Unfortunately, I still don't have custody of the boys, and chances are, I never will. They still belong to Pet Fly and to Paramount. Too bad those guys don't have a clue what to do with them.

In many ways this story is a journal of my growth as a writer. The last scene is the first one that ever popped into my head back when I first thought about writing about Jim and Blair. The gen story "Little Boy Lost" rolled around in my head for several years as I wrote shorter, simpler stories to hone my writing skills. Those shorter stories eventually led to "Suicide Watch" which became the opening salvo for LBL.
Somewhere in between all of that, I discovered slash and managed to write two short slash stories, keeping them very separate from my gen writing. Imagine my surprise when LBL tried to turn slash about half way through writing it! Many of my bifictional readers were reading SW with slash tinted glasses and encouraged me to write a slash version of the series. This is the result. There are parts of this work I am extremely proud of, and parts that show how early in my writing they were done. I've fussed and edited this more than everything else I've written put together. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that a long work that shows the growth I've made as a writer is not a bad thing. I hope you readers will agree.
Eventually, there will be a sequel. At first I planned an epilogue to this, but after much soul-searching I realized that the original ending stands just as strong in the slash version, perhaps even stronger.
Over the years this story has evolved, many betas have given their time and insight to its development. Back in the gen days, TAE, Daydreamer, Dolimer and Virginia all had a hand in it. As it turned slash, Virginia and Dolimer continued to support me. Saul and Mary tracked down every last wayward comma and quotation mark. Alyjude helped me tremendously with my decision to have a separate sequel rather than an epilogue in addition to being a wonderful cheerleader after my car accident.

This is set after Murder 101, but before the end of the season. Discussion of past abuse.

AS THE BOUGH BREAKS

Emerald

"Hey Sandburg, what are you doing up so early?" Jim paused on the stairs, tying his robe. His partner was sitting at the table fully dressed, nursing a cup of coffee and did not notice his arrival. "Chief, are you okay?"

"Sorry, Jim, I didn't hear you." Blair stood up and grimaced at his cup before walking into the kitchen to dump it.

"Are you all right?" Ellison repeated the question as he continued down the stairs, becoming concerned as he took in the tired expression on Blair's face.

Sandburg leaned against the kitchen counter, chewing on his lower lip. When he finally looked up, the smile on his face was forced. "Sure, Jim, I'm fine." Sensing Ellison's doubt, he continued. "I've just got some stuff going down right now, that's all. Nothing for you to worry about."

"What's wrong with letting me worry? Isn't that what 'Blessed Protectors' are suppose to do?" ~ Let me in, Buddy. ~

A feeble smile touched the corners of the young man's mouth. "It's just school stuff, man. Anyway, one way or another, it'll be settled today."

"That sounds ominous, Chief."

Sandburg picked up his backpack and walked towards the door. "With any luck..." He stopped and looked back at his friend, an aching sadness seemed to surround him. "I'll see you tonight, Jim." The closing door echoed around the Sentinel, clutching at his heart and chilling his soul.

Ellison picked up the cup Sandburg had left. Residual warmth from his Guide's grasp reached the Sentinel's sensitive fingers, but the inside of the cup was cold. ~ How long were you sitting there, Chief? ~ His uneasiness grew as he surveyed the loft, finding none of Sandburg's usual clutter in sight. A flash of black fur drew his attention back to the door, then it was gone.

Standing in the center of the room, Sentinel warred with cop. With an aching heart, the cop won, as witnesses needed interviewing and depositions needed taking. Forgoing his shower, Ellison returned upstairs to dress. The quicker the work was done, the sooner he could return home that evening. ~ We will talk about this tonight, mark my words Sandburg. ~

Captain Banks stared at the telephone in his hand. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he wished to still be a beat cop, hell even a meter reader. Anything to keep from having to do this. Opening his eyes, he glanced one last time at the receiver before hanging it on its hook and turning to face the bullpen. Ellison was already heading for his office door. ~ He heard my heartbeat. Damn, I wanted a few minutes to pull myself together before I had to face him. ~

"Sir?"

"Jim. Come in and close the door."

Ellison entered the office, pulling the door partway closed behind him. "Simon, you're starting to scare me here. Something's wrong, I know it. Tell me what's wrong." The bullpen became deathly quiet, as Ellison's voice spilled over. Simon groaned to himself. Telling Ellison was going to be the hardest thing the tall man had ever done. Telling him in front of others was close to impossible.

Every man and woman in Major Crimes knew without a doubt that something had happened to Sandburg. The pain in their captain's eyes when he looked at Ellison told them that. Not one of them made an overt move towards the office, but their attention was locked on what was happening inside it.

Simon's gaze never wavered from the face of his friend as he walked to the front of his desk and leaned against it. As Simon did so, Jim quietly sank into the closest chair. "Jim, there's been an incident. The black and white that responded recognized the address and called me."

"An incident? What kind of incident, Simon?" Jim's fingers tightened around the arms of the chair as he waited.

