Sentinel WIP. A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter One
sentinel_thurs Challenge 280, Driving Home
Title: A Fair Distance: Comes a Time Chapter One
Author: Laurie
Type: Slash
Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Rating: PG-17
Word Count: 9745 words
Warnings: None for this chapter. Link to warnings for the entire series
Beta’ed by the lovely t_verano. I appreciate you so much, my dear.
Summary for A Fair Distance: A year after Blair left Jim, and Cascade, they meet again in a small Tennessee town. Blair's been arrested and is being held for questioning at the request of the Cascade PD.
This is the third and final arc to the story, and the two earlier arcs, A Fair Distance:Running on Empty and A Fair Distance: Ball and Chain, as well as several time stamps, can be located at my LJ here or at Artifact Storage Room 3 here or at AO3 here. I believe that AO3 has a nifty feature that allows you to download onto E-readers.
A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter One
“Are you sure you’re up to doing this, Chief?” Jim had been eying me dubiously every so often on this last stretch of interstate before we rolled into Cascade, and I put on my best “don’t worry, everything's copacetic” face.
“I’m fine. Chill, will ya?” I wasn’t worried about going undercover to trap Bergman into admitting he had bought my car. Returning to Cascade…? Yeah, okay, I should at least admit to myself that for a couple of reasons I was feeling a shade ambivalent about coming back here.
I'd told Dave, the day after he arrested me, that I never wanted to come here again. Mostly I had felt that way because Jim and I’d fallen apart here, and I hadn’t wanted to chance seeing him again. I had thought it would be far too painful, and I wasn’t a masochist.
That reason wasn't valid any longer, since Jim and I had worked things out. The other reasons still had me chewing my lip about returning to my adopted hometown, though.
Dealing with Rainier was going to be one huge headache. I was going to have to jump back and forth through bureaucratic hoops to get my grievance approved, and I had a feeling that my helping to put Bergman behind bars was going to be resented. He was well liked, and me, I was persona non grata on campus. Well, I would tough it out; the guy had run over Chancellor Edwards with my baby, and he should have to face the music on that.
Bergman must have sent his Karma into a nosedive for choosing to kill needlessly, even if it turned out he had thought there were extenuating circumstances.
He'd sunk his Karma even more by setting me up to be his patsy for her murder. He’d made sure that my car was ticketed that night by leaving it in a no parking zone -- man, everybody at Rainier knew the campus cops were like Nazis about parking in forbidden territory - and since he’d never registered the Volvo in his name, I was the last owner on record. If I hadn’t had an alibi for the night Edwards lost her life, I could have ended up in prison.
Prison. Shit, just being incarcerated for a week at the Sweetwater P.D. had been hard enough. It would have been a lot worse if instead of being coddled by being kept in a holding cell, I'd been sent to the actual jail in the next county. Ol’ red-haired Officer Mike had made sure I understood what a favor they were doing for the Cascade cops by keeping me isolated from the “rest of the scum.”
Jim nudged me, and I watched as we passed the green interstate sign that proclaimed we would arrive at Cascade in twelve miles. We’d be at the truck stop to meet Simon in a matter of minutes. It was almost time to get this show on the road. It was also time for another dose of Erythromycin. I got the antibiotic out of my backpack, leaned over and grabbed a water from the small cooler, and swallowed the pill along with a good slug of H2O.
“How sore is your throat compared to yesterday?”
“Hey, it’s really lots better.” Jim narrowed his eyes at me.
“Well, it really is better,” I protested.
“Lots better or a little better? And Sandburg, may I remind you of rule number three?”
Rule number three of our newly hammered out relationship rules: Honesty is the best policy. No shading the truth to protect the other one from dealing with something unpleasant or something likely to worry him.
Huh. It was so ingrained in me to nudge things just a bit so that the other party felt more comfortable with my answer that I was really going to have to watch what wanted to pop out of my mouth.
“It’s a little better.”
Jim grinned at me, and put his arm around me; I felt a little glow at his positive reinforcement.
My stomach chose that moment to growl. Jim’s smile turned upside down in a heartbeat.
“You should have eaten lunch. Why don’t you eat one of those bananas now, or get a meal when we stop to meet Simon?”
“C’mon, Jim. You have to admit it's a good idea for me to be obviously hungry when I meet with Bergman. I’ll be giving off all kinds of body cues that aren't easily faked, like my nostrils flaring and swallowing saliva when I smell food. Also, wearing yesterday’s stale clothes will really make me look the part of a hitchhiker who’s down on his luck.”
I chuckled a little. “You know, you're lucky that I checked on the stinkiness factor while you were in that gas station. One whiff, and I was practically choking; you'd have had to dial down. Be glad I kept the bag in the back of the truck.” I made a face, remembering the funky smell of those clothes. “But Bergman will be lulled into thinking I’m exactly what I’ll appear to be, not somebody trying to get him on tape as being the buyer for my car.”
Jim sighed. “So you’re going with the method-acting approach for undercover work. He’ll buy that you’re not doing too well. Jesus, Blair, you still look sick, and with all the weight you’ve lost, you’re going to come across as one step away from being a bum. And I filtered out the smell of your stinky clothes when we left this morning. I wish you didn't have to wear them.” I knew all of that bothered Jim, and I started stroking his thigh, in a kind of an apology for making him witness my transformation back into my traveling persona.
The gray afternoon darkened as a soft rain started spattering on the windshield. Good old Cascade weather with, as Simon was fond of saying, seven different kinds of rain. I guessed I could add one more detail to my disguise. I’d let myself get good and wet to foster the illusion that I’d been thumbing it out on the road.
I’d been hitchhiking in the rain the night I was arrested. The illusion wouldn’t be too far away from the truth.
Jim gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Give Simon a call. Let him know we’ll be there in approximately two to five minutes. And does Rainier have caller ID on their office phones?” Our exit was coming up and Jim turned me loose to put on his right turn signal.
I grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial for Simon. It would be good to hear his gruff voice again, but I had mixed feelings about seeing him and some of the other guys from Major Crimes, the ones I had considered my friends, too, not just Jim’s friends. Sure, I wanted to see Henri, Joel, and Megan, catch up on what had happened in their lives for the past year. Jim had told me Henri and his wife were expecting a baby, and I wanted to congratulate the proud papa to be. I wondered if Megan was planning on staying in Cascade or going back home to Australia, and how Joel was handling the stress of the job, now that he’d been in Major Crimes instead of the Bomb Squad for a couple of years.
I grimaced; I wasn’t looking forward to the pointed conversations about them having been worried about me, and asking why hadn’t I kept in touch this past year. What was I going to say? Some nonsense about time slipping away, that I'd meant to call or write? Or the truth: that since I’d broken up with Jim, it had been too painful to connect back with anything that reminded me of my past life with him?
Simon answered the phone and I dropped the introspection. I gave him our ETA and he gave me a description of his vehicle before signing off.
Then I answered Jim’s question about Rainier’s phones.
“The university didn’t have caller ID the last time I checked. I doubt they’ve made any changes since then; you know how slowly bureaucracy works. Want me to call Jack Kelso and find out for sure?”
Jim nodded and headed off the interstate towards a crowded assortment of fast food places and gas stations. I made a brief call to my old friend. I promised to come and see him when I could, and he confirmed that there was no caller ID for the Rainier phone system.
“What’s the deal, Jim?”
“Go ahead and call Bergman now and let him know you’re coming into town, arrange to meet him at Petro. I’d like to start rattling his cage and see what he does. H and Connor can fill us in as they keep tabs on him.”
I suspected that Jim wanted to hurry along my part in this set-up, so that I could get cleaned up and get some rest. I’d slept for a while after we’d crossed into Washington State, but that had been hours ago.
I took a couple of deep breaths, and then dialed Bergman’s extension, as Jim swung the truck into Roady's. He drove to the far end of the parking lot, and I spotted Simon standing next to a white van, holding an umbrella and smoking a cigar. Bergman’s secretary answered and transferred me to him, and I swallowed hard when I heard him casually toss out his new title.
“This is Chancellor Bergman. How can I help you?”
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
As soon as I parked, Blair pulled on that shabby gray sweatshirt of his, grabbed his backpack, and gave me a soft caress on my cheek.
"Don't worry, okay? I'll be fine." He hopped out of the truck, retrieved his bag of smelly clothes from the back, and dashed through the cold, steady rainfall for the protection of Simon's umbrella. I watched Simon stick his cigar in his mouth and extend his hand to Blair, but my partner ignored his offer of a handshake and instead wrapped an arm around Simon's waist for a casual hug. Simon startled a little; Blair had apparently caught him by surprise, but he gave Blair's shoulder a hard squeeze in return. I knew he had never felt too comfortable with Blair's easy-going physical ways, but he'd missed Blair, and that return of affection he gave the prodigal son showed just how much he had been worried about one Blair Sandburg since last year.
I watched from the truck as Blair and Simon huddled together, the rain sheeting off the umbrella, while Simon gave Blair his instructions. He walked Blair around to the back of the white police van that was masquerading as a steam cleaning service vehicle -- got to love those magnetic side panel disguises -- and after Blair had climbed in, walked over to me. I rolled down my window.
"Detective."
"Sir."
He inhaled another lungful of expensive cigar and narrowed his eyes. "You and Sandburg have worked things out, correct? I can expect that your head is now back where it belongs, not jammed up your ass?"
I looked him directly in the eyes. He'd been my friend and my captain for years now, and if I hadn't accepted his right to tear me a new one when I fucked up, I'd have walked out of Major Crimes a long time ago.
"We're good, Simon. And I apologize for being such a sorry son-of-a-bitch this last year. And, uh -- well, Sandburg and I would like to talk to you when we've wrapped up this case. Maybe I could spring for a steak dinner, or seafood--"
"To soften the blow you two are planning to hit me with, you mean? Jim. I'd like nothing better than to have Sandburg back on my team, but it's not going to happen. I hate the politics that come with this job, but the reality is that the kid has enemies that pack more clout than we do, and the Chief has made his position clear about Sandburg working with the department. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied."
Simon was scowling, but I knew it wasn't aimed at me. He'd made Blair the offer to go through the academy and join Major Crimes in good faith and with the backing of our division head. However, the Chief of Police had made that option moot when he rescinded the offer. But that didn't mean Captain Simon Banks felt okay about one of his men getting shafted like that.
"Dinner is still on me, Captain. And I, well, both of us, have something else to discuss with you..."
"Sure, Jim. It's nothing urgent, right?" I nodded. "Then save it for later. We can go to Robert's Steak House down on Pacific Avenue; Sandburg looks like he could use a few good meals. I'm assuming he's well enough to pull this off today, since you're backing him on this plan?"
