The Observer 17
Aug. 21st, 2007 06:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galTHE END
The Observer (17/17)
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
The Observer (17/17)
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
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
***
Jim walked behind Blair, his senses on alert as he came back to the station for the first time in nearly a week. True to his word, Blair had done his share of freaking, but from the way he bounced into the station now, no one would ever know it.
"Hey, Sandburg," some officer said in passing.
Blair hesitated for just a moment, briefly enough that Jim wouldn't even have noticed if he didn't have all his attention focused on his Guide. "Hey, man," he nodded back as he hit the elevator button.
When the doors slid shut, Jim hit the button for the sixth floor. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, just, like, a major paradigm shift here. I'm totally used to this whole environment of hostility, and they're throwing me for a loop. It's all good," Blair offered.
"Yeah, well, just don't expect me to take off that cage just because you're feeling more centered," Jim teased as he let his eyes creep down to Blair's crotch. Blair put an elbow in Jim's stomach.
"No way I'm asking, man," Blair laughed. "I may be more centered now, but who knows when some psycho's going to grab me? This thing is like a lifeline reminding me that you're on the other end, holding on."
"Oh no," Jim said darkly. "No, I expressly forbid you from getting kidnapped, attacked, or having any contact at all with any psychopath. Don't even try to push me on this one, Junior," Jim growled.
The elevator doors opened, and Blair came out laughing.
"Hey, Hairboy!" Henri called from the end of the hall, hurrying to meet them. "Good to see you back. I was starting to think Jim was keeping you locked in the basement or something, especially after the trouble you got in just going for the donuts."
"Yeah, yeah. That's Mother Ellison for you," Blair agreed. Jim crossed his arms and glared at both of them. "I get chained up and threatened by one little psychopathic bomber and he's been in protector overdrive for a week solid. I had to distract him with offers of Wonderburger just to get out of the loft." Blair poked a thumb in Jim's direction with a laugh.
"You've taught three days this week," Jim pointed out. "I haven't exactly been keeping you prisoner." Mentally, Jim amended that to not keeping Blair an unwilling prisoner. He'd kept Blair in chains more often than not, both to give him an excuse to fuss over his guide and because Blair tended to fray at the edges and flirt with panic when he didn't.
"He sat in on your classes, didn't he?" Henri asked with a smile.
"Oh yeah," Blair agreed. "He blushed through the entire history of circumcision."
"Hey, stop right there. No need to torture me," Henri said as he held up his hands and backed through the door to Major Crimes.
"Blair," Joel called as they all walked into the bull pen.
"Nice to see you back," Rafe added as he stood up and came around his desk to give Blair a slap on the arm. Jim resisted the urge to put himself between Blair and the guys.
"You guys miss me?" Blair asked as he dropped his bag on the chair next to Jim's desk.
"Hell, yeah. I got stuck with some weird ass case about some girl who got killed and half the family is accusing the other half of the family of doing some honor-killing shit, and I don't see anything honorable about it. But if you'd been around, I know I could have dumped it off on you. So you know I missed you, Hairboy," Brown joked.
"Ellison, Sandburg!" Simon yelled from his office, not bothering to get up from his desk as he bellowed through the open door.
"Into the valley of death rode the six hundred, or in this case, the two," Blair sighed as he looked toward the open office. Jim could see Gary Birdsell, the assistant DA, sitting behind the blinds.
"Come on, Chief; it's not that bad," Jim said as he used a hand to herd Blair toward the office. He could feel the reluctance until Gary got up and stepped to the door.
"Gary!" Blair smiled and bounced forward. Gary held out his hand and they started shaking hands but ended up in the sort of one-armed hug men allow themselves in public. Jim still felt like growling.
"I can't believe the trouble you get yourself into," Gary laughed. "And considering that I'm the one who insisted that you ride along for a few weeks, it's a good thing you didn't get yourself killed. I would have chased you down in your next life and sued you for emotional distress."
