Chapter Three – Lost in Imagination

The first step into the Dream World is to lose face with reality, a loss that is so profound, you often enter unaware. It keeps you off balance until you are forever trapped within its clutches. For now, however the first step is the only warning you are permitted. If you catch it fast enough you might escape but that is a rare occurrence. A trap has been sprung and for now, there is no release.

~*~*~*~

It had been a tough fight but Simon had managed it. The DA and the entire courtroom was somewhat surprised when the charges had been read but no one had actually fought his request for bail. It had been high and his house, mortgaged already to the hilt was barely enough to cover it but he did manage to gather together the funds.

Jim had been released into Simon's custody. Simon didn't care that his entire staff would be up in arms over it, he knew that he had to get Jim some help. His being in a jail cell wouldn't be the help he needed. Not to mention the fact that only Jim would be able to track his Guide down. The strange bond they shared would be enough hopefully to reunite the two men and help them overcome whatever was happening between them.

Simon cursed the man who had written 'The best laid plans'.

Jim refused to cooperate. He hadn’t wanted to go back to the loft. He said it wasn’t home any more. When Banks had told him that Blair had disappeared, he didn't seem to care, kept saying it was probably for the best.

Even whenSimon when told Jim that all of Blair's belongings were still in the loft and the keys had been left in the basket by the door, Jim had taken it with the same stoicism that had gotten him through the bail hearing. His face was devoid of emotion. Nothing fazed him any more. He had informed Simon that his senses were gone, everything was normal. That hadn’t even seemed to bother him. He had listened politely as Simon had filled him in on the tracking of Sandburg but he really didn’t seem to care.

Simon knew that wasn’t true. He was well aware of exactly how much the man was hurting. For nearly two hours he had sat in that holding cell as Jim had fought the tears and anguish. He had seen the eyes that locked briefly on his before turning away to hide the guilt and hurt. There really was no anger left in him, only a bone deep weariness that scared Simon almost as much as the rage. But the difference now was more disturbing, less natural. It was almost as if he had given up all hope.

They were still no closer to finding answers. The questions kept piling up, swamping the Major Crimes group who were trying to help their favorite anthropologist/observer and their fellow detective. It hadn’t been that easy to convince the hardened detectives that Jim was as much a victim as Blair was, just in a different way.

When they had heard that Jim had been released every single one of them had stormed Banks’ office to get reasons why it had been Simon who had bailed him out. The anger that permeated the small office was a solid thing. Everyone was speaking at once, trying to be heard over everyone else. The noise level continued to grow until finally, Simon bellowed for silence.

Jim was in the office with him, sitting in a corner. He didn’t flinch nor did he respond in any other manner as his colleagues continued to hurl accusations at him. His eyes remained fixed on the table, hands folded in his lap.

“Haven’t you got anything to say in your own defence, Ellison.” Graf demanded. He was the only voice that spoke once Simon had silenced the room. He was the only one who wasn’t aware of the dangers of speaking when not spoken to.

“Listen up people…” Simon had explained as best he could that Jim was not at fault. He had told them he believed that Jim was being drugged, although they’d had tests done, nothing had been found. There had been no logical explanation for any of the events in the last several weeks. From the first time Ellison had lost his temper to the point where he had seemed to be almost like his old ‘pre-Blair’ self was still a puzzle.

“Simon, we understand what you’re saying but Taggart and I both saw first hand what Jim did to Blair. We need to hear from Jim what happened,” Brown demanded.

All eyes turned to the despondent former detective who couldn’t or wouldn’t meet the others' eyes. He didn’t say a word and in fact he didn’t indicate that he’d even heard the request.

Simon sighed in frustration. So much for garnering assistance from the ornery man. “Ellison!”

The sharp sound of his voice brought Jim’s head up to focus on Simon.

“Answer the man, Ellison. If we are going to figure this thing out, you have to help us."

“What for, Simon. It is better this way. I… I don’t know… I just…” he stopped and refocused on the table again but the look on his face and the confused tone in his voice convinced the others that he indeed wasn’t aware of his actions and therefore wasn’t totally responsible.

When the others realized that Simon was right they had given him their support and dropped almost everything to give their full attention to Jim and Blair’s case. They knew both men well enough to grasp the concept that neither would do such an atrocity of their own free will. Jim’s current state of depression was draining on all the remaining members of the team and on top of waiting to hear word on Rafe, it all just seemed to add to the sense of incredible loss that permeated the entire department.

For their continued support, Simon was beyond relieved. He still didn’t understand everything himself, and he feared greatly that not only had he lost Blair but that he would soon lose Jim as well if something wasn’t found soon.

Everyday Simon saw the effects of what Jim had done to his Guide and best friend growing worse and worse, almost to the point where he feared Jim might take his own life.

