by Carol Roi
It wasn't that she didn't like her, she did. She'd found the inspector to be a lot like herself, a strong, caring woman, and a fighter. She'd even gotten her to join herself and Blair in their morning workouts, which had gone a long way towards opening Megan up. They'd had Australia in common, and fencing, and had even gone a few rounds with foils. Megan was a pretty good swordswoman, and Dee was looking forward to sparring with her again. But as far as Megan as a companion went, Dee wasn't sure.
Most of her doubts had nothing to do with Megan, and everything to do with her own fear of losing another companion. To bind herself that closely to another person again, and to watch them die... she couldn't do it, it was too painful. What was it Blair had told her about Ellison, that his life was built on fear based responses? That statement pretty much described her reactions to the idea of a new companion... she was afraid of being hurt again, and with good reason. Insanity was not something she wanted to try a second time.
The sound of the door to the loft opening broke her concentration, and someone swung a sledgehammer inside her head. She couldn't stop the moan from escaping.
Footsteps crossed the room, but she didn't have enough strength to lift her arm from over her eyes to see who it was. "Pallas?" Well, that was the last person she'd expected. "Diandra?" All she could manage was a strangled whimper. "Damn it! Sandburg! Get in here!"
Two more sets of footsteps entered the room. "Dee?" That was Lobo, his heartbeat racing. She felt him move to her side. "Dee, damn it! Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"
"This bad? You mean she's had this kind of headache before?" There was no reply from Blair, but Dee guessed he must have nodded. "Sandburg! You're the guide! You're not supposed to let this happen!"
"I'm sorry, Jim. She told me she was fine... " Dee wanted to smack Ellison, all he was doing was making it worse, but even the smallest movement on her part threatened to split her head in two.
"Can you two quit arguing and help her?" Megan's voice was anxious. She felt the woman's hand close around her own, and she tried not to break her fingers as another wave of pain washed over her. "Oh, ow, bloody hell!" Megan cursed, snatching her hand back.
"Sorry," Dee whispered. She felt Blair's hands under her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position on the couch. She started to slide forward, and was stopped by Ellison, her forehead leaning against his shoulder. The movement had set off an orchestra of jackhammers, and she could hold the tears back no longer. Everything was a big, throbbing red haze, and she couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't speak. She could feel though, and warm hands were rubbing her shoulders with the lightest of touches, strong fingers leeching away the tension, easing the pain.
Time passed. Hearing was the next sense to return, and she could make out Blair's low, calm voice steadying her, guiding her easily through turning down the dials. There had been some reason she'd been resisting his help, but she couldn't remember what it was now. Gradually she became aware of Ellison's solid warmth beneath her cheek, and Megan's hovering presence. "Dee?"
"Hmm?"
"How are you doing, angel? That any better?" Blair was asking her a question.
"Tired... " she mumbled, and leaned a little closer to Jim. He made a pretty good pillow, she thought, yawning.
"Okay, we're going to try and get you upstairs." Dee yawned again. She'd have to stay awake for that; watching the three of them maneuver her nearly 6', 150 pound frame up a spiral staircase was going to be interesting.
Despite her desire, her eyes slid closed as Ellison managed to get her across his shoulder in a fireman's carry. At Blair's sideways look, he said, "You have any better ideas?" Taking his silence as a no, Jim carried her across the studio and up the stairs, Megan and Blair following behind with all sorts of helpful advice, which he blithely ignored. Unloading his ungainly package on the bed, he stepped back, letting the other two take over.
"Hey, Jim, you remember where that white noise generator is in the loft? Think you can get it, man? Keeping everything down as much as we can is going to be a big help," Blair said, reaching for the buttons on Dee's blouse.
"Yeah, sure, Chief," he answered, already heading back down the stairs. When he returned, he found Megan and Blair had managed to get Dee undressed and into bed. She appeared dead to the world, but looks could be deceiving. Jim knew that even asleep, a sentinel was always subliminally aware of their surroundings.
He handed Blair the white noise generator, along with an eyeshade he sometimes used when the light in the loft kept him from sleeping. "Thanks, Jim," Blair said, setting the generator on the nightstand and turning it on. He slid the shade over her eyes, and watched her for a moment, his hand over hers. "I think it's best if we let her sleep for as long as she can. She's been running on empty for a couple days now." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
"We need to talk, Chief," Jim said, his tone worried.
Blair nodded. "Someone needs to stay with Dee. If she wakes up and can't see or hear, she'll panic."
"I'll stay," Megan volunteered, taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. Jim and Blair headed downstairs, while Megan tried to get comfortable without waking Dee.
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She felt smothered. It wasn't as though she couldn't breathe; she could feel the air inflating her lungs each time she drew a breath. She felt a distance, a disconnection from her surroundings. Everything was foggy and hazy where it had once been crystal clear. As she struggled against the darkness, the nothingness, she felt a touch, a hand on her shoulder, stoking her, soothing her.
