New
Arrivals
Author-Vision
Titles
Misplaced
by Vision
Summary: A kidnapped Blair, a worried Jim, and a race against time...
Disclaimer: Canon characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Pet Fly and Paramount. I don't make any money etc., etc. Vision sends Becky a big thank you for all of her work
"Hey Jim, Have you seen my red shirt?"
"I make it my personal lot in life to know where your clothes are, Sandburg. No, I have not seen your red shirt. Did you check the mound of clothing that seems to have taken root in your room?"
Giving his partner a sideways glare, Blair continued searching through the laundry basket on the couch in front of him. "Funny, Jim, very funny."
"I wasn't trying to be funny. And, by the way, what is that new cologne your wearing? It smells like bug spray," Jim countered in between bites of his bagel.
"What new cologne? Your nose must be in overdrive or something This is like the third thing I've lost this week. First, it was that pen I got from Mom last month. Then that photo album you made up from our fishing trip last year. And now the stupid shirt. This is ridiculous!"
Jim picked up his plate and moved towards the sink. "It's called organization, Sandburg. A place for everything and everything in its place."
Retrieving a fresh shirt from the basket, Blair grinned at his partner. "Right, so why is it that you got blasted by Simon for that heap of unfinished paperwork on your desk yesterday?"
"That's different," Jim tried to stifle a smile as he filled the sink with hot water and proceeded to wash the dishes.
Blair buttoned up the shirt and headed towards the door, snatching his coat from the rack and stopping to put on his shoes. "Whatever you say. I'll see you at the precinct later today. I've got a meeting with a new student this morning. Don't work too hard. Paperwork can be dangerous to your health. Papercuts can be painful." Blair ducked as a sud-covered hand flicked water in his direction.
"Get out of here."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim strode into the bullpen and rolled his eyes at the ever-increasing heap of files on his desk. Settling himself in his chair, he noticed a pen resting atop an envelope on his desk. Laying the pen aside, Jim smiled to himself as he recognized that the pen was the one that Blair had misplaced two days before. Jim opened the envelope and quickly scanned its contents.
His smile quickly faded as he read the note.
'Misplace something, Jimmy?'
Jim quickly dumped the contents of the envelope on the desk. A small red swatch of material landed on the blotter, alongside a picture of he and Blair. Jim's hands shook as he reached for the phone. Come on, Sandburg. Pick up the phone. Don't do this. Jim's heart sank when Blair's voice sounded over the answering machine. Trying to sound calm, Jim left a message and proceeded to call the loft. Again, the machine clicked on and Jim left yet another list of instructions.
Brown approached Jim's desk and looked at the items. "Hey, Jim. What's all this stuff? Jim?"
Jim slowly put the phone back in its cradle and met Brown's eyes. "Don't touch anything. Get Simon."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"There's got to be something here. Some kind of clue. I'm missing something." Jim picked up one of the evidence bags and turned it over in his hand.
Resting one hand on Jim's shoulder, Simon eased the bag out of his hand. "We'll find him. Sit down and let's go over this one more time."
Brushing off Simon's arm, Jim moved towards one of the office windows. "I've told you everything I know, Simon. The guy was in our apartment for god's sake. How could I not know that? I can't believe some jerk walks into my place and takes stuff without me even knowing it. I've got nothing. Not one single shred of evidence. Sandburg could be dead by now for all I know. If he touches one hair on that kid..."
"That's it, stop right there. We do this by the book, do you understand me? You will not go off half-cocked, you will play this out like any other kidnapping case. If you can't keep things from getting personal, Jim, I'm gonna have to pull you off this one. Am I getting through to you? Am I?"
"Loud and clear, sir," Jim mumbled as he scanned the street below. He watched as people idly went about their business, weaving in and out of Cascade's busy streets. How many other tortured souls pounded that pavement? How many other victims of malicious acts of violence walked those streets? Jim's anger deepened as he watched a young man elbow his way past an elderly woman, without so much as an "excuse me." His ears rang with the mumbled "old lady thinks she can take up the sidewalk" comment as he pushed his way past her. Unconsciously Jim's hands tightened into fists at his sides. "I'll be fine, Simon."
Simon nodded in reply and watched as Jim spun on his heels and headed towards the door.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The trip back to consciousness was one Blair would not soon forget. Cracking open one eye, Blair blinked against the offending light. His head throbbed in time with his heart as he made an attempt to move. His hands and feet were bound in heavy restraints, his mouth fastened securely closed with a thick layer of tape. Cocking his head to one side, Blair looked around the room for some clue as to his whereabouts. A bright desk lamp shone directly in his face making it difficult to make out any real detail of the small area. The concrete floor beneath him felt cold and unforgiving, somewhat like the person that had deposited him in this place. The light shone from atop an old wooden desk. The walls were painted a dull grey with no visible windows.
Blair pushed off with his right arm and managed to juggle himself into a sitting position. Wiggling his torso from side to side, he was able to scoot back a few feet to the wall behind him. Pressing his ear to the wall, he listened intently for any outside noises that might divulge his location. Hearing nothing, Blair turned his attention back to the room. The tightness of the ropes made it futile to even attempt to dislodge his hands. His ankles were similarly bound with the cool, calculated finesse of someone that enjoyed his work.
A small door just at the edge of Blair's field of vision opened and closed quickly. A shadowed figure approached the desk and seated himself behind it. Blair mentally logged the height and build of the man for future reference.
The man rocked nervously back and forth in the office chair, drumming his hand on the edge of the desk. "You don't know why you're here, do you?" Not waiting for a reply, the man continued. "I'll tell you why you're here. It's because of your friend, Ellison That's why you're here. Some friend he turned out to be. I didn't really want to get you involved, but hey, life's full of surprises, ain't it? Anyway, you and I, we're gonna have ourselves a little fun. What do you want to do first? The possibilities are endless. Oh, wait, I've got it. Are you hungry? I figure Ellison owes us a bit of dinner. You like Chinese? Pizza? I kind of feel like pizza. I better send one over to Jimmy as well. I'm sure he's famished by now, worried sick about his little partner and all."
That voice, where have I heard that voice? Blair searched his memory trying to piece together the voice/face connection. The man had taken the time to make sure that Blair could not identify his face, and yet he had done nothing to disguise his voice. Obviously this was some sort of game, some kind of bizarre thrill ride that the perp was getting his kicks over.
