Progression Series 15 Buried Fears Read online

  Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

  Note from the Authors: In our Sentinel universe, the events depicted in "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg" did not occur. Therefore, any "canonical" references that may be found in this story are related to episodes up to and including "Most Wanted."

  Dedication: This series is dedicated to friendship, for only through caring for others can we truly find a sense of peace and belonging.

  Buried Fears

  Part Fifteen of "The Progressions" Series

  by Beth Manz and Shiloh

  Blair lay stretched out on the couch, napping. Not quite asleep but not quite awake either, he floated in that blissful, cloudy world that hovered between the two. Shifting a bit, he luxuriated in the decadent feeling that came with napping in the afternoon. He didn't have to move from his comfortable position or be at the university for another hour or so.

  He was just sinking into a deeper level of slumber when a small creaking sound infringed upon the outer edge of his attention. The sound was familiar--it was the creaking of the floorboards that resulted whenever someone walked across the living area of the loft.

  Jim must be home, his groggy mind supplied. Blinking slowly, he sat up. He was just about to call out to his roommate when a strong hand clapped over his mouth, smothering his startled cry. Before he could react, a second hand, even stronger than the one pressing against his face, moved around the front of his chest and locked his shoulders back against the couch, pinning him in place.

  Blair struggled against the powerful grip, panic tightening his chest. But as he jerked his head to the side and focused on the man crouching behind the sofa, on the irate blue gaze boring into his own, anger quickly replaced his fear. Reaching up, he roughly shoved the hands away, pushed to his feet, and turned to face his partner.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he shouted, not caring if the entire building heard his raised voice. "You scared the hell out of me!"

  Jim moved around the couch, closing the gap between them, his deep blue eyes still sparking anger. "I was trying to show you how easily someone can get in here, Sandburg! How easily they could get to you if they really wanted to." He gestured to the closed door behind him, but his gaze never wavered from Blair. "I thought we agreed to keep the safety chain on whenever we're home."

  "I left the chain off because I knew you were coming home soon and I wanted to take a nap." Blair ran a hand through his hair, sure Jim could see the trembling in his movement. "The dead bolt was locked," he bit out, "and since there's no longer a key stashed above the door, I was safe, Jim. Safe!"

  "We've thought that before and look where it's gotten us," Ellison shot back.

  Blair shook his head and raised his hands. "Oh, man, I am not having this discussion with you again."

  "Then we won't discuss it," Jim spat out. "I'll just call the security company and make an appointment."

  "No way!" Blair grabbed Jim's arm, stopping him before he could walk away. "You can just forget that. We are not getting an alarm system. I'm not going to be made to feel like a prisoner in my own home."

  Jim pulled easily out of Blair's grip and backed off a bit. "Fine. We'll drop it...for now." With that, he turned away and headed toward the steps leading up to his bedroom.

  "Hey, we're not finished here!" Sandburg scooted around the couch and planted himself in front of the detective. Another wave of anger welled up within him, not only over Jim's ambush, but over the detective's attempt to ignore what he'd done. "You aren't just walking away from this, Jim. Don't you ever come in here and do something like that to me again."

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Jim glared down at Blair. "And if I do?" he challenged.

  Blair stared up at him, unflinching. "I'll kick your ass," he grated out. "This is my home, too, and I'm not going to made to feel like I can't relax here without you jumping down my throat."

  Jim shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. "Sandburg, you just don't get it, do you? When I walked into the loft I found you sleeping on the couch. You didn't wake up. I could have done anything to you."

  "Except you wouldn't because you're my roommate, not some psychotic killer."

  "But I could have been. I--"

  Blair raised his hand, halting Jim's words. "There is no way you're going to rationalize what you just did, man! I swear, Jim, that was one of the most underhanded, manipulative things you've ever done. It was just plain low."

  Jim moved closer, dropped a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just trying to make you realize--"

  "What, Jim?" Blair bit out, backing away slightly. "That I could be in danger? Well, I know that. That little stunt you pulled didn't help me, it just scared me." Again, he ran a shaking hand through his hair, tried to breathe evenly and get his emotions under control. Finally, he turned and walked away a few steps. When he reached the balcony windows, he looked back at his partner. "I can't do this with you anymore, man. Your constant worrying about who might be lurking in the shadows is about to drive me back to that nuthouse Grant had me in."

  Jim's brow furrowed, his eyes darkening with renewed irritation. "You think this is funny?"

  "No, I don't think it's funny! Do you see me laughing here?" Blair closed his eyes for a moment, took another deep breath, and when he spoke again he made sure his voice was lower, controlled. "All I'm asking is that you try and see my side of this. It's been over two weeks since Grant disappeared. Two weeks and you're still hovering over me like you're afraid I'm going to vanish."

  "And that's not a valid fear?"

  "No, it isn't!"

  Jim stepped toward him, closing the gap Blair had created. His eyes still gleamed with unspent anger, but it was much less intense than it had been moments before. "I thought you were dead, Sandburg. I buried you! Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? How I felt? How everyone who knows you felt?"

