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Disclaimer: See front page.
"Jim, what do you make of Major Stoltz?" Blair asked as they headed toward the station after the memorial service.
"He seems like a pretty decent sort. He's the kind of officer you don't mind taking orders from."
"What about Grange? Can I assume he's in the jerk category?"
Jim laughed. "Yeah, Chief. I think you can assume that. It's his type I'd take out on field training exercises and make go through the swamps with full gear until I was satisfied they had the appropriate attitude. If it didn't stick, we'd do it again." Jim grinned evilly, then his expression turned serious. "As stern as Stoltz seems, I've been disappointed he hasn't put Grange on a tighter leash. I honestly hope he does something about the man before I'm forced to send the jerk home in a box."
"Jim!"
"What? I won't do it, but the thought will be there."
Blair shook his head, but had to grin in agreement.
Major Stoltz was in Simon's office when they reached the bullpen. Pausing long enough to hang up their jackets, the two men made their way to the captain's door. Simon called "Enter" immediately after Jim's knock. The dark-skinned man turned at their entrance.
"Good, you're back. Obviously, the major is here."
Jim nodded a greeting to his boss, then looked at Stoltz. "Hello, sir. Do you have something for us?"
"Detective. First off, I want to let you know that I've sent Grange back to Washington with a reprimand in his file. While I'm still unsure about Mr. Sandburg's involvement in this investigation, I'm prepared to accept your and Captain Banks' judgment. Grange grossly overstepped himself with his insubordination and conduct unbecoming an officer. I commend you on your restraint in dealing with him. I'm sure it couldn't have been easy, given his attitude."
Jim looked stunned as he stared at the major. Blair tapped his friend's elbow lightly, and the big man blinked. Glancing at Blair, he refocused on Stoltz. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that you took care of him before I had to."
Simon was smirking, but said nothing as Major Stoltz replied, "It needed to be done. I apologize again, for his behavior."
Jim simply nodded.
"Now," Stoltz said, "I've got some other information. It turns out that Sergeant Hickman and his detachment have been stationed in Somalia for the last sixteen months. So, I'd say that leaves him out as a suspect. Sergeant Turnbow's detachment has been on rotating assignments since last November. I had his complete file faxed to me. For obvious reasons, I can't allow you to see some of it."
Jim nodded again in understanding. "What about the families? Did you get a chance to contact them?"
"I did, and you were right. They have all had recent break ins, with small items stolen then recovered but for the coins. That is, every family but one."
Jim looked expectantly at the major.
Stoltz returned the detective's gaze steadily. "Turnbow's widow said her son has had possession of his father's coin for eighteen months."
The detective gasped. Blair moved quickly to give his partner physical contact, the sort that would anchor his Sentinel in the here and now.
The major continued as if nothing untoward had occurred. "Mrs. Turnbow said that he came home on leave and asked if he could have it. He was preparing to go on a particularly dangerous mission, and told her he wanted it as a good luck piece."
Jim grimaced. "Where have I heard that before?" he commented sourly.
"That's great, but all we really have is suspicion and a lot of circumstantial evidence, right?" Blair asked.
Surprised, Major Stoltz looked at Blair and nodded. "Yes, that's about it."
"So, what next?"
"Just like any other investigation, Chief. We start digging for more information. When we have something solid we can put the guy under surveillance."
Stoltz nodded in agreement.
Blair's expression must have appeared despondent because Jim spoke encouragingly. "Cheer up, Chief. It's not like we haven't done this a million times before. It'll be harder since our suspect is in the Army, but not impossible. We should be able to track him through his paper trail. If he's had any leaves, and how often. Where he's gone. That sort of thing."
"Oh, I know, man, it's just that…I don't have to tell you how frustrating this is."
"Yeah, I know."
"Do you want to get started on that line now, or wait and pick it up first thing in the morning?" Simon asked, speaking for the first time since the partners had entered his office.
"I'd just as soon get started," Jim answered. Blair nodded in agreement.
"Major?" the captain questioned.
"That's fine with me. The sooner we can track this bastard, the better."
"Okay. Jim, go ahead and take one of the meeting rooms."
"Very good, sir." Jim opened the door and waited for the major and Blair to precede him.
Several hours later the detective tossed the pages he'd been reading to the table with a heavy sigh. "I don't see anything in here that's particularly suspicious. Certainly nothing that corroborates our theory."