Blair watched as the man opened up a laptop and began pounding away at the keys. Squinting he tried to make out the man's face but was unable to make out any distinct features. The man continued to type at a frantic pace, stopping only for the computer to answer his commands. Stay calm, Sandburg. The guy's a computer freak. Take notes, that's what Jim would tell you. Keep your head, and take notes. Blair thought to himself as he checked off another item on his mental list.
The laptop snapped shut and the man moved to a standing position. "I'll be back in a little while with our food. Can't let you starve now, can I? Don't try anything stupid. This place is locked up tighter than a drum."
Blair leaned his head against the wall as the door slammed shut. Fear shot through Blair's heart as he tried to steady his breathing. Jim will find me. Plea or prayer? Blair wasn't so sure which it was...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The aroma of freshly baked pizza tickled Jim's nostrils. A moment later, a young boy approached his desk, waiting expectantly for him to look up. "Detective Ellison? Here's the pizza that you ordered."
"I didn't order any pizza."
The young man frowned and turned the box to get a better look at the receipt. "Your credit card number is right here. One extra large pizza to be delivered here, and one for pick-up."
"Look, son. I didn't order any... Wait a minute. How did you get my credit card number? Let me see that." Jim stood and tore the receipt off of the top of the box.
"Who called this in?"
"You did, sir. I was there when Sharon took the call."
Jim stared at the receipt and then dragged a chair over from a nearby desk. "Sit. Sit down. I need you to call the store and get Sharon on the line. This is extremely important -- do you understand me? Did you get a look at the guy who came to pick up the other pizza?"
"No, sir, I was gone before he arrived."
"Damn."
The boy accepted the outstretched phone and dialed the number. "Hi, Sharon, it's Dave, you know that detective that called in the order? He wants to talk to you. I'm putting him on."
"Sharon? This is Detective Ellison, Did you see the man that came to pick up the pizza?... I know you're busy, but I need you to try to remember what he looks like. Do you keep records of when your orders come in?... What about a call back number?... Great, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
Jim hung up the phone and handed the boy a ten dollar bill. "Thanks, kid. I owe you one."
"Anytime."
Jim could barely contain the tinge of hope that entered his heart. Maybe this perp wasn't as smart as he thought he was, maybe, just maybe, he and Blair would be sharing a slice of pizza before the night was over...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The door swung open and the man entered carrying a large square shaped box. Blair stiffened as the pep laid the box on the desk and proceeded to open it. "Guess you're hungry, huh? You figured it out yet? Who I am, I mean? It's really not important if you do or not. I'm just curious. I mean, it's not like any one of us is gonna walk out of here. Your pal Ellison, he's gonna be a busy boy in the next few hours, driving all over Cascade chasing his tail around in circles. I hope his driving skills have improved. Wouldn't want him cutting some poor guy off and getting himself killed. I wanna have that pleasure myself. Yes, sir, nothing like a murder/suicide to make you hungry. Oh, where are my manners? Let me get that tape off your mouth so you can enjoy some of this. Hope you like pepperoni."
Picking up a slice of pizza, the man slowly made his way towards Blair. The man's shadow fell upon him as he moved in front of the light. With each footstep Blair's suspicions were reaffirmed. Freeman...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Don't you tell me to calm down!"
Rafe stood his ground as Jim circled to the driver's side of the truck. "Jim, we're not going to get anywhere if you keep this up. I know you're worried..."
The words seemed so small, so unlike the real fear that Jim felt. Worried? How about damn terrified. That was a better description of his state of mind at this very moment. "Look, Rafe, I'm not here to win any popularity contests. You're here for the ride. That's it. You got a problem with that. Take it up with Simon."
Jim wrenched open the driver's side door and climbed in behind the wheel. Jim watched as Rafe put his hands on the hood of the truck and glared at him through the windshield. Jim turned his head away, and sighed deeply. Simon had demanded that Rafe ride with him in Sandburg's absence, and Jim had protested in the usual "Ellison" fashion. To further compound the situation, the pizza place had been almost a complete wash-out. The girl behind the counter was less than helpful, and Jim was not exactly a shining example of congeniality. All in all, the best that Jim was able to come up with was that Blair's captors had not in any way been affiliated with "Golden." The lab had made a quick analysis of the contents of the pizza and were in the process of making sure that the actual store had not been tampered with. At least one possible suspect had been ruled out. The vague description that the girl had given him could fit half the male population of Cascade.
Jim re-opened the door of the truck and walked to the front of the vehicle. "I didn't mean to come down on you like that."
Rafe gave Jim a half-smile and moved towards the passenger's side of the vehicle. "Is that an apology?"
"Don't push it, Rafe."
"I'll take that as a yes."
The two men climbed into the truck and Rafe waited for Jim to start the engine. "There a problem, Jim?"
Shaking his head, Jim retrieved a notebook from his jacket pocket. "According to the girl at the counter, the call came in at 4:22 p.m. The pizza was picked up at about five o'clock. Allowing for a few minutes of lag time, that means Sandburg is being held within a half an hour radius."
"Unless the guy had someone else pick it up for him."
Jim nodded and reached behind the seat for the Kleenex box. "Sandburg must have sprayed that cologne of his in the truck. It must have gotten on my clothes. I could smell it even in the store."
"I don't smell anything. At least he's not wearing that imported junk my brother uses. Eau de toilette is a perfect description Horse manure smells better."
Jim could feel the color draining from his face. Placing a hand on the steering wheel to steady himself, he met Rafe's eyes. "It's Freeman. I know who has got Blair."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Jim, phone call, line three. They wouldn't leave a name."
Simon reached for the phone and turned it towards Jim. "Let's put a trace on it, Rhonda."
"Yes sir, Captain," she said, closing the door.
Jim placed a hand on the receiver, taking a moment to compose his thoughts. He stared at the flashing number '3' on the phone. All of his training and expertise in dealing with kidnappers seemed to fade to the back of his mind.
A hand rested atop his own, seemingly sensing his uncertainty. "You okay, Jim? You want me to take this?"
"What if he's dead, Simon?"
Taking his hand away from the phone, Simon moved it to Jim's shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. "There's absolutely no evidence that suggests that, Jim. You know what to do -- now do it."
Jim picked up the receiver. "Ellison."
"Jim, it's Blair."
"Chief, thank god. Are you okay? Chief? Blair?"
Jim opened up his hearing and listened intently as the phone switched hands. "Hey, Ellison, did you enjoy your dinner? How you doing? Blair and I are having a great time. Oh, speaking of time, I've got a little something for you."