"Gary, like I keep telling Mother Ellison here, the only one who gets blamed for this is Veronica Sarris," Blair insisted as he dropped into a chair across from Simon. Gary picked the chair on the far side, leaving a chair for Jim, but he chose to swing the door closed and lean against the wall.
"You're a braver man than I am, Blair Sandburg. Personally, I wouldn't call Ellison that unless I was already running at the time."
"And you'd better make sure you have a good head start even then," Jim said as he smiled evilly.
"I know I have work to do today. Maybe we could get to the point of this little get together," Simon interrupted.
"Is there a problem with my statement?" Blair asked.
"This time, for once, I'm actually here about Jim," Gary said as he pulled papers out of his briefcase. "I have to tell you guys that you do make my life a little too interesting. First Blair sticks his nose and the rest of his body into an investigation and then Jim does this whole thing with his senses."
"His senses?" Blair's voice grew strained, and Jim stood up straight.
"What about them?" Jim demanded.
"Oh, just the whole issue of reasonable expectation of privacy and invasion of privacy and illegal surveillance, that's all." Gary waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, Jim. You can hear things that it takes electronic equipment to pick up. That makes things very hairy, legally. That makes things hairy and ugly."
"His hearing," Blair repeated softly, his eyes meeting Jim's, and in that glance, Jim could see the borderline panic.
"I'm ignoring the scent thing because other than really annoying Lieutenant Plummer by snorting her dirt samples, that's probably not going to cause any complications. But being able to hear what he can hear... it's going to be a huge problem if we don't handle this right."
"And what does handling this right include?" Simon demanded. "The last time you asked us to handle something right, I inherited Sandburg and the gray hairs have been gathering ever since."
"I'm actually not the expert on senses here. Soon to be Dr. Sandburg, and may I say that the sooner the better, how normal are we talking about?"
"What? The senses?" Blair asked.
"Hypersensitive hearing," Jim redirected him slightly.
"Oh, yeah," Blair nodded with a slightly dazed expression, and Gary also gave him a strange look. "Right. I have hundreds of documented cases."
"All as strong as Jim?"
"I don't actually know," Blair confessed. "I haven't done any tests since I've actually been doing some freaking with occasional side trips to the department therapist."
"He's got to be thrilled to have a patient who doesn't have to be threatened with suspension before getting some help." Gary shook his head, and smiled with a sort of wry amusement. "But really, I'm glad you're dealing with this. I never would have forgiven myself if riding along had gotten you killed."
"Hey, man, I'm going to be fine. A little minimalization, a little denial, and I'll be back out there chasing down dino bones and bombers in no time."
"No more bombers or psychopaths for you," Jim insisted. "We have a deal."
"But back on track..." Simon said as he glared at everyone pointedly.
"But back on track, how normal is normal when it comes to Jim's hearing?" Gary asked.
"He's one of the stronger cases in terms of hearing faint noises, but I don't know that he can distinguish tones as well, and I had one guy who lived out on the Arizona reservation who was, like, amazing. I don't know that Jim is going to be able to hear as well as he could. And this mountie I tested once... he could hear the deep tones so well that a train rumbling over the tracks ten miles away would warn him that it was dinner time."
"So Jim's not one of a kind?" Gary asked. Blair paused for only a scant second.
"Jim's hearing is amazing, but not unique," he agreed. Jim blessed his Guide's ability to tap dance around the truth.
"That's good. So, we take the legal position that everyone has a different ability level, and Jim just represents one end. If you could do some of that testing so that we have some scientific backing if a defense lawyer challenges us, it would help."
"Yeah, oh man, there's this one test--"
"Gary, you will pay for this," Jim growled at the D.A. Gary shook his head and didn't even bother looking intimidated.
"Hey, it's not bad at all. You might even enjoy it, Jim," Blair protested.
"And we have to deal with the expectation aspect of this. Any chance you could get something published somewhere? If the idea of heightened senses is out there, at least I can point out that someone expects to see them in a certain percentage of the population. At that point, we can argue that it's the defendant's fault for not being educated enough to know any better."
