Fic: House Calls: The Sentinel: Horror: FRAO - Part 1
Title: House Calls
Author: escargoat
Fandom: The Sentinel
Words: Approx. 16,900-ish
Pairing: J/B slash implied in a very hinky way. Pre-slash.
Rating: FRAO - for gore only. No sex, kiddies.
Summary: Horror story. A mad scientist is out for revenge against William Ellison. In his mind the perfect way to do this is to kidnap one Blair Sandburg.
Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned by people and companies who are not me. I’m not making money, vampire teeth, taffy, or being otherwise remunerated for this effort.
Warnings: This story is a Horror story. It has several potential squicks in it. I’m putting them under a cut for those who like to be surprised, but please, please read them if you’re concerned about it. If you’re only concerned about a particular subject, but still want to be surprised, you might want to try fanfic_spoilme
Specific warnings are under a cut at the end of the story. Please scroll down to view them.
A/N: This fic was written for the 2009 spook_me challenge. My prompts were: Mad Scientist, A Man Obsessed, and The Cosmic Puppets. I used all three.
Fair warning that this was born out of my desire to ‘challenge’ myself to write a horror story, and I can soundly say that Dean Koontz has nothing to worry about from me. It is not my normal type of work, so again, please check out the warnings.
Many thanks to mab_browne who suffered through beta-ing this thing. Any mistakes you find are my own as I dithered around with this after she got it back to me.
~~~~~~~~~~
There is nothing worse than a man obsessed with his work.
Jim couldn’t quite remember where he’d heard that line, but at the moment he had to honestly wonder if it applied to him. The reaction of his coworkers certainly seemed to imply that it did. He couldn’t blame them. Since Blair had left… Since Blair had left he’d gone a little batty. He could admit that. He knew that practically enshrining your best friend’s room was just this side of insane.
But, but, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. To be honest he kind of liked being on the edge. It gave him something to look forward to each day. Was today the day he’d finally snap and lose it?
Not to say that Blair had caused this tendency in him. He’d been a melancholy child after Bud was murdered, and he’d been a freaking psycho after he’d returned from Peru that first time.
He guessed that losing his guides did something funny to his brain. He’d ask for help on that little personal flaw, but the only person that he wanted to talk to about it was God knows where doing God knows what with God knows who. Certainly God knew that none of the above were Jim Ellison.
“Jim,” Simon’s voice cut into the path of the squirrel running laps in Jim’s head.
“Yeah, Simon?”
“I need you to come with me.”
Jim frowned at the proclamation. It didn’t sound like a friend who wanted to have a chat with his buddy, nor did it sound like a captain who was about to have a talk with his subordinate. It sounded… it sounded ominous.
“Blair?” Jim inwardly cursed himself for the word that sprung unwillingly past his lips and the longing and fear that came with it.
“Just come with me, I’ll explain once we get in the car.” Simon dodged the question.
“Blair?” Jim asked more firmly this time, his tone making it abundantly clear that he was not moving until he got an answer to that question at least.
Simon sighed but relented, “No. Your father.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jimmy.” William Ellison said for the third time in fifteen minutes. He didn’t sound any better than the first time he had spoken his son’s name aloud either, Jim noted.
“Dad, you need to sit down,” he coached calmly as he tried to guide his father back to the sitting room’s sofa.
“I… God, Jimmy, there was so much blood.”
“I know, I know.”
“And it was so white. It didn’t… I didn’t think that it… I mean who would?”
“Mr. Ellison do you have any idea why somebody would’ve sent you this package? Have you noticed any strange behavior from acquaintances or been threatened lately?”
William’s laugh came out as a hoarse, joyless bark. “Do I have any idea why somebody left a baby’s arm in a box on my front door step? No, Detective, I don’t think that I do. Is that the first thing that you think of when somebody gets angry with you? ‘I hope that drug dealing suspect doesn’t leave children’s body parts at my door’?”
“Mr. Ellison…”
“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me young man! I was calming down hysterical business men when you were in diapers; I damn well know when it’s being done to me!”
