Random 2/2
Random Part Two
Jim and Simon sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. They had just had breakfast and Simon was still scowling at Jim.
"Look Simon, it's not my fault."
"Not your fault, not your fault, Jim?" His friend's voice rose with each and every word. "I don’t know how you do it. Hell, if Sandburg were here he would probably explain it in excruciating detail...and you know what? I don’t care how you do, but you do not have to gloat!"
"I didn't say a word, sir."
Simon had been grumbling since they got up. Jim had won eighteen out of twenty hands of Texas Hold 'um.
"Sir, now it's sir? I bet that's your guilt talking." Simon pushed back from the table and grabbed his coat. "So in order to make it up to me, we are going to ride into town and go shopping at the bait and tackle store."
Simon was out the door before Jim could say a word.
The ride in had been pleasant and they took their time exploring the small town. The tackle shop proved to be their longest stop, as Simon had to check out each and every aisle. His friend finally settled on two new lures and some crickets to use at bait.
With purchases in hand they headed across the square and into a wooden furniture shop. Jim had spotted a nice desk. It was unfinished but sturdy and Blair really needed something better then the piece of junk he was using in his bedroom.
They had been talking about finding something better for months. Blair had to use a few phone books to hold up one end of his old one, the leg had fallen off even before he had moved in with Jim years ago.
Mind made up he purchased the desk and a chair, planning on staining them and presenting them as a birthday gift.
"I didn't know you were looking for a new desk, Jim." Simon waited outside the shop, sneaking in a smoke.
"It's for Blair." He said, helping the shop owner to lift the heavy wood into his truck and covering it with a tarp. "His birthday is in a few weeks and I thought it would make a nice gift."
Simon butted out his smoke and held it as it cooled. "Nice."
They climbed into the truck and headed back to the cabin. Half way there Simon opened a small bag and pulled out his snack...Doritos, cool ranch.
Jim watched as his friend savored each bite, licking the orange residue off his fingers every so often. "I can't believe you're eating again."
"Hey, don't give me any guff about my cool ranch." Simon extended the bag. "You want some?"
Jim shook is head, "No thanks. I'm an original kind of guy."
A few more miles down the road, Simon suddenly said. "Hey, Jim. Why do you think the inside of a Doritos bag has this shiny lining?"
"Don't know..." Jim smiled, thinking back.
"What are you smirking about?" Simon asked, hand deep into his bag.
"Well, I don't want to admit this but I zoned on the shiny lining a few years back." When he looked, Simon had his mouth hanging open. "Come on, it wasn't that bad. Sandburg had a bag...three cheese I think, and he left it on the couch when he went to take a shower. I decided I'd give it a try, right. Sneak a few when he wasn't looking."
Jim looked toward his friend again before turning back to the road. "Anyway, I remember hearing the shower come on and then I reached for the bag and the lining caught the light...Blair came back out because he forgot something and when he walked by to go to his bedroom he called my name."
"What did he say," Simon asked.
"Nothing. I jumped when I heard him coming from the bathroom and dropped the bag on the floor. He didn't even know. I scooped all the ones that fell out back into the bag."
"Man, you ought not mess with a man's Doritos." They both laughed and Simon rolled down his bag, stowing them away for the return trip to Cascade.
The truck pulled up in front of the cabin and they both hopped out. Simon made right for his pole and Jim followed along with his own, hearing his friend muttering about his new cool advantage, shaking the box of live crickets.
*~*~*
Bright sunlight spilt in between the slates of his blinds. Blair moaned and arched his back slightly, rolling over to find a pillow wedged behind him.
He looked around, rubbing his hands over his face. His tongue felt fuzzy, thick and he had a god-awful taste in his mouth. The TV was on and the volume was on low. He could hear people talking on the other side of his door.
The tray table beside the bed had a fresh covered plate on it, so Blair gingerly reached around a removed the pillow from behind him and shifted onto his back, raising the head of the bed, so he could sit up a little.
A little gasp came out and he realized that he was much more sore today than he was yesterday. He found a little cup of apple juice on the tray and torn off the wrapper, greedily drinking it down.
God he was thirsty.
"Mr. Sandburg?"
A small petite woman with wire rim glasses stood attentively in the doorway. "I don't want to interrupt your breakfast, but I was hoping you could take a few minutes to talk to me?"
"Um...sure." But he wasn't. He knew who she was.
"My name is Detective Siller and I was hoping you would be up to giving a statement." She moved closer to the bed, but didn't sit. Her features were tiny, her hands almost the size of a child's. She wore a flowing, flowery dress, but she was still a cop.
"What precinct do you work out of?" Blair asked, pulling the blanket up at bit.
She rested her hands on the bed railing, "I work out of the west side. Do you mind if I sit?"
Yes.
"No. Sit."
She smiled, than sat in the visitor chair, crossing one leg over the other. "You can eat if you want."
He looked at the plate and the runny eggs and soggy toast. He was sure the coffee was cold too. "I’m not really all that hungry," he confessed.
"Hmm...hopefully lunch will be more appetizing." She leaned forward a little, resting her hands on her knee. "I would like to tape your statement...if that's okay with you?"
"Sure." He picked up his fork and dragged it through the egg, spinning it round and around until the goop stuck to the prongs, sliding and congealing as he tapped it along the plate.
"Do you have any questions about the process?" She sat the tiny recorder on the tray table, not far from his plate.
"Um...no. I think I understand how this goes."
"Okay, let's get started. Please state your name for the record."
"Blair Sandburg." After she questioned him about his address and occupation, she continued. "Mr. Sandburg. I spoke with John MacReany yesterday afternoon. He is the man that brought you to the hospital. He informed us that he found you walking on a dirt road off of Kilamore." She looked down to a notepad that rested on her knee. "Can you tell me how you got to that location? And the events leading up to the time you were picked up?"
Blair took a deep steadying breath before starting. "I remember meeting my friend at Central U. We had dinner at Victor's and then I left."
"Did you see anyone out of the ordinary at the restaurant?" She slipped a pen from her pocket, writing something on her notepad even though what he was saying was being recorded.
He thought a moment, "No...I don't think so. I ah...I consult with the Cascade P.D. and I'm pretty good about noticing my surroundings."
"The Cascade P.D.?" Again her pen flowed across the sheet. "Is it possible that whoever did this to you knew you. A case you were working on perhaps?"
He had thought about that too, but the face he sees in his sleep is not familiar. "I don't think so."
"Okay, what happened next?"
"I ah...I was coming home on the I-5, but I stopped at a Mini Mart off of exit twelve..." the night was a little fuzzy. He knew it had been raining and he remembered calling Molly from the pay phone. He told the detective about all that and how he got gas and coffee.
"I'll send a unit over to see if your car is still there." She said, looking back to him to continue.
"I was at the pay phone and I'm not sure, but I think I heard something. I remember someone dragging me by the hair, but that's it until..."
She sat up a little, taking a quick breath. "Go on."
"I woke up and I thought I was in a moving vehicle. I remember the rocking motion was making me sick...my head was pounding, but I couldn't see anything. I had something sticky over my eyes and mouth...duct tape, I think." He went back to playing with his eggs.
"The motion stopped and a door was pulled open." He closed his eyes, thinking about that very moment. "It slid, like a van door."
"That's good, Mr. Sandburg. Were your hands free?"
He shook his head, opening his eyes. "No, I think they were tapped too. I'm not sure about my feet, but I couldn't move them."
"When the door opened, what did you hear?"
He dropped the fork, picking up the edge of his blanket. "It was really quiet. I couldn't hear any traffic...just the sound of wind blowing through the trees and it was cold. I don't think I had my coat on."
"What happened next?"
Blair didn't look up, "I could hear him breathing...you know, close to my face. He didn't say anything, but his breath was bad...smelt like beer. He touched my hair, kept running his hand though it." Tears burnt the back of his eyes, but he held them back.
"He put his tongue in my ear." Even as he said the words, he reached up and ran a finger along the edge of his lob, feeling the pierced holes. "He kept sucking on my earrings...I don't know why but I felt like I was floating. I don't even think I tried to shout or push him away."
Now the tears streamed and the detective stood to turn off the recorder. "The doctor said you had a few bumps on your head and we're still waiting on the results of your blood tests..."
He nodded, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. "I could have been drugged, but..."
"You want to go on?"
He sighed, but nodded, so she turned the recorder back on. After a few deep breaths he went on. "I'm a little fuzzy but I remember he unbuttoned my shirt, just sorta pushed it off my shoulders. I though I had on another shirt, but I guess not...Anyway he liked my piercing there too." He convulsed as he thought about what had been done to him, how we couldn't seem to pull himself away from roaming fingers and biting teeth.
"He bit me." The memory cleared. "He bit my chest."
"Yes," she said. "We have the pictures."
Right, the pictures.
"So I'm not sure...I think I blacked out, but I was moving again. I remember my shirt was still open because the air was cool on my chest. The van slowed and the door opened again." This was the part he wasn't sure he could say. "I remember jumping when I felt a hand on my waist ban. I think I was crying because the adhesive on the tape got gooey."