Major Stoltz set down the pages he'd been going over. "I have to concur. Other than a six-week leave prior to his assignment to the 528th, there's nothing suggesting an abnormal amount of leave-taking. A three day pass here and there, but nothing significant. Certainly nothing giving him time to get to a victim's city, kill him, and get back to his post."
Jim was silent for a few minutes. Sitting forward, he grabbed a different set of sheets. "It says here he was assigned to the 528th Support Battalion just before Christmas. Didn't the break-ins happen around late November early December?"
"Yes. But the families reside all over the country. That's a lot of travel time, even with six weeks available."
"So how's he doing it?" Jim asked himself, staring at the page in front of him. Abruptly he slapped the paper. "That's it! Damnit. Right in front of my face the whole time."
"What, Jim? What's been right in front of you?" Blair asked, encouraged by the light of discovery he saw in his partner's eyes.
"Before the 528th, Turnbow was part of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. The man's a pilot! He can go anywhere on the damn planet he wants, given an aircraft. In the states he can get to anywhere and back in less than a day. No wonder we're not seeing a leave pattern."
"What's the 160th do? For that matter, what's the 528th do?" Blair inquired.
"The 160th provides air support for all Special Operations missions. Shuttle service, flying equipment in and out. Air to ground weapons support. That sort of thing. The 528th is another Special Forces support battalian."
"But why transfer to the 528th from the 160th?" Stoltz asked.
Jim looked over the documents more closely. "He didn't have a choice. Four weeks of that six-week hiatus were actually suspension time for 'hot-dogging' one too many times. His CO finally shipped him out." The detective set down the pages again, looking at the major. "If we could somehow track down his flight records, we might just figure out what this guy's been up to."
Stoltz gave a firm nod. "I think I can get them. I'll do it first thing in the morning. He might also have caught a free ride on a transport now and then. I'll look into that as well."
"That's a good idea."
"So how does a pilot become so good at assassination?" Blair inquired.
"Because he's not just a pilot. According to his records he's had some of the same training I had. He's been through Ranger School as well as Sniper School, though from the looks of it he didn't quite complete that one."
"Great, so we're not just going after some average Joe Blo Army wacko, but an elite Joe Blo Army wacko who can fly wherever he wants."
"That's about the size of it," Jim said tiredly.
May 7, FridayWhen Blair came into the station that afternoon, he found Jim and Major Stoltz once again in an interrogation room. "Hey, Jim. Major."
"Hey, Chief. How'd your meeting go?"
"All right, I guess. They're giving me until the end of June to produce a draft. After that I'll have another two weeks to turn in the final. No extensions." Blair met his Sentinel's gaze with no small amount of worry, aware that his heart was beating rather fast.
A faint smile twitched the corners of Jim's mouth as the older man reached up to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's all right, Chief. I'll help you however I can, no complaints. Promise."
Blair smiled. "Thanks, Jim." Placing his backpack on a chair, he dug through it for a moment. "Here. Thought you might want this."
Jim took the white disk mailer with a frown. They all knew what it contained. Resignedly, the big man pulled the zip strip and dumped the coin into the evidence bag Blair was holding open, then took the bag. Jim looked at the coin long enough to read, "J. Turnbow, Sr., SFC". It was no surprise. With a grimace, the detective tossed the bit of silver on the table.
"So what have I missed today?" Blair asked, sitting down next to Jim.
"We've finally managed to trace Turnbow's steps over the last few months," Jim answered.
"And?"
"He's been in each of the cities prior to the murders."
"That's good, isn't it?"
"Not quite good enough, unfortunately. It proves he was in those cities on the right days and at the right time, but doesn't actually place him at the scenes. Unless we can turn up witnesses, we're at a dead end there."
"Don't you have enough for surveillance now, though?"
"We're keeping track of his movements as we speak," Major Stoltz answered.
"Better news is that we've narrowed down our target list to four."
"That's great! So, now what happens?"
"We contact them and see if they'll consent to protection," Stoltz said. "I honestly think this has the best chance of catching our man."
"And if they don't consent?" Blair asked.
The major sighed. "We do the best we can."
"We're not expecting him to make a move for another nine days, right? What do we do in the meantime?"
"We watch and wait," Jim said.
Blair made a face, but nodded in understanding.
