No Place Like Home
by: Lady Ra
Rated NC-17
email:Lady Ra
PAIRING: J/B
EPISODE SPOILERS: None, nada, zip
DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to whoever the heck owns Sentinel. And that's not me. Except when I go off my meds, then I'm sure they belong to me. Don't they?
SUMMARY: Jim and Blair are assigned a ritual murder case. Only problem: no bodies.
NOTES: Yes, this is another Blair as elf story so if you hate those, run away, run away! That rabbit has a mean streak a mile wide. Although, personally, I think it's a pretty good story and you should stick around. LOL. And for those of you who need to know, this is set sometime in second or early third season. Oh, and I don't paint a particularly pretty picture of elfland, so get visions of Legolas out of your mind. And I totally made up the holding cells layout. Totally.
DISTRIBUTION: Prospect 852, and my home site: http://www.dwordslist.net/rariindex.html. Thanks to Dword for keeping such good care of all my stories.
FEEDBACK: Absolutely. In fact I insist on it. No, I'm begging you for it. Damn, where are those drugs.
THANKS: To Jenn and Lori Ann for beta assistance. And to my wonderful slash-o-rama group.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Blair shivered.
Jim didn't turn away from his surveillance. "You cold?"
"Nah. Just…I don't know."
"Come on, Sandburg, you've been acting weird all day."
"It's nothing, man, just…I can't explain it."
"You getting sick on me? I don't know if I can stand another week with you and your snot. When you get sick you sniffle all night long and I can't sleep."
"Well excuse the hell out of me, Ellison. Next time I get sick, I'll go find a cardboard box and sleep under the bridge. Nice to see you're keeping up your 'I'm an asshole' skills."
Jim let out a beleaguered sigh. "Look, I didn't mean it like that. Just tell me what the hell is bothering you."
Blair let out his own frustrated sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. "It just feels like someone's watching me, and it's freaking me out, ok?"
"Someone like this creep we're staking out?" Jim had a nightmare vision of their latest homicidal maniac getting his hands on Blair. He wished he could laugh off Blair's comments, but the man attracted trouble like a picnic invited ants.
Blair shook his head. "No. Never mind, it's stupid. I can't explain it. Someone's probably just dancing on my grave."
Jim glanced at Blair. He didn't like what he saw. Even in the dark car, with only a sliver of moon for light, Jim could see that there were circles under his guide's eyes and his face looked strained. Blair looked washed out, stretched.
Jim knew his guide would talk about whatever was bothering him when he was good and ready and Jim decided he didn't have the energy to torture it out of him any sooner than that. "Tell me something, Chief, explain that saying to me. How can someone be dancing on your grave when you're not dead yet? It's never made sense to me."
Blair opened the small cooler that lay in the car between them and ferreted out a soda. "Want one?" When Jim shook his head in the negative, Blair popped the top and took a long swallow. "Just think about the person you hate most. Now imagine them dead and you standing on their cemetery plot. What're you gonna do?"
Jim let out a snicker. "Dance?"
Blair nodded. "Dance. You get a weird feeling that someone means you harm, or there's some negative energy in the air, and there's the imagery, man, someone wishing they were dancing on your grave."
Jim could believe Blair often tapped into whatever the hell he experienced as negative energy, considering the uncanny number of people out there who always seemed to target his guide. Jim heard a noise and put up a hand to keep Blair from saying anything else, and listened intently for a moment.
Blair reached out and touched his arm and Jim was able to amp up his hearing. His senses always worked better when his guide was touching him. After a few moments, he relaxed his vigilance.
"Did you hear something?"
Jim shook his head. "Nothing important. Just some people out walking on the other side of the building."
Blair let out a small hmm of noise and took another swallow.
Opening the cooler, Jim searched for an ice tea. Twisting the lid off with a satisfying pop, he took a long drink. "Is that what you think it is? Someone wanting to dance on your grave?" Apparently, Jim thought to himself, he wasn't willing to let this go.
Blair flashed him a grin. "Nah. Just too many term papers to grade hanging over my head. If I don't get them done, I'll have a hundred students wanting to dance on my poor overworked body."