Jim listened to the slurred background whispers of his partner. "I'm okay. Basement or warehouse. Dark. Freeman. Kill us all."
Jim fought the urge to yell out to his partner, to let him know that he was there, that he would do everything in his power to save him. Blair had taken a huge chance with Freeman sitting so close to him, and Jim prayed that he hadn't put himself in any further danger. "I don't know who you are, but I'm telling you this isn't gonna work. Listen to me, you still got a chance here. Why don't we meet somewhere so we can talk?"
"Talk? That's a good one, Ellison. Hey, have you got a trace yet? Nope, not quite. I guess you need a few more seconds. I can't believe you don't remember me. Maybe I should give you a few more clues."
Jim felt his control slipping. "Listen, punk..."
"No! You listen, there's a watch place on the corner of Wilson and Lawrence. You've got ten minutes."
The line clicked and Jim closed his eyes as the dial tone sounded in his ears. Blair was okay, he was alive, nothing else seemed to matter.
Simon watched as Jim opened his eyes and gently rested the receiver back on its cradle. "A watch store, corner of Wilson and Lawrence, ten minutes."
"I'll check the trace. You and Rafe get going. I'll send two units to back you up."
Jim nodded in Simon's direction as he headed towards the door.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Freeman shoved the cell phone back into his pocket and turned back to Blair. "I can't believe he doesn't know who I am. What kind of cop is he anyway?"
Blair stared into the wild eyes of his captor, trying his best to remain calm. He was buying time, that's all. So long as Freeman believed that Jim didn't recognize him, he was safe. Jim was playing the game, hoping the perp would be forced into revealing more of his location. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why?" A fire seemed to light in the man's eyes. "You really don't know, do you? He took something from me, they all did, now they have to pay. They all have to pay."
"Who has to pay?"
"They owed me that money, dammit, and now they're gonna pay. They ruined me, my career, my life. But that's okay, cause it's payback time. Yes, sir, one big roman candle. BOOM! Bet you'll be able to see it for miles."
The scene of Jim, Simon and himself discussing Freeman's background flashed in Blair's head. Freeman had hacked into the accounting database of his last employer, cutting himself a huge check for royalties unpaid for a computer programming design. The man had lost his dignity and his career in one fell swoop.
Blair nodded his head in agreement. "I understand where you're coming from, man, but hey, don't you think you could come up with something better than this. I mean, you're a computer genius, right?"
"I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work. Tomorrow morning, this building, and everyone in it, is gonna blow sky high."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim screeched to a halt in front of the watch store. Guns drawn, he and Rafe took positions on either side of the door. A quick "three" count and Jim had kicked in the door, dropped and rolled to cover. Rafe, keeping low, dodged behind a nearby counter. An elderly man dressed in a suit, cried out in terror. "Take what you want! Please, just leave me alone."
Jim scrambled to a standing position, both hands still clutching his gun. "Who are you?"
"Carl Sharp. I own the store."
Reaching in his pocket, Jim produced his ID. "I'm Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. Put your hands on the counter."
The man nodded nervously and placed his hands on the glass in front of him.
"Rafe, check out the back. Mr. Sharp and I are gonna have a little talk."
Rafe moved past Jim and began searching the rest of the store.
Pocketing his gun, Jim moved to face the man behind the counter. "Mr. Sharp, have you seen this man?" Jim held out a picture of Freeman. "He's wanted in connection with a kidnapping case."
"Yes, sir, he was in here yesterday. What did you say your name was again?"
"Ellison, Detective Ellison."
Pointing to a watch under the glass, Sharp continued. "He bought this watch, the one with the gold band. He said you were going to need it, that you couldn't be late for his appointment. He said you'd be in later today to get it."
"Get it for me, and do it slowly."
Carl reached into the display case and handed Jim the watch. Jim glanced at the object and noted that the alarm was set for nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Slipping the watch into his pocket, he backed away from the counter. The sounds of approaching sirens filled the air. Rafe returned to Jim's side. "Anything?"
"I'll tell you in the truck. I have a feeling Mr. Freeman has a schedule to keep."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim reached for the door handle of the truck at the same moment his cell phone began to ring. Giving Rafe a nod, he watched as the younger detective jogged away towards Simon. Waiting for a signal from his captain that a trace had been ordered, Jim tried to keep the urgency he felt out of his voice as he answered. "Ellison."
"Hey, Jim, how do you like the watch?"
"Let me talk to Blair?"
"Is that anyway to talk to someone who just gave you a gift?"
"Put him on."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Shaking his head, Freeman stared Blair squarely in the eye. "Sorry, he's a bit tied up right now. I didn't like the way he was talking to me so I had to shut him up for a bit. You know, I'm getting a bit tired of your games, Ellison. A cop like you...surely you've figured it out by now. Maybe I should send you something a bit more personal to jog your memory, a finger perhaps, or maybe..."
"What do you want, Freeman?"
Clapping, Freeman sat down behind the desk and rested his feet on top of it. "Well, it's about time. About 'time'? Hey, that's funny."
"Hysterical."
Freeman leaned back further in his chair, watching as the drug began to claim his victim. Blair's eyes slid closed, as he bonelessly slid to the ground.
"Oops, looks like your partner decided to take a little nap."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim pounded his fist against the side of the truck. "I swear to God, Freeman..."
"Now, now, let's not get testy. There's one more little thing I need you to do. There's a rental car place about twenty minutes east of you. Go there -- I've rented a car in your name. I figured you could use an upgrade. Take the car, go back to your place, and wait for me to call. You do what I ask, and maybe, just maybe I'll let Sandburg walk out of here tomorrow. You got that?"
Not waiting for a reply, Freeman disconnected the line. Jim pocketed the phone and looked over at Simon. The captain shook his head slowly and began jotting a few notes in a notebook. Jim leaned his head against the window of the pickup. Another dead end, another waste of time. Emotions raged through him as he ran his hand along the side panels of the truck. Clenching his hand into a fist, he began a slow steady pounding movement against the side of the truck. The movements started out gently enough, almost a drum-like beat in his eardrum. With each passing moment his anger swelled, the intensity of the blows increasing with every heart beat. Blocking out the pain, he continued to slam his hand into the side of the vehicle.
Rafe approached Jim slowly until he was within two feet of the distraught detective. Unsure of exactly how to approach the situation, he decided that it was probably best not to try to restrain his co-worker. "Hey, Jim."
The pounding continued but seemed to lessen in intensity. Jim didn't blink as Rafe moved to his side. "It's okay, Jim. It's gonna be okay."
