Chapter Text
Running from Shadows
by Dean Warner
Original Pub. Date: November 12, 1999
Summary: When an accident at the University catches Blair in the middle of a seventy-year-old quarrel, Jim and his partner must seek help from one of Naomi's old friends.
Note: This is an answer to a personal challenge from Kim Cooper, who wanted to see Jim and Blair to meet Benny and Jack from
Shadow Chasers.
Jim Ellison stepped into the Major Crimes bullpen, glad to be clean at last. Two hours of running through an abandoned warehouse looking for a few bad guys who were a little too good at hiding themselves had left him dusty, grimy, and with one hell of an allergy attack.
He supressed a sneeze as he watched his captain approach the wild-looking young man standing by Jim's desk. In his defense, Blair had actually bothered to change into the set of "emergency" clothes he kept in Jim's locker at the station, but he'd foregone the neat ponytail he usually wore, and his hair stuck out in a hundred different directions.
"You coming to lunch with us, Sandburg?" Simon asked, pulling his expensive trench coat around him in anticipation of the bitter winter winds outside.
"I'd love to, Simon," Blair replied, settling his backpack on his shoulder. "But I promised Dr. Sacks I'd attend Dr. MacKensie's first lecture." He tried to look long-suffering, but Jim could tell that the kid was going to enjoy his afternoon. "He's giving a series of guest lectures on the Archeology of the Southwest, and she wanted to make sure the turnout was good."
"And if your students have to go, so do you, right, Chief?" Jim asked, stepping around his smaller partner to grab his own coat and gesturing for them all to head for the elevator.
"Yeah, I suppose. And to make things worse, he's giving his lectures in the old Brickman building—that place has got to be older than the University itself!" Again, Blair tried to convey to them a proper amount of suffering—which lasted about as long as it took Simon to ask his next question.
"So what is this guy MacKensie going to talk about?" Simon asked as they reached the waiting elevator, sharing a smile with Jim as the kid standing between them got started.
"Well, it's archeology, like I said—which isn't normally my area of interest. But MacKensie's father was a legend! " He started gesticulating as the elevator carried them to the garage. "Nobel prize, man!" He shrugged. "Guess I just wanted to see if his kid measured up, you know?"
They had reached the garage now, and Blair walked past his own Volvo in his excitement, unwittingly heading for Simon's sedan as he continued. "I mean, okay, the guy's got to be good. He's working for the Georgetown Institute and all—and I hear he's really a great lecturer. Oh! And, like ten years ago, he actually found a wild child! She'd be about 16 now... Wonder what she's like?" He bothered to stop for a breath before continuing. "Anyway, I hope he—"
"Hey, Cheif?" Jim broke in quietly.
Blair fell silent in an instant, and his face turned to Jim's, waiting. Simon was reminded, perversely, of that logo for the records. Hearing his Master's voice.
"You're going to be late," Jim pointed out, his hand gesturing back to Blair's Vovlo.
"Oh," the kid replied, shaking his head. "Yeah." He was back up to full speed in seconds, headed toward his car. "Okay, guys. Enjoy lunch. Jim? I'll see you later—there's a reception or whatever after the talk, but I'll be back this afternoon to help you out with the paperwork on the Cabot bust."
Jim smiled indulgently as the kid slipped into the beaten-up old Volvo, and Simon shook his head, unlocking his own sedan's doors.
"How do you do that?" the captain asked.
"Do what?" Jim seemed genuinely perplexed by the question, as he slid into the passenger's seat and fastened his safety belt.
"Get the kid to shut up without him even knowing he's doing it?"
Jim chuckled, tipping his head as if in deep thought. "I guess some of us are just blessed, Simon."
Simon pondered that as he started the car. "I've got to start going to church more often."
* * *
Blair was late— very late. MacKensie's lecture began at 12:30, and he was only just pulling into his parking space at Hargrove Hall at 12:40. It was a good five minute walk to Brickman, and he just knew that Dr. Sacks was going to be looking for him, wondering where he was.
