Chapter Text
Jim glided through an unfamiliar dreamscape, trapped in a hallway that elongated and warped oddly around him. Dream or nightmare, what was the difference? At least it wasn't one of those damned blue sentinel vision-dreams. Those were always filled with meaningful metaphors and life or death puzzles that were more frustrating than helpful. Dreams and nightmares held little to worry him in comparison. What was this place? Why was he here? Nothing was familiar. Weren't dreams supposed to be about familiar places or at least familiar feelings? The only thing that felt familiar was his growing fear, like the fear he felt every time Sandburg was in danger. Jim floated past several locked rooms and peered through the small portholes in the doors. Inside each room was a single occupant, generally stretched out on a cot, unmoving. Their physical condition bothered him. Were they dead or alive? He couldn't tell by sight alone and his other senses weren't working. He tried to enhance his hearing to hear their heartbeats, but he couldn't hear anything at all, not even his own footsteps. How long he wandered, he couldn't say. Sometimes the dreamscape faded in and out, sometimes his surroundings were in such sharp relief that he would swear it was all real. He was searching for something--something important--though he wasn't sure just what. The band of fear that surrounded his chest grew tighter and more constricting with each passing moment, though he did his best to ignore it. After all, it was only a dream. Right? His sense of hearing suddenly kicked in with a vengeance and his heart skipped a beat as he heard screams coming from somewhere ahead of him. He knew that voice better than he knew his own, even screaming in agony. Sandburg. Someone was torturing that gentle soul and, dream or not, there was no way in hell he would allow that to continue. He ran toward the source of the screams, cursing under his breath as the corridor stretched and lengthened before him. He ran harder, panting and sweating, never coming nearer his destination. Finally, he stopped and bent over, hands on his knees as he gulped air into his lungs. As simple as that, his surroundings snapped into place around him and he stood in front of his goal--a closed door similar to all the others he'd passed. Sandburg's screams came from the other side of the door, tapering off into low moans that were no less heart wrenching. Jim approached cautiously and peered through the porthole. Sandburg lay strapped to a metal gurney. He was naked from the waist up, his long brown hair was lank and stringy, clinging to his face and neck. His torso jerked and spasmed, as if being jabbed by a cattle prod; each jerk accompanied by short panting breaths and moans. Jim couldn't tell if he was conscious; his eyes were closed and each movement seemed involuntary. Motion from the far corner of the room caught Jim's eye. A man dressed in a white lab coat approached, an hypodermic needle clutched in his right hand. His face was turned away and all Jim could see was the back of his white coat and the filled syringe. Jim yelled and pounded on the door, but all sound cut out, silencing his attempts to draw the man's attention away from Sandburg. The man reached out with his left hand and lightly stroked Sandburg's bare arm, the gesture at once oddly gentle and highly disturbing. As the needle approached Sandburg's arm, Jim's desperation increased. He beat on the door and clawed at it, but felt and heard nothing. He watched helplessly as the needle plunged into vulnerable flesh, loosing the contents of the syringe. Sandburg arched upward, his body straining against the restraints, his face contorted in pain. He suddenly went limp, the straps around his body the only things preventing him from tumbling to the floor. Jim yelled soundlessly, tears he couldn't feel sliding down his face. His hearing engaged just long enough to hear Sandburg's whispered plea. "Jim? Please..."
Jim woke gasping for breath, shuddering as the nightmare continued to hold him in its grip. He sat up on the couch and wiped a trembling hand over his face, unsurprised to find the remnants of tears.
Automatically, he extended his senses, searching for Sandburg, only to immediately reel them in. Sandburg wasn't there. He wouldn't be home for another three long weeks. A familiar aching emptiness filled him and he closed his eyes tightly, fighting against an unexpected wave of longing.
Three sharp raps on the front door startled him; he hadn't sensed anyone approaching. On the other side of the door was perhaps the last person he'd expected to see.
"Naomi?" He glanced behind her and down the hallway to the elevator, but she was alone.
"Hi Jim." Naomi Sandburg tilted her head and smiled up at him. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Of course I am. Come in, come in."
She stepped inside and glanced around the loft, still smiling. "Is Blair home? I'm between flights and I only have a few minutes before I have to go back to the airport. But I couldn't be in Cascade, even this briefly, without seeing my Blair."
