The Observer 12
Aug. 16th, 2007 07:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galThe Observer (12/17)
Sequel to "The Witness"
beta'ed by Beta'ed by Kitty_poker1 and Slashpuppy and Janedavitt
ADULT/SLASH
Previous parts
Warnings: Puppy play, dom/sub, bondage
Sequel to "The Witness"
beta'ed by Beta'ed by Kitty_poker1 and Slashpuppy and Janedavitt
ADULT/SLASH
Previous parts
Warnings: Puppy play, dom/sub, bondage
CHAPTER TWELVE
***
Jim watched the drama with crossed arms as Simon came into the large conference room. From the unlit cigar stuck in his mouth, Jim guessed he'd just been getting chewed on by one of the higher ups. Now he'd come here looking for answers, but Jim wasn't sure they had any yet.
Someone had pulled two full-sized desks into the room. Special Agent Daniel Nakamura had commandeered one. He sat typing on his laptop and surrounded by stacks of files. Cheryl Meztger and Carlos Avalos from ATF had claimed the other desk, but they stood around the main table right now. Jim stood back some as Blair moved various papers around on the desk.
"No way. Whatever she has in her head, it's delusion. The way she addresses these emails to Jim when he isn't even in Tacoma shows that she is not totally gripping with reality," Blair argued with the FBI profiler, a sun-worn older man with skin like leather.
The profiler, whose name Jim had totally missed, shook his head. "She was trying to get us to put the pieces together faster. By putting Ellison's name in there, she guaranteed that he became a focus for the investigation. It's just one more carefully considered manipulation."
"He got involved the minute she sent that letter to Cascade. We're looking at someone who's just a little wacko," Blair argued, his hands gesturing wildly.
"I agree that she has her own internal logic..."
"That's not very damn logical," Blair interrupted.
"But she must feel like she has some reason for revenge," the profiler continued, ignoring the interruption without showing any frustration.
"Okay, maybe she feels that way, but I know Ellison, and he's, like, so straight that he has trouble turning corners."
"Thanks, Sandburg. You make me sound like I have a stick up my ass," Jim complained. Brown, over in the corner with Bannister from Organized Crime, snickered. Jim glared.
"If you guys are done trying to figure out where she's buying explosives, I'm sure I can find something else for you to work on... something with a lot of cross-referencing," Jim threatened. Brown held up his hands in surrender, but still smirked.
"Sorry, man, but if the shoe fits." Blair shrugged. "But I'm just defending your honor here. No way did you do something to deserve this kind of retribution."
"I never said Detective Ellison deserved this," the profiler protested. "I simply asked if he had any skeletons in his closet. Many female serial killers do focus on righting what they perceive to be injustices."
"Aileen Wuornos, who believed all men were trying to attack her." Blair nodded enthusiastically. "It matches the imagery of a switchman, trying to save people. Man, why didn't I stop and even consider that the bomber could be a woman?"
"Because it defies almost every profile," the profiler pointed out.
"Okay, you have me on that one, but whatever the connection to Jim, it's an imagined wrong. He so did not do anything to actually attract her attention."
Banks chose that moment to cough and get people's attention. Most of the room fell silent; only Nakamura kept working, his fingers clicking away at the computer keys.
"The mayor is looking for an update, so let's hear what we have." Simon looked straight at Jim for an answer.
"We know the Switchman is a woman named Veronica. However, according to the marina, a boat matching our witness description is owned by a John Smith."
"Original," Simon snorted.
"The address given is an old sawmill out in the middle of nowhere, but none of the employees remember who actually rented the slip."
"Could we be looking at two suspects?" Simon asked. Blair immediately shook his head, but it was the profiler who spoke up.
"Everything indicates a single person, obsessive about details, probably unwilling to have a partner because of the risk of the other person making a mistake. She feels like she's addressing some sort of wrong..."
"If that headache hadn't stopped me," Jim growled, repeating the story he'd used for having lost track of her at the marina.
Blair spoke up. "Hey, that is an unavoidable side effect. This one woman I tested got migraines from just a truck backfiring outside her house, and the musician with that perfect ability to hear every instrument at once? If he focused for more than ten or fifteen minutes, he would be so sensitive that even footsteps would bother him. Some people with enhanced senses have those kinds of trouble."
"Are you okay now, Jim?" Simon asked.
"I'm fine. I'm just furious that I lost her."
"Man, you discovered more in that three minutes than everyone else has been able to put together in how many weeks?" Blair protested. "I mean, just the fact that she's a woman is huge. It changes the whole profile. And then there's that bit with her father."
"I'm fascinated by these senses Sandburg is studying. We're just lucky Detective Ellison is on the case because the gender of the subject completely changes the profile."
