A Fair Distance: Running on Empty. Chapter Eight

Jim's sense of hearing followed the sound, the intriguing sound that so enticed him; following it down further into a tunnel that got smaller and smaller as he tracked the sound until it stopped but… he could still clearly hear it.

His other senses were nonexistent, but that didn't matter because the sound was everything to him.

The sound was everything, the sound beat steadily lub-dub, lub-dub, and he fell into the rhythm he was experiencing, and it was good, it was joyous, it was heaven, forever he wanted to hear that wondrous sound…

The beat of that mysterious drum was coming closer now, the reverberation echoing too loudly, and he adjusted his hearing down so he was more comfortable listening to the reassuring lub-dub, lub-dub beat.

He became aware of new sensations tugging at his other closed-off senses, and a frisson of curiosity tweaked at his consciousness, enough to have him make the effort to dial up his senses of taste and touch. He tasted the sweet-tang of orange juice and underneath it, the savory flavor of his lover. He knew Blair's taste in all of its forms, from the sweet-salty flavor of his cheerful moods to the musky spice of his arousal. But now? Blair tasted worried.

He notched his sense of touch up a bit and curled his tongue around Blair's finger; he gently sucked on the finger, feeling the swirls of Blair's fingerprints with his tongue. He felt a warming sensation on his arm as Blair slid his palm back and forth from Jim's elbow to his knuckles with long, firm strokes. And as his sense of smell joined with taste and touch, he scented anxiety and a different, troublesome odor wafting from Blair who, judging by the heat Jim felt radiating from Blair, was kneeling before him. The thudding he had been zoning on diminished to a very quiet beat; Jim opened his eyes and saw the beautiful face of his partner in front of him. Jim started to lift up his hand, to touch Blair's face and finger his hair, but then he remembered that he was angry at Blair.

Angry at Blair's betrayal of trust.

He mentally shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs and took a quick assessment of his own status and the situation he was in. He was in Sweetwater, Tennessee to question Sandburg on the Edward's case. He had zoned on Blair's heartbeat; Blair had brought him out of it by stimulating his other senses, and -shit, he had had to do it in front of spectators. There were three cops staring at him with variations of the 'Buddy, what the hell are you trying to pull' look. He didn't remember entering this room; his last clear memory was of guiding Sandburg down the hall, holding him up when the kid kept tripping over his own feet. Another foggy memory cleared up and he remembered thinking that something wasn't right the last time when he had set Blair back on his feet. He had taken several deep breaths to fill his lungs full of the problem to figure it out. And he had tumbled to what was wrong - but that was where his memories ended.

Jim reached out and felt Sandburg's forehead. It was hot with fever and he smelled sick and anxious.

"You're sick; what's wrong with you?" he barked at his ex-partner.

"Never mind me; you'd better drink some juice to even out that low blood sugar attack you just had," Blair shot back at him, with a meaningful look. Okay - so that was the cover story. He took the orange juice bottle Blair held up and emptied it down his throat.

One of the cops, a big guy, Simon's size, with a polite look on his face, came over and carefully lifted Sandburg up by his arm, moving him away from Jim's chair and over to the scowling redheaded cop.

Sandburg looked irritated by this but kept his mouth shut. Jim didn't expect that to last.

The big cop gave Jim an assessing look. "Detective Ellison, I'm Dave Findley; I spoke with your captain back in Cascade. I'll be your contact, as I've been dealin' with Blair's charges here. You must have misunderstood the message I left at the front desk for you. I said that I'd meet with you first, before you interrogated Blair, as soon as I'd finished testifying during the White's arraignment this morning."

Jim shook his head. "I got the message but I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so I, uh, persuaded him," Jim nodded toward the red-haired cop, "to let me get started."

"And would you care to explain your interrogation technique to us, Detective? Because based on what we saw on the monitor for this room and what we saw and heard when we came in, your suspect wasn't being questioned; he was being assaulted - possibly sexually assaulted." Findley moved closer to loom over him while Jim sat guardedly in his chair.

Jim shrugged. " I recall escorting my… suspect… down the hall but I don't remember anything about being in this room; I don't know what happened. Why don't you ask Sandburg?" Jim started a countdown in his head. Three, two, one - here it comes -

"Jim totally didn't assault me, but yes, he may have looked like he was, because a low blood sugar attack can make people act aggressively and they can be combative; you saw how he was unresponsive till I put the juice in his mouth - "

There was a snort from the red-haired cop and a low mutter that Jim caught because his hearing was still dialed up. "Never saw first aid done like that - with all that touching and sucking fingers business."

