Any grammatical, medical, military procedure errors are entirely my own. Follows straight on after Collision Course…
Getting there. Part 1
Captain Simon Banks sighed as he put the phone down. More figures to wrestle with, more questions about numbers. Got to hit those arrest targets. Sheesh. Always someone on his back about something. He was a policeman not a politician, but you had to know how to play the game. He still had friends and a few tricks up his sleeve. Reluctantly, he picked up the phone again.
“Rhonda, could you bring me this months arrest figures, please?”
While he waited, he carried on searching through the database for a particular name, or a case file. So far, nothing beeped back at him.
There was a light knock at the door.
“Thanks, Rhonda,” he said, not looking up.
“Didn't think I looked that good, sir.” came Jim's voice.
“Jim! I wasn't expecting to see you.”
“I gathered that. I can go if this is a bad time...” and he turned to go.
Simon quickly said “No. You look…ah… better.”
“Thanks, Simon.”
“I could put you back on the streets now, and you can just scare the bad guys away!”
“Oh ha ha, sir.”
But Simon was right, the bruising and scrape down his face together with the stitches made him look really sinister. Babies would cry and little old ladies cross the road…
“Sit down, Jim, please” he had noticed Jim's discomfort when he turned to go. Damn military bravado was stopping him from sitting down like anyone else. He watched as Jim carefully sat down at last, he looked tired.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Something I need to know?”
“Fine, sir. I'm taking some time off like the doc said. In fact he won't sign me back on duty until I talk to someone about what happened out there. I came in to file my report on the incident, the discharge of firearms and so on.”
“Okay. That's good...paperwork needs to be done. You made an appointment with the department's counsellor?”
“On my ‘to do' list, although I don't really want to talk to them. But I can't lay everything on Sandburg despite what I said this morning.” Jim rambled.
“Jim, what's going on? There's more here than your concussion isn't there?” Simon asked.
“I need to go to Georgia in the next couple of days, so if I could just tidy up a few ongoing files while I'm here…”
“Why what's in Georgia ? Detective are you investigating a case in secret? Is that it? For god's sake you're on sick leave!” exploded Simon angrily.
“No, sir. This is something else that's cropped up”
“Does this have anything to do with Krasky?”
“What? “ Jim looked shocked.
“Krasky died first, no chance. That's what you said.”
“When?”
“Last week- at the hospital when you first came round.”
“Don't remember.”
“Is it something to do with Sandburg?”
“No.”
“Well, what then?”
“It's me. ” And Jim got up stiffly and wandered over to the big window and stared out, hands linked behind his back at parade rest. Simon waited for the detective to come round to whatever it was he was going to say. He never volunteered information about himself. And, he realised, Jim had never answered his question about Krasky…
“You know I was in the army…” Jim began tentatively.
“Yes.”
“All sorts of stuff …then Peru ”
“Yes” this is worse than getting blood from a stone Simon thought. Tell me something I don't know.
“Ah, I've been having a few… problems since I got hit on the head last week.”
“Well, that's understandable.” replied Simon soothingly, but still wandering about in the dark.
“Simon, I can't go back on the streets yet. I don't know what I might do.” said Jim patiently.
“Do?”
“My senses are okay, it's me that's a little off,”
Simon waited.
“I'm ... remembering … stuff… events from Peru and maybe other ops. I need to get my head sorted out before I trust myself again. I've already scared the doc and Blair, and I don't like it. So I'm going to sort this thing out, and we never talk about this again.”
“Okay.”
“That's it? Okay?” said Jim.
“Yes. Don't look so surprised. I wasn't sure, but I've been in this job a while, and I've seen similar things. Sooner or later, people come to the boil. Sometimes the kettle switches itself off like it's supposed to and occasionally the kettle keeps on boiling.”
Jim stared at him.
Simon continued, waving his unlit cigar for emphasis,
“I'm sorry- I'm not sure what I said just there but I'm sure the department counsellor will know about flashbacks and dealing with it. And if Sandburg is helping as well then you're luckier than most people I'd say. But if you ever do want to talk to me any time, you know where I am, right?”
“I'm worried about losing my job, Simon.”