May 17, MondayBlair sat on the sofa, staring out the patio doors. It was three AM. A cup of cold tea sat forgotten on the end table. He knew he should be in bed asleep, but he was too worried. Although today would probably see the delivery of another coin, yesterday had actually been the ninth day. Everyone involved with the case had been on alert. Nothing had happened, or at least they hadn't heard about anything happening. Blair couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. From the way Jim had been acting the last couple of days, he was sure the Sentinel felt it, too.
The past week had been spent coordinating stakeouts across city and state jurisdictions for the four possible targets. The cities included Seattle, Boulder, Colorado, Tempe, Arizona, and Sacramento, California. Simon had managed to sweet-talk the various local police departments into providing a team in each city, and Major Stoltz along with Colonel Duffy had managed to gather enough men to provide support. The days had gone quickly. The nights were another matter.
More than once over the last several days, Blair had awakened in the middle of the night and found his Sentinel standing watch at the balcony doors. When questioned, the big man had denied having any nightmares, but reluctantly admitted to feeling a certain restlessness. Blair thought he understood. Jim was a man of action. He needed to be doing something to capture this guy who was tormenting him, but for now, the man was out of his reach and all Jim could do was wait. Blair knew his friend could tolerate the waiting if it meant he could take action in the end, but when Jim had been informed that he could not be part of the Seattle stakeout, he'd nearly snapped.
Cooler heads had prevailed, however, and convinced Jim that he was too emotionally involved in the case, that his presence could actually pose a danger to the other officers assigned, as well as himself. The detective had eventually agreed with the reasoning, but that didn't stop the Sentinel from prowling the loft in the middle of the night.
"Hey, Chief. What're you doing up?" Jim's quiet voice cut through Blair's thoughts.
"Can't sleep." Blair glanced at his roommate as the older man settled beside him.
No words were spoken for several moments. Eventually Jim said quietly, "I know you're worried about today, but--"
Blair cut him off. "Yes, I am worried, and I'm scared--for you. If there was ever a day you really, really needed me, today would be the day. And I can't be there for you!" His voice was strained.
Jim laid a hand on the grad student's shoulder. "Chief--Blair, you did everything you could to find somebody to cover for you. I know that, you do, too. We both know things don't always go the way we want them to."
"Yeah, I know." Blair sighed. "I guess the only good thing about it is I'm only proctoring exams. If I was lecturing, I'd be absolutely useless. Then again, if I was lecturing, I could cancel class."
Jim chuckled softly. "Then I'd have to kick your butt for shirking your responsibilities to your students."
Blair just shrugged, unwilling to let go of his melancholy just yet. He wanted--needed--to be with his partner today. "Promise me you'll keep me informed on what's going on?"
"Sandburg, we've been through this already," Jim said with a touch of exasperation. His tone softened. "Yes. I told you, I'll keep you informed. Besides, I heard you give Simon orders to contact you if I don't." Jim smiled slightly, giving Blair's shoulder another squeeze. "Now, will you try to relax? I'm going to be safely at the station doing paperwork, and keeping in touch with Stoltz via phone."
"'Relax', he says," Blair muttered. "I'm not the one who's been prowling around the loft at odd hours of the night."
Jim cuffed him lightly on the head. "Sentinel's prerogative," he murmured.
Blair stared at his friend for a moment, not sure he'd heard that right, but when Jim offered him a small smile, he realized he had. Sentinel's prerogative, huh? Never thought I'd hear him admit it.
"Come on, Chief, let's try and get some sleep."
Reluctantly, he nodded and allowed Jim to pull him to his feet.
Several hours later Blair found himself fidgeting uncomfortably in a chair beside the classroom entrance as his first class took their exams. He tried to put the time to good use and work on his paper, but he couldn't concentrate. After a seemingly endless hour and a half, Blair called time and the remaining test takers reluctantly handed him their bluebooks. For the next period, the teaching fellow retreated to his office, then was back in the classroom. In that time, Jim called twice to let him know there had been no change.
During the following period, Blair managed to relax enough to begin grading the tests from the first class. Even so, the next ninety minutes were grueling in their slowness. Once the last of the tests from this group were handed in and subsequently stuffed into his backpack, he all but ran to his office.
"Jim!" Blair was pleasantly surprised to find his partner waiting in his office.
"Hey, Chief. Thought we could grab some lunch together."
"Sure, man, that'd be great! How 'bout that Greek place over by the deli across campus?"
"Sounds good."
Blair dumped his backpack on the floor next to his desk, grabbed his jacket and followed Jim out the door. "So, nothing's happened?" he asked on the way to the truck.
Jim shook his head. "Nothing."
