Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to UPN/Paramount and Pet Fly. No money has changed hands and no copyright infringement is intended. The songs used in this story come from an old Church of Christ hymnal titled Sacred Selections. Credit is given individually for the songs as listed in the hymnal.
Author's note: I've always wanted to write something that had music at it's core, but I could never figure out how to do it. I hope that I've done a good job with it. I would REALLY like feedback on this one. It's kind of important to me.
Be with me, Lord, I cannot live without Thee,
I dare not try to take one step alone;
I cannot bare the loads of live unaided,
I need Thy strength to lean myself upon.
The woman sat on the hard concrete of the sidewalk, her knees up under her chin and her green-silk-covered arms wrapped around her legs over the broomstick denim skirt she wore. Her green eyes were distant, not focusing on anything that existed in the physical world, and her straight copper hair pooling over her shoulders and down her ramrod-straight back. There were sirens headed her way, men and women from Cascade's finest to take away the man in the alley, but she seemed not to hear them, alone in her own world, a world that consisted solely of the tight abdominal muscles that controlled her breathing, the air moving in and out of her powerful lungs, the clear, rich alto notes that erupted from her larynx, the precise movements of her mouth that shaped the notes into clear words, and the emotions that caused her song to be the most beautiful thing any of the officers would hear for a very long time.
Simon stood waiting for his two best detectives to get to the crime scene. This was the fifth murder in three months with this MO, the fifth member of the local Church of Christ to be found crucified against a telephone pole, their legs broken with a hammer, hand-forged iron nails holding them to the pole and the cross-beam by their wrists and the tops of their feet. The victims were fully nude and gagged with a cloth soaked in vinegar that had been laced with a common sedative. The papers were calling the killer "the Roman."
The difference between this scene and the prior four was that this time there had been a witness. However, the usefulness of that witness had yet to be determined. The beautiful singer had yet to move from her seat on the sidewalk. She had accepted a glass of water, but she only drank one sip from it between repetitions of "Be With Me, Lord", keeping her throat moist to prevent damage. She was obviously traumatized by what she'd seen and was on automatic, the rituals of a singer being her only world at the moment.
Finally, Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg arrived, pulling up in the blue-and-white Ford truck that was so well known to every emergency service in Cascade. They stepped out onto the asphalt, and Simon got a good look at their faces. From the looks of things, Jim had been focusing on the sound of the woman's singing for quite a few blocks. Blair looked surprised, even as he realized that this had to be what Jim had been listening to.
"Sir, what have we got?" Jim looked at his commander for his initial directions. God knew that he and Sandburg were quite capable of working on a scene without him, but they didn't ever forget that he was the Captain, at least while they were working. (Of course, once they were off duty, all bets were off.)
"The Roman. Everything is the same, except this time someone saw it. But I don't know if we're going to be able to get anything out of her. She seems to have closed down. She's been singing that song over and over since before we got here, and the only thing she's acknowledged was the water that one of the uniforms gave her. She's keeping her throat from drying out.
"I need you and Sandburg to work this one with your usual efficiency as soon as the photographers are done."
"Do you want Sandburg to take a crack at our songbird? He's pretty good at bringing people out of their shells."
"Yeah, as soon as you're done with the scene."
They went over the physical evidence on the scene, but the alley was dirty, full of all kinds of garbage and entirely unpleasant things that had nothing to do with the crime, and it was hard to get any kind of real evidence in such a place. There were no fingerprints on the cross or the nails, nothing to connect the killer to the crucified man so far. As always, the man's driver's license had been nailed to the cross as well, just above his head, and in such a way that the nail hole didn't destroy any of the information on the card. Written above it, neatly printed, was the words, "This follower of the Nazarene stopped breathing at 3:28 a.m, 2004. I crucified him in the name of Jupiter, Lord of the Sky, and Mars, God of War. I still follow the true gods of Rome, and these will be silenced."
With nothing unusual with the scene other than the scene itself, they turned to the witness. She was just finishing the final verse of the song, letting the final note linger in the air, a true performer even in her withdrawal from reality. Blair watched her observing how she went about preparing for her next repetition. She took a mouthful of water and swirled it around in her mouth, both moistening those tissues and warming the liquid before swallowing it, preventing her chords from being shocked by a sudden temperature change which could cause them to start locking up, resulting in a squeak. Then she started breathing deeply, from her gut rather than her chest, then letting out a soft hum to confirm her pitch before beginning to sing again. Perfect pitch, he thought.
She had been singing for five hours, if the time of death was any indication. She would be getting tired soon. Done correctly, singing could be very hard work, and she was definitely singing correctly. The muscles in her back and abdomen would be screaming, her butt sore from the pavement, her legs asleep from having been in the same position for so long. If she stopped for too long, her throat would begin to ache and her vocal chords would tighten up from the strain.
As she finished that rep, Blair got an idea. He said, "She's basically zoned herself on purpose, getting lost in the singing process to block out everything else. I think I could bring her out of it, but that's going to mean going into the little world she's created."
Jim looked at his partner. "What do you mean?"
