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Pandora's Box
A long time ago, I wrote Ad Libitum. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN
This is the sequel
Pandora's Box.
Jim/Blair, Alex/Naomi
Rated: ADULT (f/f and m/m)
( Chapters 1-3 ) ( Chapter four ) ( Chapter Five ) ( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 ) ( Chapter 9 ) ( Chapter 10 ) ( Chapter 11 ) ( Chapter 12 ) ( Chapter 13 )
Now don't get spoiled. Life is still ultra busy, but this muse is getting a little pushy. So, what happens when you take one aggravated Sentinel, add in two injured Sentinels, one Guide, and a very unfortunate representative of the American Government? Hmmmmm....
~14~
“I’m sure you can understand that this is not a convenient time, Mr. Sandburg. Our first concern is the welfare of our patients, and any data gathering is a distant second.” Colonel Jamison was a tall man, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jim, and it was Jim who now stepped forward. Jamison’s sharp features and high cheekbones contrasted against Jim’s classic good looks.
“Colonel, this visit is to see to the welfare of your patients. You have Sentinels in there, and after reading some of Blair’s correspondence, I am concerned about what you’re doing to ease their sensory overload.” Jim’s voice was patient and calm, just the sort he used right before he sprang some trap in the middle of an interrogation. The man could play one serious game of “good cop” when he wanted.
“Detective….”
“Ellison,” Jim supplied.
“Detective Ellison, I have no idea what your interest here is, but you don’t have standing to demand to see anyone.”
“No, but I do have a 3 o’clock appointment with a reporter from the Times,” Jim said. His smile grew a little sharper, and Blair could see the colonel’s full attention shift to Jim. Oh yeah, Blair did not want to be in the middle of this pissing match.
“That does not concern me.”
“It should,” Jim said firmly. “Blair’s work is not classified, so he can choose to share it with anyone. If a former Army Ranger with his own medical history of sensory overload chooses to offer a few insights, that would make a better story. If that Ranger in question was a retired soldier who had been on the front of magazines for single-handedly holding off drug runners in Peru…. That might be a very interesting story.” Jim crossed his arms, and the colonel was frowning now. Blair could practically see the man rummage through his memories.
“Captain Ellison?”
“It’s detective now, but yes. You can see why I would be more concerned about the welfare of soldiers than Blair’s dissertation.”
“You had the senses?” The colonel looked confused for a half-second, but then he nodded, “which is how you met Mr. Sandburg,” he added. “Detective Ellison, I can understand your concern, and trust me, all our doctors are concerned about the lack of improvement, but we are doing our best.”
“Then show me,” Jim said firmly. “If you want me to believe that you’re helping these men, if you want me to tell the reporter that you’re doing your best, then prove it. We both know that good intentions and reality are not always the same.” Jim had on his implacable expression, but Blair still thought they were about to get tossed out on their asses. A guard stood discretely to the side, and the conversations in the lobby had largely quieted. In all the years Blair and Jim had been together, Jim had never tried to trade on his fame. Hell, the man hadn’t even saved the magazine covers that had labeled him a hero. However, Blair could understand why he’d pull out his ace in the hole. This castle didn’t want them storming it, and that was Jim’s big gun. “I’m just looking for evidence to back up what you’re claiming.” Jim softened his pose, dropping his hands to his side and easing back an inch. As much as Jim might play caveman sometimes, he had a lot more in his interpersonal arsenal than just intimidation.
Colonel Jamison hesitated before he nodded once. “A quick visit, Detective. The days when patients went untended are gone. I run a tight hospital, so I expect you to be in and out.”
“Agreed, sir. If the Sentinels are being cared for, then I know I don’t have to worry about them.” Jim followed as Colonel Jamison led the way to an elevator, the guard following at a discrete distance. He used his radio, and Jim’s back tightened a bit. Blair moved closer even though he didn’t risk resting his hand on Jim’s back in the middle of soldier central. He figured they had enough battles to fight without randomly poking people’s homophobia.
When Jim accidentally backed Blair into a corner, Blair didn’t even elbow Jim. The man’s mother hen instincts were turned up to full blast, but then Jim had to be sensing the other Sentinels by now. Blair suspected that Sentinels had a window of compatibility with any particular guide. Vega had been more attracted to Blair than Jimenez-Ramiro. Alex had wanted Blair, but his presence had aggravated her more and more. Despite Blair’s lies, Jim had been attracted to him immediately, even though Jim had an issue with people lying to him. A huge issue. An enormous fucking issue. So Blair was guessing that there was a segment of the Sentinel population that would be drawn to him, and there would be some uninterested in him, and there would be some who found themselves irrationally aggravated and homicidal the more time they spent with him. This wasn’t exactly designed to make Jim warm and cuddly toward other Sentinels. Blair wondered if that was the reason why the literature on Sentinels suggested there was generally only one per tribe.
