Quasi-Pseudo 3/3
Quasi-Pseudo 3/3
*~*~*
"So, do you have any more questions, Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair rested back against the raised gurney, listening to Dr. Moyer's diagnosis. Jim had just slipped back into the room, sitting down to listen to what the doctor had to say.
"No, I'm not happy about it, man, but it's not like I can do anything to change it." He just really wanted to go home and sleep for a week, seemed like he was going to get his wish.
"Okay, I'll see you back in two weeks. The nurse will bring in your discharge paper and prescription. Don't forget to follow up with your ophthalmologist."
The doctor left, smiling at his roommate as he passed.
Man, this just totally sucks.
"So what's the verdict, Chief?" His friend sat up a little straighter, hands clasped and hanging slightly between his knees.
"I can go, for starters." He was angry, but he didn't mean for his words to come out so clipped. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "It appears that it's still Pseudotumor, and I probably have a spinal headache. Dr. Moyer said that it could happen after a spinal tap, that if I lay down, it will get better."
Jim stood and moved to the bed, "So why are you so upset, sounds like something temporary."
He closed his eyes; even now a slight pounding thudded in his head. This is just so not fair. What am I going to do?
"It gets better, I don't know, something about the MRI, but Dr. Moyer just put me on a four week leave of absence. Said I have to start taking some drug." He pulled himself up a little more, swinging his legs over the edge, needing to get his clothes and get himself ready to leave.
Jim helped him as he slid off the gurney, holding onto his elbow until he was steadier. He bent to grab his clothes from under the gurney.
Bad move.
Next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor, elbows on knees, hands supporting his head. "Talk about a head rush." A high pitch ringing echoed in his ears.
"You okay?" Jim must have helped with his descent, now kneeling slightly off to his right, hand gripping Blair's shoulder.
"Yeah, just remind me not to do that again."
He was lifted; strong arms wrapped around him, guiding him to the chair that sat in the corner.
"Just give it a minute and then I'll help you to the men's room."
Blair nodded carefully, noting that his friend clung to the bag with his things.
"So why are you taking a vacation?" Jim wanted to know. "What's changed?"
He rubbed at his eyes, just too tired to think about anything. "Well," he began, sitting up a little to see Jim. "These drugs I have to take...pretty strong stuff. I can't drive or anything and he said they will make me really tired."
"Don't worry about it, Chief. You'll get through it." Jim's hand went under his arm, pulling gently until he was upright. Blair made it to the bathroom without any more dizzy spells and managed to get himself dressed with little fuss.
Jim went to pull up the truck and Blair listened to the nurse as she explained his release papers.
"Now, here are your meds instructions. Dr. Moyer wrote them down to show your pharmacist, because they are going to question you about your dosage and also as a reminder to you. Do you have anyone who can help you?"
"Yeah, my roommate will keep me straight."
Blair scooted into the wheelchair that she brought in from the hall, watching as she bent to help him put his feet on the rests and release the brakes. "Ready for a little ride?"
She pushed him swiftly thought the halls and into the elevator. People crowded in around him at every stop down, a mass exodus once they made it to the lobby. Jim was waiting in the corridor, walking beside them as the nurse maneuvered through the other waiting patients.
The brakes were set and she helped him stand, releasing her hold as soon as Jim took hold of his elbow. Together they walked a short distance to the waiting truck.
Blair climbed in, fumbling with his seatbelt, finally getting it to click. Jim was already in the driver's seat, pulling out of the pick up lane as soon as Blair was settled.
"I have to go to the pharmacy, Jim." He leaned his head back, feeling a little better. "I have to start those meds tonight."
His partner turned the truck left, heading toward home. They had a pharmacy on the corner of their block. The trip was pretty quiet, Blair figuring that Jim was either keeping quiet because of Blair's headache or because he was thinking about something.
The truck lightly bumped the curb when Jim parked in front of the drug store. "Let me get this filled for you." His friend plucked the paper from Blair's hand and headed into the store.
Ten minutes later Jim was back, rapping on the passenger window. Blair quickly grabbed the handle and got the window down. "Yeah, man?"
"The pharmacist wants to see your instructions, said he has to make sure they are clear before he can issue the drugs."
Blair dug the paper from his jeans' pocket, handing it to his friend through the opening in the window. Jim disappeared back into the store, returning a few minutes later with a prescription bag.
He handed the bag to Blair before putting the truck into reverse. They made it home just as the sun was setting. Jim walked ahead of him, holding the elevator door and pushing the button for the third floor.
Soon Blair was ensconced on the sofa, a drink in one hand and the precaution paper for the medicine in the other. Jim handed him back his instruction paper.
"I'll probably need help with this, Jim."
"Sure, anything you need." His friend snatched the piece of paper back, reading over the instructions. "Looks pretty straight forward."
"Yeah," Blair agreed. "But it says here that I'll probably experience some memory loss, amongst other things and Dr. Moyer told me that I'll probably sleep a lot for the first few weeks."
Jim went into the kitchen, returning with the calendar they kept on the side of the fridge. Blair watched as he dutifully wrote in each dose for the next month. "So the doctor is easing you into this stuff?"
Blair grabbed the bottle, opened the lid and shook out one tiny pill. "Yeah, he said they are mostly used in patients with seizures, but they just started using it for people like me. I have to take one twenty five milligram tablet every morning for ten days, then one in the morning and evening for ten days, then two in the morning, one in the evening for ten days and then two and two. That will put me up to one hundred milligrams a day. He said we would have to see how it works, I might have to go up more."
"Don't worry, Blair. Once you're adjusted to the meds, things will go back to normal." Jim took the calendar back to the kitchen "You be okay by yourself for a while? I'm going to check in at the station."
"Yeah." Blair stretched out, putting his feet up onto the coffee table. "Can you hand me my laptop. I want to look up a few things."
Jim brought over the notebook, helping to plug the modem into the landline. "Just keep your cell phone on, in case I need to get a hold of you."
While the machine powered up, Blair made a trip to the bathroom, changing into some sweats and a t-shirt. Jim was just pulling on a light jacket when he came back.