Slowly unclenching his fist, Jim turned his head towards Rafe. The younger man smoothed his hand across Jim's back, every movement a testament to the fact that he too was feeling Jim's pain. For a moment they stood quietly, each lending support to the other. Wordlessly, Jim reached for the door handle and climbed into the truck. Once seated in the vehicle, Jim gave Rafe a half-smile. "You coming?"
Rafe nodded, returned the smile and rounded the front of the truck.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Blair rolled his head from side to side, trying to shake off the affects of the drug. His arms and legs felt numb, his brain thick with fog. He could barely remember what had happened, the details of his situation caught in the haze that had filled his brain. Rolling on his side, he struggled feebly against the ropes, trying to free his bound hands. His tongue rolled weakly in his mouth, his voice lodged deep in his throat. The best he could manage was a soft whimper in the direction of a pair of running shoes that belonged to someone's legs.
Freeman smiled down at Blair, enjoying his vain attempts at escape. There was great pleasure in watching his victim squirm, being in control of someone's life and death. Control was something that Dan Freeman needed, wanted more than anything in the world. Dr. Black, his therapist had droned on about self control, learning to handle his emotions in an appropriate fashion. Fool. Couldn't he see what it was like to be in charge, to be the one holding the key to someone else's very existence? Ellison had tried to take that from him, tried to rule the road, rule his own choice to live or die. And now, it was time to strip Ellison of that same control. Watch him be reduced to a desperate man, pleading for mercy...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"What's with the color coded Tupperware?" Rafe joked as he peered into the depths of the fridge.
"It keeps things organized."
"More like it keeps Sandburg's health stuff away from your junk food. You want an icepack for that hand?"
"There's some vegetables in the freezer. Thanks."
Opening the freezer, Rafe retrieved a bag of peas. "Peas okay?"
"I'm carrots. Sandburg's peas."
Grabbing a can of soda, Rafe closed the door and moved towards the couch, tossing a bag of carrots in Jim's direction.
" I can't believe I'm sitting here waiting for this idiot to call." Jim caught the bag and laid it on top of his hand. "I feel so helpless."
"We've got the car. Simon's checking out the car lot. Megan and Joel have searched Freeman's apartment. You've got the report from his doctor. We've listened to the tape of the phone conversations at least ten times. Forensics is working double duty. There's nothing else you can do Jim."
Sighing, Jim nodded and closed his eyes. "I know. There's some kind of tracking device on the car."
"How do you know that?"
"I just know."
"Our best chance is to just do what he says and wait this thing out. Whatever he has planned we know is gonna go down tomorrow morning. He won't do anything to jeopardize that."
Jim's eyes flew open at the sound of the phone. "Yeah, this is Ellison."
"Me again. Here's the plan. You go to the precinct at exactly eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Park the car in front of the building and leave it running. At exactly five minutes after eight, you will get in the car and drive to that pizza joint you visited today. I will call you at exactly twelve minutes after eight. You got that?"
"Wait a second, there's no way I can drive there that fast."
"I've seen you drive, you can make it. No road closures either, no sirens, and no other cops. Do I make myself clear? There's a tracking device on that car of yours. I'll know where you are every second. Sleep tight."
Sleep. Jim turned off the phone and laid his head on the back of the couch. Good night, Chief. Jim swallowed back the lump in his throat and closed his eyes to the insanity that was slowly eating away his self-control.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim looked at the watch, mentally counting off the seconds in his mind. Two minutes and counting. Leaning against the side of the vehicle, Jim listened in on Simon and Rafe's conversation.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"I don't like this one bit. I've got Megan and Joel in an unmarked car down the street. I want you to run interference, try to cut him a path, use Channing Street as an alternate if things get messy. Jim thought it best not to alert the owners of the store. He's afraid Freeman might be watching. You got all this?"
"Yes, sir." Rafe nodded as he moved away from Simon and walked towards Jim.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Rafe smiled at Jim and patted the hood of the car. "She looks fast."
Jim nodded in agreement. "I hope so. Thanks for sticking around last night."
"No problem. What's that saying? Misery loves company?"
There was a lull in the conversation as both men fought the internal demons that had risen from the depths of their heart. Jim couldn't help but notice the amount of traffic that had accumulated in the last few minutes. Some people rushing off to work, others ushering children off to school, everyone caught up in their usual weekday routine. Jim was about to throw a glitch into their plans for a quiet morning.
Rafe patted Jim's shoulder in reassurance. "You can do this, Jim. I know you can. You just concentrate on driving and let us do the rest."
Jim levered himself off of the vehicle and smiled briefly. "I wouldn't exactly call what I'm about to do driving."
Catching Jim's arm, Rafe met his eyes. "I would."
There was something in Rafe's voice, something that told him that everything was going to be all right. The hands that hadn't stopped shaking since he had found the envelope suddenly steadied. His other senses seemed to meld together, piggybacking one on top of the other. The self-control that he thought he had lost came back with a fury. He would save Blair, or die trying...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dan Freeman sat behind the computer screen, one hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck, the other hand punching away at the keyboard, his eyes transfixed on the screen. A small steady blip appeared on the map in front of him. The flashing light began to move, picking up speed with every passing second. "Right on time. Okay, Ellison, let's see what you're made of."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim swerved to the left, his heart racing in his chest. The blue car braked suddenly, and Jim ignored the muttered curses that came from the other vehicle. Jim slammed the palm of his hand into the steering wheel, while pushing down with full force on the accelerator. The blast from the car horn blazed a hot trail of pain through his skull. The light ahead changed to red, and he closed his eyes for a split second as the rush of cars flashed before him. Tires screeched, people yelled, and the smell of burning rubber filled his nostrils. Concentrate. Rafe's voice came over the radio on the seat beside him.
"Make a right on Carlson."
Jim gripped the steering wheel with brute force, white knuckled, sweat streaked hands jerked the car into a right turn. The car careened over the curb, the passenger's side tires bouncing off of the pavement. The car landed with a thud, and Jim's head connected soundly with the roof. Jim shook his head quickly and forced the fish tailing vehicle back on to the road. A quick stab on the brakes, and he was back in business. Stores and building whizzed past him at break neck speed, the scenery around him an unrecognizable blur.
One more block.
