New
Arrivals
Author-Amanda
Titles
Incubus
by Amanda
Disclaimer: All Sentinel characters belong to Pet Fly Productions.
Rated: PG (oh, my, the language).
Thank you to Lisarose for checking it for me.
Blair Sandburg felt energised. It had been a strange week. A series of strange robberies had occurred throughout the city. The Natural History Museum being the main victim. But no homicides. None that concerned them, anyway. He was looking forward to a quiet weekend. With a bit of luck, Jim would have a quiet weekend, too. Blair watched the movements of the detectives through the office. Jim was in talking with Simon and Blair silently indulged in one of his favourite pastimes: watching people as they went about their daily business.
The myriad of people that walked through Major Crimes on any given day provided enough entertainment for him, but today had been unusually quiet. It was Friday night and all remained as uneventful as the day that had just passed. Classes had ended for the semester and he had a few weeks off. He decided to visit the Pharaoh exhibition if he had time. Maybe Jim would like to go, too. He was sure the Sentinel would find the ancient culture as fascinating as he did.
"I'm looking forward to this one, Jim," Simon Banks said, falling into his chair. "I plan to do nothing but laze around."
Jim Ellison smiled at his captain. He, too, felt a quiet weekend was also in order. They'd been chasing their own tails all week with regards to the robberies and, they both figured, the stolen items would remain stolen until Monday morning. Henri Brown had been rostered this weekend and he could follow the few leads they managed to gain.
Ellison leaned back in his own chair and used the moment of peace to peruse the office outside for sounds. He could hear several heartbeats and, subconsciously, he narrowed them all down to the one he knew best. Listening to Simon at the same time, he tried holding onto the quiet patter of his friend's heart, just to see if he could.
Henri Brown waved to Blair as he saw the young man watching him. He was used to the younger man's scrutiny, knowing the kid loved to watch people. Joel Taggert entered the bullpen at that moment and, likewise, waved to Blair. Blair smiled at them both, resting his chin on his arms, and continuing to watch people from desk level.
It was at that moment that Blair saw the young man being led into the bullpen by Rafe. The man stood about six foot tall and was leanly muscled. Blair's eyes narrowed. The young man wasn't cuffed and stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Blair, Rafe noticing the man pulling up short and stopping himself. Rafe could see the man was looking at something. Looking at something with intense hatred. Rafe followed his gaze and saw it led to Blair. The young detective almost stepped back at the look in Sandburg's eyes. Equal hatred, if not more.
Inside Simon's office, Jim put up a hand to stall his captain. Simon frowned, but complied with the request. Jim stood slowly and turned to the door. Simon started to ask him what was up and decided to see for himself, looking through the blinds. Blair stood in the bullpen. Rafe, Brown and Taggert looking at him incredulously. Jim went to the door and opened it. The bullpen was deadly quiet. A low growl could be heard. It was coming from Blair.
"Hanson."
An answering growl reached their ears.
"Sandburg."
Before anyone knew what was happening both young men circled toward each other. Blair away from behind the desk and Hanson away from Rafe. They continued to circle until they were barely ten feet away from the other.
None of the other men in the office could understand why they couldn't move. They were completely stunned. The hatred was palpable and could almost be felt radiating from the two young men. No one could think of anything to say, not that they would have even been heard. The detectives didn't know what to make of their normally peaceful Blair Sandburg. But he wasn't shaking with rage. To their amazement he was deadly cool.
But the expression on the normally calm face told them clearly that he was enraged beyond all reason.
"I swore I'd kill you if I ever saw you again," Blair spat in a menacingly, quiet voice.
"Come and get me." Hanson crooked a finger at Blair, trying to entice him.
Before anyone could move, the two young men ran for each other. Blair leaped atop the nearest desk and launched himself in the air. A second later he contacted with his most hated enemy in the world. Hanson fell back against the assault and both landed with a sickening thud into the filing cabinets.
Ellison was finally jarred into action and threw himself toward them, as did Brown and Rafe. Simon still stood in his doorway, not entirely convinced what he had just seen had really happened.
Rafe was driven back by the thrashing fists and feet. Hanson regained his feet and dodged Ellison, diving under his arms and slamming into Blair again. Their momentum carried them out of reach of the detectives again and both flew across another desk. Blair got in one good punch and Simon was certain he heard the other man's nose break. Both combatants broke apart and circled each other again.
Ellison was stunned. Blood flowed from his partner's mouth and he winced as Blair spat blood onto the floor, not taking his eyes from the one he had called Hanson. Hanson, likewise, paid little attention to the bloody nose he had gained. It had all happened so quickly.
One thing Ellison did notice was that Blair was winning. As he moved toward his much taller opponent, the other backed warily away.
