Jim Ellison rubbed his eyes and sighed. Three straight hours of looking at grainy mug shots in the PD’s computerized offender database had given him a pounding headache. He rose to go get more coffee when Simon stepped out into the bullpen. “Jim, can I see you for a moment?” he said.
He didn’t even bother to nod in reply, just changed course, coffee mug in hand. Whatever Simon wanted, it had to be better than staring at frowning faces in pixilated black and white.
“Close the door,” Simon said. The expression on his face was solemn. He filled Jim’s mug from his coffee pot, then motioned him towards one of the chairs. “You’d better sit down.”
“What’s up?” he asked as he complied.
“We got a hit.”
Jim’s heart lurched and he slid forward to the edge of his seat. “On Blair’s fingerprints? Where?”
“Hutchinson, Kansas,” Simon said.
“Where the hell is… why….” He trailed off, his voice momentarily overwhelmed by the questions spinning in his brain.
“The requesting party was a Sheriff Lucas DuBois. That’s all we know.”
Jim felt a small glow of hope in his chest. “I knew a Lucas DuBois in the Army. Wonder if it’s the same guy?” He rubbed his jaw slowly. His headache had vanished. “I’ve got to go, Simon. I’ve got to check it out.”
“Jim….” Simon pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket and turned it in his fingers. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
The heat of irritation sharpened his voice. “This is the first sign we’ve had in over six months that Sandburg’s even alive, let alone where he is.”
“I know, I know,” Simon said, raising his hand. “But have you considered that he might not want to be found?”
“He’s been missing—”
“He’s been gone, Jim. Not missing.”
“Right. He just got up and left his hospital bed, in a hospital gown, without any clothes or any of his belongings, and decided to leave town without telling anyone.”
Simon’s look was sharp. “He’d been through a lot those last few weeks. And as I recall, most of his belongings were in boxes, courtesy of you.”
Jim felt his face go hot. “We were… we were gonna work that out,” he muttered.
“And then there was Barnes, and that whole nearly dying thing,” Simon continued. “He might have decided that skipping town without saying anything to anyone was a wise move.”
Guilt was a tangible pressure in his chest, a hard knot under his sternum. Everything Simon said was true, and it was his fault. “I can’t believe that Blair would do that. Not without…” Not without saying something to me. But would he? Things had gotten pretty tense between them. He cleared his throat. “Not without working something out with Rainier. Something happened to him.”
“There was no evidence of foul play, Jim.” Simon paused, his gaze understanding. “You know what they say — sometimes it’s tough to see the truth when you’re close to it.”
Something twisted in Jim’s gut at that. No. He couldn’t let himself think that Blair didn’t want to see him. “I… I don’t care. I just need — I just want to see him, make sure he’s okay.”
“Okay,” Simon said, exhaling. “Megan can cover your cases. I’d start with this DuBois fellow. Find out why he ran Blair’s fingerprints.”
“Will do.”
“Jim.” Simon’s voice stopped him as he was halfway through the door. “Be careful. And stay in touch.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
***
Jim folded the last of his shirts and stuffed them in his carryall, then zipped it closed and carried it downstairs, leaving it by the door.
Then he went into Blair’s room. The twinge of guilt he felt had become familiar now, even though he’d unpacked all of Blair’s stuff and put it back where it belonged. He opened one of the drawers and took out a shirt; long-sleeved, dark blue, with two white stripes across the shoulders and down the sleeves. The shirt Blair had been wearing when he’d died in the fountain.
And he had died. Simon might call it “nearly,” but he knew the truth.
He sat down on Blair’s futon, spreading the shirt over his knees. The nurses at the hospital had given it to him that first night, along with the rest of Blair’s things. He’d had it thoroughly cleaned, but when he touched it, he could still feel how cold the water had been, how the nap of the heavy, saturated cotton had dragged at his fingers. He could still smell the sharp bite of chlorine and feel Blair’s mouth lax and still against his.
His heart was pounding and it felt like someone had grabbed his stomach in a tight fist. With a deep breath, he tried to relax. He remembered taking Blair’s cold, pale face in his hands, remembered Incacha’s exhortation. He’d felt the strength of the black jaguar flow through his body, he’d seen Blair change into the wolf. And then their animal spirits had merged in a radiant burst of light.
For a few moments, they’d been in complete and perfect communion. Together in a way he’d never been with another person before. There were no secrets between them; every thought and need and desire was laid bare — no, more than that — was known and understood and accepted. Loved.
Then the spell had broken. Blair started coughing up water, and the EMTs had swarmed in. He’d staggered back, legs trembling, shaken but exhilarated. “See?” he’d said to Simon and H, draping an arm across their shoulders for support, “It’s gonna be alright.”
He realized he was gripping the shirt hard, the fabric pulled between his fists, and he exhaled, forcing his hands to unclench. Gently he brushed the wrinkles out until it was smooth against his lap.
The exhilaration had ebbed, drained out of him by the hours spent trying to comfortably fit his tall frame into the hard molded plastic chairs in the ER waiting room. He’d begun to worry that Blair hadn’t escaped from his ordeal without consequences. And he’d begun to worry that what he had thought was a profound spiritual event was just a hallucination brought on by adrenaline and fear.
Later, he’d admitted that what he’d really been scared of was that it hadn’t been a hallucination. That he’d finally have to face his feelings for Blair — and that not only did Blair know about his feelings for him, he felt the same way. And that, somehow, he’d manage to fuck up that incredible gift in the same way he’d managed to fuck up all the other relationships he’d ever had.
By the time they let him in to see Blair, he was so on edge that all he could do was make inane cracks about meeting nurses and Blair owing him rent. And even then, Blair had understood, had given him an opening. When he’d realized that they’d shared the vision, he’d plunged right in, as courageous as always, his eyes lit with love and hope as he’d held his hand out and told Jim, “Come on in, man. The water’s nice.”
And what had he done? Backpedaled as if Blair were offering him poison.
Disgust rose in his throat like bile. He’d gone home to the loft after that, but he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d thought about how terrified and helpless he’d felt when his senses had first gone online. How hostile he’d been to Blair when they first met, and how Blair had hung in there anyway, coming up with plan after plan for how to make the senses work. He’d thought about how many times Blair had come close to getting hurt, or killed, and how much that frightened him. He’d thought about Blair’s heart, and his enthusiasm, and his determination.
He’d realized that he couldn’t let this chance slip by. He’d made up his mind to be honest with Blair and tell him everything. Only after he’d made that decision was he able to get some sleep.
But when he got to the hospital the next day, Blair was gone.
Jim sighed and folded the shirt, gently smoothing his hands over the creases. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled, dialing his sense of smell up as high as it could go, hoping against hope that there was some fragment of Blair that had survived the cleaning, some trace of the warm, spicy scent he remembered. But there was nothing there but the sharp pine of the drawer and the clean round smell of their laundry soap.
He carried the shirt into the living room and tucked it carefully in his carryall, then went to make himself a sandwich before he left for the airport.
***
“Jim Ellison! As I live and breathe!”
Lucas DuBois hadn’t changed a bit in the years since they’d been Rangers, Jim realized. Topping Jim by nearly six inches, he was broad-shouldered like a defensive lineman, but surprisingly graceful. He came around his desk and grabbed Jim’s hand in his large, calloused one.
“Luke, it’s good to see you,” he said, returning the grip.
“Come on in,” Luke said, ushering Jim into his office. “Did you fly into Kansas City?”
