Reconstruction
by Laura F. Schomberg
"A man can be destroyed but not defeated."
-- Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea (1952)
Naomi listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line, impatiently tapping her finger against the desk. She was about to hang up when the phone was finally answered.
"Good afternoon. St. Sebastian's Monastery. This is Brother Jeremy. How may I help you?"
"Brother Jeremy, this is Naomi Sandburg."
"Sister Naomi! It's so good to hear your voice again. How have you been? Do you want to talk to Brother Blair?"
"Fine. No, I'd like to talk to Jim Ellison please."
"I'm sorry. He left early this morning to return to Cascade."
Naomi sighed. "May I talk to Brother Marcus, then?"
"Certainly. If you'll wait a few minutes I'll get him."
Her finger started tapping again on the table as she waited for Brother Marcus. Patience might be a virtue but at the moment she had little to spare. She'd done nothing but worry about Blair ever since Jim called her two weeks ago. Normally she could wait until her son decided to confide in her but that usually took only a day or two, not two weeks or more. She was certain that whatever had happened to her son had occurred some time ago. She was equally certain that Jim had not told her the whole truth when she talked to him on the phone. At the time, though, she'd been willing to wait. Not anymore. If Blair wasn't ready to talk to her maybe someone else would.
"Naomi? It's been a long time."
"Hi, Jackie. How have you been?"
"I've been good. I take it you're not calling to talk over old times, though."
"No. I'm worried about my son. How is he?"
"He's doing better than he was when he first got here."
Naomi took a deep breath. "Do you know what happened to him?"
She heard a sigh over the line then Brother Marcus said, "Not the details, no."
"Please, Jackie, tell me what happened."
"I can't Naomi. As much as I want to, I can't. You'll have to talk to Blair."
"He usually calls me and tells me what's wrong. He hasn't called me, Jackie. Do you at least know why?"
"No, but I can guess. He's suffered a very traumatic experience, Naomi. It'll take time for him to move past it."
"What can I do? How can I help him?"
"Be there for him when he's ready to talk to you."
"I will." Naomi decided it was time to leave the commune. "How much longer will he be there?"
"A week, maybe two."
"That gives me time to find a place in Cascade."
"Naomi, you know Blair means the world to me. If I could tell you more I would."
"I know, Jackie. Thanks for being there for him."
"I could do no less."
************
Jim Ellison found he could no longer ignore the feelings of foreboding that had been worrying him all day. He didn't believe in premonitions, he left that to his partner, but this alarm demanded his attention. It caused his foot to press harder on the gas pedal until the street lamps left light trails in his wake. He managed to swing the car around, narrowly avoiding the chain that had been thrown up across the parking lot entrance. Before he had a chance to gun his engine and head for the other exit, he saw his roommate, his best friend, Blair Sandburg, leave the Anthropology building.
Jim flashed his lights, honked his horn, and shouted at his friend to no avail. Blair casually climbed into his car and drove toward the exit at the other end of the lot. By the time Jim got around to the other side, Blair was gone. Unable to find him, Jim searched frantically for his partner until he forced himself to calm down and practice the techniques Blair had taught him. Once his panic had been quelled, Jim heard the distinct sound of Blair's Corvair. It was mingled with a new sound, one that made him wish he'd insisted on taking Blair to the university. It was the sound of metal against metal. A sound that shouldn't be associated with any car.
He pressed down hard on the gas but had to ease off when the roar of his engine covered the sound of Blair's car. He tried to sort through the sounds, to filter the SUV's noise from the Corvair's but was too easily distracted by his overwhelming sense of urgency. Instead, he was forced to keep the vehicle's speed down while he tracked Blair's car.
The sight of the Corvair ahead of him did nothing to ease his anxiety. The sound of the car's engine dying met his ears and he tracked the car to the curb. No longer needing to monitor the car through his hearing, he pressed down on the gas but his car refused to increase it's sluggish speed. He was too far away to get Blair's attention as a tall black prostitute walked over to him. His car slowly pulled closer as the two examined Blair's engine, closed the hood, and then started to walk away.
His own car stalled as it pulled along side the Corvair. Jim slammed it into park and rushed out. As his feet hit the pavement, he saw four faceless men jump out of a black alley and drag off Blair and the prostitute. He took one step and froze, unable to move further ahead. No matter how hard he tried, his feet remained locked in place.
He heard Blair scream in pain. Unable to move, he tried to see what was happening but his eyes refused to penetrate the void.
"No! Stop it!"
Desperate to help Blair anyway he could, Jim tried to move back to his car. He planned to call for help but his feet couldn't be pulled away from the pavement. He heard flesh strike flesh and clothing rip. Unable to help, he sank to the ground, covering his ears.
He heard another scream, filled with pain and despair.
************
Jim jerked awake, the memory of Blair's screams echoing in his head. His hand was already closing over his gun when he realized he'd been dreaming. He ran a shaky hand over his short hair before glancing at his clock. Four a.m. No point in going back to bed now. He knew what awaited him in his sleep anyway. He didn't want to face that dream again tonight.
He stripped off his boxers before heading down to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, waiting until the water was as hot as his skin could take it before stepping into the stall. Leisurely, he lathered his body, trying to dispel the lingering feelings of panic. He massaged shampoo into his hair. Leaning into the spray, he let the water wash away the lather. Only some of the tension created by the nightmare went with the soap.
He finally got out of the shower, long after the water had turned cold. He dried off, hung up the towel, and went upstairs to dress. On his way back down the stairs, he started a mental list of things to do today. It wasn't long. All he had to do today was work. Checking the time, he realized he would be at the station shortly after five if he left now.
"Not much else to do," he said. He grabbed his keys and jacket and went out the door.
************
"How long have you been here?"
Jim looked up from the paperwork he'd been pushing around his desk. Simon stood in front of him, hands on his hips, waiting for an answer.
Jim glanced at the clock on the wall. "A little over two hours."
Simon closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Did you eat breakfast?"
"No."
"Come on."
"Simon, I've got all this paperwork to do."
The captain's eyebrows arched as he looked back at Jim's desk. "Doesn't look like you've gotten much done, Jim. Although the piles do look neater."
Jim shrugged.
"Breakfast, Jim. Now."
"Yes sir." He followed Simon to the elevator.
Once out of the building, they walked to a small diner across the street. They sat at a table by the window and ordered their food. Idle conversation filled the time until their orders arrived.
"Sandburg's coming back tomorrow?" Simon asked after the waitress had placed their breakfasts on the table and left.
Jim picked up a fork and pushed his eggs around. "Yeah. I'm driving to the monastery tomorrow."
"They won't bite you."
"What?" Jim asked, looking at Simon.
"The eggs." He pointed to Jim's plate with his fork. "They won't bite you. Or are you trying to organize them by how yellow each bit is?"
Jim put his fork down, picked up his coffee and took a sip. "I'm just not very hungry, Simon."
Simon put his own fork down. Putting his elbows on either side of his plate, he laced his fingers together and leaned toward Jim. "How much sleep did you get last night?"
"Enough."
"Jim."
The detective had known Simon long enough to hear the warning in his voice others might have missed. "A few hours."
"Same dream?"
"Same nightmare." He leaned back against the chair and rubbed his hands over his face.
"Have you talked to Dr. Nelson about this?"
"Nelson is Blair's psychiatrist. Not mine. I wasn't raped. I don't need one."
"Jim, you need to talk to someone. You weren't raped but you've been affected by what happened to Blair."
"I'll be fine."
"Jim," Simon said. "You're not fine now. If I have to I'll make it an order. If you don't want to talk to a civilian then arrange an appointment with the precinct psychologist."
Jim nodded.
************
Blair carefully brushed the cleaning fluid across a small section of the stained glass window. He'd been helping Brother Marcus restore the windows from a nearby church in the two weeks since Jim had left the monastery. An arsonist had done a clumsy job of torching the church, leaving it standing virtually intact but causing immense smoke damage, particularly to the delicate stained glass windows. Each individual piece had to be cleaned by hand. It was a time consuming process, one that occupied his mind as well as his hands. The first day had been difficult, his own insecurities insisting on making themselves known, but as each day passed, he found it easier to push those feelings aside. Easier to carry on.
He moved on to another section, allowing the fluid to work into the soot before cleaning it off. He heard someone else walk into the building and his body tensed, his hand shaking as he pulled it way from the glass. He took a slow, deep breath, held it briefly then exhaled. When he turned to look at the monk in the doorway his tremors were gone and he'd regained control of his fear.
"Brother Jeremy," he said, relaxing even further. Beside him Brother Marcus stepped away from his bench, worry showing clearly in his eyes.
"Brother Blair," the Abbot said, "I understand you're leaving tomorrow."
Blair nodded.
"You're welcome to stay," Brother Marcus said.
Brother Jeremy shot the other monk a frown but added, "For as long as you need. No one will disturb your peace." Normally, seeing the abbot's irritation with someone for saying what he'd planned to say would have brought a smile to the anthropologist's face, but not today.
"I know, Abbot," Blair said. "But I have to go back to work."
"I'm sure the University will understand if you wanted to take more time," Brother Marcus said.
"Not if they don't know what happened." Blair took another deep breath. He looked at both men before turning away, saying, "Besides, if I don't go back now I may never go back."
Brother Jeremy nodded. "You're always welcome here."
"I know."
Brother Jeremy nodded once more then said, "They'll be ringing for dinner soon." He turned and walked out of the building.
Blair tried not to flinch when Brother Marcus placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're ready to go back?" the older man asked.
"No," he answered.
Brother Marcus patted his shoulder before moving back to the window he was cleaning. "We should clean this up. If we're late for supper there will be nothing but crumbs."
Blair pulled a brush out of a pail of clean water and cleared off the solvent on the glass. As he straightened up his work area he wondered if he'd be able to face the people at the university. The only thing that convinced him he could was the knowledge that they wouldn't know the true story of what happened.
************
Jim sat in his car, waiting for the monastery bus. He had Brother Jeremy's permission to drive up to the main building but Blair wanted to use the traditional transportation. Jim wasn't sure if Blair was taking the bus to make things seem more normal or to delay seeing him. Maybe both. His fingers started drumming on the steering wheel. A few minutes later he got out of the car and began pacing beside it.
He kept his hearing tuned down, not wanting to listen to the bus for several minutes before it arrived. His back was to the bus when it came around the bend, and he didn't know it was approaching until the driver honked the horn. He turned around, unable to suppress the grin that threatened to split his face. Spotting Brother Marcus behind the wheel, he waved as he walked to the other side of the road.
The bus came to a stop and Brother Marcus opened the door. Jim watched Blair collect his things and leave the bus, followed by the monk.
"Hello, Brother Marcus. Blair," Jim said.
"It's good to see you again, Detective Ellison," Brother Marcus said.
"Hi, Jim."
Jim paused unsure what to do next. "You know, Chief, I like to hug good friends I haven't seen in a while."
Blair nodded. "So I've noticed."
"Can I hug you?"
His request was greeted with a slight smile and a sudden, surprised outburst of air. "Okay."
Jim stepped forward and enfolded the smaller man in his arms. He patted Blair on the back several times, wanting to reassure himself the young man was really with him. Although he'd never admit it to anyone, his nightmare's had made him doubt he'd ever see Blair again. He squeezed his friend a little tighter, feeling a few bones that were still too close to the skin, before finally releasing his hold on Blair.
"I didn't know we were such good friends," Blair said when he stepped back, a slight smile curving his lips.
"You're my best friend, Blair. Don't ever forget that."
Blair brushed his hair back from his face. A smile tickled at the side of his mouth. "It's only been two weeks, Jim."
"Just two?" Jim shrugged. "Seems like longer."
"Brother Blair, I leave you in the good hands of Brother Jim," the portly monk said.
He started to walk away when Blair stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for everything, Brother Marcus."
"You're welcome anytime you need to come back," he replied, patting the hand on his shoulder. Turning to Jim, he added, "Both of you are."
"Thanks, Brother Marcus," Jim said.
The monk stepped into the bus before he turned around and said, "You *will* write this time, Brother Blair, won't you?"
Blair smiled. "Of course."