I flipped my hand back and forth in a maybe gesture. "He says he's not feeling that sick, but he's been running a low fever off and on; I've agreed to respect his judgment, and he's promised that if he starts feeling worse he'll let me know."
Simon looked at me knowingly and raised his cigar back to his lips. "But you don't have to like it."
"No, sir. I don't have to like it." Simon left me then and strode back to the van, his long black coat and umbrella protecting him from the elements.
Finally the rear van doors opened; Blair jumped out and sheltered under Simon's umbrella again, carrying his backpack. I knew he'd planned to change back into yesterday's dirty clothes; he'd sprinkled water on them before tying them into a plastic bag last night. After this many hours they were stale and smelly, giving him street cred for being a transient. Besides the duds, he would be wearing a vest and a wire, and the cops handling the equipment in the van would monitor him while he met with Bergman.
As far as the guys in the van were concerned, they'd be keeping me in the loop about what was happening, but I'd be out there in the parking lot of Petro keeping my own tabs on my partner. Blair had thought that Bergman might have seen the two of us together on campus when Blair was a T.A., so I had to stay out of sight, but I'd be listening the whole time.
I was wondering why Simon and Blair hadn't left yet, since they were still by the van. Simon was giving Blair a ride in his car to the rendezvous with Bergman. He and Joel, who was already in position at Petro, would be in the restaurant for immediate backup. I listened in to find out what the holdup was.
"Are you positive you have to do it this way, Sandburg?'
"Yeah, Simon. Like I told Jim, don't worry; I'll be fine."
"Uh-huh. You told me you felt fine that time we were in Clayton Falls, too. Remember? Right before you passed out? I'm not sure we have the same definition of the word," Simon grumbled.
"It's my call, Captain. I think it's necessary in order to be realistic. Believe me, after I sold my car I spent plenty of time hitchhiking, sometimes in the rain. Bergman knows I'm thumbing it, and if I don't show up looking soaked, he might get suspicious. I need him to believe that I'm alone in the world and without resources; this way I'll look the part." Blair patted Simon's arm reassuringly. "I'm going to go talk to Jim for a moment; I'll meet you at the car."
Simon shook his head, and then hurried to his car. Blair walked slowly over to me, the rain darkening his sweatshirt and jeans.
I rolled my window back down and took a good hard look at him. His honey-colored skin was paler than normal, and he looked bedraggled; dark curls were sticking wetly to his forehead and cheeks.
"Hey," he said softly.
I smiled at him. "Got the vest on, Junior?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother.
I beckoned him to step up closer to the window, and when he complied I gently reached inside his sweatshirt, my hand pausing on the side of his neck to feel his pulse -- steady and reassuring -- and then I cupped the back of his neck.
Blair's eyes darkened, and he shivered; I enjoyed the change in his scent as he started to become aroused. When his breathing increased to a faster rate, I languidly trailed my hand along his jaw line, stopping to outline his lips with my finger, his mouth obediently opening as I slipped my finger into his hot, wet mouth.
He suckled gently on it for a long moment, before I withdrew it. Indulging myself, I tugged on the partly visible chain around his neck, pulling free the necklace I'd first given him in friendship and rededicated early this morning as a pledge of my commitment. It felt warm in my hand, the many-pointed star a soft silver gleam in the gray light. I closed my hand protectively around it, sheltering it from the beating rain, and then slipped it home, gently brushing against the soft hairs on his upper chest. I wanted to touch his nipples, tweak them into hard nubs, but instead I sighed and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead.
The kiss confirmed what I'd learned from cupping his neck. He was still running a low fever, and it had gone up a notch; it felt a little over one hundred degrees.
"Take some Tylenol. You can't afford to let that fever get any higher, not and be able to stay sharp."
He looked annoyed as he realized I'd checked him out, but he nodded. I found the container and got two capsules out, and handed them to him, along with a bottle of water.
I waited until after he'd finished drinking before talking to him again. We needed to move along to Petro and wait for Bergman to appear, but I knew he hadn't left campus yet since H and Connor were tailing him and hadn't alerted us.
The man had been surprised to hear from Blair, and had jumped at the chance to talk to my partner away from Rainier, the panic in his voice apparent to me. Soon afterward, H had reported his change of location to Robinson Hall. Blair had said that it was a science building and housed some chemistry and geology labs, along with classrooms. I thought it odd that Bergman would put off meeting with Blair to take care of some other errand first; I had scrutinized the sound of his heart over the phone, and it had hammered out alarm with every beat. The guys from Major Crimes assigned to this detail agreed that something was hinky; we didn't want to spook our quarry, so Conner planned on unobtrusively checking out his movements within the building, and H would tail him to Petro, then circle back and pick up Connor.
Blair handed the empty water bottle back to me, and I grasped his hand. "We invited Simon out for a steak dinner when we're done with this case. I told him we had something to discuss with him."
His eyes got bigger, reinforcing my image of him as a street urchin. "Are you sure, Jim?" He didn't elaborate; there was no need for the cops in the van to hear that we planned to tell Simon that we were lovers. We'd discussed this morning how out we wanted to be for hours on the way here from Montana, Blair not wanting me to do anything that made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe, and for my part, I didn't want him denying what we were to each other to people he cared about.
"Yes. It'll be all right, Blair. And... good luck, partner."
He shivered again, but this time it wasn't from arousal. "See you soon, Jim." He squeezed my hand hard before releasing it and striding to Simon's car.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
I made Simon drop me off at the exit ramp and I walked the half mile down to Petro. By the time I pushed open the restaurant door, I was soaked.
Good. Well, good in that I knew my appearance would reassure Bergman that I was pretty powerless. Not so good in that once again, cold and wet was my world. I longed for a cup of hot coffee, and I knew the java would be decent at this place, because I'd often refueled and grabbed a meal at a Petro when I was driving an eighteen-wheeler. Pushing down my hood, I glanced unobtrusively around. Joel and Simon were sitting where they could cover the front door, and I was glad I had backup nearby, although I wasn't anticipating any problems.
The hostess collected some menus when I told her I was meeting someone, and I followed her to a booth, squelching the entire way. The other diners looking up to see who was making the racket, and I slid into the booth feeling a little self-conscious. Bergman would be here soon. Simon had gotten word that our quarry had finally left campus right before he'd stopped the car to let me get out.
Chancellor Bergman...
The jerk had helped to make my life miserable this past year; I hoped that I was a good enough actor to pull off not showing my resentment and anger at his actions. He wasn't going to get away with lying to the cops about me and trying to make me the number one suspect in Marie Edwards' death. Not to mention he must have continued sending out those fire-this-guy letters to my employers after he'd killed her.
He'd ended a human life. She'd been far from my favorite person, but she hadn't deserved to die at his hand. Jesus, there must have been another path he could have taken, no matter what provocation he felt.
Boy, his Karma was surely in the toilet.
"Hun, what happened to you? Were you changing a tire out in this rain?"
The waitress, a round little woman in her fifties with bright red hair, was filling my water glass and looking askance at me. I was kind of dripping on the seat. I shrugged. Leaving the sweatshirt on would help assure that Bergman wouldn't notice the vest.
"No. I don't have a tire, let alone a car to attach it to. I was hitchhiking."
Her demeanor changed from concern about the state of my being to concern about the state of my wallet. I sighed and dug out a couple of bucks to lay on the table.
"I'm meeting somebody for coffee. Um... how much is a cup of joe, anyway?"
She smiled tiredly at me, probably resigning herself to no tip. "You've got enough there for coffee and refills for two. Want a cup now, sweetie?"
I shook my head and pocketed the money; my mind wandered a little as she walked away.
She'd called me sweetie. My mom called me that, too, and for the first time in months I actually wanted to talk to my mother. I wanted to tell her about me and Jim, explain to her that I was serious about him and that we were going to make things work this time.
I hoped. Things had turned around between us, but, man... at times today I'd wondered how we'd do when the next pile of shit hit the fan. But we'd really talked over the last few days and a lot of things had gotten said that needed to be said, and he'd listened to me and I'd listened to him. I had taken the plunge and let myself trust him on things I hadn't trusted him with when we first were lovers.
I'd told him the secrets I'd kept close and he'd been great about them. He'd understood that I'd had to protect my mom from being in trouble for forging my name. He hadn't seen me as damaged goods, either, when I'd told him about being sexually abused as a kid. And... it had been kind of freeing to release those secrets. "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free" was inscribed over the door of Matthews Hall, I guess to inspire generations of Rainier English majors. I'd read that inscription several times a week since I'd been a freshman, unless I was out of town traveling or working or on an expedition, but I'd never really thought about those words in relation to my own life before.
Good words. I'd try and keep them in mind.
"Blair?"
I jumped in my seat. I'd been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed Nathan Bergman walking up to my booth. 'Christ, Sandburg, get it together.'
Nathan looked pretty much like the last time I'd seen him, a tall man, but not as tall as Jim, well-dressed, although there was a little more gray in his hair. He came across initially as being a little more old-fashioned than his actual years, but that impression was dispelled once he engaged you in a conversation. He had progressive views and although he wasn't particularly funny himself, he enjoyed a good joke or story. I'd really liked him, and he was popular amongst the students and faculty.
I skidded out of the booth and actually stumbled a little into him, and he wrinkled his nose as the “Eau de Sandburg” hit his olfactory organ. He steadied me by supporting my elbow, and I beamed up at him.
"Nathan, wow, hey, have a seat and let me buy you a cup of coffee. Man, it's the least I can do to thank you for coming here to see me. I could really use your advice -- I've been thinking about hiring a lawyer to sue the university, since my grievance went belly up. And another thing I've been tossing around -- you know, I lived here a long time and I've been wondering if I shouldn't just come back since it hasn't worked out trying to get established somewhere else. But... I don't know if stirring up the past is the best course, or if I should let sleeping dogs lie, you know, since mucking everything back up might just mean I'll end up with fleas, if I lie down with the mutts."
Nathan stared at me for a moment, probably stunned by the weight of the confused cliches I'd thrown at him. Then he shook his head and sat down. He said, a little anxiously, "Blair, did you just say that you're thinking about moving back to Cascade, but you aren't sure if it will really benefit you or not?"
I dropped back onto the bench seat and nodded, then waved at the red-haired waitress, who stopped to pick up a coffee pot before swinging around to our table. My mind was racing and my head was throbbing a little. Stress, I guessed, and I was glad that Jim had suggested taking Tylenol. Seeing Nathan and knowing he had been manipulating me over the last year and a half was harder than I'd thought it would be, but I had to stay focused and get him to admit that he'd bought my car.
After our waitress had filled our cups and left, Nathan pressed his fingers against his temples and tiredly said, "So you've changed your mind about not suing? You told me before that you wouldn't do that because the costs would just be passed along to the students, and you didn't believe that would be fair to them."