Simon completely ignored the comments on Jim's senses, for which Jim would have to thank him later. "Any idea who that would be?" Simon asked.
"No," Jim quickly answered. "The profiler and Blair are guessing it's the daughter of someone I knew in the military, or possibly I knew her, and something I did impacted her, which had repercussions for her father."
"Something that is totally not Jim's fault, like not getting her home in time to see a dying father or something," Blair interjected.
"There were a very limited number of women under my command, though, so I don't think that's the best approach. Either way, it does seem like there's a military connection, which would explain why she started her attacks back where I started my military career."
"Not quite. I mean, when you lived in Tacoma you weren't in the military yet," Blair pointed out.
"I had already signed up. I just didn't want to go home until I had to report." The profiler glanced up from his papers, obviously interested in that tidbit, but Jim was not going there. In the last two hours of standing at the edge of the chaos, he'd had way too much time to think about things he had pushed into a dark corner of his mind.
"Oh, hey, you haven't gotten to look through the list of post office employees I pulled," Blair said as he grabbed for his bag sitting on a chair.
"How did you get that?" Nakamura demanded as he stood up and finally came out from behind his desk.
"Public records, man. Public records, a whole lot of caffeine, and not a whole lot of sleep."
"Sandburg's a resourceful little shit," Brown seconded from his own pile of papers.
"And a pain in the ass if he hears one little joke," Bannister added with a pained expression.
"Hey, joking about racial and gender inequity is part of the whole system that makes it harder for minorities to feel like they get equal protection," Blair said as he crossed his arms and glared at Bannister.
"I investigate every crime equally," Bannister defended himself.
"Totally. I know that," Blair said soothingly as he went back to digging out his laptop. "That's why those jokes are so not cool. It's all about perception. You make a joke or roll your eyes or make not cool comments about someone just because he's wearing some leather bondage, and next thing you know, someone is assuming that you're part of the patriarchal system of oppression."
Simon started choking as he yanked his unlit cigar from his mouth.
"I'm telling you, you won't win against Professor Sandburg," Brown laughed.
"I don't know why I bother. And I'm not part of any system of repression," Bannister complained.
"Oppression," Blair corrected him without looking up. He punched the button on the side of the computer to get the disk out. "My batteries are low, but this will work on your system. Let's head out to your desk, Jim," Blair said as he headed for the door.
"Jim, anything more to report?" Simon asked, not moving from the door as Blair tried to leave. Blair crossed his arms and glared at the captain.
"We're cross-referencing everything we have, but it's going to take time," Jim answered.
"I have an appointment tomorrow with the commander at Fort Lewis to request the personnel lists from Ellison's time in basic training," Nakamura offered.
"Well, let's get something before this woman strikes again," Simon said as he finally stepped aside just far enough for Blair to slide through. Jim shook his head as he went to follow, and Simon moved aside for him.
"Alpha dogs. Man, I bet you guys pee on your territories," Blair muttered, but Jim wasn't sure if it was actually loud enough for anyone else to hear. Jim followed Blair into Major Crimes, which had been largely abandoned. Rafe sat at a computer and Simon's secretary sat answering the phone. Blair plopped down in Jim's desk chair, leaving Jim to sit on Blair's chair, which now sat permanently next to his main desk chair. Jim frowned at how hard the thing was, which made sense since Blair had just commandeered one of the visitor chairs.
"I don't think Simon is the type to pee on things," Jim commented. Blair gave him a confused look before smiling.
"I have *got* to remember that you can hear it when I say that shit. But I'm still willing to bet that you and Simon are both like big cats peeing on your territory."
"I haven't peed on you," Jim whispered as he leaned forward and looked at the list of names over Blair's shoulder. Blair started sliding to the side, but Jim used his foot to keep the chair in place and let his hand fall on Blair's shoulder. He tightened his grip just hard enough to let Blair know it wasn't an accident. Blair sagged into the chair.
"Yet," he said dryly.
"Okay, Sandburg, that is one kink which we will not be exploring."
"Come on, you can't tell me that you haven't ever peed on someone's yard or on their stuff, just to, I don't know, prove a point. I bet if I ask a dozen cops, every one will admit to peeing on something, and you have more testosterone than most."
"When I was twelve, maybe," Jim conceded. "My neighbor was an asshole and I peed on his roses. He found the yellow residue on the leaves and was sniffing it for a good five minutes before he figured out what it was. Stephen and I laughed our asses off."
"I knew it."
"So, as a bottom, you've never peed on someone's stuff?"