“Wichita,” he replied, a rueful smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “Then rented a car for the drive up.” He motioned out the window at the expanse of prairie. “What brought you out here? I figured you’d go back to Georgia when you got out of the Army — well, to be honest, I figured you for career Army.”
Luke smiled and raised the coffee pot along with an eyebrow in Jim’s direction. “You know how it is,” he said, pouring a cup in response to Jim’s nod. “Something that seems a good idea at the time….”
“Like planting those incendiaries under that old jeep?”
“How were we supposed to know that that was the General’s jeep?” Luke chuckled as he handed Jim the cup. Then his expression grew serious. “Listen, man, I heard about Peru. I’m sorry. We all knew Oliver was dirty—”
He waved his hand back and forth quickly. He really didn’t want to get into that today. “Water under the bridge. Like you, though, I decided it was time to get out.”
“And so you became a detective in Cascade, Washington.”
“Wasn’t much else I could do.”
There was a commiserating edge to Luke’s chuckle. “So. What brings you all the way out from Cascade, Washington to my fair town?”
He took a sip of coffee and marshaled his thoughts. “You ran a set of fingerprints on a person we’ve been looking for. Blair Sandburg.”
Luke nodded. “Yeah, although that’s not the name he’s going by.”
His stomach lurched. A different name? “What is it?”
“Jacob Goldstein.”
Maybe Simon had been right. Maybe Blair didn’t want to be found. “Can you tell me why you ran them?”
“Sure. There was a robbery out at the Cosmosphere.”
“Cosmosphere? What’s that, some fancy movie theater?”
“It’s a space museum,” Luke replied, chuckling. “Biggest one outside of Washington, DC. And, no, I don’t know how come it’s out here in the middle of nowhere. But it is, and three days ago someone stole what’s probably their most valuable artifact — a moon rock.”
“A rock.” He gave Luke a skeptical look.
“From the moon. Worth nearly $10 million on the black market, according to the director.” Luke raised his hands, palms out. “Don’t ask me. Anyway, your man’s an employee there.”
“So he’s a suspect.”
Luke shrugged. “I don’t know yet.” He narrowed his eyes at Jim. “Is he a suspect in your jurisdiction?”
“No, God, no,” he said quickly. “He’s… he’s my partner. He was… in an accident, and then he vanished from the hospital overnight. I’ve been looking for him for over six months.” A chill of worry curled up his spine. Blair had to know that his ruse would be discovered if the police ran his fingerprints. What was he doing?
Luke had said something; he’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t noticed. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, I’m going over there now to take some statements. You’re welcome to come with me, see if this Jacob Goldstein is really your missing partner.”
His heart lurched, thumping hard against his ribs. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his throat suddenly dry.
***
The Cosmosphere would look pretty ordinary, Jim thought, were it not for the huge Titan II rocket that stood sentry outside the front door. Otherwise it was just a series of squat concrete buildings. No hint that it held a fortune in space artifacts and memorabilia.
Luke had filled him in on the details of the theft as they’d driven to the museum. The director, Jack Kelleher, had come in early, as was his habit. He told Luke he liked to walk around the museum before it opened and make sure everything was all right. On this morning, though, everything was most definitely not all right. The case that held the moon rock was empty.
“Didn’t they have some kind of alarm system?” Jim had asked.
“Of course,” Luke had replied, “but Kelleher said it had been bypassed somehow. Hence my interest in the current employees. That takes not only time, but some level of familiarity, although Kelleher and his secretary are the only ones who have the alarm code.”
Kelleher’s secretary, Doris Bunsen, met them as they entered. “I’m so sorry,” she told them, her face flushed and her words hurried, “but Director Kelleher had to be on a conference call. He told me to give you any help you needed.” Her floral dress and wispy gray bun gave off a strong flavor of “Mom.”
“Let’s start with the scene of the crime,” Luke said.
She took them to a small room off one of the main exhibit rooms. The moon rock had been displayed in the middle of the room, on top of a tall pedestal, underneath a large Lucite cube. Spotlights in the ceiling bathed the now-empty mounting in brilliant white.
Luke handed a pair of gloves to Jim and pulled on a pair of his own. “Tell me about the alarm system,” he asked Doris.
Jim ran his fingers carefully over the Lucite cube as Doris showed Luke the number pad for inputting the alarm code behind a panel in the wall. He couldn’t find any nicks or gouges that would suggest that the cube had been opened. The display mount where rock had sat was similarly clean. He took a deep breath, and noticed an unusual odor. Dialing up scent, he inhaled again, trying to parse it.
It was like nothing he’d ever smelled before. He struggled to find the words to describe it. It was… greasy, somehow, and pungent, like ammonia, but not as sharp. And there was a sort of metallic overlay that he couldn’t quite place.
“Find anything?” Luke’s hand on his shoulder startled him out of his zone. He sure as hell didn’t feel like trying to explain what he’d smelled to Luke, though, so he started to shake his head in the negative. As he did, he noticed an area at the base of the pedestal that looked odd. He zoomed his sight in and detected faint scratches. It looked like someone had used a tool to pry up the base slightly. He pointed it out to Luke.
“Damn, Ellison, you’ve got good eyes,” Luke said as he crouched down. A few moments’ careful jimmying, and Luke tugged out the bundle of cable that connected the pedestal to the alarm system in the wall. A short piece of wire, with a small rectangular box in the middle, was clipped to two of the cables.
“I’m no expert,” Jim said, “but that looks like some kind of bypass to me.”
“I think you’re right,” Luke replied, his expression grim. He stood up and turned to Doris. “I’ll have one of my deputies come down and process the scene. Make sure no one gets in here until then.”
Jim was only half-listening, still preoccupied with the puzzle of the strange scent. A wave of frustration and despair washed over him. He wished that Blair were here. He’d know exactly what to tell him to do to help clarify this. His heart ached with missing him, and his knees wobbled.
Luke’s hand gripped his elbow and steadied him. “I think we’re ready to interview the employees,” he was saying to Doris. “Is there a room we can use? And maybe some coffee, if we could impose?”
“Of course. You can use the director’s conference room,” she replied, leading them back towards the entrance to the museum.
The conference room was nicely appointed, with a large oval table and eight comfortable leather chairs, as well as a whiteboard and a coffee machine. Wide windows looked out over downtown Hutchinson and the golden prairie rolling away to the west.
“You all right?” Luke asked as Jim slid into one of the chairs.
He nodded. “Long day yesterday.” He took a few deep breaths and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs.
“Travel takes it out of you,” Luke agreed. He slid a mug of coffee over to Jim. “Want to start with your man?”
“No time like the present,” he agreed, pretending an ease he didn’t feel. His stomach was in knots, and he pushed the coffee mug back and forth on the table as they waited for Blair to arrive.
Something stirred in his heart the moment Blair entered the room, a weak echo of the deep connection he’d felt at the fountain. Blair had changed — he’d cut his hair short, and he’d lost weight. The standard work uniform of khakis and a dark green polo shirt emblazoned with the Cosmosphere logo hung a little loose on his shoulders and hips. But in spite of all that, Jim knew that it was him. He would have known it was Blair if every one of his senses had been as dead as stone. He gripped the handle of his coffee mug, trying to stop himself from jumping to his feet and grabbing Blair in a hug.
Blair slid into the chair and gave both of them a bright, friendly smile. “Hey.”
“Hi, Mr. Goldstein,” Luke began. “Thanks for talking with us today. I’m Sheriff Lucas DuBois, and this is Jim Ellison.”
“No problem,” Blair said easily. He looked over at Jim and nodded. “Nice to meet you both.”
