A Sea Change Part Three -- B

[laurie_ky]

Master Post for A Sea Change






Part Three -B

There was nothing to be found at the motel room, except that Blair had come for his things apparently sometime in the night. He hadn't bothered to check out; had left the key locked in the room. Connor and I banged on the neighboring doors but nobody had noticed when he'd come and gone. Half of the motel's denizens would have been too drunk or stoned to notice a parade outside their window, let alone a quiet guy who probably had been in and out in less than fifteen minutes.

I called his office and his cell phone again. Nothing. Connor followed me to Rainier and I figured he wasn't there because his car wasn't in the parking lot. We walked up to Hargrove together, to check out his office, and I decided it was time to fill Connor in on my reluctant theory that Sandburg had gotten himself entangled with Barnes and had left with her. She didn't buy it.

"Sandy knows her record. There's no way he would join up with her. You're dead wrong, mate." There was so much firm conviction in her voice that it made feel ashamed that I doubted Blair.

"I hope so. I really hope so. But where the hell is he? It's not like him to blow off his teaching responsibilities. He would have gotten a sub for his class if he knew he couldn't be there. And I'm not getting any sense at all of where he is and usually; if I try, I can get a kind of directional feel regarding his whereabouts. This is all so screwed up. It has been for weeks, ever since my guide started messing around with another sentinel. He should have told me."

Connor gave me the hairy eyeball and I amended my statement.

"Yeah, you're right. I should have listened when he tried to tell me about the woman he'd met. You see, I thought she was just another one of his fly-by-babes, and I'm tired of hearing about the revolving door of his love life."

"Do you ever wonder why Sandy doesn't settle in with somebody? Ever think it might be because he's in love with someone else, someone who he dreams someday might love him back? Even though it's probably hopeless? You really should think about that, Ellison." Connor sounded... pitying. Of me?

I didn't like where the conversation was going. It sounded like she was saying that Blair was in love with me... and of course we loved each other. He was my guide; I was his sentinel. But he'd stopped us from having a sexual relationship years ago and... no. He couldn't be waiting for me to change my mind about openly acknowledging him as my lover. He knew my closet door was shut. I'd told him a long time ago how it was with me. He couldn't expect me to change. If he was... Oh, Blair. God, I hoped Connor was wrong, because that was just heartbreaking to think he was... We really needed to talk.

I didn't respond to Connor's comments, just pulled out my phone and called Simon. Sandburg hadn't checked in at the PD, but there was a report that a woman who could be Barnes had flown to Colombia last night. The FBI had alerted the authorities in Bogota, and were awaiting confirmation that Barnes and the nerve gas were in custody. Simon would call us back as soon as he heard anything.

We entered Blair's building and went downstairs to his basement office after stopping to get the key from the department secretary. I knew he wasn't there. No voice, no heartbeat. And my unease and certainty that something was wrong increased tenfold as we opened his office door.

There, waiting for me, was the spotted jaguar. Barnes' spirit animal was on Blair's desk and looked straight at me and roared the mating call again. I stared stonily back at it, sending the message that I wasn't interested. And why the hell was the jaguar here, in Blair's office?

"Jim... Hey, Jim. Ellison, tell me you're not in one of those zones Sandy warned me about. Ellison!"

I was intent on watching the spotted cat and I ignored Connor until she gave me a shove, which was a far cry from the way Blair would have brought me out of a zone. I muttered to her that I hadn't been zoned, and then I moved toward the spirit animal.

The jaguar -different from my own spirit animal but yet similar -- jumped then. Jumped straight through me and I shuddered as a flood of feelings bombarded me.

"Ellison! What the bloody hell is wrong with you, mate?" Connor's anxious voice penetrated the daze I'd gone into from the impact with Barnes' spirit guide, and I felt her hard hands on me again. She gave me a vigorous shake, and I looked around for the spirit guide that had briefly merged with me. It was gone.

I shook my head to clear it, and held up a hand to ward off Connor's version of first aid before she left bruises on me. She stepped back, then, as I found my voice.

"Barnes was here. Uh... she left me a kind of message. You know..." And I gave a vague flutter of my fingers to indicate meta-physical crap.

"Well, are you okay now? What, ah... can you tell with your sight? Damn, this is a lot harder than Sandy makes it seem."

Connor was right; I needed to focus with my senses and learn what I could from any clues that had been left in Blair's office.

But before I could get started, I noticed the envelope with my name on it, in Blair's handwriting, in plain sight on his desk.

I slipped on gloves and carefully untucked the flap; he hadn't bothered to seal it. I read it through and showed it to Connor, then slid it into an evidence bag.

"You don't believe him, do you, Jim? You can't believe he went with her of his own free will?"

Trust.

Did I trust Blair or not?

I closed my eyes and felt for him. But it was like there was heavy static on the sentinel-and-guide-bond channel.

I flashed on all the ways Blair had helped me over the last three years. All the accommodating he had done. All the love he'd shown me... And the love he'd tried to hide from me. Damn. He had never stopped being in love with me. I'd just been willfully blind to it because... oh, hell. This was not the time or place to figure out what Blair and I could be, should be to each other. Instead, I let my feelings of trust in Blair swell up - like the tide, like a tsunami.

He was gone.

But he hadn't gone willingly.

"She took him." I looked around the room. "There's no sign of a struggle." I opened up my senses, which I had protectively dialed down when the jaguar jumped me. And that had been the message -- Barnes wanted to jump my bones. Not likely, lady. And taking my guide wasn't the way to my heart. Why would a crook want to have any dealings with a cop, anyway? Didn't make sense. Unless... Maybe her spirit animal wasn't on the same page as the criminal? Maybe her spirit guide was influencing her despite what her sense of self-preservation would be screaming. Huh... I wished I could have Blair's take on her motivations. Well, the sooner I found him, the sooner I'd be able to ask him.

I catalogued the room, noting the scent of gun oil, and Blair's scent, which was heavy with fear, anger, and anxiety; Barnes' scent stank of satisfaction, of cruelty, and of arousal. She had gotten off on making Blair do her bidding -- or on thinking of me finding this note. But she couldn't think that this pathetic scribble was going to stop me from looking for Blair. Or keep me from bringing her to justice.

I pinpointed where the arousal smell was heaviest and pulled an unmarked envelope from the top shelf where the university's artifacts were stored. She'd held the letter down to her crotch, evidently, letting her woman's scent permeate the thing. I opened it gingerly.

