Guidelines: Power Play
Aug. 27th, 2006 04:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galSentinel
Jim/Blair
Guidelines Power Play
Okay, let's just call this the "next" chapter. I'm going to do a little rearranging of chapter breaks when I'm done. However, here we have Jim at the hospital.
Jim held Blair's hand even as the paramedics slid the stretcher out of the ambulance. The only thing that reassured him was the steady thrump of Blair's heart, which he could feel as blood pumped through the limp arm he held in his hands. Unfortunately, that same motion of Blair's heart continued to pump blood out his back. The dressing the paramedics had put over the entry wound had soaked up so much blood that it looked like some bloated organ that had slipped out of Blair's body. Jim dialed down scent until the sharp odor of Blair's blood didn't invade his lungs with every breath.
The paramedics got the stretcher wheels extended and started running; Jim ran beside them. Even as he held on to Blair's warm fingers, he could feel Rob's hand clutching at him as he cried out in pain at every touch. Part of Jim, the logical part, said that he should walk away. He ordered himself to let go of Blair and let the paramedics do their work. But another part of him refused. Even as doctors rushed to Blair's side, Jim refused to move.
"Get him out of here," a voice ordered in the middle of all of the medical jargon: calls for blood typing and shouted numbers that measured Blair's life. Jim held on.
"Sir, you need to move back and let us do our job."
Jim ignored the tugging at his arm as a small, blonde woman fought to get him away from his guide. Dimly, Jim heard the call for security. Jim tried. He tried to let go before someone came and ripped his guide away from him. He tried to let go before he made a fool of himself once again. He tried to move out of their way. He failed.
Now the doctors struggled to move Blair from the stretcher to table, and Jim realized he was the reason they couldn't. Shrugging off the nurse's grasping hands, Jim let go of Blair only to push his way to the opposite side of the table so that he could grab Blair again.
"Security, get him out of here! If you want to help your friend, get out of our way and let us work." Jim recognized the danger in the first statement and the logic in the second, but he held on. Nurses rushed around him hooking IV's into needles and calling out readings as they attached more machines to Blair. One doctor stayed near Blair's head, working tubes and prying Blair's eyes open for inspection. The other doctor poked and prodded at the open gun shot wound until Blair moaned in pain, even though he was unconscious.
"Hang on, Chief," Jim whispered. Stronger hands pulled at him now, and Jim grabbed the side of Blair's bed to keep from getting pulled away. He wouldn't leave Blair. He wouldn't fail Blair the way he'd failed Rob.
Jim continued whispering reassurances to Blair even as new hands, stronger hands, now yanked at him with far more strength. Blair's entire bed shook with the force of each pull.
"We have to get him up to surgery."
Jim nearly flinched back when a doctor's face appeared right in front of him. The doctor had a plastic shield over his face, one that had smudges of Blair's blood across the left side. Jim blinked, and then he nodded his understanding without letting go of Blair's bed.
"If he's your friend, you have to let go." The doctor put a hand on Jim's chest and started to press. Behind him, one security guard had his arm and another pulled his belt.
"I can't--" Jim struggled to explain but he couldn't say more than those two words. He couldn't leave his guide, especially not after shooting him. Jim felt his legs to start to tremble as he finally admitted that truth, even though it was only in the silence of his own mind. He'd shot his guide. He'd shot Blair. Jim set his jaw and pushed back against the doctor who tried to separate him from Blair.
"You have to let go or you're going to kill him. He needs surgery!"
Fear shot through Jim. He couldn't kill his guide. Jim let go of the gurney, and the hands behind him didn't have time to adjust so all three of them went crashing back into a wall, sending a knot of silver cords flying off a cart and to the ground. "Save him," Jim snapped as he pulled himself out of the tangle of arms and legs where the guards still struggled to get to their feet. One security guard had landed on his back on some machine, and now he slid off. The second guard closed on Jim, grabbing his arm while Jim watched the staff rush Blair from the room.
The scent of Blair's blood hung heavy in the room, a thick, bitter smell that made Jim want to vomit. Instead he woodenly followed the pulls on his arms as the guard herded him back out to the waiting area.
"Jim!" Simon's voice called, but Jim didn't react as he focused his hearing on the floors above them, searching for the beat that had disappeared behind concrete walls and the beeping of machines and the sounds of hundreds of other hearts steadily pounding.