"STOP THIS NOW!" bellowed Simon, walking into the fray. He sputtered in anger when Blair and the other danced away from his advance and threw themselves at each other again.
This time Blair managed to get a choke hold and Ellison, taking advantage of the fact they were now standing relatively still, grabbed his friend from behind and wrenched him away.
"NO! NO! Let me go!" Blair screamed, thrashing in an attempt to get away from Ellison and back at his hated enemy.
Ellison found himself surprised at the strength his smaller partner was using against him but, eventually, his grip began to tell and the younger man's struggles abated. Ellison gave him a rough shake to ensure he was subdued and leaned down to look at his face. Blair still looked past him at the other with pure, undisguised hate. Ellison shook him again and, not relinquishing his hard won grip, pushed his forearm against Blair's face in an attempt to make the young man look at him. Blair refused to move his gaze from his enemy. Ellison looked at the other man. Brown had him by the scruff of his shirt.
"HIM!" Banks screamed at Brown, "IN THE CELLS! YOU!" he glared at Blair, "IN MY OFFICE NOW!"
Hanson struggled in Brown's steel grip, "We shoulda killed each other years ago, you little bastard!" he struggled vainly against Brown's greater strength. Rafe caught hold of an arm just in case and, together, they dragged the screaming man from the bullpen.
Blair squirmed powerfully again in Ellison's hold, all the while trying to get back to his adversary. "FUCK YOU! I'll....!" the remainder of his sentence was severed by Ellison jerking him painfully into Simon's office.
Simon Banks could barely contain his shaking. He was so angry he doubted he would calm down by the end of the day. He threw himself into his chair, the wheels squeaking with the strain, and glared at a very dishevelled and bloodied Blair still standing in Ellison's iron grasp.
Not able to sit still Banks stood and gripped an arm of his own, pulling Blair away from Ellison. Ellison relinquished his grip but regarded his captain in surprise. The Sentinel watched his friend's face for any pain caused by the strong grip his captain had on him.
Blair squirmed and tried to wrest his arm away but Banks wasn't having it. His hold became all the more strong, his anger lending him the disregard for the others' pain. Blair gasped but said nothing and Ellison lay a hand on the tall man's shoulder, the warning growl pitched low, but loud enough so Banks heard it through his haze of wrath.
"Let him go."
Banks was on the verge of shouting again at the smaller man in his grip when he suddenly shut his mouth. Blair was crying. Banks drew back, chancing he could release him now, and Ellison stepped up and looked down at his distraught partner.
"What? What is it, Blair? Who is he?"
The tear streaked, bloodied face looked up at him. "He killed her, Jim. He killed her."
"Who? Killed who?"
"Jenny. He killed Jenny." A fist came up to his face and wiped the blood away, and then his tears. He snuffled, fighting the lump in his throat. He pushed Jim away and fell into on the chairs near Simon's desk.
Simon stared at him in disbelief. Their quiet, peaceful Blair Sandburg had just attacked a man, fully intending to kill him. He couldn't think of a thing to say, so he left it to Jim.
"Blair, who is Jenny?"
His young anthropologist straightened up and drew further away from him. "No one. I'm sorry this happened here. We should have waited."
"For what!" Jim shouted, "A quiet place to kill each other? You will tell me now! Who is this Jenny?"
"You're in serious trouble, Blair," Simon said, "charges can be brought against you...."
"He won't bring charges against me."
Simon tried to flatten his anger against the certainty in the younger man's voice. "And what makes you think that?"
"We can't get to each other if he does. I swore, when I was a kid, I would kill him. And he swore to kill me. It was a blood oath."
"Blair, you just admitted to a detective and a police captain that you intend to kill a man," Simon said tiredly. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He swore the kid had no brains, sometimes.
"I'm sorry. I thought you should know. Besides, he may kill me first." Blair stared at a point over Simon's head.
Jim looked at him quickly, in case the last comment had been said with amusement. But Blair's face bore no humour at all. "You swore it? What of your oath to me?" Jim demanded.
Blair's face softened. Oath? He didn't remember anything about an oath. Maybe he meant the friendship thing, Blair thought. "I'm sorry, man. I don't mean to....I don't know any more. I'd forgotten all about it until I saw him again. Then it all came back again."
Simon stood, his body still shaking slightly with the anger he didn't seem to be readily able to dispel. "You," he pointed at Jim, "try and find out more about this. I'm going to downstairs to see this Hanson." Simon paused, looking at Blair once more. The young man still kept his gaze on the far wall. Furious, Banks left his office.
**********
Henri Brown stepped away from the closed cell that contained the strange young man so hated by the most unbelligerent man he had ever met. He watched the one Blair had called Hanson curiously. The man hadn't uttered word one since been locked in. And he refused to look at anyone. Brown's scrutiny was drawn away by his captain coming up alongside him.
