Subtle Shifts
Crossover
by Sorka
The atmosphere of the Major Crime division of the Cascade P.D.
was filled with tension. It was the second week in a prolonged surveillance
of the Rainier University campus. The case had started as a simple assault.
The victim, a member of the women's gymnastics team, had been able to
get away quickly. Patrols by the campus cops had increased slightly, but
there was no way they could be everywhere at once.
It soon became apparent that they were dealing with more than one
attacker. When the next attack took place, this time the victims were a
young couple taking a nice romantic walk in the wooded area between the
dorms and the athletic field. The boy friend had distracted their attackers
long enough for his companion to get help. He was found in a heap in the
woods, beaten bloody, his wallet gone, as was any other valuables that he
had been carrying. Less than twenty-four hours later, a member of the men's fencing team was robbed, beaten and sexually assaulted. Because of the brutality of the crimes, and the number of students with important parents, Major Crime was asked to conduct the investigation.
Detective Jim Ellison was more than happy to work on the case. His
partner Blair Sandburg was a teaching fellow at the university and he hated the idea of a couple of maniacs running around attacking people at random. Until this rash of attacks Rainier U was considered one of the safest campuses in the country.
Tonight they were doing the one thing all cops hate, using live bait. With most of the students staying indoors after the sun went down, it was a safe bet they would be able to entice the attackers with a single potential victim. It seemed that the criminals got off on taking down tougher opponents. The last attack had left the quarter back of the football team crippled, both emotionally and physically.
When the idea of a decoy was first brought up, some smart-ass patrolman had suggested using Sandburg as the bait. The reaction from the members of Major Crime had been swift and unmistakable. Jim had almost taken the man's head off for even suggesting it, but hadn't needed to since the rest of the unit had verbally done it for him. Instead, Detective Johan Rafe had volunteered to be the bait. They needed someone that could hold his own for the few crucial seconds that it would take for back up to move in.
The division was going over the last minute details before tonight's plan was put into motion when Blair walked in. He smiled and waved to everyone as he made his way to his partner's desk.
He had noticed Jim had been having small zone-out like episodes over the last two weeks. Nothing really dangerous, but they hadn't had time to search for the cause. He saw his partner in Simon's office and decided to wait at their desk. Jim came out a few minutes later.
"Hey Chief, glad you're here," Jim said, sitting on the desk's edge.
"Well, I can't let you do this on your own," Blair lowered his voice. "Not the way you've been zoning lately. Any this morning?" His eyes showing concern.
"No, and I'm beginning to get pissed off at these little episodes," Jim confided. "You haven't been able to find a reason yet, I take it."
Blair sighed, and leaned back in his seat. "The only thing I can come up with is that there's something just outside of your normal sensory limits. What ever those are. And you're subconsciously trying to identify it."
Jim bit his lower lip thoughtfully. "So what do you suggest?"
"These episodes actually started before the case, so it's probably got nothing to do with that," Blair said thoughtfully. "You don't think it has anything to do with the test we did with Garry do you?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, the test was to prove you could hear the subsonic noises that are the warning signal for certain types of earthquakes. Maybe you're hearing micro quakes, the natural shifts of earth over time, and because you know what it might lead to you focus on it without realizing it."
"Okay, Darwin, then if that's the case, how do we stop it from happening?"
Blair smirked at the nick name, "Well, for now I'm just going to keep a closer eye on you. We won't have time to work on it until after this case is solved. There isn't really anything else we can do."
"Yeah, that's true enough," Jim looked at his watch. "You interested in lunch? The tension in here is starting to give me a headache."
"Hey, I know a great place to try, Mongolian barbeque."
"As long as I don't have to eat goat," Jim warned.
"Great, come on, I'll race you down the stairs," Blair said, waggling his eyebrows. "Loser pays for lunch."
"You're on, Chief," Jim said. They dashed for the stairs, laughing as they went. When they hit the landing for the second floor together, Jim felt a familiar sensation. One that he had only recently identified. "Shit." He grabbed Blair around his waist, stopping him from heading down the next set of steps, and backed them up until they rested against the wall.
"Hey, man," Blair protested, still laughing. "No fair cheating."
"Hold still, Blair," Jim hissed at him. Blair stopped struggling and looked back at his partner just as the ground beneath them began to shake. It only lasted a few seconds, but if they had been on the steps it could have been disastrous.
"Oh man, that sucked," Blair said softly.
"Since when is this area so tectonically active?" Jim sounded indignant.
"I don't know, but I think this adds more weight to the idea of quakes being the cause of your mini zone-outs," Blair said, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
"Oh just great, that means this has been building for weeks. What if this is a fore-shock?"
"It could be," Blair agreed. "I'd like to talk to Garry about it. They might be tracking it."
Jim nodded, "Everything is set for tonight, so we'll go to the campus first, then lunch."
"That'll be fine, but one thing."
"Yeah?" Jim asked.
"Would you mind letting go? The earth hasn't moved in a while."
"Oh, sorry," Jim quickly released his hold on his partner.
"It's okay man. I'm still not too fond of the ground at the moment," he said with a slight chuckle.
Taking it slower than before, the bet forgotten, they headed down to the truck.
"Mr. Martins, I understand that as a grad-student working on your thesis, you feel that you should have access to my valuable time. But I don't think I have to remind you that running though the halls yelling at the top of your lungs that you need to speak with me is not proper behavior at this institution." The whiney nasal voice of the professor was like nails on a chalk board to anyone that heard it. How this man taught anyone anything over the years was beyond the comprehension of most.
"Professor Cornwall, I've been trying to talk to you for weeks," he said, trying to keep his exasperation out of his voice.
"Yes, yes, And you are scheduled to see me in two weeks. I see nothing that could be so important that you can not wait for the proper time, like the rest of your colleagues."
"Sir, my readings are showing a build up of pressure along the faults around Cascade. If you would just look at my findings you would see what I'm talking about," Garry ran his hand through his short red hair.
"Your readings?" Cornwall asked with a sneer. "You mean that supposed thing you can do with your hands, right? I'm sure you can understand that I'm not going to jump on the hysteria bandwagon just because some other grad student's masters thesis mentioned that you have a unique sense of touch."
Garry bristled at the lack of respect for his friend's work. "No, *Sir*. I'm talking about actual readings from the seismographs. There is a significant buildup of pressure in the area. The small quake that just happened hasn't relieved any of it. In fact there was no movement at all if the readings that came in from the satellites are correct."
"Mr. Martins," Cornwall cut, in raising a hand. "You will kindly remember that you are here at this institution to learn. You will do as your advisors tell you, and as head of this department, I am telling you. Go back to your lab and study these readings and write up a report on your findings. If you are able to explain with clear and concise evidence your theory, then I will happily look over your findings and advise you on the next step in your research."
"To hell with the research, I'm talking about a major event in this area *soon*." Garry was nearly shaking. "We need to warn the authorities to get the emergency equipment prepared."
"I will not tolerate that kind of outburst from a member of this university," Cornwall declared. "You will not humiliate this institution by making the kind of ridiculous predictions that have haunted this field of research since its inception."
Just then Jim and Blair came into the building. The detective had heard the argument from outside and had quickened their pace accordingly. "Is there a problem here?" Jim asked as they approached.
Cornwall stiffly turned toward the newcomers. "And you are?" he asked haughtily.
"Detective Jim Ellison, this is my associate Blair Sandburg," Jim said.