There was no recognition in his gaze at all. It was as if he’d never seen Jim before in his life.
Jim felt like he’d been slammed with a two-by-four. His breath caught in his lungs; he fumbled with his mug and took a gulp of coffee, trying to regain his composure. He knew this was Blair, knew it down to his bones. How could Blair not know him?
“As you probably know, we’re interviewing people about the stolen moon rock. Did you work Sunday?”
“Yeah, I worked from noon to six. We’re only open from one to five on Sundays.”
Jim dialed hearing and smell up. Blair’s heartbeat was steady and regular. His scent was warm and yeasty, so familiar that Jim’s throat tightened and he felt tears prickle behind his eyes.
“So you locked up?”
“Well, Mark and I did.”
“And what did you do after that?”
Blair leaned back, thinking. “Mark and I went and had a couple of beers and something to eat, and then I went home….” He sat up straight and snapped his fingers. “No, I went to a movie.”
“With Mark?”
“By myself.”
“So no one can vouch for you?”
“No — wait, I think I’ve still got the stub.” He dug in his front pockets, and Jim could hear him muttering “I think I wore these pants” under his breath. After a few moments, he pulled out a small rectangle of paper and flourished it triumphantly at Luke, grinning. “There, see? I knew I still had it.”
Luke took the stub and examined it. “And what time did you come in Monday?” he asked.
“At ten. But Director Kelleher had already called the police by then.”
Luke took a notebook and a pen out of his breast pocket. He motioned to Jim to ask questions, then opened the notebook and started jotting something down.
Jim cleared his throat. “How… how long have you worked at the Cosmosphere?”
Blair’s gaze was completely without guile and his heartbeat stayed slow and steady. “About two months, I think.”
“And where were you before that?”
“Um…. I was in Lawrence for a few months, but I couldn’t find work.” He gave Jim a rueful smile. “Too many students. So I hitchhiked out here.”
“And how about before that?”
Blair’s brows drew together in a frown and his eyes clouded. “I… I was traveling around. Here and there.” He shrugged. “I’ve always been a wanderer.”
“Ever been to Cascade, Washington?”
“Nope. I tend to stick around the Midwest. Easier to get jobs.” His heartbeat didn’t waver in the least, and Jim couldn’t scent any of the acrid tang he associated with anxiety or fear, even with the dials turned up as high as they would go. Just Blair’s familiar scent.
He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew one thing: Blair wasn’t lying. He absolutely and completely believed every word he said. And he didn’t have any idea who Jim was.
“No more questions from me,” he said to Luke. He jammed his fists into his jacket pockets and tried to control the sudden surge of panic in his heart.
“So I can go?”
“Sure.” Jim could see Luke eyeing him even as he responded to Blair’s question. “But don’t leave town, please. We might need more information.”
“Sure thing,” Blair said as he stood up.
After Blair had left, Luke refilled their coffee and then sat back down. “Not the guy you were looking for, then?”
“No, it’s him.” He was surprised that his voice was so even.
“He doesn’t seem to know you.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, just like Blair had taught him. “I don’t understand it. It’s him. I’m positive.”
Luke continued to watch him, a skeptical expression on his face. Then he turned back to the table. “Well, maybe one of the other employees will know something more about him.”
Mark said that he had been working at the Cosmosphere just a few months longer than Jacob, so he wasn’t able to provide much information, although he did corroborate that they’d had dinner after locking up. In contrast, Janice had worked there for several years. She couldn’t tell them much about hiring practices, but she did say that Jacob often volunteered to take extra shifts or fill in for her or Mark when they needed time off. She also told them that she and Jacob had gone out on a few dates, although Jim got the sense that things hadn’t gone very far, much to her dismay.
Doris was a much greater fount of information, since she’d been the one who’d hired Jacob. “Did he give you references?” Jim asked her.
“He did, but I didn’t check them,” she admitted, her hands clenched together in her lap. “Well, it’s hard to hire folks in fall and winter,” she defended herself. “It’s not exactly our most popular season. Things are pretty slow; I’m happy to find anyone who wants to work here.”
“Any problems with his work?” Luke asked.
“Oh, no, he’s been just wonderful,” Doris said. “And he’s great with the kids.”
Luke gave her the warning he’d given the others about not leaving town. He turned to Jim after she left. “Kelleher is still busy, so I’m going to have to come back and interview him later. So we’re done here.” Jim could see the concern in his eyes. “Can I drop you somewhere?”
“I guess take me back to the station,” he said. He felt as exhausted as if he’d just run ten miles. “I’d better see about getting a place to stay.”
“Okay,” Luke said, gathering up his notes. He paused for a second. “Listen, I know a really good psychiatrist in town—”
“Damn it, Luke, I am not crazy—”
Luke held up his hand. “Hear me out. I’m not saying you’re crazy. I’m saying I know someone who might be able to shed some light on what’s going on. She’s been a big help with some of the local boys who’ve come back from Iraq.”
He blew out a breath and rubbed his hand across his face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. It’s just… I can’t figure out what’s going on here.”
Luke clapped him on the shoulder as they headed for the exit. “I understand. Listen, let’s stop and get some lunch first. I know a great barbecue place, and I don’t know about you, but questioning people always gives me an appetite. Then maybe I can suggest some good places to stay.”
***
Luke was right — he felt much better after eating, although it reminded him of all the times Blair tried to get him to eat when he was stressed out. Luke also recommended a nice bed and breakfast near the riverfront, and got ten percent shaved off the price since Jim was a friend, although Jim thought that was also due to it being out of season. It took him a few minutes to unpack his clothes and toiletries, and then he walked downtown to find the psychiatrist’s office.
Karen Roemer was her name, and he caught her just as she was leaving. He introduced himself, and said, “Lucas DuBois gave me your name. He said you might be able to help me with a problem that a friend of mine is having.”
She eyed him warily, but nodded. “I was just on my way to have lunch. Care to join me?”
“I’ve already eaten, but I’ll have some coffee.”
She led him down to the diner on the corner, where they got seated in a booth at the back. She ordered a chef’s salad, and while they waited for the food to arrive, he filled her in on Blair’s history and how he’d behaved that morning.
Karen sat back in her seat and took a sip of water. “Oh, so he really is a friend of yours.” At Jim’s blank look, she smiled. “Usually when people talk to a psychiatrist about a ‘friend,’ they mean themselves,” she explained. “But what your friend has sounds like a dissociative fugue.”
He was nonplussed. “You mean like multiple personalities?” That didn’t sound like Blair at all.
“No, no, although dissociative identity disorder — that’s what it’s called, now — is in the same group of disorders. They all share some kind of problem or malfunction in conscious awareness, whether that’s of time, identity, memories, or whatever.”
“So he’s got amnesia?”
“Sort of. Dissociative fugue is a condition where people leave their home, go someplace else, and take up a new identity.”
He couldn’t help the smile that quirked one corner of his mouth. “In my line of work, we call those fugitives.”
Karen chuckled. “Except that in cases of fugue, it isn’t a conscious decision. The person has no memory of their previous life, and sometimes even makes up memories that fit the new life. And they don’t usually have criminal charges. Although it’s not impossible — fugues are usually precipitated by some kind of stressor. Criminal charges could certainly fit that bill.”
The food arrived, and Jim mused on what she had said as he put cream in his coffee. He couldn’t deny that Blair had been under a lot of stress back then, what with Alex coming to town, and his bizarre behavior, and then being drowned in the fountain, and coming back to life. “How do you cure it?” he asked.