"Gary, I can get into Anthropology or Modern Humanity, but no way can I get something into the mainstream," Blair said slowly.
"You get something into Anthropology, and I'll twist it around so much that the judge and jury start thinking that everyone should have a subscription. But, the more we can get people talking, the tougher it's going to be for anyone to make the claim that they couldn't possibly have known that Detective Ellison could hear them." Gary shifted to focus on Jim. "Now, on the other side, if you go listening in on privileged conversations here at the station, I am leaving your body out for the defense lawyers to strip the flesh from your bones," Gary warned as he pointed a finger.
"Oh, Ellison will be playing fair with his hearing," Simon promised. "So, that's it? We get Sandburg to do a couple of tests and publish something, and we're covered?"
Gary snorted. "Hell, no. This one is going to end up in front of a judge sooner or later. So, we get that testing done, we get a published article or two, and hopefully we get that Dr. in front of that Sandburg, and we'll win once we land there."
Gary shuffled papers together, pulling out a good-sized stapled packet and handing it over to Blair. "You guys look through the court decisions I found on eavesdropping. You need to know we're on very messy legal ground."
"We'll do our best, Gary. We're just counting on you to keep the shit contained once it hits the fan," Simon said, suddenly serious. Gary stood up and put the rest of his papers back into his briefcase.
"Hey, that's what I'm here for, and I am the best."
"Thanks, man," Blair said.
Jim wasn't sure whether he meant for the papers which Blair's eyes were already skimming or the fact that Gary had seemed so genuinely concerned about Blair. Jim knew which one he appreciated more.
"Thanks, Gary," he said as he stepped forward and offered his hand. Gary blinked in surprise for a second and then accepted the handshake.
"You're a good cop. I'll do a lot for a good cop," Gary answered.
Jim nodded and opened the door so that Gary could head out into the bull pen.
"Ellison, I need to talk to you and Sandburg. Close the door," Simon ordered. Blair's eyes snapped up from his reading, and Jim shut the door.
"Okay, this Sentinel shit. Jim, you have given me the runaround all week. I take it you two have talked this over?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, because you said you'd explain it to me once you two had your conversation, and I'm waiting." Simon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting.
"Simon, Jim can do amazing things. What he did finding me was just the tip of the iceberg. Sentinels have genetic advantages specifically designed to protect the tribe, and I don't think for a second that it's a coincidence that he became a cop."
"And this zoning stuff?" Simon demanded. Before Blair could answer, Jim let his hand fall to Blair's shoulder.
"Simon, using the senses means that I have to have someone else to rely on, someone to watch my back and who can warn me when I'm going too far. That's what a Guide does."
"And you're sure Brown can't do that for you?" Simon asked, and Jim could see the shock as Blair looked up. He hadn't mentioned that Simon had brought this up more than once.
Jim shook his head and repeated the same argument he'd used before. "Simon, it's not that simple. Some people are compatible. Most aren't. My senses didn't come on-line during the times I've worked with Brown. We aren't compatible."
"But you and Blair are?"
"Yes," Jim answered immediately. "And the minute I had Blair near, the senses were inevitable. Simon, I could have brushed by him in a restaurant or caught his scent outside a Starbucks, and my senses might have started turning active. The Guide makes the senses possible. No Guide, no senses."
"Whoa, hey, that's not what the research I did found, and I've been researching Sentinels for a decade. Burton described the senses being activated by a time of isolation," Blair argued.
"Blair, when you did that study in Saudi Arabia: after three or four days, what did you notice about the body odor?" Jim asked.
Blair laughed. "Oh man. Growing up in America, I noticed nothing but body odor for three or four days. It took me at least that long to stop noticing it."
"That's how Incacha explained it," Jim said. "In a small tribe, a Sentinel doesn't notice his Guide because he grows up around him. If he takes time away from everyone, and then comes back, he can find the Guide because he isn't used to the Guide's presence."