He’d had to suspend Jim until after the trial but he refused to leave him alone at the house, since it was very likely that Simon’s fears would be realized. So his only solution was to bring Jim into work everyday and make him go through old case files to determine who might be behind everything that was happening.

~*~*~*~

Jim sat, his mind focused inwards, trying to remember when his life had gotten so mixed up. He didn’t even know where he was. Blindly he had been following his Captain, doing what he was told but there was no emotion there. Everything had left him when Blair had run. He didn’t blame Blair, he couldn’t. His only memory of the last few weeks was of the violent physical assault he had done to his best friend.

He didn’t understand why or how he could have done something like that. Especially to Blair. It had only been a few months since Blair’s near death at Alex Barnes’ hands and they had worked so hard to get beyond that. He had vowed never ever to hurt Blair in any way and yet he had… and in the worst way possible.

He hated himself. That was the only emotion he had left. It drained him of energy for anything else, including the desire to kill himself. He had briefly thought about that but he needed to suffer, to feel the guilt of what he had done. He prayed everyday that Blair was safe but also that he wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t handle it if he did this to Blair again.

He lifted his head as Simon sat down next to him. For a long moment he was confused as to where they were but it didn’t matter so he merely continued to stare at Simon while the police Captain spoke. The words barely registered. Megan was fine and Rafe was in a coma. He knew them, didn’t he? Oh well, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more. Nothing but existing in his self-proclaimed prison of suffering and guilt.

~*~*~*~

Night fell.

Silence.

Empty.

A feeling of helplessness had begun to consume the entire group of Major Crimes. Their close knit little family had been viciously and violently ripped apart for no discernible reason. Two very good detectives lay in the hospital, not fighting for their lives but rather fighting for the life they had lost.

It was still undetermined whether Rafe would ever wake up let alone be able to return to work. Megan had a severe concussion and was missing parts of her memory, and she would need rehab to regain the use of her arm fully.

Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, the best team Major Crimes had were gone, whether permanently or not no longer mattered. Blair had vanished from the face of the earth. A few weeks after he had left, Joel and Henri had managed to find his things stored at a friend’s place but no one had yet been able to locate the observer.

Jim himself was nothing more than a mere shadow of himself. He barely functioned. Without Simon’s constant attention, there was no knowing what the man would do. He only ate when told, he slept when forced to and he didn’t seem to have any energy to care about anything at all any more.

Simon hooked his hands behind his head as he continued to contemplate the events of the last few weeks. He still had no clue as to what was going on. He couldn’t figure out when he had lost control but he needed to regain it before he lost anyone else.

With a deep sigh he rolled over and extinguished the bedside lamp. It would be hours still before he found refuge in the peacefulness of dreams.

~*~*~*~

Jim was having trouble understanding what he had done or even why he had done it. He remembered going to Sandburg’s office, he remembered beating him but he couldn’t or wouldn’t give voice to any reasoning. He claimed he didn’t know why he had done what he had done. The fact that he had done it was all the proof he needed to convict himself he was guilty and he was playing the martyr. He refused to help look for Blair claiming that the kid was safer away from him where he couldn’t be hurt again.

The truth was, Jim remembered his intense feelings of hatred and anger towards the younger man. Feelings he knew weren’t right but had pushed all other emotions away. He couldn’t explain that to himself so how could they, Simon and the others, expect him to explain it to them.

He couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the loft, knowing it would be devoid of life and therefore no longer home. The only solution for Jim not going home and since Simon seemed unwilling to leave him on his own was for Jim to go home with his Captain. Daryl was with his mother so the spare room was available and ready.

Jim hadn’t argued, choosing rather to shuffle behind Simon. He got in the car when told to and out again at the other end. Once ensconced in his new room he lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands folded behind his head. He lay like that for hours, until Simon called him for supper.

He slept very little at night now, realizing that Blair’s heartbeat had been one of the most comforting, relaxing sounds in his life and now it was gone. The missing heartbeat prevented him from sleeping as he would wake every couple of hours from the silence and without his Sentinel sense of hearing he couldn’t focus on Simon’s as a replacement.

He desperately wished he could go back in time and change whatever had happened to make him turn on the most beloved person in his life but without knowing what it was he needed to change he just couldn’t do it.

Now he sat at the conference table in Simon’s office meandering his way through piles of old case files, he wondered what the point was. Blair was gone, he had nothing left to live for so why bother. He appreciated what his friends were trying to do but silently he begged them to just let it go.

Mechanically he grabbed for another file.

~*~*~*~

The streets were cold. Winds blew and there was no shelter. The thin shirt wrapped around his shivering frame did nothing to ward off the increasingly frigid weather. His jacket was gone and so was the sweater he’d found. He carried a worn backpack but it was empty.