The Guide was relieved to hear this, because it meant his partner hadn't had to deal with any fallout without him. Part of him was disappointed, however. He'd hoped Turnbow would've been apprehended by now so they could start getting some answers, and begin putting this whole thing behind them.
Over a leisurely lunch, the two men began to relax in the soothing comfort of each other's presence. Blair admitted that, as expected, he hadn't been worth much during the morning hours. About all he'd accomplished was one paragraph on his dissertation and four graded tests. Jim confessed to not getting much paperwork finished and being testy enough to have Simon threatening to lock him in an interrogation room.
When they got back to campus and Jim pulled into a parking space, Blair looked at his partner quizzically.
The big man gave him a rather sheepish look. "You've only got the one class this afternoon, right?"
Blair nodded, waiting.
"Well, Simon kinda ordered me to stick around. Maybe ordered is too strong a word, but he made it clear I was to stay here."
Blair chuckled as they got out of the truck. "Simon's got a lot of faith in me, doesn't he, if he thinks I can keep an eye on you?"
"Why, you don't think you can?"
The grad student stopped, turned, and stared wide-eyed up at his partner. "All right, who are you, and what have you done with the real Jim Ellison?"
Jim threw back his head and laughed. Slinging an arm around Blair's shoulders, the detective began heading them toward the Anthro building. "I'm not that bad, am I?"
Blair just shook his head. "Jim, you don't know the half of it."
Without removing his arm totally from Blair's shoulders the detective reached up and tapped him on the head. "Then I guess we'll just have to keep an eye on each other."
"Always, man, always." Blair grinned, falling into easy step with his partner. "Thanks, man," he murmured, realizing the purpose of their banter. He felt the arm around his shoulders tighten briefly, then fall away.
They continued toward Hargrove Hall in companionable silence for a bit. "Did you mean it when you said you'd help me any way you could with my paper?" Blair asked quietly.
Jim sighed quietly. "Yeah, Chief, I meant it. When you weren't stalling, I was stalling, or at least attempting to stifle you, and now your entire academic career is at stake. As much as it scares me, I'm willing to do what you need in order to finish your dissertation."
Knowing how much effort it took Jim to admit that, Blair didn't want to spoil the mood by calling attention to it. Instead, he focused on the offer itself. Blair quivered with excitement. His voice shook only a little when he said, "You know, my next class isn't until two. We could pass some time with a Q&A?"
His partner hesitated only for a second before nodding his consent.
"Great!" Blair allowed himself one bounce, then continued walking.
The next hour was spent in the grad student's office with Blair asking questions and Jim doing his best to answer them honestly. When two o'clock rolled around, Blair rushed off to proctor his last class, feeling more lighthearted than he had in a very long time. The ninety minute period seemed to fly.
"What?" Blair heard his partner yell as he approached his office. Quietly he entered, shutting the door behind him.
"What do you mean, he got away?"
Uh-oh. This doesn't sound good. Blair's lighthearted mood quickly vanished as he realized Jim was talking to someone on the surveillance task force. He set his backpack down and went to stand in front of his partner. Blair watched as Jim's jaw muscle continued to tighten. The big man's whole body was rigid with tension. He knew if this kept up Jim was going to give himself one hell of a headache. Just what he didn't need.
Blair reached out and barely touched his partner's wrist, drawing Jim's gaze to him. The Guide locked onto those icy blue eyes, silently conveying the fact he was there, ready and willing to provide the anchor. As he watched, the ice transmuted into something just as sharp but not as brittle, the tension easing slightly.
A few more terse words were spoken, then Jim snapped the cell phone shut. The detective continued to gaze at Blair, his eyes now flashing angrily. Blair waited expectantly.
"Turnbow managed to slip surveillance. Mitchell Widden is missing."
Blair paled. Mitchell Widden was the Seattle target. "Oh, man."
Jim jerked his head in agreement, turning to gaze out the window. "If only I'd been there."
Blair looked up from his contemplation of the floor. He recognized that statement for what it was. Jim was blaming himself. He felt the bond between them resonate, and he realized the Sentinel was teetering on the verge of shutdown. "Whoa, man! Don't even go there." Blair moved around in front of his partner, and gripped Jim's arms. Shaking him firmly as he gazed up into those sky-blue eyes, he said, "Man, don't you dare shut down on me! This isn't your fault, damnit. Even if you had been in Seattle, you don't know that you could have prevented it."
