Pandora's Box
Pandora's Box.
Jim/Blair, Alex/Naomi
prompt: quid pro quo
Rated: ADULT (f/f and m/m)
( Chapters 1-3 ) ( Chapter four ) ( Chapter Five ) ( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 ) ( Chapter 9 ) ( Chapter 10 ) ( Chapter 11 ) ( Chapter 12 ) ( Chapter 13 ) ( Chapter 14 )
Jim has his plan to battle the military, but Blair has earned his spot as the Shaman. So, what does he bring to the fight? Funny enough, Blair doesn't know.
Okay, part of me says that this is actually pretty near the end of the story. A chapter of two of epilogue, and this part of the conflict--this particular drama that started with Blair having a very creepy shamanic dream is over. Is there anything you feel is hanging too much to let lie until if or when I feel like a sequel?
~15~
Blair followed Jim into the last room. Ensign Diamond and Petty Officer First Class Bechtel both were in better condition, in part because their room had a window that opened a few inches. Jim sent them to Griffin’s room with brief directions, and Blair watched as they followed without question. They didn’t ask for Jim’s credentials or rank; they assumed that Jim had the authority to tell them that they’d be better off in another room. Blair’s head spun with the potential meaning behind that. The throne Jim had fought for might be a little less metaphorical than Blair had assumed. And if Alex had won… Blair shivered as he considered that possibility. Alex’s morality was non-existent, and Naomi’s had one or two moral quirks. Either that or Naomi was right and the world had one or two moral quirks. Blair wasn’t actually sure which was true.
Jim strode down the hall toward the elevator, Blair feeling a little like the yappy puppy from the cartoon that chased the big, bad bulldog around. Jim was certainly doing his bulldog impression. They almost reached the elevator when Colonel Jamison came out of what looked like some sort of nurses’ station.
“I’ve asked that the nurses get some water and fresh food up here,” he said, his body about as stiff as his voice. If they weren’t already dangerously close to pissing this guy off, Blair would recommend some yoga and a good relaxation meditation for the guy.
Jim just grunted and poked the elevator button with uncalled for enthusiasm.
Colonel Jamison got even stiffer, but he didn’t back off. “How long have you controlled your senses?” The question sounded so mild, but Blair knew it wasn’t. They’d suggested this doctor knew less than nothing about the senses so either he was trying to prove them wrong or he was trying to get more accurate information. Blair really hoped it was the last because his gut said this guy wasn’t intentionally torturing the Sentinels.
For a second, Blair thought Jim was going to totally ignore the guy. But then he sighed and seemed to relent some. “Five years. I’ve been cop of the year three times in Cascade, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used my senses on scene with DBs, and nothing smelled as bad as this place.”
“We’ve had soldiers develop heightened senses before,” Jamison said, and his tone made it pretty clear he considered this a good excuse, but Jim’s jaw muscle started bulging. “Granted, we never had this many,” Jamison went on without even noticing that Jim’s temper had started to fray. “The senses always went away after a time, and it has never created this many problems. The patient in a coma, he’s the second one to have his senses actually continue to heighten until he had seizures.”
Blair flinched at the tone of voice. “Man, academic curiosity is so not the right tact here,” he interjected before his common sense could tell him to stay out of it. Jamison’s face pinked. Blair felt weirdly proud that he’d managed to shame a colonel. Naomi would never believe it; then again, Naomi didn’t think soldiers still had souls or consciences left to get embarrassed.
“I never-”
Before Jamison could explain what he’d never done, the elevator appeared. Jim ushered Blair inside with a hand on his back while giving Jamison a nasty glare. “Blair fixed this so that it worked for me, and he would have helped your Sentinels if you idiot doctors weren’t ignoring every piece of advice he gave you.”
“We did our best based on precedent.” Colonel Jamison followed them onto the elevator, and Blair really hated that genetics had denied him another six inches. He was feeling a little small to be in the same space with these two.
“Your best stank. Literally,” Jim offered dryly, that nasty Ellison humor showing up right on schedule.
“That might be true,” Jamison said, and from his expression, that was the hardest thing he’d ever had to say, “but this is still the best facility. If you can offer some advice for how to make the hospital more hospitable.”
“Short of burning it down, this place will never work. The walls have mold, the wood smells of rot in places, I can smell pus and vomit and urine. And this isn’t nearly the worst I’ve smelled. Hospitals are terrible places for Sentinels that can’t control the senses yet.”
