A Sea Change. Part 3 -- A

[laurie_ky]

Let your indulgence set me free

The Tempest: Shakespeare.




Master Post for A Sea Change



Part Three

Carelessness. Crankiness. Concealment. Crimes. Confessions.

I wanted to pace in the bullpen, to move, to... to... prowl, as Sandburg would have put it. The florescent lighting was making my eyes feel like they were filled with sand and the air hung with too many unpleasant odors. I wanted to leave, but I had a job to do. No matter how much I wished I was out of the office and out in the late spring air.

I'd felt on edge for a couple of weeks now, and I didn't know why. My irritation level had climbed, so much so that my guide was avoiding me. But maybe that was a good idea. I didn't want to say something to him in a flash of anger that would make his features tighten into his 'Whatever you say, Jim' mask.

Snarling under my breath, I forced myself to file away the case notes on the last investigation Blair and I had closed. These were my copies; I'd already sent Blair down to Filing with the originals, and that had been a good hour ago. Uh-huh, he was avoiding me. Probably down there flirting with Aimee again. They hadn't gone out, not yet, but it was just a matter of time before her name was added to the long list of women Blair had dated since returning to Cascade. Not that it really meant much. Blair would lose interest after a couple of dates and move on. It was as if he was held back from forming a deeper relationship with another partner - male or female. At least out of deference to me, he didn't date men at the PD. No, Rainier and bars were his stomping grounds for connecting with other men, but all the potential lovers he sought - boys and girls -- would shift to just friends or drop him after the brief sexual encounters were finished.

The sound of Brown and Connor play-sparring with each other drew my attention away from shoving papers into the correct folders, and I watched them for a moment until one of Connor's fancy kicks came a little too close to my work space. With gritted teeth, I admonished her. "Connor, go kick Brown's ass somewhere else; you almost knocked shit off of my desk."

"Always the happy camper, aren't you, Jimbo? Where's Sandy? Out flirting again? Drives you right up the wall when he's busy chatting up a girl instead of being your shadow, doesn't it?"

Megan Connor wasn't known for pulling her punches, physically or verbally, and she waited to see if I would poke back at her. I waved my hand for her to disappear and she walked over and gave Brown, who was slouching at his desk, a love-tap on the back of his head before pulling up a chair next to him.

Blair did go out a lot, but at least he hadn't brought any of his dates back to the loft to fuck. I'd made it a house rule -- no Sandburg slash date-of-the-week sex in my loft. He'd agreed to that condition when that crappy warehouse he'd lived in down by the docks had exploded, along with the drug lab next door, and Blair had in desperation asked if he could stay with me until he found a new place. He'd had Larry, his hairy little roommate, to deal with, and believe me, it's not everybody who would let a guy move in with his Barbary ape buddy. But Blair had pleaded with me, and I couldn't stand the thought of my guide being homeless, so against my better judgment I had said he could. He could stay for one week, I'd told him, remembering the first time Blair had stayed with me. I had thought it would be tough to see him in the mornings, sleepy-eyed and tousled, and not want to push past the boundaries we'd established after his decision to stay in Cascade and be my guide. And it was. But it was sweet, too.

Larry had tossed the place twice before Blair finished his research project and returned the little guy. Actually, I had liked Larry. It was kind of fun sharing popcorn with him while he watched the endless rounds of movies Blair subjected him to in order get data on exposure to TV violence. But when Larry moved back to Rainier's labs, I hadn't wanted to let Blair go back to living by himself.

We'd had a long talk, my ex-lover and I. But even though my marriage to Carolyn had fallen apart after eight months of less than wedded bliss and I'd been divorced for a good five months by then, I still hoped to get married again someday. When I suggested he continue to live with me and that we could resume fucking each other, he'd reminded me that I couldn't have my cake and eat it, too. If I was stuck on only seeing women openly, then I wasn't going to fuck him on the side in secret. I'd agreed in order to get him to stay with me. We'd just be friends and roommates, I'd told him.

But I touched him much more than was acceptable between friends. He never stopped me and I wasn't going to quit it unless he told me it was making him uncomfortable. I did try and tone it down while he was with me at the PD. But at home, I often pulled him over next to me on the couch and held him securely against me, reveling in touching my guide. I enjoyed those small indulgences and I knew Blair did too. I was a sentinel, and my guide had taught me to recognize the truth through scent.

I started to close my file drawer, but was caught, as I usually was, by the sight of two case files. I could never see Lash's name without remembering that terrible day when the crazy motherfucker had taken Blair and tried to assume his life. I'll never forget locating my guide in the maze of abandoned warehouses down by the harbor through hearing him taunt the serial killer, or seeing him tied up, helpless but defiant, in that dentist chair of Lash's. My Blair had balls, all right. IA had been a little skeptical as to why I'd shot the bastard so many times, but they couldn't deny the imminent harm to Blair if the fucker had survived. God, I'd wanted so badly to make love to Blair when I got him home from the hospital. But he had said no. He did sleep with me for a couple of days afterwards, but he made it clear that he was there for comfort, not sex. In my bed I had pulled him in tight and whispered to him that he was safe. It seemed to help him relax and recover from that terrifying occasion. Lash was dead and when I saw his name I always felt a sense of relief that he couldn't hurt my guide ever again. Case closed.

I brushed my hand over the other file and decided to pull it out. I opened it and looked at Jack Pendergrast's photo. I'd finally cleared his name, but it was small consolation, considering he had died in that kidnapping case. All the speculation that Jack had stolen the money himself to pay off hidden gambling debts had been laid to rest once his car and his body - with the money - had been discovered in a river, but damn, I missed the man. He'd been my only cop partner in Major Crime; he'd gotten me to shape up and stop being a horse's ass in a lot of ways. Blair had taught him how to bring me out of a zone - it was best if Blair did it, but sometimes Blair wasn't around - and Jack had been able to handle me. I smiled a little, remembering how Jack had gotten Blair to reveal his method of betting on the horse races, in exchange for Jack learning how to deal with my sentinel senses. Jack had believed in 'quid pro quo.' Blair believed in Karma, and between the two of them they used to really shovel the shit during all night stakeouts.

