Home Danae Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no harm, no infringement. Just fun! True is mine! Thanks to Laura, my gracious and kind beta reader. Thanks to Michelle who encourages me. And last but not least, thanks to everyone who has written me with feedback and kind words. You are all appreciated. Now, this started off as one thing and took a disturbing detour into the dark recesses of my psyche. I almost did not finish it at that point but Michelle convinced me that maybe I needed to. So I guess this is my first warning label. This is sort of dark, folks. The darkness is all emotional. No devastating torture, illness or death. Well, there's death but no one you know personally. Just be aware that even though the end of the road is a bright place, the journey kinda sucks. This story was inspired by two songs. "Can't Find My Way Home" and "Find Your Way Home" from the soundtrack of Sioux City. Oh, and there is a reference to Prisoner X in here. Someone say, "On with it , woman!" Okay! Home ----------------------- Blair hitched his backpack up more firmly on his shoulder and glanced back once more at his poor smoking Volvo. The mechanic saluted him and he waved. The man promised to hold onto the car for a price, of course, until Blair could get the money to fix the busted head gasket and get back to pay the man. Blair sighed. He had no idea where he was going to get five hundred dollars, much less the storage fee the guy was charging. In the meantime, he was walking. Or hitching. Jim would be furious. "Whoops, forgot. Jim's already furious and couldn't really give a damn what happens to you, Sandburg." he spoke out loud and realized that it was for the first time in days. His voice sounded strange to him. Jim had told him to stop talking and he had. "Whoops, messed that up, too." He took a deep breath as tears threatened again. He had spent his entire first day on the road fighting back these tears and he would be damned if they were going to win now. _____________________________________________________ The first thing Blair was aware of as he approached the door of the loft was noise. A lot of noise coming from inside. He hurried to get inside, thinking that Jim might be in trouble. He knew the man was home. His truck was outside. He rushed in and quickly determined that the source of the noise was in his bedroom. He reached the door and gasped at the sight before him. "Jim, what the hell are you doing?" Jim Ellison, Cascade police detective, former Army Ranger and Sentinel raised his eyes from the books he held in his hands and suddenly Blair felt colder than he had ever felt in his life. He took an involuntary step backward and hit the door frame. Jim tossed the books onto the floor, amid the destruction he had caused in the room and moved toward his terrified roommate, kicking Blair's belongings out of his way as he did. "Want to tell me why your name came up in a vice investigation?" "What? Jim, I have no idea what you're talking about. Look what you've done to my room, man." "You have no idea, huh?" "That's right, Jim. I have no idea. You going to clean this up?" "Then what is this, Sandburg?" A plastic bag hit Blair in the chest and he struggled to catch it as his backpack dropped from his shoulder from the sudden movement. He stared in shock at the multi-colored pills in the bag. "I swear, Jim, I don't know." "You're saying you didn't buy those? You had no plans to sell them on the University campus?" "What!? Of course not! Jim, you know me better than that!" "Do I? What are all these strange herbs you take all the time? How am I supposed to know that they aren't controlled substances!" "Because, you would know, that's why! You're a Sentinel, Jim! You would know! Even if you don't believe that I wouldn't do or sell drugs, you have to know that I wouldn't be stupid enough to bring drugs into your home! I can't believe we are having this discussion. You know me better that this." "Well, I thought I did until I found those in here." Jim pointed to the bag still in Blair's hand. Blair looked down at the bag, having forgotten that it was there, and dropped it like a snake that had bitten him. "In here? You found these in here?" "Yeah, I did, Sandburg. One of the guys from Vice came down today to tell me that my partner's name had shown up in the middle of one of their cases as a buyer who was looking to start selling on the campus. I came in here to prove him wrong. Guess I got proven wrong, huh, Sandburg. You've got about fifteen minutes to pack your stuff and get out of my home." "What? Jim, I didn't do this. You know that, man. You have to know that." "Shut up, Sandburg! Stop talking and start packing! Because if you aren't outta here in fifteen minutes, I swear to God, I'm going to arrest you for possession. I don't want to but I will. You leave now and I'll flush those and pretend they never existed. But if you aren't leaving your key on the table and walking out that door in the next few minutes, you are going down." "Jim..." Blair's voice cracked as his eyes began to fill with tears. Jim brushed by him and left him standing in the ruin of his room. Not his any longer, he realized as he moved mechanically over to the open closet and pulled out his duffel bag and began to stuff clothes in it. Minutes later, he carried the duffel and his backpack as he came to a stop by the kitchen table. He took the key to the loft off his ring and placed it reverently on the table. He turned to look at the man on the couch who would not acknowledge him. "This was a home for me, Jim." "It's not any more." came the gruff reply. "So, just like the pills, I never existed?" "That's right." Blair bit his lip, hoping that the pain would distract him from the pain in his heart. He nodded. "Jim--" "Shut up and get out." Blair did as he was told. Outside the loft, he turned and softly touched the numbers on the door and silently said goodbye to his home and the man who had made it a home. ____________________________________________________ Blair came back to the present at the rude sound of a car horn blaring and was startled to see that he was walking down the middle of the road. He quickly moved back to the shoulder and kept walking. He tried to decide where he was going. He had entertained the thought of heading down to Ft. Worth where his cousins were. Maybe they would be glad to see him. There were several colleges around there he could enroll in and maybe even find a job teaching in. There was Big Sur. Maybe Naomi was still there. Maybe he would just disappear in the redwood forests and never come out. Either way, he would still be lost. Ft. Worth was not home. Big Sur was definitely not home. Cascade had been home. He hated the rain and the cold, sure, but Jim was there. His friends were there. His life was there. He could not go back there. "Where does that leave me?" he asked the winding road but he got no answer. ___________________________________________________ "Jim?" Ellison looked up to see his captain, Simon Banks, standing over him. Behind Simon, Joel Taggert stood with his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread apart, ready for battle. Jim put down the file he was reading and met Simon's unreadable gaze. "Yeah, Simon?" "Where's Sandburg?" "I don't know, Captain." "You mean, he forgot to call again or he's busy at the University, right?" "No sir, I mean I don't know." "In my office, Ellison." Simon's tone was that of an order not to be questioned. Jim stood and strode purposefully into Banks' office. The captain and Taggert followed him. The door was closed. Jim came to attention