He slipped into the back of the lecture hall at 12:53, walking almost silently to one of the seats in the back row, as he watched the man in the academic spotlight, who was managing to hold the whole room enthralled.
The only other person in the back row was a man who looked up with an open smile as Blair found his seat, and the young anthropologist gave him a strange doubletake.
Okay, Blair reminded himself. It's not like I don't dress a little loudly sometimes, too, but this guy had to be nearing fifty, and the combination of pink, red, blue, and orange he was wearing had gone out of style twenty minutes after the shirt was made, back in the 80s. The anthropologist had to wonder just what the guy—who looked vaguely familiar, but obviously wasn't a fellow student or teacher—was doing at a lecture on the joys of Southwestern Archeology.
Blair shook his head slightly and tuned in to the man down front. Jonathan MacKensie was in his mid-forties but passion for his subject made him look younger. He looked as fit as running around archeological digs could make you, and his brown hair was on the longish side and starting to go gray—but in that distinguished way that Blair secretly hoped he’d have someday. The look of a scholar. It certainly went with the slightly stodgy suit he was wearing and the intelligence in his hazel eyes.
"Now," MacKensie was saying energetically, his English accent adding an extra touch of distinction to the proceedings. "I assume that many of you are aware of the fantastic site uncovered in Dent, Colorado, in the early 1930s, but what you may not be aware of, is the relation between those finds and the larger, more complete site found in Folsom, New Mexico, by Dr. Jesse Figgins..."
"Man, he is great, isn't he?" the loudly dressed man beside Blair offered, leaning toward the younger man to whisper his opinion as he surveyed the room of attentive listeners.
"Um... yeah," Blair answered distractedly. "Yeah, he's... really enthusiastic."
"Yep, that's my Jon-Boy," the man stated smugly. "Always knows how to play the crowd."
Blair understood it now. This guy was obviously a friend of Dr. MacKensie's, here to give him moral support. The pipes at the back of the room started groaning, like they often did here, and Blair was proud to see most of the students ignoring the expected noise in favor of giving MacKensie their undivided attention.
The antrhopologist was turning to ask the older man what his relationship was to the apparently stuffy professor when all hell broke loose.
* * *
Jonathan MacKensie had just started to explain the connection between New World Man and the Mammoth when the sound began. At first he tried to ignore the rising squeal at the back of the room, assuming it to be the old pipe system in the building. Dr. Sacks had told him that Brickman—while a fine hall, and perfect for his lectures, as it had been the first home of the Archeology department at Rainer University—was one of the oldest buildings on campus, and was in need of "just a little work here and there."
From the increasing sound at the back of the lecture hall, Jonathan felt that perhaps Dr. Sacks had been a bit kind in her assessment of the old place. He glanced up at Edgar Benedek, his friend and frequent thorn in his side, and tried to keep his audience's attention.
Dr. Sacks had obviously had enough of the noise herself, and was rising to head for the podium when Jonathan watched the back wall literally explode, showering Benedek and the young man who had been sitting beside him with bricks and masonry, and causing the rest of the audience gathered there to rush toward the front of the hall, just ahead of the torrent of water coming from the burst pipes.
Which was all very well and good, but it kept Jonathan from getting to one of the two people who weren't getting up. Benedek and the other man had been half-buried by the wall, and Jonathan tried not to let his imagination get the best of him as he fought the wave of fleeing academics.
"Call an ambulance!" He tried to be heard above the mingled shouts and groans of the crowd, and thought he heard a faint answer from Dr. Sacks, who was trapped at the front of the room.
As he pushed past the last of the fleeing people, he found that two or three had actually stayed around to try to extricate the two men from the detruis that now covered them. By the time Dr. Sacks was able to get to the phone and back, both Benedek and the younger man had been carefully cleared of rubble.
"Benedek?" MacKensie whispered quietly, trying to ignore the blood that covered his friend's face, and the unnatural angle of the injured man's left arm. "Benedek, can you hear me?"
