Wing and a Prayer
by Pho
"Well, this sucks." Blair Sandburg glared with obvious irritation at the sight before him. The early morning isolation of the location did nothing to quell his growing annoyance. "*Someone* should have seen something. *Someone* should have stopped this." But the *someone* who could have done the most to prevent another wrongful death wasn't even here, yet. Blair jumped slightly as he felt a whisper of delicate wings brush by his face, then cocked his head toward a familiar sound. Long experience with the inner circle of the Cascade PD told Blair that the sirens in the distance were police and ambulance. They'd be here in a matter of minutes. "Special." He laughed humorlessly. "Fast, but not fast enough. You're too *late*, guys!"
The young man found his attention drawn toward the body in the water. From an other worldly perspective, it was a bit unnerving to be watching as his mortal remains floated face down in the fountain. But the anthropologist in him pushed down the distress, and opted instead to study the moment. He was dead. Pure and simple. The body, *his* body, was cooling in the chill waters of the university fountain. Death by drowning - ugly, very, very ugly. And painful. He remembered the agony as he struggled to pull air in only to fill his lungs with water instead. Thank God there was no pain now.
He glanced away from his body a moment and mentally gauged the distance of the sirens. They'd be here soon. Shrugging at the futility of it all, he once again focused on ... himself. His death. Not accidental either. Purely premeditated. What the guys in homicide would define as murder by person or persons unknown. Except that he knew his killer. Alex Barnes. Had known her for quite some time. Had tried to help her control her Sentinel senses. And look what it'd bought him. No home. No friends. No future. No life.
Odd, he didn't remember exactly the moment when his spirit had moved on. Or, considering he seemed to still be at the fountain, left his body. Glancing around, he noticed that the woman was nowhere in sight. "That's right, Alex. Kill the guide, then cut and run." Talk about fear response in sentinels.
The scream of tires sliding to a stop in the parking area pulled his attention to his co-workers. Correction. Former co-workers. 'The dead didn't *have* co-workers,' he thought bitterly. Perching on the edge of the fountain, he watched with casual disinterest as the gang from Major Crimes raced toward his office. Correction - former office. The dead didn't have offices either. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Blair turned his attention back toward the cops. "Wrong way, guys. I'm over here! What's left of me anyway. Yo! Jim! Your little buddy's D..E..A..D!"
Blair frowned as Jim Ellison stopped suddenly. The younger man could almost *see* the panther as the Sentinel whirled gracefully on the steps and screamed a denial of what his eyes could see better than any other's. Suddenly the fountain, and its occupant, became the center of attention. From his perch on the fountain's edge, Blair muttered a derisive, "About damn time. Took you long enough, Jimbo."
"H, give me a hand!"
Blair's eyes narrowed as Ellison splashed through the water toward ... him, and took hold of one arm. Brown soon grabbed the other and between the two of them, they hauled the sodden figure out of the fountain. Blair snarled angrily, "You're too late, Ellison. I'm gone. Not breathing. Drowned. Murdered. You wanted me gone. I'm gone. I'll be out of your way for good now, won't I?"
"This can't be happening!"
The distress in the older man's tones was not lost on Blair, who frowned in confusion at the real distress he heard. "Jim? I…I thought you wanted me gone. You, you packed up my stuff, Goddammit! If chucking tribal masks into a grocery box counts as packing. Told me to be gone when you got back. Said you didn't need me anymore. That - oh God! - that you couldn't trust me. How could you think that, you *son-of-a-bitch*?" Emotionally spent, tears welled up in his eyes as Blair recalled the emotionless mask pretending to be his friend's - his best friend's - face while he was evicted from his home. Quite a contrast to the anguish so apparent on the older man's features as he fought to breathe life back into cold blue lips.
Sorrowfully, Blair glanced back at his body in time to see one of the paramedics rise to his feet. "I'm sorry, guys."
"That's it?" He found himself asking in surprise as they packed up their equipment and walked away, leaving him alone in the dirt. "That's all you're going to try? You're just gonna write me off as dead? Really, really dead?"
The choked gasp of "Oh, Sandy!" from Megan Connor pulled Blair's attention away from his corpse. For the first time since the crew from Major Crimes had arrived, he saw the despair, pain and sorrow evident in their every mannerism. H. and Rafe stood motionless, frozen in place by the horror before them. Blair's heart went out to them. No matter what had gone on between his former partner and himself, the others were blameless. They shouldn't be suffering like this.
"No... oh, God, no." Jim collapsed against Simon, tear tracks evident on both men's faces. Blair felt his chest tighten with sorrow. Suddenly nothing his friend had done mattered. Blair knew he'd forgive him anything, if he could only speak to him one more time. Even if it was just for a little while.
"Please, please God! I…I don't want to be dead. There's too much to do. And Jim, God, look at Jim." Blair's eyes clouded with tears as he watched his friend, held tightly by an obviously emotional Simon. Falling to his knees by the fountain, the young anthropologist prayed frantically. "Please, God, help them!" A whisper of delicate wings brushed by Blair's face and from out of nowhere a wolf howled.