PRISONER X MISSING SCENE

 ‘What a crock.’

Jim Ellison casually looked around the crowded room.  Desks familiar to every school child were placed in neat rows.  A battered and scratched larger desk sat at the front of the room, obviously meant for their teacher. A blank chalkboard behind the desk completed the schoolroom-like atmosphere.  An atmosphere spoiled not only by the presence of the armed guard standing by the door but also by the slumped figures of the men sitting at those desks.

‘More like detention than class.’  Inwardly Jim grinned.  He’d seen his share of detention while in school.  The men around him, all inhabitants of Starkville Prison, had probably spent more time in detention than in class…assuming they’d been in school much past the age of puberty.  None of them looked like they really wanted to be there.

Dialing down his Sentinel hearing, he wondered which bureaucrat had decided that a course in Creative Writing would help rehabilitate hardened criminals.  ‘Oh yeah…and prepare them for a useful law-abiding life outside prison.’

The only use Jim had for this class was the instructor, a police officer specifically brought in from Michigan, who was to be his only contact within the prison.  They had all figured it was almost next to impossible that a police officer that far from Cascade would be recognized as a cop by any of the Starkville prisoners.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

Someone brushed by Jim’s shoulder as the man quickly walked to the head of the class.  Jim looked up in surprise as he recognized the voice.  A quick glimpse of a familiar backpack confirmed his recognition.

“I’m the new Creative Writing teacher.  My name is Blair Sandburg.”  Blair slung the backpack behind the desk and faced his class with a smile.

‘I’m going to kill my partner when I get my hands on him.’   Jim stiffened as he heard a muttered comment behind him.

“I think I’m gonna like this class.  Maybe I’ll even request a little personal one-on-one time with the teacher.”

‘Not in this lifetime.’ Jim silently promised, identifying the voice as belonging to Jack Walker, a serial rapist.  His eyes narrowed when Blair turned to write his name on the chalkboard.  His icy blue eyes flickered around the room to see several pairs of eyes fixed on his partner’s ass.  ‘Jesus, Sandburg.  Think you could have worn jeans any tighter?’  He automatically began cataloging which convict might do more than just leer and drool.

Blair turned around, seemingly unaware of why he was getting so much attention from his class.  “As you all know, this is a writing class.  And as writers, we tell stories.  So who out there wants to tell me a story?”  His eyes widened in anticipation.

Jim winced as he heard a hissing voice to his left.

“Damn but he uses that mouth good, don’t he?”

‘Hmm…Eddie Crowder.  Convicted on 3 counts of aggravated sexual assault,’ Jim silently identified.

“Rather he’d use that cute ass.”

‘Jamal Khaled.  20-to-life robbery and assault.  You sure know how to attract the winners, don’t you, Sandburg?’  Jim forced himself to ignore the rest of the comments even as he silently wished someone would cancel the class.  ‘Just don’t make eye contact with them, Chief.’  Not believing his partner’s actions, Jim half covered his face with his hands.  ‘Oh, shit!’

Blair looked around the room deliberately meeting the stares of his pupils.  “Anybody?” He looked at Jim who was trying to hide behind his hand.  “How about you, sir?  What to tell me a story?”

‘You’re one dead guppy.  No catch and release this time, Sandburg.’  Jim pointed to himself with a silent questioning look. 

“Yeah,” Blair happily nodded.

“Sir.  I like it when they’re polite,” Walker snickered.

Jim put as much boredom and cynicism as possible into his voice.  “I was born.  I killed a cop.  I went to prison.  The end.”

Blair grinned as the other convicts howled their approval of Jim’s answer.  “Okay.  Okay.”  He raised his hands in mock surrender.  “It’s not much, but I think we can work with it.”

Jim adopted a bored expression as Blair began expounding on Jim’s abbreviated life story.  Despite himself, he was fascinated watching Blair as a teacher.  He’d never had the time…or taken the time…to sit in on one of Blair’s classes.  Listening to the anthropologist’s many one-sided lectures on anything and everything under the sun wasn’t like watching him teach…watching him interact with others while sharing his natural enthusiasm.

A few of the convicts began responding as Blair fairly bounced around the desk to the chalkboard to write down his students’ suggestions.  Jim could also see the wheels in Blair’s busy brain turning as the anthropologist noted who was trying to learn and who was simply trying to rattle him.

“Jeez, he moves that ass pretty good, don’t he?” Walker muttered.

Jim let his mind briefly wander away from the class to think about the process of dismembering bodies and hiding them in deep dark holes.

“Okay, let’s see what else we can use.”  Blair pointed again at Jim.  The younger man tried not to smirk as Jim slightly stiffened.  ‘No daydreaming in MY class, Ellison.’  He leaned against the chalkboard.  “What about sports?  Anything there we can use as an analogy?”

