InsaneJournal

*November 15th – Man, in the last few days I feel like I have been thrown every which way that I barely know which way is up anymore. It’s been intense. And most of it all falls on my shoulders, if I only had listened when I got that feeling… we just might have been able to catch the serial killer that first night. But no, I had to stay to the bitter end.*

*Guess I should clarify, I’m not really making much sense here. So back to the start. It had been pretty smooth sailing for about two weeks, me and Jim had really began to mesh after he asked me to stay that one night. We settled into a nice routine of doing tests and gathering data. And the police work was just as Jim had said, writing reports, paperwork, internet searches and chasing down leads. It had been fun, most of the time. Then a few nights ago Jim got some extra tickets to see the Jags! Oh man, it was sooooo cool. The Jags are like my all time favorite team. Jim’s too. So, when he asked me if I wanted to go with him, I was so there! But of course that is the start of it all right there. See I started to get this buzz at about the two minute warning mark, Jim echoed it. He wanted to head out, but not me. No, as I said before, I wanted to stay to the bitter end even though the game was a shoo-in to win.*

*That would have been the reason when we got stuck in traffic and took so long to respond when the call came in about the report of a prowler. We answered the call of course, Jim wasn’t about to let it go when we were the closest, even if we *were* stuck in traffic. But I guess you already know we were too late.*

*I really didn’t see much when we got to the scene, I mean I guess I could tell you how the townhome was nice enough – tastefully decorated, floors looked like they could have been some kind of polished marble – but that really wasn’t why I was there. I was there to help Jim with his senses, not that you could have proven that by the damn spirit guides. I don’t know why, but when I went to follow Jim - after he heard a sound distracting him from going upstairs – down the hall and into the bathroom, I got squashed into the wall and pinned there by Panther. And let me tell you, 160 pounds of determined feline is not easily shaken off. I didn’t have a prayer. Thankfully, Jim didn’t notice. I would have hated to have had to explain at this stage about the opinionated, corporeally optional beasties and my interactions with them. Or his, since Wolf was so helpfully sticking close to him in the bathroom doing the job I was supposed to be doing – making sure Jim didn’t zone.*

*Luckily or not, Jim’s preoccupation on the dead body in the deep claw-footed tub made it mostly academic. From where I was I could catch barely a glimpse of a hand, maybe a foot, I wasn’t sure, the angle was bad so I really wasn’t able to see anything at all. I guess that was the point, for some reason the guides didn’t want me to see the body. Why? I didn’t have much time to wonder about it because all of a sudden the weight I had been half-heartedly struggling against vanished. I stumbled, short of breath and off balance. Jim, who had been backing out of the bathroom, whirled around to catch me as I collided with him. Man, I just knew he thought I had been freaked out by the body when it was nothing of the sort! His gentle asking me if I was alright pretty much confirmed it – gods he must think I am such a wuss! Well, I gave my statement – such as it was – and then went home alone. Jim had to stick around, deal with the crap. The body. You know, something tells me I was very lucky to be spared seeing that sight. That something of course could be plain old common sense – who really needs to see a body, let alone one of a murder victim?*

*Anyway, tonight Jim is working late and I have a date. The beauteous Christine. She has been trying to get my attention for weeks but I have been so distracted, it just wouldn’t have been fair. But right now I think I *need* a night to myself. Plus, Jim has started to throw some funny looks my way and right now I really don’t need the ‘Is he gay?’ suspicions getting in the way of our friendship right now. That would just suck.*

o-O-o

Blair and Christine sat together on the couch; her feet tucked up underneath her, his legs splayed out in a relaxing pose. They had eaten inner, drank a little wine, and were now just talking about whatever came to mind. Blair’s attention, very unfocused, slipped to Christine eventually and he smiled. “You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to notice.”

“Oh no, I noticed right away. I was just too busy to act on it.” He protested and then grinned saucily at her. Then he turned to kiss her fully on the lips, once, twice. “I’m acting on it now though,” he growled as he wrapped a hand in her long black hair, drawing her closer for a more in depth study of her mouth. She sighed and melted into the embrace.

“So tell me,” she muttered into his mouth, “What have you been doing that’s kept you so busy?”

“Oh nothing, really,” he replied as he stroked one hand down her side, teasing her ribs with his fingertips, “Just class, teaching, students, my dissertation committee breathing down my neck.”

“Awww, poor baby,” she soothed as she ran her fingers through his hair, locking onto the soft curls and holding him still for another quick sweep around the teeth. He moaned softly. She pulled back for air, one hand drifting down from his hand, across his chest and down to the warm heat of his groin. “You know, you are constantly a surprise to me, Blair.”