Suddenly the station wagon in front of him slammed on the brakes. Jim leaned on the horn as he noticed that all four lanes of traffic were brought to an abrupt halt. Using his enhanced vision, Jim traced the problem to an overturned dump truck ten cars ahead. The sidewalks were crowded with people; the cars lined up bumper to bumper around him. Jim pounded on the steering column, grabbed the keys, yanked at the door handle, and ran...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Freeman couldn't help but laugh as he noticed the small light fixed in the same position for the past minute and a half. Pointing a finger at Blair, he smiled wickedly. "You should see this -- poor guy's stuck in traffic. Get those legs moving, Ellison. Five, four, three, two, one." Freeman snatched up the phone beside him and punched in the number.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim side stepped around a lady with a stroller, barely breaking the pace he had set for himself. His lungs burned with the need for oxygen; his eyes teared from the lack of air. Skidding to a stop, Jim lunged for the handle of the glass door and yanked hard. His hands met with resistance as the lock clicked into place. Pounding on the glass with one hand, Jim retrieved his badge from his pocket with the other. A young man slowly approached the door and turned the lock just as the phone began to ring. The girl behind the counter was just about to reach for the ringing phone when Jim pole vaulted over the counter and knocked it out of her hand. Landing hard, Jim scrambled for the receiver, pulling at the twisted cord until his hand curled around the instrument.
"Ellison." Jim spat out between pants.
"Whoa! That was fun, huh, Jimmy? Gets that adrenaline going doesn't it? Next stop, the watch store. I'll even give you an extra minute to catch your breath. I'll give you eight minutes this time. Same rules."
Jim clambered to his feet and stumbled towards the door.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Blair watched through unfocused eyes as Freeman leaned in closer to the laptop. Words and images from the night before swirling in a confused tornado in his head. Freeman, drugged, bomb, morning, Jim. The mass of jumbled thoughts made little sense to him. His stiffened joints protested every small movement. His neck muscles stretched far beyond their normal limits. His limbs were like dead weights as he tried to inch his way along the floor.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Snatching up the radio, Jim relayed his position to Rafe. "Rafe, I'm on my way to the watch store. I'm heading east on Harmony. Which road? Madison or Connelly? Come on, Rafe. Pick one, dammit."
Rafe quickly fed the information to Simon and waited for a response. "One minute, Jim."
"I don't have a minute!" Jim exploded as he veered around an opening car door. "Which one?!"
"Connelly, take Connelly. I'm about two blocks from you."
Jim dumped the radio on the seat and swerved to avoid a bicyclist. The bike teetered ominously and Jim jerked the wheel further to the left. At the same moment a motorist pulled out from the convenience store opposite him. Wrenching the wheel further to the left, Jim forced the car into a spin, narrowly missing the other car. Billows of smoke and ear piercing screeches met his ears. For a moment he lost all track of time, all thought processes shut down by the unexpected sensory overload.
Rafe's voice punctured the haze. "Jim! Are you okay? What the hell happened?"
Slamming on the brakes, Jim skidded to a halt just a few feet shy of an oncoming truck. The truck driver stared in disbelief as Jim put the car in reverse and sped away.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim could hear the phone ringing as he rounded the corner. Even before the car came to a complete stop, he was out of the driver's seat and heading towards the door. A young woman behind the counter lifted the phone to her ear.
"No!" Jim screamed a warning just as the woman was about to speak.
Taken aback by his sudden outburst, the lady placed her hand over the receiver. "Who are you? What do you want?"
Jim could barely speak, his voice tainted with worry. "Phone... I-I need the phone. I'm a police officer." Jim grabbed his ID and flashed it at the sales clerk. "Please, this is an emergency."
The woman stared at him for a moment, silently scrutinizing his sweat-stained shirt and scruffy appearance. Slowly, she handed over the phone and took a step backward.
Jim swallowed back the saliva in his mouth trying to keep his tone steady. "Ellison."
"A little too close for comfort, hey, Jim? You better speed it up a bit. One more stop, my friend. The car's due back. Wouldn't want to be late. I'd hate for you to have to pay any extra charges. You've got fourteen minutes. Good luck."
Dropping the receiver on the counter, Jim took a split second to regain his breath. Where the hell are you, Freeman? His eyes wandered around the store, searching for any hint of Freeman's whereabouts. Closing his eyes he dialed up his sense of smell. The cashier's perfume distracted him momentarily, but he quickly dismissed it, and continued the search.
Remembering a discussion that he and Blair had had just days before, Jim was able to determine that Freeman was know where nearby. Blair had taught him to classify scents into two categories: active and passive. Active scents were like stimulants, "neuron blasters," as Blair so aptly put it. Passive scents were ones that Jim would encounter every day: smog, dust, cooking smells. The trick was to be able to distinguish between the two types of scents, as well as shift items between the two categories. A simple smell like cigarette smoke, could move from being an annoyance, to a life-saving piece of evidence.
Jim remained focused on the task at hand, despite the woman's attempts at conversation. Opening the door, Jim stepped out onto the sidewalk. Inhaling deeply, he held the breath as long as his lungs would allow him. His mind worked quickly, sorting and classifying each scent. Satisfied theat Freeman was not in the area, Jim returned to the woman's side. "Listen to me. I need you to call the Cascade Police Department, and ask for Captain Banks. This is an emergency. Tell him to have Rafe meet me on Park Road. Tell him I didn't want to chance using the radio. You got all that?"
The woman nodded and reached under the counter for a paper and pen. Jim repeated the instructions with a little less urgency and even managed to give the woman a slight smile. "Thanks."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Rafe spotted the red car and increased the pressure on the accelerator. Ignoring the wavering needle of the speedometer, Rafe pulled up alongside Jim. The two men maintained their speed as they rolled down their windows. The wind whistled between the cars, making it difficult to hear. The gravel road shot up clouds of dust and flying pebble-like debris, making it hard for Jim to keep from coughing. His eyes teared as the dust filtered in the open window.
"I thought I lost you. What happened back there?" Rafe tried to yell above the roar of the engines.
"I'll tell you later. I think I know where he has Sandburg." Jim yelled across the gap between the cars.
"What? I can't hear you."
Jim steered the car a bit closer, bumping the side of the other vehicle. "I said, Sandburg -- I know where he is."
Rafe nodded. "Where?"
"Slow down a bit" Jim shifted his foot to the brake and touched it lightly. "Can you hear me better?"
"Yeah. Go ahead.
"Freeman wants me to drop the car off at the rental place. He's given me fourteen minutes to get to the shop. That means it will be 8:34 when I get there. Wherever this place is I've got to get there on foot. I figure he has to be holding Blair within a fifteen minute radius."
"Okay, I'm with you."
