Sentinel - Progression Series 03 Full Circle Page 4

"I understand, Blair," Simon said, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Listen, I managed to find your backpack. Forensics picked it up at the scene and Serena had it sent over." He set the pack beside the bed. "She thought there might be a few things in there you could use."

  "Thanks," Blair said absently, his attention never leaving Jim.

  "Blair," the captain said from beside him, "You've been here all night. The doctors said Jim's not going to wake for a while. I think maybe you should go home, get some rest and come back this afternoon. I know that's what Jim would want."

  Blair rubbed at tired eyes as he thought about Simon's words. "You're saying I can stay if I want to?" he finally asked, his weary mind needing to be clear on this point.

  "Of course you can stay. I can't force you to leave. You know that."

  "Yeah, I know, it's just... I thought maybe there would be charges filed against me." He looked up at Simon, searching his eyes for the answers he needed. "I thought maybe I needed to go into the station or... or worse. I mean, I killed a man."

  Simon shook his head and squeezed gently at Blair's shoulder. "Blair, you shot a man in self-defense and in order to save your partner's life. Because Jim's service revolver was used, Internal Affairs will have to mount an investigation, but I can promise you that no charges will be brought against you."

  "What about the DA?"

  "You let me worry about the DA. I'll have Henri or Rafe take a statement from you tomorrow, then I'll work with the DA's office. Believe me, Blair, this is an open and shut case of self-defense. You can stop worrying about any charges being brought against you, okay?"

  Blair nodded slowly as Simon's assurances filtered into his tired mind. "Okay," he said at last. His gaze shifted back to the sentinel. "So I'm free to stay here with Jim?"

  "Yes. But I think you should leave. Go home and try to get some sleep."

  Blair shook his head adamantly. "No, I'm staying, Simon. At least until he wakes up."

  "Blair," the captain appealed gently, "The doctor said it could be days--"

  "I don't care," Blair insisted, shaking his head again. "I don't want him to be alone."

  "I'll stay with him if that's what it'll take to get you to-"

  "No, Simon, you don't understand," Blair cut in, his voice overriding the captain's. "He needs to know that I'm here. That I'm okay." He squeezed the hand he still held, letting Jim know he was here. That he wasn't leaving him. "I don't want him to think something happened to me. I don't want him to regain consciousness at some point and not hear my heartbeat right beside him. He'll panic, Simon. He'll think I died. He'll think I died and that could affect his recovery and-"

  "I've got it, Sandburg. I've got it. You stay." He held out one hand, palm up. "Let me have your key to the loft."

  "What?"

  "The key, Sandburg. The least I can do is run by and bring you back some clean clothes and a toothbrush and razor. We can't have you running around the hospital scaring people, now can we?"

  "No, I guess we can't." Releasing Jim's hand, Blair stood and fished his keys out of his jeans pocket. Handing them to the captain, he looked up and said simply, "Thank you."

  Simon pursed his lips in mock annoyance, then smiled down at the police observer. "Anything else you need? Books? Your laptop?"

  "No, nothing else..." He glanced down at his feet, at the sandals he was wearing. They had given him a carefree feeling when he had put them on. A sense that all was right in the world because it was spring and the air felt crisp and fresh. That feeling seemed like a distant memory now. "Can you bring my sneakers? And some socks?"

  "Happy to do it," the captain assured him.

  "Simon?" Blair called as he turned to leave again. "Did you find out anything about Grant? Was he picked up for questioning?"

  The captain let out a long breath. "We haven't been able to locate him. I have Rafe and Brown running down leads with some of his associates, and Taggert's checking the airlines."

  "You think he fled the country?"

  "I don't know, but until we do, I'll make sure a guard is kept on Jim's door so both of you will be safe. If you decide to leave the hospital for any reason, call me. You are not to go anywhere without police protection until we know for sure who ordered that hit. Do you understand?"

  Blair nodded wearily.

  "Tell me you understand, Sandburg," the captain pressed.

  "I understand, Simon."

