As Always, I don't own anything.
Edited: 13 March 2019
Chapter 10
Jim woke the next morning fully expecting a visit from the GSC, mainly consisting of a few overly-smiling Guides and several very large assistants. He took his shower the previous night while Sandburg was gone to get rid of the chemical residues for a good night's sleep. So instead of heading for his typical morning shower, he moved directly for his clothing bureau across from his bed. Jim dressed with the air of a man preparing for his own execution, choosing one of his more comfortable shirts and jeans for work. If you're going to be carted away against your will might as well be comfortable.
But that was not the case. No one showed up at Jim's door, there was no one out in the street, the phone did not ring.
When Jim walked out of his room and looked down on his apartment, it was just Sandburg on his couch, a bag of overnight-necessities dropped nearby on the floor. Jim rolled his eyes and moved down to the kitchen to make some breakfast. While walking past the sleeping Guide, Jim looked over the many books and notes spread across the coffee table. Sandburg came back the night before with a bag of extra clothes and essentials and another filled with research materials concerning Sentinels. He tried bombarding Jim with questions about his control and past experiences, but Jim simply turned down his hearing and ignored the other man, heading to bed immediately. Obviously, when he couldn't get answers directly from Jim, Sandburg turned to his precious books.
For a moment, Jim considered letting the man continue to sleep and waking him five minutes before heading to the precinct. Watching Sandburg scramble to get ready might be entertaining. Or, he could just leave all together and not wake the Guide at all. Then he'd have an hour or two at the office without a tagalong tripping at his heels. He smiled slightly at the thought as he stepped back into the kitchen. It'd be nice working alone again.
Jim shook his head a moment later as he fished a mug out from the cabinet. It could very well backfire. He didn't know Sandburg all that well. For all he knew, Sandburg could get offended and call the GSC. The way it was now, only one person knew his secret. He didn't want to take the risk before he knew how far he could push the other man. Till then, they were going to have to work together.
Plus, Sandburg would need time to clean up his mess. Jim wasn't leaving his home in this state of disarray.
Coffee made and in his mug, Jim moved back to Sandburg's side. He picked up one of the larger text books left out on the coffee table. Looking over the title without really reading it, Jim bounced it up and down in his hand, testing the weight as Sandburg snored softly on the couch. He judged the distance, holding the book high above the ground near where Sandburg's head lay half on the couch pillow. With a little toss into the air, Jim let the book go. It dropped to the wood floor like a stone, landing flat on its cover and creating a painfully loud BAM on impact. Jim winced at the loud sound, but his flinch was nothing compared to Sandburg's startled cry as he jolted upright on the couch, eyes wide.
"What the hell?" Sandburg gasped, blinking at his surroundings in a good interpretation of an owl.
"Get up, we have to get to the office," Jim ordered, turning back to the kitchen to top off his coffee. Maybe he could drink it all before Sandburg got to it. "And you need to clean up your paper-party before we go, too. I'm not leaving the house in a mess."
"What time is it?" Blair slurred behind him.
"Six thirty."
"Six thirty?" Jim heard Sandburg mumble under his breath, "That's way too early."
Jim raised his voice from the kitchen as he cleaned up his few dishes, "I leave for the office in twenty minutes. If you're not ready, I'm leaving you behind."
Blair mumbled a few choice phrases beneath his breath that Jim was sure were meant for him. So he ignored them and continued cleaning up the kitchen. In the living room, Sandburg finally got off the couch and shuffle into the bathroom with one last mutinous retort about a shower, whether Jim liked it or not.
Jim took the opportunity to retreat to his bed room, grabbing several white noise generators on his way. Once safely in his room he place the generators along the opening to the door, hoping to block out as much noise from the shower as possible. He then focused on one of the relaxation techniques he'd mastered over the years. Something he could work through quickly, preparing him for the day before he left for work. It was harder to achieve the necessary level of relaxation with Sandburg in the apartment, but after a few minutes he managed it and set about centering his senses. Even with the small amount of silence and solitude he was able to regain some of the balance he'd need for the day ahead.
"Are you meditating?" an incredulous voice cut through Jim's thoughts as he worked through the final stages of bringing himself back to the world.
Jim fought back a wave of irritation, forcing himself to maintain a calm center as he opened his eyes. Still, he couldn't help the glare worthy of spontaneous combustion that came over his face, not that he tried very hard. "For your information, Sandburg," Jim said with only a twinge of sarcasm, "controlling enhanced senses takes concentration and balance."