"Oh, so you are the infamous Sandburg," Cornwall said with derision. "I'd heard you were working with the police, since you failed to find yourself a subject for your doctoral thesis. It is of little comfort to me that such a man would have any influence on those that protect the public." Blair flushed with anger at the insult, but bit back a retort.
Jim stared at the department head for a long moment in pure disbelief. When he opened his mouth to defend his partner he felt Blair's hand at the small of his back. Glancing down he saw him shake his head slightly. There was a resigned sadness in those bright blue eyes that told Jim that he had been through this before.
"What is it that you want, Detective?" Cornwall asked, showing no regret for his lack of tact.
"*We* were just coming to see if Garry wanted to join us for lunch," Jim said, making sure the professor didn't miss the meaning. Placing a proprietary arm across Blair's shoulder.
Garry gave Jim such a look of relief it was almost comical. "I'd love to."
"A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Cornwall," Jim dead panned, his jaw set with tension as he forced himself to be semi-pleasant.
Once they were back outside Jim turned toward the two grad students. "Okay, now what the hell was that all about?"
Blair ran his hands through his dark curly hair for a moment. "Do you know how hard I had to work to get my Masters thesis accepted as a viable field research?"
Jim shook his head, wondering how bad this really was. They made their way to the truck as his partner spoke.
"I was looking for a subject for my masters for a while. Most of my classmates were going over ground that had been already done to death or was so dry and academic it was terrible. I wanted to study something that hadn't been touched in a while, something that proved I was more than just another kid genious. Unfortunately I couldn't seem to find a subject that felt right."
"You have to understand that this was a year before his masters was even supposed to be due," Garry interjected.
"As luck would have it, I ended up volunteering to help catalog an enormous collection of books that had been donated to the University by some wealthy hermit that died that year. I mean I'm talking about hundreds of texts, some of which were at least a hundred years old," Blair smiled at the memory as they walked.
"There was stuff on every subject I could think of," Blair's eyes filed with wonder. "Of course a lot of it was very outdated, but that didn't matter. To hold those dusty volumes was a great moment in my life."
Garry smiled, nudging his friend. "Get to the good part. You always drag these stories out."
"Hey, haven't you ever heard of setting the mood?" Blair groused.
"There is setting the mood, and then there is going of on a hour long tangent about some obscure fact that has very little to do with what you are actually talking about."
"I do *not* do that," Blair stated.
"Yes you do," Garry teased. "What about that Polynesian Fire Dancer that you were telling me about. One minute your telling me about how beautiful she was in the firelight and the next thing I know you're explaining the language of the hand movements in the dance and why they are significant."
"Hey, that was important," Blair defended himself. "How can you expect to understand why they were doing the dance if you don't know what the dance means?"
"Blair, you keep forgetting. You're the anthropologist, not me. I just wanted to know about the girl."
"You are so one track minded, man," Blair shot back good naturel.
Jim watched the by-play between his partner and the red headed grad student with a smirk on his face. He rarely got to see Blair this way. Talking about his studies with a friend that knew what he was talking about. He had a feeling that they had gone though this type of conversation dozens of times in the past. It made him wonder if it wouldn't do himself some good to hang out at the University and observe how Blair worked. After all, Blair knew about his job, it was only proper that he learn more about Blair's.
"I hate to interrupt this debate, but you were telling me about the books, and what this has to do with Cornwall's attitude toward you," Jim reminded them as they climbed into the Expedition. Garry took the back seat, leaning forward to stay in the conversation.
"Oh, right. Sorry about that ," Blair grimaced. "Anyway, I'm in the middle of these hundreds of books, right? We had some stacks that were taller than you, Jim. Well, I was making my way to the coffee maker and I tripped. I don't know what I caught my foot on. Actually, thinking about it now, I'd almost swear something grabbed my foot. Anyway, I knocked into one of the stacks that I hadn't been working on, and this book falls on my head. I caught it before it could hit the ground. There in my hands was an original Burton monograph. All the plates intact. "
Jim's eyes widened in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. The same book you showed me when we first met?"
"Why would I lie about something like that? It was like getting hit with a bolt of lighting. I had in my hands the foundation for a life's work. I took the book to my advisor the next day after reading it most of the night, right there in the storage room."
"He looked like five miles of bad road," Garry teased. "All covered in book dust, dark circles under his eyes. Not a pretty sight."
Blair shot him a look. "*Anyway* my advisor encouraged me to pursue my ideas as a an aside to what would be considered more acceptable studies. I mean, Burton's works are far from mainstream. Even his early translations of historical texts are far from academic."
"Prof. Buckner told me that it was a risk to study heightened senses but not to let that discourage me. He was really glad to see me so focused so soon in my studies and let me go my own way as far as where I wanted to go with it."
"If he was so gung ho about this, what was with that attitude back there?" Jim pushed.
"The problem is that when I published my first undergraduate piece, most of what I had was second hand accounts and the history down in Burton's monograph. I had no solid proof that this was even possible. Basically the idea sounded like something out of a bad paperback novel or a comic book. It didn't help that I was still trying to prove that I wasn't too young to be there."
"So you're saying that a lot of people that you wanted approval from didn't take you seriously?" Jim asked.
"You got it," Blair sighed. "I still have to deal with that sort of reaction to my work when ever I want to publish anything."
"Cornwall doesn't like the fact that one of the members of his department was in on Blair's Masters Thesis," Garry interjected. "The idea that one of his people might give validity to something he considers to be nothing more than a fantasy is like a personal insult to him."
"Right, so when you publish your research on me that should put an end to the debate, right?" Jim asked. There was a long silence. "Right?"
"Not really, when I publish my research it will be put up for the entire academic world to see. Every Ph.D. on the planet will have the chance to read it and try to pick it apart. Three things could happen. One, it could be praised as a real breakthrough. Two, it could be ignored, or three, someone with a lot of time on their hands and a chip on their shoulder could dispute my work and write a counter position that would make me look like a complete moron for even suggesting the idea of modern Sentinels."
"What would that do to your career?" Jim was concerned now.
"No big deal, I'd just lose all credibility in my chosen field. I'd still have my Ph. D.; just not the respect of my colleges." There was a sadness to the younger man that Jim didn't like to see.
"How come you never told me about this before?"
"How could I tell you about this, man? You have your career. Besides I would be facing this regardless of what the subject matter was," Blair voice was tired, like this was an old dilemma.
Jim felt like he should say something to his partner, but what could he say? He reached out and squeezed Blair's shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, if it doesn't work out, you could always go to the academy," he said with a smirk.
"Oh man, don't start that again," Blair grinned, knowing he was teasing. "This hair is sacred."
"Blair with a hair cut?" Garry snickered. "Not a good idea, he looks like a criminal with short hair. I got a picture of his first year here, I'll show it to you some time."
"Oh no fair, first Naomi, now you. Is everyone trying to embarrass me?"
"Nah, just the ones that know you," Garry replied with a smirk.
He placed the first tome on the study table and carefully opened it to the third page. A small smile crept across his lips as he saw a familiar marking in the margin. "Joe will be glad to know that this chronicle is in relatively safe hands," he said softly. The Watcher text he held was one of the few that had vanished over the centuries, written in an obscure Germanic language that maybe a handful of people could read now. The other two books he had looked at today were of a more personal nature. Two of his journals had found there way into the private collection of a book fanatic, who had died a few years ago. He had been in Paris at the time and hadn't been able to get to the States in time to retrieve his property.