Jim blinked slowly, and finally refocused on Blair's face. "But if I had been there, I might have spotted Turnbow. Captured him."
"'Might have', is the operative phrase here, man," Blair said earnestly, still gripping Jim's arms. "If you had been in Seattle, Turnbow might have struck somewhere else. The fact that he slipped surveillance tells me he knew he was being watched. If he knew he was being watched, he probably figures you're on to him."
Jim nodded again. "Yeah. You're right, Chief. But damn it!"
"I know, Jim. I was hoping we'd have this all wrapped up today, too. I had a feeling something was gonna go wrong."
His partner smiled slightly. "Yeah, me too."
"Have they found--Widden's body yet?" Blair let go of Jim's arms and moved a step back.
"No. There's no sign of anything. No body. No sign of forced entry. Nothing."
"Maybe Widden's still alive."
"Why would Turnbow kidnap Widden when he's already murdered four men?"
Blair threw up his arms in exasperation. "I don't know, man. Maybe he felt there was too much heat around the place and took him to a more secluded spot. I have no idea."
"Maybe. You're right, though."
"About what?"
"Until they find a body or indications that Widden was killed, this has to be treated as an abduction. Damn, this is definitely going to bring the Feds in now."
Blair grimaced at the thought, but knew his partner was probably right. "Do you suppose it'd help to contact the Northwest Region head directly?"
"That's not a bad idea, Chief. Since we've worked with the Director before, maybe he won't be averse to letting us continue the investigation."
"It's worth a shot."
"You finished here?"
"Yep. Let me grab a few more things, then we can get out of here."
From the university they went straight back to the station. Simon was on the phone when the partners entered his office. From the sound of it, he was talking to his counterpart in Seattle about the botched stakeout, and attempting to hold on to his temper.
A few minutes later the captain hung up, a frown deeply etched in his face, but his shoulders slumped a little. He looked up at the two men, leaning back in his chair. "That was Lieutenant Tuckerman in Seattle. He assures me that his detail was on full alert. They saw no one leave or enter Mitchell Widden's residence for the past two days. Until I have reason to believe otherwise, I have to accept his word that his officers didn't screw up. Of course, if Turnbow lost his surveillance, then it's entirely possible he could have sneaked past a stakeout."
Jim nodded in resignation. Banks gave his best detective a worried look, then met Blair's intense gaze. No words were necessary; they saw the knowledge in each other's eyes. Jim was being targeted in a personal vendetta, and the perp was playing very dirty pool. The captain knew as well as a certain anthropologist that if they didn't apprehend Turnbow, and soon, Jim was going to self-destruct.
The next few hours were tumultuous. Calls were placed and teams were assembled. With the apparent kidnapping of Widden, the case was now technically a Federal investigation, but Jordan Whitney, FBI Director of the Northwest Region, had agreed to let Jim, and the Major Crime division of the Cascade PD spearhead the operation, since they knew all the details. Whitney had issued a Federal warrant for Jake Turnbow, Jr.'s arrest, and was sending a team of investigators to the Widden residence.
Major Stoltz was on his way back from New Mexico where he had been heading up the local operation. He had contacted the commander of Turnbow's unit and informed him of the situation. If their suspect returned to his post, the MPs would arrest him.
It was now a Federal manhunt.
Eventually the furor died down, as the various team members settled into their assigned tasks. It was full dark by the time the last of the task force left the captain's office. With a tired sigh, Simon leaned back in his chair and looked over at the lone figure standing in front of the windows. "Jim, you might as well go home. You've done all you can here for the night." When there was no response, Banks looked to the man's partner, who was still sitting at the conference table, his own focus on the Sentinel. "Sandburg."
Blair blinked, and turned his head.
Simon jerked his head toward Jim. "Take your partner home. I know he's been losing sleep again, and God knows this situation isn't going to help matters, but try to get him to sleep."
Blair nodded, and stood up, the chair scraping loudly across the floor. Jim didn't react. Casting a worried glance at Simon, he moved around the table to reach his partner. The detective stood almost statue-still, but his eyes were bright and his mouth was closed. Not a standard zone, then. Blair laid a gentle hand on his friend's arm. Jim's gaze shifted down to meet Blair's concerned blue eyes. "Jim?"