Benedek's head turned slightly, and a groan escaped his lips. "Jon?"
Jonathan's face broke into a smile, as he put a comforting hand to his friend's forehead. "Yeah, Benedek. I'm here. You're going to be all right."
"You really brought the house down, Jacko," Benedek whispered, starting to lose consciousness again. "I keep telling you… We should get you on the circuit..."
MacKensie chuckled painfully. "All right, Benedek, all right. I promise I'll do Geraldo with you, next time—" He looked into his friend's face in panic, as Benedek's eyes rolled back into his head. "Benedek? ...Benedek!?"
A hand on his shoulder brought him out of it before he could have a full-blown panic attack. He looked up at Dr. Sacks for a moment, realizing that there were two men in EMT uniforms standing behind her. He suddenly became aware of the other activity nearby, as Sacks pulled him carefully to his feet and moved him away from his friend so that Benedek could be looked after by the EMTs.
The young man who had been sitting beside the reporter was being taken care of as well. He didn't look to be as badly hurt—at least there was less blood that Jonathan could see—but he had apparently not regained consciousness, and Jonathan could feel the tension coming off of the stately woman beside him.
"Do you know him, Dr. Sacks?" he asked quietly, as the young man was caught up in a neck brace and lifted onto a waiting gurney.
She nodded, her left hand rubbing unconsciously at her left leg. "Blair Sandburg. He's one of my Teaching Fellows."
Jonathan let the name roll around in his head for a moment before it finally connected for him. "He's an anthropologist, right? He specializes in Peruvian societal structures?"
She nodded again, numbly, and turned too quickly toward the front of the room. Her left leg began to collapse, and Jonathan caught her. "Dr. Sacks, are you all right?"
"Fine," she whispered, regaining her balance on the artificial limb, as the gurney carrying Sandburg headed outside. "I have to call his roommate."
Jonathan helped her down to the front of the hall, keeping an eye on the gurney holding his own friend. You have to be all right, Benedek, he pleaded silently. You have to be.
* * *
You'd better be okay, Sandburg.
The thought had run through Jim's mind so many times during the ride to the hospital that it was little more than noise now, a soothing mantra that kept him from thinking too much. He'd received the call on his cellphone just as he and Simon were leaving the restaraunt, and Simon had taken pity on his worried detective and dropped Jim at Cascade General on his way back to the station.
Jim was no less worried now as he wove his way through the emergency room waiting area, zeroing in on a familiar face. Diane Sacks rose gracefully from her plastic chair and made her way toward him, a nervous hand running through her short grey hair.
"Jim, I'm glad you could get here so quickly."
"Has there been any word yet?" he asked tensely, an unconscious hand reaching out to her elbow in an attempt to help her back to her seat. It was unnecessary, of course. Regardless of the missing limb, Sacks was a graceful, athletic woman. "What happened?"
The professor sighed as she took her seat again. "One of the pipes at the back of the lecture hall burst and brought the wall down with it. Blair and another man took the brunt of the explosion." She glanced at the rather shell-shocked man on the other side of her, and Jim gave the stuffy-looking man a quick once-over.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Detective, where are my manners? Jonathan MacKensie, this is Jim Ellison, Mr. Sandburg's roommate." The two men shook hands absently. "Professor MacKensie's colleague was the other man caught by the wall when it fell."
Jim nodded sympathetically to the older man, but his mind was occupied by his attempt to hear what was going on in the numerous examination rooms. As always, he was distressed by what he heard as he listened in on each one, searching for his partner's familiar heartbeat...
"I need an amp of epi, now! " a doctor called, as Jim heard the telltale sound of a flatlined heart. He refused to believe that that one might be Blair, and moved on.
"Why don't we get that stitched up for you, okay, Mr. Yardman?" A part of Jim's mind not focused on his search wondered what Yardman had done to himself.
"Time of death... 1:39 pm..." That's not Blair... It can't be Blair.