~ Please Lord, give me strength. ~ "A suicide attempt, Jim. He...he slashed his wrists. Simon took a sharp breath as the man in front of him turned impossibly pale. "It's bad...he may not make it, Jim. I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell..."

"NO" The chair fell over as Ellison jumped up and began to pace around the small office. "He wasn't...he couldn't. I didn't think he was that upset. Why didn't he talk to me? WHY?" A fist slammed into the wall as the question echoed in the air.

"Jim!"

Ellison shook his head blindly as he bolted for the door. His Guide was in trouble and nothing else registered.

"H, STOP HIM!" Banks didn't have time for tact or gentleness. There was no way Ellison was safe to get behind the wheel of a car right now.

Brown understood his captain and blocked the doorway with his massive body. Ellison didn't even realize he was there until strong hands grasped his arms.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" He shoved hard, but Brown didn't budge. Four years on varsity had taught him how to hold his ground. Ellison shoved again, but by then Banks was there.

"You are in no condition to drive. Either you ride with me, or you sit in lock-up until you cool down. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Simon pulled Jim from Brown's grip and turned the hurting man around to face him.

Ellison stared for a long time at the people in front of him. Banks wasn't sure he even recognized them. Eventually he nodded, resigned to the fact that he had no other choice. "Let's go then, Sir."

Banks followed the other man out the door, stopping only once to make eye contact with Joel Taggart. Taggart glanced away until the captain left to catch Ellison. After the two men left, he pulled out a battered photo from his desk drawer. Joel studied the photograph before returning it to the drawer. Megan Conner touched his hand. "Joel?"

The haunted expression on his face shocked Megan when he turned around. "Not now, Megan. Not now."

"How could this have happened? Why didn't I see that he was in trouble?" Jim paused, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. "I can't lose him, Simon. I can't."

Simon Banks pondered the other man's questions. As many times as he had stood vigil at the hospital, it had never gotten any easier. And this time was the hardest of all. "I don't know Jim, I wish to God I did." He looked up, then past his friend, as a doctor walked into the waiting room. "Jim, the doctor..."

Emergency rooms were busy places, the doctor couldn't afford to waste time or mince words. "I'm Dr. Andrews. Mr. Sandburg is out of danger. He will be receiving two more units of blood before he is fully stable, however."

"How soon can he come home?" With effort, Jim kept his voice steady. "He really hates hospitals."

"Detective, your partner will be here at least a week."

"But you said..." Jim's voice was no longer masking the fear he was feeling. "I thought he was okay."

"Physically yes, he will recover. However, Mr. Sandburg attempted to take his own life this afternoon. That needs to be dealt with before we can allow him to leave. At the present time he could be a danger to himself or the people around him. You're a police officer, detective. I'm sure you can understand this."

"Blair would never hurt me." Jim kept his voice even, hoping to convince the doctor of this.

"This morning, did you think he was capable of suicide?"

Jim turned away for a moment; the doctor's words so cutting as to cause physical pain. Dr. Andrews' voice softened as he observed the other man's discomfort.

"I didn't think so. He can get the help he needs while he's here, both physical and emotional. Try and remember that. He's being moved upstairs to room 312. Go and see for yourself that he's recovering, then get some rest. He's going to be needing you the next few days."

As the doctor left, Ellison sank into the nearest chair, his face etched with exhaustion. Simon knelt in front of him, rubbing his own forehead briefly before he spoke.

"We'll get him through this, Jim. Whatever it takes, we WILL get him through this, my friend."

Ellison nodded briefly at his captain, his attention already caught by the movement of a stretcher in the hallway. He jumped up to follow it; Banks right behind him.

As the last of the duty nurses quietly withdrew from the room, the Sentinel let his senses stretch out to his Guide. Using his abilities as Blair had taught him; he assured himself that the young man was indeed going to be all right. When his hearing noted a change in Blair's breathing he moved next to the bed, waiting for him to awaken.

"Jim..." The voice was weak, but the Sentinel was ready for it.

"Right here, buddy." Strong warm hands surrounded the smaller cold ones, carefully avoiding the heavy white gauze that encircled both wrists. Through the weave he could see the shadows of seeping blood. Jim forcibly pulled himself back from the zone that threatened to engulf him. "You're okay, you're safe." Ellison allowed a ghost of a smile to cross his face as deep blue eyes slowly focused on him. "Hey there, you're going to be all right." He stroked his thumb over Blair's knuckles as he spoke, trying to convey the emotions he could not yet voice.

Blair watched the two men for a moment before he spoke. "Please don't be angry with me, Jim, but I need..."

Ellison cut him off before he could continue. "I'll take care of it, Chief. Whatever's wrong, I'll fix it, Buddy."

"That's not...Jim, please, I need to talk to Simon." Blair winced at the pain on his Sentinel's face. "I'm sorry, please don't take it like that, Jim...Jim?"

"It's okay, Blair." Jim stood up, brushing the hair off his friend's face. "Whatever makes you more comfortable. I'll wait for you down the hall, Simon." For a second he thought he could hear the sound of his own heart breaking.