  Understanding--and a good measure of guilt--washed over the anthropologist. They'd never really talked about the funeral...about how Jim must have felt when he believed Blair was dead. But Blair had little trouble imagining how he would have felt if the situation had been reversed.

  "I know, Jim. I'm sorry," he finally conceded. He looked up at his partner, his gaze imploring. "But I have to move on. I can't let what happened rule my life. And neither can you. All this hovering and concern...it's smothering me. Right now, I feel just as trapped as I did when Grant had me locked in that tomb or committed to that hospital." To emphasize his point, he reached out and grasped Jim's shoulders. "You have to stop!"

  Jim's shoulders slumped beneath his touch and as he watched, the last of the detective's anger drained away, leaving him looking lost and vulnerable. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. That's all."

  Blair squeezed hard at the taller man's shoulders. "I understand that, I really do. But I can't live like this. I can't go around feeling like I have to look over my shoulder all the time, worrying that someone is after me."

  "Marcus Grant is still out there somewhere," Jim reminded him softly. "He's come after you three times and we both know he's going to come again."

  "Don't you think I know that?" Blair argued, moving away again. "Don't you think that haunts me? I'm the one he strapped down to a bed. I'm the one he threatened, that he...put his hands on."

  "You know, Blair, I've been thinking about you, about the way Ellison always treated you. So accommodating, so sheltering. And I've decided that I really can understand his prot
ectiveness toward you. There is something...unique about you... Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to kill you outright. I guess you bring out the same sort of protective feelings in me as well..."

  The memory washed over Blair like a wave and he dropped his gaze to the hardwood floor, biting at his suddenly trembling lower lip. The idea of Grant coming after him again--touching him again--brought a swell of nausea to his stomach and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He leaned over, braced his hands against his legs, and breathed deeply in and out, in and out....

  "Blair?" Jim stepped closer. "Hey, buddy, what's going on here?"

  Blair shook his head, swallowing against the queasiness in his stomach, pushing the unpleasant memories to the back of his mind. "I can't let what happened ruin my life," he stated softly after a few seconds, straightening and looking up at Jim again. "If I do, then Grant accomplishes what he set out to do. He destroys me...and you."

  Jim reached out and cupped Blair's face with his hands, his fingers warm and gentle along Blair's jaw. "I'm just worried, Chief. That's all. I'm not trying to smother you. I'm just...worried."

  "I know. I am too." He stared up at Jim. "But we can't let our worry or our fear change how we interact with one another, change how you feel about me or how you treat me. We can't live that way, Jim."

  The sentinel nodded. "I know," he whispered, dropping his hands. "I'll try, okay?"

  Blair offered a small smile. "Okay." His gaze shifted to the clock that hung above the kitchen sink. Squinting, he took in the time. "Listen man, I have to get to school. I've got to finish grading finals before the posting deadline."

  Jim raised his eyebrows. "I'll go with you. We can grab dinner after--"

  "Jim," Blair interrupted, "you are not going with me." He rubbed at his forehead. "You see what you're doing? This is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about." He dropped his hand, gesturing to the door behind him. "You just got home from work, man. Put your feet up for a while, watch TV, relax. And I'll be back in time for dinner tonight. Okay?"

  "Okay," Jim acquiesced softly. "I'll see you later."

  "Yes," Blair agreed pointedly, "you will."

  /

  /

  /

  Blair sat at his desk, scrawling remarks across the paper he was grading.

  "Hey, I thought you had today off."

  He looked up at the sound of the familiar voice, smiled at the sight of Eli Stoddard standing in his office doorway. Chuckling, he rolled his eyes and gave his mentor a resigned look. "I did." He pulled off his glasses, rubbing at tired eyes. "But I'm still trying to catch up from that week when I was...missing. Finals are killing me."

  "Well, another few days and it will all be over for this term." Eli crossed inside and surveyed the papers that littered the desktop. "Anything I can do to help?"

  "No, it's okay. Actually, I'm pretty close to finishing."

  "Well then, you won't mind taking a short break." Eli stepped out into the hallway, then returned to the office, a brightly wrapped package in his hands. "I was just going to leave this on your desk but...." He offered the box to Blair.

  Sandburg accepted the parcel, his expression shifting from surprise to pleasure. "What's this?"

  Eli shrugged. "Just a little something I thought you might like. You can call it a welcome back gift if you wish."

  "Professor, you already gave me a party. I don't need anything else."

  "No, trust me, Blair--you need this." Eli gestured toward the package in Blair's hands, then stepped back, smiling widely. "Go on, open it."

  Blair stood, tore away the paper, lifted the box lid...and found himself staring at a brand new leather backpack, a pack almost identical to the one he'd lost in the fire that had consumed Marcus Grant's van.

  "Dr. Stoddard, it's great!" He lifted it out, unzipped it, checked the pockets inside and out. "I can't believe you found almost the same one." He shook his head. "You have no idea how much I've missed my backpack."

  Eli laughed, clearly pleased at Blair's reaction. "For about five seconds I thought about getting you a briefcase this time."

  Blair's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Me? A briefcase?" He chuckled out loud at the mental image of himself toting a briefcase around campus and out in the field with Jim. "I don't think so."