Jack and Emily had broken it off, shortly before he disappeared, and Caro and I had been divorced for a month, when Em and I had made love. It had been awkward, and we both felt like we were cheating on Jack and had decided we couldn't see each other anymore. I believe Emily would have gone back to Jack, if he hadn't been killed. Not knowing what had happened to him had been extremely hard on her.

It had been hard on me, too.

One last time, I touched his picture and replaced it in the folder. Shoving the file back into my desk, I stood up, left the bullpen, and hiked down to the men's room; I needed an excuse to leave and move around, and visiting the restroom was good cover. I stalled for a while after using the john, and after I washed my hands I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked tired and edgy. What in hell was wrong with me?

I hadn't been sleeping well. I'd had some of my vision dreams but all I'd seen in them was a spotted jaguar. Shit, I wished Incacha had shown up in those dreams so I could've asked him about the big female cat, but he hadn't obliged me. And I didn't want to talk to Blair about it because being around him was giving me an unsettled feeling. He... didn't smell right anymore. He hadn't for a couple of weeks. It was driving me nuts, since I kept bouncing back and forth between telling him to move out and wanting to strip him and wash him and then lay myself over him - and fuck him.

I stifled the urge to give myself the finger as I looked at my reflection in the mirror - all I would need would be for Brown or somebody to walk in and the story would be all over the building. I decided to ask Simon if I could take some flextime. Maybe go camping, try and get my head together. Before I'd almost drowned, I would have headed for the beach and the waves, but I hadn't been on my board for three years now. I kept telling myself that someday I'd tackle it again and get over this ridiculous phobia, but so far that day hadn't arrived. Blair, on the other hand, was always clamoring to go down to the ocean. Usually he went alone. Sometimes I went with him, but we only walked or watched the waves. He never tried to swim - well, he would need a wet suit and he didn't have one - but he could sit for hours and watch the ocean swells and the waves crashing on the shore.

At times like those, watching the expression on his face as he gazed out at the sea, I'd wonder again
about my half-baked idea that he was a selkie. I never had given him back his choker, although I wore it less and less, especially if he was spending the day with me. Blair's presence and the frequent touches between us would ground my senses and I hardly ever zoned anymore if he was around.

I walked out of the men's room, and on a whim, I headed down to Forensics. Carolyn was in her office when I pushed open the door.

"Jimmy? What can I do for you?" Carolyn smiled at me, and I was very glad that our divorce hadn't been bitter. We both had decided that it had been a mistake to get married. I realized a month or so after our vows were exchanged in Los Vegas that I'd been more enthralled with the idea of being married than with the person I'd actually married. Caro had found out that compromising with a marriage partner wasn't something she wanted to do, not when she wasn't in love with her husband and he wasn't in love with her. Oh, we'd grown to love each other, but we'd needed the head over heels feelings, too, in order to make the marriage work. So we had divorced with a sense of relief and had remained friends.

There'd been a few other women who had caught my eye over the last several years, but nothing had clicked for more than a few dates. Except for Lila, when she'd chosen to look me back up. And she'd died in my arms.

"Caro, I don't know what to do with myself. So, I thought maybe I'd invite you out to dinner tonight, before I leave tomorrow to go camping. If Simon will agree to me using up some of my flextime, that is."

"I don't have dinner plans, so sure, as long as you don't drag me to Wonderburger. Is Blair going camping with you?"

"No. I feel like I need some space from him. And I don't know why; he hasn't done anything recently to get on my nerves."

"Jim, maybe you should talk to him. He's your guide and this could be related to your senses."

I eyed her in bemusement. "That's a switch, you wanting me to spend time with Sandburg." Caro had never really taken to Blair; he knew it, but he said he liked her anyway and just hoped that she'd warm up to him someday.

She looked away for a moment and then met my gaze. "I admit I felt jealous of him, of the way you would mention him all the time, and the enjoyment I knew you had in his company. I didn't like feeling that way and I've been working on letting it go."

'Letting it go?' That sounded suspiciously like one of the hippie sayings Blair was fond of quoting from his mother.

"You've been talking to Sandburg. I recognize the lingo." I pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Well, you know, for a while he was hanging around here a lot, when he and Sam were... dating." She trailed off, probably trying to think of a better word to describe the interactions between the beautiful but demanding lab technician and my partner.

"Yeah, dating doesn't seem to cover the part where she tried to burn his face." I hadn't much cared for Sam before that incident, and afterwards I'd wanted to throttle her for trying to hurt Sandburg. Not that I hadn't warned Blair that messing with her was going to end badly. I'd seen that train wreck coming a hundred miles away. But had he listened to me? Nope, and I'd told him I hoped he learned his lesson from playing with fire.

"That incident cost her a pay raise because of the disciplinary action I had to take against her. But Blair and I ended up having a talk one afternoon - about you. He told me that, anthropologically speaking, relationships don't end just because the judge decrees a divorce is final. And that I would probably always feel a connection to you and that it was okay to feel that way. Oh, I don't know, Jimmy. I'm not sure how he managed it, but I don't resent him anymore, or how well you two get along. I think he'd do anything for you. And I saw how much you cared about him when Lash almost killed him. The way you used your senses to figure out where he'd been taken was, to quote your guide, 'Awesome.'"

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. "You're right about talking to Sandburg, but I'll do it after I spend some time alone. Right now, I'm afraid I'll say something to anger him, and since I don't even know what it is that's making me feel so... irritated about him, I'd better figure that out first. I mean, yeah, we'd had words about the first chapter of his dissertation - I wish he'd get over using the term 'fear-based response' as the reason for the choices I've made - but I apologized for reading his introduction when he asked me not to, and we were good again after he agreed I could read his diss before he turns it in. All of that was settled. I don't know why being around him now makes me feel frustrated and annoyed... But never mind me dumping my problems with my guide on you." I rubbed at my temple. "When can you get away from here?"

