The Observer 5
Aug. 8th, 2007 06:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galThe Observer (5/17)
Sequel to "The Witness"
beta'ed by Beta'ed by Kitty_poker1 and Slashpuppy and Janedavitt
ADULT/SLASH
Warnings: Puppy play, dom/sub, bondage
Sequel to "The Witness"
beta'ed by Beta'ed by Kitty_poker1 and Slashpuppy and Janedavitt
ADULT/SLASH
Warnings: Puppy play, dom/sub, bondage
CHAPTER FIVE
***
Jim walked the debris-strewn parking lot; chunks of concrete and twisted knots of metal lay behind the yellow crime scene barriers.
"What a fucking mess," Shay cursed. "Ten dead and injured." He turned to Jim, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, any great revelations?"
"No." Jim just continued to walk the area, studying the pattern of the blast that had taken out one wall of the post office. The two dead had been in the sorting room.
Shay snorted dismissively.
"Maybe something in the neighborhood is familiar," Collins commented, softening his partner's abrasive attitude.
Jim scanned the buildings. A gas station stood on the closest corner, a huge sign advertising the price of gas blocking his view of the street.
"Everything this asshole does, it's to piss us off. I still say he picked Ellison's name out of a hat just to make us jump through a few more hoops," Shay complained as he leaned against a blue drop-off box. One side had a huge dent from a piece of flying building. Looking at the wreckage, Jim was surprised that only two people had died.
"It's possible," Jim admitted. Shay shot him a suspicious look, but Jim ignored that challenge. "If he hadn't mentioned Sandburg, I'd say he was just jerking our chain. I told my captain as much."
"But Sandburg's name in the letter changed your mind?" Collins probed.
"He's only been riding for a few weeks. He isn't exactly high-profile, or at least he wasn't until the mayor put him on display as some sort of proof that he deserves the minority vote." Jim looked over toward Blair, who froze in place as everyone looked at him. Jim shook his head at this new personality Blair seemed to have developed. Rather than demanding attention with his impressive knowledge, he appeared to want to fade into the background.
"No problem. I mean, he's just trying to prove that he has the interest of minorities in mind, and as long as he's not using me to avoid actually making changes, it's all good." Blair smiled and shrugged as his words trailed off. He detoured around Shay toward Jim.
"Politicians. God save us from them and the crazy things they do to get elected," Collins agreed, rubbing his military-short gray hair. "But if this Switchman knows about Sandburg, he must at least have been watching you. Not a pleasant thought."
"No, it's not," Jim agreed as he watched Blair. Psychos were remarkably hard to predict, and Jim suddenly didn't like just how many hiding places lurked on Rainier's campus. Blair's office was separated from the other offices, the old trees and thick hedges had more than enough hiding spots, and the covered walks and pillars created hidden corners even on the sunniest days.
"So, he enjoys fucking with us, he's stalked you, and he blows up buildings. This isn't progress." Shay turned his back on the blasted building.
"Maybe." Blair said the word so softly that Jim almost wondered if he'd imagined it, and the other two detectives didn't respond at all.
"Maybe?" Jim asked. Blair jumped like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Care to share with the class?"
"Hey, nothing. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Blair quickly started studying the battered mail drop. Someone had cut open the side to retrieve the mail stuck inside.
"You got an idea, Sandburg?" Collins added after a moment, giving Jim a quizzical look, and Jim tightened his jaw.
"Sandburg always has an idea; I haven't heard him this quiet since he saw his first DB," Jim said as he crossed his arms. Blair glared at him, but at least glaring was closer to the Sandburg he knew. Jim raised an eyebrow and waited.
"I'm just the observer here," he said when the glare didn't make Jim back off. Jim narrowed his eyes.
"You're one step away from a PhD and you specialize in observing people. If you're seeing something here, spit it out, Chief," Jim ordered in his firmest tone. For a second, Blair continued to trade glares with him, and then he glanced toward Collins.
"Man, I'm good at throwing ideas out there, but you know I'm not a profiler, right? I mean, I only took one deviant psychology class, so I just might be full of shit. In fact, I'm thinking I'm probably full of shit here, so this is me not sharing crackpot ideas." Blair crossed his arms aggressively.
