Perception
By Evergreen
2000, 2001, 2002, 2003©
"Sometimes reality and fantasy drink out of the same cup." –Evergreen, 1999
Section 1:
I pushed open the heavy oak doors of Hargrove Hall and walked through them. This was, actually and symbolically speaking, the beginning of a new life for me. I was relocating from the University of Maine to Washington State. The cool weather seemed familiar enough, but the difference in the moisture level was truly unreal. My hiking boots squeaked noisily in the empty hallway as I continued my trek. I could hear murmurs of many voices creeping out into the hall, surrounding me like ghosts. I unconsciously clutched my worn leather satchel a bit closer to my hip. My left arm was getting tired from carrying my preliminary report of my thesis topic, outline, and research notes. As nervous as I was, I was excited, too. All that work, all that stress, disappointment and sleepless nights had been worth it. I was so much closer to realizing my dream of becoming a Ph.D. in Anthropology. I was hoping to garner some support from Dr. Kinyon so I could conduct some field research on the Fortago peoples from southern Ecuador. They were a matriarchal society, a minority surrounded by a patriarchal majority of societies. Their societal structure always fascinated me and now I wanted financial support to realize my thesis. I started to smile until I thought about how much more I still had to do to finish my thesis. Dr. Maxine Eliot-Jones had a nice ring to it, didn't it? I always knew from the first time that I had looked at a National Geographic in my grammar school library that I wanted to study people very different from me, to get to know how their minds worked. I pushed an errant strand of my wavy black hair out of my face, wishing I had remembered a tie to pull my hair back. Now where was I supposed to meet that Dr. Kinyon again? I looked at my watch. The numbers stared back at me defiantly as if daring me to be late for my nine a.m. meeting with the Dean of the Anthropology Department at Rainier University. I started to walk faster and searched the tops of the doorframes for any hint of where her office was.
I turned the corner when I caught a one-way, very animated discussion on the marriage rites of the Kibuti tribe of Peru. I peeked into the classroom and saw the professor actually acting out the ritual of the storytelling contest held between the two prospective husbands in the battle to win the bride's family's approval. He seemed to be making quite a show of it, although from the students' disinterested stares you'd think he was reading the phone book out loud. I had spent some time with a Kibuti clan while assisting a professor in his quest to discover the origin of those storytelling rituals during my master's thesis. I was impressed by this exuberant professor's accuracy. I crept into the classroom and hoped that I wouldn't disturb his dramatic rendition of the First Ancestors' Great Hunt. His actions and words were so captivating that I was pulled into the story and away from my current predicament. All of a sudden, a great noise of rustling books, papers, and students rising from their chairs woke me from my reverie. I jumped up and went to speak with the professor.
He was very young and had a great sparkle in his striking blue eyes when he looked up at me from scribbling something in his notebook. "Yes, did you have a question?"
"Uh, no questions. I just wanted to say that I thoroughly enjoyed The Great Hunt story you told. You were very accurate, although I seem to remember there were seven thousand cougars killed after the Gods struck at the Ancestors, not six." He looked at me quizzically as if deciding whether or not to kick me out for being disrespectful. " I'm…. I'm sorry…", I started to stutter, afraid that I'd offended him.
"No, you're absolutely right. I always get those numbers mixed up. But I don't think that anyone noticed." He sighed. "The students don't always seem to get the same charge out of this that I do."
"I know what you mean. But it's the end of the semester. You have to expect that." I looked at my watch again, showing that I had five minutes to get to my meeting with Dr. Kinyon. I was now desperate. "You wouldn't happen to know where Dr. Kinyon's office is, would you? I'm going to be late for a meeting with her. Oh, by the way, I'm Maxine Eliot-Jones. You can call me Max. I'm going to be teaching Anthropology 107: The Introduction to South American Cultures in the summer session. Pleasure meeting you..?" I held out my hand. He grasped it and shook it firmly.
A flash of memory washed through me as I grasped his hand. Not my memory, his memory. Of him shoving a much larger man down on the ground as a large truck passed over them. I continued to watch in fascination as the wheel axles passed overhead. And then I was back. I get these flashes sometimes, a glimpse into someone else's psyche. It's always light, but no sound. Like I'm watching a silent movie of someone else's life, not able to participate. It's like the trailer to that movie, it's just enough to get you interested, but not enough to give away the plot. I'm really not able to control them or catch anything deeper than just the most strong memories or impressions. I've had them ever since I can remember, but have been extremely careful about sharing this information with anyone. I shivered as the sensation left me.
He didn't seem to notice my momentary lapse of attention. "I'm Blair Sandburg, graduate student extrodinaire. Nice to meet you. Here, we can talk on the way. I'll show you the way to her office." He flashed me a mind-numbing smile as he started to grab a light brown leather backpack from behind the podium and shove his notes into it. He pushed his curly brown hair out of his face and started walking purposefully towards the door of the lecture hall. He turned his head towards me. "C'mon, we don't want you to be late. But I warn you, Dr. Kinyon tends to be a bit talky, if you know what I mean. There was this one time…." I followed him out of the lecture hall and back into the hall.
We talked for those few minutes like we were old friends. I felt instantly comfortable with this fellow graduate student, a kindred spirit. He dropped me at her door and yelled as he walked away, "Come to my office when you're done. I'm in office B-12, in the basement. You can't miss it. See you later, I gotta be somewhere. I'll be back in an hour. It was really nice meeting you, Max."
"Thanks, you too, Blair," I called after him as I knocked on the door to Dr. Kinyon's office. His smile remained with me as I opened the door. There was something more to him than met the eye.
Section 2:
Blair bounded into the police department, brimming with his usual energy. He saw Jim at his desk, furiously scribbling some last minute additions to his final report while chewing the last remains of a glazed doughnut. "Jim, Jim, you'll never believe what happened today. I just met the greatest girl, she's an Anthropology grad student, just like me, and actually knows the Great Hunt story of the Kibuti clan…." Blair saw his partner, Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade Police Department, Major Crimes division, start to lose focus in his eyes. It was a sure sign that Jim was beginning to tune Blair out. Blair's official title within the department was "Civilian Police Observer", arranged so Blair could gather data on his doctoral thesis on 'Sentinels', under the guise of studying the "Closed Society of the Police Department". Sentinels are humans with the genetic disposition to develop and utilize five heightened senses to protect his/her 'tribe' and his 'Guide' from danger. Blair's job was to observe and protect his subject and best friend from some of the dangers that go along with being a Sentinel in his role of the 'Guide'. The Guide's job included helping the Sentinel to effectively use his skills and to prevent his 'zoning' on one sense and becoming oblivious to any other stimuli. When zoning occurs, the Sentinel becomes vulnerable and the Guide acts as his Sentinel's protector. More recently, Blair's position seemed to have grown from a Guide to a 'Shaman', a spiritual leader for the Sentinel. The role was endowed to him by Jim's previous shaman, Incacha, a member of the Chopec tribe of Peru that helped Jim survive his helicopter crash eight years ago. "Okay, okay. I won't get into the tribal rituals, but you should of have seen this girl, she was beautiful. She's got this long black hair and the most amazing green eyes and a body you could …."