"Homebase Computer Corporation is a couple miles from there. Freeman used to work there."
Rafe held Jim's gaze for a moment, letting the information sink in. "What do you have in mind?"
Jim hesitated for a moment, turning his head back to the road. There was at least three car lengths between him and the next set of cars. A quick glance in the rearview mirror, and he turned his attention back to Rafe. "I want to switch cars. I'll head over to Homebase, and you take the car in."
"What if Freeman's watching us?"
"He's not. Just trust me on this one."
Rafe smiled but continued to stare straight ahead. "What do you want me to do?"
"This." Jim eased the steering wheel to the left, bumping the side of Rafe's car. Rafe recovered quickly, moving to within a few inches of the side of Jim's vehicle. "We got to make this look good. I don't want him thinking that I stopped for no reason."
Rafe jerked the steering wheel to the right, easing up slightly on the accelerator. The sound of metal on metal shrieked in Jim's ears. The left side of his body jerked away from the hit to the driver's side door. His neck snapping his head to the right. The cars collided with enough impact to force Jim over to the side of the road. Slamming on the brakes, Jim was lost in a cloud of burnt rubber and dust. The car jerked to a stop, the seatbelt taunt against his chest. Wrenching open the door, Jim quickly moved away from the vehicle and jogged towards Rafe's waiting car.
The two men came within a few feet of one another. "How do you want to play this?"
"I don't want to spook this guy. God knows what he'll do to Sandburg. I'm going to evacuate the building. Tell Simon to hang back until five minutes to nine. If he doesn't see me in the clear by then, tell him to get everybody the hell out of the way."
Meeting Jim's eyes, Rafe tried to read the volumes that were held within their depths -- anger, fear, concern, pain, all swimming within the blue orbs. The hard features that Rafe had come to believe were part of the Ellison package, had suddenly disappeared. In their place was a softness, an explicable sense of vulnerability, that he had never seen before. Blair was more than just his partner, more than just the friend that invaded his living space. Blair was like a catalyst, a balancing centering agent that kept one slightly off balance detective in synch with his world.
Rafe gave Jim a thumbs up sign as he watched him speed away. As he made his way back to Jim's car his thumb relaxed against the rest of his fingers, forming a fist.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim parked the car around the corner, keeping a safe distance away from the building. Taking a quick look at his watch, he tried to push away any thoughts that might distract him from his present situation. Forcing down the nauseous feeling that had taken up residence in his stomach, Jim moved towards the building. Using the passersby as a shield, he kept his head low, trying his best to blend in with the crowd of brief case carrying, tie-wearing men of the business world. Carefully weaving his way to the front door, Jim made a quick visual sweep of the lobby. A young woman sat behind a receptionist's desk, busily typing away at a keyboard. Other people waited impatiently for elevators, while others shared handshakes and friendly greetings.
Jim slowly made his way to the receptionist's desk, his senses on full alert for any slight change in the environment.
"May I help you, sir?"
Reaching in his pocket, Jim pulled out his badge and flashed it at the woman. "I'm Detective Ellison. I need to see your head of security right now."
"That would be Tyler Caston. I'll see if he's free."
Jim took a moment from his visual surveillance to meet the woman's eyes. "He's free -- trust me. I want him here. Now."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The effects of the drug were slowly starting to wear off, and Blair found himself being able to focus a little more clearly. The ropes that bound his hands were slick with sweat; his legs although still numb, seemed to respond more readily to his commands. Unfortunately, the tape had been replaced on his mouth, making it impossible to call out for help.
Freeman sat in his usual chair, one leg draped over the edge of the table, the other casually stretched out in front of him. The man looked like he didn't have a care in the world -- not exactly the typical picture of what a person with only a few short minutes to live should look like. The laptop sat balanced on his leg, looking like more of a child's plaything than the weapon of destruction that it actually was. Looking up from the laptop, Freeman caught Blair's eye.
"Man, that partner of yours is an idiot. A guy ran him off the road a few minutes ago. I hope he's got insurance. Well, here goes."
Snatching up the phone beside him, Freeman punched in a number and waited for a response. Blair wished he could hear the other side of the conversation, that he could hear Jim's voice one last time...
"Hey, Ellison, you sound different. What's a matter? You feeling a bit under the weather? You better pull yourself together cause you got a bit of a jog ahead of you."
A seething rage filled Blair's heart as he listened to Freeman reciting yet another list of instructions. If Jim didn't die of a heart attack before he got here, it would be a miracle.
Blair's eyes traveled the length of the room, coming to rest on the doorframe. His eyes locked on a small swatch of red fabric that lay on the floor, just inside the closed door.
My shirt! He's here, Jim's here...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A diversion. Jim needs a diversion. Blair thought for a moment, trying to come up with some sort of plan that would get Freeman's attention.
+++++++++++++++++
Jim smiled to himself as he listened to the fake choking sounds of his partner through the closed door. Listening intently, he could hear Freeman's voice and the sound of footsteps moving further away from the door. Wiping the sweat from his hands on his pants, Jim proceeded to slip a key into the lock. Turning his wrist ever so slightly he listened for the release of the lock mechanism. His mind whispered words of encouragement to his body as he slit the door open.
Slowly... Just a crack. Just a little more.... Almost there...
Jim surveyed the room quickly, his eyes sweeping the distance between himself, Blair and Freeman. The element of surprise was still in his favor, and he had to act fast. Taking a step backward, he turned and leaned heavily against the wall beside him. Taking a moment to compose himself, he allowed his knees to buckle and his upper body to slide down the roughly sanded wall.
The feeling that washed over him as he sat on the cold, unforgiving ground, could only be described as...surreal. A shiver ran down the length of his spine, starting at the base of his neck and working its way down to his lower back. He arched his back in response, at first fighting the intrusive barrage of stimulants, and then yielding to the unseen force that had invaded his body.
The sound of Blair's strangled cry, jolted him back to reality. Twisting to move on all fours, he peered into the room.
Freeman stood over his victim, the tape that had covered Blair's mouth dangling from his fingertips. "Go ahead, Blair. Scream. Come on, I can't hear you.."
A vicious kick to Blair's mid-section elicited another heart wrenching cry from his partner. Jim closed his eyes momentarily, fighting the demons of hatred that battled for possession of his soul. Not this time, Jim whispered to himself as he edged closer to the door. Dan Freeman would not rule his emotions, not now, not ever...
