think my left shoulder's dislocated."
Jim's brow furrowed in concentration as he moved gentle hands over his
partner's left side. He immediately felt the odd angle of the shoulder.
"Yeah, I think you're right, Chief. How'd you manage that?"
Blair let out a long, pain-filled breath. "I fell down the stairs."
Jim's gaze shot to his room above. He could see Blair's jeans hanging off
the edge of his bed. Blood spattering the end of his bedspread. He turned
back to his partner. Blair lay flat on his back, eyes closed, trying not
to move. "Chief, he didn't--"
"No, he tried but ...no." He opened his eyes again. Henderson may not
have managed to rape Blair but the idea of it had left him shaken
nonetheless. Jim could see it in his eyes. A haunted quality that he'd
never seen before and hoped never to see again after tonight.
Snagging the afghan from the couch, Jim draped it over the lower half of
Blair's body. The kid had on his shorts and his socks yet Jim still felt
the need to protect him from prying eyes of the other cops who would soon
converge on the loft. "Okay, Chief, just relax. We'll get you to the
hospital. They can---"
"I'd rather you did it," Blair cut in. "This is done by feel, Jim, and I
trust your sense of feel more than some doctor."
"I don't know, Chief." Jim had set a couple of shoulders when he was a
medic in the army. But he hadn't known any of those men. Not personally
anyway. It had made the painful process simpler to endure. But with
Blair...
"Jim, I trust you, man."
Simon walked up and stood beside Jim. "Forensics is on the way."
Jim glanced at the captain then behind him. Henderson was gone. A uniform
now stood at the doorway, keeping back any curious onlookers. Jim hadn't
noticed any of it, his focus solely on his partner.
"How you doing, Sandburg?"
Blair looked up into Simon's concerned face. "I've been better," he
admitted.
"His shoulder's dislocated," Jim said.
"Ouch." Simon cringed. "That's gotta hurt like hell."
"I'm going to try and fix it." Jim touched the shoulder again, feeling
around it, trying to decide the best tactic.
Simon crouched down beside Blair. "What can I do?"
"Grab the scissors out of the kitchen. We need to get his hands free
before we can do anything." Jim turned back to Blair. "I'm going to sit
you up now, Chief. Don't you move. Let me do the work. Okay?"
"Okay." Blair gritted his teeth as he was pulled upright. Jim could see
the small beads of sweat on his Guide's forehead. Feel the slight tremors
that ran through his body. But to his credit, Blair did not cry out.
"You're doing great, Chief," Jim coaxed.
Simon returned with the scissors and carefully cut the tape binding Blair's
hands together.
"Just leave the tape on for now, Simon. We'll get it off once we're done."
Simon nodded. "What do you want me to do now?"
"Brace him so that he can't move around when I'm trying to get this thing
back into place."
Simon set one hand on Blair's right shoulder and the other in the center of
his back. Blair hissed out in pain as he was once again jostled. His eyes
slipped shut.
"You okay, Chief?"
"Yeah, just do it."
Jim took a deep breath, gripped his partner's left arm and pulled it up and
out. Blair cried out as the bones ground against each other. Then Jim
felt the shoulder slip back into place. "That's got it."
Simon released his hold. Blair remained where he was, eyes closed,
breathing hard.
Jim set a tentative hand on his right shoulder. "You okay, Chief?"
He nodded but did not move or speak. Jim's hand shifted to his Guide's
too?"
Blair finally opened his eyes again, focusing on Jim. "No, I was trying to
get away but Henderson caught me and slammed my head into the wall." He
flinched at the probing fingers. "Knocked me out. When I came to, I was
upstairs…" His voice trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap. His
fingers played with the gray tape still attached to his wrists.
Jim shifted his gaze to Simon. "Hey Captain, can you grab a pair of sweats
from Blair's room. I wanna get him to the hospital."
Blair shook his head. "I'm fine, Jim. I don't need—"
"You were unconscious. That alone makes the trip mandatory. And no matter
how much you might trust in my medical abilities, I still want your
shoulder checked out so don't argue with me because you'll just be wasting
your breath."
-------------------------------------------------
Jim sat in the waiting room of the hospital. Blair had been taken inside
only minutes before. He had tried to convince Jim over and over that he
was fine, that they should just go back home. But Jim had remained
adamant. He would not take chances when it came to his partner's health.
