A Fair Distance: Running on Empty. Chapter Thirteen

Crap. Officer Mike needed to slow down a little, or I was going to trip over my shackled feet again. I always did feel more awkward when I was running a fever; my feet and my brain never seemed to want to coordinate very well.

My daytime jailer had a good grip on my arm and was hustling me down the main corridor of the Sweetwater Justice Center. There were people standing around the main door, waiting to be allowed in for their day in court. We didn't go there; instead, Mike turned up a hallway and opened a side door, and still towing me along, we entered the courtroom.

I couldn't wait to hear those sweet words 'case dismissed,' so I could take off all my fashionable jailhouse accessories and get the hell out of Dodge. I'd say goodbye to Dave and thank him for making my time here easier. I'd even say thanks to Officer Mike here; he'd be glad to see the last of me, for sure. Maybe the next guy invited for 'three hots and a cot,' would appreciate his cooking better than I did.

Officer Mike had indulged his curiosity this morning when he bandaged my neck. He'd asked if I had gotten bite marks like that before yesterday. I gave him the party line about me dying and how strange things happened after that. Well, I did die, and plenty of weird shit had followed - so, not a lie, just a slight misdirection.

Mike guided me over to a row of built-in chairs in the sectioned-off front part of the courtroom and pushed me down into one. "Stay put, hippie-boy," he intoned sternly. I rolled my eyes. Where the hell did he think I would be going, dressed in jail scrubs and wearing shackles?

He gave me another tough-guy look, then spoiled it by shooting me a fast grin.

"In the old courthouse, before the Justice Center here was built, a prisoner was taken down to the basement restroom, and he went out the window, dressed just like you are now - shackles and all. He then stole the judge's brand new SUV and drove off, in broad daylight. It took two days before he was found again. I thought the judge was going to have a stroke when the idiot deputy who let the prisoner escape broke the news to him. So just stay put, Sandburg, so nobody gets the wrong idea about what you're up to. This is the same judge, and he's been a little touchy ever since that day. The bailiff will keep an eye on you; I've got to get back to the station."

I smiled back at him. "Okay, and um… thanks, man. For feeding me." Mike gave me a little wave as he turned and walked to the exit. I stared at his back, pondering his change in behavior towards me. Huh. I must have been growing on him; Jim would have said I sailed under his radar. Well… Goodbye, Officer Mike – and thanks for all the fish. As soon as I thought that, I choked back a laugh, afraid I might not be able to stop. Sheesh… maybe I should blame my fevered brain for bringing that phrase up from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Guess hitchhiking was on my mind; I'd be doing it later this morning.

I wondered if Dave would be here or if he'd gone home. His shift was over, after all. And where was Jim? I knew he'd want to talk to me again, get some kind of assurance I would stay in touch with the Cascade Police Department. Maybe I'd call Simon once or twice a month, if Jim didn't want to talk to me after he returned home to Cascade. He'd been so angry when he took me out of my cell yesterday; the grope session he'd had with me couldn't have helped his mood when he'd realized what he'd done. And he'd been awful quick to want to charge me with obstruction of justice when I hadn't wanted to reveal it was him writing those hounding letters. Yep, still mad at me, and after today he might prefer us to have no contact. I'd try and change his mind, but I was prepared for him to reject me, again. Jim's spirit-self had told me that Jim wanted me, but James Joseph Ellison wasn't very open to guidance from the spirit plane. Ah, well.

It was getting close to nine-thirty, and I turned in my seat so I could observe people coming into the courtroom.

The place was filling up with adults, some carrying babies and small children. Most looked somber. Some seemed scared. And then there were the ones who were happily catching up on gossip with other miscreants. Social worker types with badge ID's around their necks, smartly dressed lawyers, city cops, and county deputies all found seats up in my area of the courtroom. This was a real
cross-section of the county, I thought, and I idly played around with ideas for a study involving courtroom behavior and rituals, comparing it to the way justice was decided in different tribal societies. Well, at least I still can think like an anthropologist, even if I can't get a job as one.

A bailiff stood up and announced that everybody should rise; court was in session, the Honorable Jimmy Boles presiding.

And then court was in full swing, with names being called, and people shuffling up to stand and be judged. The lawyers presented cases, people made excuses why they hadn't paid fines, why they had violated probation, and why they hadn't paid child support. The judge made dispositions, continued cases, remanded people back to jail, or dropped their charges. Finally, I heard my name called and I got up, but before I could shuffle over to stand in front of the podium, the court clerk whispered something to the judge. He looked irritated-like over at me and told me to sit back down.

O-kay… Not a speedy resolution after all. So I sat and I waited and I waited. The courtroom emptied out slowly. Eventually, I was the only one who hadn't been called. I was beginning to worry that they weren't going to let me go after all. The judge was starting to look downright pissed off, and I received several narrow-eyed glares from him. I concentrated on sending, 'hey, man; not my fault there's a hold-up,' vibes at him and tried to look harmless.