"Okay, I won't be long." Blair could hear him locking the deadbolt from the outside.
Hours later he shut down his laptop, eyes drooping. He had only found three websites about his disease and one support group on Yahoo, but now he just wanted to roll into bed, exhaustion washing over him.
He was careful to unplug the machine, placing it on the table behind the couch. One more trip to the bathroom and then he flopped into his bed, almost asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
*~*~*
Jim was not having a good night. Joel had just dropped off the preliminary file for the Jennifer Hotchkiss case, but they had nothing new. Brown had interviewed the roommates and her study group, but the info was basically the same as when Jim had questioned them.
One note of interest was that a kid named Jason had reported seeing Hotchkiss later in the evening on the day she disappeared. He stated that he was leaving the study group, that Jennifer was a no show, but he had spotted her on the east side of the campus, not far from the student union. Apparently she was talking with someone parked in a car, but the witness didn't get a good look. Another student had stopped him, asking questions about a class and when he had looked back, the car and Hotchkiss were gone.
Jason Manner.
He would have to ask Sandburg if this was the same kid he had mentioned earlier.
"Jim?"
Henri was standing in the doorway, his coat in hand.
"Captain says you want to have a look at the Michelle Hotchkiss crime scene. I thought we'd head over before I call it a night."
Jim nodded, logging off his computer. "What about the crime scene investigators? Do they have anything of interest?"
They moved to the elevator. "Nothing yet. The lead is suppose to call me in the morning with anything they may have." The doors opened, the elevator empty at the late hour.
"So, how's Hairboy? He gave us all a good scare."
"He's going to be fine." The elevator went all the way to the garage without interruption; they stepped out, moving to their own vehicles, planning on heading to their own homes after checking out the scene.
The crime scene was still taped off; one officer left to make sure it remained undisturbed through the night. The woman nodded as Jim and Henri presented their badges, stepping from the entryway so they could pass.
The warehouse was large, all its windows were high, near the roof. Boxes and debris littered the ground and in the far left corner, a single lamp illuminated the ground where the body had been found.
The chalk outline remained, but all other evidence had been already gathered. Jim moved around the area, while Henri walked back to talk to the cop at the door.
He sniffed the air, but all he could smell was death and decay, the warehouse was one of many in the area, all falling into ruin, all scheduled to be torn down to make room for a new shopping center. It was all a part of the city's plan to beautify the waterfront.
Even though he looked with careful eyes, he didn't see anything that might have been missed, he would just have to wait for the forensic report in the morning.
Walking back to the entryway, he noted a paper coffee cup sitting behind a stack of boxes. It was from a Mini Mart and he wondered if one of the cops or investigators had left it.
"Hey, Brown?"
Henri wrapped up his conversation and moved back to Jim. He pointed to the cup and Brown pulled out a baggie, scooping up the cup and sealing it. "I'll run it by on my way home, Jim. Probably left by one of the crew."
Jim followed the detective out, waiting until he had made it to his car before heading to his own.
Well, that was a waste of time.
He decided to call it a night and head home. Hopefully the morning would bring some much-needed answers.
*~*~*
When Blair opened his eyes, sunlight was spilling in the window. He moved his head carefully on the pillow, searching for his alarm clock, nearly rolling off the mattress in an attempt to reach the little black box.
He squinted at the display, not believing the time it was showing. A cabinet closing in the kitchen drew his attention and he shifted, pushing himself into a sitting position. He waited a beat or two before standing. His head felt a little foggy, but his headache was finally gone.
"You awake in there?" Jim called from the other side of his door.
"Yeah. I'll be out in a minute." Blair pulled his blanket up in a half-hearted attempt to make the bed.
"I'll warm you some soup."
Soup...
He dressed, feeling a little like he was in slow motion. Once at the table, he noted the news was on, maybe the clock was right. "Umm, Jim? What time is it?"
His friend glanced at his watch, setting a plate with half a sandwich and a bowl of beef barley in front of Blair. "It's a little after noon."
"Noon?"
Man...I can't believe I slept that long.
"Yeah, sleeping beauty, I was wondering if you were ever going to get up." Jim sat across from him, sipping on a cup of coffee.
His lunch tasted weird. The soup was warm, but had a funny after taste, but he did manage a few bites of his sandwich.
Jim cleaned up the table while he jumped into a shower, but he tried not to get his hair wet. He didn't feel like fooling with it.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Jim was sitting on the sofa, studying a file that was spread across the coffee table.
Blair sat on the other end, waiting for Jim to finish. A photo peeking out from under the sheets of paper drew his attention, so he reached out for it. Jim handed him the item without even looking up from his reading.
A young woman stared back at him.
"Who is this?"
"That's one of the daughters. Her body was found yesterday."
Oh, man.
"She had been dead for a few days, probably around the same time that her sister was killed." Jim handed him a few sheets from the pile and he read in silence.
Jason Manner.
"I know this guy," Blair said, looking to his friend.
Jim looked up. "I was going to ask you if that was the same kid. Maybe you can call him, see if he remembers anything else."
Shortly after lunch, Jim headed into the station with a promise to drop by the university to pick up some things for Blair.
Once his friend was gone, Blair watched a little TV, but soon became bored with the whole daytime scene.
"Why do people like these things?" Maybe he would do a research paper on the appeal of daytime soaps.
Sometime during Guiding Light, he nodded off on the sofa, waking with a kink in his neck. He thought about calling Jim to remind him to bring his student listing, but he knew that his friend would be busy, so he decided to flip through the channels again.
One station was showing old programming so he settled in to watch Macgyver.
Man, I haven't seen this in years...I think I like him better as the guy on that space TV show.
Even before Macgyver could disarm the bomb with a bubble gum wrapper, his head tilted to the side, his eyes drooping and a mighty yawn escaped.
His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were about the other guy on that show. Yeah, Jackson...he's cool...buddy shows...he should write a paper on buddy shows...
*~*~*
"Jim? Can I see you for a few minutes?" His boss stood in the doorway to his office.