Jim let out a snort.
"Besides, dancing on a grave isn't always a bad thing. It is in this country, but in other places, it's like an honor. Like the Tagakaulo tribe of southern Davao does this ceremonial dance begging the spirits to guide the soul of the deceased."
Jim chewed on his bottom lip as he considered his guide. "Does your head ever hurt with all the shit that's inside it? I mean, aren't you afraid it's just gonna explode one of these days?"
"Hey, fuck you, man."
Jim grinned at Blair and Blair grinned back.
*****
Later that night, Jim lay on the couch, drinking the last of his bottle of beer as he listened to the sports update on CNN. Part of his attention was focused on Blair as he puttered around the kitchen. Jim thought back to the conversation in the car, and sent his senses out to see if he could detect anyone hanging outside the apartment, someone who might be keeping tabs on Blair.
After a minute he drew them back in, having detected nothing out of the ordinary. Jim tilted his head so he could see Blair and for a moment, it was as if there were two men in the kitchen, one overlaid on the other.
Jim lifted his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose and then knuckled his eyes. When he looked again, he could still see it. It was as if Blair's edges were blurred. Jim decided he needed to get some sleep. "I'm going to bed, Chief."
"Me, too. It's been a long day."
Jim turned off the television and stood. He chanced another look in the kitchen and was relieved when Blair looked like he always looked. Except more tired and a little less bounce than usual. For the briefest of moments Jim felt a dark premonition, sensed that something dangerous was looming. And it was all centered on Blair. He fought off the urge to drag his guide up to his bed where he could keep an eye on him all night.
Then, Blair let out a burp and scratched his stomach, and everything felt normal again. Jim shook his head at his mental dramatics and headed for the bathroom.
*****
The next day, after lunch, they walked back to the station, enjoying the brief respite from the rain that had been pounding the streets all morning. Jim cocked his head to the side.
"You hearing something, oh great sentinel of the city?"
Jim flipped Blair the bird. Then he nodded. "Someone's yelling for you." He gestured down the street. "Some guy."
Blair's eyes squinted. "Wish I had your eyes and ears, man."
Jim pursed his lips. "Hmph. Don't be so sure; I'm wrong. He's not calling your name, he's calling for someone named Belarion, or something like that.
Blair came to an abrupt stop, his shoes almost skidding on the concrete.
Jim gave him a look. "What's up, Chief? That name mean something to you?"
Blair waved both hands in front of him, body all hyper. "Nah, never heard of it."
Jim didn't believe him for a second. He could hear the racing of Blair's heart, could smell a taint of fear coming off his body. "Sandburg…"
Blair let out a manic laugh. "Hey, I just remembered that I have to return some library books. Double fines start today." He started backing up, trying his best to be casual. "Can't believe I forgot, man, I'm already broke enough as it is."
Jim grabbed his arm. "Somehow I don't think library fines would get your heart racing like this. Not with the way they usually pile up at home collecting dust. Who's Belarion?"
Blair let out another laugh. "No idea, man. I mean other than the guy who declared himself the antichrist in 1949 and wrote The Manifesto of the Antichrist. And I can't imagine this guy's calling for him." He tried to pull his arm out of Jim's grasp. "Hey, come on, let me go."
Jim was momentarily distracted by this new piece of random information. "Someone declared himself the antichrist in 1949?"
"Yeah, he decided he needed to do away with the hypocrisy of Christianity. His motto was 'there is no law beyond do what thou wilt.'" Blair managed to pull his arm free.
"Sounds like the motto of every scumbag we put in jail."
"No kidding." Blair danced out of Jim's reach. "Gotta go. I'll see you at home later."
Jim scowled at him. "Returning library books is gonna take you all day?" He was afraid Blair was going to have a heart attack if his heart kept tripping like that.
"Belarion!"
The call was loud enough this time that Blair heard it too. The smell of fear grew stronger and, before Jim could comment on it, Blair was gone. Running. Jim almost gave chase but then decided he might be able to get more information out of the man that seemed to be the cause of Blair's inexplicable behavior.