She glanced at the clock on the wall and back at the paperwork on her desk. "I need to finish up this report on a string of robberies that've been taking place. Although I have a feeling Burglary and Theft is about to toss the case upstairs to Major Crime. This thief has been amazing in the way he or she has gotten around the alarms. Give me a half an hour - without interruptions - and I'll have it completed." She nodded towards the door and I got up.

"I'll go talk to Simon. And then tell Sandburg to take the bus home." He'd ridden one from Rainier to the PD after he'd taught his 101 Anthro class this morning. He was fine riding busses. He didn't need me to chauffeur him around.

"Jim, why don't you go with me and let Blair drive your truck home?"

I thought about it for a moment, but shook my head no. "If I'm not there, I don't want him messing with my stuff. It's... part of this irritable thing. He can catch a bus."

I headed out, with a little wave to Carolyn, but she'd already gone back to working on the computer.

Walking back up to Major Crime, I thought about where to camp for a long weekend. And how to tell Sandburg I needed some time alone.




Dinner with Carolyn was like old times. Too much so, because I had a flare-up of my taste buds going crazy again. At least by now, I knew it was me, not the food, and I managed to not make a scene or accuse the chef of trying to poison his customers. Damn. I'd left the choker in its hiding place on the bathroom shelf and hadn't worn it, since Blair was going to be tagging around after me for part of the day. Of course, I hadn't touched him much today or even in the last several weeks, so I guess I was throwing myself off balance by not connecting with him... I went through the exercises my clever guide had devised to help me through sensory spikes and soon I was able to finish eating. Carolyn brought up some Plummer family news: her screwball sister was about to get married again for the fourth or fifth time and her dad was retiring. More importantly, she told me she'd applied for a job as head of all the forensic labs at the San Francisco PD. She said that she felt she needed to stretch herself, and that it would be a substantial pay raise. She was flying down for an interview next week. I could tell that she was feeling good about making a change and I wished her luck. And told her I would miss her.

We both were feeling kind of nostalgic, talking over some of the better times of our marriage, when she brought us back to the PD parking garage. She had left her briefcase in her office so we both got out of her car and she walked me over to my truck, shaking her head as she always did when she saw my Sweetheart. Caro had no appreciation for my classic '69 Ford. Her own cars had always been the latest models and she traded them in yearly.

"Jimmy, I hope that at least your vehicle insurance is lower since you've been driving this relic."

"As a matter of fact, it is." It wasn't the only reason I drove an older model, but it did help lower my premiums. A guy has a few accidents in the line of duty and the insurance companies jack his rates up sky-high. The bandits.

She laughed, and I felt a flash of the old attraction. I moved closer and kissed her. I put into that kiss all the affection I had felt for her - actually still felt for her -- before I'd realized that it wasn't enough to base a marriage on. She melted into me and passionately kissed me back. When we separated, she touched my face.

"If you'd kissed me like that when we were married, Jimmy, we might still be married." Then she smiled ruefully at me. Compatibility in bed hadn't been enough for either of us, though. It was in satisfying her emotional needs that I'd failed. Or so she'd told me. And told Sandburg, when he'd interviewed her for his diss. It had pissed me off, when I'd read that in his introductory chapter.

She walked away and over to the elevators. As she went inside I said, loud enough so that he could hear me, "You can come out now, Sandburg."

Annoyed, I watched as my partner came around the pillar he'd been hiding behind. I assessed him as he came closer -- Blair had told me cataloging his body when seeing him after we'd been away from each other was a natural thing to do, according to his research -- he didn't look much different from the hippie boy I'd picked up in that little bar in La Push three years ago. Except for his expression. There was wariness on his beautiful face that I knew I was responsible for putting there. And I was sorry for that, but I just couldn't shake this irritability about him off.

"Hey, Jim."

"Spying on me, Sandburg? Thought I told you to take a bus home. Let's go."

After I'd pulled out onto the street, Blair began talking.

"Jim, how are things going for you?
You've hardly said two words to me in a row for a while now. Have you been feeling okay? How are your senses?"

And I knew he was just doing his job as my guide, but his scent was making me want to tell him to get out and walk, and I ended up grousing at him.

"What I'm feeling here, Chief, is the need for a little space. And have you changed your soap or deodorant? The way you smell is seriously bothering me."

Blair looked worried. "I haven't changed anything, Jim. Can you tell me more about what's bothering you about me?"

I fought down the urge to tell him 'everything.' It wasn't true, for one thing. I loved Blair, and this was why I'd been avoiding having this conversation. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I'd figure out what wild hair had crawled up my butt and was making me feel so cranky, and then I'd be able to tell him about it.

"Just... let it drop. I'm sure it's me, not you, but I can't be around you right now. Simon okayed me taking a long weekend, and camping sounds pretty good."

He looked over at me eagerly. "Okay, I'm down with that. Where do you want to camp? I'm always up for going to Deception Pass."

I snapped then, throwing away my intention of not hurting his feelings. "You don't really listen to what I tell you, do you, Chief? I said I can't be around you because you bother the hell out of me. I'm going alone to try and figure this thing out. And I'm not interested in camping at Deception Pass; I'd rather skip the beach and go up high into the mountains." I sighed. "Blair, please, we'll talk after I come back."

"Well, can we at least talk about something other than how I smell to you? Jim, I've tried to tell you about this woman I've met--"

"Forget it, Sandburg. I'm not interested in hearing about your latest girlfriend." If Blair didn't shut up soon, he was going to find himself walking home.

"She's not my girlfriend. Jim, I think she's--"

"One more word, Sandburg, and you're walking. You. Have. To. Shut. Up. Now!"

Blair gave me an exasperated look and mimed closing his mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key. At last, he got the message.

We rode home in blessed silence.




I'd left in the morning before Blair had even started doing his morning wake-up rituals. After all this time, I knew them by heart. First, he would start flopping around in bed like a fish resisting being reeled in. But he wouldn't be awake. Then his eyes would start to open, but they'd drift shut again. He still wouldn't be awake, but he would answer you when you talked to him. He never did make any sense, which could be amusing. I liked to tease him sometimes by telling him later what he'd said to me. Chief, did you know that what you wanted for breakfast today was a case of motor oil? In a last ditch attempt to avoid totally waking up, he would start awake, sigh, then put the pillow over his head and try to go back to sleep. After a few moments, though, he would give in to the inevitable and toss the pillow away and stare up at the ceiling. Or at me, if we were in bed together. Back when we'd been having sex, that would be when he would sidle over to me and start caressing my chest, letting his hand roam further south until I got tired of him teasing me, and then I'd roll on top of him. Morning sex with him had been slow and sweet, his body warm and pliable, relaxed from his night of sleep.