"You're usually full of shit, but I'm pretty good at picking the good ideas out, Chief," Jim said, frustrated at having this little scene in front of Collins who watched curiously. Shay still wasn't paying attention as he stalked the rubble.
"Ha ha. You're a laugh a minute. You know that, right, Ellison?"
"You bet. So spit out whatever theories your brain is cooking up."
Blair shot Collins a look and then gave a sharp nod. "In the old days, the switchmen assembled the trains, handled the rail traffic, switched cars and tracks. And man, it was a dirty job. Mud and ice and rocks would get jammed between the rails so that the tracks couldn't be switched, and the switchman had to get out there and clean all that."
"So he sees himself as doing a dirty job?" Collins asked with obvious curiosity. The question made Blair stop for a second and look at the man. Jim understood Blair's surprise. Usually this was where Jim simply listened or Simon started making unhappy noises.
"Yeah, probably. Maybe. Man, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, but a switchman had a lot of respect... the other workers knew that if a switchman fucked up, trains could collide or cars go off the track. It was totally stressful, the equivalent of modern air traffic controllers, only in slow motion."
"So he sees himself as respected?" Jim asked slowly. That didn't feel right.
"Or he wants respect or he thinks he'll get someone's respect by doing the bombings or he has no idea and he pulled the name Switchman randomly out of the dictionary." Blair's enthusiasm collapsed into silence as he squinted his eyes closed. Jim recognized the despair.
"I don't believe in coincidence," Jim said confidently. "Consider it brainstorming, Chief. Just throw ideas out there, and we'll ignore the stupid ones and listen for something that makes sense," he suggested.
"Okay, then my best guess, based on six whole credits of deviant psychology, is that he's convinced himself that he's doing some job that has to be done. It's not pretty or easy, but it's important to keep something on the right track, metaphorically." Blair shrugged at his own pun. "He thinks that if he can put all the pieces in the right order, he'll get what he wants. Nothing is random."
"So why attack these places? A post office and a bridge."
"Transportation?" Blair guessed. Jim glanced over at Blair's face, tight with concentration. "A train, mail in the post office, cars over a bridge--man, it's all about transportation."
"But if he defines the post office as part of 'transportation'..." Jim started.
"No way can we predict him." Blair's enthusiasm caused him to cut Jim off as he suddenly started pacing a section of the drive. "A school is where students travel from ignorance to knowledge. A truck stop is part of the system that hauls goods. And then there's you," Blair turned toward Jim, his face tight with concentration. "How do you fit into this whole theme he has going in his head. Serial killers are meticulous. They don't just make spur-of-the-moment decisions, so he didn't just pick your name out of a book and say, 'Hey, I think I'll torture Jim Ellison for a while.' Which really begs the question of why he picked Tacoma to start his attacks when he wants your attention. And this isn't making sense." Blair's pacing had taken him to near Jim, and he leaned heavily on the chunk of wall near Jim, his shoulder leaning into Jim's side.
Jim raised his hand to Blair's shoulder, and Blair scuttled sideways.
"So, we figure out why he's targeting them. It has to have something to do with you, Jim. I mean, he wanted you involved, so you have to be the key."
"He mentioned you in that letter, too," Jim pointed out, focusing on the case and not his own sudden frustration or the headache that had crawled into the back of his brain and burrowed in.
"Yeah, but I'm just a part-time grad student, part-time teaching fellow. You're an ex-Ranger cop-of-the-year. Which of us do you really think is going to attract the attention of a mad bomber?" Blair said sarcastically.
"He's got a point," Collins said. Jim looked over, and the man looked entirely too amused.
"Oh, you have no idea the trouble Sandburg can get into all on his own."
"Do you have any connection to Seattle?" Blair asked as he ignored Jim's sarcastic comment and perched on the wall. Balancing his backpack on one knee, he started riffling through the papers.
"I lived here for a couple of months, but not anywhere near this neighborhood," Jim said. "I lived near the University of Washington on Blakeley street with a friend after college and before I went for training at Fort Lewis, just south of Tacoma, but that's on the north side."