To normal eyes it would have been a blank piece of paper, but she'd taken something, a toothpick maybe, and written me her own letter.

I swore and had to keep myself from balling the letter up. She was blackmailing me.

"What is that, Ellison? What's going on?"

Connor already knew I was a sentinel, and Blair had explained to her that we were bonded -- making sure to tell her that bonding could be accomplished by just a lot of touching, not just through sex, and letting her assume that our bond was the G-rated version. And Megan was a friend; besides -- she adored Blair. I made the decision to tell her.

"The bitch thinks I'll just hand over Blair and let everybody think he left with her on his own. Listen; this is what she's scratched on this paper."

I read it out loud to her.

"Ellison, your guide has been a careless, careless boy. He's left both of our names in his research about sentinels. Expect proof that the boy betrayed you.

"Now, I don't care if the world recognizes my powers, but you don't want yours made public. And it's all in Blair's notes -- which are in a safe place, where nobody
will read them. Unless I'm arrested, or I end up dead, then the world will know all about you. All of dear Blair's years of research would be published. It would be a media circus. Oh, I'm sure you'd deny it, but the damage would be done, wouldn't it.

"So easy to avoid: you don't come after me and I keep Blair; he's a pretty boy and while he's not really my type for fucking- I like large, strong men -- I'm sure he'll learn to do things to please me. And he has knowledge I need. You don't appear to want him anymore - he told me about you throwing him out of your home -- so this should be an easy deal for you. You know, Ellison, you are my type; if you do find me, there are other things we can do besides play cops and robbers.

"Of course, my little professor is coming with me because he thinks he's saving his sentinel. I was considering killing him, since I don't like leaving loose ends, but this way works, too. He's safe, as long as he behaves. And you behave. Welcome to the jungle, lover."

I choked on that last sentence.

"Does she really think the rest of us are going to ignore what she's done? Even if she does make it seem like Sandy left with her willingly? And she didn't have to take him - she could have blackmailed you with just the material. What does he know that she needs?" Connor was angry, her hands had kept bunching up into fists while I'd read Barnes' note to her.

"There's... the guide stuff. How to avoid zones and spikes and how to piggyback your senses." And I rubbed my hand over my face. But Blair had already been teaching her that kind of thing for weeks now. At this point wasn't it mostly practicing what he'd taught her?

"Does she want to bond with him? Is she going to force him to have sex with her?"

Connor sounded sick, and knowing Blair was Barnes' hostage made me want to hit something so badly. And Shit, I really didn't know what would happen to our bond if Barnes made him have sex, or even if she just touched him a lot. I looked in dismay at Connor and then closed my eyes. My Blair, being raped - I was going after Barnes. Maybe the threat was a bluff. Yeah, Blair had said everything in his research would be confidential. There wouldn't be anything to connect me to the sentinel he had done the research on. But I didn't want to show this note to the Feebs. I'd let Simon know the whole story and to others I'd say the wording in the letter Blair had left convinced me that he'd been coerced into leaving.

Actually, we only had Barnes' word that Blair was agreeing to the blackmail. I could smell gun oil in the room. She'd probably held a weapon on him, maybe handcuffed him and gagged him.

And she'd probably had at least one accomplice. This was a big undertaking for just one operator. But so many people trooped in and out of Blair's office daily that no other scents jumped out at me as Barnes' stooge.

I opened my eyes and started to pace around the dimly lit basement room. What did she need Blair for? To be her guide, to bond with her? Unlikely. They'd been meeting for weeks and Blair had indicated there was nothing sexual between them. To keep showing her how to use her senses? Maybe. And if that was the case, Blair would become a loose end again, when she caught on about how to work the dials or whatever he'd come up with to help her manage.

And she took care of loose ends.

What else might Blair know about that Barnes wanted enough to drag a hostage with her?

My eye was caught again by some paintings that had been placed on the back of his ratty couch, leaning against the wall. I'd seen them earlier and dismissed them, but after a second look they were... intriguing. And very familiar... I went closer and stared at the vibrant artwork -- I had seen this statue before. And that symbol, too.

I was aware that Connor was calling Simon, filling him in on what we'd learned, asking that an APB be put out on Blair's car. I could hear Simon telling her that the woman who had been thought to be Barnes had been confirmed to be an innocent passenger. I was aware of all that, but my mind was on those paintings.

And then I touched the one with the statue.




Simon came to the door of his office and caught my eye -- he knew that I knew the Feebs were in there. I'd been afraid they were going to want to talk to me. Damn FBI. And I only had half-truths to tell them. I couldn't say that I'd had a vision when I touched Alex Barnes' painting - that her obsession with the Temple of the Sentinels had come through loud and clear. And I'd made the connection to the real reason she took Blair with her. He knew the location of the Temple. Well, close enough, anyway. He had Incacha's information, and he'd been corresponding with an archeologist whose research was complementing Blair's own work and who'd found some corroborating evidence regarding the temple from a ruin in the Yucatan. Hell, Blair and I were planning on collaborating with him on an expedition to study the temple, providing Blair could scare up some grant money. And there would be grant money, even if I had to funnel it to him myself under the cover of a donation.

Blair probably had talked to Barnes about the temple, in awe of her ability to tap into the spirit world and show her connection in the form of her paintings. And I'd remembered after touching her painting that I'd dreamed of the temple last night. I hadn't recalled it till I'd traced the jaguar statue's outline with my finger.

In my dream, in the endless blue twilight that was the spirit plane, I had been my spirit guide and I'd circled the Temple of the Sentinels. In the depths of the jungle, I heard the mating call of the spotted jaguar and an answering roar tore out of my throat. I paced around the entrance to the temple, waiting, waiting. Finally she approached. The female of my kind. And she was accompanied by a wolf. He whined and she snapped at him. He lay down obediently between us and rolled so his stomach was bared. Then, looking at me, the spotted jaguar raked his belly with her claws.

Blood welled up in the deep scratches and the spotted jaguar stepped over the wolf toward me. And I was paralyzed between wanting to mate with her and wanting to lick the blood from the wolf's wounds.

That was as much as I remembered; although, given my track record for repressing unpleasant memories, I knew there might have been more to the dream. Fuck. Thinking about the bright blood that had marked the wolf, I was worried sick for Blair.

