Brotherhood

 

Danae

 

Disclaimer: Alas, they are not mine.  I hope Pet Fly doesn't mind sharing though.  No harm or infringement is intended and nobody's paying me so... unspoken plea here.  It's all in the spirit of fun and a touch of reverence for the folks that do own them.  

 

Thanks to Missy and Nickerbits, my fabulous betareaders. And to Michelle who inspires me with her amazing writing and understanding of the human soul.  And to everyone else who has written to me with feedback.  I hope you know just how important you are to me.

 

Season four?  What season four?  This thing was started even before S2!  Now, you know where we are....

 

Brotherhood

 

_____________

 

For once, it was not raining and Blair Sandburg reveled in the sunshine as he tracked across the Rainier University campus to the Student Union.  The new Anthropology 101 textbooks had come in and the bookstore was holding one for him.  Of course, it would not be a teacher's edition.  Those went to the folks with those three little letters that Blair was still searching for after their names.  Then again, Blair did not need a teacher's edition.  He could teach the 101 class in his sleep, while typing Jim's paperwork, and with one hand tied behind his back.  *Well, maybe not the hand tied thing.*  Blair had to have his hands to talk.  If he could not move his hands, then how would he get his point across?  And if one was busy typing, he would need the other.  Blair smiled at the strange thoughts racing through his head and at the sunbeams warming him.  It was a good day, he decided.  He had two classes to teach, one to attend, a partner with a thankfully light caseload waiting for him at the station, and a dinner date with a very pretty TA from the History department that night.  Yes, a very good day indeed.

 

Maybe that was why what he discovered in the hedges outside the Student Union hit him so hard.

 

________________________________________________________

 

Jim Ellison pushed aside the by-standers and not a few other cops to get to his partner.  He found the younger man sitting on the steps of the Student Union.  Jim registered the blood covering his guide and then dismissed it.  It was someone else's.  He moved on to observe the tremors that shook Blair's body with incredible force.  "Blair?" 

 

Deep blue eyes were raised to meet his and Jim could see the pain and the anger in them.  "Did you see?  Did you see what some monster did to that girl?" Blair pointed in the direction where the paramedics frantically worked to save a young girl's life.

 

"I'm on my way over there now, Chief.  Are you going to be all right?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Has anyone taken your statement?"

 

"No, I couldn't-- I, Jim, I just--" Jim laid a hand on his partner's shoulder.

 

"I understand.  Wait for me here, okay?  I'll get your statement after I talk to the other officers and examine the scene."

 

"I should go with you to do that.  You may need me."

 

"No, just stay here for right now.  I won't do anything too strenuous.  You can come back with me later if we need to.  At the moment, Chief, you are in no shape for this.  Okay?"

 

Blair simply nodded and wrapped his arms around his body once again.  Jim squeezed the shoulder that his hand rested on once before turning to the crime scene.  The sentinel part of his soul appeased that his guide was safe, the cop emerged to take precedence.  He had a brutal assault to investigate.  He quickly located Brown near the site where the paramedics were lifting the girl's bloody body onto a gurney.  He made his way there.  What he saw brought instant understanding of Blair's anger.  The victim was a tiny Oriental girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old.  She was still alive but just barely.  Thankfully, she was unconscious.  Her arms and legs were covered in cuts of varying depth, and Jim caught sight of the word "Chink" carved into her abdomen as the paramedic raised the bandage to check the wound once more before transport.  Jim's senses told him that she had been raped as well.  His stomach flipped, and he swallowed hard against the bile that rose into his throat.  Jim turned to Brown. 

 

"Was she found out here in the open?"

 

"No, Sandburg found her in the hedges, over here.  He carried her out here, we think, so that he could try to save her.  I tried to ask him some questions but he wasn't talking."  Brown led the way over to a spot where the hedge was not quite so perfect anymore.

