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A New War #13: Sight and Sound
by Lianne Burwell
May 1999
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When the call came in that there'd been a shooting at the University, 
nobody thought twice about who the investigating detective should be. It 
was just accepted that Detective James Ellison would be there. The fact 
that his partner, Blair Sandburg, had been at the station instead of the 
university that day didn't matter; the various professors, students and 
staff at the university were used to dealing with him.

"What do we have?" Jim asked the uniformed cop at the entrance to the 
university who was turning traffic away.

"Three shots fired. Nothing since. They *think* the gunman is gone, but 
they aren't positive."

Jim nodded, and headed for the parking lot closest to the shooting site 
but still out sight. There he found Suzanne Tomaki, head of University 
security, acting as liaison between the campus cops and the police 
department.

"What's up?" he asked, smiling to himself as Blair called a cheerful 
hello. Someday he was going to get a sample of Blair's morning tea and 
send it out for analysis. The grad student had far too much energy for it 
to be *all* natural. Maybe.

"Three shots, from the roof of the Wilkinson library, all go through the 
same window of the Jameson building. Witnesses say that the shots were 
followed by a bright flash of light. Nothing since. No one saw anyone 
suspicious arrive, and no one has been seen leaving the scene, other than 
students who have all been questioned. We sent someone up to the roof of 
the Wilkinson, but there was no sign of the gunman. I had them leave the 
area alone. The stairwells are blocked off so no one can get in or out."

Jim frowned slightly at that. They should have waited before going up 
there, but at least they hadn't disturbed the scene. "You say all the 
shots were at the same window? Whose?"

Suzanne glanced down at the notebook she held in one hand. "One of the 
biology professors' labs. Dr. Janet Gallagher. She's been with the 
university for just over four years. No complaints, no threats."

"All right, let's go have a talk with the lady. Was she in the lab at the 
time?"

"Yes. She had visitors. They've been moved across the hall to her office. 
Everyone else has been evacuated. They're waiting for you."

After getting directions, Jim headed for the back door, away from the 
side of the building the shots had been fired at. Blair followed him up 
the stairs, giving him a rundown on Dr. Gallagher.

"She's a nice lady, Jim. She's done some lab work for me, analyzing 
artifacts, even though it isn't really her field. A lot of the tenured 
professors consider that to be below them, but she's always willing to 
lend a hand. Strange, though. She's talked about a daughter from time to 
time, but she's probably the only parent I've ever met who doesn't have 
pictures of their kids on their desk or walls. But I still can't believe 
anyone would want to *kill* her."

Jim paused, and held up a hand to still the flow of chatter from his 
partner. Up ahead, he heard voices.

The first were the uniformed men guarding the crime scene, bantering back 
and forth, speculating on what had happened.

Far more interesting were the other voices.

//"Well, I'd say that we can drop the idea that they haven't found you 
yet, Suzanne."

"Damn! I happen to *like* my life in Cascade. I don't want to have to go 
running again, Harrison."

"Mom, you probably don't have a choice. If things are stepping up again, 
we're all at risk."

"The thing *I* want to know is how you knew we were going to be shot 
at."//

Jim's eyebrows went up at the new voice. It was familiar, *very* 
familiar.

//I saw a flash of light. When I looked closer, I saw... someone with a 
rifle on the roof of the building across the way."

"Someone?"

"I... I can be completely sure, considering the distance, but it looked 
like... Do you remember the bounty hunter who was hunting the Mothren?"

"The *android*?"//

Jim frowned. Androids? What sort of nutcases were they dealing with?

//"It looked like her."

"But she left. Why would she be back now? It's been what? Ten years?"

"I don't know, but before while you were all recovering, I followed her 
out. I wanted to ask her some questions. After, she said something in a 
language unlike anything I'd ever heard. Then there was a bright flash, 
and she was gone. *But*... The people who attacked my cabin spoke in a 
very similar way."

"Damn. Just what we need: another mystery."//

Deciding he'd hear enough, Jim climbed the last few steps to the landing. 
It didn't sound like these people were going to be much help.