Methos was grateful that the books had been donated to Rainier. By some quirk of fate, the one city that a higher rate of violent crime than Washington D.C. had the lowest percentage of traffic by Immortals. Unless some industrious linguistics student felt like trying to decipher his code, the journels would simply sit on the shelf waiting to be found by their rightful owner.
How the Watcher text had gotten here was a mystery. Probably some other rich tycoon with a large collection of text, and no idea what he had. //No matter, I'll just slip in here tonight and get it back to Joe before anyone notices.// He chuckled softly, not much happens in a place of higher learning. The theft of the books, will probably be the most exciting thing to happen here in years, assuming anyone noticed them missing.
He turned the pages carefully, wondering who was mentioned in the text. To his growing delight he found accurate portraits of several immortals, including Ramirez. Some Watchers over the years had been accomplished artists, whoever had complied this chronicle had taken the time to show what these immortals looked like. The smile suddenly vanished from his face when he found a portrait of himself among the drawings. The chapter spoke of a mysterious immortal that, while elusive, had been tracked across Europe and was heading for Asia. The chronicle suggested that this figure might well be the one called Methos.
With a heavy sigh the oldest immortal rubbed his hands across his face. "Looks like I'll be doing a little vandalism before turning this over," he said regretfully. "Maybe I'll frame it and give it to Duncan. Nah, he'd just complain that I damaged a book." He waited what would be a proper amount of time and returned the books to the archivist. He noted where all the security was, and what system was used in the building. He smiled, even an amateur could get in here with little trouble. but he would have to be careful getting out. There seemed to be a lot of patrols on the grounds.
Heading for his rental car his cell phone chimed. "Pierson," he answered.
"Hey Adam, it's Dawson," said the voice over the phone.
"Good timing, Joe," he smiles. "I was going to call you."
"How goes the hunt?" Joe asked. "Or were you accosted by coeds when you got there."
"Ha, ha. Not bad actually," Methos replied. "I think its safe to say that most of the missing chronicles are or were in private collection. There's one here at Rainier, from the amount of dust on it, I'd say that it's not been touched since the school acquired it."
"Well that's good. That way they probably won't miss it," Joe chuckled softly over the line.
"What's so funny?" Methos asked.
"I was just thinking that it's a good thing Duncan is in Paris, with Amanda. I don't think he'd look to kindly on us stealing."
"Well what he doesn't know, he can't complain about," the oldest immortal smirked, his tone turned serious. "Listen, I don't want you to think that I'm paranoid or anything, but I think you might want to take any breakables down from the shelves for a couple of days."
"You being paranoid is a given," Joe replied. "What for?"
"There was a small earthquake here today," Methos said. "It's probably nothing, but I've been through enough of them in my lifetime to be cautious."
"Cascade is pretty far away you know," Joe replied.
"Fifty miles isn't that far when it comes to earthquakes," Methos reminded him. "Just take down the things you don't want broken."
There was a pause on the other side of the line. "Okay, I'll do it. By the way, I was wondering if you might be able to check someone out for me."
"Who?" he asked warily.
"There's this cop, survived a crash in Peru a few years back. I've been keeping tabs on him, thinking he might be and Immortal."
"And you want me to feel him out?" Methos asked.
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"No way," Methos said determinedly. "You want someone to do aura tickling you go ask Macleod. I don't go looking for trouble."
"Why do you assume that if he is one, he would automatically try and take your head?" Joe asked. "Not all Immortals are out to get you, you know."
"Assuming the worst is the best way to stay alive."
"But not the best way to live," Joe reminded him.
"I know what you mean. I'll see you in a few days."
"See you soon," Joe replied, then broke the connection.
Methos climbed into his car and headed into the city to find some lunch.
"But Cornwall doesn't want to hear about it and won't take your findings seriously. Just because you're using your senses to double check the findings?" Jim asked.
"Exactly, but if I waited for others to do the same calculations it would take another day or two," Garry confirmed. "Honestly, I doubt we have that much time."
"If you're right, then we should alert Emergency Services," Blair said. "Shouldn't we?"
Jim shook his head. "As much as I would agree with that sentiment, I doubt anyone would take you seriously, not where it counted anyway." They were silent for a long moment, then Jim pulled out his cell phone. "Simon, Jim... yeah. Listen I was wondering of you could do something for me. ... Could you check and see what our emergency supplies look like. You know, for natural disasters and stuff.... Why? Well, you see, there's a good chance we're going to have a significant earthquake...," Jim winced. "Yes I'm serious, no it's not some practical joke. Look when was the last time that stuff was checked? Exactly, just have a look around. Yeah, thanks Simon."
"What did he say?" Blair asked.
"He thinks you're a bad influence on me, and I'm just doing this to make him crazy."
"Well he's half right," Blair smiled. "I'm a terrible influence on you."
"You're telling me? Next thing you know I'll be wearing an earing and burning incense."
"Hey, I've seen that picture of you from your Vice days. Don't even try to tell me you didn't wear one. Hell, you still have the hole in your ear," Blair smiled. "I was thinking of getting you one for your birthday." He reached over to tweak Jim's ear. Jim batted his hand away.
"Just don't spring it on me in the bullpen, all right? I have a reputation to think about."
"Uh huh. Right," Blair dug into his food, and changed the subject. "You sure about letting Rafe do this decoy thing?"
"I know you don't see it often, Chief. But Rafe's been doing this sort of thing since he did his first year as a patrolman. He's more than qualified to handle it."
"But these guys you're after are crazy. What happens if you can't get to him quick enough?"
"We'll be within sight the whole time," Jim reassured him. "Besides I'll be monitoring his position with my senses. I'll be able to spot anything that comes near him."
"Just don't ditch me when it goes down," Blair warned.
"I won't," Jim promised. "In fact, I want you as close as possible so I don't have to worry."
"The closer the better, man."
"So that's how it is with you two, huh?" Garry chuckled.
"What?" Jim and Blair asked in unison, totally confused.
"Nothing," Garry smirked.
The two partners looked at each other and shrugged.
But there had been little choice in the matter. It didn't look like any of the other detectives were going to volunteer. That crack about using Sandburg as bait was the worst kind of joke. The sad part was that he had a feeling that the officer was only half joking. Some of the men on the force were resentful of Sandburg's constant presence in the P.D.. There had been more than enough times when the observer had been useful on case, or knew some bit of information that made all the pieces fall into place.
Brown came into the bull pen to fine him pacing. "Hey partner, you alright?"
"I'm fine. Really," Rafe lied.
"Uh, huh. That's why you look like you haven't had any sleep in days, right?"
Rafe sighed, hanging his head for a moment. "I've always hated this kind of job. I know you'll all be there watching, but the feeling of being alone out there..."
"This is just all the others you've done. What's different this time?"
"I don't know," Rafe paced again, his whole body tense. "I woke up this morning with the feeling that something is going to go wrong. I haven't been able to shake it since."
"Hey, if you aren't up for this one, Simon can just assign someone else," Brown suggested.
"No way," Rafe said fiercely. "This one is mine."
Brown was taken aback at the anger in the normally easy going man. "Okay, what ever you say."
Rafe swallowed his sudden anger. "Just make sure when this goes down, you're there. Got it?"
"Got it, partner," Henry nodded, then looked thoughtful. "You want to come to dinner next week? Julia would love have you over."
"Yeah, that would be great. If it's not a problem."