There was a long pause while Karen took a bite of her salad and chewed thoughtfully. “Well, a lot of the time fugue states just remit spontaneously. The person remembers their old life and then has amnesia for their new one. But in those cases the fugue is usually pretty short — a few hours or days. You said Blair’s been missing for over six months?”
He nodded.
“Fugues can last that long, although it’s not usual. Confronting the person with things from their past life can be helpful — pictures, memories, things like that.” She looked at Jim skeptically. “Although he’s already seen you, and that hasn’t worked….” She trailed off, then shrugged. “It’s worth a try, though.”
A tendril of fear twisted in his gut. “You mean it might not work? He might not ever remember his old life?”
“It’s possible. Sometime people don’t, even when confronted with evidence of their previous life. The longer the fugue state lasts, the more difficult it may be to reverse it.”
The tendril had grown into a thick vine, gripping his stomach. Although he’d acknowledged, intellectually, that Blair might have had a reason to leave Cascade voluntarily, he’d always believed, in his heart, that if he just had a chance to explain himself, to be honest with Blair about how he felt, that Blair would decide to come back home with him. He’d never even considered the possibility that that might not work.
He dug in his pocket for a few dollars and left them on the table for the coffee. “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful,” he told Karen as he slid out of the booth.
“Jim.” Her tone was solemn, and he stopped. “Be careful. If Blair is in a fugue state, then it means there’s something traumatic that he’s trying to forget. If you make him remember it, it could be very upsetting. Not to mention, he’ll be confused — remember, he’ll have amnesia for his current life. He won’t remember the past six months.”
He nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
She took a business card out of her purse and handed it to him. “Call me if you need some help.”
***
He got back to the Cosmosphere about 4:30 — he’d had to go by Luke’s office and get Simon to fax him some things, and also had to stop at the bed and breakfast. Fortunately there weren’t many people visiting today, so Doris was willing to sit at the ticket office while he talked to Blair again.
They were in the same conference room they’d been in that morning. Jim poured two cups of coffee and passed one across to Blair. “I thought I’d answered all your questions this morning?” Blair asked, his tone curious rather than resentful.
“Some things have come up,” he answered. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out the fingerprint analysis. He’d talked to Luke about how to do this, but Karen’s warning was still ringing in his head and it made him nervous. “When Sheriff DuBois ran your fingerprints, a different name came up.” He pushed the sheet of paper across to Blair. “According to this, you’re Blair Sandburg, recently of Cascade, Washington.” He kept his eyes on Blair’s face, and dialed up his hearing and smell again. He wanted to catch any hint that Blair was feeling distress.
“Huh.” Blair examined the paper closely. “I can see where you’d make the mistake, but, no, this guy isn’t me.”
“Fingerprints don’t lie, Chief.”
“They must have gotten our files mixed up or something,” Blair said doggedly. “My name is Jacob Goldstein. Kinda similar, and we do look a little bit alike, I’ll give you that. But I’m not that guy.”
His heart rate was even and there was no change in his scent. Time to up the ante. “Look, Blair Sandburg was — is — my partner. He disappeared over six months ago, and I’ve been looking for him ever since.”
“That sounds rough, man. I wish I could help.” Was he imagining it, or was there a defiant glint in Blair’s eye?
“I brought some pictures. Maybe you could just take a look at them?”
Blair’s mouth thinned, but he took the stack Jim handed him. Simon had faxed Blair’s observer badge photo, as well as a couple of pictures he had of Jim and Blair fishing. There was also a picture of the three of them at the Cop of the Year banquet. Rhonda had added a couple from Major Crimes’ last Christmas party, and Joel had thrown in one he’d taken of Blair watching Jim work the crime scene at one of the bombed churches last year.
Blair looked at each one carefully, and then put it aside. When he’d viewed the last one, he piled them up and tapped them on the table to even them out, then handed them back to Jim. “Sorry. I’m not sure what to tell you.”
“Any of that look familiar to you?”
“No.” Blair shook his head. “None of it.”
He exhaled, scratching a hand through his hair. “These are all things you did, Chief. Surely you must—”
“That’s not me. I don’t remember any of that.” Blair’s voice was sharp. His heartbeat had risen slightly.
A cautious hope warmed his chest. Finally, a reaction. Maybe this would work. And he still had one trump card to play. He reached into his bag and pulled out the shirt Blair had been wearing the day he’d died. “How about this? Do you remember this?”
Blair shoved his chair back from the table. “No, I don’t remember that!” he snapped. “Damn it, how many times do I have to say it? I’m not this… this Blair Sandburg, or whoever. My name is Jacob Goldstein. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Jim could hear his heart pounding, and his scent had turned bitter.
“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands soothingly. “Don’t get upset—”
“No, I’m done, man. I’m out of here. I’ve had enough. I know my rights. You got any more questions to ask me, you’d better get a warrant for my arrest.” And with that he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
The glow of hope died like a match in a wind tunnel. Jim rubbed his hand over his face, and cursed under his breath. Nice job, Ellison. You sure handled that well.
He didn’t see Blair as he was leaving, and Doris waved at him merrily from the ticket booth, so he assumed she hadn’t seen Blair either, or he didn’t think she’d be so pleasant to him. She obviously had a soft spot for Blair, although she was a mother figure to most of the kids who worked there.
He drove to the barbecue joint Luke had taken him to earlier. It was fairly quiet; in the lull between lunch and dinner, and he ordered a beer and found himself a table in the back. He thought about calling Luke and asking if he wanted to join him, but decided that he needed some time alone to think.
How could he keep fucking things up between himself and Blair so badly? Even now, when he had every intention of being honest, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from jamming his foot in his mouth and making things worse. Time and time again, when faced with a crossroads in their relationship, he’d chosen the wrong course.
He couldn’t give up, though. Not when he finally knew what he wanted. If that experience at the fountain had taught him anything, it was that he and Blair were joined at some deep level, and neither one of them would ever be truly complete without the other.
But what if he never gets his memories back? a voice in his head asked.
He drained his beer and ordered another one, hoping it would numb the ache in his chest. Then I’ll just have to get to know the person he is now, he thought. Because there’s no way I’m losing him again, whether he’s Jacob or Blair or whoever.
***
He woke the next morning with a queasy feeling and his head pounding. Maybe four beers and no dinner hadn’t been such a great idea. A hot shower helped clear his head, and some coffee and eggs settled his stomach.
After breakfast he went up to his room and called Simon to fill him in.
“So, even when you showed him the pictures, he didn’t remember?” Simon asked.
“Nope.”
“Is there anything else you can do?”
He blew out a breath. “The psychiatrist I talked to, she said there were a few drugs that can help reduce the person’s mental defenses, but they have to be taken voluntarily, and after our encounter yesterday I don’t think Blair will be willing to do that.”
“Well, you gave it your best shot, Jim.”
“Actually, I’m… I’m not giving up just yet.” Simon didn’t say anything, and he hurried to fill the silence. “I’m going to stay here for a while.”
“Jim….”
“If you need me to resign, I understand. I just can’t… I can’t lose him again, Simon.” His throat closed and he couldn’t say anything else.
There was silence, and then he heard Simon sigh heavily. “No, don’t resign. I’ll write you up for an indefinite leave of absence.”
“Thanks,” he managed to get out.
“Don’t thank me. Just get back here… the both of you.”
He smiled as he hung up the phone. That was one worry solved. Now he just hoped that Blair — no, Jacob — would give him a second chance.
***
The welcoming look on Blair’s face faded as he saw Jim approaching the front desk. “Listen, man, I told you, I don’t want to talk to you—”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, holding up the white deli bag. “Peace offering, okay?”