"I knew it," Blair said in that really aggravating tone of voice he used when he'd just proved a point. "And that totally fits the pattern, man. You were traveling from being a civilian and a college student to being the military officer and hero. There's something about transformation here. I mean, a bridge, a post office, a train, your time here in transition; it's all part of a pattern." Blair's dangling leg bounced as he sorted papers even faster.
"Seeing a pattern after the fact is fine, but what good does that do us now?" Shay interrupted. "Where do we start looking for this nutcase?"
Blair's energy drained in a moment, and his hands paused in their search. "Oh man, I don't know," he said softly. "And the whole idea might be full of crap."
Shay's derisive snort pretty much said everything.
"We need to look farther back than Ellison's arrest record," Collins said after a moment of silence.
"This guy may have latched onto something from my military days. You did find high-quality munitions at the two sites, so it might be worth looking into people I had contact with back then. Anyone with training in munitions or counter-terrorism would have the expertise to set up these bombs."
"If you guys are going to chase straws, you might want to give Fort Lewis a heads up," Shay added unexpectedly. Jim narrowed his eyes as he considered the man who had just verbally deflated Blair.
"What? Just because it's a crackpot theory doesn't mean we should ignore it." Shay shrugged.
"One of these days, someone is going to take that asshole impression you do seriously," Collins teased his partner as he turned toward their car. "But it seems like we have something to start chasing down. We'll call Fort Lewis if you'll get us a copy of your military record. Maybe we can catch a break."
"I have copies at home, and the base should be able to provide the names of anyone with munitions or counter-terrorism training who was on base at the same time."
"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Shay complained. "But at least it gives me someone to harass instead of standing around here staring at this disaster."
"I'll fax you the records tonight," Jim offered as he moved to Blair's side, and used a hand on Blair's back to hurry him into zipping the backpack up. Whatever he'd been searching for could wait until later.
Jim waited as Blair tucked papers back into place and zipped up his backpack, wondering how exactly to deal with this latest problem. He watched Shay and Collins pull away.
"We have a problem, Blair," Jim said softly as Blair stood up. Jim slipped one arm behind Blair and snagged the backpack with the other.
"What?" Blair blinked up, confused, as Jim guided him to the truck, only now Blair didn't jerk away from the touch.
"You told me that you trusted me, that you trusted my judgment," Jim commented while keeping his eyes focused on the truck. Just imagining Blair's hurt expression made him want to back down.
"I do. Jim, I totally trust your judgment."
"No, Chief, you obviously don't. I told you that Shay and Collins would be fine with your ideas, but you were still holding back."
"I just wanted to think things--"
"Would you have waited if it had been Simon and Henri?" Jim interrupted as they reached the truck. He stood by the passenger side, staring over the hood at the passing traffic. Blair's breath caught in his throat.
"Hey, it's a new environment, and every group has its own idiosyn--"
"Would you have waited?" Jim repeated more loudly as he turned and looked down at Blair.
For a moment, Blair looked up at him, his eyes wide as he breathed faster. "Probably not," he admitted weakly.
"Blair." Jim stopped and took a breath. Opening the truck door, he dropped the backpack inside as he thought out his words. "This is important. Why were you so hesitant?" He turned to look at Blair, and the man swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing over the curve of Blair's neck as he looked up at Jim.
"I'm just not comfortable with them," Blair said softly. Jim cocked his head, and something whispered that Blair was lying. Jim leaned closer.
"If that were true, I wouldn't be upset, but you're lying," Jim said with confidence. Blair stopped breathing for a second.
"Hey, believe whatever you want, man." Blair slipped into the cocky persona that Jim knew well. When he turned to get into the truck, Jim caught his arm and pushed Blair to the side of the vehicle, pressing his own body to the man to hold him still. "Want to play big bad detective and resisting suspect?" Blair asked with a wiggle that made Jim's body react even as Jim tried to hang on to his frustration. Blair smiled wickedly.