"Who is he?" Banks asked.
"He refuses to say. Rafe's gone back upstairs but he says this guy was brought in to look through the books and see if he could identify our museum perps. He apparently got a look at one of them."
"Unlock it," Simon requested of the officer on duty. Once inside the cell the young man circled away from him, keeping a wary eye on the police captain.
Nothing forthcoming, Simon decided to ask the questions. "Do you intend to press charges?"
"Against who? Little Sandbag?"
Simon thought nothing of the belittling name. He waited for the proper answer to his question. The younger man sighed, all antagonism fleeing his face, and he sat on the only chair in the cell.
"No, no charges," came the whispered reply.
Simon folded his arms. "You're here for the expressed purpose of identifying the people who have hitting the museums. Do you work in one of them?"
Hanson still didn't look up. He felt sick to his stomach. "Yes. I work for the Natural History Museum. I'm the display coordinator."
"Right then, Mr Hanson, I'll arrange for a room for you to view some photos of possible suspects. Give me ten minutes, Henri, and then bring him up to Interview Room 3, please."
Henri nodded as his captain left them, his attention returning once more to the man that had so enraged Sandburg.
**********
Jim stood and met Simon near his desk before the captain could reach his office. "He's not talking."
"Get him out of here for the time being. Hanson is here to go through our list of suspects for the museum hits. He works for the bloody Natural History one. I don't want him and Sandburg anywhere near each other. The two of them probably didn't even know the other one was in Cascade."
Ellison nodded tightly. His own anger not having dissipated either, but deciding to leave it alone for now until he got Blair captive at home. Simon walked into his office, not missing the nervous look thrown his way by Blair. In a perverse way he relished the cowed expression. His anger, while not obvious to the others was perceptible to the Sentinel by the slight shaking of the captain's tall frame.
"Go home, Sandburg, before I roast your butt over something."
Blair decided not to push his luck. He looked at the suddenly interesting floor, muttering his apologies at the police captain and then leaving.
Simon felt guilty feelings rise at having hurt his young friend earlier. He had been so pissed off, he remembered hearing nothing and seeing nothing but Blair's face as he tightened the grip he'd had on the young man's arm. He was glad Ellison had been there before he had pushed the friendship to its barriers and overstepped the boundaries of civilised behaviour. But he had been so outraged at Blair's own behaviour and the young man's refusal to do as he had ordered in the bullpen that he had come uncomfortably close to an assault of his own. The young man's arm had felt easily breakable and Simon found it hard to come to terms with.
Frustrated, he pushed his psycho-analysis of himself aside and concentrate on the other happenings. He was struck by the similarity between Hanson and Blair. The two of them had seemed to come back down to ground level with a thud after the fight. Almost as if they both regretted it deeply. For two men who wanted to kill each other, their descent into this silent stupor was very strange.
**********
Blair had been quiet the entire trip home. It was four in the afternoon anyway and Jim had decided not to return to the office. When they got home, he wasn't surprised when Blair went around him and headed straight for his bedroom. Jim bit his tongue and looked at the closed door. Going to the kitchen he went through the motions of preparing coffee. He intended to have a good talk with his friend. Concern and blatant curiosity vying for the top reason.
"You want coffee?" he called out. No answer. Walking to Blair's bedroom he pushed the door open.
Blair sat on the far side of the bed, looking at the wall, and not acknowledging Jim's presence.
"Coffee?" he repeated.
Blair shook his head. Jim stayed a moment longer, deciding to give the kid a while to think things over in the familiarity of his home.
Ten minutes later, not a peep from the room, Jim decided he'd given him enough thinking time. Walking to the door again he saw Blair hadn't moved.
"Can you come out here so we can talk?" Jim asked gently
"I don't really want to talk about this, Jim," came the sullen response.
"Too bad, junior. Front and centre. Now." Jim returned to the livingroom.
Blair's head dropped in resignation and he left his bedroom. Sitting on one of the single seaters he crossed his arms. Jim watched him, feeling the irrational wish to laugh. Blair sat hunched in the chair, the most petulant look on his face Jim could ever remember seeing.
"Tell me," Jim said gently.
"I told you, I don't wish to discuss it." Blair tone held a hint of steel beneath it.
"You're lucky Simon didn't bring charges against you, seeing as how Hanson obviously decided not to."
Blair's face betrayed nothing, still refusing to meet Jim's eyes. Jim sighed and tried another track of questioning.
"Did you know him when you were growing up?"
Blair looked at him, saying nothing.
"Will he come after you?"
Not a word.
Jim sat back in the cushions. "My patience is wearing very thin, Blair."
"Yeah, well, mine's gone totally." Blair stood and made to move away, severing the conversation.
"Sit."
No movement.
