Don't own 'em, wish I did.

Thanks to the Ls for the beta. Previously published in the zine "Senses of Wonder."

Ya know, it's pretty boring hanging out in a police station, day after day, night after night. Most of what goes on around here is monotonous: paperwork, bookings, fingerprinting. Sure, occasionally you have your random alligator or international hitman, but on the whole the precinct is a boring place.

Oh, you're wondering about me? My name is Joe, Joe Kennedy. I worked "Special Detail" from 1955-1976, right before they renamed it "Major Crimes." Now, you're thinking, "This guy is pretty old to be hanging around in a police station." And you know what? You'd be wrong. I'm forty. I'll be forty for the rest of my life. Well not exactly, I actually died at forty, so I guess I'll be forty for the rest of my death. Just a little spirit humor there, don't ya know. All right, very little, but I try.

So yeah, I'm a ghost. Well, in this politically correct world, I guess I'd be "corporeally challenged", but really I'm a ghost. Stuck between here and there. Hanging out in the place where I was killed and now, it is my own private Hell.

I was a detective, and a darn good one. Had a good solve rate, did my fair share in the precinct and earned a few commendations. Was even recruited for the FBI at one point, but I didn't want to leave Cascade. My life and my family were here. Or at least I thought so. In death, I am a mediocre ghost and hanging out here is proof of that. For the most part, I go unnoticed. Occasionally the random rookie will see me or I'll be able to scare off a cleaning guy. But on the whole, it's really hard to get attention in the police station. Most of the guys here don't believe in me. And they write off what they see and hear as too much stress, too much coffee or too many stakeouts. The only real success I've had is the locker.

My locker. It's in the changing room off the gym. No one uses it. Twenty years later and it sits empty. The walls are undamaged. It hasn't been beaten down with use. The hinges creak with rust, and metal shelves sit covered with dust. There are about two hundred lockers in the room, and everyone still steers clear of number 168. It's not much, but in a building full of cynical policemen, I'll take what I can get.

And I was doing fine, everything on schedule, until Halloween. And it all went down hill. A storm rolled in and it was a deluge. In Washington, we're particularly proud of our weather, so we rate our storms. On a scale of one to ten, this was a thirteen! A great one to make us proud, huge cracks of thunder, bolts of lightning to rival the best in a DeMille movie and sheets of rain.

Vincent Price wishes he had storms like this in his movies! I was in heaven. Well not really, but at least my personal Hell was looking better. The only thing missing was someone to haunt. Some chick in a nice gauzy dress would have been nice, but not a chance here. Then he walked in.

I heard a knock at the door. To be honest, the sharp tap of knuckle against glass startled me. I jumped at the sound and would have hit my head on the shower tiles, if I hadn't been floating so near the floor. It's the guy's locker room, no one knocks. They just barge in with eyes forward, looking is never allowed you know, and do their business.

"Jim? You in here?"

The knock came again and predictably, when no one answered, I heard the scrape of bottom on the fire door drag across the locker room tiles. A gift from heaven. Well, not exactly. But you know what I mean.

"Hello?" a tenor voice called into the empty locker room and bounced against the cold tile of the showers. "Jim? You finished with the mud? Simon wants the report on the Hoskins homicide."

I didn't answer, of course, but I did float out of the showers and drift toward the door opening for a better view of the action. Yeah, I was in the showers, what about it?

"There's no one here," I heard a voice echo as the water cut off.

"Then who am I talking to? 'Cause you sure look like Jim Ellison to me."

I heard the smooth, slightly deeper voice respond with a chuckle. "Got me there Chief."

Jim, as he was apparently called, walked out of the showers and over to his locker. He actually looked better in the towel. And I was enjoying the view during the shower! The towel slung low across his waist accented his build. He was gorgeous. Muscled shoulders tapered to slim hips. The guy worked out. Nice clean-cut, military style haircut finished off the package. I usually didn't pay that much attention to the cops in the station. Once you've been ignored, it's hard to take a personal interest. But this one, Yowza!

His companion walked toward the locker. "Chief" was shorter than Jim. Although he had fairly wide shoulders, he didn't seem to carry the muscle that Jim did. And yet he was nicely proportioned. But the hair! Long curls were pulled back in a leather thong. Girl hair, or at least girly hair. His face was caked with mud and there was a long rip in his shirt. But hair aside, he was still quite striking. An audience of two, show time!

I made sure that I was invisible and floated down to the end of the long, grey row of lockers. Jim was pulling fresh clothing out of a blue khaki bag and "Chief," as Jim called him, was pulling at his own shirt.

"I got Simon squared away on the general info from the bust. Did you get all that mud off? I'm really worried that you'll develop a rash or have some sort of..." The guy's voice trailed off as he motioned with his hands. "Some sort of 'you know'."