"What happened next?"
"He ah...he pulled down my zipper and he ah...he touched me."
I can't do this...I can't.
"Where did he touch you, Mr. Sandburg?"
Don't make me do this...
"Mr. Sandburg..."
Blair picked up the fork again. "He touched mm..my genitals...with his hands and mouth. He hurt me. I'm not sure, but I think he liked that...after a while he got up, scooted back and I could hear him...he was taking off his clothes. I freaked...I know I wanted to get away but I just couldn't. He dragged me out the door. I remember hitting the ground and it was cold. He pushed me back and sat on me, pulled the tape off my mouth and..."
"What did he do Mr. Sandburg?" Her voice was small, like she wasn't even in the same room.
"He made me...he put his..." The egg was almost unrecognizable, the yellow overlapping the whites and the toast was pierced through with the prongs of his fork. "He made me perform oral sex on him. He held my face and made me...I think he ejaculated because I remember this terrible taste. Sometime later I was back in the van. I know that something more happened, but I don't remember that. I remember the van stopping again and the door opened. I didn't move but I could hear him. He pulled something from the van and then I heard this noise, like someone was digging. I got really scared and then I got really mad. I remember he pulled me out again and dumped me on the ground. I was sitting on gravel, cause I picked up some, even with my hands behind my back."
He dropped the fork and pushed the tray away. "That's it. The next thing I know a guy pulled over to ask if I was okay..."
She reached for the recorder but stopped. "You did very well. I need to know if at any point you saw the perpetrators face?"
He thought about the face in his dreams...was that really the man that hurt him? "I keep seeing this man, but...he had crooked teeth, blondish hair...it was dirty and he had a mustache...but I don't know if that's really him."
Now she did turn off the recorder, sliding it in her coat pocket. "Thank you, Mr. Sandburg. You gave us a lot to follow up on." She pulled a business card from her pocket and sat it on the tray table. "I can understand you might not want your co workers to know about this, but we might have to consult with the Cascade P.D. since this happened pretty close to the city."
"I understand. Can you do me a favor and only speak with a detective I can trust?"
She nodded, placing pen to notepad. "I can. Give me the name."
"Detective Joel Taggart, Major Crimes." And then he put the bed down and rolled away from her, shaking so hard that he was sure he was going to fly apart.
*~*~*
Part Five
"I can't believe this." Simon huffed, listening to the radio. "Just doesn't figure."
Jim looked up from his book, creasing the page. It was an okay read as far as those types of books went.
Can’t believe it's a whole series.
He and Simon had retreated into the cabin shorted after they hit the lake. The downpour was unexpected, nothing on the weather channel and even Jim didn't see it coming.
"The weather guy says it's suppose to rain all night and into tomorrow." Simon grumbled all the way into the kitchen and returned with two beers. "And I hardly had a chance to try out my new lures."
"I'm sorry, Simon." Jim accepted the beer. Quickly looking back at his book to avoid the death daggers being thrown at him.
"Well, if it's going to rain, you want to head back?" Simon plopped onto the sofa across from him. "I mean I can be home fixing the sink instead of sitting around here watching you read your mystery novel."
Jim shut his book and stood. "That sounds good. I have some things I can do around the loft."
So they packed up, cleaned the mudroom and kitchen, before making a mad dash to the truck. Jim checked the tarp, making sure the desk was staying dry.
It was slow going but the rain slowed once they made it to the I-5.
"So you want to bet Sandburg messed up the loft?" Simon smirked, plucking his Doritos from under the seat.
"No thanks, I know when to bet and when not to bet." Jim smiled. "I'm sure he made an effort to clean up. If I'm lucky he stayed at Molly's all weekend."
"Is this Molly thing serious?" Simon sat sideways in the seat studying Jim.
He shrugged his shoulder. "I don’t know dad, why don’t you ask him?"
"Cause he's your partner, that's your job. Do you like her?"
Jim shrugged again. "Do I have to?" Simon shot him a look. "I like her, okay?"
"Okay. It's just I've never known Blair to date someone this long, that's all I'm saying."
The conversation died, the only sound coming from the radio and Simon's munching. Another hour and they pulled up in front of Simon's place.
His friend opened the door, and jumped out to grab his gear. "Well, thanks Jim. Lets do this again, soon."
"Yeah. It was fun." He watched as his boss went into his home. That's were he was heading now...home.
The traffic was pretty light for a Sunday afternoon. After pulling up, we took the elevator down to the basement to open his storage unit. Once back in the lot he uncovered his gift, wondering how he was going to move it by himself. A guy from the sub shop on the corner was walking to his car and Jim enlisted his help.
"Thanks, Mike." Jim situated the desk toward the back, covering it again so Blair wouldn't see it.
Together they rode back to the lobby and Jim said goodbye as he continued up to his apartment on the third floor.
The loft was quiet as he entered.
Quiet and clean.
With a small smile he stowed his gear in the closet under the steps and then went up stairs to get a change of clothes.
Once showered and shaved, Jim did a quick circuit of the loft. The sink was dish free and the fridge was just as he had left it. A quick peek into Blair's room revealed the basket of clothes still on his roommate's bed.
Back tracking he plopped on the sofa, picking up the remote. A few minutes passed and then he picked up the paper, right from where he had left it a few days before. After scanning the movie times, thinking that Tom Hanks can't be all that bad, he grabbed his keys.
Might as well enjoy a little free time...apparently his partner was having a good weekend.
*~*~*
A tall black woman, pushing a stand with a portable blood pressure monitor and thermometer, entered Blair's room.
"Hello, Mr. Sandburg. I'm Zalma. How do you feel this morning?" She adjusted the cuff around his arm and slipped a thermometer into his mouth.
"m'kay," he mumbled.
She smiled, pulling the velcro strap from his arm. "I have it on good authority that they are going to let you go home later this afternoon."
Blair nodded, wondering if that was good news.
She moved around the bed, unfastening wires and lead, peeling the tape back that held the I.V. into place. With a quick pull the tiny tube came out and she covered it with a piece of gauze, stanching the bit of blood that oozed out.
"How about I get you up to use the bathroom?" She was already pulling back the blankets and sheets. Blair was grateful that his gown wasn't up around his armpits.
He had made it to the commode a few times during the night, but this morning he was thankful for the extra support.
His body felt a little better standing up right; the aching in his hips settling down with each step he took.
He looked longingly at the shower stall as she turned him around to face her.
"When can I take a shower?" He asked.
She was helping him to sit down before he even realized it. "I can go get what you need and be back in a few minutes."
"I think I can handle it from here." He could feel the blood rushing to his face.
"You know how to use everything?" She asked turning her back to lower the seat in the shower stall. "Just tap yourself with the witch hazel pads after you use the wipes, it will take the burning away. And don't forget the cream." She turned on the water before stepping out, pulling the door almost all the way closed, creating the illusion of privacy.
He could hear her changing the bedding, stripping away the sweaty sheets and replacing them with clean ones. He did as directed and it did burn, but not as bad as the night before. When he was done she was at his side before the toilet was done flushing, it was a little unnerving. He briefly wondered if she had Sentinel hearing.
"Just step in and then hand me the gown." He slipped past the curtain and sat on the stool, pulling the gown off and handing it through the slight opening.
"I'll leave you a few towels and a clean gown on the sink." And then she left him.
The water felt nice, he notched the dial over a bit, liking the temperature a little more hot.
After enjoying the heat for a time, he shifted the nozzle up to run over his head and down his back and then took it off the hook to direct at any little pains as they popped up.
He hadn't noticed many bruises as he was washing, but when he stood to get out he could see a few on his wrist and ankles. Once out and sitting on the commode lip, he studied his skin a little closer, seeing a few yellow and black marks on his legs and thighs. One near his belly button and a huge mark on his chest, near his nipple.
Deciding that looking wasn't helping, he stood and put on the fresh gown.
The nurse sat in the chair near the bed, waiting for him to emerge from the restroom. The bed was clean and comfortable when he climbed back in...he thought about asking if he could sit in the chair, but that was probably a bad idea.
He maneuvered onto his side, facing away from the door and Zalma stuffed a few pillows behind his back. "I'll take this tray if you're done and I brought you another pitcher of water to sip on." Before she left, she shifted the table and chair around to the other side of the bed. "Be back in a little while."
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he wasn't tired anymore. The halls seemed a bit quiet, but he could hear soft shoe footsteps stop outside his room. The door squeaked open and someone approached his bed. Blair looked over shoulder at his visitor and then turned a little to dislodge the pillows. "Hey, man."
"Hi, Blair." The big burly detective sat in the chair, looking down at his dark hands.
"It's okay, Joel. I'm okay." But even as he said it, tears welled up and his throat tightened. "I ah...I should be able to go home in a little while."
"Yeah." The older man finally looked up. I talked with your doctor and he said he would be in with the discharge papers. I can give you a lift home."
In no time he was settled in his friends car, watching the trees fly by on the interstate. The trip thus far had been quiet; in fact Joel had hardly spoken at all, only asking if Blair was okay or if he needed anything.