"Good," he said, nodding. "Who else can I live vicariously through?"
************
"How have you been?" Jim asked as he drove west toward Cascade.
"Fine, Jim," Blair said as he rummaged in his backpack.
"When did you get the cast off?"
"Marcus took me into town earlier this week. The doctor there took it off. He said it was fine." Blair found the notebook he was looking for and a pen. He closed the pack, set it on the floor at his feet, put on his glasses, and started writing in the notebook.
Jim glanced over at the younger man, suddenly at a lost for words. It was going to be a long drive and they'd already started with small talk. He wanted to find out everything the young man had done in his absence. He wanted Blair to open up to him, to tell him what had happened the night he was raped.
He glanced at Blair again. His cheeks no longer looked hollowed, but he still had dark circles under his eyes. He might have been eating more but Jim doubted Blair was sleeping any better.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked almost 20 minutes later as he steered the car onto the I-5 on-ramp.
"Making a list of things I need to do Monday."
"Don't forget you have an appointment with Dr. Nelson at three. I'll give you a lift."
Blair stopped writing and brushed the hair back from his face. "I appreciate the offer but I can take myself."
"That's not it, Chief." Jim hesitated, uncertain how Blair would take his next piece of news. "I've got an appointment with him at four. I just thought we could go together. Save gas."
Blair turned in his seat. "What's wrong, Jim? Why do you need an appointment with Nelson? Did something happen at work?"
"No, Chief, nothing happened at work," Jim said. "I've just been having some bad dreams lately. I thought it might help to talk to Nelson about them."
"You decided to talk to Nelson?"
"Yes."
"Why do I get the feeling Simon forced you to make that decision?"
Jim smiled. "Probably because he did. He's coming by tonight for a quick visit, by the way."
Blair nodded. He sat quietly watching the passing scenery for several long minutes before asking, "What are the dreams about?"
"Nothing for you to worry about."
"Then why would Simon make you go to a psychiatrist?" When Jim didn't answer, Blair added, "They were about my. . .what happened to me. Weren't they?"
Jim nodded.
Blair lapsed into silence. He turned a page in his notebook and began slowly writing again. Jim glanced at what the younger man was writing. He focused on the words but couldn't decipher Blair's handwriting.
"That's an awful lot to do on your first day back."
"I'm not doing that anymore, Jim. I'm making up anagrams."
"Anagrams?"
"You know, rearranging the letters in a word or group of words to form another word or phrase."
"I know what anagrams are, Chief. Why are you doing them now?" He saw their exit coming up and he changed lanes.
Blair sighed and then rested the pen on the paper. "It keeps me occupied. It keeps me from thinking about other things."
Jim had a pretty good idea he knew what his friend meant by 'other things.' "Do you think it'd be better to talk about these things then push them away?" He steered the car onto the exit ramp.
Blair remained silent and went back to his anagrams until they reached their building. As Jim parked, he put his things back into the backpack. Before getting out of the car he said, "It's the only way I can function right now."
************
As Jim followed Blair into the loft he asked, "Why don't we go out for dinner? My treat."
Blair shook his head. "No, thanks, man. I'm not real hungry." His eyes tracked around the loft. This was going to be hard. He knew it would be but he was hoping four weeks away would ease the dread he felt whenever he looked toward the darkened brick wall under Jim's room. He took a couple of deep, hopefully calming breaths before looking toward the wall that caused the most dread. Jim was behind him, watching his movements, waiting for him to do something. He knew that. What he couldn't figure out was if Jim was waiting for him to say something or freak out. He'd be damned if he'd let another flashback overtake him.
His eyes skimmed the wall then jerked away. He took another deep breath and tried to look at the wall again. Images tried to muscle their way through his brain. Images he didn't want to deal with, much less see. At the same moment he closed his eyes he felt Jim's hand rest lightly against his shoulder. Even though it shouldn't have been, the touch was unexpected and Blair forced himself not to wrench away. He couldn't, however, hide the tension that flowed through his body.
"You okay, Chief?"
Blair took another deep breath. "Yeah, man. I'm fine." He shook his coat and Jim's hand off his shoulder then walked over to the hooks to put it up. "I guess the trip took more out of me than I thought."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Jim said to Blair's back. "Knowing you, you waited until this morning to pack up your stuff. Then you had to take one last long walk with Marcus before you left."
Blair turned back to see Jim's grin. At first he thought his roommate was making fun of him but his quiet voice of reason was louder than the voice of self-doubt and loathing that normally filled his head. Jim was teasing him, sure. That's what made him Jim.
"Sitting in a car doing nothing but anagrams for a couple of hours can really wear you out," Jim continued.
Blair rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Jim."
"I'm serious, Chief. I've been on enough stakeouts where all I do is sit and wait for something to happen to know how draining it can be."
"I guess." Blair leaned over and picked up his backpack and suitcase. "I think I'm just going to call it a night."
"Isn't it awfully early to hit the sack?" Jim asked as he glanced at his watch. "What about Simon? He'll be here soon."
"Can you call him? Ask him to come by tomorrow?" Blair shrugged. "I didn't get too much sleep last night. I guess I was too excited about coming home." The first sentence was true but the second was a lie. Blair knew what had really kept him from sleeping. He didn't think it'd take too much detective work for Jim to figure it out, either. He was certain Jim knew he was lying. No way he could hide his pounding heartbeat from his friend's sensitive ears.
Jim nodded. He gave no indication that he didn't accept Blair at his word. "Tell you what, I'll go ahead and have Chinese delivered. If you change your mind just come out and eat up."
Blair flashed Jim a quick, small smile. "Thanks. I'll probably eat it tomorrow, though." Before Jim had a chance to respond, Blair turned and walked to his room.
He heard Jim say, "Sleep well, Chief," before he shut the door. Once it was firmly closed, he dropped his bags on the floor and raised his hands in front of his face. He watched them shake for a moment before he forced them through his hair. 'God,' he thought, 'will I ever get past this?'
************
The Chinese food came shortly after Blair went to bed and Jim had finished talking to Simon. Jim toyed with his for a few minutes, eating little, before he put it away. He was hungry when he ordered the food but his appetite quickly diminished as he listened to Blair pace in his room. He contemplated asking his friend if he wanted to watch some t.v. with him but decided against it. Before the rape, Blair would have jumped at the chance to hang out with Jim if neither could sleep. Now, though, Blair probably wouldn't admit to not being able to sleep and he wouldn't appreciate knowing Jim was checking up on him.
Jim suppressed a sigh as he sat down, pushing the power button on the remote. He flipped through several stations before turning the television off and tossing the remote to the coffee table. Nothing was on. Summer reruns always started before summer actually got there. With nothing to watch, all he was left with was sitting down with a good book. There were plenty in the loft. He'd always liked to read but he never thought he would want to read something Blair liked. Surprisingly he did. Tonight, however, he didn't fall back on a book to entertain him. He knew without trying that he wouldn't be able to focus enough attention on the words to be able to follow the story.
Even though it was still early, he called it a night. 'Besides,' he thought as he headed up the stairs, 'I haven't gotten enough sleep lately.' He undressed, dumping his clothes into the hamper in the corner, and slid into bed. Sleep over took him sooner than he thought it would.
Once again the nightmare about the night Blair was raped invaded his dreams. He was standing on the gas pedal, trying to force the car to go faster, to catch up with the recently abandoned Corvair, when a scream pierced his ears, jolting him awake. He tried to catch his breath, certain the scream had been real and not a figment of his imagination. Blair, though, was still awake. He could hear him writing something in his room. He focused on his friend's heartbeat, but it was calm and steady. Blair hadn't woken him from his nightmare.
It didn't make sense. He was certain that the scream he'd heard was real. He took a deep breath before he reviewed the nightmare. The scream had come while he was still in his car, much earlier than he had ever heard it before. As he thought about it, he realized he could still see Blair and Miss Ebony crossing the street when he heard the scream. It hadn't come from either of them. Focusing his hearing on his roommate below in an effort to reassure himself that Blair was okay, he heard him put away whatever he was writing. As Jim listened, Blair took off his clothes and got into bed. He laid in bed a long time before sleep overtook him. Only when Blair finally drifted off did his heartbeat change, dropping into the slower rhythm of sleep.
Jim glanced at his clock. It was almost three in the morning. He couldn't remember when he went to bed, but he must have been sleeping for some time before he heard the scream. Where had it come from? Not the nightmare, he was certain of that. It didn't come from Blair, either.
He rubbed his hands over his eyes. Leaving them closed, he tried to focus back on the dream, sifting everything out but the sounds. When he heard the scream again, he tried to determine its source. It didn't answer his question. The scream sounded like it came from outside the nightmare, from outside his head.
Finally, Jim decided his mind was playing tricks on him. He decided to ignore the dream for now and try to get back to sleep. Maybe when he talked to Dr. Nelson on Monday he'd be able to help him figure it out. A little over an hour and a half later, when the first rays of the morning sun were striking his window, he fell into a restless sleep, mirroring that of his roommate below.
************
Jim was roused from sleep by the shrill sound of the phone ringing. He picked up the small clock beside his bed, checked the time, and groaned. Eight a.m. He was about to answer the phone when he heard Blair pick up the portable phone downstairs.
"Hello," Blair said. A moment later he replied, "Hey, Simon. You want Jim?"
Figuring the answer would be yes, Jim picked up the receiver. "Hi, Simon."
"Jim. As I was telling Sandburg, I want to talk to both of you," he heard Simon say. "I wanted to let you know that I'm sorry we couldn't get together last night but it turned out to be a good thing after all."
"Why's that?" Jim asked. He could hear Blair's breath over the line but his roommate didn't seem interested in talking this morning.
"Joan called shortly after you did. She needed to go out of town suddenly and I had to go pick up Daryl. I've got him for the rest of the week."
"That's good to hear," Jim said.
"Yeah. Anyway, he was asking about Sandburg. He wants to see you, Blair. Can I bring him over tonight?"
Jim was about to tell him to bring the kid on over when he hesitated. If last night was any indication, Blair might not be ready for company. "That's up to Blair, Simon."
"Well, Blair?" A long moment passed without Blair answering. Simon added, "Daryl doesn't know exactly what happened to you. I told him the same story Jim told Rainier." Silence filled the line once more. "He's been asking about you every time I see him or talk to him on the phone."
Finally, Blair quietly said, "Yeah, Simon. Bring him on over."
"Good. He'll be thrilled to see you again. What time should we come?"
"I guess that's up to Jim."
"How about around noon?" Jim asked the two men. "We can go out somewhere for lunch."
"No!" Blair cried out. Jim heard him take a breath and then say, more quietly, "No. Let's eat here."
Simon replied, "That's probably best. Daryl hates to be seen eating with his old man." He laughed. "He's afraid someone he knows might see him. It ain't cool to hang with your folks."
"I'll have to go shopping," Jim said. "But there's plenty of time for that."
"Sounds good. Daryl and I will see you at noon then," Simon said before hanging up.
Jim got out of the bed and looked over the rail. When Blair looked back up at him he asked, "Why didn't you want to go out to eat?"
Blair turned away. He took a deep breath before saying, "I'm just not sure I'm ready for that yet."
"Are you going to be ready for tomorrow?"
Jim noticed the slightly increased heartrate even though Blair said, "Yes."
"You sure you're all right with this? With Simon and Daryl coming here?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah. It'll be good to see Daryl again." He brushed his hair back before going to his room.
"I've got first dibs on the shower!" Jim called as he started stripping.
************
Jim had prepared spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread for the four of them. Blair ate some of the food but didn't have the appetite to do much more than pick at it. He listened to the others talking around him, occasionally adding to the conversation, but not often. Once, when he looked up, he noticed Daryl staring at him. He tried to smile at the boy but found he couldn't force his lips into the proper shape. Instead he turned back to play with his food.
Daryl knew, he was certain of it. 'No,' he thought, 'Simon didn't tell him. He didn't have to.' Blair was well aware that kids were smarter, more perceptive than most people gave them credit for. He'd always been able to figure out what wasn't being said by the adults when he was Daryl's age.