The security guards and Simon exchanged information, but Jim didn't bother listening. He focused on the sound of his own heartbeat as he tried to center himself. People slammed past him, running down the hall toward the double doors where another ambulance had pulled up.
Several nurses hurried into the room next to where Blair had just been, pulling supplies out of drawers. Jim only realized who they had brought when the smell hit him. He'd always thought blood smelled pretty much like blood; however, he knew this exact scent. He'd smelled it on the hot sidewalk outside of Rainier. Paramedics rushed the stretcher past Jim; Kelly was awake and moaning in pain as she tried to reach her mangled arm.
Growling, Jim stepped forward, only to find Simon's enormous bulk standing in front of him.
"Stand down, detective," Simon ordered. His voice was low and deadly serious, and Jim balanced between listening to a man who was his friend and boss and pushing past Simon to rip Kelly apart limb from limb. "Stand down," Simon repeated, and Jim could feel the murderous rage slip back down into the shadows. He still wanted to kill her, but he turned his back on the room where the doctors huddled over her arm. If the hospital were an army or USSP unit with trauma doctors who'd saw wounds like that every day, she might have a chance. As it was, Jim was fairly sure his bullet had shattered the arm beyond repair. He couldn't bring himself to care at all.
"Detective, I need your gun. It's standard procedure," Simon hurried to point out as Jim spun on him. Jim's eyes darted to the trauma room when Kelly screamed out in pain, and then he nodded before pulling out his weapon and handing it over to Simon.
"I can't leave until I know Blair's okay," Jim said in a strangled voice. Procedure would demand that he go to the station and fill out a report now, but Jim would rather quit the damn force than walk out of the hospital without his guide.
"I'll take a preliminary report verbally, you can do the paperwork later. Jim, I need to know what happened out there." Simon's voice, which usually sounded decisive or angry or just commanding, now sounded tired. Jim rubbed his hand over his face and backed up to one of the hard yellow chairs the hospital used to torture waiting family members. He just dropped into the plastic as he legs gave out. There were nicer waiting lounges upstairs, but Jim didn't even know what floor they'd taken Blair to. Besides, the security guards hovered nearby, so he didn't think he'd make it any farther into the hospital without having to commit an assault.
"This woman had pulled a gun on Blair and was trying to get him off campus. Blair tried talking her down, but she just got more worked up about Blair belonging to her. Her words suggested that she would kill him before letting him go, so as she pushed him toward the car, I took a shot at her arm. Somehow I managed to shoot both of them."
Jim locked his jaw against any more words coming out. He'd shot his partner, and now Simon knew. Even worse, Kelly was awake and in no danger of dying, while the bullet had gone in just left of Blair's backbone and come out his side. The bullet had definitely perforated the colon, and Jim's mind kept replaying his medic training from his USSP days. That sort of injury would flood Blair's body with toxins that could affect every system in his body.
"Jim," Simon said in a tone that made it clear he'd said the name more than once. Jim looked up. "Jim, he's going to be fine. You did what you had to, and from Wilke's description, you went by the book."
"What?"
"Wilke called in the minute you stopped Blair and this woman. He gave a second by second report, which is good because he seems to have disappeared now. At least we have the recording, so you're in the clear."
"Simon," Jim struggled to even put words together. His hearing warbled as if he were underwater, and he gripped the arms of his chair just to keep himself from flying past the security guards and searching every inch of the hospital for Blair. "I don't give a fuck about IA or the USSP. I shot Blair."
"You saved Blair from a nutcase," Simon corrected him. "You're lucky you were there to stop him."
"Shit. It wasn't luck," Jim cursed. "Someone needs to get over to Teller and drive him here."
"Teller? What?" Simon sat down in the seat next to Jim.
"Teller warned me that things were going wrong at Rainier. I don't need him having a guilt trip and overdosing or trying to drive here stoned," Jim paused, "again," he added.
"You're worried about Teller?" Simon asked, doubt dripping from his tone.
"I'm worried about Blair's best friend. I'm worried about Blair waking up and dealing with Teller having done something more stupid that usual. Simon…" Jim let his voice trail off. He wasn't good with begging.
"Fine." Simon grabbed his cell phone. "I'll have some uniforms track him down and give him a ride over here."