"Alright! Get him prepped and up to the O.R., stat! Quickly, guys, or we're going to lose him!" Also not Blair!
"You'll be fine, Mr. Benedek—not even a scar, I’ll bet. Now, keep that sling on, and remember what I told you about the concussion. You're not to be alone for the next thirty-six hours, at least..."
Finally, Jim heard a voice that calmed his racing heart.
"Man," Blair was saying, slightly groggy and a little weak. "I can't even go to a lecture without something happening. Wonder what that says about my karma, huh?"
Jim smiled to himself, not noticing the curious look Dr. Sacks was giving him. He didn't care. Blair sounded like he was going to be fine. Thank God!
The detective was settling in for what could be a long wait when the man on Dr. Sacks's other side— MacKensie, he reminded himself—rose to his feet, an almost joyful smile on his face as a man with a bulky sling and splint on his left arm, a large bandage on his forehead, and a shirt that rivalled some of Blair's for colourful stepped into the waiting area, attended by a petite young nurse whose name Jim could not remember to save his life.
"Benedek!" MacKensie exclaimed, walking toward his friend. "You're all right!"
The other man smiled indulgently, and looked down at the nurse beside him with what could only be described as lust. "Yeah, I tried to get them to keep me overnight, but Sara here disagreed with me." His lecherous smile was neon. "She said I couldn't be alone, and—while you're a great guy and all, Jon-boy—I think I'd prefer her company to yours."
Sara noticed Jim for the first time, and stepped forward. "Detective Ellison? Do you know Benny, too?"
Jim smiled wryly at the besotted look on the young woman's face. Benny, huh? "No, Sara. I'm waiting for word on my partner." He flashed his best grin, which obviously couldn't hold a candle to Benny's, judging by her reaction. "Can you find out how he's doing for me?"
"Blair?" she asked quietly, a hint of worry in her voice. There was also a shine of desire in her eyes.
"He was brought in with Mr. Benedek," Dr. Sacks offered, her mouth trying valiantly not to betray her by smiling.
Jim and Dr. Sacks were caught up enough in the young girl's mercurial fancies that they didn't notice the puzzled look that crossed Benedek's face. Jonathan—always attuned to his friend, after more than a decade of partnership—did, however.
"Is anything wrong, Benedek?" he asked in concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"What?" Benedek asked fuzzily, before snapping back to the present. "Oh, yeah Jack, I'm fine." He shook his head in confusion. "Just... That kid looked familiar for some reason. And I almost recognize the name..."
Jonathan nodded, watching the young nurse as she headed back to the ER to check on Dr. Sacks's student. "Well, why don't I take you back to the hotel, and you can think about it, all right?" he asked his friend. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he turned to Dr. Sacks and Mr. Ellison. "Professor, Mr. Ellison, I think I'll take my friend back to the hotel so that he can get some rest." Sacks and her companion both nodded, as Jonathan shook their hands once again.
"I really am very sorry, Mr. Benedek," Dr. Sacks offered. "I hope this little accident doesn't make you lose faith in us here in Cascade."
"Oh, no way, Dr. Sacks," Benedek assured her. "This sort of thing just happens to Jonathan most of the time—kinda neat to turn the tables every once in a while, you know?"
Sacks looked puzzled for a moment, and Jonathan used that time to make their goodbyes and head for the door, his strange partner in tow.
Out of habit, Jim listened to them bickering as they headed for the parking lot.
"Benedek! Why must you say things like that? Dr. Sacks is a respected anthropologist, and she is the main reason I was asked to give these lectures here! If she thought, for one minute—"
"Hey, relax, Jon-boy! I was just stating the obvious!"
"Yes, well. You're idea of 'obvious' is not always in the same reality as others..."
Jim snorted as MacKensie's car started up and drove away. They sound a little too much like me and Sandburg, he thought to himself. I wonder if—
"Detective?"