At least my little trip to Psychic-ville had resulted in another lead. In a succeeding vision from touching her paintings, I'd seen Barnes with a man. Intimately seen her with this man, and she loathed him. But it didn't stop her from having sex with him and enjoying the sheer physical release he gave her body. Somehow I knew his name was Carl, and he was her partner. So I'd had an artist's sketch done and from there we'd located him in our records. Carl Hettinger. International weapons trafficker with recent ties to Mexico and South America. The FBI's information had him traveling twice to Sierra Verde in the last three months. That was Carlos Arguillo's territory; he was a nasty customer who was the probable buyer for the stolen nerve gas.

But I didn't want to have to explain to anybody just how I'd come up with Hettinger's name or how I knew he was connected with Barnes.

Simon had let me stall for a few more moments, but now he waved his hand in a sharp movement for me to join him. Fuck. I did not want to do this.

I walked into his office and practically saluted.

"Sir."

"Have a seat, Jim. You met Agent Nickols and Agent Harriman last night, I believe. They want to discuss Sandburg's involvement."

I sat down ramrod straight in the chair Simon pointed at, and tried to keep from bristling at the Feds.

"Blair Sandburg is a victim, kidnapped by Barnes because she's got an obsession about some old ruin and thinks he knows where it's at. He was forced to write that note. She obviously dictated it to him; it's not his usual writing style at all."

The older of the two men, gray-haired, tired looking, said mildly, " And you know that because you would be familiar with Sandburg's writings? From him making grocery lists, or leaving notes about phone messages? We're aware Blair Sandburg lives with you, Detective. Or to be more accurate, did live with you. I believe you asked him to leave several days ago? Why was that, Detective Ellison?"

I went with the truth, short and sweet. "Because I was being an asshole. Look. Blair's a great kid; he's a consultant for the department and is doing a dissertation on police work. He met Barnes here, after she was brought in following a traffic accident. He heard her complaining about a health problem he had some knowledge about and offered to help her with it. That's all. He wasn't dating her; it was a professional kind of thing. He didn't have a clue she was as crooked as they come."

The gray-haired guy, Nickols, sighed and said, "Barnes is a very attractive woman; Sandburg is a young man, and from what I've learned, quick to flirt. They met, they formed a bond -"

"They didn't have a bond. I'm telling you, Blair met with her out of kindness but he wasn't dating her. I asked him." Hearing the Feds coming up with the same wrong theory that I had held earlier was disturbing. I had to make them believe it was a totally crap assumption.

Harriman chimed in. "It's a shocking concept, but perhaps he didn't tell you the truth, Ellison. Let's say she charmed him. Let's say that he felt something for her, didn't want to see her go to prison.
Maybe he got in over his head. Maybe she talked him into helping her with the robberies; maybe he made sure that when she was cornered, she could escape. We've read your own report, Detective. It was his fault Barnes got away on the fire escape. And she tumbled awfully quickly to the fact that the cops were on to her. Perhaps her new friend gave her a quick call? And why was he at his office at Rainier last night? From statements given by, well, your own captain, for one," and he nodded toward Simon, "Sandburg said he was going to Inspector Connor's residence to sleep. Instead he ends up at his office. What's your theory on that, Detective?"

I ignored his last question. I was still trying to come up with some reason Blair had gone to Rainier myself. Connor and I had wondered if he'd been coming to join us at the HazMat Lab, despite our strong suggestions to get some rest, but the lab wasn't anywhere near Hargrove Hall.

"When I find Blair, I'll ask him for you. And you can forget trying to tie him into the robberies. He was with Connor and me when the laser was stolen and when the nerve gas disappeared. And he was taking a night class when Oberon Securities was broken into; the professor will alibi him."

"We're not saying he's wanted for anything at all, Detective. But he is going to be listed as a person of interest and if he's found, we will be talking to him. He wouldn't be the first man to do something stupid because of a woman." Harriman studied his fingernails while he spoke.

I stood up. "We done here? My partner's life is in serious danger, and you're wasting my time. Sandburg was taken by that bitch and I'm going to find him. And the nerve gas. Shit, if you knew even a little bit about the kind of man Blair Sandburg is, then you'd know he'd never be involved with something that would kill a single innocent person, let alone the countless numbers who would die from exposure to a toxin like that gas. Anything else you need? Captain?"

Nickols again. "Interesting connection to Carl Hettinger you made. Care to share with the class?"

Crap. "Sorry, no can do. Confidential informant. Has the FBI been able to put Barnes with Hettinger from any other sources?"

"Yes, and we're looking at the two of them for a few other unsolved robberies. We'll send you the information we've got. And you'll do the same; won't you, Detective? You'll let us know if you have any more... informants wanting to share."

Simon spoke up. "Jim, you can go. And yes, Agent Nickols and Agent Harriman, we'll copy you on any leads we develop."

I grabbed onto Simon's words like a lifeline, and with a nod to the FBI, left his office. Could have been worse. At least an arrest warrant hadn't been issued for Blair. I wasn't sure, though, what was going to happen with his job. I'd tried to do damage control with his department head; told him that the PD was considering it a kidnapping when I'd called him earlier, but the FBI agents had also been around to talk to the guy, and they probably had insinuated he was Barnes' accomplice.

I wished that I had paid more attention to Blair's discussions with Incacha and that other guy, the one who kept emailing and calling Blair about getting an expedition together to discover the temple. Santiago, that was his name. I decided to go home and call him, ask him to send me all the information he and Blair had put together about where the temple might be found. Without it we would be up shit creek without a paddle. Barnes hadn't been kidding about stealing Blair's research -- I'd looked through his office and his tapes, his notes, and his files were all gone.

She would make her way to the temple. I knew it. And I could set a trap for her there. But she would have done the deal with the nerve gas first, and recovering it had to be my first priority.

I left the PD, turning over the legwork of checking back in with our informants to Connor. Simon was putting together the Hettinger and Arguillo dossier. We would have no jurisdiction in Sierra Verde, and there was a good chance the local law enforcement was in cahoots with the drug lord; by rights we shouldn't be going at all. But we would. The nerve gas had been stolen from my town, under my watch. I felt responsible for not figuring out Barnes' plans earlier.

And she's taken my Blair. I was going to get him back. And then try and make it up to him for how I'd acted the last couple of weeks. And maybe the last couple of years.