"Johan, how many times do I have to tell you? Partners are family. You can come over any time. I just wish you come over more often."
Simon was watching the exchange from his office. This kind of case was most often handled by Violent Crime, but there was so much pressure to stop the attacks that the Chief of Police had ordered Major Crimes to take over the case. Simon had tried to keep the resentment that was inevitable from disrupting the normal working order, but some of it was bound to effect his people.
Rafe was one of his best detectives, he was also his youngest, having joined the division a year before Jim's Sentinel abilities came out. He had a bright future ahead of him, but like Jim he had some demons that had followed him from his past. Unlike Ellison, he had not shut out the world around him to deal with it. In fact, he had to be one of the most openly friendly detectives in Major Crime. The reason for his transfer from Violent Crimes was not specified in his file, just a recommendation from the department psychologist that he be placed where there was less brutality in most cases. While they had their share of death to deal with, there were many other types of cases that came through. Simon made sure no one had to deal with more than one gruesome case at a time.
Simon drummed his fingers on his desk slowly as he thought about the call he had just received from Ellison. On top of everything they had to deal with, the strong possibility of an earthquake in the city was not something the captain wanted to hear about. Okay, they had just had a small tremor an hour ago. No damage had been reported, just a whole lot of scared people who tied up the phone lines, especially 911. Jim wasn't known for his over reactions, if he thought it was possible... "Damn."
Simon stood and headed into the bullpen. "Rafe, Brown. Do you to have a few minutes?"
"Sure Captain," Brown nodded. "What do you need?"
"That little shake we had got me thinking that we need to check the supplies in emergency storage," he said, thinking quickly. "And since you both look like you could use a distraction, you are elected to come give me a hand."
"Oh joy, oh rapture," Rafe said sarcastically, none of his usual friendly nature showing on his face.
"I could just make you do this on your own you know," Simon warned as he lead the way to the storage area.
Brown shot his partner a concerned look. "How long has it been since this stuff was looked at?"
"It's been a while," Simon admitted.
"Let's get it over with," Rafe muttered.
Simon let Rafe pass him and gave Brown a concerned look. The detective shrugged and shook his head. Whatever was wrong, Simon hoped it didn't effect the sting tonight.
Rainier University Campus
The moonless night was the perfect time for a little robbery. Methos slipped through the outdated security system of the archive with ease. He didn't even have to worry about anyone spotting him, the grounds were like a ghost town. That made him cautious, normally there would be plenty of students walking around meeting friends or going out to eat. There was an undercurrent of fear that seemed to settle upon the grounds like a heavy mist as soon as the sun went down.
He made his way quietly through the hallowed halls down to the storage room. He found the chronicle carefully placed on a shelf that had very little use, if the amount of dust was any indication. There were several tomes with it that he had actually read over the last few centuries. //No, no. I can always come back and read these at my leisure,// he reminded himself.
//Just get the book and get out, before the sun comes up.// He placed it in a protective case, and slung it over his back. "Time to get out of here," he said to himself, slipping quietly out of the building.
Jim checked Rafe's wire one last time, noting the heightened reparation and heartbeat of his colleague. The younger man had been edgy all evening, pacing nonstop and doing one hell of a good impersonation of Blair with his nervousness. Brown had twice threatened to cut off his supply of coffee just to get him to sit down long enough to be fitted with his wire.
Blair came over to stand next to his partner, watching Rafe with concern as he began to pace again. "He's gonna be exhausted before we even start," he commented.
The Sentinel placed a hand on his Guide's shoulder. "Just let him work it out of his system, Chief."
"I've never seen him like this."
Jim motioned for Blair to follow him and they moved to a more private area to talk. "Rafe had some problems a few years ago, it had to do with an op like this. He was grabbed and disappeared for a few hours."
"Oh my gods," Blair covered his mouth with his hand. "What happened to him?"
"The whole operation was completely screwed up. He was found in a dumpster, covered in blood, but relatively unhurt. The perps were found dead about a block away," Jim rubbed the back of him neck uncomfortable with the memory. "Rafe joined Major Crimes when he came back from medical leave."
"Do you know who killed them?"
"A witness said that the perps were found by a local gang, a fight erupted, the perps didn't make it. Turns out the sister of one of the gang members had been attacked by the same group."
"Has he ever talked about what happened?"
"Only to the department psychologist," Jim checked his watch, "It's time to get this show on the road."
Rafe walked into the darkness away from the protection of his fellow officers. The feeling of dread that had persisted all day hung over him like a dark cloud. He felt a slight tremble in his hands as he zipped up his jacket. He had to walk down this path at a steady pace, not looking around. He had to appear to be a student, so he was carrying a pack with some books in it. He knew there were other cops along the trail, all spaced out and hidden from view, but he felt very alone at the moment.
"How are you holding up there, partner," Brown's voice said through his head set.
"Fine so far," he replied shortly, having nearly jumped out of his skin at Henry's voice.
"You just keep it together, okay?"
"I said, I'm fine."
"Right," Brown replied in a disbelieving tone.
"I'm gonna just keep going past the last guy, there's a chance that they are waiting farther in the woods." On an impulse he turned down a smaller trail away from the safety of the path.
"No Rafe, that's not a good idea," Brown warned him. "Johan, get your ass back on the main trail, damn it!"
Jim heard the exchange and cursed. "Come on, Chief. Rafe just took a big gamble without checking with us first." He called out orders to the officers, telling them to hold their positions but to be ready to move. With Blair only a step behind him, he focused in on Rafe's position trying to find a way to get in front of him.
"What is he thinking?" Blair asked as they headed for the woods.
"I don't know, but he's gonna get himself killed," Jim growled.
Three greasy looking men rushed at him from the darkness of the trees. They circled him like wolves, the tallest grabbing him from behind trying to pin his arms.
"That's it pretty boy," the tall one said into his ear. "I like it when you put up a fight."
The second man was of a stocky build, looked like he worked out on occasion. He punched Methos in the stomach repeatedly, then slammed his fist into the ancient immortals jaw, making him see stars. The third man stood by watching, his eyes shown with a sick combination of anger and arousal. Reaching into the black boots he wore, he produced a long hunting knife with an obviously well honed edge. "I like the looks on this one. Let's take him home for some fun, then we'll see how long it takes for him to bleed to death."
The sound of footsteps coming at a run broke the pain filled stupor that Methos mind had retreated into after the first six gut wrenching punches. Five thousand years of survival instinct kicked in all at once, as his right foot kicked backward, connecting with his captor's kneecap.The popping noise that resulted was drowned out by the scream of pain as the tallest of his attackers fell to the ground in agony. The one with the knife lunged forward attempting to slice open his abdomen.
The unknown immortal entered the fray a moment later, tackling that man with the knife before the blade could connect with flesh. "Cascade P.D.. Get out of here," he ordered Methos, motioning the way he had come. "Helps on the way."
For a moment Methos looked at the dark-hair man in disbelief, but was broken out of his shock by the third attacker deciding to run. "Oh no you don't, you bastard." he said wanting to go after him, but stopped almost immediately when the pain from his gut came back with a vengeance. He doubled over in pain, clutching his abdomen, under his hands he felt the subtle shifts of energy as his body healed itself.
The sound of more footsteps approached, and the third man ran strait into a very pissed off police detective and his partner. Jim clotheslined the man as he tried to run passed, he pulled out a set of cuffs and secured him, all the while taking in the scene before him. Blair ran to the side of the man clutching his stomach to check him out.
