Living in Silence
Title: Living in Silence
Author: Twilight
Feedback: Always welcome
Summary: Tenth story in my summer writing project. This was originally posted on the Sentinel Angst list for a ‘Vow of Silence’ challenge. Part of a continual series, but you don’t need to read the previous stories to understand what’s happening in this one.
Favorite Drama Writer
Favorite Episode/Missing Scene: Living in Silence
Favorite Episode Related: Living in Silence
*`*`*
The truck lurched to a stop and Jim looked around the barren farm land, a glint of suspicion in his eye. "And you say they're sending a shuttle bus for us…its okay to leave the truck here?"
"Yeah, man. It's perfectly safe here." Blair popped the auto lock switch, opening the passenger door and dropping down to the ground, stretching out his legs. It was only an hour ride, but half way there he got that old familiar feeling of apprehension rocking and rolling in his stomach.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
But Jim needed a break…and so did he.
His friend came around the back of the truck, pulling and swinging a golf club from a bag Blair didn't see him load into the flat bed.
Rolling his eyes, he asked again what Jim had expected from this little foray. "I'm sure I said spartan." But Blair could tell that Jim still didn't understand that this trip was about, getting back to the basics, leaving behind the trouble and stress of his life…at least that was what it had been about the first time Blair had visited several years back.
An old yellow school bus pulled to a stop, gravel crunching under the large tires and a man Blair hadn't seen in years opened the double door. "Hop in, guys."
Jim shot him a doubtful look, but grabbed up his duffle, stowing it under a seat about halfway back. Blair slid into the bench in front of him shaking his head as Jim gave him a line about togas and Romans.
The thin road was bumpy, the bus rolled to a stop miles into the surrounding woods and Blair looked through the streaked windows at the monastery grounds. The old white house looked the same, but the black trim had been replaced with a more tranquil blue. Flowers and trees flanking the house were in full bloom and the sun was shining brightly on the man waiting near the door as they climbed down the steps of the bus.
His stomach did another little roll and he wondered again about the wisdom of visiting this place again. The first time wasn’t by choice, but Blair found that the solemn holy men and their gentle ways were a balm to his frazzled nerves and solace for a mind that just wouldn’t shut off…and of course so many of them took care of him during his physical recovery, including him in their duties, letting him tag along and blend in for as long as he needed.
Pushing his thoughts away, he greeted Brother Jeremy, a man he admired greatly. Jim pressed them about creature comforts that he was accustomed too, and Blair reassured him all the way through the familiar halls to their room.
If he would just give it a chance…
Blair knew that this was just the kind of atmosphere that Jim needed to relax.
It sure had helped him.
He dropped his duffle bag on the small writing desk overlooking the workshop, a place he used to visit daily during his month stay, a place he could let his hands work and his mind drift…he almost didn't have to think about what had happened.
Blair turned as Jim's cell phone chirped, shaking his head as Brother Jeremy shot him a look.
"Excuse me." His friend turned his body toward the door, face concealed by the bulky black phone. "Ellison. Hey, Sharon. I'm, uh...I'm out of town. Yeah. Well... We'll pick it up where we left off. Ah. 7:00 sounds good. Uh, I can't really, uh…Good-bye."
Unbelievable. "Jim, did you just make a date in a monastery?"
"She called me."
Blair shook his head, smiling as Brother Jeremy snatched up Jim’s phone, demanded Jim’s gun and returned just as his friend settled down to listen to his walkman radio. "No radios either. Sorry."
"Maybe he's a sentinel monk." A pillow landed firmly on his head. "What?"
Jim settled back to the bed, flinging his arm over his head. "I can't believe I listened to you."
"Come on, man. Give it a shot." Blair lay back down on his bunk, the mattress was thin, and the pillow flat, but he was surprising comfortable. "I'm glad they got a generator. It was hard on my eyes reading by candle light."
When Jim didn't answer him, he looked over to see his friend's mouth open and eyes closed, soft breath sounds escaping in rhythm to the rise and fall of his chest. "Told you man…relaxing."
Blair lay for a bit making sure Jim was deeply asleep before getting up and softly closing the door behind him. The steps down to the ground level creaked in all the old places he remembered, the back door from the kitchen still swung on squeaky hinges.