"Whoa, Chief. Before you blow a gasket, how do you know that she's not like all the other girls, just after your body?" Jim put his hands up in mock surrender, his pen dangling from his fingers. He smirked as he signed the last piece of paper in the Johnson file. He placed the paper in the file gently and patted the top. He always did like finishing up a case with no problems, no Blair ending up in the hospital or kidnapped or something. And what else was new, Blair was in love again. He could practically hear the hormones flowing in Blair's bloodstream. Blair's heart rate definitely reflected his elevated mood.
"Jim, she's not like that at all. She's after me for my mind," he said mischievously, raising his eyebrows as if to mock his own words as he started to make his way back out of the bullpen again.
"Hey, where do you think you're going? I still have paperwork here with your name on it." Jim protested as he held up three file-folders worth of forms that needed to be completed.
"Sorry, Jim. Prior engagement. See you tonight, hopefully late." Blair said as he left. Jim smiled. Love was like a drug to that kid; it always made him high. Jim sighed as he started to dig into the huge mound of papers spread out on his desk. The only problem with closing a case was the avalanche of paperwork that followed it.
Section 3:
Blair's mind swirled with possibilities. Could this Max be real? She was perfect and just about fell into his lap. South American studies? His specialty, even. What was her thesis topic anyway? Did she ever hear of Sentinels? He had to get back so he could talk to her again. Today was shaping up to be quite interesting after all. After Jim had used up all the hot water and his car died on the way to the university, he thought he should've stayed in bed. There was no way he would have forgiven himself if he had missed out on meeting this new teaching fellow.
Section 4:
Blair was right, Dr. Kinyon was a real talker. I didn't mind though, she reminded me of my grandmother, thinking out loud. I thought that those kinds of people were always the most open, you always knew what they were thinking. My mind kept drifting to that interesting grad student, Blair Sandburg. I tried to keep my attention on Dr. Kinyon, but she was off on another tangent and was content to drone on with just a few of my nods to keep her going. What was it about him that pulled me to him, like I've known him forever and would never get tired of talking to him? It was well over an hour later than when I was supposed to meet Blair back at his office by the time my meeting was over. Funny, if you had asked what Dr. Kinyon and I had talked about for two hours, I couldn't have told you. Oh well. I hoped that he was still waiting for me. I think that I would be horribly disappointed if he weren't there. Now where did he say his office was? In the basement?
I eventually found a stairway that went down to the windowless basement of Hargrove Hall. I could smell the mustiness that came along with the storage of artifacts that dated back thousands of years. The history that those artifacts represented was almost tangible. I wished I could hear the stories that they could tell. Sometimes I could feel whispers of the past touch the edges of my mind, some just out of reach, some a little more knowable. That's why I went into Anthropology, to help tell the stories of peoples past and present. Now only if they could only tell me how to find that damned office.
My thoughts were so loud in my head that I didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind me until a finger tapped my shoulder. I whipped around and saw the smiling face of none other than Blair. "Holy crap, you scared the bejeezus out of me!"
"Is that a scientific term or a colloquial one?" Blair laughed again and took my hand. "C'mon, my office is just up ahead. I've got some great Kibuti artifacts that I want to show you. Maybe you could tell me a little about this one that I just got. It's got me a little stumped. I haven't been able to find any reference to it in any of the usual texts…."
His office was more than a bit jumbled. Artifacts ranging from Japanese thunder god statuettes to Masai warrior headdresses were scattered around the room. Blair scooted ahead of me and cleared off a chair near, I presumed, his desk. "Sorry about the mess, but you know what they say about anthropologists and organization…"
I looked at him quizzically, "No, what do they say?" I tried very hard not to laugh as the slight flush of embarrassment stole across this young anthropologist's face. He showed me a small shard of pottery that was supposed to be over one thousand years old. I thought that I felt a slight buzz from it, even after all these years.
"Maybe it was religious in nature, or belonged to some high level shaman," I said as I turned it over in my hands. "I get the feeling that it was important to the tribe, very powerful. Do you know any more about it?"
"Well, I found some markings on this side…", he began as he started to move my fingers to the edge of the piece. I felt another flash from him and saw the face of a man with short hair and mesmerizing blue eyes, pointing a gun at him. I shook my head to get back to reality, off-balance by what I had just seen. "Max, are you still here? I thought I lost you back there." Blair laughed gently. "I think that we've had enough shop talk to for now. How about I buy you a cup of coffee?" He took the artifact from my hand and placed it carefully back in a plain black case labeled "Property of the National Museum of Peru" in three or four languages.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry, a bit distracted by the piece, that's all. It's an amazing find…." I tried to steer the conversation away from myself again. I stood up and followed Blair out of his office. As he closed the door, I noticed the intricate design of the window glass. "Wow, that's fabulous." I put my fingers on it and again felt a flash of something. It was a woman this time, beautiful and hostile, silently threatening Blair at his desk. I saw his hands go up in surrender and…
"…I was able to replace the glass after an unfortunate incident with a……..student" He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. "But that's a story for another time…." He paused again, puzzled by my apparent lack of interest. "Are you okay? Was it something I said?"
"Sorry. I was just admiring the glass. The pattern's from the Book of the Dead from Watanabi mythology, isn't it?" I covered, hoping Blair wouldn't probe any further. I've never had this many "flashes" in such a short period of time. I was starting to get a headache from the strain. "Now where's that cup of coffee you promised me?" I smiled, praying for reprieve.
We discussed the tribal rituals of the Kibuti as well as many other groups that Blair has come into contact with in his lifetime. He was extremely well traveled. We talked for a while more in his office and then moved to this great little teahouse close to the University campus. I had a great cup of Oolong herbal tea, as recommended by Blair. I didn't think that caffeine was going to help my growing headache.
I began to suspect that Blair knew something about everything. I wondered why he has been spending so much time here at Rainier when his talents are practically begging to be used in some exotic place, discovering previously unknown civilizations. Jeez, I sounded like a Star Trek episode.
The hours slipped by, like seconds. The conversation wove from our childhood memories to future aspirations to our thoughts and beliefs. This man was truly amazing to me. When I yawned and looked at my watch, I was surprised to see that it said one in the morning! "Blair, this has all been great. It's been absolutely fabulous talking to you, but I've got to go to bed. I haven't even had time to check into a hotel yet. All my stuff is still in my car at Rainier." I stared at the bottom of my empty teacup, idly wondering if the tea leaves could predict my future. The café had emptied out, save for a few students struggling to cram for upcoming final exams. I had a meeting with the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences in a few hours and I was going to look like hell.
"Since it's my fault that you're out so late, I insist that you stay over at my place," he offered and added, "You can have my room and I'll take the couch," when he saw the look on my face.
"Blair, that's very kind of you, but I don't want to put you to any trouble. I'll just go and find a motel for a couple of hours. I have a meeting at ten with Dean Whittaker. I just need and shower and a couple of hours of sleep." I started to get up.
