"The Chameleon"

Chapter Three

Anna Cordova pulled off her nurse's uniform and waded it up into a ball.

"What's the matter?" a male voice asked from the doorway.

Anna turned to see a young man eyeing her nearly naked body. She arched her back and sauntered up to him, her dark eyes flashing desire as her hand brushed across her cappuccino-colored skin. "Just getting comfortable, Ramon. Just getting ready for you."

"What are you saying, you are always ready for me," he said with a raffish chuckle.

Anna put a hand to his face, drawing her fingers along his jaw.

"I can hardly stand to be near that scum, Ramon. Knowing Ellison killed Enrique, along with so many others, and the fact that he is still alive is enough to drive me mad."

"But you are working according to the plan. Is he not suffering now?"

Anna dropped her hand to her side and walked away from him.

"Not enough! Not nearly enough after all that he's done. He took Enrique away from me and killed him in the prime of life. Even with Enrique's money and power, it wasn't enough to keep him safe. I was left to waste away in a coma for a year."

She ran her lacquered nails across the young man's chest. "Ramon, you were there, you should know better than most people how I'm feeling. After all, you were one of the civilian casualties, too. I swear if it's the last thing I do, I will kill Ellison for the destruction he left in our lives."

Ramon approached her, circling her waist with his wandering hands. "Just remember the plan is working, Anna, my love. Our enemy will be wishing for death by the time we finish with him."

"Don't tease me, Ramon. You know how thinking of Ellison's death makes me hot."

Ramon smiled, his nearly perfect teeth flashing white against his dark skin. He drew her close. "I'm counting on it."

And then he picked her up, and carried her to his bed.

Anna smiled with a wicked grin. "Is it time for the chameleon to disappear?"

"You do, and I'll be forced to kill you myself," he whispered to her right ear before his lips began to trail down her neck.

"Well, I might be coerced into staying for a while," she whispered, closing her eyes as her body responded to Ramon's ministrations.

"Hmm, I like that idea. Now, be quiet. I'm trying to concentrate here."

She ran her fingers through his thick hair as his lips went lower.

Blair was at his computer, making some notes about all that had happened in the past few weeks, attempting to see something in his notes that he missed in real life. Jim was in a bad way, accentuated by the knowledge he had no way to know when an attack would hit.

The doctors were stumped, which didn't help Jim's mood much. He was home from the hospital again and was currently upstairs sleeping. Blair took advantage of the time alone to make a chart of the attacks that he knew of, listing the memory flashbacks with the time they occurred, and then he did the same thing with the times Jim just passed out, trying to see a pattern of some sort, but nothing made any sense. Nothing at all.

Blair pushed away from his desk and began to pace. There must be something he was missing, some crucial detail he should have seen. Why couldn't he find it? He sighed and picked up a football sitting on the floor by his desk, playing with different grips on the ball as he pondered.

There was no sudden insight to make everything fall into place, so he put down the football and turned back to the computer monitor. His fingers were poised over the keyboard for a long moment before he typed, "I'd like to try hypnosis again, but I'm afraid to suggest it until Jim is stronger."

Blair paused when he sensed he wasn't alone. Spinning around, he found Jim reading over his shoulder. "Dammit, Jim, you know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that! Geez, that stealth sentinel stuff is scary!"

He quickly reached over to turn off the monitor, but Jim caught his arm and pushed him back to his seat. "Too late, Sandburg, I've already read what you typed."

Blair swiped his tongue across his cheek, trying to come up with a story Jim would buy, but one look to Ellison's dark expression told him that idea wasn't going to fly, so honesty was his only option.

"What I wrote is true, Jim. It is too dangerous to try hypnosis again. At least, not until I can know with any type of certainty what your reaction will be in a more controlled environment."

Jim grabbed Blair by his shirt and pulled him up to his face, speaking low, "Dammit, Sandburg, I'm not some lab rat for you to run through a maze. I'm a man trying to find his way through this mess . . . And if you-if you think more hypnosis will help, why aren't we doing it?"