" - And Jim should be eating something healthy, not sitting here being verbally attacked by fellow officers, and I'm not pressing any charges, so how's about we drop this conversation, okay? Jim's been driving for days and I just know he's been eating junk food all this time - and Jim…" Sandburg turned to give Jim the full effect of the lecture Jim could have recited along with him; it felt both nostalgic and annoying to hear him getting ready to dig it out of the mothballs.

" - You are what you eat, man, and if you eat a white-bread, loaded with fat, high sugar, low veggies and fruits diet you are just asking for trouble with your health - "

Findley, the big cop, held up his hand to stop any more words from shooting out of Sandburg's mouth. "Blair, Detective Ellison is goin' to go along to the kitchen with Mike and eat something to make sure his low blood sugar doesn't return. You can sit yourself down in that chair because I want to take your statement as to what happened today with Detective Ellison.

"Detective Ellison." Findley addressed Jim directly. "If you've had a medical problem here it might be a good idea to go to the ER and get checked out."

"No need; I'm fine." Jim replied as he headed for the door with Mike in his wake. Actually, he wasn't fine; all of this was just too surreal, and he hadn't been in Blair's presence ten minutes and Bam! Back in the Sandburg Zone. His senses were back to their old, high-functioning levels. He'd had a blackout where he'd apparently done something to Sandburg, probably sexual. His fucking emotions were scrambled because, coming out of that zone, he'd been content to be physically near Blair, then embarrassed when he'd realized he'd been sucking Blair's finger. With an audience. Great.

Blair's caresses on his arm and the taste of his skin exploding in Jim's mouth had felt sensuous and arousing but mixing it in with his prior emotions to coming here was reminding him of getting off a roller coaster. You'd enjoyed the ride but now you felt dizzy and unsure of your footing.

And the anger he'd felt for a year towards his runaway guide and ex-lover had taken a back seat just now to worrying about what was wrong with the kid, plus fascination over how Blair just dove right back into being his guide, saving his ass with a big fat lie. Or was it? Why had he blacked out and zoned like that? He needed to talk privately with Sandburg, but he didn't think that would be in the works now that he was being eyed as having sexually assaulted the kid.

In the kitchen, while Mike poured coffee and rummaged around for a snack, Jim listened intently to Findley questioning Blair.

In an exhausted-sounding voice, Blair gave his statement and answered Findley's questions without any embellishments. He denied having any special medical training but stated that he'd seen people act like that before and was aware of how to treat it. He denied that Detective Ellison had sexually assaulted him.

Then Findley went on the real offensive, questioning Blair about his relationship with Detective Ellison. He wanted to know if they had had a sexual relationship as well as the work partnership. He asked how long Blair had lived with Detective Ellison after the truth about him cheating on his dissertation had come out. How had Detective Ellison reacted to the lies Blair had told about him being a sentinel? Why did Blair leave Cascade?

Blair tap-danced around most of the questions, stating that they had been close friends for years; they had worked together, not slept together. Conveniently, Blair left out the part about how things had changed after he'd stopped working at the P.D.

In a self-disparaging tone of voice, Blair answered Findley's questions by saying Jim had forgiven him for lying about him and had let him stay at Jim's apartment because of the trouble Blair'd had keeping a job. He had left Cascade six months after he'd had to quit observing at the P.D., finally deciding Jim had given him enough charity. Besides, Jim had met a girl and Blair'd thought sharing the apartment anymore would be inconvenient for Jim.

Jim forced coffee down his throat while wondering if there was any genuineness to the answers Sandburg had given; after all, the best deceptions were built on some point of truth. He could try and listen to Blair's heartbeat again, to get a sense of the truth, but after his recent zone he didn't think he should try it. He tightened his hands into fists when he heard the next series of questions.

"Blair, has Detective Ellison ever hit you? Ever shoved you around? Shaken you? Or pushed you up against a wall like he did today?" Findley lowered his voice and Jim could hear the concern in the man's voice. "Blair, has he ever threatened you?"

There was silence for a moment, and Jim could imagine Findley looking encouragingly at Blair, willing him to open up, and as a battered spouse, make that first step into admitting the reality of the abusive relationship. Jim had done the same thing himself when trying to get charges filed against assholes who beat and intimidated their significant others. He gritted his teeth, thinking he'd never thought he'd hear those charges leveled at himself.

Then Blair started laughing, but it didn't sound funny to Jim's ears. It sounded like he was one step from being hysterical. But Findley didn't know Blair like he did; he might not realize that the kid was close to losing it.