"Oh man, that suggests it's not cultural, but biological. A hormone, maybe. Smell is the most sensitive sense, the most closely linked to the primitive part of the brain, so maybe a Sentinel identifies something the way some animals identify pheromones," Blair mused. "Are you sure it's not just a matter of being comfortable with someone? Are you sure it's one person who has to be the Guide?" Blair asked.
Jim shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know that Incacha knew, but if he did, he didn't tell me."
"Someone just give me the Cliff's notes version," Simon asked, his voice tired and flat.
"Simon, you know I'm a damn good detective," Jim said. "But what I did with Blair, hell, what I did finding the Switchman, I can only do that if I'm functioning as a Sentinel, and I can only function as a Sentinel if I have my Guide with me."
"Define with you," Simon said, his face buried in his hands.
"In the tribe, the Sentinel and Guide are always together. I've done pretty well without Blair here every day, but the more time we spend apart, the more I'm in danger of zoning and dying."
"Great," Simon said as he looked up. "So, the kid's credentials are up in less than four weeks, and at that point, you either have to learn to ignore the greatest investigative tool you have, or you risk freezing in the middle of a scene and getting shot."
"If I don't just stop breathing," Jim added.
"Great." Simon's expression looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. "So, Sandburg, how much do you think the mayor likes you?" Simon asked.
"Me? I don't think the mayor actually notices me," Blair shrugged.
"Yeah, but he noticed the nice publicity you got him over minority rights, and now the papers made you out to be some sort of tragic hero... house blown up, kidnapped, tied up and tortured. I hope you're good at politics, because you're going to use that and a little sucking up to get the mayor to do something drastic."
"What?" Blair asked.
"How the hell should I know?" Simon demanded. "Hire you, give you permanent observer status, adopt you. I don't care, but you're the resident genius, so you have four weeks to figure it out."
"You want me to stay," Blair said slowly, smiling.
"'Want' might be too strong a word."
"No way. Man, I know when I'm not wanted, and this is NOT not being wanted," Blair announced triumphantly.
"That didn't even make sense," Simon growled.
"It does if you're in the Sandburg zone," Jim said with a shrug. He got a hand under Blair's arm and pulled him up out of his chair. "Come on, Chief; I think Simon's had his Sandburg quota for the day."
"For the month," Simon quickly corrected him as Jim opened the door.
"Oh yeah, he wants me," Blair bounced.
"Damn it, Sandburg. For once in your life think before you let words fall out of your mouth," Simon just about roared. Jim pulled Blair out, and Henri was sitting at his desk, smiling from one ear to the other as he pretended to type. Rafe was hiding behind the paper, but Jim could hear the strangled laughter.
"I'm feeling loved, man, totally loved," Blair announced to the room as he headed across to Jim's desk and leaned against the edge. "Okay, what's the next case?"
"You want the honor killing?" Brown asked hopefully.
"No!" Jim just about shouted as Blair's mouth came open. "No way are you volunteering us for any more weird-ass cases, Sandburg. One week without the Sandburg Zone, got it?"
"You'll be bored within two days," Blair predicted as he picked up the little purple crystal from the top of Jim's computer and absentmindedly fingered it. "Face it, I make your life interesting."
"That you do, Chief," Jim agreed. "But I think I could do with a little less interesting right now. No more psychopaths or obsessed killers or dinosaur bones, not for a while."
"Man, what's left, then?"
"Swanson and his sewing factory. We never did find out if Swanson was doing any hanky panky with the women who worked for him. Come on, Chief; we have work to do."
Jim smiled as Blair put the crystal back on the computer monitor and then grabbed his backpack before just about bouncing to Jim's side. Slipping his hand to Blair's back, Jim steered his Guide toward the elevator, remembering what Incacha had once told him, that he'd find his true Guide in the great city. At the time, Jim had doubted Incacha. Not any more. For the first time, Jim felt at peace with his city and himself as he headed out on the trail of Swanson, his guide at his side.