I drove my truck in tense silence and thought about the most recent time Blair had driven home with me. I'd made him shut up, and now I'd give anything to hear him chattering away about his studies, or devising tests for me to take.

I walked into my building and got the mail. I hadn't checked it in a couple of days and I started flipping through it while I climbed the stairs to my apartment. I swung the door open; the place didn't look uncluttered to me anymore. It looked... sterile. Bare. With no indication that anybody even lived there. It looked so wrong, and I felt a sense of disgust that I'd allowed myself to get hijacked by the weird-ass sentinel shit.

But at least the irritation I'd felt towards Blair was gone. And by that, more than anything, I knew Barnes had left town. I set the mail down, having only partly gone through it, and went to the phone. Santiago had called not too long ago and I hoped his number was still listed on the memory log. Otherwise, I'd have to search through the boxes I'd packed for my address book.

I was in luck and called the man. I told him what had happened to Blair, and he agreed to fax to Simon all the research on the temple's location he had. He asked me to please let him know when Blair was rescued.

My only other task was to pack, and I accomplished that swiftly. I found my passport and went through the rest of the mail, so I could leave.

And that was where I found a cassette tape and a photocopy of some of Blair's notes. And was dismayed to learn that Barnes hadn't been bluffing about Blair leaving our names in his research after all.




Blair's voice filled the truck cab. "-- face off in some territorial rivalry? Now if in fact my secondary subject does turn out to be a sentinel, I'm going to have to bring them together in a carefully controlled situation. So at the present time, I've decided not to tell Jim Ellison or Alex Barnes about one another..."

I shut my tape deck off. Jesus Christ, Blair! If I wasn't so worried about his safety, I'd be enraged that he had been so sloppy - throwing my name around like that in his research. As it was, I couldn't deal with my feelings about this... exposure right now. I had to concentrate on the mission.

But when he was safely back with me, then Mr. Sandburg and I were going to have a little chat regarding confidentiality and keeping promises. I shoved any thoughts of the fallout if Barnes released her little bomb of information to the back of my mind. What was important right now was finding Blair and the nerve gas.

My cell phone rang and I answered it, barking out "Ellison" into the receiver. I listened to Simon telling me that Sandburg's car had been found, and that he was calling the techs to come and check it out. At that point I made an illegal U-turn and flipped my lights on as I raced to the address.




"What in the blue blazes does he think he's doing?"

"Shut up, Ricco. This guy's got some kind of mojo when it comes to figuring shit out. I've seen him do it on other cases. He'll be done soon and then we can start bagging evidence. Go get the fingerprint kit ready, okay?"

I didn't bother to let the two men waiting to check out the Volvo know I'd heard them. Why add to the 'mojo' mystique if I could avoid it? But hey - if Barnes' booby trap did get sprung everybody and his brother was going to know what I was capable of doing. Then Ricco and McDonald could say they'd seen me doing my weird-ass sentinel shit. And I wasn't supposed to be thinking about that now. Focus, Ellison.

I could smell Barnes' scent mixed in with Blair's. They'd been together in the car. And Blair had been scared. No doubt the bitch had continued to hold a gun on him; the gun oil scent was too strong for the weapon to have been concealed. And for that knowledge I could thank Blair for testing me on similar situations.

Most of Blair's belongings were thrown in the back of the car, but his backpack was gone. His cell phone was on the passenger floor and I slipped gloves on before I carefully picked it up. I checked his messages and his received calls list. And wasn't that interesting. Somebody had phoned Blair around midnight... from his own office phone.

Blair must have driven to Rainier because of whatever he'd learned from that last phone call. Barnes had set a trap for him. He wouldn't have gone if she had just asked him to meet her there in his dingy basement office... Not without police backup. Blair had been observing the PD for over three years now. He wouldn't have made such a rookie mistake. So, she wasn't the one who had phoned him. Maybe she'd had Hettinger make the call. And I wondered how on board her lover was with taking a hostage with them to Sierra Verde.

I didn't find anything else useful in the car, and I turned it over to the waiting techs. For a messy kind of guy, Blair did keep his car fairly neat - to impress his dates, I figured. But anybody who spent much time with Sandburg soon realized that neatness was not a natural trait of his. I'd spent years working on him to just follow a few simple house rules.

And my stomach muscles clenched when I thought that I might never again get the chance to yell at him about wet towels on the floor or... Shit, Blair. Please be all right.

I checked out the surface of this rundown parking lot behind the decrepit warehouse for any indication of the vehicle that they'd switched to, and found some footprints and tread marks. I called McDonald over to point them out. Maybe it would help find the current vehicle they'd been driving.

All the airports, commercial and private, were being monitored. I figured they'd had a plane waiting at a small landing strip and by now were in Mexico. I tried to see if I could feel where Blair was, sort of a guide GPS system, but it was still no good. Whatever Barnes was doing with Blair was fucking it up.

Simon called me on my way back to the PD; a flight to Mexico City was leaving in forty-five minutes, and he and Connor were heading to the airport. I put on my lights and siren and thought of how much I wanted Alex Barnes -- Ms. Alicia Bannister -- to be safely back in prison where she belonged.

And Blair back with me, where he belonged.




The police in steamy Sierra Verde had a surprise waiting for us when we arrived at the local comisaria. After showing them a snap shot of Blair, emphasizing that he was a kidnap victim, and mug shots of Barnes and Hettinger, we were told that Carl Hettinger's body was in the morgue.

Ortega, the police chief, escorted us to view the body, and he made noises at Simon indicating that really, he had heard nothing about any nerve gas, and no, no, Senor, no arms dealer used his town as a base of operations. Of course he was familiar with the name Carlos Arguillo, but the man didn't conduct his business in Sierra Verde. However, there were other men who might be potential buyers, middlemen who would resell the gas. He would meet with us at the hotel at four o'clock and bring us any word on potential contacts. And if he learned anything about Senor Sandburg, he would make sure we would know immediately. He left then, wishing us luck in our search, and assured us that we had the cooperation of the policía of Sierra Verde.

Total bullshit, of course. You didn't have to be a sentinel to hear the lies in his words.

Once we were alone in the morgue, I dialed up my senses to examine Hettinger's body. The police chief said the coroner thought Hettinger had died from an accidental fall, but I could see the marks on Hettinger's throat where he'd been choked. And I could detect the scent her body had left on her ex-partner. I touched his lips and felt the slick texture of Alex's lipstick. She had kissed the man and then snapped his neck; she was violent, and not afraid to use her own hands to kill. I felt cold sweat break out on my face; Blair was with her, and he had a way of being defiant to people who had the means and motive to hurt him. I hoped and prayed that he was safe.

