Author’s Note: I know there’s a bunch of great “Cypher” missing scenes out there and I’m sure what can be found below is nothing original or earthshaking, but all I can say is that I came late to the fandom and I have a crazy muse who just will not be denied. So even though the subject material may be already well covered, I had to have a go at it and I beg your indulgence and even dare to hope a few of you might enjoy it. As always, no copyright infringements intended on characters owned by Pet Fly/Paramount, and may the ghost of David Lash whip you with yellow scarves if you think I’m profiting in any way from this tale. Comments always welcome.
Jim Ellison slowly lowered his gun when his sensitive ears failed to hear a heartbeat coming from the body sprawled on the level below him. It was over. David Lash, the serial killer who had eluded him, taunted him, and who had the colossal balls to kidnap his roommate right from their home, was dead. Turning, he began limping his way toward the stairs, starting to acutely feel the aches and pains that came with diving through a glass window and falling through the floor while grappling with a madman who possessed the manic strength of the insane. But it was worth it. He's stopped the killer who had been mocking him before Sandburg became his fifth victim, and a few days of stiff and sore would be a small price to pay in comparison to all he'd won.
The warehouse was a maze, and since he certainly couldn't retrace his steps and go back the way he'd come, the detective had to find an alternate route. At first it seemed a daunting task, but then he started to remember Sandburg’s coaching and he began to concentrate, focusing first on the scent of the copious candles Lash had been using for illumination, and then letting Blair, himself, guide him. Honing in on his friend's presence: the herbal shampoo he used, his heartbeat, and his respirations, which were coming in shallow gasps. Ellison quickened his pace and arrived back in Lash's chamber of horrors, striding quickly to the younger man still secured in the chair and crouching down before him.
"You all right, Sandburg?" he asked as he untied the yellow scarf around his friend’s neck and threw it away with a suppressed shudder of revulsion for all it represented.
But the anthropologist didn't answer. Couldn’t answer, apart from fixing a somewhat groggy gaze on him. The sentinel was alarmed, but then he saw the moisture shining on his friend's lips and smelled the faint chemical odor. The tri-chloral-whatsit that Carolyn had been talking about that was meant to subdue the victims enough to make them unresisting, but still leave them conscious to fully experience their horrific deaths. Lash had been dosing Blair with it when he'd burst in, and it appeared that it was already taking effect.
"You're ok, Chief," Jim quickly reassured him, seeing the fear in his expressive eyes. "The stuff Lash gave you was just a sedative and it will wear off soon. You're going to be fine, don't worry. Just hang on a minute, and I’ll see if I can find the keys to get you loose."
Ellison gave the room a quick scan, not seeing any keys and figuring they were probably in Lash’s possession. But he wasn’t about to go back through the maze to check the dead body, and he didn’t have to. He found all that a former special forces agent needed and quickly used a couple innocuous tools to pick the locks on the restraints, wincing as Sandburg’s hands fell limply to his sides once he was released.
Since he'd so brilliantly tossed away his com link outside in a fit of frustration as it was blaring in his ear, the detective pulled out his cell phone and dialed his captain's number, one hand unconsciously rubbing the shoulder of his unofficial partner.
"Lash is dead," he reported after his boss' anxious greeting.
"Oh, really?" Banks snarled over the phone. "I can't wait to hear all about it. And maybe you can also tell me why you terminated communication and went blazing after him with no backup. What the hell were you thinking, Jim?!"
"I'm sorry, Simon," Ellison said impatiently. "But we'll have to discuss this later. Lash drugged Sandburg and we need to get an ambulance in here."
There was a second of silence and then the captain spoke again, more restrained this time.
"Where are you?"
The sentinel explained which warehouse they were in and how to get to the right floor, cautioning his superior that Lash had at least one booby trap rigged. Simon promised to make the necessary calls for support teams and medical help and Jim hung up the phone, turning his attentions back to the immobile young man next to him and thinking that he looked mighty uncomfortable slumped in that chair, unable to even hold his head up.
"Chief, I'm going to move you, all right? Just hang on, I've got you."
He lifted the limp body up over his shoulder and repositioned his friend carefully on the floor, mostly reclining but propped up and supported against the wall with a couple of pillows he found in the corner.
"How's that? Better?" he asked, arranging the floppy limbs into a natural position and knowing Blair couldn't answer. But he tried, the word sticking in his frozen throat and coming out as a small moan. "Don't try to talk," the sentinel advised, but he was ignored as Sandburg made another attempt. This time his lips moved slightly and a faint whisper made it to the sentinel's ears.
"Sorry..."
"For what?" Jim asked gently as he sat next to his friend. "None of this is your fault. You did everything right, buddy, and I'm proud of you."