***
Jim walked behind Blair, his senses on alert as he came back to the station for the first time in nearly a week. True to his word, Blair had done his share of freaking, but from the way he bounced into the station now, no one would ever know it.
"Hey, Sandburg," some officer said in passing.
Blair hesitated for just a moment, briefly enough that Jim wouldn't even have noticed if he didn't have all his attention focused on his Guide. "Hey, man," he nodded back as he hit the elevator button.
When the doors slid shut, Jim hit the button for the sixth floor. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, just, like, a major paradigm shift here. I'm totally used to this whole environment of hostility, and they're throwing me for a loop. It's all good," Blair offered.
"Yeah, well, just don't expect me to take off that cage just because you're feeling more centered," Jim teased as he let his eyes creep down to Blair's crotch. Blair put an elbow in Jim's stomach.
"No way I'm asking, man," Blair laughed. "I may be more centered now, but who knows when some psycho's going to grab me? This thing is like a lifeline reminding me that you're on the other end, holding on."
"Oh no," Jim said darkly. "No, I expressly forbid you from getting kidnapped, attacked, or having any contact at all with any psychopath. Don't even try to push me on this one, Junior," Jim growled.
The elevator doors opened, and Blair came out laughing.
"Hey, Hairboy!" Henri called from the end of the hall, hurrying to meet them. "Good to see you back. I was starting to think Jim was keeping you locked in the basement or something, especially after the trouble you got in just going for the donuts."
"Yeah, yeah. That's Mother Ellison for you," Blair agreed. Jim crossed his arms and glared at both of them. "I get chained up and threatened by one little psychopathic bomber and he's been in protector overdrive for a week solid. I had to distract him with offers of Wonderburger just to get out of the loft." Blair poked a thumb in Jim's direction with a laugh.
"You've taught three days this week," Jim pointed out. "I haven't exactly been keeping you prisoner." Mentally, Jim amended that to not keeping Blair an unwilling prisoner. He'd kept Blair in chains more often than not, both to give him an excuse to fuss over his guide and because Blair tended to fray at the edges and flirt with panic when he didn't.
"He sat in on your classes, didn't he?" Henri asked with a smile.
"Oh yeah," Blair agreed. "He blushed through the entire history of circumcision."
"Hey, stop right there. No need to torture me," Henri said as he held up his hands and backed through the door to Major Crimes.
"Blair," Joel called as they all walked into the bull pen.
"Nice to see you back," Rafe added as he stood up and came around his desk to give Blair a slap on the arm. Jim resisted the urge to put himself between Blair and the guys.
"You guys miss me?" Blair asked as he dropped his bag on the chair next to Jim's desk.
"Hell, yeah. I got stuck with some weird ass case about some girl who got killed and half the family is accusing the other half of the family of doing some honor-killing shit, and I don't see anything honorable about it. But if you'd been around, I know I could have dumped it off on you. So you know I missed you, Hairboy," Brown joked.
"Ellison, Sandburg!" Simon yelled from his office, not bothering to get up from his desk as he bellowed through the open door.
"Into the valley of death rode the six hundred, or in this case, the two," Blair sighed as he looked toward the open office. Jim could see Gary Birdsell, the assistant DA, sitting behind the blinds.
"Come on, Chief; it's not that bad," Jim said as he used a hand to herd Blair toward the office. He could feel the reluctance until Gary got up and stepped to the door.
"Gary!" Blair smiled and bounced forward. Gary held out his hand and they started shaking hands but ended up in the sort of one-armed hug men allow themselves in public. Jim still felt like growling.
"I can't believe the trouble you get yourself into," Gary laughed. "And considering that I'm the one who insisted that you ride along for a few weeks, it's a good thing you didn't get yourself killed. I would have chased you down in your next life and sued you for emotional distress."