“How so?” he asked distractedly as he shifted on the couch, slouching back against the arm behind him and drawing her up with him. She smiled as she sat up over him, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Well, I mean, why cops? You had a plan and suddenly you are hanging out with police officers. Did you actually change your diss topic?” She leaned in to nip at his lips, his mouth too irresistible to ignore. He chuckled at her playful mood and answered as honestly as he could.

“Nah, this is just an alternate topic I have going. And I don’t hang with them all the time. I mean, I still want to be able to see my mother some times.” Blair watched the confusion flush Chris’ face. She sat up carefully.

“What does this have to do with your mother?” she asked. Blair sat up again, relaxing against the couch as he felt the mood shifting.

“Well, it’s just that… I mean, she doesn’t know that I’m working on an alternate dissertation. Or that it’s about cops. If she found out, it would piss her off.” He smiled again, his thoughts on just how he was going to break this to Naomi when he got a chance to see her again. Chris reached over and picked up her glass of wine, taking a careful sip.

“So, this is you being rebellious?” she clarified. Blair shook his head.

“More like being rude. Rebellious would be for me to go totally corporate. That’s something she’s been fighting for years, since I was a little kid riding in the peace marches on her hip.” Blair sipped his own wine thoughtfully. “If she found out my new roomie was a cop... man, I don't know what she'd think. One never knows with Naomi." He laughed. "She could assume I was taking a walk on the wild side or maybe that I was trying to subvert one of the oppressors. Maybe something even stranger, my mother's mind works in mysterious ways."

Christine stared. Then she shook her head. "You know, that little speech about your mother and her reactions told me much of what I always wondered about you, about the man you seem to be anyway."

“Care to clue me in?”

"Well, you are actually comfortable in your own skin. That isn't something a lot of people get to experience." Christine watched him for a moment. “You are so together in your life. You’ve been there, done that. It’s rather refreshing, and a little disconcerting.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as that, Chris,” Blair snorted. “And as for having it all together, I work like a dog 7 days a week for very little pay. I live with a roommate who is so staunch about his house rules that I can’t flush the toilet after 10pm.”

"But it doesn't really bother you, does it? It's like following the customs of a tribe, you go with the flow." Her eyes dared him to object. Blair shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah well, what else can I do?”

"I would think, with your background, your knowledge, you could do anything you want to do,” she pressed. “I mean, what’s going to happen to Blair Sandburg in the next 3-5 years?”

"I don't know, haven't really thought about it." Blair said. "Hell I haven't really thought about what's gonna happen to 'Blair Sandburg' in the next 3-5 days. You can't always plan things out Chris, sometimes you have to go with the flow as you said."

Only he had. He thought about it often. Every time he woke with another vision, a glimpse into the future he was avoiding, he was reminded of where his life was headed. But that really wasn’t pillow talk, and Blair was fast realizing that this evening was coming to an end. The rattle of the door knob startled them both and they turned to see Jim walk in.

“Hey Sandburg, if you got a sec, Oh hello…” Jim trailed off as he caught sight of Christine and Blair relaxing on the sofa together. He coughed discretely before making his way over to the fridge for a beer. Blair gulped, rolled his eyes in surprise and flushed with embarrassment as Christine climbed off the sofa and went searching for her shoes.

As she carefully leaned over to slip on her heels, she held a hand out to Jim. “Christine Hong, Nice to meet you… Jim, right?”

Clasping it warmly in his own, he let her use him as a steady post as she put on her second shoe. Blair smiled at the completely comfortable atmosphere that seemed to have fallen on the loft. As if it were every day that Blair’s date of the month met his new roommate. Blair leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands. He waved a hand between the two of them briefly.

“Jim, Christine… Christine, Jim… who is supposed to be working. I can only assume that you’ve gotten a new case, Jim?” Blair finished as he heaved himself off the sofa and leaned in to blow out the candles on the low coffee table. Christine smiled as Jim canted his head to the side at his overly casual roommate.

“Yeah, actually I do… I’ll tell you about it later, it’s under a media blackout right now.” Jim glanced apologetically at Christine. “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. You’re a cop, it happens.” Christine pulled on her coat, with a little help from Blair, and waited for him to open the door for her. She smiled back at Jim, “Nice to have met you Jim.”

Jim nodded and moved off towards the table. Blair moved in to block his few and leaned in to kiss the pretty lady good-bye. “So, I’ll see you later?”