Jim closed his eyes, focusing on staying in his seat as his body sent jolt after jolt of adrenaline through him. His fingers trembled with the force of hanging on to the chair, and Jim concentrated on that physical sensation instead of the terror that caused his muscles to shake. He'd shot his guide. He just prayed he hadn't lost his guide. Focusing on the clicking keys as the receptionist entered information into her computer, Jim allowed himself to zone.
"Captain Ellison," a voice called. Jim was on his feet and ready to salute before he caught himself. Browning. Jim frowned at the USSP major and sat back down. His ears popped and the room went silent as hearing went off line. Unfortunately, a second pop brought hearing back on line and set so high that Jim felt like he was sitting in the center of a megaphone.
"—with Mr. Sandburg." Browning's voice bellowed. Jim flinched back away from the noise; however, he couldn't get away. The receptionist's typing fingers crashed against the keyboard, a wheel screeched out its protest on some squeaky cart, the room echoed with heartbeats.
Jim shook his head, squinting his eyes tightly closed as he struggled to center his dial. The typing dulled and the heartbeats disappeared as he forced hearing closer to something normal. A man Jim didn't know appeared in front of him, squatting down and taking Jim's wrist in his hand to take a pulse.
"Sentinel, how long have the senses been spiking?" the man asked. He was younger, his blond hair and bright blue eyes focused on Jim.
"I… since they brought Blair in," Jim answered.
"Blair?" the doctor twisted around and looked behind him, and Jim noticed General Karn standing a few feet away from Major Browning. Jim let his eyes fall closed as his worst nightmare came to life. He closed his free hand around the arm of the chair and prayed they wouldn't try to order him out of the hospital. He couldn't go. And when they figured out how little control he had over instincts that drove him to find Blair… well, Jim remembered the feeling of tranquilizer darts hitting his skin, the coldness radiating out in tendrils that reached deep into muscles.
"Blair is Jim's guide," Simon offered. He hadn't even finished before Browning started.
"Mr. Sandburg is a researcher. And I am growing increasingly concerned about his relationship with his subject, namely Captain Ellison." Browning took an aggressive step forward.
"Major, I think the doctor is more interested in Captain Ellison's views than any political grandstanding," Karn broke in. Jim glanced up at the general who had pressed his lips together tightly.
"I am more concerned about a well-intentioned young man seriously damaging Captain Ellison. I'm afraid the captain's judgment really can't be trusted," Major Browning said, his words sliding out like an oil spill.
"My judgment is fine," Jim objected. Ignoring the doctor who still knelt on the floor in front of him, Jim pushed himself up and faced Browning with every bit of control he had left.
"And is that why you shot someone you viewed as a guide?" Browning asked coldly. "Of course, given your previous record, I shouldn't be surprised. I did warn Mr. Sandburg that you did not deserve either his respect or his trust. I think you have proved my point."
Jim stared coldly at the major, not answering since he really didn't have an answer. Any attempt he made to justify the shooting would only sound like an excuse, and the cold truth would still stand, unchanged and naked, in the middle of the room: he shot Blair.
"Detective Ellison acted to save a civilian member of the department," Simon broke in, stepping out from behind General Karn to stand next to Jim. Never before had Jim been so relieved to have someone stand next to him. Now the doctor stood up.
"I can't say I care about any of this. Sentinel Ellison is suffering classic anxiety with sensory spikes and an elevated heart rate. Someone needs to find out where his—" the doctor stopped and glanced at Major Browning, "where Mr. Sandburg is."
For a moment everyone stood still. Jim glanced over and noticed Wilke with his pinched face and the tall USSP officer who had conducted painful tests on him in the station—Cohn. Teller stood in a far corner, watching with wide eyes, and a number of uniformed Cascade police and USSP officers stood around the edges of the room. As he watched, Ricardo and Brown and Rafe started pushing through the USSP officers to reach them. Even those poor souls who just needed stitches or who were waiting for loved ones watched in open curiosity as the battle lines formed.
Teller stepped forward. "He's on the fourth floor, in surgery, but the desk said that no one is allowed on the surgical floor and that we should wait here until they know which floor he'll be sent to for recovery." Charlie stopped near the outer ring of uniforms, and Jim could smell the distress rolling from him.
"That isn't an option in this case," the doctor said as he left the group to go confront the nurse at the check in station.
"Is he?" Charlie stopped. Jim flinched at the pain there. He'd caused that.
"The bullet that shattered Kelly's arm bounced off the bone and went in through Blair's back. He's hurt," Jim admitted. He stopped, fully prepared to take whatever anger Teller wanted to unleash on him. Instead the man sank into a chair and dropped his chin until it rested on his chest.