"Sit, or I'll tie you to the chair," came the quiet threat.
Blair looked at the cold, blue eyes regarding him. After a few seconds he looked away. Damn, he thought, I never could win a staring contest with this man. He sat back down.
Jim waited. He didn't have to wait long.
"He was my best friend. We were eleven, I think. Anyway, there was the three of us. Teddy, Jenny and me. We were inseparable."
Jim could hear his friend's heartbeat increasing dangerously. This childhood memory was evidently very upsetting.
"I, uhhh, we....we were young and stupid. We took everything far too seriously." Blair looked at Jim and Jim could see a film of tears across his eyes. "Did you know, Jim, that the friends you make at around ten years of age are the ones you remember most acutely for the rest of your life?"
Jim shook his head. He truly hadn't known that.
"Well, they are. We lived near each other for almost two years. Probably one of the longest times Naomi ever stayed in the one place. It was a commune of sorts. We were very happy there." Blair stopped and stood.
Jim remained silent, allowing Blair to pace his frustration around the room, not seeing it as an attempt at escape. Blair walked to the balcony windows.
"We....loved each other dearly. We were like blood brothers and sister. Jenny was an only child and so was I. Teddy'd had an older brother, but he'd died a while before that. Jenny's Dad decided to move on and we....didn't want to leave each other....we...."
Blair stopped, before the sob that swelled his throat could escape. Jim stood and approached him. He could hear the frantic heartbeat and felt the rising heat from the body only a pace away.
"What happened?" He made the mistake of placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
Blair flinched away. "Must you know everything? He killed her! Teddy killed her rather than have her go away! Happy now?"
Jim let his hand drop. "I'm sorry, Blair."
Blair backed away, the room suddenly far too confining for his liking. He walked quickly to the front door and grabbed his keys. "I gotta think for a while. Alone." He left. The loft reverberating with the sudden emptiness left by the slamming door.
Jim slumped back into the lounge. "You handled that brilliantly, Ellison."
**********
The Sentinel picked up the sound of the door being opened quietly and closed with as much care. It was 2am and he listened to Blair place his keys on the table near the door and lock up. He listened as the young man went into his room and put himself to bed. He kept listening until he could hear the beating heart slow to a sleeping pace. The Sentinel opened his senses even more and encompassed the area outside the loft, almost absent mindedly.
There was very little traffic at that time of morning. He could pick up the odd heartbeats of people passing. But there was one that didn't seem to move. Leaving the warmth of his bed he padded down the stairs in his bare feet and approached Blair's door. Peering in through the darkness he could see the rumpled figure in the bed. Blair was still sleeping.
Silent as a cat he swiftly walked to the balcony doors and opened them. The heartbeat was still there, not moving, not fading. He walked out into the cool air and looked into the street below.
A man stood there, looking up at him. He knew who it was. He stood, stock still, and returned the gaze of the young man standing like a silent sentinel himself. For some reason Jim felt no threat. But, nevertheless, he didn't like the idea of Blair being followed by the man he considered his worst enemy. An enemy that returned the sentiment.
Hanson didn't move. He had seen Blair go into the apartment building and couldn't decide what to do. He just wanted to see where he now lived. He had to admit to himself that he was surprised to see Ellison come out onto the balcony. He hadn't imagined that they lived together. Chalk and cheese. He regarded the muscular man that now looked down at him. He was clad only in his boxers and Hanson could see, from where he stood, that Ellison was hard as nails and obviously very well trained in the art of hurt.
He couldn't imagine how the older man had known him to be there. Were they an item? Blair romantically involved with a man that looked like he belonged in the wilds of Africa? Hanson dismissed the thought. He didn't think they were. But one thing he did know, this Ellison was very protective of his former friend.
Ellison watched the young man leave. Normally he would have left the loft and confronted anyone following Blair home. But, again, for some reason he didn't feel any threat emanating from Blair's most hated enemy. Ellison quietly remained where he was for a few minutes more before returning to his warm bed.
He was determined to get to the truth of this enigma.
It was a couple of hours later that Ellison heard the nightmare start. He lay listening to Blair mumble and thrash around. He wanted to go and wake him up but wasn't sure if it would be appreciated. So he stayed in bed, listening in case the nightmare escalated. He heard Blair mumble the name Teddy a few times before the nightmare took a different course and the young man drifted back off into a deeper sleep.
**********
"Jim, can I see you for a moment?"
Ellison looked up from his desk at his captain. It was Monday afternoon and he'd been out all day. He stood and joined Simon in his office. Closing the door behind him he took a seat and waited for the inevitable questions.
"Shall I start?" Simon finally asked.
"He won't tell me anything. He did say that he and this Hanson guy grew up together. Jenny was apparently part of the team. All he would tell me was that Hanson killed her rather than let her father move away with her."