Still a ways away, the man let out a cry of dismay. "No, don't let him go! You must stop him."
It took Jim a moment to realize that the man was talking about Blair. Ignoring the spoken plea, Jim headed toward him and in a few seconds was standing in front of the guy. Towering over him. The man couldn't be much taller than five feet. His hair was a mass of curls, similar to Blair's, but a silver grey in color. At least what he could see of it. Most of it was covered by an old knit cap which hid his ears. Jim glared at him, just on the off chance he meant Blair harm. "What do you want?"
"I must talk to Belarion. I must warn him. He is in danger."
Jim started to wonder if this guy had harassed Blair before and that was why he took off. "I think you've got the wrong man. His name's not Belarion."
The man looked up at Jim, his eyes huge and filled with fear. "He is your friend?"
Jim nodded cautiously, not wanting to give too much away. He couldn't decide how old the man was. He looked old and tired, but there was an energy to him that belied his appearance.
"You must tell him to hide, that they are here to take all they find back to Guardian. They are showing no mercy. Belarion is in danger, as are we all."
Jim decided the guy was definitely a wacko. He frowned, wondering if Blair had set this up as a practical joke. But then he remembered Blair's racing heart and his fear. "Who's coming?"
"The Homeguard." The man grabbed Jim's jacket lapels. "You must tell him. You must tell Belarion, tell him to get away, to get out of the city. There are too many of them here."
The only thing Jim figured he needed to do right now was get this guy to a psychiatrist. He pulled the man's hands off of him. "Look, Mr…?"
"My name is Shenon."
"Okay, look, Mr. Shenon, I know this all seems real to you but…"
With more strength than Jim would have credited, the old man grabbed his jacket again. "You must believe me. If they get to him you will never see your friend again, they will close the door and he will be lost. We will all be lost."
Jim's heart skipped a beat at the thought of losing Blair, but it was quickly followed with a sharp flare of annoyance. Again, he pulled the old man's hands off of him. "Let me take you inside the station. They can get you some help. Some food and a roof over your head for the night." It was the best Jim could do.
The man took a step back. "I do not ask for your help for me but for Belarion. If he is your friend, you must believe me." There was a pause, as if the old man were looking for the perfect argument to convince Jim of the truth, but his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. When he spoke again it was to plead. "At least tell him I will try and contact him tomorrow."
Given Blair's reaction today, giving him that message would ensure his absence from the station all day, and Jim didn't want to go all day without him. He nodded pleasantly, lying. "I'll give him the message." Then, Jim told a second lie. "He'll be at the park tomorrow. You might run into him there." If Jim could keep this wacko from accosting Blair, the lies seemed a small enough sin.
The man grabbed him one more time, fingers curling around Jim's upper arm. "You will tell him the message?"
Jim found himself almost mesmerized by the man's eyes. They were nearly the same color blue as Blair's. They didn't look crazy - just afraid - and weary beyond measure. Almost against his will he heard himself agree. "I'll give him the message." Then the annoyance was back and Jim wanted the man gone; he'd wasted enough time talking to him. Jim shook his arm loose and walked away.
*****
As Jim made his way up the stairs to the loft he could smell dinner cooking. Chicken enchiladas. Jim smiled. One of his favorites. Maybe Blair was feeling guilty for bailing on him all afternoon. He entered the apartment, hung his coat up on the rack. "Hey, Chief. Smells great."
Blair waved a spatula at him. His mouth was full so he just mumbled a greeting.
"Do I have time for a shower before dinner?"
Blair swallowed and nodded. "Twenty minutes."
Jim smiled in satisfaction and bounded up the stairs for a change of clothes. He didn't like to dwell on it too much, but he loved this. Loved coming home to someone. Loved having someone to share dinner with, share his evenings with. No, Jim admitted to himself as he headed back downstairs, catching a glimpse of Blair ripping lettuce leaves apart for a salad, he liked coming home to Blair. Despite the fact that his guide could drive him crazy and frequently did, he liked being around Blair.