"Jim…" Blair gasped, trying to talk while still laughing his ass off. "He… oh, man." He finally wound down with the hyena noises enough to answer the questions.

"Jim used to threaten me all the time. 'Sandburg, pick up your towels or you'll be cleaning the grout tonight with a toothbrush.' And this one was a classic: 'Chief, if you put one dent, one dent in Sweetheart - that's his truck, sometimes he'd let me borrow it - you'll be washing and waxing her for a month.' He'd threaten to check out my dates before I'd go out with them. Actually, that one wasn't so much as a threat as a plan because he did do background searches on some of them. Too bad the one he did on Iris came back after the date from hell had already started. It could have saved me a lot of wear and tear on my feet, plus the odd death threat or two.

"But Jim has never threatened to really hurt me. Instead, he's been like, way over-protective - and annoying about it - but he's saved my life, too. You've been running a background check on me, haven't you? Did you read about when he saved me from Lash? I was this close to being killed by that nut-job. And, ya know what? I did die later. He pulled me out of a fountain where another nut-job had drowned me and he brought me back. Even the EMT's were gonna call it, but he did CPR and he brought me back.

"He brought me back to this world, man. And I repaid him by lying to the world about him. And even then, when I deserved it, he never hit me. Okay, I'll grant you that he has grabbed me by the arms sometimes, when he's been excited or upset, but not to hurt me, just to make sure I'm really listening to him. And the wall thing - yeah, the second time we met, he thought I was a druggie who was conning him and he did the wall-shove thing, to shake me up. I wasn't shakable, though; I've never been scared physically of Jim, even though he's bigger than me. Even when he's pissed at me, like he is right now, because he's had to come all this way after me, I'm not scared he's going to hurt me, except in an emotional way."

Jim stifled the desire to shake his head over Blair's reminiscence about Jim lifting him off his feet that day in Sandburg's office - you left out the part about my impulse to fuck you, kid- but he flinched at Blair's confession that he expected Jim to hurt him emotionally.

"Ya know, I get where you're coming from, Dave. I was freaking out about seeing him again, but that was because of my own baggage. I guess you've figured out that we weren't getting along any more and I needed some distance; that's why I left Cascade. But now I'm glad he's the one who came to question me about Chancellor Edwards; it will give us the chance to leave each other on better terms."

"Blair," Findley said gently, "you're pretty protective of Detective Ellison, aren't you? You didn't want to leave him here with us during his 'attack'; Mike said he had to pick you up to get you to come with him. Now, I want you to listen to me and just think about coming clean for a change, because I know you're not tellin' all the truth here.

"You love Ellison and you've been fooling yourself, explainin' away the way he treats you as something you deserve. He's been rough with you before, like you told about, but the truth would be that he grabs you and shoves you around a lot more than you admitted here. He's left bruises on you, Blair, but you pretend that they don't exist."

Findley spoke in a persuasive, passionate way to Blair, and Jim felt his facial muscles harden at this attack on his honor. He had never abused Blair the way this cop was trying to make out but he had maybe been too physical at times with him. The memory of the way he would swat Blair's butt as he left for his bartending job suddenly intruded. Those hard spanks were maybe uncalled for, but shit, Blair would have kicked his ass if he'd ever really crossed that line. Okay, maybe not physically but he would have found a way.

In a more forceful tone of voice, Findley said, "he came in here today madder 'n a wet hen and when he got you alone, he decided he was going to take out all his frustrations on you - the partner who run off and left him behind. He overpowered you and he was feelin' you up, Blair; his dick was ready and willin' when we pulled him off of you. He was dragging you over to the table, and I'm guessing he was goin' to rape you.

"And Blair," Jim heard the rustle of fabric being moved, "explain to me how this bite got here on your neck. It's not a savage bite; that's what my mama would have called a love bite. Takes a bit of doing to bite hard enough to leave a mark but not take a chunk out of your hide. Something that a fellow under the influence of a low blood sugar attack would have trouble controlling, bein' combative and aggressive an' all."

There was silence in the interview room for a little while, during which Mike asked him if he were through eating. Jim shook his head and reached for his coffee cup, stalling so he could hear Blair's response.

"Man, that's so not the way it is between us. I'm sticking with my statement. Jim had a low blood sugar problem. I was not assaulted. I will not press any charges against him. I'd like to get this interview and the one with him over with, Dave, because I'm tired; I want to go lie down on my bunk."