“Totally,” Blair agreed. Jamison spared him a quick look of frustration before turning his attention back to Jim just as the elevator opened.
“So we find a government facility that meets your specifications,” the colonel said, following as Jim herded Blair off the elevator. Blair swallowed nervously because that was sounding a whole lot like getting drafted.
Jim gave Jamison an amused look. “You think you can control this.”
“I think these are military men and women, soldiers under the authority of the U.S. military.” The colonel didn’t even bother to contradict Jim. Jim stopped right in the middle of the hallway and slowly pivoted to face off against Colonel Jamison. Blair held his breath. He really was going to have another heart attack or maybe a huge bleeding ulcer before all this was over.
With a nod and a pursing of the lips, Jim seemed to consider that. “True enough,” Jim finally said. “They are all soldiers under your command. However, I will tell you that Blair has been reluctant to share certain information out of some misguided sense of loyalty to me.”
Sucking in a quick breath, Blair waited for Jim to push the big gay button. For once in his life, he was hoping someone would be homophobic. It was one way to get out of this situation.
“The senses are linked to psychological well-being.” Jim’s words just confused Blair, but Jamison was looking alarmed. “I understand that in the field a soldier does certain things. I did certain things.” Jim crossed his arms. “If a civilian gets in the way of a firefight, you regret the collateral damage and move on with your mission objective. If you’re ordered to take out a target and you find it guarded by fourteen year olds who are only fighting because someone has offered them enough food to feed their families, you pull the trigger and you pray for them and for your own soul. However, either of those situations would cause the Sentinel senses to turn off immediately. Right there in the middle of the field, the senses would be gone, and a soldier who was used to relying on them, would be more helpless than ever.”
“It happened to you,” Jamison said softly.
“More than once,” Jim agreed. “Blair had to talk me through them, and there was a period of time where I was not fully functional. In the field, these senses can make life a little more interesting than most commanders would prefer.”
The colonel blew out a breath. “That could be a problem.”
“Oh, I have a bigger one for you,” Jim said calmly. The colonel’s gaze snapped to him. “I can’t tell you what makes a guide. I suspect it’s something genetic since both Blair and his mother are guides. I can tell you that from the first time I met both Blair and Naomi, I knew they were special. And once I learned to trust Blair-once he became not just a guide but my guide-he became the most important thing in my life. Oh, I’ll put him in danger because I have a big enough ego to believe I can always get him out. However, when I used my senses to break into a top secret facility and then stop Bracket from stealing a stealth bomber that didn’t legally exist, I knew one thing: I would defend Blair over that bomber. If it came right down to it, I would forget any mission objectives, I would walk away from a protection detail, I would do whatever I needed to in order to protect Blair first.”
“Even if you were under orders?”
Jim nodded. “Hell yes. The only time I ever picked my mission over Blair was when there was a school bus accident. I might have driven away and left those kids to the next unit on scene only I knew Blair would kick my ass if I did.”
“I would have,” Blair whispered. That had been the worst day of his life-getting kidnapped four or five times in one day on top of getting arrested-not a lot of fun. However, he would have killed Jim if Jim ignored kids in danger.
Jim looked over and smiled. “I know, Chief. Even so, it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I just can’t imagine what would have happened if I’d been five seconds later. If that woman had shot you, I would have ripped her apart with my bare hands.”
“Way to make yourself look mentally stable, man,” Blair muttered with a look over toward Jamison.
“Oh, I think he’s made his point,” the colonel commented. “You think Sentinels aren’t stable enough for military service.”
Jim sucked air through his teeth and seemed to think about that. Maybe Blair was being cynical, but it looked like he was putting on a show. “If they want to stay in the military, there will be plenty of jobs that they can perform better than any non-Sentinel. Medical service, search and rescue, covert surveillance-they’re all fields that match a Sentinel’s skills. But being a Sentinel is not some superpower. There are plenty of jobs they won’t be able to do. Frontline and executive action are not options.”
“Executive action?” Blair asked.
Jim gave Blair a look so flat and devoid of emotion that Blair could pretty much guess what that euphemism meant. Jim turned back to the colonel. “And if someone wants to test that theory, there’s going to be a high body count on that experiment.”
