Transitions 6 - Night Train (Missing Scene)

-- by Mackie

It was starting to feel all too familiar, this frustration of being left behind.

Blair sat down on the steps of the railroad car and rested his arms across his knees. There was nothing to do but wait until someone came along to collect him.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Isobel Kane asked, a tinge of disapproval in her voice. After all, she'd just seen Jim Ellison, seemingly risen from the dead, go roaring off like a superhero after the armed gunmen who had commandeered the locomotive. Blair's inactivity must have appeared somewhat anticlimactic.

"What did you have in mind?" Blair replied mildly. It should have been a come on, but it only sounded faintly derisive.

She left him alone after that.

Sirens wailed, and a trio of state police units slid to a halt beside the train carriage. Clouds of dirt and dust added to the confusion for a moment, and when the air cleared, Blair found himself the focus of a half dozen well-aimed pistols and shotguns.

"Whoa, guys!" he cautioned, raising his arms. "We're some of the good guys!"

When the cops were assured he was unarmed, they relaxed their guard a bit. Mostly, it was the sophisticated presence of Isobel Kane that convinced them the two were harmless.

A police radio crackled to life, advising a need for an ambulance and tow truck. There had been more shooting, and someone had been wounded. For a moment, Blair worried that it might have been Jim, but somehow he knew it wasn't.

Two of the police cars roared off to assist, leaving two officers behind. During the next few minutes, Isobel and the train conductor reported what little they knew of events.

Blair smiled slightly when he heard the conductor had mistaken Jim Ellison for a train jumper and had KO'd him with one punch.

He stood up and stretched. "I'm gonna take a little walk," he told the state troopers. "Just don't forget I'm here, OK?" He'd been left behind a few too many times recently, and this vast, mountainous wilderness was not a place in which he wanted to be abandoned.

He only wandered a few yards, his feet kicking idly at small rocks that got in his way. The scenery was lovely -- tall conifers bathed in the crisp, clean light of the morning sun -- but he hardly noticed.

He was relieved that the case was finished -- or at least his part of it...who knew what was happening farther down the tracks? He hadn't been killed or injured, Jim was alive and well, and soon they would return to Cascade for some well-deserved rest.

Except for the anger seething in his belly, he actually felt pretty good. He'd held a gun and was fairly confident he'd been prepared to use it. It hadn't come down to the crunch, so he hadn't actually shot anyone, but it was good to know he hadn't been incapable of doing it.

He allowed his thoughts to dwell on memories of the night, which he'd spent handcuffed to Isobel, certainly not a bad image under other circumstances. The idle thoughts kept his mind off his anger.

In the distance, he saw the approach of the Cascade sport utility Simon had been driving. With a sigh, he climbed aboard the train to retrieve the gear he and Jim had brought with them. By the time Simon pulled to a stop, Blair was waiting outside again, the bags in his hands.

Jim looked like hell -- filthy, bruised, and still bleeding slightly from his nose. There must have been a fistfight in the struggle to regain control of the locomotive. His steps were leaden; he must have been exhausted.

"How'd it go?" Blair asked calmly, tossing the bags into the 4x4.

"State troopers took charge of Wilson and the locomotive," Jim answered tiredly. "Wilson's cronies are dead." To Isobel, he added, "They'll be bringing your client along in a few minutes."

Isobel smiled with predatory anticipation. "I can't wait to hear what sort of deal he wants to make after this."

Simon coordinated briefly with the senior trooper, then came back to the sport utility. "You two ready to go?"

"You bet," Jim assured him, climbing into the rear seat. If he could fold himself into a halfway comfortable position, he hoped to get a little rest on the way back to the city.

Still subdued, Blair climbed into the front passenger seat and buckled his safety belt.

Simon climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. As he accelerated down the short dirt stretch and turned onto the pavement, he said, "There's a bag with water and sandwiches by your feet."

Gratefully, Blair pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink. The sandwiches remained untouched.

Twenty minutes down the road, Simon observed, "You're being awfully quiet, Sandburg."

Blair glanced at him before returning his gaze to the view through the side window. "Long night," he answered simply.

Simon waited, but Blair didn't offer any further comment. Giving up, the Captain sighed and concentrated on his driving.

Why did he bring me along? Blair fumed silently. He ignored everything I tried to do for him, then took an over-the-counter cold medicine that damn near got us all killed. Why the hell doesn't he ever listen to me?

Although Blair understood Jim's reluctance to ask for or accept help, he knew at some point it would become inevitable. The longer his stubborn pride kept him from realizing the truth, the more difficult it was going to be for everyone.