"I told him to stop hanging with the psychos," he said softly. "Dude, you have no idea how nuts she was. She would have killed him." Charlie looked up, and Jim could see the forgiveness.
"I shot him," Jim said, ignoring Simon and Karn and Browning and even his fellow detectives. Charlie shook his head.
"You shot psycho bitch from hell. The universe turned the bullet. If Blair were here, he'd totally be spouting some bullshit about things happening the way they needed to happen to balance the universe." Charlie's words made Jim smile. That did sound like Blair. "Bullshit. It's just fucking bad luck," Charlie finished.
Jim opened his mouth to reassure Charlie even though his own guts had knotted in fear that their luck would turn even worse. Men died from wounds like Blair's; Jim had seen that too often to ignore the truth. Instead the doctor reappeared, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him toward the elevators.
"Sentinel, let's go check on your guide."
Jim forgot Charlie and Karn and the entire disaster waiting to blow up into a battle royale as the Cascade police faced off against the USSP. As the doctor let him toward the elevator, Jim finally lost control of the little voice in his head that had whispered 'mine' ever since he had let go of the gurney and let the staff take his guide away from him. Covering the distance with long strides, he jammed at the elevator button without even paying attention to the doctor now trailing behind him.
Jim/Blair
Guidelines Power Play
Okay, let's just call this the "next" chapter. I'm going to do a little rearranging of chapter breaks when I'm done. However, here we have Jim at the hospital.
Jim held Blair's hand even as the paramedics slid the stretcher out of the ambulance. The only thing that reassured him was the steady thrump of Blair's heart, which he could feel as blood pumped through the limp arm he held in his hands. Unfortunately, that same motion of Blair's heart continued to pump blood out his back. The dressing the paramedics had put over the entry wound had soaked up so much blood that it looked like some bloated organ that had slipped out of Blair's body. Jim dialed down scent until the sharp odor of Blair's blood didn't invade his lungs with every breath.
The paramedics got the stretcher wheels extended and started running; Jim ran beside them. Even as he held on to Blair's warm fingers, he could feel Rob's hand clutching at him as he cried out in pain at every touch. Part of Jim, the logical part, said that he should walk away. He ordered himself to let go of Blair and let the paramedics do their work. But another part of him refused. Even as doctors rushed to Blair's side, Jim refused to move.
"Get him out of here," a voice ordered in the middle of all of the medical jargon: calls for blood typing and shouted numbers that measured Blair's life. Jim held on.
"Sir, you need to move back and let us do our job."
Jim ignored the tugging at his arm as a small, blonde woman fought to get him away from his guide. Dimly, Jim heard the call for security. Jim tried. He tried to let go before someone came and ripped his guide away from him. He tried to let go before he made a fool of himself once again. He tried to move out of their way. He failed.
Now the doctors struggled to move Blair from the stretcher to table, and Jim realized he was the reason they couldn't. Shrugging off the nurse's grasping hands, Jim let go of Blair only to push his way to the opposite side of the table so that he could grab Blair again.
"Security, get him out of here! If you want to help your friend, get out of our way and let us work." Jim recognized the danger in the first statement and the logic in the second, but he held on. Nurses rushed around him hooking IV's into needles and calling out readings as they attached more machines to Blair. One doctor stayed near Blair's head, working tubes and prying Blair's eyes open for inspection. The other doctor poked and prodded at the open gun shot wound until Blair moaned in pain, even though he was unconscious.
"Hang on, Chief," Jim whispered. Stronger hands pulled at him now, and Jim grabbed the side of Blair's bed to keep from getting pulled away. He wouldn't leave Blair. He wouldn't fail Blair the way he'd failed Rob.
Jim continued whispering reassurances to Blair even as new hands, stronger hands, now yanked at him with far more strength. Blair's entire bed shook with the force of each pull.
"We have to get him up to surgery."
Jim nearly flinched back when a doctor's face appeared right in front of him. The doctor had a plastic shield over his face, one that had smudges of Blair's blood across the left side. Jim blinked, and then he nodded his understanding without letting go of Blair's bed.
"If he's your friend, you have to let go." The doctor put a hand on Jim's chest and started to press. Behind him, one security guard had his arm and another pulled his belt.