 

"He spoke to me.  I'm going to get his statement when we get through here."  Jim carefully moved the branches of the thick bushes aside and stepped through.  The first thing that registered in his senses was blood.  It was a wonder that she was not dead from blood loss.  Underneath the blood, he could smell her perfume, semen, and a variety of men's colognes.  There was more than one assailant.  He filed that for future use.  Blair could help him isolate each fragrance when he was recovered from the shock.  With that thought, Jim glanced at the young man.  Blair was rocking slightly, his arms still tight against his body.  The heart rate was better but still faster than normal.   He pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.  He did a visual scan of the area.  There were tattered bits of the young woman's clothing which Jim and Brown gathered carefully and placed into evidence bags.  The girl's purse lay under a particularly full, fat shrub.  It, too, was collected and carefully sealed as evidence.  Finally, Jim plucked an earring from the blood soaked ground and dropped it into a bag that Brown was holding.  He removed the rubber gloves from his hands, careful to turn them inside out as he did, then slapped Brown on the shoulder.  He climbed out of the hedge and threw the gloves into an evidence bag and handed it off to one of the forensics techs. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the spot where his partner sat.  He sat down beside Blair and clasped a hand on a shaking knee.

 

"Can you talk to me, Chief?"

 

"Yeah.  I'm okay, Jim.  Just a little shook up."

 

"I can certainly understand that.  Tell me what happened."

 

"I was walking to the Student Union to go to the bookstore.  I was passing the hedges and I saw a shoe under one of the bushes.  I almost kept walking, but then I saw red on the shoe and I realized that it was blood.  I looked through the hedge and saw her, man.  It was horrible.  She was all cut up, and there was so much blood.  I yelled for someone to call an ambulance and the police.  There were some students standing around, and I suppose one of them did call.  I went in there where she was and checked for a pulse.  She was alive, Jim, and she was still bleeding.  I didn't have enough room back there so I picked her up and brought her out where I could see her injuries and try to stop the bleeding.  Maybe I shouldn't have done that but I couldn't help her back there, Jim.  I had to do it."

 

"It's okay, buddy.  Go on."

 

"I used my shirt to try to stop the bleeding and waited for someone to come.  God, Jim! Why would somebody do that to someone else?  She was tortured, and I think she was raped, Jim.  This guy is sick, Jim."

 

"It's not just one person, Chief.  I picked up several different men's colognes over there."

 

"Ah, man!"  Blair buried his head in his hands and Jim moved his own hand from Blair's knee to his guide's neck.  

 

"We'll find them, Chief."

 

Blair nodded without raising his head.

 

Jim sighed.

 

___________________________________________________________

 

Several hours later, Jim heard a familiar heartbeat and, without even raising his eyes, closed the file on his desk.  Blair plopped down beside him seconds later, his backpack hitting the floor beside Jim's feet.  "So, what's on the agenda?"

 

"You out of class?"  Jim inquired, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

"Yeah.  Just had the two today."

 

Jim bit his lip.  He hated to do this.  "I need to go see Yoko Timura.  The hospital called just a few minutes ago to let us know she was awake."

 

Blair's smile faltered and his complexion lost all color.  "I see."

 

"If you don't want to go, Chief, I understand.  You can work on paperwork."

 

Blair touched the file on Jim's desk and Jim snatched it away quickly.  Blair raised his hand and ran it through his hair.  "Top secret?"  He pointed at the file.

 

Jim grimaced.  "You just don't want to see it."

 

Blair nodded, a frown on his face.  "Gotcha.  No, Jim, I'll go with you.  Just let me go to men's room and I'll be ready."

 

Jim let his partner get out of the room before he tossed the offending folder back on the desk and swore under his breath.

 

"What's up, Jim?"  his captain, Simon Banks, asked as he approached.

 

"Sandburg's not handling the Timura case very well."

 

Simon nodded in sympathy.  "I can understand that.  Poor kid."

 

"Yeah."

 

"He's tough, though.  He'll be all right."  Simon slapped him on the shoulder and sauntered away.

 

"As soon as he's done throwing up his lunch," Jim whispered to himself.

 

_________________________________________________

 

Blair rinsed his mouth and stared at his pale reflection in the mirror.  "Get a damn grip, will you?" he scolded.  "She's alive.  Just keep that in mind.  She's still alive.  She could have died but she didn't.  Now get your ass out there and help Jim catch these monsters."  He swallowed hard and pushed himself away from the sink.  He shook himself and drew his shoulders up.  Nodding at himself once for reinforcement and plastering a smile on his face, he left the men's room. 

 

Jim was waiting for him in the hall.  "Ready, Chief?"

 

"Yeah.  Let's go." 