Jim pushed back his chair, picking up his coffee mug as he moved toward the open door. Simon had seated himself behind his desk, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"You want some?" Jim held out his mug, dropping back to his seat and waited.
"I had to pull a few strings and don't ask me how," Simon started. "But it appears that your side-kick was right." Simon pushed a file toward him.
He scanned the contents, reading what little info was there. It confirmed that Bob Hotchkiss was previously John Simms. Apparently he was placed in foster care at the age of fourteen.
Simon stood, moving to the conference table. "I also got a hold of this." He pushed over another folder, this one detailing a family under suspicion.
Barelli. He had heard that name before.
"It's an old case. The Barelli's were suspected of money laundering and organized crime. Simms was just a young man when the case was being built against the family." Simon slumped back into his chair. "The case folder mentions a John Simms Sr. on the payroll and if you can put two and two together..."
"He rolled on his boss," Jim finished.
"Nothing there mentions his cooperation with the case, but it makes sense that all files would be sealed for the family's protection."
Jim sat up a little straighter. "You said he was placed in foster care as Bob Hotchkiss. Any indication as to what happened to his parents?"
"No, but it's a good bet that they were killed. I've got Joel working on it, but I doubt he'll come up with anything." Simon sat his mug down. "The funeral for the daughters is tomorrow at noon and there are viewing hours this evening. Maybe you can swing by and see who shows up."
Jim stood, gathering the papers back into the folder. "I'm going to head home and review the case file again. I'll see if Sandburg is up to going with me."
"Tell the kid I hope he feels better," Simon called.
*~*~*
He heard the door swing open and something heavy hit the table. Blair shifted a little, pulling something soft up over his head.
"You awake, Chief?"
No...
"Come on. I've got something for you to look at."
He pushed himself up, running his hand through his tangled hair. The loft was dark, only the moonlight and glow from the TV illuminated the living room.
Jim was setting things out on the coffee table, but the need to pee overcame his curiosity and he made for the bathroom. He glanced into the mirror as he washed his hands.
Man, I look rough.
His hair was standing up at all angles and he had a bit of fuzz growing on his chin and cheeks.
Don't remember when I last shaved.
He decided to take care of his current condition, turning on the tap and digging in the drawer for his razor.
Jim was waiting with a plate of Chinese from his favorite take out. The smell of chicken made his stomach rumble.
"I bought dinner," Jim said, moving to the kitchen to pour them something to drink.
Blair picked up the plate. "Thanks."
His partner sat in the chair across from him, digging into his egg foo yong. "I got some more info today. If you feel up to it, you can go with me this later to the viewing. It's from seven to nine at Connley's."
Blair picked at his chicken, reading over the files. "I still don't get it. If this guy was in hiding, why would he suddenly go on a crime spree?"
Jim sat down his plate. "Got me, but something made him snap and the better question is who killed his daughters and what happened to his son?"
Dinner plates were cleaned up and put away. "You want me to wrap this for you?" His friend nodded toward Blair's half eaten plate.
"Yeah, I'm going to go get dressed." Blair moved to his bedroom, hearing the shower start from in the small room at the end of the hall. He dug through his closet, looking for a clean dress shirt.
Once he was dressed, he went back to the living room, noting that the TV was on and Macgyver was off on a new adventure.
"You ready?" His roommate was fully dressed, sitting at the table, pulling on his shoes.
"Yup."
The drive to the funeral home was short. It was only a few blocks over from where they lived. The mourners stood clustered in small groups throughout the room. Younger people milled around one of the sofas near the door. The older people seemed to be closer to the center, talking in groups.
A woman wearing a black shirt and white blouse stood off to the left, her eyes drifting back to the caskets every few minutes. Joel hovered near by, keeping a wary eye on her.
"I'm going to take a look around." Jim moved off through the crowd
"Okay."
He recognized a few of the younger people, students from Rainer.
"Hello, Mr. Sandburg." Blair turned to see Jason standing off to his right.
"Hey, Jason. I didn't realize you knew the family."
The young man looked down and then toward Mrs. Hotchkiss. "I ah...I knew Jennifer a little. See you around, Mr. Sandburg." And then the young man was gone, moving to speak with a few of the students that Blair didn't recognize.
"Later."
Jim moved up beside him. "Who was that, Chief?"
"That was Jason Manner."
*~*~*
Jim noticed the young man talking with Blair. The kid seemed nervous and Jim wondered who he was.
Blair confirmed the young man's identity and then excused himself to mingle with some of his students.
Jim watched as Jason spoke briefly to Mrs. Hotchkiss and then made his way through the crowd to the exit. He glanced over his shoulder once, a funny smirk on his face.
It was only a hunch, but Jim covertly followed, watching as the guy waited on the curb, a car moving toward him. Jason pulled his cell phone out and pressed in a series of numbers. A harsh voice answered as Jason slid into the back seat of his car.
Jim noted the license number and caught a few words of the phone conversation.
"Mark four...too protected."
A hand landed on Jim's shoulder and he turned to see his roommate. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah." He looked one more time before the car passed from his sight. "Tell me about this Manner guy."
He could see Blair's confusion. "Come on. I want to check something out."
They went to the truck and Jim waited until Blair was buckled in. "I just overheard something as that kid was leaving. I want to check into his background, see if anything turns up."
"What are you thinking, man? He's just a kid." Blair seemed bemused by his suspicions.
"Yeah, well...you never know."
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the station. Jim went right to his computer, pulling up whatever information he could find, running the plate number and name through the precinct database. After about half an hour, he sent Blair to get them some coffee.
Simon walked in, a frown on his face. "Jim, I was just about to call you. What are you doing here?"
"Just wanted to check something."
Simon sank into Blair's unoccupied chair.
"What's up, sir?" Jim stopped what he was doing, giving his boss his attention.
"I got called into a meeting with the mayor."
"Oh, oh."
"You got that right. I thought I was going to get reamed, but oddly enough, His Honor was more than nice." Simon sighed, looking up as Blair approached the desk with two mugs.
"Hey, Simon."
"Hi, Sandburg." Simon got up and perched on his desk, allowing Jim's partner to sit.