Jim shook himself mentally, and looked up at Sara as she walked back into the waiting area. The man behind her looked even younger than Blair, but his nametag proclaimed him to be Dr. Wilson.
"Doctor," Jim asked, shaking the other man's hand on automatic. "How is he?"
"Blair's going to be just fine, Detective," Wilson assured him. "He's got a pretty good concussion, though, so I'd like to keep him overnight— if you could convince him to do it."
Jim joined in on the doctor's laughter. "I'll see what I can do, Doc," he promised. "Just lead me to him."
Dr. Sacks touched him lightly on the shoulder. “I should get back to the university and let the dean know we’ll be needing a new lecture hall.” She sighed long-sufferingly, but the wry smile on her face said she’d dealt with enough in her life that this was nothing.
“Yeah, sure, Dr. Sacks,” he said, shaking her hand prefunctorily. “Thanks.”
And then he was off to rein in his partner.
* * *
"He needed some stitches to his scalp and neck, but it’s mostly just bruising," Wilson was explaining as they wound their way through the numerous, overfull ER bays. "He was apparently looking to the side when the wall fell, so his face looks worse than it is. Once he goes home, I'd like someone to stay with him for the first day or so. Concussions can be tricky."
Jim murmured his understanding, much more intent on seeing his partner than he was on hearing the doctor speak. Wilson seemed to recognize this and broke off his speech, gesturing toward a curtained-off cubicle.
"Good luck in convincing him to stay, Detective," the doctor said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "He seemed pretty insistent that we let him leave."
Jim grinned. "He always is."
True to the detective's thoughts, the moment Jim walked into the small cubicle, Blair looked up, heedless of the bandage that graced his left temple, and scowled.
"No."
Jim smiled in response. "'No,' what?"
"No, I'm not staying here overnight."
"Okay."
Blair had opened his mouth to continue the argument, and snapped it shut in consternation as the fight failed to materialize. "What do you mean 'okay'?"
"I mean okay," the detective said, still smiling deceptively. "If you don't want to stay here tonight, I'll take you home. But I've got a stakeout tonight, if you'll remember, and you can't be alone." His smile sweetened. "I'm sure I could get Miss Welles to stay with you. She is a doctor, after all, and—"
Blair glared at his partner. Jim knew how much Cassie Welles, the new and entirely too eager head of forensics, had been getting on the younger man's nerves lately, ever since the case with the Anthropology department, when she made the mistake of trying to put Blair in the middle of her powerplay with Jim. This was dirty pool.
"Unfair, Jim," he announced shortly.
Jim shrugged his innocence. "I'm sorry, man. Simon's going to be on that stakeout with me, and you know Brown and Rafe have lives other than watching your butt."
Blair thought about it for a moment. "I could ask Joel."
Jim shook his head. "Out of town. Left yesterday, as a matter of fact."
The young anthropologist could tell his partner was laughing at him now, and figured he might as well give in while he was still relatively unscathed.
"Fine. I'll stay here." He glared again, looking like a recalcitrant two-year-old. "I won't like it, but I'll stay."
Jim turned to Dr. Wilson with a nod. "Okay, now that that's settled, I have to call Simon, and tell him you'll be a little late with the paperwork on Cabot."
Blair snorted angrily, as his partner left, and grumbled, at the low end of Sentinel hearing, "You'll pay for this, Big Guy."
* * *
Jim didn't doubt that the whispered threat would eventually materialize, but he told himself he was doing this for Blair's own good. The doctor, while relaxed enough about Blair's prognosis, obviously felt the need to keep the kid overnight, and Jim wasn't about to endanger his partner's well-being because Blair had a thing against hospitals in general.
Ellison wasn't planning on leaving before Blair was safely settled in his room, but he did have to call Simon. The captain had ordered his detective to let him know as soon as Blair's condition had been determined. Much as Simon was loath to admit it, he really cared for the bundle of energy who had become the darling of the Major Crimes Unit.
"Major Crimes."