Sandburg seemed at a loss for words for a moment as Jim scooped up the white noise generators and brushed past him down to the living room. Jim pushed the generators to the very back of their cupboard and headed for his jacket.
"Well…I know that…I just didn't picture you as the meditation type…" Sandburg muttered following him down the stairs to the living room.
Jim pulled on his light weight jacket, scanning the room for any telltale signs of his condition. At least Sandburg cleaned up the papers and books, stacking them on the coffee table. Jim grabbed his keys out of the basket by the door. "It's better than the other methods of coping out there."
Jim could hear Sandburg scrambling for his bag and coat as he stepped out into the hall. Jim shut the door as Sandburg hurried next to him, bag and jacket bundled in the Guide's arms. Jim checked the door was locked then started down the stairs. Sandburg fumbled to get his jacket on as Jim moved away.
"Other methods? What other methods?" Sandburg called out skipping a few steps to catch up with Jim.
Jim flinched as some of the cold water from Sandburg's hair splattered his neck from behind. His frown deepened as he glanced at the close doors they pass on each floor. Jim shook his head, this was not a conversation for a public place, even if that public place was a deserted stair well at 6:50 in the morning when everyone else in their apartment was still asleep. "Never mind, just get in the truck."
Jim had never considered murder as a good solution to anything, but it was looking better and better with each minute spent in traffic with Sandburg. The man didn't seem capable of remaining silent as he fired off one question after another, sometimes with no seeming correlation between the two of them.
"If you were afraid I would find out, why didn't you just take time off when I first got here?" Sandburg asked, a curious frown covering his face, the same curious frown he wore for the past five minutes.
"Simon wouldn't give me the time off," Jim grumbled with an immense amount of regret in his voice. He checked the rearview mirror as he navigated through traffic. Sandburg was already on the next question.
"Do you know any other Sentinels personally? Do you keep in contact with each other?"
Jim rolled his eyes, refusing to answer. He certainly wasn't dumb enough to go around associating with other people who could potentially get themselves caught and himself along with them. He'd seen the same scenario play out in gangs and drug rings while working for the department. Then, even if he did happen to know another Sentinel by chance, he wouldn't just go and blithely tell a Guide, any Guide.
Blair huffed at the continued silence. "Fine, if you don't want to answer any questions about other Sentinels then don't, let's focus on you for the moment. How long have you been practicing meditation?"
Jim heaved a sigh as they hit yet another red light. The drive seemed to be taking twice as long as normal. Clearly, karma was bitch-slapping him in the face, probably for being a bastard to Sandburg. "If I tell you, will you leave the questions alone for a while?"
"If you tell me about the meditation thing and how you cope," Sandburg agreed, pulling out a ragged spiral bound note book, "but it might take more than one question," he added quickly.
"You've got five," Jim's tone broke no argument as they waited behind a semi-truck blocking the street.
"Five?" Sandburg groaned, "C'mon! What am I supposed to get out of five questions?"
Keeping his eyes straight on the road, watching the trailer back up slowly, Jim didn't offer any sympathy, "Plenty if you ask the right question. I've conducted interrogations with less. And there's a time limit till we get to the Department."
"Fine," Sandburg harrumphed to himself, before raising his voice with the first of his five questions, "How long have you been meditating to control your senses?"
"Since they came online."
Sandburg waited for Jim to elaborate, but the pause just stretched out in tense silence. "Ok. What other methods are there for managing your senses, besides meditation?"
Jim sighed again as the truck driver started arguing with someone in the road. Yeah, karma was a bitch. "Use your head, Sandburg. How do people normally cope with stress and pain?"
"You don't mean drugs?" Sandburg asked, half disbelief, half horror.
Shrugging, Jim put the truck in park and settled back against his seat. "Drugs, alcohol, cutting, whatever can take the mind off it or give you a focal point. I'm sure there's some out there that use less dangerous methods, acupuncture or acupressure or whatever it is would probably help, too, but that would mean telling someone else, unless they could do it themselves. Having a specific object that you focus on could work. I've used paper cuts when I really needed focusing. It depends on if you're trying to focus or if you're trying to distract yourself from the pain."
Sandburg sat in stunned silence for a moment, his eyes swinging back to the truck-blocked road. "But…don't they realize what those things can do to them? It's a death sentence."