Nearing the city limits Joel turned his way, dividing attention between him and the road. "Your car was still at the Mini Mart. The owner had called a tow, but we got there in time."
"When can I get it back?" He asked, fiddling with the dial for the radio.
Joel took the exit to Chelsea going around a slowing moving church bus. "It will take a few days. So far forensics hasn't found anything helpful...but your backpack was in the car and I can tell you your wallet was sitting by the gearbox, between the seats."
A few minutes later they parked in front of the apartment. Blair opened the door to the loft with a sad sigh, he was glad that Jim wasn't home. Joel closed the door behind him and helped him take off his borrowed coat. "Thanks for the ride."
"Not a problem. It wasn't like you were out of the way."
A few minutes of uneasy silence and then Blair said. "Look, Joel. I appreciate you helping me out. But I think I need a little time alone." He hurried on, noting the look on his friend's face. "I promise to call if I have any problems."
His friend looked doubtful, but turned back to the door. "I'll do the best I can to keep this quiet, but you're going to have to tell Simon and I really think you should tell Jim."
He looked down then, but nodded.
"Okay, Blair." Joel said, opening the door. "I'll get in touch when I have anything."
As soon as he was through it, Blair threw all the locks and leaned heavily against the hard wood.
God, what was he going to do?
He looked down at his scrubs, thinking it would be a good idea to get changed.
They had taken all his clothes, even his shoes as evidence. And his jewelry, his necklace was missing, but they took his bracelet and earrings...
A sudden urge to vomit over took him and he bolted to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet. He put his hand over his ear, remembering a warm tongue sucking, toying with the tiny hoops.
After losing the juice he had for breakfast he dry heaved a few times, willing his stomach out of his throat.
Calm down, calm down.
Feeling a little more in control, he blew his nose and splashed cold water on his face. Looking into he mirror, he could just make out a faint bruise under his hairline, wondering how he was going to explain what happened to Jim.
The phone rang and he jumped, but let the machine get it.
"Hello, Blair? It's Molly. Just wanted to see if you were home yet and to make sure you're okay. Call me when you feel up to it. I'm sorry, baby."
Walking to the living room he sighed, erasing the message.
What was he going to say to Molly?
He got a trash bag from under the sink and went to his room to change. A basket of clean clothes sat on his bed and he dug through them until he found a t-shirt and the pajama pants he got for Christmas from Molly.
The scrubs went into a trash bag and Blair changed, carrying the bag to the trashcan in the kitchen.
Feeling a little hungry he rummaged through the fridge, but all the leftovers had been thrown out. He checked the freezer and found some noodle soup he had frozen the week before.
While his food was defrosting in the microwave, he warmed some apple cider in the kettle.
It took a while for the soup, but once done he carried his dinner in to the living room, popping open his pill bottles and taking out a pill from each one. The doctor made it very clear that he needed to follow the instructions and finish each bottle...an antibiotic, a muscle relaxant and a pain pill.
Later he would take the other things, the cream and wipes, and stow them in the canister on the back of the toilet.
After taking his pills, he sipped his cider and picked at his food, hungry, but not really feeling like eating.
He channel surfed for a while, but nothing was appealing and the drugs were making him tired. Soon his eyes drooped, so he carefully shifted down to his side, pulling his afghan down on top of him. He listened to the TV drone on in the background for a while, before dropping off into a restless sleep.
Later Blair rolled over in his sleep, his heart pounding a little faster in his chest. He knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't wake up. He was outside a tiny store talking on a phone. The hair on his neck stood up and he knew he should get in the car and drive away, but he didn't.
The cracking noise made him jump and he knew he jumped in his sleep too, but he still couldn’t wake up.
Get in the car.
Get in the car.
Someone grabbed him by the hair hard, yanking his head backwards...
Then everything was dark...he thought that he was going to wake up, but then he saw him. A leering face...his filthy hands tangled in Blair's hair, fingers fisted by his scalp. The face was covered with whiskers and they burned as they ran along Blair's cheek, teeth nipping at Blair's neck.
Blair tried to push him away and he thought that his body arched as he slept on the couch.
His hands were tied tight behind him, but his feet were free and he kicked up at his captor, realizing he was laying flat on the ground, surrounded by trees.
The man pulled something to Blair's right and his air supply decreased. Not understanding what was happening, he tried to kick again, but each time something tightened around his neck and then he would be forced around again, pulled into place by his hair. Turned over and pressed into the ground...
"NO!" Blair flew from the couch and fell to the floor with a hard thump, twisting and fighting against the afghan. Finally free, he took off for the bathroom, bringing up everything he had just eaten. Rocking back on his heels, he ran a shaky hand through his tangled hair...his hair.
A minute later he rinsed his mouth and looked in the mirror.
His hair.
He backed away and opened the linen closet, pulling out towels and sheets, searching. Not finding what he wanted he opened the cabinet under the sink and then the medicine cabinet.
There on the shelf lie the scissors.
With shaking hands, he reached for them. Carefully closing the mirrored door, he grabbed a handful of hair. Slowly the blades moved into place...squeezing the handles he began to cut when the front door slamming open, echoing down the hall.
The scissors clattered to the floor and Blair jumped, pressing his body against the sink.
"Chief? Are you alright?"
It took a full minute to calm down and answer, knowing that his friend was standing outside the door.
"Ah...yeah. I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute."
*~*~*
Part Six
Jim stood outside the bathroom door listening to his friend's sky rocketing heart and short gasps for air.
He had just cleared the third landing, still eating his box of bite size butterfingers, when he heard a commotion coming from his apartment. Pushing quickly through the door he found the living area empty, but someone occupied the bathroom.
"You sure you're okay?" Jim stepped a bit closer to the door, hand resting on the knob. The sickly sweet smell of sweat and fear permeated the hall and was coming through the closed door.
His roommate cleared his throat a few times and then told him again he'd be out in a minute.
Jim backed away; deciding that Blair needed some time and would hopefully tell him what was going on when he came out of the bathroom.
Walking back toward the bay doors, he scanned the loft. It was still tidy; except a blanket was tossed on the floor by the sofa and a few pillows were arranged on one end like Blair may have been lying down. He moved closer and felt the sofa; it was still warm with Blair's body heat.
A bowl with the remains of Blair's dinner was still sitting on the end table and a mug was perched on top of a few magazines on the coffee table. Jim picked it up and gave it a small sniff. Apple cider?
The TV was on the nature channel, but the volume was turned down low, so he doubted that Blair was actually watching it. More then likely his friend must have dozed off. Maybe he had a nightmare... But Blair hadn't had any nightmares in a while.
Jim scooped up the mug and bowl and walked into the kitchen, dumping the congealing soup and rinsing the dishing in the sink. He peeked into Blair's bedroom before going back to the bathroom door, noting that nothing had changed, except the clothes basket had be rummaged through.
"Blair?" Jim's tried to keep his voice neutral. He knew something was off, but he didn’t want to browbeat Blair into telling him. Maybe it was something as simple as Blair having problems with his love life. Jim knew that he had big plans with Molly this weekend.
The door creaked open and Blair emerged. His hair was loose and unruly, a few shorter pieces stuck up at an odd angle.
"You're home early." His friend moved into the living room, slumping onto the sofa. He looked a little pale, tired...maybe he was getting sick.
"Yeah, it started to rain, so we decided to come home early." Jim sat in the yellow chair, watching as Blair picked the blanket up and pulled it over his legs. "Cold, Chief?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah? A little." Jim noted the fine tremors coursing through Blair's body, but something else seemed off.
"Do you need anything?" Jim asked, getting up and going into the kitchen to unpack the cooler. He had forgotten it, but was happy to find that the ice hadn't melted He put the fillets in the freezer then filled the teakettle. "I'm going to have a cup of tea, do you want some?" Blair didn't answer, so Jim called him again. "Blair?"
"Hmm?"
"I said do you want some tea?"
"Ah...yeah. Thanks, man."
Something was wrong, Jim was sure, but he wasn't going to push. Blair would tell him when he was ready.
The phone rang, but Blair made to move to answer. The machine picked up before he got to it. "Hey Blair, It's Mol. Just checking to make sure your doing okay and to tell ya I love ya. Call me."
"Don't you want to talk to Molly, Chief?" Jim sat a mug in front of his roommate, making himself comfortable on the other couch.
Blair leaned forward and picked up his mug. There was even something off about his movement and Jim wondered if his friend had gotten hurt.
He watched as Blair sipped his tea, spotting a tiny bruise by his friend's neck and another one the wrist that held the mug. He even wondered why Blair's earrings were gone.
About to ask, the phone rang again. This time when the machine picked up, it was the voice of Joel Taggart and Blair nearly tripped to get to the phone.
"Hey, Joel." With a pleading look at Jim, Blair turned away from him, shoulders hunched "Yeah, I'm fine."
Another look from Blair and Jim got up to rinse his mug. He listened to his friend's end of the conversation, listened as his voice notched up and turned in time to see the phone hit the floor.
"Oh God," Blair said. "I killed him."