“I'm sure it'll be ok, once you've been cleared by your doctor and the counselor. Trust me, it's not the first time Cascade PD has come across this situation. It's just that nobody mentions it. “
“Thanks, Simon I appreciate that. I'll be getting on then.” And Jim got up and went to the door.
“Fill me in on the details when you have them” said Simon
“Will do, sir.”
Rhonda came in with his paperwork after Jim had left, but Captain Banks ignored it for the moment typing quickly at his computer.
Within a few moments he had found the News article- the one with that haunting picture of Jim on the cover that been part of the whole Switchman thing …
“On the 14 th March 1989 an Army Ranger unit was lost the Peruvian jungle. The eight man unit were all presumed dead, until satellite images picked up only 7 graves near the remains of the helicopter. Captain James Ellison not only survived the crash but had continued to work with the local tribes for an extraordinary 18 months before being extracted by the Army. The bodies of the crew were returned to the States, and reburied with honour at Fort Benning , Georgia , GA.“ Simon read the list of the names…
Sarris
Brown
Evans
Krasky
Clements
Brodinsky
Colman
He picked up the phone. “Sandburg, Simon here. What's all this about Georgia ? Is Jim going to be ok…?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel Taggart parked neatly outside Prospect Place and looked at his passenger. Jim hadn't moved. “Jim, we're here.”
“Oh, thanks.” and he pushed at the door.
“You're ok, right?”
Jim paused. “I've been better” Jim mumbled as he got out and limped toward the lobby doorway.
He watched Joel drive off, and raised his hand in farewell. Blair would be back from campus soon, and Jim had a lot to tell him. Jim had had a busy day. Remembering they were short of some foodstuffs, he turned round and headed for the corner store.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair opened the door and was surprised not to smell dinner or see Jim in front of the TV. He put his rucksack in his room. In the kitchen there was a bag partially full of food, and a six pack of beer with a couple missing sat on the counter top.
“Jim? Are you here?” Blair was getting anxious, Jim should have heard him.
He checked the balcony, the bathroom, fire escape, nope. Maybe he was asleep. He went up the steps to Jim's room. An Army foot locker was open on the floor, photos, letters and other items rested on the lid and on the bed. Two beer bottles sat on the bedside table, one empty, one half full. Jim sat on the edge of the bed, eyes half closed, a handgun in one hand, a cleaning cloth in the other. A faint smell of oil hung in the air.
Blair swallowed hard. Something was very wrong here, what had he zoned on?
“Jim?” he said again softly trying not to startle him as he stepped closer.
“That's some shine you got going there” he said slightly louder. Great conversation, Blair.
“Huh? Blair!” slurred Jim at last, gazing fuzzily at him.
Oh, boy ' thought Blair plastered, with a gun “What's up?”
“I's thinking. Stuff. Whole lotta stuff in the box. My box.” Jim said expansively gesturing with the gun.
“You want to tell me about it, Jim?”
“Buddies.” said Jim
“You mean us…or…?”
“Just photos an' letters. All for what?” Jim sighed.
“Did you take your medication this morning, Jim? Can you remember?”
“Umm, pro'lly. Seen Simon, seen counsellor, Joel gimme a lift. Seen everybody, man.”
“Ok, you've had a busy day, partner.”
“Yeah.”
“That loaded?” asked Blair nodding at the gun.
“This?” said Jim as he peered at it. “Nope, jus' cleaning it. Gotta look after stuff”
“Quite right. Jim, listen to me, please put the gun down anyway.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
“'kay.” and Jim leant forward and with exaggerated care put it back in the foot locker. He was still holding the cloth.
“Cloth?”
“Oh.” and that went in the locker too.
“Jim, how many beers have you had. Did you buy it round the corner?”
“Yeah, roun' corner. Jus' a few I think. Weird.” he smiled and then slowly fell backwards on the bed eyes closed.
“Jim! Talk to me. What's weird?” asked Blair frantically.
“Tired, so tire…” mumbled Jim.
Startled, Blair checked him over; he was breathing... just passed right out after one and a half small beers. He had no way of knowing if he needed to call an ambulance or just let him sleep it off.
His Sentinel metabolism might mean that whatever this was would knock him for six, but would be processed quickly so he could be back on ‘duty' soon. Or… Blair didn't want to think about other possibilities right now. He undid Jim's shoes and eased his legs up onto the bed, and covered him with the rest of the duvet. “I don't do this for just anybody, Jim.” he muttered to himself.