Jim rubbed his face hard with one hand, suddenly he was very tired. "Sure, doesn't mean that'll stop them, though. In their minds, they're trading one death sentence for another, probably. Everyone's different. They find ways to cope, some of those ways are healthy some of them are not. We're human beings, not some…biological tool or weapon at society's disposal. Besides, sometimes choosing your own way out is better than living a life that isn't really yours."
Sandburg drew in a sharp breath, looking as though he'd been slapped. Seeing his expression gave Jim a slight, only a slight, twinge of guilt.
"Look, it's nothing personal. It's just…Oh, for crying out loud," Jim undid his seat belt and climbed out of the truck, heading toward the two arguing men.
XXXXX
Blair watched as Jim approached the argument unfolding in the street. In some ways, Blair was still trying get over the shock from and Jim's last comment hadn't helped in any way. The true ramifications of a person in Jim's situation hadn't occurred to Blair. He hadn't thought about how far someone would be willing to go. He was struck again by a strong sense of failure. Somehow, they'd failed. Sentinels didn't trust their own Guides, the same people who were supposed to be there to help them. Jim certainly didn't trust him. Blair could feel it rolling off the man, even felt the remains of it radiating off the now empty driver's seat next to him. True, Blair was black mailing Jim, not something that generally inspired much trust, but it hadn't started out that way. He'd tried to be friendly and open and he really did just want to help.
Blair watched as Jim inserted himself into the argument, trying to settle the dispute before it blossomed into anything larger. What Blair needed to do was find a way to help Jim, prove that he could make the Sentinel's life better than it was without turning him into the GSC or giving Jim's abilities away to anyone. He needed to show that they could find a middle ground, both for himself as much as for Jim. If they could work that out, then other Sentinels and Guides could do the same.
Perhaps, that was how it used to be decades ago, before Sentinels started disappearing. The classes Blair took at the GSC hadn't focused on the subject or implied it was similar to today, but all those text books were written by the GSC or similar sources, and they had already shown themselves to be a less than trustworthy source for that topic of information. Blair did know some outside sources such as anthropological papers gave a much more varied description of the Sentinel and Guide relationship. What he needed were the original documents, sources from before the GSC was established located in his office back at the college. If he started out from scratch, threw out everything he thought he knew about Sentinels and worked on the assumption that everything he'd learned up to that point was skewed and flawed, maybe he'd find where they had gone wrong and where they could fix it.
The truck door opening and closing jerked Blair out of his thoughts as Jim climbed back in the truck, grumbling under his breath. Ahead of them the semi-truck finally shifted into gear and pulled away, freeing the road for through traffic. They were moving for several minutes before Blair realized he still had questions and his time was growing short as they drew nearer to the station.
"Oh, yeah," he muttered to himself, "Questions." Blair skimmed over his few notes, trying to pick up where they'd left off.
"Better make it a good one, you've only got one more," Jim said next to him, sounding half put out that Blair remembered and half pleased to inform Blair he'd reached his last.
Blair frowned, running over the previous conversation through his head. "No, I still have three left!"
Jim flicked off his fingers as he counted the questions off for Blair. "How long I'd been meditating, any other possible methods, the one about drugs, and then the one asking if they knew what they were doing."
Blair threw his hands up, dropping his pen in frustration. "Those weren't real questions!" he protested in frustration.
"Sounded like questions to me," Jim growled back.
"Well, they weren't the ones I meant to ask," Blair snapped, as they pulled into the department parking garage.
"Not my problem, Sandburg," Jim said, fighting a smug smile as he killed the engine and jumped out of the truck.
Blair sat and glared for a moment, trying to reign in his frustration before hurrying to follow. He had to jog to catch up to Jim and barely made it before the doors to the elevator closed on him, striking Blair with a strong sense of déjà-vu from the first time he met the detective. He pushed back the annoyance he felt, realizing he should have recognized what Jim was on that first meeting, and settled for aggravation at the detective's stubbornness.
"You're going to have to answer my questions sometime," Blair ground out crossing his arms over his chest.
"We'll see about that," Jim replied with a shrug. He kept his eyes on the ascending floor numbers. If Blair didn't know better, he'd say Jim was actually starting to enjoy himself.
"You're underestimating how annoying I can become," Blair threatened.
"And you're underestimating how far I can turn down my hearing," Jim countered as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.