Just before he opened the stairwell door, he heard something else, and 
this sound stopped him dead in his tracks.

An inquisitive growl. Followed by a purr. But he couldn't find anything 
that could be producing the sound, scanning with all his senses. And the 
last time something like that had happened...

Shaking his head, Jim put it out of his mind. He would deal with it 
later, assuming that he had to. He pushed open the door and stepped into 
the hallway.

He showed his badge to the cop standing guard there. Blair already had 
his observer badge clipped onto his shirt.

"Forensics is on the way up," he told the woman. "Have them get started 
on the lab. I'll talk to the witnesses."

The woman nodded and pointed him towards a door marked "Janet Gallagher, 
Biology Department". Jim knocked.

"Come in," called the voice he recognized as being the one addressed as 
Suzanne.

He opened the door and stepped in. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison. This is my 
partner, Blair Sandburg."

He glanced around the room, then suddenly stopped. "Colonel!"

The Amerind man blinked in surprise. "Ellison. It's been a few years."

"Since basic training. Blair, this is Colonel Paul Ironhorse, the 
toughest drill-sergeant that a trainee could have."

Blair smiled, and shook the man's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, man. Jim 
is so not-forthcoming about his time in the army."

The man grinned. "Then far be it for me to break confidences," he said, 
winking at Jim. Blair rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath about 
closed societies. "But I'm retired now. I'm a little surprised that you 
left the army, though. You had career army written all over you."

Jim flinched. Even after all these years, the pain was still raw. "Eight 
years ago, my team was killed. The chopper we were on went down in Peru 
and I was the only survivor. The army didn't bother to come find out what 
happened until eighteen months later. After that, I couldn't stay."

A darkness flowed across the man's eyes. "I understand," was all he said. 
Strangely, Jim believed him. He had the same sort of look that he'd been 
told he had when talking about his team.

Suddenly, both man shook themselves, as if shaking off bad memories.

"Anyway, let me introduce you," Ironhorse said. "Jim Ellison, 
Dr. Harrison Blackwood, Dr. Janet Gallagher, Agent Debi McCullough and 
Special Agent Dana Scully."

Jim frowned. "Feds?"

Scully, a tiny red-head, spoke up. "We're not here on official business, 
if that's what you're wondering, Detective Ellison."

A quick check of her vitals told him that she was telling the truth. 
"Well then, what can you tell me about what happened."

* * * * *

The story the group had to tell said nothing about androids or fake 
names. Blackwood said that he'd seen a flash while looking out the 
window. He'd seen someone on the roof of the next building holding what 
looked like a rifle. After the recent rash of shootings at campuses 
across the country, he'd hit the floor along with everyone else in the 
room. In this case, the paranoia was appropriate.

Jim continued to use his enhanced senses to monitor the group. The only 
time that he'd picked up an out-and-out lie was when they said they had 
no idea why anyone would be shooting at Dr. Gallagher.

Again and again, he found his eyes drawn back to Blackwood. He wasn't 
sure why, though; just that there was something about the man. Something 
important. He felt uncomfortable around the man, and yet at the same time 
something inside him said 'this one isn't a danger'. The only question 
was this *what*?

Harrison Blackwood was certainly impressive. He was little taller than 
Jim, but not quite as muscular. His brown hair was streaked with gray, 
and as curly as Sandburg's if not as long. Jim would guess him to be 
close to fifty, but the deep lines on his face and the faint haunted 
expression in his eyes made him seem ancient. It also didn't escape Jim's 
notice that he seemed to be hovering near Ironhorse, constantly brushing 
against the man, getting inside his personal space.

And the colonel... If Blackwood seemed older than his years then 
Ironhorse seemed much younger than Jim would have expected. There was no 
gray at all in his black hair and his face was unlined. But there was 
something there that bothered Jim. A lingering odor... And a sense of 
familiarity. Ironhorse reminded him of someone, but he wasn't sure who.