"Gary, like I keep telling Mother Ellison here, the only one who gets blamed for this is Veronica Sarris," Blair insisted as he dropped into a chair across from Simon. Gary picked the chair on the far side, leaving a chair for Jim, but he chose to swing the door closed and lean against the wall.
"You're a braver man than I am, Blair Sandburg. Personally, I wouldn't call Ellison that unless I was already running at the time."
"And you'd better make sure you have a good head start even then," Jim said as he smiled evilly.
"I know I have work to do today. Maybe we could get to the point of this little get together," Simon interrupted.
"Is there a problem with my statement?" Blair asked.
"This time, for once, I'm actually here about Jim," Gary said as he pulled papers out of his briefcase. "I have to tell you guys that you do make my life a little too interesting. First Blair sticks his nose and the rest of his body into an investigation and then Jim does this whole thing with his senses."
"His senses?" Blair's voice grew strained, and Jim stood up straight.
"What about them?" Jim demanded.
"Oh, just the whole issue of reasonable expectation of privacy and invasion of privacy and illegal surveillance, that's all." Gary waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, Jim. You can hear things that it takes electronic equipment to pick up. That makes things very hairy, legally. That makes things hairy and ugly."
"His hearing," Blair repeated softly, his eyes meeting Jim's, and in that glance, Jim could see the borderline panic.
"I'm ignoring the scent thing because other than really annoying Lieutenant Plummer by snorting her dirt samples, that's probably not going to cause any complications. But being able to hear what he can hear... it's going to be a huge problem if we don't handle this right."
"And what does handling this right include?" Simon demanded. "The last time you asked us to handle something right, I inherited Sandburg and the gray hairs have been gathering ever since."
"I'm actually not the expert on senses here. Soon to be Dr. Sandburg, and may I say that the sooner the better, how normal are we talking about?"
"What? The senses?" Blair asked.
"Hypersensitive hearing," Jim redirected him slightly.
"Oh, yeah," Blair nodded with a slightly dazed expression, and Gary also gave him a strange look. "Right. I have hundreds of documented cases."
"All as strong as Jim?"
"I don't actually know," Blair confessed. "I haven't done any tests since I've actually been doing some freaking with occasional side trips to the department therapist."
"He's got to be thrilled to have a patient who doesn't have to be threatened with suspension before getting some help." Gary shook his head, and smiled with a sort of wry amusement. "But really, I'm glad you're dealing with this. I never would have forgiven myself if riding along had gotten you killed."
"Hey, man, I'm going to be fine. A little minimalization, a little denial, and I'll be back out there chasing down dino bones and bombers in no time."
"No more bombers or psychopaths for you," Jim insisted. "We have a deal."
"But back on track..." Simon said as he glared at everyone pointedly.
"But back on track, how normal is normal when it comes to Jim's hearing?" Gary asked.
"He's one of the stronger cases in terms of hearing faint noises, but I don't know that he can distinguish tones as well, and I had one guy who lived out on the Arizona reservation who was, like, amazing. I don't know that Jim is going to be able to hear as well as he could. And this mountie I tested once... he could hear the deep tones so well that a train rumbling over the tracks ten miles away would warn him that it was dinner time."
"So Jim's not one of a kind?" Gary asked. Blair paused for only a scant second.
"Jim's hearing is amazing, but not unique," he agreed. Jim blessed his Guide's ability to tap dance around the truth.
"That's good. So, we take the legal position that everyone has a different ability level, and Jim just represents one end. If you could do some of that testing so that we have some scientific backing if a defense lawyer challenges us, it would help."
"Yeah, oh man, there's this one test--"
"Gary, you will pay for this," Jim growled at the D.A. Gary shook his head and didn't even bother looking intimidated.
"Hey, it's not bad at all. You might even enjoy it, Jim," Blair protested.
"And we have to deal with the expectation aspect of this. Any chance you could get something published somewhere? If the idea of heightened senses is out there, at least I can point out that someone expects to see them in a certain percentage of the population. At that point, we can argue that it's the defendant's fault for not being educated enough to know any better."