He nodded in greeting to the few men he passed working in the yard or sitting at the picnic table along the east garden. The plants and flora tended by the monks were so colorful and the trees surrounding the property grew lush and tall, keeping out prying eyes.
The old workshop was quiet as he tentatively stepped over the threshold, seeing the man that had helped him beyond measure, using a soft cloth on an old window frame. His weathered hand flexed as he guided the rag around the top of the window, looking up to see Blair standing in the doorway.
"Well..."
And he wasn't sure…
Was the monk really mad?
He had broken a promise. "Brother Marcus...Hello."
The man's eyes narrowed as he studied Blair, the deep lines on his brow drawing together "I remember you. The young man who promised to write to allow me to vicariously enjoy his exploits in the real world."
"You know, time...gets by you sometimes."
A few seconds passed in silence, and than a huge grin erupted on the older man's face. "Well, I forgive you, but then..."
"You have to." Blair stepped forward as the monk did, feeling the man's big burly arms wrap around him, squeezing. "You look great."
Brother Marcus patted his back, brushing a hand through Blair's longer hair. "I've missed our talks. Do you think we could have some time while you're here to have a talk?"
"You can count on it." Blair looked around the small building, knowing that within its walls he was free to speak, to talk about things that very few people knew.
The dinner bell tolled and they hurried from the shop.
"Oh, it's good to see you." Marcus slung his arm casually around his shoulder and it reminded Blair again how safe this place had been when he needed it most. "Let's go get that friend of yours, before the chili is all gone."
*`*`*
Well…that was awkward.
Jim picked up his spoon, asking Blair to pass some bread. An explosion of taste and textures danced on his tongue. The chili was good. Real good, savory with just the right amount of spice and fresh finely chopped green pepper and onion, the ground beef tender but chunky and the beans were the real thing, soaked not dumped from a can. "Mmm."
"I'm glad you approve, Brother Jim." The man to his right, Daniel, smiled brightly, pointing with his spoon, "It is Brother Blair's recipe, except we use beef…but we so enjoyed it when he first made it for us I decided to use he's secret blend of spices."
Secret, huh?
Jim could pick out cumin, oregano, a dash of cayenne pepper, a little bit of fresh garlic and a bit of paprika, but there was an underlying flavor, almost sweet.
Blair watched him, sipping his wine, realizing that Jim was cataloging the flavors. "You'll never guess, man."
"Hmm." He shoved in another spoonful, determined to figure it out.
Most of the men around the table were quiet, but Brother Jeremy spoke in hushed tones to the man that Blair had introduced as Brother Marcus. He seemed familiar and it was clear that Blair was fond of him.
Once the meal was finished, a younger monk started clearing the table, another pulled on an apron and gloves to wash the dishes.
Blair pitched in, stacking a few dirty bowls near the kitchen sink, running a hand gently over a corner hutch standing near the table that stored the remaining dishes.
"He made that, you know?" Marcus stood along side Jim, watching him watch Blair. "Its teak, I came upon a demoed house boat and salvaged all the original wood, but he did a lovely job…kept him busy for hours on end. Its color has deepened, it's almost golden now."
"I had no idea he could make something like that." Jim turned to the older monk, curious.
When Blair had approached him about this trip, he had only mentioned that he had spent some time here in his early college years, but didn't say why.
An odd tendril of worry worked through Jim's stomach, he had sensed since his arrival that something had transpired and this man knew exactly what it was. An overwhelming need to find out and protect Blair coursed through his veins…it had happened before, but Jim didn't mention it to his friend, knowing that Blair would want to find out why, which meant a lot of uncomfortable questions and endless tests.
Maybe he could take a more direct route. "Blair never did mention how he found this place originally."
"Oh…well, actually I found him along side the road in a ditch, but that's a story for him to tell." The man walked off, leaving Jim no closer to figuring out the source of his restlessness.
You're just over reacting...what could happen in a monastery?
Blair put the flatware away, chatting with the cook, looking his way. "He'll never guess."
"Hmm...I sure didn't." The man chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll see you in the morning."
Blair wandered over and Jim asked, "Well…now what?"