"How old were they?"
"Ten or eleven. Listen, Simon, this Hanson kid was outside the loft last night. I caught him watching the building. Blair had come home after 2am and when I did a check of the place I found him outside."
"What did you do?" Simon didn't like the way it was sounding.
"Nothing. Don't worry, I didn't rip his head off. I watched him from the balcony and he watched me for a few minutes and then he left." Ellison looked away. He didn't like mysteries and Blair's hesitancy to tell him anything more was irritating him beyond all measure.
Simon leant back in his chair, eyeing his detective. He would have thought Ellison would at least confront someone who had followed Blair home. He helped himself to some more coffee and poured a cup for Ellison while he was there.
"It's strange. Normally I would have challenged someone watching our place but...."
That's just what I was thinking, Simon said to himself.
"But I could feel no threat from him."
"Well, he's positively ID'd Ernest Jackson and Thomas Clark as two people he noticed hanging around the museum that day. They apparently stayed for hours, not looking at anything in particular. Unfortunately he approached them and asked them if there was anything he could help them with. They said no and left. Since you're in charge of this one, you'll have to pull them in for questioning."
Jim nodded, drinking his coffee.
"I don't want Sandburg on this one," Simon added.
Jim nodded again. "I don't want him in on it, either. Won't look good, our police observer killing the only witness."
Simon didn't smile. "I gotta tell you, Jim. I could have wrung his neck yesterday. I couldn't believe it. I've never seen him so...so..."
"Angry?" Jim finished for him.
Simon met his eyes. "Something like that. He showed us a mean streak none of us knew was there. When I actually thought about it later I was glad I wasn't the one on his shit list." Simon looked at his detective. "About what happened earlier. I apologise for that. I was just so pissed off with him....I would have hurt him, I think. I felt like knocking some sense into him. It was a good thing you were there."
Ellison said nothing. He watched his captain with unfathomable eyes. Simon shifted uncomfortable in his chair, the man's gaze being very intimidating.
"He wasn't acting like our peaceful Sandburg." Simon felt the need to say something. Anything against the Sentinel's silence.
"I know what you mean. I've never seen him like that. I think he shocked the hell out of the others, too. One thing I did notice, Hanson was losing."
Simon swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "Yeah, I noticed that. I don't get it, Hanson would have to outweigh Sandburg by at least twenty pounds. Childhood hierarchy? Maybe Blair was the oldest."
Jim shrugged. He didn't have an answer for that one. Simon's insight made sense. He excused himself and returned to his desk. To his surprise he found Hanson waiting for him. Hanson offered a tentative smile and seated himself in Ellison's spare chair. Ellison, however, remained standing, arms folded, looking down at him.
Hanson knew it was up to him. "Can I please speak with you, detective?"
Ellison shrugged and sat down in his chair. He levelled a disinterested gaze on the young man. Hanson fidgeted under the scrutiny.
"I want to see Blair. But I want to see him without bodily injury."
"I don't think Blair wants to see you." Ellison tuned into the man's heartbeat. Decidedly fast. He could make out a faint sheen of sweat beginning to form on Hanson's forehead.
Hanson opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again.
"Why did you follow him home last night?" The question was asked politely.
"I'm sorry about that. I saw him walking. I know someone who lives not far from you and I was on my way home. I wanted to talk to him and hoped to have the chance before he got home, but I left it too late and I honestly don't think I would have known what to say to him if he had given me that chance."
Ellison saw that Banks had left his office and was standing behind Hanson. The young man had yet to notice him.
"I'm sorry about the other day. But when I saw him, it all came back. Sandbag...sorry, Sandburg and I knew each other when we were kids. The last time we saw each other was one of the worst times of my life. When he attacked, the anger I've felt for all these years just came up from somewhere."
"He says you killed someone called Jenny."
Hanson shifted in his chair. He then noticed Banks standing behind him. "I don't really feel comfortable talking about this with you. Not here." He looked at Ellison again, noting the clenched jaw and knowing capitulation was not near.
Ellison stood, his intention that Hanson should now leave very clear. "I'll speak with Blair. It will be up to him."
Hanson got to his feet slowly. He seemed unsteady and held onto the desk. He hadn't slept at all the night before and the stress of seeing Blair again tore at him more than he liked to admit, even to himself. He was determined not to show this to the two hostile men standing near him. But the Sentinel missed nothing.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and left the bullpen.
Simon seated himself in the vacated chair. Ellison watched the young man leave before sitting himself.
"This gets stranger by the moment, Simon. Do you mind if I leave within the hour? It's almost five and I'd like to settle this once and for all."
"Sure, Jim. I was hoping the two of you could help me organise Daryl's birthday sometime soon. I could do with Sandburg's help on this one."