Blair put his hands over Jim's, looking deep into Jim's eyes. "Because I want you to live a long and healthy life."

Jim let go of him, and stumbled away to the sofa, dropping onto the cushions. Jim's sudden burst of strength evaporated and he turned pale. His appearance scared the hell out of Blair. The young man went around to the coffee table and sat on it, so he could face Jim on the couch.

"Jim, maybe we don't have to try to bring those memories up. We might not have to go that far. If we do the same process, but just put you into a relaxed state, maybe you'll be able to glean facts from the flashbacks that you can't when you're in the middle of one of them."

"What are you talking about?"

Blair put a hand on Jim's arm. "Listen to me, Jim, I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. We can go halfway with your hypnotic state and you will do the rest."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then no harm done . . . it's core of the medical creed. Do no harm. But it might be a way for us to get a better understanding of what's going on here and I know I'd feel a hell of a lot better doing it this way than trying to put you all the way under."

Jim's penetrating gaze searched Blair's expression for more answers than he'd just given him, answers that he could understand. Blair felt for Jim, a man who lived for facts and hard evidence; he was now being forced to depend upon more esoteric methods, methods that only confused him.

He nodded. "Okay, Blair, let's just do it."

Blair swiped a hand over his mouth, suddenly not so sure of himself. Who was he to play with Jim's life? When he hesitated, Jim reacted, placing a hand on his arm as he looked up into his friend's face. "Blair, this may be the only way. God only knows I can't live my life like this. We've got to find an edge against whatever's happening with me."

Blair nodded and rubbed his hands together, trying to get into the right frame of mind.

"Yeah, right, right, let's just do it. Um, why don't you lie down on the sofa and get as comfortable as you can? I need to get something to drink before we start. My mouth's way too dry to try to talk you through a narrative."

He started to stand, but Ellison stopped him with a touch. "Easy does it, chief. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Blair nodded and stood, retreating to the kitchen for safe haven. Seeing Jim's courage in the face of his own weakness was a humbling experience. One Blair hoped would he'd never have to experience again. He pulled a bottle from the liquor cabinet and downed a swig without pausing to see what he was drinking. It didn't matter what it was as long as it helped to calm him down enough to help Jim.

After a moment, Blair returned from the kitchen with a glass of water and sat down at the coffee table. "Okay, Jim, I'm ready whenever you are."

"I'm ready, too," Jim said quietly.

"Now don't fall asleep on me."

"I'm with you, chief. No worries here."

No worries for you, partner, Blair thought.

"Okay, Jim, take some slow, deep breaths."

Jim obeyed without comment.

"Now, think about that creek again. The water is so inviting you can't stay away from it. Soon, you are floating downstream. You're being carried away to that safe place in your mind again. As you ride the water, you see things along the way that remind you of those flashbacks you've been having. You don't have to leave the water. You don't have to go all the way to that safe place at the end of the creek. All you have to do is use your senses to explain the images you see in your dreams and flashbacks. Do you think you can do that?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I think I so."

"Okay, tell me what you see."

"I'm at the café. My friends are with me, and we're waiting for lunch to arrive."

"Do you see anything odd at the table?"

"Just my arm in a cast."

"How did that happen?"

"I can't remember."

"Don't force it, Jim," Blair said with a little too much anxiety in his voice. He cleared his throat and spoke again, "Just relax and look around you. Tell me what else you see."

"I'm reading the newspaper."

"Good, that's good, Jim. What does it say?"

"It's . . . it's got pictures of a raid on Enrique Villanueva's compound."

"Enrique Villanueva? Who is he?"

"A reputed drug lord in Peru who was responsible for countless deaths among the farmers in the countryside when they refused to grow Villanueva's coca plants."

"Is that what the headlines say?"

"No, I know because I was there. I recognized the scenes from the photographs."

"You were there? You mean when the raid went down, you were actually in Villanueva's compound?"

"Yeah, I remember now. That's how I broke my arm . . . in the explosion."

"What explosion?"

Jim didn't answer him, so he repeated the question. "What explosion, Jim? Can you still see it?"