“I can certainly take that into account. However, that doesn’t change the fact that these are soldiers, and sending them out onto your father’s land in the mountains is far outside regulations.”
“And I won’t have you investing money in these men. You invest money in some facility, and someone somewhere is going to want to see a return on that investment. Quid pro quo. Sentinels are not resources. They aren’t like linguists or medical personnel that you can train and then require a certain number of years of service in return. They’re instinct-driven warriors and unless those instincts match up with the terms of their service, it will get ugly. I walked away from my commission half way to my retirement.”
“Because of the senses?” Jamison took a step back, and maybe he was finally understanding how much he didn’t understand. A door squeaked open, and Blair looked over to see a painfully thin woman standing in a short hospital gown. She had scratch marks all down one arm and two deep wrinkles just above the bridge of her nose.
Jim glanced over and gave her a small smile and nod before turning to look at Jamison again. “Yes, because the minute the senses came online, I knew myself well enough to know that I was going to disobey a direct order. Worst case scenario, I was going to shoot my own officers for getting my unit killed.”
The elevator dinged and a short man with a dress uniform on came off the elevator, his eyes finding them entirely too quickly. Blair’s guts tangled, but Jamison kept on talking. “For a man who’s spent years hiding his abilities, you’re being remarkably open.”
Jim’s gaze flicked to the newcomer, but he seemed to be giving his attention to Jamison. “First, I never hid my abilities. You never asked me if I was a Sentinel. Besides, parts of the government have always known. Brackett’s debriefing after Peru is floating around somewhere, and I have no doubt he spilled his guts about me after getting arrested. Besides, the cat’s already out of the bag. We just came back from Mexico, and they had a couple of their own Sentinels show up. So the Mexican government knows who I am and what I am. The genii is out of the bottle, colonel.” Jim moved his gaze to the newcomer. “General,” Jim said calmly, but the knots in Blair’s stomach turned into huge tangles of fear. General. Fucking general. Generals were power, and a tiny part of Blair’s brain wanted to run around in fear. However, the Sentinels needed him.
A strange calm settled over Blair. It was like a fog drifted in, cooling his emotions and clouding his vision so that reality seemed to fade in and out like figures appearing and disappearing as clumps of mist rolled through.
“Trying to put the genii back in the bottle is not going to happen,” Blair said. The fog thickened, and Blair could feel pressure against his skin, various forces pushing against him. For a second, he almost lost his balance, but then Jim’s hand rested against his arm, and Blair found his center. He found it and pushed back against those forces. Overconfidence. Arrogance. Blair blinked and focused on the general. “And I am not leaving Sentinels in these conditions. No fucking way. If I had any idea that the doctors were completely fucking ignoring me, I would have been going to the press and making the biggest stink you’ve ever seen. Your name would have been dragged through the mud as some asshole who didn’t care about his men.” Overconfidence faded. Aggression. Fear. Protect position. Blair could feel the air shifting.
“Blair, cool it,” Jim said, but somehow, Blair knew Jim didn’t mean it. Encouragement. Prompting for more. Blair struggled against this misty new reality that formed around him. Shapes gathered and then scattered with a breath.
“Man, I mean it,” Blair said. “I can’t believe this shit. No fucking way do they care about these soldiers. These are Sentinels. I mean, if they weren’t getting totally screwed over, these people could make the fucking difference all over the world. They could be walking forensics laboratories, mobile tracking stations. They could identify dangers without having to lug around equipment or worry about things breaking. They could overhear terrorists talking from a mile away, and instead they’re shoved into some hospital.” The mist shifted again. Ambition. Desire.
A soft clapping caught his attention, and Blair glanced down the hall where the fog gathered into the form of Naomi. She clapped her hands delightedly. “That’s my baby. You tell him. Twist him around in his own ignorance until he can’t figure out how to get out of your trap. I knew you could do it.” She smiled at him. Blair opened his mouth to point out that she obviously hadn’t had all that much faith since she’d tried so hard to keep him away from the temple, but Jim’s fingers tightened against his arm.
“Blair, enough,” Jim said, his voice sharp even though the fog that drifted between them was warm, soft with contentment and pride. “I told you that I handle military issues. You handle medical ones.” The mist shifted as the aggression faded, leaving ambition and desire swirling around the general. Blair stepped back so that he leaned into Jim’s warmth. The doctor swirled with fear, with guilt, but also with indignation and professional excitement. Blair could understand the doctor more than the general. Jamison planned to write a paper. He expected to gain professionally, even if the guilt still clung to him like cobwebs.