"Hey, Rhonda," Jim said quietly, mindful of a tired-looking older man trying to find a little rest in a nearby seat in the otherwise empty waiting room. "Can I speak to Simon?"
"Hi, Jim. I'm sorry, he's out on a case right now. He'll have his cellphone with him, if you want to try him that way."
"What kind of case?"
"I'm not sure. He got a call from the University as soon as he got in from lunch."
Jim tried to contain himself as he rang off and fed the payphone another quarter as he dialled Simon's cellphone. The answer was immediate and abrupt.
"Banks."
"Hey, Simon. What's going on?"
"Jim! How's the kid?"
Jim smiled at the concern in his superior's voice. "He'll be fine. They're keeping him overnight to monitor his concussion. Rhonda said you got a call from the University? What's going on?"
"That wall that fell down at the Brickman building had a little present hidden behind it," the captain stated quietly. In the background Jim could hear the sounds of people clearing rubble. "Can you get away from the hospital? I'd like you to take a look at this."
* * *
The lecture hall was a disaster area—and a chaotic one at that. As Jim navigated around the crews of cleanup workers, he caught sight of his captain, as Simon stood supervising the further destruction of the back wall.
"What’ve you got, sir?" Jim asked, striding up the stairs to stand beside Simon.
"Take a look," Simon offered, gesturing to the wall. Jim took a close look, and whistled low.
A skeleton lay twisted in the remains of the structure. Apparently, the wall was a good deal thicker than it looked, and the broken shell of a dead man lay in the space between the brick facades.
As Jim zeroed in on the form, he sighed. "Looks like the guy was shot in the chest. Man, I wonder how long that thing's been there."
"At least eighty years," Dr. Sacks proclaimed from behind the two men. They turned toward her expectantly.
"This part of the Brickman building was begun in 1910, finished in the early twenties. There haven't been any remodeling efforts since then."
"So who do you think it could be?" Jim asked, turning back to the recovery team, who were carefully documenting the scene as they worked to extricate the skeleton.
"Who knows?" she offered, though the nonchalance of her statement was belied by the interested flash in her eyes. "It could have been anyone from one of the construction workers to a wayward student to a homeless person who picked the wrong place to sleep."
She obviously hadn’t heard Jim’s comment about how the man died, and Jim and Simon exchanged an incredulous look.
"Well," Simon offered, as the team before them finally worked the corpse into a body bag. "We'll see what Danny can come up with." He cast a cruel smile to his detective. "You know, Miss Welles might have a few ideas about this one."
"Doesn't she always," Jim threw back coldly. Why Simon took such perverse pleasure in digging the knife deeper, Jim didn't know, but if he never saw Welles in the course of this investigation, he'd count himself lucky.
Still, he'd just about decided he couldn't find anything that the recovery team wouldn't find faster when he focused in on a shiny flash that lay amidst the rubble.
"Hang on, Simon," he murmured quietly, reaching past the team with an apologetic gesture and retrieving the shiny object with an evidence bag.
"Oh, my God," Sacks whispered as she caught sight of the small engraved disk Jim now held up for inspection. "That's... No, that's impossible."
"What is it, Professor?" Banks asked, perhaps a bit sharply. He never was one for drawn-out explanations.
"It looks like a Williamsburg medal," Sacks offered unhelpfully, taking the evidence bag from Jim, treating it with all the care due a major archaeological find.
"Which is?" Simon asked, more impatient still.
"Well, it was an award given to fine scholars in Archaeology at the beginning of the century." She sighed to herself for a moment. “In 1919, the recipient was a young man named Ryland Masden. Very promising archaeologist by all accounts.”
“I’m guessing there’s a mystery there?” Jim said indulgently, when she paused for dramatic effect.”
Sacks nodded, eyes still on the medal. “Yes. Masden supposedly left for an expedition in Burma shortly after recieving the award.”
Jim snorted as the body was trussed up for its trip to the morgue. “Looks like Ryland didn’t get very far.”
* * *
not to be continued