"You look tired, Jim." Simon put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. "Listen, you need some time off, not just to take care of Sandburg, but to take care of yourself, too. Something's been bugging you lately, and I get the feeling it's more than just spending the last three days sleeping in a chair."
Jim rubbed his forehead, trying to push away the weariness that was creeping up. "I can't let him do this anymore, Captain." There, he'd said it. Simon would back him. The Captain had never wanted Blair around this much anyway, he'd help Jim convince the kid it was to his best interests to no longer go on the cases with Jim.
"Jim, I don't think this is something you should be considering right now."
Jim looked up, hearing his Captain's quiet tone of voice, and not the cheery agreement he had been expecting.
"Listen, you're exhausted. You need time to catch up on some sleep, and see Sandburg get better. You'll feel differently in a few weeks."
Jim was slightly stunned, and a little disappointed that his Captain wasn't backing him in this decision. It had been hard enough to come to the conclusion he had, he'd hoped for some support. "Captain, Blair's not a cop. He's got no business being out there where he can get hurt like this. I can let him come here, and help me, but out there..." Jim shook his head. "No, I can't handle this again. He could have died."
"Yes, he could have. But he didn't." Simon's voice was still reasoning and quiet. "Jim, he's been in worse. And some of it he's even found all by himself. And we've already found out he's no safer right here in this building then he is out there somewhere."
"I can't believe you're not backing me on this." Jim felt his anger rise, and had to suppress it. He had no business getting mad at his Captain.
"Jim, as much as I hate to admit it, Sandburg has been the best thing to happen to you since I've known you." Jim opened his mouth to protest and Simon held up a hand. "Now, I know I wasn't too keen on the idea at first, but the kid has proven himself helpful, and not just with those senses of yours. He's got a good head on his shoulders, most of the time, and he's a quick thinker. I'd like to think that's been your influence, but some of him has been rubbing off on you, too."
"Oh, really?" Jim let that drawl out, one eyebrow raised. God, he hated it when Simon did this, tried to make him see reason on a subject he felt his Captain should be on his side about.
"You're one hell of a lot calmer than you used to be. You don't go off on your little loner vendettas that scared the shit out of me. And, without your partner, you'd probably be a basket case with these oddball senses of yours."
Jim shook his head, but he was too tired to argue the point. He'd been fighting with the idea of cutting Blair out of the detective work for the past three days, and his brain was tiring of the subject. He'd come to Simon with it hoping for some agreement, something he could use to justify the thoughts to himself, but he'd been disappointed.
Simon finished his coffee and set his cup off to one side. "This Whatcom character has been mouthing off to the press, but apparently he's been able to keep his mouth shut about the kidnapping."
"Yeah, I saw him on the news last night. What was that about?"
"Seems he's been accused of getting a girl pregnant. And she's suing him for a few million."
Jim laughed, shaking his head. He'd pegged Raymond for a sleaze the day they met. "His father must be happy about that."
"Not hardly. I gather there's not much love lost between those two right now. Can't say as I blame him. Mr. Whatcom seems like a reasonable man, but to be saddled with a son like Raymond, that would try any man's patience."
"Yeah. Anything more on those two about an accomplice?"
"No, nothing. If there was one, surely they'd have ratted him out by now."
Jim shook his head. "I dunno, Simon. It's been bothering me lately, something Blair said about the two men who took him out having already been in the bathroom."
"Maybe it was just one of them, and the second man came in behind you?"
"I can't see one man taking out both Blair and Raymond."
"Well, maybe when they get into the plea bargaining, and these two realize they're going down for a long time, they'll get more talkative."
"Yeah, maybe." Jim stood, checking the clock. "I'd better go pick up Sandburg. Thanks for the coffee, Captain."
"Listen, you take care of yourself for a few days, you hear me?"
"He'll be fine, Simon." Jim purposely misunderstood his reference.
"I know he will, Jim. It's you who needs some rest. Things will look better in a few days, trust me."