"I believe you're lying, and getting yourself in more trouble than you want. So, let's start this conversation over," Jim said calmly, ignoring the innuendo. "I told you that Collins and Shay would listen to your ideas. I told you to trust me. You still acted like a kicked dog, and I hate seeing you doubt yourself." Jim raised his hand and let it slide around the back of Blair's neck, unable to keep himself from offering comfort.
"Hey, I am so not playing kicked dog," Blair protested as he shoved away Jim's arm. "If I'm not rushing in with every idea that crosses my mind, maybe that's a good thing."
"Not from where I'm standing," Jim countered as he crossed his arms. He refused to back up, so the gesture left Blair pinned to the truck.
"They're going to think you're some sort of.... You don't need me ruining your reputation." Blair corrected himself in the middle of the sentence, but Jim could fairly well guess what Blair had been about to say.
"You're defending my reputation?" Jim asked disbelievingly.
"Excuse me for not wanting to ruin your reputation in a second city. I mean, in Cascade, at least the cops think you're stuck with me because I wouldn't back out of the gay-bashing case, but what's your excuse here?"
"I don't need an excuse," Jim said. He raised his eyebrows and waited for Blair's reaction. It wasn't what he expected.
"You stubborn son of a bitch! If they dismiss you as just some fucking queer, who the hell is going to stop this bomber?" Blair demanded, color rising to his face.
"Don't," Jim warned.
"What? You haven't heard the word before? I've heard it plenty, and you can't do your fucking job if that's how they see you. Don't you get that?" Blair demanded, his eyes brightening with tears.
"I've heard the word, Sandburg," Jim said quietly.
"Then don't act like this wouldn't hurt you. Man, they'll just fucking dismiss you if they start thinking of you as a fag." Blair's hands gestured wildly, his energy careening out of control.
Jim couldn't take it any more; he reached out and caught Blair behind the neck, pulling him into an embrace.
"Don't fucking ignore this," Blair said as he struggled to get out of Jim's embrace. Jim held on tighter until Blair finally gave up with a sigh.
"You're a fucking Neanderthal," Blair whispered. "A real throwback. A knuckle-dragging, pull the mate back to the cave by the hair sort, you know this, right?"
"Good thing you have long hair, then," Jim answered without loosening his hold on Blair.
"Holding on tighter doesn't change the world."
"I don't give a flying fuck about the world," Jim confessed. "I've been called everything from a hero to a fag, and it doesn't change who I am."
"But it changes how people look at you. Man, you can't do your job if they look at you like they..." Blair stopped again. Now Jim could hear the real fear.
"Blair," Jim sighed. He wasn't sure how to fix this one. Leaning back, he looked at Blair and could still see the anger in his face, even though he had sagged into Jim's embrace.
"Blair, you don't have to protect me," Jim said, trying a new tack.
"I'm not trying to-- Okay, I am kinda trying to protect you, but you have a job to do. I mean, I keep kinky, gay stuff away from the university, and they are a big old nothing on the homophobic scale compared to the police department."
"It bothers me that you're changing to try and protect me. I don't want you to hide who you are."
"I'm not hiding who I am; I'm just being quieter."
"Which is not you."
"It could be."
Jim finally let go of Blair and crossed his arms as he considered his lover.
"Okay, I'm not usually quiet," Blair admitted. "But I just don't need to be so obvious with them. I mean, the guys in Cascade already know you, but these guys don't. I just don't want them seeing me and..." Blair shrugged.
"Oh, Chief."
"Hey, no using the pity voice," Blair threatened, his finger reaching out to poke at Jim.
"That's not the pity voice, that's the 'I can't believe you're such an idiot' voice." Jim turned to walk around the truck.
"Hey," Blair protested.
"I can defend my own honor, Sandburg."
"I never said you couldn't."
"And I told you to not worry about Collins and Shay." Jim got in the truck, and Blair got in next to him.
"I'm not worried. Who said I was worried?"
"Oh yeah, you always act like a pod person when you aren't worried," Jim said dryly as he started the truck. Blair started to answer, but Jim held up his hand. "And we still haven't dealt with the fact that you obviously don't trust me enough to follow my lead. I told you not to worry about Mutt and Jeff."