 

Jim grasped his shoulder briefly then turned to the elevator.  Silence fell between them and reigned supreme until they got into the truck.  Blair had used the time to mull over the few facts they had in the case.  It occurred to him just as he settled in the truck and snapped on his seatbelt that Yoko Timura was a Japanese name.  He shook his head. 

 

"What is it, Chief?"

 

"Just proof positive how stupid bigots really are."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Yoko Timura is Japanese."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Jim, they carved 'Chink' on her.  She's not Chinese.  She's Japanese."

 

"Well, I'll be damned.  You're right.  I hadn't thought that.  So we know our assailants are as stupid as they are brutal.  Good, they might be easier to catch.  I just hope this is an isolated incident.  That maybe she pissed somebody off or something.  I really don't want to even think about what could happen if some crazed hate group is on the rampage in Cascade."

 

"I'm going to talk to the Dean about sponsoring some cultural sensitivity seminars.  They've done that kind of thing before and it can't hurt."

 

"Sounds good to me," Jim commented as he backed the truck out of the parking space. 

 

The rest of the conversation on the trip to the hospital was on much more pleasant matters.  Blair realized that Jim was doing his best to keep Blair's mind occupied and it made him feel warm.  Jim was in full Big Brother mode again.  Finally, after Jim brought up the possibility of getting tickets to the next Jags game for them for the third time, Blair reached out and touched his shoulder.  "Jim, really, I'm okay.  Chill out, man."

 

Jim made a face at him.  "I'll believe that when you manage to talk about this case and keep your lunch down."

 

Blair rolled his eyes.  "I can't believe that you heard me.  That you *listened*!"

 

"Blair, I know you.  I didn't have to listen," Jim said softly.

 

Blair closed his eyes.  "Guess not.  Especially since I just told on myself, huh?"

 

Jim chuckled.  "Not too bright, Darwin.  You're slipping.  What happened to obfuscation?"

 

"Been hanging around you too long and I'm losing my technique," Blair quipped.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Yoko Timura did not get a look at her attackers.  They all wore masks.  There were five of them, though.  Blair had held her hand while she told Jim what she remembered about the attack.  Jim had listened and asked questions, having to forcibly unclench his jaw to get out the words.  As bad as dealing with Yoko Timura's trauma and tears was, worse than that by far was listening to his partner's erratic heartbeat and watching him fight for control of his own emotions.  Jim had wrapped up as quickly as possible and thanked the young woman.  He had promised her to do all he could to find her attackers.  Blair had nearly flown out of the room. 

 

They were in the truck before either of them spoke again.  "I'm really sorry about that, Jim."

 

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Chief.  How about a late lunch?"

 

"I ate earlier, Jim."

 

"Yeah, and the toilet in the men's room got most of that, didn't it?"

 

Blair frowned at him.  "What are you, my mother?"

 

"No, your Blessed Protector.  Or did you forget that?"

 

The frown disappeared, replaced by a sardonic smirk.  "If I had known that you would hold on to that comment like you have and use it to hover over me, I would never have said that."

 

"Too late.  Besides, I haven't eaten and I'm hungry."  Jim started the truck.  "And I don't hover."

 

"Right.  And my name's Dr. McKay."

 

"McCoy."

 

"No, no, it's the Gaelic pronunciation, remember?" Blair had a true smile on his face finally.

 

"Oh yeah." Jim cuffed him on the head gently and then backed out of the parking space.  "You're still eating something."

 

Blair shook his head and rolled his eyes but he did not disagree.  That was enough. 

 

Or so Jim thought.  When they sat down to eat at the China Express, Blair picked at the food on his plate.  Jim's sentinel sight registered that very little if any of it made it to his mouth.  He was about to comment on that fact when his cell phone rang. Frowning, he took the offending object from his pocket and answered it.  "Ellison."

 

He listened to Simon's voice on the other end while examining Blair's inquiring eyes.  "Yes, sir.  On the way," he finally said and hung up.

 

"What's up?" Blair asked the question that Jim did not want to answer.

 

"There's been another incident at the University."

 

Blair paled and a shudder ran through his body.  The fork poised in his hand dropped to the still full plate.  "How bad?"

 

"Pretty bad from what Simon was told.  Are you okay, Chief?  Maybe you should sit this one out, huh?"

 

The young man across from him took a deep breath and straightened his back, squaring his shoulders. "I'll be fine, Jim."