Maybe it was time just to walk away. After all, Blair hadn't signed on to be shot at or kidnapped or drugged by maniacs -- what was he accomplishing by sticking around where his advice was ignored or ridiculed?

Almost without thinking about it, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his observer's credentials. He fingered the plastic lamination and stared at his photograph and the Cascade police insignia without really seeing them. Well, if he was going to call a halt to it, it would have to be a clean break, he thought unhappily. There was no point in doing it halfway. What good were his experiments and tests if he couldn't continue to observe Jim in the field as well? His data would be incomplete. Without the foundation of their mutual involvement with his sentinel studies, their fledgling friendship would probably dissolve before it had properly gelled. Blair would have to move out of the loft, and even though both men would promise to stay in touch, time would see them drift apart until the exchange of the obligatory birthday and holiday greeting cards was their only contact.

The whole thing was just too depressing to contemplate, and yet here he was, thinking about it.

As he withdrew into himself with these despondent musings, he was completely unaware that Simon was watching him surreptitiously out of the corner of one eye.

In the back seat, Jim finally stirred and sat up with a groan. Like a kid, he palmed his eyes in an attempt to drive away the sleepiness, then peered out the window at the passing forest.

"Welcome back, sleepy head," Simon greeted, grinning into the rearview mirror.

Jim yawned until his jaws creaked. "Hi," he murmured, trying to stretch in the confines of the truck. He flexed his fingers and winced at the ache. Clinging to the underside of the train for what had felt like hours had strained the muscles in his hands and arms. Thank goodness he was in good physical shape, or he probably would have fallen to his death.

Blair reached into the bag Simon had brought and pulled out a bottle of water. "Here you go. A little hydration is just what the doctor ordered."

"Thanks." Jim drank half the bottle in one breath, then recapped it and leaned back in the seat. "Did I miss anything?"

"What's to miss?" Blair returned with an attempt at lightness. "Just miles of miles."

"Good." Jim yawned again. "Man, I'm bushed."

Blair grinned. "Yeah, I guess getting tossed off a speeding train can have that effect," he agreed. "You're gonna have to tell me how you managed to get back on board."

Jim shrugged. "Oh, I just sort of hung around," he admitted. Abruptly, he leaned forward and rested his arms on top of the front seats. "I think I have you to thank for that."

Blair raised an eyebrow warily. "Yeah? What'd I do?"

"No, I mean, you were responsible for getting me back on board the train."

"You couldn't stand the thought of me being alone with Isobel," Blair countered lightly.

"What's with you, Sandburg?" Jim asked in exasperation. "I'm trying to explain that the stuff you taught me probably saved my life."

Blair finally listened to what Jim was saying. "What?"

"I didn't get it before," Jim admitted, eagerness suffusing his words. "I mean, I knew you were helping me learn to control my senses, but I always thought all the experiments you did were for your paper. They didn't seem to be relevant to what I was doing in the real world."

Blair grinned, infected by his partner's enthusiasm, and twisted in his seat so they could look at one another. "What changed your mind?"

"When I was hanging under that train, my senses were totally whacked out. Every glimpse of light blinded me, every little sound sent a stab of pain right through my head." His voice tinged with wonder, he admitted, "And then I heard your voice. You were calmly telling me it was all about breathing and concentration. You said it was just a matter of taking it one step at a time, that I could zone out the light and just hear the music."

"That was the experiment where I deliberately put your sight on overload, right?" Blair asked, eager for all the details.

"Right."

"And it worked for you last night?"

"Yeah." They grinned at each other like silly kids sharing a moment of complete understanding. "I was able to filter out the lights, just like you taught me. I was able to do what I needed to do in order to crawl back onto the train."

Blair was impressed. "That is so cool."

Smiling to himself, Simon watched Blair slip his ID back into his wallet, his movements automatic, as if he wanted his hands free to emphasize his words and didn't know why he was holding something that interfered with his efforts. Without completely understanding how, Simon knew the two friends had crossed some sort of critical juncture in their relationship.

"Anyway," Jim continued, "I was wondering if you have any other experiments we can try? Maybe something to help me learn to adjust my sensory levels more quickly."

"Sure," Blair agreed readily, figuring Jim's enthusiasm for more laboratory work would last about five minutes, but not caring. He grabbed two sandwiches out of the bag by his feet and passed one back to his partner. "Here, you should eat something."

His mood was infinitely lighter, and he began to talk rapidly, describing his night of bondage with the delectable Isobel.

All three men were laughing by the time they cruised past the Cascade city limits.

THE END