in front of Simon's desk. "I know what you're going to say Simon but you don't know the whole story." "Do you, now?" Taggert asked sarcastically from just behind Jim's right shoulder. "Jim, I know this is about Sandburg's name showing up in that Vice investigation. After that, I'm not sure what's going on. You've been walking around here for the past three days like a pissed off grizzly and Sandburg is nowhere to be seen. Where is he, Jim?" "He's gone. I threw him out." "You what!?" Taggert came forward into Jim's personal space. "I threw him out." "Why, Jim?" Simon asked sincerely. "You know damn good and well that Blair is not involved in drugs, Ellison! The boy has to be half dead before he'll take an aspirin!" Taggert yelled directly into Jim's ear, causing the man to flinch and quickly dial down his hearing. "Jim, there was only a suspicion, no proof yet. One picture of Sandburg talking to a suspected dealer. And that guy pointing the finger at Blair. Not exactly something I would take for gospel, Jim. Vice hadn't even said anything about bringing Blair in for questioning." "How could you do it, Ellison?! How could you do that, knowing he had no where to go?" "You have no idea where he went?" Simon asked, waving at Taggert to try to signal the man to calm himself. "No." "Have you looked!? Or are you just going to write him off? You are one cold son of a bitch, Ellison." "Quiet, Joel. That's not helping. It looks bad that he's not around, Jim." "It's better that he's not." Jim turned and moved away from his captain and the irate bomb squad captain. "Jim, tell me you didn't hurt that boy." Simon's voice was low, with a hint of a threat in it. "I didn't touch him, Simon." "OH, but you hurt him all right! Tell me, Ellison, what did he say when you tossed out into the street? How'd he look when you kicked him out like some unwanted dog?" Taggert was pushing all the right buttons. Jim closed his eyes tight and ran his hand through his hair. "You weren't there. You don't know. I told Anderson that I would handle Blair. I would search my own house and I did. And I found proof, Simon. I found proof. I had it in my hands." "What kind of proof?" "A bag full of pills, Simon. Speed. It was in my house!" Taggert was shaking his head in disbelief. Simon swallowed and sighed. "What did he say?" "He said he didn't know anything about them. But Simon, they were in his jacket, in his room. In my house! God, Simon, what could I do? I trusted him. I... he was family. I couldn't think. I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands but I couldn't let him go to jail, Simon. I couldn't." "What are you saying, Jim?" "I'm saying, I destroyed evidence, Simon. I went against everything I believe in and destroyed evidence because I couldn't send Blair to jail. Prison would kill him, Simon. You know that. I know that. Look what it did to me in just a few days. I couldn't let monsters like Vincent get their hands on Blair. But even as I made that decision, I was so angry at him for making me make that decision that I couldn't bear to look at him! Jesus, he sounded so lost and he looked so... but I couldn't let him stay. He betrayed my trust. Please try to understand." "Jim, someone could have planted those drugs. When's the last time Blair wore that jacket?" Jim seemed confused by Simon's statement. "It was the one he had on in Anderson's file photo. Other than that, I'm not sure." "You never even stopped to consider that Blair might be set up and framed, did you?" Taggert asked. "I would know if anyone had been in my house. And what about the money in the picture? Blair was giving him money. Blair would know if something was in his pocket, right? And where's the motive for a frame?" "Jim, sit down. You've been reacting without thinking. It's time to think. No one would have to come in your house. This Reese guy is a student at Rainier so he had access to Blair on campus. Blair was wearing that jacket in the photo. The pills could have been slipped into his pocket then. And the money, well, there has to be a logical explanation for it, too. Blair is not a junkie and he's not a pusher. And as far as motive, Blair's been working with you long enough to have made some enemies or at least attracted attention from yours." Simon spoke while Jim sat heavily into a chair. "Joel, will you excuse us?" Simon waited until the big man was gone, somewhat hesitantly, before continuing. "I can't believe that you destroyed evidence, Jim. That bag could have cleared Blair. More than likely, his prints weren't on it." "They were when I got through. I threw the bag at him and he caught it." Jim stated, his voice dull with the shock that was seeping into his brain. He had accused Blair without letting giving him a chance to explain. He had judged him without all the facts. He let his anger overtake him and he had destroyed his best friend. Blair kept saying that Jim knew him better than to believe he would take or sell drugs. Blair said that Jim knew the truth because he was a Sentinel, because he knew his partner. Jim had shut him out. "He didn't fight back." "Jim, we're talking about 'Flight Risk Sandburg' here. I'm surprised you had to throw him out. I'm surprised he didn't just tell you to go screw yourself and leave. He learned early that when things get tough, it's time to hit the road. You told me that. You were worried for the first year that he was here that he'd take off on you, remember? Besides, Jim, if I know you, you weren't exactly in your best mood. The kid was probably scared to death. Fight you? He probably figured he had a better chance to win against a freight train." "What have I done, Simon? He's out there somewhere, alone. He said that he had a home with me and I told him that he never existed." Simon listened to the flat quality of Ellison's voice and shook his head. "He thinks I hate him, Simon. I was trying to save him but I screwed it up, didn't I?" "Yeah, Jim, you screwed it up. Big time. Now, let's fix it. Go get Anderson on the phone and get him down here. Let's look at his file and get that kid, Reese, out of holding and let's talk to him." "What about Blair?" "I don't know, Jim. I just don't know." _________________________________________________ Blair did not even bother to notice the name of the town as he passed within the limits. There was a big welcome sign but "Welcome!" was as far as he read. A little diner caught his eye. He was hungry. He entered the place and sat down at the lunch counter. He dropped the duffel bag on the floor and placed his backpack on the stool beside him. That done, he heaved a sad sigh and immediately caught the attention of the man behind the counter. "That was a sad and lonely noise, son. What can I get you?" Blair looked up into the wrinkled face of a man of Native American descent. "Coffee and whatever the special is, I guess," Blair answered to the kindly old face before him. "Coming up." The man turned and called out a cryptic command to someone Blair could not see. He turned back and Blair could feel the man examining him so he met the man's deep brown eyes. "Traveling?" "Yeah." Blair saw the man glanced outside. "Didn't hear a car," the man remarked, with the question obvious. "Broke down last town back. I had to leave it there. I don't have five hundred dollars for a busted head gasket." "Damn shame." "Yeah, no kidding." "Where you headed?" Blair could only stare at the man. His voice had quit working and his mind went off on its own little tangent. *Where are you going, stupid? You have no idea. You got it all together.