"I can't--" Jim struggled to explain but he couldn't say more than those two words. He couldn't leave his guide, especially not after shooting him. Jim felt his legs to start to tremble as he finally admitted that truth, even though it was only in the silence of his own mind. He'd shot his guide. He'd shot Blair. Jim set his jaw and pushed back against the doctor who tried to separate him from Blair.
"You have to let go or you're going to kill him. He needs surgery!"
Fear shot through Jim. He couldn't kill his guide. Jim let go of the gurney, and the hands behind him didn't have time to adjust so all three of them went crashing back into a wall, sending a knot of silver cords flying off a cart and to the ground. "Save him," Jim snapped as he pulled himself out of the tangle of arms and legs where the guards still struggled to get to their feet. One security guard had landed on his back on some machine, and now he slid off. The second guard closed on Jim, grabbing his arm while Jim watched the staff rush Blair from the room.
The scent of Blair's blood hung heavy in the room, a thick, bitter smell that made Jim want to vomit. Instead he woodenly followed the pulls on his arms as the guard herded him back out to the waiting area.
"Jim!" Simon's voice called, but Jim didn't react as he focused his hearing on the floors above them, searching for the beat that had disappeared behind concrete walls and the beeping of machines and the sounds of hundreds of other hearts steadily pounding.
The security guards and Simon exchanged information, but Jim didn't bother listening. He focused on the sound of his own heartbeat as he tried to center himself. People slammed past him, running down the hall toward the double doors where another ambulance had pulled up.
Several nurses hurried into the room next to where Blair had just been, pulling supplies out of drawers. Jim only realized who they had brought when the smell hit him. He'd always thought blood smelled pretty much like blood; however, he knew this exact scent. He'd smelled it on the hot sidewalk outside of Rainier. Paramedics rushed the stretcher past Jim; Kelly was awake and moaning in pain as she tried to reach her mangled arm.
Growling, Jim stepped forward, only to find Simon's enormous bulk standing in front of him.
"Stand down, detective," Simon ordered. His voice was low and deadly serious, and Jim balanced between listening to a man who was his friend and boss and pushing past Simon to rip Kelly apart limb from limb. "Stand down," Simon repeated, and Jim could feel the murderous rage slip back down into the shadows. He still wanted to kill her, but he turned his back on the room where the doctors huddled over her arm. If the hospital were an army or USSP unit with trauma doctors who'd saw wounds like that every day, she might have a chance. As it was, Jim was fairly sure his bullet had shattered the arm beyond repair. He couldn't bring himself to care at all.
"Detective, I need your gun. It's standard procedure," Simon hurried to point out as Jim spun on him. Jim's eyes darted to the trauma room when Kelly screamed out in pain, and then he nodded before pulling out his weapon and handing it over to Simon.
"I can't leave until I know Blair's okay," Jim said in a strangled voice. Procedure would demand that he go to the station and fill out a report now, but Jim would rather quit the damn force than walk out of the hospital without his guide.
"I'll take a preliminary report verbally, you can do the paperwork later. Jim, I need to know what happened out there." Simon's voice, which usually sounded decisive or angry or just commanding, now sounded tired. Jim rubbed his hand over his face and backed up to one of the hard yellow chairs the hospital used to torture waiting family members. He just dropped into the plastic as he legs gave out. There were nicer waiting lounges upstairs, but Jim didn't even know what floor they'd taken Blair to. Besides, the security guards hovered nearby, so he didn't think he'd make it any farther into the hospital without having to commit an assault.
"This woman had pulled a gun on Blair and was trying to get him off campus. Blair tried talking her down, but she just got more worked up about Blair belonging to her. Her words suggested that she would kill him before letting him go, so as she pushed him toward the car, I took a shot at her arm. Somehow I managed to shoot both of them."
Jim locked his jaw against any more words coming out. He'd shot his partner, and now Simon knew. Even worse, Kelly was awake and in no danger of dying, while the bullet had gone in just left of Blair's backbone and come out his side. The bullet had definitely perforated the colon, and Jim's mind kept replaying his medic training from his USSP days. That sort of injury would flood Blair's body with toxins that could affect every system in his body.
"Jim," Simon said in a tone that made it clear he'd said the name more than once. Jim looked up. "Jim, he's going to be fine. You did what you had to, and from Wilke's description, you went by the book."
"What?"
"Wilke called in the minute you stopped Blair and this woman. He gave a second by second report, which is good because he seems to have disappeared now. At least we have the recording, so you're in the clear."