The corners of Jim's mouth twitched upward slightly, then he took a deep breath. Letting it out, he raised his arm and draped it around Blair's shoulders, pulling him in toward the big man's side. Startled, the anthropologist returned the hug reflexively. What's goin' on? They stood that way for several moments, neither man saying anything. Blair was confused, until he detected the tiny tremors in the larger form. He understood then, and tightened his hold on the bigger man. For a moment, Blair felt Jim leaning a little more into him, and finally the tremors stilled. Jim straightened, releasing Blair with a light squeeze to his shoulder. Sentinel and Guide looked at each other, strength offered and accepted in that gaze. They shared a smile.
"Come on, Chief. I believe the man said something about going home."
"I'm for that. See you tomorrow, Simon." The grad student picked up his backpack and scooted out the door.
"Good night, Simon," Jim said before following his partner.
The odd peace they had attained in Simon's office lasted through supper at their favorite Chinese restaurant, through the ride home, and into the building. When Jim opened the mailbox and saw the white disk-mailer among the bills, the mood abruptly ended.
Blair gripped his friend's elbow. "Jim, man, stay with me here, okay?"
Jim gave his head a hard shake, then glanced down at Blair. "I'm all right, Chief. I'd just forgotten what day it was, somehow."
Blair didn't bother to mention that the possible reason he'd forgotten was because they had been concentrating on capturing Turnbow. The grad student didn't think reminding his partner of the failed stakeout would be such a good idea. Instead, he simply stepped into the elevator with Jim.
Once upstairs, the latest coin was quickly removed from its cardboard container and placed in an evidence bag. The name they expected, "C. Walker, SFC", was engraved on the banner. In a surreal way, it was a relief to know their hypothesis had been correct.
He stared at Hill. *I should do something,* he thought, but even as he attempted to move, the blood stopped flowing. No! Kelly! The words of denial finally galvanized him to action and he scrambled back into the helicopter. He reached out to touch his friend's neck with shaking hands. There was no pulse. Sinking back on his heels, he looked at the body. Gently turning it over revealed the three-inch piece of metal protruding from Hill's chest. He wiped a hand over his eyes, attempting to erase the image. It didn't go away. He turned his head. Numbly, he surveyed the carnage around him. Six men were sprawled in a tangle of limbs across the deck, three with faces blistered and burned beyond recognition. Hill had apparently been thrown clear of the jumble and ended up at the right-hand crew door.
He heard a noise. It took a moment for it to register. When he heard it again, his head snapped around to gaze at the bodies. It came again. There were survivors! He moved quickly to discover how many and how badly they were hurt.
Jim moaned softly, his brows furrowing in his sleep.
He moved his left hand to the back of Andersen's head, holding his chin in the other. With one quick, fluid motion he twisted the sergeant's neck, deftly snapping the vertebrae.
"No!" Jim's eyes popped open as he gasped. Relaxing back into the mattress, he raised his hands to rub at his eyes.
"Jim?"
Ellison turned and looked through the railing to the floor below. Blair was sitting on the couch, bluebooks spread around him, looking up at Jim in concern. "You all right, man?"
"Yeah, fine. Sorry I disturbed you, Chief."
Blair waved the apology aside. "You want to talk about it?"
There was a long pause. "I don't know if I can."
Blair took that as a silent plea, and bounded quietly up the steps. By the dim light of the lamp below, he made his way to Jim's bed and sat down on the corner. The larger man swung his legs out from under the covers and sat up.
The grad student waited quietly for a few moments. When nothing was forthcoming, he asked, "You've sounded kind of restless since about midnight. What was this one about?"
Jim gazed up at the high windows. Blair wondered if he was using his Sentinel-sight to look at the stars or if he was just staring. "I killed one of my men."
Blair didn't know what he'd expected, but it definitely wasn't this. Okay, Blair. Careful how you handle this one. "Do you know why?"
Jim dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head.
"Was he engaged in something illegal and you were trying to apprehend him? Did you have to shoot him?"
Another head shake. "No. He wasn't running, and I didn't shoot him. I--I think he was hurt, and I--I broke his neck."
"Okay," Blair said quietly. "Let's think about this. We--I know you don't kill people in cold blood, so there had to be a good reason."
"Are you sure about that, Sandburg?"
"I am." Blair met the older man's eyes with complete conviction. Jim finally looked away, embarrassed. "What we need to do is get you to think back. Your dreams lately have been about Peru, right? Could this have been another one?"
Jim nodded.
"Okay. Lie back, relax, do your breathing."
"Sandburg--"
"Jim," Blair cut him off. "Do you want to find out what happened and why, or not?"