Blair didn’t reply, but he thought he saw the barest curve of a smile appear on Blair’s mouth.
“Please?” Jim continued. “We got off on the wrong foot yesterday. Give me a second chance? Besides, you’ve got to eat.” He felt a triumphant surge of joy as the curve became a full-fledged smile.
“Janice, I’m going to lunch,” Blair called out to the woman in the gift shop. “Can you watch the front desk?”
There was a small concrete patio at the back of the museum; past the railing, a plain of stones sloped gently down to the Arkansas River. Jim headed for one of the tables there. “How’s this?” he asked.
When there was no answer, he turned around, puzzled. Blair was standing a few feet away. All the blood had drained out of his face, and Jim could see sweat beading at his hairline. “What’s the matter?”
“I… I don’t like being near water,” Blair replied in a strangled whisper.
For a split second, the insane notion of tossing Blair into the river in an effort to jump start his memories flashed in his mind. Then, deeply ashamed of himself, he directed Blair away from the patio with a gentle touch on his back. “Let’s go over there, then — there’s a nice stretch of lawn.” What the hell is wrong with you? he berated himself. I thought you wanted to get back on his good side. Torture’s not going to get you very far on that account.
They found a table on the lawn at the side of the museum, in the shade of the building. The color had come back to Blair’s face, and his good humor seemed to have returned. He sat down and dug into the bag, pulling out sandwiches and bottles of water. “Hey, tongue! How’d you know that’s my favorite?”
“Lucky guess,” he replied, easing himself down next to Blair and taking the sandwich Blair handed him. “Who doesn’t like tongue?”
They ate in silence for a few moments, then Jim brushed the crumbs from his hands and took a sip of water. “Listen, I really do want to apologize for yesterday. I know I came on a little strong—”
“It’s all right,” Blair said. He glanced over at Jim, his face and voice curiously flat. “That guy, he obviously means a lot to you.”
“Yes. Yes, he does.” It felt weird, talking to Blair about… Blair, but what the fuck, if this helped, he would do it. “He’s… he’s my partner, and my best friend.”
“Does he know that?”
He exhaled heavily. “I’m not sure.” He looked over at Blair, who still had that strange, blank expression. “That’s part of why I need to find him. I need to make sure that he knows….” His throat closed up and he couldn’t finish.
“I’m sorry, man,” Blair said, after a pause. His voice was back to its normal baritone, and he gave Jim a compassionate look. “That’s a hard thing. I really do hope you find him.”
He nodded, unable to speak. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “So, what’s the problem you have about water, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Blair’s cheeks went pink. “Oh, it’s stupid.”
“It didn’t look stupid to me, Chief. You looked pretty upset.”
Blair sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I… I keep having this nightmare. Ever since I was a kid. I’m in the water, and someone’s holding me under. Trying to drown me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know where it came from. It never happened. But it freaked me out enough that I never learned to swim.”
“You didn’t have to learn in school?”
“Oh, I didn’t really go to school. It was just my mom and me, and we traveled around a lot. Sometimes I’d go for a few months, if we were staying put for a while, but mostly I learned on my own.”
“So you didn’t go to college?”
Blair shook his head. “Didn’t even make it through high school, to be honest.”
“Where’s your mom now?”
A resigned sadness passed over Blair’s features. “She passed away a few years ago.” He gave Jim a half-hearted smile. “It’s just me, now.”
His heart ached so hard he thought it might break. Whatever had traumatized his extroverted and intellectually ravenous partner, it had been so bad that he’d created an identity that was alone and rootless, cut off from other people and the academic life he had loved. “I’m sorry to hear that, Chief.”
Blair’s smile grew. “Chief. You keep calling me that.”
“Sorry.” Jim felt his cheeks grow warm. He hadn’t even realized he’d been doing that. “It’s kind of a verbal tic with me. I’ll try to stop it.”
“No, it’s okay. I like it.”
His heartbeat quickened, and for the first time in months, he smiled in pure and uncomplicated joy. “Well, good. Okay.”
Blair crumpled up his sandwich wrappings and started gathering their trash into the paper bag. “Well, thanks a lot for lunch, man. I’ve got to get back to work, though.”
“Have dinner with me tonight?” The words came out of Jim’s mouth before he could stop and think about it. Too quick, too soon, he berated himself.
But Blair grinned, and shot him a look. “Why, Detective Ellison,” he said, his voice light, “if I didn’t know better I’d think you were flirting with me.”
“Would that be a problem?”
“Not at all.”
Jim leaned forward to kiss him. He’d meant it to just be a brief brush, a promissory note of further intentions, but when their lips met he felt a shock travel through him from his heart to the soles of his feet. Then somehow he was cupping the back of Blair’s head, fingers sinking into Blair’s short, untidy mop of hair, and Blair was gripping his shirt, and there was a sweet bloom in Blair’s scent, like chocolate melting, and someone’s heart was pounding, he couldn’t tell whose, it was so loud in his ears, and Blair’s mouth was open and he tasted so good….
His reverie came to a crashing halt as Blair pulled away. “Um, yeah, wow,” Blair said, panting slightly. “We have got to save that for later or I am not going to get back to work.”
“Okay,” he replied shakily. Blair looked irresistible; skin flushed, eyes shining, scent warm and rich, teeth gently creasing his bottom lip. He was trembling with the effort it took not to pull Blair into his arms and kiss him, lap his tongue over those small indentations and ease them…
“I get off at six,” Blair was saying, interrupting his train of thought, as he wrote something on an index card. “Come pick me up at this address at seven.”
“Okay.” Clearly his verbal facility had gone south with his blood. He tucked the card into the breast pocket of his shirt and fished one of his cards out of his wallet. “Here’s my cell phone number in case there’s a problem.”
“Got it. See you at seven.” There was a feather-light brush of lips against his and then Blair was walking quickly, albeit a bit unsteadily, towards the staff entrance at the back.
Jim sat in the cool shade for a few moments, breathing deeply and slowly, until he felt like he had enough presence of mind to drive.
***
He went back to the bed and breakfast and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, then went for a long run by the river. The exercise took the edge off his physical desire, which helped him think more clearly.
When he got back he peeled off his sweaty clothes and started the shower. The hot water felt good pounding down on his head and shoulders as he turned things over in his mind. He knew that he wanted to be with Blair. There was no question about that. Did he want to be with Blair so badly that he’d move to Hutchinson, Kansas? He was starting to think so.
Did he want to be with Blair so badly that he’d be willing to accept that Blair would never be himself again? Could he accept Jacob, love Jacob, knowing that Blair was in there, somewhere, but forever out of reach?
He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to try. He didn’t want to give up hope that Blair’s memories would return, but he knew that he couldn’t imagine his life without Blair in it. Even if he was someone different. If the kiss this afternoon had taught him anything, it was that the bond they had formed that day by the fountain was there even when Blair wasn’t himself.
But did Blair — no, Jacob — want to be with him?
The response to that kiss would seem to indicate yes. But he still hesitated. Blair knew him, but Jacob didn’t. He shouldn’t rush into something just because he’d made up his mind that that was what he wanted. He needed to give Jacob a chance to know his own mind.
He shut the shower off and toweled himself dry. Just dinner, then. Take things slow.
Pulling on jeans and a clean shirt, he glanced at the clock. He had slightly more than an hour before he had to pick Bl — Jacob — up. He might as well head downtown and check in with Luke. He had a feeling he might be asking him for a job before too long.