"Exactly, there's no reason to waste good money on a hotel, when Hotel Sandburg is free." He smiled somewhat slyly, which concerned me a little bit.
My eyesight became bleary with my next round of deep yawns. "Okay, I'm too tired to argue. I'm expecting you to be a gentleman here, Blair. I'll just need to get a bag from the car." Blair smiled and walked me to my car.
It was around two a.m. by the time we reached the door to Blair's apartment. I was impressed by the size of the building, it seemed rather well-kept for someone on a grad student's stipend.
Blair looked at the expression on my face, "I know what you're thinking. I have a roommate. He already had the place before I ever met him. Only thing, he's a light sleeper, so try to be as quiet as you can." Blair fumbled with his keys and swore under his breath. Blair opened the door and gingerly placed his keys in a basket by the door. "This way to my room," he whispered. I followed closely as I could only make out general shapes in the room from the streetlamp light streaming in through the french doors.
I put my duffel bag on the bed and sat down next to it. His room had a nice homey feel to it. Its smelled like incense and cologne and clothes detergent. It was so him. As if I knew who he was. "Blair, I really appreciate all you're doing for me, making me feel welcome here and helping me out of this mess. I don't know how to repay you." As soon as those words slipped out of mouth, I smiled. "But Blair, you have to know that I'm not that kind of girl." He smiled back at me.
"Max, don't worry about it. The bathroom's over there and there are some towels in the closet. Soap and shampoo are all in there already. Use whatever you need." Blair said as he got up from sitting next to me on the bed. I stood up and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thanks for everything. See you in the morning." I think he blushed.
Blair practically tiptoed out of the room as he grabbed a blanket and a pillow from his chair. "Goodnight, see you later," Blair said as he closed the door. I was only able to pull my clothes off and slip under the covers before sleep overtook me.
Section 5:
Jim woke with a start; something was definitely different. He glanced at the clock. It said "2:30 a.m." in large angry numbers. He listened, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. He detected Blair's heartbeat, a gentle soothing sound that made him breathe a sigh of relief. At least he was back in one piece. His heartbeat seemed louder somehow, like he was closer. Jim got up and padded over to the top of the stairs. He saw Blair's sleeping form on the couch. Not so unusual, Blair sometimes fell asleep on the couch when working. He detected no high whine of Blair's computer or the sight of any open books. Blair looked pretty well ensconced in the couch, like he meant to be there. Just then, it hit him. There was someone else here. He detected another heartbeat, coming from Blair's room. He hadn't even been looking for it. It was slow and even, like the person was sleeping. He smelled someone else too; he smelled oolong tea and a hint of perfume. Ah, that was it, Blair brought his new girlfriend home.
He tried to go back to sleep but he couldn't help but remain awake to listen for any other changes in the loft. The new person's scent, heartbeat, breathing were very jarring to him. He couldn't seem to reduce his sensitivity like he usually could. Normally, Jim would 'dial down' his hearing sensitivity so he could actually get some sleep without every little sound waking him up. Blair had discovered a way that the Sentinel could lower his sensitivity to stimuli by imagining a radio dial in his head representing whichever sense he wished to reduce. He was going to have to speak to Blair about this in the morning. He needed some warning so he could prepare for new sensory input in his own house, for God's sake. His house was sacred to him, a place to get away from everything. Blair knew how hard it was for him to adjust to change. He knew why Jim's rules were so important to him. He stared at the ceiling and tried to focus only on Blair. Focusing on the familiar heartbeat of his Guide made him feel more at ease as he started to drift away into unconsciousness again.
Section 6:
I woke up suddenly and suffered extreme disorientation. Where the hell?… Oh, yeah. I went home with Blair last night. I looked down at my sleeping clothes and noticed that all I was wearing was my underwear. Jeez, you'd think that I'd at least have enough modesty to put on a tee shirt if I were in the same house as two men. Oh well. Panic filled me as my eyes shot around the room searching for a clock. My watch seemed to have disappeared as well. I can't miss the meeting with the Dean. I grabbed the blanket off the bed, wrapped it around me, and quietly opened the door. No other sounds of people being awake greeted me and it was only just dawn. I had hoped to get out early enough to scope out some more of the University, to get a feel for the place I would be calling home for the next few years. I sighed, hoping that I'd be able to find the bathroom without waking anyone up. So, I immediately tripped over the end of the couch, promptly waking a sleepy Blair by issuing an obscenity.
"W…What, huh?" Blair managed to stammer in his sleep-induced confusion.
"It's me, Max, Blair. I'm trying to find the bathroom. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm sorry. You go back to sleep. I'll find it. Just point me in the right direction." I said, holding back a giggle at the disheveled state of his hair.
"S'okay. I'll show you." He slowly got up from his comfortable nest he made from pillows and blankets on the couch and shuffled off in what I presumed was the direction of the bathroom.
Blair opened the bathroom door and turned on the light. I saw that he blinked rapidly in a valiant struggle to make his eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of light. He probably wouldn't even remember doing this later. "Thanks, Blair. You're a doll."
"No problem." He shuffled back to his own room and climbed into the bed that I just vacated, his previous sleep pattern already forgotten.
I climbed into the shower and let the warm water run over my body. I laid a hand on the wall of the shower in an effort to steady myself. A vision slammed into my mind with such force that I almost lost my balance. The sight of a dead woman in a bathtub with a yellow ribbon around her neck and the words "Who am I now?" scrawled on the mirror sent a shiver down my spine. I was released again and closed my eyes. Just what the hell was Blair tied up in anyway?
Section 7:
Jim roused from the light sleep he had fallen into since earlier that morning. He unconsciously searched for Blair again and found him in his rightful place in his room. He sighed and started to get up when he realized that the shower was on. All hopes that he had imagined the visitor were dashed when he heard the shower shut off and the low humming from the bathroom. He pulled on his sweatpants and a tee shirt and walked down the stairs and right into a girl wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.
She stopped short when she saw him and stared at him intently, as if she were trying to bore a hole in his head with her eyes. He wondered why Blair always picked such intense women to hang out with. They usually just made him feel uncomfortable.
"Good morning," Jim finally managed to say. "I'm Jim, Blair's roommate." He held out his hand to her.
She took it and quickly shook it. "Nice to meet you… Jim. My name is Max. I hope that I didn't disturb you. Blair warned me about not making too much noise. I tried to be careful." She looked down at herself. "Oh, excuse me, I need to get dressed." She opened the door to Blair's room and walked into it. The door closed softly behind her.
Cute, definitely cute. But she was more than she seemed. Jim continued his trek to the kitchen to start on the coffee.
Section 8:
Blair woke as he heard the door to his bedroom close. "Jim, Jim, what's wrong?" he asked fuzzily, only half-awake.
"Nothing, Blair. Everything's okay. Go back to sleep." He heard a gentle voice coaxing him back into dreamland. Wait, that wasn't Jim's voice. His eyes opened only to slits at first, then fully open to see Max sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on a pair of jeans. He swallowed noisily as she stood up to pull the jeans completely up. She zipped up the jeans and bent over to rummage through her bag to find something else.