"Simon," Jim struggled to even put words together. His hearing warbled as if he were underwater, and he gripped the arms of his chair just to keep himself from flying past the security guards and searching every inch of the hospital for Blair. "I don't give a fuck about IA or the USSP. I shot Blair."
"You saved Blair from a nutcase," Simon corrected him. "You're lucky you were there to stop him."
"Shit. It wasn't luck," Jim cursed. "Someone needs to get over to Teller and drive him here."
"Teller? What?" Simon sat down in the seat next to Jim.
"Teller warned me that things were going wrong at Rainier. I don't need him having a guilt trip and overdosing or trying to drive here stoned," Jim paused, "again," he added.
"You're worried about Teller?" Simon asked, doubt dripping from his tone.
"I'm worried about Blair's best friend. I'm worried about Blair waking up and dealing with Teller having done something more stupid that usual. Simon…" Jim let his voice trail off. He wasn't good with begging.
"Fine." Simon grabbed his cell phone. "I'll have some uniforms track him down and give him a ride over here."
Jim closed his eyes, focusing on staying in his seat as his body sent jolt after jolt of adrenaline through him. His fingers trembled with the force of hanging on to the chair, and Jim concentrated on that physical sensation instead of the terror that caused his muscles to shake. He'd shot his guide. He just prayed he hadn't lost his guide. Focusing on the clicking keys as the receptionist entered information into her computer, Jim allowed himself to zone.
"Captain Ellison," a voice called. Jim was on his feet and ready to salute before he caught himself. Browning. Jim frowned at the USSP major and sat back down. His ears popped and the room went silent as hearing went off line. Unfortunately, a second pop brought hearing back on line and set so high that Jim felt like he was sitting in the center of a megaphone.
"—with Mr. Sandburg." Browning's voice bellowed. Jim flinched back away from the noise; however, he couldn't get away. The receptionist's typing fingers crashed against the keyboard, a wheel screeched out its protest on some squeaky cart, the room echoed with heartbeats.
Jim shook his head, squinting his eyes tightly closed as he struggled to center his dial. The typing dulled and the heartbeats disappeared as he forced hearing closer to something normal. A man Jim didn't know appeared in front of him, squatting down and taking Jim's wrist in his hand to take a pulse.
"Sentinel, how long have the senses been spiking?" the man asked. He was younger, his blond hair and bright blue eyes focused on Jim.
"I… since they brought Blair in," Jim answered.
"Blair?" the doctor twisted around and looked behind him, and Jim noticed General Karn standing a few feet away from Major Browning. Jim let his eyes fall closed as his worst nightmare came to life. He closed his free hand around the arm of the chair and prayed they wouldn't try to order him out of the hospital. He couldn't go. And when they figured out how little control he had over instincts that drove him to find Blair… well, Jim remembered the feeling of tranquilizer darts hitting his skin, the coldness radiating out in tendrils that reached deep into muscles.
"Blair is Jim's guide," Simon offered. He hadn't even finished before Browning started.
"Mr. Sandburg is a researcher. And I am growing increasingly concerned about his relationship with his subject, namely Captain Ellison." Browning took an aggressive step forward.
"Major, I think the doctor is more interested in Captain Ellison's views than any political grandstanding," Karn broke in. Jim glanced up at the general who had pressed his lips together tightly.
"I am more concerned about a well-intentioned young man seriously damaging Captain Ellison. I'm afraid the captain's judgment really can't be trusted," Major Browning said, his words sliding out like an oil spill.
"My judgment is fine," Jim objected. Ignoring the doctor who still knelt on the floor in front of him, Jim pushed himself up and faced Browning with every bit of control he had left.
"And is that why you shot someone you viewed as a guide?" Browning asked coldly. "Of course, given your previous record, I shouldn't be surprised. I did warn Mr. Sandburg that you did not deserve either his respect or his trust. I think you have proved my point."
Jim stared coldly at the major, not answering since he really didn't have an answer. Any attempt he made to justify the shooting would only sound like an excuse, and the cold truth would still stand, unchanged and naked, in the middle of the room: he shot Blair.
"Detective Ellison acted to save a civilian member of the department," Simon broke in, stepping out from behind General Karn to stand next to Jim. Never before had Jim been so relieved to have someone stand next to him. Now the doctor stood up.