Funny how being away from him was allowing me to think of him tolerantly, even allowing me to bring up some cherished memories.

The primitive camping area at Big Grieder Lake was where I'd chosen to set up, and I was able to secure one of the three sites high up the rocky basin. I loved being in the Cascade Mountains; for most of the day I'd hiked, and then fished for my supper till close to dusk. The two bass I'd caught were more than enough for the evening meal and breakfast. After I'd cleaned up, I'd done a lot of staring into the fire, trying to clear my mind before I'd went to bed.

I'd slept well, but didn't remember any dreams, blue ones or not.

The next three days were a welcome repeat of the first day. The weather was good and I could feel myself relaxing. I decided that my crankiness towards Blair had just been the result of my needing a little vacation and that I'd been unfairly dumping my resentment at my responsibilities in life on him. I would apologize to him when I returned tomorrow morning.

When my dream that night shifted to the blue spectrum, I wasn't expecting it to happen anymore. And there was the spotted jaguar again, sleek and dangerous; I felt an impulse to shoot the big female cat with the crossbow I was carrying, but then my attention was caught by another animal. A wolf -- male, and beautiful -- was circling the jaguar. Sometimes she would snarl at him and sometimes she would be still, allowing the wolf to move slowly closer to her, getting down on his belly at times. The wolf wasn't aware of me. But the jaguar was. She looked right at me and let out a roar that I knew was a mating cry. Then she leapt away, leaving the wolf behind. The wolf took a few hesitant, skittish steps in her direction. I didn't want the wolf to go after the jaguar, and I raised my bow and shot him.

The wolf was dying as I came closer to him. And then his body began changing, the fur morphing to skin. With a sense of horror, I realized that I'd shot Blair. He lay on his side, naked on the jungle floor. Dead. I'd killed my beautiful guide.

I woke up sweating, remembering how in my dream I'd been dressed much as I had when I'd lived with the Chopec -- camouflage markings on my face, my worn-out camo fatigues, shirtless, and with the deadly crossbow that I'd used to kill my partner.

This dream was a warning. The irritation I'd felt back in Cascade towards Blair was going to return when I went home. In a fit of anger, I was likely to hurt my guide. He needed to be kept safe, and it looked like the only way to do that was not to be alone with him. He wouldn't be able to go with me to crime scenes or to interview witnesses, for right now, unless I took another detective with me. Connor would do it, and I hoped I could keep from blowing up at her, too. Megan and I were like oil and water. We just didn't mix well. Not since the first day that she'd worked with Major Crime in the officer exchange program with Australia. But she had figured out what I was, after the hints that I was psychic failed to keep her focused on the wrong theory. She was an excellent detective - not that I would come out and tell her that -- and she'd pestered me about the way I just knew things till I let her in on the secret of my enhanced senses. Unlike me and Connor, Blair did get along with her. More than just get along, actually. They acted like a cross between long lost siblings and best friends from third grade. They'd even exchanged some kisses when they were undercover, but it hadn't gone anywhere. Not that they'd told me that. I'd noticed when I'd done my usual daily assessment of Blair that his lips were touched with her scent.

I could always tell when Blair had had sex with someone - and who that other person was, if I'd met him or her. I'd kept that observation to myself from my very own researcher, though. He didn't need to know everything about me.

Shit -- he couldn't stay with me anymore. I'd have to move him out. After working my way free of my sleeping bag, I started packing up the tent. I needed to get back to Cascade as soon as possible.




I had just crossed into the city limits when I caught sight of the spotted jaguar. The animal kept pace with my truck as I drove the streets, and I wondered what the hell was going on. I looked around to see if the wolf - Blair's spirit animal - was tagging along with her, but she seemed to be alone. Coming to a halt for a stoplight, I was startled when the spirit guide jumped up on the hood of my truck, and stared at me. She was powerful, beautiful, and deadly. I sat quietly and watched her - knowing from the times when I'd seen my own black jaguar that I was the only one around who would be able to see any on-the-loose spirit animals. Drawing attention to myself by yelling at something nobody else could see was not the way to go here.

Time ticked away as the cross traffic flowed in front of me, and the spotted jaguar opened her mouth and roared, while her eyes locked onto mine. Just as in my vision, I knew this was a mating call. So what the hell did the owner of this cat want from me?

The light turned green, and before I could hit the gas to cross the intersection, wondering if the cat was going to be my new hood ornament, she jumped off and bounded away.

I sighed. I fucking hated the spirit world.




I was putting the last of Blair's research papers into moving boxes when I came across his cassette tapes and documentation folders for the interviews he'd conducted with Incacha. Suddenly wishing for his counsel, I stuck one of Blair's tapes in the player so I could hear my old friend's voice again. I sat on the bare futon and looked around at the now bleak little room, while I listened to Incacha answering Blair's questions and my own voice translating the answers.

Blair, of course, had been delighted to have a Peruvian Chopec shaman willing to discuss his people's belief system and shamanistic rituals with him. Sandburg hadn't just focused on the watchmen myth or what Incacha knew of the Temple of the Sentinels, although Incacha's wording had translated as the 'Holy Place of the Bond.' No, Sandburg's curiosity seemed to have known no bounds, from which medicinal plants Incacha used for the tribe's benefit to how Incacha would enter the spirit plane.

And Incacha had been just as curious about Blair.

I listened to Incacha talking to Blair.

"You belong to two worlds, apprentice. You could walk between two worlds. When the time is right, come back to me for instruction."

I shut off the tape recorder.