"Take it easy," Blair told him. "We're the good guys."
Jim's attention was diverted by a gasp of pain and the sudden smell of blood in the air. Rafe fell away from his opponent clutching his shoulder. The evil looking blade was wet with his blood. Jim pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the man. "Cascade P.D.! Drop the knife and put your hands up!"
The greasy, blood covered man spun in surprise at Jim's words. Seeing the pistol only a few yards from him, pointed directly at his chest, he froze.
"Give me an excuse," Jim growled, slowly moving forward. There was no mistaking the promise of swift action from him. The knife fell to the ground with a clang as the scum surrendered. Jim ordered him down on the ground, and pulled out a plastic zip-tie to secure his hands behind his back. Then pulled out another pair and secured the one trying to clutch at his obviously shattered knee cap.
Blair had assessed that the unknown man wasn't hurt too badly since he was already trying to stand, and ran over to check Rafe. "Shit. Jim, we gotta call an ambulance. Rafe's bleeding real bad."
Jim turned to help, but stopped as he felt something. Blair looked up at him in time to recognize the far off look. Jim covered his ears instinctively as a subsonic tone began to reverberate all around him. "No, no, no. Not now, Jim." Blair ran to his Sentinel's side, Rafe's injuries forgotten in his need to help as a Guide.
"Oh man," Jim said through clenched teeth. "Blair... something's happening."
Blair grabbed Jim's arms as they fell to their knees, the ground beneath them seemed to heave upward as the earthquake they had feared might happen began in earnest. All around them everything turned to chaos and Blair saw Jim heading for a major zone out as everything around them seemed to come alive. Car alarms were going off, trees falling, gas lines ruptured, glass breaking, people screaming, all combining into sensory overload. Blair had the sudden fear that if Jim zoned out, he might not come back.
"Jim listen to me, listen to my voice. You gotta block it all out, man," Blair said frantically.
"Can't... too much. Hurts..."
"You gotta focus on something," Blair looked around for something stable, in a desperate gamble he whispered. "Focus on me, your Guide. My voice, my scent, my heart beat, come on."
Jim clutched desperately to his Guides words, and narrowed his focus until all he knew was the small bubble of relative calm in the middle of the storm of pain. Blair was the one constant in his life. The one thing he knew he could count on. He remembered a few moths ago, when he was afraid of how closely he thought his behavior had matched that of a serial killer. How he had wondered if he would have gone that way of Blair hadn't found him, driven mad by his senses. How Blair had promised to be there for him as long as he was needed. There he was again knowing, understanding, helping, in ways that Jim doubted anyone else could.
He took his hands away from his ears and grasped onto the sides of Blair's head. The feel of the long hair giving him the courage to open his eyes. He gazed into his partner's dark blue eyes, and felt the pulse of blood flowing through his skin. The beat of his heart, the scent of his body, mixed with the shampoo and deodorant he used. He had never let himself focus on anyone with this level of awareness, afraid how the knowledge would affect him.
Blair kept his eyes locked on Jim's, the pained look faded giving way to an expression of intense focus very different from the vacant look of a zone-out. Relief swept though him, knowing that he had done the right thing. He had told Jim once, that when you save someone's life you become their Blessed Protector, and that it was your duty to protect that person for the rest of your life. It was a legend that he held close to his heart. For if Jim was his protector, than he was Jim's. When they had first met he had risked everything to keep this unique man from being run down by a garbage truck.
Even with the chaos all around him, Blair felt a sense of peace knowing his Sentinel was going to make it through this. Deep inside himself he felt something shift and open, the world around him faded away. He was suddenly aware of a familiar heat and humidity of the jungle, as the world returned he found himself standing alone in a clearing surrounded by a tangled tropical rain forest. Standing on a stone platform only a few yards away was a magnificent black panther. It regarded him with solemn golden eyes.
//Greetings Guide,// as a soft voice spoke, the golden eyed cat purred. Blair understood that it was the panther that spoke.
"Where am I?" he asked, taking a tentative step toward the moss and vine covered stone platform.
//This is the path between. Where the worlds of the flesh and the spirit meet.//
"Why am I here?"
//You have made the choice, as the Sentinel had, to be the Guide or to simply be a man.//
"When did I do that?"
//When you chose to let your Sentinel focus solely on you, he imprinted that which make you who you are onto his senses.// At Blair's shocked look the panther chuckled softly. //All the learning you have had did not prepare you for this. It is as it has always been. It is all part of the mystery passed from one pair of guardians to the next. //
"But I never met another guide, how did I do this? Hell how do I do half the stuff I do for Jim?"
//Instinct,// at Blair's incredulous look he continued. //As with the first Sentinel and Guide you have had a little help.//
"From you?"
//Only when you have needed it. You should be proud, you have done very well.//
"What happens now?"
//You must now learn how to use the bond you have forged this night, for as he is now more aware of you, you will become more aware of him and your own abilities. Your journey has only just begun.//
"Wait, I don't have any special abilities. I'm just here to keep Jim from zoning out," Blair protested adamantly.
The panther stood and stretched, his claws digging into the stone. //If you say so, man.// the voice sounding unnervingly like his own as it, like the jungle around him faded out.
Blair found himself once again kneeling in front of him partner, the vibrations of the earthquake fading away. He was still locked in the odd embrace, his hands on Jim's shoulders, Jim's hands buried in his hair. "Okay...," he took a deep breath. "Jim, time to come back. Pull back a bit and look around, it's safe now."
Jim blinked, took a deep breath, and relaxed his death grip on Blair's hair. "What happened?"
"Earthquake, a big one," Blair explained, helping him stand. "You okay?"
Jim smiled softly at him. "I'm fine, Chief. You did the right thing. I was really losing it."
Blair blushed slightly. "Not like I had a lot of options."
When the other two arrived, the taller one identifying himself as a police officer, everything started falling into place. Looked like a certain Scottish immortal's penchant for walking into trouble was contagious. He had walked onto a dangerous campus, at night, right into a police operation to clean up the danger.
The long haired man ran to the side of the bleeding immortal, his voice full of panic. Methos tilted his head, curiously as the pain in his stomach faded to nothing. Rafe was the name of this immortal, it was obvious that these two cops knew him. Maybe he was a cop too. //Why haven't I heard about this one? He must be young.// Then a thought occurred to him. //Is he the one Joe wanted me to check on? Does he even know what he is?//
When the quake started, he expected the two men to try and cover the injured man. But instead something unexpected happened. The tall one, Jim, looked like he was in pain just seconds before it started. His partner ran over to him and spoke softly. They locked together in an odd embrace, seemingly unaware of the world around them.
Methos stayed on the ground, knowing from long experience that trying to move in the midst of a quake was foolish. He crawled over to the immortal, to check his wound. As wounds go it wasn't to bad; in fact, it was healing already. In a few minutes there wouldn't be anything left. Methos met the young man's eyes, and saw that he didn't understand what was happening to him. //Oh, Gods of old, this one hasn't got a clue.//
"You're going to be fine," he said with a smile. He situated himself so that the young immortals head rested in his lap. "Just relax, this will be over in a minute."
"I thought I was dead, thought it was finally gonna stop," Rafe said softly.
//He may not know what he is, but at least he knows something is up. That's a start at least.//
The quake subsided, and Methos looked over at the two men huddled together. Again talking softly, a small corner of his mind was telling him he'd seen something like this before, but he had more pressing concerns. Namely the sudden and complete healing of the wound on this man's shoulder.
