Adrift

by Kristine Williams

  Blair made a face and looked back at the orange glob that seemed to be staring back at them. "It's amazing, isn't it? Almost everything deadly, poisonous, or in the least bit dangerous to be around, is beautiful to look at."

  "What happened, Chief? You ask Sam out again?" Jim laughed, dismantling the pole.

  "No, her window closed again right after I forgot our last date. Which, if I have any sense, will be our last date."

  "If you have any sense?" Jim glanced at the jellyfish that was slowly pulsating its way away from the boat, trailing several yards of stingers behind it. "This from the man who showed his girlfriend his journals, forgets 48 hour windows that I still don't understand, and who asks women out almost compulsively."

  Blair rolled his eyes and held both hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay, I get it." He returned to his seat on the transom and finished his beer in one swallow.

  "I've been trying to teach you all I know, Chief. You should be taking advantage of my many years of experience. One failed marriage taught me more than enough about the complexities of a relationship."

  "At least I'm learning."

  "Slowly, Sandburg." Jim stowed the pole and picked up his beer before sitting back down. "Very slowly." He laughed at the look on his friend's face, but before he could add another comment, the sound of twin engines and breaking water caught their attention.

  Rounding the point was a large, ocean going private yacht that out-shadowed their own by at least 40 feet. Jim focused on the vessel as it began to slow, still a few miles away from them and veer off toward the shore slightly. It took several minutes for the boat to lose all forward momentum, then the sound of two large anchors plunging into the water was clearly heard.

  "Looks like we'll have neighbors tonight." Blair pulled his sunglasses down from their perch on top of his head and put them on, gazing at the new arrivals.

  "At least they're keeping their distance. Sound travels far enough out here without them parking it too close." Jim turned away and looked out over the water behind them, watching a seagull fly overhead.

  "You ever think about running away, Jim?" Blair was still watching the yacht, an oddly contemplative look on his face.

  "What?"

  He turned to look at Jim and shrugged. "You know, just up and leave. Go on some grand adventure, escape the confines of society and work and all that day to day crap that builds up in your life."

  "What brought this on, Chief?" Jim eyed his friend, seeing easily through the dark glasses to those expressive blue eyes beneath. "You're not planning on going pirate on me, are you?" One thing he had come to realize was that Blair's moods could alter with the tide, and would sometimes take bizarre twists and turns before coming back to settle in one place.

  Blair shrugged. "When I was a kid, and I'd see a yacht that size, I'd start to daydream about just getting onboard and shoving off. Sail the world, visit exotic places, never staying in one place for very long." He glanced at the yacht again. "You know, when you're out here, nothing can touch you. Sometimes I think if you could find a place big enough, open enough, you could get lost and nothing could catch up."

  Jim sighed, hoping his friend was just feeling the beer and childhood daydreams. "That's just it, Chief. You can't. There's no place big enough, or far enough away that reality can't catch up. Running from something doesn't make it go away, because nine times out of ten, the problem isn't outside, it's inside." Jim pointed to his chest for emphasis and watched Blair closely as he nodded his understanding. "Just what is it you think you need to run from?"

  "Nothing, Jim, I was just...romanticizing, I guess." He gazed around, gesturing with one hand at their surroundings. "You know, the wide open sea, tales of adventure. Boyhood fantasies of conquering the world."

  "Yeah, that and maybe you shouldn't drink beer when you're tired." Jim stood and walked over to remove the empty bottle from Blair's hand. "I think maybe you need to cool off, before heat stroke sets in."

  "Jim, trust me, I was just making conversation." Blair held up both hands and shook his head. "There's nothing to read into here."

  Jim nodded slowly and deliberately, then looked over the side at the deep blue water, making sure there was no lingering sign of the jellyfish they'd so recently had as a visitor.

  "Jim, just put that thought right out of your mind." Blair stood and took a few steps away, still shaking his head.

  "It's been awfully hot lately, Chief." Jim smiled and looked in the opposite direction, scanning the gently rolling waves around the boat.