'Daryl knows. Everyone knows,' the dark part of his mind told him. This part of his brain threatened to drag him into a madhouse of paranoia and fear. He'd spent enough time there already and forced the thoughts aside. His time in the monastery had helped ease the fear that it would take just one look for someone to figure out he'd been raped. He'd told only two people while he was there; Brothers Jeremy and Marcus. They hadn't pressed for details, nor had they told any of the other monks. None of the men at the monastery had figured out what had happened, none had looked at him with pity.
When he looked up, Daryl was still staring at him. Simon's son had stopped eating and, like Blair, was toying with his food. 'Daryl knows!' the voice in his head screamed, refusing to be pushed aside so easily. 'Maybe he does,' Blair thought, determined to remain in control. 'He's certainly seen his share of ugliness in this world.'
"Did you have a good visit at the monastery, Blair?"
Blair shook his head. He had stopped paying attention to the conversation. "What?"
"Did you have a good time at the monastery?" Daryl repeated.
"Yes. It was a good visit."
Daryl shook his head. "Man, I don't see how you can hang out with a bunch of men who spend all their time in church."
"Daryl." Simon's voice held a clear warning that his son chose to ignore.
"Aren't you Jewish, anyway?"
"Yeah, I'm Jewish." Blair began to relax. If Daryl had figured out what had happened, he wasn't going to bring it up. "And they don't spend all their time in the chapel."
"So what did you do there?"
"I helped restore some stained glass windows from a church that had been torched by an arsonist."
"Really?" Daryl put his fork down. "Why would someone want to burn a church?"
Blair shook his head.
Simon's son opened his mouth, clearly intent on asking more questions when someone knocked on the door to the loft. Jim excused himself as the others turned to see who was calling on a Sunday.
"Naomi," Jim said, stepping back to let her enter the loft. "We weren't expecting you."
"Can't a mother stop by to see her son?" she asked, smiling, her eyes already searching the room.
"Hey, Mom." Blair crossed the room and gave her a quick hug. "You should have called. We would have held lunch for you."
"I wanted to surprise you," she said, taking a long hard look at her son.
Unable to meet Naomi's eyes, Blair turned back toward the table. Placing a hand on her elbow, he led his mother over to their guests.
"Hello, Captain. It's a pleasure seeing you again," Naomi said, holding out her hand to Simon.
"Likewise, Ms. Sandburg." Simon put a hand on Daryl's shoulder and moved him forward. "I'd like you to meet my son, Daryl. Daryl, this is Ms. Sandburg."
The boy grinned as he shook Naomi's hand. "My dad's told me a lot about you," he said, causing his father to grimace.
"Really? What has he told you?"
"He said you were pretty and you were very protective of Blair."
"He probably also told you I was a flake," she said, smiling. Before anyone could contradict her, she added, "I prefer to think of myself as eccentric, though."
"Ah, we better get going," Simon said to Daryl. "I'm sure Ms. Sandburg and Blair don't need our company this afternoon."
"Don't leave on my account," Naomi said.
"It's okay," Simon said as he steered Daryl toward the door. "We had plans for this afternoon, anyway."
They were gone before Blair had a chance to say good-bye. He turned to his mother, asking, "Why did you come, Mom?"
"It's been over a month since Jim told me you were mugged. I was worried about you." She put her arm around his shoulder. "Don't I have the right to be worried?"
"How long are you staying?" Jim asked.
"I don't have to be anywhere anytime soon."
Dread settled into Blair's core. Prevaricating was his forte but he'd never been able to get a lie past his mother for very long. The only reasons he'd been able to keep his Sentinel work with Jim secret were by telling her half-truths and her busy travels. If she was going to be around for more than a day or two he didn't think he could keep up the mugging charade Jim had created for him.
"I've, uh, got to work on my syllabus for tomorrow," Blair said. "Do you mind keeping Naomi company?"
"Sure, Chief."
Blair went into his room, closed the door, and sat on his bed. He didn't bother to pull out his laptop computer. The syllabus had been completed at the same time as the books for the summer semester were ordered, roughly a week before the rape. Leaning back on the bed, he tried to decide what he should tell his mother. And when.
************
They spent the rest of the day in idle chatting, conversations stuttering to a stop shortly after they had begun, a cocktail party where you knew none of the guests. Each person danced around the issue of Naomi's visit -- afraid or unwilling to shatter the fragile glass surrounding the story Jim had told her. Shortly after the supper Naomi had insisted on making but no one ate, Blair insisted on cleaning the kitchen and asked Jim to help him.
As he handed a dish to Jim to dry he quietly said, "I'm going to tell Naomi what happened."
The taller man dried the dish and put it away before asking, "Do you want me to leave? I can go to Simon's for a couple of hours."
"No." Blair took a deep breath. "No, I want you to stay. And listen."
"I don't have to do that," Jim said.
"I know." He washed another dish and handed it to Jim. In a sotto whisper, something he knew only Jim could hear, he explained, "I don't want to wimp out. If you're here and listening than I know I'll have to tell her the truth."
"You don't have to tell her if you aren't ready," Jim told him.
Blair silently finished washing the dishes. He rinsed and dried his hands before saying, "I have to do this now. I have to take back control of my life. If I don't start now I'll never do it."
"I understand." Jim put the last dish away. "I'll go upstairs now."
"Wait, Jim." Blair took another deep breath. "This is going to sound funny after all that talk about starting now but I really need to take a shower first." He shrugged. "I need to get clean before I can talk about it."
Jim nodded. "I'll keep Naomi entertained for a bit longer, then."
"Thanks, Jim." Blair walked out of the kitchen and over to his mother. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be just a few minutes."
"Sure, dear. I'll be here."
He turned and walked away, missing the almost crippling look of pain that crossed his mother's face. She hid the distress with a brittle smile but not before Jim saw it, his own face mirroring hers.
************
Blair turned the water on high and hot before stripping, dumping his clothes on top of his hamper. He stuck a hand in the water's flow, jerking it back with a hiss. Taking care not to touch the scalding water, he reached into the shower and added cold water to the mix. Not much, just enough to take out the worst of the heat. Satisfied, he stepped into the stall.
He let the water, still hot enough to turn his skin red, pound against his head and body. He took the soap out of the dish and began to build a lather on his skin. Once he was satisfied that he'd covered every inch of skin, he leaned into the water letting it course over his body. He started to reach for the shampoo when his hand hesitated next to Jim's washcloth. He took a deep breath before grabbing the cloth and rubbing the soap over it. As if his life depended on it, he used the soapy washcloth to attack his skin. Roughly he dragged it over his flesh again and again. As he washed his groin and buttocks he felt crude, thick fingers assaulting his skin. He scrubbed harder but only succeeded in making his skin raw.
With a sob he threw the washcloth against the wall. He let the water flow over him, washing away the suds and his tears. He took several deep breaths before picking up the shampoo bottle. He poured twice what he needed into his palm and massaged it into his scalp. His fingers moved through his hair in firm circles, helping him regain his emotional stability. When he was calm, he rinsed his hair, making sure he got all the shampoo out.
He shut off the water and then ran his hands back over his hair forcing water out. Before opening the door, he twisted out as much water as possible. Normally he would have used a conditioner on his hair but he was afraid to spend any more time in the bathroom.
He felt like the ground he was walking on would tip or crumble at any step. If he didn't move quickly he'd lose what little control he'd regained since the rape. Blair didn't want to tell his mother -- to tell anyone -- what happened but he also didn't want to return to the cowering, shell of a person he was in the first weeks after the assault.
He wrapped his towel around his waist, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom.
************
After his shower, Blair combed out his hair and then dressed. He stared at his image in the mirror for a long time before taking a deep, cleansing breath and leaving the room. He walked over to his mother and sat next to her on the sofa. Jim excused himself, swiftly walking up the stairs after squeezing Blair's shoulder. The young man ran his hands through his damp hair, waiting for Jim to reach his room before he spoke to Naomi.
He clinched his hands together between his knees, trying to determine how he'd start. The words that he'd practiced throughout the day fled from his mind. A soft, warm hand touched his. He dropped his head low between his shoulders before looking up at his Naomi. She moved closer, drawing him nearer with an arm across his shoulders.
"Blair," she said, "you know I love you." He nodded. "You've always been able to tell me anything that was bothering you. Let me in."
He sat up, taking a deep breath. He slowly released it before saying, "About two months ago, I was driving back from Rainier University when my car stalled. I managed to pull it over to the side of the road before it quit completely." Blair studied his clinched hands for a moment. "It stalled over on Queen's Avenue."
"God, Blair," Naomi whispered. "Jim told me you were mugged. Is that when it happened?"
He rubbed one thumb against the nail of the other. "Yes. No. I mean. . ." Hearing his voice catch, he stopped and took a deep breath. Naomi continued to hold tightly to his shoulders but said nothing. Finally, he continued, "One of the prostitutes, Miss Argent Ebony, tried to help me out. We still couldn't get it working so she offered to walk over to the phone booth with me. We were walking past an alley when. . .," his voice trailed off as he found it growing harder to breath.
Naomi's hand squeezed his shoulder. She slipped it down to his back and began to gently rub it. The firm, circular motions helped him focus. By concentrating on her touch he was able to pull back from the image that began to form in his head. He wasn't able to banish it completely, though. He took a deep breath before saying, "We were walking past an alley when these guys jumped us. They beat up Miss Ebony and then turned their attentions to me."
He stopped again, pushing the images that once again threatened to overwhelm him aside. Naomi moved even closer, one hand holding his while the other pulled his head down to rest against her shoulder.
"Mom, they. . .," he couldn't continue, couldn't face Naomi with the news that he was less than a man. According to his psychiatrist he shouldn't feel this way but he did. He couldn't help it. Once Naomi heard what had happened to him she'd feel the same way.
"Blair," she said, squeezing his shoulder tight. "No matter what you tell me, I'll always love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Nothing can change that. Nothing can make you less than perfect in my eyes." Her free hand caressed his face. "You have the most beautiful soul of anyone I know. You still do. Please, baby, tell me what happened."
He nodded. Closing his eyes, he said, "They beat me and. . ." His voice faltered and he swallowed before finishing, "They raped me."
Naomi's tears fell onto his face. She pulled him in tight, the enveloping touch forcing the images out of his mind. His arms circled her waist as she rocked him, soft, comforting, nonsense sounds coming from her mouth. The warm breath brushed across his ear with every utterance. Its soothing caress helping ease some of the fears and insecurities he'd been living with for nearly eight weeks.
A full night's sleep was rare for Blair. Usually he'd make due with a handful of hours without any problems. Even before the rape he hadn't been getting more than three or four hours of sleep a night. After the rape, sleep became almost nonexistent. When it did grace his presence it brought nightmares which jerked him awake soon after he dropped off. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his body, making him heavy. He relaxed against his mother, letting the encroaching darkness overtake him and carry him away.
************
"Jim," he heard Naomi's soft voice calling. He crept down the steps being careful not to make too much noise.
"Yes, Naomi," he whispered.
She placed a soft kiss on her son's forehead. She was leaning against the sofa, Blair sleeping against her. His head rested on her shoulder, his nose snuggled against her neck. Jim knew he'd been sleeping like this for close to thirty minutes. His mother must be very uncomfortable but you couldn't tell it to look at her. Tears had washed tracks through her makeup and her eyes were still red but she looked calm, accepting.
"Can you help me get him to bed?"
"Do you want me to hold him away from you while you get up?"
"No. I want him to sleep in his own bed tonight. It's not much bigger than this couch but it's big enough for both of us," she quietly said.
Jim carefully lifted Blair into his arms. The young man stirred before becoming silent. Jim carried him into his room, gently laying him on the bed. Naomi stood behind him as he eased Blair's shoes off his feet.
"I imagine Blair hasn't been sleeping well lately," she quietly stated.
"No."
"Nightmares." A statement, not a question.
Jim nodded.
"Whenever Blair couldn't sleep, had trouble with nightmares, he'd come sleep with me," she explained. "No matter how bad the nightmare, no matter what was bothering him, he'd be able to sleep next to me." She leaned over and delicately rubbed a hand along his hair. "He should have at least one good night's sleep."