I had questioned my old friend about what he meant by that on the trip back to his homeland. He'd just repeated the words he'd already spoken. Blair had thought that Incacha was referring to how shamans travel from a physical reality to the spirit world and that he considered Blair a latent shaman. Blair had been thrilled and honored, and convinced that Incacha was mistaken about his potential to become a shaman.

I wasn't so sure that Incacha was only referring to shaman stuff, myself. 'You belong to two worlds,' he had said. Incacha was very precise in his choice of words - and not inclined to explain what he meant to others. He liked them to consider his words and find their own meaning in them.

My feelings about Incacha coming to Cascade had been very mixed. I had been surprised to see my old friend from my days of living with the Chopec appear in my city. He and several other members of the tribe had come to Cascade to stop Cyclops Oil from destroying their lands. And during his time here he had gotten a serious wound from being shot by the Cyclops Oil executive responsible for the ravaging of the Chopec lands.

He'd almost died on my couch and had needed several blood transfusions before he'd begun to recover. Blair or I had stayed with him constantly at the hospital, to help him deal with the culture shock of twentieth century medicine and to make sure his needs were understood by the medical staff. Blair didn't speak much Quechua, but I taught him a few essential phrases and anyway, he seemed to have a sort of empathic sense with Incacha. Maybe because Incacha was a shaman. He'd named Sandburg one, too, and had laid his hands on my partner, saying he was passing the way of the shaman to Blair, while I was trying my damndest to keep him from bleeding out on my sofa.

We had escorted Incacha home, when he was healed, and stayed with him for three weeks afterwards. I found that I remembered more of my time with the Chopec, and Blair had been in hog heaven between testing my senses in the jungle environment and observing the culture of the Chopec. Incacha had spoken to the rest of the tribe and named him his apprentice, but hadn't taught Blair to spirit walk. He told him the time was not right. I was relieved. The jungle plants consumed by shamans had to be used precisely to avoid poisoning the partaker, and still made you pretty sick, and I didn't want Blair to take a chance on harming himself.

Incacha had had a few private words for me. He had made me sit with him, in his hut, and as the afternoon wore away, he had softly quizzed me on my senses, and my guide. Then he had held out his hand and said, "Show me, Enqueri."

I'd debated acting dumb, but this was Incacha. He could enter my dreams and communicate with me. He would know if I lied. And I'd known what he was asking to see.

I'd removed the choker from my ankle and handed it to him. He'd felt the texture of the skin, and pulled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"This was not freely given."

I'd shaken my head.

Incacha had handed it back to me.

"You must face your fears, Enqueri."

"Incacha, is Blair... different?"

"Yes, Enqueri. He belongs to two worlds."

But that was all he would say.

Angrily, I finished packing the last of Blair's belongings, and carried the box out to stack it with the other ones near the front door. I knew this was the right thing to do, to save Blair from me, but I didn't have to like it. And the scent of Blair's body in the loft still was not right and the peace I'd gained in the mountains was being slowly leached away from me. Blair should have enough cash to get a new place; he hadn't given me the rent money yet this month. He would be okay. Better than if he stayed with me, and I needed to remember my anguished feelings when the wolf spirit guide had changed to Blair's naked and dead body.

This was Blair's life I was trying to save, and I was going to have to be harsh to get him to leave. I wouldn't even have to act, not really. I just needed to open the floodgates of the irritability with him I'd been experiencing for weeks now.

Once the loft was emptied of Blair's possessions, the visible proof of his entanglement with me, I waited for him to return. I felt like my spirit animal, readying myself to pounce on my victim when he came through the door.

I didn't give Blair a chance to really talk to me, after I told him I wanted him moved out. He wanted to. He asked me to talk to him, but I cut him off and told him I wanted him and his stuff gone by the time I got back.

I left our home, then, with Blair's bewildered face etched into my memory. When I walked back in, hours later, I was relieved that he was gone, that I didn't have to smell that wrong scent about him anymore. I also felt depressed. But I would still see him at the PD, where he would be safe from me. I hadn't told him his ride-along was over, and Blair would be there. He wasn't done with either of his dissertations; the one on closed societies, which was his cover story, or the one on me. Sure as God made little green apples, Blair Sandburg would be at the PD.

I would have to fend off his questions about my actions. And right now, I didn't want to tell him about shooting him on the spirit plane. He might never trust me again if I told him that. If things changed and I felt it was safe for him to come back, then I could tell him it was a sentinel thing that had made me act so crazy.

It would be the truth, after all

.


Caro had been right on the money; the case she'd been working on had been jumped up from Burglary and Theft to Major Crime and had landed on Connor's desk. Simon assigned me to partner with her, which suited me fine - although I grumbled about it, knowing it would make Banks and Connor suspicious if I didn't - because now Blair could accompany us safely.

Connor and I watched the security footage from the Oberon warehouse, and the way the thief reacted to the alarm strongly reminded me of the way I reacted to loud noises when my senses were spiking. I had a hunch that I was no longer the only sentinel in Cascade, and Connor went with me to Rainier to pick up Sandburg and get his take on my theory.

He wasn't in his office but a beautiful, tall, blonde was, and as I stared at her - hardly able to put two words together to ask her where Blair was -- she morphed into the spotted jaguar from my dreams and jumped through the stained glass window in the office door and disappeared.

It was all in my head, though, because in reality, she was still in Blair's office.

"Inspector," she said neutrally to Connor.

"Ms. Barnes. You're feeling better, I see."

The woman nodded stiffly, put down the small figurine she'd been holding -- eyeing me in a challenging kind of way, and pushed past me. The scent from her body was familiar and I sniffed deeply, trying to place where I knew that fragrance from because I sure as hell had never met her before today. I may have zoned a little, because Connor grabbed my arm after the woman was gone and gave me swift shake.

"Look, mate, snap out of it. Let's go see the department secretary and find out where Sandy is."

But that wasn't necessary because I listened for him and got a fix on his whereabouts in another professor's office. Blair was talking to him about taking one of the professor's labs for him while the man was out of state at a conference.

"He'll be back in a moment. Connor, who was that woman and how do you know her?"