Jim stopped for moment and cocked his head to the side. "There's no one here but us, Chief. I was feeling itchy, but the shower seems to have done the trick."

Looking relieved, "Chief" returned to undressing. "Hey, is there an empty locker around here? I'll stick my stuff in there while I'm showering."

Jim stopped for a second and looked in his. "Oh yeah, you probably don't want to throw your clean clothes in with this mess. There should be one down the aisle. We probably should get you one of your own."

"Scrounging is good, I can do scrounging. It's fine. Besides, we usually share, so it's no big deal."

"Chief" approached 168 and reached for the latch. Jim looked over with a frown. "I think 180 is free."

"Huh? This one looks like it hasn't been used in a while. It should be fine."

Before he could touch the latch, Jim reached over and ran a finger down the rip in the shirt. "You sure, you're okay?" His hand stilled for a moment and then he reached up to run his knuckles over "Chief's" jaw.

"You had me pretty worried there for a bit."

They grasped hands for a moment then pulled apart. "I'm fine. Really."

I couldn't believe my luck. These two handsome men were partners. And not just cop partners, either.

My partner was a handsome man, too. Did I say that I was cursed to wander these paperwork cluttered, stinky tiled halls because of my partner? Well it's all his fault and these two were going to help me make him pay.

In a huff of green jealousy, I disappeared to make my plans.

As I popped out of the locker aisle, I thought I heard Jim say, "Did you see that?" But of course, no one could see me!

Ellison's attention jumped to the end of the aisle.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" Blair asked as he pulled open locker 168.

"I thought I saw something."

"What did you see? Are you having a sensory spike?"

"No, I don't think so. It was just a glimpse of green. My senses feel fine."

Blair returned to unzipping his jeans. "Probably a flash of lightning. Or your senses could be noticing a residue from that muck at the crime scene."

Jim clenched his jaw as he peered down the aisle. "Yeah, maybe. Maybe the mud is bothering me more than I thought."

"Geez, when was the last time someone used this locker? The Truman administration?" Blair blew a layer of dust off the shelf and settled his backpack on it. "I'll meet you in Simon's office after I grab my shower."

"Uh, no, Chief. We've had this discussion. After the last time you were left in the showers alone, one of us is always going to be around. I'll wait."

"Jim, that was over a year ago. Those guys were transferred. I'm fine to take a shower down here by myself. Besides it's 10:30 on Halloween. I don't think there are a lot of angry beat cops waiting to beat me into submission tonight. I'll be fine. Simon is waiting for you."

Pulling his shirt on Jim walked over to Blair. "I'm not taking chances with you here. You were badly hurt that night, and on precinct grounds. If I hadn't heard you calling..." Embracing Blair, he held him close for moment.

"I'll be fine, really. Now go." Pulling back from the embrace, Blair gave Jim an incandescent smile and grabbed his towel. Turning toward the showers he said with reassurance "Go. I've been showering alone since I was 4. I'll be just fine."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I watched as "Chief" walked toward the shower. Two in one night, this was a nice surprise. I toyed briefly with the idea of pulling at his towel, but that seemed like such a cheap way to handle things. And I didn't really think that would work well on this one anyway. There was something in his walk that told me I was going to have to work at this. I love a challenge.

I wondered about their partnership as I followed him into the shower. Floating a bit off the floor, I watched as he turned on the water. Didn't just jump into the cold water, not this one. He was waiting for it to warm up. Reminded me of Daniel. Daniel never liked cold showers either. He always took the second shower of the morning to make sure the water started out warm. It's amazing to me that someone so warm and giving could be so cold-blooded. Could sell me out to our boss for a quick lay and a promotion. Talk about cold. Firming my resolve I watched as "Chief" lathered and rinsed his hair.

As much as I enjoyed the view, sightseeing was not going to get the job done. I ran a quick ethereal hand up his flank and over his buttocks and misted back into the locker room. A quick gasp of breath was my first reward. A bit of cold air there "Chief"?

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Leaning back into the spray Blair rinsed his hair. It felt good to be warm and clean. Letting the water careen down his back, he wallowed in the heat for just a second. The skin on his neck prickled and a cold wave pulled over his thigh and across his butt. Eyes flashing open, he spun, ready to defend himself against that cold hand that stroked him.

Blinking water out of his eyes Blair peered around the communal shower. No one there. And yet he knew he had felt a hand on his butt. Reaching behind him, he shut off the water and looked around again. No one. Maybe it was a flashback? After all Jim had mentioned the assault down here and this was the first time he'd been in the shower alone. Shaking his curls he grabbed his towel and moved to the locker room.