"Yes, he should," Jim agreed. He watched his roommate for a moment longer then started to turn away.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
He stood in the doorway, his back to Naomi as he answered, "He asked me not to. I was trying to keep his trust." Sighing, he turned to her, "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Now I'm not so sure."
Her voice was cold steel as she said, "Don't ever lie to me again. Even if he asks you to."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, agreeing to a promise he could never keep. He left, heading up to his room. As he walked the stairs he heard Naomi take off her shoes and slip into bed beside Blair. He heard her arms circle his chest and prayed the young man would sleep free from any dreams.
************
The soft sound of bacon sizzling woke Jim. He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of bacon and scrambled eggs. Tossing his sheets aside, he pulled off his boxers and started down the stars. It wasn't until he caught sight of the red-head bent over the stove that he remembered their unexpected guest. Jim turned and dashed back into his room. He grabbed the robe he used only when they had company, put it on, and headed down the stairs again.
"Morning, Naomi," he called. He could hear Blair in the shower. "I thought you were a vegetarian."
"Blair needs a filling breakfast today. He's too thin." To Jim, she sounded as if she blamed him for her son's current state. A sad smile crossed her face and then she said, "I know it's not your fault. I guess I'm still angry that you didn't call me." Turning back to the eggs, she added, "It's not always easy to let some things go."
"I understand," he replied. He heard a sound in the corridor and went to answer the door at the same time someone began knocking. He opened the door, saying, "Hi, Krys. What are you doing here?"
"Hey, Jim. Did Blair get home this weekend?"
"Yes." He opened the door wider. "Why don't you come in? He should be out of the shower soon."
She shook her head. "I'm running late." Before she could say more, Naomi stepped behind Jim. "Uh, hi."
"Krys, this is Blair's mom, Naomi. Naomi, this is our neighbor, Krys."
The two women shook hands. "Blair's told me a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"You're the one with the big dog, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's me."
Naomi laughed. "You don't need to call me ma'am. Naomi is fine."
Krys smiled and turned back to Jim. "I don't need to be rude but I'm in a rush. Could you or Blair do me a huge favor?"
"What's the favor?"
"One of my kids got arrested this weekend. After school I have to go to the jail and tutor him."
"Juvi?"
"No. He was part of a robbery that resulted in the death of the shop clerk. He and the others are being charged as adults and held in the county jail."
"You have to go to the jail?" Naomi asked.
"Yes. By federal law I still have to serve him." She brushed her hair back. "I'm going to be late and I need someone to take LD for a walk in the afternoon."
Jim shook his head. "Blair and I won't be back until almost six."
"I could walk him," Naomi said.
Relief flooded Krys' face. "Mind coming to meet him? He won't go with a stranger." Naomi nodded. As they walked across the hall Jim heard, "Jim and Blair have a key. He's used to being taken out between four and five."
"Where's mom going?"
Jim turned back to the loft. Blair stood behind him, his hair still dripping, a towel wrapped around his waist. "She's going to walk LD for Krys later," he answered. "I'm going to take a shower while you get dressed. Naomi's fixed breakfast for us."
Blair nodded once before walking into his room. Jim trailed behind him, splitting off to head into the bathroom. He took a quick shower and went back upstairs to get dressed. Blair was just coming out of his room when Jim started down the stairs. The young man had his backpack over his shoulder and was heading toward the door. Before Jim could say anything to him Naomi came back into the loft.
"That is the biggest dog I've ever seen," she declared. Catching sight of Blair she asked, "Where are you going?"
"I'm heading to Rainier. Summer school. Remember, mom?"
"I remember." She put her hands on her slim hips. "You haven't had breakfast yet."
Blair eyed the food sitting on the cooling stove. "I'm not hungry."
"Sit down," Naomi ordered. Blair reluctantly complied. She turned to Jim. "You, too."
Jim grinned as he sat next to Blair.
"You both have a long day ahead of you and you need to start it off with breakfast." She went into the kitchen and prepared two plates. After she set them down in front of the men she poured each a glass of orange juice. She set the glasses on the table and then sat with them.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Jim asked her.
"I had a fruit salad before I started cooking." She watched Blair push his eggs around with his fork. "Don't play with your food, Blair." He sighed but started eating.
"How did you two sleep?" Jim asked. He could tell that Blair, at least, had slept well for a change. The young man still looked tired but the dark smudges under his eyes weren't as pronounced as they were the day before.
"We slept quite well," Naomi answered. "Although that bed is a bit small."
"I'll sleep on the couch tonight," Blair said.
Jim expected Naomi to argue with her son but instead she nodded. "How did you sleep, Jim?"
"Great," he answered. It was true, too. For some reason knowing that Blair would have a quiet night, free from the demons that had been tormenting him, had helped force his nightmare away. For the first time since Blair's attack, he'd slept soundly. He hadn't felt the need to stay half-awake, listening to his roommate below. Somehow the belief that Blair was safe in his mother's arms had turned down the Blessed Protector mode he'd been in ever since that fateful night.
"Will you be at Rainier all day?" Naomi asked.
Blair nodded. "It's the first day of the summer term. Class runs from 10 to 12:30. There's also a lot of work I need to catch up on."
"You never told me how you were able to come back so late without worrying about this term," Jim said.
"I didn't have anything I had to do." Blair tore off a small piece of toast. "The books were ordered the week of the. . .attack. I've taught the class before so all I needed to do was change the dates and time of the class on the syllabus." He started to put the piece of toast in his mouth, hesitated, and then placed it back on the plate. "I had to change a few page numbers as well. Since I don't have to worry about approving overrides and everything else was done, I didn't need to be there last week." He pushed his chair back and started to get up from the table. "I need to get going."
"Wait, Chief," Jim said. "I told you I'd give you a ride today. Remember?"
"I can drive myself."
"I know but since we're going to the same place this afternoon I thought I'd give you a lift."
"I remember." He glanced at the wall clock. "I need to leave now, though. I need to get copies made of the syllabus and pick up the class list."
Jim looked down at his half eaten meal. He started to push the plate away when Naomi said, "You eat, Jim. I'll take him."
As they were leaving, Jim called, "I'll meet you at your office about 2:15, Chief."
************
Blair stood just outside the door to his class. He tried practicing his Kundalini breathing but it didn't create the sense of calm for which he strove. His hands trembled and he clasped them together. A student brushed past him on the way into the room and Blair jerked back.
"Sorry," the male student whispered as he continued into the class.
"It's okay," Blair mumbled. 'Get a grip,' he thought. 'You can do this!' He took a few more deep breaths. "You can do this," he whispered. Taking one more breath, he opened the door and stepped into the class.
He took a firm grasp on his resolve as he saw the faces turn toward him as he walked to the table in front of the room. He placed his books, papers, and bottled water down on the table before turning to scan the students sitting in front of him. 'They all know,' the voice that Blair had heard ever since the rape claimed. He knew the voice was wrong but couldn't shake the feeling of dread that overcame him. He took a deep breath and forced the disabilitating voice out of his thoughts.
"Hi," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "Hi," he said, his voice clearer. "My name is Blair Sandburg and I'll be your instructor for this course." He grabbed the stack of papers and started to pass them down the rows. "Just to make sure we're all in the right place, this is supposed to be Introduction to Anthropology." He couldn't think of anything else to say so he continued to quietly hand out the papers. "Oh, yes. Right now I'm handing out the syllabus for this course and a brief outline of what we'll discuss today."
His mouth and throat felt as dry as sandpaper. After handing out the last of the papers, he walked back to the table and took a sip out of his water bottle. He turned back to the class and said, "By the way, you can call me Blair or Mr. Sandburg but please don't call me Professor." He sat on the edge of the table and preceded to go over the syllabus. Several times he stumbled over his words and had to stop and start over. He took another sip of water before continuing with his lecture.
"Anthropology has four areas -- physical anthropology, cultural anthropology, linguistic anthropology, and archaeology." He looked about the classroom, finding the focus on him unnerving. "Anthropology has four. . ." He took a deep breath as he referred to his notes. "Anthropology affects or relates to just about every other since in some way." He looked back at his notes, cursing himself for having so much trouble delivering a simple intro speech that he'd given flawlessly several times before. "For this reason it's considered a holistic science." When he looked at the students he noticed no one was taking notes. "That's an important word in anthropology."
The male student who'd brushed past him in the hallway raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"What's the important word?"
Blair suppressed a sigh. "Holistic. That means that it affects everything in someway."
He continued his lecture, constantly referring to his notes as he went. At best his notes were sketchy. He'd given the lecture enough times that he only listed the highlights, relying on his memory to catch the rest. Today his memory failed him. Less than an hour after he started he gave up. He'd covered the highlights but hadn't been able to remember any of the other aspects and stories he liked to work into the lecture. Frustrated, he let the class go early. He collected his things and left the room, heading for his office. He had enough time to get started on more detailed notes for tomorrow's class before Jim came to pick him up. If he skipped lunch he might even be able to finish them. He wasn't hungry anyway.
************
Blair continued to expand his lecture notes while Jim drove to Dr. Nelson's office. He was still working on them, finding his mind wandering to different things he still needed to do, when Nelson called him into his office. Briefly, they talked about Blair's experience with the class that day. Unwilling to discuss his current inability to focus on the task at hand, Blair played down his problems with the lecture.
"How did you do when you returned to the loft Saturday?" Nelson asked.
Blair hesitated. "All right, I guess. It was a bit disconcerting at first but that feeling quickly disappeared."
Nelson jotted a note on his paper before saying, "So you haven't had any problems at all being back home?"
Forcing a smile on his face, Blair said, "No, none. Not even when my mother got here yesterday."
"Your mom is in town?"
Blair shifted in his seat. "Yeah, she's staying with us."
"Tell me about what happened yesterday."
Blair caught himself clenching his hands in his lap. He forced them apart and pushed them under his legs. "We weren't expecting her. That's really not all that surprising with Naomi, though. Jim had told her I was mugged and she wanted to see how I was doing."
"Is that why she told you she was there?"
"Yes." He paused. "I don't think she believed him, though."
"Why is that?"
He shrugged. "I would have told her about it myself. She knows me well enough to figure out it was bigger than a mugging."
"Did she confront you with her suspicions?" Nelson asked, jotting notes on his pad.
"No." He took a deep breath. "I told her about it later that night."
"How did that make you feel?"
Again, Blair shrugged. "A bit relieved. I wasn't lying to my mother any more." Before Nelson could ask any more questions, Blair said, "I want this to be my last session."
The psychiatrist put down his pen and devoted his full attention to Blair. "Why?"
"I'm doing much better," Blair lied. "I think I handled the problems I had today well and I'm having hardly any nightmares anymore."
"You don't look like you're getting much sleep, still," Nelson observed.
Blair nodded. "I'm doing better. I slept all night last night. Besides, I have a lot of work to catch up on. Coming her is getting in the way."
"We can cut the sessions to once a week," the psychiatrist suggested.
"No. I feel like I've gone as far as I can with therapy," Blair insisted.
"I'm not convinced of that, but I can't force you to come," Nelson conceded.
Blair stood up and started to leave. At the door he paused. Turning back to Nelson, he said, "There's only one thing I feel I have to do."
"What is that?"
"I need to talk to the person who was with me the night of the attack, Miss Argent Ebony. I want to see how she's doing."
"That's a good idea."
"Do you think Dr. Warner would know how to get in touch with her?\'0b
"I don't know. You'll have to ask her."
Blair had hopped the doctor would talk toWarner for him. He didn't want to discuss what happened that night with more people than necessary. He nodded and left the room.
************
"Detective, I just want you to know that it's quite common for friends and family to be affected by a rape. They often also need counseling."
A slight smile crossed Jim's face. "Yeah, that's what my captain told me."
"Why don't you tell me why you decided to come to see me?" Nelson asked.
Jim shifted in his seat slightly before answering, "I haven't been sleeping too well."
"Do you know why?"
"Up until I left Blair at the monastery it was because I spent most of the night listening to hear if he was having any problems."
"And after that?" Nelson coaxed when Jim stopped talking.
"I started having nightmares."
"Detective. . ."