"I don't know, man. We’re free for the evening." Blair moved passed him, heading toward the hall leading to their room…cell, whatever.
"How about some B ball Brother Blair?" Jeremy held a basketball in his hand, a small smile on his face. "I believe I'm still one up on you."
"Basketball...yeah...beautiful." Jim followed the group of shrouded men out the back door and onto the parking pad, noticing the hoop for the first time.
The men quickly divided into teams, some of the older monks standing off to the side to watch. The ball passed easily from hand to hand, swishing through the hoop or rebounding off the back board with a familiar thump.
One guy, Jason, snatched the ball and made the winning basket. "Hey, what about thou shalt not steal…Come on, rematch…"
"You'd better be careful, Jim. People might think you're having a good time, man." Blair bumped shoulders, trying to reach the ball.
"Yeah. Well, it's not too bad."
"Give me the ball."
Jim passed it to his friend, watching as Blair showed off, spinning the ball on the tip of his finger, switching easily from hand to hand.
Timothy went off to ring the bell and another game organized. He relegated Anthony to Blair's team and as the game got started the belled tolled. Its chime crisp and clear and Jim wondered if it could be heard in town.
It was a sound he could get used to.
Blair managed to score a few baskets, zigzagging back and forth, letting Anthony pass him the ball. Jim had just fired off a shot when a loud thumping came from the bell tower and they all took off to find Timothy lying still at the bottom of the steps.
He could tell just by looking that the young monk was dead, no sounds of life emanated from him. Jim couldn't hear his breath or his heart beating and his head lay at a strange angle.
Later Jeremy wasn't happy with Jim's assertion to get help, but relented, opening his drawer to retrieve Jim's phone and gun. "They're gone. Your gun and phone...I put them in this drawer. It was locked."
Well, if he had any doubts before...
"I'm going to have a look around."
Blair followed along quietly, lost in his own thoughts.
They found the body lying in a simple pine box in the front of the sanctuary, Christopher knelt at the low alter off to the side, reciting a prayer and rubbing his crucifix. He looked up when Jim stepped forward.
Blair hung back a little, but leaned in to look when Jim pointed out the fine marks on the man's ankles.
"Wherever mortals gather, there is evil."
It sure looks that way.
After checking the tower and finding the small holes in the baseboard they went in search of the Abbot.
There definitely was a murderer in their mist.
"Man, I just can't believe this." Blair walked briskly beside him, ringing his hands, his shoulders subtly shaking.
"Christopher was right, Chief. They're just men and men are capable of horrible, vile acts." The door leading the house was unlocked and Jim banked that they always left it that way.
The halls were cast in shadow, only a few lights burned in some of the adjoining rooms, but most of the monks had retired to bed earlier in the night.
"Yeah...but this place was different," Blair said, following along, his voice low.
And that feeling, that almost there knot of tension came again.
"You never did tell me how you found this place." Jim turned, hearing a slight increase in Blair's breathing, watching as his pupils expanded.
"It's a long story, man."
Letting the subject slide, they found the light in the kitchen still on and Jeremy sitting at the table sipping something in a mug that didn't smell like coffee or tea.
The man was reluctant, but finally agreed to wake the monks.
Once everyone was settled around the kitchen Blair slipped out to warm up the bus and Jim explained his plan to get the men to town. He knew before even turning that something was wrong, Blair smelt off. "All four tires were slashed...man, what are we going to do."
He reached out to grab Blair's shoulders, hoping that the touch would settle his friend down. "We'll ask for a volunteer to walk into town."
The best laid plans...
It made sense at the time, but when most of the men raised a hand, he wasn't sure what to do.
Jeremy volunteered Theodore and Blair nodded. "He can do it, man. I used to take walks with the guy from time to time and he totally blew me away. He's stronger than he looks."
"I suggest we all go back to our cells, lock ourselves in and try to sleep if you can...and please remember Brother Timothy in your prayers."
The men moved off to their own rooms and Jim followed his friend, shutting and locking the door to their room, after a quick trip to the communal bathroom.
Blair stripped to his tee and boxers, slumping down on his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin, still shivering.
"It's going to be okay, you know. I won't let anything happen to you."