Partner. The word echoed through his mind. When did he become that?
Something Jim had never wanted again, thought he didn't need. Now he
didn't think he could do his job without him.
It had only been two hours since he'd busted into the loft. Two hours
since Henderson had been taken to jail, his threats still playing through
Jim's mind. In an instant, the image of Blair's jeans discarded in his
bedroom flashed through his mind. Jim covered his eyes with his hand.
God, if that had happened....
He shook his head unable to even fathom those thoughts. Unable to believe
that anyone would want to hurt Blair in that way. And if it had happened,
there would have been no one or no thing that could have stopped him from
killing Henderson. As it was, the man was lucky he was behind bars.
"Jim, we need to talk."
Jim looked up at Simon. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even
heard the captain approach. "Blair just went in. I haven't heard anything
yet."
"Not about how Sandburg is doing. It's about what Dorcel told us." Simon
had gone back to the station to make sure Henderson was processed properly.
No one wanted any mistakes on this one. But now as he took the seat
beside him, Jim realized that his captain had done more than just check up
on Henderson. "I talked with Officer Dorcel," he began, keeping his voice
low. "I got more information from her and I think you need to hear it."
"I need to hear it now, Simon? Here?"
"It can't wait," he said tightly. "She said that some of the uniforms
resent Sandburg and as a result, have made a pact among themselves."
Jim's eyes narrowed. "What kind of pact?"
"If they get a call for backup from Sandburg, they've agreed that they will
respond slower than normal."
"So what? It hasn't been a problem—"
"Not yet," Simon cut in. "But I can't let you go back on the streets with
him knowing this."
Jim's jaw clenched. "What are you saying, Simon?"
"I'm going to talk to Captain Renkin about his men, see what he can do
about this. But if the uniforms have issues regarding Sandburg, then we
may need to discuss pulling his--"
"Don't finish that sentence," Jim warned. "If you were about to tell me
that you're thinking of pulling Blair's credentials while he's in there
being checked over for injuries because of that asshole Henderson…" His
voice trailed off as his anger threatened to boil over.
"I am responsible for his safety as well as yours," Simon snapped. "I'm
not going to let this partnership continue if it puts either one of you in
unnecessary danger."
"Sandburg is the best partner I've ever had. If you think I'm going to
just give him up because some uniforms are jealous...I won't, Simon.
You'll have to fire me before I let this happen."
"You think I'm happy about this, Jim? You think I don't know what kind of
job Sandburg has done? How much he means to you? You think I'm not going
to do everything I can to try and fix this?"
"We will fix this, Simon. There's no question about that. But until we
do, I don't want anything said to Blair about it." He glanced down the
hall, making sure his partner was not yet coming. "After all he's done for
the department, I don't want him to be made to feel like an outsider again.
This stays strictly between us."
-------------------------------------------------
Carl Henderson sat in his cell staring at the dull, gray wall. Lights out
had been hours before but his nose and hand ached, keeping him awake. He
shifted his gaze down to the bandage covering his hand. He should have
just stabbed the kid, not wasted time taunting him. But it had been fun to
see the fear in the kid's eyes, to feel him tremble beneath his hand.
When he'd first arrested Tommy Michaelson, he couldn't believe how much the
kid had looked like Sandburg. He'd just been too tempting to pass up. But
the fun he'd had with that kid had only whet his appetite even more for the
police observer.
He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the wall behind him.
Well, he couldn't let either one of them testify against him. He could
care less about Michaelson but Sandburg...he hated the idea of killing him.
Liked to think that when he got out of here, maybe he could get another
shot at him. But it just wasn't worth the risk of jail time.
"Gotta be done," he muttered. "And the sooner the better."
-------------------------------------------------
Jim broke through the door of the loft. Blair's blood covered body lay
across the coffee table. No heart sounds reached Jim's ears. Blair's
chest did not rise and fall with signs of life. He was still, utterly,
coldly still.
"Blair?" The name echoed around him, pulsed through him. No response.
"This is probably for the best."
Jim looked toward the voice. Simon stood beside him, staring down blandly
at Blair's corpse.
"I would have had to split you two up. This is much easier." He looked
up at Jim, smiling. "Don't you think?"