"Not a problem. Come around tonight. Hopefully we will have had our talk by then and it'll help him get his mind off it."
**********
Blair closed the lid of his laptop and rubbed at tired eyes. Lack of sleep the night before hadn't helped. His nightmares had been filled with Teddy Hanson and Jenny Michaels. He hadn't dreamt of his worst enemy in years and he felt mentally drained. The memories were too painful, memories he'd thought long buried.
He glanced at the wall clock. 6 o'clock. He was hungry. He hadn't been able to think of anything for dinner and so went to the fridge and stood in front of the open door, hoping for inspiration to leap out at him. Nothing. Looks like leftovers tonight, he thought.
A knock at the front door froze his hand as he reached for the milk. He wasn't expecting anyone. Closing the fridge he went to the front door. His heart almost stopped when he looked on Teddy Hanson. Taking advantage of the shock he'd provoked, Hanson stepped into the loft, shouldering a stunned Blair Sandburg aside.
Hanson turned and held his hands up, backing away as Blair recovered his wits. "Wait a minute. I want to talk to you. Wait!" Hanson fell back against the furious assault launched at him.
"What the fuck are doing here!" Blair punched at the head of the man he hated most. His blows were deflected, however, and Hanson slowly grew more angry.
"Stop it, Blair! I mean it! I just want to talk." Hanson seized the punishing hands and wrenched them painfully up behind Blair's back. He hadn't wanted to use force but Blair's hysteria warranted it. He glared down at the other man's furious face.
Thus pinned, Blair could only growl in pain and used what weapons he had left. His legs. Kicking at his unwanted visitor he yelled as Hanson turned and threw him into the livingroom. Rebounding off the couch, the anthropologist unsteadily gained his feet. He rounded on his enemy only to find him grappling for one of the kitchen chairs and sitting in it heavily. Hanson rested his head on the table.
Blair didn't know what to do. He was expecting a fight to the death and, instead, found his enemy collapsing. It was then that Blair saw the blood staining Hanson's side through the white t-shirt.
"Teddy?"
The young man looked up from the table. "Is Ellison here? I need his help."
Blair ran to him and pulled his shirt up out of his jeans. The blue denim was stained dark. He raced to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, running back to Hanson and pressing it into his side to staunch the flow of blood.
"What happened? Who did this?"
"They came back to the museum. They must have known I'd seen them that day. I only just managed to get away." Hanson gritted his teeth against Blair's probing of the wound. "It's not that bad. They weren't quick enough to stab me, it only sliced....OWWW!"
Blair looked up from the wound. "Sorry," he said. Surprised that he meant it.
Hanson glared at him, only ever having felt pain like this once before in his life. That pain a reminder of why he wanted to talk to Blair.
"Blair? I want to talk...."
"Not now. Let me clean this first. Wait here." Blair left him where he was and filled a plastic bowl with some warm water and disinfectant. Returning to Hanson he washed away the blood and could see that it wasn't a deep wound, only a cut about three inches long. He washed it and padded it with more disinfectant before applying some gauze and tape. Hanson remained quiet throughout his ministrations.
Both of them jumped at the door being thrown open. Blair nearly spilled the basin of bloody water off the table when Ellison and Banks stormed into the room.
"I smell blood!" Ellison said.
Blair held up a placating hand, the bloody towel hanging from it. "It's OK, Jim. We're OK."
"What the hell's going on?" Ellison took in the blood and gauze tape and glared at the two men.
"I'm sorry, Detective Ellison, you were the first person I thought of. Those two men came to the museum just before it closed. I only just managed to get away." He grimaced and touched his side. "But not before one of them got me."
Banks closed the small space between him and Hanson quickly and inspected the wound. It was cleaned and taped up beautifully. Blair had done a nice job. Ellison tested the air around the loft for threat. Finding none he grabbed his phone and called the department.
He handed the phone to Simon and drew Blair to one side. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah. I admit I nearly swallowed my tongue when he appeared at the door. We had a bit of a scuffle and then I saw he was hurt." Blair noticed Jim obviously scanning the loft and outside environs again. "Do you think they could have followed him?"
"No sense taking chances." Ellison grabbed Blair's jacket and tossed it to him.
Simon returned the cordless phone to its cradle. "I've got a couple of cars on their way to Jackson's place now. I think we'd best get back to the department and coordinate this from there. I want him," Simon pointed at Hanson, "checked out."
"I'm fine. He did a good job." Hanson smiled at Blair but his former friend didn't return it. Hanson dropped his gaze. He was, clearly, far from forgiven.
**********
The ride back to the station was tense. Blair sat with Jim in the front seat and Simon and Hanson in the back. Neither young man uttered a word. Simon couldn't even get details of the attack. Neither man was talking, the childhood pact was obviously still number one in their thoughts and on their list of priorities.