I touched Hettinger's lips again and felt the power of the second sight overwhelm me.

I saw Barnes and Hettinger, on a stairwell, saw her kiss him and then twist his neck. She watched his body fall down the steps of the motel. Then she went inside her room and came out with Blair. He stared, shocked, at the body lying at the foot of the stairs, and tried to jerk away from her grip, but she pulled him to her and hissed at him to cooperate or her 'friend' would go ahead and send the media the very interesting information she had left with him. Blair looked at her with an expression I'd never seen on his face before, and I realized with a jolt that it was hate. Blair hated Barnes for what she was threatening to do. But then he allowed himself to be hustled down the stairs and into the waiting car. My vision ended after that.

Simon grabbed my arm, and pulled me away from the naked body on the exam table.

"Jim, get it together. Did you just have another one of those image-things? What did you see?" he said to me in a low voice.

I was a little dizzy and I welcomed his strong hand on my arm. "Granny would say that I've got the second sight now. Shit. But it's been useful so far, or I wouldn't know that Blair was here, in a motel with Barnes. They left shortly after she killed Hettinger. She kissed the son-of-a-bitch, and then she broke his neck. And she's still threatening to blow the sentinel shit sky high, to get Blair to cooperate."

Simon gave me a small push towards the door and Connor stepped up beside me.

In a matter of fact voice, she said, "Let's go and refuel. We need to brainstorm about who Barnes sent Sandy's research off to, to hold for her. And I want to go over what you saw, Jim. You know I've worked with psychics before, in Australia."

I nodded. It couldn't hurt and I wanted to try and visualize the car I'd seen in my brief dream. Maybe we would end up with a useful solid lead for tracking down my missing guide.

Barnes was playing her own hand now, having dealt Hettinger right out of the game and into a grave. And I could feel the sense of her again. And the memory of how her jaguar had jumped through me made me shiver; I felt my dick grow hard. Oh, no fucking way.

She was so fucking dangerous, and not just because she'd stolen the nerve gas, or had taken Blair. I was afraid she was dangerous for me.

Back in Cascade my instincts had taken over the driver's seat. And look at how I'd emptied my place of all my furniture, and how I'd treated Blair. I didn't want to fall under some sentinel spell that would have me wanting to have sex with her -- a killer, a kidnapper, a cold-blooded criminal.

No. Fucking. Way.




Working out of my motel room, the three of us came up with the short list of who to investigate for retaining Blair's research for Barnes.

It would have to be somebody she could rely upon to not cheat her and steal the information, which pretty much eliminated anybody she'd worked with on a business level. So, no fences, no partners in robbery. Those guys would be all over this mysterious package, and Barnes would have known that. Look how she treated Hettinger, her own partner and lover. No trust or love lost there, that was for sure.

Close personal friends? I seriously doubted that she had any, but that was one line of investigation to pursue. Family members she could count on? Maybe. But she'd seemed solitary to me. Wasn't really sure what I was basing that impression on, but I was dubious that she had any close family.

No, I thought it most likely that she'd contacted a lawyer, probably one she already knew. And where do criminals mostly meet lawyers? In court. With her long history of involvement with the legal system, she must have been represented by quite a few. Her lawyer would be bound ethically to follow Barnes' wishes, not that there was any guarantee her lawyer would be the ethical sort. But following client's instructions was something that money could buy. And the lawyer could truthfully claim he didn't know there was stolen property in the package; his function was to deliver it to the TV stations and newspapers.

Simon called Joel to pass on our hunches to him, because the big man had a soft spot for Blair and was discreet; he said he'd get right on it. He'd call the prisons Barnes been incarcerated in and find out who'd had visitor privileges. He'd get a subpoena to compel her former lawyers to turn over the research, if they had it; after all, it was stolen goods.

We left it in his capable hands, and Connor walked me through what I'd seen in the vision. Simon phoned in a description of the car to the policia, and asked for an APB to be put out.

Again we were assured that the local cops were nothing but cooperative with us norteamericanos; he description of the car would be circulated immediately to their officers.

And again, I had qualms. Something about the tone of voice of Police Chief Ortega made me think he was blowing smoke up our asses.

I became convinced of it when a tank rolled down the street and shot up the little café while we were meeting with Ortega to get his list of possible middlemen buyers in the late afternoon. He slipped away as tables were exploding and windows breaking from the rounds fired from the tank. A tank! Who but an arms dealer is going to be able to lay his hands on a fucking tank? Arguillo was warning us off of his territory. And Ortega would hardly be the first cop to make a truce with the local gang leader in order to have some kind of peace in his town.

Luckily, none of us were hurt but we opted to leave the motel; instead we stayed at a small Catholic church for the night. The pews were hard, but sanctuary was an ancient concept that we hoped was still respected here. Simon and Connor fell asleep fairly quickly, Simon's snores echoing through the church.

Staring at the rows of small, lighted candles in the nearby nook, I felt unsettled. I tried to get some sleep, but I missed Blair and I wished he were with me right now. He'd be telling us about the origins of the concept of sanctuary, and probably throw in a couple of stories to boot. Still, I closed my eyes and tried to rest.

I guess I did fall asleep because I dreamed I saw Alex walking on the beach as the sun was rising. I saw myself meeting up with her and the two of us falling to our knees in the sand, kissing each other passionately.

I woke up with a start and realized it was only a dream. I was hard, and I cursed my unruly dick for having absolutely no sense of propriety; I mean, sure, she was beautiful, but that hardly made it okay for me to want her. She'd taken Blair; she was playing around with thousands of lives with that nerve gas. I closed my eyes and felt for Blair once again with the internal guide finder, but like every other time I'd tried since he'd been taken, I couldn't get
a sense of where he was. Sighing, I awkwardly turned sideways on the hard pew; I told myself that my dick did not rule me, and went back to sleep.




I was dreaming again, the same damn dream, where I was drawn to Alex on the beach. We met and stared at each other, and without a word she was in my arms. Her lips were so soft, her skin so warm against mine. I felt... elemental. My senses were singing and I was a part of the wind, a part of the ocean. The sand was cool as I sank to my knees, bringing her down with me. My mate. The female of my kind. I had never met another, and I ached to rut inside of her.

