Title: What have you been drinking, Horatio?
Author/pseudonym: Captain Outrageous
E-mail address: wildeskind@surfree.com
Rating: G
Status: New, complete
Parts: 1
Date: October 31, 2000
Archive: YES
Series/Sequel: none
Website: www.angelfire.com/md/wildchild/fanfic.html
Warnings: Death story... sort of. Set after Sen2part1.
Conventions: I use / / to mean when someone is thinking.
Disclaimer: I don't own the guys, I just torture them every
once in a while. Please don't sue, I don't have much anyway.
Summary: Jim arrives too late to save his friend. Or does
he?
Beta Credit: Never got it betaed. Maybe later.
"Hurry up, Connor. Step on it." Jim's white knuckle grip on the dashboard was necessary to keep him from slipping as the truck slid around a corner. He ignored the squeal of the tires.
"I know, Jim I know." Her voice was terse as she navigated the streets of Cascade, the wail of the siren opening up the traffic. Coming up on another intersection, she cursed under her breath when she saw a little red civic stalled out in the middle of the it. "Hold on, Jim." She swung the heavy truck around the two door coupe, two of the wheels leaving the pavement before making contact again.
Jim barely acknowledged the reckless driving style of his companion. All his attention was focused on finding Blair safe and sound. The vision of him shooting the wolf flashed over and over in his mind. He could see the wolf melting, streatching, changing into human form. Dark curls streaming away from the pale face and dead eyes of his partner. His heart squeezed painfully. Somewhere out there was Alex Barnes, another Sentinel, one with no morals. She had already tried to kill twice. She wouldn't have any qualms about killing Sandburg.
As if by design, Simon, Brown, and Rafe arrived just as Connor and he did. Practically falling out of his truck, Jim lead the pack to Hargrove Hall. Bounding up the steps, he stopped. Something was calling him back. Turning, he saw the fountain. /No, not that. Not like that./ From his elevated position on the stairs, he could see the body floating in the water. Jumping off the stairs he raced to the fountain, practically hurdling the concrete barrier, into the cold water. Hauling the limp body to the edge, he found waiting hands eager to pull the waterlogged observer out of the clorinated trap.
Spreading him out on the grass, Jim could only stand there as Simon knelt beside the body, loosening the clothing. Jim couldn't hear a hearbeat. His face was pale, like in his vision. The eyes stared up at him, accusingly. He could hear Simon's voice calling to him.
"Jim, I don't hear a heartbeat. Do you hear a heartbeat?"
Dropping to his knees, he put his hands on his friend's chest. There was no movement at all.
"Jim?!"
"No!" Bursting into action, he started CPR. Simon was next to him, doing the chest compressions. The lips beneath his were cold and clammy. They didn't stop. One, two, three, four, five chest compressions and then two breaths. Over and over again, they kept his blood pumping and air flowing into his lungs. The longer they worked, the more distant it seemed. It was a nightmare. Just like the ones about Lash. The yellow scarf tied around his neck, floating in a bathtub of water. The soft brown curls were all wet and stringy. They clung to his hand as if they didn't want to let him go.
Hands pulled at him. He tried to shake them off, but they insisted. The paramedics shouldered their way past him. They checked Blair's body before standing and shaking their heads. Jim could see it on their faces. They were giving up. /No!/ He couldn't give up.
Pushing past them, he started the CPR again. He was yelling and screaming, begging Blair to come back. This couldn't be happening, Blair couldn't die. Finally, a pair of dark hands grabbed his. He looked up into Simon's sympathetic eyes. Mirrored in them was all the pain and disbelief in them he was feeling. Blair Sandburg had cheated death so many times. He could believe this was the way it was going to end.
"Jim, he's gone. Let him go."
"Simon, he can't be..." His throat spasmed, unable to let through that word.
"He's gone. Let him go."