Blair glared at Jim's back but refrained from another comment, not wanting to draw attention despite the bullpen being nearly empty. If he was going to gain Jim's trust he was going to have to treat Jim's secret as his own. Instead, he settled down in his usual seat, determined not to let the man get to him anymore.
The office slowly filled up and the work day set off to a slow start, the easy normalcy struck Blair when he thought about the flurry at the crime scene yesterday. It was almost like the hostage situation had never even happened. He shook his head to himself, amazed at how quickly the officers moved on from crisis situations. There was a tense moment when Captain Banks stopped by briefly to ask how Jim was doing, Simon's gaze switching between the two men suspiciously, but he moved on to his office after a few vague answers. Jim shot Blair a glare, as though blaming him of the entire thing and after that, no other mention was made of the entire incident except to clarify something in a report.
Blair tried his best to act as though nothing had changed, but it grew increasingly difficult as the day went on, his mood darkening and his temper shortening. Jim, on the other hand, was in much better spirits than the previous night. After the man's initial aggravation wore off, and especially after the conversation in the elevator, Jim seemed to realize that he had something to hold over Blair. Now, instead of ignoring Blair's existence and avoiding him altogether, Jim kept a close eye on Blair at all times. Blair thought Jim was probably making sure he would keep his promise and not inform anyone of Jim's abilities. Blair even noticed Jim using his senses once or twice to listen into conversations Blair had with other members in the department. However, when Blair tried to ask even the vaguest questions about Jim's ability the man suddenly became deaf and ignorant to his presence. If Blair didn't know better he would say Jim was mocking him.
Lunch came and Blair couldn't take it anymore. He stood, shuffling his notes around before stuffing them into his bag. "I have to go run an errand. I'll be back in a bit."
Jim stopped his typing and turned to face Blair. "Where are you going?" he asked, instantly suspicious, his eyes hardening.
Blair rolled his eyes, pausing as more people left the large room for lunch. "I'm just going to go get some additional information, to help me help you," Blair added in a huff, "Especially since you're being less than cooperative." He patted down his pockets, looking for the keys to his car still sitting in the department garage from the day before. Not finding them, he realized they were still in pants from the raid, sitting on the couch of Jim's apartment. He'd have to take the bus.
"I know you're new to this whole detective thing, Sandburg, but if you hadn't noticed, I don't need your help," Jim said, turning back to his computer.
Blair dropped his voice so as not to be over in the nearly deserted office, "Well, considering that you admit to having little or no experience with other…people with your talents, you can hardly be trusted to know what's good, bad, or normal. I think I'd like to double check for myself, thanks very much."
"Someone's in a bad mood," Jim muttered under his breath, a mocking lilt to his words.
"You've been using your senses all day today!" Blair accused, "I've been watching you."
Jim shrugged.
"Don't try to deny it!" Blair hissed frustration truly rising to the surface making it difficult to keep his voice down. "You're doing it on purpose. You never did it before."
"That's because I had to look out for the nosy Guide that wasn't supposed to and didn't know," Jim bit back, "Now, I still have to look out for the nosy Guide who wasn't supposed to but does know. Besides, it's not healthy to completely suppress things like that. Now drop it, we're in a public place."
Blair rolled his eyes again, turning away from the detective. He moved around the desk and stopped just on the other side to face Jim. "I'll be back. Don't go out anywhere without me, especially on any calls. I want to come back and find you sitting right where I left you."
It was Jim's turn to roll his eyes, a big enough action that Blair caught it though he wasn't fully facing the detective. "Scared I'll take off on you?" Jim asked.
"Scared I'll turn you in?" Blair responded. They were in the middle of a Mexican stand-off.
Jim turned to look at him again, standing up and leaning on the desk with both palms. Then, dropping his voice so low that Blair had to lean forward to hear him, Jim said, "The GSC doesn't like it when Sentinels hide from them. I can't imagine them being anymore thrilled at the idea of someone aiding and abetting." Jim dropped back into his chair again and turned to his computer.
Blair stared at Jim for a moment before leaving for the elevator, still turning Jim's words over in his mind. He hadn't thought of that and the sudden realization frightened him. What he was doing right now could get him into serious trouble with the GSC. He wasn't just not reporting a Sentinel, he was helping one better survive without a Guide, aiding and abetting indeed. Except it wasn't aiding and abetting, Blair told himself. You aided and abetted criminals doing criminal things, illegal things that were against the law. There wasn't a law that said a Sentinel had to report himself to the GSC if his senses came online.