Making sure first that no one was around to hear, he said, "When you zone, your world is whatever sense you're focusing on. That's all you can detect, and that's all you're thinking about, if you're thinking at all while you're in a zone. That's essentially what she's done, only her world is the song and the singing. If I can join her, but provide a contrast, I think I'll be able to bring her back." He took himself around to the side of the building to get himself a paper cup of water. "To join her, I'll have to sing, too, but I'll take the harmony. It's a slightly different sound, but it will still be within her world. Then I'll start to stimulate something other than her ears, maybe take her hand and rub on it."
Well it was definitely one of the stranger things he'd ever heard of, but it was so crazy it just might work. "Can you actually sing, Chief?"
Blair grinned. "I was in a few high school choirs. I still remember what to do, though I'll probably be a bit rusty. I also know this song. The harmony is pretty simple. It was written for the general congregation to be able to sing, not for just the talented or trained."
As she was wrapping up the final verse, Blair sat beside her in the lotus position, but instead of leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees as he usually did, he sat up straight, almost at attention, lining up all of his body's noise-making equipment so that it would flow smoothly.
Simon saw the man sitting and wondered what he was up to. As the woman pitched herself, however, it became abundantly clear what he was doing as a second hum joined with the one he had been hearing every time. They began the song, Sandburg's warm tenor smoothly harmonizing with the alto of the witness. The sound coming from the pair was magnificent for only having the two parts. After the first verse, Simon noticed that the long-haired detective had started stroking the back of her hand. He recognized the motion as the same thing he did to bring Jim out of a light zone.
Knowing the song himself, and wanting to help, he walked to where Blair could see him. He pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows in question, asking if it would be wise for him to join in. Blair nodded slightly. Simon used to sing with a Baptist church choir, and he still remembered what to do. On the third verse, leaning against the wall of the building where he could still see both singers' faces, he joined in with his rich, deep bass.
They finished that repeat, drank water again and started over, Blair rubbing her hand and both he and Simon singing separate harmonies to her melody, sounding fantastic with the echo in the alley magnifying their carrying tones. Toward the very end, moisture could be seen gathering in the eyes of the woman, along with awareness. As they finished the final verse, the woman finally released herself, a sob tearing itself free of her abused vocal chords as she collapsed. Blair leaned forward and pulled her close, letting her cry as she needed to, rocking her back and forth to comfort her.
The singer was Corene Jackson, the last victim's sister, another member of the Church of Christ. She had hidden herself in a doorway, too frightened to come out while the Latin-speaking killer had crucified her brother. She blamed herself severely, comparing herself to the Jews who did nothing to help Jesus when he was crucified, saying that she was just as bad as them. It took a while for her to become stable again, but she was able to give a good description of the killer, and once the face of the suspect was broadcast, it wasn't long before he was turned in and caught. Blair was able to help her overcome her depression, pointing out that she didn't let him get away with it, that she made sure he could never hurt another person again. She still had a long way to go, but she was well on her way to healing.
One of the forensics people had turned on a tape recorder to record verbal notes about the crime scene, and he had caught the trio's unrehearsed performance. With the emotions that had been in the air during the singing, everyone who heard it knew that they'd never get that effect again. Serena made several copies of that part of the tape to hand out to the people of Major Crimes.
Jim had been amazed right along with everyone else at the power in that one song when the people singing meant every word. The need for comfort that was so intense in the face of the horrible scene just around the corner was so well captured by the song that nothing else could possibly duplicate it.
Jim and Blair were sitting in the living room of the loft one night following the trial of the Roman, who's real name had been Joshua David. Simon was at the door and before he could knock, Jim told him to come in. "I hate it when you do that!"
He grinned. "I know."
Simon grumbled under his breath, making sure that the words were garbled so the Sentinel wouldn't figure out what he was saying. This only made Jim's grin widen.
Blair leaned forward as Simon sat on the couch. "So what's up, Simon?"
"Corene sent us a tape of her congregation singing as a thank you. I thought we might listen to it together."
Blair took the tape from Simon and put it in the stereo's tape deck to play. There were several good songs on the tape, and the singers were all pretty good, though none had the polished skill that Corene did. The last song made them all grin, figuring that it was a message, one that they received well.
If the skies above you are gray,
You are feeling so blue,
If your cares and burdens seem great
All the whole day through,
There's a silver lining that shines
In the heavenly land
Look by faith and see it my friend
Trust in his promises grand
Sing and you'll be happy today
Press along to the goal
Trust in him who leadeth the way
He is keeping your soul
Let the world know where you belong
Look to Jesus and pray
Lift your voice and praise him in song
Sing and be happy today!
If you would like the entire lyrics and/or sheet music to these two songs, please e-mail me at [email protected]. I'd love to send them to you. Please give me feedback on this. I know that it makes sense to me, but I don't know about the rest of you.
Some notes about the Church of Christ. We don't use musical instruments in the worship service, and we don't have a choir. We all sing, and though very few will actually be trained singers, the sound isn't usually too off key. ^_^