"Gary, I can get into Anthropology or Modern Humanity, but no way can I get something into the mainstream," Blair said slowly.
"You get something into Anthropology, and I'll twist it around so much that the judge and jury start thinking that everyone should have a subscription. But, the more we can get people talking, the tougher it's going to be for anyone to make the claim that they couldn't possibly have known that Detective Ellison could hear them." Gary shifted to focus on Jim. "Now, on the other side, if you go listening in on privileged conversations here at the station, I am leaving your body out for the defense lawyers to strip the flesh from your bones," Gary warned as he pointed a finger.
"Oh, Ellison will be playing fair with his hearing," Simon promised. "So, that's it? We get Sandburg to do a couple of tests and publish something, and we're covered?"
Gary snorted. "Hell, no. This one is going to end up in front of a judge sooner or later. So, we get that testing done, we get a published article or two, and hopefully we get that Dr. in front of that Sandburg, and we'll win once we land there."
Gary shuffled papers together, pulling out a good-sized stapled packet and handing it over to Blair. "You guys look through the court decisions I found on eavesdropping. You need to know we're on very messy legal ground."
"We'll do our best, Gary. We're just counting on you to keep the shit contained once it hits the fan," Simon said, suddenly serious. Gary stood up and put the rest of his papers back into his briefcase.
"Hey, that's what I'm here for, and I am the best."
"Thanks, man," Blair said.
Jim wasn't sure whether he meant for the papers which Blair's eyes were already skimming or the fact that Gary had seemed so genuinely concerned about Blair. Jim knew which one he appreciated more.
"Thanks, Gary," he said as he stepped forward and offered his hand. Gary blinked in surprise for a second and then accepted the handshake.
"You're a good cop. I'll do a lot for a good cop," Gary answered.
Jim nodded and opened the door so that Gary could head out into the bull pen.
"Ellison, I need to talk to you and Sandburg. Close the door," Simon ordered. Blair's eyes snapped up from his reading, and Jim shut the door.
"Okay, this Sentinel shit. Jim, you have given me the runaround all week. I take it you two have talked this over?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, because you said you'd explain it to me once you two had your conversation, and I'm waiting." Simon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting.
"Simon, Jim can do amazing things. What he did finding me was just the tip of the iceberg. Sentinels have genetic advantages specifically designed to protect the tribe, and I don't think for a second that it's a coincidence that he became a cop."
"And this zoning stuff?" Simon demanded. Before Blair could answer, Jim let his hand fall to Blair's shoulder.
"Simon, using the senses means that I have to have someone else to rely on, someone to watch my back and who can warn me when I'm going too far. That's what a Guide does."
"And you're sure Brown can't do that for you?" Simon asked, and Jim could see the shock as Blair looked up. He hadn't mentioned that Simon had brought this up more than once.
Jim shook his head and repeated the same argument he'd used before. "Simon, it's not that simple. Some people are compatible. Most aren't. My senses didn't come on-line during the times I've worked with Brown. We aren't compatible."
"But you and Blair are?"
"Yes," Jim answered immediately. "And the minute I had Blair near, the senses were inevitable. Simon, I could have brushed by him in a restaurant or caught his scent outside a Starbucks, and my senses might have started turning active. The Guide makes the senses possible. No Guide, no senses."
"Whoa, hey, that's not what the research I did found, and I've been researching Sentinels for a decade. Burton described the senses being activated by a time of isolation," Blair argued.
"Blair, when you did that study in Saudi Arabia: after three or four days, what did you notice about the body odor?" Jim asked.
Blair laughed. "Oh man. Growing up in America, I noticed nothing but body odor for three or four days. It took me at least that long to stop noticing it."
"That's how Incacha explained it," Jim said. "In a small tribe, a Sentinel doesn't notice his Guide because he grows up around him. If he takes time away from everyone, and then comes back, he can find the Guide because he isn't used to the Guide's presence."
