"Pins and needles
Part 2
Two days later…
Blair drove to Prospect Place, screeching to a halt next to Jim's truck. He was in a really bad mood. This was the perfect ending to a rotten day. He'd had this weird feeling all evening that he should be with Jim. When he let himself into the Loft, Jim wasn't sitting watching TV nor was he in the kitchen. Nor was he asleep in his room. The bathroom was its usual pristine model of cleanliness.
"Jim? Are you in here, man? Simon's mad at you, and we need to talk," said Blair loudly giving Jim a chance to speak up. But there was no reply.
Blair walked through the apartment and saw the balcony door was slightly ajar. He went through the door.
Jim sat upright, wedged in the corner of the balcony terrace his long legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Beside him was a row of unopened beer bottles. He sat head leaned back to the wall, eyes closed, hands slack at his side.
"Jim? What's going on?" Blair asked getting really worried as Jim didn't answer him. When there was no answer Blair edged closer, "Jim?"
Jim couldn't be drunk - the bottles were unopened. He never slept that deeply at this time of the day. Was he…?
Blair stretched out his hand as he knelt by him to check for a pulse. 'Thank God,' there it was, steady but slow. Jim's skin felt cool to the touch. Not surprising in the early evening cool if he had been here for a while.
"Jim, wake up you're scaring me here."
Jim looked oddly peaceful sitting there. Blair returned to the kitchen and made himself a cup of herbal tea for warmth and comfort and to see if the smell would bring Jim back.
Blair sat down next to Jim and putting one hand on Jim's arm, he began to talk.
"I know you hate these teas, but I've had a bad day, and I need it. Shall I tell you about it? I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me. You won't tell me how you are. I don't know why I'm not surprised, but all that fallout from Colonel Oliver, you just brushed it aside like it was nothing. It had to mean something to you, man. I think you've been having trouble with you senses the last day or two. Spikes, I guess, like after Danny Choi. I said we could go on that fishing trip and have some peace and quiet, but no, you're like a bear with a sore head stomping about the place. Yelling at me saying you 'don't want to go fishing dammit', and to 'shut the hell up and just leave you alone' is not a good attitude. I live here, too. I can't be quiet all the time. I know it's been hard to be face to face with Colonel Oliver again and losing your army pal."
Blair paused and drank some of the tea. The fingers under his hand twitched, but Jim wasn't back yet.
"So, much as I'd like to have kept an eye on you tonight during your stakeout, sting operation whatever it was, but you flatly refused to let me come along. I got mad at you and managed to pull some extra tutoring instead. And what happens? Shit happens that's what. Three irate messages on my phone from Simon about you. You almost killed your suspect tonight. Simon isn't happy; he says it took two of them to stop you. I'm worried. What's going on in there, Jim? Is it something to do with Sam Holland or Colonel Oliver?"
Jim's ankle jerked and he mumbled something.
Blair sighed. It was getting cooler out here by the minute.
"See, we should have talked about this days ago. But you're too good at brushing me off and bottling it up and pretending it never happened. You need to deal with it. Heck, I know I needed to deal with it, escaping from those guys and being with Jack when he got shot. What's with the bottles, big guy? Planning on having a solo party? Why are you hiding in the corner, Jim? You didn't do anything wrong."
Blair looked at Jim again, had he said something again? Blair wafted his cooling tea under Jim's nose
"Are you back yet, Jim? Because this is one heck of a one- sided conversation. Even Larry answered me back…"
The hand under Blair's clenched then unclenched before pulling out from Blair's and blindly reached for Blair's chest, his guiding heartbeat.
Jim's eyes opened at last and he turned to Blair. "Blair?" he said slowly.
"Jim? Are you okay?"
"Yes and No."
Blair was startled to see that Jim looked upset. "Want to tell me about it?"
There was a long silence.
Jim cleared his throat. "I'm not sorry Colonel Oliver's dead. But I would have liked to ask him more questions, turn him over to the authorities. There wasn't time; I couldn't stop him going over the edge of the roof."