I had told him that and I did still believe it, but in order to put some pressure on him I was going to let him think I might sue after all. I'd never claimed that the publication Sid and my mom had pushed had been my dissertation, so there was a solid basis for a grievance and possibly a lawsuit. I would let him talk me out of doing it, and convince me to move on. The relief he'd feel would hopefully make him less guarded about answering questions about my Volvo.
I waved my hands in an exaggerated gesture of frustration. "I don't know what to do, Nathan. I left Cascade ready to move on and start over, but every time this past year when I tried to settle in somewhere, I got blocked. Sometimes, despite the help you gave me with your reference letters, Dr. Edwards' letters badmouthing me would show up." I ran my fingers through my damp mop of hair. "I guess my employers double checked my credentials and Dr. Edwards would send them her letter -- and then I'd get canned. I'm tired of it. I don't want to sue, you know I don't want to do that, but what other choices do I have left? If you have any advice for me, I'd really like to hear it. You're the only person I've kept in contact with in Cascade. Hell, my own mother doesn't even know where I am or what I'm doing."
My voice trailed off tiredly, and I picked up my coffee and took a long swallow. Nathan was watching me, and I could see the pity in his eyes. Guess my cover was solid.
"Hey, but I'm being rude, Chancellor Bergman. How have you been? And when did you take over for Chancellor Edwards? How do you like the job?" There. I was curious to know what he would come up with to explain her death.
"Everything is going well, and I've had the opportunity to implement some changes that I think will really benefit the university. We've increased the health coverage to better benefit teaching assistants and fellows, for example."
"Man, back when I was a police observer I could have really used that; I had more than my share of doctor bills." I gave a soft whistle. "I bet Dr. Edwards had a cow when she heard about increasing the insurance for us lowly graduate students."
"Actually, Blair, she didn't retire and hand the scepter over to me. She died in a car accident. I'm surprised you haven't heard anything about it." He made a suitably sorrowful face.
I feigned shock at his news. Two could play this game.
"A car accident? Holy Krishna, when did that happen?"
"Last summer. She was killed immediately in the accident, so at least she didn't suffer. I took over as temporary chancellor, and two months later was given the permanent position.”
He took a sip of his coffee, and cleared his throat. “Blair, you said your employers are still getting that vicious letter she wrote about you? I hadn't realized that was still happening. I can promise you that I'll put a stop to it. You know I never agreed with her actions concerning you, and I will make sure that any future employers receive a glowing recommendation with copies of your transcript." He leaned a little closer to me over the table. "But son, I'm afraid that there's only so much I can do in regards to your returning to Rainier. Dr. Edwards had nothing to do with your grievance being evaluated as unfounded and, my boy, I'm afraid that you've burned too many bridges to be in good standing with the Anthropology Department. I really feel a fresh start elsewhere would be in your best interest." He reached over the table and patted my arm.
I sighed heavily. "I don't know, Nathan. Maybe you're right. I've got no future here with law enforcement either, not as a consultant or a cop. And the guys I hung out with from the P.D. -- well, they were Jim's friends, not mine, not really. Jim -- do you remember him? Or me talking about him? He was my friend and roommate, not to mention the main guy I observed at the P.D. Well anyway, Jim and I had a falling out and we're not in contact anymore, and I don't expect that to change either; since then his friends have closed ranks, and I'm definitely on the outside of that closed society."
I gave a mirthless laugh. It wasn't hard to sound a little bitter while I painted a bleak picture of myself as friendless and alone. I'd chosen not to contact Connor or H or Simon mostly because anything touching on Jim had been too painful to willingly engage in - even checking in with old friends. But when at odd times, feeling lonely, I had considered picking up the phone and calling anyway, I'd talk myself out it. I'd been afraid of getting the cold shoulder from them, sure that Jim had painted my leaving in the worst way. I had preferred to remember them as my friends, too, even if we had drifted apart before I'd skipped town.
The waitress returned, and after filling our cups, asked if we wanted to order anything else. She looked hopefully at Nathan, but he declined, saying that he would be expected home for supper. I dropped my eyes and shook my head when she inquired if I needed anything else. She bustled away and disappeared into the kitchen. I would leave her a small tip, if I could do it without Nathan noticing. Waiting on tables was hard work, and I'd done my share of it. The last place I'd worked that kind of job had been at The Meeting Place. I'd made pretty good tips there, although I gave an internal wince when I remembered how Jim had thought that my tips were generous because I'd allowed the customers to cop a feel along with me mildly flirting with them. I felt my face flush with heat, and knew it wasn't because of my damn fever.
Nathan noticed. He cocked his head a little and said, "Are you feeling well, son?"
I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm all right." I shoved down the surge of embarrassment that had just overwhelmed me. Back then I'd accepted those touches as something to endure as part of the job. My mind had twisted an unacceptable behavior into something normal. I sighed. The thing about skewed thinking is that you don't know that your perceptions are off until somebody else clues you in. Maybe I needed to talk more about it with Jim until I could accept what I'd done without wincing. I needed to forgive myself for mistakes made in the past and move on. If it came to it, I'd go back into therapy. I wasn't going to let the predator who'd tormented me as a kid keep influencing my life as an adult. Those black holes I'd seen at the edges of my aura were visual proof to me that I still had some healing to do.
A hand waved in front of my eyes and I looked at Nathan. He had an expression on his face that I would have sworn was genuine concern. What a laugh. This guy must be a hell of a poker player; of course, he excelled at university politics and that would polish up anybody's bluffing skills.
“Blair, I want you to think very hard about the ramifications if you sue the university regarding the work that was announced as your dissertation. Certainly, the board could recommend settling out of court to avoid negative publicity. But if you do this, you must understand that you will have blackballed yourself from any further academic situation. Nobody wants to welcome a known troublemaker, and that's what you're going to be considered -- a troublemaker. And if the university chooses to not agree to the terms of your lawsuit and you go to court, your character will be attacked. Probably it would be sensationalized in the news, maybe even on the Internet. Do you want that kind of attention? And initially the university understood from Berkshire Publishing that you had given permission for your dissertation to be published. You clearly revoked that permission, but inquiries were made regarding the situation, and I believe your mother admitted to several people that she had taken the liberty of signing your name for you on Berkshire's authorization forms.”
He looked at me and sadly shook his head.
“If Rainier is sued, the university would certainly try to pass the responsibility and the damages along to the publishing company. And they in turn would try and incriminate your mother, if it could be proved that she was responsible for forging your name. Do you realize that means your mother might end up on the other side of the lawsuit from you?"
He patted my arm again. "I know this has all been terribly unfair, and I want you to know that I'm very sorry for what's been done to you. But at this point, don't we have to look at what is the greater good, and make some sacrifices? It will harm the university to have this all dragged up again, and I do believe you are loyal to your alma mater. And you are correct in stating that the cost of the lawsuit would end up depriving the students of much needed funds. Also, of course, there are the issues I just mentioned that would affect your future."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and stroked his chin. "So... I don't recommend you sue and I don't recommend that you try to return to Cascade. But Blair, let me assure you again that I'll put an end to the letters Dr. Edwards had arranged to be sent to your employers, and that I'll write you a very good letter of reference to accompany your transcripts or proof of your degrees. And, I believe I may have the solution for your academic problems."
He smiled at me, in a paternal kind of way, and when my stomach chose that moment to growl, he beckoned the waitress over.
"Miss, could you bring this young man a cheeseburger and french fries, and hmm... a salad, with -- what kind of dressing would you like?"
I started to protest but he ignored me, so I mumbled thanks at him and asked for ranch on the salad.
While we waited for my order he explained that he would contact the dean of the graduate division at the University of California and pave the way for my acceptance into their Ph.D Anthropology program. As he explained it, the guy owed him a couple of favors, and he would call in his markers for me. I asked all the right questions, and he assured me that his buddy could not only get my Rainier credits accepted, but that I would only have to do a new dissertation. He told me he'd arrange for a job, maybe not teaching any classes, which would probably be too public for right now, but as a research assistant, or grading papers. The bottom line was that I would be guaranteed some sort of position to help offset the cost of graduate school, plus free tuition.
I saw an opportunity to swing the conversation around to my Volvo, and after inhaling the fries and burger that had appeared in front of me, I offered Nathan the bait.
"If I return to school, that means getting even deeper into student loan hell since even with the sweet deal your friend can offer, I'll have to borrow money for books and for living expenses. I've been making a real effort this last year to pay off my loans, and I'm not sure I want to increase them."
Nathan tut-tutted at me. "Blair, you surely realize that not taking advantage of this opportunity would be false economy. Going back to school will postpone your loans, and you'll be able to earn a better salary when you graduate to pay them off. I know you know this, so why are you hesitating?"
I sighed. This was going to be a little more honest than I really wanted to be, and I was very much aware that my partner was listening to every word being spoken here.
"It probably won't make any sense -- but paying off my loans as soon as possible is really important to me. Traveling the way I do and being rootless, well, it kind of eats away at me. And while I've met some nice folks, and seen some old friends, some of them from my childhood, I wasn't really a part of their lives. Maybe if I'd stayed and built on those connections I'd have felt differently, but I've always moved on before they got tired of me being around, since permanent jobs kept getting sabotaged. Any truck driving jobs I've had just added to that feeling of drifting along. But my loans are my responsibility, an anchor to all those years I spent as a student, and it makes me feel normal to send off my payments. I want to pay them off as quickly as possible because it's like an illusion or maybe it'd be more accurate to say it's a delusion, but I feel that when the loans are totally paid back, then my Karma is bound to change. So I try to make extra payments whenever I can. As a matter of fact, the money from you--"
I had been loading up my fork with salad while I was talking and now I shoved it in my mouth and took my time about chewing it. If I stayed silent, then Nathan might feel compelled to finish my sentence.
He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
"The money from me buying your Volvo, you mean? You used all of that to pay off your loans?"
I swallowed my mouthful of salad and answered him. "I used almost all of it to wipe out a good chunk. And can I say, once again, thank you for buying my car. I knew that my baby was going to be in good hands with you. Hey, did you drive here in it? I'd love to see her again."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid that I don't have that car any longer. There was an accident -- I wasn't hurt -- but the car was totaled. I'm sorry to have to tell you that."
I tried to look downcast, and I expressed a pretense of dismay over that news, but I felt like jumping up and doing a victory dance. Mission accomplished.
I finished up the salad, and the waitress asked about dessert or more coffee as she stopped by to take my dishes. Nathan ordered me the fruit salad. I let him; it wouldn't be in character for me to turn it down. He busied himself with writing down the name and phone number of the dean on the Berkley campus who was going to get me back into school, but cautioned me to wait until January 2 before contacting the man, since the guy was going to be out of the country till then. He was insistent that I not try the usual admission process in the meantime. He thought that might force his friend into a corner if I was denied admittance through the usual channels. I pretended to be dubious about waiting until a couple of days before the semester began to try and enroll; I told him I didn't think it would be enough time to get admitted, but he insisted that after a phone call from him, his friend would arrange everything.