"Anyway, Jim. The Chief was there too. I was officially thanked for our participation in the Hotchkiss case, but told in no uncertain terms that the Feds would be taking over."
"Sir?" Now this was a surprising turn of events.
"Yup, Agent Monroe informed me himself that we were not needed, that this was being bumped up to a federal level."
His boss stood, sticking his cigar into his mouth. "I got the impression that they weren't too worried about finding Bob Hotchkiss and I was told that his wife was going to be picked up this evening and put into federal custody."
"What in the hell is going on here?" Jim asked, looking from the captain to Blair.
"It's a safe bet that they got Hotchkiss," Simon said.
"What makes you think that?" Blair asked, sipping his coffee.
"When I asked about him, I was assured that Bob Hotchkiss was being taken care of."
Jim's computer dinged, signaling the end of a search. He turned his attention to the screen, not really all that surprised with the results.
"What have you got, Jim?" His boss wanted to know.
"I overheard Manner tonight on his phone while he was waiting for his car. He said something about mark four being too protected."
"So, what...you think a sixteen year old kid is an assassin now?"
Jim turned his monitor toward Simon. "No, but this guy could be."
The display showed the same man, only slightly older looking without his glasses, hair slicked back and eyes dead. The accompanying information supplied his name. Jon Barelli, grandson of Tony Barelli.
"What?" Blair asked, clearly confused.
"I ran the Barelli name through the federal data base with a description. Says here he is twenty six."
"I can't believe that, man. No way is that guy twenty six."
"Put out an APB. Let's bring him in for questioning." Simon sighed. "This case may be out of our hands, but I'll be damned if I'll let the Feds bury this."
*~*~*
The next week a male body was found in a warehouse in Seattle. Agent Monroe stopped by to tell them personally that the case was being closed. They had a suspect in custody, one Jon Barelli.
"And what about Hotchkiss?" Simon demanded. "He committed some serious crimes."
"Yes, yes. He certainly got our attention. But we'll take care of everything." The agent left with his encrypted message hanging in the air.
Simon was fuming, Jim was pacing the length of the window, but Blair was still mostly confused.
"So, that's it?" he asked, watching as Jim made a return circuit.
"Apparently so." Simon sank back into his chair. "It seems that they have been watching all known Barelli aliases. They picked the kid up last night."
"So, what...Jason...Jon, whoever, goes on a killing spree and that's it. Why did he even do it?" Blair wondered.
Jim plopped into the chair next to him. "It's a good bet that Simms Sr.'s testimony sent away the upper echelon of the family. I found out in my search that Barelli's father and grandfather were sent away when he was still very young. The father died in prison a few years later, but it's rumored that Tony Barelli is still very much in control of the family business, even behind bars." Jim leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.
"His mother died not long after his father was sent away. It's reported that he and his sisters were sent to live with his grandmother. Who knows, maybe he saw Hotchkiss and decided it was time for a little revenge...we might not ever know."
Blair shook his head, still not really quite believing the whole ordeal.
What a waste.
"Well, sir." Jim stood and Blair followed suit. "I'm going to work on the other cases piling up on my desk. You with me, Chief?"
"No, man." Blair followed his friend from the captain's office. "I got an appointment today."
After retrieving his coat from the rack near the door, he grabbed up his knapsack. "I'll be home later this evening."
Jim sat, pulling a random folder from the pile on his desk. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"No, but thanks. I can manage the bus and besides," Blair paused, "I can see you have a lot of work to catch up on."
His friend waved him off, so Blair hurried to the elevator and out of the building. If he hustled he could catch an earlier bus, maybe get in to see Dr. Gordon a little earlier.
Like that was going to happen.
The doctor's office was stuffed full when he arrived. He checked in and waited, knowing he was in for the long haul.
He had to admit that he was a bit nervous. The medicine he was on seemed to help with his headaches and even though it took a little while to get used to it, it seemed to be working for now.
"Mr. Sandburg?"
He was surprised to be called so soon. Once though the initial check and questioning, his eyes were dilated and he was led to the same exam room that he was in on his last visit. Dr. Gordon popped in a few seconds after he sat.
"So, how are you feeling, Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair watched as she read through his chart, a small frown appearing.
"I feel mostly okay. I'm still trying to get used to taking my medication, but the side effects aren't as bad."
She smiled, rolling her chair closer. "Well, lets have a look."
Just as before, she looked at each eye, taking her time. The bright light was just as annoying. "Well, " she said, rolling back and moving the mask from his face. "Your optic nerves are still swollen. I'm going to set up an appointment for a visual field test."
"A what?" A sick feeling slinked through his stomach.
"It's a test to see if you have lost any vision. Pretty easy and not painful." She smiled at him before going back to his chart. "We'll check your vision every other month. Do you have a follow up with Dr. Moyer?"
"Uh, yeah. Next week."
She finished up, closing his chart. "I'll send today's office notes and the results of the visual field. Tell him to send me his office notes so we can make sure we are working together."
She stood, handing him his chart. "Let the girls up front know you need a visual field ASAP and a follow up with me in two months. I'll put in your new prescription and call you when your glasses are in."
He walked to the front desk, feeling a little numb. He made his appointment and then waited out front of the center for his bus.
When he got home, he shucked his pack and shoes, heading for his room. The light on the answering machine blinked as he passed and he took a few steps back to hit the play button.
"Hey, Chief. I hope everything went well today. I'm going to work over, try and finish up some of this paper work by myself." A small laugh followed. "Well, I'll see you later this evening."
Blair erased the message, tears unexpectedly burning the back of his eyes.
His bed was soft as he dropped down. He pulled his covers up, burying his head in the pillow.
He wanted to sleep, but his mind just wouldn't shut down. He thought about his appointment today, what Dr. Gordon had said.
He just wanted this whole thing to go away, he wanted to be normal again.
Tears soaked his pillow and he wiped angrily at them. The worse case scenario played over and over in his head. He would just keep getting sicker and he would have to take more medication until finally they would have to put a shunt in. Would he be able to do his job, get his PH.D., work with Jim?
"God, why can't this be over?"
But deep down he knew...