"Jim, he was going to kill Chavez, pin it on you, and then kill you. He ordered the killing of your friend. "
"It's all my fault! If it weren't for me you wouldn't be dodging killers and bullets. I couldn't stop them killing Sam. I couldn't warn him in time. He was the last one. There's only me left, and I wonder if it was all worth it."
"Look, Jim. Sam Holland came to you because you were his Captain, right?"
Jim nodded.
"He trusted you. He thought you could help him. Of course you were going to see and talk to him."
"I should have realised sooner that maybe he'd been followed. I thought we'd have more time. I didn't expect to get taken like that."
"You can't predict everything, Jim. I'm sorry about Sam Holland."
"I almost escaped, but that was a trick too." Jim stopped and shook his head, before continuing, "Remember we joked about medications and testing and stuff. I didn't know what was going to happen, if I'd wake up again. The nail was the only thing I could think of."
"It worked, Jim, it worked really well. I know you like being in control all the time, and this has shaken you up."
"That's an understatement, Chief."
There was a pause while they both thought what to say next. Jim knew that Blair wasn't going to stop prodding until he had the whole sorry tale. Jim wasn't proud of what had happened. He should have controlled himself better, he should have, and he was no better than a thug. He closed his eyes again and sighed, letting his breath out.
Blair watched Jim try and pull himself together. He seemed so weary. But Jim never gave in, did he? What had triggered tonight's debacle? Blair wondered, as he thought how to help Jim without touching a raw nerve and making him clam up or storm off like before.
"So…" Blair started to ask.
"What?" said Jim stubbornly.
"So, what happened tonight, Jim?"
There was a long pause, and Blair thought Jim wasn't going to answer him, until finally he spoke,
"We had a tip off about Soames; you remember the money laundering scam, Chief? The one we've been trying to get for over a year now, but we couldn't get any evidence?"
"Yes."
"Well, the tip off said we could catch him getting his ledgers and money. No-one's seen him for months and up he pops out of the woodwork."
"And?"
"We waited, we saw, we apprehended the guy, got the evidence," finished Jim curtly.
"Then why is Simon so mad?" asked Blair confused.
"Because I lost it in the debriefing… sorry, interview room afterwards, that's why."
"What did you do? Overplay the good cop bad cop routine? But you can tell when they're lying, monitor heart rate and body language, can't you?"
"No, it was more like I was trying to merge him into the brickwork and paint. One move of my hands on his neck, and I would have killed him in a heartbeat without even thinking about it."
"Why, Jim? What did he do to get you so mad? I don't understand."
"He was sitting there all smug and self righteous and he said 'He'd been in business a long time and that we couldn't prove it and that we couldn't catch him.'"
Jim: Chavez was going to nail you, wasn't he?
Oliver: Oh, he tried but he's way out of his league. I've been doing this too long to get caught, Jim.
"So what? A lot of them say something like that."
"Yeah, well today it just totally pissed me off. Sitting there in his black coat, like we were bugs on a windshield. But what really made me lose it was what he said next. "How long were we going to harass him, what did he have to do to get rid of us, to make us back off?"
Oliver: What's it going to take, Ellison? What's it going to take to put you down?
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Jim ran out of things to say. Blair was still confused. What was the problem here? Simon said that Jim in one fluid motion had pounced on the man, dragged him off the chair, and thrown him against the wall with one arm behind his back almost dislocating it. It happened so fast that if it weren't for the man slowly turning purple, Simon would not have believed it.
"I just made everything worse! He'll file charges for 'excessive force against a suspect', I'll lose my badge and that'll be that," said Jim flatly. "I screwed up and lost the department one of the scumbags we've been after for too long,"
"No! There has to be more to it than this. You were fine until the interview. Did his words mean something to you, Jim?"
"You could say that. On any other day, it would be nothing, but they were very similar to conversations between Colonel Oliver and me. The bastard set us up just to protect his supply line! Eight men dead now!" seethed Jim, picking at the label on one of the beer bottles.
Oliver : What good's a war without a profit?
"My God, Jim, what were the odds on him saying stuff like that?"