"Well, Blair, our time here is nearly ended. What have you decided to do?"
He seemed calm, but maybe learning what Jim could observe from suspects had rubbed off on me -- I could see the fine line of sweat at Nathan's hairline, and his breathing had speeded up.
"I'll take you up on your offer of assistance, and go back to school in California. As a matter of fact, I guess I'll leave from here and hitchhike down there tonight. There's nothing for me in Cascade, and no point to revisiting my old haunts. And, yeah, I don't really want to sue -- I'm afraid it would backfire on me and Naomi." He looked inquiringly at me and I added, "My mom."
I could see his whole body relax with my decision, but I was thrown by the look of sympathy and... sadness he gave me. Jeez, I must look even more pitiful than I had intended.
The waitress returned with the fruit dish, and Nathan asked her for the bill. I pulled out money for the tip, but Nathan told me to put it away.
"I'm getting this, Blair. I'll add on the tip at the register." The waitress smiled at that news and gave the slip of paper to Nathan.
"Wait for me, son, will you?" Without waiting to hear my reply, he left the table and went up to the register. While I ate the fruit -- tempted to leave the bananas alone but I pictured Jim's reproachful face and dutifully shoved them down my throat -- Nathan left the restaurant for the store area. I thought maybe he was using the john, but he returned with a heavy jacket emblazoned with the Jags' name. I had stood up, ready to leave, when he handed me the jacket.
"I want you to have this. And please, toss that sweatshirt in the trash; it's rather ripe and it's worn out."
"Nathan, you don't have to--"
"Let me help make you more comfortable for the next couple of weeks, all right? I think your decision to head down to California and out of this never-ending rain tonight is wise. There's nothing for you anymore in Cascade, and a new life is waiting for you down there. And don't make a fuss about this." He took a roll of bills out of his pocket and wrapped my hand around them. "I don't want any of it back; let's say that in a small way it's some of the compensation you deserve from Rainier. It's enough to pay for shelter till you get back on your feet."
I was conflicted. Here I was gathering evidence that would most likely result in his being found guilty of murdering Chancellor Edwards, and he was bending over backwards to be nice to me. I guess I just didn't understand the guy. He'd helped to make my life difficult for the last year, he probably was the one who had hired hit men to take me out, but he was concerned that I stay warm enough while traveling. Hell, maybe he was feeling guilty, maybe his actions against me hadn't been real to him till now.
Well. Karma always comes around, and his was knocking on the door.
"Go and change, please, and meet me outside, all right? We'll say goodbye there." He nudged me toward the restroom area at the back of the restaurant before heading towards the exit.
I decided to take his advice about the sweatshirt, and after using the facility, employed the sleeve of it as a washcloth to knock back some of the earthy scent that was clinging to me. I also changed into a clean shirt and jeans. If nothing else, Jim would probably appreciate it.
A few minutes later, backpack in hand, I walked out of Petro and looked around for Nathan. I didn't see him, but I did see Simon and Joel hanging out under the overhang, apparently waiting till the rain let up before making a dash to their vehicle. The plan was to not take Bergman into custody until a judge had approved both an arrest and a search warrant, in case he had the car stashed somewhere on his property. He'd be tailed again by Connor and H as soon as he drove away.
Nathan came around the side of the building, and I wondered why he'd ducked over there. He had a large insulated travel mug with him, the thermos kind that I'd used when I was truck driving, and as he came closer he handed it to me.
"Coffee for your trip, Blair. And I'm sure that if you ask around when people are leaving, you'll find somebody traveling south. I'm heading back into Cascade, but I'll wait with you till you find a ride."
He gripped both of my shoulders and squeezed them. "I'm sorry, Blair, for all the trouble you've been put through. You're a fine young man, and you didn't deserve to have to sacrifice so much." He let go of me and indicated the thermos mug I held. "Drink up, my boy, before it gets cold."
I just held onto the mug. I wasn't born yesterday. Even though Bergman had bent over backwards to be nice to me tonight, he had been manipulating me for the past year. He almost certainly had murdered Marie Edwards. I wasn't going to let my guard down.
Jim's voice boomed out into the evening. "Blair! Move away from him and for God's sake don't touch the liquid in that cup!" I followed his orders while Bergman looked up in confusion. I felt kind of sorry for him, even though I was suspecting he'd drugged my drink.
It looked like the arrest was going down right now; Joel and Simon moved in quickly from the left, and Simon ordered Bergman to place his hands on top of his head. He complied, with a shocked look on his face, and then he started demanding that he be released, and asking why he was being detained.
Jim walked straight to me, and I smiled at him. "Hi, partner."
Said partner took a napkin out of his pocket and gently took the thermos from me, wrapping it in the layers of paper. "You've got to cut back on the caffeine, Chief. It's not good for you."
"I think I agree with you, Jim."
Simon was cuffing Bergman, and Jim took the thermos over to him, a furious look on his face. Bergman's angry protests stopped as Jim shoved the mug right under his nose.
"You can leave, Bergman, if you'll drink this coffee you gave Blair first." Bergman closed his eyes and his whole body slumped. He shook his head.
"No? Well, then, Nathan Bergman, you're under arrest for the murder of Marie Edwards -- and the attempted murder of Blair Sandburg. Blair isn't going to be your sacrifice any longer. Joel, care to read the man his rights?"
Joel gave the Miranda warning, and Simon and Jim discussed the logistics of moving Bergman to Booking. I went back over to Nathan after he agreed that he understood his rights.
"Nathan. I'll give you your money and the jacket back, but I want to know what's in the coffee. You might as well tell us, because it will be going to the lab for analysis." I was betting on Rohypnol or GBH, something that would have made it hard for me to know what was going on. I suspected that the ride to California would have been in Bergman's car, and that it would have been the last time I ever hitchhiked.
Bergman refused to look at me, and I did my aura trick -- and his aura was dimmed by muddy blue, green, and gray shades. I wasn't going to be able to heal him without his consent, but maybe... I called on the power of my animal spirit. I felt a surge of -- not exactly power, but...
"Nathan. I know that you've suffered." I could hear the compassion in my own voice and I knew I sounded compelling. "But it's over now and you don't have to keep any more secrets. Those secrets will be freed. You can control how we learn about them by telling us what happened to make you choose murder, but if you don't, you'll have no say in your own story. Isn't it time to tell that story? Make a first step, man. What's in the coffee?"
Bergman looked at me then, and bit his lip. He made the decision; I could see it in his eyes.
"It's acrylamide. It's a chemical and it's very dangerous." The effort of admitting what he'd done seemed to overwhelm him then, and he fell silent.
Joel, however, reacted with shock. "Good Lord, we're going to need Hazmat out here. Simon -- can you go inside and get a couple of plastic or glass containers. Until the Hazmat unit arrives, we need to secure that mug and Jim and Blair need to wash their hands, and the wash water needs to be saved."
Jim carried the thermos out into the parking lot away from the restaurant and set it down on the ground.
Joel called for the Hazmat team to come out, and then took one of the containers Simon had gotten from the kitchen -- an empty five gallon pickle jar - and cautiously picked up the thermos mug wearing gloves and a mask he had gotten from his car. He placed it carefully inside the large jar and screwed on the lid. Joel helped Jim and me and also Bergman rinse our hands, saving the wash water in another pickle jar.
H and Megan left their vehicle and joined us, but Joel regretfully told them they needed to keep their distance. They loudly told me hello and that this was just like old times, with me in the middle of trouble once again, and Megan blew me a kiss before Simon sent them back to the station.
When the Hazmat team arrived, they put Bergman, Jim, and me through on-site decontamination, then decided that we needed to go to the hospital for further decontamination, although Bergman protested that he had a doctorate in chemistry and knew exactly what he'd been doing and there was no contamination.
Right.
Nobody felt like taking his word for it, so he was taken under guard by a couple of uniforms -- Kohl and Johnson, I'd met them before -- to the hospital, and then he'd be transferred to Booking.
Jim and I drove ourselves over to the hospital. Jim didn't think we had been in contact with the poison, he couldn't feel or smell anything on our hands, but we weren't going to take any chances. We both were wearing latex gloves, as a precaution against spreading any contamination, and we'd sponged down and changed clothes under a privacy tarp the Haz-mat guys had provided. I shivered -- the scrubs provided by the unit weren't exactly warm.
I looked at the city streets, wet and shiny, as we made our way to Cascade General.
"Jim? How did you know he'd put something in the coffee? I mean, I wasn't going to drink it -- not something that had been out of my sight -- but you knew for sure that it had been messed with."
"Well, for one thing Connor had checked out his movements in that science building and had let us know that he'd spent time in a chemistry lab. And then, when you were in the bathroom, he bought the thermos and had the waitress fill it only partly full with coffee. And that that seemed off. Why not fill it up? Then he went out to his car with it and I could hear him fiddling with some bottle or jar, and then he started talking to himself, asking for forgiveness. He said, 'I'm so sorry, Blair, I really am, forgive me, but I need to do this for the greater good.' So when he gave you that travel mug and urged you to drink up, that was the last clue. I had told the others that I'd seen him tampering with it -- I'd gotten out of the truck by then and was doing recon -- and that we could bust him right here as soon as he handed you the thermos."
I grinned at him. "It must have just about killed you to wait before warning me. Thanks, partner, for trusting me to have my wits about me."
Jim squeezed my thigh. "I wanted so badly to keep him away from you. And now that I know for sure that he was going to poison you -- well, I might need a lot of reassurance after we put this case to bed."
I laughed as his hand traveled further up my thigh. "Hey, reassuring my sentinel is a specialty of mine." He teased me briefly before moving his hand back to the steering wheel.
"Jim? Am I done now with protective custody?" God, I hoped so. I didn't want to go to a safe house; I wanted to go back to the loft. With him.
"Not until Bergman confesses about the hit men he hired to take you out. It's probably going to be a long night -- I'll want to hammer him hard while he's still in shock over being arrested, before he decides to lawyer up. Maybe you should go to a safe house and get some rest."
I shook my head determinedly. "Nope. I'll just hang in the bullpen and wait for you."
"Fine by me. But you can't be in on the interrogation."
"Yeah, I know. I think I'll use your computer and research the effects of acrylamide and find out just what kind of death Bergman had planned for me."
Jim shuddered, and I released my seat belt and scooted over next to him. He slung his arm around my shoulders, and I re-buckled, before relaxing against him. He made the turn onto Miller Avenue, taking us closer to the ER. That should be fun. Oh, well, I couldn't deny that I could use a hot shower.