Christine kissed him back, lightly, delicately, as friends often do. “Yeah, let me know how you’re doing. I’m intrigued by this new dissertation, if it takes you to the extreme of hanging with cops.”

Blair chuckled mischievously before shutting the door behind her. Neither of them said good-bye. Blair turned back to Jim and noticed the seriously concerned look in the man’s eye. Blair sighed. “You ever have one of those dates that just doesn’t work out but you are both good enough eggs to stay friends afterwards?”

Jim thought for a moment. “Once or twice… that’s one for you, I take it?”

Blair smiled. “Yeah, Chris is good people.”

Jim nodded. “Caro and I are like that.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Blair came to sit across from him.

“So, what’s with the new case?” Asked Blair. He looked his friend over and wasn’t happy with what he saw. Jim sighed.

“The Susan Frasier case…” Jim said, as if that were all the answer that Blair needed.

“The woman in the tub? Wow…” Blair sat back stunned. Jim’s face screwed up in disgust.

“Caro gave me two other cases each of them about a month older than the last… Same yellow scarves, same manner of death. Same missing items, pictures, clothing, trinkets from the victim’s homes. Simon’s called for a media black-out and wants me to try and sort out who might be doing this. I know a little something about serial killers.” Jim sat back with his beer. Blair nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, remember I took Psychology in my undergrad days. I know a little something about people’s minds. Let me look at some of the evidence and give you a sort of profile.” Blair nudged hopefully. Jim cast him a dubious look before giving an exaggerated shrug and rising from the table with his empty beer bottle.

“Sure thing, Chief. Knock yourself out. I’m going to start with the physical evidence that Caro has from the other two cases tomorrow. In the mean time, see what you get from the drowning of the victims, the yellow scarves tied around their necks… and the missing items from the victims homes.” Blair listened and reached over to grab a notebook and pencil, taking notes as Jim spoke them. When Jim paused, Blair looked up.

“How many items are we talking about here, Jim? A necklace? A brooch?”

Jim shook his head. “No, I’m talking about all of the important things. Pictures from the frames, clothing from the closets… it’s almost as if Susan Frasier moved out and then came back to die in her own tub.”

Blair wrote a few more lines, and then moved around the loft cleaning his evenings mess. Once the loft was back in shape, he went into his bedroom to get some sleep. He didn’t notice when Jim went to prepare for bed, nor did he realize that Jim was waiting in his bed above him, listening to the sound of Blair’s heartbeat in the silence of the night.

o-O-o

Jim was gone by the time Blair came out of the shower the next day, but then Blair was pretty busy himself. He barely made his first class, and had an hour before his second class, so he thought a call to the station was in order. He sat in his office and dialed Jim’s cell phone number from memory.

*#”Ellison.”#*

“Hey Jim, how goes the evidence sorting?” Blair asked flippantly. His reward was a chuckle from the other end. When he was sure that Jim was paying attention again, Blair launched into his conversation. “So, I had a thought this morning, and you need to find out more than this guy’s MO. You need to sort out his signature. Every killer has one.”

*#”Yeah, Chief, we already sorted that out, remember? The yellow scarves that he leaves around the victim’s necks.”#* Jim retorted good naturedly. Blair shook his head even as he explained.

“That’s only part of it, man. There’s also the drowning, the taking of items. Even how the person selects their victims is part of it. If we knew what connected the three victims, we would have a better idea of what this guy is thinking, what he may be feeling…” Blair rambled on even as he saw the hands of the clock on his desk telling him he was almost out of time if he wanted to get back across the quad before his next class. “Look, man I have to get going. I’ll see you tonight, my turn to cook, right?”

*#”Sure thing, Sandburg. Hey, thanks for this, I didn’t think about those little details… Hey, think on this, the voice on the 911 call the other night, was not Susan Frasier. What does that tell you?”#*

Blair knew that Jim had to be smirking on the other end of the line. This was an interesting clue. “Tells me that the killer is playing a game of mimic with his victims after their death… man, this is seriously spooky.”

Saying his good-byes to Jim, Blair was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t miss his class. His mind was buzzing with the possibilities with this case. For the killer to take on the persona of his or her victim after death. It could only mean one of two things. Either a female killer, and that was just off cause there have been very few recorded female serial killers on the books. Or a man playing both sides of the gender gap.

Blair was betting on the latter.

o-O-o

Two hours later, Blair got a call while finishing up the last test grading for his students. He picked it up on the first ring. “Blair Sandburg, Anthropology.”

*#” Hey Chief, wanna join me for a funeral?””#* Blair smiled at Jim’s joking tone. It was nice having the big guy as a friend. He sobered quickly as he laid the last test on the pile and stood up, grabbing his jacket as he did so.