His blue eyes were dull, lifeless. His hair was cropped very short as if by some blunt knife blade. He never spoke and many of the other street folk knew to leave him alone. No one knew who he was and no one cared. He’d shown up, taken over a tiny unused portion of an alley that no one else had wanted. He stayed there, except to search the garbage cans for scraps. Very infrequently he would sit on the side walk and just watch. Sometime people would throw him money but he seemed confused as to what to do with it.

Today he merely wandered. Absently going down one street and the next, having no destination in mind. He walked for hours some days. He rarely ate and his frame was emaciated but he didn’t do anything about it. It almost seemed as if he had lost all will to live and was merely waiting to be taken from this life and released from whatever silent suffering he was going through.

He ended up in front of a coffee shop. From inside came the mouthwatering smell of fresh roasting coffee and somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized it. His stomach grumbled in anticipation. His hand slipped into his pocket and he found some change. Probably left over from something someone had tossed to him the day before. He didn’t know why he had picked it up but he was glad now that he had. With the aromatic scent enticing him, he entered the shop and placed the few coins on the counter. He was oblivious to the dirty looks he received since he never looked up.

“Can I get you something, sir?” The counter girl asked with a touch of disgust.

The man didn’t answer. He merely pointed at the coffee pot. He watched covertly as she poured him a large cup to go and took his money. She didn’t return change and he didn’t wait. He took the cup and exited the shop, much to the relief of the other customers.

He walked back to his alley where he curled up with his cup, taking tiny sips as if to make it last longer. When it was finished, he put the cup down carefully and let himself drift off to sleep, hoping once more it would be the final rest.

~*~*~*~

Rafe felt himself drifting. He could hear voices but they were too far away for him to understand them. There was a light surrounding him but his vision was very blurred and he could make out little detail.

{Am I dead?} he called to any one who was there to listen. There were no answers save for the gently lapping of water, the watery world in which he drifted. {Any one out there?}

Again there was no answer. The surface he lay on turned slightly, gently. He let the sensation of the warm sun above him ease the chill from his body. His eyes drifted closed and he let sleep overcome him.

~*~*~*~

Brown stared through the window into the dimmed hospital room. He could see the faint outline of his partner and best friend. The figure was too still, too silent. He missed the gentle smile and the crazy sense of humor. He missed having his partner at his side. He had some news for Simon but it wasn’t much. Just proof that whatever had caused Jim to beat Blair to a pulp was connected to what had happened to Megan and Rafe.

The proof was slim but it was the best they had.

That morning, Brown had found a note taped to his computer screen informing him that he had better watch his back or what happened to his friends would happen to him next. The note went on to say that just because Sandburg wasn’t around to witness the detruction, plans had not changed, each of Blair’s friends would suffer the unknown menace’s wrath. It listed each mishap that had occurred, how and why. But there was no indication of who was behind this.

The fact that it had been taped to his personal computer had not escaped his notice. While Simon had been watching out for Ellison, Brown and Taggart had the entire forensics team out in MC picking through hundreds of prints for anything. Any tiny tidbit that would help this case but they had found nothing. Nothing but the note that threatened more harm to Cascade’s finest.

Brown had returned from driving Lucy home. The young woman needed sleep desperately. She had been at the hospital every waking moment and then some, waiting patiently for her future husband to wake up and begin healing. H had watched the poor woman become more frail as time continued. She hadn’t yet given up hope that Rafe would wake soon even though the doctors were no longer so sure. The longer he spent in the coma, the less likely he was to recover.

The thought of losing his partner ate at Henri’s gut, bringing painful memories of his first partner who had died in the line of duty six years ago. Brian Rafe had come to mean even more than Keith Rowlands had to Henri. Add the fact that Rafe had not been on duty when he had been shot made the situation that much worse.

Brown pushed open the door and entered the darkened room. He wasn’t yet ready to say good-bye but he wanted Brian to know that he was there.

“Hey, Buddy. I just wanted to stop by and let you know the good news,” he smiled at his partner briefly. “We may have a lead. Whoever shot you threatened me today so Joel and I think that your getting shot is related to Blair and Jim’s situation. We found a note near where your shooter was that was addressed to Blair so we think that whoever did this has something for Blair. Unfortunately Blair’s done a fly away and no one can locate him. We’re still looking for him right now. I just wanted to let you know that we intend to find out who did this.”

He took the seat next to the bed and laid his hand on Rafe’s arm. He let the emotions he’d been holding back wash over him. There were no tears to shed but the pain of the circumstances flowed slowly and painfully through him. He took the pale hand in his own and squeezed it gently.

His head raised suddenly as he felt a light squeeze back. “Rafe? Oh, man, Bri’ buddy? Wake up for me man, come on.”

He continued to coax as Rafe moaned and squeezed his hand more tightly, more a reflex than anything else but slowly his eyes opened and met Henri’s. They blinked slowly before falling shut again as a more natural sleep over took him.