"I know, man...it's just..." Blair flipped over, looking at the ceiling. "I'm okay. Don't worry about me, Jim."
Jim found his sweats in his duffle and changed before getting into his own bunk, shifting the sheets and blanket, rolling until he found a comfortable spot, forgetting to turn off the bare bulb that hung in the center of the room.
He rolled again and reached toward the switch over his bed, near the door. With a flick of the switch, the small room was plunged into total darkness.
Blair surged forward, stumbling from his bed and drawing the heavy drape covering the window opened just a crack. "Hope you don't mind."
"No problem, Chief." A gentle silver light from the full moon filtered in through the small opening, and Jim could see Blair laying back down and rolling to look at him.
"I was nineteen."
Jim shifted, giving his friend his full attention, but he didn't want to say anything, sensing that Blair was just gathering his thoughts.
After a minute or two, Blair blew out a breath and began to speak again. "It seems like so long ago, but then sometimes it seems just like yesterday. I really hadn't thought about it in a long time. I was getting ready to go on an exposition with a professor...a mentor, really. It would have been my second trip to Peru, but I got appendicitis...of all the dumb luck."
He stopped talking and after a while, Jim started to drift, waking to the deep and sleepy voice of his friend. "So I was up here with the hockey team...we used to use the ice rink in town for practice."
"You played hockey?"
"Yeah...was good at it too...anyway, we were having practice and my stomach kept hurting...I had the surgery and when I got out of the hospital, I was driving back home.
I'm not sure what happened, but I lost control of my car, put it a ditch and couldn't get back out. Brother Marcus came along and tried to tow me out with a rope they kept on the bus."
"So, what...you just stayed?" Jim could hear a ring of truth in what his friend told him, but he knew Blair was glossing over some important details.
"Well...I had a fever. They put me up and...took...ca...care of me..." He stopped mid sentence, sleeping with his head pillowed on his arm, the other tucked around his stomach, fingers lax and curled.
What aren't you telling me, buddy?
Blair mumbled something before turning away.
"Nutmeg?"
"In the chili," and then Blair was softly snoring.
Part Two Found Here
Author: Twilight
Feedback: Always welcome
Summary: Tenth story in my summer writing project. This was originally posted on the Sentinel Angst list for a ‘Vow of Silence’ challenge. Part of a continual series, but you don’t need to read the previous stories to understand what’s happening in this one.
Favorite Drama Writer
Favorite Episode/Missing Scene: Living in Silence
Favorite Episode Related: Living in Silence
*`*`*
The truck lurched to a stop and Jim looked around the barren farm land, a glint of suspicion in his eye. "And you say they're sending a shuttle bus for us…its okay to leave the truck here?"
"Yeah, man. It's perfectly safe here." Blair popped the auto lock switch, opening the passenger door and dropping down to the ground, stretching out his legs. It was only an hour ride, but half way there he got that old familiar feeling of apprehension rocking and rolling in his stomach.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
But Jim needed a break…and so did he.
His friend came around the back of the truck, pulling and swinging a golf club from a bag Blair didn't see him load into the flat bed.
Rolling his eyes, he asked again what Jim had expected from this little foray. "I'm sure I said spartan." But Blair could tell that Jim still didn't understand that this trip was about, getting back to the basics, leaving behind the trouble and stress of his life…at least that was what it had been about the first time Blair had visited several years back.
An old yellow school bus pulled to a stop, gravel crunching under the large tires and a man Blair hadn't seen in years opened the double door. "Hop in, guys."
Jim shot him a doubtful look, but grabbed up his duffle, stowing it under a seat about halfway back. Blair slid into the bench in front of him shaking his head as Jim gave him a line about togas and Romans.
The thin road was bumpy, the bus rolled to a stop miles into the surrounding woods and Blair looked through the streaked windows at the monastery grounds. The old white house looked the same, but the black trim had been replaced with a more tranquil blue. Flowers and trees flanking the house were in full bloom and the sun was shining brightly on the man waiting near the door as they climbed down the steps of the bus.