He picked up the photos and letters and put them back in the locker, closed the lid, and slid it under the bed again. He didn't want Jim waking up forgetting it was there and taking a header down the stairs. Finally he grabbed the beer bottles and made his way back down stairs.
Back in the kitchen, Blair unpacked the food, and while the pasta was coming to the boil he peered at the beer label. Was this the usual stuff Jim bought? Or was it an ‘improved' blend? Different brewery? There were lots of possibilities. He'd have to check it out.
Damn, but he really wanted to talk to Jim about his day, seeing Simon; the counsellor- was that what had tipped him into buying the beer? Was looking at his past that bad? Well, yeah stupid, that's why he's in this mess in the first place, Blair; he berated himself angrily as he added the sauce and put the result on a plate.
After he had eaten, he went upstairs to check on Jim. Still conked out, he hadn't moved a muscle. He wasn't seeing a panther so everything must be ok. He went back downstairs and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for the morning, or whenever Jim surfaced. He might want it, he might not.
Jim liked a few beers on occasion, but he didn't overdo it as a rule, especially since his senses had come back on line. But for one small beer to make him drunk and pass out was worrying. He got a pad and pen and made a list of questions and reached for the phone directory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim woke up with a start, he couldn't move, he felt like he was glued to the bed. What the? Ok what had happened? He felt like he'd slept for days. He rolled over and realised he was still in his clothes. His bruises and stitches still ached. He felt very thirsty and hungry.
Daylight.
Day time? Already? What time was it for Christ's sake?
He lay there trying to piece together what he'd been doing. He remembered getting the groceries, and then coming home. He came upstairs to change into looser clothes as his hip and leg were sore. His watch had fallen on the floor and when he'd painfully knelt down to get it he'd spotted the foot locker under the bed.
What next? A beer or two would help wouldn't it? Opening the locker, that is, besides if they were going to Benning he needed some names and contacts. He had some phoning to do didn't he?
Opening the box, fortified with the beers at his side, he'd been unprepared for the smell and the touch of the photos, the cloth badges, beret, and all the other stuff in there. Jim was buffeted by memories, good and bad. It took him back and he couldn't stop it. Like a runaway train screaming through a long dark tunnel he went with it.
There was a voice talking to him, a conversation. Then, nothing. Sayonara Jim.
He closed his eyes and lay quietly. Sandburg was up and about, on the phone. He tuned it out to be polite. No use just lying here forever. Move out soldier. “Yeah, yeah.” he grumbled at himself as he got up. He spotted the water and pills Blair had left. He greedily drank the water and decided he didn't feel bad enough for any Tylenol. He undressed to his boxers before grabbing his robe. He tied it up as he went down the stairs. He yawned. A shower would be good right now.
Blair was pacing up and down, phone to his ear, other hand waving articulately as he spoke.
“No, I don't think I'm being at all unreasonable. Yes, you should issue a recall notice at once. “ he listened for a while.
“Of course I'm not making it up. Talk to the Environmental health, the standards people. They've been looking into complaints for the past three weeks. Then there's the local hospital,” a pause- he glared at the phone.
“Yeah, the same to you pal.” he tossed the phone onto the table and stood hands on hips frustrated. Jim watched, wondering what was going on.
“What's up?” asked Jim. Blair whirled round, a smile on his face.
“Well you are apparently. You want a coffee? Feeling ok?”
“I feel… upright. A hot shower, then breakfast” replied Jim yawning again.
“Um Jim, do you have any idea what time it is? I've had lunch!”
“What!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later as Jim sat with his coffee and ate a very late breakfast/lunch, he sensed Blair watching him again. He knew he should tell him what had happened when he was looking at his Army stuff.
“About yesterday…” he began as Blair said at the same moment,
“About that beer…” they laughed. Blair gestured to Jim to say ‘you first.'
“I saw Simon, told him physically I'm healing fine, but that we're going to go to Fort Benning . And that I hoped it would help me resolve some of these …issues. Then I can get back to Major Crimes.”
“Yes, I got a call from him. He's concerned for you.”
