Blair swallowed, closing his eyes against the black spots exploding there. Jim's voice was steady, never faltering...so calm. The even, constant massaging of his hand was mesmerizing. Blair focused on that. Focused on Jim's touch, his voice. He always took care of things. Even the elevator...Jim wasn't in there with him, but he had saved them anyway. Jim's presence had given Blair the courage he had needed in order to think clearly, and get that bomb out. Jim had saved him from David Lash when Blair knew it was over. And Lee Brackett. And countless other times. He'd do it again. Jim was here. He'd think of something. It was Blair's job to help him. He was feeling floaty now, completely enthralled by the touch on his hand...the voice he was barely listening to.
"...some kind of connection," Jim was saying. "Like how I know you're in the building when you're not even on my floor yet. Or how I found you on that seaplane, when you ran back to Puffin Island."
Jim paused, and Blair tried to think about what he was saying, but he felt like he had missed too much to recognize the topic of discussion. Jim was keeping his voice low, but whether it was to keep him calm, or keep Raymond from understanding what he was talking about, Blair didn't know. His breathing had found a quiet rhythm that seemed to take most of the agony out of inhaling. But he knew, if he tried to speak, or move, he'd lose what little comfort he had gained.
Jim seemed to understand that and continued, still rubbing the back of Blair's hand. "I'm not saying I believe in a sixth sense or anything here, Chief. But this might be worth checking out sometime." He paused again, then his hand moved back up Blair's sleeve, gripping his forearm. "Blair, do you have your knife with you?"
At first, he didn't realize there had been a question. Blair only knew the hypnotic stroking of his hand was gone. "Um...yeah." He always did. He licked dry lips and tried to gain just enough air to finish a sentence. "My pocket." There. That came out, didn't it?
"Okay, can you get it for me, Chief? Nice and easy, don't rush."
Blair nodded, then slowly pulled his arm away from his side, and slid his hand into his pants pocket. Equally slowly, he removed the knife, then transferred it to his other hand. Then, after pausing long enough to wince at the pain that ensued from the movement, he passed the small knife over to Jim
"What are you doing?" Raymond demanded.
"Got it." Jim's fingers curled around the knife. "Just lie still, partner." His hand touched Blair's again, and paused before pulling the knife through the bars and into his own cage.
Blair swallowed, then turned his head to see what Jim was doing.
"I can't reach the lock, it's in the middle of a metal plate." Jim was at the door to his cage, peering around the solid portion that held the lock. "But, if I can get these hinges off, we might be able to pry the thing open."
Blair watched as Jim moved to the bottom hinge, and began to work the blade under the hinge pin. Raymond was hovering somewhere several feet away, keeping his distance from Jim, but still insisting he be kept informed. The angle his partner was working at made it too difficult for Blair to watch, so he gazed instead at the ceiling. The touch was gone, and he no longer had a focus. "Jim, keep talking." His partner's voice had brought him through a drug-induced delirium, it could get him through this, as well.
"We'll get out of here, Chief. And when we do, I'll have Raymond here arrested for theft."
"What? I told you, it was a game. His wallet's somewhere back at the club." Raymond's voice took on a higher pitched whine as he backed farther away from Jim. "Besides, I'm the one who was just kidnapped here!"
Blair new immediately if Raymond didn't, that that was the wrong thing to say. Jim stopped what he was doing and stood, taking several steps in Raymond's direction. Blair turned his head to watch, fearful of what his partner was about to do.
"You listen, and you listen good. If you hadn't run off to begin with, none of us would be here!" Blair caught a glimpse of Jim's eyes, the blue flashed like lightning. "Now, we've got two men who have killed each and every victim, whether the ransom was paid or not. And, they've got a cop and an extra hostage this time. I can only assume they intend to kill all three of us, but why they haven't yet is beyond me. Now, you get over there, stay out of my way, and shut up! And maybe, just maybe, I'll get you out of here as well."
Watching Jim Ellison on a rampage was oddly comforting, even though Blair knew Jim would never put Raymond in jeopardy, or leave him here. Raymond didn't know that, and he had the satisfaction of watching the young physics student's face go white as he backed up into the far corner of the cage.