  Again Stoddard laughed, the sound deep and sincere. "My thoughts exactly. And I knew how much you loved the first backpack I gave you so...it just seemed right to replace it."

  Blair ran his hands over the supple tan leather at the front of the pack. "I just wish I hadn't lost the first one." He looked up, a strange emptiness winding through him. "That pack went everywhere with me." He huffed out a small laugh. "You know, the entire time you were in Borneo, I thought about you every time I looked at it. It seemed almost like this kind of connection we had...." He shook his head, letting his words trail off. "Kind of silly, huh?"

  "Not silly at all," Eli assured him softly. "I'm happy to know you felt that way, Blair." The older man looked down at the floor for a moment, thoughtful. "I was a bit fearful.... I thought when I returned from Borneo after all those years of being away...well, that things might have changed between us."

  Blair shook his head. "Not a chance, Dr. Stoddard." He dropped his gaze, traced his fingers absently across the stitching on the backpack's handle. "You took me in when I first came to Cascade, made me feel like I had family here." He looked over at his mentor. "That's not something I'm going to forget. Not ever."

  Eli waved a hand. "Well, now, listen to the two of us, would you? Getting all sentimental over a backpack." He laughed lightly. "Why don't you leave the rest of your work for tomorrow and come to dinner with me?"

  Blair grimaced. "I can't. I wish I could, but I told Jim I'd be home for dinner." He heard the underlying concern in his own voice.

  Eli frowned. "You don't sound too happy about the prospect."

  "No, it's not that...." He dropped down into his chair again, exhaled a long breath. "It's just that...well, Jim's a bit concerned about me right now. It's this Grant thing. He keeps talking about installing a security system at the loft and he wants to go everywhere with me. It's just...too much."

  "And you're feeling a bit smothered."

  Blair snorted. "You could say that."

  "Blair, try to see Jim's point of view in all this. He cares about you very much. He doesn't want anything to happen to you."

  "I understand that, Dr. Stoddard, honestly I do. And I appreciate his concern." He ran his hands through his hair then dropped them into his lap. "But I'm not helpless. When Grant came after me before, we didn't expect it, you know? The first time we didn't suspect him at all. The second time he was long gone, off in Europe somewhere...or so we thought. And this time...well, this time we thought he was dead. There's no way we could have known he'd show up with a different face and a new name.

  "But now we know what he looks like and we damn well know he's coming back. Both those things will make it difficult for Grant to get to me again."

  "Difficult," Eli countered, "but not impossible."

  "Professor, if you or Jim think that Marcus Grant is the only person who might hold a grudge against me, then you're being naïve. I've worked on enough cases with Jim, pissed off enough dangerous people, to warrant constant protection. But no one can live that way."

  Eli nodded. "Would you like me to have a talk with Jim?"

  "No, I don't think so. Thanks anyway, but that would probably just make him feel like we're ganging up on him. Besides, he knows how I feel. He just has to get past this. And he will." Blair pursed his lips, then laughed. "But in the meantime...he's driving me nuts!"

  An understanding smile spread across Eli's features. "All right, then. I'll leave you two to work this out, and I'm sure you will. As for this old man, I'm heading home."

  Sandburg stood and offered Eli a weak smile. "Thanks for listening."

  "Any time, you know that." He glanced toward the silent, empty corridor. "You sure you'll be al
l right here? I think the building is almost empty."

  Blair laughed. "You're not going to start now, are you?"

  "Actually, Blair, I would have asked you the same question whether Grant was still out there or not. An empty building is not always the safest place to be."

  Sandburg waved off his concerns. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to grade these few remaining tests, get my things together, and head out."

  "Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Blair sat back down at his desk and listened to the sound of Dr. Stoddard's retreating steps. The silence of the building settled over him and for a moment he felt an urge to go to his door and call the professor back. Power of suggestion, he told himself. You wouldn't be worried if Dr. Stoddard hadn't mentioned being alone...

  But even as the thoughts flitted across his mind, he knew they weren't entirely true. And if he really wanted to be honest with himself, then he also had to admit that part of the reason he had been so angry with Jim earlier was that his partner had hit so closely upon the truth. Blair was vulnerable. And he was scared. More than he cared to admit. He'd been unable to shake the deep feeling of unease that had haunted him since coming home from the institution. It was with him night and day, eating away at him like a slow cancer, coloring every thought, every decision he made.

  And he often wondered if maybe he wasn't making himself even more vulnerable because of his adamancy over not letting his fear of Grant rule his life. He found himself taking chances, pushing aside offers of help, as though he had something to prove. You really should be more careful, his conscience chided. Not just for Jim's sake, but for your own.

  A chill ran down his spine as he thought of what Grant was capable of. Memories of his time in the mental institution came rushing back--being held in restraints, totally helpless. Grant leaning over him, smiling with conceited satisfaction. Grant telling him how protective he felt of him. Grant's hands touching his face, his hair. He'd thought several times of telling Jim about those moments, about what Grant had said to him, how it had made him feel. But he couldn't. He couldn't imagine giving voice to those fears, those feelings.