Simon."
The two San Francisco officers leaned over the telephone, staring into it as though they were looking down at a visual link to the Cascade loft.
Simon picked up the phone. "Harvey, he's awake, I think. At least a little. I'm going to try to get those pills in him quick, then I'll come right back. Don't go away."
"I'm not going anywhere." Harvey drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting, hearing the faint echo of the Cascade captain's words as he spoke with Sandburg. He glanced over to Nash. "I'm missing something here."
"Sounds like you got it right. Blair's awake now."
Harvey shook his head. "But I don't know why Jim let him go. Was it because of what I said, or something else altogether?"
* * *
.
Simon Banks watched the young man look around the room, the vacant stare showing the level of pain he was in. "Blair?"
The blue eyes traveled back to his face, staring at him until recognition slowly settled in. "S'mon?"
"That's right, kid," he said softly.
"Where . . .?" The question started, then trailed off.
"You need to take your pills." Simon bent to draw Sandburg from the bed, but the young man darted a hand out to stop him.
"No." Sandburg shook his head, then squeezed his eyes shut at the resulting pain. "No," he whispered again, fervently.
"That's an order, son, if it has to be," the captain said, just loud enough for him to hear. "You need to take your medication. You're not doing yourself -- nor Jim -- any good by being in pain."
"Why am I . . .?" Again the sentence faded before he could finish it. Sandburg's long fingers closed on Banks' shirt, clenching the fabric.
"Why are you sick?"
"No." The word came out more than frustrated. "Why am I here? Why am I not with Jim? Where is Jim?"
"Jim's right beside you. Here, let me help you sit up. You can see him better sitting up, and you can take your pills. Jim wanted you to take them," Simon threw in for luck. Taking advantage of the lack of response from Sandburg, Simon leaned over him and eased him upright, resting him back against a crew of pillows, then he helped him take the four tablets with a glass of water. He took a closer look at Blair's injured ankle; the swelling seemed to have gone down on it, although it still sported a vivid series of bruises.
Sandburg handed him back the empty glass, so the captain tackled the next problem. "Why don't you try to use the facilities, okay?"
The young man was staring at Ellison, lying silently on the bed, lost in thought. "Hmm?"
"Blair? Toilet?"
"Sure." Almost appearing unaware of it all, Sandburg allowed himself to be helped to his feet and shuffled to the bathroom door. "Jim's there, right?"
"He's sleeping," Simon said, trying to keep him walking.
"Somethin's not right, Simon. Somethin's wrong. We were hunting for dinner and then -"
Banks had the disturbing impression that the police observer was not living up to his name. There was no way that Sandburg seemed the least bit connected with where he was. "Blair, do you need help?"
Sandburg blinked slowly, and one hand rose to touch his day's growth of beard. He looked up at Simon, eyes wide and partly alert, which was a start. "What's going on--?" He pulled out of the captain's reach suddenly and shut the door of the bathroom, separating them.
Banks groaned when he heard the door lock click in place. He placed his hands on the door, giving the doorknob a brief jiggle. "Blair? Don't lock me out, okay? You're not very well at the moment."
There was no response, but a moment later he could hear water running in the sink.
Moving quickly, he returned to Sandburg's room and the forgotten phone. He picked it up, talking as he moved around the room gathering clean clothes for him to wear. "Harvey? Still there?"
"Still here. What's happening?"
"Blair's locked himself in the bathroom, but at least it sounds like he's cleaning himself up."
"What about Jim?"
Simon glanced to the bed as he spoke. "He hasn't said anything or opened his eyes."
"But he let Blair go."
"Whatever you said seemed to work." Out of the corner of his eye, the captain watched Ellison, half expecting the detective to suddenly leap from the bed and choke him again. Instead, the sentinel seemed to be twitching slightly, nostrils sniffing the air. "Harvey, he's looking for Blair, I think, trying to catch his scent, I think. I'm going to check on Blair, then I'll call you right back. Don't go anywhere."
"I'll be here."
* * *
.
The line went dead, and Harvey disconnected the speaker phone.
Nash Bridges still sat on the edge of his desk, staring at the phone as though it might start moving on its own. "Did you understand any of that? Because I the hell sure didn't."
"It makes sense in its own weird way."
"Such as?" the SIU captain prompted. "Where do you get this stuff from, Harv? You holding out on us?"
Harvey glanced at the phone, then over to the hot drink machine. Figuring he had time, he got up, stretched, then looked back to Nash as he walked over to it. "In college, too long ago to even remember, I did my masters degree at Berkeley."
"Psych major, or something, right?"
"Right. Psych major, anthro minor. I did my master's thesis on astral traveling."
"Astral what?
"Astral traveling, dream walking--"
Nash waved him off, impatiently. "That's when your spirit supposedly leaves your body and goes looking around on its own, if I remember correctly."
"That's right," Harvey said, pushing the appropriate buttons on the hot drink machine for tea with milk and double sugar. He wanted it loaded today. "Well, in doing research on past cultures and their descriptions of astral traveling, which meant going through a lot of shelved and forgotten ancient books, I came across references to sentinels -- that's how I had heard of them before." He smiled. "I just didn't believe everything that was said about them."