The person leaned in close; she could feel their breath puffing softly against her ear. "It's okay, Dee. Just relax. Let me go get Sandy." The reassuring pressure on her arm vanished, and she was lost in the mist, abandoned once again. Something within her, something deep and dark and primal, howled.
The surface she was lying on shifted, and she scrambled in the opposite direction, her arms and legs tangling in some kind of cloth. Once again, she felt a touch on her arm, this time one that was intimately familiar. "Lobo?" she whispered.
"Right here, Dee. It's okay, just relax. You had a sensory overload, and we're doing the best we can to bring everything back under control. Now that you're awake, you can help us. I need you to find the dials, and turn them all down, as far as they can go," Blair said.
After a few moments concentration, she nodded. "Okay, now very slowly turn them back up to normal, which would be about a three." When she nodded again, Blair took off the blindfold. Dee blinked a couple times, then her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom. "I'm going to turn off the white noise generator now, so be prepared to turn your hearing down if you have to."
When he flipped the switch on the small box on the nightstand, it was as though he had turned back on something inside her. The fuzziness, the disconnected feeling disappeared. Finally feeling confident enough to move, she ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Wow. That thing's scary."
Blair scooted closer to her and turned on the bedside lamp. "Yeah, it can be if you don't know what it is." He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "How are you feeling? Still have a headache?"
"It's gone," she replied. "I'm sorry about this, Lobo. I thought I could handle this without freaking." Slamming her hand down on the mattress, she swore. "Damn it, I could have gotten you killed, I could have gotten Megan killed!"
Sliding his arms around her, Blair pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. That didn't happen. You did the best you could; nobody blames you."
Resting her chin on his shoulder, she sighed. "I never thought about this happening at all. It never occurred to me that I've never really worked without a full-time companion. I mean, Lydia was always there; I guess I kind of took what she did for granted."
Pulling back so he could look her in the eye, Blair said, "Well, at least you've proven one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: Jim's stuck with me whether he likes it or not."
"Oh, yeah."
Leaning back against the headboard, she said, "Sorry I ruined your plan, Blair. Guess you should talk to Captain Banks about that safehouse."
"Already did. It should be ready tomorrow night, then all four of us are going to check in."
She raised an eyebrow. "All four of us?"
"Extra protection. And we can work on your senses in a controlled environment, using Jim as a control subject." He grinned at the idea of getting his sentinel to undergo more testing.
Knowing how much Ellison hated being poked and prodded by the anthropologist, she said, "He know about this?"
"He does now!" came floating up from the living area. Blair and Dee stared at each other for a moment, then burst into helpless peals of laughter.
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Dee drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel of the Cherokee. This safehouse thing was a good idea, she tried to convince herself. Yep, one big, heavily guarded, no way in or out fortress. Why then, did she feel like she was heading for prison? She glanced at her passenger.
Blair was seemingly oblivious to her worries. He was poking his finger in and out of a hole in the dashboard. She sighed. "Please don't do that."
"Hmm, oh? Yeah, sorry. I still can't believe how many bullet holes there are in this thing, and it still runs. A lot tougher than the trucks Jim's had. One or two little crashes, and they were done for." He gazed out the windshield at the long line of taillights ahead of them. "Must be an accident or something. We're gonna be late."
"Well, they're not going to go anywhere without us." She eased up on the brake a little, and with a slight hesitation, the Jeep moved forward. That was funny. It never did that before. That's what she got for letting the police garage check it out before releasing it to her. Should have taken it to a real mechanic, or better yet, had Duncan take a look at it. All they needed was for the car to stall out in this traffic.
Fortunately, it stayed running long enough for her to turn into the parking lot behind the loft thirty minutes later. "Jim's truck's here, so I guess they must be upstairs," Blair said, grabbing his backpack from the floor. "It safe to go up?"
She focused her hearing on the surrounding area, and found the lot deserted. "Yeah, it's okay." Something nagged at her though, and she checked once again, as Blair got out of the car. Dee was turning off the ignition, when she realized what it was. "RUN!" she screamed, reaching for the door handle as the Cherokee exploded in a ball of flame.
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Jim Ellison hung the phone up. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath.
Megan looked up from her seat on the couch. "What is it?"
"Sandburg's cell phone is screwed up again. He just shoves it in his backpack, and then it gets turned on, and the battery runs down, or turned off, so he doesn't get his calls."
"I'm sure they're just hung up in traffic, Jim." She waved a hand at the TV. "They said there was a big accident out by the university."
"Knowing the two of them, they were in it." He reached for the phone again, intent on calling the station.