*~*~*
Blair scooted down the back of the sofa and sat with his head in his hands. He knew he was shaking again, but his eyes stayed dry.
Jim ran over, kneeling down. "Blair...what's wrong."
When he didn't answer, his friend snagged up the phone and demanded that Joel tell him.
"What do you mean?" Jim's voice was angry, but Blair didn't want him to take it out on Joel.
"Jim." He sat up a little, touching his friend's arm "It's okay, Jim. I'll tell you." He plucked the phone from his partner. "Joel. I'll be down in a little while. Yeah, I'll be fine." He dropped the receiver into his lap, wondering where to even start.
"Let's get off the floor." Jim stood and extended his hand.
Blair took it and stood, tiny ripples if pain shot down his legs, but he ignored them and walked stiffly to the couch.
Jim hung up the phone, but followed, sitting close to him on the sofa. "Please tell me what's wrong. You can tell me anything, Chief."
He nodded, but it was...hard. "I guess I should start at the beginning."
He could feel his friend shift a little closer, but it was okay, he wanted Jim close. "I'm listening, whatever it is, I'm listening."
He laid his back on the sofa, breathing deep. "I was on my way home from Central on Friday evening. I stopped at a Mini Mart and I ah...I used the pay phone to call Molly...my cell phone wasn't getting good reception." He sat up and looked at Jim, not sure how to say what he needed to say.
"What happened?" Jim asked, moving his arm up to rest on the back of the sofa.
Tears threatened, "I don't remember everything, but ah...I was attacked."
The arm along his neck tensed, but Jim didn't say anything. "I lost some time, but I know I was assaulted. I've been in a hospital and Joel picked me up today. He said...he said that Detective Siller's team found a body..."
The arm behind him moved and Blair was scared that Jim was pulling away, but he didn't. Jim pulled him closer, wrapping him in a hug. He couldn't help it when the tears fell this time, nor could he help the sobs.
Jim held him close, running hands over his head and hair, but that was okay.
This was Jim.
After a time, Blair pushed away. "I need to go to the station and make an I.D."
"I'll drive," but it was a few more minutes before either one of them moved.
Once in the truck, Blair managed to calm down a little. Jim kept shooting covert looks his way, but Blair wasn't ready to talk yet.
At the station, Joel met them in the basement morgue. Detective Siller was standing off to the side, but Blair introduced her to Jim.
"Okay, Blair. You ready?" Joel escorted him closer to a large curtained window, tapping on the glass. The curtains were pulled back slowly and Blair could make out a covered body lying on a table on the other side. A woman in scrubs stood beside the body, waiting for Joel's signal to uncover the cadaver.
Blair nodded, feeling Jim place a hand on his shoulder. The sheet was pulled back and Blair got a look at the man on the table. He's shoulders slumped. The dead man had dark hair and a mustache, but no beard. His face was fuller than Blair thought, but the teeth were crocked, the top sticking out of the slightly opened mouth. "I don't know."
"We already collected some evidence." Joel told him, turning him from the window. "Let's go up to the captain's office."
Blair moved through the halls, not paying much attention to who was around him. The bullpen was mostly empty as was Simon's office. Sinking into a chair around the conference table, he waited as Jim and Joel sat. Detective Siller stood at the end of the table, tiny hands resting on the tabletop.
"We found a white van not far from where you were found." She began.
Jim sat forward, but Blair shook his head. They would have time to talk later.
"Time of death is estimated to be sometime Saturday morning."
God, his attacker had him for the whole night and morning. What else had he done to him?
"We found a necklace in his hand." She held up a tiny evidence bag, but Blair didn't have to look, he knew it was his. "Also a belt was found near by, forensics is taking a look at it now."
"How did he die?" Blair asked.
She leaned on the table a little more, "Blunt force trauma to the head...probably the shovel that was found a ways down the road."
"I don't...I don't remember what happened." Blair sat up a little to take the pressure off his tailbone. "What happens now?"
"Well, we are working on reconstructing the crime scene. I'm sure the evidence will point to your version of the events, even if you can't remember everything. We found a place where the earth was disturbed, we have your necklace and I'm sure your DNA will be on the belt."
And other places, Blair thought.
"Once we have all the reports in, we can close the case."
Blair nodded, standing to leave. "Can you keep me informed?"
She followed them to the door of the office. "I'll let you know what we find."
*~*~*
Jim paced the confines of the living room. It had been three weeks since he had come home to find Blair panicking in the bathroom. After his friend had told him what happened Jim went into a tailspin. He read the crime report and questioned Detective Siller, but he didn't really talk to Blair. Not about what happened anyway.
They had polite conversations, about work and school, about Jim and Simon's fishing trip...
Heck, Blair was doing a good job of acting like nothing happened, returning to work a few days later.
The phone rang, but Jim let the machine get it.
"Blair. It's Molly. Please call. I want to...I want to know why you are avoiding me."
Outside in the hallway the elevator dinged. Footsteps stopped outside his door and a key was jammed into the lock. Blair came in, walking to his room and dumping his pack. Jim noticed that his hair was pulled back again and even though he had gotten his jewelry back a few days before, he hadn't worn them. "Hey, man."
Jim smiled, making for the kitchen to check on dinner. "How was your day?"
God, it was like they were an old married couple.
"Good, man. You?" Blair opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. "What one?"
He already had two, but what the heck.
"I'll take one."
Blair had a doctor's appointment earlier in the day, but Jim didn't want to push for information. The man who had attacked Blair...Maxwell...he was clean...at least that was something.
His roommate gulped the beer and then headed for the shower. When Blair emerged, he told him that Molly had called.
"I'll call her later." Blair went back to his room and closed the door.
This was not going well.
A little later he called his partner to dinner. They ate in silence so Jim finally asked, "So how did your appointment go?"
"Okay," Blair didn't even look up from his plate.
"Well," Jim said. "That's good."
After dinner, he settled on the couch, flipping on the TV. He was a little surprised when Blair joined him.
"Hey, you have any plans for the weekend?" Jim asked, finding a movie on Lifetime.
Blair shook his head, "Nope...why?"
"Well, your birthday is Sunday and I know a good fishing spot, beautiful views, fish practically jumping into your net."
Blair seemed to debate about it, but agreed. "Okay, I could use a little vacation."
"Good, get to bed. I want to leave early."
*~*~*
The truck bumped along the dirt road and finally pulled off to a camp area. A few other people milled around, a few tents peppered the forest.
They unloaded and walked back a ways, closer to the lake. Jim pitched the tent and Blair piled a few rocks to enclose the fire.
"Let's hit the water." Jim said, picking up their poles.
Blair followed along behind, carrying the tackle boxes. They scouted a good spot and waded into the water. "Hey, Jim?"
His friend looked up from casting.
"Thanks again for the desk. It was way to much, but I really appreciate it."
Jim ducked his head a little, "we should drive into town and look for a matching book case."
The fishing was slow going, but Blair managed to bag two. Jim threw a few back...they still had some fillets in the freezer.
"Ready for lunch?" His friend called and Blair reeled in his line.
They made their way back to camp and Blair started on gutting the fish. Soon lunch was ready and they ate in silence.
It seemed like that was par for the course.
Sitting his plate aside, he looked to Jim. "There was nothing you could have done."
Jim looked down to his plate, picking at the fish with his fork. "I know. I wish I was there, but I know."
"It was no ones fault." He assured Jim.
And maybe himself.
"I know that too." Jim sat aside his own plate and scooter closer to him.
"I mean the guy...he didn't have a record and and he had drugs and alcohol in his system...it was random." He was cold, grateful to feel Jim's arm snake up around him.
"I know. A random act of violence."
"But why, man? Why did he have to pick me?" His friend pulled him closer and he rested his head on Jim's shoulder.
"Who knows what he was thinking. He was high and even though he didn't have a record, people we talked to said he was known to be violent."
Blair stilled, lifting his head a little. "You talked to people, Jim."
The arm around him stiffened, but his friend took a resigned breath. "I talked to people, I went to the crime scene, I dug into Maxwell's past...I just had to."
Blair settled back against his friend. "You had to?"
Jim tightened his hold. "Yeah, Chief. I had to. You're my..."
"Best friend, partner, roommate, guide?" Blair asked.
"Yes, yes, yes, and yes. You're...well, you're mine." Jim chuckled. "You're all of those and more...does that make sense?"
It did.
Jim meant a whole lot to Blair...and he had always known that the same was true for Jim.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence Jim said, "Okay, enough with the mush."
He laughed...and it felt good.
They sat for a while longer and then Jim got up. "Let's go into town and take a look at the furniture store. And, " he paused. "I promised Simon I'd pick him up a new lure."
He helped Blair up and they tidied up a bit, making sure to douse the fire before heading out.
"So," Jim said casually. "Have you talked to Molly?"
Blair sighed but his friend went on. "I mean I know you were pretty serious for a while and I thought..."
Blair nodded, jumping into the truck. "I will, Jim. I need too."
Jim smiled and pulled out, heading into town.
Molly...now that's a whole other story...