"About three weeks ago, on my way in to the PD, I saw a bingle, and I came across her sitting on the ground, acting a bit wobbly. I thought she'd taken something to make her act that way. But her tests were clear so I let her go." Connor was looking thoughtful.

"What?"

"What Megan said is that Alex was in a car accident and throwing a fit about the light hurting her eyes. Thinking that Alex had taken some hallucinogen, she had a tox screen run on her; when it came back clean she let her go." Blair had stepped into his office.

He looked tired, but I put that aside to question him.

"Who is she, Chief? Why is she here? Are you dating her?"

He gave one of his mirthless chuckles. "She's not interested in dating me, man. I met her when Megan brought her into the PD; been helping her deal with her senses, just like I do - did - with you. I think she's a sentinel, too -- kind of an atypical one, though, because she's not involved with any of the occupations that are more protective of people. I was going to introduce you to each other, after I ran a few more tests. And if I could get you to listen to me. Jim, I tried to tell you about her, but you kept blowing me off."

I was starting to see red. "You went behind my back, sniffing around another sentinel? I consider that a real breach of trust." I strode over to where he stood inside his doorway. I pulled him close to me and breathed in his scent.

"You stink of her. I've smelled that scent on you for weeks now, and it's been driving me crazy."

"Jim! Are you saying that a guide shouldn't interact with another sentinel? Is she a sentinel? Tell me what you're feeling, man!" Blair was looking up at me with confused eyes and I moved away from him, so Barnes' scent on his body wasn't right in my face anymore.

"Pissed off. And she's a sentinel, all right.
Connor, catch Sandburg up on the Oberon heist and what we suspect. I'm going back to the station and run her name. Alex Barnes, correct?"

"Alex Barnes came up clean when I ran her name the night I took her in. Sandy, is that the name you know her by?" Connor was eyeing me, and not in an approving way.

Blair nodded, his expression worried. The woman who'd left this office was a sentinel. I could feel it. My guide had been at the beck and call of another sentinel. I flashed back to my vision of the wolf fawning around the spotted jaguar. I had shot Blair with my crossbow to keep him from following the other sentinel, and I had to keep control of my temper, before I did something to hurt him.

I walked over to the small laughing Buddha on the desk and wrapped it in a Kleenex.

"She was touching this when we came in. I'll see if Caro can expedite a fingerprint search on her. Let's see if she's got another name - and a record for robbery."

"She's an artist. I've seen her work and it's fantastic. Jim, she's been painting the temple that Incacha told us about. The paintings are just like what he described. She couldn't be a criminal; wouldn't I know if she was bad? How can a sentinel act against the tribe? Jim? Wouldn't I know it if a sentinel was doing something wrong?"

I didn't answer him. Not out loud, anyway. I stole something from you, Chief -- and you didn't know it. Blair didn't want to believe that his other pet sentinel had lied to him. Didn't want to believe sentinels could be something other than the heroes he'd always wanted them to be.

My old guilt and my current anger welled up in me. I had never asked to be Blair's hero. I had never asked to be this mythical sentinel. I needed to leave.

"Sandburg, stay with Connor. Barnes could be dangerous. If she's the robber, then she didn't hesitate to shoot a guard and kill him. Connor, I'll meet you back at the PD. See if you can run down any more leads on our artistic Ms. Barnes."

I hadn't told Blair about my visions of the spotted jaguar. Connor knew I was a sentinel, sure, but she didn't need to know the details of just how weird that truly made me. I'd tell him later. He'd be safe with Connor.

Away from me.




I felt increasingly hemmed in as the afternoon waned away, waiting for Caro to get back to me about checking Barnes' fingerprints. She was calling in some favors to get them looked at immediately, and I had promised her a dinner at the best restaurant in Cascade in the way of thanks.

My paperwork was caught up, and I kept obsessively going over the details of the burglary reports we suspected were perpetrated by the same person. The descriptions certainly fit Barnes' physical attributes. I visualized her body - tall for a woman, certainly taller than Sandburg -- the strength that powered her every move. I remembered the look she had given me, challenging and assessing, and my sense memory replayed the scent that had clung to her. Funny, now that it wasn't overlaying Sandburg's own scent, it didn't strike me as being fundamentally wrong anymore. It was... alluring. Criminal or not, Alex Barnes was an attractive woman and... while Sandburg had often told me I was clueless most of the time about dealing with women, I knew she was interested in me. Sexually.

Not that it meant anything. If she was responsible for that guard's death and the thefts from Oberon Securities, then I was going to put her away.

Closing the folders, I replaced them in my file drawer. I'd seen enough. I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache lurking under my temples. My desk seemed too cluttered to me and I began throwing shit away that didn't need to be there, wondering when Connor and Sandburg would show back up.

Why Sandburg insisted on leaving some of his knick-knacks strewn in my space I couldn't guess, but they were going to be boxed up. His other crap I filed in the wastebasket.

I hesitated at the photograph from the racetrack of Jack and Emily, me, Sandburg, and Carolyn. Simon had taken it one day when we'd all made another trek back to try our luck on the ponies.

Three of a kind and a joker. It was my own private joke -- Jack was the joker, of course, and Em, Caro, and Blair were ex-lovers of mine.

I didn't get rid of the photograph, but I did put it in my drawer; I didn't want their eyes on me. I stood up and went down the stairs to Records to see if I could cadge an empty paper box to dump Sandburg's belongings into.

My simmering irritation zoomed right up into serious annoyance when I returned. There at my desk sat Brown, using my phone, his half eaten sandwich and a case file parked on my desktop.

Well, I'd make sure Brown and the rest of the slobs crowded into Major Crime understood that my desk -- my phone -- my space-- were off limits.




I was pissed that Simon had sent me home just for making it clear to my co-workers that I expected my desk to be forbidden territory to all of them. But I hadn't wasted my time once I was back in the loft. The place had needed a change; it had been cluttered with useless stuff. A man could hardly move through the place without bumping into furniture or coming eye to eye with unnecessary crap, so I had gotten rid of the junk. Stored some downstairs or threw it out.