  Simon exhaled a deep sigh. He pointed a finger at Blair, and the young man swallowed at the familiarity of the gesture--it was almost an exact imitation of the one Jim used with him so often. He lifted his gaze away from Simon's hand, up to the captain's face. "Anything else you need," Simon was instructing him, "You tell me. Do you I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Blair answered.

  Simon turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, Blair called to him again.

  "Simon?" He waited until the captain had turned back toward him before continuing. "Um, there may be one favor I need to ask of you."

  "Anything. What is it, Sandburg?"

  Blair crossed to him, stopping directly in front of him. Earlier, he had told Jim that nothing would keep him away from his graduation ceremony. He'd been wrong. Taking a deep breath, he looked Simon square in the eye and said, "If Jim doesn't wake up by tomorrow, I'm not going to graduation."

  "Sandburg, Jim wouldn't want you--"

  "I've made up my mind, Simon. It's just a ceremony." He glanced briefly at his partner before returning his attention to the captain. "My place is here. Besides," he said, dropping his gaze, "Graduation won't mean much to me if Jim can't be there to see it."

  "But he'd still want you--"

  "Anyway," he interrupted again, "What I wanted to ask you is... if I don't make it to the ceremony, would you... well, would you be willing to attend in my place and accept my diploma for me? It would mean a lot..."

  "Shouldn't Naomi be doing that?"

  "My mom's in South Africa. I've got feelers out but I haven't been able to reach her so far. Besides, it's really because of you that I was able to publish my dissertation. There aren't many other captains who would've allowed me such leeway in their department. But not only that... you're a friend, Simon. And I'd be honored if you'd accept the diploma in my place."

  Simon stared down at the smaller man, then a pleased smile touched at his features. "I'm the one who will be honored, Sandburg."

  "Then you'll do it?"

  "If it comes to that, yes. But let's not give up hope just yet. Jim may wake up sooner than we think and boot your rear end out of here himself. Then you can accept your own diploma."

  Blair glanced back at his partner, knowing that that was exactly what Jim would do if he were awake. "Yeah, well, I'll call the university and make the arrangements just the same. That way we'll have all our bases covered."

  Simon crossed his arms and looked down at Blair with a stern glare. "This doesn't mean I have to show up in your cap and gown, does it?"

  And in spite of the serious circumstances, Blair had to smile at the visual picture of the tall captain in his graduation attire. "Um, no, Simon. You won't be in the procession. You'll just be seated near the front and have to walk up on the stage when my name is called. The president will announce that you're accepting in my place, that's all."

  "Well, that's good," Simon huffed out, smiling warmly. "I'll be back later with some of your stuff and something for you to eat."

  Blair nodded, then watched as the captain slipped through the door. Turning, Blair walked back to Jim's bedside. Capturing his friend's hand in his own, once again he placed Jim's palm over his heart and began to speak, using the soothing tone that Jim responded to so well when they were working with his senses. "Okay, Jim. Simon says I can stay here with you. That's great news, huh? So you just rest and let me do all the work. All you need to do is feel my heartbeat and know I'm here..."

  /

  /

  /

  S
imon opened the door to the loft and stepped inside. It felt strange being in the apartment without Jim or Blair being home. His gaze traveled over the room before him. He still marveled at the changes that had taken place here over the last four years.

  Little by little, the loft had changed from a place Ellison simply used as a stopover, going there to sleep and eat but never really thinking of it as anything but a necessity of life to a place he called home, where he laughed and relaxed and lived.

  Shaking his head at his nostalgic thoughts, Simon crossed to Blair's bedroom and stepped through the open French doors. A smile touched his features as he took in the cluttered appearance of the room. There were papers, books and binders everywhere. Stepping up to the dresser, Simon began opening drawers and pulling out what he thought Blair would need--a complete change of clothing, including the requested socks. That finished, he opened the closet and grabbed Blair's sneakers. Looking around for something in which to place the armful of clothing, he spied a small duffel at the back of Blair's closet. Pulling it out, he dumped it on Blair's bed and filled it with the articles he'd accumulated.