"You can call me Jim."
"Jim," Nelson amended, "tell me about the nightmares."
Jim sat for a moment, one finger idly tracing the pattern on the arm of the chair. Once he got his thoughts together he began, "With one exception they've all been the same. They all occur the night of Blair's attack. I know something is wrong with his car and I'm trying to reach him before it can break down."
"Do you?"
"What?" Jim asked, looking up at Nelson.
"Do you catch up to Blair?"
Jim shook his head. "No matter how hard I step on the gas, my car can't catch up. After Blair pulls over, my car starts slowing down. By the time I finally get to where he stopped my car is barely moving." Jim paused. "Blair's already heading toward the alley when I get out of my car." Unknowingly, he mimics Blair's actions earlier in Nelson's office, his hands clenching together in his lap. "I get, I don't know, maybe one, two steps away from my car and I can't go any further." He noticed his hands, his knuckles white from the strain of holding them so tightly, and forced himself to relax. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he continued, "I can see the four guys attacking Blair and Miss Ebony, pulling them into the alley, but I can't see their faces. When I try to go back to my car for help I can't move. I can hear everything that's happening but I can't see it. I can't help him at all."
After a minute of silence, Dr. Nelson asked, "How does the nightmare usually end?"
Jim took a deep breath. "I can't move forward or backward. All I can do is sink to my knees and listen to Blair scream."
Nelson wrote some notes on his pad before asking, "Jim, do you think you could have prevented what happened to Blair?"
Jim shrugged. "I knew he was having problems with his car. It didn't sound good the day he left for work. I offered to take him in but he said he'd be fine."
"You didn't answer my question. Do you think you could have prevented Blair's attack?"
"Yes."
"How? You offered to give him a ride and he refused."
Jim's hand clenched into a fist and he slammed it into the arm rest. "I should have insisted!"
"He's a grown man, Jim. He could have still refused."
"I could have forced him," Jim contended.
"Could you really? Would you have forced him?"
"No," Jim conceded.
Nelson didn't break the silence for a few moments. Finally he said, "You said there was one exception. When was that?"
"The night Blair came back from the monastery."
"How was it different?"
"I hadn't gotten to Blair's car yet. I was watching him walking across the street with the hooker when I heard him scream. Only it wasn't him."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I could see Blair when I heard the scream. He wasn't screaming."
"Are you sure you heard his voice?"
"Positive. I even got up and went to check on Blair," Jim lied. He couldn't reveal that he'd listened to his roommate from his room above without taking the chance on revealing his Sentinel powers. "He was just getting to sleep. He didn't scream."
Nelson wrote some notes as he asked, "What do you think happened?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't know. Isn't that what I'm paying you for?"
Nelson smiled. "Not really. You picked up Blair from the monastery, right?"
Jim nodded.
"Tell me how that went."
Jim thought back to that day. "It went fine. He looked better than he had when we first got there. Still too thin, though."
"How did he seem to you?"
"Better. There was one thing that kinda worried me. He didn't talk as much as he used to."
"How so?
"If you knew Blair from before the attack you'd understand." A ghost of a smile graced his face as he thought about the young man. "I sometimes wondered if he felt it was his duty to make sure the conversation never lagged."
"And on the trip back he didn't talk as much?"
"Hardly at all. He spent a lot of time writing lists of things he had to do and making up anagrams."
"Did he say anything that caught you attention?"
Jim thought for a moment. "Yeah. He said he was doing the anagrams to keep occupied. He said it was the only way he could function."
"What do you think of that?"
"I don't know. I don't think it's the best thing for him to be doing."
"Probably not," Nelson admitted. "Did what he say or do worry you?"
"Yeah, a bit." Jim was back to tracing the pattern on the arm rest. "Do you think that's why I heard the scream in my nightmare? Because I think Blair still needs help?"
"It's possible." Nelson looked at his watch. "Jim, I'd like to see you again but I think you'd be all right with once a week visits."
"I don't know, Doctor. I think this visit helped a lot. It's certainly made things clearer for me."
"Why don't we do this, set up an appointment for next week. If you feel you don't need it closer to the time you can always cancel it."
"I guess I could do that."
"I'll admit that I have an ulterior motive," Nelson said. "Also, you may be feeling better about things now but that may change with what I have to tell you."
"And?"
"Blair has decided not to continue his visits. I can't force him to come anymore than you could force him to let you give him a ride to work. If you come once a week I can keep track of him through you."
"He's not coming anymore?" Jim heard the scream from his nightmare echo in his head again. He was now certain it was him mind's way of telling him Blair still needed help. "You're right," he told Nelson. "I don't feel much better anymore."
************
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to stop seeing Nelson?" Jim asked as he drove back to the loft.
Blair shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I didn't know that I had to clear it with you."
He knew the comment wasn't fair but he couldn't stop it from coming past his lips. He hadn't realized Jim was hurting because of the attack until the older man mentioned his nightmares. Right now, though, every day was a battle, a struggle to act normal. As foolish as he knew it sounded, he still felt that everyone, *everyone,* was watching him, waiting for him to fall apart. It took all his energy to keep that from happening. He had none left to help Jim and he hated that. His only consolation was that maybe his friend's nightmares would go away if Jim saw how well he was functioning. Maybe, if he could keep busy, his own nightmares would fade as well.
Blair held onto that belief, forcing himself to return to Cascade when he felt safer at the monastery. Forcing himself back to the university when he would rather have taken the time to adjust to life back in the loft. Certain that Jim would see how well he was doing and that the detective's nightmares would disappear as a result.
Blair didn't realize, however, how obvious his struggle was to those who knew him best, Jim and Naomi. He couldn't see how much they worried, how much they wanted to help.
"No, you didn't have to clear it with me, Chief," Jim said. "You could have told me, though."
"I have a lot of things I need to do. I just don't have time to visit Nelson."
"Even once a week?"
"I know what I'm doing," Blair snapped. "I'm trying to put my life back together."
"I know, Chief. I know." Jim tightly gripped the steering wheel. "I just wish you'd let me help."
Blair didn't respond. Both men lapsed into pensive silence for the rest of the trip.
************
As the week progressed, Blair's feeling that all of his students were watching him, that they all knew about the rape, eased. He still had to rely on detailed notes for his lectures but had less trouble adding details he'd left out of his notes.
He worked up the courage to call Dr. Warner and learned that Miss Ebony was staying at a rehabilitation center. Each day he made plans to see her but always found another task that demanded his immediate attention. Finally he admitted to himself that he just wasn't ready to see the prostitute.
After the first night of her visit Blair slept on the sofa. All three found sleep elusive but eventually attainable. No nightmares surfaced to shatter the fragile peace. At the end of the week Blair insisted that Naomi take her usual summer trip to a commune in Colorado. She insisted on staying one more week. When she did leave she made Blair promise to call her when ever he needed to talk to someone. She pulled Jim aside and forced the same promise from him.
After that life fell into an uneasy routine. During the week, Jim would go to the station while Blair spent the day at the university. When he wasn't doing something related to the class he was teaching, the young man spent long hours in the library digging for any mention of Sentinels or Sentinel types he could find. He increased his notes dramatically as he caught up on studies he had to neglect while helping Jim out at the station.
When Jim wasn't detained at work they would take turns cooking. Most meals were spent in relative silence compared to the easy banter present before the rape. They would discuss their days and the weather but little else.
Multiple bomb scares at the campus one day sent Blair home early. When he arrived the phone was ringing. He dropped his bag on the floor, put the keys on the table, and scooped up the phone. "Hello."
"Blair? It's Krys. Am I glad to catch you."
"Hey Krys," he said, shrugging his jacket off. "What can I do for you?"
"I need someone to walk LD for me."
"Again? What's up this time?"
"I have a job interview right after school."
"You didn't tell me you were changing jobs."
"It's not much of a change. Well, it is. If I get the job I'll go from being a teacher to the Behavior Specialist for an elementary school."
"Sounds like a step up."
"It is. If it were just the interview I could walk the dog but another kid ended up in jail last night and I need to go out there and tutor him."
"That's not going to look good for the interview."
"This kid isn't normally one of mine. I've only got him for summer school." She sighed. "Besides, there isn't much I can do against the gang influence sometimes."
"True," Blair said. "I'll be happy to walk LD."
"Thanks, Blair. You're a life saver. I've got to go. I'm going to be late as it is."
He hung up the phone and went looking for the keys to Krys' apartment. Unable to find them, he thought back to the last time they were used. "Jim used them last week," he said. "He probably still has them."
He started to grab his coat and keys when he realized that going to the station to pick up the keys wouldn't be easy. Unless they were new, everyone there knew about his rape. He put the keys back on the table. 'Jim should be home soon enough to walk the dog,' he thought. He decided to call the station and make sure.
He dialed the station and then Jim's extension. The phone rang once before he heard, "Ellison."
"Hey Jim."
"Something wrong, Sandburg?"
"No. Krys called and asked me to walk her dog. I told her I would before I remembered you had the keys. I just wanted to make sure you'd be home in time to take care of him."
"Not tonight, Chief. I'll be here most of the night getting ready for a case tomorrow. I called and left a message on the machine."
Blair turned and saw the blinking, red light on the answering machine. "I hadn't checked it yet."
"Sorry, Chief."
"No, that's okay, Jim," Blair said. "I'll just come and get them."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah. It's not like I haven't been there before."
"All right. I'll see you in a bit."
Blair hung up the phone. "Okay, you can do this," he told himself. "You're just going to go in, get the keys, and leave. Simple." He put his jacket back on, picked up the keys, and left.
************
Blair couldn't believe his luck. He'd gone from the parking garage to the elevator without seeing anyone he knew. Alone on the trip up, he hoped it would be just as quiet in the bullpen. When the doors opened, he knew he wouldn't get his wish. The bullpen was full. He took a deep breath and left the sanctuary of the elevator. Several people called to him as he walked past, welcoming him back. He smiled back and waved but continued on his journey. When he got to Jim's desk the detective already had the keys out waiting for him.
"Thanks, Jim," he said, picking them up.
He started to turn away when Jim called, "Hey, Chief."
He stopped. "Yeah."
"I'm proud of you. I know this wasn't easy."
Blair felt warmed by the words. The unease he'd felt faded away and he shrugged. "It's not like I haven't been here before, Jim," he said, trying to downplay his accomplishment.
"Sandburg." Blair turned to see Simon and Taggart coming out of the captain's office. Simon extended his hand and Blair took it, his hand engulfed in the larger man's. "It's good to see you back," Simon said.
Taggart, grinning, shook Blair's hand as soon as Simon released it. "So, does this mean you're back for good?"
Blair shook his head. "No. I just came to get the keys to our neighbor's place."
The portly captain's smile faltered briefly. "When do you think you'll come back? It's been entirely too quiet around here with out you."
"And I haven't had anyone around to stroke my people for me," Simon added.
Blair grinned. "I don't know, guys. I hadn't decided yet." He thought for a moment then added, "Maybe when the next term starts in a few weeks. I should be caught up by then."
"Then he can catch up on my paperwork," Jim said from behind Blair.
"Oh no, Jim," Simon said. "You're stuck with your paperwork. I can't read all those twenty-five cent words when he writes them up."
Blair felt more comfortable than he'd thought possible. He wanted to stay and enjoy the camaraderie but remembered his promise to Krys. "I got to go. I don't want Krys' dog dragging me down the stairs in his bid to get outside."
"Don't forget, Chief, you're on your own for dinner," Jim called as he walked out.
He arrived at the elevator at the same time as Samantha from Forensics. They greeted each other and then stood talking quietly until the elevator arrived. Even though their discussion consisted of little more than small talk, Blair, still buoyed by his success in the bullpen, decided to ask her out to a movie.
"Men In Black is playing at Movies 24. Would you like to go see it?"
Sam turned away. Without looking at him she said, "Sorry, Blair. I have a date for Friday night."
His good mood began to diminish. "Actually, I was thinking about going tonight."
"Sorry," she said as the doors opened for her floor. "I have plans."
As the doors slid shut behind her he muttered, "Yeah, I bet it takes all night to wash your hair."