"Adam Pierson, not a problem. He's really not hurt bad at all," Methos told him.
"What are you talking about? He was practically bleeding out," Blair pulled away the ripped fabric to reveal bloody but undamaged flesh.
"Let me have a look, Chief," Jim said kneeling down next to him, after he checked the suspects. He placed his hand on the area where the wound had been, pulling away suddenly like he'd been bitten. "The wound is healing itself," he said stunned. He placed his hand back down, "I can feel the tissue knitting back together."
Rafe opened his eyes again to see his friends beside him. "Oh shit," he sobbed.
Several things clicked in Methos' head at once, he made a snap decision. "I'll explain this whole thing to all of you, but not here," he looked down at Rafe. "You're not some freak of nature. At least no more than your friends are." At the surprised, nervous glances he knew he was right.
Jim called in the back-up, while Blair helped Rafe stand up. Brown came running into the area with the rest of the cops, and headed straight for his partner. "Man, what gets into your head sometimes," he admonished. "You know better than to go off like that."
"Sorry, H. I don't know what got into me," Rafe said looking sheepish.
"Yeah well just for that you get to do all the paperwork," Brown took a good look at his partner. "Are you alright? Hey, is that your blood?!"
"It looks worse than it is. Just a scratch. I fell in a one of the puddles on the path getting here." He lied, hating to do it to his partner but not wanting to drag him into this mess just yet. Luckily it was really too dark to tell the difference between blood and muddy water with his dark blue jacket on.
"I'll get these creeps to a holding cell, and the other one to the hospital, Jim, if you'll take Rafe home and make him get some sleep," Brown offered. "Lord knows I've been trying for the past three days. Maybe Hairboy can convince him."
"No problem, man," Blair smiled. "We'll take him home."
"Right *after* we get Pierson's statement on the attack," Jim said, reminding them that no matter how weird things get they still had to do their job.
Blair shot him a look. "Spoil sport," he murmured, only loud enough for Jim to hear. The gentle whap to the back of his head reminded him to keep his mouth shut when he murmured.
Turning to the other officers at the scene Jim said. "I want you all to check the campus and the surrounding area for injured people, downed power lines, and any other damage the quake might have caused."
To Jim's relief the loft had faired well, as did most of the buildings on the block. He would have to replace the frames of serval pictures, as well as the television. A few lamps bit the dust, and the fireplace flue would have to be reset.
Blair entered the loft first and groaned when he saw the remains of the TV. Jim looked at it and shrugged. "After everything this place has been though I'm surprised that it hasn't been broken before this."
"I was just wondering if they would have coverage of the quake," Blair said with a sigh.
"Why? You didn't get enough of it up close and personal?" Jim asked.
"I just want to see how the media is playing it, you know," he said grabbing the broom and starting to sweep up the broken glass. "The way they over dramatize some things while ignoring others."
"Well the least they could have done was announce that my hotel was closed off due to a water main break." Methos grumbled following them into the loft.
Rafe was only a step behind with a pack of clothing and a sleeping bag. "I wouldn't complain, at least you don't live here. My whole block got closed off from a gas leak. How come nothing happened here?"
"Because trouble finds the loft without any help, thank you. It's nice to have a break now and again," Blair said seriously.
"I'm not sure I even want to ask," Methos commented dryly. They spent some time cleaning up, then Blair pulled out a few beers from the fridge. They all settled down to talk.
"Ok, I saw that wound before the quake started," Blair began motioning at Rafe. "That was no minor cut. What happened?"
"As insane as it sounds, Rafe is an immortal," Methos said with a slight smile.
Rafe was taking a swig from his beer and started choking. He stared unable to respond 'cause he was coughing so hard.
"Immortal... riiight," Jim commented with a slight smirk.
"Oh you saw the evidence with your own eyes and now you don't believe it?" Methos chuckled. "Guardians can be so difficult."
"Immortal, as in live forever," Blair's eyes widened. "That's... amazing. How? Why? Man, do you realize what a find this is?"
Jim covered his partners mouth with his hand. "Darwin, cool it. You've already got one thesis project. Don't go making plans for another."
Blair glared at his partner, who was still covering his mouth. With an evil gleam in his eyes he stuck out his tongue, licking the palm of Jim's hand. "Hey!" Jim exclaimed, whiping his hand on Blair's pants leg. "Thanks a lot, Chief. Here take it back."
"I thought you were a cop," Methos said, looking Blair over again.
"Nah, I'm an anthropologist," Blair smiled. "Now what did you mean by immortal?"
"Well that explains some things," Methos stood and went to the kitchen. After grabbing a knife from the block he said, "I'll have to prove this, so a little demonstration is in order." With everyone watching he sliced his hand open over the sink. Blood welled up from the deep slice and spilled into the sink.
"Are you nuts?" Blair protested jumping up to get the first aid kit.
"Blair, hang on," Rafe said moving to stand next to the ancient immortal. "The wound is healing."
Jim stood as well, almost zoning on the sight of the flesh knitting together before his eyes. "Oh man, that's just too much." With the proof before his eyes he said, "Okay, now I believe you."
"This has happened to me before." Rafe admitted slowly. "I broke my ankle chasing a perp last year. I heard it snap, but less than an hour later it was like it hadn't happened."
"But you told me that story about breaking your arm in high school." Blair interjected. "How come you didn't heal that fast back then?"
"Because an Immortal is a normal human in most respects until he or she dies for the first time." Methos told them calmly. "After that, you stop aging, you heal incredibly fast, and you are able to sense other immortals. The question is, when did Rafe die?"
"Oh God," Rafe paled suddenly and ran for the bathroom. They all heard a painful retching sound.
Blair looked at Jim, who nodded, then ran over to help the young detective. Leaning down next to him Blair offered a wet wash cloth. "You okay, man?"
Rafe nodded, taking the cloth and wiping his face. "I just figured something out," he coughed. "I know when I died the first time."
Blair helped him stand and lead him back to the living room. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked him softly.
"It was my last case in Violent Crimes," he looked over at Jim. "The one were I was found in the dumpster."
Jim grimaced. "I remember, most thought it was a miracle you got out of that mess alive."
"I used to have nightmares of getting cut up," he shuddered. Leaning forward, head in his hands, "I never realized that I should have been dead. I always figured I'd gotten away or something."
"I'd say we've answered that question," Methos said blandly.
"Hey man, give the guy a break," Blair glared at him. "I don't know what the case was, but I know what it's like to wake up, not knowing what happened."
"What, go on a weekend bender and not remember?" Methos teased.
"Try being deliberately drugged with a hallucinogen and the last thing you remember is that you had a gun in your hand," Blair shot back in anger. Jim placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and glared at the immortal.
"Sorry," Methos said with soft sincerity. He hadn't screwed up that bad in a while, but then he wasn't used to dealing with a pair like these two.
"So, how old are you?" Rafe asked, deciding to change the subject quickly.
"Pretty old," he admitted. "I find it's safer never to admit my relative age. The older you are the bigger a target you are. The same can be said about young Immortals as well. They are considered an easy target."
"You mentioned safety before, what's the deal," Blair asked, his curiosity over coming his temper.
"Immortals don't always live a long time, because other immortals are always trying to kill them."
"Oh this just gets better and better," Rafe grumbled. "Okay, Adam. Why?"