A cloak of serenity draped itself over Jim's senses. His thundering heart beat slowed; his ragged breaths were quickly replaced by steady even inhalations. For a moment Jim reveled in the abyss of blissful calm. Silently hoping that this feeling of complete control would last forever. His eyes wandered to the discarded laptop on the desk. Focusing in on the computer he watched as the image of a panther appeared on the screen. The vision lasted but a moment, but with it came the understanding and confidence that Jim needed to continue.
In a flash, Jim rushed through the door, throwing his body into a side roll and landing just shy of the desk. Scrambling to a squatting position, Jim used the desk as a shield against Freeman.
"Cascade P.D. Give it up, Freeman."
Grabbing a fistful of Blair's hair, Freeman hauled Blair to a standing position. "We meet again. You're early. Blair and I were just getting acquainted."
Blair flinched as the cool end of a gun barrel was placed against his temple. "Get out, Jim. He's got a bomb." Blair rasped as Freeman tightened the hold on his hair.
"Sorry, Chief, no can do. What's it gonna be, Freeman?"
"Get up!"
Jim slowly moved to a standing position, his eyes never wavering from that of the perp's. His gun remained steady in his hand, not a trace of uncertainty in his steel-like glare. "Hey, Chief, you okay?"
"I've been better."
"Shut up! I'll waste him right here."
Taking a step forward, Jim smiled. "No you won't. This isn't quite working out the way you planned, is it, Dan?"
"They're all gonna die. You're all gonna pay."
Jim shook his head sadly. "Hate to be the one to tell you this, but I evacuated the building. The only people left are the people in this room."
"You lie! There's no way you had time to get everybody out of here."
Shrugging, Jim replied, "See for yourself."
"You think I'm stupid, don't you? You think you've got all the answers. I got news for you super cop, you ain't seen nothing yet. I'm wired, man. One wrong move and the three of us are history."
Jim glanced at a wire protruding from Freeman's shirt. "Let him go, Freeman. Sandburg has nothing to do with this. It's between you and me. You want to blow the two of us sky high, fine. Just let him go."
"Jim, don't do this."
"Stay out of this, Chief."
Freeman leaned in closer to Blair's face. The warm heat from his breath tickling Blair's eardrum. Shivering, Blair closed his eyes to the sound of Freeman's taunting voice. "Maybe I should make you stay out of this."
The gun pressed harder against his temple, the hand entwined in his hair yanking his head back even further. Blair opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Jim, get the hell out of here." Although Blair was unable to see his partner's expression, he could hear the hushed plea for forgiveness that came right before the sound of the gunshot.
"I'm sorry, Blair. God, I'm so sorry."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
He prayed for a zone-out...
Nothing could compare with the emptiness he felt inside. So many times he had wished he could take back his words, somehow undo the damage that he had inflicted on Blair Sandburg. As he watched Blair fall, tracing the bullet's path as it punctured his partner's shirt, seeing the material buckle and give on impact, a piece of him died inside. There may as well have been two bullets fired, one to save a life, the other to take one....
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pinned under the weight of the injured man, Freeman struggled to gain possession of his fallen weapon. Twisting and squirming beneath the fallen man, Freeman quickly stole a glance at his attacker. Ellison was just standing there, his eyes transfixed on the floor, totally oblivious to the world around him. What an opportunity. The guy's in shock. What better chance to shoot him, to see him die, a slow painful death. Freeman smiled wickedly as he reached for the gun.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The pain was unbearable, his mind could barely form the words that he needed to bring back his friend. He knew Jim was there, in body anyway, and despite his own fight with consciousness, he had to try to reach him. "It's okay, Jim. You got to come back now. I forgive you."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Freeman curled his hand around the butt of the gun. A sharp pain slammed through his hand as a foot crushed his fingertips. "I don't think so." Jim rasped as his eyes welded the perp to the ground. "Get up. Now."
Freeman clutched his injured hand as he slowly stood up. "It's on a timer; you can't stop this."
Without speaking, Jim reached for his cuffs and snapped one end securely on Freeman's wrist, the other end he fastened to his own. "Let's go."
"You're dead, Ellison." Dan chuckled out loud. "You've got less then two minutes. I'll see you in hell."
Jim yanked hard on the cuffs, dragging the unwilling man towards the door. Freeman's locked his knees, using his free hand to try and grab on to the door frame. The fury that Jim had been suppressing suddenly rose to the surface. With his free hand, he swung the barrel of the gun at Freeman's face. As Jim watched a trickle of blood ooze from the perp's nose, he moved to strike him once again. Dan tried to protect himself from the blow, his hand covering his face in fear.
"You're not worth it, Freeman." Lowering his hand, Jim tossed the gun aside and hauled the man further into the hallway towards the stairs. Kicking the door open, Jim pushed Freeman towards the stairs. Prying his fingers away from the banister, Jim manhandled Freeman up the first two steps. Making sure to keep him away from any hand holds, Jim started the slow ascent up the stairs. Laying out flat on the steps, Freeman kicked wildly against the force that pulled him towards the top. The perp snatched at Jim's ankles, trying to trip up the detective as he made his way to the front door.
Pressing his back against the door to the lobby, Jim pushed it open. Freeman screamed as Jim roughly dragged him along the worn carpet towards the door to the outside. Carpet burns lined the perp's face as he was
shoved through the door.
Rafe and Simon peered out from behind an unmarked car. As Jim glanced quickly around him, he noticed a number of other officers taking up positions around him.
"Stay back! He's wired, Simon. I need a car. Blair's inside; he's hurt. He's in the basement. I need that car now! This thing's gonna blow. I got less than a minute."
Simon nodded, and dug the keys out from his pocket. Rafe touched Simon's arm. "Let me go with him, sir."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure, sir."
"Go."
Rafe grabbed the keys and rounded to the driver's side of the car. Starting the engine, Rafe signaled to Jim. "Get in!"
"I don't have time for this, Rafe. Get the hell out of the car!"
"I've seen how you drive. Now get in."
Grabbing at the door handle, Jim pushed Freeman into the back seat and scrambled in beside him.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"S-Simon?" The voice was weak, but the urgency behind it forced Simon to meet his eyes.
"It's okay, Sandburg. Everything's going to be okay." Readjusting the makeshift tourniquet, Simon smiled. "You're lucky. Just a flesh wound. You'll be good as new in a week or two."
"Jim? Where's Freeman? Oh god, tell me he's not alone with him. Simon." Lifting his head off of the floor, Blair searched Simon's eyes. "Answer me."
"Rafe's with him. You shouldn't be exerting yourself like this, just relax. Jim can take care of himself. I'm sure any minute he'll come busting through that door."