Blair closed his eyes, the only parts of his body that still seemed to be obeying him. He felt like he was wearing a lead diving suit and trying to swim through a vat of pea soup. The rational side of him knew it was just the drug Lash had given him and that he'd be fine once it wore off. But it was a terrifying thing to be completely paralyzed, no matter how temporary it may have been. Add that to the terror of having almost been murdered, and it was just too much to take. Sandburg began to involuntarily shake, and the strong arm that slipped around his shoulders just made things worse. So Jim thought he did ok and was proud of him? Well, what was he going to think now that it was all over and his naive partner was about to fall apart? His head began to loll forward and he tried with all his might to pull it back, but only succeeded in listing to the side. Great, just great, he thought in humiliation as his head dropped to rest on Ellison's shoulder. He struggled to lift himself upright but simply couldn't do it. Then his task became even harder as Jim leaned in, resting his cheek against the top of the head that was cradled against him.
Sandburg's fear began to give way to surprise. Jim Ellison had started out as the research project he'd been waiting a lifetime to find. But the scholar quickly started to see beyond that, immediately growing to like and respect the man behind the senses. Jim wasn't an easy guy to get to know and kept himself closed off and remote much of the time, but on the rare occasions when he let down his guard and relaxed, he was a lot of fun to be around. And for all he lectured about keeping his emotions in check, Blair knew that under the COP shell there beat the heart of a kind, compassionate, caring individual. One that he was beginning to cultivate a friendship with. He lectured himself, knowing it wasn't good to become personally involved and that his objectivity in terms of his research project was being compromised. But he managed to convince himself it was allowable, telling himself that he could separate the research and the friendship into two separate facets. And not even sure that the friendship was completely a two sided deal. Sure, Jim had taken him in for a week and, although he tried to assume a martyred attitude about it, had agreed to let him stay, citing it was convenient for the "sentinel thing". And yeah, they had started to socialize a bit outside of work and study. But Jim was a master of hiding his feelings, and if he considered Sandburg as more than a nuisance tagalong he had to put up with to learn to control his reawakened abilities, well, he hadn't given any indication. Until now.
Blair briefly felt awkward, but that soon passed. He'd been so sure he was going to die. His number was up, and Jim would have to come home and find his body floating in the bathtub. But Jim had found him sooner than expected. Somehow, by some miracle, Jim had figured it all out and had tracked them down. That realization flooded through Sandburg, bringing him a warm comfort. He was safe, protected by the strong embrace of his sentinel. The embrace of his friend, who was still rubbing his shoulder and murmuring reassurance in his ear with a voice that couldn't quite mask a slight undercurrent of nervous relief. It all let Blair know he was cared about, as more than a pesky, if necessary, observer. Or a rent check, or another victim of a killer Jim had been desperate to apprehend. No, he knew then he was someone Jim would miss. Someone Jim would mourn. And someone Jim liked having around, liked having for a friend, in spite of the reasons for their forced partnership. And with that realization, Blair stopped shaking and he relaxed as the fear melted away. Oh, he knew he still had a lot to deal with. He was going to have to work through some things and process the fact that he had nearly been murdered. But at the moment, everything was ok. His sentinel had found him. Jim had saved him. And his friend was keeping him safe, protecting him and ensuring that nothing else was going to happen to him that night. Which brought him more comfort than anything else he could have imagined.
Simon finally managed to find them and he quirked an eyebrow slightly when he entered the room and spied his best detective on the floor with his "observer" cuddled securely in his arms. But Jim just gazed up at his captain with unapologetic blue eyes. It had been too damn close. Lash had dosed Sandburg and they all knew what the next step would have been. Ten more minutes and it would have been too late. The thought terrified the sentinel, and he was not about to express regret for anything. Not for charging to the rescue without backup, or for reassuring the terrified kid, and himself, that the worst had not happened and that everything was going to be all right. Deciding to stow his lecture for the time being, Simon instead occupied himself with a cursory inspection of Lash's handiwork, examining the shrines to the madman's "friends" with a growing disgust. When the sirens sounded outside a few minutes later, Banks went out to meet the paramedics, knowing they'd never be able to navigate the labyrinth of the building without help.
But by the time they got to him, Sandburg was already starting to recover. He had some movement back, if not control, evidenced by his flailing arms. But he was able to hold his head up and had found his voice, which he used to loudly protest the trip to the hospital. Simon and Jim argued with him but got nowhere, and the paramedics weren't about to cart him off against his will, although they did check his vitals carefully and proclaimed him stable. Ellison finally relented after a brief call to Carolyn, getting her confirmation that the compound was harmless in small doses and short acting, and if Blair was already coming out of it then he should be fine. So he agreed to forgo the hospital trip in favor of returning to the loft. Banks graciously encouraged them to go as units were already on the scene to deal with the cleanup and the body. But he did insist the detective show up at the station bright and early to complete his report, and finish their "discussion" about the proper procedures of police work, like waiting for backup.
Sandburg was adamant that he could make it out of the warehouse under his own power, but as he was still suffering lingering effects from the drug he could barely make it up the flight of steps leading from Lash’s den. So Jim carried Adam Walker’s wheelchair up the stairs and helped his friend into it. Blair felt humiliated, but Ellison insisted it was either the ride to the truck or a ride in the ambulance so he submitted, secretly deciding it wasn't such a bad idea. More of his feeling and control was returning by the minute, but he was still shaky and unsteady, a fact made evident when he had to walk down two flights of stairs from the warehouse to the outside, clinging to the handrail and leaning heavily on his sentinel's arm. Blair was wiped out by the time they reached the street and more than happy to sit in the chair and enjoy the ride to the vehicle. Jim had initially parked on the other side of the pond and approached from the water, so he'd had one of the uniforms bring the truck in as close as he could get it. But because of the layout of the area it was still almost two blocks away, farther than Sandburg felt up to walking at this point. But Jim was more than happy to push him, not even feeling the strain in his own abused body as he relished in the joy of knowing that his friend was all right and coming home.