But when he got to the station, Luke was in his office with the door closed. Jim could hear voices, rising and overlapping, but couldn’t make out any words. He was debating whether he should dial his hearing up when the door banged open and a tall, dark-haired man stalked out.
“Mr. Kelleher, I’d be happy to get a warrant, but I was hoping we wouldn’t have to take things that far.” Luke had followed the man out and was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
So this was Jack Kelleher. Jim looked him over. He looked younger than he’d expected; the only sign that he was past his forties was the dusting of gray at his temples. His suit was impeccably tailored and looked as though it might have been made to order. He wore expensive black Italian loafers and carried a brown leather briefcase.
Kelleher stopped and exhaled, then turned back towards Luke. “Of course, Sheriff DuBois, I will make every effort to comply with your requests, but I simply do not understand why this information is necessary.”
“As I explained,” Luke said, “someone has put a moon rock up for sale on the Internet—”
“And how, exactly, do you know that?”
Luke paused for a moment. “You’ll appreciate that I can’t reveal our investigative sources at this point. Now, someone has put a moon rock up for sale. It might be yours. The more information I can get about your computers, the better chance we’ll have of determining if that’s the case.”
Something familiar tickled at his nostrils. Jim dialed up smell and was immediately hit with an odor he couldn’t quite place. He knew he’d smelled it before, fairly recently, but he couldn’t remember where or when.
“I’ll ask Doris to get you the information you need,” Kelleher responded stiffly. “Is that all? I have work to do.”
Luke nodded. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”
Kelleher stalked out the door and Luke turned and went back into his office. Jim followed, still trying to identify that smell. He was so focused on that that he didn’t realize that Luke was talking to him until the big man touched his shoulder.
“Hey, you with me?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he said. “I was thinking about something.” He took a deep breath to try and get another whiff, but there was nothing there. The scent was gone.
“That Kelleher’s a piece of work,” Luke grumbled. “Here I am, trying to solve a theft at his museum, and he’s playing amateur detective with me and second-guessing—”
The memory came back to him in a rush. It was the weird scent he’d smelled when he and Luke had been examining the moon rock display. He stepped out of Luke’s office and inhaled, dialing his smell up as high as it would go, but he still couldn’t detect any hint of it. It had been there, stronger than at the museum, but now it was completely gone.
“Jim, are you all right?” Luke had followed him out into the hallway and was frowning at him.
“Yeah. Listen, I smelled something at the Cosmosphere, when we were going over the crime scene.”
Luke raised an eyebrow.
“Look, I know it sounds weird, just… just trust me. I smelled something, a very distinctive odor, although it was faint. I just smelled it again a few moments ago, pretty strong. But now it’s gone.”
“You’ve got a sharp nose as well as sharp eyes?”
Could he have been smelling the moon rock? Or at least the residue of it? That might explain why the scent at the museum had been so faint. And it would explain why the smell had seemed so strange — a rock from another world, made up of different elements, different minerals.
Blair would have really loved to hear about this, he thought, with a pang.
But then why had the scent here been so strong? And why was it gone now?
It hit him when he looked at the door. Kelleher. He’d been carrying a briefcase. He turned back to Luke. “You got any evidence on Kelleher for this?”
Luke smiled. “Good eyes, good nose, and you can read my mind? Hell, Ellison.” He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nothing concrete. Which is why I want the information about his computers.”
“That alarm bypass looked like it was done by someone who knew what he was doing.”
“And no one currently working at the Cosmosphere has that kind of expertise in their background, at least from what we can tell so far. Kelleher, though — he got his college degree in electrical engineering. And he looked worried when I told him we knew about the moon rock sale. It was posted anonymously, of course. We’re trying to pull ISP information to see where the offer was posted from.”
“Luke!” A young woman in a sheriff’s uniform came up to them, holding a sheet of paper.
“One of my deputies, Andrea Carson,” Luke said to Jim. “Andrea, this is Jim Ellison.”
“Hey.” She nodded at him. “We got the info on the bid. It was posted from a computer at the Cosmosphere. But I can’t tell which one, not until we get the MAC addresses--”
Luke grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “I’ll bet you a dollar that Kelleher’s down at the museum right now, trying to destroy the evidence.”
He followed, heart thumping. “Can I come?” Blair was at the museum. And given his talent for attracting danger…
Luke stopped and gave him a searching look. “Sure,” he said, finally. “I might need that nose of yours.”
***
Mark was at the front desk when they came in. “Where’s Kelleher?” Luke demanded.
“Uh… he asked Jacob to help him with something in his office.”
Jim followed Luke as he headed down the hall, a tight, twisting feeling in his gut. He pulled his gun out of its holster as Luke rapped sharply on the door. “Come on out, Kelleher,” Luke said. “Let’s do this quietly so no one gets hurt.”
The door banged open and Kelleher inched out, holding Blair in front of him like a shield. He had one arm locked tightly around Blair’s neck; with his other hand he held a revolver at Blair’s temple. “Oh, I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you, Sheriff?” he replied.
Blair’s face was pale. His eyes sought Jim’s and Jim nodded slightly, trying to project reassurance.
“Look, there’s no need for this to get tense,” Luke said, softening his voice. “We can discuss this like reasonable people. Just let the kid go.”
Kelleher looked back and forth between Luke and Jim, on either side of him in the hallway. “I don’t think so, Sheriff. He’s my insurance policy — insurance that you’re going to let me go. Because if you don’t….” He trailed off as he drew the hammer back on the gun and pressed it closer to Blair’s head.
A chill slid down Jim’s spine and the twist in his stomach became a knot of fear. “Take it easy, Kelleher,” he growled. “If you hurt him….”
Blair was staring at him intently. When he flicked his gaze away from Kelleher’s face for a moment to look at Blair, Blair’s eyes shifted down and to the right. “On three,” he breathed, so softly that Jim could barely hear it. “One… two… three.”
Jim aimed at Kelleher’s shoulder and fired, just as Blair jammed his elbow into Kelleher’s stomach and ducked. The blow made Kelleher lose his grip on Blair, and then Jim’s bullet in his shoulder sent him sprawling backwards to the floor. The gun flew out of his hand and skittered away. And then there were sirens and police cars pulling up in the parking lot and Luke was rolling Kelleher over and cuffing him, saying, “You have the right to remain silent….”
“Chief, you okay?” Blair was prone and still. Jim crouched next to him, feeling a cold hand grip his heart. He fumbled at Blair’s arm and pressed two fingers to his wrist, then exhaled as he felt the steady thump of Blair’s heartbeat.
Blair stirred. “Ohhhhh,” he groaned as he pushed himself to a sitting position. “My head hurts. Did he whack me or something?”
Relief made Jim giddy. “I think that was the wall, buddy.”
“Ow.” Blair stood, wobbled a bit, then leaned back against the wall to brace himself. He glanced up at Jim. “Thanks. That was some damn fine shooting.”
“Hey, there’s no way that would have worked if you hadn’t distracted him with that elbow. That was pretty fast thinking, by the way. Dangerous, but fast.” He could feel his muscles relax as the tension seeped out of him.
Blair’s look was pure confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You gave me a three count, then hit Kelleher.”
“No, I didn’t. You shot him.”
“You… you don’t remember?”
“There’s nothing to remember! I didn’t do anything!” Blair’s voice held an edge to it.
“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” Jim said. His thoughts jumbled around crazily in his head. He knew he’d heard Blair, had seen Blair strike Kelleher… and then it hit him. Blair’s count had been pitched Sentinel-soft, for his ears alone. Jacob wouldn’t have known to do that.
