Back to Part 2 SVS2-04: Witnesses by Toshua, Part 3 Blair looked at Jim when the detective left the conference room. Sandburg didn't like the look in Jim's eyes and hurried to his side. He touched Jim on the arm, silently questioning his partner. Jim shook his head and continued to LeMing's office, Blair in tow. "Where's Rena?" Jim asked softly as he let the two of them into the slightly open door. "I put her in a cab, sent her home. She's going to pack a bag and go stay somewhere else for awhile. She doesn't want to be here this afternoon. I don't blame her." Jim nodded, then spoke loud enough for LeMing to hear. "Better have the Rangers put a tail on her. We might be pawns in an intricate ploy." LeMing looked up from her desk. "What was that, Detective? We have no evidence of Rena Freelow's involvement with her father since she moved into the first foster home." Jim nodded. "It wouldn't be the first time that the obvious is just a cover story." Jim summarized the tape he'd seen, then slid into one of the overly cushioned chairs in front of the executive size desk. "If Freelow was pulling strings from inside, his cut of the drug money is going somewhere. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find a laundered account for his daughter offshore somewhere. Once he's dead, she'll inherit. It may take months, even years for it to surface, but I'm betting that it will. Hope you've got some sharp investigators, LeMing, because this is going to get complicated quickly and probably goes really deep." She picked up the phone and looked into Jim's eyes. "Are you sure about this?" Blair spoke up. "Trust his instincts. He doesn't read people wrong. There's a reason he has an outstanding record of convictions." Blair positioned himself behind his sentinel and stood there with his arms crossed while Jim relayed his suspicions to the Ranger on the other end of the speaker phone. Ellison met the almond eyes and nodded slightly after the first call. A series of phone calls started the wheels in motion. As she hung up the phone the final time, a tap on the door announced Spinster's hesitant presence. He carried the videotape and his briefcase. LeMing motioned him in. Spinster gave the detective a wide berth and placed the tape on the corner of LeMing's desk. He looked at the woman standing so confidently behind the oak and walnut furniture and cleared his throat. "District Attorney LeMing, I'd like to be a part of this. I've spent my whole career doing the safe and easy cases. I'd like to end it doing something important, something I can look back on with a little sense of accomplishment." LeMing nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Leave your card with my assistant." They waited as the attorney left the room and gently closed the door. "What do you think, Jim?" Blair almost whispered, knowing that the sentinel had listened to more then just the attorney's words. "I think he believes he can make a name for himself with this case, on the right side of the law." Jim nodded to LeMing. "I'd let him in on it, at least at the start. He already has an in with Freelow's family. His parents hired him. That must count for something." Jim got back up and looked at LeMing. "What time do we have to be at the prison?" "Execution is scheduled for 7 p.m. You need to be there by 6:30." She looked at both of them, then Sandburg alone. "I assume you'll be there?" Blair nodded, silently. Jim nodded too. He turned to leave, murmuring over his shoulder. "6:30 it is." All the furor and people from earlier were gone and they entered the elevator alone and in peace. As soon as the car started moving, Sandburg turned to his partner. "What was on the tape that's made you suspicious?" Jim looked at Sandburg with a half crooked smile. "His heartbeat spiked when he mentioned his daughter and the Grand Caymans. He was too -- nonchalant about dying, too sure of what he left behind." Jim glanced at the elevator light, checking the floor they were passing. "What did Rena say once you got her calmed down?" He reached for an auburn curl that had escaped the ponytail and smoothed it behind Blair's ear. Blair grinned at the motion and leaned into the touch for a second. "She talked about how her dad seemed really preoccupied with you and didn't have any words for her. I think she was hoping for an apology and maybe reassurances that he loved her. When she didn't get either one it made her realize how much she'd expected to hear it." Jim nodded and looked at the floor. "A child ought to be reassured that he's loved by his father." Jim's words were spoken almost to himself but Sandburg heard. Blair reached over and stroked down the length of his partner's face. "Your dad does love you, Jim. He just can't say it." Jim's head snapped up and his eyes flashed for a moment as the elevator stopped. "Didn't know we were talking about me, Chief." Jim was through the opening doors before Blair could say a word. Sandburg had to hustle to stay with Jim as they headed across the building lobby for the exit. "You're the one who said 'he' instead of 'she', man. I know what you were thinking." Jim opened the door for Sandburg and followed him through. "Really? Maybe I was thinking of your father, Chief. Ever think of that? You've got one out there you know. I heard what you said to Rena." Blair stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around and planted his hand on Ellison's chest, stopping the larger man in mid-stride. "Because you weren't thinking of my father, Jim. My father, who ever he might be, was the furthest thing from your mind. You were thinking how many apologies your father owed you and that he was still alive to offer them." Jim glared at his partner. Blair didn't move an inch and glared right back. They stood on the sidewalk, staring at each other; immovable object and irresistible force as people darted around them. Jim looked at the sky and took a steadying breath before meeting Sandburg's gaze again. He finally put his hand over the hand on his chest and gripped it, lowering it between them. "You know, Chief, it's really scary when you start reading my mind." Jim smiled slightly as Blair relaxed. "You're an open book, man. An open book." Blair smiled softly, trying to convey his love to his partner. They continued their journey back to the truck in companionable silence, peace reigning between them again. Traffic was building to a dull roar as they pulled away from the parking space and into mid-day traffic. "Where to now?" Blair pulled on his sunglasses and lowered his visor against the Texas sun. "This evening isn't going to be fun, no matter how you look at it. I think we need to try to turn this off for the afternoon, try to find something that will distract both of us." Jim nodded as he slowed for a light. "I don't know if it is possible to find a distraction that engrossing, but we can try." He glanced at his partner. "Yesterday we did what you wanted to do. Today it's my turn. Let's find a driving range, lunch, and a Par-3 golf course, not necessarily in that order." "Your clubs are at the hotel." "I'm sure renting a few clubs won't be a problem." Jim looked over at his partner with a smug grin. "You owe me. You promised that one of these days you'd try your hand at golf. Today is as good a day as any, Chief." "You just want to pretend those little white defenseless balls belong to a certain convict." Blair said it with a chuckle, even though he knew there was a hint of truth to it. "Whatever works, Chief. Get the maps out of the glovebox and find us a decent restaurant near a driving range." "You want me to navigate?" Blair looked over his green glasses. "I'm flattered." "You think I want you to drive in this traffic?" Jim groaned at the smirk on his partner's face. Lunch was at a deli bar at a driving range overlooking a large golf course. As the men munched their way through salads and sandwiches, Blair people-watched and Jim techniqued-watched. Jim didn't get to play often, but he'd played golf since he was a child, long before Tiger Woods started the craze. It was the way a son fit into a country club and a father met the right people. Now, he tried to get to a course when his case load, a sunny day and his schedule cooperated. Which wasn't often. He finished his sandwich and tossed the napkin on his plate. "Ready to hit a bucket of balls, Chief?" Blair looked at the sparkle in his lover's eyes. If hitting little white balls took Jim's mind off what was going to happen that evening, then he'd hit little white balls. And chase them too, if he had too. "Any side wagers, man?" Blair followed Jim to the rental window. Jim chuckled at the laughter in Sandburg's face. "Sure, Chief, I bet you $5 that you won't hit a straight ball further than 200 yards." Sandburg looked at the flags showing 100, 200, 300 yard designations. "You're on." Blair picked up a club from the rental stand and swung it. Jim looked at the stance and shook his head. "Easy money." Jim selected his own club and picked up a heaping bucket of golf balls. He started toward the tee. Blair followed, laughing, but not looking as confident. Jim watched Sandburg from the corner of his eye. His partner had refused any offers of pointers and was stubbornly sending balls in every direction. When he heard Blair curse under his breath, he couldn't ignore the problem any more. "Here, Chief, let me help." Jim stepped up behind Blair and wrapped his arms around Blair's. He placed his hands over Blair's on the club and adjusted the grip. "See, you hold it like this and put your feet like this." Jim used his own body to turn his partner and correct Blair's stance. Blair resisted the urge to lean back into the unintentional embrace. Jim was all business as he coached, which added to the temptation. Jim heard Blair's heart rate increase and the first scent of arousal wafted off the body in his arms. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his chest. "You're so easy, Blair," he whispered into the dark curls. "All I have to do is touch you." "Yeah, but if I rubbed my butt against you, you'd be the same way. Bet you'd be hard in a second or two," Blair whispered back. "We're in a public place, lover. I'm trying to teach you how to hit a golf ball." Jim chuckled again, inhaling Blair's shampoo scented hair and telling himself to tone down his libido. "Uh huh. So teach me already. Else I'm liable to make a public spectacle of us by kissing you." Blair rubbed his butt against the front of Jim's jeans and smiled wickedly over his shoulder. "Rain check, Chief." Jim nipped a strand of blowing hair before releasing Blair and stepping back. "Now, look down at the ball when you swing and follow through. Go ahead." Blair looked at the 100 yard flag then down at the little ball sitting on the tee. He took a deep breath, let it out, and swung. The ball flew straight for about 75 yards before hitting the ground. Jim nodded. "Better. Do it again." The second ball did almost the same and Jim adjusted Blair's grip again. The third ball made it to the 100 yard flag. Blair looked at his partner with a huge grin. Jim nodded and smiled his congratulations, then returned to his own practice. Jim swung the club with ease, following the white sphere as it flew up and away, sentinel vision making it easy to track its flight. There was something relaxing about feeling the muscles in his shoulders and arms swinging the club, the whack of the ball when it was hit squarely and tracking the flight. Everything else fell away as the activity took over his brain. Jim's face relaxed into an easy smile as another ball sailed close to the 300 yard flag. Yes, this was something he needed to do more often. Blair looked over to his partner, who was watching a ball arc through the sky. Jim was smiling, which made him smile. Sandburg lost the ball in the sky but spotted the white object when it hit. The ball bounced at about 300 yards and Blair shook his head. He'd never reach that distance. "Don't zone watching the ball, Jim," he whispered, knowing Jim would hear. "I'd have to kiss you to wake you up." Jim shot his partner a half-way annoyed glance, then placed another ball on the tee and swung. Blair admired the man's form as the muscles in Jim's arms and back flexed under the tight blue tee shirt. He spotted a few women admiring the taller man as well, pointing and whispering. "You're gathering some groupies, Jim. Get ready to be fawned upon." Jim looked over at the trio of women who were watching him. He looked at Sandburg and shrugged. "What can I say, if you've got it, flaunt it." "Yeah, right." Blair placed a ball on his own tee and swung, totally blowing the swing and watched the ball slice to the right. "What do you say you finish up and we try that Par-3 course you spotted. That's probably my speed." Jim swung again and watched the ball as it fell. "I don't know, Chief. Putt-putt seems more like your size right now." "Nah, there's no challenge to you there." Blair hit the last ball in his bucket and sighed as it barely cleared the 50 yard flag. He picked up his empty bucket and watched as Jim hit his last ball straight and true. "Maybe you ought to enter some of the golf matches at home. Who knows what you could do." Jim shook his head and swung his arm over Blair's shoulder as they went to check in their clubs. "No thanks. For one thing, Simon can beat me on the golf course on any given Sunday, and two, if I started doing something like that, pretty soon my father would be cheering me on and offering to sponsor me. No thanks." "Really? Simon plays? Since when?" "Since forever." Jim nodded his head to the ladies who were watching them leave, his arm still around Blair's shoulders. "Ladies. Have a good time." Blair wrapped his arm around Jim's waist and tucked a finger in a belt loop. The ladies giggled behind them. They climbed in the Explorer and checked the clock. They still had a couple of hours before they had to be at the prison, so Jim drove them to the Par-3 course where Blair's education in golf continued. The afternoon dissolved into laughter time and again as the balls ended up in small water traps, causing Sandburg to have to wade after them or bouncing off trees, which cost him a couple strokes each time. By the time they finished the course, Jim was comfortably the winner and Blair was swearing he'd never pick up a golf club again, no matter what the stakes were. Jim just laughed at his partner and promised that when they played together, it would be at the amusement park and the putt-putt course. Blair glared at his partner, but finally dissolved into laughter, admitting that Jim was right. The afternoon of companionable play had done wonders for the stress that had been weighing down Jim and mentally relaxed him for the evening to come. They drove back to the hotel to shower and change, holding hands and discussing the physics of hitting a golf ball straight. A couple die-hard reporters were hanging around in the lobby and they ducked them successfully. The light was flashing on the phone when they opened the door and Jim listened to messages while Blair peeled out of jeans and sweaty tee shirt. He made a pot of coffee and started the water in the shower. By the time he had the temperature set and slid out of his boxers Jim joined him. "Who was on the phone?" Blair ducked his curls under the water. "Simon, wanting to know how things were going. A reporter. LeMing reminding us of where we have to be when." Jim picked up the shampoo and poured it in his hands then rubbed it into his hair, followed by Blair's. Showering together was something they did often, just for the joy of touching each other and sharing the closeness the confined space required. It was especially appreciated after a day of chases, bumps and bruises. Blair leaned his head into Jim's chest, smiling as the strong fingers rubbed his scalp. "You going to call Simon back?" Blair let himself be turned so Jim could rinse his hair. He slicked his hair back and reached for the