He stopped. A bench ran down the row of lockers separating the two sides. And on the bench sat his backpack. Empty. Aligned neatly like little soldiers, lay each of the items he usually packed. His laptop, a notebook, two textbooks, a pocket guide to Latin America, pens, pencils, highlighters, a calculator. Blair's eyes continued down the row of benches: toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant stick, gum, baggie of trail mix, extra reading glasses, sunglasses, water bottle, wallet. No, correct that, empty wallet. He knew it was empty because all of his credit cards, ID cards and money were neatly aligned in piles toward the end of the row. Slowly, the coins started to roll off the bench. Falling like raindrops to dance on the locker room's tiled floor. The clatter of change continued and then finally died out, echoing through the room. One lone penny rolled to Blair's feet, tipped and wobbled back and forth several times before the room settled back into silence.

"Okay..." Blair glanced around the room. "Molly? Is that you?" Great he thought, even if it was, it's not like I could hear her answer. He leaned up against the wall and thought about what to do. How was he supposed to deal with this? Running upstairs to Major Crimes naked accept for a towel, was not an option. He could scream for Jim, but that wasn't very fair. There was no immediate danger here, well at least he didn't think so. And if it was Molly, the only person who could deal with her would be Jim.

He needed clothes and he needed escape. So, first up: pants. Grabbing his towel firmly by the hand, Blair vaulted over the bench and grabbed at the latch on 168. Pulling fiercely, he struggled with the locker as the latch stuck. Letting go of the towel, he pulled with both hands. Finally the latch slid free and the door swung open. His clothes were missing.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Jim knocked and entered Simon's office. Nodding his thanks to his boss for the cup of coffee, Jim settled in to report on the Hoskins' murder. The whole case was extremely odd. The family who found the body was weird. The mob guy implicated in the killing had a screw loose and the fight in the graveyard on Halloween was something out of a bad B-movie. If he weren't so sore and stiff, Jim might have found it amusing. But dead bodies were not amusing and he focused back on his briefing to Simon.

He was just going through the evidence list and explaining to Simon what a case of Elderberry wine had to do with the murder, when he noticed something. Cocking his head to the side, he focused in on Blair's heartbeat. He had been monitoring it as he left the shower room and it had been beating in the back of his consciousness the whole time. It had just spiked.

"Jim?" Simon's voice was loud in the office as Jim concentrated on the far-off sound.

"It's Sandburg, his heart rate just sky rocketed." Jim was standing before he knew it.

The beat toned back down and Jim worked to listen in further. Water, Blair and no one else in his vicinity. At least no other heartbeats were echoing in the shower room.

"It's okay Simon, he must have gotten some weird idea. He's alone downstairs. I guess I'm just a bit jumpy."

Reseating himself with a bit of trepidation, Jim focused back on explaining how the victims ended up in the windowseat. "So, Sir, from what I can tell, that's why there were two of them. One poisoned and one shot."

Simon pulled the folder forward to review the crime scene photos. Jim's head turned toward the door again. "Simon, I'm going back downstairs. Blair's heart rate is up and this time it isn't settling."

He was out the door before Simon could reply.

Punching the elevator button, he thought back to that night a year ago as he waited for Blair to return from the showers. It had never occurred to him to worry about his partner in the station. Watching the numbers slowly change, Jim bolted for the stairs.

Down four flights and toward the basement, Jim was huffing and striving to hold onto the heartbeat of his partner. A door slammed open above him driving him to his knees. The clash echoed down the stairwell and he covered his ears to soften the roar. The ringing in his head receded and he pulled his hands down. Taking a deep breath to clear his head he listened for Blair's heartbeat. It was gone. Sending out his senses he tried and failed to latch onto the familiar pattern. Too many noises, too much going on. Jumping back to his feet he ran down the rest of the stairs to the locker room.

Slamming open the door, Jim pulled his weapon.

"Blair? Chief, are you in here?" He inched forward into the locker room. "Sandburg!"

Jim studied the scene. There was no trace of Blair. The benches were clean, the lockers shut and no anthropologist to be found. Stalking up the row, Jim stopped at locker 168. The dust was smeared where Blair had opened it. The interior shelf was empty. He slammed the locker shut and took a deep breath.

Some cop had come after Sandburg. Someone had been in here and took his partner. Jim caught the swish of a black tail out of the corner of his eye. A feral growl resounded in the locker room. No one messed with his partner, especially not at the station.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I waited patiently for "Chief" to awake. I knew it wouldn't take long, as you can only throw a deodorant stick so hard. I hadn't wanted to kill him, at least not yet. Besides, I wanted to have some fun first. Good cop, bad cop and all that.