"Like what?"
"Like everything that Jim Ellison demonstrated." Harvey sipped at the too hot beverage and returned to his desk. "Tell me again what happened at the motel that first night."
Nash walked across to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup of coffee, then walked back to Harvey, nodding. "Sure. What do you want to know, Bubba?"
"You told me about something strange that happened between Jim and Blair there."
"Actually, the first strange thing happened at the hospital. I only heard about that one."
"And?"
"Well, according to Simon -- quote -- Sandburg stopped breathing, Ellison did CPR and brought him back, then collapsed himself from the effort -- unquote."
"Just like the fountain."
"That was a month or so ago, right? They found Blair face down in the college fountain, dead."
"Ellison did CPR on him then, too. There's more to it than that, though. I should talk to Simon . . ." Harvey's attention wandered for a few seconds, then came back o
n task. "So what happened later, at the motel. Whatever it was that you saw?"
"Blair needed help in cleaning up; he was really a mess -- reeked of dead bodies and the unsanitary conditions he was found in. Simon and Jim were helping him take a bath and wash his hair. Blair started getting upset about Evan; he was remembering things about his time kidnaped and that's when we found out that Evan had been sold. Blair started hyperventilating, having an anxiety attack, no doubt, and Jim just . . . overwhelmed him." Nash leaned forward, as though his own intensity would verify the truth of what he was saying. "Bubba, I could visibly see him absorbing his partner's pain. As Blair relaxed and calmed down, Jim got weaker, lines on his face, the whole nine yards. Then he finally slumped over, holding his partner."
"Did Simon say what was happening?"
Nash shook his head. "We never really discussed it, but considering the magnitude of it all, Simon didn't seem too surprised."
"So it was the same basic thing that happened in the hospital?"
"Right, only then Jim almost killed himself helping Blair." Nash slowly swirled the hot coffee in his mug, studying it thoughtfully. "Trouble is, none of it makes any sense. You don't just 'overwhelm' people to wholeness, much as we'd like to. Hell, there've been tons of times where Cassidy's been hurt and I would have jumped at the chance to take away her pain. What parent wouldn't? So you absorb it and get a little weak-kneed for a while - Is that too high a price to pay? What husband wouldn't want to ease his wife's pain during childbirth? Or calm a frightened child in the middle of the night?" Nash shook his head. "But it doesn't work that way. We can offer our presence and nothing more. Whatever 'appeared' to be happening with Jim and Blair was nothing more than one friend being there for another, offering a shoulder."
"Do you really think that's all it was?"
Nash downed his coffee suddenly and let the mug fall back to the desk with a hard thump. "Do you have another explanation for it, Bubba?"
"It's got to be more than that," Harvey muttered. "The man is a Sentinel. Things don't happen that way normally, but when a sentinel is involved -- and a guide as strong as Blair . . ." His voice trailed off, but a moment later, he stood up, eyes wide, his mouth open in surprise.
"Harvey?" the SIU captain prompted when the detective remained frozen. "Earth to Harv?"
Harvey gave a little laugh and shook his head. "I think I've figured it out." He finished his tea, coughed at the hotness, and grabbed for his coat.
"Just like that?"
"Nash, when Simon calls, just tell him to hold the fort. I'm on my way to Cascade. I need to talk to him and get a lot more answers because if this is what I think it is, it just got a little more complicated, but it's do-able."
Bridges pulled his car keys from his pocket and grabbed hold of Harvey as he ran past, slowing him down. "Hang on a minute. I'll drive you to the airport. Joe!"
Dominguez appeared from around the corner. "Yeah?"
"Call the airport. Book the next flight out to Cascade for Harvey." Nash paused for just a moment, then smiled and continued, "Oh, what the hell. Book two tickets."
"To Cascade? When will you be returning?"
Harvey looked down at his watch, impatiently then shrugged. "Tomorrow night should do it."
"Sounds fine by me," Bridges said. "Do it, Joe. Call me on my cell phone and let me know when, which airline and which gate. Charge it to the SIU. It's payback for our Cascade colleagues help earlier with Evan. And, Joe, we're expecting a call from Simon Banks. Tell him we're on our way."
Harvey stopped at the outside door to SIU and called back. "He can just let them sleep, for now. It won't hurt them."
"Okay. Got it." Dominguez watched the two men hurry out the door and into Nash's car. "So, I'll be hearing the whole story -- like when?"
* * *
.
Simon put down the phone and stared at the receiver. Just let them sleep? No problem. They sleep, I have nervous breakdown.
"I'm going to kill them both," he announced, out loud, looking at Jim's restless body, shifting on the bed. "One down, one to go," he muttered, then marched to the bathroom door. He turned the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it opened immediately. "Sandburg-- Oh, shit, kid."
The young man was curled on the floor, doubled over, arms wrapped around his stomach, tears flowing down his face.
"Blair?" Simon asked, bending over him. "What's wrong?"
"Hurts."
"Where?"