soap, starting on Jim's chest. "Maybe after everything is all over tonight. Nothing much to tell him. Except maybe that you won't be much competition on the golf course." "Smartass." Blair lightly tapped Jim's ass cheek. "Turn around and lean against the wall." Jim complied and relaxed into Blair's strong hands as his shoulders and back were soaped and massaged. "How do you feel about what we're going to witness tonight?" He felt more than heard Blair's shrug. "I'm not sure how I should feel. It's going to be tough, I'll admit that. Since I've been working with you I've seen a lot of death in a lot of different ways. But seeing someone being strapped down and killed, like an animal, that's entirely different." Jim turned and gathered his wet partner into his arms. "You don't have to do this, Chief. I appreciate the offer, but it's not necessary." Blair looked into the pale blue eyes. He saw the compassion, the love and concern there. He pulled Jim down for a wet kiss, trying to show how he felt with the caress. "You're not going alone and that is that. I'm your partner. And partners are there for each other." Jim held the wet body tightly. "Thanks, Chief. I wasn't looking forward to going through this alone either, to tell you the truth." Blair held Jim close. "I'll always be there when you need me, Jim. Always." They finished their shower quickly, got dressed and grabbed coffee mugs on their way out the door. Evening was rapidly falling as they arrived at the prison. A corridor had been established for authorized vehicles and uniformed police patrolled the barricades, keeping protesters at bay. There were several groups, some holding signs and yelling, some holding candles and singing. Another group knelt in prayer, a priest in long robes leading them. Sandburg looked out the window of the truck and swallowed. Under other circumstances, he would have been in the middle of the protesters, carrying a sign or candle. And his mother next to him, most likely. He closed his eyes for a moment and thanked whoever was keeping Naomi away from this location. Jim showed his ID and the truck rolled past the barricade. Ellison looked over at his partner and correctly read the frown on the young man's face. "Kinda different on the other side of the line, isn't it, Chief?" "More than you know. I'm just glad Mom's not out there." "I hear that. Where is she, anyway?" Blair shrugged. "No idea. Last time I heard she was in Mexico." Jim nodded. "Good place for her to be right now. No newspapers carrying anything but national headlines and local news." They parked the truck where they were directed and a uniform escorted them into the prison and to an office where they met LeMing, Haven and the warden. They were warmly greeted by LeMing and Haven. The warden shook their hands then rushed off, declaring last minute duties. Sandburg watched the heavily perspiring man leave. He glanced at LeMing. "He's not coping with this very well, is he?" Blair looked at Jim and cocked an eyebrow. Jim shrugged his shoulders just a fraction. He looked at the DA. "What's the procedure?" Haven spoke up. "The witnesses will be escorted into a closed room with a large window separating them from the execution chamber. The prisoner will already be in place before the witnesses are brought in. We've found it less traumatic that way. The sentence will be read and the prisoner will be asked if he has any last statements. Once that is accomplished, the team assigned to this procedure in the execution chamber will open the IV and the drugs will be administered. The prisoner is usually unconscious in about a minute. It's usually over in fifteen to seventeen minutes. Once the doctor calls time of death, the witnesses will leave. They will be asked to sign an affidavit that they witnessed the execution and then escorted from the area. A priest will be available if someone needs to talk, as well as a counselor for anyone not comfortable with a religious figure." Jim nodded, but his eyes were on Sandburg. He'd heard Blair's heartbeat increase during the explanation, followed by several long deep breaths. Blair was pale and Jim saw a few drops of sweat on his brow. "Chief, you okay? You don't have to do this." Jim's first impulse was to keep him from this side of police work. But he couldn't just order Blair to stay in the office. Blair closed his eyes for a moment, taking a couple more breaths. He had read the procedure, understood it. But he didn't think it would be so difficult to hear it spoken about so clinically. "It's okay, Jim. Just wasn't expecting to hear it explained quite that way. Guess I never really thought about it before this week." He looked at Haven. "Do you ever get used to this?" Haven shook his head. "No." He walked to the door and opened it. He looked back over his shoulder as he left. "But I never get used to dead bodies either." The door closed softly. LeMing motioned them toward the comfortable chairs in one corner of the office. "Jose' has seen about a dozen of these through. Most of them were people younger than he. Since he's started being a Ranger he gave up drinking, found God and started helping at a Boys and Girls Club. Each time he officiates at one of these, he spends the next day with children, trying to make sure none of them end up here." Sandburg nodded and glanced at Jim, who