"I never said I was worried. If you're making assumptions…."
"And we're going to have to figure out how to deal with that because you trying to cover for me is not the way I see this working between us," Jim said darkly. Blair fell silent.
***
Jim walked the debris-strewn parking lot; chunks of concrete and twisted knots of metal lay behind the yellow crime scene barriers.
"What a fucking mess," Shay cursed. "Ten dead and injured." He turned to Jim, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, any great revelations?"
"No." Jim just continued to walk the area, studying the pattern of the blast that had taken out one wall of the post office. The two dead had been in the sorting room.
Shay snorted dismissively.
"Maybe something in the neighborhood is familiar," Collins commented, softening his partner's abrasive attitude.
Jim scanned the buildings. A gas station stood on the closest corner, a huge sign advertising the price of gas blocking his view of the street.
"Everything this asshole does, it's to piss us off. I still say he picked Ellison's name out of a hat just to make us jump through a few more hoops," Shay complained as he leaned against a blue drop-off box. One side had a huge dent from a piece of flying building. Looking at the wreckage, Jim was surprised that only two people had died.
"It's possible," Jim admitted. Shay shot him a suspicious look, but Jim ignored that challenge. "If he hadn't mentioned Sandburg, I'd say he was just jerking our chain. I told my captain as much."
"But Sandburg's name in the letter changed your mind?" Collins probed.
"He's only been riding for a few weeks. He isn't exactly high-profile, or at least he wasn't until the mayor put him on display as some sort of proof that he deserves the minority vote." Jim looked over toward Blair, who froze in place as everyone looked at him. Jim shook his head at this new personality Blair seemed to have developed. Rather than demanding attention with his impressive knowledge, he appeared to want to fade into the background.
"No problem. I mean, he's just trying to prove that he has the interest of minorities in mind, and as long as he's not using me to avoid actually making changes, it's all good." Blair smiled and shrugged as his words trailed off. He detoured around Shay toward Jim.
"Politicians. God save us from them and the crazy things they do to get elected," Collins agreed, rubbing his military-short gray hair. "But if this Switchman knows about Sandburg, he must at least have been watching you. Not a pleasant thought."
"No, it's not," Jim agreed as he watched Blair. Psychos were remarkably hard to predict, and Jim suddenly didn't like just how many hiding places lurked on Rainier's campus. Blair's office was separated from the other offices, the old trees and thick hedges had more than enough hiding spots, and the covered walks and pillars created hidden corners even on the sunniest days.
"So, he enjoys fucking with us, he's stalked you, and he blows up buildings. This isn't progress." Shay turned his back on the blasted building.
"Maybe." Blair said the word so softly that Jim almost wondered if he'd imagined it, and the other two detectives didn't respond at all.
"Maybe?" Jim asked. Blair jumped like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Care to share with the class?"
"Hey, nothing. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Blair quickly started studying the battered mail drop. Someone had cut open the side to retrieve the mail stuck inside.
"You got an idea, Sandburg?" Collins added after a moment, giving Jim a quizzical look, and Jim tightened his jaw.
"Sandburg always has an idea; I haven't heard him this quiet since he saw his first DB," Jim said as he crossed his arms. Blair glared at him, but at least glaring was closer to the Sandburg he knew. Jim raised an eyebrow and waited.
"I'm just the observer here," he said when the glare didn't make Jim back off. Jim narrowed his eyes.
"You're one step away from a PhD and you specialize in observing people. If you're seeing something here, spit it out, Chief," Jim ordered in his firmest tone. For a second, Blair continued to trade glares with him, and then he glanced toward Collins.
"Man, I'm good at throwing ideas out there, but you know I'm not a profiler, right? I mean, I only took one deviant psychology class, so I just might be full of shit. In fact, I'm thinking I'm probably full of shit here, so this is me not sharing crackpot ideas." Blair crossed his arms aggressively.
"You're usually full of shit, but I'm pretty good at picking the good ideas out, Chief," Jim said, frustrated at having this little scene in front of Collins who watched curiously. Shay still wasn't paying attention as he stalked the rubble.