"Max? What are you doing here?" Blair was confused. What great deity had he pleased to get a beautiful girl dressing in his room?
"Huh? Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up." She walked over to him and ran a hand down the side of his face. She leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly. "Thanks for everything, Blair. Maybe we can do this again sometime…" She paused as she zipped up her bag and slung it across her shoulder. She smiled mischievously and walked out the bedroom door. "Bye. See you around campus."
"Wait, Max?" Blair attempted to pull on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers as he followed her out into the living room. "When will I see you again?"
She stopped when she heard him approach. "Well, I volunteered to help proctor some finals today. For ANTH 101 and 104, I think. Maybe I'll see you then." She turned around and faced him, inches away from him. She smiled, leaned in, and kissed him full on the mouth. His eyes went wide as she turned again, waved at Jim, and walked out of the loft.
He stood in shock for a moment and looked over at Jim. Jim saluted him and continued to fry up a couple of eggs.
"That's some woman," Blair said under his breath.
"That's for damn sure, Chief," Jim agreed.
Section 9:
I had absolutely no idea what came over me at Blair's place. I never acted like that, especially after only knowing someone one day. My mind raced back to the visions I had seen around Blair and they confused the hell out of me. He appeared to be an eccentric graduate student after the same thing that I was, to become a Ph.D. After that, my plans were generally a bit hazy. Maybe travel, maybe teach, join the Peace Corps, something like that. Oddly enough, my plans never involved someone else, someone to stay put for. I smiled to myself, maybe that was about to change. I began humming to myself again as I skipped down the stairs to the street. I wasn't quite sure what to do once I got down, but I figured that something would look familiar eventually. I thought that it probably would be a very long walk to the university.
So Blair was more than he seemed. At least I know that the person who was threatening Blair with the gun was his roommate, Jim. Maybe it was done in jest. Maybe, but it didn't feel like that to Blair at the time. Maybe Jim was the one who was wrapped up in all the weird stuff I had felt in the loft. Funny, though, when I shook his hand, I didn't feel any 'bad vibes'. Of course I hadn't really wanted to pick up anything, so I wasn't really trying. It was getting very tiring to keep trying to interpret those images. Hmmm. I didn't feel like continuing my internal discussion, so I crossed the street to grab a bagel at a small donut shop. A nice cup of coffee and a poppy seed bagel will make everything better.
I put my hand on the door handle and a flash raced through my head.
All the patrons were lying face-down on the floor, their fingers interlaced behind their heads. I heard whimpering in the background. I turned my head and was able to see around the room. Two masked gunmen were surveying the hostages, large guns raised, while a third was emptying the cash register. They apparently did not see me. I heard a shocking bang and tensed up in response. Then I saw the clerk by the register slump down to the floor. "No!", I screamed in my head. The gunman who shot the clerk looked directly at me and I saw his blazing brown eyes. "Stay down or I'll kill you!", he said with such conviction that I thought he was talking directly to me. Then, I found that I wasn't able to move any other part of me or speak. Again, I was a ghost in the lives of others.
The picture faded and I found myself staring into the donut shop, bustling with patrons and employees. I tried to shake the vision off as I opened the door. Overactive imagination or the result of my recent flood of flashes? I ordered my coffee and bagel and waited patiently for the employee to bring me my order. Everything's fine, everything's fine, I kept repeating to myself in an effort to calm my nerves.
"That'll be $2.49 please," the cashier told me flatly. She watched me fumbling with my change with a look somewhere between annoyance and boredom. Her face was that of the clerk I saw killed. I stared at her in disbelief. Her nameplate said Gail. Who was named Gail anymore? She cracked her gum and looked at the money I clutched in my hand.
I gave her the money and asked a question. "Were there any robberies here that you remember? Were you ever…held up before?" She looked at me oddly and shook her head.
"Uh, thanks. Just curious." I took my breakfast and sat down at a nearby table. I began to ponder the strange shift in my visions. I had never had a flash before that involved sound or never actually happened. Maybe I had just imagined it. Maybe my brain was still scrambled from my brief encounter with a certain irresistible anthropologist.
I looked over at her again and saw her chatting with a fellow employee. They seemed to be doing a lot of looking and gesturing in my general direction. Way to be subtle.
I wrapped up half of my bagel in a napkin and hefted my bag back on my shoulder. I asked the bored cashier where the University was from here and she got me started in the right direction. I thanked her and fervently prayed that my vision was very, very wrong.
Section 10:
Jim purposefully strode across the Major Crimes bullpen, intent on reaching his desk. He had to finish that report and have it on the captain's desk by two p.m. Then, he and Sandburg were off to go fishing at a cabin that one of his old Army buddies offered to him for the weekend. The trout are going to be great this time of year, maybe I'll even let Sandburg try his new fishing rod. He dismissed that thought immediately. Sandburg tended to bring his own contraptions to fish with anyway. As long as Sandburg stayed far downstream from Jim's fish, he would be happy. As soon as Jim sat down at his desk his phone rang, breaking him away from his daydream. "Ellison," he answered succinctly.
"Yeah, Jim, it's Banks. We got the remnants of an armed robbery and hostage situation at 3rd and Prospect, at the "Donut Hole". One of the cashiers was killed but none of the patrons were harmed. One of the customers said they told them that the cashier was killed 'as an example'. I thought you might want to bring Sandburg over for this. It's right in your neighborhood. None of the witnesses saw anything or even had similar stories, for that matter. Forensics has gone over it with a fine-toothed comb and came up with nothing we can use. I thought maybe you could give us some of your insight."
"On the way, sir." He hung up the phone and wondered how this could have happened. He was in that shop not two days ago. There had never been indication that the shop would have enough cash on hand to warrant a robbery, let alone a murder. The donuts were good, but not that good. Blair wandered in with two cups of coffee in hand as Jim grabbed his cell phone from off his desk.
"Better make those to go, Chief. We got a case." Jim unconsciously felt for his gun, snugly sitting in its holster like a good little gun. Blair turned around and followed Jim out of the bullpen and into the elevator.
"What's up, Jim?" He gave the detective a cup of coffee and waited expectantly.
Jim began to explain what he knew as Blair's face fell. He was a regular at that place and felt sorry for the unfortunate cashier. The employees had always been friendly to the pair.
"Aw, man. Maybe if we had gone there for breakfast this morning, we could've helped. Done something." Blair looked at his shoes.
"Chief, there was probably nothing that we could've done without putting the rest of the hostages in jeopardy." As Jim said those words, he doubted he believed them himself. He would've found a way to protect the hostages, maybe he could've talked them out of killing the cashier, something… "Probably nothing we could do…", he said again, this time to try and convince himself.
They arrived at Jim's pickup truck in silence.
The scene in front of the donut shop was nothing short of chaos. Ambulances and police cars were strewn all over the intersection in front of the establishment, lights flashing in a grim dance on the sides of the adjacent buildings. Jim walked up to Simon who was talking to the head of the forensics team in preparation to do another sweep of the store for any other clues.