The elevator dinged as they reached the fourth floor, and the colonel got off, Jim close behind. Blair tried to move to Jim’s side where Jim’s mother henning was a little less conspicuous, but a quick side-step from Jim had Blair neatly trapped behind him. To get around him, Blair would have to run and try to dart by on the other side like a child trying to slip past a parent. Blair’s ego wasn’t big enough to take that kind of abuse, and he had promised to let Jim take the lead, so Blair settled down and followed.
They passed harried nurses and a couple of ambulatory patients pulling IV stands. It was a hospital, full of hospital smells, but it did seem like one of the better ones. Antiseptic smell made Blair’s nose itch, and he was sure that Jim was feeling that even worse, but a hospital that didn’t use antiseptic was even more frightening. The colonel pushed open a door to a room and went inside, but for a moment, Blair was trapped in the hallway by Jim’s solid body blocking the entrance.
“Captain Daniel Griffin and Lieutenant Tate Sims, this is Detective Ellison.” The colonel sounded calm enough, but Jim’s back had gone stiff, and he was only now starting to inch into the room. Blair rested his hand against the small of Jim’s back for a second, and that was the jumpstart needed to get Jim moving. Then Jim strode into the room, doing a neat half turn so that Blair could see the way his jaw muscle twitched. Sticking close to the door, Blair waited to see what he was going to do.
Jim glanced at the two men. Blair recognized them from his research data, even though he’d never had faces to go with the demographic information before. Captain Daniel Griffin was 43, but looking at him right now, Blair would put the man in his early fifties. He looked haggard with gray hair at the temples and deepset eyes with bruises under them. He also looked a good twenty pounds shy of the 181 pounds listed in the notes doctors had faxed Blair. Lieutenant Tate Sims looked worse. He was 22, only three years into a five year contract, and he lay on the bed. Lines at the corners of his tightly closed eyes and mouth suggested he was struggling with a lot of pain despite the IV that steadily dripped. Where Captain Griffin looked gaunt, Sims looked like an escapee from the Shoah.
“These men have to be moved out of here.” Jim’s voice was taut with anger.
“Excuse me?” Colonel Jamison took a step forward, his shoulders squaring.
“The smell.” Jim looked around the room. “I can smell puss and rot and death in every corner.” Jim wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Captain Griffin struggled to sit up in his bed, his eyes locked on Jim.
Colonel Jamison looked ready to stroke out. “We are a clean facility.”
Jim turned and eyed the doctor coldly. “No. You aren’t. And every Sentinel in this place can smell that.” Jim looked over toward Blair. “Chief, see if Sims will let you talk him down. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in a month.”
“We’re providing IV nourishment.” Colonel Jamison tried to block Blair, but Blair had learned to dodge and weave when he was twelve years old, ninety pounds and going to high school as the new kid. No fucking way could Jamison counter that. Blair did a quick turn and got to Sims’ bed and caught the hand that didn’t have the IV in it. Stroking the back of the hand gently, Blair turned on his best guide voice.
“Hey, I bet you’re really tired. I mean, these guys… clueless, huh? But I really need you to focus on me, here. Come on, focus on my voice. I know things are driving you fucking nuts, aren’t they? The smell, the sounds? But ignore all that and just focus on me.” Blair knew he was risking sending Sims into a zone, but at this point, a zone would be kinder than the pain Sims was suffering.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Blair ignored the colonel, letting Jim handle that part of it.
“A Sentinel needs a focus, something to keep other senses from overwhelming him. The only thing to focus on in here is the stench. The smell is going to be too much for anyone newly online. It’s turning my stomach, and I’ve had control of my senses for years. I’ve smelled crime scenes that didn’t nauseate me this much.” From Jim’s tone of voice, he wasn’t exaggerating. It was stuffy and musky in the room, Blair’s normal nose told him that much. And the sharp sting of antiseptic still made his nose itch, although it was beyond Blair how the room managed to smell antiseptic and musty at the same time. Of course, Blair wouldn’t do more than blow his nose and he’d be fine. Colonel Jamison clearly had no idea just how different the world was for Sentinels.
“Detective?” The colonel was looking at Jim sharply, and Blair could feel his heart contract in fear. If Jim was wrong… if he had miscalculated, they were all about to fall into a very dark, very deep hole and never show up again.
“So unless you want more of your men to slip into comas and die, you’ll get them out of this place,” Jim interrupted. “He responding?” Jim asked, turning toward Blair. Oh man, if Blair thought Jim’s anger were directed at him, he’d be headed for the hills. Mount Saint Ellison was on the verge of blowing and taking out entire towns along the way.
“I think so,” Blair said. The lines at the edges of Sims’ eyes and mouth had eased.