"Ha ha. You're a laugh a minute. You know that, right, Ellison?"
"You bet. So spit out whatever theories your brain is cooking up."
Blair shot Collins a look and then gave a sharp nod. "In the old days, the switchmen assembled the trains, handled the rail traffic, switched cars and tracks. And man, it was a dirty job. Mud and ice and rocks would get jammed between the rails so that the tracks couldn't be switched, and the switchman had to get out there and clean all that."
"So he sees himself as doing a dirty job?" Collins asked with obvious curiosity. The question made Blair stop for a second and look at the man. Jim understood Blair's surprise. Usually this was where Jim simply listened or Simon started making unhappy noises.
"Yeah, probably. Maybe. Man, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, but a switchman had a lot of respect... the other workers knew that if a switchman fucked up, trains could collide or cars go off the track. It was totally stressful, the equivalent of modern air traffic controllers, only in slow motion."
"So he sees himself as respected?" Jim asked slowly. That didn't feel right.
"Or he wants respect or he thinks he'll get someone's respect by doing the bombings or he has no idea and he pulled the name Switchman randomly out of the dictionary." Blair's enthusiasm collapsed into silence as he squinted his eyes closed. Jim recognized the despair.
"I don't believe in coincidence," Jim said confidently. "Consider it brainstorming, Chief. Just throw ideas out there, and we'll ignore the stupid ones and listen for something that makes sense," he suggested.
"Okay, then my best guess, based on six whole credits of deviant psychology, is that he's convinced himself that he's doing some job that has to be done. It's not pretty or easy, but it's important to keep something on the right track, metaphorically." Blair shrugged at his own pun. "He thinks that if he can put all the pieces in the right order, he'll get what he wants. Nothing is random."
"So why attack these places? A post office and a bridge."
"Transportation?" Blair guessed. Jim glanced over at Blair's face, tight with concentration. "A train, mail in the post office, cars over a bridge--man, it's all about transportation."
"But if he defines the post office as part of 'transportation'..." Jim started.
"No way can we predict him." Blair's enthusiasm caused him to cut Jim off as he suddenly started pacing a section of the drive. "A school is where students travel from ignorance to knowledge. A truck stop is part of the system that hauls goods. And then there's you," Blair turned toward Jim, his face tight with concentration. "How do you fit into this whole theme he has going in his head. Serial killers are meticulous. They don't just make spur-of-the-moment decisions, so he didn't just pick your name out of a book and say, 'Hey, I think I'll torture Jim Ellison for a while.' Which really begs the question of why he picked Tacoma to start his attacks when he wants your attention. And this isn't making sense." Blair's pacing had taken him to near Jim, and he leaned heavily on the chunk of wall near Jim, his shoulder leaning into Jim's side.
Jim raised his hand to Blair's shoulder, and Blair scuttled sideways.
"So, we figure out why he's targeting them. It has to have something to do with you, Jim. I mean, he wanted you involved, so you have to be the key."
"He mentioned you in that letter, too," Jim pointed out, focusing on the case and not his own sudden frustration or the headache that had crawled into the back of his brain and burrowed in.
"Yeah, but I'm just a part-time grad student, part-time teaching fellow. You're an ex-Ranger cop-of-the-year. Which of us do you really think is going to attract the attention of a mad bomber?" Blair said sarcastically.
"He's got a point," Collins said. Jim looked over, and the man looked entirely too amused.
"Oh, you have no idea the trouble Sandburg can get into all on his own."
"Do you have any connection to Seattle?" Blair asked as he ignored Jim's sarcastic comment and perched on the wall. Balancing his backpack on one knee, he started riffling through the papers.
"I lived here for a couple of months, but not anywhere near this neighborhood," Jim said. "I lived near the University of Washington on Blakeley street with a friend after college and before I went for training at Fort Lewis, just south of Tacoma, but that's on the north side."