"Everywhere. Want Jim." Blair's words were barely loud enough for Simon to hear.
"What's wrong?" he asked again.
"Hurts," came the whispered reply.
"I can see that." He was able to turn the guide over onto his back. Sandburg's main injuries were his foot, his ribs, and a concussion that he was still recovering from. Added to that were the sexual assault injuries from almost a week before, wounds that were just now healing. "Blair, I need you to tell me where the pain is centered. I need to know where it hurts the most."
"Want Jim." Sandburg's eyes were tightly closed, his hands in fists across his chest.
"Yes, I know. I'd like to check you out first, though. Then you can go back to sleep."
"Want Jim." His voice was little more than a whimper.
Banks sighed in frustration and reverted to his standard first aid training. If in doubt, do the ABC's. Airway: fine, he's talking. Therefore, his Breathing and Circulation were adequate. D was Deadly bleeding. The captain ran his hands lightly over the supine figure, but detected no blood. Next was a head-to-toe quick look. He could feel the bumps on Blair's head, but when he pressed them gently, Sandburg made no moaning sounds. Face, neck, shoulders were all fine. The breathing became panicked as he checked Sandburg's ribs and stomach, and as his hands went lower, the young man curled into a ball, choking back his cries. Resolutely, Simon kept on, checking his hips and legs, then removed Blair's sock to check the circulation in his toes, showing below the bandage.
"Where's your cast?" he asked, but as expected, received no answer.
No fever. Sweating, though.
"Want Jim."
He sat the guide up, coaxing him to open his eyes for a moment, long enough for him to check his pupils, then he scooped the young man in his arms and moved to the door of the bathroom. He almost dropped him when Ellison came out of the bedroom, took his guide from the captain, and returned to the bed. With exquisite gentleness, Ellison deposited him on the bed and stretched out beside him, wrapping his arms around him securely. Blair sighed and leaned into the embrace, both men escaping back to wherever they were before.
"Hello, there," Simon said, sarcastically to the ceiling of the silent loft. "Anyone notice I was here? I am here, aren't I? This isn't some weird Outer Limits type thing, is it? You couldn't have taken a moment to talk to me at all?" He growled, glancing at his watch. "Apparently not. Welcome to Sentinels-R-Insane Bed and Breakfast, everyone."
For all his loud complaining, there was no response from the bed at all
* * *
.
They made a quick stop by Nash's apartment, long enough for the SIU captain to make a few arrangements ensuring that Nash's daughter, Cassidy, was able to keep an eye on his father and Evan, both convalescing.
While Nash spoke with Cassidy and his father, Harvey crouched down beside the couch where Evan was dozing. "Hey. Wake up."
"Hmm? Oh, Harv." Evan glanced down at his watch, blinking to read the dial from sleep-fogged eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"We're going to take a short trip up to Cascade. We'll be back tomorrow."
"Something wrong?" Evan asked, waking completely. "Is Blair okay?" He struggled to sit up.
Harvey gently pushed him back down. "Take it easy. You need to go slow, okay? We're just going to go help their captain with a problem. We'll be back tomorrow night." His sharp eyes scanned over his partner, reading the level of pain and the emotional hurt still evident in Evan's body and spirit. This is what Blair would be facing, as well, and Ha
rvey knew it was important that he keep that in mind as he dealt with the sentinel and guide issues accompanying it.
Meanwhile, Evan was his partner and his responsibility. "Are you sure you'll be okay here?"
"I'm fine. Go. You'll be back tomorrow, right? Cassidy will be here, and she's quite capable of feeding me and making sure that I get off the couch and walk around. No problem, man. Go."
"Okay, but if you need to call me, you do so, Evan -- got that? I've got my cell phone."
"Sure, but I'll be fine. I don't need--"
"Can the macho lines, kid. This is me you're talking to, okay?" Harvey held Evan's eyes until the younger man looked down, suddenly robbed of his bluff.
"You'll be back tomorrow?" Evan asked again, his voice softer, still not meeting Harvey's eyes.
"Tomorrow night. And you know I'll be back sooner, if you need me."
"Thanks." Evan met his intense gaze again and smiled self-consciously. "Would it be too un-macho to ask for a hug?"
"Not at all," Harvey said with a smile of his own, opening his arms for his partner.
* * *
.
Two hours later they were on the plane, winging for Cascade. As soon as the pilot gave clearance, Harvey grabbed the air phone and punched in the loft's number.
"Banks."
"Hi. It's Harvey. We're in flight now. Our ETA is three hours."
"I was surprised when Joe said you were coming. Relieved, mind you, but surprised."
"I've got too many questions to do them over the phone. How are they?"
"Sleeping. They look the same as when I got here first thing this morning. Uh, any suggestions of what to do until you get here?"
"They'll probably stay that way. If they wake up, great. If not, just keep an eye on them. I'll check in when we arrive at the airport."
"I'll arrange for one of my men to pick you up and bring you here."
"Thanks. See you soon, then," Harvey said, then terminated the call. He sat back in his seat, stretching his legs, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the seat back in front of him.
And Dream that I am Home Again Page 10