“Dad,” Jim cut in as he placed a consoling hand on his father’s arm, “Henri is just trying to do his job here. You need to let him.”
“Sorry.” William directed the apology towards his son’s coworker, but it was evident that it was given only because Jim had requested it.
“Not a problem,” Henri assured the older Ellison.
“To answer your question, no. I don’t know of anybody that is possibly deranged enough to send me that sort of thing. I have a lot of enemies, Detective Brown, but my enemies are the type that try to ruin me financially or try to ruin my golf game.”
Henri nodded and scribbled a few notes down. “I think that should be it for right now, Mr. Ellison. Let me know if anybody comes to mind, okay?”
William nodded in response and stood to go stare out the window.
Jim looked at his father for a moment before he stood himself and motioned his fellow detective out into the hallway.
“H, I think that you might need to consider the possibility that this has something to do with me or one of my cases.”
“You know that we’re going to check up on all possible leads, but you also know that you can’t go looking into this yourself or digging through your files.”
“I didn’t…”
“Jim, you’re Simon’s favorite pit bull for a reason. You’d spend hours on this in your spare time if you thought you could get by with it. But Simon said that you’re here solely for family support, and you’ve got to stick to that. Besides that package could’ve been aimed at the house keeper just as well as anybody else.”
Jim snorted. “Sally?”
“Jim…”
“Brown, Rafe needs to compare notes with you. He just finished up with the housekeeper,” Simon’s voice cut in as he dismissed one detective and stood staring at the other.
Henri cast a concerned glance between his captain and his coworker, but said nothing as he turned and went off in the direction that Simon had indicated.
“This isn’t good, Jim,” Simon stated once Brown was out of earshot.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Rafe suggested to the housekeeper that she not stay here for a while.”
“It’s probably a good idea. A crime like this has a good chance of escalating,” Jim concurred.
“Then you agree that your father should take the same precautions.”
“I do, yes. But my dad, Simon he’s not exactly easily swayed. This is his home, and he’s going to be stubborn about it.”
“Yeah, can’t really imagine your father having those attributes,” Simon replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm in his voice. “Look, Jim, I’ll have Brown talk to him, but you’re our best bet here.”
“Me? My father and I aren’t exactly close. If he doesn’t want to leave, I don’t think that anything I say is going to change his mind.”
“Talk to him. You’re his son, and he wants to get to know you. He’ll listen.”
“You don’t know…”
“Jim, I’m a father. You’re not, so let me give you a little hint. There isn’t much that a father won’t do for his son if he has at least one decent bone in his body. So just go in there and ask,” Simon interrupted.
Know an order when he heard one, Jim turned around without another word and walked back into his father’s sitting room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There isn’t much that a mother won’t do for her child, you know? I’m not really sure where that leaves you, kiddo,” Blair mumbled against the fabric covered bump that had been his companion for the past few months.
The Bump, as he called it, hadn’t been his sole companion. In fact, The Bump hadn’t even existed when he’d first been dumped in the pit of hell that he currently resided in. No, his first fellow prisoner had been a pathetic soul named John.
Their meeting had been one of the most unusual that Blair had ever experienced. The only other man that had ever seen him puke his guts out had been Jim. And, well, Jim’s kindness had only extended so far as fetching a glass of water and leaving him alone while his stomach turned itself inside out. He’d never held his hair back and tried to keep him upright while his intestines tried to escape through his esophagus.
But, as Blair had found out, John was a much gentler soul than Jim was which made it worse because the guy had been one of the nicest people that he’d ever met. He really didn’t deserve to have his life ended the way that it had been. Not that Jim would’ve even remotely deserved John’s fate, but it just seemed excessively cruel to take so gentle a soul and make such a horrible mess of the end of his life.
Blair shook his head to clear it for a moment. He’d developed a habit of letting his thoughts wander aimlessly over the last few months. It was a penchant that he could ill afford, but it was a tempting one. Ones' imagination, after all, could go anywhere, and his imagination very much wanted to be anywhere but where it was.