Jim stopped by his own desk to gather up a few files he wanted to go over at home, then dumped them into a small box he found, and went back down to the truck. Mike Jenkins joined him in the elevator from the 5th floor.
"Hey, Ellison, how's the kid?"
"Coming home today," Jim replied, wondering if the feeling in his gut could be due to having skipped breakfast.
"Good. A couple of weeks sitting around on the couch, driving you nuts, and you'll be happy to drag him back to work, eh?"
Jim nodded. He wouldn't get any support from Mike. In fact, as he quickly ran through his list of co-workers that mattered, he realized they all thought the world of Blair, and the help he had been giving Jim all this time. None of them would agree that his partnership needed to change, to keep Blair safe. Maybe they were right. But dammit, Jim couldn't go through this again.
"Yeah, I'll be spending all my free time at the Station by next week, just to get some peace."
"Well hey, if you need us to gang up on him, give me and Clark a call, we can get another poker game going." Mike slapped Jim on the back as the elevator stopped on the 2nd floor, then stepped out, leaving Jim alone to descend to the garage.
No, Mike would definitely side with bringing Blair back to work. Jim deposited the box behind the driver's seat and started up the truck. By the time he got to the hospital, he was beginning to reconsider. He'd kept Blair alive through worse, after all. And Blair had on more than one occasion kept him alive.
When he entered the room, and saw Blair holding his side with jaw clenched and tears cresting the outside corners of each eye, he changed his mind again.
"Hey!" Jim rushed to the side of the bed and put a hand on Blair's shoulder as he was beginning to straighten back up. He'd managed to get the sweat pants on, probably with a nurse's help, but was only halfway done with the jacket. "Where's the nurse?" Jim scolded, taking the still dangling side of the shirt and easing it over Blair's waiting arm.
"She went to get a wheelchair."
He had to keep Blair from bringing his arm around too quickly. Pain was apparently not a good motivator to slow his normal activity level. "What did the doctor say?"
Blair glanced up at Jim before beginning to zip the sweatshirt jacket. "Fine, no problems. He gave me something that will put me to sleep. I'd just as soon be home when it takes over."
Jim laughed lightly, then turned as the nurse entered with the wheelchair. It was the tall one with the long blonde hair, who had been so nice to Jim during the day shift. He let her take the handles and accompany them down to the truck. He used her presence to keep him from the conversation he still wasn't ready to get into. When he helped Blair into the truck, he could tell the injection the doctor had given him for the drive home was kicking in. Jim secured Blair's seatbelt, then shut the door and walked around the front of the truck, waving at the nurse who had just turned to leave.
"You with me, Chief?" Jim noticed Blair's eyes beginning to dilate.
"Yeah. Just hurry home, or you'll be carrying me upstairs."
He laughed and started the truck. "You'd better get used to it, you'll be doing a whole lot of nothing for 2 weeks."
"You listened, didn't you?" Blair asked, looking at Jim.
"I need to know these things, Sandburg," Jim replied, glancing at him as he backed the truck out.
Blair shook his head slowly. "Privacy isn't a big issue with you anymore?"
* * *
Jim looked at him again before pulling out. Blair was smiling, but there was a look of curiosity about his face. "Privacy like you knowing my PIN numbers, my parent's birthdays, things like that?"
"No, that's different, Jim. I need to know everything that makes you. It's all a part of these Sentinel senses. All a part of the whole picture. I need to know it all if I'm going to understand how it all works."
Jim nodded. "Right. And that goes for you too." He glanced at Blair. "I need to know everything there is about you, if I'm going understand this Guide thing." Blair looked at him for a long time, not saying a word. When Jim glanced at him again, his face was a mix of puzzlement and exhaustion. "Let's get you home before you fall asleep."
By the time they reached the loft, Blair was barely able to stand with help. Jim could only support him by holding his shoulders, careful not to touch his chest or ribcage in any way. He got the door unlocked with one hand, pushed it open with a foot, and took Blair straight to his room.
"You hanging in there, Chief?" He helped Blair sit on the bed, then brought his friend's chin up gently so he could meet Blair's eyes.