*~*~*
The End.
Jim and Simon sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. They had just had breakfast and Simon was still scowling at Jim.
"Look Simon, it's not my fault."
"Not your fault, not your fault, Jim?" His friend's voice rose with each and every word. "I don’t know how you do it. Hell, if Sandburg were here he would probably explain it in excruciating detail...and you know what? I don’t care how you do, but you do not have to gloat!"
"I didn't say a word, sir."
Simon had been grumbling since they got up. Jim had won eighteen out of twenty hands of Texas Hold 'um.
"Sir, now it's sir? I bet that's your guilt talking." Simon pushed back from the table and grabbed his coat. "So in order to make it up to me, we are going to ride into town and go shopping at the bait and tackle store."
Simon was out the door before Jim could say a word.
The ride in had been pleasant and they took their time exploring the small town. The tackle shop proved to be their longest stop, as Simon had to check out each and every aisle. His friend finally settled on two new lures and some crickets to use at bait.
With purchases in hand they headed across the square and into a wooden furniture shop. Jim had spotted a nice desk. It was unfinished but sturdy and Blair really needed something better then the piece of junk he was using in his bedroom.
They had been talking about finding something better for months. Blair had to use a few phone books to hold up one end of his old one, the leg had fallen off even before he had moved in with Jim years ago.
Mind made up he purchased the desk and a chair, planning on staining them and presenting them as a birthday gift.
"I didn't know you were looking for a new desk, Jim." Simon waited outside the shop, sneaking in a smoke.
"It's for Blair." He said, helping the shop owner to lift the heavy wood into his truck and covering it with a tarp. "His birthday is in a few weeks and I thought it would make a nice gift."
Simon butted out his smoke and held it as it cooled. "Nice."
They climbed into the truck and headed back to the cabin. Half way there Simon opened a small bag and pulled out his snack...Doritos, cool ranch.
Jim watched as his friend savored each bite, licking the orange residue off his fingers every so often. "I can't believe you're eating again."
"Hey, don't give me any guff about my cool ranch." Simon extended the bag. "You want some?"
Jim shook is head, "No thanks. I'm an original kind of guy."
A few more miles down the road, Simon suddenly said. "Hey, Jim. Why do you think the inside of a Doritos bag has this shiny lining?"
"Don't know..." Jim smiled, thinking back.
"What are you smirking about?" Simon asked, hand deep into his bag.
"Well, I don't want to admit this but I zoned on the shiny lining a few years back." When he looked, Simon had his mouth hanging open. "Come on, it wasn't that bad. Sandburg had a bag...three cheese I think, and he left it on the couch when he went to take a shower. I decided I'd give it a try, right. Sneak a few when he wasn't looking."
Jim looked toward his friend again before turning back to the road. "Anyway, I remember hearing the shower come on and then I reached for the bag and the lining caught the light...Blair came back out because he forgot something and when he walked by to go to his bedroom he called my name."
"What did he say," Simon asked.
"Nothing. I jumped when I heard him coming from the bathroom and dropped the bag on the floor. He didn't even know. I scooped all the ones that fell out back into the bag."
"Man, you ought not mess with a man's Doritos." They both laughed and Simon rolled down his bag, stowing them away for the return trip to Cascade.
The truck pulled up in front of the cabin and they both hopped out. Simon made right for his pole and Jim followed along with his own, hearing his friend muttering about his new cool advantage, shaking the box of live crickets.
*~*~*
Bright sunlight spilt in between the slates of his blinds. Blair moaned and arched his back slightly, rolling over to find a pillow wedged behind him.
He looked around, rubbing his hands over his face. His tongue felt fuzzy, thick and he had a god-awful taste in his mouth. The TV was on and the volume was on low. He could hear people talking on the other side of his door.
The tray table beside the bed had a fresh covered plate on it, so Blair gingerly reached around a removed the pillow from behind him and shifted onto his back, raising the head of the bed, so he could sit up a little.
A little gasp came out and he realized that he was much more sore today than he was yesterday. He found a little cup of apple juice on the tray and torn off the wrapper, greedily drinking it down.
God he was thirsty.
"Mr. Sandburg?"
A small petite woman with wire rim glasses stood attentively in the doorway. "I don't want to interrupt your breakfast, but I was hoping you could take a few minutes to talk to me?"
"Um...sure." But he wasn't. He knew who she was.
"My name is Detective Siller and I was hoping you would be up to giving a statement." She moved closer to the bed, but didn't sit. Her features were tiny, her hands almost the size of a child's. She wore a flowing, flowery dress, but she was still a cop.
"What precinct do you work out of?" Blair asked, pulling the blanket up at bit.
She rested her hands on the bed railing, "I work out of the west side. Do you mind if I sit?"
Yes.
"No. Sit."
She smiled, than sat in the visitor chair, crossing one leg over the other. "You can eat if you want."
He looked at the plate and the runny eggs and soggy toast. He was sure the coffee was cold too. "I’m not really all that hungry," he confessed.
"Hmm...hopefully lunch will be more appetizing." She leaned forward a little, resting her hands on her knee. "I would like to tape your statement...if that's okay with you?"
"Sure." He picked up his fork and dragged it through the egg, spinning it round and around until the goop stuck to the prongs, sliding and congealing as he tapped it along the plate.
"Do you have any questions about the process?" She sat the tiny recorder on the tray table, not far from his plate.
"Um...no. I think I understand how this goes."
"Okay, let's get started. Please state your name for the record."
"Blair Sandburg." After she questioned him about his address and occupation, she continued. "Mr. Sandburg. I spoke with John MacReany yesterday afternoon. He is the man that brought you to the hospital. He informed us that he found you walking on a dirt road off of Kilamore." She looked down to a notepad that rested on her knee. "Can you tell me how you got to that location? And the events leading up to the time you were picked up?"
Blair took a deep steadying breath before starting. "I remember meeting my friend at Central U. We had dinner at Victor's and then I left."
"Did you see anyone out of the ordinary at the restaurant?" She slipped a pen from her pocket, writing something on her notepad even though what he was saying was being recorded.
He thought a moment, "No...I don't think so. I ah...I consult with the Cascade P.D. and I'm pretty good about noticing my surroundings."
"The Cascade P.D.?" Again her pen flowed across the sheet. "Is it possible that whoever did this to you knew you. A case you were working on perhaps?"
He had thought about that too, but the face he sees in his sleep is not familiar. "I don't think so."
"Okay, what happened next?"
"I ah...I was coming home on the I-5, but I stopped at a Mini Mart off of exit twelve..." the night was a little fuzzy. He knew it had been raining and he remembered calling Molly from the pay phone. He told the detective about all that and how he got gas and coffee.
"I'll send a unit over to see if your car is still there." She said, looking back to him to continue.
"I was at the pay phone and I'm not sure, but I think I heard something. I remember someone dragging me by the hair, but that's it until..."
She sat up a little, taking a quick breath. "Go on."
"I woke up and I thought I was in a moving vehicle. I remember the rocking motion was making me sick...my head was pounding, but I couldn't see anything. I had something sticky over my eyes and mouth...duct tape, I think." He went back to playing with his eggs.
"The motion stopped and a door was pulled open." He closed his eyes, thinking about that very moment. "It slid, like a van door."
"That's good, Mr. Sandburg. Were your hands free?"
He shook his head, opening his eyes. "No, I think they were tapped too. I'm not sure about my feet, but I couldn't move them."
"When the door opened, what did you hear?"
He dropped the fork, picking up the edge of his blanket. "It was really quiet. I couldn't hear any traffic...just the sound of wind blowing through the trees and it was cold. I don't think I had my coat on."
"What happened next?"
Blair didn't look up, "I could hear him breathing...you know, close to my face. He didn't say anything, but his breath was bad...smelt like beer. He touched my hair, kept running his hand though it." Tears burnt the back of his eyes, but he held them back.
"He put his tongue in my ear." Even as he said the words, he reached up and ran a finger along the edge of his lob, feeling the pierced holes. "He kept sucking on my earrings...I don't know why but I felt like I was floating. I don't even think I tried to shout or push him away."
Now the tears streamed and the detective stood to turn off the recorder. "The doctor said you had a few bumps on your head and we're still waiting on the results of your blood tests..."
He nodded, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. "I could have been drugged, but..."
"You want to go on?"
He sighed, but nodded, so she turned the recorder back on. After a few deep breaths he went on. "I'm a little fuzzy but I remember he unbuttoned my shirt, just sorta pushed it off my shoulders. I though I had on another shirt, but I guess not...Anyway he liked my piercing there too." He convulsed as he thought about what had been done to him, how we couldn't seem to pull himself away from roaming fingers and biting teeth.
"He bit me." The memory cleared. "He bit my chest."
"Yes," she said. "We have the pictures."
Right, the pictures.
"So I'm not sure...I think I blacked out, but I was moving again. I remember my shirt was still open because the air was cool on my chest. The van slowed and the door opened again." This was the part he wasn't sure he could say. "I remember jumping when I felt a hand on my waist ban. I think I was crying because the adhesive on the tape got gooey."