“Going to the press would be a breach of Mr. Sandburg’s confidentiality agreement,” the general warned, his voice slow. “I don’t know if you realize it, but he signed one before we would send him any data on current patients. Confidence. Over-confidence.
“General,” Jim said calmly. Blair blinked, watching the world distort out of shape. Naomi drifted in and out of walls and Jim’s jaguar crouched in the corner looking cranky. If Blair didn’t know better, he’d think he’d gotten into the really good stash of PCP. “I’m Detective Ellison.”
“Sentinel Ellison,” the woman in the hospital gown said softly, but her voice was so soft that Blair couldn’t hear it. He could see the words drifting out into the fog. Pain. Fear. Self-loathing, but those were fading. Hope. Loyalty. Those drifted from her like steam rising from a vent.
“Detective Ellison,” the general said. He might have said more, but the woman standing in the doorway suddenly dropped, her legs going out from under her and her head hitting the floor with a sickening thump.
“Shit!” The fog fled, vanishing into the cracks of the universe as Blair darted forward. “Jim, what did she hear?” He had no idea how he knew she’d zoned on hearing, but she did.
“Um,” Jim paused. “Feedback. There’s a news crew down there, and one of their systems had a feedback loop. Worse than fingernails on a chalkboard if you have hearing turned up.”
“She did,” Blair said. Carefully lifting her head, he checked for blood or lumps, but he didn’t find any. Jim came over and scooped her up into his arms.
“She’s not staying here. There’s a bedpan in here,” Jim said with a wrinkle of his nose.
“Fucking wonderful.” Blair darted to get ahead of Jim in the hall. “No offense, General, but get the fuck out of the way. This is medical, and this is my thing.” Blair took a malicious joy in shoving the general to one side in his rush to hit the elevator button. Yep, they were moving faster than the military, and as long as the military couldn’t figure out what to do, Jim’s dumb plan actually had a chance of working. Blair smiled until he caught sight of the unconscious body in Jim’s arms. It better work. Too much was riding on the outcome of this fight.
Jim/Blair, Alex/Naomi
prompt: quid pro quo
Rated: ADULT (f/f and m/m)
( Chapters 1-3 ) ( Chapter four ) ( Chapter Five ) ( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 ) ( Chapter 9 ) ( Chapter 10 ) ( Chapter 11 ) ( Chapter 12 ) ( Chapter 13 ) ( Chapter 14 )
Jim has his plan to battle the military, but Blair has earned his spot as the Shaman. So, what does he bring to the fight? Funny enough, Blair doesn't know.
Okay, part of me says that this is actually pretty near the end of the story. A chapter of two of epilogue, and this part of the conflict--this particular drama that started with Blair having a very creepy shamanic dream is over. Is there anything you feel is hanging too much to let lie until if or when I feel like a sequel?
~15~
Blair followed Jim into the last room. Ensign Diamond and Petty Officer First Class Bechtel both were in better condition, in part because their room had a window that opened a few inches. Jim sent them to Griffin’s room with brief directions, and Blair watched as they followed without question. They didn’t ask for Jim’s credentials or rank; they assumed that Jim had the authority to tell them that they’d be better off in another room. Blair’s head spun with the potential meaning behind that. The throne Jim had fought for might be a little less metaphorical than Blair had assumed. And if Alex had won… Blair shivered as he considered that possibility. Alex’s morality was non-existent, and Naomi’s had one or two moral quirks. Either that or Naomi was right and the world had one or two moral quirks. Blair wasn’t actually sure which was true.
Jim strode down the hall toward the elevator, Blair feeling a little like the yappy puppy from the cartoon that chased the big, bad bulldog around. Jim was certainly doing his bulldog impression. They almost reached the elevator when Colonel Jamison came out of what looked like some sort of nurses’ station.
“I’ve asked that the nurses get some water and fresh food up here,” he said, his body about as stiff as his voice. If they weren’t already dangerously close to pissing this guy off, Blair would recommend some yoga and a good relaxation meditation for the guy.
Jim just grunted and poked the elevator button with uncalled for enthusiasm.