"And I noticed you skipped right over explaining that bite away, Blair," Findley replied. "You'll protect him again by lying, won't you? But that bite, the tape from the monitor, and what we saw when we came in this room is all we need to arrest him. We don't need you to press charges, but we'd like for your cooperation."

"What you saw on the monitor and with your eyes is subject to interpretation. And I say that Jim did not assault me. The bite - weird shit happens sometimes with me. I told you I died. Man, I started to cross over, you know, into the next life. And then Jim brought me back. The guy who you think wants to hurt me saved my life, remember.

"But you don't have the kind of experience I did and come out of it unchanged. People have had strange marks appear on their bodies before without anybody putting them there. Ever hear of stigmata, Dave? This bite could be like a form of stigmata."

"Blair, you are really reachin' here. I'll believe that bite just appeared on your neck all by itself only if you can make it happen again. I'm asking one more time if you'd care to revise your statement."

"No."

"Then go on and sign it. I intend to have a little chat with Detective Ellison and then he can interview you for his case. But he won't be allowed to be alone with you anymore." Jim heard the scratch of a pen, a door opening, and footsteps coming his way. He heard Sandburg give a heartfelt "fuck."

He dialed his senses down to normal as Findley walked into the kitchen.

"Detective Ellison, there's some footage I'd like you to review, before you interview Blair. Would you care to come along and give me your interpretation of your actions today?"

"Findley." Jim got up and took his coffee cup and plate to the sink and rinsed them. "Since I don't remember what happened with Sandburg, you bet I want to see that tape." Jim walked out the door with the other cop, hoping that the footage was vague enough that Findley would hesitate to charge him without Blair's testimony.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

xxx

Dave escorted Detective Ellison into the interview room after having grilled him about what they saw on the tape they'd just watched on the conference room TV. Dave hadn't decided if Ellison was out and out lying or just keeping something to himself about what had gone on with Blair. He was sure that the whole story hadn't come out yet, though. And Blair, he was keepin' secrets, too.

Dave stifled a yawn; this was another long shift but he wasn't about to turn this situation over to anyone else until he decided if Ellison was going to be arrested or not. Ellison was another cop but Dave had seen plenty of cops that were bullies at heart and were flat out mean to their families; the people in their custody tended to have lots of 'accidents' when being arrested or transported. If Ellison thought Blair had it coming for leavin' him, being a cop wouldn't stop him from hurting the boy.

While watching the security footage, Ellison had shrugged and repeated that he had no memory of his actions in that room. He had pointed out the blank look on his face when he came into the room and his lack of response to the attempts of the cops to bring him out of his altered state. Mostly, the film only showed Ellison's back and hid what exactly he was doing with his hands. Ellison's face had tightened when he heard Blair on the tape pleading with him to stop. He'd said he would apologize to Blair although he hadn't been aware of what he was doing.

The tape ended when Blair had come back into the interview room. Mike had gone down to Blair's cell to ask about Ellison's medical history when the out-of-town cop had continued to be unresponsive or acting like he was unresponsive. Blair had told Mike he knew what was wrong and that an ambulance wasn't necessary because he could help him. He'd gotten Mike to bring him to Ellison. In hindsight, Dave wished that they had called for EMS, maybe they'd know for sure by now if Ellison had really had a medical problem.

Dave tsk'ed to himself when he and Ellison came into the interview room. Blair was sitting curled up on the floor, his back to the wall, and his knees together with his arms clasped around his shackled legs. He didn't like to see Blair sitting on the cold floor, the boy was sick and by rights should be tucked up in a comfortable bed; his bunk here was a poor substitute at best. Blair's eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply and slowly. Detective Ellison said quietly to Dave that Sandburg was meditating and would need to be brought out of it gradually; Ellison made a move to go to his ex-partner, but Dave stopped him with a hand on his arm. Dave kneeled down next to Blair, then sucked in his breath.

"Our Lord and Savior," Dave said in a wondering voice. He gently touched Blair on the shoulder and whispered his name. Blair didn't respond until he had repeated touching and calling his name softly three times. Then Blair opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders; he winced and touched the back of his neck. When he brought his hand down there was blood on it. Dave pulled Blair's shirt further away from his neck and beckoned Ellison over to look. There on the shoulder muscle, by the back of Blair's neck, where he couldn't possibly have reached it himself, was a bite mark that was still oozing blood.

Blair looked at Dave and smiled. "Stigmata," he said. "Man, I told you weird shit happens to me."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

xxx

Continued in A Fair Distance. Running on Empty. Chapter Nine.