 

Jim started to argue the point but decided that it would probably be useless and time consuming.  He nodded and threw his napkin in his plate. 

 

_______________________________________________________

 

Rafe approached them as they got out of the truck near the English building.  "Hi, guys."

 

Blair waved his hello as Jim spoke. "What have we got?"

 

"Victim is a male this time.  His name is Hassan Jambar.  He's an African exchange student."

 

Blair could not control the gasp that escaped him.

 

"You know him, Chief?"

 

"Yeah," he answered, "he's a nice guy.  He's an artist."

 

"He may not be after this," Rafe said cryptically.

 

"What do you mean?" Jim asked.

 

"His hands have been crushed."

 

"Ah, damn." Blair doubled over, placing his hands on his knees.  He felt Jim's touch on his back.  "I'm okay," he whispered. 

 

"That's not all.  There's a rope burn around his neck and he has a--"

 

Blair stood and gaped at the young detective.

 

"A what?" Jim asked.

 

"A racial epithet written in permanent marker, we think, on his forehead."

 

Fury filled Blair's vision with a red haze and he clenched his fists. 

 

"Chief, are you all right?" Jim squeezed his shoulder. "You can wait for me in the truck if you'd rather."

 

"I'm fine.  Is he conscious?" Blair inquired.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Then I'm going with you to talk to him.  He knows me.  It may help him to have a familiar face, you know?"

 

"Yeah, I know.  Come on."

 

Blair let Jim take the lead as the two of them made their way over to the ambulance where Hassan Jambar lay on a stretcher.  Though Jim stepped into the ambulance ahead of him, Blair spoke to the young man first.  "Hassan, it's Blair."  He laid a gentle hand on his student's arm as he moved into Hassan's line of sight.

 

The young man opened his eyes and gave Blair a small, trembling smile.  "Hello, sir," came a softly accented reply.

 

"Hassan, this is my partner, Jim Ellison.  He's a police officer.  He needs to ask you some questions, okay?"

 

Hassan nodded and Blair stepped back to allow Jim to move closer.  Blair did not hear most of Jim's questions.  His eyes focused on the ruined hands and the mark of the rope on his student's neck and lastly on the ugly, hateful word scrawled across the forehead.  Jim's hand on his arm snapped him out of the mini-zone he had entered while tracing the letters and branding them into his memory.  Handwriting was as unique as fingerprints.  He wanted to remember the shape, curve, and point of each of those letters.  Just in case he saw it again.  Jim got out of the ambulance and Blair paused one moment more to give Hassan what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  Impulsively, he reached out and placed the palm of his hand on the young man's forehead, covering at least that bit of the cruelty inflicted.  Hassan sighed heavily. 

 

"Thank you, Mr. Sandburg," he whispered.

 

"If you need anything, call.  Okay?"

 

"Yes." He smiled wearily.

 

Blair removed his hand and stepped out of the ambulance.  The paramedics climbed in and pulled the door shut after them.  Moments later, the vehicle pulled away, leaving Blair watching it go with a very heavy heart.  When it disappeared around a corner, he turned to Jim.  "Um, did he see anything?"

 

"No.  Masks, same as the Timura girl."  Jim looked at him with a puzzled expression.  "What'd you do, Chief?  Zone out on me?  You were there."

 

"I kinda wasn't listening."  Blair swallowed hard and stared at his feet.

 

"I know.  I understand." Jim clasped a big hand on his shoulder and led him back to the spot where Hassan Jambar had been dumped like so much garbage.  They had witnesses to question and a crime scene to go over.

 

_________________________________________________

 

Simon tossed his glasses on his desk and rubbed his tired eyes.  "So nobody saw anything?  He was snatched up outside his dorm this morning, in broad daylight, and nobody noticed?  Taken to an unknown location, beaten, nearly hung and nobody heard or saw?  And then dumped, again, in broad daylight, out of a moving car, onto the lawn in front of the English department of Rainier University and nobody even saw the car?"

 

"That's what we were told, sir," Jim answered as he sat on the table in Simon's office.  He was absently flipping pages in the Jambar file, while keeping one ear trained on his captain's voice and one on the heartbeat of the slumped figure of his guide at his desk.  "Witnesses said that they saw nothing out of the ordinary until Hassan Jambar stumbled up the steps of the English building and collapsed in front of the door.  There are a lot of hedges there, Simon and the truth of it is, those kids saw plenty of cars go by but their view was blocked.  They saw the car but have no idea which car it was that Jambar was thrown from and they can't remember them all."