He was thoroughly depressed by the time the elevator opened on the parking garage. Shoulders slumped forward, he trudged to his car.
************
Jim arrived home shortly after midnight. He found Blair sitting on the balcony, a half-empty whiskey bottle by his chair. He walked over and picked up the bottle, saying, "When did you get this, Chief?"
Blair continued to look out over the harbor. "On the way back from the station," he muttered.
"I hope you walked LD before you started drinking." He sat down in the empty chair next to his roommate.
"I did."
Remembering Blair's euphoric mood when he'd left the station, Jim couldn't think of what would bother him enough to make him turn to the bottle. "Why did you decide to come home and get plastered?"
"I'm not drunk."
Jim had to admit he didn't sound drunk. Blair's words were dull but not slurred. "Okay, Chief, why come out here and drink by yourself?"
"Did you see Sam and I meet at the elevator as I was leaving?"
"Yes."
"I asked her out to a movie."
Jim wanted to congratulate the young man for taking such a big step forward but the tone he used as he spoke and the bottle he continued to drink out of made him change his mind. Suddenly he realized what answer Sam had given Blair. "She said no."
"She wouldn't even look at me while she told me no."
"Bitch." Jim reached over and took the bottle from Blair. He took a small sip as he leaned back in the chair. He put the top back on the bottle and set it down on the ground out of Blair's reach. His roommate didn't seem to care.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Blair asked, "What if no one ever wants to go out with me again?"
"Blair, Sam is an idiot. She can't get past what happened to you. That's her problem. Not yours."
"But what if. . ."
"Simon and Taggart didn't have any problems talking to you today, did they?"
Blair shook his head. "That's not the same."
"In a way it is. They weren't the only ones at the station who were glad to see you back, Chief. They were all interested in you, in how you were doing, when you were coming back. No one seemed to think they needed to avoid you."
"I didn't ask any of them out, either. Sam knows I'm damaged goods. She doesn't even want to know me anymore."
"You're not damaged goods," Jim said, unable to hide the anger in his voice. "You're a good person who was horribly violated. You haven't allowed that to stop you from trying to get your life back in order. Not everyone can say that." He paused, searching Blair's face to see if he was getting through. "Hell. You still worry about being able to help others. You wouldn't have gone to the station to get the keys if you were damaged goods. It's Sam's problem if she can't realize that."
Silence followed Jim's statement but he didn't try to fill it. Instead he gave Blair the room to think about what had been said. Finally the young man turned to him and asked, "What if she's not the only one who can't realize that?"
"Not possible. Not everyone is that dense."
"She's not dense."
"She is if she can't see past what happened almost three months ago."
Blair didn't respond. He turned back to stare at the lights reflecting off the water. After a few minutes Jim decided to go to bed. As he left, taking the whisky, he placed a hand on Blair's shoulder and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze. "Trust me, Blair. There are people out there who don't care what happened to you. They still like you, want to be friends with you, some probably even want to go out with you."
Blair placed his hand over Jim's and patted it. "Thanks, Jim," he whispered.
"Going to bed?"
"Not just yet. I think I'll sit out here a little longer."
Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder once more before heading back into the loft and up to his room. He settled in bed, listening to his roommate, until the young man finally fell asleep, still sitting on the balcony. Jim quietly went back down the stairs, grabbing a blanket on the way. He was afraid he'd wake Blair if he tried to carry him back to bed so he moved the other chair around and lifted Blair's legs to rest on it instead. He covered him with the blanket and went back to bed.
************
Two days before finals, Blair finally worked up the courage to visit Miss Argent Ebony. When he went to the rehabilitation center, though, she wasn't in her room. He went to the nurses' station to ask for her.
"Ebony? Oh, you mean Mr. Port. He's with physical therapy right now. Should be back in a few minutes." She pointed to a room marked Family Waiting Room. "You can wait in there if you want."
He thanked her and walked over to the room she indicated. His resolve faded as he waited. Blair was about to leave when he saw someone push a black man into Miss Ebony's room. He went to the door, hesitating until the orderly left, and then went in. He'd only meet Miss Ebony once. Then she was dressed for work. The person sitting in the wheelchair next to the window had the same color skin and profile but that was all. Gone was the flashy makeup, wig, and clothing. He was certain, however, that this was the person he was looking for.
"Miss Ebony," he said as he approached.
She turned at the sound of her name and stared at Blair, no sign of recognition on her face.
"It's Blair Sandburg."
Recognition warred with pleasure and sorrow on her face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, sugar."
"I, uh, wanted to see how you were doing."
Her face settled into a mask as she looked around the room. "How does it look like I'm doin'?"
"I'm sorry."
She waved him off. "Don't be. I shouldn'ta said that." She pointed to an empty chair and Blair sat down. As she wheeled over she said, "Jus' been a bit depressed lately."
"I can understand that."
She reached out and took his hand in a strong grip. "How have you been, sugar?"
"It was pretty rough for a while but I'm beginning to get my life back together."
"Good. Good," she said.
"How about you? How much longer will you be here?"
Releasing his hand, she snorted. "Not much longer."
"That's good."
"Yeah. Medicare is about to run out."
"Oh." He looked at the wheelchair she sat in and asked, "Then what happens?"
"I go home. Or I would if I had a home to go to," she said bitterly. "I lost that while I was still in the hospital. The social worker's trying to find a place for me to stay."
Blair was quiet for a moment before asking, "Do they know if you'll be able to walk again?"
"Maybe. In a few years with a lot of therapy. Which I can't afford."
Blair said the only thing he could think of, "Sorry."
"Don't be. Weren't your fault." She leaned back in the wheelchair. "As soon as the cops catch those guys I'm goin' to sue them for everythin' they've got."
"Good for you."
"Have you heard anythin' about the case?"
Blair looked down at his hands, his unease growing. "I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"I haven't asked," he admitted.
"That captain who interviewed me, said you two were friends, he hasn't told you?"
"We haven't talked about it."
She slammed her hands against the arms of the chair. "I bet you didn't even give 'em a statement." When Blair didn't contradict her she continued, "How do you expect to get these guys if you don't do somethin' about it?"
Blair shifted in his seat, forcing himself not to clench his hands together. "I couldn't talk about it."
"And now?" she asked, some of the anger leaving her voice.
He shrugged. "I want to."
"Then why don't you?"
He didn't answer. Instead he stood up and went to stair out of Miss Ebony's window. Finally, talking to his reflection, he said, "I think. . . If I have to. . ." He took a deep breath. "I'm afraid to talk about it. I'm afraid I'll have to relive it." Shaking his head, he added, "I can't do that again."
A warm hand took his and he looked down into deep brown eyes. "So you let them win, sugar. You crawl off somewhere and hide and they win."
"I'm not hiding."
"Aren't you. I bet you've buried yourself in your work. No time for a social life."
Blair tried to look away, to pull his hand out of her clasp, but she wouldn't let go. She pulled him down so their eyes were on the same level. "Don't let them win. I did that once. Look where I ended up." She released him and rolled back, giving him room to leave.
Blair straightened and put a hand in his jacket, pulling out a business card and a pen. He wrote his address and home phone number on the back of the card before handing it over to Miss Ebony. "I'll try to call but if you move before I can reach you, let me know where you go."
"I will, sugar."
************
Blair mulled over what Miss Ebony had said for the next several days. His thoughts went back to their conversation as he proctored the class final. He forced himself to take a hard look at what his life was like before and after the rape. It was an eye opening experience. his activities had been sharply curtailed since the attack. He'd been to the station only once. He hadn't gone out with any friends or gone on any dates since then, either. Since he was forcing himself to be honest, he had to admit that he hadn't really helped Jim with his Sentinel abilities in a long time. He'd done a lot of research into Sentinels but he hadn't considered any practical use for what he'd learned. He wasn't there for Jim if the detective were to zone or have any other problems.
'But Jim hasn't told me about having problems with his senses,' he thought. 'Would he?' Drawing idle pictures on the back of an unused test, he thought over how Jim had been reacting to him. He shook his head when he came to the conclusion that Jim wouldn't have told him, wanting to spare him any more concerns than he already had.
'Am I hiding?' he asked himself. He stayed at the university all day long. When he came home he continued to do research or immersed himself in grading papers or tests. Or making tests. He suddenly realized he'd given more quizzes this term then he'd ever given before. "Yes," he whispered. "I'm hiding."
Even though he knew he was hiding, he couldn't make himself tell Jim or anyone else what he remembered of that night. Not yet. He would, though. He had to if he wanted to take his life back. He decided that he couldn't just walk into the station and tell Jim or Simon that he wanted to make a statement. Nor could he go to Sex Crimes, the department now handling the case, and give them his statement.
He decided to call Simon and make an appointment for the first day of the new term, after his class. The captain agreed to clear it so he could give the statement to whomever he wished. He wrote the time down in red in his appointment book and vowed not to miss the meeting.
************
Blair had finished going over the syllabus and his notes for the first lecture of the new summer term. The session went smoothly, without the uncertain pauses and missed sections from the previous term. He fielded questions and then allowed the students to leave. He was collecting his things and answering a few individual questions when a young man entered the room and walked over to a female student. Something about the man was familiar but Blair couldn't place where he'd seen him before. He shrugged it off, there were a lot of students on campus, he probably had passed him on the quad a few times.
He had put his backpack over his shoulder and started out of the room when a male voice behind him stopped him. He knew that voice from somewhere. The person's next words made his blood run cold.
"I bet she's never had a real man."
Blair turned to look at the man who'd entered the class, his backpack slipping off his shoulder and through senseless fingers. He stared at the man and in his mind the classroom faded away to be replaced by a poorly lit alley late at night. Hard laughter filled his head as the man walked toward him.
A hand on his shoulder and a voice calling his name jerked him out of the flashback. He mumbled assurances that he was fine as he watched the man leave the room. The man turned back to look at him from the doorway and leered before leaving. Blair grabbed his backpack and the rest of his things and fled from the room.
************
Simon saw Jim enter the bullpen and called him into his office. As the detective shut the door the captain asked, "Have you seen your partner this afternoon?"
Jim shook his head. "He's probably still at the university. Why?"
"He set up a meeting with me to give his statement about the rape today."
"That's great!"
Simon shook his head. "It would be but he hasn't shown up yet. He was supposed to be here an hour ago."
"Did you try his office?" Jim asked. "Sometimes he gets caught up in what he's doing and looses track of the time."
"I tried. No answer." He held up a hand before Jim could speak. "And before you ask, I tried his cell phone as well. And the loft."
As Jim left the room he said, "I'm going to go look for him."
Simon nodded to himself. "I figured you'd want to."
************
Jim drove to the campus first. He found Blair's car parked in the lot near the Anthropology building. The car looked fine so he headed toward Blair's office. As he walked down the hallway he stretched his senses out as far as he could, muting anything that didn't remind him of Blair. He was several yards from Blair's door when he sensed the young man's distinctive heartbeat and smell. He started to run. Mingled with Blair's usual musky scent was the smell of fear. He was stopped short by the locked door.
Jim used the copy of the key Blair had given him and opened the door. The room was dark so he switched on a light. A small whimper sounded as the lights came on and drew Jim around the shelves near the door. He found Blair sitting on the floor, arms around his drawn up knees, head down. The detective quietly sat down next to Blair. If the young man heard him he didn't respond so he carefully put a hand on his shoulder.
Blair screamed. He jerked away from Jim's hand, slamming into the wall behind him. When he couldn't back up any further, he scrambled to his feet. Before Blair could get away, Jim grabbed one of his arms and pulled him back down. The young man struggled against him as he wrapped his legs and arms around him, in order to keep him from running away. He held on tightly to Blair, rocking him and reassuring him he was safe, no one could hurt him. Finally the young man's struggles eased and Jim relaxed his hold.
After a few minutes Blair asked, "Jim?"
"Yeah, Chief. It's me."
Blair tried to stand but Jim pulled him back down to the floor next to him. He kept one arm around Blair's shoulders as he asked, "You want to tell me what's wrong?"
Blair took a shaky breath and shook his head.
"Well, then," Jim replied, "I'm afraid we'll have to sit on this floor till you decide to talk about it."
