A Fair Distance. Running on Empty. Chapter Fourteen

Jim… Melissa… the tightening in my chest when Simon had told me they were seeing each other… separating out my stuff to dump off at Goodwill or to take with me in the Volvo… deciding I didn't give a shit if anybody saw me crying when I drove out of Cascade…

I was lost in my own thoughts, eyes staring out the passenger window, replaying the events that led to my decision to leave Jim and move away from Cascade; as a result I didn't notice the truck slowing down, until I saw flashing lights up ahead out of the corner of my eye.

While we glided to a complete stop, I had turned towards Jim, and had seen we were coming up to a roadblock. There were several police cars there, and an officer waiting for Jim to roll down his window. I looked over at the short freckle-faced man and tried to remember his name. Clayton. I gave a half-hearted wave to him since I'd met him back at the Sweetwater police station.

"You be careful now, Sandburg," said Clayton, nodding to me, when he gave Jim back his license and registration.

"Man, from now on, I promise to avoid like the plague any drunk teenagers while I'm hitchhiking," I fervently answered, and waved goodbye to him while we pulled away. Rather than trying to talk to me, Jim kept looking back at a Jeep Cherokee that had pulled up for their turn at the license and registration gig. Maybe he'd gotten tired of making the attempt. I hadn't been very cooperative, after all. Not after he'd dropped his 'Melissa wasn't my girlfriend' bomb and exploded my head.

He had kept talking after I stopped taking in what he was saying. I think I'd lost the plot after he talked about his 'trust test.' He had given up explaining his actions, when I didn't respond, for staring at the rear-view mirror. And he was doing it again, keeping his eyes on the rear-view mirror, and man, he looked tense and ready to jump out of the truck.

Jim Ellison never was very comfortable talking out emotional stuff, not that I was feeling great about it either. I took a deep breath to center myself, and then sighed; I still didn't feel like talking to him about his trust exam that I'd so spectacularly failed. I just felt kind of sick about messing up so bad. But I decided to force myself to resume discussing how our bond as lovers fell apart; this was my last chance to shift Jim and me to being on friendly terms.

Maybe we could make the transition back to friends… and maybe not. Oh, hell. I didn't know what I wanted. And I glanced over at Jim again, to see if he looked more approachable now. He didn't, and I slouched down on Sweetheart's bench seat, feeling miserable and sick.

I didn't know if we would ever feel comfortable with hanging out as friends again, but if we could get past how we hurt each other we could call each other once in a while. If Bergman went to trial in Cascade, and I had to testify, possibly we could get together for old times sake. But not at the loft, it would be better to meet at a bar or restaurant. It would have to be beer we drank. Wine – like the wine we drank the night we became lovers – would not seem right, now that we weren't with each other anymore.

Or maybe I was just deluding myself. Wouldn't be the first time, either. Perhaps it would be best if Jim and I severed our connection totally. A cauterized wound hurts terribly but has a chance of healing then. I felt like I'd been slowly bleeding to death for a year, and I wanted it to stop. I bit my lower lip and looked again over at my ex-lover.

Oh, what the fuck. I still had things to say to Jim. He'd been quiet, his eyes frequently focused on the mirrors, although there weren't any cars following us. I suspected he was looking behind us so intently as a way of not having to deal anymore with me. Well, tough shit. I straightened up and turned in my seat.

"Jim? You never treated Carolyn like the enemy after your divorce, so why did you go so far out of your way to get revenge on me? Why did you write those fucking letters to screw me over? I think I have the right to know. You must have been so hurt, so angry, so… Way the fuck out of line, buddy. And I know I can get past what you did and let it go, but first, I really need to hear why you hated me so much that you kept tracking me down to fuck up my chances of making a new home."

Jim didn't answer me; instead he turned the truck right at the next road.

"Jim! I need answers here. And you shouldn't have turned on this road; it's a straight shot from Sweetwater to I-40."

"This is a short cut." Jim frowned. "Blair, I don't hate you. I never have. I was pissed off at you, yes. I'm mostly over that."

Jim fell silent for a minute and I waited for the rest of it. I'd lived with this guy for years; I could tell when he was getting ready to drop the other shoe.

