Far-Sighted
by Mab
He'd dreamed before, and sometimes he had remembered when he woke. The wolf ran beside him then. This time he didn't remember the dreams so well, even when they disturbed his sleep. There had been desperate disbelief, he remembered, and obsessed intent, and the wolf running towards him, and a blinding burst of light.
He ran through the jungle on four paws, scenting the vast vitality around him. Now he ran alone. He looked down at his paws, grey-furred and narrow, which was wrong. When he looked down he should see heavy muscle and broad pads, dark, dark fur, because he - he was the jaguar, wasn't he? It confused him. He wanted to find the other, his companion. A lone wolf was vulnerable. (Sweetie, I don't think that you're cut out for this sort of work) Wolves were social beasts; they needed the rest of the pack to survive well. (I need a partner I can trust) There was anger. (It needs a paint job, Sydney)
He whined. The other was nearby, but they came no closer together. He would stay here, on the outskirts, although what use one lone, lonely wolf would be, he didn't know. And that confused him again, because of course he was of use, of course he was - necessary. He shook his head, and then let it turn to a whole-body shake, shook the feelings away...
...and Jim rolled over and twitched in his sleep. A quicksilver thought ran through his mind and was gone. "I don't think so, Chief."
After the brief flare of attempted resistance, the Nadine girl sat sullenly as Jim wheeled the boat around. There was a radio, and he began flipping through the frequencies to the one that he thought that the police chopper was using.
"This is Ellison to Cascade Police Helicopter C-GZPM, do you read?"
"C-GZPM here, Ellison. Guess you successfully jumped the stagecoach there."
"Yeah. You have Ventriss in sight? Tell Sandburg I'm heading back."
"He'll have to wait for the news." The pilot's voice was amused. "He's right there in the sound with him, keeping an eye on your boy."
"What!"
"Couldn't say if he was more worried about the jump or the water, but he's okay. They're heading for land, but it's slow. No problem to pick them up."
"Thanks. Over and out."
Jim put the com back in its place and tried to concentrate on piloting the boat instead of allowing the slow burn of anger that built in him. What the hell did Sandburg think he was doing? Where the hell was Ventriss going to go, with a chopper overhead? If Sandburg thought that he was getting a pat on the back for risking hypothermia and possible assault from that vicious rich-boy thug, then he had another thought coming to him. He had a mental picture of Ventriss pushing Blair's head under the water that ran cold right through the anger, and he began scanning the sound ahead, sight reaching across the gentle chop of the water to look for two heads. Blair always did have more balls than brains, and no fucking consideration. Jim steeled himself for the sight of a pale-faced, soaking wet Blair. No fucking consideration at all.
The noise of the chopper was constant in his background awareness and he raised his eyes and spotted it easily. Steering in that direction, he could see the two of them, Ventriss and Sandburg, bobbing together in uneasy company. Jim raised his arm to greet the chopper, which peeled off to return to Cascade, and then brought the boat to a stop. He leaned over the side, reaching out with the boat hook. Blair's bruised face was lit with relief, and a small amount of satisfaction, until Jim flicked a furious gaze over him. Jim ignored the shutdown of Blair's expression, and said to Ventriss, "Stop playing hard to get, Brad. It's over, and the lock-up'll be a lot warmer."
The young man reluctantly reached out for the boathook, and Jim hauled him up and handcuffed him almost before he was properly on board. He ignored the acrimony that broke out immediately between Ventriss and Nadine to lean down to Blair. Blair's eyes were firmly on the pole that Jim was offering to him, and Jim was overcome with a rush of guilty shame. What, he asked himself, you think that you're the only one with issues about water here? He tried to gentle his expression.
"You got a good grip there, Chief?"
Blair's eyes, dark smudged in his coldly pale face, lifted at the nickname, and the blankness of his expression relaxed a little. He reached out, and let Jim pull him up and out of the water. Jim gripped Blair's hand and focused on the warmth and co-operative living weight under the clammy heaviness of wet clothes. Once on board, Blair stood by the boat controls as far as possible from Ventriss and Nadine, looking about as happy as a half-drowned cat.