It was only the beginning.
*~*~*
The end.
*~*~*
"So, do you have any more questions, Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair rested back against the raised gurney, listening to Dr. Moyer's diagnosis. Jim had just slipped back into the room, sitting down to listen to what the doctor had to say.
"No, I'm not happy about it, man, but it's not like I can do anything to change it." He just really wanted to go home and sleep for a week, seemed like he was going to get his wish.
"Okay, I'll see you back in two weeks. The nurse will bring in your discharge paper and prescription. Don't forget to follow up with your ophthalmologist."
The doctor left, smiling at his roommate as he passed.
Man, this just totally sucks.
"So what's the verdict, Chief?" His friend sat up a little straighter, hands clasped and hanging slightly between his knees.
"I can go, for starters." He was angry, but he didn't mean for his words to come out so clipped. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "It appears that it's still Pseudotumor, and I probably have a spinal headache. Dr. Moyer said that it could happen after a spinal tap, that if I lay down, it will get better."
Jim stood and moved to the bed, "So why are you so upset, sounds like something temporary."
He closed his eyes; even now a slight pounding thudded in his head. This is just so not fair. What am I going to do?
"It gets better, I don't know, something about the MRI, but Dr. Moyer just put me on a four week leave of absence. Said I have to start taking some drug." He pulled himself up a little more, swinging his legs over the edge, needing to get his clothes and get himself ready to leave.
Jim helped him as he slid off the gurney, holding onto his elbow until he was steadier. He bent to grab his clothes from under the gurney.
Bad move.
Next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor, elbows on knees, hands supporting his head. "Talk about a head rush." A high pitch ringing echoed in his ears.
"You okay?" Jim must have helped with his descent, now kneeling slightly off to his right, hand gripping Blair's shoulder.
"Yeah, just remind me not to do that again."
He was lifted; strong arms wrapped around him, guiding him to the chair that sat in the corner.
"Just give it a minute and then I'll help you to the men's room."
Blair nodded carefully, noting that his friend clung to the bag with his things.
"So why are you taking a vacation?" Jim wanted to know. "What's changed?"
He rubbed at his eyes, just too tired to think about anything. "Well," he began, sitting up a little to see Jim. "These drugs I have to take...pretty strong stuff. I can't drive or anything and he said they will make me really tired."
"Don't worry about it, Chief. You'll get through it." Jim's hand went under his arm, pulling gently until he was upright. Blair made it to the bathroom without any more dizzy spells and managed to get himself dressed with little fuss.
Jim went to pull up the truck and Blair listened to the nurse as she explained his release papers.
"Now, here are your meds instructions. Dr. Moyer wrote them down to show your pharmacist, because they are going to question you about your dosage and also as a reminder to you. Do you have anyone who can help you?"
"Yeah, my roommate will keep me straight."
Blair scooted into the wheelchair that she brought in from the hall, watching as she bent to help him put his feet on the rests and release the brakes. "Ready for a little ride?"
She pushed him swiftly thought the halls and into the elevator. People crowded in around him at every stop down, a mass exodus once they made it to the lobby. Jim was waiting in the corridor, walking beside them as the nurse maneuvered through the other waiting patients.
The brakes were set and she helped him stand, releasing her hold as soon as Jim took hold of his elbow. Together they walked a short distance to the waiting truck.
Blair climbed in, fumbling with his seatbelt, finally getting it to click. Jim was already in the driver's seat, pulling out of the pick up lane as soon as Blair was settled.
"I have to go to the pharmacy, Jim." He leaned his head back, feeling a little better. "I have to start those meds tonight."
His partner turned the truck left, heading toward home. They had a pharmacy on the corner of their block. The trip was pretty quiet, Blair figuring that Jim was either keeping quiet because of Blair's headache or because he was thinking about something.
The truck lightly bumped the curb when Jim parked in front of the drug store. "Let me get this filled for you." His friend plucked the paper from Blair's hand and headed into the store.
Ten minutes later Jim was back, rapping on the passenger window. Blair quickly grabbed the handle and got the window down. "Yeah, man?"
"The pharmacist wants to see your instructions, said he has to make sure they are clear before he can issue the drugs."
Blair dug the paper from his jeans' pocket, handing it to his friend through the opening in the window. Jim disappeared back into the store, returning a few minutes later with a prescription bag.
He handed the bag to Blair before putting the truck into reverse. They made it home just as the sun was setting. Jim walked ahead of him, holding the elevator door and pushing the button for the third floor.
Soon Blair was ensconced on the sofa, a drink in one hand and the precaution paper for the medicine in the other. Jim handed him back his instruction paper.
"I'll probably need help with this, Jim."
"Sure, anything you need." His friend snatched the piece of paper back, reading over the instructions. "Looks pretty straight forward."
"Yeah," Blair agreed. "But it says here that I'll probably experience some memory loss, amongst other things and Dr. Moyer told me that I'll probably sleep a lot for the first few weeks."
Jim went into the kitchen, returning with the calendar they kept on the side of the fridge. Blair watched as he dutifully wrote in each dose for the next month. "So the doctor is easing you into this stuff?"
Blair grabbed the bottle, opened the lid and shook out one tiny pill. "Yeah, he said they are mostly used in patients with seizures, but they just started using it for people like me. I have to take one twenty five milligram tablet every morning for ten days, then one in the morning and evening for ten days, then two in the morning, one in the evening for ten days and then two and two. That will put me up to one hundred milligrams a day. He said we would have to see how it works, I might have to go up more."
"Don't worry, Blair. Once you're adjusted to the meds, things will go back to normal." Jim took the calendar back to the kitchen "You be okay by yourself for a while? I'm going to check in at the station."
"Yeah." Blair stretched out, putting his feet up onto the coffee table. "Can you hand me my laptop. I want to look up a few things."
Jim brought over the notebook, helping to plug the modem into the landline. "Just keep your cell phone on, in case I need to get a hold of you."
While the machine powered up, Blair made a trip to the bathroom, changing into some sweats and a t-shirt. Jim was just pulling on a light jacket when he came back.