Jim shook his head, and a disgusted and angry look crossed his face. "But why the hell you believed… Shit. I didn't write those letters. Somebody else did and used my name; I intend to find out who went to the trouble of disrupting your jobs like that and why they involved me. So go ahead, Saint Blair, and bless me with your forgiveness because it wasn't me. I don't know why you'd think I'd do that to you. Did it sound like something I'd do? You really think I'm that mean, petty, and vengeful?"

"What? It wasn't you?" I must have sounded doubtful because Jim got angrier. And louder.

"Sandburg! If I'd wanted to kick your ass I would have shown up in person. Have you ever known me to go behind someone's back to stick the knife in? If I have a problem with someone I'm upfront about it. I don't play fucking mind games. You should have trusted me, Blair. Should have realized sending poison pen letters isn't my style."

Jim pushed a little harder on the accelerator, and as the truck sped up he said, "If you were so convinced it was me behind those letters, why the hell didn't you call me and raise Cain about it?"

"I didn't want to talk to you." I yelled right back at him. Oh, shit! This was developing into a train wreck, all right.

"Then why didn't you call Simon?" Jim shot back at me.

"Because I didn't want you to get into trouble! I was hoping you'd run out of steam about the revenge thing and stop on your own. And about you being upfront with people – you weren't with me, were you? You had to come up with a test instead of telling me you doubted me. And the note inviting me to jump into bed with you and that woman, and the way you talked to me about my bar job, and smacking my ass when I left for work – the hell those weren't mind games!"

Too angry, Blair. Just let it go; let it go. This isn't helping to reach the
friends-again objective here. I practiced some deep breathing before I continued talking in a more conciliatory tone of voice.

"And yeah, I thought being vindictive was out of character, but then I wasn't sure anymore if I'd really known you." My voice had dwindled down and I didn't keep the argument going. What was the point? I just watched the world go by from my window, and looked over at Jim every so often. I used to be his observer, after all.

Jim shut up too, for about 5 minutes. I could tell he was still mad, because that vein in his forehead was throbbing. Finally he took a couple of deep breaths and looked at me.

"Blair, this is important. Do you trust me now? If I ask you to do something for your own safety will you do it? I'm apologizing right now for any stupid behavior on my part that made you think I wanted revenge on you for leaving me. From your point of view, I guess it made some kind of sense, but I didn't plot against you while you were gone; I shut you out of my mind instead. I refused to think about you; I denied what your leaving meant to me, or I did after the initial shock of finding you'd turned to another man so quickly.

"But now, right now, will you trust me?" Jim slowed down the truck and pulled into a graveled farm driveway while I tried to make sense of what he'd said. Trust him, why? What was going on? And what did he mean by another man?

I thought we were turning around, but instead Jim pulled the truck behind a barn and stopped. You couldn't see them from the road, but we weren't alone; there was a police car and another truck parked close to us. Oh, man… To say I was getting a bad feeling about this was an understatement.

"Jim, what's -" But Jim had hopped out of the truck and was opening my door. I'd unfastened my seat belt, and he grabbed my thighs and swung me around in the seat so I faced him, my legs dangling.

"Blair. Just trust me, okay? There are two hit-men after you, and your life is in danger. I'm putting you in protective custody; actually, you've been in it since court this morning. The paperwork's all set up; Findley and I have worked out an escape plan and we have to move now!

Jim had placed his hands on my shoulders, his fingers accenting the urgency of his claim that my life was in danger. "Are you going to cooperate? Please, Blair. I'll explain things while we're driving."

"I'm going with you? You're taking me back to Cascade?" I could feel my heart start to race and felt a panic attack just waiting to jump me. "No, no, no, I don't think so. I'm not going into protective custody. I've got to get a job! Me? Stay with you? Oh, Jim - that's so not a good idea. Tell me what's going on; I'll come up with another option, one that doesn't involve protective custody."