"Pressed my buttons good and proper, stupid jerk even reminded me of Oliver too, sitting there in his black long coat. Smug son of a bitch. I just reacted. God, I wanted to kill him so bad. It felt good; to hit out, it wasn't like shooting Oliver. The two things became one and I didn't realise I was roughing up the wrong guy, that I'd already killed Colonel Oliver."
"Jim, look we can explain all this to Simon and the IA. If you'd be prepared to talk to the PD counsellor first…"
"Shit, I thought you'd say that," Jim gripped the beer bottle so hard that Blair thought it would break.
"Calm down, Jim. You know the suits like stuff on pieces of paper that they can file away. This will help you keep your badge, I promise."
"Yeah, thanks, Sandburg! And they can drag that piece of paper out the next time I fuck up, too."
"Jim! Stop being so paranoid! You can't be the only cop that's had a flashback after a trauma. It doesn't excuse it, but it does give it a reason. Come on work with me here, you want to keep your job, to be a cop don't you?" entreated Blair.
"Of course, I do!" Jim snapped.
"Then start acting like it! Get you own evidence and paperwork," replied Blair, hoping his snippy attitude would get through to Jim.
"You're absolutely right, Chief. I'm looking backwards at the past when I should be securing my future. I'll get right on it, just as soon as I can get up off this floor," said Jim tiredly.
"Yes, why are you sitting there, what's with the bottles and if you weren't zoned, what were you doing when I came back?"
"Whoa, Chief. One question at a time please!" said Jim as he tried to get up.
Blair stood and helped pull Jim up. He followed Jim's lurching progress inside.
"Ow! Ow! Pins and needles!" Jim groused as he made it to an armchair, closing his eyes as the blood rushed back into his extremities.
"Simon didn't suspend you, did he? He didn't tell me much, just to come back and look after you," asked Blair.
"No, told me to cool off, and hope Soames doesn't press charges. Although, how we can prove Oliver said those things to me? It was just between him and me, no witnesses."
"But you've given your statement to the Feds, haven't you? Did you put everything in it?"
"Of course, I did!" bristled Jim.
"And Soames's lawyers can get statements from the other suspects about Colonel Oliver's intentions and motivations, can't they?" continued Blair, thinking out loud.
"You're right, Blair. Why didn't I think of this? But it's still my word against theirs."
"Thanks, but you're not firing on all cylinders at the moment, so cut yourself some slack."
"Huh," grunted Jim, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the chair.
Looking at him, Blair knew that that was part of the problem. Jim never forgave himself if things went wrong. He expected to win all the time. There was no margin for error.
"The beer bottles were for the guys in the unit, and Sam who was supposed to go. I just hadn't decided whether to drink all of them at once or what," said Jim suddenly in the quiet of the Loft.
"Oh, I get it, toasting the dead?"
"Something like that, yeah," answered Jim quietly.
"You weren't really going to drink all that beer were you? I've never seen you have more than one or two since your senses came on line…" said Blair slightly worried.
"Well, you didn't know me before Peru. Sometimes we had to blot out what we did. I had my moments from the inside of a bottle, okay? A lot of it's just the social alpha tough guy bonding stuff right, Blair?"
"If you weren't drunk, weren't asleep, weren't zoned when I came in. What were you doing?" asked Blair, wanting the answer to one last question.
"If you must know I was trying to see if I could talk to Incacha."
"What?"
"When I was with Colonel Oliver on the roof I told him, 'I always wondered why I survived the jungle. But now I know'. And then I shot him."
"And?"
"After the flashback and everything I was so mad at myself. I kept thinking about Sam Holland and the Unit. And the crash and the jungle. And then I got to thinking about the Chopec and Incacha. About the way of the warrior and I don't know… seeing if I could get onto the spirit road and tell the guys what happened. Crazy idea, I know." blurted Jim.
"I'm really surprised, Jim. It's the kind of thing I'd do! But not...you… I mean..." Blair trailed off.
"I was just trying to relax sitting here, thinking. I really wanted to do it. Did I ever tell you the jungle is blue in my sprit world? And the panther is so black. He's beautiful."