She slipped my unbuttoned, long sleeved shirt off, freeing my arms, and I began to touch her under her clothes, to pull at her clothing to free her breasts. I wanted to lick and suck on them. I wanted to taste her skin.

And then her hands were hot on my body, pushing me onto my back, moving the hard object away that was poking me as I lay down on the shifting sand. She was kneeling next to me and running her hands possessively down my chest, and reaching under my undershirt to trace the muscles there. I trembled under her hand, my eyes closed, and her touch felt so good. She moved her hands down my legs, a sensual massage that made me lose myself in the pressure of her hands against my pants. She covered my ankle with her hand and I felt a distant concern, but when she stroked my erection with her other hand, making it strain against the fabric of my khakis, I shifted my attention to what her skillful fingers were doing to my dick.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, my hands caressing her breasts and hers teasing my dick... until we were abruptly interrupted.

"Jim, Stop! What the hell are you doing, man?" I knew that voice. It belonged to my guide. My one-time lover. My friend.

Who was missing.

Fuck! This was no dream.

I opened my eyes, really opened my eyes, and saw that Alex was standing up about eight feet away from me.

She had my gun.

She was pointing it at Blair.

"Alex, put the gun down and you won't be hurt. C'mon, now." She looked disorientated to me, and I guessed that she had felt the same dreamy impulse to meet on the beach that I had felt.

I saw her shake off the remaining confusion. She slowly backed away from me even further, becoming more alert. But Blair seemed paralyzed, until he jerkily migrated a few feet towards Barnes, stopping with a confounded look on his face.

I slowly gathered myself to stand up so that I could leap for her, trusting that Blair would drop to the ground when I did. He was my partner; he'd know my intentions. Alex interrupted my movements.

"Don't move. I'll shoot him before you can reach me. And I can feel it now, Jim. Can't you feel it, too? We're being drawn to it, like we're being drawn to each other." Her heartbeat was steady; she was breathing quietly. And when she spoke it was still with a tinge of the dreaminess that earlier had come over both of us.

"I don't need Blair anymore. Do you want him, Jim? Do you want him to suck your cock? His tongue's agile -- I put it to better use than him talking. Oh, he cares for you, Jim. He was a good little hostage and did everything I told him to, so I would keep your secret. But I don't need him anymore. He's a... loose end."

She licked her lips, the lips that I had kissed. and I felt sick. What in the fuck had been wrong with me! Damn the sentinel shit, always fucking up my life.

She smiled at me. "It's time to tie up my loose end."

And she shot him. I heard the bullet impact his skin, tear through the muscle under his shoulder. I leaped at her but she had stepped back as swiftly as I had come up from my crouch and she held the gun on me. Her eyes were cold, hard, and I knew that the criminal was back in control, not the sentinel. She would kill me without a second thought.

Blair had fallen to the sand. But he was shifting, crab-crawling towards the ocean, his right arm hanging limply. I could smell his blood in the air and see the trail of crimson liquid he was leaving in the sand. I felt a murderous wave of anger at her, and made an urgent motion towards him, but Barnes said flatly, "Budge an inch and I shoot you. And I'll aim for your spine. I'll make you a cripple if you don't do exactly what I say, and you know I've got the sight to do it. So freeze. And if you decide to be a hero, I'll shoot him again, after I do you."

Alex and I watched Blair reach the waves and fall face first into the ocean. She watched him calmly, still holding the gun on me, and I watched him with dread. I was afraid he had lost a fair amount of blood, and I needed to help him. Barnes must have sensed my decision to try and overpower her, now that Blair was in the ocean and not such a target, because she said, "Your choice, Jim. You can try to take this gun away from me - and I won't hesitate to shoot you - or you can go to your guide. He's still alive, but you know what? I don't think he's breathing. Your choice."

I chose. And I ran for Blair, away from Barnes. Damn it, she had shot Blair for a distraction so that she could get away. I raced down the beach, to where he'd entered the water.

And I didn't see him making any attempts at breathing. He was floating face down, the waves pushing him towards shore and pulling him back.

Oh, God! He wasn't breathing. I waded out to him and rolled him over, supporting him in the waist-deep water. Blood was still pumping from his wound. He had a heartbeat, or blood couldn't drip from him like that. But he wasn't breathing.

I dragged him to the beach and laid him down on the sand, the sunrise sending a red tinge over his skin. I listened for any breathing, my ear to his mouth. Nothing. Right.

Start rescue breathing.

Angle his head back. Cover his mouth with mine. Breathe into his mouth and watch his chest rise. Breathe. Watch. Breathe. Watch. Breathe. Watch. Breathe. Watch...

Time seemed to slow, the waves acting as a metronome for the rhythm of my actions. There were only two actions that mattered. Breathe. Watch.

Breath. Watch. A tremor. Inhalation. Watch. Inhalation. Watch.

It wasn't a fluke, he was breathing on his own. And coughing. I rolled him to his side in the rescue position and put pressure on his bullet wound.

He was alive -- but unconscious and bleeding heavily below his shoulder and from the exit hole on his back. He needed to get to a hospital. I stripped off my undershirt and used it for a makeshift pressure bandage, tearing part of it into strips to bind the bandage to his shoulder. His arm needed to be splinted, to keep it immobile, and I worked his pants off of his body and used them to achieve that task.

I would have to move him myself -- there was nobody on this beach who could go for assistance. I crouched beside him, working my hands under his shoulders and knees. Heaved him up and stood, glad for every hour I had sweated in the gym, glad for the strength in my arms and legs.

He was dead weight, limp as I staggered through the sand with him. Focus on finding help. Don't think about the fact that he almost died. That he had been drowning. Bleeding. He'd gone to the ocean. Why? Had he thought he would be safer in the water? Had he had an instinctual response to danger, to dive down deep and swim away? Don't think about what that means. But if he'd been wearing his choker maybe he'd have been safe. If he'd transformed... Maybe the process would have healed him? But he'd been a selkie without his skin. No, don't think about this now. Find help.

Focus.




"Jim. He's going to be all right. C'mon and sit down. You heard what the doctor said. He's lucky the bullet missed that major artery and nicked a smaller one instead. Some new blood and stitches and he should be fine. So, come on, settle down."