Had that been Blair? And now Jacob didn’t remember, because it hadn’t been him?
He tried to quell the sudden lift of his heart. “We’d better get you checked out,” he said, steering Blair towards the front door.
“I’m fine,” Blair protested. But he stumbled a little as they crossed the threshold, and Jim gripped his arm tighter. “Okay,” he muttered as a pair of EMTs headed towards them, “maybe not that fine.”
The examination didn’t raise any red flags, but the EMTs wanted to take Blair to the hospital and have him checked out by one of the physicians there. Blair looked up at Jim with a frown. “But we were going to have dinner,” he said, the hint of a whine in his voice.
“We’ll take a rain check, Chief,” he said, tousling Blair’s hair lightly. “It’s more important that you get cleared. Besides, I’m not going anywhere.”
He watched as the paramedics drove off with Blair, then headed back inside to help Luke. Kelleher had remained mute until Luke had found the missing moon rock in his briefcase, at which point he’d confessed to everything.
Three hours later, with statements taken, evidence entered, and Kelleher booked, Jim grabbed a six-pack and headed back to his room. Luke had invited him to go out with him and his crew, but he’d declined. He needed to think.
He sat on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him, flipping through the channels. Amazing how the same shit was on here in Kansas as in Cascade. He switched the TV off and took a swig of beer.
“You have to make up your mind,” he said aloud, rubbing his thumb over the smooth glass. Whatever the hell had happened with Blair tonight, he couldn’t hope that it would happen again. It wouldn’t be right to stay here with Jacob if he was just doing it for the occasional glimpse of Blair. There was no guarantee that Blair would ever come back, even if just for a moment. He either had to accept that and accept Jacob, or leave for good.
There was a soft knock on his door. He opened it, and felt the floor lurch under his feet.
Blair — no, Jacob — stood there, looking anxious. “Hey,” he said, “can I come in?”
“Sure,” he replied. He stood aside and motioned him in.
“Uh… do you always sit around in the dark?
“Oh, sorry — I was thinking about stuff and didn’t realize that it had gotten dark.” He switched on one of the lamps. Blair had showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He could smell the clean scent of his soap and see his damp hair curling at the back of his neck. “I figured you’d want to crash, after the night you’ve had.”
Blair shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, well….”
He searched for something to break the silence. “Doctor check you out?”
“Yeah. No problems.”
“Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
Jim popped the cap off one of his beers and handed it over. Blair sat down, twisting the neck of the bottle between his fingers. His face was pensive.
Stomach churning, Jim perched on the bed and cast about for something else to say. “Hey, you’ll never believe this, but Kelleher—”
“The thing is,” Blair interrupted, “I feel really safe with you. This crazy guy’s got an arm around my neck, and a gun held to my head, and I’m freaking out, because nothing like this has ever happened to me before. And then you show up, and suddenly it’s all okay. I feel fine, everything is fine, because I know that you’re going to figure it all out.”
He tried to muster a convincing smile. “I seem to have that effect on people. Must be the badge.”
But Blair — no, Jacob — was shaking his head. “I’ve been around plenty of cops in my day, and they don’t make me feel like that. Actually, most of the time they make me feel nervous.” He looked up at Jim. “You’re different. And I don’t know why.”
His heart hammered against his ribs and he gulped some beer. “I don’t know, Chief. Maybe I remind you of someone?”
Jacob smiled. “And that’s another thing. I usually hate it when people call me nicknames. But not when it’s you. ‘Chief’ — it seems right, somehow.” He took a sip of beer. “It’s been that way since the first day I met you. I felt…drawn to you. Even when you were harassing me about that guy you’re looking for.”
He couldn’t speak past the tightness in his throat.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, that’s okay.” Jacob stood and put his beer on the table, then walked over to stand in front of Jim. “I like you, and I’m fine with not completely getting why. And the more I thought about it once I got home, the more I realized that I didn’t want to be alone tonight. I really wanted to be with you.”
Then he slid his hand around the back of Jim’s neck and kissed him.
Jim hesitated. His resolve to take things slowly and give Blair — Jacob, damn it — time was wavering with the soft press of lips against his. If Jacob didn’t care, why should he? And yet… was he completely prepared for this? If he slept with Jacob, there was no going back, no changing his mind. He’d be committed. Was he ready for this? Was he ready to give up any hope that Blair would come back?
Jacob drew back, eyes downcast, cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I thought… it’s that guy, huh? The one you’re looking for. You’re still… you can’t….”
You have to make up your mind.
“No,” he said roughly as he grabbed Jacob’s t-shirt and pulled him into a kiss. “He’s gone.”
And then there was no need for names anymore, or even words. There was just the softness of cotton and the rasp of denim; the brush of fingers electric against skin; the smell of musk and sweat; sighs and inarticulate murmurs; the slow heady swelling of desire. On the edge of release, Jim cupped his lover’s face in his hands, looking deep into his dark blue eyes, and felt the bond between them blaze into life, filling every corner of his being with profound warmth and love. And when they were spent, clinging to each other, muscles trembling with exertion, Jim tugged the blanket over both of them and fell asleep feeling utterly whole.
The clinking of empty bottles woke him. He raised his head and realized that the space next to him in the bed was empty. “What’s up?” he asked, head still fuzzy with sleep.
“Jim?” Jacob’s voice crackled with panic.
He sat up and switched on the light, blinking a few times to get his eyes to adjust. “Jacob? Are you all right?”
“Who the hell is Jacob?”
For a moment, it was as if every muscle in his body had locked up. He felt stunned, like he’d just taken a right hook to the chin. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare. It was Blair. His Blair.
“Jim?” Blair was halfway to the door, t-shirt clutched in one hand, sneakers in the other, jeans on but with the top button undone. Jim guessed he’d bumped into the table as he was gathering his clothes, upsetting the empty beer bottles. “What the hell is going on?”
The fear and uncertainty in Blair’s voice galvanized him into action. He slipped out of bed and pulled on his own jeans. “It’s okay, Chief. Everything’s okay.”
Blair’s eyes were wide, the pupils huge. “What do you mean, it’s okay? Where are we?”
“We’re in Hutchinson, Kansas.” Although he wasn’t sure that was going to make Blair feel any better.
“What? Why? How?”
How on earth was he going to explain this? “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Blair’s eyes slid away from his. “I… I was in the hospital in Cascade. I nearly drowned.”
He took a deep breath. Karen had told him that, if Blair regained his memories, he’d lose all the memories of his other identity. “Okay. This is going to sound a little strange. You should probably sit down.”
Blair let him take his t-shirt and shoes, and push him into one of the chairs. “You disappeared from the hospital overnight,” Jim continued as he got another chair for himself. “It took me over six months to find you. You were here, with a whole new identity. You didn’t remember anything from your life in Cascade. You didn’t even recognize me.”
“I… I… what? How?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Chief. I talked to a psychiatrist; she explained that sometimes this happens to people. Dissociative fugue, she called it.”
“Six… six months?” Blair’s voice quavered. “Where was I? What did I do?”
“I don’t know that, either.” He patted Blair’s knee reassuringly. “You’d been here about two months. You were calling yourself Jacob Goldstein, and you were working at a space museum called the Cosmosphere.”
Blair’s eyes met his, recognition dawning in their depths. “Naomi took me there. When I was little. I really liked it.”
“There must have been a part of you that remembered that.” He smiled with relief at the explanation.
“How did you find me?”
“We put a flag on your fingerprints. The sheriff here ran them as part of an investigation.”