“Sentinel, time to move. We’re getting you away from the stink, but you need to focus on Blair and not your pain,” Jim said. The words were harsh, but Jim’s tone stayed soft and sympathetic as he laid a hand on Sims knee. “Captain Griffin, are you good to go?” Jim asked.
“You hold on,” Colonel Jamison snapped. “We have the facilities to monitor…”
Jim whirled on Jamison. “They don’t need monitoring. They need to get away from the stench. And they need to get out from under these artificial lights. The flickering is a distraction they can’t handle right now. Fresh air will do them a lot more good than your hospital.”
“So you’re recommending they be removed from this facility?” The colonel asked. “On what authority?”
Jim tilted his head for a second before turning to Griffin. “Captain, I know full well what you are, and you can feel me. Are you ready to sign medical power of attorney over to me so that I have the authority to remove you?”
Griffin didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
Colonel Jamison’s mouth fell open.
“Lieutenant Sims, I need you awake now. Lean on Blair as much as you need, but I need you awake and aware,” Jim said firmly. Blair could feel Sims’ body twitch. “Blair, wake him up,” Jim ordered.
“Whoa, okay, that would be his cranky voice,” Blair whispered in his best guide voice. “You do not want to piss him off. Besides, you don’t want to miss seeing these doctors get told off. I bet they ignored you when you complained about pain—they told you it was all in your head. No way. The pain is real, but if you focus on me, my voice, you can block it out. So you do that. Focus on me and wake up, Sentinel. No more time for resting. You have to move or you’re going to die.” Blair modulated his voice, altering his tone until he could feel Sims react to it. Blue eyes opened and searched out Blair. “There you are,” Blair said with a smile. “That over there is Sentinel Ellison. He’s a little pissed at the doctors for not taking care of you, but my guess is that he’s probably pissed at you for not speaking up and forcing them to listen to your complaints. So, if you want to avoid pissing him off more, we should probably get moving.”
Sims hand darted out and caught Blair’s arm right above the elbow. Blair hissed in pain, and immediately, Jim was there. “Stand down, Sentinel,” Jim ordered. “You do not hurt a guide. In particular, you do not hurt my guide unless you feel like challenging me, understand?”
Sims frowned in confusion, but his grip loosened on Blair’s arm.
“No problem. It’s all moving a little too fast, isn’t it,” Blair said soothingly as he let his hand rest against Sims’ shoulder where his hospital gown had fallen open. The man opened his mouth and gasped for air as though drowning.
“Detective Ellison, even if you have these senses the way you’re suggesting….”
“I do.”
“That does not make you an expert. At best, that makes you a potential patient if your senses get out of control.” Jamison’s voice had the soothing tones of someone talking to a madman. It was not the right tact to take with Jim.
“Blair,” Jim said, handing the conversation over, which was good because Blair was pretty sure Jamison was about to go out a fourth story window.
“I know Sentinels,” Blair said firmly. He stood up without taking his hand off Sims, and he noticed that Griffin was watching him. He was the only guide in a room with three Sentinels, and at some point he was going to have to address that. However, right now he focused on the colonel. “I know that the wrong stimulus can push their senses too far and the brain won’t be able to keep up with the input. If Jim says there’s the wrong kind of stimulus and too much of it, then yes, the Sentinels have to be removed. I’m one hundred percent behind that. I also have the research data to back that up. So, if I have to give every bit of my data to a reporter or if we have to go hire a lawyer to get you to honor a medical proxy so we can get these men out of here, I will be right there at Jim’s side.”
“This hospital is one of the best in the area. The rooms are cleaned every day.” The colonel looked confused and alarmed now. Blair was guessing his training had not covered this particular situation.
“And cleaning with the wrong solution is worse than letting the dirt gather. Dirt is natural; their senses know what to do with it.”
“So, you want them in a dirty hospital?” Colonel Jamison demanded, sarcasm seeping through the professional demeanor he was clearly attempting to project.
Jim answered that. “My father has land in the foothills of the Cascade mountains—240 acres. They’re soldiers. They can camp out this time of year.”
“Camp out?” The doctor sounded like he might be having a heart attack. “They’re patients.”
“They’re soldiers,” Jim returned dryly. Captain Griffin looked a little amused at the exchange. Sims even managed to roll onto one elbow.
“So, you expect coma patients to camp out?” The doctor crossed his arms and glared at Jim, but the man was a rank amateur when it came to intimidation, and he was up against a pro.
“Yes.” Jim crossed his arms.
“I can manage it, sir,” Sims said. His voice was rough and uneven, like he’d either been silent for too long or screamed himself raw—both options horrified Blair.
Jamison shook his head. “You’d kill them if you—”
“Talk to this idiot before I kill him and hide the body,” Jim told Blair. Jamison really was going to stroke out—Jim had claimed that he was the best one to handle the situation because they’d understand him, recognize him even, but Blair was pretty sure no one had ever talked to this doctor the way Jim was.