"Wow, Jim that's amazing."
"I walked through the jungle looking for Incacha, anybody. It didn't work at first, I could hear voices and laughing somewhere and it got me mad, and I started running."
"What happened next?" asked Blair.
"The panther appeared out of nowhere and tripped me up. When I got up and tried to follow him, he was the other side of a clearing. When I tried to cross the clearing, it was quicksand and I floundered getting deeper and deeper. I looked up and Incacha sat there watching and waiting. 'Stop fighting and relax,' he said. Of course he was right, as soon as I stopped struggling, I could work my way out of the mire. He offered me his hand, to help me out and I waved it off. But he grabbed it anyway and pulled me out like it was nothing. 'Never refuse help, especially when you think you don't need it. You do'. Except of course he was speaking in Chopec and I understood him," explained Jim.
"Hey, I know what he means. It's not easy working with you sometimes, man," agreed Blair.
"He told me to sit in the clearing that he'd just pulled me out of. I thought this is nuts, I'm all wet and slimy and he wants me to sit back in it. But I know this man, he speaks the truth too often for me to ignore. He guided me without me understanding what he was doing, only that things worked well and I was helping the tribe. I felt complete. Not lost, not broken like when he'd found us and the chopper."
"What happened when you sat in the clearing, Jim?" prompted Blair.
"It changed into a beautiful grass meadow, with wild flowers, daisies and buttercups. Peaceful.
'What troubles you?' Incacha asked me.
'Oliver and his supply line, whole Peru thing, losing the guys,' because at that moment it was the truth and I can't not tell him. He knows. He can see.'
'What is done is done. The past is the past, we can learn from it and then we can only go forward. Do not let it destroy you. You cannot live your life trapped in blood and death, in this place. You are here many times. It is not good for the spirit.' he said
'But…'
'Part of you died with them, but you were reborn with us. You came into your true self. Was that wrong? No. It was what should be. Patterns of life with an unexpected thread.'
And then he told me to relax and look for a moment of perfect stillness to get rid of the hatred and anger I'd been carrying around. I didn't know what he meant but I sat there anyway. Gradually, things did get calmer. I imagined being at a table with the men in my unit and Sam Holland, having a few beers, game of cards. We were just chewing the fat, but I know I was telling them what happened, that I was sorry Oliver was dead and that we couldn't get more information from him. They told me, hey at least I got him that Chavez was saved and that Tanya and the others were bound to spill the beans in return for a deal with the Feds and DA."
"You think that's what'll happen?" said Blair.
"Probably," replied Jim.
"Then what?" prodded Blair.
"It was so good seeing everyone again, like old times, playing cards in some camp and I didn't want to leave. Incacha put his hand over my heart, and kept saying I had to go, it was time to face the real world now. It was safe to go home because my Guide was with me and I had a long journey to make. Everyone waved goodbye and they all vanished. All I could do was follow this voice. Yours…and smell of that damned tea."
"That's quite a story, Jim. Do you feel better?"
"Actually, I think I do, now that I've told you."
"Good."
"Yeah, I'll think things through and go in tomorrow and sort the paperwork out. Talk to Simon and people. It could be the only time we ever get anything from Colonel Oliver's rogue team. I still have sources that can tell me stuff if the Feds clam up. We ought to visit Kelso, see how he's doing, don't you think?" said Jim getting up from the chair.
"It's a bit late to visit now, though."
"I know, Darwin. How about dinner? Stir fry? I'll do the chicken and veg if you do the sauce?"
"Sounds like a plan."
"What noodles do you want?"
"What we got, Jim?"
"I don't know, it was your turn to shop this week."
"No, it wasn't!" retorted Blair.
"Was."
"Wasn't. We were going camping remember!"
"Oh…Yeah," realised Jim. As he stood in the kitchen opening a cupboard, he could smell something. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out dried grass and a flattened daisy. He still needed time to think about what this meant. He could tell Blair about this later. Right now there were hungry stomachs to feed. Blair could turn ugly if you didn't feed him.
THE END