Man, I was back in Cascade. Wistfully, I wondered if returning would feel like coming home.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
Continued in A Fair Distance:Comes a Time. Chapter Two
Laurie
Title: A Fair Distance: Comes a Time Chapter One
Author: Laurie
Type: Slash
Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Rating: PG-17
Word Count: 9745 words
Warnings: None for this chapter. Link to warnings for the entire series
Beta’ed by the lovely t_verano. I appreciate you so much, my dear.
Summary for A Fair Distance: A year after Blair left Jim, and Cascade, they meet again in a small Tennessee town. Blair's been arrested and is being held for questioning at the request of the Cascade PD.
This is the third and final arc to the story, and the two earlier arcs, A Fair Distance:Running on Empty and A Fair Distance: Ball and Chain, as well as several time stamps, can be located at my LJ here or at Artifact Storage Room 3 here or at AO3 here. I believe that AO3 has a nifty feature that allows you to download onto E-readers.
A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter One
“Are you sure you’re up to doing this, Chief?” Jim had been eying me dubiously every so often on this last stretch of interstate before we rolled into Cascade, and I put on my best “don’t worry, everything's copacetic” face.
“I’m fine. Chill, will ya?” I wasn’t worried about going undercover to trap Bergman into admitting he had bought my car. Returning to Cascade…? Yeah, okay, I should at least admit to myself that for a couple of reasons I was feeling a shade ambivalent about coming back here.
I'd told Dave, the day after he arrested me, that I never wanted to come here again. Mostly I had felt that way because Jim and I’d fallen apart here, and I hadn’t wanted to chance seeing him again. I had thought it would be far too painful, and I wasn’t a masochist.
That reason wasn't valid any longer, since Jim and I had worked things out. The other reasons still had me chewing my lip about returning to my adopted hometown, though.
Dealing with Rainier was going to be one huge headache. I was going to have to jump back and forth through bureaucratic hoops to get my grievance approved, and I had a feeling that my helping to put Bergman behind bars was going to be resented. He was well liked, and me, I was persona non grata on campus. Well, I would tough it out; the guy had run over Chancellor Edwards with my baby, and he should have to face the music on that.
Bergman must have sent his Karma into a nosedive for choosing to kill needlessly, even if it turned out he had thought there were extenuating circumstances.
He'd sunk his Karma even more by setting me up to be his patsy for her murder. He’d made sure that my car was ticketed that night by leaving it in a no parking zone -- man, everybody at Rainier knew the campus cops were like Nazis about parking in forbidden territory - and since he’d never registered the Volvo in his name, I was the last owner on record. If I hadn’t had an alibi for the night Edwards lost her life, I could have ended up in prison.
Prison. Shit, just being incarcerated for a week at the Sweetwater P.D. had been hard enough. It would have been a lot worse if instead of being coddled by being kept in a holding cell, I'd been sent to the actual jail in the next county. Ol’ red-haired Officer Mike had made sure I understood what a favor they were doing for the Cascade cops by keeping me isolated from the “rest of the scum.”
Jim nudged me, and I watched as we passed the green interstate sign that proclaimed we would arrive at Cascade in twelve miles. We’d be at the truck stop to meet Simon in a matter of minutes. It was almost time to get this show on the road. It was also time for another dose of Erythromycin. I got the antibiotic out of my backpack, leaned over and grabbed a water from the small cooler, and swallowed the pill along with a good slug of H2O.
“How sore is your throat compared to yesterday?”
“Hey, it’s really lots better.” Jim narrowed his eyes at me.
“Well, it really is better,” I protested.
“Lots better or a little better? And Sandburg, may I remind you of rule number three?”
Rule number three of our newly hammered out relationship rules: Honesty is the best policy. No shading the truth to protect the other one from dealing with something unpleasant or something likely to worry him.
Huh. It was so ingrained in me to nudge things just a bit so that the other party felt more comfortable with my answer that I was really going to have to watch what wanted to pop out of my mouth.
“It’s a little better.”
Jim grinned at me, and put his arm around me; I felt a little glow at his positive reinforcement.
My stomach chose that moment to growl. Jim’s smile turned upside down in a heartbeat.
“You should have eaten lunch. Why don’t you eat one of those bananas now, or get a meal when we stop to meet Simon?”
“C’mon, Jim. You have to admit it's a good idea for me to be obviously hungry when I meet with Bergman. I’ll be giving off all kinds of body cues that aren't easily faked, like my nostrils flaring and swallowing saliva when I smell food. Also, wearing yesterday’s stale clothes will really make me look the part of a hitchhiker who’s down on his luck.”
I chuckled a little. “You know, you're lucky that I checked on the stinkiness factor while you were in that gas station. One whiff, and I was practically choking; you'd have had to dial down. Be glad I kept the bag in the back of the truck.” I made a face, remembering the funky smell of those clothes. “But Bergman will be lulled into thinking I’m exactly what I’ll appear to be, not somebody trying to get him on tape as being the buyer for my car.”
Jim sighed. “So you’re going with the method-acting approach for undercover work. He’ll buy that you’re not doing too well. Jesus, Blair, you still look sick, and with all the weight you’ve lost, you’re going to come across as one step away from being a bum. And I filtered out the smell of your stinky clothes when we left this morning. I wish you didn't have to wear them.” I knew all of that bothered Jim, and I started stroking his thigh, in a kind of an apology for making him witness my transformation back into my traveling persona.
The gray afternoon darkened as a soft rain started spattering on the windshield. Good old Cascade weather with, as Simon was fond of saying, seven different kinds of rain. I guessed I could add one more detail to my disguise. I’d let myself get good and wet to foster the illusion that I’d been thumbing it out on the road.
I’d been hitchhiking in the rain the night I was arrested. The illusion wouldn’t be too far away from the truth.
Jim gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Give Simon a call. Let him know we’ll be there in approximately two to five minutes. And does Rainier have caller ID on their office phones?” Our exit was coming up and Jim turned me loose to put on his right turn signal.
I grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial for Simon. It would be good to hear his gruff voice again, but I had mixed feelings about seeing him and some of the other guys from Major Crimes, the ones I had considered my friends, too, not just Jim’s friends. Sure, I wanted to see Henri, Joel, and Megan, catch up on what had happened in their lives for the past year. Jim had told me Henri and his wife were expecting a baby, and I wanted to congratulate the proud papa to be. I wondered if Megan was planning on staying in Cascade or going back home to Australia, and how Joel was handling the stress of the job, now that he’d been in Major Crimes instead of the Bomb Squad for a couple of years.
I grimaced; I wasn’t looking forward to the pointed conversations about them having been worried about me, and asking why hadn’t I kept in touch this past year. What was I going to say? Some nonsense about time slipping away, that I'd meant to call or write? Or the truth: that since I’d broken up with Jim, it had been too painful to connect back with anything that reminded me of my past life with him?
Simon answered the phone and I dropped the introspection. I gave him our ETA and he gave me a description of his vehicle before signing off.
Then I answered Jim’s question about Rainier’s phones.
“The university didn’t have caller ID the last time I checked. I doubt they’ve made any changes since then; you know how slowly bureaucracy works. Want me to call Jack Kelso and find out for sure?”
Jim nodded and headed off the interstate towards a crowded assortment of fast food places and gas stations. I made a brief call to my old friend. I promised to come and see him when I could, and he confirmed that there was no caller ID for the Rainier phone system.
“What’s the deal, Jim?”
“Go ahead and call Bergman now and let him know you’re coming into town, arrange to meet him at Petro. I’d like to start rattling his cage and see what he does. H and Connor can fill us in as they keep tabs on him.”
I suspected that Jim wanted to hurry along my part in this set-up, so that I could get cleaned up and get some rest. I’d slept for a while after we’d crossed into Washington State, but that had been hours ago.
I took a couple of deep breaths, and then dialed Bergman’s extension, as Jim swung the truck into Roady's. He drove to the far end of the parking lot, and I spotted Simon standing next to a white van, holding an umbrella and smoking a cigar. Bergman’s secretary answered and transferred me to him, and I swallowed hard when I heard him casually toss out his new title.
“This is Chancellor Bergman. How can I help you?”
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
As soon as I parked, Blair pulled on that shabby gray sweatshirt of his, grabbed his backpack, and gave me a soft caress on my cheek.
"Don't worry, okay? I'll be fine." He hopped out of the truck, retrieved his bag of smelly clothes from the back, and dashed through the cold, steady rainfall for the protection of Simon's umbrella. I watched Simon stick his cigar in his mouth and extend his hand to Blair, but my partner ignored his offer of a handshake and instead wrapped an arm around Simon's waist for a casual hug. Simon startled a little; Blair had apparently caught him by surprise, but he gave Blair's shoulder a hard squeeze in return. I knew he had never felt too comfortable with Blair's easy-going physical ways, but he'd missed Blair, and that return of affection he gave the prodigal son showed just how much he had been worried about one Blair Sandburg since last year.
I watched from the truck as Blair and Simon huddled together, the rain sheeting off the umbrella, while Simon gave Blair his instructions. He walked Blair around to the back of the white police van that was masquerading as a steam cleaning service vehicle -- got to love those magnetic side panel disguises -- and after Blair had climbed in, walked over to me. I rolled down my window.
"Detective."
"Sir."
He inhaled another lungful of expensive cigar and narrowed his eyes. "You and Sandburg have worked things out, correct? I can expect that your head is now back where it belongs, not jammed up your ass?"
I looked him directly in the eyes. He'd been my friend and my captain for years now, and if I hadn't accepted his right to tear me a new one when I fucked up, I'd have walked out of Major Crimes a long time ago.
"We're good, Simon. And I apologize for being such a sorry son-of-a-bitch this last year. And, uh -- well, Sandburg and I would like to talk to you when we've wrapped up this case. Maybe I could spring for a steak dinner, or seafood--"
"To soften the blow you two are planning to hit me with, you mean? Jim. I'd like nothing better than to have Sandburg back on my team, but it's not going to happen. I hate the politics that come with this job, but the reality is that the kid has enemies that pack more clout than we do, and the Chief has made his position clear about Sandburg working with the department. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied."
Simon was scowling, but I knew it wasn't aimed at me. He'd made Blair the offer to go through the academy and join Major Crimes in good faith and with the backing of our division head. However, the Chief of Police had made that option moot when he rescinded the offer. But that didn't mean Captain Simon Banks felt okay about one of his men getting shafted like that.
"Dinner is still on me, Captain. And I, well, both of us, have something else to discuss with you..."
"Sure, Jim. It's nothing urgent, right?" I nodded. "Then save it for later. We can go to Robert's Steak House down on Pacific Avenue; Sandburg looks like he could use a few good meals. I'm assuming he's well enough to pull this off today, since you're backing him on this plan?"
I flipped my hand back and forth in a maybe gesture. "He says he's not feeling that sick, but he's been running a low fever off and on; I've agreed to respect his judgment, and he's promised that if he starts feeling worse he'll let me know."