 

"Damn.  How's Sandburg handling this?  This kid was one of his students, right?"

 

"Yeah.  He's pissed off and depressed as hell at the same time."

 

Simon shook his head sadly. 

 

"He'll be okay, Simon." 

 

"Yeah, I know.  In the meantime, I know a local psychologist that has done some work on hate groups.  I think I'll call her in and see what she can tell us."

 

"Who's this?"

 

"Dr. Jadyn Thomas.  I met her through Daryl, actually.  She was invited to speak at his school last year.  She was good.  Even impressed Daryl, and you and I both know how hard that is."

 

Jim chuckled, remembering Simon's headstrong son's last visit to the station and the argument that ensued and spilled forth from Simon's office.  "Yes, sir, I do.  Is he still talking about going to back packing through Europe after graduation?"  Not an idea Simon had liked at all, Jim thought, while trying not to smirk.

 

"It's not funny, Ellison and yes, he is.  Your partner certainly didn't help matters much, you know?"

 

Jim shrugged.  "What can I do?  My partner is as stubborn as your son." Jim grinned at him and headed for the door.

 

"I know that's right," Simon muttered. 

 

He almost laughed but just then Blair looked up and suddenly, Jim did not feel like laughing any more.  Blair did not look like Blair should look.  It was a stranger's eyes that met Jim's, for Blair's eyes had never looked so empty.  Jim felt his heart flip in his chest.  He made his way to his desk.  "Why don't you call it a day, Chief?  You look exhausted."

 

"It's only 3:45, Jim.  If you don't mind, I just thought I'd stay here until about 4:30 and work on some paperwork then head over to the University library for a little while.  You could probably use some help with the paperwork, right?"

 

"Actually, I don't really have any paperwork to do, Chief.  See, I got this great partner that gets it all done before I even get a chance to let it pile up."  Jim smiled at him.  "Besides, don't you have a date tonight?  Why don't we both head home a few minutes early and you can get all spiffied up for what's-her-name while I run out for a Wonderburger."

 

"*Spiffied*, Jim?  What kind of word is spiffied?  Her name is Savannah and I postponed the date.  I just don't feel like going out."

 

Jim sighed.  "Blair, I know this case sucks but you can't let it get to you like this."

 

"I can't check this at the door, Jim!  I just can't!  You're a white Anglo-Saxon male, Jim.  You don't know how it feels."

 

Realization slapped Jim in the face and he blinked.  "Damn."

 

"Yeah, that and a few other choice words."

 

"You could be a target," Jim muttered as he rubbed his temples with one hand.  "I hadn't even realized--"

 

"I figured as much.  It's okay, Jim.  You don't see me as a Jew.  Hell, I'm so fallen away that I don't see myself as a Jew until somebody throws it in my face.  Mom never was much on organized religion and me, well, I had a bar mitzvah but that was my grandmother's idea and I try to remember all the holidays but..." he shrugged. 

 

"Ellison, Sandburg, get in here." Simon's order drew the partners' attention.  Apologetic smiles were exchanged in lieu of words as they moved to comply.  "Sit down, you two.  Jade is on her way over with some information that you may want to see."

 

"Jade?" Blair asked.

 

"Dr. Jadyn Thomas, local psychologist, specializes in hate groups, Sandburg."

 

"I know her."

 

"Tell me you didn't date her, Sandburg."

 

Blair almost laughed.  "No, I didn't date her, Simon.  I haven't dated every woman I know."

 

"That's a miracle," Simon grumbled.

 

Jim grinned.  "So, how do you know her, Chief?"

 

"I met her at a seminar I went to on serial killers."

 

"You went to a seminar on serial killers?  What for?" Jim questioned.

 

"Well, it was after Lash and I wanted to be better prepared for the next one, you know?  Anyway, we talked.  She's a real nice woman.  I liked her but she was seeing someone else."