The boiler room was warm. The chug-gug of the machinery made a nice cover for my hiding place. I used to come here to think when I was alive. The break rooms were busy, the roof was usually filled with rain and this had been one nice quiet place to come and be alone. There was an added advantage. The ductwork from here connected all over the building. When I first started haunting, I used to make noise that would echo for floors. It sounded pretty keen. But then one day I heard the janitorial staff talking about replacing the boilers because they whined and I realized I was failing. Great horrendous moans and chokes had been written off to "whiny boilers."

Maybe I could make this one scream? Or at least groan. At this point, I'd settle any sort of acknowledgment. The noises might be entertaining and someone might notice! His partner would hear the groans echo through the station and come looking... only to be too late!

Too late. I know all about being too late. I was late the night I found Daniel and Steve in the interrogation room. The perp dead on the floor and Daniel was leaning back over the table as Steve kissed his neck. I came back with coffee to see how the questioning was going and found my boss and my partner making out beside a dead suspect. Not only were they playing around on me, they were hurting others. I was too late to save that kid and too late to do anything about the man who said he loved me. Steve had his gun out before I knew what was happening and then I was just lying on the floor...and then I was floating over the floor as people rushed around. I wandered off for a while, I don't think I knew what was going on. And then sometime later, I ran into Murray, the night shift Captain. When I grabbed his arm and went right through it, I knew. But the chill that showed in his eyes was invigorating. I might not be able to do much, but I could make a few people as miserable as I was.

And I was going to see that chill now from "Chief" before he met his untimely end. Blue eyes opened and "Chief" tried to sit up.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Cold. It was darn cold. Blair rubbed his temple and pushed himself to his knees. Cold. His legs and back were freezing. And yet his chest wasn't. He looked down and saw the towel. Towel. Shower. Flying deodorant. A deodorant stick had come at his temple and now he was sitting, well where exactly? Re-cinching the towel, he looked around.

Boiler room. The air was warm, just the cement was a bit cool. He stood up and peered into the semi-darkness. There had to be a light switch somewhere. He felt around the room using the illuminated dials for guidance. The door! It was locked. Pulling at the handle, he realized it wouldn't give. He closed his eyes. I am not going to have a panic attack. I'm locked in a dark room on Halloween without my clothes and I am not going to panic. I. AM. NOT. GOING. TO. PANIC.

"Jim!!!! Jim, if you can hear me, I need some help here." Okay, so he wasn't going to panic, he didn't say anything about not screaming.

"Jim" echoed in a strangely metal fashion then cascaded off. The sound seemed to move away from him. "im, im, im, im..." melded into a groan.

The groan got louder as the boilers started to rattle. The whoosh of the compressors sped up. They seemed to echo the tempo of Blair's breathing. As his gasps sped up, the counterpoint of the mechanics in the room pulled at him. Darkness started to pull him in and then he felt it. Malevolence. Something evil.

"Molly?"

No, he decided, not Molly. Lash. He was trapped with Lash in the warehouse. That was it. He closed his eyes again. He couldn't do this a second time. Pulling his hands to his ears he tried to block out the voice in his head. "I can be you." Wasn't that the dental chair right over there?

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I was dead certain he was just about to give up in terror when his eyes flashed open. Moving toward one of the boilers, he stopped and stood. His nose was practically leaning against the side. And then he started speaking.

"It says CPD. As in Cascade Police Department. Get a grip Sandburg. You knew you saw working parts. An no one takes a naked guy out of the station without being noticed."

To my total astonishment, he looked around. Not petrified with fear, but rather curious.

"All right," I heard him gently inquire. "Who are you and why are you still here?"

Was he talking to me? That's impossible. No one here believes in ghosts. He couldn't be talking to me.

I decided to move onto Phase Two of my plan and go with the floating chains when he spoke again.

"I said, who are you and why is your soul still hanging around the station? Couldn't you find a better place? Like a nice Victorian house up in Seattle?"

His query took me totally off guard. He sounded like he'd dealt with the dead before. That couldn't be!

"Come on man. Talk to me. Did you die in a cell? Get shot in the parking lot? What?"

His voice was comforting. He started to move around as if looking for something. The gentle voice continued to plead with me to answer. But this couldn't be. I floated over to face him for a better view.

He stopped in the middle of the room. Soft, blue eyes were still scanning but the body had stopped. Well, that's not true. His legs had stopped. The hands and the mouth were going great guns.

"You should moved on," he coaxed.

"There are wonderful things waiting for you on the other side: great warmth, light and happiness. Just waiting for you. Friends and family waiting to take you on to a place that's a lot nicer than this dank, cold station."

Dank? Well yeah, city funds being what they were this wasn't the Ritz. But it was my dank station. And how did he know what was on the other side? How would he know?

Wait. Did he say family and friends? Warmth? Light?

I slid down to the floor and made eye contact. Well, sort of. His hands stopped.

"You're there, aren't you man?"