  Making a quick stop in the men's bathroom, Simon picked out the most essential of toiletry items--toothpaste and toothbrush, razor, deodorant. Pushing the items down into the duffel, he zipped it. Making his way through the loft, he paused at the front door and gave the apartment one final sweep. Sensing that all was well, he exited the loft and pulled the door closed behind him, locking it with the key he had borrowed from Blair.

  He had just settled in the driver's seat of his sedan when his cell phone rang. "Banks," he said into the phone.

  "Captain, it's H. Thought you'd want to know that we've confirmed that Grant has left the country."

  Simon shook his head. He wasn't surprised, but he had been hoping they'd be able to find the arrogant doctor and pin another attempted murder charge on him. With two such charges, Simon felt sure that the judge would deny bail this time, no matter how much influence or money Grant's daddy represented.

  "Do you know where?"

  "FAA records show that Grant Senior's private jet logged a round-trip flight to DeGaulle yesterday."

  "He went to Paris?"

  "Appears so."

  Simon removed his glasses and rubbed wearily at his eyes. "Okay, we'll deal with that later. What did you find out about the hit? Can we prove that the Grants were behind it?"

  "Nothing so far, but it doesn't look promising. Neither of the men's bank accounts that we've been able to find show any large withdrawals in the past week." Henri paused. "I'm sure Grant keeps large amounts of cash around his house, sir. I'm doubtful we'll be able to find any paper trail on this one."

  "Great," Simon mumbled. "Just keep checking, all right? Maybe we'll get lucky."

  "Maybe," Henri agreed. "Oh, and Captain? We do have some good news at least. Jake Malone called into the station earlier. Word on the street has it that the hit has been canceled on Sandburg."

  "Was he sure about that?"

  "Positive. If big money was still being offered, several of the hit men he knows would have been scrambling to take Becker's place. But all he's hearing is a bunch of grumbling that the hit was called off."

  Simon reached under his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Well, at least we have that. You contact Malone, tell him I want to know if the situation changes."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And H? Draw up a requisition for a couple hundred dollars out of the snitch fund. I'll be by the station later and I'll sign it then. I want Malone compensated for his work on this one."

  "You got it, Captain."

  /

  /

  /

  Simon nodded a greeting to the uniformed officer posted outside of Jim's hospital room. Blair's duffel hung from one hand and a bag containing a deli sandwich and a cup of coffee was clutched in the other. He sighed. He'd had just about enough of hospitals.

  Casting the thoughts aside, he straightened his shoulders and pushed at the door. He paused and smiled at the sight before him.

  Jim lay quietly, one hand resting across his chest, the other at his side. On the opposite side of the bed, Sandburg sat hunched forward in the vinyl hospital chair, his head resting on his arm where it was propped on the mattress next to Jim's arm. Long curls fanned across the blanket and over Jim's forearm. He was clearly sleeping. Crossing around to the dozing anthropologist, Simon noted that he was no longer wearing the blood stained shirt he'd had on earlier. Instead he had donned a green scrub shirt; no doubt one of Jim's nurses had provided it to the young man.

  Stepping up to Blair, Simon placed his hand lightly against his shoulder. "Sandburg?" he spoke softly. But Blair slumbered on. Simon fought back the guilt he felt at having to wake the kid--he's exhausted. What he really needs is to stretch out somewhere and get some decent rest. But Simon knew that wasn't going to happen--not until Jim woke up, anyway.

  "Sandburg," Simon said again, gently shaking Blair.

  "Hmmm? What?" Suddenly Blair's head shot up, his eyes automatically focusing on Jim.

  "Sandburg."

  Blair looked up at Simon. The sight of the captain standing over him must have been a welcome one, because the young man visibly relaxed. "Oh, hi Simon." He rubbed at his tired eyes. "I didn't hear you come in."

  "Obviously," Simon teased.

  Blair chuckled lightly. "Yeah, guess I was pretty much out of it." He lifted his arms above his head and stretched. "Ow, ow, ow," he complained. "That was not the most comfortable position for sleeping, man."

  Dropping Blair's duffel at his feet, Simon held out the bag of food. "Here you go, Blair. I brought you some lunch -- smoked turkey on a pita and a hot cup of black coffee."