“I went and cleared some paperwork on my desk. I managed to get an appointment with the counsellor at the PD. I know I said I didn't want to talk to anybody, that you and I… and then I thought it was unfair to dump it all on you. Simon rightly pointed out that the PD sees similar cases. It'd be in the system somewhere.”
“Jim, that's ok. I'm just glad you're talking at all. You know I'm here whenever you want.”
“I didn't want to feel like I was a freaky mad cop. I need to get over this, so I can go back to doing what I want to be doing, should be doing. Simon offered to help too.”
“What did you talk about? Or is that why you bought the beer? Not your usual stuff by the way.” commented Blair.
“Um, we went through me chasing the perp and getting hit by the car. He had documentation from the hospital. I told him about the blood and the oil…”
“Okay. Did it help?”
“Each time I think about it or say it- it doesn't sound quite so bizarre. It's an imprinted memory. Like you said- smell and sound can be tightly meshed with memory. It's powerful stuff. I just didn't know it was going to come back and slap me in the face so hard. It still is. I think maybe it always will.”
“We just have to let it out of the box a piece at a time, so it's not so painful then!”
“Hmm.”
“What happened with the beer and the locker, man? The gun in your hand-you had me going there for a moment.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes that. ”
“I guess because we'd been talking about the Army and things it was on my mind anyway. And I knew I needed to look for some information for Fort Benning . I drank the beer and walked around thinking about it all for a while. Then I opened the locker.” Jim stopped.
“And?” prompted Blair.
“I got run over by a train.”
“Pardon?”
“I don't know how else to describe it. I opened the locker and, God, it was weird. I was back in the barracks, I was in a jungle. I was playing cards with everyone I ever knew. I was everywhere and nowhere. It sucked me in. I could feel it pulling. I didn't want to; it was like I had no choice! It was good and bad. Shove it back in the box! I can't get the lid back on! Never go back!”
“Jim? It's alright. Just sit down for a minute.”
Jim was brought back to the loft by his Guide's calming voice and the smell of coffee.
“I hate this, Chief!” he said angrily as he sat back down, unaware he'd got up and started pacing.
“We'll deal with it, alright?”
“Tell me about the beer.” asked Jim suddenly
“It's under control. Just don't buy that brand again- ever. Why did you pick it in the first place?”
“Would you believe me if I said, it was on special offer?”
“Well, bargain hunting almost put you in a coma, man”
“What!”
“It was bad beer. It had been contaminated at the bottling plant. The company were a little slow issuing a recall notice.”
“Why? I thought they tested. “
“They do, it's just that this time a severely PO 'd employee changed the results hoping to get back at the company. Maybe he even tampered with the stuff in the first place. Don't know what with. It's under investigation.”
“Ouch.”
“Yes.”
“So it's not just me, then?”
“No, I phoned the ER, checked with the brewery. I asked Simon to do some background checks for me.”
“Sounds like you did all the right things, Sandburg. I'm impressed, thanks.”
“Most people seemed to shut down after a few more beers than you and then they'd be like zombies for the next day.”
“Anybody really hurt themselves?”
“A few accidents driving to work, falling asleep at work…so far no one has died. But…”
“Right. I guess that's why you were hassling them on the phone.”
“Turns out this isn't the first time it's happened, so they might get shut down. It's been taken over by the authorities now. Your beer bottles are evidence, man! The men in suits have already been for them.”
“Guess I'll have to give a statement. Great.”
“Well we were lucky this time. You do realise that we helped uncover a crime and partially solved it without even trying. See it's not just me that's a trouble magnet!”
“You did the spade work, remember. I was counting sheep.”
“Yes but, I learned it from you in the first place.”
“Yeah. So you did, Darwin .”
When the phone rang Jim reached round and picked it up. He looked at Blair after the first question. After a few minutes he put the phone down.
“That was the FBI; they're coming over to take my statement- about the beer. Turns out they are curious as to why I was affected so badly. They're still running tests on the beer to see if it's different from the other contaminated batches. It might be a bigger problem than they thought.”
“Told you that they'd already been and picked the beer up. I told them you must have reacted badly to it. They've phoned twice this morning wanting to know if you were ok and when could you talk to them. I told them it wasn't what you normally bought, which is why I suspicious about the beer and not something else. Taking your meds as well won't have helped.”