“Meet you out front in fifteen?” he replied. He knew who this funeral was for; he had read the paper like everyone else. Although he was surprised that so much information had leaked out to the press. So much for Simon’s media black-out.

*#”Will do, you can spring for lunch afterwards.”#* Jim grinned into the phone. Blair rolled his eyes. Fine, he would pay for food, but on one condition.

“I get to pick the place.” He was pretty certain he knew what the answer was going to be. Although begrudgingly, Jim agreed and Blair was out the door in minutes of ending the call.

o-O-o

Jim pulled up in front of the church, finding a decent spot and parking quickly. There were already several reporters with cameras and microphones at the ready. Blair grimaced; this was not going to be good. He mentally began planning their escape from the church and the hounding press when they were finished. He tuned in to what Jim was asking about a half second later than normal.

“—could be in an open casket. You going to be okay with that?” Jim asked as he slid a hand to the small of Blair’s back. Blair smiled brightly.

“Jim, I didn’t see her until the evidence photos. I’m pretty sure she looks a lot better than she did before that. It’s not the first funeral I have been to, unfortunately.” Blair assured his Mother-hen. Jim rolled his eyes a moment before leading Blair towards the church. It was filling up fast, bottlenecking at the door. Blair sighed. They were sure to get caught.

Jim continued to mutter as they strolled along the sidewalk. “Remember we talked about typical serial killer quirks? One of them is hanging out to admire their work. There’s a good chance we might find someone odd lurking around the victim’s family.”

Blair nodded. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. You said the killer called 911, and sounded like Susan Frasier?”

“She tried.” Jim agreed, they were coming close to the press now. Blair waved a hand in a ‘tell you about it later’ gesture and the two stepped into the throng of press, pushing through to the church entrance. Don Hass was the one who got Jim’s attention. The big man tensed as Blair heard Hass’ question.

“Detective Ellison? My sources report that it was actually the killer who placed the victim's 911 call.”

Blair blinked. What the hell? Jim had only told this to Blair a few hours before! Who could have told the press about that call during a media blackout? Jim growled as he shoved through, carrying Blair along with him. Hass pressed further with, “Any comment?”

Jim’s answer to Hass was almost irreverent in its tone. “Yeah. I'm late for church.”

Blair smothered a snicker at the retort, and then they were inside. Jim pushed Blair forward, urging him to get up close and personal with people in the main room while Jim made his way up into the balcony to get a better look. The Minister continued his intonation, as he led the congregation through the burial ritual the family felt was appropriate.

Blair felt the collective hum of the mourners, the empathic buzz that usually told him if a person was safe or unbalanced in their daily life. The people here were giving off a low hum, a slow note that, had it been a choir, would have denoted pain and sadness in this moment in time. He took his time finding a place to sit, and soaked in the emotions of those around him.

Now normally Blair would be paying attention to everyone and everything around him, letting the understandably low-key hum that he always felt in large gatherings of people wash around him as he tried to get some insight into the culture of the gathered congregation. But not today. No, today he had a different goal; his focus was on one thing - find the odd man, or woman, out. When the Minister invited people to come up and say their last farewells to Susan Frasier, Blair stood along with the group around him.

His eyes scanned the room as his body registered the changing variations and waves of emotion in the people. One body let off something uncomfortable and at first Blair was curious to see who that person would be. Turning to focus on the woman that stood at the casket, his entire being registered a wave of feeling incongruous to those around him. A teeth jarring twang that sent tendrils of unease through his entire body. He blinked, and shook his head distractedly for a moment. This wasn’t right.

He made as if to step up to the woman, but was halted by the near physical manifestation of Wolf, who hit his knee and caused him to stumble in the aisle. He moved again but looked up and noticed the woman was gone! Glancing at the balcony told him that Jim was also gone, so Blair headed for the main doors. He knew what had been wrong, just as Jim had. The thing that had been wrong about her - she had been dressed head to toe in the dead woman's clothes. Blair made it out the front doors, only to be accosted by the press, but they weren’t interested in him. One of the reporters, Hass, had followed Jim as the cop tried to head the woman off.

Failing that, Jim raced for the truck, climbing in and chasing after the mystery woman. Blair sighed. She was gone. A woman, possibly the killer, and Jim was after her. Blair took a couple of calming breaths before he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called the local taxi service. There was no way he could catch up to Jim now. Best bet would be to wait for him either at home of the station.

At the last minute, Blair decided that his best bet was to go pick up his car and go home.