Blair closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back on the cold floor. "Any minute."
"That's right, any minute." Simon's voice trailed off as he looked at his watch.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Jim! Get the cuffs off!" Rafe slammed down on the accelerator as he darted a quick glance into the backseat of the vehicle.
Freeman lay on his stomach, face pressed into the leather upholstery, one handcuffed hand drawn up behind his back. Jim straddled the perp, one knee firmly imbedded in Freeman's back, the other leg planted firmly into the floor boards. Freeman fumbled blindly with his other hand, trying desperately to throw Jim off balance. Struggling to free his own hand, Jim dodged Freeman's attempts at escape. Jim's head and shoulders hunched against the roof of the vehicle, every bump and rut in the road registering as a blow to his skull.
Rafe stared out the window, trying to split his concentration between the road ahead of him, the seconds ticking by, and the constant jostling coming from the rear of the car. "There's an empty field up ahead. Get ready, Jim."
Carefully lining up the key with the lock, Jim gasped as a shrill pain entered his leg. The smell of his own blood, and the surge of red hot pain dulling his reactions. The key slid from his hand and landed somewhere beside him on the floor. Jim almost choked on the words that left his mouth. "Right. Run for it, Rafe. I'm right behind you."
Slamming on the brakes, Rafe wrenched open the door and ran....
Freeman twisted underneath Jim's weight, craning his neck to get a look into Jim's eyes. "Just you and me."
A change in air temperature registered in Jim's mind. The door behind him swung open. Hands fumbled on the floor beside him, A voice boomed in his ear. His wrist was yanked hard, and finally a tumble backwards onto the grass.
Rafe dragged the semi-conscious detective away from the vehicle, his lungs burning from the exertion. Jim tried to help, his legs pushing feebly along the grass. Eyes fixed on the vehicle, Jim watched as Freeman pounded helplessly on the side window of the car. One hand, flattened against the glass, the other firmly secured to the steering wheel. Muffled screams and curses found their way into Jim's brain.
This was what nightmares were made of...
Dropping to his knees, Rafe blocked Jim's view of the car. Cupping his face in his hands, Rafe whispered. "Don't look."
Jim repeated the words to himself, adding a few more lines to the mantra. Don't look. Don't feel. Don't smell. Don't taste. Don't listen. A picture of Blair flashed in his head as he felt a slight tremor in the ground beneath him.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Blair turned his head slightly towards the sound. Simon sat on a chair beside him, newspaper in hand, intently reading the front page.
"Simon?"
Creasing the paper quickly and tossing it aside, Simon shifted closer to the bed. "Well, well. About time you decided to join us."
The memories of the past few days slammed into Blair's head. Frantically searching the room with his eyes, Blair fumbled for the side rail of the bed. "Jim. Where's Jim?"
"Take it easy. He's just down the hall. Everything's fine. He just left a minute ago. He's been hovering for the past four hours."
Allowing some of the tension to ease from his body, Blair continued. "He knew I was waking up -- that's why he left."
Simon averted Blair's eyes, and stared at the headlines of the paper. "I figured as much."
"How is he, Simon? Tell me the truth."
"Freeman caught him in the leg with something. I still haven't figured that one out yet. I guess it could have been something somebody left in the back of the car. Other then that, he's just plain old exhausted."
"I need to see him."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jim closed his hands around the styrofoam cup, drawing heat from the warm liquid inside. If only the coldness in his heart could be so easily thawed. A hand held a donut just under his nose, moving it slowly from side to side.
"Hey, Jim you gotta eat something."
Casually batting the donut aside, Jim looked at the man across from him. "I'm not hungry."
"He's awake, isn't he?"
Jim nodded, not even bothering to meet the man's eyes. At this very moment, he could have cared less who knew about his secret. "Why don't you just go?"
Rafe grinned, tearing off a piece of his own donut and placing it in his mouth. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? He doesn't blame you Jim. You had no choice."
"I shot him, Rafe. No choice? I had a choice."
Rafe placed his half eaten donut on the plate beside Jim's untouched pastry. Gesturing with his hands, Rafe nodded. "Okay. Let's pretend these donuts are you, Blair and Freeman. You're the half a donut, and Blair and the perp are the whole one."
"This is stupid."
"Humor me. Freeman and Blair are attached together, right?"
"Whatever."
"The point is, Jim, you separated them. You split them apart."
Grabbing Jim's donut, Rafe broke it in half. Leaving one half alone on Jim's plate, Rafe pressed his half of the donut and Jim's together. "See, they fit together perfectly."
A small smile touched Jim's lips. "One's buttermilk, the other's jelly filled."
"Like I said, a perfect fit."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Easing the door open slowly, Jim hesitated in the doorway - one foot turned towards the door, the other towards the hallway. Blair's eyes opened slowly, giving way to a bright smile. "Jim! Hey!"
"Hey, yourself."
Jim limped to the side of the bed, unsure of whether he should sit or stand. Blair gestured to the chair beside him. "Take a load off. How's the leg?"
"Okay. You?"
Blair reached for the bed controls, awkwardly fumbling with his good arm. Jim bolted to a standing position and placed the control firmly in his partner's hand. Jim's eyes wandered to the thick bandage that covered Blair's shoulder. "Jim? You with me?"
Shaking his head, Jim returned to his seat. "Yeah, I guess I should let you get some sleep. I'll be back in the morning."
As Jim moved to stand, Blair's voice stopped him. "You did what you had to do. You saved my life, Jim. I have no doubt he would have killed me. Let it go. Do you hear me? I want you to let it go."
"I-I can't."
"Yes you can. "
Jim limped slowly towards the door, his hand tracing along the edge of the door handle. "I wanted to kill him."
"I know, but you didn't. Simon said he found your gun in the building. You beat him Jim."
Jim closed his eyes as his next words escaped his mouth. "At what cost?"
"Look at me."
Opening his eyes, Jim turned to face his partner.
"Nothing's changed. You do owe me a new shirt though." Blair smiled again, his eyes dancing with hope.
Jim smiled as he moved back to Blair's bedside. "I do, do I?"
"Make that two new shirts. The red one, and the one you put a hole in."
Holding his good hand out to his partner, Blair met Jim's eyes. Gripping the younger man's hand, Jim shook it gently. "You got a deal, partner."
"So what's this about you and Rafe working together?"
"He was great."
"So does that mean I'm being replaced?"
"Not a chance, Chief. Not a chance."
~The End~