* his mind taunted. "Ah, I see. Damn, boy, you look like a deer caught in headlights." A little bell rang behind the man and he turned away. When he returned, he place a plate and cup in front of Blair. "Jack Windrider." He offered his hand. "Blair Sandburg." Blair shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you." "What are you running from, Blair Sandburg?" Again, Blair could only stare. "Eh, don't mind me. I'm just a nosy old man looking for stories to hear and stories to tell. Eat. You look like you could use it. And then you could use some rest. There's a motel here in town. Not fancy, very small but it always has vacancies." Blair watched Jack Windrider walk through the swinging doors that undoubtedly led into the kitchen. He swallowed the tears that once again burned his eyes and picked up the fork with a vengeance. While Blair ate, he watched Jack wander around the practically empty diner. A few people came in and sat down at one of the tables behind Blair. They greeted Jack like friends and the man spent much of the rest of Blair's meal talking with them, though he did check on Blair a couple of times. Blair took a last sip of his coffee and stood. He walked over to the cash register where Jack met him and paid for his food. He turned to leave but a hand on his arm stopped him. "You're not a criminal. That I can see. You're not a vagrant wearing those expensive shoes. And you're a little too old to be running away from home. I'd like to know your story, kid." "My story is I had a home and now I don't. I didn't do anything wrong but it happened anyway. Maybe I shouldn't have wanted that home so badly. Maybe I wasn't meant to have it." It was Jack's turn to stare as Blair gently removed himself from the hand that held his arm and left. Once outside the diner, Blair contemplated the town and the road. He chose the road. There was too much daylight left to stop. He reached the opposite edge of the little town fairly quickly and glanced back absently at the "You are now leaving...Have a nice day!" sign, still pointedly ignoring the name. He walked on. ____________________________________________________ Simon was relieved. Jim's brain finally seemed to be in gear. While the two of them waited for Reese's public defender to arrive, Jim had been on the phone with the university and found out that Reese was taking one of Blair's classes. Another phone call to the secretary in the Anthropology department had revealed that Reese was failing Anthro 201 miserably and had been by Blair's office several times. At the suggestion of the secretary, Jim called a teaching assistant in the department who worked with Blair and found out that Reese had not wanted to do the extra credit work that Blair had given him and refused the tutoring Blair offered. The TA, Rachel, had told Jim that Reese was almost harassing Blair about the whole thing and that Blair told her that Reese had even offered him money to change his grade which Blair promptly refused. They then had their logical explanation for the money seen changing hands in the picture. And they had motive. The only thing left was to find out how the frame had been setup and when. Simon watched Jim pace, his jaw clenched tight. He still could not believe the way his friend had reacted. Simon never thought he would see the day that Jim Ellison would do what he had done to Sandburg. The two men were best friends, partners, much to Simon's own dismay. Simon knew that if he had been in Jim's position, he at least would have had enough doubts that he would have listened to the boy and did a little digging before tossing the kid out of the house. The whole mess could have been avoided. There had to be a reason why Ellison reacted so strongly, even beyond the ones he had already offered. Simon decided to do some digging of his own. "Jim, why?" "Why what, Simon?" Ellison stopped pacing and looked at his captain. "Why the quick reaction? Why so severe so fast?" "I told you, Simon." "Maybe I've been around Sandburg for too long, but I have a feeling you're holding something back. Jim, I'm your friend. Something really hit you hard at the mere thought that Sandburg might be involved with drugs. Was it the golden incident? What, Jim, tell me why you were so quick to believe the worse." "Ah, God, Simon, it just hit me out of nowhere. I've been trying to figure that out. Blair's my best friend and I treated him like a criminal. I mean, you had more faith in him than I did. Joel knew immediately that Blair was being setup and I kicked him out of my life. I guess some things that we try to bury are just bound and determined to rise up again and bite us on own asses." "What is it, Jim?" "It's a long and old story, Simon. Before the army, in college. My first real love, I guess. I asked her to marry me. We even moved in together for a while. Before we could make it to the alter though, I found out she had a drug problem. It took me awhile to figure it out. I knew that money seemed to just disappear. She was real moody. She always had an explanation though. Then I found the drugs. I confronted her and she swore she'd quit. I believed her. Simon, I was in love. I thought I was helping her. She seemed to get better for a while. Then one day, we repeated the confrontation scene because I had found more drugs, different drugs. Harder drugs. She had started shooting up, Simon. She cried and made promises and I stayed. I even set a date for the wedding, thinking that would make her want to get better. Then finally, two days before Christmas, she came to me and told me that the electric company was going to turn our lights off the day after Christmas and that she'd spent January's rent. I just stood there in shock. I asked her what she spent the money on and she wouldn't answer me. Guess that was my answer. When I was finally able to move, I packed my things and moved in with a friend. She sold everything we owned that she could get money out of, threw away anything of mine that I had left and moved in with one of her suppliers. I lost everything, Simon. Most of my material possessions, my money, my credit rating, and most importantly, my self-respect. I had some bad Christmases growing up after my mom left but Simon, none of them even compared with that one. Eventually, I put myself back together, finished school and went in the army. I pushed all those feelings into the deepest darkest corner of my mind. I swore never to allow a repeat performance of that little episode again. Then I found those drugs in Blair's jacket and I was standing back there in that little apartment looking at Jolene all over again, only this time she was Blair, my partner and guide. I lost all reason, Simon. Everything I had locked away came pouring back out and I just couldn't take it. Blair was right. I should have known better but right at that moment, I wasn't a Sentinel looking at his guide, or a cop looking at his partner, or even a friend looking at a friend. I was Jim looking at the person responsible for the biggest and most devastating betrayal of my life. Only it wasn't Blair. It wasn't his fault. But I made him pay the price." "Damn, Jim. You've carried that all this time by yourself?" "Yeah. I've never told anybody that didn't know me and Jolene personally and even then I didn't have to tell them. They knew." "Damn." Simon whispered. "Simon, I have no idea what this has done to Blair. I mean, I know what he said and how he looked but I don't know what he'll do. You know that he just didn't let that many people close." "You're alike in that, although the methodology is different." "Yeah, I know. Anyway, I don't know who he could turn to. Where he would