was looking at a painting, his face absolute stone. For a moment he wondered what Jim was hearing, and then decided he really didn't want to know. That didn't stop him from reaching out and laying his hand on Jim's arm. Jim looked from the hand to his partner's face, then to LeMing. "I can understand why." To Sandburg, he nodded, eyes revealing that he had been listening to something he didn't really want to hear. LeMing played hostess, offering tea and coffee, trying to make small talk about their afternoon that did nothing to ease what was coming. Blair got up and paced in the small office, hands rubbing together as he stopped and stared at each painting on the wall. The art was of pastoral scenes and water images, offering soothing images to the mind. And failing miserably. Five slow minutes crawled by and then Haven stuck his head in the door and nodded. LeMing nodded back and looked at the detective and his partner, who were standing shoulder to shoulder, emotions blanked from two pairs of expressive eyes. "Ready?" she asked quietly, her own eyes troubled. Then she escorted them to another room, Haven bringing up the rear. Sandburg mentally congratulated the designers of the facility they were in as he walked the heavily carpeted floor. The walls were soothing shades of blue and green, large prints of landscapes and big windows looking out on a courtyard filled with grass and trees. Several of the offices they passed contained different religious designations. Soft music drifted from each office. Blair nodded to Jim, knowing his partner had picked up on the significance of the decor. LeMing opened the door and gestured them inside. She shook her head at Jim's raised eyebrow. This was not her duty. Blair paused next to Jim, watching his sentinel. Haven brushed by the three of them and entered. Jim's hand on Sandburg's back pushed him into the window-lined conference room. Sandburg glanced at the people standing around the perimeter of the room, ignoring the chairs. There were six others, equal numbers of men and women, of mixed races and ages. Sandburg knew that each person here was connected to the case somehow, a family member or friend of a victim, or someone requested by the prisoner. They looked at Sandburg and Haven as they entered, then went back to looking at the glass wall. Blair followed their line of sight and froze at what he saw. Jim stepped across the threshold and froze just inside the room. His eyes flowed over the assortment of people in the room, then settled on the glass wall and what was on the other side. Blair saw the prisoner, strapped to a gurney, IV in his arm. A man in a dark suit with a white collar was asking Freelow if he had anything he wished to say. The filtered voice was clear over the speakers. The prisoner's face was large on a TV screen and his eyes were open, staring upward. He shook his head. Sandburg pulled his eyes from what he was seeing to look at Ellison. Jim was frozen at the door and all the color in his face was draining away. The muscle in his jaw was jumping so fast it trembled. Jim dragged his eyes from the glass to Sandburg. One step brought Blair to Jim's side. He gripped his partner's arm, feeling the muscle under the thin shirt tremble. "What are you seeing?" Sandburg whispered for sentinel ears only. Jim forced his eyes back to the window. "Look, Chief. Really look." His voice broke and he swallowed hard. "Do you see them?" Sandburg tried to relax and let whatever he'd learned about the skills of a shaman, his limited journeys on the spirit plane, and Inchaca's gifts passed to him, guide him to try and see what Jim was staring at. The images finally filled the room on the other side of the glass. As the images wavered and solidified, Blair almost groaned. He looked at Jim, who seemed to be zoned on the images. On the other side of the glass, the spirits of people still lingering moved and paced around the perimeter of the chamber. They looked at the proceedings, shaking their heads, and looked out the glass, eyes pleading with the people on the other side. One by one, they seemed to become aware that two people on the other side of the glass saw them. They reached toward the glass, eyes pleading, mouths working. Sandburg closed his eyes. He didn't want to see this! When he opened them again, the only people on the other side were the humans still inhabiting this plane of existence. He glanced at Jim, who still seemed to be zoned on what he was seeing. His hand on Jim's forearm gripped tighter until he could feel his nails embedding into the skin underneath. His partner didn't acknowledge the grip. After a moment, he released Jim's arm and forced himself to stand still, hands behind him in a relaxed parade rest, and witness what his partner had promised to see through. He tried not to feel his own arms being restrained, a phantom strap across his chest. He refused to acknowledge his imagination filling in the prick in his arm, or the terror racing through his body. The doctor in the execution chamber opened the IV and the drugs dripped into the man strapped so securely on the gurney. The man didn't move, and after a few minutes the brown eyes closed for the last time. Sandburg swallowed hard, but remained where he was. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jim flinch and blink. Jim looked around the room, then focused on Sandburg. He nodded at Blair's questioning eyebrows. The other witnesses in the room were silent, some mouthing prayers and crossing themselves; a woman had tears in her eyes. The only sounds over the speaker were the murmurs from the doctor as he checked the prisoner's vital signs and pronounced Freelow's time of death. From beginning to end the procedure had taken seventeen minutes. Haven moved from his position at the corner of the room where he'd watched the procedure, casting his eyes from the witnesses to the execution. "There's some paperwork you have to sign. If you'll join me at the office you first came in, I'll have it for you in a minute. There are various counselors along the hall if anyone needs or wants to talk to them. Take your time." Haven motioned for the group of witnesses to leave and thanked each one of them, shaking each man's hand and hugging each of the women. When the room was empty except for Ellison, Sandburg, and himself, the Texas Ranger studied the two men standing so quietly in the corner of the room nearest the window. Haven glanced through the mirror and saw the doctor draping a sheet over the body. Two guards pushed it from the room. The lights went off in the chamber. "You coming?" Haven stood in the open door, eyes focused on Sandburg's still form and bright eyes. "In a moment," Sandburg answered for both of them. Jim's eyes were still on the darkened chamber. "Do you want me to stay with you?" He looked back and forth between the two men. Blair turned and looked at the worried man. He reached inside himself and found a small smile. "We'll join you in the office in a few minutes. Don't worry." Haven nodded and pulled the door slowly closed behind him, leaving them in the dimly lit room. Sandburg turned his full attention to Jim now that they were alone. "Sit down, Jim, before you fall down." He pulled a chair close and pushed his partner into it, then sagged into another one. He rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at the window again. The lights inside the chamber were dark and all he could see now was the reflection of the room he and Ellison were in. "Did we really see what I think we saw?" Blair whispered, his eyes still on the dark glass. Jim nodded, cleared his throat. "I think so. I saw... people, milling around in there. Then they looked at us, like they could see us." He faced the glass again. "It was like when I saw Molly. She looked at me, asking for help. She'd been a victim. She was trapped 'between' I think." His eyes locked onto Sandburg's face. "Is that what we saw? People who'd died here, trapped? What does it mean?" Blair's eyes were still on the dark window. His mind was spinning frantically, trying to analyze what they had seen. He didn't like where his thoughts were taking him. Souls trapped behind glass, not able to move forward or go back. It was a plot worthy of a horror movie. He pulled his eyes away and looked around the small enclosure, idly noticing how barren it was, except for the window and the chairs. Jim was a stone figure, eyes blankly facing the glass. "Do you still see them?" Sandburg whispered, Jim nodded, then found his voice again. "They're fading," he whispered. "They seem resigned to their fate, that nothing can be done." Jim turned agonized eyes to his partner. "We've got to do something, Chief. We just can't leave it like this." Blair stared at the pleading eyes of his partner, at a loss for what to do. Was there anything they could do? Slowly he turned toward the glass, behind which the spirits still were, even if he could no longer see them. He closed his eyes and tried to find words that might ease... something. "I don't know what to say that will reach you," he spoke to the now invisible spirits. "You were seen tonight, you're not alone. For your unjust death I can only offer my apologies and the apologies of all of us who are trying to do the right thing. I can't correct what happened to you. I'm sorry." Blair looked at the ceiling, blinking back hot tears. "May your souls find peace." He dropped his head and looked deep into his memory for a prayer that would be suitable. He turned in time to see Jim raise his eyes from his own silent prayer. Together, they took one final look at the glass window, then silently left the room. Ellison and Sandburg found LeMing and Haven in the small office, sipping tea and talking quietly. They looked up when the partners entered. LeMing studied Jim and frowned. "Tea, Detective Ellison?" She pointed to the corner table containing the small pot that was steaming, and two mugs. Jim shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. We just need to sign the paperwork and get out of here. Thank you for waiting." Haven handed both men a clipboard with affidavits. "Was there a problem, gentlemen?" Sandburg shook his head as he scrawled his name on the paper. "We just needed a couple of minutes for reflection." He handed the board back to Haven and looked into the dark eyes. "Nobody should have to face death that way." Haven nodded. "I agree." He looked at Jim who remained silent. "For some, this duty is not one that should be repeated." Jim's eyes met Haven's but he didn't answer the comment. The team shook hands and left, leaving the office and heading for the lobby. They froze when they saw what