His stomach did another little roll and he wondered again about the wisdom of visiting this place again. The first time wasn’t by choice, but Blair found that the solemn holy men and their gentle ways were a balm to his frazzled nerves and solace for a mind that just wouldn’t shut off…and of course so many of them took care of him during his physical recovery, including him in their duties, letting him tag along and blend in for as long as he needed.
Pushing his thoughts away, he greeted Brother Jeremy, a man he admired greatly. Jim pressed them about creature comforts that he was accustomed too, and Blair reassured him all the way through the familiar halls to their room.
If he would just give it a chance…
Blair knew that this was just the kind of atmosphere that Jim needed to relax.
It sure had helped him.
He dropped his duffle bag on the small writing desk overlooking the workshop, a place he used to visit daily during his month stay, a place he could let his hands work and his mind drift…he almost didn't have to think about what had happened.
Blair turned as Jim's cell phone chirped, shaking his head as Brother Jeremy shot him a look.
"Excuse me." His friend turned his body toward the door, face concealed by the bulky black phone. "Ellison. Hey, Sharon. I'm, uh...I'm out of town. Yeah. Well... We'll pick it up where we left off. Ah. 7:00 sounds good. Uh, I can't really, uh…Good-bye."
Unbelievable. "Jim, did you just make a date in a monastery?"
"She called me."
Blair shook his head, smiling as Brother Jeremy snatched up Jim’s phone, demanded Jim’s gun and returned just as his friend settled down to listen to his walkman radio. "No radios either. Sorry."
"Maybe he's a sentinel monk." A pillow landed firmly on his head. "What?"
Jim settled back to the bed, flinging his arm over his head. "I can't believe I listened to you."
"Come on, man. Give it a shot." Blair lay back down on his bunk, the mattress was thin, and the pillow flat, but he was surprising comfortable. "I'm glad they got a generator. It was hard on my eyes reading by candle light."
When Jim didn't answer him, he looked over to see his friend's mouth open and eyes closed, soft breath sounds escaping in rhythm to the rise and fall of his chest. "Told you man…relaxing."
Blair lay for a bit making sure Jim was deeply asleep before getting up and softly closing the door behind him. The steps down to the ground level creaked in all the old places he remembered, the back door from the kitchen still swung on squeaky hinges.
He nodded in greeting to the few men he passed working in the yard or sitting at the picnic table along the east garden. The plants and flora tended by the monks were so colorful and the trees surrounding the property grew lush and tall, keeping out prying eyes.
The old workshop was quiet as he tentatively stepped over the threshold, seeing the man that had helped him beyond measure, using a soft cloth on an old window frame. His weathered hand flexed as he guided the rag around the top of the window, looking up to see Blair standing in the doorway.
"Well..."
And he wasn't sure…
Was the monk really mad?
He had broken a promise. "Brother Marcus...Hello."
The man's eyes narrowed as he studied Blair, the deep lines on his brow drawing together "I remember you. The young man who promised to write to allow me to vicariously enjoy his exploits in the real world."
"You know, time...gets by you sometimes."
A few seconds passed in silence, and than a huge grin erupted on the older man's face. "Well, I forgive you, but then..."
"You have to." Blair stepped forward as the monk did, feeling the man's big burly arms wrap around him, squeezing. "You look great."
Brother Marcus patted his back, brushing a hand through Blair's longer hair. "I've missed our talks. Do you think we could have some time while you're here to have a talk?"
"You can count on it." Blair looked around the small building, knowing that within its walls he was free to speak, to talk about things that very few people knew.
The dinner bell tolled and they hurried from the shop.
"Oh, it's good to see you." Marcus slung his arm casually around his shoulder and it reminded Blair again how safe this place had been when he needed it most. "Let's go get that friend of yours, before the chili is all gone."
*`*`*
Well…that was awkward.
Jim picked up his spoon, asking Blair to pass some bread. An explosion of taste and textures danced on his tongue. The chili was good. Real good, savory with just the right amount of spice and fresh finely chopped green pepper and onion, the ground beef tender but chunky and the beans were the real thing, soaked not dumped from a can. "Mmm."
"I'm glad you approve, Brother Jim." The man to his right, Daniel, smiled brightly, pointing with his spoon, "It is Brother Blair's recipe, except we use beef…but we so enjoyed it when he first made it for us I decided to use he's secret blend of spices."