Jim returned to the hinge, and a moment later, Blair heard one pin hit the floor with a metal twang.
He moved up to the middle one. "What will your father's reaction be, when he gets the tape?"
Blair closed his eyes, waiting for Raymond to reply. He seemed to take his time, then finally cleared his throat.
"He won't pay." Raymond cleared his throat again. "He and I aren't exactly close, and he just settled a lawsuit for me recently. He'll never pay."
One more hinge hit the cement, and Jim moved to the top one. Blair looked up then, finding it easier to see Jim as he stood, reaching up for the final hinge. God, Naomi! What would his mother think now, about how safe her son was hanging around with this Detective? This was one exploit, among many, that he wouldn't relay to her any time soon. Jim had just gotten the pin halfway up when he stopped and turned towards the doors at the opposite end of the warehouse.
"Someone's coming." He flipped the knife closed and shoved it into his shirt pocket, glancing back at Blair, then Raymond. "Stay back."
Blair's heart began to pick up speed. Oh God, they were coming back already! Hadn't it only been a few minutes? Oh God, they were going to beat him again! The pain was too much already, he'd never make it!
"Easy, Blair, hang on." Jim's voice was a whisper, directed at him from the other cell. "Just stay put."
Did he have a choice? "Jim...?"
The two men approached, dressed the same as before, all in black with the ski masks on. One held the video camera, one the gun. Jim's gun. They had to pass by Jim's cage in order to reach Blair's, and he realized then what Jim was planning. His partner stood in the center of his cage, directly behind the door, poised and ready, like a cat steeling itself to deliver the killing ambush. Blair readied himself as best he could. Jim was waiting for the exact moment, and the two of them were getting closer.
The same instant they were each level with the door to Jim's cage, the cat sprang. Blair watched as Jim launched himself at the door, both feet rising to slam into the metal bars with enough force to knock them off their hinges. Only it wasn't enough. The door held.
"Shit!" The man with the gun leapt backwards, raising the weapon and aiming quickly as Jim's feet slammed into the door. The second man dropped the camera and jumped three feet into the air. As soon as they realized the door hadn't fallen, they quickly regained their composure and instruments.
"Nice try, cop." The smaller man's voice was shaking, as were his hands, as he retrieved the camera from the ground.
Oh God! Blair's heart began to race again as they unlocked the door to his cage. God, it hadn't worked! They were coming back in!
Part 5
* * *
"If you touch him again, I swear to God I'll kill you with my bare hands." Jim's voice was level, and ice-cold.
The larger man with the gun actually flinched and drew back as he sidled past the door to Jim's cage.
Blair tried to back away, to move away from the hands that were reaching down for him, but the pain was too much. He cried out against the stabbing lightning that tore through his right side when the larger man lifted him from the ground, slamming him into the cage bars. There was no time to think, no time to cry out or protest, before the metal-clad fist struck him again in the already injured side. He wanted to scream, but he had no air. Another blow to his side, and the cracking sound was both heard and felt. One more, and Blair was falling, blackness swooping
over him from all sides. There was an incredible clatter, like metallic thunder, just as he hit the gunny sacks piled on the floor. Someone shouted, and Blair expected another blow, but none came. He heard scuffling, and more shouts, but they were growing distant as the blackness encroached. Blair wanted to succumb, to let the numbness of unconsciousness take him, but something was nagging his mind, keeping him from slipping away. Something that compelled him to try harder to fight the blackness. He didn't want to fight it, there was pain out there, but something wouldn't let him slip into it. The sounds were still there, and someone was screaming. Jim?
Suddenly a gun went off, and Blair's consciousness was slapped, bringing his head up slightly as he blinked, trying to focus. Jim was there, in front of him, and there was a body lying motionless on the ground three feet away. Jim had his back to Blair, and he was struggling with someone. Something flashed past his head, and Blair saw the gun fly across the room to slam into the cage bars. He saw Jim raise an arm, then send his fist slamming down into the face of the man he held. The fist fell again, and again, smashing into the larger man. Blair heard a muffled cry of pain, and realized that Jim wasn't going to stop. Raymond was still cowering inside the cage, holding on to the bars as if they would save him from Jim as well as the two now subdued kidnappers.