I ignored Simon; I kept standing at the door of the small waiting room and extending my hearing so that I could keep tabs on Blair. And listen in case that crazy bitch showed up to try and finish killing him; he hadn't seen her kill Hettinger, but he could place her at the scene. Blair was right down the hall, and nobody could get to him without passing us.

This hospital was so small, compared to Cascade General, and I wondered if they really knew what they were doing. Blair'd had emergency surgery to repair the damage done below his shoulder, and I was both relieved it hadn't been worse and angry that he'd been hurt in the first place.

I'd had to tell Simon the reason Barnes and I were on that beach when Blair was shot, and it had been humiliating to see the look in his eyes when I explained the lack of control I'd had over myself. And I felt a hot flush of shame again as I thought of what Blair had seen when he followed Alex to the beach. Her. Me. Having sex. We hadn't gotten very far along, thank God, but he would have seen her stroking me and me playing with her breasts. God. I fucking hated the sentinel stuff sometimes. And the worse part of all of it was that I knew he'd forgive me when I explained that I'd been under a compulsion to find Alex and mate with her.

He shouldn't forgive me. He should be angry with me. For a lot of reasons.

Blair was in recovery and probably would be out of it for hours yet. I didn't want to leave him alone; I wanted to see him and prove to myself that he was still breathing. I was listening to his inhalations and exhalations but I wanted to watch his chest rise and fall. I knew I was being a little bit nuts but I'd almost lost him. Maybe I could talk the doctor into letting me see him.

Well,
here was my chance. The doctor was headed our way.

I stepped back as the doctor opened the door. He was a short man, gray peppering his black hair, and he looked tired. Not surprising, since this emergency at dawn had probably shortened his sleep.

"Senor... Ellison, and..." He looked at Simon and gestured inquiringly with his hand.

"Captain Simon Banks, Cascade, Washington; Sandburg is a consultant with my police department. Thank you for coming back and giving us an update on how he's doing."

The doctor smiled at us. "He is young, strong, and should be fine. He needs rest, and to watch for infection in wound, and to look out for the pneumonia, since he drown. We give him blood and still for days the antibiotics. And he is on the oxygen, of course. But his breathing is good."

"When will he be awake?" My voice sounded hoarse to my own ears.

"Yes, I understand you were police officers from America and the young man is taken from your country. You have need to examine him, to question him. But he will not be... um, sense, sensible for several hours, even if he seem awoke."

"He's my partner and my friend. I don't care about questioning him: I just want to see him." There was a note of pleading in my voice that even I could hear and the doctor patted me on the back.

"Yes, for fifteen minutes you sit with him. You go with him in the ambulance, yes? He die and you gave him life again? I understand. God answered your prayers but it will not be real until you see the young man for yourself. Come." He motioned for me to follow him and gave a nod to Simon. "Senor."

I shot a look at Simon as I turned to follow the doctor and he said, "Go on, Jim. I'll be here and when you get back, we'll talk."

I followed the doctor down the hall, through a set of double doors and into a room where Blair was lying on a gurney, IVs dripping blood and saline into him, and a canula inserted in his nose to give him oxygen. The blip-blip-blip of monitoring devices blended into the background noise. Oh, Blair, buddy - I wish it had been me she shot, rather than you. The doctor startled me out of my thoughts when he handed me medical gloves and a gown to slip over the pants and shirt Simon had brought for me.

He patted my shoulder and said, "Fifteen minutes, Senor," then left the room.

I walked up close to Blair. God, he looked pale. I could hear his heartbeat and it was steady, but I wanted to feel it, too. I bent over him and placed my hand on his chest.

I could feel the drumming vibration of his heart, sense the pulsing journey of his blood through his body. I watched his chest rise and fall with a steady rhythm and I felt something inside me relax and stand down.

He was going to be okay.

And I had a confession to make.

I sat down in a chair next to the gurney and picked up his lax hand. "Blair, I'm so sorry. Sorry that you saw me like that with Barnes. Sorry that I treated you like shit these last couple of weeks. Sorry I read the first chapter of your dissertation."

I swallowed. He'd almost died, damn it. I had taken something that I knew belonged to him and maybe it was only a sealskin choker and maybe my granny was right and selkies do exist, and I'd stolen his coat. Whatever that leather necklace meant to him, it was his.

I pictured him again, falling into the ocean, looking for safety from the predator on land. And I thought of how we'd met, how he'd saved me from the cold waters of the Northwest Pacific, how we'd bonded together as sentinel and guide.

How he'd stayed in Cascade even though I knew I had broken his heart when I told him I couldn't openly be his lover. I loved him; I did. And maybe I should re-think my stance on not coming out. God knows, maintaining that I was only heterosexual hadn't brought me what I wanted in life.

He stirred in the bed and I felt his hand tighten in mine. His eyelids fluttered while he was coming awake. Raising them slowly, he looked at me, his blue eyes hazy and confused.

"J'm."

"Yeah, Blair. I'm here. You're going to be okay; you're in the hospital."

"Z'hos'tal?"

"Yeah, the hospital at Sierra Verde. You were shot, but the doc fixed you up. Go back to sleep, babe -- when you wake up again things will make more sense to you."

"Dreamed. Swimmin'... Go down deep, deep. Ocean's so beautiful. So lonely. Jim..."

He sounded sad, and a little panicky when he said my name. I hushed him and he closed his eyes.

"Jim..."

"It's okay, Blair. You're safe. And I'm sorry for so many things. We'll talk when you're better."

"I don' know the real name of m'father. I don't know what his people call themselves. I wanted to know... I can't find them now. I lost it, Jim. I lost it and I can't be like them no more. And I lost you. You don't want me, either. Alex?... No!... Jim?"

"Hush, Blair; you got me. Don't worry about anything; go back to sleep. And Alex can't hurt you anymore."

"Alex... need to find her, now. Don't want to."

"Go to sleep. I'm so sorry, Blair."

He sighed and his breathing deepened into sleep. I held his hand and indulged myself by stroking his curly hair, till a nurse came in to check on him and sympathetically told me in Spanish that my time was up.




Blair's condition improved, and he was moved into a regular hospital room several hours after I'd seen him. By that time, Connor and I were out doing recon for the mission. Connor had gotten her hands on some surveillance equipment from the Australian embassy in Mexico City -- supposedly state-of-the-art -- and while Simon and I had been waiting to hear how Blair's surgery had gone, she also had hunted down the address of Arguillo's compound. We were hoping we'd be able to learn where he would meet with Alex.