I checked the doors and window again, to make sure they were secure, then took up my post at the balcony windows. I scanned my neighborhood, and waited while the daylight darkened into dusk. My guide and Connor would no doubt be making an appearance soon. As soon as they showed up at the bullpen Simon would have bellowed at Sandburg to come to his office. He would have demanded that the guide fix the sentinel. I snorted. I didn't need fixing. I was just paring down my life to the essentials. Sandburg should get that - wasn't he always going on about focusing on the important things in life and not letting yourself get distracted by unnecessary stuff? It was why he meditated all the time, staring into a candle. I liked my way better. More productive to actually physically move things until your home, your space, felt right.

Finally the two of them drove past the loft and parked at the first available spot, which was way down the street. I zeroed in on the conversation they were having as they approached the building.

"I hope Jimbo's over the tantie he threw in the bullpen. He's been acting stranger and stranger every day." I scowled. I hadn't thrown a tantrum; I'd been laying down some boundaries with the meatheads I worked with in that office. You didn't see me dropping crumbs and mustard spots on their desks, or stacking up my paperwork on top of their files.

"Megan, we should cut him some slack. I'm probably to blame, coming around him with scent markers from another sentinel - damn, I wish there were more references to sentinels coming together. I'm guessing that it's not really a good thing. I'm Jim's guide and on a subconscious level he must have been feeling rejected by me; he's sure been in a pissed off mood for weeks now. I should have put together the implications before this. And I still don't get how somebody with the gifts Alex has could use them the way she does."

Connor sighed. "Mate, you always want to think the best of people. And I love you feeling that way. But our Alex Barnes is just no good. She's responsible for more deaths than that poor guard's. Still, Captain Banks said it's been a bit dicey, convincing a judge to sign a warrant to search her apartment. Without the fingerprints proving she's not who she says she is, he didn't think he'd have a chance of getting it."

Blair shook his head. "Such a wasted life. You know, she's a really good artist. And I've been to her place and I don't know that we're going to find anything incriminating there. Hell, she might have left the country already. She must have recognized Jim as a sentinel, the way he knew her for one. Why would she stick around?"

"Maybe she's got another job to do? I just hope Ellison gets his head screwed back on straight and isn't a bloody nuisance instead. Oops... Sandy, are we getting in range of Jim's hearing?"

"Yeah. We'd better shut up. He might blow up at me for talking about him out of his presence."

I could see Connor pat him on his back as they walked down the street. "It'll work out, don't you worry. And you're not sleeping at that fleabag motel tonight. If Jim isn't ready for you to stay with him, then you're coming home with me. I insist on it."

They fell silent and I watched them till they entered the building. I anticipated the knock on the door, and when I opened it I saw Sandburg's eyes widen and Connor do a double take.

They both stepped in and Blair started walking around the room, a surprised and worried expression on his beautiful face. Now that I knew what was causing this problem between us, I figured he could set things right. I sniffed him when he passed by me. Crap, he still smelled of the other sentinel. Well, there was no time for a bath now, or to cover him in my own scent. I'd just have to grit my teeth and deal.

"Ellison? Where's your bloody furniture?" Connor got right up into my personal space. She never let anybody intimidate her. I liked that about her.

"It was in the way, so I got rid of it."

"Oh, that was brilliant, mate. Listen, Alex Barnes turns out to be Alicia Bannister, a lady with a long history of breaking the law. We're going to go stake out her studio - Sandy said it's a combination of an apartment and workshop - and when the uniforms deliver our warrant we're going to take a look around. You coming?" There was a note of doubt in her voice, but I ignored
it.

I ushered them towards the door, laying my hand on Blair's back to give him a little shove since he kept stopping and looking around the room as if he expected the couch and the coffee table to suddenly appear.

"I think you should take Connor up on that offer for a bed at her place tonight, Chief."

"Jim, you could hear us talking earlier? Without me to ground you?"

I thought to myself that I had been grounded. The sealskin choker had done the job, as usual, when Blair wasn't around.

"All my senses feel really strong, Darwin. C'mon, pick up your feet. Barnes is going down."




I typed up my report on the fiasco that had been this evening's event. And I was feeling sick inside.

I didn't want to believe that my guide could have sabotaged our efforts to capture Alex Barnes, but I couldn't ignore the fact that he'd blinded me with his flashlight when I had her cornered on a fire escape after she'd stolen a laser from the van transporting it. And just how had Alex Barnes known the cops were after her? Could Sandburg have called her to warn her away, in an attempt to save his other sentinel?

I replayed the sequence of events in my mind again.

The three of us, Connor, Sandburg, and I, had just walked out of my building to go stake out Barnes' studio. But I had heard sirens in the distance, and I'd had an eerie feeling that I should check it out. Dispatch had given me the details. A laser had been hijacked right out of a van attacked on the street, but we had a description of the vehicle the perp was driving and Connor and I had responded to the call. I told Sandburg to ride with Connor - he needed to get rid of Barnes' scent before I could have him that close to me in a small space.

We got lucky and intercepted the thief. I had Barnes cornered on the fire stairs - I knew it was her, knew the other sentinel was there - and I'd identified myself as police. I'd pinned down her exact location by focusing in on her heartbeat, and I was ready to shoot her if she didn't surrender.

I'd had my gun cocked and aimed at her - it was dark, but that was no hindrance to me - when Sandburg fumbled with his flashlight and shone it directly into my eyes. I was disorientated by the dazzling light -- like looking at the heart of a star. My eyes teared up and while I was yelling at him for being such an idiot, Barnes went up to the roof and we lost her.

Of course, he'd apologized. And I had taken him at his word. It wasn't until later that doubt about his actions crept into my mind -- after we'd gotten to Barnes' place, and I'd smelled the plastique and I realized Barnes had booby-trapped her studio. I'd had to tackle Connor - who'd gone, warrant in hand, to kick in the door - to keep her from being blown to smithereens. I'd already known Barnes wasn't in there; no heartbeat inside that place.

Had Barnes figured out on her own that she'd been made? Or had a certain sympathetic anthropology graduate student tipped her off? Blair didn't want to believe a sentinel could also be a criminal. Had he deluded himself that everyone else was wrong about Barnes - a.k.a. Bannister - and that he could rescue her?