Jim frowned. "I thought Blair was with you. He flew down to New Mexico three weeks ago to meet you."
"He did meet me. We spent a wonderful time together at my friend's retreat outside of Taos. I know we were supposed to stay longer, but Blair decided to come home after a week. I drove him into Taos to get the bus to Albuquerque so he could catch a flight home."
His heart stuttered. Jim resolutely pushed the remnants of his nightmare into a back corner of his mind and gestured for Naomi to take a seat at the kitchen table.
"Blair never came home." He carefully folded his hands on the table to disguise the faint tremors that ran through them as a familiar fear twisted in his gut. "Naomi, I need you to tell me what happened, from the beginning."
"Well, Blair told you about my friend inviting us to stay at his retreat in Taos? It's a lovely place. The air is fresh and clean and Blair enjoyed hiking on the mountain trails. It's really too bad that you had to work. I think it would've done you good to get away from all of the negativity you encounter in your job. I'm sure Blair would've been glad to have had you with us."
"I appreciate the thought, Naomi, but it just didn't work out."
"Maybe next time, then."
"You were saying?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Oh. Yes. I picked Blair up at the airport in Albuquerque three weeks ago and we drove to Taos together. Shallanerry, my friend Howie's place, is up in the mountains. It's so beautiful, Jim."
He stopped her before she could rhapsodize about it again. "I thought the two of you were planning to stay six weeks? What happened?"
Naomi shrugged. "After a week, I could see that Blair was getting restless. He wouldn't say anything, but I can recognize the signs. I finally got him to admit that he'd only agreed to take the trip with me because he had some personal things he wanted to work out." The look she sent his way was shrewd.
Jim smiled politely and gestured for her to continue.
"Blair told me that he'd gotten clear on things and he felt like he needed to go home. I tried to talk him into staying, of course. He seemed so tired when he first arrived and he was looking so much better. But once he made up his mind, there was no stopping him. You know how he can be."
Jim nodded. Sandburg being stubborn was one of the constants of his universe. "Why'd he take a bus?"
"He didn't want me to drive back from Albuquerque all by myself. He said he could just as easily take the bus, so I didn't argue with him."
"Naomi," he said and paused. Why wasn't she concerned that Blair hadn't arrived home? "Blair hasn't been back since he left for Albuquerque three weeks ago. Did he say anything to you to make you think that he might not be coming straight back to Cascade?"
"No. When I dropped him at the bus station, I was under the impression that he was planning on going directly to the airport and getting a flight here." She smiled sunnily. "But that doesn't really mean anything. You weren't expecting him for another five weeks. I know my son, Jim. He probably decided to do a little traveling on his own for awhile. He used to do that all the time."
Though she didn't say it, the rest of the sentence hung in the air between them--before he met you--and Jim felt it's condemnation of their friendship, intended or not. It wasn't that Sandburg might have gone off on his own for a bit that worried him. What bothered him was that he couldn't be one hundred percent sure that she wasn't right. Before Alex had come between them, Jim had always felt so in sync with Sandburg that he thought he could predict, at least to a point, just what the kid might decide to do in any situation. Was the rift between them larger than he'd been prepared to admit?
"Jim?"
He jerked his head up and stared at her in surprise, so lost in his thoughts that he'd actually forgotten for a moment that she was there. "Sorry, Naomi. Guess I was wool-gathering."
Her voice was gentle. "You don't need to be concerned about Blair. He'll be back when he's ready. I know he wouldn't want to worry you and I know that he plans to come home. For whatever his reasons, he does consider this his home."
Jim swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and nodded. "All right then."
A car horn honked from the street below and Naomi rose to her feet. "That's probably my taxi. I'm sorry I can't stay longer, Jim, but I need to get back to the airport. I'm catching a flight to Toronto." She shrugged. "I guess I got a little restless, too. Some friends in Canada called and asked me to visit them for awhile."
He opened the door for her and she pulled him into a quick hug before heading for the elevator. As the doors slid shut, she smiled and waved. He couldn't help but return her smile. Naomi Sandburg was certainly one of a kind.
But, when he closed the door and turned to view his empty home once again, the smile slipped from his face. Naomi might be convinced that her son was just off traveling around and that he'd be home soon, but her story made Jim uneasy. Maybe it was the leftover residue from his nightmare, but that cold knot of fear was growing in his belly.
Where the hell was Sandburg?