Jim took his shower and changed into sweats. As he entered the kitchen he said, "Get those books back?"
Blair looked confused for a second. "What? What books?" Then his eyes widened. "Oh, those books. Yeah, I got them back."
Jim opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, trying to decide how to handle this. Listening to his guide's heart hammering in his chest, Jim knew Blair was still lying. And hiding something important. Jim decided to take the frontal approach this time. "Why are you lying to me?"
Blair let out an affronted noise. "I'm not lying."
Jim started to get pissed off. "Sandburg, I can tell you're lying. Remember me, human polygraph machine?"
Blair blew out a quick breath; Jim could feel his guide trying to get his body under control. He cut Blair off at the pass before he could come up with another lie. "Don't even try it. I know you're lying, I know you were lying this afternoon. Your heart was racing and something was scaring the shit out of you. Has that old man bothered you before? Is that why you ran?"
The fear was back. "You talked to him?"
"Yeah, I talked to him. It was hard not to. Why does he scare you? He's just a crazy old man." Jim remembered the message the old man had given him to pass along to Blair. "He gave me a message to give to you."
Blair put up his hand to ward off further words. "Thanks, but no thanks, man."
Blair's hand was trembling. In fact, Jim could see that Blair's entire body was trembling; the fear was almost rolling off of him. And for a second, just like last night, Blair's outline blurred. Jim slammed his beer to the table. "Talk to me. Your body's going crazy. Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Jim could see Blair thinking furiously. It made him crazy that the thoughts revving around his guide's brain was the frantic weaving of further obfuscation. Finally Blair spoke. "Look, I've just been having some weird dreams, all right? They keep waking me up, and then I can't get back to sleep. I'm really tired and it's not taking much to set me off."
"What are the dreams about?" Jim waited for it, waited for the lie.
Blair ran his fingers through his curls, scissoring them to get through a tangle or two. "Stupid stuff. Doesn't really matter, but someone called me Belarion in the dream, and then this guy today used that name and it really freaked me out." He flashed Jim a rueful grin. "Sorry I bailed on you today, but for a moment there it felt like an episode of The Twilight Zone."
This was the type of lie Blair excelled at. The type that used part of the truth to hide the lie in. It made it very hard for Jim to tell if Blair was lying or not, or where the lie hid. Jim decided to pass on the message and see what Blair did. "His name is Shenon. He said to tell you that they - whoever the hell 'they' are - were here, and that 'they' were taking everyone home, and that 'they' were going to close the door after that. And he said you should get out of the city." Jim waited to see Blair's reaction.
Blair stood up so fast his chair fell over backwards. "Fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck."
Jim's eyes opened wide. He hadn't expected quite this severe a reaction. Blair's heart had reached an all time high and Jim was afraid he was going to stroke out. "Chief…"
"Fuck. You said his name was Shenon?"
Jim nodded and slowly stood to pick up Blair's chair. Jim spoke softly, feeling as if Blair was a wild animal at bay, one that might attack or bolt at the slightest provocation. "What's going on?"
Blair shook his head.
Jim pressed a little. "Sandburg, talk to me. What did that message mean?" Jim was hopelessly confused. His blessed protector instincts were screaming at him, but he couldn't help but believe that the crazy old man was harmless. Blair's response didn't make any sense.
Blair drew in a long breath. "I can't talk about this right now. I need to meditate and get a good night's sleep."
Jim scowled. "Not good enough. I need to know if something's going on. Who was that guy?"
The timer went off. Blair jumped about a foot off the ground and let out a yelp. He blew out a long noisy breath and let out a chagrined laugh. "Definitely need to get some sleep." He tossed the potholder at Jim. "Help yourself. I'm gonna pass on dinner."
"Now I know it's serious if you're not gonna eat your own enchiladas." Jim flashed Blair a tight grin, trying to persuade Blair to stay. "Why don't you pull up a chair and tell me what's going on. It can't be any weirder than the shit that guy said to me and how you've been acting. I think I can handle whatever you've got to say." Jim opened a drawer, pulled out a second potholder and opened the oven door. He carefully removed the casserole dish from the oven.