Simon looked at me knowingly and raised his cigar back to his lips. "But you don't have to like it."
"No, sir. I don't have to like it." Simon left me then and strode back to the van, his long black coat and umbrella protecting him from the elements.
Finally the rear van doors opened; Blair jumped out and sheltered under Simon's umbrella again, carrying his backpack. I knew he'd planned to change back into yesterday's dirty clothes; he'd sprinkled water on them before tying them into a plastic bag last night. After this many hours they were stale and smelly, giving him street cred for being a transient. Besides the duds, he would be wearing a vest and a wire, and the cops handling the equipment in the van would monitor him while he met with Bergman.
As far as the guys in the van were concerned, they'd be keeping me in the loop about what was happening, but I'd be out there in the parking lot of Petro keeping my own tabs on my partner. Blair had thought that Bergman might have seen the two of us together on campus when Blair was a T.A., so I had to stay out of sight, but I'd be listening the whole time.
I was wondering why Simon and Blair hadn't left yet, since they were still by the van. Simon was giving Blair a ride in his car to the rendezvous with Bergman. He and Joel, who was already in position at Petro, would be in the restaurant for immediate backup. I listened in to find out what the holdup was.
"Are you positive you have to do it this way, Sandburg?'
"Yeah, Simon. Like I told Jim, don't worry; I'll be fine."
"Uh-huh. You told me you felt fine that time we were in Clayton Falls, too. Remember? Right before you passed out? I'm not sure we have the same definition of the word," Simon grumbled.
"It's my call, Captain. I think it's necessary in order to be realistic. Believe me, after I sold my car I spent plenty of time hitchhiking, sometimes in the rain. Bergman knows I'm thumbing it, and if I don't show up looking soaked, he might get suspicious. I need him to believe that I'm alone in the world and without resources; this way I'll look the part." Blair patted Simon's arm reassuringly. "I'm going to go talk to Jim for a moment; I'll meet you at the car."
Simon shook his head, and then hurried to his car. Blair walked slowly over to me, the rain darkening his sweatshirt and jeans.
I rolled my window back down and took a good hard look at him. His honey-colored skin was paler than normal, and he looked bedraggled; dark curls were sticking wetly to his forehead and cheeks.
"Hey," he said softly.
I smiled at him. "Got the vest on, Junior?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother.
I beckoned him to step up closer to the window, and when he complied I gently reached inside his sweatshirt, my hand pausing on the side of his neck to feel his pulse -- steady and reassuring -- and then I cupped the back of his neck.
Blair's eyes darkened, and he shivered; I enjoyed the change in his scent as he started to become aroused. When his breathing increased to a faster rate, I languidly trailed my hand along his jaw line, stopping to outline his lips with my finger, his mouth obediently opening as I slipped my finger into his hot, wet mouth.
He suckled gently on it for a long moment, before I withdrew it. Indulging myself, I tugged on the partly visible chain around his neck, pulling free the necklace I'd first given him in friendship and rededicated early this morning as a pledge of my commitment. It felt warm in my hand, the many-pointed star a soft silver gleam in the gray light. I closed my hand protectively around it, sheltering it from the beating rain, and then slipped it home, gently brushing against the soft hairs on his upper chest. I wanted to touch his nipples, tweak them into hard nubs, but instead I sighed and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead.
The kiss confirmed what I'd learned from cupping his neck. He was still running a low fever, and it had gone up a notch; it felt a little over one hundred degrees.
"Take some Tylenol. You can't afford to let that fever get any higher, not and be able to stay sharp."
He looked annoyed as he realized I'd checked him out, but he nodded. I found the container and got two capsules out, and handed them to him, along with a bottle of water.
I waited until after he'd finished drinking before talking to him again. We needed to move along to Petro and wait for Bergman to appear, but I knew he hadn't left campus yet since H and Connor were tailing him and hadn't alerted us.
The man had been surprised to hear from Blair, and had jumped at the chance to talk to my partner away from Rainier, the panic in his voice apparent to me. Soon afterward, H had reported his change of location to Robinson Hall. Blair had said that it was a science building and housed some chemistry and geology labs, along with classrooms. I thought it odd that Bergman would put off meeting with Blair to take care of some other errand first; I had scrutinized the sound of his heart over the phone, and it had hammered out alarm with every beat. The guys from Major Crimes assigned to this detail agreed that something was hinky; we didn't want to spook our quarry, so Conner planned on unobtrusively checking out his movements within the building, and H would tail him to Petro, then circle back and pick up Connor.
Blair handed the empty water bottle back to me, and I grasped his hand. "We invited Simon out for a steak dinner when we're done with this case. I told him we had something to discuss with him."
His eyes got bigger, reinforcing my image of him as a street urchin. "Are you sure, Jim?" He didn't elaborate; there was no need for the cops in the van to hear that we planned to tell Simon that we were lovers. We'd discussed this morning how out we wanted to be for hours on the way here from Montana, Blair not wanting me to do anything that made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe, and for my part, I didn't want him denying what we were to each other to people he cared about.
"Yes. It'll be all right, Blair. And... good luck, partner."
He shivered again, but this time it wasn't from arousal. "See you soon, Jim." He squeezed my hand hard before releasing it and striding to Simon's car.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
I made Simon drop me off at the exit ramp and I walked the half mile down to Petro. By the time I pushed open the restaurant door, I was soaked.
Good. Well, good in that I knew my appearance would reassure Bergman that I was pretty powerless. Not so good in that once again, cold and wet was my world. I longed for a cup of hot coffee, and I knew the java would be decent at this place, because I'd often refueled and grabbed a meal at a Petro when I was driving an eighteen-wheeler. Pushing down my hood, I glanced unobtrusively around. Joel and Simon were sitting where they could cover the front door, and I was glad I had backup nearby, although I wasn't anticipating any problems.
The hostess collected some menus when I told her I was meeting someone, and I followed her to a booth, squelching the entire way. The other diners looking up to see who was making the racket, and I slid into the booth feeling a little self-conscious. Bergman would be here soon. Simon had gotten word that our quarry had finally left campus right before he'd stopped the car to let me get out.
Chancellor Bergman...
The jerk had helped to make my life miserable this past year; I hoped that I was a good enough actor to pull off not showing my resentment and anger at his actions. He wasn't going to get away with lying to the cops about me and trying to make me the number one suspect in Marie Edwards' death. Not to mention he must have continued sending out those fire-this-guy letters to my employers after he'd killed her.
He'd ended a human life. She'd been far from my favorite person, but she hadn't deserved to die at his hand. Jesus, there must have been another path he could have taken, no matter what provocation he felt.
Boy, his Karma was surely in the toilet.
"Hun, what happened to you? Were you changing a tire out in this rain?"
The waitress, a round little woman in her fifties with bright red hair, was filling my water glass and looking askance at me. I was kind of dripping on the seat. I shrugged. Leaving the sweatshirt on would help assure that Bergman wouldn't notice the vest.
"No. I don't have a tire, let alone a car to attach it to. I was hitchhiking."
Her demeanor changed from concern about the state of my being to concern about the state of my wallet. I sighed and dug out a couple of bucks to lay on the table.
"I'm meeting somebody for coffee. Um... how much is a cup of joe, anyway?"
She smiled tiredly at me, probably resigning herself to no tip. "You've got enough there for coffee and refills for two. Want a cup now, sweetie?"
I shook my head and pocketed the money; my mind wandered a little as she walked away.
She'd called me sweetie. My mom called me that, too, and for the first time in months I actually wanted to talk to my mother. I wanted to tell her about me and Jim, explain to her that I was serious about him and that we were going to make things work this time.
I hoped. Things had turned around between us, but, man... at times today I'd wondered how we'd do when the next pile of shit hit the fan. But we'd really talked over the last few days and a lot of things had gotten said that needed to be said, and he'd listened to me and I'd listened to him. I had taken the plunge and let myself trust him on things I hadn't trusted him with when we first were lovers.
I'd told him the secrets I'd kept close and he'd been great about them. He'd understood that I'd had to protect my mom from being in trouble for forging my name. He hadn't seen me as damaged goods, either, when I'd told him about being sexually abused as a kid. And... it had been kind of freeing to release those secrets. "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free" was inscribed over the door of Matthews Hall, I guess to inspire generations of Rainier English majors. I'd read that inscription several times a week since I'd been a freshman, unless I was out of town traveling or working or on an expedition, but I'd never really thought about those words in relation to my own life before.
Good words. I'd try and keep them in mind.
"Blair?"
I jumped in my seat. I'd been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed Nathan Bergman walking up to my booth. 'Christ, Sandburg, get it together.'
Nathan looked pretty much like the last time I'd seen him, a tall man, but not as tall as Jim, well-dressed, although there was a little more gray in his hair. He came across initially as being a little more old-fashioned than his actual years, but that impression was dispelled once he engaged you in a conversation. He had progressive views and although he wasn't particularly funny himself, he enjoyed a good joke or story. I'd really liked him, and he was popular amongst the students and faculty.
I skidded out of the booth and actually stumbled a little into him, and he wrinkled his nose as the “Eau de Sandburg” hit his olfactory organ. He steadied me by supporting my elbow, and I beamed up at him.
"Nathan, wow, hey, have a seat and let me buy you a cup of coffee. Man, it's the least I can do to thank you for coming here to see me. I could really use your advice -- I've been thinking about hiring a lawyer to sue the university, since my grievance went belly up. And another thing I've been tossing around -- you know, I lived here a long time and I've been wondering if I shouldn't just come back since it hasn't worked out trying to get established somewhere else. But... I don't know if stirring up the past is the best course, or if I should let sleeping dogs lie, you know, since mucking everything back up might just mean I'll end up with fleas, if I lie down with the mutts."
Nathan stared at me for a moment, probably stunned by the weight of the confused cliches I'd thrown at him. Then he shook his head and sat down. He said, a little anxiously, "Blair, did you just say that you're thinking about moving back to Cascade, but you aren't sure if it will really benefit you or not?"
I dropped back onto the bench seat and nodded, then waved at the red-haired waitress, who stopped to pick up a coffee pot before swinging around to our table. My mind was racing and my head was throbbing a little. Stress, I guessed, and I was glad that Jim had suggested taking Tylenol. Seeing Nathan and knowing he had been manipulating me over the last year and a half was harder than I'd thought it would be, but I had to stay focused and get him to admit that he'd bought my car.
After our waitress had filled our cups and left, Nathan pressed his fingers against his temples and tiredly said, "So you've changed your mind about not suing? You told me before that you wouldn't do that because the costs would just be passed along to the students, and you didn't believe that would be fair to them."