"Yeah." His voice was a little slurred but he nodded. "These drugs, man. I'm getting tired of being so tired."
"I know. It'll pass soon enough. You should enjoy all this sleeping in while it lasts." Jim reached down and pulled off Blair's left shoe. "Come on, get some rest." He tossed the shoe to the other side of the room, barely missing the closet, then took off the other one. Blair managed to get the zipper of the jacket down, and Jim eased it off his shoulders, then supported him as he lay down. He was asleep the instant his head hit the pillows.
Jim brought Blair's legs onto the bed, then slid the sweat pants off and pulled the blankets up. One more quick exam told him his partner would be out for several hours. Jim picked up the shoes and put them inside the closet, then stacked the sweats on top of the dresser. He left Blair's door open and went to the living room, remembering then that the files were still in the truck. With both ears tuned into Blair's room, Jim hurried down to the truck and retrieved the box. Blair was still sound asleep, but he closed the front door quietly. After making a sandwich, he sat on the couch with the files and started to go over the first three kidnappings.
The MO of the first three was unfaltering. Same method of taking their victims in public places. Each victim held within a few miles of where they had been taken. Each victim beaten, and videotaped, with the ransom demands dubbed over the original tape. Two ransoms paid, with directions that were so convoluted, even Mills' own men had lost the trail. Each of the paid cases, the money wasn't marked, as is normal procedure. The kidnappers had claimed knowledge of such actions, and would kill the hostages if the money turned out to be marked in any way. Each time, tracking devices had been put in place inside the briefcase used to transport the money, and each time, the devices were dumped just before reaching their destination. And this time, with the demand for 2.5 million dollars or the death of Raymond Whatcom, the MO was the same right down to the timing of each beating. Surely the FBI had enough on them for a complete conviction?
Jim's jaw clenched again at the memory of Raymond, telling them he was Blair Sandburg, knowing full well what those men were about to do to Blair. They had found Blair's ID back at the Twisted Pearl, right where Raymond said they would. According to Eugene, Raymond's father, his son had a penchant for small, petty crime. Not uncommon among rich children, it was seen as a dare. Something to do, Raymond had said. He reached out and retrieved the copy of the tape containing the first three kidnappings that Agent Mills had left with him. He shoved it into the machine, then paused, listening for Blair's sleeping pattern of breathing. He'd be out till tomorrow, most likely. Still, Jim turned the volume almost completely off, and then let the tape play.
After three hours of watching, rewinding, and watching again, Jim felt his eyelids get too heavy to continue. His head was pounding from watching the same three beatings over and over, trying to find something, anything, that would explain this nagging feeling at the back of his mind. He failed. And still, a second tape remained on the table. A tape containing his partner being beaten in Raymond Whatcom's place. He'd reached for it several times, but each time stopped short of putting it into the machine. Back at the Station, he and Agent Mills had viewed it, but Jim couldn't get past the vision of Blair being hit over and over. He couldn't even make out the background, or the words that had been dubbed over the video. All he saw, was his partner, in pain. In Raymond's place.
Jim shut off the television and tossed the remote to the chair beside the couch, rubbing tired eyes. He used the bathroom, then checked in on Blair who was still sleeping soundly. Jim was about to settle in on the chair in the far corner of Blair's room when he heard the quiet knock on the front door.
He shut the door to Blair's room this time, and went to the front door. He could tell it was Simon before he even reached the door. The lingering smell of a newly extinguished cigar permeated the air.
"Hey, Captain, come in." Jim held the door while Simon entered, shrugging out of his coat as he stepped into the living room. "Is something up?"
"Thanks," Simon said as Jim took his coat. "Just had an interesting conversation with Raymond's father." He crossed the room and sat, glancing at Blair's room. "Is he...?"
"Asleep," Jim replied. "What did you find out?" He joined his Captain on the couch.
Simon sighed deeply, shaking his head. "He's not too fond of his son right now, I can tell you that. Seems not only has he been in some trouble before, but right now there's that small matter of his possibly having gotten a young society girl pregnant."