But Jim just shook his head. "We've got to leave right now. Promise me you'll cooperate, Blair. Don't make me cuff you, okay? Just trust me, this is for your own good." Jim was holding my arms now as well as blocking me from getting out of the truck. I started to struggle against his hold. I couldn't stay with him; it would kill me to be in such close contact and know he was finished with me. I'd take my chances on whatever new problem had surfaced. I was capable; I'd manage whatever was wrong on my own.

Jim yelled, "Findley!" while I was trying to squirm past him. I had just decided to play dirty and was trying to knee Jim in the balls when Dave moved in and snapped cuffs on my wrists. Jim leaned into me while Dave reached down and grabbed my ankle and - damn it all to hell! Dave had shackled my legs.

I felt the heat of anger just boil through me, and I really started struggling then. I kept telling them to let me go, it wasn't fair, I hadn't done anything wrong! Dave and Jim pulled me from the truck, and Dave restrained me by wrapping his arms around my chest from behind me. I could hardly move, but I tried. I threw myself against his arms and tried to turn my body to wiggle out from his hold, but all I did was exhaust myself. I glared at Jim and yelled at him to turn me loose, but he wouldn't look at me. Instead he focused his attention on Dave.

"Findley, talk to him; see if you can get him to see reason here."

Jim started moving stuff out of his truck and into another truck. Obviously, we were switching vehicles. Jim had planned this out, God damn him, without telling me anything. He'd totally disregarded any input I might have had into how to get out of whatever mess this was.

I wasn't happy with Dave either. He said, "Blair!" and when I ignored him he lifted me off my feet to get my attention. God-damned dominance displays. I was sick and tired of alpha guys doing the picking up thing with me. My next life – I want to be six feet tall at least. But Dave did have my attention as I felt my toes leave the ground.

"Blair, now just simmer down. We don't have time for you to be throwin' a fit. I've heard Ellison's story, and I believe him. It'd be best if he left with you right away, so the ones huntin' you can lose the scent. We know you didn't do anything wrong. You're not bein' arrested; you're in protective custody. And if this was my case, I'd do the same. Ellison is tryin' to keep you alive. As his guide, you know that your sentinel places your safety above his own. Don't make this harder on him. He didn't tell you earlier because he was afraid you'd react this way; it would have tipped off the two killers who were followin' you."

I didn't want to listen but as I exhausted myself struggling I decided to play along, so I could get out of these cuffs and shackles. I went limp, and Dave set me back down.

I saw Jim talking to one of the other cops, and then he headed back to us. As he faced me, it hit me what Dave had said about Jim being my sentinel. Did Jim tell him, or was he making a guess? Dave had checked me out, so maybe he was bluffing about what he knew.

Jim answered my unspoken question. "Yeah, he knows I'm a sentinel, and that you and me were lovers. Blair, we have to go. The cops are holding the hit-men at the roadblock, but if they don't find something to charge them with they'll be back on the road looking for you. Will you trust me?

Jim looked expectantly at me, but I couldn't lie to him and I wasn't going to give my word when I didn't know the whole story. So I just shook my head. Jim gave a sigh and looked disappointed. I guess I failed another one of his fucking tests.

He and Dave hustled me over to the Ford Ranger, and Dave kept me by the side of the used truck. Jim took his Jags baseball cap off and gave it to Dave. It dawned on me that Dave was wearing clothes similar to Jim's outfit; Dave was going to be the decoy.

While Jim went around to the driver's side and got in the Ranger, Dave quietly said to me, "I'm trustin' that I'm reading Ellison right, but if you tell me that you think he'll hurt you, I'll take you into custody until Cascade sends out another officer."

For a brief second I thought about saying yes, so I wouldn't have to climb in that truck and spend days together with Jim.

I couldn't fuck Jim over that way, though. No matter how mad I was right now at him. I shook my head.

"You read him right. He won't hurt me." I raised my voice; I wanted Jim to hear me loud and clear. "But I'm not promising to stay with him, either." Dave opened the passenger door and boosted me up into the seat. He pulled the seat belt snug around me, and patted me on the shoulder.