**********
Joel Taggert watched in horror as Simon led Hanson into the bullpen and then Jim led Blair. He could see the blood staining the jeans and shirt of Blair's old enemy and noticed the hold Jim had on his young friend's arm. He approached them.
"What's happened, Simon?"
Simon knew how it must have looked. He took in Joel's frantic face. "It's not what you think. Hanson was attacked at his museum by Jackson and he went to Jim's place for help."
Joel's broad face heaved a sigh of relief. He watched as Jim sat Blair in Simon's office with Hanson and then join them outside. The bullpen was unusually quiet for that time of night. Not many officers were milling around. Rafe and Brown having gone home the hour before.
Banks, keeping a watchful eye on the two sullen men in his office, waved Joel over. "Do us a favour, Joel. Question Hanson. He doesn't seem to want to say much to me. And I don't think Jim could get anything out of him with a crowbar."
"Sure, Simon. I think I'll get him away from Blair for now. We'll be in Interview Room 3."
They watched as Joel led the young man across the hall and turned their attention back to the task at hand. The uniformed officers had gone to Jackson's flat and he wasn't there. They didn't have an address for Clark so they'd have to wait for Jackson to return home.
Blair watched them through the blinds in Simon's office. His stomach grumbled in reminder of not having eaten since 1pm that afternoon. He explained to them that he was going to the snack machine down the hall and left. Jim and Simon acknowledged him and returned to their conversation.
Joel joined them ten minutes later and relayed what Hanson had told him. He hadn't known them to be named Jackson and Clark but the men he'd identified earlier as having come to the museum on closing and confronting him when alone. Joel handed them the statement and they all walked together for the interview room.
"He's a strange one, Simon. Very subdued. I can't believe it was the same man that fought with Blair the other day."
They slowed as the came close to the room which held Hanson. Jim cocked his head to one side.
"I think Blair's in there with him." Jim didn't think twice when he crooked his finger at the other two and led them into the adjoining room where officers could observe interviews unseen.
They could see Blair and Hanson through the mirrored glass. The two men sat at the same table but on opposite sides. Both stared at the other. Neither talking. Then....
"Why?"
The three unseen men almost missed the whispered question. Hanson looked up from his hands at his former friend at the subdued words.
"I ask myself that one all the time. I just couldn't bear the three of us splitting up. We were the three musketeers, remember?"
Blair couldn't look at him. "I remember," he whispered.
"You never knew David, did you? He shot himself when he was 18. Mum and Dad never told anyone. They said he died in a car accident. But I knew he took Dad's gun and shot himself. Dad said he'd gone to a better place. Somewhere where he was happier." Hanson paused and looked about the small room. He suddenly leaned forward, closer to Blair. "Remember the pact we all had?"
Blair sat back in his chair, putting as much air between him and Hanson as he physically could. He didn't answer, the memories coming back far too fast. His forehead creased in the effort to stem the flow of what he could remember. In his horror he found he could remember it all.
Hanson could see Blair wasn't about to voice it aloud. "If we couldn't live together we'd rather die. Remember? I meant it, Blair. So did Jenny. You were the only one who thought we were kidding."
Blair looked into the eyes of his tormenter. "I didn't think you were serious. It wasn't worth dying for. I loved Jenny as much as you." Blair was becoming agitated. "It wasn't worth dying for! Nothing's that serious when you're ten, it only seems that way!" he shouted.
Behind the glass, Ellison crossed his arms. The three men remained silent, all feeling they were betraying a trust by listening in but unwilling to go without knowing.
Hanson regarded his angry childhood friend. He could see the tears welling in Blair's eyes and felt his own threatening. He brushed his hair away from his forehead. A long scar tracked its jagged way across the skin from above his right ear to under his hairline. Blair looked at it in horror.
"After I shot Jenny I put the gun to my own head. She knew what I was doing, Blair. She said I could do it."
Blair felt an emptiness rise within himself. He remembered thinking afterwards that his friends had been prepared to leave him behind. Jenny had been willing to die without him. His numb mind couldn't surface enough to brush the irrational thought away.
"I was very angry with you for not being there, Blair. My aim left a lot to be desired. The shock of seeing Jenny dead, I expect. I'm glad now you didn't show."
"I couldn't find you in time," Blair admitted.
"I would have shot you, too, if you'd been there." Hanson's voice broke and he tapped on the table impatiently. "I would have taken your life, too. As it was, I'd just managed to take Jenny's and destroy my own. They took me away from my parents, you know."
Blair lay his hands flat on the table and studied them as if they were the most interesting things he had seen in a long time. "I didn't know. Naomi and I left the next day."
Hanson stood and paced the room. "Jesus, Blair. If you'd been there....you'd be dead, too."