I'd been in court before, of course. I often had sat in when Jim had to testify, and I'd been a witness when Kincaid had his trial for taking over Cascade Police Headquarters. But the first time I'd been in court, I'd been a scared fourteen-year-old kid who had stolen a microscope. The judge had probably been bemused by the fact I'd swiped science equipment to finish a project, instead of cassettes from a record store. Well… that was a long time ago; I didn't really like to think much about that period of my life anymore, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my jail-scrubs.

Slouching down in my seat, because I wouldn't have minded being able to lie down for a while, I tried to think about something else, anything else, other than my early teen years; I settled on mentally practicing my speech to prospective employers.

It sucked – another proof that my karma got ass-kicked again – that Zain's friend had given me the old heave-ho for the job in Charlotte. Still, getting a long-haul trucking job was my first pick; the money was good, and I'd be living in the truck for the most part. I could cut out a lot of living expenses, which would mean more money to allot to paying off my student loans. It was a point of honor for me to pay my loans on time. And if I was going to analyze myself, paying student loans was such a normal thing to do that it had become kind of a centering thing for me, when everything else was so up-in-the-air.

I was calculating how many months of payments I had left, if I tripled what I sent in each month, when the courtroom doors opened, catching my attention. To my surprise both Jim and Dave walked in, Jim heading straight for me. The judge glowered at both of them, sarcastically thanked them for coming, and then called my name. Huh… The judge had been waiting, I guess, for Dave. Jim must have been finishing up paperwork or something with him. I stood up, and Jim walked me over to the podium for the judge's decision. The charges were read, the Assistant District Attorney told the judge the charges were dropped, and then I heard what I'd been hoping to hear all this last week. Case dismissed. Yippee.

All through the legal yammering, Jim had kept a loose grip on my arm. As the judge gathered paperwork and the court staff drifted out the side door, I gently pulled my arm free. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him and tentatively said, "Jim…"

He looked at me, with eyebrows raised, waiting for me to spit out what I wanted to say. He looked tense, but not angry, so that was a good sign for getting some closure between us.

"I'm going on to North Carolina this morning. You know, to work. Can we talk, before I take off? Somewhere not here, somewhere more private?"

"Yeah, Sandburg. We can do that. I needed to talk to you anyway about keeping in touch with Simon in case you're needed as a witness if Bergman ever goes to trial."

I nodded my agreement and felt my stomach knot up with anxiety. This was going to be it. And he'd said for me to keep in touch with Simon, not him. He was done with me. Probably for the best, but the fairy-tale part of me that just wanted happily ever after went into fetal position. Oh, grow up, I told myself. You knew it was over when he had to go to another lover to get what he needed. You just fucked up how you ended it, running away like a little kid instead of doing the adult thing and talking to him about it. Now's your chance to make it right.

Dave came over to us then and looked me up and down. He reached out and put his hand on my forehead. I sighed and said, "I'm not running a fever anymore. I'll be fine."

"Well, you feel clammy to me. You sure you feel better?" Dave asked as he dropped his hand down to my elbow. I looked over at Jim and he looked impatient. Time to get going.

"I'll be okay."

Dave kept his hand on my elbow; he and Jim both walked me through the hallway back to the station so I could change my clothes and be processed out of jail. Dave must have thought I was fibbing about feeling okay – and I was – because he took his time ushering me back. Quite a change from Officer Mike, who'd made me go as fast as I could for a guy in shackles. At least with Dave, I wasn't tripping over my own feet. As we slowly passed by a small crowd of people hanging around the outside of the courtroom, Jim loudly asked me if I'd like a ride to the Interstate. I wondered if his sense of hearing was off and made a motion to my ears, but he gave a small shake to his head indicating his ears were okay.

So, the road would be our parting place. He'd let me out of his truck somewhere near the entry ramp. My stomach tightened up as I pictured myself hopping out of his classic – just my backpack and me. My own anger from the day before was mostly under control - a tribute to the power of venting and a night's sleep – maybe I should let it go, but I wanted him to apologize for his rotten letters and
explain why he'd acted so out of character for him. Yeah, I was going to insist that he explain his actions. I mean, he never treated Carolyn like she was shit, so why stomp on me like that?

Still… right now, Jim was being agreeable about a ride, so I told him sure, and that we could talk in the truck on the way out of town. We parted ways in the police station, and it was with relief that I shed my shackles and changed back to my own clothes. Obviously there's a ritual for getting out as well as for getting in jail. Might make an interesting part of the research I'd contemplated earlier in the courtroom to amuse myself. Boy, I sure hoped I wouldn't have any more opportunities to field test this study.