"What happened next?"
"He ah...he pulled down my zipper and he ah...he touched me."
I can't do this...I can't.
"Where did he touch you, Mr. Sandburg?"
Don't make me do this...
"Mr. Sandburg..."
Blair picked up the fork again. "He touched mm..my genitals...with his hands and mouth. He hurt me. I'm not sure, but I think he liked that...after a while he got up, scooted back and I could hear him...he was taking off his clothes. I freaked...I know I wanted to get away but I just couldn't. He dragged me out the door. I remember hitting the ground and it was cold. He pushed me back and sat on me, pulled the tape off my mouth and..."
"What did he do Mr. Sandburg?" Her voice was small, like she wasn't even in the same room.
"He made me...he put his..." The egg was almost unrecognizable, the yellow overlapping the whites and the toast was pierced through with the prongs of his fork. "He made me perform oral sex on him. He held my face and made me...I think he ejaculated because I remember this terrible taste. Sometime later I was back in the van. I know that something more happened, but I don't remember that. I remember the van stopping again and the door opened. I didn't move but I could hear him. He pulled something from the van and then I heard this noise, like someone was digging. I got really scared and then I got really mad. I remember he pulled me out again and dumped me on the ground. I was sitting on gravel, cause I picked up some, even with my hands behind my back."
He dropped the fork and pushed the tray away. "That's it. The next thing I know a guy pulled over to ask if I was okay..."
She reached for the recorder but stopped. "You did very well. I need to know if at any point you saw the perpetrators face?"
He thought about the face in his dreams...was that really the man that hurt him? "I keep seeing this man, but...he had crooked teeth, blondish hair...it was dirty and he had a mustache...but I don't know if that's really him."
Now she did turn off the recorder, sliding it in her coat pocket. "Thank you, Mr. Sandburg. You gave us a lot to follow up on." She pulled a business card from her pocket and sat it on the tray table. "I can understand you might not want your co workers to know about this, but we might have to consult with the Cascade P.D. since this happened pretty close to the city."
"I understand. Can you do me a favor and only speak with a detective I can trust?"
She nodded, placing pen to notepad. "I can. Give me the name."
"Detective Joel Taggart, Major Crimes." And then he put the bed down and rolled away from her, shaking so hard that he was sure he was going to fly apart.
*~*~*
Part Five
"I can't believe this." Simon huffed, listening to the radio. "Just doesn't figure."
Jim looked up from his book, creasing the page. It was an okay read as far as those types of books went.
Can’t believe it's a whole series.
He and Simon had retreated into the cabin shorted after they hit the lake. The downpour was unexpected, nothing on the weather channel and even Jim didn't see it coming.
"The weather guy says it's suppose to rain all night and into tomorrow." Simon grumbled all the way into the kitchen and returned with two beers. "And I hardly had a chance to try out my new lures."
"I'm sorry, Simon." Jim accepted the beer. Quickly looking back at his book to avoid the death daggers being thrown at him.
"Well, if it's going to rain, you want to head back?" Simon plopped onto the sofa across from him. "I mean I can be home fixing the sink instead of sitting around here watching you read your mystery novel."
Jim shut his book and stood. "That sounds good. I have some things I can do around the loft."
So they packed up, cleaned the mudroom and kitchen, before making a mad dash to the truck. Jim checked the tarp, making sure the desk was staying dry.
It was slow going but the rain slowed once they made it to the I-5.
"So you want to bet Sandburg messed up the loft?" Simon smirked, plucking his Doritos from under the seat.
"No thanks, I know when to bet and when not to bet." Jim smiled. "I'm sure he made an effort to clean up. If I'm lucky he stayed at Molly's all weekend."
"Is this Molly thing serious?" Simon sat sideways in the seat studying Jim.
He shrugged his shoulder. "I don’t know dad, why don’t you ask him?"
"Cause he's your partner, that's your job. Do you like her?"
Jim shrugged again. "Do I have to?" Simon shot him a look. "I like her, okay?"
"Okay. It's just I've never known Blair to date someone this long, that's all I'm saying."
The conversation died, the only sound coming from the radio and Simon's munching. Another hour and they pulled up in front of Simon's place.
His friend opened the door, and jumped out to grab his gear. "Well, thanks Jim. Lets do this again, soon."
"Yeah. It was fun." He watched as his boss went into his home. That's were he was heading now...home.
The traffic was pretty light for a Sunday afternoon. After pulling up, we took the elevator down to the basement to open his storage unit. Once back in the lot he uncovered his gift, wondering how he was going to move it by himself. A guy from the sub shop on the corner was walking to his car and Jim enlisted his help.
"Thanks, Mike." Jim situated the desk toward the back, covering it again so Blair wouldn't see it.
Together they rode back to the lobby and Jim said goodbye as he continued up to his apartment on the third floor.
The loft was quiet as he entered.
Quiet and clean.
With a small smile he stowed his gear in the closet under the steps and then went up stairs to get a change of clothes.
Once showered and shaved, Jim did a quick circuit of the loft. The sink was dish free and the fridge was just as he had left it. A quick peek into Blair's room revealed the basket of clothes still on his roommate's bed.
Back tracking he plopped on the sofa, picking up the remote. A few minutes passed and then he picked up the paper, right from where he had left it a few days before. After scanning the movie times, thinking that Tom Hanks can't be all that bad, he grabbed his keys.
Might as well enjoy a little free time...apparently his partner was having a good weekend.
*~*~*
A tall black woman, pushing a stand with a portable blood pressure monitor and thermometer, entered Blair's room.
"Hello, Mr. Sandburg. I'm Zalma. How do you feel this morning?" She adjusted the cuff around his arm and slipped a thermometer into his mouth.
"m'kay," he mumbled.
She smiled, pulling the velcro strap from his arm. "I have it on good authority that they are going to let you go home later this afternoon."
Blair nodded, wondering if that was good news.
She moved around the bed, unfastening wires and lead, peeling the tape back that held the I.V. into place. With a quick pull the tiny tube came out and she covered it with a piece of gauze, stanching the bit of blood that oozed out.
"How about I get you up to use the bathroom?" She was already pulling back the blankets and sheets. Blair was grateful that his gown wasn't up around his armpits.
He had made it to the commode a few times during the night, but this morning he was thankful for the extra support.
His body felt a little better standing up right; the aching in his hips settling down with each step he took.
He looked longingly at the shower stall as she turned him around to face her.
"When can I take a shower?" He asked.
She was helping him to sit down before he even realized it. "I can go get what you need and be back in a few minutes."
"I think I can handle it from here." He could feel the blood rushing to his face.
"You know how to use everything?" She asked turning her back to lower the seat in the shower stall. "Just tap yourself with the witch hazel pads after you use the wipes, it will take the burning away. And don't forget the cream." She turned on the water before stepping out, pulling the door almost all the way closed, creating the illusion of privacy.
He could hear her changing the bedding, stripping away the sweaty sheets and replacing them with clean ones. He did as directed and it did burn, but not as bad as the night before. When he was done she was at his side before the toilet was done flushing, it was a little unnerving. He briefly wondered if she had Sentinel hearing.
"Just step in and then hand me the gown." He slipped past the curtain and sat on the stool, pulling the gown off and handing it through the slight opening.
"I'll leave you a few towels and a clean gown on the sink." And then she left him.
The water felt nice, he notched the dial over a bit, liking the temperature a little more hot.
After enjoying the heat for a time, he shifted the nozzle up to run over his head and down his back and then took it off the hook to direct at any little pains as they popped up.
He hadn't noticed many bruises as he was washing, but when he stood to get out he could see a few on his wrist and ankles. Once out and sitting on the commode lip, he studied his skin a little closer, seeing a few yellow and black marks on his legs and thighs. One near his belly button and a huge mark on his chest, near his nipple.
Deciding that looking wasn't helping, he stood and put on the fresh gown.
The nurse sat in the chair near the bed, waiting for him to emerge from the restroom. The bed was clean and comfortable when he climbed back in...he thought about asking if he could sit in the chair, but that was probably a bad idea.
He maneuvered onto his side, facing away from the door and Zalma stuffed a few pillows behind his back. "I'll take this tray if you're done and I brought you another pitcher of water to sip on." Before she left, she shifted the table and chair around to the other side of the bed. "Be back in a little while."
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he wasn't tired anymore. The halls seemed a bit quiet, but he could hear soft shoe footsteps stop outside his room. The door squeaked open and someone approached his bed. Blair looked over shoulder at his visitor and then turned a little to dislodge the pillows. "Hey, man."
"Hi, Blair." The big burly detective sat in the chair, looking down at his dark hands.
"It's okay, Joel. I'm okay." But even as he said it, tears welled up and his throat tightened. "I ah...I should be able to go home in a little while."
"Yeah." The older man finally looked up. I talked with your doctor and he said he would be in with the discharge papers. I can give you a lift home."
In no time he was settled in his friends car, watching the trees fly by on the interstate. The trip thus far had been quiet; in fact Joel had hardly spoken at all, only asking if Blair was okay or if he needed anything.