Colonel Jamison got even stiffer, but he didn’t back off. “How long have you controlled your senses?” The question sounded so mild, but Blair knew it wasn’t. They’d suggested this doctor knew less than nothing about the senses so either he was trying to prove them wrong or he was trying to get more accurate information. Blair really hoped it was the last because his gut said this guy wasn’t intentionally torturing the Sentinels.
For a second, Blair thought Jim was going to totally ignore the guy. But then he sighed and seemed to relent some. “Five years. I’ve been cop of the year three times in Cascade, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used my senses on scene with DBs, and nothing smelled as bad as this place.”
“We’ve had soldiers develop heightened senses before,” Jamison said, and his tone made it pretty clear he considered this a good excuse, but Jim’s jaw muscle started bulging. “Granted, we never had this many,” Jamison went on without even noticing that Jim’s temper had started to fray. “The senses always went away after a time, and it has never created this many problems. The patient in a coma, he’s the second one to have his senses actually continue to heighten until he had seizures.”
Blair flinched at the tone of voice. “Man, academic curiosity is so not the right tact here,” he interjected before his common sense could tell him to stay out of it. Jamison’s face pinked. Blair felt weirdly proud that he’d managed to shame a colonel. Naomi would never believe it; then again, Naomi didn’t think soldiers still had souls or consciences left to get embarrassed.
“I never-”
Before Jamison could explain what he’d never done, the elevator appeared. Jim ushered Blair inside with a hand on his back while giving Jamison a nasty glare. “Blair fixed this so that it worked for me, and he would have helped your Sentinels if you idiot doctors weren’t ignoring every piece of advice he gave you.”
“We did our best based on precedent.” Colonel Jamison followed them onto the elevator, and Blair really hated that genetics had denied him another six inches. He was feeling a little small to be in the same space with these two.
“Your best stank. Literally,” Jim offered dryly, that nasty Ellison humor showing up right on schedule.
“That might be true,” Jamison said, and from his expression, that was the hardest thing he’d ever had to say, “but this is still the best facility. If you can offer some advice for how to make the hospital more hospitable.”
“Short of burning it down, this place will never work. The walls have mold, the wood smells of rot in places, I can smell pus and vomit and urine. And this isn’t nearly the worst I’ve smelled. Hospitals are terrible places for Sentinels that can’t control the senses yet.”
“Totally,” Blair agreed. Jamison spared him a quick look of frustration before turning his attention back to Jim just as the elevator opened.
“So we find a government facility that meets your specifications,” the colonel said, following as Jim herded Blair off the elevator. Blair swallowed nervously because that was sounding a whole lot like getting drafted.
Jim gave Jamison an amused look. “You think you can control this.”
“I think these are military men and women, soldiers under the authority of the U.S. military.” The colonel didn’t even bother to contradict Jim. Jim stopped right in the middle of the hallway and slowly pivoted to face off against Colonel Jamison. Blair held his breath. He really was going to have another heart attack or maybe a huge bleeding ulcer before all this was over.
With a nod and a pursing of the lips, Jim seemed to consider that. “True enough,” Jim finally said. “They are all soldiers under your command. However, I will tell you that Blair has been reluctant to share certain information out of some misguided sense of loyalty to me.”
Sucking in a quick breath, Blair waited for Jim to push the big gay button. For once in his life, he was hoping someone would be homophobic. It was one way to get out of this situation.
“The senses are linked to psychological well-being.” Jim’s words just confused Blair, but Jamison was looking alarmed. “I understand that in the field a soldier does certain things. I did certain things.” Jim crossed his arms. “If a civilian gets in the way of a firefight, you regret the collateral damage and move on with your mission objective. If you’re ordered to take out a target and you find it guarded by fourteen year olds who are only fighting because someone has offered them enough food to feed their families, you pull the trigger and you pray for them and for your own soul. However, either of those situations would cause the Sentinel senses to turn off immediately. Right there in the middle of the field, the senses would be gone, and a soldier who was used to relying on them, would be more helpless than ever.”
“It happened to you,” Jamison said softly.
“More than once,” Jim agreed. “Blair had to talk me through them, and there was a period of time where I was not fully functional. In the field, these senses can make life a little more interesting than most commanders would prefer.”
The colonel blew out a breath. “That could be a problem.”