go. God, Simon, I hurt him. What if I hurt him too much?" "We'll deal with it, Jim. We'll find him and we'll deal with it. Right now, let's deal with Reese. Spalding's here. Let's go." Simon stood. Jim turned to look at the man entering the bullpen, recognizing him as Greg Spalding, Reese's public defender. Jim followed Simon out of the captain's office. Minutes later, four men sat in an interrogation room. Simon, Jim, Spalding and Reese sat around the table. Reese had been mirandized again and Jim sat forward in his chair. "Tell me, Reese, when did you decide to try to frame Blair Sandburg? And how did you know that you were being investigated?" Reese looked to Spalding who nodded at his client. "My lawyer says that if I come clean and tell you who I was getting the drugs from, I could get off without any prison time. That right?" "Reese, we have no idea what deal your lawyer's made with the DA. If he says so, then I'm sure that's the way it is." Simon told the young man. "Okay, fine. I didn't know I was being investigated but it sure helped out my plan." "What plan?" "To get that damn little Jew-boy Sandburg. I wanted his ass in a sling. He was failing me, the little jerk." Simon watched Jim's jaw work and figured he had better warn Reese to keep a civil tongue. "Mr. Reese, there is no call for the racial slurs and name calling." "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I tried to talk to *Mr. Sandburg* but he gave me some crap about extra-credit and tutoring. Man, I took that class 'cause it was supposed to be easy. My grade point average needed a little boost or my dad was going to pull my allowance. I even offered the little jerk money. Oops, sorry, Mr. Sandburg. He gave it back and that's when it came to me. If I could plant some speed on him and then turn him over to the dean, he'd get fired and expelled and I could claim he was failing me 'cause I had threatened to turn him in. I don't get a failing grade and he gets canned. That was the plan. Little did I know that somebody had turned me into the cops and they were getting ready to pick my ass up. It was easy and even better than I hoped when they asked me who I was working with and then showed me that picture of Sandburg trying to push my money back in my hand. Man, he'd get canned and have his ass thrown in jail. Those guys in prison would just love ol' pretty boy and all that hair." Simon grabbed for Jim but he was not fast enough. The detective had Reese up against the wall before either Simon or Spalding could react. Jim's hand was wrapped securely around the man's throat and Simon groaned as he realized that the man's feet were a good four inches off the floor. "Jim, let him go." he spoke calmly. "You listen to me, you little punk. That's my partner you're talking about. That's my friend you tried to frame. I should just do the world a favor and break you in half right now." "Jim, put the boy down." Simon spoke more firmly and then sighed as Jim dropped Reese back down to stand on his own feet. "I could sue you." Reese tried to sound confident but his voice shook as he rubbed his neck. "And Blair Sandburg could sue you." Spalding told his client. "I think you had better just leave it alone. Gentlemen, the DA is making final arrangements in regards to our plea bargain. Until then, Mr. Reese's father has refused to pay his bail and he's yours until the court date. I leave him in your capable hands." "What?" Reese squeaked. "Nice to see you again." The man left then leaving both Jim and Simon staring after him. "Boy, your lawyer doesn't even like you." Simon smiled at Reese. "Now, that's sad." He put his hand on Jim's shoulder and led his friend out of the room, telling the officer outside the door, "Take care of that." He motioned with his head at Reese. Simon would have thought that having confirmation that Blair was innocent would have cheered Jim up at least a little. However, the man seemed that much more upset as he let Simon lead him along back into his office. "Well, now, that's that. Now we know." "Yeah, now we know what a SOB I really am." Jim mumbled. "Enough of the self-pity, Jim. We have to find Blair." "Yes sir." "Get an APB out on him and his car. Call Naomi if you can find her. Call his friends. Let's go, Ellison, get moving." "What if he won't come back, Simon?" "We cross that bridge when we get there." _________________________________________________________ Blair groaned when the soft rain began. He left the road for the relative cover of trees alongside it and continued walking. He could not even really be too disgusted with the rain. After all, it fit his mood. It was a sad little rain, falling half- heartedly to the earth, like Blair's own footsteps away from Cascade. He sighed and stepped out of the trees and stood in the open letting the tiny, soft drops dampen him. He turned his face to the sky and felt the wetness on his cheeks. The raindrops were cool against his skin and he closed his eyes. That was when he felt warm wetness join the cool and realized that his tears had finally won over his weary controls. Somehow, it no longer mattered anyway. It was safe to cry in the rain. Who would be able to tell the difference between the rain and the pain? Blair let his legs fold beneath him and he sat on the side of the lonely road in the rain and cried. Strange smells registered in his brain and he sat up quickly. A moment of disorientation was followed by panic as he realized that he was no longer in the last place he remembered. Whether that was a good thing or bad thing, he was not sure as that last memory was of sitting by the side of a deserted road and crying. The place he found himself in at the moment was dry and warm but completely unfamiliar. He appeared to be inside what could only be described as a hogan. He examined the little shelter made mostly of tree limbs, sticks, mud and animal skins and figured that maybe Jack Windrider had found him on the side of the road and brought him here. He removed the animal fur that covered the lower half of his body and made his way to the exit. He threw back the worn leather flap that covered the small hole and crawled out. He glanced around and found not Jack Windrider but a Native American woman standing several feet away, staring off into some trees. He crossed the distance between them and cleared his throat. She turned and Blair had the sudden impression that he was standing in bright, warm sunlight even though the rain was still falling softly around them. She smiled at him and he could not seem to remember his name. She was older than he, probably about his mother's age. Her hair was unbound and reached her waist. It was blue-black but there was a streak of stark white that ran from the left side of her widow's peak down the whole length. Her eyes, though, were not brown as Blair would have expected. Instead they were the most amazing shade of gray that they almost looked like polished silver. Then she spoke. "The side of the road is not a safe place for a nap, Young One." It sounded like music and Blair had to concentrate to catch his breath. "I...well, I--didn't mean to fall asleep. Guess I was a little more tired than I thought." Blair found his voice and managed to return her smile. "Yes, I think you were," she responded. "It's not exactly safe to pick up strangers from the side of the road, either," Blair told her. "You aren't a stranger, Young One. Not to me. I know exactly who and what you are." "Excuse me? Who are you?" "My name is True Whitewolf. And you are Blair Sandburg." "How did you know that?" "Your driver's license." She grinned at him. "Of course," he