"The floor's cold, Jim," Blair mumbled.
A ghost of a smile flicked across Jim's face. "It's not bothering me."
Blair sighed. He spent a few minutes staring at the floor. He settled closer to Jim, as if drawing strength from his presence. Jim squeezed his shoulders and pulled him over to lean against his chest.
"I saw one of the people who. . .who raped me today," Blair finally said.
Jim's blood turned to ice. "Where, Chief?"
"In my class."
"One of your students?"
Blair shook his head. "He met a female student." He took a deep breath before saying, "I didn't even recognize him at first. I mean, I knew I'd seen him before but I couldn't place him."
"How did you figure it out?"
"I thought I recognized his voice but I wasn't sure. Not until he said one line."
Jim waited while Blair lapsed into silence. When it seemed that he wouldn't speak again without some prodding, Jim asked, "What did he say?"
Blair pulled his knees back up and rested his elbows on them, burying his head in his hands. Through the curtain of hair that hid Blair's face Jim heard, "I bet she's never been with a real man." He felt Blair take a deep breath beneath his arm. "The night he raped me he said almost the exact same thing." Blair began shaking.
Jim wrapped both arms around Blair and held him tight. "It's okay," he murmured. "He's not here now. He can't get to you."
Blair turned his head against Jim's chest and he felt tears soak through his shirt. The young man's voice sounded small and muffled when he said, "I think he recognized me too, Jim. He leered at me in the room."
Jim began to consider all the unpleasant ways he'd ever seen anyone die. He forced the desire for revenge aside and asked, "Blair, do you know his name?"
He shook his head.
"The girl he met, do you know her name?"
Again he shook his head. Jim was contemplating ways he could find out the girl's name without forcing Blair to see her or her boyfriend again when Blair said, "I think I'd remember it if I went over the class list again, though."
When Blair pulled away this time Jim let him go. Blair ran a hand through his hair, forcing it away from his face. He'd calmed down considerably and he now radiated determination. "I want to see the book thrown at these guys, Jim."
"So do I, Chief. So do I." He stood up and then helped Blair to his feet. "Where's the class list?"
Blair walked over to his abandoned backpack and pulled out a sheet of computer paper. He quickly scanned down to the bottom of the list. Finding the name he was looking for, he circled it before handing the paper to Jim. "That's her. I had to write her name in because she registered this morning for the class."
"Nita Sagamore." Jim wrote the name on a small pad of paper. When he was finished he asked, "Are you ready to give your statement?"
Blair took a deep breath. "Yeah. Let's go."
************
As Blair and Miss Ebony walked past the alley four men jumped out and grabbed them. Blair felt rough hands against his mouth and on his arms as he was dragged back into the dark alley. The hands released him but before he could run another set of hands grabbed his wrists, jerking them up between his shoulder blades. The pain passed beyond excruciating to blinding as the right arm was forced up too high and a bone snapped. Blair screamed in agony and started to collapse. The man holding him jerked him up and around, forcing him to watch his companions beat Miss Ebony.
As he watched, Miss Ebony fell to the ground beneath the blows of the three remaining men. They switched from fists to feet and began viciously kicking her back, head, anywhere they could land a blow.
"Watch what we do to the perv," the man holding him hissed in his ear.
"No!" Blair yelled. He slammed his heel into his captor's foot, causing him to release his prisoner. "Stop it!" Blair screamed. He was grabbed again, his left arm twisted behind his back. Three quick, sharp blows slammed into his unprotected side before the hand wrapped around his throat.
"Pretty boy wants to play," the man holding him shouted to his friends.
"Does he now?" one asked, sending a final kick into Miss Ebony's back.
"I bet he's never had a real man," another said.
The prostitute tried to stand but her legs wouldn't move, wouldn't support her weight, and she fell back to the ground.
"We don't have to worry about her," one man sneered. He and the other two walked over to Blair and his captor. One knelt before him and began to roughly work off Blair's belt and undo his pants. Blair jerked back, struggle to get away, but the man behind him tightened his grip on his throat, cutting of his air.
His jeans were wrenched down his legs. One of the men pulled out a knife and cut off his briefs, saying, "You're gonna love this, fag."
Blair was forced around and pushed against the wall. "Please don't do this," he begged. "C'mon guys. You don't want to do this."
"Sure we do, fag. We just don't think we oughtta pay for it," a voice said into his ear.
His hips were seized and thick fingers forced his cheeks apart. White hot agony seared up his ass and Blair screamed. The man behind him pounded into his body while another man clutched his penis, forcefully squeezing it and pulling on it. His impaller slammed into him once more and shuddered. Hot fluid pulsed into him and Blair fought back the urge to vomit. Finally the man pulled out of him, panting.
Blair, chest heaving, kept his eyes closed. He prayed to every god he'd ever heard of to end his torment. Suddenly his hair was seized from behind and his head was pulled back.
"Give us a kiss, fagot," the man who'd just raped him hissed.
He forced his mouth over Blair's and tried to shove his tongue past the anthropologist's teeth. Blair kept his jaw tightly clinched, refusing entry. The man pulled back, still gripping Blair's hair. He slammed Blair's head into the wall and then pulled his head back again. While Blair was still disoriented from the blow, the rapist forced his tongue into Blair's mouth.
When he pulled back, he said, "That's a real man for ya, fag."
"I don't think he got the lesson," the man who'd been grabbing Blair's penis said. "My turn."
Again and again Blair was raped until he finally slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
************
"That's the last thing I remember," Blair said.
Jim and Simon glanced at one another, each seeing revulsion and nausea reflected in the others eyes. Even though Blair's tone had never changed, he'd never shown any emotions during his narrative, both could vividly paint the scene in their minds.
"Blair, can you describe the men who attacked you?" Simon asked.
"Not really. It was pretty dark and they were. . .behind me most of the time."
"What can you tell us about them?"
Blair closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he said, "They looked young. Late teens, maybe early twenties. Taller than me. One might have been as tall as Jim, possibly a little taller but the rest weren't. All white, muscular. Dark hair. I didn't see their eyes."
"That's good," Simon told him. "How did you recognize the one in your class today?"
"His voice. I'll never forget their voices."
Simon turned off the tape recorder sitting in front of Blair. He took out the tape and said, "I'll get this typed up and then have you sign it." Blair nodded and Simon left the room.
After Simon left, Jim reached across the table and clasped Blair's hand. "That wasn't easy but you did good."
Blair nodded. "What happens now?"
"Simon will have you sign the statement and we'll go home. Tomorrow I'll look up Nita Sagamore and ask her about the guy she was with today."
"Why not today?"
"She's not a suspect, Chief. Nothing's happened to this guy yet and I doubt he'll be expecting anything to happen. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Right now I want to get you home. It's been a rough day for you."
************
Neither man was hungry when they got home. Jim poured them both a drink from the whisky Blair had bought two weeks before. They drank in silence and Jim refilled the glasses when they were empty.
After their third drink Jim said, "I want you to sleep with me tonight, Chief."
Blair spluttered. "What? Why?"
Jim refilled his roommate's glass before putting the bottle on the table. "I was thinking about when Naomi was here. She slept with you that first night and you didn't have any nightmares."
"I haven't had any nightmares in at least two weeks," Blair contended, his words slurring slightly under the effect of the alcohol.
"I know, Chief. But this was a pretty traumatic day for you. You're bound to have some pretty hairy dreams tonight."
"That's why you want to sleep with me?"
"In a way. I just thought if you knew someone was nearby you'd sleep easier."
Blair shook his head. "You're not that far away, Jim." He drained the glass, took the bottle from the table, and refilled it. "'Sides, you're not my mother."
"I just want to help."
"You do, Jim. Just by sticking by me." He settled deeper into the sofa. "I can sleep by myself, though."
Jim didn't argue with him. He contented himself with waiting for the whiskey to work its effects and send Blair to sleep. He listened to his friend's heart as it slowed into an easy pace. Not wanting to wake him, Jim waited until Blair had been quietly snoring for a few minutes before gently picking him up and carrying him upstairs to his bed. He carefully pulled off his friend's shoes and loosened his clothing before getting ready for bed himself. He climbed into bed and laid on his back, letting Blair's quiet snores lead him to sleep.
************
Blair felt a hand slapping his face. He jerked awake and stared into the eyes of a madman.
"Lash," he tried to yell but a yellow cloth blocked his mouth and muffled his voice.
"It's okay. It's okay," Lash said. He stepped back, arms swinging wide. "I want you to meet my friends. I've only got four of them now but. . .there'll be more."
Out of the darkness stepped the man he'd seen in the classroom that day. Three other figures, their faces less distinct, followed him. They joined Lash, patting him on the back and congratulating him on being able to capture Blair.
Blair tried to run but his wrists and ankles were chained together. He jerked his wrists back and forth but couldn't free himself from the chains. As he watched in horror, his clothes faded away leaving him naked.
Lash stepped forward, tapping his drumsticks against the dental chair. He traced them from Blair's forehead and down his face. "My friends told me how much fun they had with you. I thought I'd join in the party this time." He moved back and his "friends" rushed forward, hands grabbing Blair and pulling his legs apart and up. "I get to go first this time," Lash said as he advanced on Blair.
************
Blair's screams jolted Jim awake. He turned over and wrapped his arms around the struggling man. He called Blair's name over and over until the screams finally stopped. For several moments they laid on their sides, Jim's arms wrapped around Blair and the younger man's back resting against his chest.
"Tell me about the dream," Jim requested when Blair had calmed down some.
He felt the young man shudder in his arms and held him closer. "Lash had joined up with the guys who raped me. They were going to rape me again but he was going to go first."
"It's okay. It's okay," Jim said, unaware he was mimicking Lash's words.
Blair jerked his head back, slamming it into Jim's mouth. Stunned, the older man released his hold and Blair bolted from the bed. He was down the stairs before Jim caught up to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him around. Blair swung at him and Jim caught his fist before it could connect. They struggled briefly before Jim's strength won out and he engulfed Blair in his arms, holding him close to his chest.
"Let go of me!" Blair screamed against Jim's chest.
"Not until you calm down."
He wrapped a leg around Blair's and forced his feet out from under him. Both men went down in a fall controlled by Jim. He kept his arms wrapped around Blair's chest adding his legs around the younger man's waist.
"Don't do this," Blair begged. "Please don't do this."
"I'm not doing anything, Blair. I just don't want you to hurt yourself."
"Please," Blair sobbed, "Please let me go."
Jim continued to hold him, one hand stroking his hair, as he murmured reassurances. Blair stopped begging and started crying, the sobs seeming to come from the very depths of his being. Jim rocked him, letting Blair cry against his chest. The young man's arms encircled Jim's waist and the sobs increased, becoming wails, but Jim didn't turn down his hearing.
"Let it out, Blair," he murmured. "Let it out."
Slowly the wails eased off and the crying stopped. Blair continued to cling to Jim, seemingly unwilling to let go. Jim rocked them both back and forth giving Blair time to pull himself together.
Finally Blair pulled away, his head down. Jim let him go but put a finger under his chin and forced Blair to look up at him. "I don't think any less of you because this happened, Blair."
"Yeah, everyone wants a roommate who bawls all over them."
"I'm serious. You've been bottling all your grief up for a long time. Refusing to let any out. This would have happened to anyone."
Blair lifted his chin off Jim's finger and turned away. "Not to you."
"Remember when Danny died?"
Blair nodded.
"I did what you've been doing. Remember?" Jim waited for Blair's acknowledgment before continuing, "I bottled everything up and it sent my senses into a tail spin. If I'd let it out like you did just now that might not have happened." Again he turned Blair's head toward him. "Just because I didn't let it happen then doesn't mean I did the right thing. I didn't. I'm not ashamed of you for finally letting the damn burst."
Blair nodded and wiped his eyes.
"C'mon, Chief," Jim said, standing up and offering a hand to Blair. "Let's go back to bed."
Blair took his hand and followed him back up the stairs without comment. He pulled off his jeans and shirt before settling down on the bed next to Jim. He tensed at first when Jim's arm came around his chest but then relaxed into the embrace. Jim listened as Blair drifted off to sleep before allowing himself to follow.