The sound of an explosion outside reverberated through the loft. Dropping the phone, Jim clutched at his ears, the pain of the sudden noise almost driving him to his knees. Megan reacted instinctively, moving instantly to his side, her hand on his shoulder, her low voiced instructions helping him regain control. Recovering quickly, he dashed out onto the balcony and stared down at the parking lot, the sight of the flaming remains of a Jeep Cherokee sending him into a panic. "Blair!" he screamed, then he turned to race downstairs, and knocked Megan on her back. Stepping over her, he headed for the door.
"Jim!" she yelled after him. "Ellison, damn it, it could be a trap!" She had to be the voice of reason, even though she was screaming inside at the thought of Dee perishing as she hesitated.
Flinging open the door, Ellison shot back over his shoulder, "Stay here, it's you they're after!"
Swearing, Megan picked herself up and headed for the phone to call it in.
By the time Jim reached the parking lot, a crowd was starting to gather. Pushing past the small group of curiosity seekers, he tried to approach the still burning wreckage, but the heat from the fire kept him back. In vain, he tried to peer through the smoke and the flames to see if there was anyone trapped inside the vehicle. He couldn't make anything out, and in his emotional state, he couldn't concentrate enough to bring his senses fully online. Intellectually he knew there was no way anyone could have survived. He reminded himself that Dee was immortal, and that if she was still in there, he would have to find a way to help her once her body was taken to the morgue. But Sandburg... god, Blair! He choked back a sob.
Feeling a comforting hand on his shoulder, Ellison turned to find his superior standing behind him. "We were on the way here to pick you up when we got the call," Simon Banks said. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Jim answered him. "There was an explosion. It's Dee's Jeep... " He couldn't go on.
"Sandburg was with her?" Simon asked, his heart breaking for his friend.
Jim could only close his eyes and nod. "They were late getting back from the university... "
"Where's Connor?"
"She's... she's upstairs, in the loft."
"Look, Jim, there's nothing you can do here right now, not until we get the fire department to put this thing out, and we can start an investigation. Go look after Connor. We can't take the chance Cristo won't go after her while we're preoccupied with this mess." He gave Jim's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Jim. Even though he got on my nerves, Sandburg was a good kid."
Jim nodded, then swallowed past the lump in his throat, and headed back inside the apartment building. Megan met him at the door to the loft, her face tear streaked. "They're gone, aren't they?"
It was an effort to get the words out. "It looks that way, yes." He blinked back tears. He was not going to cry now, damn it. There was too much to be done. Unfortunately, he had no idea of where to begin. Megan's muffled sobs broke through his wall of grief. Tentatively he put his arms around her, letting her lean her head on his shoulder. This was where he would start, then, with taking care of the guide.
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Blair hadn't hesitated at Dee's scream to run, but he'd only gotten three more steps away from the Cherokee when it exploded, the force of the blast hurling him another ten feet, debris raining down on him. He struck the pavement hard, instinctively curling into a ball to protect himself. When no further explosions seemed imminent, he got slowly to his feet, trying to piece together what had happened. Car bomb, his stunned brain managed to dredge up from somewhere. Oh, god, Dee! She'd still been in the truck!
Forcing his shaking legs to move, he circled the burning vehicle. The driver's side door hung open, flames engulfing the interior. If Dee was in there... .Something made him turn around, a small sound, a gasp or a cry. Dee was lying on the ground, nearly hidden under the back bumper of Jim's truck. "Oh, shit, Dee," he whispered, racing to her side. Carefully he turned her face toward him, and nearly threw up. Covered in blood, badly burned, her body pierced in several places by shrapnel from the bomb, Blair was amazed she was still alive, let alone conscious. "Dee, god, you should be dead... "
Her bloody hand grasped his wrist tightly. "Can't... not yet... need to get... somewhere safe... need time... to heal... " Her voice was agonized.
Blair glanced up at the loft. Jim would be there any second; he had to have heard the explosion. "Along with everyone else in a ten block area, Sandburg," he chastised himself. Dee needed time, so he would give her time. "Sorry, Jim," he said softly, then throwing her arm across his shoulder, he hauled her to her feet, and half carried, half dragged her down the darkened alleyway, not stopping until
they were several blocks from the scene.
He found some shelter for them in the recessed doorway of an abandoned building. Easing her to the ground, he took a look around. The area was deserted, and he was pretty sure they hadn't been followed. Her moan of pain turned his attention back to her. "Dee?" he asked "Is there anything I can do?"
"No," she rasped, "just hurts... " She tried to get a grip on a jagged piece of metal protruding from her side, but she didn't have enough strength or leverage to remove it. Sagging back against the brick wall, she took several whistling breaths, then said, "Lobo... could you... "
Blair swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He had to be strong for her. Wrapping his hand around the steel shard, he pulled hard, feeling it shift slightly, then come free, a gush of warm blood coating his fingers. Dee's eyes widened, and her chest rose and fell once more, then she was still.