"Something happened to keep you here, didn't it?" he said in a comforting tone. "Something has captured your spirit. You're a prisoner here, aren't you? Whatever it was, you have to let it go if you want to move on."

I didn't need this. Besides there was still his partner to consider. I gathered up my dignity, my ghostly aura, and ran like hell.

Sliding through the first door made me feel a bit better. But I could still hear him talking. "You need to let it go. You need to move on. This is so not good for your karma."

I started humming do wop songs to block out the sound of his voice. "Ram A Lam A Ding Dong" was bleating in my brain as I flew down the halls and back toward the locker room. I wanted my nice safe corner shower. Then I'd decide on what was next.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

At the sound of Blair's scream, Jim's hearing spiked again. It pulled in his concentration and he focused on finding his partner. He stood and started to send his senses out one at a time. Sandburg still had to be in the station. It was just a matter of finding him.

Calming, Jim began to work. Then he heard it again. "Jim, im, im... " It seemed to be coming from all round him. Or above him? Damn it. There was no way to focus in on Blair without Blair standing right beside him. He needed to take a deep breath and settle down. He could do this.

He walked over to the bench, sat and started to take deep breaths. His senses began to settle. Colors weren't spiking with sounds, the stench in the locker room was manageable again. This time he needed to expand his senses slowly, and focus.

Where was the noise coming from? And why?

The echoes made it hard to pinpoint. Okay, forget the where. Why?

"You want me to chase the sound right?" Jim spoke to the unknown, yet hated brother-in-blue.

"Chasing my tail throughout the station, while you take Sandburg out the back way. I don't think so." Jim finally re-holstered his gun and began to plan. Special Forces taught long and hard that when on the defensive, turn to offense.

Senses tuned down, he almost missed it. The green poof was back. And this time Jim knew that it wasn't mud poisoning. He didn't move, he didn't twitch. He waited.

The guy floated into the locker room and right over toward the showers. He was dressed in some dark brown corduroy pants and an ugly green turtleneck sweater. He looked like an extra on "Mannix."

Was he losing his mind? Or had he just lost Blair? No, 70's extras did not float around the station. Of course neither did black panthers and he noticed one of those padding after the guy into the shower.

Picking himself off the bench, Jim followed.

He stood looking at the dripping shower and watching the panther and the guy out of the corner of his eye.

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What kind of specter was I, anyway? One short, girly-haired mortal was not going to ruin my Halloween. It was time for Round Two. I was going to take out the partner. Track him down and scare him senseless. Hopefully, Jim would be a little less Phil Donahue and a little more Elliot Ness. A little blood, a little violence that's what I needed! Too bad I can't really use a gun anymore. But I'll take what I can get.

Speaking of old Phil, Daniel used to love that show. The celebrities, the guests, the authors -- he ate it all up. We usually worked second shift, so Phil joined us for lunch most days. My shoulders began to drop in relaxation as I thought back to that happy time. Daniel, lunch and Phil on in the background, those days had been wonderful...and then Steve's face popped into my head. Steve took everything. Daniel, lunch, that punk kid from the crime and he even took Phil. My heart started to chill again and I looked down to plan my next move.

By now the echo of "Chief's" screams should have been heard throughout the station. So Jim was probably starting a perimeter search from the top floor down. I started to think about ascending to the roof to watch the fun, when I noticed the cat sitting on the shower floor.

Now, we had that alligator about two years ago running in the ductwork, but this cat was something different. First, it was looking right at me. Second, it was not just a house cat. It was a panther, like you'd see in the zoo. It was also baring its teeth at me and growling.

Odd. Decidedly. I followed the cat's gaze as it swerved from me to . . . Jim? That couldn't be right. He was standing in the shower staring at the stall that "Chief" had used. Why wasn't he chasing the noise?

He turned and faced me. Directly. I was floating about eight feet up in the corner and he looked right at me. That was impossible!

"Where is he?"

Well the question certainly seemed aimed at me, but I wasn't about to answer. And besides it wasn't like he really knew I was there.

"I'll ask one more time. Where is he?"

I blinked. I leveled out so that I was lying parallel to the floor and waited for him to leave. What I didn't expect was for his eyes to follow mine. He could see me!

Well. This certainly put a new slant on things. I could work with this, I thought. After all, I was already dead. What could he do?

I forgot about the cat. Or at least, I stopped thinking about the cat.

Jim moved forward and knelt beside the sleek, black body. "Can you do anything about him?"

My brow furrowed. He wasn't scared of the panther? And what was a panther doing loose in a police station anyway? The guy already seemed to be three slices short of a loaf, so maybe that's why he could see me. Now he was talking to animals.

This wasn't going to get me anywhere so I melted through the wall and into the locker room. As I floated toward the door, the great cat landed in front of me.

HUH?