"I knew it," Blair said in that really aggravating tone of voice he used when he'd just proved a point. "And that totally fits the pattern, man. You were traveling from being a civilian and a college student to being the military officer and hero. There's something about transformation here. I mean, a bridge, a post office, a train, your time here in transition; it's all part of a pattern." Blair's dangling leg bounced as he sorted papers even faster.
"Seeing a pattern after the fact is fine, but what good does that do us now?" Shay interrupted. "Where do we start looking for this nutcase?"
Blair's energy drained in a moment, and his hands paused in their search. "Oh man, I don't know," he said softly. "And the whole idea might be full of crap."
Shay's derisive snort pretty much said everything.
"We need to look farther back than Ellison's arrest record," Collins said after a moment of silence.
"This guy may have latched onto something from my military days. You did find high-quality munitions at the two sites, so it might be worth looking into people I had contact with back then. Anyone with training in munitions or counter-terrorism would have the expertise to set up these bombs."
"If you guys are going to chase straws, you might want to give Fort Lewis a heads up," Shay added unexpectedly. Jim narrowed his eyes as he considered the man who had just verbally deflated Blair.
"What? Just because it's a crackpot theory doesn't mean we should ignore it." Shay shrugged.
"One of these days, someone is going to take that asshole impression you do seriously," Collins teased his partner as he turned toward their car. "But it seems like we have something to start chasing down. We'll call Fort Lewis if you'll get us a copy of your military record. Maybe we can catch a break."
"I have copies at home, and the base should be able to provide the names of anyone with munitions or counter-terrorism training who was on base at the same time."
"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Shay complained. "But at least it gives me someone to harass instead of standing around here staring at this disaster."
"I'll fax you the records tonight," Jim offered as he moved to Blair's side, and used a hand on Blair's back to hurry him into zipping the backpack up. Whatever he'd been searching for could wait until later.
Jim waited as Blair tucked papers back into place and zipped up his backpack, wondering how exactly to deal with this latest problem. He watched Shay and Collins pull away.
"We have a problem, Blair," Jim said softly as Blair stood up. Jim slipped one arm behind Blair and snagged the backpack with the other.
"What?" Blair blinked up, confused, as Jim guided him to the truck, only now Blair didn't jerk away from the touch.
"You told me that you trusted me, that you trusted my judgment," Jim commented while keeping his eyes focused on the truck. Just imagining Blair's hurt expression made him want to back down.
"I do. Jim, I totally trust your judgment."
"No, Chief, you obviously don't. I told you that Shay and Collins would be fine with your ideas, but you were still holding back."
"I just wanted to think things--"
"Would you have waited if it had been Simon and Henri?" Jim interrupted as they reached the truck. He stood by the passenger side, staring over the hood at the passing traffic. Blair's breath caught in his throat.
"Hey, it's a new environment, and every group has its own idiosyn--"
"Would you have waited?" Jim repeated more loudly as he turned and looked down at Blair.
For a moment, Blair looked up at him, his eyes wide as he breathed faster. "Probably not," he admitted weakly.
"Blair." Jim stopped and took a breath. Opening the truck door, he dropped the backpack inside as he thought out his words. "This is important. Why were you so hesitant?" He turned to look at Blair, and the man swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing over the curve of Blair's neck as he looked up at Jim.
"I'm just not comfortable with them," Blair said softly. Jim cocked his head, and something whispered that Blair was lying. Jim leaned closer.
"If that were true, I wouldn't be upset, but you're lying," Jim said with confidence. Blair stopped breathing for a second.
"Hey, believe whatever you want, man." Blair slipped into the cocky persona that Jim knew well. When he turned to get into the truck, Jim caught his arm and pushed Blair to the side of the vehicle, pressing his own body to the man to hold him still. "Want to play big bad detective and resisting suspect?" Blair asked with a wiggle that made Jim's body react even as Jim tried to hang on to his frustration. Blair smiled wickedly.
"I believe you're lying, and getting yourself in more trouble than you want. So, let's start this conversation over," Jim said calmly, ignoring the innuendo. "I told you that Collins and Shay would listen to your ideas. I told you to trust me. You still acted like a kicked dog, and I hate seeing you doubt yourself." Jim raised his hand and let it slide around the back of Blair's neck, unable to keep himself from offering comfort.