"No!" The word repeated itself inside his mind. The outer world retreated as he focused on the body of his partner. He stroked the side of his face, feeling the stubble on his face. Instictively, he closed his eyes. He saw his spirit guide sitting in the forest, the trees soaring above him. Sprawled in front of the black jaguar was the silver wolf. He was so still. The jaguar stood up and paced around the wolf, nudging the lax body, a curious purr escaping the whiskered mouth. The jaguar stopped and lay down next to the wolf. He rubbed his head against the wolf's muzzle. The wolf began to fade. Growling, the jaguar jumped on the wolf, but his paws passed through his body. He lay down on top of the wolf. The wolf's body solidified for a second before disappearing. The jaguar collapsed. Jim felt himself falling into nothingness.
It was beep of a heart monitor that woke him. The hospital
smell stung his nose and the scratchy feel of hospital sheets
abraded his skin. Opening his eyes, he looked around. Bland beige
walls met his gaze. /What happened?/ He remembered the fountain,
the cool water. Everything else was a blur. Turning his head slowly
to one side, he saw Simon slumped in the chair next to his bed.
He remembered him shouting. Reaching up to scratch his head, he
screamed.
Simon jumped up and grabbed his arm. "Jim, Jim, what's the
matter?"
The bedbound man looked up, bewildered. "Simon, what happened to my hair? They cut my hair."
The police captain pushed him gently down. "They didn't do anything to your hair. It's all there. Just lay back and relax. You've had a shock."
"No, Simon, my hair's gone. They cut my hair." He pushed the hands away from him. "What happened? Why am I in the hospital?"
"You fainted. The paramedics were there, so they brought you to the hospital." He hestatited for a second. "What do you remember?"
The panicky feeling faded a little at Simon's calm face. He looked at the brown bloodshot eyes. He was hiding something. He searched his memory. Images flashed through his mind. "I remember Alex Barnes. We were trying to find her. She found me. I remembered her holding a gun on me. Did she shoot me?"
He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to feel any pain. There wasn't anything, just disorientation. Something was terribly wrong, but he couldn't tell what. Then he remembered his partner. Alex had been fixated on him. "Simon, where's Jim? Did Alex get him? Is he okay?"
A strange expression crossed the older man's face. "Jim?"
"Yeah, Jim. Is he okay? Alex didn't get him, did she?"
Simon held up his hand. "How many fingers do you see?"
Blair batted his hand away. "Three. Where's Jim?"
"What's your name?"
He sighed. "Blair Sandburg. It's 1998 and Clinton is the president. Where is Jim?"
"He's okay. He's just a little shook up. Will you be okay for a second? I should get the doctor."
Blair slumped back against the flat pillows. "Thanks Simon." He yawned. "I'll be right here." He listened as Simon's heavy footsteps left the room. His eyelids drooped as lay back down. As long as Jim was safe, he could rest.
Simon flagged down the doctor. "Doctor Jamison?"
"Captain Banks, how is our patient?"
Simon hated how doctors liked to own people underneath their care. "James Ellison," he stressed the name, "just woke up. He seemed a little... disoriented. He doesn't remember what happened to his partner."
Clicking his pen, the doctor made a note on the chart he was carrying. "Short term memory loss is not unusual with concussions. Give him time and he should remember. Let's go take a look him, shall we?" Not waiting for an answer, he pushed past the police captain and entered the detective's cubicle. Ignoring the fact his patient's eye's were closed, he grabbed his wrist. "Hello, Mr. Ellison. Can you open your eyes for me?"
Simon held his breath, waiting for the inevitable discovery. Blue eyes blinked open. They were confused and tired. "You must be either a doctor or a nurse. Anyone else would just let a person get his sleep."
The doctor laughed. "We can't let that happen. You might get well enough for me to discharge. Where would that leave me? Do you know where you are, Mr. Ellison?"
"It's detective, and I assume this is Cascade General."
"Jim?" Simon couldn't believe the change. The panicked expression was no where to be seen.
"Simon, what happened? The last thing I remember was falling down that elevator shaft. I must have blanked out. Did I hit my head?" He reached up and ran his fingers through his head. He winced as he touched the back of it. "I guess I did."