"Nah, my stomach's not feeling that great. I'm gonna go lie down." Blair didn't even give Jim a chance to further argue. He just headed for his room and closed the door.
Jim considered the closed doors and listened to Blair's still racing heart, the occasionally muttered obscenity. Suddenly his stomach didn't feel that great either. He opened a different drawer, yanked out some aluminum foil and covered the enchiladas. After clearing some room in the refrigerator and putting down a hot pad, he placed the casserole inside and shut the door. It was going to be a long night.
*****
Early in the morning, Jim lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Blair was pacing in his room. He'd been pacing for hours. Pacing and muttering. Every now and then Jim would hear the tapping of computer keys. Then there'd be more pacing. Jim found it impossible to sleep when his guide was in such disarray.
Jim looked at the clock and saw that it was almost time to get up. He let out a sigh, not looking forward to a day of work with no sleep. Nor was he looking forward to a day of more lies from Blair. Jim determined not to let Blair out of his sight until he figured out what was going on.
*****
Jim must have dozed for a few minutes because Blair's voice woke him up.
"We'll go camping. Yeah. Yeah. Good idea. That's what we'll do. We'll go camping. He says I should get out of the city, so that's what I'll do." Jim could hear the fingers scraping through his guide's tangled hair.
Jim yelled down from the loft. "Sandburg, what are you blathering on about?"
"Hey Jim, you're awake. Good. Let's go camping, man. You're off this weekend, right?"
"Yeah, Darwin, but unless it's escaped your notice, it's Friday, not Saturday and some of us have to work for a living."
"So call Simon and ask for the day off." Blair bounded up the stairs and stood at the foot of Jim's bed. "Or I can go up and get our site ready and you can come up tonight." His eyebrows waggled, trying to entice Jim.
Jim's lips tightened and he once again wondered what the hell was going on. "I thought you had tests to grade."
Blair chewed his bottom lip for a second. "Right, right. Tests."
Jim barely kept the look of surprise off his face. Blair might blow off a lot of things, but grades weren't one of them.
Blair snapped his fingers. "I'll take them with me. I'll do them there."
Jim sat up, unable to have this absurd conversation lying flat on his back. "You're going to grade tests, essay tests, if I remember correctly, while you're camping?" Blair always did his best to never mix anything even closely resembling work with the experience of camping. Said it spoiled it.
Blair grinned. "Yeah, my students will probably be grateful. You know, a campfire, some golden toasted marshmallows, some fresh cooked trout, man, they'll all get A's."
Jim scrubbed his face with his hands. Somehow his life had seemed so uncomplicated yesterday.
"So, what do ya say? Come on, let's go. I'll get everything packed."
Jim could hear the urgency behind Blair's request. It sent warning flares up and down Jim's spine. "Blair…"
"Jim, come on. Now." The wheedling had left Blair's voice and been replaced with urgency.
Jim yanked Blair's arm and pulled him down onto the end of the bed. "When are you gonna tell me what this is all about? And don't tell me that the trout are calling your name and that's what's turned this camping trip into a class one emergency."
"I just want to get out of town for a few days." Blair gave Jim his best entreating look, eyes wide, lips pouting.
Jim hated that look. He was generally powerless against it. "All right, we'll go camping, but I can't just call in. Come with me to the station, we'll talk with Simon, make sure everything's copasetic, and then we can go." The man they'd been staking out had been brought in yesterday afternoon, so Jim knew that case, at least, was closed.
Blair jumped off the bed, grinning. "Great. Awesome. I'll start packing." When Jim didn't move fast enough, Blair slapped him on the arm. "Come on, get up."
"Sandburg, don't even entertain the thought that you're getting me out of this house without some coffee."
"I'll go put it on right now." And with that Blair ran down the stairs. Jim shook his head. No sleep and Blair still had more energy than five people. Jim sat there for a minute and decided that, other than a long drive on no sleep, camping sounded like a good idea. Maybe it would calm Blair down and Jim could finally wrest an explanation out of him. He called down, "We got any marshmallows left?"
"A whole bag, man."