The only way for the cat to get from the showers to the door was to leap through the wall and over the ceiling. Now he was sitting in front of me. Damn.

Jim came out from behind the lockers. "Oh, no you don't. You will answer my questions. Tell me what you did with Sandburg or you'll deal with both of us."

Well at least "Chief" has a name now. Sandburg. If I wanted to dwell on that it would have been interesting, but the threat was bothering me more.

Deciding to regroup and consider my options, I floated toward the back of the lockers. The panther leapt to the top of the cabinets and as he ran down the row chasing me, the doors started to fly open. By the end of the row I was scared and the rattle of fifty opening locker doors was ringing in my head. Back toward the front of the room and the doors slammed shut. Slam, leap, slam, leap, slam, leap. Nice kitty.

Up, up was my next option. I sprang through the floor and sailed up toward the fifteenth floor for some peace and quiet. It lasted about four minutes. I was lounging against the Chief of Police's couch when I heard the elevator ding.

At first I thought it was the cleaning crew, then the cat stalked in and settled in front of me. Its tail was swishing back and forth. He didn't look happy. The man that followed behind looked less happy.

His jaw was clenching and there was this weird tick in his eye. His hands kept opening and closing like he was trying not to hit someone.

I waited for the inevitable question. It didn't come.

Jim looked at me, looked down at the cat then growled. No, Jim growled, not the panther. It was very odd. What happened next was even more so.

The panther stood up, prowled toward me and sat right in front of the couch. It turned to look over its shoulder and Jim just nodded. Then, whack.

There was a huge claw mark down the side of my good corduroy pants. If I hadn't been dead, I would have been bleeding! Those were my good pants. I was buried in those pants. Those pants made me look like a cross between Dan Tanna and Humphery Bogart. I loved those pants.

The cat ripped my pants. Before I could express my outrage, he was back doing the same thing to the other leg. I had rivers of tears down my best pants. And it hurt. A lot. I was dead, wasn't I supposed to be beyond pain?

Fear is a great motivator. It motivated me right out of the office. Unfortunately, Jim seemed motivated to follow me. Oh, I led them on a merry chase. I floated through Homicide, swept past Robbery into Vice. I did this lovely sort of tornado effect with the paperwork in Vice. It was supposed to slow the panther down. It did slow Jim down, well, a bit. But then he was right back up and cutting through my nice cyclone of forms. Jim followed me down through Booking then somehow we ended up in Major Crimes. I never visit the floor, too many bad memories. I don't know the layout as well there and I sort of got turned around. I was aiming for the break room and instead floated into an interrogation room. THE interrogation room.

Jim was right behind me. Then he was in front of me. How could he be both? The door slammed shut and the cat was on my chest. I was lying on the table where I had last seen Daniel. The panther had its claws in my nice green turtleneck and Jim was everywhere! The panther was baring his teeth over my neck and Jim moved forward.

I was cowering, sobbing and I was surrounded. I saw Steve, I saw Daniel, I saw that poor dead kid. It was all flashing before my eyes, that whole ugly night.

Jim just stood there. After a bit, I calmed down and looked up. The eye was still twitching.

"Where is he? You get one chance, then the cat gets free reign. I may not be able to kill you, but I can make you very miserable. WHERE. IS. BLAIR?

Finally, I realized one of the Jims was a reflection in a mirror. Only one was making noise. Only one Jim seemed much better than two. The panther was still a problem. I could feel the snap of its teeth as it snuffled along my neck.

"He's downstairs. Call the cat off and I'll show you. Please, anything to get me out of this room." I could still hear the echo of Daniel's groans and feel the shock of the gun as it hit me. There were reasons I avoided this room.

Jim's eyes narrowed and he studied me. The cat backed off and I stood up from the table. I felt the wet weight of jaws encircle my wrist. The fangs were poking at my being, but it wasn't quite a bite. Yet. I got the point.

"Boiler room. We'll a .... Meet you there?"

Jim's eyebrow raised. No. Okay. "We'll all take the elevator?"

Steely eyes cut me to the core. We walked out into the hall and Jim pushed the button. Just as we entered, a tall, black man yelled down the hallway. "Jim, did you find the kid?"

The man next to me sighed as the black man got on to the elevator. I moved toward the corner, Jim's eyes followed.

"I'm working on it Simon. I think he's okay."

The other man looked at him quizzically. I tried to float out the side, figuring this would be my best chance of escape. As I inched my arm within the panther's mouth, cold blue eyes focused on me.

"Don't even think about it."

The jaws snapped tighter and my arm was screaming in pain.

"Behave, or he takes the hand."

The other voice startled me. "Jim?"

I looked up from my burning arm to see "Simon" looking at Jim with concern.

Jim brought a hand up, squeezed the bridge of his nose like he had a headache and sighed.