Blair went pale. “Did I… did I do something?”
“No, no.” He folded his hands over Blair’s. They were as cold as ice, and he chafed them gently. “The director of the museum, he stole an artifact, tried to sell it anonymously. The fingerprints were a routine search on all the employees. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He watched as Blair blinked at him, then looked around the room. He could see Blair putting the pieces together and his heart sank a little.
“You came to find me, because of the fingerprint search,” Blair said, his voice flat. “But I wasn’t me, I was someone else. So you… decided you’d sleep with me?”
Jim exhaled. He let go of Blair’s hands. “No, it’s… it’s more complicated than that.”
“Really? It seems pretty clear to me. I was naked, you were naked, we were in bed together… or did I miss something?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You figured if you couldn’t have me, this guy would be just as good? Or maybe you just figured the new me would be an easy lay.”
“No, of course not! Jesus, Blair!” He ran a hand through his hair, then leaned forward. “Look, after seeing you in the hospital that first night, I went home, and — I realized I was an idiot. That… whatever that thing was that happened when our spirit animals merged and you came back, that was the best, the most meaningful thing that’s ever happened to me, and I was a fool to act like it wasn’t.”
Blair had gone oddly still in the chair, his head bowed.
“So I decided that I was going to tell you that, no matter how hard it was. But when I got to the hospital the next day, you were gone.”
Blair still didn’t say anything, and he felt his pulse quicken. “When I found you here, even though you didn’t know me, that connection was still there. I could feel it. And you did, too. You told me that yourself. You came here tonight because you felt it. And I….” He swallowed, trying to ease the ache in his throat. “All I wanted was to be with you.”
There was a long silence, and he felt his heart plummet. “Blair, please….” he whispered.
“That’s the last thing I remember,” Blair said quietly. He still hadn’t looked up. “You, saying you weren’t ready to take that trip with me.” His voice trembled. “I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t understand how, if you’d had the same vision as I did, felt the same things I felt, how you could… deny that. To my face.”
He ran the back of his hand across his eyes. “Nothing had ever hurt like that,” he continued. “Not even dying. It felt like my heart was being torn out of my chest. I thought it would get better once you left, but… it didn’t. I wanted to scream, I wanted to howl, and it just kept getting worse and worse and I just wanted it to all go away…” He raised his head and looked at Jim, tears sliding down his face. “That’s the last thing I remember.”
“Oh, Christ, Blair.” His heart clenched with guilt. It had been his fault. It had all been his fault. He stood and pulled Blair into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Blair resisted at first, but then he shuddered and folded into Jim’s embrace, clutching at his arms, gasping as months of repressed anguish and hurt bubbled out of him in choked sobs. To see him so distraught made Jim’s heart ache and his throat tighten. He cradled Blair in his arms, rubbing his back and murmuring “I’m sorry,” and “It’s all right, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” over and over, his voice thick with tears.
At some point his own grief and guilt overwhelmed him, and then it was Blair that was doing the comforting, his fingers warm as they brushed the dampness from his cheeks, telling him, “It’s okay, I forgive you, Jim, I do.”
Dawn found them back in bed. Jim felt drained but alert as he lay on his side and watched Blair’s eyes drift shut, then open again. “You should sleep, babe,” he told Blair. “You had a hell of a night.”
“So did you,” Blair replied drowsily. He forced his eyes open again. “I want to, I’m… I’m just scared. What if… what if I….”
“Wake up as Jacob again?”
Blair nodded.
“Won’t happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He cupped Blair’s face in one hand, lightly rubbing his thumb over Blair’s cheekbone. He couldn’t seem to sate this hunger he had to touch Blair. No matter how much he did it, he still wanted more. “Well, for one thing, I won’t let it. I won’t lose you again.”
“Mm.” Blair’s eyes closed and opened again.
“But, more importantly, we’re on the same page now.” Tonight they’d done, in physical form, what they’d done spiritually in the few moments when Blair had hung between life and death; shared their feelings with each other, openly and fully. “You don’t have any reason to want to be someone else.”
Blair searched his face, his expression sober, then exhaled and closed his eyes. “Okay. But you’ll stay here, right? You’ll be here when I wake up?”
“Of course,” he replied, linking his fingers with Blair’s. “Always.”
***
“Seriously, you were able to smell a moon rock?”
Jim grinned from behind the paper. It was Sunday morning, and he was stretched out on the couch, feet in Blair’s lap. They’d been back in Cascade for two weeks, and he was surprised it had taken Blair this long to focus on the Sentinel-related aspects of their adventure in Hutchinson. “It would seem so, Chief.”
“I can’t believe Kelleher kept the rock on him,” Blair mused, looking at the news clipping from Luke that had come in yesterday’s mail. ‘Museum Director Confesses, Gets Five Years’ it proclaimed.
“I guess he didn’t want to have it out of his sight,” he replied, shrugging as he folded the paper closed. “Plus, he didn’t have any reason to think I could smell it. And, truthfully, Luke was closing in on him even without that. Once the ISP information came in, they’d have had enough information to arrest him.”
“If he hadn’t made it out of town by then.” Blair rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Say, Rainier has some meteorite samples… I wonder if I could get access to them….”
“I doubt I’m ever going to need to smell a moon rock again,” he said, chuckling.
“You never know. Plus, it would be good information about your senses.” But the look that Jim had come to think of as ‘Blair-in-testing-mode’ was gone, replaced with something more serious.
“What’s up?” he asked, poking Blair in the ribs with his foot.
Blair was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “There’s a part of me that’s still scared that he’ll come back.”
“Jacob?”
Nodding, Blair continued. “I check the date first thing every morning when I wake up, just to make sure I haven’t lost any more time or anything.”
He felt a twinge of guilt at that, and sat up, putting a hand on Blair’s arm. He’d been waking up next to Blair for three weeks and he hadn’t even noticed. “I’m so—”
“I know, I know, you’re sorry,” Blair interrupted him. He gave Jim a half-hearted smile. “It’s okay, really. I’ll stop, eventually, when I feel more secure.” He sighed. “Then there’s a part of me that feels sad, like I lost a friend or something. Which is nuts, because he is me, or was me, so it’s not like he’s actually a separate person….” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
His heart ached at Blair’s confusion, and he put an arm around him and pulled him close. “Trust me, you were still you, Chief, just with a different name and a little less background.”
“I just wish I could remember,” Blair said softly.
“What did Karen say?” Blair had gone to talk to Luke’s psychiatrist friend before they’d left Hutchinson.
“She said the same thing she told you. Most people, when they come out of a fugue, have amnesia for the new identity they constructed.”
Jim waited, gently rubbing Blair’s shoulder. They’d had this conversation before.
Blair exhaled. “And she told me that people rarely create alternate identities that go on a crime spree or do things that are out of character for them.”
“After all, they’re trying to hide, not kick up a fuss,” he pointed out.
“I know. I just… I wish I knew what I did.”
“Maybe you should talk to someone, then. See what you can remember.”
“Yeah.” Blair glanced up at him, eyes shadowed. “You wouldn’t be worried that that would bring Jacob back?”
He shook his head. “No. I trust us. I trust you.” It felt surprisingly good to say that. “If it’s important to you, I want you to do it.” He grinned at Blair. “Besides, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
Blair rolled his eyes and flung a pillow at him. “Augh. Next you’re going to tell me there’s no place like home.”
Laughing, Jim lay back down, pulling Blair on top of him. “Well, it’s true.” He took Blair’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Because home’s wherever you are.”
The End