"Oh man, I totally have. Like I said, I just do things a little differently, like not leaving evidence. I made sure to pee on the grass, nice and low where no one checks it. In fact, after my Master's thesis passed, I got plastered on rum and Coke, and then me and two of the guys went and peed on the Chancellor's lawn."
"Wait. You did this as an adult?" Jim demanded as he shifted his attention from the list of names to Blair.
"Trust me, the Chancellor totally deserved it."
Jim just looked at Blair as he tried to imagine a drunk Blair peeing on some manicured lawn. "You're lucky you didn't get arrested for public drunkenness and indecency."
"Hey, if you think I need to learn a lesson, I'm available for house arrest," Blair smiled.
"No way; you'd probably pee on the couch when I wasn't looking if I even tried," Jim said as he returned to studying the list. He leaned farther in and used the mouse to scroll down.
"With your sense of smell? No, thank you. There's punishment, and then there's what you'd do if I peed on your shit."
"I really wish you'd quit talking about my senses. I do not want this Sentinel shit getting out," Jim whispered roughly.
"I wouldn't!" Blair protested loudly enough that Rafe looked up from his desk. Jim sat up some and looked at Blair. He blushed. "I wouldn't," he repeated in a near whisper. "But you're already on record with two hyperactive senses."
"Two. Just two. And those two will be fading soon," Jim said as he clicked down for more names. Blair fell silent and Jim skimmed through the list. He froze when one name appeared at the bottom of his screen.
"Shit," Jim said as he pushed himself back. The name in black letters on a green screen brought back the image of a face twisted with pain under a green canopy ripped open by the falling chopper.
"I don't need the fucking painkiller. Just give it to Hayworth," Frank had insisted. He clenched his teeth, but didn't make a sound as Jim looked at the twisted leg and the broken ribs that had already started swelling. However, Hayworth was bellowing, his guts bloating as he bled internally. The other men were already dead, their broken bodies scattered.
"He won't..." Jim stopped. Frank might make it, Hayworth wouldn't.
"Give him the fucking drugs, Cap. Neither one of us is going to make it, and he needs 'em more than I do."
Jim pulled himself from that memory, and Blair was still looking from the screen to him in confusion.
"What?" he finally asked when Jim just stared, too shocked to even say anything.
"Frank Sarris. She hates me for letting Frank Sarris die," Jim whispered as he remembered the lieutenant proudly showing him a picture of a little girl with long brown hair. "Veronica Sarris wants me to pay for letting her father die."
***
Jim watched the drama with crossed arms as Simon came into the large conference room. From the unlit cigar stuck in his mouth, Jim guessed he'd just been getting chewed on by one of the higher ups. Now he'd come here looking for answers, but Jim wasn't sure they had any yet.
Someone had pulled two full-sized desks into the room. Special Agent Daniel Nakamura had commandeered one. He sat typing on his laptop and surrounded by stacks of files. Cheryl Meztger and Carlos Avalos from ATF had claimed the other desk, but they stood around the main table right now. Jim stood back some as Blair moved various papers around on the desk.
"No way. Whatever she has in her head, it's delusion. The way she addresses these emails to Jim when he isn't even in Tacoma shows that she is not totally gripping with reality," Blair argued with the FBI profiler, a sun-worn older man with skin like leather.
The profiler, whose name Jim had totally missed, shook his head. "She was trying to get us to put the pieces together faster. By putting Ellison's name in there, she guaranteed that he became a focus for the investigation. It's just one more carefully considered manipulation."
"He got involved the minute she sent that letter to Cascade. We're looking at someone who's just a little wacko," Blair argued, his hands gesturing wildly.
"I agree that she has her own internal logic..."
"That's not very damn logical," Blair interrupted.
"But she must feel like she has some reason for revenge," the profiler continued, ignoring the interruption without showing any frustration.
"Okay, maybe she feels that way, but I know Ellison, and he's, like, so straight that he has trouble turning corners."
"Thanks, Sandburg. You make me sound like I have a stick up my ass," Jim complained. Brown, over in the corner with Bannister from Organized Crime, snickered. Jim glared.
"If you guys are done trying to figure out where she's buying explosives, I'm sure I can find something else for you to work on... something with a lot of cross-referencing," Jim threatened. Brown held up his hands in surrender, but still smirked.
"Sorry, man, but if the shoe fits." Blair shrugged. "But I'm just defending your honor here. No way did you do something to deserve this kind of retribution."
"I never said Detective Ellison deserved this," the profiler protested. "I simply asked if he had any skeletons in his closet. Many female serial killers do focus on righting what they perceive to be injustices."
"Aileen Wuornos, who believed all men were trying to attack her." Blair nodded enthusiastically. "It matches the imagery of a switchman, trying to save people. Man, why didn't I stop and even consider that the bomber could be a woman?"