"You don't want to know Simon. Trust me. You just don't want to know."

The bell dinged for the lobby where we needed to switch elevators. I thought that Simon would say something. He didn't. The doors opened, we exited and Simon just stayed on and rode back up.

I floated toward the boiler room with the panther and the detective on my heels. I could have waited for him to unlock the door, but what was the point? I melted through the door and into the dimly lit room.

"There you are," a warm voice said from the darkness.

I jumped at the sound and tripped over the panther. Daniel? No, the voice wasn't Daniel's. It was "Chief." Or Sandburg, I guess his name was.

"Man, what's gotten into you?" he asked me gently and then he noticed the panther.

"Whoops. Looks like you found Jim."

Just then the door banged open and Jim bounded into the room.

"Sandburg?"

"Chief", I mean Sandburg, looked toward the open door with such a look of intensity on his face that I floated in awe.

"It's okay Jim. I'm okay. Really." He moved toward Jim and they embraced. Jim seemed to bury his head in Sandburg's hair. They stood there for some moments.

Pulling back, Jim studied Sandburg. I had to stand and watch. It was interesting to see the emotions wash across their faces. Besides the panther had its jaws on my hand and I couldn't move anyway.

Stroking Sandburg's cheek, Jim finally pulled back. Jim pulled off his sweater and handed it to Sandburg.

"Thanks man, I'm feeling a little exposed here."

Sandburg pulled the sweater down over his towel and turned to me.

"So, I see you met Jim."

Jim draped an arm across Sandburg's shoulders and hugged him close.

"You can see him? How? You couldn't see Molly before."

Sandburg shrugged. "My guess is it's close to midnight on Halloween. The doors between the spiritual planes must be wide open and all that. Anyway, I can see them both, actually. Cool cat, man."

Jim smiled down at Sandburg then turned an icy glare toward me.

"Jim," Sandburg placed a hand on the cop's arm. "Let me, okay?"

Jim's eyes moved back between us and finally he sighed and nodded his head.

Sandburg took a step forward. "You want to tell us why you're still here? And why you were so upset when you came back in here?"

I shifted a bit and rubbed my toe against the cement. "He chased me into the Major Crimes interrogation room."

I glanced up. Sandburg had a totally dumbstruck look on his face. "So?"

I looked over at Jim, he just looked impatient. Then the panther tugged on my arm again.

"I don't like that room. I died in that room. It gives me bad memories."

Sandburg started again. "So you were a suspect and you were killed in that room?"

Straightening, I pulled my glowing aura together and tried to look formidable. "I am, was, not a criminal. I was a detective."

Neither of them looked that impressed, let alone frightened.

Sandburg looked at Jim and raised an eyebrow.

Jim looked off in the distance for a bit then focused on Sandburg. "Daniel Dean. He was killed by his boss in the mid-70's."

Piercing blue eyes pinned me. "Are you Daniel?"

"No," I shrieked. "I'm not that bastard. He was my partner, he sold me out."

But Jim was shaking his head at me. "Nope. The guy was a good cop. He was killed trying to defend a suspect and his partner. The Captain was on the take and it came out in the interrogation. Steve Something was his name. He went nuts. Killed the witness, shot Dean. He also shot Dean's partner."

That couldn't be. I saw them. On the table. Daniel was under Steve and he was. . . Oh no.

Sandburg stepped a little closer to me. Jim's hand stayed on his shoulder.

With a coaxing voice, Sandburg asked me to explain what happened that night. I heard Jim mumble from behind him "It better be good enough to explain why he's got you down here in nothing but a towel and a bruise on your head."

Wow. Jim could see really well in the dark if he saw the bruise on Sandburg's temple. The panther growled encouraging me to get on with it. Sandburg looked at Jim with some consternation.

"I'm fine, Jim, really."

I tried to ignore the panther. Gathering my courage, I asked Sandburg, "Maybe you want to get dressed before we talk? I have lots of time."

Jim looked like he was going to interrupt, but Sandburg just nodded. "Yeah, that would be good. Standing half naked in the boiler room is not my idea of perfect conversational atmosphere."

"Oh, and you can call me Blair. I don't think we've been properly introduced."

I beamed back at him, "Joe. Joe Kennedy."

So the four of us took the stairs the back way to the locker room. Blair didn't want to chance the elevator.

Jim seemed to hover as Blair reclaimed his clothes from the locker I had stashed them in and then they settled onto a bench and waited for me to talk.

Blair was leaning into Jim, like he didn't have a care in the world. It kind of surprised me, given that we were in the station and all. Blair told me that Jim would know if anyone was coming. Good detectives develop good instincts, I guess.

"So, Joe," Blair said, picking up the conversation. "You were shot in the line of duty, why didn't you move on?"