I had told him that and I did still believe it, but in order to put some pressure on him I was going to let him think I might sue after all. I'd never claimed that the publication Sid and my mom had pushed had been my dissertation, so there was a solid basis for a grievance and possibly a lawsuit. I would let him talk me out of doing it, and convince me to move on. The relief he'd feel would hopefully make him less guarded about answering questions about my Volvo.
I waved my hands in an exaggerated gesture of frustration. "I don't know what to do, Nathan. I left Cascade ready to move on and start over, but every time this past year when I tried to settle in somewhere, I got blocked. Sometimes, despite the help you gave me with your reference letters, Dr. Edwards' letters badmouthing me would show up." I ran my fingers through my damp mop of hair. "I guess my employers double checked my credentials and Dr. Edwards would send them her letter -- and then I'd get canned. I'm tired of it. I don't want to sue, you know I don't want to do that, but what other choices do I have left? If you have any advice for me, I'd really like to hear it. You're the only person I've kept in contact with in Cascade. Hell, my own mother doesn't even know where I am or what I'm doing."
My voice trailed off tiredly, and I picked up my coffee and took a long swallow. Nathan was watching me, and I could see the pity in his eyes. Guess my cover was solid.
"Hey, but I'm being rude, Chancellor Bergman. How have you been? And when did you take over for Chancellor Edwards? How do you like the job?" There. I was curious to know what he would come up with to explain her death.
"Everything is going well, and I've had the opportunity to implement some changes that I think will really benefit the university. We've increased the health coverage to better benefit teaching assistants and fellows, for example."
"Man, back when I was a police observer I could have really used that; I had more than my share of doctor bills." I gave a soft whistle. "I bet Dr. Edwards had a cow when she heard about increasing the insurance for us lowly graduate students."
"Actually, Blair, she didn't retire and hand the scepter over to me. She died in a car accident. I'm surprised you haven't heard anything about it." He made a suitably sorrowful face.
I feigned shock at his news. Two could play this game.
"A car accident? Holy Krishna, when did that happen?"
"Last summer. She was killed immediately in the accident, so at least she didn't suffer. I took over as temporary chancellor, and two months later was given the permanent position.”
He took a sip of his coffee, and cleared his throat. “Blair, you said your employers are still getting that vicious letter she wrote about you? I hadn't realized that was still happening. I can promise you that I'll put a stop to it. You know I never agreed with her actions concerning you, and I will make sure that any future employers receive a glowing recommendation with copies of your transcript." He leaned a little closer to me over the table. "But son, I'm afraid that there's only so much I can do in regards to your returning to Rainier. Dr. Edwards had nothing to do with your grievance being evaluated as unfounded and, my boy, I'm afraid that you've burned too many bridges to be in good standing with the Anthropology Department. I really feel a fresh start elsewhere would be in your best interest." He reached over the table and patted my arm.
I sighed heavily. "I don't know, Nathan. Maybe you're right. I've got no future here with law enforcement either, not as a consultant or a cop. And the guys I hung out with from the P.D. -- well, they were Jim's friends, not mine, not really. Jim -- do you remember him? Or me talking about him? He was my friend and roommate, not to mention the main guy I observed at the P.D. Well anyway, Jim and I had a falling out and we're not in contact anymore, and I don't expect that to change either; since then his friends have closed ranks, and I'm definitely on the outside of that closed society."
I gave a mirthless laugh. It wasn't hard to sound a little bitter while I painted a bleak picture of myself as friendless and alone. I'd chosen not to contact Connor or H or Simon mostly because anything touching on Jim had been too painful to willingly engage in - even checking in with old friends. But when at odd times, feeling lonely, I had considered picking up the phone and calling anyway, I'd talk myself out it. I'd been afraid of getting the cold shoulder from them, sure that Jim had painted my leaving in the worst way. I had preferred to remember them as my friends, too, even if we had drifted apart before I'd skipped town.
The waitress returned, and after filling our cups, asked if we wanted to order anything else. She looked hopefully at Nathan, but he declined, saying that he would be expected home for supper. I dropped my eyes and shook my head when she inquired if I needed anything else. She bustled away and disappeared into the kitchen. I would leave her a small tip, if I could do it without Nathan noticing. Waiting on tables was hard work, and I'd done my share of it. The last place I'd worked that kind of job had been at The Meeting Place. I'd made pretty good tips there, although I gave an internal wince when I remembered how Jim had thought that my tips were generous because I'd allowed the customers to cop a feel along with me mildly flirting with them. I felt my face flush with heat, and knew it wasn't because of my damn fever.
Nathan noticed. He cocked his head a little and said, "Are you feeling well, son?"
I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm all right." I shoved down the surge of embarrassment that had just overwhelmed me. Back then I'd accepted those touches as something to endure as part of the job. My mind had twisted an unacceptable behavior into something normal. I sighed. The thing about skewed thinking is that you don't know that your perceptions are off until somebody else clues you in. Maybe I needed to talk more about it with Jim until I could accept what I'd done without wincing. I needed to forgive myself for mistakes made in the past and move on. If it came to it, I'd go back into therapy. I wasn't going to let the predator who'd tormented me as a kid keep influencing my life as an adult. Those black holes I'd seen at the edges of my aura were visual proof to me that I still had some healing to do.
A hand waved in front of my eyes and I looked at Nathan. He had an expression on his face that I would have sworn was genuine concern. What a laugh. This guy must be a hell of a poker player; of course, he excelled at university politics and that would polish up anybody's bluffing skills.
“Blair, I want you to think very hard about the ramifications if you sue the university regarding the work that was announced as your dissertation. Certainly, the board could recommend settling out of court to avoid negative publicity. But if you do this, you must understand that you will have blackballed yourself from any further academic situation. Nobody wants to welcome a known troublemaker, and that's what you're going to be considered -- a troublemaker. And if the university chooses to not agree to the terms of your lawsuit and you go to court, your character will be attacked. Probably it would be sensationalized in the news, maybe even on the Internet. Do you want that kind of attention? And initially the university understood from Berkshire Publishing that you had given permission for your dissertation to be published. You clearly revoked that permission, but inquiries were made regarding the situation, and I believe your mother admitted to several people that she had taken the liberty of signing your name for you on Berkshire's authorization forms.”
He looked at me and sadly shook his head.
“If Rainier is sued, the university would certainly try to pass the responsibility and the damages along to the publishing company. And they in turn would try and incriminate your mother, if it could be proved that she was responsible for forging your name. Do you realize that means your mother might end up on the other side of the lawsuit from you?"
He patted my arm again. "I know this has all been terribly unfair, and I want you to know that I'm very sorry for what's been done to you. But at this point, don't we have to look at what is the greater good, and make some sacrifices? It will harm the university to have this all dragged up again, and I do believe you are loyal to your alma mater. And you are correct in stating that the cost of the lawsuit would end up depriving the students of much needed funds. Also, of course, there are the issues I just mentioned that would affect your future."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and stroked his chin. "So... I don't recommend you sue and I don't recommend that you try to return to Cascade. But Blair, let me assure you again that I'll put an end to the letters Dr. Edwards had arranged to be sent to your employers, and that I'll write you a very good letter of reference to accompany your transcripts or proof of your degrees. And, I believe I may have the solution for your academic problems."
He smiled at me, in a paternal kind of way, and when my stomach chose that moment to growl, he beckoned the waitress over.
"Miss, could you bring this young man a cheeseburger and french fries, and hmm... a salad, with -- what kind of dressing would you like?"
I started to protest but he ignored me, so I mumbled thanks at him and asked for ranch on the salad.
While we waited for my order he explained that he would contact the dean of the graduate division at the University of California and pave the way for my acceptance into their Ph.D Anthropology program. As he explained it, the guy owed him a couple of favors, and he would call in his markers for me. I asked all the right questions, and he assured me that his buddy could not only get my Rainier credits accepted, but that I would only have to do a new dissertation. He told me he'd arrange for a job, maybe not teaching any classes, which would probably be too public for right now, but as a research assistant, or grading papers. The bottom line was that I would be guaranteed some sort of position to help offset the cost of graduate school, plus free tuition.
I saw an opportunity to swing the conversation around to my Volvo, and after inhaling the fries and burger that had appeared in front of me, I offered Nathan the bait.
"If I return to school, that means getting even deeper into student loan hell since even with the sweet deal your friend can offer, I'll have to borrow money for books and for living expenses. I've been making a real effort this last year to pay off my loans, and I'm not sure I want to increase them."
Nathan tut-tutted at me. "Blair, you surely realize that not taking advantage of this opportunity would be false economy. Going back to school will postpone your loans, and you'll be able to earn a better salary when you graduate to pay them off. I know you know this, so why are you hesitating?"
I sighed. This was going to be a little more honest than I really wanted to be, and I was very much aware that my partner was listening to every word being spoken here.
"It probably won't make any sense -- but paying off my loans as soon as possible is really important to me. Traveling the way I do and being rootless, well, it kind of eats away at me. And while I've met some nice folks, and seen some old friends, some of them from my childhood, I wasn't really a part of their lives. Maybe if I'd stayed and built on those connections I'd have felt differently, but I've always moved on before they got tired of me being around, since permanent jobs kept getting sabotaged. Any truck driving jobs I've had just added to that feeling of drifting along. But my loans are my responsibility, an anchor to all those years I spent as a student, and it makes me feel normal to send off my payments. I want to pay them off as quickly as possible because it's like an illusion or maybe it'd be more accurate to say it's a delusion, but I feel that when the loans are totally paid back, then my Karma is bound to change. So I try to make extra payments whenever I can. As a matter of fact, the money from you--"
I had been loading up my fork with salad while I was talking and now I shoved it in my mouth and took my time about chewing it. If I stayed silent, then Nathan might feel compelled to finish my sentence.
He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
"The money from me buying your Volvo, you mean? You used all of that to pay off your loans?"
I swallowed my mouthful of salad and answered him. "I used almost all of it to wipe out a good chunk. And can I say, once again, thank you for buying my car. I knew that my baby was going to be in good hands with you. Hey, did you drive here in it? I'd love to see her again."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid that I don't have that car any longer. There was an accident -- I wasn't hurt -- but the car was totaled. I'm sorry to have to tell you that."
I tried to look downcast, and I expressed a pretense of dismay over that news, but I felt like jumping up and doing a victory dance. Mission accomplished.
I finished up the salad, and the waitress asked about dessert or more coffee as she stopped by to take my dishes. Nathan ordered me the fruit salad. I let him; it wouldn't be in character for me to turn it down. He busied himself with writing down the name and phone number of the dean on the Berkley campus who was going to get me back into school, but cautioned me to wait until January 2 before contacting the man, since the guy was going to be out of the country till then. He was insistent that I not try the usual admission process in the meantime. He thought that might force his friend into a corner if I was denied admittance through the usual channels. I pretended to be dubious about waiting until a couple of days before the semester began to try and enroll; I told him I didn't think it would be enough time to get admitted, but he insisted that after a phone call from him, his friend would arrange everything.