Secret, huh?
Jim could pick out cumin, oregano, a dash of cayenne pepper, a little bit of fresh garlic and a bit of paprika, but there was an underlying flavor, almost sweet.
Blair watched him, sipping his wine, realizing that Jim was cataloging the flavors. "You'll never guess, man."
"Hmm." He shoved in another spoonful, determined to figure it out.
Most of the men around the table were quiet, but Brother Jeremy spoke in hushed tones to the man that Blair had introduced as Brother Marcus. He seemed familiar and it was clear that Blair was fond of him.
Once the meal was finished, a younger monk started clearing the table, another pulled on an apron and gloves to wash the dishes.
Blair pitched in, stacking a few dirty bowls near the kitchen sink, running a hand gently over a corner hutch standing near the table that stored the remaining dishes.
"He made that, you know?" Marcus stood along side Jim, watching him watch Blair. "Its teak, I came upon a demoed house boat and salvaged all the original wood, but he did a lovely job…kept him busy for hours on end. Its color has deepened, it's almost golden now."
"I had no idea he could make something like that." Jim turned to the older monk, curious.
When Blair had approached him about this trip, he had only mentioned that he had spent some time here in his early college years, but didn't say why.
An odd tendril of worry worked through Jim's stomach, he had sensed since his arrival that something had transpired and this man knew exactly what it was. An overwhelming need to find out and protect Blair coursed through his veins…it had happened before, but Jim didn't mention it to his friend, knowing that Blair would want to find out why, which meant a lot of uncomfortable questions and endless tests.
Maybe he could take a more direct route. "Blair never did mention how he found this place originally."
"Oh…well, actually I found him along side the road in a ditch, but that's a story for him to tell." The man walked off, leaving Jim no closer to figuring out the source of his restlessness.
You're just over reacting...what could happen in a monastery?
Blair put the flatware away, chatting with the cook, looking his way. "He'll never guess."
"Hmm...I sure didn't." The man chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll see you in the morning."
Blair wandered over and Jim asked, "Well…now what?"
"I don't know, man. We’re free for the evening." Blair moved passed him, heading toward the hall leading to their room…cell, whatever.
"How about some B ball Brother Blair?" Jeremy held a basketball in his hand, a small smile on his face. "I believe I'm still one up on you."
"Basketball...yeah...beautiful." Jim followed the group of shrouded men out the back door and onto the parking pad, noticing the hoop for the first time.
The men quickly divided into teams, some of the older monks standing off to the side to watch. The ball passed easily from hand to hand, swishing through the hoop or rebounding off the back board with a familiar thump.
One guy, Jason, snatched the ball and made the winning basket. "Hey, what about thou shalt not steal…Come on, rematch…"
"You'd better be careful, Jim. People might think you're having a good time, man." Blair bumped shoulders, trying to reach the ball.
"Yeah. Well, it's not too bad."
"Give me the ball."
Jim passed it to his friend, watching as Blair showed off, spinning the ball on the tip of his finger, switching easily from hand to hand.
Timothy went off to ring the bell and another game organized. He relegated Anthony to Blair's team and as the game got started the belled tolled. Its chime crisp and clear and Jim wondered if it could be heard in town.
It was a sound he could get used to.
Blair managed to score a few baskets, zigzagging back and forth, letting Anthony pass him the ball. Jim had just fired off a shot when a loud thumping came from the bell tower and they all took off to find Timothy lying still at the bottom of the steps.
He could tell just by looking that the young monk was dead, no sounds of life emanated from him. Jim couldn't hear his breath or his heart beating and his head lay at a strange angle.
Later Jeremy wasn't happy with Jim's assertion to get help, but relented, opening his drawer to retrieve Jim's phone and gun. "They're gone. Your gun and phone...I put them in this drawer. It was locked."
Well, if he had any doubts before...
"I'm going to have a look around."
Blair followed along quietly, lost in his own thoughts.
They found the body lying in a simple pine box in the front of the sanctuary, Christopher knelt at the low alter off to the side, reciting a prayer and rubbing his crucifix. He looked up when Jim stepped forward.