Nearing the city limits Joel turned his way, dividing attention between him and the road. "Your car was still at the Mini Mart. The owner had called a tow, but we got there in time."
"When can I get it back?" He asked, fiddling with the dial for the radio.
Joel took the exit to Chelsea going around a slowing moving church bus. "It will take a few days. So far forensics hasn't found anything helpful...but your backpack was in the car and I can tell you your wallet was sitting by the gearbox, between the seats."
A few minutes later they parked in front of the apartment. Blair opened the door to the loft with a sad sigh, he was glad that Jim wasn't home. Joel closed the door behind him and helped him take off his borrowed coat. "Thanks for the ride."
"Not a problem. It wasn't like you were out of the way."
A few minutes of uneasy silence and then Blair said. "Look, Joel. I appreciate you helping me out. But I think I need a little time alone." He hurried on, noting the look on his friend's face. "I promise to call if I have any problems."
His friend looked doubtful, but turned back to the door. "I'll do the best I can to keep this quiet, but you're going to have to tell Simon and I really think you should tell Jim."
He looked down then, but nodded.
"Okay, Blair." Joel said, opening the door. "I'll get in touch when I have anything."
As soon as he was through it, Blair threw all the locks and leaned heavily against the hard wood.
God, what was he going to do?
He looked down at his scrubs, thinking it would be a good idea to get changed.
They had taken all his clothes, even his shoes as evidence. And his jewelry, his necklace was missing, but they took his bracelet and earrings...
A sudden urge to vomit over took him and he bolted to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet. He put his hand over his ear, remembering a warm tongue sucking, toying with the tiny hoops.
After losing the juice he had for breakfast he dry heaved a few times, willing his stomach out of his throat.
Calm down, calm down.
Feeling a little more in control, he blew his nose and splashed cold water on his face. Looking into he mirror, he could just make out a faint bruise under his hairline, wondering how he was going to explain what happened to Jim.
The phone rang and he jumped, but let the machine get it.
"Hello, Blair? It's Molly. Just wanted to see if you were home yet and to make sure you're okay. Call me when you feel up to it. I'm sorry, baby."
Walking to the living room he sighed, erasing the message.
What was he going to say to Molly?
He got a trash bag from under the sink and went to his room to change. A basket of clean clothes sat on his bed and he dug through them until he found a t-shirt and the pajama pants he got for Christmas from Molly.
The scrubs went into a trash bag and Blair changed, carrying the bag to the trashcan in the kitchen.
Feeling a little hungry he rummaged through the fridge, but all the leftovers had been thrown out. He checked the freezer and found some noodle soup he had frozen the week before.
While his food was defrosting in the microwave, he warmed some apple cider in the kettle.
It took a while for the soup, but once done he carried his dinner in to the living room, popping open his pill bottles and taking out a pill from each one. The doctor made it very clear that he needed to follow the instructions and finish each bottle...an antibiotic, a muscle relaxant and a pain pill.
Later he would take the other things, the cream and wipes, and stow them in the canister on the back of the toilet.
After taking his pills, he sipped his cider and picked at his food, hungry, but not really feeling like eating.
He channel surfed for a while, but nothing was appealing and the drugs were making him tired. Soon his eyes drooped, so he carefully shifted down to his side, pulling his afghan down on top of him. He listened to the TV drone on in the background for a while, before dropping off into a restless sleep.
Later Blair rolled over in his sleep, his heart pounding a little faster in his chest. He knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't wake up. He was outside a tiny store talking on a phone. The hair on his neck stood up and he knew he should get in the car and drive away, but he didn't.
The cracking noise made him jump and he knew he jumped in his sleep too, but he still couldn’t wake up.
Get in the car.
Get in the car.
Someone grabbed him by the hair hard, yanking his head backwards...
Then everything was dark...he thought that he was going to wake up, but then he saw him. A leering face...his filthy hands tangled in Blair's hair, fingers fisted by his scalp. The face was covered with whiskers and they burned as they ran along Blair's cheek, teeth nipping at Blair's neck.
Blair tried to push him away and he thought that his body arched as he slept on the couch.
His hands were tied tight behind him, but his feet were free and he kicked up at his captor, realizing he was laying flat on the ground, surrounded by trees.
The man pulled something to Blair's right and his air supply decreased. Not understanding what was happening, he tried to kick again, but each time something tightened around his neck and then he would be forced around again, pulled into place by his hair. Turned over and pressed into the ground...
"NO!" Blair flew from the couch and fell to the floor with a hard thump, twisting and fighting against the afghan. Finally free, he took off for the bathroom, bringing up everything he had just eaten. Rocking back on his heels, he ran a shaky hand through his tangled hair...his hair.
A minute later he rinsed his mouth and looked in the mirror.
His hair.
He backed away and opened the linen closet, pulling out towels and sheets, searching. Not finding what he wanted he opened the cabinet under the sink and then the medicine cabinet.
There on the shelf lie the scissors.
With shaking hands, he reached for them. Carefully closing the mirrored door, he grabbed a handful of hair. Slowly the blades moved into place...squeezing the handles he began to cut when the front door slamming open, echoing down the hall.
The scissors clattered to the floor and Blair jumped, pressing his body against the sink.
"Chief? Are you alright?"
It took a full minute to calm down and answer, knowing that his friend was standing outside the door.
"Ah...yeah. I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute."
*~*~*
Part Six
Jim stood outside the bathroom door listening to his friend's sky rocketing heart and short gasps for air.
He had just cleared the third landing, still eating his box of bite size butterfingers, when he heard a commotion coming from his apartment. Pushing quickly through the door he found the living area empty, but someone occupied the bathroom.
"You sure you're okay?" Jim stepped a bit closer to the door, hand resting on the knob. The sickly sweet smell of sweat and fear permeated the hall and was coming through the closed door.
His roommate cleared his throat a few times and then told him again he'd be out in a minute.
Jim backed away; deciding that Blair needed some time and would hopefully tell him what was going on when he came out of the bathroom.
Walking back toward the bay doors, he scanned the loft. It was still tidy; except a blanket was tossed on the floor by the sofa and a few pillows were arranged on one end like Blair may have been lying down. He moved closer and felt the sofa; it was still warm with Blair's body heat.
A bowl with the remains of Blair's dinner was still sitting on the end table and a mug was perched on top of a few magazines on the coffee table. Jim picked it up and gave it a small sniff. Apple cider?
The TV was on the nature channel, but the volume was turned down low, so he doubted that Blair was actually watching it. More then likely his friend must have dozed off. Maybe he had a nightmare... But Blair hadn't had any nightmares in a while.
Jim scooped up the mug and bowl and walked into the kitchen, dumping the congealing soup and rinsing the dishing in the sink. He peeked into Blair's bedroom before going back to the bathroom door, noting that nothing had changed, except the clothes basket had be rummaged through.
"Blair?" Jim's tried to keep his voice neutral. He knew something was off, but he didn’t want to browbeat Blair into telling him. Maybe it was something as simple as Blair having problems with his love life. Jim knew that he had big plans with Molly this weekend.
The door creaked open and Blair emerged. His hair was loose and unruly, a few shorter pieces stuck up at an odd angle.
"You're home early." His friend moved into the living room, slumping onto the sofa. He looked a little pale, tired...maybe he was getting sick.
"Yeah, it started to rain, so we decided to come home early." Jim sat in the yellow chair, watching as Blair picked the blanket up and pulled it over his legs. "Cold, Chief?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah? A little." Jim noted the fine tremors coursing through Blair's body, but something else seemed off.
"Do you need anything?" Jim asked, getting up and going into the kitchen to unpack the cooler. He had forgotten it, but was happy to find that the ice hadn't melted He put the fillets in the freezer then filled the teakettle. "I'm going to have a cup of tea, do you want some?" Blair didn't answer, so Jim called him again. "Blair?"
"Hmm?"
"I said do you want some tea?"
"Ah...yeah. Thanks, man."
Something was wrong, Jim was sure, but he wasn't going to push. Blair would tell him when he was ready.
The phone rang, but Blair made to move to answer. The machine picked up before he got to it. "Hey Blair, It's Mol. Just checking to make sure your doing okay and to tell ya I love ya. Call me."
"Don't you want to talk to Molly, Chief?" Jim sat a mug in front of his roommate, making himself comfortable on the other couch.
Blair leaned forward and picked up his mug. There was even something off about his movement and Jim wondered if his friend had gotten hurt.
He watched as Blair sipped his tea, spotting a tiny bruise by his friend's neck and another one the wrist that held the mug. He even wondered why Blair's earrings were gone.
About to ask, the phone rang again. This time when the machine picked up, it was the voice of Joel Taggart and Blair nearly tripped to get to the phone.
"Hey, Joel." With a pleading look at Jim, Blair turned away from him, shoulders hunched "Yeah, I'm fine."
Another look from Blair and Jim got up to rinse his mug. He listened to his friend's end of the conversation, listened as his voice notched up and turned in time to see the phone hit the floor.
"Oh God," Blair said. "I killed him."