laughed. "Come, you need to go back inside. You have spent quite enough time in the rain." She quickly tucked him under her arm and that was when he noticed that she was a little taller than him. She maneuvered him back to the hogan and pushed him through the entrance. Once inside and settled, she handed him a cup of water. "So tell me, Blair Sandburg, what brings you to me." "I'm just traveling for a little while. Had a little upset in my life and I'm trying to get my bearings." "A little upset?" The look on her face was indulgent. "Okay, a big upset." "Home is the place to be when you have *big upsets* so that the people who care for you can help you get your bearings." "I don't have a home." Blair's mouth said before his brain could stop it. "At least not any more." he finished in a whisper. "You have a home, Blair. You just have to find your way there." "I can't find my way any more, Ms. Whitewolf." "Call me True. Maybe I can help you find your way." "You've done enough already, True. I should be going." "Going where?" Blair sighed. "I have no idea." he admitted. "Just that way." He pointed in the direction that he hoped was east, using the knowledge that he had of the Native American tradition of placing all doors on the eastern side of any structure to guide him. "East, eh? Well, do you mind if I travel with you a way then. I have nothing better to do and I'm trying to get home myself." "You don't live around here? This isn't yours?" Blair indicated the hogan with a gesture of his hand. "Not anymore. And this sweatlodge belongs to my uncle. So, do you mind the company or not?" "No, I don't mind the company." "Good then, we can stay here tonight and get a fresh start in the morning. You need dinner. Stay here and I'll get you something." "True, I don't want to be any trouble." Blair protested. "No trouble. Stay. Can't have you catching pneumonia out in this rain." "What about you?" "Oh, Blair, I'm well past any danger from that," she replied cryptically and laughed, a soft melodic sound, as she left the hogan. She had to wake him when she returned with some berries and dried meat. He sat up and thanked her. She smiled sweetly and sat across from him. "You're not eating," he noticed. "Ate on my way back. Now eat. You need your strength. You have a difficult road ahead." Another cryptic remark and Blair's curiosity tossed his polite manners out of the way and took over. "What do you mean, I have a difficult road ahead? I mean, I realize that I'm walking until I can get somewhere and get enough money to get my car back but somehow you seem to mean something else entirely." "Perhaps I do. Eat." Blair eyed the woman curiously but asked no more questions. After he had eaten, he lay back on the soft animal furs and relaxed. He closed his eyes and heard True begin to speak. He listened as she told stories of her people. The Anthropologist in him recognized the legends. The child in him recognized the wonder of those legends. The tired, sad man in him longed for peace and happiness of those simpler days of the proud and strong people. He was lulled into sleep by her melodic voice and dreamed of those stories. _____________________________________________________ Jim climbed the steps up to his bed and barely got undressed before he threw himself in it. He was physically exhausted and emotionally drained. He had spent the afternoon and evening searching for Blair. The university was closed for two weeks and Blair's office was deserted. The security guard had opened it up under duress, all the while explaining to Jim that if Professor Sandburg was there, he would know about it. Jim had insisted. Jim called the dean. The man told him that Blair was not teaching a class during the summer semester and that the young man had assured him that, while he was leaving town for a while, he would be in touch in time to make arrangements for the fall semester, whether he would be back or not. Jim had then gone to every bus station and train station in town to ask after the Anthropologist. No one remembered the face and no transactions were on their computers under the name Sandburg. Jim knew that Blair could not really afford a plane ticket and would not fly except as a last resort but he checked the airlines anyway. That also turned up nothing. So, that left Blair in his old Volvo. That in itself worried Jim. Blair loved that old car but Jim did not see its charm. He saw its propensity to break down and leave Blair stranded in the worst possible places at the worst possible times and in the worst possible predicaments. How far would the little car take him before it gave out on him again? How would he afford to get it fixed? What would he do if he could not afford to get it fixed? Jim grimaced at the most likely answer to that last question. He was his mother's child. Naomi, the flower child had hitched across country in her youth more times than Jim could keep up with according to her stories. She even had mentioned to Jim that many times she had hitch-hiked with Blair when he was small. Jim was amazed that either one of them survived. And that was probably what Blair would do if his car quit on him. He would hitch-hike. With Blair's luck, he would end up in a stolen car with a sadistic serial killer wanted in 47 of the 50 states and Mexico. Simon had checked with area hotels and motels while Jim checked the possible modes of transportation. His captain had at least found out that Blair had stayed at a small run down motel in town for two nights. Jim lay in his bed and could almost feel himself grow older. This was all his fault. "Please, Dear God, I know that I don't pray very much and the last time I saw the inside of a church was for a case but please, please, keep Blair safe. He's out there on his own and he's hurting because of me. Please help me find him so I can make this right." He closed his eyes, never believing that he would actually be able to sleep. He did. And he dreamed. He stood on a lonely road in the rain and listened with the ears of a Sentinel to a beautiful voice tell stories of ancient Indian tribes. He followed the sound. Movement beside him drew his attention and he looked down to see the panther there. It kept pace with him as he moved through giant redwoods toward the hypnotic voice. He stopped in a clearing and there she stood. She was stunning. A tall Native American woman with silver eyes smiled at him. "Where am I?" he asked her. She did not answer and Jim watched her fade from his sight. The panther growled and Jim turned his gaze to its yellow eyes. It turned quickly and ran into the rising sun. On the horizon, just before the panther also faded away, Jim saw Blair walking into the face of the bright yellow disk rising above the earth. "Blair!" Jim sat up and blinked in the light. It was morning. "He's headed east." he said aloud with a certainty born of his trust in his spirit guide. He had a place to start. _______________________________________________ "So, True, tell me about yourself." "Oh, nothing much to tell. Besides, this is your journey. You should tell the stories." "My journey? Never mind. Okay, I guess I could tell you about some of the expeditions I've been on." "No, Blair. I don't want to hear about expeditions. I want to hear about your home." "I told you, I don't have a home anymore." Blair turned away from her. He could not meet her eyes or he knew he would start to cry. There was no rain to hide in as they walked in the sunshine of the new morning. "Then tell me about the home you had." "You aren't going to leave this alone, are you?" "I can't, Young One. I would be falling