Once they had the statements from the group, Jim decided to head over to 
the Wilkinson library. His instincts said that the gunman was gone, but 
he wanted to check first before they let forensics onto the scene.

The new library was almost finished, but had been deserted at the time of 
the shooting. The local union was on strike, making construction grind to 
a halt. It meant that no one should be inside the building, and with 
Blair giving him something to ground him, he extended his senses to 
check. He found nothing. Enhanced senses might be a real pain in the butt 
most of the time, but they were also very useful on the job.

When they hit the top of the stairwell, Jim paused to examine the lock 
while Blair caught his breath.

"No sign that it was forced," he muttered to himself. "No sign that it 
was picked either. Either it wasn't locked, or the gunman had a key."

Snapping on a pair of thin latex gloves that would prevent him from 
smudging any prints without interfering with his sense of touch, Jim 
opened the door.

The first thing that caught his attention was the stale smell of smoke 
from the cigarette butts dropped in the gravel that covered the roof. 
Obviously, before they went on strike the workers had been using the roof 
for whenever they wanted a smoke and hadn't bothered cleaning up the 
butts. The lingering odor hung around the doorway like a cloud.

One unfortunate side-effect of the gravel was that it didn't hold a 
footprint. However, the way it was shifted told a story to someone who 
knew what to look for.

The majority of the scuff marks were clustered around the door. The 
campus guards who'd checked the roof, the workers who'd come up to smoke; 
none of them had moved out very far. The occasional hard rain evened out 
the gravel elsewhere on the roof. As a result, the scuff marks near the 
edge, where the gunman must have been standing, were very obvious.

What wasn't obvious was where they'd come from. There was no sign of a 
path to or away from the spot. Jim wrinkled his nose. There was something 
else too.

"What do you smell?" Blair asked, already picking up on his confusion. 
Sometimes Jim wondered if Blair had his sixth sense when it came to 
dealing with his Sentinel.

Jim frowned. "Ozone," he said, finally identifying the smell.

Blair glanced up at the blue sky. "Well, it's not about to storm, I'd 
say." Jim waved away the comment.

"No, it's more focused than that." He moved forward heading towards the 
gunman's vantage point. The scent got stronger with every step. "It's 
centered here," he finally said, stopping just short of the scuff marks. 
He didn't think there was much chance of forensics finding anything 
there, but he wasn't going to take the chance.

He bent down and examined the gravel. He picked up a piece and held it in 
front of his face.

It was scorched.

Glancing down again, he could find faint scorch marks tracing a circular 
path around the same area that was focus of ozone smell. It even extended 
up the concrete block wall that ran around the edge of the building. He 
moved over to check the ledge.

There were faint marks where the gunman would have braced himself, along 
with a gleam of something that looked like oil, but wasn't. He made a 
mental note to make sure that forensics got a sample. He could hear them 
coming up the stairs already.

The breeze started to pick up, and a small motion caught his eye. He 
reached over and snagged the item before it could fly away. He reached 
into his pocket for an evidence baggie.

"What is it?" Blair asked, looking over his shoulder.

"A hair. I think." Once it was safely tucked into the baggie he took a 
closer look. "At least it looks like a hair, but it isn't."

"From a wig, perhaps?"

Jim shook his head. "Most good wigs use human hair. And this definitely 
isn't from a cheap wig. The texture is too fine. But it definitely is 
artificial. Maybe the lab will be able to tell us more."

At that moment, the forensics team led by Serena Chang arrived. Jim 
handed her the baggie with the fake hair and pointed out the other things 
he'd noticed. She immediately started directing her people. Jim breathed 
a sigh of relief that she'd been the one sent on the call instead of 
Cassie Welles. Cassie would have spent her time coming up with her own 
theory of what happened, then trying to bludgeon everyone else into 
accepting it. Sometimes she was even right, but it didn't make up for her 
abrasive personality and the fact that she was ignoring her own job in 
favor of trying to do someone else's.

Jim went back to the edge of the roof and looked across the way at the 
Jameson building and the broken window. He frowned, realizing something 
for the first time.

"Chief?"