“If you keep doing what you’ve been doing, they’re all going to be in comas or off-line,” Blair pointed out. “Man, I told you to get fresh air in the rooms. I told you to minimize artificial lighting and open windows and get familiar smells and sights into their rooms, and you still have them shoved in impersonal hospital rooms with the windows painted over. I mean, why ask for my advice if you’re going to ignore me?”
“They are getting the best of care—”
“No way. Do not even go there!” Blair cut him off. “I have the brain scans showing that they’re overwhelmed with sensory stimulus. Overwhelmed. What have you done to reduce that?”
For a second, the doctor only glared at him. “We have changed the cleaners used in the rooms.” His words were tight and clipped, and from the tone, it was perfectly clear that the doctor thought that had been more than enough of a concession to any senses. It was also pretty clear that he felt bad about that now. Blair could see the way guilt clung to the man. He wanted to help his patients, and here Blair came suggesting that the man was just screwing up.
“Enough,” Jim said. He walked over to the window and grunted as he put all his strength into trying to lift it. Nothing moved. With his jaw bulging, Jim turned to the doctor. “What do you value more, your patients or your window?”
“Excuse me?”
“Patients or windows… which are worth more to you?” Jim demanded.
“My patients!” Colonel Jamison might have continued with some diatribe about caring for his patients, but Jim picked up a chair and Jamison stumbled back as Jim sent it flying. Glass tinkled to the floor when the chair slipped out of Jim’s grip and fell out the window. Jim stepped back, his shirt moving in the sluggish wind that came in.
“Get the lights, Blair,” Jim said. Blair gave Sims a quick pat before he headed over to turn out the lights. Florescent bulbs flickered and then went dark so that the room was only dimly lit by the window, since the sun was on the wrong side.
“Better?” Jim asked, turning to Sims and Griffin.
“Yes, sir,” Griffin answered. Sims managed a nod, and Blair headed back to the man’s side. His hands were fisting the blanket, and Blair was guessing he still hurt.
“Just dial down the senses. You don’t need them here,” Blair muttered, not surprised when a security guard pushed the door open. His hand rested on his gun, but Jim continued to stand by the now-open window.
“This is what they need, Colonel,” Jim said firmly. “If you aren’t a Sentinel, then you don’t live in the same world we do. You don’t know how overwhelming the senses can be, and only another Sentinel can tell you that.” Jim finally turned to look at Colonel Jamison. “How many more Sentinels do you have here?”
The security guard looked from one person to another, clearly confused about who to blame for the window. Blair could feel the universe turning on this one point. If Jamison had them arrested, things would get nasty. Oh, Blair trusted that Jim had contingency plans, but no plan would smooth over the ruffled feathers if Jamison set the military against Jim and the Sentinels. Holding his breath, Blair watched Jamison struggle with his own thoughts.
“Please, we want to help,” Blair said softly. “I know you’re doing your best, but you need Jim to show you how to help.” Blair could feel his chest tighten as Jamison looked at Blair. Then the moment passed. Jamison nodded.
“Four more are awake, and one is in a coma. It’s more than we’ve seen in the last decade, and they’re all showing signs of heading for a coma rather than losing their senses, which was the norm up until this latest epidemic.” Jamison turned haunted eyes toward Blair. “We are providing unprocessed, fresh food and we’ve increased the cleaning regimen, switching to low-odor cleaners.”
“You’ve done your best,” Blair said in a gentle voice. Colonel Jamison had clearly been trying.
“Soldier, can you eat now?” Jim asked Sims.
“Yes, sir.” Sims struggled, but he got himself up so he was sitting in bed. When the bedsheet fell away, Blair could see the bright red rash on the arm with the IV hooked to it. Jim was right; he needed to eat on his own.
“Good,” Jim said with a tight smile. Colonel Jamison, if you could get nurses up here with fresh water and some fresh food, that would help these men.” Jim turned and headed for the door. For a second, the security guard continued to block the way, still confused.
“Where are you going?” Jamison asked.
Jim looked over his shoulder. “To get the other Sentinels and get them in here where they can have some fresh air and company.”
“I’ll have to show you…”
“No,” Jim cut him off. “You don’t. I know exactly where they are. Two are on the floor above us, two are down the hall, and the coma patient isn’t in this wing at all. If you take care of the facilities and find these men their clothes so we can move them out, I’ll take care of the Sentinels. Come on, Chief.” Jim held out his hand for Blair and Blair hurried to his side. This time when Jim headed for the door, the security guard backed away and let them through. Blair could feel change pressing against him like a low-pressure front. He only hoped the change would be for the good for everyone. At the very least, he hoped the change wouldn’t prove fatal.