“So kiddo, when you were just a couple of cells in a petri dish on that table over there, a guy named John used to sleep on this bed. He was a great guy you know? He was an accountant. Yeah, I know, they’re close to lawyers, but I said accountant, not auditor. He was engaged to this girl named Alyssa. He gave me her picture before he died. She’s kind of nondescript, but John thought the world of her. He asked me to pass a message along to her if I ever get out of here, but he doesn’t want me telling her what happened to him.”
Blair paused and stared at the far wall for a moment before continuing. “I don’t think that I can figure out a way to do that. For one, I’m not sure we’re getting out of here. Sorry, I know that as the adult I’m supposed to be the strong one, but I’ve got to say that I’ve lost touch with my inner optimist here. And… God how the hell do I hide what happened if I do get out?”
“I appreciate your efforts to communicate with the fetus, Mr. Sandburg, but perhaps you should choose a more uplifting topic? Children shouldn’t be subjugated to such darkness so early in their life cycle,” a voice echoed into the room through the speakers hidden in the ceiling.
Blair didn’t respond to the intrusion of the voice. Instead he placed a shaky hand on the protruding stomach in front of his nose and gave it a reassuring rub.
“You’ll be happy to know that your increased interaction with the fetus has encouraged additional activity within the womb. This quite a good sign, I was getting concerned that I might have to find another donor.”
Blair’s hand involuntarily tightened into a fist before he forced it back into an open position.
“You’re being stubborn today.” A hint of disapproval entered into the disembodied voice.
Blair winced but forced his mouth open, his mind racing furiously for something inoffensive to say. It might go against his nature to be the beaten and submissive captive, but he sure as hell didn’t want to end up in the same position that John had.
“Just trying to be normal for the kid.”
A derisive snort answered him, but the subject seemed to be dropped in favor of a new one. “You haven’t been eating all of your food.”
“Haven’t been all that hungry,” Blair lied easily. They had slipped John drugs through his food, and when the other man had gotten to the point where his insides could no longer keep anything solid down, they’d hooked him up to bags and all manner of tubes. He had no doubt that they would do the same to him. So he walked a fine line of eating enough not to starve and hoping that he wasn’t eating enough to get the appropriate levels of chemicals into his system. That, of course, was assuming they were trying to drug him at all.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Mr. Sandburg. While others might have doubted your intelligence a time or two, I have not. But play your game if you must. I’ve already told you; my plans for you are not the ones I had for John.”
Yeah. Right. He’d believe that when he saw it.
“ Ahhh, the silent treatment? How trite. Perhaps I should fill you in on what I’ve been up to then? I’ve just sent a lovely house warming gift to an acquaintance of yours…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Preliminary tests show that it’s fresh unlike the last package. That means that the perpetrator has to be within a certain distance of Cascade.” Serena’s voice sounded distorted as she filled Henri in on her findings. Of course, that could be because Jim was eavesdropping on their conversation from two floors above.
“JIM!” Simon’s bark nearly shocked the sentinel into a zone.
“Yeah, Simon?”
“Have I or have I not instructed you to stay out of that case?”
“I wasn’t…”
“Detective Ellison, do I look stupid to you? I know that particular constipated Neanderthal look means you’re using your senses. And I haven’t been sitting in a captain’s chair so long that I’ve forgotten how to put clues together.”
“I…”
“You are to stay out of that investigation. Especially now that you’re actually involved.”
Jim grudgingly nodded in response. Simon’s decree was both a sound and smart one. Even if it bothered Jim that he was being kept out of the loop, they couldn’t let the sick bastard get off on a technicality should Henri actually be able to catch him.
It had been difficult to have his father move into the loft. Jim had long since passed the stage of life where he wanted to live with his father, and ironically enough, he monitored his behavior far more around his own parent than he ever had around Naomi.
But the sentinel in him had insisted that the loft was a much more secure place than his childhood home, so he’d packed up the old man and dragged him off to his personal territory for protection. Which was all well and good until he’d realized that he couldn’t exactly ask his own father to sleep on the couch for an indefinite amount of time. He’d literally been standing at the threshold of Blair’s room, his father’s suitcase, in hand when he become conscious of the fact that he still couldn’t bear to make it a spare room again.