"Hey, I am so not playing kicked dog," Blair protested as he shoved away Jim's arm. "If I'm not rushing in with every idea that crosses my mind, maybe that's a good thing."
"Not from where I'm standing," Jim countered as he crossed his arms. He refused to back up, so the gesture left Blair pinned to the truck.
"They're going to think you're some sort of.... You don't need me ruining your reputation." Blair corrected himself in the middle of the sentence, but Jim could fairly well guess what Blair had been about to say.
"You're defending my reputation?" Jim asked disbelievingly.
"Excuse me for not wanting to ruin your reputation in a second city. I mean, in Cascade, at least the cops think you're stuck with me because I wouldn't back out of the gay-bashing case, but what's your excuse here?"
"I don't need an excuse," Jim said. He raised his eyebrows and waited for Blair's reaction. It wasn't what he expected.
"You stubborn son of a bitch! If they dismiss you as just some fucking queer, who the hell is going to stop this bomber?" Blair demanded, color rising to his face.
"Don't," Jim warned.
"What? You haven't heard the word before? I've heard it plenty, and you can't do your fucking job if that's how they see you. Don't you get that?" Blair demanded, his eyes brightening with tears.
"I've heard the word, Sandburg," Jim said quietly.
"Then don't act like this wouldn't hurt you. Man, they'll just fucking dismiss you if they start thinking of you as a fag." Blair's hands gestured wildly, his energy careening out of control.
Jim couldn't take it any more; he reached out and caught Blair behind the neck, pulling him into an embrace.
"Don't fucking ignore this," Blair said as he struggled to get out of Jim's embrace. Jim held on tighter until Blair finally gave up with a sigh.
"You're a fucking Neanderthal," Blair whispered. "A real throwback. A knuckle-dragging, pull the mate back to the cave by the hair sort, you know this, right?"
"Good thing you have long hair, then," Jim answered without loosening his hold on Blair.
"Holding on tighter doesn't change the world."
"I don't give a flying fuck about the world," Jim confessed. "I've been called everything from a hero to a fag, and it doesn't change who I am."
"But it changes how people look at you. Man, you can't do your job if they look at you like they..." Blair stopped again. Now Jim could hear the real fear.
"Blair," Jim sighed. He wasn't sure how to fix this one. Leaning back, he looked at Blair and could still see the anger in his face, even though he had sagged into Jim's embrace.
"Blair, you don't have to protect me," Jim said, trying a new tack.
"I'm not trying to-- Okay, I am kinda trying to protect you, but you have a job to do. I mean, I keep kinky, gay stuff away from the university, and they are a big old nothing on the homophobic scale compared to the police department."
"It bothers me that you're changing to try and protect me. I don't want you to hide who you are."
"I'm not hiding who I am; I'm just being quieter."
"Which is not you."
"It could be."
Jim finally let go of Blair and crossed his arms as he considered his lover.
"Okay, I'm not usually quiet," Blair admitted. "But I just don't need to be so obvious with them. I mean, the guys in Cascade already know you, but these guys don't. I just don't want them seeing me and..." Blair shrugged.
"Oh, Chief."
"Hey, no using the pity voice," Blair threatened, his finger reaching out to poke at Jim.
"That's not the pity voice, that's the 'I can't believe you're such an idiot' voice." Jim turned to walk around the truck.
"Hey," Blair protested.
"I can defend my own honor, Sandburg."
"I never said you couldn't."
"And I told you to not worry about Collins and Shay." Jim got in the truck, and Blair got in next to him.
"I'm not worried. Who said I was worried?"
"Oh yeah, you always act like a pod person when you aren't worried," Jim said dryly as he started the truck. Blair started to answer, but Jim held up his hand. "And we still haven't dealt with the fact that you obviously don't trust me enough to follow my lead. I told you not to worry about Mutt and Jeff."
"I never said I was worried. If you're making assumptions…."
"And we're going to have to figure out how to deal with that because you trying to cover for me is not the way I see this working between us," Jim said darkly. Blair fell silent.