I leaned my elbows on my crossed legs and floated up in front of them. "I found my partner with our captain making out in the Interrogation Room upstairs. At least that's what I thought it looked like. Now you're telling me.. . Well I saw the suspect was dead on the floor and when I came in they shot me."

"I came in with coffee, saw the dead body and rushed at them. But Steve, the bastard, heard the coffee cups shatter on the floor and pulled his gun up. Daniel locked his hands on the Captain's and they pulled the trigger." I shook as I remembered the burn of the bullet as it entered my chest.

"Betrayal, huh?" Blair asked, pulling at a string on his jeans. "That's a really hard way to die."

"No question there," I answered.

Jim seemed to tense a bit and pulled Blair closer. Blair patted his arm and turned back to me.

He leaned forward. "What happened then?"

"Next thing I knew I was hovering over my bleeding body. Then I wandered off. It was too much to deal with at the time. I never saw Daniel again."

"And then?"

"I went nutso, I guess," I replied with a grimace. "I tried things I'd seen in movies. I moaned, I screamed, moved things around. I always cleared out the locker when someone new moved into it. Basic ghost stuff, you know."

Blair nodded knowingly. "You felt betrayed and hurt. You still do. Your negative energy is keeping you here. But man, you now know you were wrong. Daniel didn't do you in. You need to let it all go."

"I guess you're right. It's just that I saw, well thought I saw... But, it doesn't matter now. And to be honest, I didn't know there was anywhere else to go. The station really was a lot of my life."

"You know," Blair said with a sad smile. "There's warmth and peace on the other side. There are people who love you and they've probably been waiting for you all this time."

"You think so? I don't know."

"Well, I do."

Jim seemed to shudder at that comment and Blair looked over. "Unless you have a more important reason to stay here, it's actually very nice there."

They studied each other for a moment then shared an odd smile.

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "How would you know what's waiting on the other side?"

Jim's arm wrapped around Blair's waist.

"Trust us," Jim said, without taking his eyes away from his partner, "we know."

I shrugged my shoulders disconsolately. "Even if there are people on the other side, Daniel won't be there."

"Maybe he is waiting for you."

Jim straightened a bit but still kept his arm around Blair. "I think you're missing several facts here. If you didn't haunt the inquiry, you wouldn't have known. Daniel was attacked too. He was struggling with the Captain when you came in. The gun went off because they were fighting over it. Not because Daniel was trying to kill you."

Jim stopped. "Although it does make sense. The Captain finally confessed to the whole thing because he swore he saw one of you in the Booking room. He's still at Conover, I think. He totally lost it. Kept talking about ghosts and revenge."

I smiled sweetly at them. I never said I didn't see the Captain. I just never saw Daniel again.

Blair looked at me with great empathy. "I think it's time to let this go, don't you? Daniel is waiting for you and it sounds like justice was served here too."

"But how? How do I get there?"

Blair smiled at me. "Focus on your love for Daniel. Forget the anger and the betrayal. Remember what it was like to have him as your partner. Remember what he was like as your friend. Let go of everything else."

The panther let go of my arm as Jim piped in, "Trust me. Jump in, the water is fine and it's a great journey to take."

I looked at both of them sitting on the bench. I then closed my eyes and pictured Daniel. It had been so long and yet, it was easy when I thought about it.

The room took on a new warmth as it brightened considerably. I faced into the heat then heard the sweetest of voices.

"Joe?"

"It's Daniel," I choked out in awe. I couldn't believe how joyous it was to hear that voice again. My soul felt light and I was actually smiling with happiness for the first time in such a long time.

"Joe, what took you so long? I've been waiting forever." He was there and then we were in each other's arms. It had been so long and yet worth the wait.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Blair looked over at Jim and smiled as they watched the two men embrace before dissipating. Jim followed the light as it disappeared.

Jim stepped forward until all traces of the two men were gone. Blair came up behind him wrapping his arms tight around the Sentinel. He anchored Jim's senses and offered support.

"They're gone," Jim said, his eyes combing the tiles for any last traces of the two.

A warm squeeze was his answer. Jim turned and embraced his partner. Blair nuzzled into his arms, rubbing his cheek against Jim's chest.

"Second chances are a wonderful thing. And at least we didn't have to wait twenty-five years for ours."

Blair tilted his head and Jim leaned down for a kiss. The warmth suffused both of them and once again their bond was renewed. Jim brought a hand up to caress Blair's cheek.

"You sure you're okay?" His hand brushed over the bruise.

"I'm fine, really. This has been one weird Halloween, but at least it ended with us together."

"Yea," Jim said leaning in for another kiss. "Panthers and ghosts and towels, oh my. There's no place like home."

Finis

End Shake, Rattle and Roll by Ann Heric: annheric@aol.com

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