"I was there," came the quiet reply.
Hanson ceased his pacing. "What?"
"I heard the shot. I was maybe a minute or two away. I...I found you."
Hanson unconsciously drew closer to Blair in his wandering of the room. "You were there?"
"You killed Jenny. I knew because you had the gun. There was blood everywhere. I tried to wake you up but you were twitching and jumping everywhere. I didn't know what to do. I tried to hold you still but you were too big. I ran away. Back home to get Naomi."
Hanson stopped behind Blair's chair and leant heavily against it. "My, God. I didn't know. Please believe me when I say that had I the knowledge I do now, I would never had done it. But I just couldn't live without the two of you. I'd lost David and I was fucked if I was going to lose the two of you. It was the only way I could think of. My parents kept telling me that David was in a happy place and I wanted us to be there, too."
Blair pressed his hands to his face, not wanting the other to see his tears. He felt hands grip his shoulders and stiffened in distaste. "What happened when I was gone?" Blair asked.
"I was in hospital for a while. They didn't think I'd make it mentally intact. The bullet had lodged in my brain. It's still there. Too dangerous to remove. I was given to a home for boys. I saw my parents every few months but I wasn't allowed to go home. I was there until I turned 18." Hanson smoothed the shoulders beneath his hands, feeling the bone and muscle beneath the light shirt. Blair had been a skinny kid and Hanson thought absently how his former best friend had filled out.
"Teddy, I'm sorry. I didn't know." Blair was openly crying.
Hanson stayed at Blair's back, his own tears flowing. "I remember the last time I saw you. You'd run away to see me in the hospital. That's when you swore you'd kill me some day. I was so angry but I couldn't talk back. But I thought it, too. I swore to myself I'd kill you."
In the other room the three men thought about two ten year old boys swearing to end the other's life.
Blair shrugged the hand away, his tears stalling. "Jenny was so beautiful...did she know when...?"
"No," Hanson's voice came haltingly, "I told her turn and look the other way. Her last words were words of love for you and me." Hanson took a step back when Blair turned in his chair and looked at him. The look of hatred being enough to silence him. He had thought maybe Blair would be able to forgive him but by the look he was being given at that moment he knew he had presumed too much.
Blair stood and made to leave the room, not wanting to continue the conversation any longer.
Hanson stepped in his way. "Please, Blair, I have to know if you forgive me."
Blair shook his head, unable to form the words past the lump in his throat.
"Please...I didn't know what I was doing. We were 10 years old, for Christ's sake!"
Blair shook his head again, emphatically, "I can forgive the adult, Teddy, but never the child," he said quietly.
Hanson lay a staying hand on Blair's chest. "Please. I need to know we're OK. I've lived with this for nearly 20 years. I can't take it anymore." Hanson stepped away from him and slumped into Blair's vacated chair, his back to him.
Blair paused at the door and looked at the one way mirror for a moment. Behind the glass, Ellison froze with the sudden thought that he knew them to be there. Returning to the distraught young man Blair crossed his arms around his neck from behind and hugged him. Hanson burst into tears. Blair lay a kiss on top of his head.
"I forgive you, Teddy. I know you didn't mean it. I forgive you." Blair lay his cheek against his former friend's head. "But I never want to see you again."
Hanson's tear streaked face showed relief. Relief he had sought for all these years. Blair's voice contained warmth and sincerity but, with his face turned towards the glass, Ellison, Banks and Taggert were rivetted in place when they saw his expression bore none of the sentiment his voice contained. He hadn't forgiven. His eyes were stone.
"Goodbye, Sandbag." Hanson whispered gratefully.
Blair didn't flinch at the childhood nickname. It meant nothing to him. "Goodbye, Teddy."
Blair left the room. Hanson put his head on the table and cried.
**********
Jim Ellison closed the file he was reading. Ernest Jackson was in jail. Clark had disappeared, probably never to be seen again. Hanson had returned to his job and they would most likely never see him again. After witnessing the interplay between Blair and Hanson, Jim had asked the others not to mention it to their young friend.
Ellison continued to keep an ear out for Blair at night. Listening for any nightmares that were getting beyond what he considered Blair's coping tether. The Incubus visited in his nightmares every now and then and, finally, they seemed to cease. Life resumed its normal course.
A week later Blair asked Jim if he could tell him what had happened the day Jenny died. Jim said yes. Sentinel and anthropologist sat together quietly while one talked and the other listened. Not absolution, by any means, but a sort of cleansing of a still hurting soul.
FINIS
Note: I don't normally inflict a lot of mental owies on the boys (at least I don't think I do....much) because, sometimes, mental owies are more traumatic than physical ones. I'd hate to live these poor bugger's lives - with everything we writers put them through.