"The power that heals us and keeps us from aging is released when we are killed," he explained. "If you are killed by another Immortal, he would absorb the power into himself. If you are killed in an accident the energy is dispersed into the earth."
"Wait, if you're immortal how can you be killed?" Jim asked.
"Only one way, decapitation. Anything else you can heal from."
"Oh, that's great, that's just beautiful," Rafe flopped back on the couch.
"You'll have to learn how to defend yourself with a sword. Which means, you have a lot of training ahead of you, Johan. The good thing is, Immortals tend to bypass Cascade and go to Seacouver. Otherwise you would have been picked off a long time ago."
"Anything else I should know?" Rafe asked.
"Just two things, all fights are one on one, and you are only safe on holy ground," Methos recited. "Recently it's also that you are safe in areas with lots of people around, or media. There are enough people that know about us as it is."
"Wow. To get a chance to talk to someone that was around two hundred years ago, to ask how people and cultures have changed over time. It's a cultural anthropologist's wet dream." Blair said enthusiastically.
"Do a lot of people know about Immortals?" Jim asked, not missing the reference.
After a moment, Methos decided to tell them. "There is a society called the Watchers. They have observed and recorded what Immortal do for centuries. Most members are brought in when they witness a duel or see someone that they knew was dead come back to life suddenly. Keeps them from going to the press."
"You sound pretty casual about a bunch of strangers poking around your private life," Rafe grimaced, not liking the idea of being spied on.
"That's not something I'm very concerned about, since none of them know about me," Methos smiled. "Well, except one, and he won't tell anyone."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm hiding as a Watcher. A researcher actually. "
Blair snickered, covering his mouth. Then looked at the sincerely wicked smile on Adam's face and lost it. He rolled face first into the couch cushions and howled with laughter. Jim couldn't help laughing with his Guide; the thought of a guy hiding in plain sight was to ironic. "Oh man, he he he. I love it." Blair gasped. He wiped his eyes and sat up, trying to regain his composure.
Still smiling at his partner Jim turned to Methos and asked, "Not that I don't trust you, or your motives, but why are you letting Sandburg and me in on this?"
The ancient Immortal cocked his head to the side. "A long time ago, I made a promise that whenever I meet a pair of guardians. I'd tell them about who and what I was, so that they would be able to protect their people from those Immortals that were dangerous."
"Okay, Adam, that's the third time you've referred to Ellison and Sandburg as Guardians."
Rafe grumbled. "What's up with that?"
Blair glared at Methos, while Jim rubbed his forehead. "First the FBI agents now this," Jim muttered. "I swear, it's impossible to keep secrets around here."
"You have no talent for tact do you?" Blair asked him dryly.
"I used to be a lot better at it," Methos said, moderately sheepish.
"What's going on?" Rafe asked, leery of the answer.
After a long moment of silent communication between Sentinel and Guide, Blair cleared his throat. "Do you remember when I first came to work with Jim?" he asked. "I told everyone I was there to study the police subcultures."
"Yeah..."
"Umm, that wasn't what I was studying. I was studying Jim, specifically."
"Does this have anything to do with how Jim seems to know things that he shouldn't be able to?" Rafe interrupted briefly.
"You see, I knew someone would notice," Blair told his partner in exasperation. Jim rolled his eyes while Blair continued. "You see Jim has all of his senses heightened beyond that of a normal human. He needs my help to stay focused, otherwise the input can sometimes be too much."
"How far beyond a normal human are your senses, Jim?" Rafe asked, stunned but genuinely curious.
"We actually haven't been able to measure precisely," Blair answered. "Lets just say he's got most surveillance beat hands down."
"That's incredible," Rafe said, awed.
"Yeah, but you try and sleep without earplugs when you can hear a bug crawling on the floor from across the room," Jim shook his head. "Trust me, it's a real pain in the ass sometimes."
"Even more so with all the modern technologies, I'll bet," Methos speculated.
"You don't know the half of it," Blair agreed. "The worst part was going through all the things Jim used to use, like cleaning fluids and detergents to see what would affect his senses."
"Why did you have to do that?"
"After the cold medicine incident we didn't want anything else messing him up that bad again."
At Rafe's questioning gaze Jim held up his hands, "Don't ask."
Methos looked thoughtfully at Blair, "It's obvious that you are the one that guides in this pairing. What I don't understand is why you are studying him. That would be like Burton field testing his translation of the Kama Sutra, it would just be too personal. Actually, he did study Guardians for a while, I was with him when he was wrote his monograph. Too bad he didn't get the acclaim he thought he'd get. No one believed his 'Sentinels' existed, even though the tradition of a tribal Watchman has been around for millennia. "
"Oh that was the wrong thing to say," Jim smirked at his partner, who looked about to burst with excitement.
"What did I say?"
"You were *with* Burton?!" Blair's eyes had a greedy light to them.
"Uh, yes," he confirmed warily. "I helped him with his studies. Translated the tribal language for him, no big deal really."
"No big deal?" Blair asked incredulously, then gave him the patented 'innocent puppy' look he always used to get Jim to do tests. "You wouldn't mind if I picked your brain for a while would you."
"Run while you can, Adam. Run like the wild wind," Jim told him still smiling. "Sandburg gets a hold of you and you'll never leave Cascade."
"Well, since I can't just leave Rafe defenseless, now that I know he's here, I guess I'll be around if you want to ask questions."
"Great, there are so many things I want to ask you about."
Blair took a deep breath, ready to launch a hundred questions. This was the answer to a prayer, to be able to talk to someone that had actually interacted with a Sentinel and his Guide.
"Hold on Darwin," Jim held up his hands to forestall the flood of questions. "Look it's late, I'm tired, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I'm going to go to bed. There's the two couches and the floor, we've also got a few sleeping bags under the stairs." He pointed to the minor pile of camping equipment stowed under the stairs.
Blair was about to protest, but was sabotaged by a large yawn. He gave in after shooting Jim a dirty look. "Well I'll see you all in the morning." he said sheepishly heading to the bathroom. When he was done he entered his room.
Jim climbed the stairs to his bedroom, then called down, "If you have any business to take care of I suggest you do it now, I hate being woken up by the sound of the toilet flushing."
Rafe stared up at his coworker in disbelief, "He's not kidding." Blair called from his bed. "Jim's a real bear if you wake him up."
"I'm so glad you're the one living with him, Blair. Anyone else would probably try to kill him," Methos muttered laying down on the couch closest to the windows.
"I heard that," Jim called, as he settled down to sleep.
"The two in the holding cell are Tom Duggan and Jerry Vassar," Jim explained to Simon the next morning. "The third guy at the hospital is Greg Norman."
"All three of them live in Southtown, where they're known to cause all sorts of trouble, but they like to prey on upperclass people outside of where they live," Rafe added leaning against the doorway.
"Any evidence that these three are the same ones we are looking for?" Simon asked.
Blair came in just then with the forensics report. "The knife we got off of Vassar is the same type that was used on Doug Walters, the football player. *And* the preliminary reports indicate that the skin and hair are a close match."
"Good work, gentlemen," Simon complimented. "Now, since this case seems to be so nicely wrapped up, would one of you mind telling me why Rafe seems to have acquired a shadow?"
The shadow he was referring to was sitting at Rafe's desk his face buried in one of Blair's anthropology books, his feet irreverently propped up on the desktop.
"Oh, that's my cousin from Seacouver, he dropped by last night; wanted to see where I worked," Rafe explained hastily.