Simon ended his current conversation and turned towards the detective and anthropologist with a short brunette woman in tow. "Jim, you remember Claire Barnes, new head of the forensics team. Claire, this is Jim Ellison, one of my best detectives, and his partner, Blair Sandburg. Jim, I want you to help Claire and her team in any way that you can." Each exchanged handshakes and a short greeting. "Okay, get back to work. Jim, I want to talk to you." Simon gestured for Jim to follow him a short distance away from the others.
"Jim, make sure that you don't step on any of Forensic's toes this time. We need to work together on this one. See what you can do. The body's behind the counter, the Coroner hasn't gotten down here yet. There was a big pileup on Route 264 about a half hour ago. So keep Sandburg away from there, we don't need him messing up the crime scene, if you know what I mean. I want a full report when you're finished. I can't have armed killers waltzing into public places and murdering people on my watch."
"Yes, sir. I'll do my best." Jim started walking over to where Blair and Claire and now Detective Henri Brown were talking. Simon hoped that would be enough. This was going to be a media circus soon, and Jim was his best hope at stopping these bastards. He put his well-worn cigar in his mouth and lit it.
"Jim, H. was telling me that one of the cashiers said that a young lady had come in this morning and actually asked if they were ever robbed before. She had asked Gail Herman, the cashier who was killed. When Gail said no, the woman just took her food and sat down, like nothing had happened." Blair told Jim as he approached.
"Did anyone get a look at her?" Jim asked, hoping that maybe they had caught a break, small as it may be.
"Yeah, the cashier who was shot and her co-worker, Daniel Waters, over there. I'm having a sketch artist come down any time now to help us out." Brown pointed to a shaken young man, covered in a tan rough-looking blanket sitting on the back of an ambulance about thirty feet away. Two medics and Inspector Megan Connor were talking with him.
Jim listened carefully to what the young man was saying. "Gail thought it was really strange that the girl would ask something so out there…..The girl asked it so matter-of-factly that Gail thought that it must've been a joke or something. I didn't think much more about it after Gail mentioned it to me. I got a quick look at the girl who asked, but really dismissed it as some wacko having some fun. All I know is that she had long dark hair and a backpack. She asked Gail for directions to the University, so I guessed she was a new student, or something." One of the medics gave him a paper cup filled with water. The clerk took a large swallow and continued, "I didn't think much more about it until the gunmen came in. I was in the back, so I didn't see anything……I heard them yelling for everyone to get down and I hid under one of the counters. I heard the gunshot and someone screamed. I didn't come out until the police came in…. I'm sorry, that's all I can tell you." Jim noticed that his heart rate and breathing were elevated. The paramedics had him breathing in a paper bag to help him stop hyperventilating. They were also monitoring his vitals as he continued to breathe into the paper bag.
Jim nodded. Blair glanced at the Sentinel, aware that he wasn't listening to the local conversation anymore.
"That's great. You did really well. Thanks for helping us." Megan patted the young man on the back before walking over the group. Jim directed his hearing back to the discussion Blair was leading about why no one seemed to have the same story about what happened…. "Everyone has a different version of what happened. What they think they saw and heard and how their mind puts it all together is different for each person. It's called perception. No one's is the same." He stopped as he saw the Sentinel refocus on him.
"Okay, Chief. Let's take a look inside." Jim walked away from the group towards the store. Blair followed, waiting to be filled in on the latest developments.
Section 11:
"I guess that means this weekend is off then." Blair said with an edge of disappointment in his voice. He was really looking forward to a little rest and relaxation. He had planned on finishing the last of grading final exams this afternoon, just in time to leave for this weekend on a lake somewhere in the mountains. His mind drifted back to the new graduate student, maybe he would be able to ask her out then. Back to the task at hand. His eyes surveyed the scene. Dumped styrofoam coffee cups and donut pieces lay strewn about on the tables and floor, apparently knocked over in the customers' attempt to comply with the gunmen's requests to get on the floor. The flashing lights from outside bounced off the walls of the establishment like a grisly disco. He tried to avoid looking near the counter, where he knew the body of the cashier he always said good morning to lay. He focused on the Sentinel to see if he was making any progress.
Jim seemed to be focused on something, Blair couldn't tell what. He watched the detective as he seemed to be standing still, staring off into space. He watched for a little while. Hoping that Jim didn't "zone-out" in front of the entire group of assorted police and medical personnel. Jim shook his head and clenched his jaw.
"What, Jim? Did you get something?" Blair steered his eyes away from the chaotic scene. He tried to decipher his partner's expression, but was coming up short.
"I smell you in here, Sandburg. You're sure you didn't come in this morning?"
"C'mon Jim. I think that I would have remembered something like that. I got coffee at the cart by the station, not here. I was here two, maybe three days ago. There's no way you can smell that. I shower, you know." Blair's attempt at levity fell flat. The detective's stoic expression told Blair that he had already stopped listening. Jim's face betrayed none of the activities he was sure to be experiencing, trying to determine what actually happened here.
Blair sighed, there was no way that he was going to get those finals graded by tonight. Today was going to be a long day, he could just tell.
Section 12:
It was around noontime when I finally made my way to the University campus. I had purposely taken an indirect route so I could begin to get acclimated to my new home. The campus bustled with students, some walking in small groups, others spread out on the lawn, hoping to get in some last-minute cramming. There were only two days left of exams. I didn't need to proctor any exams until two o'clock, so I went in search of a place to sit down.
The student union was curiously unpopulated. I made my way to the student lounge and sat in an overstuffed chair near to the television. Maybe I could catch the end of the news before plodding off in search of the Earth Science building. I opened up my bag to pull out the remnants of the bagel I had saved from the morning. To my surprise, I found a gray tee shirt that I was sure was not mine. I must've stuffed one of Blair's shirts into my bag in my rush to get out earlier today.
I stared in disbelief at the television as a female reporter stood in front of the donut shop I had breakfast in this morning. Police and ambulances were everywhere. The sign "The Donut Hole" still blinked cheerfully in the corner of the screen. Then, Blair's roommate, Jim, started talking with the reporter. The horror of the situation was etched into his face as he stood next to the reporter. " Detective James Ellison, Cascade Police Department, Major Crimes Division" flashed below him on the screen. I quickly turned up the sound as Blair actually stepped up behind the detective. "…Unknown number of gunmen were involved in holding 30 patrons of this establishment hostage while taking approximately 400 dollars from the register at 11:00 this morning. An employee was shot and killed. The name will be withheld until the family can be notified…"
"Any suspects, Detective?" the reporter pressed.
"I'm sorry, that's all we have right now. The department will issue a formal statement at four o'clock this afternoon. Thank you." The detective stepped back away and faded into the chaos behind the reporter. Blair stood out by himself for one second more and then was also swallowed up by the scene. Blair's a cop? That would certainly explain some of those violent images I saw.
"That's all from here. We will bring you any additional news as we receive it. Back to you in the studio, Warren." The scene changed back to the news anchors and I switched off the set.