Jim's expression darkened and Blair was surprised to see tears seeping out from Jim's tightly closed eyes.

"Jim?" Blair's heart rate speeded up. "Jim, talk to me, buddy. What's going on?"

Ellison's complexion turned beet red as he battled to breathe.

"Back out of it right now, Jim! Back out!"

Jim's eyes were squeezed shut and Blair fell forward to his knees, clasping Jim's arm. "Jim, you have to listen to me. Listen to my voice. Do you see the creek? Are you still floating in the water?"

Jim's head turned from side to side as he tried to follow Blair's lead. "Come on, man, listen to my voice. You can do this, Jim. You can do this!"

Jim's breathing began to slow down a bit. "That's it, Jim. You're doing it. Now, go back to the creek and when it's safe, you can wake up."

Jim took several deep breaths and finally opened his eyes. Blair collapsed against Jim's arm. "Oh man, you scared me. You scared the living shit out of me!"

"Imagine how I felt," Jim muttered, putting a hand onto Blair's arm. Jim's voice was hoarse, but at least he came out of it pretty fast.

"Okay, let's take a moment to regroup here. Take a few more deep breaths before you try to talk." Blair waited a few minutes before he asked, "Do you remember anything else about what you saw?"

Jim moved to sit up, but Blair held him down. "No, not yet, Superman. Not until I'm sure you're okay. Now, talk to me."

"I'm fine."

Blair laughed and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know you're fine, man, but I want you to wait a few more minutes before you sit up, okay?"

Jim sighed, but stayed in place. Blair reached for his glass of water, but then held it out to Jim. "Thirsty?"

"No, thanks."

Blair took a long sip of the water and set it back down on the table. "What else can you tell me about what you saw?"

"Not a whole lot. I was sitting at the restaurant, waiting for my lunch and reading the newspaper. It was filled with articles about Villanueva's death."

"How did you feel as you read about it?"

"How did I feel?"

"Yeah, yeah, how did you feel about the articles in the paper? I mean, you were there, man. Did everything happen the way the newspaper said? Were they true to the events or did they screw it up?"

Jim swallowed, and his eyelids drifted closed. "It turned my stomach to read about it. So many were killed on both sides in that botched raid. We were only supposed to snatch Enrique and get the hell out of there, but things went crazy. Our intell was dead wrong. There were three times as many guards on the premises than we were told to expect. Not just that, but there were civilian casualties."

"Jim, this is a breakthrough! You're finally talking about it, remembering more about what happened without it affecting you."

"Oh, it affected me. Trust me on that one, chief, it affected me."

Blair stopped and looked at Jim more closely. "Are you talking about back then or now?"

Jim didn't answer Blair's question, instead he sighed and said, "I'm really tired. I just want

to go to sleep."

Blair nearly groaned with frustration, mostly because they were so close to finding some real answers, but he kept silent for Jim's sake. He didn't want to put too much on him all at once. "Sure, Jim, sure. Just lie back and close your eyes."

Blair reached for a blanket over the top of the sofa and covered Jim with it.

"No, I can go to my bed."

"Just rest here for a while, Jim. You can go up to bed later."

Jim looked like he was going to argue the point, but then closed his eyes. Blair stood, picking up his glass. He muted the lights and glanced around, wandering aimlessly at first before he sat at his desk again. God, what was going on inside Jim's head? What could he be suppressing that was important enough to endanger his life? And if they were on the right track, would the next step be too much for him? Should he push Jim any harder?

One hand clenched into a fist and he growled as quietly as he could, trying to release some of his frustration. He looked at the glass of water he was holding and finished it in one long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

What was the next step he should take? His gaze darted around the room until it came to a stop at the kitchen. I need to get a drink, maybe a beer this time.

He glanced down at the empty glass in his hand. Or maybe I'll just get some more water. I need to be on my toes just in case Jim needs me during the night.

So Blair headed toward the kitchen with heavy shoulders, but he knew in his heart the water he was after wouldn't come close to alleviating the load he was carrying.

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