"What if I don't like what I find out?"
"This is about facing your fears, Jim. Don't be afraid of your visions. Running from them only gets you into more trouble."
Jim sat very still for a moment, his expression stunned.
"What? What is it?"
Jim blinked, then lay down as Blair had directed him. "Incacha said virtually the same thing to me."
"Incacha? When?"
"Last year, after--after the ordeal with Alex. He told me not to be afraid to walk in my dreams, that only by walking in them could I understand." Jim's voice was ragged. He seemed shaken by the revelation.
"Last year? And you're just now telling me about this?"
"I'd forgotten it. With everything else, I just--it slipped my mind."
Blair waved the explanation aside. "Fine, fine. That's over with, now we need to concentrate on this latest dream. I have a feeling this is just one more guilt factor that needs to be dealt with and put to rest for good."
Jim shrugged.
"Close your eyes, Jim. Do your breathing. Now go to the place where the helicopter crashed. You're with your men." Blair's voice trailed off, watching Jim's face go lax as it always did when he dived into trance.
"Captain!"
"I'm here, Andersen." He squeezed a tiny bit of water from the soaked cloth onto his sergeant's lips. The intelligence officer gasped but managed to lick at the moisture.
"Ahh! Captain, sir--please?"
"Save your strength, buddy," he crooned, trying to ease his man's discomfort. He quickly checked the other two survivors. Survivors. Pffaw. He scoffed at himself. They were all going to die. The best he could hope to do was stay with them and attempt to ease their pain.
His engineer had a piece of shrapnel in his side, and it was quite obvious he was bleeding to death internally. His XO had a severe head injury and gashes from flying bits of glass and metal. Surprisingly he was conscious and relatively coherent. How long he was going to stay that way was anyone's guess. Of the three mortally wounded men, Andersen was the most severely injured, though his death was likely to be long in coming. The intelligence officer was burned over much of his body, his face and hands black and blistered. He was blind from the missile's exhaust trail. Much of his left side was shattered from where he'd been thrown against the winch in the back of the aircraft. Ellison knew that even if rescue came right then, Andersen would die anyway, but it was going to be a painful, lingering death. He gulped at the thought, wishing there was something more he could do.
"End it, sir, please?" Andersen implored, as if in answer to his wish.
"No!"
"I'm dead anyway, sir." The sergeant could barely speak.
"Andersen," he began, but was interrupted as an injudicious move by Andersen caused the man to scream in agony.
"Captain," the sergeant said several minutes later, gasping for breath, "please don't make me suffer like this. I'm gonna die. We both know it. Question is when. Do I suffer first, or go quietly?"
He looked at the other two men. Both were gazing at him calmly. They knew and agreed with Andersen's request, even if he didn't. He closed his eyes. When Andersen gasped and cried out, he opened them again. "All right," he whispered. "Give me a minute to check the others."
"Thanks, Cap." The intelligence officer's reply was a whimper of relief.
Ellison nodded, though Andersen couldn't see it, and moved over to the other two men. He gave them water and gently tended their wounds.
When Andersen cried out again, he quit stalling and returned to the sergeant's side. "Okay, Andersen. I'm here."
Andersen barely moved his head in a nod.
"I'm going to lift you up a little and get under your shoulders, okay? Hang on." As gently and smoothly as he could, he lifted Andersen and slid his knees under the man's back and shoulders. He eased his left arm around the front of the sergeant, gripping Andersen's far shoulder. He placed his other hand gently under Andersen's chin, ignoring the sticky, oozing mess of burned flesh.
Andersen inhaled sharply at the touch, but only whimpered.
Ellison bent forward, leaning his forehead against the top of Andersen's head. Closing his eyes again, he asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Ready?"
"I'm ready. No regrets, Captain. It was a pleasure serving with you, sir."
"You, too," he murmured. He straightened. Without opening his eyes, he moved his left hand to the back of Andersen's head, took a deep breath, and in one quick, fluid motion, snapped the man's neck. Afterwards he sat there, hugging the sergeant to him, silent tears squeezing out from beneath closed lids.
Jim opened his eyes. Blair had watched in concern as tears began to course down his friend's cheeks, but he hadn't wanted to interrupt the quest. Now, he waited expectantly for Jim to speak.