But I was reluctant to question him. If I was seeing a problem where one didn't exist, then I would be adding to the strained feelings between us. And I didn't want to alert Connor to my suspicions, either. She wouldn't be able to be objective enough to even consider that Sandburg might have made a stupid mistake by trusting Barnes to be innocent. Connor wasn't at the PD anyway, right now; she and Blair had gone to get sandwiches from the deli down the street from the station.

I needed to talk to Simon. I'd ask his advice - and if there was questioning to be done, I'd let him do it and I'd use the tricks Blair had taught me to decide if my guide was lying or not. I hit the print button on my computer and walked over to the printer, waiting for the machine to spit out my report. Then, report in hand, I knocked on Simon's door.




I never even got a chance to eat my roast beef sub before Connor and I'd had to leave the bullpen to investigate a break-in at Rainier's HazMat Research Lab. Two canisters of nerve gas - incredibly deadly stuff - had been stolen.

Connor and I were sure Barnes was the thief. It all fit. Rainier used Oberon Securities, and a mostly destroyed portable hard drive with a disk in it was found in the bombed out studio. Forensics had called us while we were at Rainier to confirm what I had guessed from feeling the letters 'Ober' on the disk -- it had been stolen from Oberon Securities. And the partially recovered data had contained the plans for the HazMat Lab's security.

Unfortunately, at the time their office had been broken into, Oberon had refused to contact the companies that they had consulted for to tell them a security compromise was possible. They didn't know which particular security system plans had been stolen and didn't want to lose customers by alarming them. And without something else to narrow it down, there was no way the PD could stake out every company on Oberon's client list on the chance that a robbery would take place.

But a robbery had taken place, and the final step in the heist had been the use of a high-powered laser - like the one Barnes had stolen from a van earlier today.

It was kind of ironic that Rainier had stepped up its security after the last theft from the lab -- ironic because Sandburg and I had been involved back then, too. Lee Brackett had stolen a vial of Ebola virus and blackmailed me into stealing a prototype plane from the Air Force for him -- or he was going to release that lethal disease to harm the people of my city. Sandburg and I had worked together to stop him.

But Sandburg wasn't with me on this part of the investigation. Simon had listened to my concerns, and decided that the possibility of Blair sabotaging the case needed to be looked into. He and I had both been cops long enough to know the lengths some otherwise smart and law-abiding people would go to - if their principles or their hearts were involved. Why, just last week, in California, a woman who'd been running a dog-training program at a prison had helped a convict escape. In love with the clown, I guessed.

The call from Dispatch stating there was a break in at Rainier - nothing reported stolen as of yet -- had come in shortly after Connor and Blair had returned from their food run, and when Blair put his jacket back on, wanting to go with me and Connor, Simon came out of his office and told Blair he needed to talk to him and that he wouldn't be doing any more observing tonight. Megan intercepted him, gave him a house key, and told him to let himself in and that we'd be tied up till the wee hours of the morning. She hugged him and expressed that he looked like he needed to get some sleep. And I made some noise about him having classes to teach in the morning, seconding her suggestion to get some rest. He did look like he was running on fumes; he probably didn't sleep well after I'd kicked him out of the loft.

We left then, with me listening to Simon ushering Blair into his office, telling him to first finish his meal, and then he wanted Sandburg's report on what had happened during the attempt to arrest Barnes this evening. No chance now to listen in and decide if Sandburg was lying about Barnes.

It was way past the wee hours of the morning before Connor and I parted to go to our homes. We had alerted the airlines to watch for a woman with Barnes' description and briefed the FBI on the case. We'd also put the word out on the street that any information on Alex Barnes and anybody connected with her would be welcomed with the legal tender. And FBI agents had bigger expense accounts than an inspector from Australia and a detective from Cascade; we felt no guilt in waving the FBI's money around.

I had felt strange all night -- uneasy. I'd called Simon at his house around midnight and he was short with me; he'd said he'd talk to me in the morning and that Sandburg had gone to Connor's place about a half hour after we'd left the bullpen. He did say that Sandburg had brought up fumbling the flashlight and took responsibility for Barnes getting away. Told me to go home and get some sleep.

So I went back to the loft, and being in my own space did make me feel better. I'd moved the bed to the basement, but I dug out my sleeping bag and camping pad and fell right into a blue vision.




Before I told Connor the truth about being a sentinel, Blair and I had let her believe I was psychic. Well, she had come up with that idea, and we hadn't corrected her about it. But I was beginning to think maybe there was more of a psychic part to being a sentinel than Sandburg or I had known.

In the morning, the ringing of the phone woke me up. And the wrong feeling was back. Intensified. I stumbled down the stairs and picked up the receiver as the voice on the other end was beginning to leave a message. For Sandburg. Who had apparently missed teaching his ten o'clock class and his department head wanted to know why.

I let the secretary give her message without actually talking to her. Then I called Sandburg's office. No answer. I called his cell phone. No answer. I called Connor. And found out that he hadn't slept at her apartment last night after all -- she'd assumed he'd either made up with me or had gone back to the motel room. She told me the name of the place, and I winced. It was one that was popular for prostitution and drug deals. The rates were very, very cheap for a reason.

The manager was used to the cops making inquiries about his clientele and, with a grunt of exasperation, gave
me the room number and rang the room. No answer. I called Connor back and arranged to meet her at the motel room.

Blair was in trouble. And maybe of his own doing. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd met up with Barnes and left with her. But could he have hidden that kind of thing from me? Wouldn't his very pores have signaled his betrayal? And would he become ill, like he had before when he'd left me? And if he'd left with her, he knew nothing about the nerve gas she'd stolen. Blair would never do anything that would cause other people to come to harm. But he could have been taken in by a story she might have fed him.

I thought back to the conversation between Connor and Blair I'd overheard yesterday. Connor had said something about Blair wanting to believe the best of people. And Blair thought sentinels were the best example of humanity there was to be found.

I knew different. I knew sentinels could be devious and underhanded. If it suited them. And I wasn't talking about Barnes.




Continued in A Sea Change Part Three - B