“Oh, I have a bigger one for you,” Jim said calmly. The colonel’s gaze snapped to him. “I can’t tell you what makes a guide. I suspect it’s something genetic since both Blair and his mother are guides. I can tell you that from the first time I met both Blair and Naomi, I knew they were special. And once I learned to trust Blair-once he became not just a guide but my guide-he became the most important thing in my life. Oh, I’ll put him in danger because I have a big enough ego to believe I can always get him out. However, when I used my senses to break into a top secret facility and then stop Bracket from stealing a stealth bomber that didn’t legally exist, I knew one thing: I would defend Blair over that bomber. If it came right down to it, I would forget any mission objectives, I would walk away from a protection detail, I would do whatever I needed to in order to protect Blair first.”
“Even if you were under orders?”
Jim nodded. “Hell yes. The only time I ever picked my mission over Blair was when there was a school bus accident. I might have driven away and left those kids to the next unit on scene only I knew Blair would kick my ass if I did.”
“I would have,” Blair whispered. That had been the worst day of his life-getting kidnapped four or five times in one day on top of getting arrested-not a lot of fun. However, he would have killed Jim if Jim ignored kids in danger.
Jim looked over and smiled. “I know, Chief. Even so, it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I just can’t imagine what would have happened if I’d been five seconds later. If that woman had shot you, I would have ripped her apart with my bare hands.”
“Way to make yourself look mentally stable, man,” Blair muttered with a look over toward Jamison.
“Oh, I think he’s made his point,” the colonel commented. “You think Sentinels aren’t stable enough for military service.”
Jim sucked air through his teeth and seemed to think about that. Maybe Blair was being cynical, but it looked like he was putting on a show. “If they want to stay in the military, there will be plenty of jobs that they can perform better than any non-Sentinel. Medical service, search and rescue, covert surveillance-they’re all fields that match a Sentinel’s skills. But being a Sentinel is not some superpower. There are plenty of jobs they won’t be able to do. Frontline and executive action are not options.”
“Executive action?” Blair asked.
Jim gave Blair a look so flat and devoid of emotion that Blair could pretty much guess what that euphemism meant. Jim turned back to the colonel. “And if someone wants to test that theory, there’s going to be a high body count on that experiment.”
“I can certainly take that into account. However, that doesn’t change the fact that these are soldiers, and sending them out onto your father’s land in the mountains is far outside regulations.”
“And I won’t have you investing money in these men. You invest money in some facility, and someone somewhere is going to want to see a return on that investment. Quid pro quo. Sentinels are not resources. They aren’t like linguists or medical personnel that you can train and then require a certain number of years of service in return. They’re instinct-driven warriors and unless those instincts match up with the terms of their service, it will get ugly. I walked away from my commission half way to my retirement.”
“Because of the senses?” Jamison took a step back, and maybe he was finally understanding how much he didn’t understand. A door squeaked open, and Blair looked over to see a painfully thin woman standing in a short hospital gown. She had scratch marks all down one arm and two deep wrinkles just above the bridge of her nose.
Jim glanced over and gave her a small smile and nod before turning to look at Jamison again. “Yes, because the minute the senses came online, I knew myself well enough to know that I was going to disobey a direct order. Worst case scenario, I was going to shoot my own officers for getting my unit killed.”
The elevator dinged and a short man with a dress uniform on came off the elevator, his eyes finding them entirely too quickly. Blair’s guts tangled, but Jamison kept on talking. “For a man who’s spent years hiding his abilities, you’re being remarkably open.”
Jim’s gaze flicked to the newcomer, but he seemed to be giving his attention to Jamison. “First, I never hid my abilities. You never asked me if I was a Sentinel. Besides, parts of the government have always known. Brackett’s debriefing after Peru is floating around somewhere, and I have no doubt he spilled his guts about me after getting arrested. Besides, the cat’s already out of the bag. We just came back from Mexico, and they had a couple of their own Sentinels show up. So the Mexican government knows who I am and what I am. The genii is out of the bottle, colonel.” Jim moved his gaze to the newcomer. “General,” Jim said calmly, but the knots in Blair’s stomach turned into huge tangles of fear. General. Fucking general. Generals were power, and a tiny part of Blair’s brain wanted to run around in fear. However, the Sentinels needed him.
A strange calm settled over Blair. It was like a fog drifted in, cooling his emotions and clouding his vision so that reality seemed to fade in and out like figures appearing and disappearing as clumps of mist rolled through.