"Okay, I won't be long." Blair could hear him locking the deadbolt from the outside.
Hours later he shut down his laptop, eyes drooping. He had only found three websites about his disease and one support group on Yahoo, but now he just wanted to roll into bed, exhaustion washing over him.
He was careful to unplug the machine, placing it on the table behind the couch. One more trip to the bathroom and then he flopped into his bed, almost asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
*~*~*
Jim was not having a good night. Joel had just dropped off the preliminary file for the Jennifer Hotchkiss case, but they had nothing new. Brown had interviewed the roommates and her study group, but the info was basically the same as when Jim had questioned them.
One note of interest was that a kid named Jason had reported seeing Hotchkiss later in the evening on the day she disappeared. He stated that he was leaving the study group, that Jennifer was a no show, but he had spotted her on the east side of the campus, not far from the student union. Apparently she was talking with someone parked in a car, but the witness didn't get a good look. Another student had stopped him, asking questions about a class and when he had looked back, the car and Hotchkiss were gone.
Jason Manner.
He would have to ask Sandburg if this was the same kid he had mentioned earlier.
"Jim?"
Henri was standing in the doorway, his coat in hand.
"Captain says you want to have a look at the Michelle Hotchkiss crime scene. I thought we'd head over before I call it a night."
Jim nodded, logging off his computer. "What about the crime scene investigators? Do they have anything of interest?"
They moved to the elevator. "Nothing yet. The lead is suppose to call me in the morning with anything they may have." The doors opened, the elevator empty at the late hour.
"So, how's Hairboy? He gave us all a good scare."
"He's going to be fine." The elevator went all the way to the garage without interruption; they stepped out, moving to their own vehicles, planning on heading to their own homes after checking out the scene.
The crime scene was still taped off; one officer left to make sure it remained undisturbed through the night. The woman nodded as Jim and Henri presented their badges, stepping from the entryway so they could pass.
The warehouse was large, all its windows were high, near the roof. Boxes and debris littered the ground and in the far left corner, a single lamp illuminated the ground where the body had been found.
The chalk outline remained, but all other evidence had been already gathered. Jim moved around the area, while Henri walked back to talk to the cop at the door.
He sniffed the air, but all he could smell was death and decay, the warehouse was one of many in the area, all falling into ruin, all scheduled to be torn down to make room for a new shopping center. It was all a part of the city's plan to beautify the waterfront.
Even though he looked with careful eyes, he didn't see anything that might have been missed, he would just have to wait for the forensic report in the morning.
Walking back to the entryway, he noted a paper coffee cup sitting behind a stack of boxes. It was from a Mini Mart and he wondered if one of the cops or investigators had left it.
"Hey, Brown?"
Henri wrapped up his conversation and moved back to Jim. He pointed to the cup and Brown pulled out a baggie, scooping up the cup and sealing it. "I'll run it by on my way home, Jim. Probably left by one of the crew."
Jim followed the detective out, waiting until he had made it to his car before heading to his own.
Well, that was a waste of time.
He decided to call it a night and head home. Hopefully the morning would bring some much-needed answers.
*~*~*
When Blair opened his eyes, sunlight was spilling in the window. He moved his head carefully on the pillow, searching for his alarm clock, nearly rolling off the mattress in an attempt to reach the little black box.
He squinted at the display, not believing the time it was showing. A cabinet closing in the kitchen drew his attention and he shifted, pushing himself into a sitting position. He waited a beat or two before standing. His head felt a little foggy, but his headache was finally gone.
"You awake in there?" Jim called from the other side of his door.
"Yeah. I'll be out in a minute." Blair pulled his blanket up in a half-hearted attempt to make the bed.
"I'll warm you some soup."
Soup...
He dressed, feeling a little like he was in slow motion. Once at the table, he noted the news was on, maybe the clock was right. "Umm, Jim? What time is it?"
His friend glanced at his watch, setting a plate with half a sandwich and a bowl of beef barley in front of Blair. "It's a little after noon."
"Noon?"
Man...I can't believe I slept that long.
"Yeah, sleeping beauty, I was wondering if you were ever going to get up." Jim sat across from him, sipping on a cup of coffee.
His lunch tasted weird. The soup was warm, but had a funny after taste, but he did manage a few bites of his sandwich.
Jim cleaned up the table while he jumped into a shower, but he tried not to get his hair wet. He didn't feel like fooling with it.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Jim was sitting on the sofa, studying a file that was spread across the coffee table.
Blair sat on the other end, waiting for Jim to finish. A photo peeking out from under the sheets of paper drew his attention, so he reached out for it. Jim handed him the item without even looking up from his reading.
A young woman stared back at him.
"Who is this?"
"That's one of the daughters. Her body was found yesterday."
Oh, man.
"She had been dead for a few days, probably around the same time that her sister was killed." Jim handed him a few sheets from the pile and he read in silence.
Jason Manner.
"I know this guy," Blair said, looking to his friend.
Jim looked up. "I was going to ask you if that was the same kid. Maybe you can call him, see if he remembers anything else."
Shortly after lunch, Jim headed into the station with a promise to drop by the university to pick up some things for Blair.
Once his friend was gone, Blair watched a little TV, but soon became bored with the whole daytime scene.
"Why do people like these things?" Maybe he would do a research paper on the appeal of daytime soaps.
Sometime during Guiding Light, he nodded off on the sofa, waking with a kink in his neck. He thought about calling Jim to remind him to bring his student listing, but he knew that his friend would be busy, so he decided to flip through the channels again.
One station was showing old programming so he settled in to watch Macgyver.
Man, I haven't seen this in years...I think I like him better as the guy on that space TV show.
Even before Macgyver could disarm the bomb with a bubble gum wrapper, his head tilted to the side, his eyes drooping and a mighty yawn escaped.
His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were about the other guy on that show. Yeah, Jackson...he's cool...buddy shows...he should write a paper on buddy shows...
*~*~*
"Jim? Can I see you for a few minutes?" His boss stood in the doorway to his office.
Jim pushed back his chair, picking up his coffee mug as he moved toward the open door. Simon had seated himself behind his desk, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"You want some?" Jim held out his mug, dropping back to his seat and waited.