 

Jim noticed the slight scowl on Simon's face as Blair mentioned his interest in the woman.  He would have to remember to tell Blair later that perhaps Dr. Thomas was still off-limits.  The three of them spent the next several minutes discussing the Jags and possible plans for a fishing trip as they waited for the good doctor to arrive.  When she did, Jim's speculations were proven to be truth as the rather small woman blew into the office and was immediately embraced by their captain.  Jim had to reach over and close Blair's mouth with a quick pop on the younger man's chin.  Blair glared at him and Jim had to stifle a chuckle.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

The introductions and re-introductions were over and Jade, as she preferred to be called, opened her briefcase. "Okay, here is a list of all the known hate groups that operate in this area of the country."  Jade placed a surprisingly hefty stack of paper in front of them on the table.  Blair was taken aback.  The apparent volume of material she had collected was disturbing and a bit overwhelming. 

 

"You're kidding?" he asked.

 

"Afraid not.  There are lots of them out there.  However, rest assured that while the total number is large, some of them are very selective about who they hate so we can eliminate some right away.  Like these folks," she pointed to a name on the first page, "they only hate criminals." 

 

"Excuse me?"  Jim looked as puzzled as Blair felt.

 

"They have been accused of tracking down released cons and harassing and even killing them.  No proof yet, no arrests or anything but they have spoken very loudly regarding allowing scum on the streets.  Who knows?  Maybe they did, maybe they didn't but let's face facts. Sorry guys, but cops don't really push cases where the victim is a convicted rapist, murderer, child molester, etc.  Oh, and here's this group.  They don't like writers."

 

"Writers?" Blair laughed a little.

 

"Well, a select group.  Occult fiction writers, mainly.  They get a little ticked off when their religion gets misrepresented and such.  Death threats, harassment, an assault or two is their MO.  Anyway, remember, we included anyone who has ever expressed a desire to see any other person or group harmed in any way.  There are anti-abortion groups on this list because some of them have said that abortion doctors should be shot for what they do.  The fact of the matter is, right now, the majority of these folks are harmless, but that may not always be the case.  Tomorrow, one of these groups that we ignore may get a new leader, a charismatic one, that leads them in a not so harmless direction."  She smoothed her short cinnamon-red hair back away from her face and sat down.

 

"I never knew there were so many," Blair remarked as he flipped through some of the pages.

 

"Most people don't realize, and that is what is really dangerous about them.  They operate undetected most of the time."

 

"Well, let's get to it.  So, Jade, what are we looking for?  General bigots?" Jim inquired.

 

"Pretty much.  Racists, in particular. You've had two victims, one Oriental, one black.  So they don't stick to one race.  Could be the obvious.  The Ku Klux Klan, although I actually doubt that.  They tend to be more subtle.  The White Aryan Resistance, the Chosen Sons, they're new, by the way.  The Neo-Nazis, the list goes on and on."

 

"Just a few days ago, I spoke with a friend who specifically studies the movement and growth of hate groups in this area.  I have good news and bad news.  He says there aren't any new groups moving in.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that the groups that are here are alive and well.  Primarily, we are looking at a few Neo-Nazi groups, one which actively recruits on Rainier campus, and the White Aryan Resistance which is actually not what you'd call separate from the Neo-Nazi's, just more sophisticated.  They like to use the young guys in the Neo-Nazi groups as foot soldiers, in other words, fall guys, for their dirtiest deeds."

 

"Perfect.  Just what we need." Jim sighed.  Blair bit his lip and prayed to wake up.  But the nightmare persisted and he was forced to acknowledge it as reality.  Reality really sucked sometimes.

 

___________________________________________________________ 

 

One hour later, Jim had a healthy list of suspects and a splitting headache.  He thanked Jade and headed for the truck, his obviously troubled partner slightly behind him.  He climbed into the driver's seat and waited for Blair who had stopped to talk to Rhonda.  A worried frown took over Jim's face.  He had really had no idea that Cascade was infested with these hatemongers. Sure, there had been that one case where those black churches had been bombed but that turned out to the work of a one guy.  This, however, was not one unbalanced person.  Then there was Kincaid, but he and his cronies were hopefully gone for good and Jim had been ready to write that off as an aberration.  Apparently, he had been mistaken and naive.  Jade's list had included all of the Pacific Northwest, true, but she kept pointing out which groups had supporters right in Cascade, and Jim was alarmed.  Jim could not help the sense of disgust and dread building up in his chest.   There were active Neo-Nazis in Cascade.  That probably alarmed him the most, if the truth be told.  Sandburg.  *Enough said,* Jim's worried mind whispered.  And these people were on the Rainier campus.  Jim sighed and rubbed his temples while his imagination took that fact and ran with it.  Blair and skinheads on a collision course.  The scenario just did not, could not have a satisfactory outcome for Jim.  So deep in thought was he that when Blair opened the passenger door, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin.