No more nightmares surfaced to disturb their slumber.
************
Jim stood inside Blair's classroom waiting for Nita to arrive. An attractive girl of Native American descent entered and Blair nodded at her. Jim approached her, flashed his badge, and asked her to join him outside the room. At first she didn't want to go with him but he reassured her that she wasn't in trouble and she followed him outside.
"Okay, officer, what can I do for you?"
"A young man met you in this classroom yesterday. I'd like to know his name and where I could find him. I'd also like to know the names of any male friends he tends to hang out with."
"Why?"
"He's wanted for questioning about an attack that occurred a few months back."
"Paul wouldn't hurt anyone. He's a teddy bear."
"I'm sure he is," Jim said. "But I need to question him anyway."
Nita shrugged. "His name is Paul Rurik. He lives in Tidwell Dorm, room 459. His brother Greg lives with him. They hang together a lot." She paused. "I guess the only other two people I see with them regularly are Vic Timmons and Barry Benoist. I don't know where they live."
"Thanks," Jim said, writing down the information she gave him. "You've been a big help. Sorry to make you late for class."
"That's okay."
She started to turn back into the class when Jim asked, "Does Paul always meet you after class?"
"No," she answered. "His car was in the shop yesterday. He needed a ride."
"Will he meet you today?"
She shook her head. "He got his car back late yesterday."
************
"We can't prosecute," D. A. Beverly Sanchez said two days later in Simon's office.
"Why not?" Jim asked.
"We don't have a solid visual identification from either Blair or Miss Ebony. It was just too dark for either to get a good look at the men who attacked them."
Simon took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What about DNA testing?"
"In most cases that would take the place of a positive identification but not in this one."
"Do you want to tell us why?" Jim asked.
"Blair was raped by four men. The sample taken at the hospital is useless. The statistical population that the seman could have come from would include all of the male population in this country."
Jim groaned.
"Besides, the four young men have all alibied each other *and* they are being alibied by two of their girlfriends. I'm sorry. We just don't have a case."
************
Jim found Blair in his office at the university. The young man kept his back to the detective as he said, "They're not going to prosecute, are they?"
"No," Jim admitted. "They aren't. How did you know?"
"I've been observing long enough to know that it would be difficult to get a conviction based on sketchy identification without DNA results to back it up." He turned to face Jim. "It didn't take too much research to find out that the DNA results in this case would be useless."
"I'm sorry, Chief."
Blair shrugged. "Why?" he asked, his voice sounding defeated. "It's not your fault. I should have been paying more attention to what they looked like."
Jim pulled over a chair and sat down facing Blair. "It's not your fault, Blair."
Blair took off his glasses and placed them on the desk. "I know. I just can't help feeling like I should have tried harder."
"You did better than a lot of people in the same situation."
"Maybe."
"Trust me, Chief. You did the best you could. Besides, this case isn't closed yet."
"How's that?"
"Nita said Paul Rurik and the others were with her that night. We know she's lying. I just need to find a chink in her story."
Blair collected his things and they left his office. They walked quietly through the hallways and out the building. As they approached Jim's car Blair said, "I want you to teach me how to use a gun."
Jim stopped, forcing Blair to come to a halt. "Why? You don't like guns."
"You once told me you wanted me to carry a gun so I could back you up. I just think it's about time I agreed to it."
Jim didn't need to hear Blair's accelerated heartbeat to know he wasn't being honest. "Don't lie to me, Chief. Why do you want to learn how to use a gun?"
Blair started walking to the car again, his hands shoved in his pockets. Once they got in the car he said, "I want to make sure this never happens again."
"And you think a gun will guarantee your safety?" Jim asked, turning in his seat to look at Blair.
"If you teach me how to use it."
"Sorry, Chief. I won't do it."
"Fine. I'll ask Taggart or Brown."
"They won't help you, either. I'll make sure of that."
"Why are you fighting me on this? It's not like you haven't put a gun in my hands before."
"Why? Because you haven't thought this through."
"I have."
"Would you be willing to kill someone?"
Blair shook his head. "I wouldn't have to kill anyone."
"You'd have to be ready to kill and you know it."
Blair sat back silently.
Jim started the car and began the drive home. Half-way to their destination Jim said, "There are other ways to protect yourself. I can teach you some self-defense techniques."
"Against four people at once?"
"From what you told me about what happened, Chief, I wouldn't have been able to defend myself even with my gun."
Blair didn't respond.
"You did the best you could."
They continued in silence until Jim parked the car in front of their building. Blair started to get out and Jim reached across the seat and grabbed his arm, pulling him back in. "I want you to repeat after me, 'I did the best I could.'"
"This is silly, Jim."
"Do it. 'I did the best I could.'"
Blair's eyes flicked from Jim's face to the hand that still held his arm. After a moment he said, "I did the best I could."
"'I survived.'"
"I survived."
"'No one, not even Jim, could have done better.'"
"Jim. . ."
"Say it."
"No one, not even Jim, could have done better."
Jim released his hold on Blair's arm. "That's the truth, Blair. No one, under the same situations, could have done better. Do you believe me?"
Blair's eyes stared into Jim's for a long time. "Do you believe me?" Jim repeated.
Blair nodded, his eyes still locked on Jim.
************
The next day Jim caught up with Nita Sagamore outside the Anthropology building. As he stepped beside her he asked, "Miss Sagamore, can we talk for a few minutes?"
"I'm late to class," she answered.
"I'm sure the instructor would understand."
The girl nodded, sighing, and walked over to a bench in front of the building. "What do you want now, Detective? I've already given a statement to the police."
"I'm kinda surprised your still in that class, Miss Sagamore."
"Why?"
"I know the officer who talked to you just confirmed your boyfriend's story but I would have thought Paul would have told you who he was suspected of raping."
"Why should he tell me that? He didn't do it."
"Maybe."
Jim sat next to her, waiting for her to make the next move. He didn't have to wait long.
"You didn't tell me why you're surprised I'm still taking Mr. Sandburg's class."
"That's who Paul raped."
The color drained from her face and her heart began to pound. She sat next to him, one hand pulling on a bracelet on her other wrist.
"That's a very nice bracelet," Jim observed. "Bantu Indian, isn't it? Handmade."
"I, uh. . ," she started, looking down at the bracelet. "I don't know. Paul gave it to me."
"He has good tastes. Do you remember if he gave it to you before or after April 25th?"
Her head jerked back up. "What?" She shook her head and then whispered, "After."
"Mr. Sandburg had a bracelet just like that one until April 25th when four people raped him and one took it." Jim sat next to her quietly for a few moments, letting Nita put the pieces together for herself. "Do you know that you can be charged as an accessory after the fact, Nita?"
"But I didn't know he raped Mr. Sandburg!" she exclaimed.
"You did lie for him, though. Didn't you? You told the officer he was with you when he wasn't."
She nodded mutely.
"You knew he'd done something that night. What did he tell you he did?"
"He said they'd been out doing a little gay bashing. He said they roughed up a couple of people. That's all. I swear!"
"I believe you," Jim assured her. "That doesn't mean you're not in trouble. You knew he and his friends had committed a crime. You corroborated their statements. That makes you an accessory after the fact."
"What if I change my statement?"
"That would be counted in your favor.
"I can probably get Barry's girlfriend to change her statement as well," she told him, her words coming out in a rush. "She wasn't too happy about lying for them anyway."
"Do you know where to find her?" Jim asked.
She nodded.
"Why don't we go talk to her and then, if she wants to join us, we can all go to the station together."
Nita nodded again. She started to pick up her belongs but stopped, one hand reaching to take off the bracelet instead. She held it out to Jim. "Could you give this back to Mr. Sandburg?"
He took a small plastic bag out of his pocket. Putting the bracelet inside, he said, "I will see that it gets back to him. Right now it's evidence."
She nodded once, gathered her things and clutched them to her chest. "Ashley has a class in the English building right now," she said and started to walk away.
Jim followed close by her side.
************
Several days later Jim entered the loft, a spring in his step usually seen not in him but in Blair. He was whistling as he dropped the keys on the table and put the paper bag he was carrying in the kitchen. Blair came in through the open balcony doors as Jim pulled a bottle of champagne out of the bag.
"I thought we could us a celebration, Chief," Jim said. He pulled out two glasses and popped the cork on the bottle. Foam poured out of the bottle and Jim laughed as he held it over the sink before filling the glasses.
"Why are we celebrating?" Blair asked, accepting a glass from Jim.
"Not having to go to court," he answered as he lead the way back onto the balcony.
Blair stopped in the doorway. "That's not funny, Jim. It's nothing to celebrate."
"Sure it is," he replied. He sat down and patted the chair next to him.
"How?" Blair slowly dropped into the chair.
"Nita recanted her alibi. She talked to Benoist's girlfriend and she did the same thing."
"I still don't see how that means there won't be a trial."
"Paul Rurik and the others were brought back in. When Paul learned that his alibi no longer held water he turned on his buddies." Jim drained the champagne glass.
"That just means I'll have to testify against the other three."
"No. They all fell, one after the other, like dominos. It seems none of them wanted to be left holding the bag on this."
Blair took a couple of sips of the pale gold drink. "So they'll all be charged with rape. How long will they get?"
The grin that had creased Jim's face since he entered the loft faded.
"What is it?" Blair asked.
Jim refilled his glass and started to bring it to his lips. He lowered the glass and said, "Their lawyers got the charges reduced to assault."
"Assault!" Blair bolted from his seat. "Assault! What about what they did to me? What about the rape?"
"I'm sorry, Chief." He got out of his chair and walked over to Blair. Putting an arm around Blair's shoulders, he said, "It was the best Beverly could do. They were willing to plead to assault but none were willing to admit to the rape." He drew Blair back to his seat and gently forced him back down. "Charging them with rape meant a court case."
"I know that. I was prepared for it."
Jim hunched down in front of Blair. "I wasn't." He held a hand up as the younger man started to respond. "I know. It didn't happen to me." He took a deep breath. "A court case would have been brutal. The defense attorneys would have asked that each be tried separately and you'd have to go through it four times. Each lawyer would do their best to ruin your reputation." He placed a hand on Blair's knee. "You'd be raped all over again. And they might have gotten off. I don't know if I could see that happen."
"So you agreed to the charges for me?" Blair asked quietly.
Jim shook his head. "I had no say in how they were charged."
The younger man leaned back in the chair, resignation written across his face, and closed his eyes. Jim adjusted his position until he was sitting in front of Blair.
"Please tell me they'll get at least some jail time," Blair begged.
"Eighteen months with another eighteen months probation."
Blair rubbed a hand against his eyes and sighed. "What does that mean? How long will they really get?"
"Six months. Maybe less."
"Dammit, Jim. Where's the justice in that?"
Jim sighed. "I don't know, Blair. At least they're off the streets for a little while. At least they aren't getting off with out any retribution."
They sat in silence for several minutes. Blair ran a hand through his hair and looked down at Jim. "This sucks, you know."
"I know."
"They ruin my life and barely get a slap on the hand."
Jim shook his head. "They haven't ruined your life. Sure, they tore it apart for a time but they didn't ruin it."
"Things will never be the same," Blair said.
"Maybe not. But you've come a long way since that night. You're putting you life back together. You've gone back to work. . ."
"Not at the station," he reminded Jim.
"Not yet. You'll be there."
"Yeah," he replied, despondent.
"Chief, listen to me." Jim waited until Blair was looking at him. "What happened to you was a horrible experience that shouldn't happen to anyone. I don't know if I could have made as much progress as you've made if it happened to me."
"You would have gotten over it," Blair said, his voice barely over a whisper.
"I not so sure of that. I think I would have buried it down as far as I could until I blew up."
"And I didn't freak out?"
He shook his head. "No, you didn't. You let it go, got all that fear and pain out. You kept functioning. I don't think I could have kept functioning. I'm proud of you, Blair. You're a better person than anyone I know."
Blair tried to speak and couldn't. He swallowed and tried again, "You really think that?"
Jim nodded. "I wouldn't lie to you."
"Thanks, Jim," he whispered.
finis
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