“Just sleep, buddy. I’ll be here when you wake. Promise.” The smile that blossomed on Henri’s face could have rivaled the sun at that point. He reached over and grabbed for the call button but the nurse entered before he pressed it.

“He woke,” Brown said.

“I know. I heard the alarm.” She gave him a bright smile. “The doctor is on his way right now. I just want to double check his vitals.”

“Thanks. I gotta call my Captain and let him know.” He pulled the cell phone from his pocket as he left the room. When he reached the waiting room he dialed the number for Simon’s home.

~*~*~*~

Simon was just drifting into a deep sleep when the phone rang. He grabbed the handset before the second ring. “Banks!”

“Captain, Brown here, just thought you’d like to know that Rafe woke briefly. The doc’s with him now.”

“Brown, that’s great news. Keep me informed. I’ll be in the office in a few hours but I’ll stop by the hospital on my way. Don’t call Lucy yet. Let her sleep for a while longer.”

“I was planning on it. She may hate me but she does need the sleep. She was here all night and I just took her home. Oh, one other thing. I found a note on my computer tonight. Joel and I checked everything but found nothing on it. However it was a threat.”

“A threat? What kind of threat?”

“Basically letting me know that I was next on the list. I think this proves that these incidents are linked.”

“Yeah, could be. Watch your back. I will get someone to back you. I would prefer Taggart but he’s been doing double too. Graf may be free. I’ll call him and have him meet you at the hospital. Don’t leave until he gets there.”

“Will do, Captain. I hadn’t planned to just yet. I want to hear what the doctor has to say. I’ll call when I have more news.”

“Do that, and be careful.” Simon hung up. He stared into space for a moment thinking about the new turn the case had taken. If the two seemingly separate incidents were in fact connected then perhaps it was someone that all of Major Crimes was involved in over the last few years since Blair had joined the group. Maybe even someone who was particularly vengeful towards the anthropologist.

He’d start with that route in the morning. First he’d check on Jim, then he would return to bed for a few more hours.

~*~*~*~

Lucy sat at Rafe’s bedside. The doctors had assured her that he had woken from the coma though had yet to gain full consciousness. They had every confidence that he would survive although there would be physical therapy and much rehabilitation. The swelling still had not gone down far enough for the neurologist to know whether the young detective would be safe from possible paralysis. They were monitoring him closely.

The hardest part she’d had to face so far was the surgery. He was in surgery for nearly six hours when they first brought him in. Something had gone wrong and he'd started bleeding internally so he’d had to go back for three more hours for them to find and correct the problem.

She could still vividly remember the call she'd gotten and the subsequent events that had rocked her nice safe world and torn her hopes and dreams into shreds.

She'd received the call just after noon. Henri Brown had been on the other end of the phone, his normally cheerful and teasing voice was so serious she knew instantly that something was very wrong. In his gentlest words, he had told her about the shooting and asked if she wanted him to pick her up and take her to the hospital but she had hung up and rushed out to drive herself, not wanting to wait the extra time it might take Brown to reach her.

Lucy Hampstead was a strong, capable woman. She respected Henri greatly and was aware that Henri respected her, even more so since she didn’t put up with Rafe’s usual craziness.

She and Rafe had shared a warm relationship for nearly eight months now, and had not excluded Henri like he had thought they would. Instead they had included him in nearly all their outings, many dinner engagements and lots of lasertag which was one of Henri's favorite pasttimes.

When she had arrived at the hospital she had seen Simon watching as Jim sat in the chair nearest the elevators. She had been confused by the seeming lack of expression on Jim’s face. She didn't think Simon was sure of whether to take the detective home or not. Blair had been sitting on the couch, curled in a tight ball, his arms wrapped securely around his knees. Neither man looked at the other.

It had been a long wait for Megan and an even longer one for Rafe. The young detective had only been moved to a private room ten minutes after Lucy's arrival. She leaned on Henri’s shoulder for support. The young woman was red-eyed from all her crying.

Brown had gone with her to visit Rafe in the ICU room while the rest of the detectives had remained in the waiting room.

She had remained at Rafe's side, even when he'd been moved into a private room with a guard on the door. She went home with Brown every night, ate dinner with him and accepted his comfort until he left her to get sleep, only to pick her up the next morning and repeat the cycle all over again.

Now she sat there, holding Rafe’s hand for dear life. She didn’t want to lose him, she couldn’t.

A sob made it’s way up her throat as the tears tracked unbidden down her cheeks. A dark brown hand gripped her shoulder and turned her into a much needed embrace.

Thank God for Henri Brown’s constant presence and his phone call last night.

The large friendly cop had called to let her know that Brian had woken the night before, late but that he was now sleeping comfortably and that he was five minutes away from picking her up. He had arrived as promised and now he sat with her waiting for Brian to wake up and finish the healing process.

Chapter 4

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