"You," Jim jerked his head at Nadine. "Go below and see what you can find in the way of blankets or a first aid kit with a survival blanket." She hesitated, looking at Ventriss. "Get on with it," Jim snapped. Both men were starting to shiver. Ventriss could shiver `til his bones broke as far as Jim was concerned, but Blair was a different matter, especially with the breeze picking up as Jim gunned the boat's engine to take them back to Cascade. Blair was looking out over the water, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped across his chest, and Jim's attention was split between concern for him and the need to monitor Ventriss's vitriolic exhortations to his father's pilot to "do something for fuck's sake!" The pilot wasn't so groggy that he couldn't return a few choice remarks of his own, to the effect that he was in enough trouble already and Ventriss could go screw himself. Nadine returned with a first aid box and a throw of some sort. She offered the throw to Blair, who accepted it with an impersonal `thanks', and then wrapped a silver survival blanket around a blue-lipped but unappreciative Ventriss.
Blair spoke after a while, making no effort to raise his voice, or even to look at Jim, knowing that he would be heard above the noise of the boat's engine and its movement through the water.
"Consider the lecture read, man. I was stupid to jump out of the helicopter, I'm not a cop, I was working out a personal vendetta, add any extra reaming out of your choice."
That was the lecture as planned, and it was well-deserved. But Blair had been beating his hands against enough brick walls recently, and Jim put his reproaches on a leash. Blair still had plenty of problems to face, such as dealing with the fallout of this mess at Rainier. Jim concentrated on looking ahead and steering the launch. He didn't look at Blair but it was hard to ignore the way that his hands remembered the core of heat beneath the surface cold of Blair's skin.
"Lecture's read," Jim said, "and I was very eloquent. Keep an eye on our passengers." He wished he could be eloquent in other ways, but then he guessed that the whole Alex fiasco had said a lot already.
This was - different. Nothing wrong with different after all. He climbed up the boulder strewn slope, delighting in the easy strength of the heavy body, so different to the agile quickness he remembered from before. At the top he stopped, startled. He'd thought that he would be alone up here. Incacha smiled. "There is joy in the high places. We see so far." That depended on what you saw perhaps, the deeper parts of him thought, and then he was irritated. People shouldn't be afraid to see. But he was a little afraid to see Incacha, whom he'd failed.
Incacha shook his head. "He did not fail me. And neither will you." He wasn't so sure about that but at a gesture he came forward and rested his head in Incacha's lap, and purred, for comfort as much as anything. The shaman stroked the top of the broad, black head, and spoke in gentle exasperation. "It would not be so hard to carry part of a soul for him if you would only meet his eyes." A small growl. "Yes," Incacha sighed, "or if he would meet yours. Or if either of you would listen."
Jim was stirring spaghetti sauce, and Blair was working his way through yet another chapter of the dissertation, but with a definite lack of enthusiasm. It didn't matter whether you talked sentinels, or the academic life, he felt jaded tonight. Jim brought two plates over. The two of them ate in silence for a while, and then Jim said, "I didn't get much chance to ask how things went down at Rainier."
"Given that Brad and little Susie have been arrested for murder, the pressure's off Edwards as far as the Ventrisses are concerned. Although I'd say that their contribution to Rainier finances will be quietly shelved. The fact that I usually made provision for my absences, plus a sympathy vote for being found face down in the Messner Memorial Fountain, carried the day."
Blair found that really bothered him. He wasn't back in because anybody admitted that he was right. He was back in because it would be too embarrassing for the university to pursue the issues involved. Jim's eyes stayed focused on his plate.
"You don't sound that happy about being reinstated."
"I'm busy doing disillusioned and pissed off, right now." And self-righteous too. Just take the opportunity, he told himself. What does it matter how it comes about? It's not as if you haven't used the occasional doubtful means to an end.
"Not exactly Rainier's fault that Brad Ventriss was a lying piece of crap. Or that they felt under pressure when his family brought influence to bear."