 

Blair looked shocked.  "You didn't hear me coming, did you?"

 

"I have a headache." Jim hoped that Blair would leave it alone.  Wasted energy on that hope.  He had known that, though.

 

"Where were you, Jim?"

 

"Right here."

 

"Yeah, right.  You were a million miles away.  Otherwise, your supersonic ears would have known exactly where *I* was long before I got to the truck.  What were you thinking about?"

 

"Just the case, Chief."

 

Blair nodded sagely.  "I'll give you a shoulder rub and make you some willow bark tea when we get home.  Maybe they'll help with your headache."

 

"Thanks, Chief."

 

"Not a problem." 

 

"I'll take you by the university to get your car then I'm going to go pick up the first guy on the suspect list.  Meet me back here?"

 

"Gotcha."

 

Jim cranked the truck and pulled out into traffic.  The cab of the truck was silent for several minutes before Blair spoke again.
 
"You know what I was thinking about, Jim?"

 

"No, what's that?"

 

"I was thinking about the fact that there are Neo-Nazis on campus and I was trying to picture my classes and trying to determine if any of them were in those classes.  I don't like thinking about it, Jim, but I can't help it.  There are people on campus who would hate me because of my name."

 

"I know you're worried, Blair.  I could arrange some protection until we catch these guys."

 

"Who's gonna protect the rest of the students?  Can you arrange protection for every minority student on campus?  Besides, this goes beyond the people responsible for the assaults.  I've always known that in certain places with certain people, I could be a target, Jim.  That is never far from my mind.  I just never realized that one of those places could be Rainier, or my classroom and that some of those people could be my students or my classmates.  Somehow, I thought in a place of learning, that kind of ignorance would be dispelled, non-existent.  Call me naive but I really wanted to believe that this was somebody outside the University.  Now, I know that it could very well be someone inside the University.  Hell, Jim, it could be someone inside one of my classes.  I hate that."

 

"I know, Blair.  I'm sorry."  Jim reached over and grasped his young guide's shoulder.  "You wanted to know what I was thinking about when you got in the truck?  The very same thing, Chief, the very same thing.  I want you to have protection.  I'm worried about you."

 

"You don't know how tempted I am to take you up on that but no, Jim.  I can't let this scare me into jumping at shadows and dragging around a bodyguard.  I'll be careful."

 

"Sandburg--"

 

"Jim, please, I've made up my mind about this.  Rainier is my ground and I'm gonna stand on it, okay?"

 

Jim swore silently.  "I have conditions, Chief."

 

Blair gave him a rueful smile.  "Let's hear 'em, Jim."

 

"No more late nights.  Bring your stuff back to the loft.  If you see that you going to be late when you're supposed to meet me, then you call.  As a matter of fact, call anyway so I'll know when to expect you and where you are.  And park that piece of junk you call a car closer to the building, and if you absolutely have to be there at night, under a damn streetlight.  I don't think that's too unreasonable."

 

"Piece of junk?"  Blair smirked as he glanced around the cab of the truck.  "Look who's talking.  You know, you picked on me about my 'classic' and then you go out and buy this.  Why is my car a piece of junk and your truck is a 'classic?'"

 

"Because mine runs, Chief." Jim grinned at him.  "So do we have a deal or do you get a shadow?"

 

Blair rolled his eyes.  "We have a deal."

 

"Good.  Now, don't roll your eyes at me again, Junior, or else."

 

"Yeah, yeah, tough guy.  I'm shaking."  The smirk was back on his partner's face and Jim just had to cuff him on the side of the head.

 

"Smartass."

 

"And cute too."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"My ass.  Savannah says it's cute."

 

"I truly wouldn't know, Chief."

 

"Damn, Jim, I hope not."

 

Jim shook his finger at his guide.  "Watch it, Ace."

 

"Kinda hard to do without a mirror," the young man quipped as he turned to look over his shoulder.

 

"That's it.  This discussion is over.  I'm not even going there."

 

"I win!" Blair exulted and Jim chuckled.  His guide was happy again and that was good enough.

 

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