"Well, Blair, our time here is nearly ended. What have you decided to do?"
He seemed calm, but maybe learning what Jim could observe from suspects had rubbed off on me -- I could see the fine line of sweat at Nathan's hairline, and his breathing had speeded up.
"I'll take you up on your offer of assistance, and go back to school in California. As a matter of fact, I guess I'll leave from here and hitchhike down there tonight. There's nothing for me in Cascade, and no point to revisiting my old haunts. And, yeah, I don't really want to sue -- I'm afraid it would backfire on me and Naomi." He looked inquiringly at me and I added, "My mom."
I could see his whole body relax with my decision, but I was thrown by the look of sympathy and... sadness he gave me. Jeez, I must look even more pitiful than I had intended.
The waitress returned with the fruit dish, and Nathan asked her for the bill. I pulled out money for the tip, but Nathan told me to put it away.
"I'm getting this, Blair. I'll add on the tip at the register." The waitress smiled at that news and gave the slip of paper to Nathan.
"Wait for me, son, will you?" Without waiting to hear my reply, he left the table and went up to the register. While I ate the fruit -- tempted to leave the bananas alone but I pictured Jim's reproachful face and dutifully shoved them down my throat -- Nathan left the restaurant for the store area. I thought maybe he was using the john, but he returned with a heavy jacket emblazoned with the Jags' name. I had stood up, ready to leave, when he handed me the jacket.
"I want you to have this. And please, toss that sweatshirt in the trash; it's rather ripe and it's worn out."
"Nathan, you don't have to--"
"Let me help make you more comfortable for the next couple of weeks, all right? I think your decision to head down to California and out of this never-ending rain tonight is wise. There's nothing for you anymore in Cascade, and a new life is waiting for you down there. And don't make a fuss about this." He took a roll of bills out of his pocket and wrapped my hand around them. "I don't want any of it back; let's say that in a small way it's some of the compensation you deserve from Rainier. It's enough to pay for shelter till you get back on your feet."
I was conflicted. Here I was gathering evidence that would most likely result in his being found guilty of murdering Chancellor Edwards, and he was bending over backwards to be nice to me. I guess I just didn't understand the guy. He'd helped to make my life difficult for the last year, he probably was the one who had hired hit men to take me out, but he was concerned that I stay warm enough while traveling. Hell, maybe he was feeling guilty, maybe his actions against me hadn't been real to him till now.
Well. Karma always comes around, and his was knocking on the door.
"Go and change, please, and meet me outside, all right? We'll say goodbye there." He nudged me toward the restroom area at the back of the restaurant before heading towards the exit.
I decided to take his advice about the sweatshirt, and after using the facility, employed the sleeve of it as a washcloth to knock back some of the earthy scent that was clinging to me. I also changed into a clean shirt and jeans. If nothing else, Jim would probably appreciate it.
A few minutes later, backpack in hand, I walked out of Petro and looked around for Nathan. I didn't see him, but I did see Simon and Joel hanging out under the overhang, apparently waiting till the rain let up before making a dash to their vehicle. The plan was to not take Bergman into custody until a judge had approved both an arrest and a search warrant, in case he had the car stashed somewhere on his property. He'd be tailed again by Connor and H as soon as he drove away.
Nathan came around the side of the building, and I wondered why he'd ducked over there. He had a large insulated travel mug with him, the thermos kind that I'd used when I was truck driving, and as he came closer he handed it to me.
"Coffee for your trip, Blair. And I'm sure that if you ask around when people are leaving, you'll find somebody traveling south. I'm heading back into Cascade, but I'll wait with you till you find a ride."
He gripped both of my shoulders and squeezed them. "I'm sorry, Blair, for all the trouble you've been put through. You're a fine young man, and you didn't deserve to have to sacrifice so much." He let go of me and indicated the thermos mug I held. "Drink up, my boy, before it gets cold."
I just held onto the mug. I wasn't born yesterday. Even though Bergman had bent over backwards to be nice to me tonight, he had been manipulating me for the past year. He almost certainly had murdered Marie Edwards. I wasn't going to let my guard down.
Jim's voice boomed out into the evening. "Blair! Move away from him and for God's sake don't touch the liquid in that cup!" I followed his orders while Bergman looked up in confusion. I felt kind of sorry for him, even though I was suspecting he'd drugged my drink.
It looked like the arrest was going down right now; Joel and Simon moved in quickly from the left, and Simon ordered Bergman to place his hands on top of his head. He complied, with a shocked look on his face, and then he started demanding that he be released, and asking why he was being detained.
Jim walked straight to me, and I smiled at him. "Hi, partner."
Said partner took a napkin out of his pocket and gently took the thermos from me, wrapping it in the layers of paper. "You've got to cut back on the caffeine, Chief. It's not good for you."
"I think I agree with you, Jim."
Simon was cuffing Bergman, and Jim took the thermos over to him, a furious look on his face. Bergman's angry protests stopped as Jim shoved the mug right under his nose.
"You can leave, Bergman, if you'll drink this coffee you gave Blair first." Bergman closed his eyes and his whole body slumped. He shook his head.
"No? Well, then, Nathan Bergman, you're under arrest for the murder of Marie Edwards -- and the attempted murder of Blair Sandburg. Blair isn't going to be your sacrifice any longer. Joel, care to read the man his rights?"
Joel gave the Miranda warning, and Simon and Jim discussed the logistics of moving Bergman to Booking. I went back over to Nathan after he agreed that he understood his rights.
"Nathan. I'll give you your money and the jacket back, but I want to know what's in the coffee. You might as well tell us, because it will be going to the lab for analysis." I was betting on Rohypnol or GBH, something that would have made it hard for me to know what was going on. I suspected that the ride to California would have been in Bergman's car, and that it would have been the last time I ever hitchhiked.
Bergman refused to look at me, and I did my aura trick -- and his aura was dimmed by muddy blue, green, and gray shades. I wasn't going to be able to heal him without his consent, but maybe... I called on the power of my animal spirit. I felt a surge of -- not exactly power, but...
"Nathan. I know that you've suffered." I could hear the compassion in my own voice and I knew I sounded compelling. "But it's over now and you don't have to keep any more secrets. Those secrets will be freed. You can control how we learn about them by telling us what happened to make you choose murder, but if you don't, you'll have no say in your own story. Isn't it time to tell that story? Make a first step, man. What's in the coffee?"
Bergman looked at me then, and bit his lip. He made the decision; I could see it in his eyes.
"It's acrylamide. It's a chemical and it's very dangerous." The effort of admitting what he'd done seemed to overwhelm him then, and he fell silent.
Joel, however, reacted with shock. "Good Lord, we're going to need Hazmat out here. Simon -- can you go inside and get a couple of plastic or glass containers. Until the Hazmat unit arrives, we need to secure that mug and Jim and Blair need to wash their hands, and the wash water needs to be saved."
Jim carried the thermos out into the parking lot away from the restaurant and set it down on the ground.
Joel called for the Hazmat team to come out, and then took one of the containers Simon had gotten from the kitchen -- an empty five gallon pickle jar - and cautiously picked up the thermos mug wearing gloves and a mask he had gotten from his car. He placed it carefully inside the large jar and screwed on the lid. Joel helped Jim and me and also Bergman rinse our hands, saving the wash water in another pickle jar.
H and Megan left their vehicle and joined us, but Joel regretfully told them they needed to keep their distance. They loudly told me hello and that this was just like old times, with me in the middle of trouble once again, and Megan blew me a kiss before Simon sent them back to the station.
When the Hazmat team arrived, they put Bergman, Jim, and me through on-site decontamination, then decided that we needed to go to the hospital for further decontamination, although Bergman protested that he had a doctorate in chemistry and knew exactly what he'd been doing and there was no contamination.
Right.
Nobody felt like taking his word for it, so he was taken under guard by a couple of uniforms -- Kohl and Johnson, I'd met them before -- to the hospital, and then he'd be transferred to Booking.
Jim and I drove ourselves over to the hospital. Jim didn't think we had been in contact with the poison, he couldn't feel or smell anything on our hands, but we weren't going to take any chances. We both were wearing latex gloves, as a precaution against spreading any contamination, and we'd sponged down and changed clothes under a privacy tarp the Haz-mat guys had provided. I shivered -- the scrubs provided by the unit weren't exactly warm.
I looked at the city streets, wet and shiny, as we made our way to Cascade General.
"Jim? How did you know he'd put something in the coffee? I mean, I wasn't going to drink it -- not something that had been out of my sight -- but you knew for sure that it had been messed with."
"Well, for one thing Connor had checked out his movements in that science building and had let us know that he'd spent time in a chemistry lab. And then, when you were in the bathroom, he bought the thermos and had the waitress fill it only partly full with coffee. And that that seemed off. Why not fill it up? Then he went out to his car with it and I could hear him fiddling with some bottle or jar, and then he started talking to himself, asking for forgiveness. He said, 'I'm so sorry, Blair, I really am, forgive me, but I need to do this for the greater good.' So when he gave you that travel mug and urged you to drink up, that was the last clue. I had told the others that I'd seen him tampering with it -- I'd gotten out of the truck by then and was doing recon -- and that we could bust him right here as soon as he handed you the thermos."
I grinned at him. "It must have just about killed you to wait before warning me. Thanks, partner, for trusting me to have my wits about me."
Jim squeezed my thigh. "I wanted so badly to keep him away from you. And now that I know for sure that he was going to poison you -- well, I might need a lot of reassurance after we put this case to bed."
I laughed as his hand traveled further up my thigh. "Hey, reassuring my sentinel is a specialty of mine." He teased me briefly before moving his hand back to the steering wheel.
"Jim? Am I done now with protective custody?" God, I hoped so. I didn't want to go to a safe house; I wanted to go back to the loft. With him.
"Not until Bergman confesses about the hit men he hired to take you out. It's probably going to be a long night -- I'll want to hammer him hard while he's still in shock over being arrested, before he decides to lawyer up. Maybe you should go to a safe house and get some rest."
I shook my head determinedly. "Nope. I'll just hang in the bullpen and wait for you."
"Fine by me. But you can't be in on the interrogation."
"Yeah, I know. I think I'll use your computer and research the effects of acrylamide and find out just what kind of death Bergman had planned for me."
Jim shuddered, and I released my seat belt and scooted over next to him. He slung his arm around my shoulders, and I re-buckled, before relaxing against him. He made the turn onto Miller Avenue, taking us closer to the ER. That should be fun. Oh, well, I couldn't deny that I could use a hot shower.
Man, I was back in Cascade. Wistfully, I wondered if returning would feel like coming home.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
Continued in A Fair Distance:Comes a Time. Chapter Two
Laurie