"I had to pull a few strings and don't ask me how," Simon started. "But it appears that your side-kick was right." Simon pushed a file toward him.
He scanned the contents, reading what little info was there. It confirmed that Bob Hotchkiss was previously John Simms. Apparently he was placed in foster care at the age of fourteen.
Simon stood, moving to the conference table. "I also got a hold of this." He pushed over another folder, this one detailing a family under suspicion.
Barelli. He had heard that name before.
"It's an old case. The Barelli's were suspected of money laundering and organized crime. Simms was just a young man when the case was being built against the family." Simon slumped back into his chair. "The case folder mentions a John Simms Sr. on the payroll and if you can put two and two together..."
"He rolled on his boss," Jim finished.
"Nothing there mentions his cooperation with the case, but it makes sense that all files would be sealed for the family's protection."
Jim sat up a little straighter. "You said he was placed in foster care as Bob Hotchkiss. Any indication as to what happened to his parents?"
"No, but it's a good bet that they were killed. I've got Joel working on it, but I doubt he'll come up with anything." Simon sat his mug down. "The funeral for the daughters is tomorrow at noon and there are viewing hours this evening. Maybe you can swing by and see who shows up."
Jim stood, gathering the papers back into the folder. "I'm going to head home and review the case file again. I'll see if Sandburg is up to going with me."
"Tell the kid I hope he feels better," Simon called.
*~*~*
He heard the door swing open and something heavy hit the table. Blair shifted a little, pulling something soft up over his head.
"You awake, Chief?"
No...
"Come on. I've got something for you to look at."
He pushed himself up, running his hand through his tangled hair. The loft was dark, only the moonlight and glow from the TV illuminated the living room.
Jim was setting things out on the coffee table, but the need to pee overcame his curiosity and he made for the bathroom. He glanced into the mirror as he washed his hands.
Man, I look rough.
His hair was standing up at all angles and he had a bit of fuzz growing on his chin and cheeks.
Don't remember when I last shaved.
He decided to take care of his current condition, turning on the tap and digging in the drawer for his razor.
Jim was waiting with a plate of Chinese from his favorite take out. The smell of chicken made his stomach rumble.
"I bought dinner," Jim said, moving to the kitchen to pour them something to drink.
Blair picked up the plate. "Thanks."
His partner sat in the chair across from him, digging into his egg foo yong. "I got some more info today. If you feel up to it, you can go with me this later to the viewing. It's from seven to nine at Connley's."
Blair picked at his chicken, reading over the files. "I still don't get it. If this guy was in hiding, why would he suddenly go on a crime spree?"
Jim sat down his plate. "Got me, but something made him snap and the better question is who killed his daughters and what happened to his son?"
Dinner plates were cleaned up and put away. "You want me to wrap this for you?" His friend nodded toward Blair's half eaten plate.
"Yeah, I'm going to go get dressed." Blair moved to his bedroom, hearing the shower start from in the small room at the end of the hall. He dug through his closet, looking for a clean dress shirt.
Once he was dressed, he went back to the living room, noting that the TV was on and Macgyver was off on a new adventure.
"You ready?" His roommate was fully dressed, sitting at the table, pulling on his shoes.
"Yup."
The drive to the funeral home was short. It was only a few blocks over from where they lived. The mourners stood clustered in small groups throughout the room. Younger people milled around one of the sofas near the door. The older people seemed to be closer to the center, talking in groups.
A woman wearing a black shirt and white blouse stood off to the left, her eyes drifting back to the caskets every few minutes. Joel hovered near by, keeping a wary eye on her.
"I'm going to take a look around." Jim moved off through the crowd
"Okay."
He recognized a few of the younger people, students from Rainer.
"Hello, Mr. Sandburg." Blair turned to see Jason standing off to his right.
"Hey, Jason. I didn't realize you knew the family."
The young man looked down and then toward Mrs. Hotchkiss. "I ah...I knew Jennifer a little. See you around, Mr. Sandburg." And then the young man was gone, moving to speak with a few of the students that Blair didn't recognize.
"Later."
Jim moved up beside him. "Who was that, Chief?"
"That was Jason Manner."
*~*~*
Jim noticed the young man talking with Blair. The kid seemed nervous and Jim wondered who he was.
Blair confirmed the young man's identity and then excused himself to mingle with some of his students.
Jim watched as Jason spoke briefly to Mrs. Hotchkiss and then made his way through the crowd to the exit. He glanced over his shoulder once, a funny smirk on his face.
It was only a hunch, but Jim covertly followed, watching as the guy waited on the curb, a car moving toward him. Jason pulled his cell phone out and pressed in a series of numbers. A harsh voice answered as Jason slid into the back seat of his car.
Jim noted the license number and caught a few words of the phone conversation.
"Mark four...too protected."
A hand landed on Jim's shoulder and he turned to see his roommate. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah." He looked one more time before the car passed from his sight. "Tell me about this Manner guy."
He could see Blair's confusion. "Come on. I want to check something out."
They went to the truck and Jim waited until Blair was buckled in. "I just overheard something as that kid was leaving. I want to check into his background, see if anything turns up."
"What are you thinking, man? He's just a kid." Blair seemed bemused by his suspicions.
"Yeah, well...you never know."
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the station. Jim went right to his computer, pulling up whatever information he could find, running the plate number and name through the precinct database. After about half an hour, he sent Blair to get them some coffee.
Simon walked in, a frown on his face. "Jim, I was just about to call you. What are you doing here?"
"Just wanted to check something."
Simon sank into Blair's unoccupied chair.
"What's up, sir?" Jim stopped what he was doing, giving his boss his attention.
"I got called into a meeting with the mayor."
"Oh, oh."
"You got that right. I thought I was going to get reamed, but oddly enough, His Honor was more than nice." Simon sighed, looking up as Blair approached the desk with two mugs.
"Hey, Simon."
"Hi, Sandburg." Simon got up and perched on his desk, allowing Jim's partner to sit.