I sat back heavily in my chair, the crushing weight of guilt keeping me from taking a deep breath. Shit, I could've done something. I should've done something. Maybe then that girl would be alive. I knew she was going to die and I did nothing about it. That's about as bad as killing her myself. I held back a sob from deep within me. Maybe I should go to the police. What the hell good would that do? What am I supposed to do, go in and say "Hey, I wasn't there, but I saw what happened today at the donut shop. I'm psychic, you know." Psycho would be more like it. That will be the last thing I'll say before the haul my ass off to jail or to the Psych. ward at County Hospital. I stood up and willed myself to walk normally out of the union and back out into the warm air. I forced the debate raging in my mind to shut up. There's nothing more to do, she's dead, and the time for prevention had passed.
I walked slowly to the Earth Sciences building for the ANTH 101: Introduction to Anthropology final I was supposed to proctor. The world seemed out of focus. The normalcy of campus life occurring around me seemed to be a mockery of what had transpired at the donut shop. How can everyone act so normally when someone just died? This kind of thing had never happened to me before. I always had flashes of the past, never the future. There was never anything for me to do but observe and try to understand what happened in those visions. How was I supposed to know that it really was going to happen? How was I supposed to know?
Section 13:
Jim and Blair stayed at the scene for more than two hours in the desperate attempt to come up with some leads. Jim was still plagued by the sense that something was not right here, besides the obvious. They were extremely thorough; no clues remained which would help direct the investigation. Why would these gunmen waste their time and energy on this joint? Unless… unless they were only practicing for the real thing. Jim's mind raced through upcoming events that would require highly-skilled operatives to disrupt police security. He couldn't come up with anything off-hand, but the idea warranted some checking once he and Blair got back to the precinct.
Jim looked over at his partner, who still had a distinct shade of green coloring his complexion. Jim smiled. "Hey, Chief, what do you say to getting out of here?"
"I say hell, yeah, man!" Blair's face brightened at the prospect of leaving this place of terror and death.
Jim stopped to speak with Claire, but didn't have anything really to add to her investigation. "Claire, did your boys come up with anything else, anything we can use?"
"My people could find nothing more than this." She held up a small plastic bag containing what seemed to be cloth fibers. "These were stuck in the hinges of the door. They could've been from anyone, anytime. We're grasping at straws here, Jim. Did you find anything?"
"Let me see those fibers." Jim opened up the baggie and sniffed gently. "Hmm, gun powder residue. That's got to be from our gunmen. From the strength of the smell, I'd say that these fibers were near to a gun recently fired, military issue. There's a base in the gunpowder that only the Armed Forces use. Maybe, we're not grasping at straws after all." Jim's hopes were raised a little bit. He glanced over at Blair who had a strange expression on his face. Jim looked at Blair with a questioning look "What?"
"How…how could you tell all that by just smelling those fibers?" Claire asked, incredulous. Her eyes were wide with suprise.
Blair stepped in, ready with one of his obfuscations. "Jim was in Special Forces. He was exposed to a lot of military issued weaponry and could detect it a mile away." Jim realized he had said too much earlier and just nodded with Blair's misdirection.
"I see. You must have a very sensitive nose. Thanks for the information, but you'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it." She had slipped easily back into scientist-mode. She dismissed Jim's analysis as pure suggestion. The scene was full of gunmen, a gun had gone off in the vicinity, the detective just jumped to conclusions. She nodded to herself, happy with her logical explanation of Jim's display of impossible skills.
Blair turned to Jim, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. "What the hell was that, man? You should know better than to use your skills to show off for the head of forensics. She might start asking questions that you know we can't answer! I'll be in the truck." He stormed away from the surprised detective.
"I thought you wanted me to use my skills, Chief." Jim said to the air where his partner used to be.
Jim was about to follow his partner out to the truck when something fluttering in the wake of Blair's hasty exit caught his eye. He stopped a forensics technician walking by and relieved him of his tweezers and a small evidence bag. He bent down to the edge of the table at the first booth by the door. One black hair waved up at him. Jim smiled. Finally, some evidence the forensic team had missed. At least now he had something to tell the Captain. Somewhere to start from.
Section 14:
Utter shock had propelled me through the exam and I numbly accepted finished exams at the end of the three hours. The earlier scene I had flashed on before entering the donut shop and Jim's description of the scene after the shooting ran on an infinite loop in my head. I practically threw my pile of exams into the head proctor's hands in my attempt at escape. His look of surprise was wasted as I was already out the door. I was afraid to let myself go anymore, to feel anything about anyone. What if this happened again? How could I live with myself?
I nearly jumped out of my own skin when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whipped around and saw Blair looking at me with those intense eyes. I didn't know if I should be angry with him for lying to me or indifferent because he really didn't owe me anything.
"Hey, Max. How did the exam go?" Blair tried to get a conversation started, but I didn't respond as I began walking away. Students rushed around us like everything was all right with the world. Life continued as if nothing happened.
"That bad, huh? I know how draining those things can be, especially if those undergraduates keep asking a million questions…" He followed me as if I really was having a conversation with him.
He didn't seem to notice that I was ignoring him. I started to walk a little faster, hoping he'd get the hint and go away. I couldn't face him, it was just a painful reminder of what I hadn't done. "Hey, Max, wait up. Are you trying to get rid of me or something?" He asked lightly, hoping for an equally light response.
I stopped short and he ran into me. "You want to talk, Blair? We'll talk, then." I began with a tangible edge of venom in my voice. His mouth promptly clamped shut. My expression softened as I realized that I was taking my frustration and anger out on him and that wasn't fair. Give him a chance to pull his own ass out of the fire first. Maybe later.
I turned and faced him. I purposely stood within inches of him, invading his "comfort zone". "Look, Blair, I'm sorry to be rude, but I've had a really long day and I'm tired. Maybe we can continue this conversation later." There, I saw his expression lighten up a bit. He didn't think it was him who caused my foul mood anymore. Great.
"Okay then. Call me later, maybe we can go for a cup of coffee or something." He flashed me that brilliant smile of his and walked away. The black cloud that descended over me had just signed on for another tour of duty. How was I ever going to deal with this blood on my hands?
Section 15:
Jim slumped down in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. He was trying to shut out the visions and odors swirling around in his head. The usual bustle of the bullpen was not helping matters any. A lot of things at that scene just did not add up. The smell of the military-grade gunpowder residue and something very familiar. He just couldn't shake the feeling that he had experienced some sort of déja-vu at the scene. How did the dark-haired college student fit into the murder and robbery? She was there two hours before the gunmen arrived, but had asked if the coffee shop had ever been robbed before. Was she casing the joint and was careless with her comments? Did she know anything or was it just a giant coincidence? He did find the evidence to place the person the clerk had seen at the scene, like that was really in question, though. He needed something more, something decisive to lead him to the gunmen.
Not in all the years that Jim had gone there for an early morning java and buttermilk glazed donut had that shop ever been even robbed. Hell, even trouble-magnet Blair hadn't managed to burn himself on the coffee or choke on one of his bran muffins. Why there? Why shoot the clerk for a lousy four hundred dollars? To make an example of her…. for what? Jim had a feeling that it wasn't just to keep the hostages in line. The gunmen let them all go after only about ten minutes. No one outside had even noticed until it was all over. It all seemed too well-practiced, too smooth for a small job. These three had to be pro's, out for what? Was this a training mission? An initiation of some sort? The lack of physical evidence, the high caliber, military-style weapon used, and the ease of escape all pointed to a well-orchestrated operation. It seemed that this college girl and the witnesses were the only leads he had to work from at the moment. So much for heightened senses. Where the hell was that sketch artist anyway?