down on the job if I did." Blair could almost feel the light bulb click on in his head. "You're a shaman?" "I prefer Medicine Woman." "That's incredible! Oh man, do you think you could teach me? This is too cool! Maybe-" Her hand closed over his mouth stopping the flow of words. "We don't have time for that, Blair. I have to go home soon. And so do you." "Back to that, are we?" "Afraid so." "If I talk for a while, will you tell me about what you do?" "We'll see. If we have time. Now, about your home." "His name was Jim. Well, it still is actually. I mean, he's alive and everything. He just doesn't want me around anymore." "Did you hear what you just said?" she asked softly. "What?" Blair was confused. She smiled. "For someone without a home, you certainly understand what home means. Go ahead." Blair shook his head, trying to understand her comment. "Anyway, I didn't do anything wrong, but he thinks I did. God, True, I thought he knew me better than that. He accused me of taking and possibly selling drugs. I mean, okay, I guess he had reason but I didn't give him that reason. Somebody set me up. That's the only explanation I can think of. Now, I know what you're thinking. Every criminal tries the old 'Somebody set me up!' thing but I swear by everything that I hold sacred, I would never voluntarily take illegal drugs and I certainly wouldn't sell 'em. I just couldn't. If he'd only given me a chance to talk to him, he would have understood that." "What would he have understood?" "True, I've seen what drugs can do. My mom was a hippie, right? So I know that she's done a few drugs in her time. I saw it as a kid and I didn't like what I saw." He took a deep breath and stopped walking. Looking up at the sky, he continued. "But that isn't even the half of it. Mom's little experimenting was nothing compared to what happened just two years before I met Jim. I was off on one of my expeditions and I got a letter from my uncle. Well, he's not really my uncle. He was a friend of mom's and his son, Mark and me were like best friends for years. He said that Mark was having some problems and he wanted me to try to come to Florida where they were living to talk to him. I wrote him back and told him that I would be there as soon as I could. But as soon as I could turned out to be too late. I got there in time to see him once before they pronounced him brain- dead. It turned out that Mark was heavy into drugs and he and his supplier had gotten into some sort of argument and the guy cut him off. He was getting sick, withdrawal, you know, and got depressed. And the very same day I arrived in town, before I even got to see him, he shot himself in the head. I got to the hospital and they let me in to see him. I hardly recognized him. He looked so different and I don't mean the damage from the bullet. He was way too thin and he had what looked like jailhouse tattoos. While I was in the room, they spoke to his dad and told him that Mark was gone and he came in and told me. He was the only really close friend I had ever had. He was like the closest thing to a brother. And he was gone. I didn't even get a chance to help him. Then I didn't get a chance to say goodbye either. It almost killed me, True. I remember going to my uncle's house and getting into bed in the guest room. I remember getting up to go to the funeral. I wrote and read his eulogy. Then I remember getting back in the bed and refusing to get up again. My uncle had to track down my mom. She took me to Big Sur with her for a while and tried to put me back together. I was a wreck and I was obsessed with finding out what happened to Mark, how he ended up that way. I was obsessed with death and spent a lot of time in cemeteries, just looking at all the headstones and trying to imagine how they died. They all died peacefully in my imagination, though. Strange, how that was seeing as how Mark died so sad and violently. My mom finally dragged me to therapy. It was the worst time of my whole life and believe me, I have a few other horror stories. I survived." Blair scrubbed away the tears he had just noticed were there. "But you carry the scars. Does Jim know this story?" "No. I would have told him if he'd given me a chance. I mean, I hadn't said anything before because the subject never came up and anyway, it's still pretty painful." "I can see that." Her hand touched his hair and he let it stay there for a long moment, taking in the comfort, letting it sooth the hurt. Then he shook himself out of the near trance he was falling into and stepped back. He started walking again. "Anyway, it's too late now. Jim said leave and I left. He'll never believe me." "Why do you think that? Is Jim not a reasonable man?" Blair paused for split second then doubled over with laughter. True waited patiently for him to regain control of himself. He wiped water from his eyes again. "You've never seen Jim when he's angry. That much is certain. You've never seen that jaw clinch and twitch." His tone grew sad again. "You've never seen his eyes turn to ice and knew that gaze was for you. Is Jim a reasonable man? Yeah, he can be. He usually is but when he loses his temper, reason flies out the window. I've only seen it happen a few times. I never thought I would see it directed at me. But it was and God, True, it chilled me to the bone. I wanted to be invisible. No, that's not quite true. I wanted to have never been born. Anything was preferable to having Jim tell me that he didn't want me there anymore. And then he said that I never existed and to shut up and get out. So I did." "Without a fight? You give up too easily, Young One. I understand though. You were afraid of the one person you thought would always be there to protect you. You learned from your mother to choose flight over fight, did you not?" "How do you know all of that? Oh, never mind. Stupid question. You probably knew my whole story before I started talking. In which case, why did you make me tell it?" True laughed that musical laugh again. "I did not know your story before you told it. I can, though, see your heart so there are some things I know." "See my heart, huh?" "Certainly. After all, you wear it on you sleeve, Blair Sandburg. Its reflection is always there on your face as well. You do not hide from the world as well as you think and certainly not as well as you hope. If your Jim had not been so blinded by his own emotions, he would have seen your heart as well and known the truth." "Well, that doesn't really help me much now, does it?" "It does if you stop running and start fighting." "There's nothing left to fight for." "Ah, then perhaps I was wrong to think I could help you find your way home." "Maybe I wasn't meant to have a home. I never did as a kid. Maybe I was wrong to want one. Maybe this was just God's way of telling me that I don't deserve a home. Maybe this is what I get for not..." "For not what, Blair?" "For not saving Mark." His voice broke and a sob rose up from his chest and escaped. He dropped to the ground. True's warm arms enveloped him almost immediately and he sank into them. "His death was not your fault, Young One. Neither was his life. He made the choices for both. You never had the power to save him. He alone had that power." "No!" Blair wailed and struggled in her arms. She released him and he stood. "You don't understand!" He paced before her. "I waited. I didn't go right away when I got the letter. I wanted to finish some research for the expedition. Then I got sick and put it off until I was well. Then it was money. Then it was too late! Too damn late! He died alone when he didn't have to die at all!" "You