was in the parking lot outside of the small lobby. Two uniforms from the prison, keeping the media milling around outside at bay guarded the lobby. "Is there another way out? Past all that." Blair nodded toward the media. A guard nodded and escorted them down a hall to a dark corridor and a small door. He quickly unlocked it and pointed toward an underground parking garage. "There's an exit on the other side, leads to the back parking lot. You should be able to get past the front crowd that way." Blair nodded. "Come on." He took the lead, urging Jim faster as he pushed his partner through the door and following. The parking garage was dark and silent, deserted. Sandburg took Jim's hand and urged him forward, gently talking, keeping him focused on the square of artificial light that was an exit. In minutes they were across the concrete floor and out the door. They exited between large official vehicles and trucks and used them as cover as they made their way to their rental. Blair pushed Jim into the passenger's side of the truck and locked the door before hurrying around and climbing in. He was seriously worried about Jim's mental state. The man was much too quiet for Sandburg's comfort. For all the times the sentinel had been thrown by something, he always bounced back in a couple of hours and was ready to deal with whatever the issue was. Now the man stared out the window into the darkness, eyes almost fully dilated, jaw clenched into an iron bar. Sandburg could see the pulse in the long throat, beating a butterfly rhythm against the thin skin. He drove them to their hotel in silence. Jim was aware of being manhandled to the truck, the sound and motion of it moving down the street, the flicker of the streetlights overhead. A part of him was very grateful that his partner was there to take over while his thoughts tumbled around and around, replaying what he'd seen. Was there anything at all he could do? He blinked suddenly, eyes burning from lack of moisture and realized that they were stopping at their temporary home. The engine went silent and he looked at his partner, who was leaning over the wheel. "Chief? You okay?" Jim reached out and laid his hand over the fingers still curled over the steering wheel, squeezing. Blair sighed and turned his head toward Jim, still resting on the steering wheel. "Long day, man. Not exactly how I'd envisioned this happening. How are you doing?" Jim rocked his shoulders in a non-committal shrug. He opened the door and got out. "Come on, Chief. I need a beer and I think you do too." He slammed the door. Blair hustled after his partner. When he caught up with Jim, he slipped an arm around his partner's waist and leaned into him for a second as they matched strides. "A beer sounds like an excellent idea. First round is on me." The bar was tucked in the corner of the lobby, behind the elevators. It was a functionally plain room with the required big screen TV playing sports, a polished bar the length of one wall, with a bartender behind it and lots of bottles behind him. A dozen tables for two and bar stools completed it. Jim led his partner to a table furthest away from the TV and in the darkest corner. Their drink order was filled quickly, and Blair held the cold bottle to his head for a moment. Jim watched his partner and then did the same. Jim's action made Sandburg laugh. "One way to cool off after a hard day, huh, Chief?" Ellison tried for a joking tone and failed. He took his frosted mug and poured the dark ale into it, tipping the glass gently as he poured. Blair nodded but ignored his mug as he took a long draw off the bottle. He sat the bottle down and grabbed the bar menu. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that even with all the turmoil surrounding their evening, lunch had been hours ago. "Plus we forgot dinner. Want to order some snacks?" Jim shook his head as he looked down into the foam topped mug. "I don't think I can eat." Sandburg glanced up. "A little food will help, Jim. Give you time to gather your thoughts, give me time to gather mine. Then we need to talk about happened. Jim pushed the mug away and waved the bartender over and requested water. "I don't know if I can talk about it, Chief. It's not like Molly. There I did something about what I saw. Here..." his voice trailed off. "Here... I just feel so... helpless." Sandburg leaned back in his chair. "That means we have to talk this through." When the bartender returned, Sandburg ordered nachos with all the trimmings and a pitcher of water. Alone again, Blair reached out and grabbed Jim's hand. "Take a deep breath, Jim. Close your eyes and breathe." He waited for his sentinel to follow his instructions. "Now tell me what you saw. Take your time." "The same thing you saw, Sandburg. So why are you asking me?" Ellison's growl was back and Sandburg felt a little better. Having Jim angry was something he could deal with. "I saw shadowy shapes that were people. I didn't see any details. Just... shadows that were moving, walking." Jim leaned back in the barrel chair, his eyes meeting Sandburg's before he closed them and forced himself back to the closed room with a one-way mirror. When he had the scene he wanted, he mentally commanded it to freeze and studied it. "They were all men, middle-aged or older. All different races, but mostly black. Their