Jim and Blair both winced inwardly. The look on Simon's face told them that he didn't believe a word of it. That cousin line was almost that same one Jim had used to get Blair his ride-along papers. The interesting thing was, now that Jim understood what was going on with Rafe, he had identified a tingling sensation at the base of neck when ever Rafe or Adam was within ten feet. Blair speculated that he might be picking up on the 'buzz' that Immortals can feel when near one of their own. How he was able to do it was as yet unclear.
"I see," Simon pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just keep him out of the way. If there's nothing else, I'd like to have my office back."
Jim and Blair headed back to there desk, Rafe stayed behind. "Sir, there was one thing."
"What is it?" Simon sat down behind his desk, taking a sip of coffee.
"I'd like to request a leave of absence." Rafe announced stiffly.
"Why?" Simon managed not to choke on his coffee, remembering the last time someone suddenly asked for leave.
"I have some personal things I need to take care of," Rafe explained. "I need the time off to do it."
"How long do you think you'll need?"
"A few weeks, maybe a month, tops."
"Are you is some kind of trouble?" Simon asked, genuinely concerned.
"No, no. It's nothing like that," Rafe explained, using his most endearing smile. "I have some family business that came up unexpectedly, it'll take a while to straighten it out. Unfortunately I have to leave town to take care of it.
"Well, with this case wrapped up, I don't see a problem," Simon said thoughtfully. "But I need a contact number, in case this thing goes to trial."
"No problem, Captain," Rafe agreed. "I'll only be over in Seacouver."
"Alright, you're off starting tomorrow."
"Thanks, Captain." Rafe turned to leave.
"Just make sure whatever this is doesn't effect your work when you get back."
"Yes, Sir." He left the office and headed for his partner's desk. The veteran detective looked up as he approached.
"You going to be able to handle yourself while I'm gone?" Rafe asked.
"I'll be just fine," Brown grumbled. "Maybe I'll get myself a partner that'll actually talk to me once in a while." Rafe hadn't been very forthcoming on why he needed to leave, or how the victim of attack just happened to be some long lost cousin from England that needed his help. It didn't help that Rafe had told Brown on several occasions that he had been adopted, and wasn't very close to his family.
"Aw, H, don't be like that. Look you're my best friend, I promise, as soon as I get back I'll explain the whole thing to you."
"I guess I can live with that," Brown sighed. "But I'm holding you to it."
"Trust me, it'll be worth the wait."
"Methos, are you sure your friend won't mind us using his place for this?" he asked dropping his own bags next to the kitchen counter. The ancient immortal had revealed his real name on he drive up to Seacouver, stating that it was inevitable that one of his friends was going to slip up and say it.
"Macleod can be bit territorial, but once I explain it to him there won't be any problems." Methos smiled, flopping down on the couch with casual grace. "Besides with the dojo closed this is the best place to learn how to fight. We don't have to worry about anyone walking in unexpectedly, and there is plenty of training equipment to work with."
Rafe shrugged and sat down on one of the bar stools in front of the kitchen counter. He wasn't any more comfortable with the thought of killing than he had been when they left Cascade, but he had to admit he didn't want to be defenseless if he ran into another of their kind. "So when do we get started?"
Methos glanced over at him for a moment and hopped up onto his feet. "Well first thing we do is go have some dinner. Do you like Blues? I know this guy that owns a club not far from here."
"Blues, sounds nice," Rafe admitted. "There aren't too many good Blues clubs in Cascade."
"Alright then, Joe will be glad to meet you." Methos glanced around thoughtfully. "The next this we do is restock the fridge. It was empty when I left for Cascade."
"I like this so far," Rafe smiled. "Then what?"
"Then we get some sleep, and bright and early tomorrow we'll get to work on your training."
"How early are we talking?" Rafe asked. "I'm not exactly a morning person."
"Oh good, that makes two of us. Duncan woke me up one time before dawn, he's lucky he still has his head."
"I think were going to get along just fine then." Rafe smiled.
Blair dropped his backpack and a package from the mail as he entered the loft, pulled off his jacket, and hung it on the hook. Jim was only a step behind him, keeping a close eye on his partner. They hadn't said much to each other since the memorial service.
"I still can't believe it," Blair murmured, running his hands through his hair.
"Chief, he wasn't the only one killed during the quake," Jim reminded him. "I'd say we got off lucky as far as loss of life."
"I know man, but I just can't get over the feeling...," Blair shrugged. "I mean the guy was a closed-minded jerk, but to be killed like that. I feel guilty for not being more upset."
Jim sighed, "You can't obsess about a lack of feeling for the guy, Blair. I know you hold all life sacred, but it's not like he was murdered."
Blair looked up at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"He was killed by a tree crashing through his house and crushing him to death. That's nothing more than Karma," Jim told him firmly. "Beating yourself up about not mourning his loss doesn't accomplish anything. Hell, I'm surprised Garry didn't throw a party."
Blair's expression brightened, "He wanted to. Man that would be one hell of a wake."
Jim grabbed two beers from the fridge and leaned against the counter. "So, what's in that package?"
Blair ran his hand across the top. "I don't know, but it's from Adam."
"Well don't just stand there, open it." Jim said, handing him the other beer.
Blair took a swig from his bottle and opened the box. Sitting in a nest of excelsior was a bottle of wine, several old books, a letter and what appeared to be a mounted portrait. He tore open the letter and read it aloud.
"Blair and Jim,
I'm not one for eloquence, so I'll get right to the point. The contents of the box are for you. The books are the personal travel logs that Burton and I kept during his studies of Sentinels. He entrusted them to me when his work was disputed. There are bits of information in them that he didn't put in his monograph, so they should be useful.
The portrait and the loose papers with it are from a Watchers Chronicle. You can do what you want with the papers, but the portrait was just too nice to destroy so I'm giving to you to look after. The bottle of wine is a gift. You can drink it any time you want, but I'd save it for a special occasion.
Rafe is doing well, he shows quite a talent for the sword. You'll be happy to hear that he thinks that it's good to know he isn't the only one that is hiding a secret from the rest of the department. He says it makes him feel less alone.
I'd like to invite you to a party in a next month, sort of a graduation for Rafe when he's learned what he can. You'll love the bar it'll be at, great Blues club called Joe's. I'll call you when I get an idea on what date it'll be on.
Don't lose your heads.
Adam a.k.a Methos"
"Methos?" Jim gave Blair a confused look. Digging the portrait out of the box he saw how incredibly accurate it was. "He put a translation with the pages." Jim read the first of the pages as Blair rifled through the travel journals, mouth agape. "Chief, remember when he said he was hiding cause the older you are the bigger a target you become?"
"Yeah?" Blair looked up. Jim's eyes were wide with shock.
"He's got a legitimate reason to disappear."
"What's that?"
"He's five thousand years old."
Blair gaped, unable to respond for a long time. They sat together staring at the collection of treasures that the worlds oldest Immortal had given them. "Well that settles it. I'm cursed."
"What makes you say that?" Jim asked.
"Because I'm living in interesting times," Blair stated with a wry grin.
"But would you want it any other way?" Jim sounded a little uncertain.
"What? And miss all this excitement?" Blair smiled. "No way, man. I wouldn't trade this for all the world."
"Me neither, Chief." They toasted each other, smiling. Secure in the knowledge that no matter what curve balls life might throw at them, they could count on each other.
The End