That was enough to get Jim out of bed.
*****
An hour later they walked into the station. The minute they hit Major Crimes, they heard the yell. "Ellison, Sandburg, my office."
Sandburg hissed, "I knew you should have called in sick."
"Relax, Chief." Jim led the way to Simon's office. Once inside he closed the door behind them. "What's up, Simon?"
"Got a case for you, and you're not gonna like it."
When it came with a warning label like that, Jim knew he really wasn't going to like it. With significant trepidation he asked, "What is it?"
"It was a homicide case but it got kicked up to us."
Now Jim was positive he wasn't going to like it. "Why? Is it a homicide?"
"Yeah, but it's more complicated than that."
Jim smelled a rat. "Like how complicated?"
"Look, Jim, it's our case now, and I'm giving it to you. Here's the file." Simon held out the case file.
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "Why is it our case, sir?"
Simon let out a long breath. "All right, all right. Dan Vematt beat my full house with a damn royal flush."
Jim couldn't help but grin even if he knew he was going to pay the price for Simon's loss. "You lost a poker game to the Captain of Homicide?" Jim covered Blair's ears as if to protect him from hearing anymore. "I'm shocked, Simon, shocked."
Blair shook off Jim's hands and scowled at him.
"Shut up, Ellison, and read the damn file." Simon thrust the case jacket at him again.
Jim took it as if it was coated in poison. "Why is it that I just know I'm going to hate this case?"
Blair took the case file from him. "Gee, Jim, I don't know. Could it be because Homicide couldn't wait to unload it?" He flipped it open and started to read.
Simon glared at Jim. "Ellison, would you like to explain to me why Sandburg is reading the case I just assigned to you?"
Jim knew exactly why. Blair wanted to see if it was going to keep them from camping. The challenge was how to tell his boss without him blowing a gasket. "Can the case keep until Monday, Simon? We were planning on going camping this weekend, and I was going to see if I could get out a little early today." Jim put out his hand toward Blair. "Fork it over, Chief."
Simon shook his head. "No can do, Jim." He gestured at the case file still in Blair's hands. "Not with that hanging over my head. Dan's already called me twice about it. You might have to cancel your weekend off."
"Fuck."
Both Jim and Simon stared at Blair, the room still ringing with the emphatic curse. Simon recovered first, as Jim was currently inundated with sentinel proof that Blair was terrified. "Would you like to explain your comment?" The Captain didn't sound happy.
"Fuck. Jim, we gotta go. I gotta go."
Jim fought through the non-verbal information assaulting him, the pounding heart beat, the tang of sweat and fear, the trembling of Blair's body. "We can't, Chief. You heard the boss. We have to work on this case."
Blair's shaking fingers dropped the case file and it fell to the floor. "I can't stay. I can't stay here." He rushed to the door, began to pull it open.
Jim reached over him and shut it, holding it closed. "Not until you tell me what's going on."
Blair ran nervous hands through his hair and he tried to pull the door open, struggling against Jim's unrelenting strength. "No, man. You gotta let me go. I have to call my mom."
Simon let out a disgusted sigh. "Your mom? For the love of Christ, Sandburg, the case isn't so bad that you need to call your mommy."
Blair grabbed Jim's arm and pulled him close. "Jim, I'm begging you. I gotta get out of the city. If you never do anything else for me, ever, just do this. Just let me go."
Jim saw the deadly earnestness in Blair's face and it stunned him. Whatever this was, it was bad. "Blair…" He didn't want to let his Guide go off by himself. He didn't want him facing whatever this was on his own.
Blair threw out a question. "That guy, that old man, do you know how I can get a hold of him?"
That Jim did know. "I told him you'd be in the park. I figured it would be a good way to keep him away from you."
Simon's head was bouncing back and forth between the two men. "Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"
Blair used Simon's question as a distraction and, before either man could stop him, he was out the door and running. Jim tried to follow him, but Simon grabbed him and pulled him back in the office. "I want an explanation."