Dr. Jamison flashed a light in each of his eyes. "Well, it looks like you have a hard hard head, detective. You're CT scans came back clear. We were a little worried how long you were out, but you seem to be doing fine. I want to keep you for observation for another 12 hours. If everything checks out, I'll clear you for duty again."
Jim started shaking his head as soon as he heard the 'o' word. "I do not need to stay here for observation. Sandburg can keep an eye out for me." He sat up and threw the thin hospital sheet aside.
The doctor put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Detective, I'm afraid I have to insist."
He turned to Simon. "Simon, tell him that Sandburg is perfectly qualified to stand watch over me. It's not like this is my first concussion. Where is he? Sandburg's usually here when I wake up with my butt hanging out one of these damn gowns."
Simon pulled the sheet back up over his legs. "Jim, I have some bad news."
Jim leaned back, his face wary. "What bad news?"
Dr. Jamison put his pen back into his shirt pocket. "I have a patient to check on. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
The two men didn't notice him leaving. Simon swallowed, trying to find the right words. He never got used to dealing with this. He didn't think he'd have to do this with Jim. Jim was there. He saw everything. Except he didn't remember seeing Blair's death. Nudging Jim over, he leaned his hip on the bed. "After you and Conor cornered Barnes in that warehouse, she escaped. She went after Blair."
Jim tried to get up again. "Where is he? I have to see him."
Simon pushed him down. "You can't see him. Not right now."
"Is he hurt? Why can't I see him?" He face went slack as he streached out his senses, searching for a familiar scent or sound. "I can't sense him. Where is he?"
Simon put a calming on his shoulder. "Jim, there's no easy way to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it. He's dead, Jim." The tears that had been dammed back as he dealt with Jim's condition flowed freely. "I"m sorry."
Jim inched away from him. "Simon this isn't funny. Blair can't be dead. I would be able to tell if he was dead. He's not dead."
Simon exploded. "Do I look like I'm kidding!" Taking a deep breath he tried again. "He's dead. I saw it and you saw it. You just can't remember."
Shaking of Simon's comforting hand, Jim stood up. "That can't be. I would remember something like that. I would remember." He started to pace in front of the window like a trapped animal. His hands clutched his head, trying to remember something, anything. "I can't remember, Simon, I can't remember." His hand smashed up against the window with enough force to crack the glass. "Dammit, Simon, he can't do this to me. I need him." He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. "I need him."
Simon came up behind him. "He didn't suffer. I saw the cornoner's report. He was unconscious when it happened."
A tear rolled down the tall detective's face. "They already did the autopsy?"
"You've been out of it for a while."
Jim touched the back of his head gently. "How did it happen?"
Simon briefly entertained the notion of lying, but quickly discarded the idea. Jim would find out the truth sooner or later. "Barnes found him at his office. We have a witness who saw her enter the building. From what we pieced together, she surprised him and knocked him out. When we arrived at the scene, he was... he was..." Simon couldn't say the words.
"He was floating in the fountain." The tears were flowing freely now. "He was floating in that damn fountain. Why that way, Simon? He would have hated to die that way."
/I didn't feel a thing, man./ The familar voice came from nowhere.
Jim whirled around. "Chief?"
Simon looked at him closely. "Jim?"
He waved at him, shushing him. "Chief, where are you?"
/I'm here man. You didn't think I was going to ditch you?/
Jim sniffed. "The thought had crossed my mind. You sorta died."
"Jimmm, who are you talking to?" Simon already knew the answer, but he had to hear it from his friend.
"Simon, I can hear him. Blair's here, in this room." The smile that lit up his face was brighter than a thousand suns.
/I'm inside you, to be more precise. We're soulmates, man. You didn't think something like a loss of corporal form could separate us?/
"Jim, maybe you'd better sit down."
Blair laughed inside Jim's head. /You'd better tell Simon to sit down. He looks a little pale. Well, as pale as he can get./
"Sandburg says you look like you should sit down." He tried to form the next question inside his head. /How is this possible?/
Blair laughed again. /Just try speaking outloud, man. I can hear you. As for what happened, you tell me. The last thing I remember was Alex Barnes. By the way, that thing about finding out all the secrets of the universe when you die is totally bogus. I'm dead and I'm still trying to figure out what's going on./ His voice was wry.