Section 16:
Blair was surprised by the cold shoulder routine that he had received from Max earlier in the afternoon. He had thought that after the show and the kiss that morning that things between them were proceeding in the right direction. She seemed very disturbed and distracted, kind of how Jim got when he felt guilty about something. Ah, maybe that was it. Maybe she had rethought her actions this morning and this was her way of backing off. Well, he'd let her proceed at her own pace. Meanwhile, he'd have to pick up those last exams from his office and drop off final grades for the two sections of his class that he had managed to finish. She did say that she was proctoring one more exam, ANTH 104. Maybe he'd just offer to help proctor that exam, too. That way he'd have a reason to see her and maybe talk to her without too much pressure.
He walked back over to the Earth Sciences Building, where all the anthropology finals were being held today. That building had the largest lecture hall so many sections of the classes could take their finals simultaneously. Makes sense for the proctors, but not for the graders. Every time a final was finished, he was inundated with mounds of exams. Luckily, he and the other TA's had decided that they would only grade one part of the exams each. Thus, saving mental energy but increasing the boredom factor exponentially. He got stuck with the essay portion because he missed the meeting to be at the station. He hoped that Jim appreciated all the sacrifices he made in the name of the police department. He probably wouldn't have been able to finish the finals in time to go camping anyway. Okay, enough of the poor Blair thoughts. He sighed as he neared his destination.
Section 17:
Okay, so I was rude to Blair. Okay, really rude. But that doesn't mean that I have to apologize to him, does it? That's a rhetorical question. I was a little bit surprised when he walked into the lecture hall in which the last final I was proctoring was being held. He glanced around, I hoped it was to see if I was there. The guilt I felt over the shooting was now compounded with the awful way that I had treated Blair. I resolved to talk to him after the exam. At least that was something that I could fix.
I blushed slightly as I thought about what I had done at his place this morning. Had it only been this morning? I had given him a show that I usually reserved for the fourth or fifth date. The kiss, well that was a bit premature also. Somehow I thought that he didn't seem to mind. I started to pass out the pile of exams to the students in my section. Hope and frustration dueled on each one of their faces. Soon, it would all be over. I tried to project in my smile of reassurance to the students. At least this kept me from thinking about… what happened.
I finished passing out my pile of exams and migrated towards the rear of the room. I leaned against the back wall of the large lecture hall, barely filled half-full with students. The back of the room was dimly lit and served my purposes of retreat quite well. I would check on my group of students every now and then. But in between those times, I wanted to think. I looked up from my musings and saw Blair winding his way through the aisles towards my hiding place. He waited to catch my eye before smiling slightly. I hoped he could tell I wasn't in the best of moods. Very perceptive, Blair.
I leaned against the wall again, debating whether or not I was glad that he didn't give up so easily. I was having a very hard time dealing with what happened and a chat with a friend might help. Even if he had lied to me. Blair sidled up next to me, leaning against the same wall, not three inches away from my shoulder. I thought I could feel his body heat radiating towards me. Sure the attraction was there, but where do you draw the line for trust?
"Max, I think we need to talk." Blair started.
"I know. There are a couple of things I think we need to get straight before anything else." I looked at the floor. Suddenly, my shoes became quite attention-grabbing. Blair put his finger under my chin and slowly pushed my chin up so I was looking into his eyes.
"As soon as this exam's over." He ran his hand down my cheek lightly and walked away.
I continued to stand, somewhat stunned by what had just transpired. Maybe I wasn't the only one with psychic abilities. Maybe I wasn't as alone in this as I thought. Maybe Blair could help me.
The exam couldn't be over fast enough for me. All of a sudden I was now bursting to tell Blair what had happened to me. All of this time of hiding my abilities, why the sudden switch? I was very curious about that answer myself. The exam finally ended and Blair led me outside and into the sunlight.
Section 18:
"Okay, I'm here, you're here. What did you need to talk to me about?" Blair asked, a little more desperately than he had wanted to convey. Max had a look on her face that he couldn't quite place, a mix of frustration, desperation, and something else, fear maybe, but he knew he never wanted to see that look ever again.
"Blair, you're going to think that this is absolutely the strangest thing you've ever heard. I'm not crazy and I hope that you'll speak to me after I tell you what I'm going to tell you…." she started all in a rush. All sorts of things flew around in Blair's head, she is really crazy and I'll somehow end up in a situation that only Jim could rescue me out of…No, not all of the women I'm interested in have to be crazy or mixed up in some kind of international spy ring or something. Hear her out, it can't hurt.
"Blair, I saw the gunmen in the donut shop this morning. I saw them shoot that poor clerk, Gail. I heard him yelling to the customers to get down. That man's voice will remain with me forever…"
"What?! You were there? How did you get out with no one noticing you? Why didn't you go the police?" Blair practically screamed at her. A few passing students slowed down and glared at him as they walked by. He lowered his voice and continued. "Did you notice anything else? Anything else that could help the police determine why this happened?"
"Blair, you didn't let me finish. I saw all of this at 9:00 this morning, just after I left your loft. There's a little more to this story than you think. This is the crazy part that I warned you about." She took his hands and led him to a bench underneath a few oak trees. The constant stream of students seemed to have dried up for now. Blair only heard the wind rustling the leaves of the trees above him and the pounding of his heart. The sun played lightly on the ground beneath his feet. The world did not seem to reflect the turmoil that he felt inside him. He knew what he was about to hear could be as strange as what he told Jim when he first met him.
She took a slow breath in and exhaled just as slowly. She seemed to be gathering her courage; something that Blair was extremely familiar with after so many years of working with Jim. She continued to hold his hands as she looked into his eyes. "Okay, Blair, I'm just going to come right out and tell you. I've never told this to anyone ever before and it will certainly color your impression of me." She seemed to be stalling. Blair also knew from experience that this tactic rarely made the telling any easier.
"Max, you know that I will listen to anything that you have to say and reserve all judgment as best I can." He gave her his best reassuring smile that he could, hoping that it would prompt her to come out and tell him what was so obviously bothering her so profoundly.
"Okay, okay, I know that I'm stalling. Here goes…." She swallowed and began the telling of a story that even Blair would find difficult to accept.
Section 19:
Jim sat back for the hundredth time in his chair and ran through the facts one more time. Two many loose ends waved back at him, mocking him. The press conference was very short. Captain Banks had not wanted to give the press too much information, as he was afraid that it would bring out too many kooks and copycats from the woodwork. Jim had to agree, there was never any love lost between the press and him. He had spent some time running down useless and long-shot leads. The forensics department was having trouble identifying the powder residue components and probably wouldn't be able to until the next day. He sighed and glanced at the clock. The hands showed it was 7:00 p.m. It's getting late. Time to go home. Maybe something will come to me there.