This is the sequel
Pandora's Box.
Jim/Blair, Alex/Naomi
Rated: ADULT (f/f and m/m)
( Chapters 1-3 ) ( Chapter four ) ( Chapter Five ) ( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 ) ( Chapter 9 ) ( Chapter 10 ) ( Chapter 11 ) ( Chapter 12 ) ( Chapter 13 )
Now don't get spoiled. Life is still ultra busy, but this muse is getting a little pushy. So, what happens when you take one aggravated Sentinel, add in two injured Sentinels, one Guide, and a very unfortunate representative of the American Government? Hmmmmm....
~14~
“I’m sure you can understand that this is not a convenient time, Mr. Sandburg. Our first concern is the welfare of our patients, and any data gathering is a distant second.” Colonel Jamison was a tall man, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jim, and it was Jim who now stepped forward. Jamison’s sharp features and high cheekbones contrasted against Jim’s classic good looks.
“Colonel, this visit is to see to the welfare of your patients. You have Sentinels in there, and after reading some of Blair’s correspondence, I am concerned about what you’re doing to ease their sensory overload.” Jim’s voice was patient and calm, just the sort he used right before he sprang some trap in the middle of an interrogation. The man could play one serious game of “good cop” when he wanted.
“Detective….”
“Ellison,” Jim supplied.
“Detective Ellison, I have no idea what your interest here is, but you don’t have standing to demand to see anyone.”
“No, but I do have a 3 o’clock appointment with a reporter from the Times,” Jim said. His smile grew a little sharper, and Blair could see the colonel’s full attention shift to Jim. Oh yeah, Blair did not want to be in the middle of this pissing match.
“That does not concern me.”
“It should,” Jim said firmly. “Blair’s work is not classified, so he can choose to share it with anyone. If a former Army Ranger with his own medical history of sensory overload chooses to offer a few insights, that would make a better story. If that Ranger in question was a retired soldier who had been on the front of magazines for single-handedly holding off drug runners in Peru…. That might be a very interesting story.” Jim crossed his arms, and the colonel was frowning now. Blair could practically see the man rummage through his memories.
“Captain Ellison?”
“It’s detective now, but yes. You can see why I would be more concerned about the welfare of soldiers than Blair’s dissertation.”
“You had the senses?” The colonel looked confused for a half-second, but then he nodded, “which is how you met Mr. Sandburg,” he added. “Detective Ellison, I can understand your concern, and trust me, all our doctors are concerned about the lack of improvement, but we are doing our best.”
“Then show me,” Jim said firmly. “If you want me to believe that you’re helping these men, if you want me to tell the reporter that you’re doing your best, then prove it. We both know that good intentions and reality are not always the same.” Jim had on his implacable expression, but Blair still thought they were about to get tossed out on their asses. A guard stood discretely to the side, and the conversations in the lobby had largely quieted. In all the years Blair and Jim had been together, Jim had never tried to trade on his fame. Hell, the man hadn’t even saved the magazine covers that had labeled him a hero. However, Blair could understand why he’d pull out his ace in the hole. This castle didn’t want them storming it, and that was Jim’s big gun. “I’m just looking for evidence to back up what you’re claiming.” Jim softened his pose, dropping his hands to his side and easing back an inch. As much as Jim might play caveman sometimes, he had a lot more in his interpersonal arsenal than just intimidation.
Colonel Jamison hesitated before he nodded once. “A quick visit, Detective. The days when patients went untended are gone. I run a tight hospital, so I expect you to be in and out.”
“Agreed, sir. If the Sentinels are being cared for, then I know I don’t have to worry about them.” Jim followed as Colonel Jamison led the way to an elevator, the guard following at a discrete distance. He used his radio, and Jim’s back tightened a bit. Blair moved closer even though he didn’t risk resting his hand on Jim’s back in the middle of soldier central. He figured they had enough battles to fight without randomly poking people’s homophobia.
When Jim accidentally backed Blair into a corner, Blair didn’t even elbow Jim. The man’s mother hen instincts were turned up to full blast, but then Jim had to be sensing the other Sentinels by now. Blair suspected that Sentinels had a window of compatibility with any particular guide. Vega had been more attracted to Blair than Jimenez-Ramiro. Alex had wanted Blair, but his presence had aggravated her more and more. Despite Blair’s lies, Jim had been attracted to him immediately, even though Jim had an issue with people lying to him. A huge issue. An enormous fucking issue. So Blair was guessing that there was a segment of the Sentinel population that would be drawn to him, and there would be some uninterested in him, and there would be some who found themselves irrationally aggravated and homicidal the more time they spent with him. This wasn’t exactly designed to make Jim warm and cuddly toward other Sentinels. Blair wondered if that was the reason why the literature on Sentinels suggested there was generally only one per tribe.