Blair's hands writhed in frustration. "You remember what brought me into this mess in the first place. That fake paper. I can sort of understand the rape thing going nowhere if people weren't prepared to speak out. I know that Rainier isn't responsible for Ventriss being a shit. But that paper - it was just so blatant. The evidence was right there, and too many people were prepared to look the other way." He willed Jim to see that through Blair's eyes, to see how offensive that was to Blair's conception as to what the academic life was supposed to be about. It was supposed to be about truth, and Blair might acknowledge shades of grey in people's private lives, but there was always academic Truth. Subject to fashions of interpretation and belief, yes, but still based somewhere on honest facts.
Take one honest fact. Jim was a sentinel. Blair had dreamed and studied about sentinels for so long. But apparently he hadn't dreamed widely enough or studied deeply enough, because he'd been blind-sided by what happened with Alex. And he'd been blind-sided by the demonstration of the golden rule at Rainier. Ventriss had the gold and he'd made the rules. And it was an honest fact that Blair hadn't felt much use at either the Cascade PD or Rainier University recently.
"You almost sound like you're more offended by him cheating than murder and rape." Jim's voice was quizzical.
"No, no, I mean it's an institutional thing. Brad did get caught because you and Joel and Simon were prepared to investigate and look at the evidence and ignore the fact that Daddy Computerbucks had the cash. Yeah, you guys were under pressure but the institution did its job. But there was that failure of the institution at Rainier, and I - oh fuck it - maybe it is just personal. Brad tried to put one over on me and people I like and I'm just bitching about it."
"There are other institutions," Jim said. Blair thought that his heart might stop. Although as an indication that the end had finally come, this was subtler than he might have expected. He looked at the mess of food on his plate and then a little courage came from somewhere and he looked up. Jim looked grave as he continued. "If you think that you can't work at Rainier."
"Yeah, I guess. But my dissertation subject is in Cascade." Blair cut up strands of spaghetti with the side of his fork. "Would you rather that I went somewhere else?"
"No, no, we have a deal. But for later. If that was how it worked out."
"Yeah, later."
Much, much later, except that he couldn't stall his supervisors for much longer. He had to either produce a thesis soon or give it all away. He didn't know what he was going to do. And wasn't that something new?
Jim passed through the blue jungle, knowing and not knowing his way as usual. He came into the clearing where the temple rose, old and ruined but not yet abandoned. There was the platform, carved with indistinct figures, and in the centre a large block - an altar, or perhaps merely displaced masonry. There was a figure sitting cross-legged on it, not in meditation, more a relaxed huddle where elbows rested on thighs.
"What do you see?"
He stared at the figure, and took refuge in refusal to answer.
"I thought we were supposed to deal with what I feared."
"Oh, we've been there, done that, man. New lessons now, but you're kind of hard to get hold of." This - guide - looked just like Blair, a Blair wearing a casual dark jacket and top, and brown pants. The clothes hung as if they were the slightest touch damp, and Jim suspected that if he tried he would smell mildew and chlorine. He hadn't seen his Blair in those clothes since he'd been trundled into the ambulance in front of Hargrove. This Blair sat off to one side of his stone seat. He rested a hand on the book and laptop that lay beside him.
"What do you see?" this Blair repeated.
"Why is it you? Why not the warriors?"
The figure in front of him sighed. "You really do hate to answer questions, don't you? Why do you think? Why shouldn't it be me?" There was, Jim knew, no point in being angry that he could never get a straight answer here, but useless heat still flushed his face.
This Blair's face was intent. "Learn to see. If you don't," and a hand indicated the seated figure, the book and computer and the stone, "this will come of it." He shifted as if to stand and Jim braced himself as a wolf leaped at him from the stone. He saw its hungry face, but there was no impact or snapping jaws as it leaped into him, just a weight that felt like knowledge, and warmth.
"What do you fear?"
Blair stared, fascinated, at the warrior in battered fatigues. The warrior also wore Jim's face, but with a serene calm that Blair had seldom seen on his friend.
"What do you fear?"
"Change," he blurted out.
"But change means simply that something is different and there is nothing wrong with different, after all." That stirred a memory in Blair, and he looked the figure in the eye. The warrior's eyes held amusement, and Blair unwillingly smiled back.