Jim jerked awake, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
"Jim? You okay?"
Jim sat up and glanced over the side of the balcony. Blair sat on the
couch below, papers spread all around him, his worried gaze turned upward,
his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Sandburg, what are you doing?"
He indicated the mess around him. "I need to get these tests graded."
Jim pulled on his robe and headed downstairs. "You're supposed to be
taking it easy."
"Grading is easy. I just plop my feet up and make a bunch of little red
marks."
"You're supposed to be sleeping," Jim corrected.
"Yeah well, I couldn't sleep." He tucked a stray piece of hair behind his
ear before dropping the pen he was holding onto the stack of papers in his
lap.
"You in pain?" Jim asked, taking the seat across from him.
"No, nothing like that. I guess...I'm just thinking too much."
"Thinking about what?" But Jim had a pretty good idea what was keeping his
partner awake.
Blair drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Henderson," he
admitted with more than a little reluctance. "Jim, when I do my statement
tomorrow, do I have to put everything in it?" His gaze darted up to Jim's
bedroom before returning to him. "Tell what he tried to do?"
"Yeah, I'm afraid you do, Chief. The D.A. will need it to decide charges.
Plus it all helps when it goes to trial."
"Trial? Oh man, I hadn't even thought about that." Blair pulled off his
glasses and tossed them on the coffee table. "So I'm going to have to
actually…describe it all in open court? Man, Jim, everybody's going to
know."
Jim's brow furrowed. "It isn't the first time something like this has
happened, Blair."
"It's the first time it's happened to me." He shoved up from the couch and
paced to the balcony doors. He stood with his back to Jim, absently
rubbing his left shoulder. "Why did he come after me, Jim? What made him
choose me?"
Jim stood and crossing to Blair, stopped beside him. He glanced down at
him, could see the pain and confusion in Blair's eyes. "It's nothing you
did, Chief. Is that what you're thinking? That somehow you asked for this
to happen?"
Blair dropped his gaze to the floor. "I don't even remember ever talking
to the guy," he said, his voice barely audible in the silence of the loft.
"You probably never did," Jim said, matching his tone. "Blair, did you see
the kid that Henderson was accused of molesting?"
Blair shook his head.
"I did and you know what I thought when I saw him? I thought he could have
been your brother, he looked so much like you. I remember thinking I was
glad he hadn't decided to go after you instead."
Blair looked up at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't see any reason to. Henderson was suspended and they were
investigating him. I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to come here and
attack you. But my point is that you were a type for him, nothing else.
You didn't do or say anything to bring this on."
"It's just…it's taken me so long to feel like the guys accept me. Now with
this…" His voice trailed off as his hand came up to rub his eyes.
"Blair, no one is going to think any less of you because of what Henderson
tried to do. In fact, I think Henderson should count himself lucky he's
behind bars where none of the guys can get at him."
Blair wrapped his arms around himself, nodding slightly as he thought about
Jim's words. "Thanks, man," he whispered. "This helped."
"No problem," Jim said around a yawn. "Now that that's settled, can we get
some sleep?"
Blair sighed. "You go ahead. I have to finish this stuff tonight." He
crossed back to the couch and sitting down, slipped his glasses back on and
picked up his pen.
Jim stood, staring down at him. "This can't wait?"
He shook his head. "I have to have the grades posted by seven a.m. Which
means I have to finish grading tonight and enter all the information into
the computer and ship it over to the mainframe at the university."
Jim sat down on the couch beside him. "What can I do?"
"It's my responsibility, Jim. Go back to bed. I can handle it."
&n
bsp; "Blair, you're not behind because of anything you did so just shut up and
let me help you."
Blair smiled. "Okay, thanks." He indicated the open lap-top on the coffee
table. "You could type in the corresponding grade from each paper next to
the student's name."
Jim lifted the small machine onto his lap before turning his attention to
the finished papers Blair handed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he
could see Blair squinting down at the paper's he was checking and Jim
realized the glasses he had on were his old pair, the pair that he'd said
were so bad he wouldn't pass the eye exam at his next driver's license test
if he didn't replace them.
"What's with the glasses, Chief?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "My other pair got broken. It's no big deal.
I'll get them fixed."
"Got broken how?"
"I think they must have been on the coffee table when Henderson threw me