Even as Blair reassured himself of that fact, he could still feel his stomach sinking along with the long elevator ride to ground level. Just because it wasn't considered illegal yet didn't mean he'd win any points for doing it. If the GSC found out what he and Jim were doing, they would both be in trouble. They could take Blair's license to be Guide away, ban him from working with Sentinels ever again. That would be terrible. Working with Sentinels was all he'd ever wanted to do ever since he was a kid.
If Blair told them now, he could probably get away with it. They would ask him why it had taken him so long before reporting it, but he could make up an excuse. Still, that wouldn't help Jim any. They would send Jim to a community, take him out of his apartment, suspend him from his job, and give him an official Guide.
Blair would never seem him again.
So Blair was right back to the original reason why he didn't make the phone call in the first place. He liked Jim. If he couldn't be Jim's Guide, then maybe they could be friends. Plus, this offered a unique glimpse into this secret society of underground Sentinels and Blair just couldn't pass that up.
The doors closed again and Blair realized he'd been standing in the elevator for several minutes after it had reached the ground floor. He shook himself and headed out, glancing around him at the many strangers milling about the entrance lobby. He hurried to the bus stop and waited, foot tapping and double checking the bus schedule posted just outside the station.
A few minutes ago, Blair was eager to get away from the detective and his difficult attitude, but now Blair just wanted to finish his errand and get back where he could keep an eye on the Sentinel. The fear that Jim could have a reaction he couldn't handle mixed with the new fear that Jim would do something to give himself away. Blair glanced at the strangers passing by him on street and then standing on the bus as it pulled up and he boarded. It seemed like more people were looking at him than normal. He couldn't help but wonder if any of them worked for the GSC. He certainly didn't recognize any of them. It was irrational, but the worry still nagged at him. Blair closed his eyes a moment and calmed himself.
Something from the back of the bus drew Blair's attention to the back of the bus. It felt like what he picked up from Jim when they first met, muffled and distorted, but recognizable. The bus pulled away from the curb at that precise moment and no one noticed Blair scanning the back seats, no one except the person who had set him off.
Blair tried to keep his gaze inconspicuous as he glanced around the back of the bus and found the person staring at him with a mix of fear and suspicion. If Blair hadn't been so highly skilled at recognizing Sentinels, and if he hadn't known what to feel for he never would have noticed the woman Sentinel half buried in groceries in the back corner. She watched him watching her, the fear obvious in her creased brow tight grip on the grocery bags. She was like Jim, a Sentinel hiding in plain sight. Blair turned his gaze away. He could still feel her fear seeping out from behind him and he didn't want to frighten the poor woman anymore than necessary.
The woman got up and left the bus at the next stop, dragging her groceries with an urgency that left a bag of cucumbers sitting on her abandoned seat. Blair watched her go, the seriousness of her and Jim's fear hitting him with renewed vigor and taking a place in Blair's own heart. He glanced around the bus again, hesitant at feeling out the new comers, not wanting to find anyone he wasn't supposed to know about. Was this how Jim felt? He wondered to himself, hunted, wary of the strangers around him? Was this how all fugitives felt? Blair had never been a fugitive himself, but now he could well guess what it might be like.
By the time the bus reached his stop, Blair was a bundle of nerves. He couldn't guess how Jim had made it so long without giving anything away. He knew he was being overly paranoid, but he couldn't help continually scanning over the other passengers, checking and double checking those closest to him. When he made it to his cupboard of an office he collapsed against the closed door and breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're over reacting," Blair muttered to himself, shaking his head and huffing a laugh at his own paranoia. Maybe the woman's fear had bled over to him in that moment that he had sensed her on the bus.
After taking one more deep breath, Blair pushed himself away from the door and began searching through his library of original documents crammed on the narrow shelf space spanning the wall. The first thing he pulled down was Burton's monograph, the first piece of literature he'd ever read about Sentinels when he was young. He'd been over it so many times he probably had it memorized, but he was determined to go over it once more with fresh eyes. Burton was an anthropologist, surely the explorer had written something of the original relationship between Sentinels and their Guides. Blair just needed to approach it with a fresh perspective and not impose his own preconceived notions onto the text.