"Depends on the change, doesn't it?"
"There may be less change than you think."
"Oh, sure. I'm nearly finished my dissertation, which Jim hates by the way, and what the hell happens then?"
"If you are here, then there is a purpose."
"What purpose?" Blair asked scornfully. "I come back from beyond the veil," his voice was heavy with sarcasm, "and Jim manages just fine without me, whether it's dealing with the sentinel thing or working as a cop. What purpose, man?"
The warrior stepped closer, sadness disturbing the serenity.
"Trust yourself. And trust him, so that you may shape the changes." The figure stepped forward and laid hands on Blair's shoulders. Blair shuddered a little - if this turned into one of those dreams he was going to be so embarrassed. This Jim brought his head down and just before his brow pressed against Blair's, he saw the flare of the jaguar's eyes.
"You want to explain what the hell that was?" Jim's voice was louder than he'd intended, but he'd kept his temper at the station and in the truck, and after the afternoon they'd had he felt entitled to blow off a little steam.
"That was me watching your back, which I understand is what partners are supposed to do," Blair answered tightly.
"Oh, is that what it was? Because where I was standing it looked like you doing something stupidly dangerous - again."
"This from a man who jumped from a twenty foot high over-bridge onto a moving bus the first week I met him."
Jim refused to be distracted by this transparent effort to transfer the focus of the argument. "God damn it. You're a civilian observer. Maybe I wouldn't have minded that little trick if you'd been armed. I don't need..." He broke off.
"What?" Blair snapped. "You don't need my help? Bullshit, man." Blair glared.
"I don't need you getting hurt."
Blair's face smoothed into a blanker expression. "Yeah, it'd be a bad look for the department, I know."
Jim's heart dropped into his stomach. "You know shit."
"Oh, yeah, that I do know."
"What the hell does that mean?"
Blair squared his shoulders. "It's not like I've been spectacularly of use to you the last few weeks. And when I am... Maybe it would be a good thing if I finally got on with the diss, and made my way to some of those other institutions." Jim was too stunned to speak. When did this become a discussion of Blair leaving rather than behaving like an idiot in a police situation? "I know that it's a scary thing. Hell, it's kind of scary to me too. It just needs a little fine-tuning, and I'll have to do a little negotiating on confidentiality issues, but I can swing it, I promise."
"No."
Blair's expression darkened in anger.
"No? I'll just dump my academic career, then?"
"No, just that you don't have to...I'm not worried," he couldn't bring himself to use the word `scared', "about the dissertation, but..."
Blair just looked at him. "Oh, of course, you're not freaking out into those well-documented fear-based responses at the idea that it could be finished."
"No, well, sort of. But -"
Blair took a step forward. That was good. Blair had been too far away across the room. "But what, Jim?" His voice was soft, tentative, and then filled with a curious, quiet resonance. "What do you fear?"
"I don't like the idea of you not being around. I know that Rainier may not be any good for you, but you're planning on staying in Cascade, right?"
"I - you want me to stay around?" There was a silence. "I guess I can do that. There'll be something I can do with a PhD, I'm sure." Blair's voice was wry.
"But there may be better opportunities somewhere else."
"Well, it depends on how you regard opportunities. There's a presumption in some circles that you should drop everything else for career advancement, but people count too, after all. If it's important that I stick around, well..." Blair waved his hands. "I'll make sure the dissertation goes okay, honest."
Jim hadn't asked for these offers in so many words, but that hardly counted. He'd made it clear it was what he wanted, and a wash of guilt flooded him. "Why? What the hell do you see in me?" Blair had turned away, was moving to hang up his jacket. And then, with painful formality, Jim asked, "What do you see, Blair?"
Blair turned back to him, stepped right up close, and put his hands on Jim's shoulders.
"What do you think I see?"
Jim looked at the strained, weary face turned up to his.
"Someone," he paused, tried to put some moisture in his mouth. "someone worth loving?"
Blair sighed, and then smiled.
"Knew you'd see it eventually," he said and reached up to brush the lightest of kisses across Jim's mouth.
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