Jim wiped at his eyes before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Finally, he met Blair's gaze. "It was Andersen, my intelligence officer. He was hurt pretty bad. Third degree burns on his face and torso, broken ribs and other bones. He was bleeding internally. He was in a lot of pain. He was dying. He asked me to end it for him. At first I refused. I didn't think I could do it, but he was in agony. He knew as well as I did that he was going to die whether we got rescued right then or not. The question was whether or not he was going to have to suffer. So I--did what he asked." This last was barely a whisper.
While the Sentinel had been visiting his memories, Blair had rearranged his position on the bed. Now he was actually sitting in lotus position on the other side of the big man. He reached out and laid a hand on Jim's arm. "Remember when I told Alex you had compassion in spades?"
Ellison nodded slightly.
"This is just another example of that compassion, Jim."
The detective snorted in disbelief.
"Jim, if you'd had morphine or something like that you would have drugged him into oblivion, right?"
"Probably."
"He would have been without pain, but lingered for days, eventually dying. Without the drugs he would have suffered unspeakable pain and lingered for days, eventually dying. He asked you to let him die with dignity, and you gave that to him, Jim. You can't get much more compassionate than that."
His friend sighed, reluctantly acknowledging Blair's reasoning with a nod. "I still don't know how 'right' it was, but now that I remember what happened, I don't feel guilty about it. I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't asked me, actually begged me. I couldn't turn him down."
"Of course not, Jim. He was your friend. The situation was extreme. He was dying. You eased his suffering the only way you could."
"I get it, Chief. I know."
Blair let it drop, confident that Jim was okay with the memory. "You think you can go back to sleep now?"
"Yeah. It's getting late, Chief. Hope I didn't put you too far behind in your grading."
"Nah. I'm okay. I want this set done before Wednesday, but none of them have to be posted until Friday." Blair got off the bed as Jim punched his pillow into a more comfortable position.
"Okay, then try not to stay up too much later."
"I won't." Blair made his way to the stairs. "Good night, Jim."
"Night, Chief."
Blair glanced once more at his partner, smiled, and continued down the steps.
He raised his head, and looked back at the other two. There were no recriminations in their eyes, only tears. Gently, he eased Andersen's body to the deck and moved to check on them. His engineer was hanging on, but still bleeding internally.
"You did what was necessary, Captain," Sarris said honestly.
He simply nodded, not entirely sure that was true. Making Sarris as comfortable as possible, he turned his attention to his XO. How the man was still conscious, let alone coherent, he didn't know.
"Captain, gotta tell ya somethin'."
"Shh, don't talk, Crouse," he murmured as he wiped the man's brow with a wet cloth.
"No, gotta tell you…. Tell Joyce…tell Joyce I loved her…and I'm sorry I won't be there to help raise our granddaughter. Tell her--Tell her that I'll be lookin' over her, her and little Elizabeth, and David too. Promise me?"
Tears stung his eyes as he continued to administer what comfort he could.
"Please, sir. Promise me?"
"I promise," he whispered brokenly.
"Thanks, Jim." With those simple words, Crouse finally lost consciousness.
Jim whimpered, and rolled over. His brow furrowed. Unconsciously, Jim reached out his senses and tagged Blair's heartbeat in the room below. He let the familiar rhythm soothe him. Quietly, he sighed, and drifted into a deeper sleep.
Lowering Crouse to the deck, he moved back to Sarris. The engineer was in a lot of pain himself, but by no means the agony Andersen had been suffering. With the medical supplies destroyed there wasn't much Ellison could do, and both men knew it. He clamped his jaw at his helplessness.
Sarris gave him a brave smile. "This is a fine mess, isn't it, Captain?"
He grimaced, but nodded in agreement as he gently probed the sergeant's side.
"Don't blame yourself, Captain. There was nothing you could do."
He didn't reply.
A tiny chuckle from Sarris.
"Ellison, take it from an old war dog, there will always be things you can't fix or change, no matter how badly you want to. It's a fact of life."
"Knowing doesn't make it any easier."
"No. No it doesn't." There was a sharp intake of breath.
He tried to ease the pain slightly, but it only seemed to be getting worse. He closed his eyes against the knowledge. He opened them again when a hand clamped around his arm.
"Sarris! Hold on, buddy."
"It's too late for me, sir."
He swallowed, knowing it was true, but wanting to deny it.
"Complete the mission, Captain." Brown eyes slowly closed for the last time.
He bowed his head in defeat. Finally, he went to the remaining man and took up one last vigil. An hour later, Crouse slipped silently into death, never regaining consciousness.
Jim drew in a ragged breath, and rolled onto his back.