Rating: FRT-13 to FRM --- language, graphic sex and discussion of non-con
Summary: Blair gets caught up in old family secrets.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them and I'm making no money with this. If Blair were mine, God, the tortures I'd visit on Naomi. Don't get me started...
EARLY MORNING: A HOUSE ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF CASCADE
"Is everything finally ready?"
"Yes, sir. Everything. The soundproofing has just been finished and Kurt..."
"Yes? Go on."
"I... don't quite know how to describe it, sir. He's just... sitting on the floor in the living room with a smile on his face. He hasn't spoken since yesterday and he refuses food. We're getting a little worried."
"He knows best. If fasting and meditation are what he needs to prepare himself for what's to come, then leave him alone."
"Nothing, sir. We're ready."
"Excellent. Then it's time to set the wheels in motion."
"Yes, sir. I'll make the call. She should be here no later than tonight."
"Hopefully. Flights these days are unpredictable at best. I think Collins and Statler will be best for the recon and retrieval."
"Right." The smaller man noted, jotting the names on the legal pad he held.
"It's beginning, Marcus. I can feel the change in the air. This is going to be amazing."
"We all feel it, sir." The other replied, making a final note before he strode off to perform the tasks he'd been assigned. His superior walked more sedately in the other direction, stopping at the archway into the living room to study the man he was doing all this for; the man around whom decades of effort and dedication had been focused. Soon it would all be worth it. When the lever was in place and their prize was in their hands, only then would he feel like the sacrifice and single-minded intensity hadn't been a waste.
"A lifetime of promises are about to be fulfilled, my friend." He murmured. "Your destiny is on its way. Just be patient a little longer..."
EARLY EVENING: 852 PROSPECT AVENUE
Just as Blair Sandburg was really getting into a good rhythm tapping out a paper on his laptop, the phone rang, startling him out of his happy little world. He tried valiantly to ignore the irritating instrument and eventually the machine picked up. He was relieved when the dial tone immediately sounded and then ceased without the caller choosing to leave a message, but less than a minute later, the ringing began again.
"Jim! I'm really busy here! Can you pick up the phone?"
"Sorry, not right now, Chief." Jim Ellison called from the kitchen. "My hands are wrist deep in meatloaf."
"Man... I can't stop, I'm on a major roll, here." Blair responded distractedly as he kept typing. "I guess if it was really vital, they'd say something, right? Right. So it can't be world-shattering news. Okay, phone, give it up. You hear me? We're not answering."
His resolve lasted until the fourth cycle of ringing ensued. Finally, he pushed his computer off his legs, leaned over and grabbed the handset.
"Blair? Sorry, man. I... I didn't think I'd be bothering you..."
"Hey, Rafe. No, it's okay. I'm just doing some writing. What's up?"
"Can you meet me downtown? I need to, um... pick your brain."
"About a case?"
"Yeah. Kinda. Look, I know it's dinnertime. Make it my treat. How about that little Thai place you love?"
"Are you okay, Rafe? You sound really rattled..."
"Rattled? Me? Nah, I'm fine. I'm just... under a little pressure, here. You know how Simon can get. So can you get away?"
"Yeah... yeah, if you need me that bad. I'll see you there in about thirty, okay?"
"Thanks, Blair. You're really saving my ass."
"No problem. That's what I was made for. Ask Jim. Be there ASAP."
"Yeah, if you can get that junker to start."
"Whoa, no ragging on the Volvo. The car gods have ways of getting revenge. That luxury gas hog you drive will break down tomorrow, I guarantee."
"God, I hope you're wrong. See you soon?"
Jim strolled in from the kitchen wiping his hands and gazed curiously down at his partner over the back of the couch.
"What's up with Rafe?"
"He's stressed out over a case and wants to buy me dinner so we can hash it out."
"Yeah? I haven't heard anything in the bullpen. Go on and de-stress him. If he's calling for help he must really need it."
"Thanks." Blair told him, rising and grabbing his coat. "Sorry about missing your meatloaf. Extremely sorry."
"It's okay. I'm making an extra one to slice up for sandwiches so there'll be plenty left when you're ready."
Blair grinned and briefly genuflected at Jim's feet.
"You are the best, oh Sentinel mine."
"You say it but you don't mean it. Get outta here. Rafe's waiting."
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Blair carefully pulled up to the curb and cut his engine, praying it would start as easily for the drive home as it had to get him there. Removing the keys and stowing them in a pocket, he pulled his ancient coat closer around him, stepped out and locked the car. Not immediately seeing his friend he searched the shadows around the entrance to the restaurant and called out, thinking that if he didn't get an answer fairly quickly he'd escape the chill, damp night by waiting inside.
"Rafe? You here, man?"
"Here. O-over here, Blair."
"You don't sound good. Everything okay?" Blair asked, moving for the spot where the tremulous voice had come from. As he got closer he was able to see the other man standing stiffly against the side of the building, but by the time he realized someone was standing behind Rafe it was too late.
"I'm so sorry, Blair. I didn't want to call you. I had no choice..."
"I can see that. I'm here now." Blair told Rafe's assailant. "You got what you want. Take the garotte off his neck and let him go."
"Once you're standing by my associate, then we'll discuss your friend's future."
Taking in the scene more fully, Blair realized there was a second man a few feet away, waiting in the darkness near the next building. Knowing he also had no option, Blair did as he'd been directed, grateful to see the thin wire removed from the detective's neck. Even as he breathed a sigh of relief for Rafe's deliverance, Blair's own heart began to thump wildly as the second thug spun him around and clamped a pair of powerful hands around his biceps. In Rafe's expression he could see a desperate, instinctive desire to re-enter the battle and save the younger man as he had been rescued, but Blair shook his head vigorously.
"No! Get out of here, Rafe! Go tell Jim what happened!"
"Yes, but not for a while yet. We need some lead time." Rafe's initial abductor responded, striking the cop a brutal crack on the head. As Rafe crumpled to the ground, Blair was first dosed liberally with pepper spray to keep him from seeing then hooded and dragged away to a waiting car.
90 MINUTES LATER
"Hang on, I'm coming!" Jim shouted in response to the persistent hammering on his door. When he opened it, his jaw dropped in shock to see Rafe barely holding himself up against the corridor wall. "What the hell... where's Blair? Rafe, where's Sandburg?!"
"Two guys... they made me... call him...they took him..." Rafe managed before collapsing forward into Jim's arms.
"Of course. Why did I even bother to ask? Let's get you to the hospital, buddy..."