can not know that." "Oh, God! Don't give me the speech where it was his time to go! That's not possible. He wasn't even twenty years old! He was four months shy of his twentieth birthday!" "You think that you alone could have saved him?" "Shouldn't I have tried?" "You did try. You were simply too late. Death does not work on the same time table as life, unfortunately. Many times they are in direct conflict with each other. We are never assured of tomorrow or even the next hour. Death does not call us up and give us the chance to pencil him into our schedules." Blair found a smile on his face in spite of the pain in his chest. "That's a good one." ___________________________________________ "Jim, how do you know that he's headed this way?" Simon asked his friend as he sat in the passenger's seat of Jim's big blue and white truck. He gripped the arm rest for fear for his safety as Jim broke more rules of the road than Simon could remember, first and foremost, the speed laws. "I just know, Simon. Trust me, you don't really want the whole story. If you thought the enhanced senses were weird, then you definitely aren't ready for this one." "Okay, Jim. I can accept that, but in the meantime, could we please slow down? You're going to kill us both before we find him." Jim sighed and let up a little on the gas. The truck slowed slightly, just slightly. Simon shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. Jim had dragged him out of bed at the crack of dawn, asking him to come with him to find the missing Sandburg. Simon had obliged, quickly making arrangements for both of them to be away for a few days, supposedly following a lead on a "case." Technically, Sandburg was a case. He just was not a Major Crimes case. Missing Persons probably would not mind if he and Jim cleared this one up for them. That was how he managed to end up in the predicament he found himself in, barreling down a road that simply looked *familiar* to the Sentinel, at a breakneck speed. *Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words, Banks.* he scolded himself. It was early afternoon and Simon heard his stomach growl. The frantic man behind the wheel had not allowed time for breakfast and so far had not mentioned lunch. He looked at Jim to find the man looking back at him. "Hungry, Simon?" "Thought you'd never ask." "Okay, we'll stop in the next town and grab something to eat." "Am I going to have to eat in this truck?" "If you don't mind, Simon. I don't want to stop for any length of time. He's got a four day headstart on us. Did you call the locals" "Yes, Jim. I called and gave them descriptions of both Blair and his car. And I think it's more like a two day headstart, Jim remember? He didn't leave town right away." "Yeah, yeah. That's two days too many, Simon." Jim remarked. Simon shook his head again and remained silent. ______________________________________________ Half an hour later, they encountered a small town and Jim pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant. As they got out of the truck, Jim reminded, "Something to go. Okay, Simon?" "You're gonna owe me a decent dinner when we find that boy and get back home." Simon muttered. "You got it, sir." They entered the little establishment and went straight up to the counter. Jim picked up two menus and handed one to Simon. As they examined the menu, a man in a greasy pair of coveralls entered the restaurant and sat down on the opposite end of the counter. Jim wrinkled his nose at the smell of oil, gasoline and dirt coming from the man but just before he managed to dial down his sense of smell, he caught a familiar scent coming from the man. It reminded him of Blair. *No, Blair's car. A mechanic!* He threw down the menu and approached the man. Simon followed, a curious expression on his face. "Excuse me, you're the local mechanic, right?" "Yeah. Help ya?" the man asked. "Maybe, have you seen this man?" Jim produced a picture of Blair taken on one of their fishing trips. "Yeah, early yesterday morning. Practically had to push that old Volvo to my garage. It was smoking and sputtering. Busted head gasket." "Could you fix it? Did he leave town?" "Yeah, I could and I did but he didn't have the money to pay for it. And yeah, he left town on foot. I told him I'd hold onto the car for a storage fee and he could come back and get it. He headed east." "How much for the car?" "Five hundred for the repair. I gave a price of five dollars a day for storage." "Then I'll write you a check for five hundred and five dollars." Jim dug his wallet out of his pocket and took a check out of it. "Will that take care of it?" "Sure, if the check's good." "It is." Jim looked around for a pen and Simon held one out for him. "Thanks, Simon." He wrote out the check and gave it to the man. "I'm going to leave the car here and pick it up on our way back through. I'll pay the rest of the storage fee if there is any then." "Sure, no problem." "Good. Let's go, Simon." "Not until I get some food, Jim. Relax a little, will you? He's walking now. How far could he get that way?" "Simon, we're talking about Blair. He would probably hitch a ride the first chance he got. We may not be as close as you think. But, go ahead and order. Just get--" "It to go." Simon finished. "Thanks, Simon." ___________________________________________________ "So you're just going to give up?" The woman beside him asked after a long silence. Blair looked up at her. "What else can I do? Jim threw me out." "He did so under a false assumption. I think he would change his mind if he knew the truth." "True, I can't go back there. Even if Jim were willing to listen, I might be wanted for questioning. Going back there could make Jim's life really hard. He's a cop, True, and I was his partner. You probably can't even imagine what Internal Affairs will do with this if they get a hold of it." "And you don't think that's going to happen anyway? Blair, think. You ran in the middle of an investigation or so it appears." "Oh, God! I look guilty as sin now! How could I be so stupid?" "Sometimes our hearts hurt so badly that they stop the blood flow to our brains. At least that's my theory." "What should I do?" "You know the answer to that, Blair." "I have to go back and try to clear my name and protect Jim from the fallout." "Which is a major part of your job description that you have ignored completely for the last four days." "What?" "Blair Sandburg, I told you that I knew exactly who and what you are and I meant it. And you, Shaman and Sentinel guide, have abandoned your Sentinel. This is not the right path for you. In your heart, you know that" Blair stared at her in disbelief. "How--you can't--" He lost his breath and his voice. "He knows that, too. He has suffered since you left. He looks for you. Find your way home, Blair. Turn around and follow your destiny." Blair turned to look behind him. "Jim wants me to come back? You know that?" "I know." "True..." he looked into her eyes and saw tears standing there. "I know, Young One. I knew that our paths would not be together. You had to discover that for yourself. Now, you have to discover yourself. I'm sorry that I can't teach you but there is little that you need that you will not find already inside you. You need only look." As she spoke she removed a necklace from her neck. She took Blair's left hand and pressed the necklace into it. "I want you to have this. My father gave it to me. I wanted to pass it to one of my children who had my gift but I wasn't blessed with any. So I want you to have it." Blair opened his hand and looked at the gift. The leather string held a round pendant of hand carved shell. The design was that of a cross created by a swirling knot design. "I can't take this." He tried to give it back to her but she would not take it. "Yes, you can. I have no one else to pass it on to and it should go to a shaman. It's a shaman's knot. Please, take it, Blair." He hesitated then placed the necklace around his neck. "To remember you by then." "To remember the journey by." She smiled. "Go, be happy, Young One." He nodded and turned to walk back west. He remembered then something he wanted to say. "Thank you--" He turned and his statement died away. She was gone. "True?" he called. Only the birds responded. He turned to the west again and nearly fainted at the sight in front of him. Tires screeched as Jim's blue and white truck skidded to a stop on the road less than a hundred yards from where he stood. He had not even heard the big vehicle approach. Before he could make his mouth work, he was scooped into Jim's big arms and squeezed within an inch of his life. "I'm so sorry, Chief. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me, Blair. I was an ass. I don't know what came over me." The litany continued as Blair was crushed in his Sentinel's embrace. He finally decided that he would have to breath and began to struggle against the older man, who promptly misinterpreted his actions. "Jesus, Blair, can't you try to forgive me?" Blair held up his hand and was amazed when Jim immediately stopped talking. "Let's get a few things straight, Jim. I would never take or sell drugs." "I know that. It was all a set-up, Blair. Simon made me see that and we got the guy to confess." Blair noticed the big captain for the first time then. "What guy?" "Tommy Reese. He was pissed off because you were failing him." Simon explained. "That little bastard!" Blair swore before turning back to Jim. "We have a lot to talk about, Jim." "I know. Will you come home?" "Do I have a home?" "God, yes, Blair. I just can't apologize enough. Please, forgive me." "I'm gonna try, Jim. But you're going to have to tell me why you doubted me. After that, I have a story to tell you and maybe then you'll understand me a little better. I don't ever want to go through this again." "Neither do I, Chief. What's this?" Jim reached out and touched the medallion on Blair's chest. "It's a shaman's knot. A friend gave it to me then disappeared. Literally. It's weird, man. One minute, she was here and you weren't then you were here and she was gone. I don't know where she went. Did you guys see her? Native American woman, really long black hair with a white streak--" "And silver eyes?" Jim finished. "Yeah! You did see her. Great, man. If it weren't for this necklace and you seeing her, too, I would think I had gone crazy." "Chief, I didn't see her here. I saw her in a dream. The panther was there, too. That's how I found you." "Oh, man." "Jim, I thought we agreed I didn't want to know that," Simon complained. "Sorry, sir." "Let's just get outta here, guys. Man, I'm hungry. There's this great little diner last town back. Can we get something to eat there?" Simon groaned and rubbed his stomach. "What's wrong with him?" Blair asked Jim. "Heartburn. I made him eat on the road and apparently your diner was better than ours." Jim explained. "Oh." ____________________________________________ The three men entered the little diner and sat down at a corner table. "He gets to sit still and eat, I see." Simon grumbled. A shadow fell across them. "Well, well, well, if it's not Blair Sandburg!" the shadow boomed. Blair smiled up at the old Native American man that stood over them. "Hi, Jack." "How ya doing, kid? You look a damn sight happier than the last time I saw you and you weren't gone that long. I assume these two fellows have something to do with that." "Jack Windrider, these are my friends, Jim Ellison and Simon Banks." "Nice to meet you. What can I get for you, Blair? You need some of the pink stuff," he laughed in Simon's direction. "That obvious?" Simon asked sourly. "Oh yeah." The man took Blair's order and Jim's and Simon's request for coffee and left. When he returned, he brought their drinks and was about to turn to leave again when something caught his eye. "Son, where'd you get that?" Blair looked down to where the man was pointing and where the necklace lay on his chest. "A woman gave it to me. I met her on the road. She said she used to live around here. You might know her. Her name was True Whitewolf." The man's face lost a little of its dark color and he reached out and put his hand on Blair's shoulder. "What did she look like, boy?" Blair described True and the man pulled up a chair and mostly fell into it. "What is it, Jack?" Blair asked, concerned for the elderly man. Jim and Simon sat up in their chairs to listen. "Son, True Whitewolf was my niece. She was heading out to see her folks one night three years ago. Her car broke down and she was walking along the side of the road when a car came around the curve and lost control. Kids out joy riding. Blair, True died that night." Blair's face was paler than Jack's as his story ended. "That can't be. I saw her. She gave me this." "Oh, son, I have no doubt that you saw her. I have no doubt that that's her necklace and that she gave it to you. We all knew that True had power so I don't doubt your story at all. What did she say to you, son?" "That I had to find my way home." Tears came to the old man's eyes and he nodded. "We might hope that she does as well." he said simply. He rose then and left them in a state of shock. He brought Blair's food minutes later and disappeared into the kitchen. The three of them sat in silence, each pondering the events of the last few days and Jack's revelation. When Blair had finished eating, they got up to leave. Jim paid the woman who had appeared when Jack disappeared. They were at the door when Jack's voice stopped them. He approached Blair quickly and hugged the young man tight. "Take care, son. If you ever need anything, you come here. True marked you as family, boy, and family is what you'll be." Blair then tried unsuccessfully to give the man the necklace but he touched the young man's chest. "It's where is belongs. Near the heart of a shaman. And I still want your story someday." The man smiled and walked away. Jim ushered Blair out and toward the truck, Simon following behind. "Man, this has been a strange day." Blair mumbled. "Yeah, Chief, it has. Let's go get your car and head home." "Oh, man! My car." "Taken care of, Chief." Jim unlocked the passenger door for Blair then circled the truck to his own door. "No, Jim! That's too much!" "After what I put you through, Chief? No, we're even." "This is going to be an argument, Jim." "Then we'll do it at home where we both belong." Blair opened his mouth to say something but it died quickly so that it came out little more than a squeak. Jim noticed that he was looking over Jim's shoulder, back to the east. He turned quickly and he saw her. She was there, just on the edge of the woods behind the building marked City Hall. Jim could see her lips move but even with his Sentinel hearing, he could not hear the words. They were for Blair alone. "We will meet again, Young One. In another lifetime." Then she was gone. "Find your way home, True and thank you," he said aloud then climbed in the truck. Jim looked at Simon. "I don't want to know, Jim." the big man said. "Let's go home." ********************************* Call this one story therapy. The jewelry piece is real, by the way. Native American artist Dan Townsend made mine. It's beautiful and it really is called a Shaman's knot.