  "You know that water's cold, man. Even more so when you're hot."

  "Yeah, just about right, I'd say." In one quick move, Jim turned, catching Blair easily by both arms and pulling him to the side and over before he could protest. His friend hit the water with a huge splash, then surfaced quickly, spouting curses. Jim heard only the first few. He dove off the boat himself and submerged close to his friend. When he came up, Blair palmed water at his face.

  "You know, Jim, one of these days I'm going to start keeping a record of how often you throw me to the ground."

  "As long as you're also writing down the reasons why, Chief, I've got no problem with it." He laughed, then watched Blair shake his head and begin to swim away from the boat.

  They swam several yards out, side by side, then turned and made their way back. When they reached the boat, Blair declared he'd had enough and climbed back on board while Jim went out for another lap. After their swim, both men got comfortable on the bow and let the sun dry them out while they dozed. By early evening, the wind had stopped blowing completely, and the water was almost dead calm, lending a stillness to the hot summer air. Blair volunteered to put dinner together, so Jim set about re-stringing the fishing line and attaching the new reel before he stowed the gear. Within an hour, the table was set with steaks, salad and rolls. There was beer for Jim, but Blair opted for water. They ate, happy again to have appetites and knowing that if the hot weather continued after returning to the city, they wouldn't feel like eating this well for a while.

  After dinner Jim cleaned up the galley while Blair made a pot of decaf. He found a bottle of whiskey and added a modest splash to the coffee before they retired to the stern to watch the sun set. Their neighbors also seemed to be enjoying some libations for the evening, but Jim had to focus to hear the party and found he could easily tune them out, so he did. Blair had been in a fine mood all through dinner, giving no hint that his little run-away speech had been anything more than the idle daydreaming he'd said it was. But Jim still took note of his body language. One thing he'd learned, among many since meeting his new partner, was never to completely discount anything he said. Some of it was bullshit, some of it was just his tendency to think out loud--a habit Jim often found more informative than anything he'd say on purpose--but typically it was what Blair didn't say that needed to be heard.

  But tonight, all seemed well. They watched the sun sink below the distant waves, quietly marveling at the array of orange and red that sparkled and danced as it reflected off the water. Bright oranges soon gave way to muted reds which in turn morphed to an almost purple-hued blue before fading completely to black. When the sun left, the moon appeared, shining down like a spotlight directly above them. One by one, stars joined in, until the night sky was filled with lights.

  "Look at that." Blair leaned back, resting on both hands as he gazed at the display. "Reminds me of a summer Mom and I spent up at Big Sur. She'd spend hours meditating under the stars."

  "Yeah." Jim found the north star, then followed it until he could identify some of the constellations. "When I was ten, I thought I wanted to be an astronaut."

  Blair looked at him, eyebrows raised. "That would be interesting. Testing out your sight and hearing in the vacuum of space." He paused and Jim could see his mental wheels spinning with lost possibilities and speculative results of impossible tests. "I'd love to see what differences you'd pick up if atmosphere and filtered light weren't big factors."

 
Jim smiled, more at the sight of his partner in discovery mode than the idea of him in space. "That might have made it harder for you to come to work with me every day, don't you think, Chief?"

  Blair shrugged dismissively. "There's always a way around things, Jim."

  "With you, Sandburg, I believe it." Jim shook his head and gazed out over the sparkling moon-lit water. It was true, of course. And he'd known Blair too long now not to believe he could find some way to do exactly what he wanted, no matter what obstacles lay before him. Jim was a Detective in Major Crimes, and Blair had managed a permanent position as his partner. Not only that, but he'd managed it while still keeping Jim's Sentinel abilities a secret, making his reasons for being there even more of a mystery to the rest of the Precinct. Somehow he knew, if Jim was still a Ranger, Blair would have managed to be there beside him. Or if he were an astronaut, a firefighter, or even a deep-sea welder, he'd still have a partner. How on earth he'd accomplish it, Jim had no clue. But he also had no doubts as to Blair's ability to get what he wanted. It was a trait he'd come to count on, and admire, no matter how mystifying it could be.