"Jim!" Blair couldn't move, could hardly breathe! God, Jim was going to kill the guy! "Jim..." His voice was losing volume instead of gaining it. He tried to reach out, to touch Jim's arm before the fist came down again, but he couldn't move. Oh God, Jim, stop! He had them, it was over, why didn't he stop? He's going to kill him! Blair steeled himself, took as much air as he could, and concentrated the last of his strength into one final plea. "Please, Jim, stop!"
The eyes that turned to him were ablaze in blue fire. Cold, but alive with a heat that cut more deeply than any knife. The instant after those eyes focused on Blair's, they changed, softened. The fire was gone, but the intensity remained. He turned back to the limp body he was holding up by the collar, and shoved the man aside, checking quickly on the other unconscious form before moving to kneel beside Blair.
"Easy, partner, easy. It's over. Lie back." Jim's hands pushed relentlessly on Blair's shoulders until he surrendered and let himself fall back onto the sacks. Pain was stabbing into and through him from all sides. "Find a phone!" He knew his ribs were broken, he'd heard as well as felt them, and the thought of the broken bones under badly bruised flesh made his head swim with dizziness. There was movement beside him, and when he focused again, Jim had his cell phone and was dialing.
"Just hang on, Blair."
He nodded, swallowing against the nausea that was welling up from his gut. Turning his head to the side, Blair caught a glimpse of the cage door, the one Jim hadn't been able to knock down. It was on the floor, half covering the smaller man's unconscious body. The darkness was encroaching again, and Blair felt himself start to drift. There was a hand on his shoulder, and Jim's voice cut through the fog.
"Over here!"
More voices joined in, but Blair could no longer open his eyes. There was a buzzing in his ears, and the voices were getting farther away. All but one.
"Hang on, partner. It's over now, Blair."
Hands were touching him now, several hands. Someone pried his arms away from his side, and he was too weak to fight them. Hands touched his arms, his chest, his stomach. One pressed into his side, lightly, but it was enough to make him cry out against the pain that ensued. More hands touched his head, pushing through his hair. His head was lifted slightly, and he felt something under him, something softer than the gunny sacks. Jim's legs? The hands on his head began to stroke his temples in the same slow, rhythmic pattern Jim had used on his thumb. He tried to take a deep breath...big mistake!
"Jim...I can't...breathe!" His jaw was so tightly clenched, he wasn't sure if the words even got out.
"Easy, easy, it's okay. You can breathe, partner. Just try and stay calm."
Blair nodded. At least he thought he had, but there was no movement against the hands stroking his temples. Vaguely, he felt himself being lifted up, then set back down on something softer. The legs that had been under his head were now replaced by something soft, but the hands remained, never changing their rhythmic stroking. Blair focused on that touch, blocking out all the other sounds and sensations around him. The pricking of needles, the touch of other hands, the motion of being placed into the ambulance, were all numb sensations, barely registering on his consciousness. All that mattered, all Blair was aware of, was the stroking of his head, the hands maintaining a rhythm that eased him into an almost hypnotic state. The hands were taking the pain away, and the fear. The voice continued to talk to him, calming his nerves, easing the fear that each breath was going to be the last one he could pull in.
Something told him he wasn't in the same place as before, but he didn't care anymore. He was beginning to feel soft, and floaty, and the pain was going away. The hands made the pain go away, and now he could sleep. He could sleep, and it would all be a dream. Jim had fixed it again.
Hands were everywhere, touching, pushing, prodding... and hitting! He remembered then. Remembered the pain. The horrible, relentless pain that stabbed him in the side, piercing through his lungs, making the simple act of breathing unbearable.
"He's coming around."
Who was that? Where was he? Where was Jim? There was a tightness around his chest like he'd never felt before, squeezing so firmly he could barely breathe. Oh God, he couldn't breathe! He struggled to open his eyes, and a moan escaped his lips.
"Mr. Sandburg. Mr. Sandburg, can you hear me?"