"Nice guy."
"Not only that, but it's not the first time this subject has come up, according to his father." Simon glanced around the room. "Hey, how about a beer, huh? I'm officially off duty now, and so are you."
Jim smiled. "Sure." He went to the kitchen and retrieved two beers, popping the caps off and tossing them into the trash before returning to the couch. "Here you go."
"Thanks. Been one hell of a day." Simon took a long pull on the beer, then sat farther back on the couch. "Back in Montana, last year, Raymond was accused of raping a girl. Date rape from what Mr. Whatcom says."
"Did it go to court?"
"No. Settled for an undisclosed amount. From what I gathered, it was a pretty large sum. That was the summer before Raymond transferred out here to Rainier University."
"There's still something about this case that doesn't add up, Simon."
"What's that?"
"The two men." Jim set his beer on the coffee table and leaned forward. "Edwards and Patterson, they're none too bright. Mills said that the kidnappers knew about money being marked, and knew ways of detecting it."
"That was probably just common sense. Maybe the only sense these two can be accused of having."
"I can't help but think those convoluted directions for the money to be delivered were done that way on purpose. Not because the men giving them didn't know what they were doing, but because they did." Simon looked puzzled, so Jim continued. "Blair was unconscious in the mens room when I came in, and so was Raymond. It would take at least two men, surprising them both, to get them down that quickly. And I was hit from behind. This was a crowded club, and still no one sees or hears anything? Then there's the small matter of getting three of us out of the club." Jim shook his head. "And why, when it was Raymond they wanted, did they bother taking me and Blair?"
"They must have thought Blair was Raymond at that point. When they checked ID's."
"Right. But then why take two more?"
Simon nodded slowly. "Unless they thought one or both of you could identify them."
Jim shook his head. There were a lot of unanswered questions. "So, they were prepared to kill a cop as well as one other innocent man."
"Must have figured 2.5 million for three lives was a bargain."
"There still has to be
a third man, here, Simon. That door swung inward. And I was taken out the instant I opened it. There's no way someone hiding inside could have done that." Jim's headache had returned with a vengeance. "This case isn't closed, Captain."
"It's still the FBI's case, Jim. And frankly, I'm too tired to think about it anymore tonight." Simon stood and retrieved his coat. "I'll talk to Mills tomorrow, see what they've come up with. I'll keep you informed."
There was no easy way around this one, and Jim knew it. He shut the door behind his Captain, then turned and looked back at Blair's room. His partner was still sound asleep.
It was only 6:30, too early to go to bed himself. He thought about making dinner, but he wasn't hungry. There was a hockey game on, but Jim felt no compulsion to turn on the television. He was left with his thoughts, and those kept dragging him back to the same topic. A topic he still had trouble figuring out what to do with. He couldn't keep putting Blair into these situations, getting him kidnapped, beaten, even shot once. What the hell was he thinking? Letting some anthropologist come along on dangerous police assignments just because of these senses of his? Was he ever going to learn to control them, use them? What good were they if he couldn't control them?
"You can control them. That's what I'm here for."
Jim spun around, and saw no one. Blair's door was still closed, and a quick focus into the room was answered by the quiet pattern of a sleeper. Jim's heart skipped a beat and he glanced around the loft again. What the hell? He'd heard Blair's voice plain as day. Jim shook his head, then picked up his half finished beer and took another drink. It had been a long week, he was tired, that's all. Tired of seeing Blair in that hospital bed. Maybe it was time he ended the entire partnership, let Blair stay there if he needed a place to live, but no more police work.
Even as the thoughts formed themselves, Jim knew the answer. He could no more make Blair stay away from the Station than he could fly. No, this was stupid. It wouldn't work. Blair could go back to being an anthropologist, maybe even publish that paper, then go on to get his doctorate, and no longer need Jim. Then he could go back to being a cop, working alone, trying to handle these senses and the job. He'd have to eventually, anyway.
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