Jim concentrated, listening to Blair as he ran down the stairs, cursing a blue streak. He figured he had a few minutes to still beat Blair to the park by taking the truck. Jim scooped down to pick up the file, leaned against Simon's desk and started to read. After a few minutes he gave Simon an incredulous look. "There're no bodies? They're calling this a homicide and there're no bodies? What is this, some sort of joke?"
"No joke. Someone saw the murders. The eyewitness swears that there were three men, tied up, stripped to the waist. Another person, the witness wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman, painted stuff on their chest, and then stabbed each of them in the heart with a knife, while two others stood by. By the time she called the police and they came to investigate, the bodies were gone."
Jim tried to figure out what had spooked Blair so much, but wasn't able to connect any dots. None. It was driving him crazy.
There was a knock on Simon's door. Rhonda poked her head in with a sheath of paper that she handed to Simon with a look of apology. Simon glared down at the pages in his hand. "Just great."
Jim glanced up. "What?"
Simon handed him the top sheet.
Jim read it. Another witnessed killing. And again, no bodies. It was like a bad joke. He glanced up again to see Simon scowling as he flipped through the rest of the pages. "What else?"
Simon shrugged in disgust. "I don't know. I thought I was going crazy. Missing people. The reports are pouring in. There were six yesterday, and four already today. I had Rhonda do some research and it looks like it's happening all over the country. Record numbers of people who have just up and disappeared. And most of them don't fit the profile of the usual suspects who just walk away from their lives. And if that wasn't bad enough, I had two detectives call in sick, and Vematt says three of his have called in as well. Shit."
A chill went down Jim's spine as he recalled the old man's words from yesterday about people being taken. And the old man thought they would go after Blair. The chill started to congeal in his gut. "I have to go find Blair."
Simon jabbed at him with his unlit cigar. "You're not his babysitter, Jim. If he can't handle this case, do it without him."
Jim opened the door. "I can't explain now, Simon, but I think Blair knows something about what's going on. I have to find him."
Simon started muttering and Jim took that for permission and raced down to his truck. He made it to the park in record time, parked, and opened up his senses to find his guide. It didn't take him long to locate him and the old man. He focused in on their conversation; the old man was speaking.
"You must leave now. The Homeguard have come. They are taking everyone they find. They will find you and take you."
"How did you find me? How did you know I was in Cascade?"
"Your mother sent me."
"She's all right, then? She's someplace safe?" Apparently the old man must have given a positive answer because Blair let out a sigh that was almost a sob. "Thank God."
"But I do not know how long she will be safe. I do not know how long they will search before they close the door."
"Fuck. I can't go back there. I can't."
Jim had never heard Blair sound so unhappy. Go back where? Deciding he'd eavesdropped long enough and wanting answers, Jim got out of the car and headed toward his guide, only to stop when Shenon let out a gasp. "They are here, young one, you must flee."
Blair's head snapped around, looking for the danger, as did Jim's. Fully expecting to see nothing as further proof of the old man's delusions, Jim was shocked when he saw three men on the edge of the field walking steadily toward Blair and Shenon. They were all medium height with long dark curls cascading down their backs. Jim could see their blue eyes from here. And the knives they hid in the palms of their hands, half hidden in their sleeves.
Jim still didn't know what was going on, but he knew he wasn't letting those men near his guide. He yelled out. "Blair!"
Blair spun to face him, his terrified face showing some relief at Jim's presence.
Shenon pushed Blair in his direction. "Go to your friend. Let him protect you."
"What about you?"
"I have my own friends. And more people to warn. Go!" He gave Blair another push.
Blair glanced at the men who were still steadily approaching. He didn't need further prompting and started to run to Jim.
The three men split up, one going after Shenon, two of them after Blair, trying to get to him before he got to Jim. Jim began to run and pulled out his gun. On an intercept course to Blair, Jim yelled out his customary warning. "Cascade Police, freeze."
The men paused and then stopped. Jim grunted in satisfaction, but then both men closed their eyes and, for some reason, Jim knew it meant trouble.
It did. Blair started to slow down. It was like watching his guide swim through molasses. Then Blair stopped and turned toward the men. He sent a beseeching look toward Jim over his shoulder and then, to Jim's stupefaction, began to walk toward the men. They slowly began to walk toward Blair.