  Blair stood and stretched. "I'm gonna turn in. I think this will be my first full night's sleep in a week."

  Jim finished his coffee and nodded. "Yeah. Might be the only one for a while, if this weather keeps up." He handed his empty cup to Blair to take back to the galley. "Good night, Chief."

  "Good night."

  Jim stayed on deck, watching the moon slowly move across the night sky. The sounds and smells of the sea reminded him of Carolyn's uncle's old house at the ocean. That in turn reminded him that she had called last week, leaving a message on the machine about the insurance and that mysterious gas leak that caused the house to be destroyed. He'd have to call her back about that, one of these days. Voices could be heard in the distance, and Jim turned his attention to the yacht anchored nearby. On the water, and especially at night, sounds carried dramatically. Luckily, the party goers seemed to be taking it indoors, and Jim found if he blocked them out, he could still enjoy the peace and quiet of the water and not be kept awake.

  As the lights on the other yacht went out one by one, Jim decided it was time for him to go to sleep as well. He secured the cabin, glanced around the galley to make sure they'd cleaned up everything, and went forward to the main berth. Blair had taken the guest berth aft, but it was a simple matter of direction for Jim to pick up on his partner's quiet breathing. He used that as a focal point to keep the sounds from the other yacht from interrupting. As the night progressed, the party there seemed to rise and fall in decibels.

  Onboard the MarySue, all was quiet. Jim got out of his clothes and into bed, letting the sheet cover only his legs. This weekend had turned out to be an unexpected treat, instead of the sweltering tedium he had expected. And he had Blair to thank for most of his enjoyment. His fear of open water made trips in the wider Straits somewhat nerve wracking, even if they didn't hold the same all-out gripping terror as the open sea. But now that he'd been able to overcome that fear, thanks to Blair, this trip held none of the old twinges of discomfort associated with his former phobia.

  Jim fell asleep, wondering if Blair would have been able to conquer his own fear of heights, if Jim had turned out to be a Sentinel helicopter pilot.

  Part 3

  * * *

  Jim navigating their course with no hint of his former fear of open water, gave Blair an incredible sense of peace. He sighed, only half aware he was dreaming, and rolled over. This feeling of contentment and relaxation had been so absent in the heat of the city. Blair had his work, and his friend, but the heat and noise of Cascade this past week had served to dull everything around him. Sure, he'd been daydreaming when he told Jim that running away to sail the seas would be a grand adventure. But the thought of being able to get away from everything and everyone who interrupted his time studying Jim did have its appeal. If he could remove the distractions caused by the job, the people, even Simon, then he could get Jim's full and complete attention and they could study his Sentinel senses 24 hours a day.

  But, as nice as that sounded, Blair did realize the only way he could truly observe and learn from Jim, was to have him interacting in his usual environment. And Simon had let them take the boat out for the weekend. Part of Blair wondered if maybe the Captain hadn't planned this from the start. He knew Daryl hated fishing, and he knew Jim had been tired lately. Why Simon hadn't joined them, Blair didn't know. But, he was grateful.

  Sounds started to penetrate his thoughts. Sounds of the waves outside slapping against the hull of the MarySue, seagulls declaring the rising of the sun with their mournful cries, and the start-up cough of twin diesel engines. Blair sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sun was barely touching the horizon, and the sky outside his view port was still showing him a dark sky. Footsteps could be heard in the galley, so he got out of bed and found his pants. Once dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Blair found Jim standing on deck, coffee in hand, looking out over the water.

  "You're up early, Jim." Blair glanced out of the cabin at his friend, then walked barefoot through the galley to the coffee.

  "Hey, Chief. Coffee's hot." Jim stepped to the door and looked in at Blair. "I love this time of morning. Everything's so still and quiet."

  Blair nodded, yawning. He heard the engines powering up again. "I guess our neighbors are getting an early start." He poured a cup of coffee, then joined his friend on the deck, looking at the yacht as it let both engines warm up.