When I came back to the front desk, Jim was sitting in the lobby and was holding my backpack in his arms, which was odd. The thing was as grubby as could be, and Jim was cradling it like it was precious to him. Maybe he was holding it because it had my scent on it, and he was using it to ground himself while he extended his senses. I looked around the room, but I couldn't see or hear anything that was in the least bit interesting. I hadn't had a chance to ask him how he was handling his senses these days, then again since he'd zoned I knew they were active.

The front desk guy rummaged through his files; the paperwork was produced, and then it was sign this and sign that and I was free.

Free.

Well… Hell.

A little reluctantly, but nerving myself for this final step, I walked over to Jim, and together we left the Sweetwater Justice Center. I'd asked about Dave while I was changing my clothes and I was told he'd left the station. I had scribbled a note thanking him, basically, for being nice to me, although, I didn't quite phrase it that way because it sounded just too pathetic. He really had made my stay here more bearable.

In silence, I walked down the sidewalk to the parking lot with Jim. I was glad he wasn't trying to talk to me just yet. I had had a lot on my mind this morning, and I was still a bit fuzzyheaded from the last bit of fever I'd run till court was halfway over. I needed to figure out what to bring up first with him: the letters, my apology for leaving the way I did, how he was managing his senses…

Last night, I'd played a few tunes on Dave's guitar… or had it belonged to his brother? Anyway, one line from what I'd played was stuck, stuck, stuck in my head. Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.I was free, all right. Free to bounce around the country like a god-damned pinball in an old-time arcade game. It felt like I had just as much control as that little silver ball, too, banging off this knob and hurtling down that chute. I was so busy reacting to what life kept throwing at me that I had no idea where I wanted to be headed in the long run. And some routes were closed to me now, and it was stupid to spend time wishing I could redo the past. I couldn't do it; nobody can.

But here I was walking along with a huge part of my past. It was sad, really, that we had fallen apart. I thought about what Jim's sentinel spirit had told me about Jim's yearning to care for me and his desire to be my mate, but I knew I wasn't the one Jim really needed in his life. I'd been a pinch hitter, at most. It still hurt, though.

When I climbed up into Jim's truck, I felt like patting the dashboard, to say hello to an old friend. And when I had that impulse I knew I had to get a grip. It was over. Jim and I were done. Time to make plans and get a goal or two in life. But first, I needed to get that closure from Jim on why we didn't make it. It was about an hour to the Interstate, and this would probably be my last chance to really talk to him. I hoped he would cooperate.

After fastening my seat belt – I hadn't forgotten about Jim's driving style – I cleared my throat and said, hesitatingly, "Jim…"

Jim held up his hand and cocked his head in that familiar listening pose. He was concentrating, so I stayed quiet. He reached over to me and slid his hand behind my neck, letting his fingers fan out into my hair.

Oh, God. So not down with him using me as an anchor for his senses. Not with me being still vulnerable to his touch.

He listened for a few more minutes, and then moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

"We need gas."

O-kay… Not a mention of what he was listening to, but then he didn't have to share what he was doing with me anymore.

At the gas station at the edge of town, Jim filled his tank while I took a last look at the town of Sweetwater through the truck window. I opened the door, intending to get some cough drops for my sore throat, when Jim looked up from pumping gas.

"Stay in the truck, Sandburg."

"Why? I just need to - "

"You can't need to piss again already. And I'm in a hurry, so just listen to me here and stay put."

"Jeez, did'ya wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? Hey… what do you mean about 'again?' Oh, man – were you listening to me in the bathroom when I changed clothes? So not cool, Jim." I slammed the truck door shut and leaned back against the seat.

Jim didn't answer me, just used his credit card to pay at the pump, and climbed back in. I decided to let the eavesdropping go. I had more important things to talk about and didn't need to get sidetracked. And I knew he started doing the checking thing back in the loft after I'd moved in. He'd given himself away a few times with remarks after I came out of the bathroom, and it didn't bother me then. It was just the sentinel checking out his territory and his guide. But I wasn't his guide anymore, so… hello – privacy issues.

As we drove down the road, me with my eyes carefully watching the mostly bare trees go by, I decided to start with the heavy-duty discussion.

"O-kay. I want to start off by saying I really regret and apologize for anything I've done that's hurt you. I know now that I should have talked with you before I left Cascade, made you understand why I couldn't stay near you when you decided to end our relationship. I've done the 'let's just be friends thing' with other people before, but I couldn't with you. I was in too deep with you. But it was a chicken-shit thing to do and I can see that now, man. So I'm sorry, Jim."

Jim didn't say anything, just sighed and I decided to stop being a wuss and look at him. He had his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and an unhappy expression on his face as he watched the rear-view mirror.