"Because it defies almost every profile," the profiler pointed out.
"Okay, you have me on that one, but whatever the connection to Jim, it's an imagined wrong. He so did not do anything to actually attract her attention."
Banks chose that moment to cough and get people's attention. Most of the room fell silent; only Nakamura kept working, his fingers clicking away at the computer keys.
"The mayor is looking for an update, so let's hear what we have." Simon looked straight at Jim for an answer.
"We know the Switchman is a woman named Veronica. However, according to the marina, a boat matching our witness description is owned by a John Smith."
"Original," Simon snorted.
"The address given is an old sawmill out in the middle of nowhere, but none of the employees remember who actually rented the slip."
"Could we be looking at two suspects?" Simon asked. Blair immediately shook his head, but it was the profiler who spoke up.
"Everything indicates a single person, obsessive about details, probably unwilling to have a partner because of the risk of the other person making a mistake. She feels like she's addressing some sort of wrong..."
"If that headache hadn't stopped me," Jim growled, repeating the story he'd used for having lost track of her at the marina.
Blair spoke up. "Hey, that is an unavoidable side effect. This one woman I tested got migraines from just a truck backfiring outside her house, and the musician with that perfect ability to hear every instrument at once? If he focused for more than ten or fifteen minutes, he would be so sensitive that even footsteps would bother him. Some people with enhanced senses have those kinds of trouble."
"Are you okay now, Jim?" Simon asked.
"I'm fine. I'm just furious that I lost her."
"Man, you discovered more in that three minutes than everyone else has been able to put together in how many weeks?" Blair protested. "I mean, just the fact that she's a woman is huge. It changes the whole profile. And then there's that bit with her father."
"I'm fascinated by these senses Sandburg is studying. We're just lucky Detective Ellison is on the case because the gender of the subject completely changes the profile."
Simon completely ignored the comments on Jim's senses, for which Jim would have to thank him later. "Any idea who that would be?" Simon asked.
"No," Jim quickly answered. "The profiler and Blair are guessing it's the daughter of someone I knew in the military, or possibly I knew her, and something I did impacted her, which had repercussions for her father."
"Something that is totally not Jim's fault, like not getting her home in time to see a dying father or something," Blair interjected.
"There were a very limited number of women under my command, though, so I don't think that's the best approach. Either way, it does seem like there's a military connection, which would explain why she started her attacks back where I started my military career."
"Not quite. I mean, when you lived in Tacoma you weren't in the military yet," Blair pointed out.
"I had already signed up. I just didn't want to go home until I had to report." The profiler glanced up from his papers, obviously interested in that tidbit, but Jim was not going there. In the last two hours of standing at the edge of the chaos, he'd had way too much time to think about things he had pushed into a dark corner of his mind.
"Oh, hey, you haven't gotten to look through the list of post office employees I pulled," Blair said as he grabbed for his bag sitting on a chair.
"How did you get that?" Nakamura demanded as he stood up and finally came out from behind his desk.
"Public records, man. Public records, a whole lot of caffeine, and not a whole lot of sleep."
"Sandburg's a resourceful little shit," Brown seconded from his own pile of papers.
"And a pain in the ass if he hears one little joke," Bannister added with a pained expression.
"Hey, joking about racial and gender inequity is part of the whole system that makes it harder for minorities to feel like they get equal protection," Blair said as he crossed his arms and glared at Bannister.
"I investigate every crime equally," Bannister defended himself.
"Totally. I know that," Blair said soothingly as he went back to digging out his laptop. "That's why those jokes are so not cool. It's all about perception. You make a joke or roll your eyes or make not cool comments about someone just because he's wearing some leather bondage, and next thing you know, someone is assuming that you're part of the patriarchal system of oppression."
Simon started choking as he yanked his unlit cigar from his mouth.
"I'm telling you, you won't win against Professor Sandburg," Brown laughed.
"I don't know why I bother. And I'm not part of any system of repression," Bannister complained.
"Oppression," Blair corrected him without looking up. He punched the button on the side of the computer to get the disk out. "My batteries are low, but this will work on your system. Let's head out to your desk, Jim," Blair said as he headed for the door.
"Jim, anything more to report?" Simon asked, not moving from the door as Blair tried to leave. Blair crossed his arms and glared at the captain.
"We're cross-referencing everything we have, but it's going to take time," Jim answered.
"I have an appointment tomorrow with the commander at Fort Lewis to request the personnel lists from Ellison's time in basic training," Nakamura offered.