"I can't say I care about any of this. Sentinel Ellison is suffering classic anxiety with sensory spikes and an elevated heart rate. Someone needs to find out where his—" the doctor stopped and glanced at Major Browning, "where Mr. Sandburg is."
For a moment everyone stood still. Jim glanced over and noticed Wilke with his pinched face and the tall USSP officer who had conducted painful tests on him in the station—Cohn. Teller stood in a far corner, watching with wide eyes, and a number of uniformed Cascade police and USSP officers stood around the edges of the room. As he watched, Ricardo and Brown and Rafe started pushing through the USSP officers to reach them. Even those poor souls who just needed stitches or who were waiting for loved ones watched in open curiosity as the battle lines formed.
Teller stepped forward. "He's on the fourth floor, in surgery, but the desk said that no one is allowed on the surgical floor and that we should wait here until they know which floor he'll be sent to for recovery." Charlie stopped near the outer ring of uniforms, and Jim could smell the distress rolling from him.
"That isn't an option in this case," the doctor said as he left the group to go confront the nurse at the check in station.
"Is he?" Charlie stopped. Jim flinched at the pain there. He'd caused that.
"The bullet that shattered Kelly's arm bounced off the bone and went in through Blair's back. He's hurt," Jim admitted. He stopped, fully prepared to take whatever anger Teller wanted to unleash on him. Instead the man sank into a chair and dropped his chin until it rested on his chest.
"I told him to stop hanging with the psychos," he said softly. "Dude, you have no idea how nuts she was. She would have killed him." Charlie looked up, and Jim could see the forgiveness.
"I shot him," Jim said, ignoring Simon and Karn and Browning and even his fellow detectives. Charlie shook his head.
"You shot psycho bitch from hell. The universe turned the bullet. If Blair were here, he'd totally be spouting some bullshit about things happening the way they needed to happen to balance the universe." Charlie's words made Jim smile. That did sound like Blair. "Bullshit. It's just fucking bad luck," Charlie finished.
Jim opened his mouth to reassure Charlie even though his own guts had knotted in fear that their luck would turn even worse. Men died from wounds like Blair's; Jim had seen that too often to ignore the truth. Instead the doctor reappeared, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him toward the elevators.
"Sentinel, let's go check on your guide."
Jim forgot Charlie and Karn and the entire disaster waiting to blow up into a battle royale as the Cascade police faced off against the USSP. As the doctor let him toward the elevator, Jim finally lost control of the little voice in his head that had whispered 'mine' ever since he had let go of the gurney and let the staff take his guide away from him. Covering the distance with long strides, he jammed at the elevator button without even paying attention to the doctor now trailing behind him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-08-28 12:57 am (UTC)Julia, and so soon!
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Date: 2006-08-28 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-08-28 03:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-08-28 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-29 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 06:54 am (UTC)Very gripping. Jim's emotional reaction is so visceral and vivid.
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Date: 2006-08-29 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 06:59 am (UTC)Good for Simon and the rest, squaring up in defence of their own. And thank goodness for sensible doctors, in the face of oblivious macho power plays.
Thank you.
btw, which software were you using with the microphone? I had ViaVoice on my old computer, because it ran windows 98. But I have Dragon on this new one. It seems better, although I have only used it once.
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Date: 2006-08-29 02:28 am (UTC)And I'm using Dragon Dictate. It has glitches, but not too bad. ViaVoice was a pain in the ass!
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Date: 2006-08-28 07:26 am (UTC)Now go on Sentinel, go find your Guide!
That's it, I really must close down my computer now. At least I can go away knowing at least this cliffhanger is more or less resolved!
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Date: 2006-08-29 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 11:31 am (UTC)You've set yourself a really tough job, integrating all the various factions and power players and getting them to the same point in the story for their face-off. All we need now is for the Chancellor to face off the USSP for daring to try to take control of her school away from her. And as "protective" as the USSP is supposedly feeling towards Blair, I'm wondering what's going to happen to Kelly?
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Date: 2006-08-29 02:17 am (UTC)And yep, everyone is starting to come together now.
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Date: 2006-08-31 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-02 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-01 07:49 am (UTC)By the way, whatever happened to that sentinel Blair accidentally sent into overload [beginning chapters, who went into bonding off Blair's scent?]
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Date: 2006-09-02 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-01 11:13 pm (UTC)XXXOOO
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Date: 2006-09-02 06:51 pm (UTC)