I took a deep breath, and continued my practiced speech. "Are you happy with Melissa? I hope you're happy, if not with her then with somebody else you've found. You deserve to have a good life with a partner you can be open about, and I know that partner was never meant to be me. I was just a pinch hitter for whoever will be your true guide and partner."

Jim glanced sideways at me and then kept his gaze on the road. "Blair… I'm not with Melissa or anybody. I never was with Melissa. I was on the job when you saw us at that bar and Simon didn't know it, because he'd been on vacation. I know you called him and checked up on me."

What…

"You should have trusted me, Sandburg, but I'm the one really at fault. I… I set you up to fail." Jim laughed a little sickly, and his words felt foreign to me. He shrugged his shoulders and I watched him, my eyes drawn helplessly to his face, watching the disgusted expression settle on it; my ears hearing noises that sounded like words, but just didn't make sense.

"Guess some of Dad's strategies sank in after all, but I didn't really see it at the time. I think… what I wanted was that no matter what it looked like, you would trust me and stick with me. Well, it backfired. You went all noble and self-sacrificing, leaving me to have - what was the phrase in that note you left – 'a fulfilled life with a guide and lover you could be proud of, and not one you were ashamed of being seen with by your friends and family.' Or something close to that."

Jim looked apologetically at me for a moment, his eyes… his eyes looked… "Blair - I'm sorry. Sorry I kicked in your flight reflex with my stupid fucking behavior."

My head was spinning from what he was telling me, and I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. I turned around in my seat so I could see him better.

"Wait… Wait one fucking minute here! Are you telling me you weren'tcheating on me? Why… Why did you send me that note then, asking if I wanted to fuck you both, when I was interviewing for another job at that bar?" I worked hard at keeping my voice from trembling… But it did anyway. Jim's teeth tugged at his lip as he gazed regretfully at me.

"I thought at the time that I needed to protect my cover, and asking you to do a threesome was so out there I figured you'd know it was a fake and I was undercover." Jim took a deep breath and held it for a minute and then blew it out in a big sigh.

"But now… I think I worded it that way to see if you'd trust me despite that note and you seeing with your own eyes I was involved with somebody else. I was an asshole and I'm sorry. It wasn't fair to you…" Jim's words slid back into that foreign language and I could see his lips moving but I didn't get it. I just didn't get it.

I felt my head start to throb and I just stared at Jim, wordless, but my hands kept tightening and my stomach kept trying to do flips. I wanted to cry, but I told myself sternly to keep it buttoned up. Like hell would I let Jim see me crying in front of him.

I turned back around in my seat so my back was mostly to him, and I stared out the window at the passing countryside.

"Blair…"

I gave a tiny shake of my head and he didn't say anything else to me.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

xxx

Blair's in shock over what I told him, I think. I wanted to ask him about the lover he'd left Cascade with, but he didn't even blink when I mentioned I knew he'd gone with him. I decided to forget it for now; I think I've dropped enough bombshells on him in the last twenty minutes.

He's going to be even more upset when he finds out he's in protective custody. I didn't tell him back in Sweetwater that I was taking him back with me to Cascade. I couldn't take a chance on him not cooperating with me and messing up my plans to trap the two men who plan to kill him. I'll take his being pissed at me if it means he's safe.

Scumbag and Shit-head are behind us in their Jeep Cherokee. They've been following the trail of breadcrumbs I've left for them, from 'overhearing' me offering Sandburg a ride to the Interstate to making sure we were in their eyesight by stopping at the gas station.

I'm sure Sandburg thought I was being overbearing when I told him to stay in the truck, but I didn't want to take any chances with his would-be-killers running him down or shooting him when they caught up to us at the gas station.

We're almost to where the trap is going to be sprung; hopefully, these two assholes will be taken out of the picture. But they were just flunkies; Simon and I don't know who was pulling their strings. Until we do, Blair's going to have to be protected. Not to mention the original reasons for placing him in custody are still valid. I know he's going to object and not want to come, but if I have to, I'll put him back in cuffs and shackles. He can be furious with me if he wants to, but he'll be alive.

When I heard those murdering sons of bitches joking about raping and killing Blair, I realized how much I wanted to keep him safe and be with him again. Yeah, I was angry with him, I still am about some things, but it seems really petty now, when he could have lost his life today. And just thinking about him being sick and hitchhiking makes me want to wrap him up and hug him.

Maybe… I hope… we can talk to each other on the ride to Cascade and work things out. He said he was just a pinch hitter, but he's got that wrong. I think he's the all-star, and I want him to be my guide and partner. I want to see him wearing the silver-star necklace I gave him our first Christmas to show him how much I cared for him. I found it in his backpack, and it gives me hope that Blair still has feelings for me.

So, Chief, I'm going to start a new mantra. Please be my lodestar again. And I hope that I can convince you to take another chance on us, after you're done being pissed at me for springing protective custody on you.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

xxx

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