"You're not dead. You're inside of me. That means you're alive."
"You know Jim, when someone dies, it's true that their memory lives on inside of us." Simon had sunk down into a chair in the room.
Jim ignored him. "I remember now. Right before I passed out, I remember seeing our spirit guides. Yours was fading away. My spirit guide merged with yours."
Jim jumped as Blair gave a jubilant yell inside his head. /I remember too! Oh man, I didn't know the wolf was my spirit guide. This is grrrrreat!/
"That was a wolf, Chief, not a tiger."
Simon stood up again. "You Jim, it's not unusual for people to talk to loved ones who have passed away."
"Blair didn't pass away, Simon. He, he... What did happen to you, Chief?"
/You merged your spirit with mine. I'm now a part of you instead of apart from you./
Jim groaned at the terrible pun. "Chief you could have to do better than that."
Simon couldn't contain his curiosity. "What did he say?"
"He said he's a part of me instead of apart from me."
"That is bad." At Jim's look, Simon backpedaled. "That doesn't mean I believe you. Your subconcious is obviously playing tricks on you, Jim. Come back to bed and I'll call the doctor." He reached for the call button.
Jim stepped between him and the bed. "Simon, don't. I'm not mad with grief or confused from the bump to my head. I really do hear Blair."
Simon folded his arms together. "Okay, if you are really hearing Blair's voice, then tell me something Blair would only know."
Blair shifted through everything he knew. /What about...?/
Jim interrupted the thought. "I know that."
/How about...?/
"I know that too."
/Dammit Jim, didn't I have any privacy?/
"Of course you did. It's just after the fishing trip fiasco, I kept better tabs on you and Simon. You two are dangerous together."
Simon decided hearing one side the conversation sucked. "What's the matter?"
"Blair's having trouble figuring out something that I wouldn't know. We are partners."
"Oh." It was sort of scary how much sense that made. Simon looked at Jim closely. The lines of grief on Jim's face had eased, but there was still confusion and sadness. /Well, he just lost his partner and suffered a blow to the head. Of course, Jim's confused and hurt./ Simon was more than a little confused himself. He was tempted to let the doctor handle this, but something told him that would be a mistake. He was going to sit tight and see what developed.
Jim looked down at his hands. As much as it thrilled him that Blair had survived his death, he wondered how he was going to get other people to accept this. Suddenly, the view of his hands became enhanced. His right hand turned itself over and he was treated to a view of the ridges and valleys on the tip of his thumb.
/Oh, wow, Man. This is totally cool. I always wanted to know what it was like to have Sentinel abilities. What about smell?/ A plethora of smells exploded in Jim's nasal cavities, almost overwhelming the man. Immediately, the smells were reduced and he could suddenly hear every coversation being held in the hospital. Then he heard what sounded like war drums being played. /Those are the iv drips of the patients on this floor. So cool. What about touch?/ He ran his hand over the table next to him, feeling ever nick and scratch on its shiny surface.
"Blair, will you stop that?! It's driving me crazy."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "What's the kid doing now?"
Jim shrugged. "Sandburg keeps on playing with the dials."
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway became louder.
"The doctor is coming back. You do believe me, right Simon?"
Simon hestitated. Jim's crystal blue eyes stared at him calmly. For a second, he thought they deepened to a darker shade of blue. It was too strange for words. He had seen the devastation when Jim thought Blair was gone forever. If Jim thought Blair's soul has somehow fused with his own, where was the harm? He seemed calm and rational. For now, he could accept this. Maybe in a couple of days, Jim would come to accept his partner's loss. Maybe not. But who was to say who was the crazy one? At least Jim had a piece of Blair inside of him. He remember the quote from Hamlet. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Looking at the seemingly sane face of his detective, he thought, /What have you been drinking, Horatio?/
The End.
I am a delicate flower of creativity, and I'll re-write anyone
who says otherwise.
-The Writer
On the other hand, I do like to hear what people think of my insanity.
Email me at wildeskind@surfree.com.
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