So he sent his father upstairs and crammed his own frame into the small room night after night.
Things had settled in from that point for a couple of months. While there were still residual issues between them on a personal level, they were intensely compatible on a living space level. They were both tidy, quiet, and very aware of personal space. Truthfully, Jim was amazed at how clean his father was. It made him wonder why he’d kept Sally on after he and Steven left the house. There certainly wasn’t a need for her to be there as his father turned out to be a fairly adept cook and certainly had no problem taking on his share of household chores.
Maybe it was just the social status she provided. Having a housekeeper certainly buffs up a corporate image. Or maybe his father was just plain lonely for companionship. For somebody that would voice a different opinion, for somebody that would wake him up in the middle of the night with his incessant scribb…
In any case, things had slowly settled into a pattern of work, quiet dinners and silent yet companionable TV watching in the evenings. The only disruption to either Ellison’s life had been the occasional nightmare. William’s of finding a dismembered body part, Jim’s of finding a note.
Without his volition, Jim’s hand began to creep to the wallet that held that note, the last thing that he’d ever received from Blair. The culmination of his worst fears put on paper. The words that informed him that he and his lifestyle had finally pushed the anthropologist past his breaking point. How Blair didn’t think he could survive staying with Jim, but didn’t think he could say goodbye in person because he knew that Jim would want him to stay.
How he’d always carry Jim in his heart as his best friend, but probably wouldn’t ever be able to come back because he had to choose between being himself and being there for Jim, and he wasn’t sure that he’d be selfish enough to choose himself again.
As always, Jim was amazed at the sharp stab of pain that thinking about the note gave him. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, or at least dull the pain, but it certainly wasn’t working its cure-all magic on Jim’s heart.
His father moving in had at least provided an escape from the never ending reminders of Blair’s absence, and Jim had been thankful for the respite. Despite the issues that he had with his parent, having him around gave Jim something else to focus on other than work. As the other option had been dragging some poor woman into yet another dysfunctional relationship, he was at least content with the solution that fate had provided.
That was, of course, until he’d come home from work to find a vial of blood taped to his front door.
Fresh blood if what he’d heard was accurate. Not fresh frozen like the arm that his father had been gifted with. He’d sniffed around the area while waiting for his fellow officers to arrive, but the only thing that he’d been able to find was the barest hint of a familiar scent. Familiar from where though, he wasn’t certain.
What he was certain of was that forensics wasn’t going to find anything on the tape or the vial that was going to provide any information beyond what the DNA test was going to yield on the blood itself. And that was certain to be something that the psycho who was leaving the stuff would want them to know.
Of course the big question was, what did this guy want them to know? So far there were two drop offs and no other messages. Without any additional information, Jim knew that the investigation had to be stalling out. All the physical evidence in the world could prove nothing if you didn’t have any idea about why the evidence was there.
Blood, when it came down to it, was just blood. Without any relationship to anything else, it was pretty meaningless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, I always figured I’d be a great stepfather. Having a biological child was pretty meaningless, you know? Blood is just blood. It is how you feel about that little kid that is important,” Blair mumbled against The Bump.
“You pick the strangest topics to discuss with that child.”
Blair glanced over his shoulder in surprise. “What are you doing down here?”
“It’s my lab. Why shouldn’t I be down here?”
“You only come down on Thursdays. Otherwise you’re always looming over me from the observation window.”
“Yes, well you are attentive; aren’t you? Tell me, how are you telling time without any outside indicators?”
“I count,” Blair replied evasively.
“Indeed. Then tell me this, why do you refer to Melanie by her name, but not me?”
“My mom taught me to address women like actual people. Can’t help it that I’m not able to break the habit. Besides she likes puppies, there’s a chance she still has a soul in there somewhere, unlike you.”
“No soul? I’m doing work for an undermined and repressed group of people, and you accuse me of having no soul?”