“Trying to put the genii back in the bottle is not going to happen,” Blair said. The fog thickened, and Blair could feel pressure against his skin, various forces pushing against him. For a second, he almost lost his balance, but then Jim’s hand rested against his arm, and Blair found his center. He found it and pushed back against those forces. Overconfidence. Arrogance. Blair blinked and focused on the general. “And I am not leaving Sentinels in these conditions. No fucking way. If I had any idea that the doctors were completely fucking ignoring me, I would have been going to the press and making the biggest stink you’ve ever seen. Your name would have been dragged through the mud as some asshole who didn’t care about his men.” Overconfidence faded. Aggression. Fear. Protect position. Blair could feel the air shifting.
“Blair, cool it,” Jim said, but somehow, Blair knew Jim didn’t mean it. Encouragement. Prompting for more. Blair struggled against this misty new reality that formed around him. Shapes gathered and then scattered with a breath.
“Man, I mean it,” Blair said. “I can’t believe this shit. No fucking way do they care about these soldiers. These are Sentinels. I mean, if they weren’t getting totally screwed over, these people could make the fucking difference all over the world. They could be walking forensics laboratories, mobile tracking stations. They could identify dangers without having to lug around equipment or worry about things breaking. They could overhear terrorists talking from a mile away, and instead they’re shoved into some hospital.” The mist shifted again. Ambition. Desire.
A soft clapping caught his attention, and Blair glanced down the hall where the fog gathered into the form of Naomi. She clapped her hands delightedly. “That’s my baby. You tell him. Twist him around in his own ignorance until he can’t figure out how to get out of your trap. I knew you could do it.” She smiled at him. Blair opened his mouth to point out that she obviously hadn’t had all that much faith since she’d tried so hard to keep him away from the temple, but Jim’s fingers tightened against his arm.
“Blair, enough,” Jim said, his voice sharp even though the fog that drifted between them was warm, soft with contentment and pride. “I told you that I handle military issues. You handle medical ones.” The mist shifted as the aggression faded, leaving ambition and desire swirling around the general. Blair stepped back so that he leaned into Jim’s warmth. The doctor swirled with fear, with guilt, but also with indignation and professional excitement. Blair could understand the doctor more than the general. Jamison planned to write a paper. He expected to gain professionally, even if the guilt still clung to him like cobwebs.
“Going to the press would be a breach of Mr. Sandburg’s confidentiality agreement,” the general warned, his voice slow. “I don’t know if you realize it, but he signed one before we would send him any data on current patients. Confidence. Over-confidence.
“General,” Jim said calmly. Blair blinked, watching the world distort out of shape. Naomi drifted in and out of walls and Jim’s jaguar crouched in the corner looking cranky. If Blair didn’t know better, he’d think he’d gotten into the really good stash of PCP. “I’m Detective Ellison.”
“Sentinel Ellison,” the woman in the hospital gown said softly, but her voice was so soft that Blair couldn’t hear it. He could see the words drifting out into the fog. Pain. Fear. Self-loathing, but those were fading. Hope. Loyalty. Those drifted from her like steam rising from a vent.
“Detective Ellison,” the general said. He might have said more, but the woman standing in the doorway suddenly dropped, her legs going out from under her and her head hitting the floor with a sickening thump.
“Shit!” The fog fled, vanishing into the cracks of the universe as Blair darted forward. “Jim, what did she hear?” He had no idea how he knew she’d zoned on hearing, but she did.
“Um,” Jim paused. “Feedback. There’s a news crew down there, and one of their systems had a feedback loop. Worse than fingernails on a chalkboard if you have hearing turned up.”
“She did,” Blair said. Carefully lifting her head, he checked for blood or lumps, but he didn’t find any. Jim came over and scooped her up into his arms.
“She’s not staying here. There’s a bedpan in here,” Jim said with a wrinkle of his nose.
“Fucking wonderful.” Blair darted to get ahead of Jim in the hall. “No offense, General, but get the fuck out of the way. This is medical, and this is my thing.” Blair took a malicious joy in shoving the general to one side in his rush to hit the elevator button. Yep, they were moving faster than the military, and as long as the military couldn’t figure out what to do, Jim’s dumb plan actually had a chance of working. Blair smiled until he caught sight of the unconscious body in Jim’s arms. It better work. Too much was riding on the outcome of this fight.