The elevator dinged as they reached the fourth floor, and the colonel got off, Jim close behind. Blair tried to move to Jim’s side where Jim’s mother henning was a little less conspicuous, but a quick side-step from Jim had Blair neatly trapped behind him. To get around him, Blair would have to run and try to dart by on the other side like a child trying to slip past a parent. Blair’s ego wasn’t big enough to take that kind of abuse, and he had promised to let Jim take the lead, so Blair settled down and followed.
They passed harried nurses and a couple of ambulatory patients pulling IV stands. It was a hospital, full of hospital smells, but it did seem like one of the better ones. Antiseptic smell made Blair’s nose itch, and he was sure that Jim was feeling that even worse, but a hospital that didn’t use antiseptic was even more frightening. The colonel pushed open a door to a room and went inside, but for a moment, Blair was trapped in the hallway by Jim’s solid body blocking the entrance.
“Captain Daniel Griffin and Lieutenant Tate Sims, this is Detective Ellison.” The colonel sounded calm enough, but Jim’s back had gone stiff, and he was only now starting to inch into the room. Blair rested his hand against the small of Jim’s back for a second, and that was the jumpstart needed to get Jim moving. Then Jim strode into the room, doing a neat half turn so that Blair could see the way his jaw muscle twitched. Sticking close to the door, Blair waited to see what he was going to do.
Jim glanced at the two men. Blair recognized them from his research data, even though he’d never had faces to go with the demographic information before. Captain Daniel Griffin was 43, but looking at him right now, Blair would put the man in his early fifties. He looked haggard with gray hair at the temples and deepset eyes with bruises under them. He also looked a good twenty pounds shy of the 181 pounds listed in the notes doctors had faxed Blair. Lieutenant Tate Sims looked worse. He was 22, only three years into a five year contract, and he lay on the bed. Lines at the corners of his tightly closed eyes and mouth suggested he was struggling with a lot of pain despite the IV that steadily dripped. Where Captain Griffin looked gaunt, Sims looked like an escapee from the Shoah.
“These men have to be moved out of here.” Jim’s voice was taut with anger.
“Excuse me?” Colonel Jamison took a step forward, his shoulders squaring.
“The smell.” Jim looked around the room. “I can smell puss and rot and death in every corner.” Jim wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Captain Griffin struggled to sit up in his bed, his eyes locked on Jim.
Colonel Jamison looked ready to stroke out. “We are a clean facility.”
Jim turned and eyed the doctor coldly. “No. You aren’t. And every Sentinel in this place can smell that.” Jim looked over toward Blair. “Chief, see if Sims will let you talk him down. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in a month.”
“We’re providing IV nourishment.” Colonel Jamison tried to block Blair, but Blair had learned to dodge and weave when he was twelve years old, ninety pounds and going to high school as the new kid. No fucking way could Jamison counter that. Blair did a quick turn and got to Sims’ bed and caught the hand that didn’t have the IV in it. Stroking the back of the hand gently, Blair turned on his best guide voice.
“Hey, I bet you’re really tired. I mean, these guys… clueless, huh? But I really need you to focus on me, here. Come on, focus on my voice. I know things are driving you fucking nuts, aren’t they? The smell, the sounds? But ignore all that and just focus on me.” Blair knew he was risking sending Sims into a zone, but at this point, a zone would be kinder than the pain Sims was suffering.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Blair ignored the colonel, letting Jim handle that part of it.
“A Sentinel needs a focus, something to keep other senses from overwhelming him. The only thing to focus on in here is the stench. The smell is going to be too much for anyone newly online. It’s turning my stomach, and I’ve had control of my senses for years. I’ve smelled crime scenes that didn’t nauseate me this much.” From Jim’s tone of voice, he wasn’t exaggerating. It was stuffy and musky in the room, Blair’s normal nose told him that much. And the sharp sting of antiseptic still made his nose itch, although it was beyond Blair how the room managed to smell antiseptic and musty at the same time. Of course, Blair wouldn’t do more than blow his nose and he’d be fine. Colonel Jamison clearly had no idea just how different the world was for Sentinels.
“Detective?” The colonel was looking at Jim sharply, and Blair could feel his heart contract in fear. If Jim was wrong… if he had miscalculated, they were all about to fall into a very dark, very deep hole and never show up again.
“So unless you want more of your men to slip into comas and die, you’ll get them out of this place,” Jim interrupted. “He responding?” Jim asked, turning toward Blair. Oh man, if Blair thought Jim’s anger were directed at him, he’d be headed for the hills. Mount Saint Ellison was on the verge of blowing and taking out entire towns along the way.
“I think so,” Blair said. The lines at the edges of Sims’ eyes and mouth had eased.