Unfortunately, my ability to track the other sentinel wasn't a big help. I could sense Barnes, but not with the accuracy that I generally had with finding Blair's location. Maybe if I let myself go into a trance or slept again and dreamed, I could do it better... but I was worried I'd lose any control I had over myself if I let my subconscious into the driver's seat.

While Connor and I were checking out Arguillo's place, Simon had stayed behind to coordinate information from Major Crime and the FBI and to keep an eye on my partner. But probably Alex wouldn't try and kill Blair again. Probably. Nobody wanted to take that chance, and Simon had set up shop right outside of Blair's hospital room.

It turned out that Arguillo's equipment to keep snoopers out of his business was better than Connor's listening devices; the feedback squeal had been like an ice-pick into my eardrum So we did it the old-fashioned way -- she distracted the guard by driving right up to the compound entrance and pretending to be lost. While she was flapping a map in his face and asking for directions to somebody else's land, I was able to infiltrate the house. At the most, I'd hoped to overhear Arguillo talking to one of his men about the buy, but instead, I was there when Alex herself called him. She doubled the price for the toxic gas and brokered a meet tomorrow afternoon at five o'clock, at a set of coordinates on the riverbank. She was asking for a lot of money, but Arguillo agreed without trying to barter her down. And that made me suspicious about a double-cross.

Connor had long ago left and I cautiously maneuvered through the house and the grounds, glad that my sentinel senses could actually be of some use on this trip. Arguillo's compound was at the edge of the jungle, and hearing and smelling the tropical rain forest made me think of Peru... and Inchacha. I would have liked to talk to my old friend about Alex. I'd gathered from him and Blair that sentinels didn't stay together; they lived with different tribes. "Relocating scarce resources for maximum efficiency" or something like that, was what Blair had said. Neither of them had talked about this mating drive, or the need to find the Temple of the Sentinels. Although Alex was more obsessed with it than I was.

I met up with Connor without any trouble, and we went back to the hospital to see how Blair was doing and exchange information with Simon. He had checked in with the FBI and Major Crime; Joel was still doing legwork on tracking down the recipient of the stolen sentinel research, and the FBI still wanted to talk to my partner. Maybe, since they knew that Barnes had shot Blair, they would drop the theory that the poor kid had come with her willingly.

Blair was asleep, but Simon said the doctor was pleased with his progress. Simon had gotten Sandburg's statement; I read it over and the sparseness of it bothered me. I concluded that Blair had told the truth - but not the whole story. And Simon said the FBI was sure it was bullshit.

Connor took the evening shift guarding Blair, and gave me the late night one, so Simon and I went back to the church to get some rest. Father Castillo fed us enfrijoladas and enchiladas and let us use his small bathroom to clean up in. We gave him a donation for the church and he supplied us with blankets for the night, again, as he had the night before. He was a good guy, Father Castillo.

I was tired and hoped I could drop off to sleep, but first I needed to get Blair's choker out of my bag and put it on as a safety measure against my senses going wonky from the long day. And because I was going to give it back to him tomorrow, and I wanted to feel it against my skin one more time. I hoped he would forgive me for keeping it. And I wouldn't be telling the truth if I didn't admit that I'd considered lying to him about just where it had been for
the last three years. I had thought about telling him that, yeah, I had found it in the bag with my sex wax, and brought it down to him: I hadn't touched my surfboard in the last three years, so it was a plausible lie.

But I was done lying to him.

He might never want to see me again. I couldn't claim ignorance about the importance of his sealskin choker to him. He had told me, the night he decided to stay in Cascade and be my guide.

So, a deliberate lie from a lousy thief.

I was not proud of myself. Yeah, being out of control with my senses scared me. And I'd latched onto his choker like a drowning man grabs a life ring. But my comfort could have cost him his life. Transforming might have healed... No. I needed to keep my ridiculous speculations that he was a selkie to myself. It was a keepsake from his father's family. Maybe something they would use to identify themselves with, like some families or clans used tattoos. Just because he'd been high on the anesthetic this morning and had babbled about swimming in the ocean and about something being lost and his father's family, it didn't mean what I kept trying to make it mean.

This was the twentieth century, almost the twenty-first century. There were no selkies. No mermaids, no were-wolves, no Sidhe, no hollow hills.

But there was violation of trust. And I'd almost lost Blair today. Now, I had a second chance to do the right thing by him, and that meant handing his choker to him tomorrow along with an apology.

I'd rummaged all through my bag while I was thinking about what to say to him tomorrow and I hadn't felt it.

I took everything out, carefully, shaking each item of clothing and setting them in a neat pile. I inspected the empty bag, reached in all of the corners.

I searched all of the pockets on the bag. Then I checked my clothes and my dirty pants pockets.

I scrutinized the floor and the pew where my things had been. Simon asked me what I was doing and I told him that I was looking for something that belonged to Blair, a leather choker that I'd had with me. He hadn't seen it, either.

I went outside and hunted through the beat-up rental car for it, then I slumped down on the church steps and looked out at the brilliant stars hanging over the ocean. I could hear the sound of waves and smell the brine-scent in the air.

Clearing my mind, I reviewed the steps for the exercise my guide had taught me in order to bring hidden memories out where I could examine them.

I started with last night. I'd been wearing the choker when I'd lain down to sleep. I moved forward through my recollections to the dream I'd had of meeting with Alex on the beach, and then to waking up in the church. It'd been on my leg at that point.

I had worn it when I'd grabbed my shirt and gun and left the church to go to the beach. I'd felt it wrapped around my ankle when I'd met with Alex and we had dropped down in the sand, kissing each other.

It was there when she'd been touching me, touching my chest, and legs and...

I felt her hand on my ankle, warm and covering the choker. Then her other hand was stroking my dick and I was distracted while she...

She unwrapped the choker from my ankle.

God damn it. Alex Barnes had taken it from me. Why? There must be something about it that called to a sentinel -- maybe the texture of the leather? Shit, what difference did it make why sentinels were attracted to Blair's choker; what was important was that I couldn't give it back to him.

”And if he's a selkie, he's now bound to her, not you,” my God-damned superstitious mind supplied.

And I felt a chill go through me when I remembered what he'd said before falling asleep again after his surgery.

'Alex... need to find her now. Don't want to.'




Continued in A Sea Change Part Three -- C