*~*~*
Blair scooted down the back of the sofa and sat with his head in his hands. He knew he was shaking again, but his eyes stayed dry.
Jim ran over, kneeling down. "Blair...what's wrong."
When he didn't answer, his friend snagged up the phone and demanded that Joel tell him.
"What do you mean?" Jim's voice was angry, but Blair didn't want him to take it out on Joel.
"Jim." He sat up a little, touching his friend's arm "It's okay, Jim. I'll tell you." He plucked the phone from his partner. "Joel. I'll be down in a little while. Yeah, I'll be fine." He dropped the receiver into his lap, wondering where to even start.
"Let's get off the floor." Jim stood and extended his hand.
Blair took it and stood, tiny ripples if pain shot down his legs, but he ignored them and walked stiffly to the couch.
Jim hung up the phone, but followed, sitting close to him on the sofa. "Please tell me what's wrong. You can tell me anything, Chief."
He nodded, but it was...hard. "I guess I should start at the beginning."
He could feel his friend shift a little closer, but it was okay, he wanted Jim close. "I'm listening, whatever it is, I'm listening."
He laid his back on the sofa, breathing deep. "I was on my way home from Central on Friday evening. I stopped at a Mini Mart and I ah...I used the pay phone to call Molly...my cell phone wasn't getting good reception." He sat up and looked at Jim, not sure how to say what he needed to say.
"What happened?" Jim asked, moving his arm up to rest on the back of the sofa.
Tears threatened, "I don't remember everything, but ah...I was attacked."
The arm along his neck tensed, but Jim didn't say anything. "I lost some time, but I know I was assaulted. I've been in a hospital and Joel picked me up today. He said...he said that Detective Siller's team found a body..."
The arm behind him moved and Blair was scared that Jim was pulling away, but he didn't. Jim pulled him closer, wrapping him in a hug. He couldn't help it when the tears fell this time, nor could he help the sobs.
Jim held him close, running hands over his head and hair, but that was okay.
This was Jim.
After a time, Blair pushed away. "I need to go to the station and make an I.D."
"I'll drive," but it was a few more minutes before either one of them moved.
Once in the truck, Blair managed to calm down a little. Jim kept shooting covert looks his way, but Blair wasn't ready to talk yet.
At the station, Joel met them in the basement morgue. Detective Siller was standing off to the side, but Blair introduced her to Jim.
"Okay, Blair. You ready?" Joel escorted him closer to a large curtained window, tapping on the glass. The curtains were pulled back slowly and Blair could make out a covered body lying on a table on the other side. A woman in scrubs stood beside the body, waiting for Joel's signal to uncover the cadaver.
Blair nodded, feeling Jim place a hand on his shoulder. The sheet was pulled back and Blair got a look at the man on the table. He's shoulders slumped. The dead man had dark hair and a mustache, but no beard. His face was fuller than Blair thought, but the teeth were crocked, the top sticking out of the slightly opened mouth. "I don't know."
"We already collected some evidence." Joel told him, turning him from the window. "Let's go up to the captain's office."
Blair moved through the halls, not paying much attention to who was around him. The bullpen was mostly empty as was Simon's office. Sinking into a chair around the conference table, he waited as Jim and Joel sat. Detective Siller stood at the end of the table, tiny hands resting on the tabletop.
"We found a white van not far from where you were found." She began.
Jim sat forward, but Blair shook his head. They would have time to talk later.
"Time of death is estimated to be sometime Saturday morning."
God, his attacker had him for the whole night and morning. What else had he done to him?
"We found a necklace in his hand." She held up a tiny evidence bag, but Blair didn't have to look, he knew it was his. "Also a belt was found near by, forensics is taking a look at it now."
"How did he die?" Blair asked.
She leaned on the table a little more, "Blunt force trauma to the head...probably the shovel that was found a ways down the road."
"I don't...I don't remember what happened." Blair sat up a little to take the pressure off his tailbone. "What happens now?"
"Well, we are working on reconstructing the crime scene. I'm sure the evidence will point to your version of the events, even if you can't remember everything. We found a place where the earth was disturbed, we have your necklace and I'm sure your DNA will be on the belt."
And other places, Blair thought.
"Once we have all the reports in, we can close the case."
Blair nodded, standing to leave. "Can you keep me informed?"
She followed them to the door of the office. "I'll let you know what we find."
*~*~*
Jim paced the confines of the living room. It had been three weeks since he had come home to find Blair panicking in the bathroom. After his friend had told him what happened Jim went into a tailspin. He read the crime report and questioned Detective Siller, but he didn't really talk to Blair. Not about what happened anyway.
They had polite conversations, about work and school, about Jim and Simon's fishing trip...
Heck, Blair was doing a good job of acting like nothing happened, returning to work a few days later.
The phone rang, but Jim let the machine get it.
"Blair. It's Molly. Please call. I want to...I want to know why you are avoiding me."
Outside in the hallway the elevator dinged. Footsteps stopped outside his door and a key was jammed into the lock. Blair came in, walking to his room and dumping his pack. Jim noticed that his hair was pulled back again and even though he had gotten his jewelry back a few days before, he hadn't worn them. "Hey, man."
Jim smiled, making for the kitchen to check on dinner. "How was your day?"
God, it was like they were an old married couple.
"Good, man. You?" Blair opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. "What one?"
He already had two, but what the heck.
"I'll take one."
Blair had a doctor's appointment earlier in the day, but Jim didn't want to push for information. The man who had attacked Blair...Maxwell...he was clean...at least that was something.
His roommate gulped the beer and then headed for the shower. When Blair emerged, he told him that Molly had called.
"I'll call her later." Blair went back to his room and closed the door.
This was not going well.
A little later he called his partner to dinner. They ate in silence so Jim finally asked, "So how did your appointment go?"
"Okay," Blair didn't even look up from his plate.
"Well," Jim said. "That's good."
After dinner, he settled on the couch, flipping on the TV. He was a little surprised when Blair joined him.
"Hey, you have any plans for the weekend?" Jim asked, finding a movie on Lifetime.
Blair shook his head, "Nope...why?"
"Well, your birthday is Sunday and I know a good fishing spot, beautiful views, fish practically jumping into your net."
Blair seemed to debate about it, but agreed. "Okay, I could use a little vacation."
"Good, get to bed. I want to leave early."
*~*~*
The truck bumped along the dirt road and finally pulled off to a camp area. A few other people milled around, a few tents peppered the forest.
They unloaded and walked back a ways, closer to the lake. Jim pitched the tent and Blair piled a few rocks to enclose the fire.
"Let's hit the water." Jim said, picking up their poles.
Blair followed along behind, carrying the tackle boxes. They scouted a good spot and waded into the water. "Hey, Jim?"
His friend looked up from casting.
"Thanks again for the desk. It was way to much, but I really appreciate it."
Jim ducked his head a little, "we should drive into town and look for a matching book case."
The fishing was slow going, but Blair managed to bag two. Jim threw a few back...they still had some fillets in the freezer.
"Ready for lunch?" His friend called and Blair reeled in his line.
They made their way back to camp and Blair started on gutting the fish. Soon lunch was ready and they ate in silence.
It seemed like that was par for the course.
Sitting his plate aside, he looked to Jim. "There was nothing you could have done."
Jim looked down to his plate, picking at the fish with his fork. "I know. I wish I was there, but I know."
"It was no ones fault." He assured Jim.
And maybe himself.
"I know that too." Jim sat aside his own plate and scooter closer to him.
"I mean the guy...he didn't have a record and and he had drugs and alcohol in his system...it was random." He was cold, grateful to feel Jim's arm snake up around him.
"I know. A random act of violence."
"But why, man? Why did he have to pick me?" His friend pulled him closer and he rested his head on Jim's shoulder.
"Who knows what he was thinking. He was high and even though he didn't have a record, people we talked to said he was known to be violent."
Blair stilled, lifting his head a little. "You talked to people, Jim."
The arm around him stiffened, but his friend took a resigned breath. "I talked to people, I went to the crime scene, I dug into Maxwell's past...I just had to."
Blair settled back against his friend. "You had to?"
Jim tightened his hold. "Yeah, Chief. I had to. You're my..."
"Best friend, partner, roommate, guide?" Blair asked.
"Yes, yes, yes, and yes. You're...well, you're mine." Jim chuckled. "You're all of those and more...does that make sense?"
It did.
Jim meant a whole lot to Blair...and he had always known that the same was true for Jim.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence Jim said, "Okay, enough with the mush."
He laughed...and it felt good.
They sat for a while longer and then Jim got up. "Let's go into town and take a look at the furniture store. And, " he paused. "I promised Simon I'd pick him up a new lure."
He helped Blair up and they tidied up a bit, making sure to douse the fire before heading out.
"So," Jim said casually. "Have you talked to Molly?"
Blair sighed but his friend went on. "I mean I know you were pretty serious for a while and I thought..."
Blair nodded, jumping into the truck. "I will, Jim. I need too."
Jim smiled and pulled out, heading into town.
Molly...now that's a whole other story...
*~*~*
The End.