“Sentinel, time to move. We’re getting you away from the stink, but you need to focus on Blair and not your pain,” Jim said. The words were harsh, but Jim’s tone stayed soft and sympathetic as he laid a hand on Sims knee. “Captain Griffin, are you good to go?” Jim asked.
“You hold on,” Colonel Jamison snapped. “We have the facilities to monitor…”
Jim whirled on Jamison. “They don’t need monitoring. They need to get away from the stench. And they need to get out from under these artificial lights. The flickering is a distraction they can’t handle right now. Fresh air will do them a lot more good than your hospital.”
“So you’re recommending they be removed from this facility?” The colonel asked. “On what authority?”
Jim tilted his head for a second before turning to Griffin. “Captain, I know full well what you are, and you can feel me. Are you ready to sign medical power of attorney over to me so that I have the authority to remove you?”
Griffin didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
Colonel Jamison’s mouth fell open.
“Lieutenant Sims, I need you awake now. Lean on Blair as much as you need, but I need you awake and aware,” Jim said firmly. Blair could feel Sims’ body twitch. “Blair, wake him up,” Jim ordered.
“Whoa, okay, that would be his cranky voice,” Blair whispered in his best guide voice. “You do not want to piss him off. Besides, you don’t want to miss seeing these doctors get told off. I bet they ignored you when you complained about pain—they told you it was all in your head. No way. The pain is real, but if you focus on me, my voice, you can block it out. So you do that. Focus on me and wake up, Sentinel. No more time for resting. You have to move or you’re going to die.” Blair modulated his voice, altering his tone until he could feel Sims react to it. Blue eyes opened and searched out Blair. “There you are,” Blair said with a smile. “That over there is Sentinel Ellison. He’s a little pissed at the doctors for not taking care of you, but my guess is that he’s probably pissed at you for not speaking up and forcing them to listen to your complaints. So, if you want to avoid pissing him off more, we should probably get moving.”
Sims hand darted out and caught Blair’s arm right above the elbow. Blair hissed in pain, and immediately, Jim was there. “Stand down, Sentinel,” Jim ordered. “You do not hurt a guide. In particular, you do not hurt my guide unless you feel like challenging me, understand?”
Sims frowned in confusion, but his grip loosened on Blair’s arm.
“No problem. It’s all moving a little too fast, isn’t it,” Blair said soothingly as he let his hand rest against Sims’ shoulder where his hospital gown had fallen open. The man opened his mouth and gasped for air as though drowning.
“Detective Ellison, even if you have these senses the way you’re suggesting….”
“I do.”
“That does not make you an expert. At best, that makes you a potential patient if your senses get out of control.” Jamison’s voice had the soothing tones of someone talking to a madman. It was not the right tact to take with Jim.
“Blair,” Jim said, handing the conversation over, which was good because Blair was pretty sure Jamison was about to go out a fourth story window.
“I know Sentinels,” Blair said firmly. He stood up without taking his hand off Sims, and he noticed that Griffin was watching him. He was the only guide in a room with three Sentinels, and at some point he was going to have to address that. However, right now he focused on the colonel. “I know that the wrong stimulus can push their senses too far and the brain won’t be able to keep up with the input. If Jim says there’s the wrong kind of stimulus and too much of it, then yes, the Sentinels have to be removed. I’m one hundred percent behind that. I also have the research data to back that up. So, if I have to give every bit of my data to a reporter or if we have to go hire a lawyer to get you to honor a medical proxy so we can get these men out of here, I will be right there at Jim’s side.”
“This hospital is one of the best in the area. The rooms are cleaned every day.” The colonel looked confused and alarmed now. Blair was guessing his training had not covered this particular situation.
“And cleaning with the wrong solution is worse than letting the dirt gather. Dirt is natural; their senses know what to do with it.”
“So, you want them in a dirty hospital?” Colonel Jamison demanded, sarcasm seeping through the professional demeanor he was clearly attempting to project.
Jim answered that. “My father has land in the foothills of the Cascade mountains—240 acres. They’re soldiers. They can camp out this time of year.”
“Camp out?” The doctor sounded like he might be having a heart attack. “They’re patients.”
“They’re soldiers,” Jim returned dryly. Captain Griffin looked a little amused at the exchange. Sims even managed to roll onto one elbow.
“So, you expect coma patients to camp out?” The doctor crossed his arms and glared at Jim, but the man was a rank amateur when it came to intimidation, and he was up against a pro.
“Yes.” Jim crossed his arms.
“I can manage it, sir,” Sims said. His voice was rough and uneven, like he’d either been silent for too long or screamed himself raw—both options horrified Blair.
Jamison shook his head. “You’d kill them if you—”
“Talk to this idiot before I kill him and hide the body,” Jim told Blair. Jamison really was going to stroke out—Jim had claimed that he was the best one to handle the situation because they’d understand him, recognize him even, but Blair was pretty sure no one had ever talked to this doctor the way Jim was.