‘Now if you go near that place, I’m gonna have to use your head as a football.’  Jim’s blue eyes narrowed as he remembered his half-hearted threat.  ‘Yeah.  Football.  You know, I really like it when they kick the football hard.  A football’s just about the size of a human head, isn’t it?”

‘I’m SO in serious trouble.’  Blair smilingly shook his head as he turned back to the chalkboard to write the word “football”.  He ignored the hoots and catcalls from the other inmates as they responded to Jim’s answer.  Looking back over his shoulder, he good-naturedly grinned.  “I’m sure we can use that.  Somehow.”

‘Christ, Sandburg.  Nobody’s interested in Creative Writing, for God’s sake!  It’s just a scam to get you to relax and trust them.  So they can jump your ass.’   Jim wondered how long it had taken the young man to wear Simon down to allow the police observer to take this risk.  Even more importantly, he wondered why Sandburg had even stepped foot in Starkville Prison.  He’d seen the look of near horror when Jim volunteered to go in.  ‘What the hell are you doing in here, Chief?’

“Bet the little teacher’s mouth would fit real good around my cock,” Walker was muttering to the convict sitting next to him.  “Looks like he’s got a lotta hair, too.  Something to grab onto when I…”

‘I’ll kill him.’  Jim wasn’t sure if he meant the rapist or his partner.  ‘This is why I wanted you away from here, Sandburg.  You’re too trusting and somebody like Walker would rip you apart.’   A sudden vision of Blair on his knees, his hair loose and falling around his shoulders, staring up with wide blue eyes caused Jim to catch his breath.

‘Shit.’  Jim forced himself to relax his grip on the pencil as he tried to control his breathing.  His acute hearing had warned him the piece of wood was about to snap.  He didn’t want to have to explain breaking his pencil in half.

He took a deep breath and glanced at his partner.  He inwardly groaned to see Sandburg sitting cross-legged on top of the desk.  His arms were waving back and forth as he explained what sounded like some obscure point of phrasing.  It didn’t take Sentinel sight to know that practically every convict in the room had his eyes glued on Sandburg’s groin.

‘Judas H. Priest!  I WILL kill him when this is over!  I’ll bury his body so deep it’ll take a major earthquake to bring it up!  I’ll tear a new asshole on the first son-of-a-bitch who even makes an indecent proposal to him!  I’ll…I’ll…oh…aw, no…oh holy shit.’

Jim almost groaned as he realized his anger wasn’t directed so much towards Sandburg for showing up in this god-forsaken place or even toward the other convicts for their lewd comments about his partner.  He was furious with both himself AND Sandburg.

Furious at Sandburg for being so damned cute and lovable.

Furious at himself for falling in love with Sandburg.

The sudden shrill bell startled him.  He slowly stretched cramped muscles as the convicts around him got to their feet.  From the corner of his eyes, he watched as Blair slid off the desk and reached for his backpack.

“Wonder if I can stay after class tomorrow and help the teacher…clean up?” Walker chuckled.

‘Wonder how fast I can break every bone in your body?’  Jim’s expression remained cold as he slowly stood.  Waiting for his chance, he slowly walked towards the desk as Blair shoved paper into his backpack.

Blair stared a little apprehensively at his partner.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jim icily demanded.  ‘And why are YOU here when you were so obviously scared about ME coming into this hellhole?’   He suddenly realized he would walk through Hellfire for his partner and count himself blessed to do it.  Then he realized that’s exactly what Blair was doing now…and had done for him more than once.  That knowledge caused a pit of icy fear to form in the pit of his stomach.  He struggled to make sense of Blair’s words.

“Your guy from Detroit had an emergency appendectomy, so I volunteered. Banks said no, of course.  So I got Maggie Chandler to talk him into it.  So…here I am.  I’m your new contact.”

“All right,” Jim grunted.  “Look for the laundry bag from cell block “B” marked “Curtis.”  You got that?”  Despite his best intentions, he stared deeply into Blair’s blue eyes…and fought not to drown in that sapphire gaze.

“Okay,” Blair quickly nodded.  ‘Gee, Jim, I’m not a complete idiot.  That’s simple enough.’  Finding Jim’s intense stare more than a little unnerving, Blair’s eyes flickered away.

The guard’s voice startled them.  “Beat it.  School’s over.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Jim said to Blair as he turned away.

“No problem,” Blair casually answered.  He shouldered the backpack as the guard silently stared at him.  When Blair hesitantly smiled, the guard turned to follow Jim down the hallway.

Only half-aware of the guard’s presence, Jim ruthlessly shoved his feelings for Blair down into his subconscious.  He allowed himself one brief memory of the warmth that flooded through his body when he’d stared deeply into his partner’s blue eyes.  Then, that memory was shoved away as well.  There would be time for that later.

February 2001

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