Jim yelled again. "I said freeze!" Jim kept jogging toward his guide.
One of the men called out to him. "We are doing nothing wrong. You see? He comes to us of his own accord."
And he was or at least to the normal eye it looked like he was. But Jim knew that the last place Blair wanted to be was near those men. Jim began to run harder until he got between Blair and what Jim thought of as his hunters.
Keeping an eye on the two men who had closed their eyes again, Jim reached for Blair and pulled him close, growling, "What's going on here, Sandburg?" Jim had had it with the mystery.
Blair's body was still trying to move forward, but he latched onto Jim, his fingers almost ripping the fabric of his jacket, pleading, "Don't let me go. Don't let me go."
Jim wrapped his arms around his guide, using his strength to keep Blair locked at his side. "Come back to the truck with me."
Blair barely shook his head. Jim could feel Blair fighting to get out of his arms to go to the men. "You have to take me. I can't fight them, they're too strong." Blair clenched his jaw and let out a moan, dropping his head against Jim's chest. "Get them out."
Jim switched over to protector mode. All he knew was that his guide was in pain, and in danger, and he had to get him out of here to someplace safe. He threw Blair over his shoulder and ran for the truck. Blair's moans grew louder and Jim ran faster.
He tossed Blair into the passenger side of the truck's cab and belted him in. Then he ran to his side only to find Blair undoing his seat belt, the door partway open. Jim reached across him, slammed the door shut, and then hit the child proof button on his side so Blair couldn't undo his lock or open his window.
Not wanting to take the time to worry about seatbelts, Jim inserted the key in the ignition, turned it, and slammed the truck into drive. The tires squealed in protest as he hit the gas and the thrust pushed both Jim and Blair back against their seat.
Blair let out a sound that was closer to a scream and pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. Then he lifted his head, his eyes wide open and wild. "You have to let me out. I have to go back." He let out a deep and pained groan and tried the door. When he couldn't get it open, he flipped into the back seat and tried to open the window to the open bed of the truck.
"Shit." Jim reached back and got Blair by the waistband of his pants and held on tight.
Blair let out a howl and began clawing at his temples. "Get them out, get them out, get them out, getthemout, getthemout! Jimjimjimjimjim…"
Jim heard voices. As he drove he tried to figure out where they were coming from. Putting two and two together, knowing he was coming up with some crazy number like seventeen, some instinct told Jim that the voices were in Blair's head. Whether he could hear them because of his sentinel senses, or because of his connection to his guide didn't matter. What did matter was what they were saying and what it was doing to Blair.
"You cannot hide from us. We will find you, Belarion and take you home. You cannot resist us. Overpower your friend and come back to us now. Come to us. Belarion, you know you must obey." Over and over they chanted.
Even Jim felt the hypnotic lure of that call. He pulled over to the side of the road and looked back over the seat. Blair was huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around himself, shaking, crying softly, "Nonononononono."
"Blair."
Blair didn't acknowledge him.
Jim worked his way into the back seat and manhandled Blair off the floor and almost into his lap. "Blair, help me help you. I don't know what to do."
Blair finished the journey until he was on Jim's lap, his arms and legs wrapping around Jim like an octopus. "Don't want to leave you. Don't want to lose you. Don't let them take me."
Jim returned the embrace, fear of losing his guide arching through him. "No one's taking you anywhere. I'm not losing you."
Blair's trembling increased. "They're coming, they're heading this way." He pulled back and stared at Jim. "I have to go to them."
It was Blair's sudden eerie calmness that chilled Jim the most. He glanced out the back of the cab window and saw the two men down the street. Knowing it was impossible for them to have gotten there so fast, and yet unable to deny what he was seeing, Jim decided it was time to keep driving.
He pulled Blair back from trying to get out the window again and, yanking out his handcuffs, he locked Blair to the overhead hand grasp. Then he jumped into the front seat again and pulled away, planning on putting as many miles between him and the twilight zone he seemed to be in the middle of.