“If you keep doing what you’ve been doing, they’re all going to be in comas or off-line,” Blair pointed out. “Man, I told you to get fresh air in the rooms. I told you to minimize artificial lighting and open windows and get familiar smells and sights into their rooms, and you still have them shoved in impersonal hospital rooms with the windows painted over. I mean, why ask for my advice if you’re going to ignore me?”
“They are getting the best of care—”
“No way. Do not even go there!” Blair cut him off. “I have the brain scans showing that they’re overwhelmed with sensory stimulus. Overwhelmed. What have you done to reduce that?”
For a second, the doctor only glared at him. “We have changed the cleaners used in the rooms.” His words were tight and clipped, and from the tone, it was perfectly clear that the doctor thought that had been more than enough of a concession to any senses. It was also pretty clear that he felt bad about that now. Blair could see the way guilt clung to the man. He wanted to help his patients, and here Blair came suggesting that the man was just screwing up.
“Enough,” Jim said. He walked over to the window and grunted as he put all his strength into trying to lift it. Nothing moved. With his jaw bulging, Jim turned to the doctor. “What do you value more, your patients or your window?”
“Excuse me?”
“Patients or windows… which are worth more to you?” Jim demanded.
“My patients!” Colonel Jamison might have continued with some diatribe about caring for his patients, but Jim picked up a chair and Jamison stumbled back as Jim sent it flying. Glass tinkled to the floor when the chair slipped out of Jim’s grip and fell out the window. Jim stepped back, his shirt moving in the sluggish wind that came in.
“Get the lights, Blair,” Jim said. Blair gave Sims a quick pat before he headed over to turn out the lights. Florescent bulbs flickered and then went dark so that the room was only dimly lit by the window, since the sun was on the wrong side.
“Better?” Jim asked, turning to Sims and Griffin.
“Yes, sir,” Griffin answered. Sims managed a nod, and Blair headed back to the man’s side. His hands were fisting the blanket, and Blair was guessing he still hurt.
“Just dial down the senses. You don’t need them here,” Blair muttered, not surprised when a security guard pushed the door open. His hand rested on his gun, but Jim continued to stand by the now-open window.
“This is what they need, Colonel,” Jim said firmly. “If you aren’t a Sentinel, then you don’t live in the same world we do. You don’t know how overwhelming the senses can be, and only another Sentinel can tell you that.” Jim finally turned to look at Colonel Jamison. “How many more Sentinels do you have here?”
The security guard looked from one person to another, clearly confused about who to blame for the window. Blair could feel the universe turning on this one point. If Jamison had them arrested, things would get nasty. Oh, Blair trusted that Jim had contingency plans, but no plan would smooth over the ruffled feathers if Jamison set the military against Jim and the Sentinels. Holding his breath, Blair watched Jamison struggle with his own thoughts.
“Please, we want to help,” Blair said softly. “I know you’re doing your best, but you need Jim to show you how to help.” Blair could feel his chest tighten as Jamison looked at Blair. Then the moment passed. Jamison nodded.
“Four more are awake, and one is in a coma. It’s more than we’ve seen in the last decade, and they’re all showing signs of heading for a coma rather than losing their senses, which was the norm up until this latest epidemic.” Jamison turned haunted eyes toward Blair. “We are providing unprocessed, fresh food and we’ve increased the cleaning regimen, switching to low-odor cleaners.”
“You’ve done your best,” Blair said in a gentle voice. Colonel Jamison had clearly been trying.
“Soldier, can you eat now?” Jim asked Sims.
“Yes, sir.” Sims struggled, but he got himself up so he was sitting in bed. When the bedsheet fell away, Blair could see the bright red rash on the arm with the IV hooked to it. Jim was right; he needed to eat on his own.
“Good,” Jim said with a tight smile. Colonel Jamison, if you could get nurses up here with fresh water and some fresh food, that would help these men.” Jim turned and headed for the door. For a second, the security guard continued to block the way, still confused.
“Where are you going?” Jamison asked.
Jim looked over his shoulder. “To get the other Sentinels and get them in here where they can have some fresh air and company.”
“I’ll have to show you…”
“No,” Jim cut him off. “You don’t. I know exactly where they are. Two are on the floor above us, two are down the hall, and the coma patient isn’t in this wing at all. If you take care of the facilities and find these men their clothes so we can move them out, I’ll take care of the Sentinels. Come on, Chief.” Jim held out his hand for Blair and Blair hurried to his side. This time when Jim headed for the door, the security guard backed away and let them through. Blair could feel change pressing against him like a low-pressure front. He only hoped the change would be for the good for everyone. At the very least, he hoped the change wouldn’t prove fatal.