“I don’t think those people would ever support what you did to John let alone what you did to Susan or Michaela or Jenny here.” Blair replied with a point of his chin towards the other end of the bed from where The Bump was situated.
“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. It wasn’t long ago that students had to rob graves in order to understand the human body. Without their work how far behind would we be in our medical knowledge?”
“Those students didn’t kill those people.”
“And I wouldn’t have had to either if it weren’t for William Ellison and his associates! I was brilliant, brilliant, and everybody knew it! But my research was too controversial, so they made an excuse of me being unstable. They are hypocrites and bigots. They are the ones who deserve your wrath.”
Blair didn’t respond, but laid his head back down against The Bump.
“Ah, see, even the great Blair Sandburg can’t refute me when confronted with the facts! I should’ve been heralded as the cutting edge scientist that I am. Instead I’ll have to resign myself to a posthumous glory. A man who persevered in his quest for medical knowledge by doing unspeakable crimes because the mainstream society couldn’t accept him for what he was.”
Blair closed his eyes and tried to block the rhetoric out. He’d heard it often enough when he’d first been taken. John had been naive enough to think that he could talk reason with an insane man. He couldn’t, but he’d tried anyway. Still, John’s constant attempts to bring sanity had brought out some pertinent information should Blair ever find a way to contact the authorities to pass that information along.
The doctor had at one point been a researcher for a joint venture that had been owned by William Ellison’s and four other men’s companies. After his colleagues had complained about his dubious ethics and testing methods that bordered on torture, he’d been let go with a very small severance package. Business being business, word quickly traveled that he was unstable and soon he’d ended up having his license to practice medicine revoked.
Fortunately for the good doctor, the criminal element was very willing to fund his research in exchange for a few medical services. Stitching up henchmen, small cosmetic surgeries, designer drugs: if he couldn’t do it for you, he knew who could and for a small finder’s fee he could set you up with the right people. Blair could honestly admit that if the doctor was actually sane, he’d be an absolute genius.
Of course, he wasn’t sane. After all, sane people don’t kidnap random strangers so that they can perform experiments on them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure about this Jimmy?” William Ellison’s voice was filled with doubt, and Jim all of a sudden had a taste of how Blair must have felt whenever he tried to get him to try something different.
“The case is at a dead end. The DNA in the sample isn’t yielding anything useful. The PD can’t find anything if there isn’t another sample to match it to. If I can focus in on the scent and figure out why it's familiar, I could give Henri another lead. It beats sitting around here waiting for another gift.”
William nodded once, but turned a skeptical eye towards the candles sitting out on the coffee table. They were candles that Blair had left behind in his haste to rid his life of one James J. Ellison - Sentinel. Blair had also left behind his meditation music, but Jim couldn’t quite bring himself to put that on. It would only conjure memories of Blair, and he didn’t need any assistance in that area.
“I’ll just, I’ll go out for a bit. Give you some time alone. You need anything from the store?” William asked nervously.
“No, Dad. I’m fine. Remember to take your cell phone. And stay near a security camera at all times when you’re in the store.”
“I received the warning message the first time, Jimmy. No need to remind me.” William’s tone would’ve been a touch sarcastic if not for the small, indulgent smile that was on his lips.
Jim just smiled and nodded sharply in response. He acknowledged the sentiment that any further exposition on the subject was unnecessary and unwanted. He waited until he heard the click of the door being closed before centering in on the candles flickering unsteadily in front of him. He’d have to check the balcony door for gaps along the frame; he shouldn't have that much air movement in the loft. But that could wait until later.
Taking a deep breath he conjured a mental voice that wasn’t Blair’s but was close enough that it would guide him into his own special form of meditation.
~~~~~~~~
Continued in Part 2
Warnings: The Real Deal: MPreg of an OC, gore, torture, suicide, infanticide genetic experimentation on humans, genetic freaks… all that fun stuff.
The idea for this fic was spawned by a comment I once saw that said that if a guy suffered from MPreg in real life, it would be more of a horror story than a happy love story. And yes, sad to say, I got a lot of my information on MPreg by actually reading hypothesis by real doctors on the subject…