Blair was feeling steadier by the time they reached the loft and he waved off the wheelchair, although he didn't protest the strong arm that casually looped around his shoulders. Jim led him inside the building and they rode the elevator to the third floor, although they both started in surprise as they entered 307, each of them having forgotten the shambles in the living room.
"You must have put up one hell of a fight," Ellison commented as he shut the door and frowned over the broken lock.
"I tried," Blair answered wearily as he wove through the mess and collapsed on the couch. The adrenalin from the ordeal had worn off, leaving him utterly exhausted. So much so that he couldn’t be bothered to care about the chaos all around him. He didn’t even have the energy to satisfy his curiosity and ask how Jim had found him. All he wanted to do was just lie down. "But he clocked me with something..."
"Hey, I tangled with him, too," Jim said easily, sensing that his friend felt like he'd failed for not being able to fend off the slight man. "He was small but he was a strong son of a bitch."
"Yeah," Sandburg murmured as he curled up in a ball.
"You ok?" Ellison inquired as he dragged one of the chairs from the table over to the door and wedged it up under the knob. It would do until he could get a new lock installed in the morning.
"Just tired," came the faint reply.
"Then why don't you go to your room?" Jim suggested, but his friend had already dozed off. The sentinel shook his head, having wanted to stretch out on the couch himself and unwind with a beer. But as he gazed down at the younger man he couldn't bring himself to be irritated. Just the opposite, he grinned at the sight of his friend with those crazy curls fanned out around him. Ellison wasn't sure what this kid was doing to him. They hadn't known each other very long and at first glance appeared to have nothing in common. Blair Sandburg certainly wasn't anyone Jim ever would have thought he'd connect with. And yet there he was. Unofficial he might have been, but he was still a partner when Jim had sworn he didn't want or need one. He was a roommate when the sentinel had grown to cherish his privacy and peace and quiet. Ellison had found himself adamantly defending the kid to his captain just a few days prior, firmly declaring he trusted Blair and meaning it, though trust wasn't something easily earned or freely given. Yep, somehow this neo hippie anthropologist, however unlikely it seemed, had gotten under his skin and become his friend. That had become painfully obvious when the detective first realized Sandburg had become Lash's next victim. And it was still obvious by the stab of fear that shot through him when he thought about just how close it had been. Which made him wonder if this was a good idea after all. Allowing Blair to ride along. Because apparently even just "observing" had it's share of perils.
But he couldn't deny that he needed a lot of help. He was just beginning to realize what an asset these senses could be to him. If he could learn control, which was why he needed a guide. And he had the feeling that Sandburg wouldn't be that easy to shake. He'd just have to try and do a better job of protecting the kid. Make sure what happened today wouldn't happen again. Ensure that his observer stayed out of danger while he was observing.
Deciding that Blair had been through a lot that day and had held up admirably well in the face of it all, Jim chose to let him be and resolved to can the deserved lecture about shoes on the furniture. He divested his sleeping roommate of his footwear and obtained the bright afghan from the foot of his bed to cover him. Then after a quick shower to ease his protesting muscles and figuring that the cleanup of the wreckage of the place could wait until morning, Jim headed upstairs to the loft and went to bed himself. He laid awake for awhile, thinking about Blair. No doubt, he was starting to develop a real fond affection for the kid. It scared him a little, for all the losses in his life, most recently the slaughter of Danny Choi right before his eyes, had made him wary, even resistant, of getting close to anyone. But there was something different about Sandburg. He felt comfortable around the kid almost immediately. Had willingly put his trust in him and accepted him into his world. Almost unconsciously, as if he didn't have a choice. That unnerved him slightly, the fact that he could form a connection with the offbeat anthropologist so quickly. But on the other hand, it kind of felt good. Warm and natural and... right. Blair was a little goofy, but he was a good guy. Funny and infectiously energetic and smart as hell. Not to mention the help he was giving in regard to the sentinel thing. And Jim couldn't deny he liked having him around. The stab of fear returned as he recalled how Lash almost took that away from him. He would have grieved, as much as he'd mourned for Danny. After such a short acquaintance, that didn't seem right. But he knew deep inside that it was the truth.
Jim sighed and rolled over, pushing the thoughts out of his head. There would be time later to "process", as Blair called it, everything. His feelings for the kid and their relationship, his fears of caring about someone who could abandon him, his need to keep Sandburg safe, his lingering terror over the fact that he was almost too late to stop his death... Time enough tomorrow to hash all that out. For now, it was enough to just heave a sigh of relief that a psychotic killer was dead and that his friend was safe and everything had turned out all right. And the sentinel did just that, letting his partner's strong, steady heartbeat sing him to sleep from below.
Finis