eyes... their eyes begged me to help them." Jim whispered just barely loud enough for Blair to hear him. A clang and crash of broken glass startled him and he bolted up right. "Not here, Chief." Jim looked at the bartender and waitress who were cleaning up the mess. "Have them send the nachos to our room. I can't talk about this here." Jim pushed away from the table and stomped out, leaving Blair to deal with the bill and the order. Jim walked down the hallway to their room with a sigh of relief for the dark silence. He was alone for a few minutes, long enough to hear the voices from throats long forced to silence. Jim closed his eyes, trying to block the visions as he freed his card from a pocket and slid it through the electronic lock. The room was dark and he walked across it without a light and sagged into a chair near the desk. He didn't move when Blair charged into the room. "Don't turn on the lights. Please?" Sandburg froze and closed the door gently, throwing the deadbolt. "I'm going to turn on the light in the bathroom and close the door. That'll give me enough to see with." He did as promised, leaving a tiny crack of light. Then he kicked off his shoes and went to Jim's side. Blair knelt next to Jim and waited quietly. Jim dropped his hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "Sorry. I couldn't talk about it there. It's hard enough to talk about it period." "I know that. I should have thought of that." Blair's hand covered the hand on his shoulder. "Can you talk about it now?" Jim sat in the darkness and nodded. "I told you they were all asking me to do something." He turned and stared into Blair's eyes, seeing the fully dilated pupils that were trying to see him in the dark. "But there was nothing I could do. And how do we prevent that from happening to more people, Chief? What do we do?" Sandburg got up and paced in the darkness. Jim took pity on him when he stumbled and turned on the lamp over the desk. "Jim, what were they wearing? The people you saw." Jim flashed a glance at Blair as he got up to answer the door. The bellhop just barely touched the door with his knuckles before Jim was there and taking the tray. He brought it back to the table and uncovered it. "What do you mean, how were they dressed? What difference does that make?" Blair grabbed a chip and dragged it through the sour cream and guacamole before popping it in his mouth. He paced some more. "Can you give me a clue?" The smell of melted cheese and warm chips overcame Jim's reluctance to eat and he pulled a chip free. "Some of them were wearing jeans, couple others long coats, like trail dusters." He closed his eyes, seeing the scene again. "Most of them seemed to be in old clothes, early 1900s maybe. There were some Civil War and Union soldier uniforms." "Any prison coveralls?" Blair went to the little 'fridge and came back with two bottles of water. Jim nodded as he chewed. "A few. Not that many though." A gleam appeared in Sandburg's eyes. "Based on what you just saw, would you say the number of unjust executions have come down?" "One is too many, Chief." "I know that Jim, I really do. But, knowing things are better than, say a hundred years ago, does that help any?" Blair quietly pleaded. "We can't fix the past, Jim. But we can influence the future. Better forensics is making a difference. DNA testing is making a difference. Better attorneys and judges are making a difference. You are making a difference. What you do and how you do it makes a difference." He grabbed Jim's arms. "In this circumstance, a difference is all we can ask for, Jim. " Jim listened to his partner's impassioned words. "So you're saying all I can do is accept the injustices in the past and move on?" "Maybe not 'accept' Jim. But use all of your abilities, all of our abilities to keep it from happening again." Blair clapped his partner on the shoulders lightly. "If tilting at this particular windmill would get us somewhere, I'd hand you your lance. But it won't, not here, not in this state. So we go home, and we do what we do best, in Cascade. We protect the tribe, man. And while we're protecting our small corner of the world, maybe we'll find a way to make that small corner better." Jim tried not to smile. He loved Blair when he got passionate about an issue. Instead he gathered Sandburg into his arms and held him tight. "I love you, Chief. Thanks for being here." He pulled away and kissed the plush lips lightly. "But you haven't said a word about how this evening made you feel. I know you felt something." Blair dropped his head and turned away from his lover. "I never want to see that again, Jim. What we're doing is so... wrong. That hit you tonight too. Legally sanctioned execution or murder on the streets, Jim, it's still taking a life." Jim sighed. "I know, Blair. But until a better solution comes along, I don't have the answer." He turned away from Sandburg and looked out the window at the hazy night sky. Blair shook his head and reached for a chip. "I don't either. There has got to be a way to teach people the consequences of their actions." "Blair, that effort has been ongoing since Moses carried the stone tablets down from the mountain. And it will continue long after we're gone." Blair looked at his partner. "Are you saying have a little faith?" "Sometimes, Chief. Faith is all we have."