He didn't remember the ride home but pulled into the parking lot for his building just the same as usual. He unconsciously listened for Blair's heartbeat and found it inside the loft. Good, maybe Blair will have some insight. He stopped short. Someone else was in the apartment. That thought alone propelled him up the four flights of stairs and just in front of the door of his loft. He closed his eyes and listened. Blair was speaking at an even tone and his heartbeat was steady, if not a little fast. Okay, a little over the top. He's fine, stop acting like a mother hen all the time, he's okay. He took a few deep breaths in order to slow his own pounding heart and ragged breath. He put his key into the lock and sauntered in like he had all the time in the world.
"Hey there, Chief. Hard day with those coeds, huh?" Jim asked lightly as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. Blair looked up and nodded towards him as he took a long swig from his beer bottle. "Oh, hi, Max, was it?" Jim asked although he remembered her quite vividly from this morning. Something tickled in the back of his mind, but he dismissed it as hunger. She nodded and smiled at him as she continued to chew the last remains of what Jim detected as a tuna sandwich.
Jim noticed that the both of them had slightly flushed complexions and their heartbeats were somewhat elevated, like they also had just run up all the stairs. He took another swallow from his beer and sat down on the couch, hoping to relax and somehow divine some insight into this case.
"Uh, Jim. There's something Max told me that I think that you should hear. It's about the donut shop murder…" Jim didn't even let him finish his sentence as he practically leapt over the back of the couch and faced the two of them at the table. Just then, that little something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind raced to the forefront.
"It was you. You were there at the donut shop this morning." He turned to Blair. "That's why you seemed to be there, Chief. It was her hair that I found!" Jim stepped closer and studied Max's face. An increase in her breathing and heart rate and the dilation of her pupils told the Sentinel all that he wanted to know. He was right.
"Okay, Jim. That's right, but that's only part of the story. Max, tell Jim what you just told me about the gunmen you saw." Blair said calmly. Jim was livid, he started to clench and unclench his jaw.
"Maybe we should take this downtown. If you have information about this case, I want the Captain to hear it too." Jim started towards his jacket and put his keys back in his pocket.
"Uh, Jim. You will want to hear this first before we bring in Simon. It's a bit unusual and may be a little hard to explain to other people." Blair looked down at his feet. Never a good sign, when Blair was afraid to look up when he spoke. Great, something else for Simon to glower at the pair over.
"Okay, Chief. Let me have it. What have you got?" I'm almost afraid to ask.
Section 20:
"I know this is going to sound a bit crazy. Probably a lot crazy. I never talked about this with anyone before Blair. Let's all please sit down at the table, if you don't mind. I think that a little demonstration may help to argue my case." They both followed me to the kitchen. Okay, so I was stalling again. How do I tell Blair's partner this preposterous story when I wasn't even sure if Blair believed me?
"I don't mean to interrupt, but do you have any information about the case? I'm all out of options right now and I need something to go on." Jim sat back and waited for my response. Blair just continued to look at me, waiting for me to begin.
I drew in a long breath and blew it out slowly out of my mouth. "Jim, would you mind giving me your hand for a minute?"
"What does this have to do with the case?" He started to protest as he looked over at Blair. Blair nodded, almost imperceptibly. Jim slid his hand into mine, his jaw set in frustration.
I grasped his hand firmly and closed my eyes.
A crush of feelings overwhelmed me, like an ocean wave after a hurricane. So much there, so much I couldn't understand. This wasn't like the silent movie trailers that I was used to. It was in full color and sound. But of course that didn't mean it made any more sense to me than the others.
A young boy sits next to his little brother in a living room. A stern-looking man talks down to them saying, "Jim…Stephen…your mother…not coming home any more…." The young boy didn't hear much more after that, but a sinking feeling of loneliness and desperation overcomes him.
A flood of panic and seas of green rush by as this young man thinks of his family and of death. Then the darkness and stillness engulfs everything. The realization that he isn't dead and not being quite sure what to do next are the next in succession. Army training and a sense of duty take over, emotions are buried and forgotten. A man worthy of respect shows this young man direction, how to handle himself in his new surroundings. So there is no loss of control. A large black cat bursts out of the forest and into a clearing.
The face of a woman who helped him to resume his life. His normal life here. He struggles to find a place among the people. He is more than us, more than he even realizes. Suppression leads to control. She doesn't stay very long. His job helps to keep in him in the here and now. Grounded and in control.
A young and reckless man breaks into Jim's efforts at control and calm. How dare he propose to help? It was Blair.
At that point I broke my contact with Jim. I had seen entirely much more than I had wanted or even intended. I felt like an interloper into Jim's consciousness. And I hadn't even been trying. I had hoped to gather just a few strong impressions to prove to Jim that I was telling the truth. I sat back in my chair and opened my eyes.
Jim and Blair stared at me incredulously.
"What the hell just happened?" There was a bite of anger in Jim's voice.
"I…I'm not quite sure what to say, Jim. What happened on your end? Did you see everything I saw?"
"What are you talking about? What just happened?" Blair hunched over the table, just inches away from my face. He stared directly into my eyes. I broke eye contact and refocused again on Jim.
"It was if I was watching a home movie of my own life but I wasn't controlling it. Things from my past that I haven't thought about in years…" Jim's voice trailed off as I presumed he was visiting those places in his mind once again. As I studied Jim's face, a wave of vertigo and nausea passed over me. I got up and stumbled over to the bathroom and promptly lost my dinner.
I heard Blair talking to Jim about something. I heard Jim's voice raised and Blair's over his trying calm him down. I sat down on the hard tile floor and rested my head against the sink's pedestal. The coolness helped to center me again. Wow, that's certainly never happened before. A lot has never happened before…before Blair and Jim.
The bathroom floor suddenly felt so much more comfortable as I stretched my arms over my head and blinked my eyes. I suddenly realized that I wasn't in the bathroom anymore. I was in Blair's bed, covered by blankets. I glanced at the windows. It was dark outside. My hand went up to explore the wet feeling on my head. I had a washcloth on my forehead. "Blair? Are you here?"
"Hmmm? Yeah..I'm here." A dark figure unfurled itself from a chair in the corner of the room. He walked over and laid his hand on my head. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired." I sat bolt upright and registered that this wasn't normal. "Uh, Blair, what happened? How did I get here?"
Blair took my hand and sat down next to me on the bed. "After the 'reading' you did for Jim, you just turned green and ran to the bathroom. Next thing we found you on the floor passed out. Has that ever happened to you before?"
"No, never. Of course a lot of things lately have never happened to me before." I slid back down to a semi-reclining position.
"What do you mean?" Blair edged closer to me on the bed.
"You know how I told you about the 'flashes' I sometimes got from people? Usually they were of pretty emotionally-charged incidences or something recent, still fresh in their minds. Never was I able to see the future, hear anything in these flashes, or …..see what I did with Jim. What the hell is happening to me?" I closed my eyes and swallowed, hoping by the time that I opened my eyes again, everything would be back to normal. Blair held my hand and waited.
"What did you see?"