"Blair, I'll be keepin' in touch. And I left you a present; maybe it will help keep your mind off of your troubles. Ellison, drop my cell phone in the mail to me when you get another secure phone. All Blair's medical information is in the folder on the seat, as well as the custody paperwork. You're all set up for your first night out; directions and the phone number of the place are on top of the folder. I'm headed out to the truck stop, so take care and I'll talk to y'all later."

Dave climbed into Sweetheart – I couldn't believe Jim was letting him borrow his truck - and drove away, disappearing away from the barn. I was pissed at Jim and Dave - Christ, they had ganged up on me! I didn't need protective custody. If I wanted to, I could disappear. I knew people – the kind of people who didn't live a mainstream life – that could steer me to places where I'd slide into the underground economy and not leave a trail.

Jim started the engine and pulled over to the cop car. He rolled the window down and asked the officer if there was any news. I recognized him; another one of Sweetwater's finest. Dillon shook his head and said, "They're still running the plates and IDs. You'd better get going now."

We drove away in the opposite direction from where Dave had gone back towards I-40, and the police car followed us at a respectable distance. Jim had a bleak, set expression on his face. I really couldn't give a shit if he thought he was doing the right thing or not. This was fucking unfair! I was sure I could ditch whoever wanted my ass. Once again, Jim didn't trust me.

"How long do we get an escort? Or are they waiting to see if I'm going to jump from the truck?"

"They're following us to the county line." He looked grimly at me. "And should I be concerned about you leaping out of the truck and breaking your neck?"

I didn't answer. Let him worry about how seriously I would fight protective custody. He knew I wouldn't jump; I'd only hurt myself, and Jim would be around to pick me up before I could even try and run for it. But I was making him no guarantees for the future.

Christ. I was going back to Cascade. In restraints. With no job. No home, either. I dreaded seeing the guys from Major Crimes. They'd know what a failure I was now.

And Jim. Man, being with him - but you know, not being with him - was going to tear me up. I sighed; I could feel the adrenaline crash starting to take over my body. And it was funny; I wanted to feel angry again, but instead I just felt kind of numb. And really, really tired. I didn't have the energy to deal with Jim right now. I slumped in the seat and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Blair." Involuntarily, my eyes flicked open towards him. Still grim, still convinced he knew what was best for me.

"I overheard the two guys in that Jeep Cherokee talking about raping and killing you. You've got a contract out on you, and the leak to your whereabouts came from the Cascade P. D."

'That's crazy'! I thought, and something of that must have shown on my face because Jim nodded.

"It's fucked up, all right, and I'm not taking any chances on you getting hurt. You need to trust me on this one, partner, and let me make sure you're going to stay in one piece." Jim rolled his shoulders and neck muscles; in the old days that was his way of asking for a neck rub. I stared at him unblinkingly; hired killers, protective custody, my ex-lover's company for days – I was thrilled.

"Findley helped me get this truck from his cousin. He's going to drive mine out to the Interstate and end up at the truck stop, act like you had been in the truck and then had left hitchhiking. If anybody tracks him in my old truck, they'll think you went east, since he's going to mention to the clerks that his hitchhiker was headed to Charlotte. Then he's driving west to the next exit, getting off and returning on a back road. My old truck's going to stay hidden for a while."

Jim reached out his hand and fingered the manacles on my left wrist. He muttered, "I don't like these on you." He slid his hand off my cuffs, holding onto my arm instead. He squeezed it and then held on tightly. I let him. I might as well let him do what he wanted. He would anyway.

"Blair, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier, but I couldn't trust your reaction. I needed Shit-head and Scumbag to follow you to the roadblock. If you'll give me your promise about staying in custody, I won't have to keep you restrained." He cleared his throat. "You're the most ingenious guy I've ever met; I want your word that you won't try and get away, won't try and strike out on your own, won't try and disable me. I'm not going to let you be a target, even if you end up hating me for it. I know you'll keep your word; so, buddy, can you give it?

"Blair…"

I closed my eyes; I was shutting down. I'd heard everything he'd said, but it was too much effort to respond. Jim didn't try and talk anymore, but he didn't let go of my arm either. We drove on towards Cascade in silence.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

xxx

To be continued in A Fair Distance. Ball and Chain. Chapter One.