Who was that? Blair turned his head away from the voice he didn't recognize, and the touch on his forehead returned. The touch he knew. Heavy lids rose.
"Blair, can you hear me?"
Jim was there, in blurred form, but right there beside him. Blair tried to respond, but his mouth and lips were too dry, and he had no strength.
"Just take it easy, partner. You're in the hospital. The doctor needs to talk to you, Blair."
Jim started to move aside, and Blair's heartrate increased. No, stay! He tried to struggle, but his body refused to respond. Jim's hand left his head, but immediately Blair felt the touch on his hand, felt Jim's larger, stronger hand cover his own.
"I'm right here."
Blair sighed lightly, then turned his head enough to see the other person he could sense standing there. He swallowed, and his vision focused on an older gentleman with grey hair and a white lab coat.
"Mr. Sandburg, you need to lie still. Can you understand me?"
Blair nodded slowly. That motion alone cost him nearly all the reserve energy he had.
"Fine. Now, that tightness in your chest is the bandaging. You've sustained three fractured ribs, as well as a bruised lung."
Blair swallowed again, trying desperately not to think of the shattered bones as he eased more air into his lungs.
"You're young, and should heal well, but you'll need some time to recover, and plenty of rest. There's been no permanent damage. We've got you on continuous morphine for the time being, so you'll be in and out for a while." The doctor looked away for a moment, then produced a chart and pen and began to take notes. Blair closed his eyes, feeling a soft floatiness surge over him again. Jim's fingers began to stroke the back of his hand, and Blair wondered idly if it was intended as a calming physical mantra for him, or Jim. When he opened his eyes again, the doctor was gone. What the hell? Blair turned towards Jim, and found his partner still beside the bed, one hand on Blair's arm, rubbing slowly as he snored gently from the chair. By the look of Jim's chin, and the beginnings of growth there, Blair realized it had been at least 12 hours since he last took notice of his partner's appearance.
The bandages around his chest forced Blair into a shallow rhythm of breathing, and he realized the multitude of IV's hanging down from behind him, and hooked up to his right arm, must be keeping the worst of the pain at bay. An errant strand of hair
fell across his face, and he told his right hand to move the offending curls, but it refused. He was about to chastise his hand for ignoring a direct order when the hair was removed and a hand smoothed over his forehead.
Blair sighed quietly and closed his eyes for just a moment, before turning to face Jim. "Jim?"
"Right here, partner."
Blair's eyes met Jim's. He looked and sounded exhausted. How long had they been there? His hand came up again to stroke Blair's head, and he noticed the bandaging over one set of knuckles. He remembered then. The larger man. Jim was beating him. Hitting him over and over again, even after he had succumbed. He remembered those eyes, the ones that flashed at him when removed from their task. The eyes that changed immediately upon seeing Blair. Oh my God...
"Jim, did...you..." The pain, coupled with the tightly-wrapped bandages forced Blair to take each word separately. "Tell...me...you...didn't..."
"What, Blair?" Jim leaned in closer, still stroking Blair's head. "There's nothing to worry about, partner. They're in jail, they can't hurt you again. Come on, get some rest."
Thank God, he hadn't killed them after all. Blair nodded, relieved. That anger, that incredible ice-blue anger released, even though it only flashed on Blair for one instant, had terrified him. But he hadn't. Jim hadn't killed them. He'd confessed once to nearly throwing Galileo off the building when the elevator bomb went off. But he hadn't done that either. Jim wouldn't do that. He was better than the emotions. He had control. But what if he had? What if he had thrown Galileo off the building because he thought Blair was dead? Or beaten that man to death? No. He wouldn't. Jim wouldn't do that. But...he was! He had been beating him to death, right there. Those eyes had shown no signs of stopping until they saw Blair.
Blair's heartrate increased as he realized what Jim had been doing. He felt dizzy, but he was still lying down, eyes closed. In fact, he couldn't seem to open them. Everything was slowing down, and he felt the bed falling away again as he drifted into unconsciousness, Jim's fingers once again stroking the back of his hand.
Mistake Page 5