"Hmm? Yeah, Jim?"

"Take a look." Blair left the conversation he'd been having with one of 
the uniforms and came over to stand next to Jim.

"What is it?"

"Blackwood said he looked out the window and saw someone with what looked 
to be a gun on the roof here, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"How much detail can you make out from here?"

Blair frowned, and squinted. "I can see the window, and shapes moving 
around inside, but no details."

"Exactly."

Blair glanced over at him. "Not a fair comparison, you know. I'm not 
wearing my glasses."

"No, but the sun is right behind us. It would have been in his eyes."

"So what are you saying? He lied about seeing the gunman?"

Jim shook his head. "No, he wasn't lying."

"Then how could he have seen anything?"

"Good question, and I intend to find out," Jim said in a determined tone.

* * * * *

Harrison paced the confines of the small office, too restless to sit 
down. Scully was flipping through one of Suzanne's science journals, 
while Suzanne told Debi and Paul what she'd been up to for the last few 
years. Harrison blocked it out.

Far more interesting were the voices out in the hall. He was getting a 
real earful about Ellison and his partner-who-isn't-a-cop. From the way 
the officers were talking, Ellison and Sandburg were the Batman and Robin 
of the Cascade PD.

The two young men were an enigma, that was sure. Sandburg, he'd like 
instantly. Enthusiasm and intelligence without being over-bearing. But 
there was something about Ellison that disturbed him.

Harrison glanced over at Paul. Maybe it was how friendly Ellison had been 
with his lover. Harrison had never considered himself the jealous type, 
but every time that the detective had made a move towards Paul, or even 
spoken to him, he'd had the urge to get between the two men and snarl 
"Mine!" at Ellison.

He would meditate on it later. He hadn't done enough meditation in the 
last few weeks. Maybe it was just the stress getting to him.

Harrison leaned against the wall next to the office door, still trying to 
listen to what was going on out there. He'd always had good hearing, but 
his time in the woods had honed it well. Long hikes had trained his 
hearing to the point that he could hear a chipmunk scampering through the 
underbrush from a distance. It was a little overwhelming, now that he was 
back in what passed for civilization, but it had also saved their lives 
the night that his cabin had been attacked.

Ellison and his partner had just come back. He could hear them talking to 
the two examining the lab. Harrison shut his eyes and concentrated a 
little harder.

//"We didn't find any bullets, sir."

"What do you mean. The holes in the wall are right there. There has to be 
*something*."

"Yes, but there isn't. We did find some foreign material, but it's more 
like a ceramic. Definitely *not* something you make a bullet out of."

"So what *would* you make out of it?"

"Haven't a clue, sir. We'll analyze it in the lab. See if it matches 
anything we have on file."//

Ellison muttered something under his breath, and Harrison reached a 
little harder. In fact, he concentrated so hard on what he was listening 
to that he never even noticed when the rest of the world started to fade 
away.

* * * * *

"So John and these other two -- Mulder and Krycek -- are in Colorado? 
What do you think they're going to find?"

Paul shrugged. "According to Mana, alien technology that is in use. There 
used to be a military base there. In fact, it was in the running to house 
an underground bunker in case of nuclear attack, but the government 
decided to go with a different location. But as far as I know, the base 
has been abandoned for years. Mulder says he's run into a lot of bases 
that are used by members of the military who are collaborating with the 
aliens. This may be one of them." Paul's jaw clenched at that. He'd 
served the military for so many years, fought aliens as a part of the 
army. It still rankled, the thought that the US military -- parts of it 
at least -- were working with aliens that wanted to seize control of 
their world.

Suzanne shook her head. Paul was still shocked by the lack of long 
blonde curls. The short, red-dyed hair was one change. Another was the 
number of fine lines around her eyes and mouth. So much had changed. The 
only thing, it seemed, that hadn't was Harrison's love.

Paul glanced over at his lover, and muttered an oath. Harrison was 
leaning against the wall, his eyes open, staring blankly across the room.

"Harrison?"

No reaction.

"Harrison!"


TO BE CONTINUED