"Oh man, that suggests it's not cultural, but biological. A hormone, maybe. Smell is the most sensitive sense, the most closely linked to the primitive part of the brain, so maybe a Sentinel identifies something the way some animals identify pheromones," Blair mused. "Are you sure it's not just a matter of being comfortable with someone? Are you sure it's one person who has to be the Guide?" Blair asked.
Jim shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know that Incacha knew, but if he did, he didn't tell me."
"Someone just give me the Cliff's notes version," Simon asked, his voice tired and flat.
"Simon, you know I'm a damn good detective," Jim said. "But what I did with Blair, hell, what I did finding the Switchman, I can only do that if I'm functioning as a Sentinel, and I can only function as a Sentinel if I have my Guide with me."
"Define with you," Simon said, his face buried in his hands.
"In the tribe, the Sentinel and Guide are always together. I've done pretty well without Blair here every day, but the more time we spend apart, the more I'm in danger of zoning and dying."
"Great," Simon said as he looked up. "So, the kid's credentials are up in less than four weeks, and at that point, you either have to learn to ignore the greatest investigative tool you have, or you risk freezing in the middle of a scene and getting shot."
"If I don't just stop breathing," Jim added.
"Great." Simon's expression looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. "So, Sandburg, how much do you think the mayor likes you?" Simon asked.
"Me? I don't think the mayor actually notices me," Blair shrugged.
"Yeah, but he noticed the nice publicity you got him over minority rights, and now the papers made you out to be some sort of tragic hero... house blown up, kidnapped, tied up and tortured. I hope you're good at politics, because you're going to use that and a little sucking up to get the mayor to do something drastic."
"What?" Blair asked.
"How the hell should I know?" Simon demanded. "Hire you, give you permanent observer status, adopt you. I don't care, but you're the resident genius, so you have four weeks to figure it out."
"You want me to stay," Blair said slowly, smiling.
"'Want' might be too strong a word."
"No way. Man, I know when I'm not wanted, and this is NOT not being wanted," Blair announced triumphantly.
"That didn't even make sense," Simon growled.
"It does if you're in the Sandburg zone," Jim said with a shrug. He got a hand under Blair's arm and pulled him up out of his chair. "Come on, Chief; I think Simon's had his Sandburg quota for the day."
"For the month," Simon quickly corrected him as Jim opened the door.
"Oh yeah, he wants me," Blair bounced.
"Damn it, Sandburg. For once in your life think before you let words fall out of your mouth," Simon just about roared. Jim pulled Blair out, and Henri was sitting at his desk, smiling from one ear to the other as he pretended to type. Rafe was hiding behind the paper, but Jim could hear the strangled laughter.
"I'm feeling loved, man, totally loved," Blair announced to the room as he headed across to Jim's desk and leaned against the edge. "Okay, what's the next case?"
"You want the honor killing?" Brown asked hopefully.
"No!" Jim just about shouted as Blair's mouth came open. "No way are you volunteering us for any more weird-ass cases, Sandburg. One week without the Sandburg Zone, got it?"
"You'll be bored within two days," Blair predicted as he picked up the little purple crystal from the top of Jim's computer and absentmindedly fingered it. "Face it, I make your life interesting."
"That you do, Chief," Jim agreed. "But I think I could do with a little less interesting right now. No more psychopaths or obsessed killers or dinosaur bones, not for a while."
"Man, what's left, then?"
"Swanson and his sewing factory. We never did find out if Swanson was doing any hanky panky with the women who worked for him. Come on, Chief; we have work to do."
Jim smiled as Blair put the crystal back on the computer monitor and then grabbed his backpack before just about bouncing to Jim's side. Slipping his hand to Blair's back, Jim steered his Guide toward the elevator, remembering what Incacha had once told him, that he'd find his true Guide in the great city. At the time, Jim had doubted Incacha. Not any more. For the first time, Jim felt at peace with his city and himself as he headed out on the trail of Swanson, his guide at his side.