  "I'm surprised. They had quite a party last night. I hope whoever's skippering that thing isn't too hung over."

  Blair nodded, then turned away and looked at the sunrise. "Man, look at that." The sky was changing from dark blue, to purple, then lighter blue gave way to soft yellow and deep orange. With what seemed like incredible speed, the sliver of orange rose higher and higher, until the sun was nearly clear of the water.

  "It's going to be another hot one."

  "Yeah." Blair sipped his coffee, nodding. "I almost hate to go back."

  The sound of the yacht's engines grew louder, and both men glanced over their shoulders, seeing the massive boat pull forward, towards them, gaining speed as they headed for the inland channel.

  "It's not too late to just head out to sea and never come back."

  Jim laughed, shaking his head. "You'd go nuts, Chief. You study people. If you and I were alone on a boat for months at a time, you'd be bored to death." He looked again at the yacht still bearing down on them.

  "No, I don't think so, Jim. Just think of all the tests I could put you through, all the data I could collect on your Sentinel senses if we didn't have all those outside distractions." Blair glanced at the yacht. They should be turning soon. "I mean sure, maybe after a few months I'd be a little bored and in need of some social interaction. But you have to admit, some days it's not such a bad dream."

  "Sandburg, hit the horn. These people aren't veering off."

  Blair didn't hesitate. The yacht was coming on too fast, its bow still high-planing enough to make them nearly invisible if the pilot wasn't able to see through the glare of the sun. He reached the air horn and let it blast through the still morning air. Nothing. Jim shouted, waving his arms, but the yacht didn't so much as slow down.

  "Oh God," Blair whispered. He flipped on the radio and found the Coastguard channel. "Mayday, Mayday, this is the MarySue. We have an emergency!"

  Somewhere over the din of the engines bearing down, Blair heard Jim's warning shout. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bow of the yacht contact the stern of the MarySue just as Jim jumped out of the way, toward the cabin. The sound of fiberglass screaming over wood filled Blair's ears, and the MarySue listed violently. Blair fell sideways, the microphone knocked from his hand. Fighting for balance, he frantically searched for Jim. The yacht dealt a deadly blow, and continued on its way further into the Straits.

  With horror, Blair saw the stern of the MarySue tear apart as the transom pulled completely
away. Where the engines--and Jim--had been, was no more. Water surged toward him, and the bow lurched suddenly upward.

  "Jim!" Blair tried to scan the deck as it fell below the waves, desperate to catch sight of Jim and regain his footing. He never managed either.

  The stern sank quickly, sending the bow straight into the air and Blair slamming into the galley. His head struck something hard, stunning him for a moment. When he shook himself alert, all he could see was a wall of water. The MarySue sank like an anchor. Water surged into the cabin and Blair was instantly under the surface. He swam, trying to maintain his position and get his bearings inside the hold, until something pressed against him and he felt himself sinking deeper. Blair forced his eyes to open in the stinging salt water. He was still inside the cabin. The MarySue was going down, and taking him with it.

  Quickly, he grabbed hold of the table and pulled himself downward, desperate to reach the cabin doors and get out. With lungs burning, and the water pressure increasing, Blair reached the door. The air inside his lungs was acting as a buoy, making it harder to pull himself deeper to get through the hatch. With a strength borne of desperation, he shoved himself out, then kicked toward the surface he could no longer see. The air he needed to help bring him up was also desperate to leave him. Blair's lungs burned with the effort not to exhale, but he was losing the battle. If he let the air out, he'd have to work harder to reach the surface, and his legs were already begging to stop the struggle. He was blacking out, and he knew it. Next would come a sudden rush of water into spasming lungs, and for the last few seconds of his life, Blair would know that he was dead.

  He felt the sudden seizure in his throat, felt the air begin its escape. Something grabbed his right shoulder roughly and pulled. With a gasp, Blair inhaled just as he broke the surface, breathing in great lungfuls of air instead of the sea water he'd expected.