Blair hung back a little, but leaned in to look when Jim pointed out the fine marks on the man's ankles.
"Wherever mortals gather, there is evil."
It sure looks that way.
After checking the tower and finding the small holes in the baseboard they went in search of the Abbot.
There definitely was a murderer in their mist.
"Man, I just can't believe this." Blair walked briskly beside him, ringing his hands, his shoulders subtly shaking.
"Christopher was right, Chief. They're just men and men are capable of horrible, vile acts." The door leading the house was unlocked and Jim banked that they always left it that way.
The halls were cast in shadow, only a few lights burned in some of the adjoining rooms, but most of the monks had retired to bed earlier in the night.
"Yeah...but this place was different," Blair said, following along, his voice low.
And that feeling, that almost there knot of tension came again.
"You never did tell me how you found this place." Jim turned, hearing a slight increase in Blair's breathing, watching as his pupils expanded.
"It's a long story, man."
Letting the subject slide, they found the light in the kitchen still on and Jeremy sitting at the table sipping something in a mug that didn't smell like coffee or tea.
The man was reluctant, but finally agreed to wake the monks.
Once everyone was settled around the kitchen Blair slipped out to warm up the bus and Jim explained his plan to get the men to town. He knew before even turning that something was wrong, Blair smelt off. "All four tires were slashed...man, what are we going to do."
He reached out to grab Blair's shoulders, hoping that the touch would settle his friend down. "We'll ask for a volunteer to walk into town."
The best laid plans...
It made sense at the time, but when most of the men raised a hand, he wasn't sure what to do.
Jeremy volunteered Theodore and Blair nodded. "He can do it, man. I used to take walks with the guy from time to time and he totally blew me away. He's stronger than he looks."
"I suggest we all go back to our cells, lock ourselves in and try to sleep if you can...and please remember Brother Timothy in your prayers."
The men moved off to their own rooms and Jim followed his friend, shutting and locking the door to their room, after a quick trip to the communal bathroom.
Blair stripped to his tee and boxers, slumping down on his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin, still shivering.
"It's going to be okay, you know. I won't let anything happen to you."
"I know, man...it's just..." Blair flipped over, looking at the ceiling. "I'm okay. Don't worry about me, Jim."
Jim found his sweats in his duffle and changed before getting into his own bunk, shifting the sheets and blanket, rolling until he found a comfortable spot, forgetting to turn off the bare bulb that hung in the center of the room.
He rolled again and reached toward the switch over his bed, near the door. With a flick of the switch, the small room was plunged into total darkness.
Blair surged forward, stumbling from his bed and drawing the heavy drape covering the window opened just a crack. "Hope you don't mind."
"No problem, Chief." A gentle silver light from the full moon filtered in through the small opening, and Jim could see Blair laying back down and rolling to look at him.
"I was nineteen."
Jim shifted, giving his friend his full attention, but he didn't want to say anything, sensing that Blair was just gathering his thoughts.
After a minute or two, Blair blew out a breath and began to speak again. "It seems like so long ago, but then sometimes it seems just like yesterday. I really hadn't thought about it in a long time. I was getting ready to go on an exposition with a professor...a mentor, really. It would have been my second trip to Peru, but I got appendicitis...of all the dumb luck."
He stopped talking and after a while, Jim started to drift, waking to the deep and sleepy voice of his friend. "So I was up here with the hockey team...we used to use the ice rink in town for practice."
"You played hockey?"
"Yeah...was good at it too...anyway, we were having practice and my stomach kept hurting...I had the surgery and when I got out of the hospital, I was driving back home.
I'm not sure what happened, but I lost control of my car, put it a ditch and couldn't get back out. Brother Marcus came along and tried to tow me out with a rope they kept on the bus."
"So, what...you just stayed?" Jim could hear a ring of truth in what his friend told him, but he knew Blair was glossing over some important details.
"Well...I had a fever. They put me up and...took...ca...care of me..." He stopped mid sentence, sleeping with his head pillowed on his arm, the other tucked around his stomach, fingers lax and curled.
What aren't you telling me, buddy?
Blair mumbled something before turning away.
"Nutmeg?"
"In the chili," and then Blair was softly snoring.
Part Two Found Here