  Blair accepted the bag and looked up at Simon. "Thank you," he said simply.

  Simon nodded. "So how's our patient?"

  Blair turned his attention back to the sentinel. Reaching out, he placed one hand over Jim's. "He hasn't come to yet. I keep hoping, you know? Every little sound makes me think it's Jim waking."

  "He'll get there, son. Don't you worry."

  "Yeah," Blair breathed out. "I know."

  Seating himself on the mattress, Simon pointed to the duffel. "I brought you some clothes, your razor, toothbrush, stuff like that. And I heard from Henri." Quickly, Simon apprised Blair of what Henri had learned--that it appeared certain Grant had skipped the country, that the contract on his life had been canceled. "But I'm leaving the guard on Jim's door for another twenty-four hours just to be on the safe side," he finished.

  Blair nodded, rubbing his blood shot eyes. "So you really think Grant's in Paris?"

  Simon raised one eyebrow as he considered the question. "We know he flew to France. Whether or not he's still there? At this point, I have no way of knowing that."

  "Well, I don't care where he is," Blair said vehemently. "I mean it," he said when he saw the look of incredulity on Simon's face. "I hope he is gone. For good."

  "That's all very well and good, Blair," Simon said at last, "But I doubt your partner will feel that way. The man tried to kill you. Then instead of facing you at trial, he paid to have you murdered. And now we can't touch him. Maybe that doesn't bother you, but Jim is going to be pretty angry if Grant doesn't pay for what he did."

  "Simon," he spoke again, this time softly, without venom. "Jim can be whatever he wants to be--just as long as he wakes up."

  /

  /

  /

  Night blanketed Cascade, the cityscape twinkling against the curtain of blackness. But Blair saw none of it. As he stood at the window of Jim's hospital room, he saw only his own reflection staring back. He could see the fear, pain, regret, guilt--every emotion he'd felt since Jim first went down under the impact of those two bullets. And he was unable to look away.

  Simon had left nearly three hours earlier. "I'm going home to bed, which is what you should be doing," he'd said. But Blair couldn't do that, couldn't leave Jim until he woke. Because he was his p
artner, his brother. His place was here.

  So Blair had stayed, taking only enough time away from Jim's bedside to shower, shave and dress in the clean clothes Simon had brought him. He'd given up on the sandwich after eating only half of it. He was sure it would have tasted good on any other day--but he just didn't have the appetite for it today. The remaining half of the sandwich, along with most of the coffee, had ended up in the trashcan at the side of Jim's bed.

  His gaze shifted back to his partner. Jim lay in the exact same position he'd been in all evening, not stirring, not mumbling, not showing any signs of waking any time soon.

  They said he would wake up tomorrow and he will. "He will," he said aloud, reinforcing his thoughts.

  Crossing back to the bed, Blair lowered the side rail and sat on the edge of the mattress. As he had done earlier, he picked up Jim's hand and pressed it against his chest, holding it over his heart.

  "You know what I keep thinking about, Jim?" he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I keep thinking about that first day when you showed up at my office." He smiled briefly at the memory. "Do you remember that? I sure do, man. I couldn't believe it. After meeting you at the hospital, I was sure you'd toss my business card away and forget you'd ever heard the name Blair Sandburg." He glanced down at his partner's serene face. "I mean, you struck me as pretty uptight, pretty suspicious. I just couldn't see you trying anything even remotely experimental. But you did," he finished softly. "Okay, so you threw me against the wall and stormed out, but later on... later on, you listened."

  He chuckled as another memory surfaced. "But Jim, that TA that I asked you to listen in on? You lied to me, man." He could see the moment clearly in his mind--he and Jim had been standing outside, and Jim was trying to smell some roses from the next block away when a teaching assistant that Blair had had his eye on for weeks walked up and talked to him. He'd asked Jim for a simple favor-listen in to what the girl was telling her friend and let him know if he had a chance of getting a date with her.

  "You told me she said I was a dork. I ran into her a few months later and she asked me out. She said she was tired of waiting for me to ask her. So I don't know what she said that day but she did not call me a dork."