It took Blair almost half an hour to find all the texts he could think of off the top of his head. He'd come back again and pick up more when he'd finished with these. Emptying out a box filled with papers to be recycled, Blair dumped the books, papers, and manuscripts into the box, hefting it up under his arm and shutting off the lights. He fumbled for his keys to lock the door again out in the hall when a voice from behind made him jump in surprise.
"Blair!" the smooth voice called out.
Blair turned to face the receding hairline and dark, bushy eyebrows, "Dr. Hedrick," Blair managed after the barest pause. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just passing by and saw you coming out of your office, thought I'd stop and ask how your project was going," Dr. Hedrick replied with an easy smile.
"Oh," Blair turned back to the door, and finished locking it to buy himself a little time. The paranoia that seemed so ridiculous in his quiet, empty office now seemed perfectly valid with this man standing behind him. "It's fine, everything's going well, or as well as can be expected."
Hedrick nodded in understanding. "Was the information I gave you useful at all?"
Blair shifted the box to both hands to keep from fidgeting too much with the line of questioning. "Well, it was really only a matter of curiosity. Just background research, like I said."
"Actually," Hedrick continued when Blair failed to follow up right away with his goodbyes, "It was interesting that you brought it up. Just a couple of days ago, they found a man who was a full Sentinel for years, covering it up. Would have continued, too, if he hadn't had a reaction to some pesticides in the park."
"Oh, really?" Blair asked, trying to calm his suddenly pounding heart, "I hadn't heard about that."
"I'm not surprised," Hedrick nodded, casually putting his hands in his pockets, "You've been caught up with your project at the police department. They haven't published anything about it yet, so word really hasn't left the GSC or University research departments. It's caused quite a stir, though. He's been taken in for psychological evaluations last I heard."
"A psych eval?" Blair asked, not liking the sound of that at all. A part of him wondered if word really hadn't left the GSC and University yet. It would certainly explain the extreme fear the woman felt toward him on the bus. "Isn't that a little extreme?"
Hedrick shrugged with a brief chuckle, "To determine why he hid, naturally. Imagine, a Sentinel purposefully hiding from a Guide. It's not in their nature."
"Maybe he just wanted to be left alone," Blair muttered, mostly to himself. A picture of Jim, so careful in everything he did to avoid getting caught, sprung to his mind. Jim wouldn't do well in the psych ward of a Sentinel wing at a hospital. A part of Blair cringed just thinking of it.
"What was that?" Hedrick asked, leaning in to better hear.
"Nothing," Blair said. He shifted the box in his arms again, this time more because the weight than any nervous fidgeting. It did help to move a bit. He started back down the hall, wanting to get back to Jim and, more importantly, away from Hedrick as soon as possible.
Hedrick didn't seem to notice or think much of Blair's quick steps down the hallway. He fell in beside Blair with ease, hands still in the pockets of his tan corduroys. "Anyway, it reminded me of your question and I thought that maybe you'd found someone similar at the police station. There's speculation going around there may be more of them out there, Sentinels pretending they don't have the senses."
"Dr. Hedrick," Blair said, a part of him desperate to stop that line of thinking before it led the GSC to him and Jim, "Don't be ridiculous, no Sentinel in their right mind would hide from a Guide considering all the dangerous stimulus in the world."
"True," Hedrick agreed, nodding his head, "But nevertheless, we now have a Sentinel who did exactly that."
"There's bound to be a few crazies in every generation. That doesn't mean there's more out there. Isn't that the entire point of the psych eval?" Blair countered, sweating bullets under his shirt.
Hedrick shrugged, "We'll see, I hear the GSC's going to set up a board to research the possibility. Perhaps, that's where the Sentinels have been disappearing all these years."
"I doubt it," Blair said, putting as much doubt and disbelief into his words as possible.
They reached the double doors leading out to the parking lot. A few doors back down the hallway opened, letting loose a flood of students into the corridor. Blair glanced back at them, realizing it was the top of the hour if classes were letting out already. Factoring in the time it would take the bus to get back to the department, he was going to get back much later than he originally planned.
Dr. Hedrick paused at the door, looking hard at Blair once more before turning back to the building and his own office. "We'll see," he said as he turned. A moment later he was swallowed in the tide of students flowing through the hall.
Blair watched the doctor's back disappear in the crowd, the sinking feeling from before returning with renewed vigor. He shouldered the door open and hurried down to the bus stop.
TBC…
Thanks for reading!