"Anyway, Jim. The Chief was there too. I was officially thanked for our participation in the Hotchkiss case, but told in no uncertain terms that the Feds would be taking over."
"Sir?" Now this was a surprising turn of events.
"Yup, Agent Monroe informed me himself that we were not needed, that this was being bumped up to a federal level."
His boss stood, sticking his cigar into his mouth. "I got the impression that they weren't too worried about finding Bob Hotchkiss and I was told that his wife was going to be picked up this evening and put into federal custody."
"What in the hell is going on here?" Jim asked, looking from the captain to Blair.
"It's a safe bet that they got Hotchkiss," Simon said.
"What makes you think that?" Blair asked, sipping his coffee.
"When I asked about him, I was assured that Bob Hotchkiss was being taken care of."
Jim's computer dinged, signaling the end of a search. He turned his attention to the screen, not really all that surprised with the results.
"What have you got, Jim?" His boss wanted to know.
"I overheard Manner tonight on his phone while he was waiting for his car. He said something about mark four being too protected."
"So, what...you think a sixteen year old kid is an assassin now?"
Jim turned his monitor toward Simon. "No, but this guy could be."
The display showed the same man, only slightly older looking without his glasses, hair slicked back and eyes dead. The accompanying information supplied his name. Jon Barelli, grandson of Tony Barelli.
"What?" Blair asked, clearly confused.
"I ran the Barelli name through the federal data base with a description. Says here he is twenty six."
"I can't believe that, man. No way is that guy twenty six."
"Put out an APB. Let's bring him in for questioning." Simon sighed. "This case may be out of our hands, but I'll be damned if I'll let the Feds bury this."
*~*~*
The next week a male body was found in a warehouse in Seattle. Agent Monroe stopped by to tell them personally that the case was being closed. They had a suspect in custody, one Jon Barelli.
"And what about Hotchkiss?" Simon demanded. "He committed some serious crimes."
"Yes, yes. He certainly got our attention. But we'll take care of everything." The agent left with his encrypted message hanging in the air.
Simon was fuming, Jim was pacing the length of the window, but Blair was still mostly confused.
"So, that's it?" he asked, watching as Jim made a return circuit.
"Apparently so." Simon sank back into his chair. "It seems that they have been watching all known Barelli aliases. They picked the kid up last night."
"So, what...Jason...Jon, whoever, goes on a killing spree and that's it. Why did he even do it?" Blair wondered.
Jim plopped into the chair next to him. "It's a good bet that Simms Sr.'s testimony sent away the upper echelon of the family. I found out in my search that Barelli's father and grandfather were sent away when he was still very young. The father died in prison a few years later, but it's rumored that Tony Barelli is still very much in control of the family business, even behind bars." Jim leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.
"His mother died not long after his father was sent away. It's reported that he and his sisters were sent to live with his grandmother. Who knows, maybe he saw Hotchkiss and decided it was time for a little revenge...we might not ever know."
Blair shook his head, still not really quite believing the whole ordeal.
What a waste.
"Well, sir." Jim stood and Blair followed suit. "I'm going to work on the other cases piling up on my desk. You with me, Chief?"
"No, man." Blair followed his friend from the captain's office. "I got an appointment today."
After retrieving his coat from the rack near the door, he grabbed up his knapsack. "I'll be home later this evening."
Jim sat, pulling a random folder from the pile on his desk. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"No, but thanks. I can manage the bus and besides," Blair paused, "I can see you have a lot of work to catch up on."
His friend waved him off, so Blair hurried to the elevator and out of the building. If he hustled he could catch an earlier bus, maybe get in to see Dr. Gordon a little earlier.
Like that was going to happen.
The doctor's office was stuffed full when he arrived. He checked in and waited, knowing he was in for the long haul.
He had to admit that he was a bit nervous. The medicine he was on seemed to help with his headaches and even though it took a little while to get used to it, it seemed to be working for now.
"Mr. Sandburg?"
He was surprised to be called so soon. Once though the initial check and questioning, his eyes were dilated and he was led to the same exam room that he was in on his last visit. Dr. Gordon popped in a few seconds after he sat.
"So, how are you feeling, Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair watched as she read through his chart, a small frown appearing.
"I feel mostly okay. I'm still trying to get used to taking my medication, but the side effects aren't as bad."
She smiled, rolling her chair closer. "Well, lets have a look."
Just as before, she looked at each eye, taking her time. The bright light was just as annoying. "Well, " she said, rolling back and moving the mask from his face. "Your optic nerves are still swollen. I'm going to set up an appointment for a visual field test."
"A what?" A sick feeling slinked through his stomach.
"It's a test to see if you have lost any vision. Pretty easy and not painful." She smiled at him before going back to his chart. "We'll check your vision every other month. Do you have a follow up with Dr. Moyer?"
"Uh, yeah. Next week."
She finished up, closing his chart. "I'll send today's office notes and the results of the visual field. Tell him to send me his office notes so we can make sure we are working together."
She stood, handing him his chart. "Let the girls up front know you need a visual field ASAP and a follow up with me in two months. I'll put in your new prescription and call you when your glasses are in."
He walked to the front desk, feeling a little numb. He made his appointment and then waited out front of the center for his bus.
When he got home, he shucked his pack and shoes, heading for his room. The light on the answering machine blinked as he passed and he took a few steps back to hit the play button.
"Hey, Chief. I hope everything went well today. I'm going to work over, try and finish up some of this paper work by myself." A small laugh followed. "Well, I'll see you later this evening."
Blair erased the message, tears unexpectedly burning the back of his eyes.
His bed was soft as he dropped down. He pulled his covers up, burying his head in the pillow.
He wanted to sleep, but his mind just wouldn't shut down. He thought about his appointment today, what Dr. Gordon had said.
He just wanted this whole thing to go away, he wanted to be normal again.
Tears soaked his pillow and he wiped angrily at them. The worse case scenario played over and over in his head. He would just keep getting sicker and he would have to take more medication until finally they would have to put a shunt in. Would he be able to do his job, get his PH.D., work with Jim?
"God, why can't this be over?"
But deep down he knew...
It was only the beginning.
*~*~*
The end.