"Well, let's get something before this woman strikes again," Simon said as he finally stepped aside just far enough for Blair to slide through. Jim shook his head as he went to follow, and Simon moved aside for him.
"Alpha dogs. Man, I bet you guys pee on your territories," Blair muttered, but Jim wasn't sure if it was actually loud enough for anyone else to hear. Jim followed Blair into Major Crimes, which had been largely abandoned. Rafe sat at a computer and Simon's secretary sat answering the phone. Blair plopped down in Jim's desk chair, leaving Jim to sit on Blair's chair, which now sat permanently next to his main desk chair. Jim frowned at how hard the thing was, which made sense since Blair had just commandeered one of the visitor chairs.
"I don't think Simon is the type to pee on things," Jim commented. Blair gave him a confused look before smiling.
"I have *got* to remember that you can hear it when I say that shit. But I'm still willing to bet that you and Simon are both like big cats peeing on your territory."
"I haven't peed on you," Jim whispered as he leaned forward and looked at the list of names over Blair's shoulder. Blair started sliding to the side, but Jim used his foot to keep the chair in place and let his hand fall on Blair's shoulder. He tightened his grip just hard enough to let Blair know it wasn't an accident. Blair sagged into the chair.
"Yet," he said dryly.
"Okay, Sandburg, that is one kink which we will not be exploring."
"Come on, you can't tell me that you haven't ever peed on someone's yard or on their stuff, just to, I don't know, prove a point. I bet if I ask a dozen cops, every one will admit to peeing on something, and you have more testosterone than most."
"When I was twelve, maybe," Jim conceded. "My neighbor was an asshole and I peed on his roses. He found the yellow residue on the leaves and was sniffing it for a good five minutes before he figured out what it was. Stephen and I laughed our asses off."
"I knew it."
"So, as a bottom, you've never peed on someone's stuff?"
"Oh man, I totally have. Like I said, I just do things a little differently, like not leaving evidence. I made sure to pee on the grass, nice and low where no one checks it. In fact, after my Master's thesis passed, I got plastered on rum and Coke, and then me and two of the guys went and peed on the Chancellor's lawn."
"Wait. You did this as an adult?" Jim demanded as he shifted his attention from the list of names to Blair.
"Trust me, the Chancellor totally deserved it."
Jim just looked at Blair as he tried to imagine a drunk Blair peeing on some manicured lawn. "You're lucky you didn't get arrested for public drunkenness and indecency."
"Hey, if you think I need to learn a lesson, I'm available for house arrest," Blair smiled.
"No way; you'd probably pee on the couch when I wasn't looking if I even tried," Jim said as he returned to studying the list. He leaned farther in and used the mouse to scroll down.
"With your sense of smell? No, thank you. There's punishment, and then there's what you'd do if I peed on your shit."
"I really wish you'd quit talking about my senses. I do not want this Sentinel shit getting out," Jim whispered roughly.
"I wouldn't!" Blair protested loudly enough that Rafe looked up from his desk. Jim sat up some and looked at Blair. He blushed. "I wouldn't," he repeated in a near whisper. "But you're already on record with two hyperactive senses."
"Two. Just two. And those two will be fading soon," Jim said as he clicked down for more names. Blair fell silent and Jim skimmed through the list. He froze when one name appeared at the bottom of his screen.
"Shit," Jim said as he pushed himself back. The name in black letters on a green screen brought back the image of a face twisted with pain under a green canopy ripped open by the falling chopper.
"I don't need the fucking painkiller. Just give it to Hayworth," Frank had insisted. He clenched his teeth, but didn't make a sound as Jim looked at the twisted leg and the broken ribs that had already started swelling. However, Hayworth was bellowing, his guts bloating as he bled internally. The other men were already dead, their broken bodies scattered.
"He won't..." Jim stopped. Frank might make it, Hayworth wouldn't.
"Give him the fucking drugs, Cap. Neither one of us is going to make it, and he needs 'em more than I do."
Jim pulled himself from that memory, and Blair was still looking from the screen to him in confusion.
"What?" he finally asked when Jim just stared, too shocked to even say anything.
"Frank Sarris. She hates me for letting Frank Sarris die," Jim whispered as he remembered the lieutenant proudly showing him a picture of a little girl with long brown hair. "Veronica Sarris wants me to pay for letting her father die."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 02:43 am (UTC)poor Jim,
love the slow reveal of the Sentinel side of things.
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Date: 2007-08-17 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 05:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 11:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 12:27 am (UTC)I'm really enjoying the way you're twisting canon here. And I love Blair taking on the task force guys! And also I'm really interested by how Jim's senses are only partially secret...
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Date: 2007-08-18 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-24 08:08 pm (UTC)