Three steps and Ellison was at the door. Blair reached for his friend. "No. You don't have to leave. It'll just be...easier to say this to Simon. I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make sense." ~ Please stay, Jim. I need you. ~ Blair held his breath, aching for Jim to turn around and stay.

Banks stood behind Ellison at the door. He reached out and squeezed the other man's shoulder, making physical contact. "Don't you see, Jim? Sometimes it's safer to talk to someone less emotionally involved. He's not shutting you out. Whatever is wrong, he wants you to know." With that established, he urged his friend to a chair at the far end of the room before perching on the edge of the young man's hospital bed.

"I'm tired, so tired, Simon...I think I can only say this once." Blair struggled to sit up, to look the captain eye to eye.

"Here, let me help you." Simon's voice was low and his touch gentle, as he steadied the pale young man. "I'm sorry, we both are, that you didn't feel you could come to us for help. I'm so sorry that it came down to this."

At that moment Ellison was grateful Blair had asked to speak to the captain and not to him. He could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. Talking would have been out of the question. Instead, he listened, as his best friend and soulmate talked to one of the few people they both trusted and admired. Simon Banks.

"I don't remember doing this. I couldn't have done this..." His voice trailed off as he stared at his bandaged wrists and forearms.

"Blair, son, it's not unusual to be confused after what you've been through."

"NO!" With more energy than either of the two older men thought possible, Blair adamantly shook his head. "I've been there, Simon. I know what it's like to hurt so bad that you want to end it. I wasn't there, man. Nowhere near it." Blair took a shaky breath and continued before Banks could respond. "Things are different for me now. Offing myself - it just isn't in the cards anymore, never again."

That simple speech, by such a complex man, sparked a hundred questions in Simon's mind. The only one he could form was the most important one. "Why? What's different? Tell me what you're hanging on to, son. I think we really need to know what that is right now."

If it was possible, Blair looked even younger as his blue eyes filled with tears. "I never had anybody to leave behind until now. No matter how bad things get, I could never do that to Jim. The other people in my life, yeah they'd feel bad, but they'd go on. Even my mom would be okay. Jim would blame himself." Blair made a small sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. "I'll never...I can't hurt Jim like that, ever. Nothing could ever get so bad that I'd do that to him."

The floor that had opened up under Jim Ellison's soul that afternoon was replaced by a safety net. One woven of the devotion and love found in the younger man's words. Ellison felt his knee bump against the edge of his partner's bed. It startled him. ~ How did I get over here? ~ His mouth moved, but no words came out as his friend's gaze turned to him. Blair shifted ever so slightly towards him. That slight movement was all that he needed. Jim dropped to the bed and gathered the trembling young man into his arms. Dialing his senses up, one by one, he knew the truth behind Blair's words. He felt humbled by what they represented. Then it hit him. Someone had done this to Blair, to the keeper of Jim's soul. That unknown someone would pay for hurting him.

Never more so than at that moment was Simon Banks awed by the relationship shared by these two men on so many different levels; some they weren't even aware of yet. He knew it was time to leave, to give them some privacy. As much as Simon knew it, he couldn't make his legs follow orders. Instead, he did the only thing he honestly felt he could do. He laid a hand on each man's shoulder, giving support and getting back so much more.

The news that their favorite anthropologist had attempted suicide by slashing his wrists hit the people of Major Crimes hard. Joel Taggart paced the bullpen as if it really was a pen. No work was accomplished as reports were started, then discarded. A coffee mug shattered against the wall as Taggart finally had enough. "I want some answers, and I want them now!" With that shout, he stormed towards the elevator.

The silence in his wake spoke volumes. Never had the men and women of Major Crimes witnessed such anger from the big man.

"I'm going with him." The voice was Rafe's but they all shared the sentiment. En masse, they moved to catch the next elevator. Even Detectives Grant and Martindale, who were only passing acquaintances of the young man, felt the need to check on him.

Jim could have sat there forever, the man he secretly loved safe in his arms. Too soon the captain was speaking. "Tell us what you remember, Sandburg. Let's see if we can piece this together." The captain released the pair and was down to business.

"Not much, sir, I'm afraid." Blair paused while his partner shifted around, finally leaning against the headboard with Blair's back against his chest. "I left the University about 2:00pm. My late appointment was canceled and I thought I'd get more work done at home. I stopped at the bakery and bought some sourdough bread for dinner. It took about thirty, maybe forty minutes to get home. I remember getting to the loft, then..."

"Then what, son?" Banks leaned forward, his hand on Blair's knee. "It's hard, I know, but we need to know everything that you can remember."

Blair nodded, a shaky smile on his face. "I'm trying, Simon. The rest is just so strange. I remember closing the door, then everything went dark and I couldn't breathe. For a second I thought I was back in that fountain. It felt like a bee stung me and then there were flashes of color and light and I was falling. The next thing was waking up in the emergency room with some doctor telling me that I tried to kill myself." Blair turned and pressed his face into Jim's chest as his voice began to tremble. "I didn't. I wouldn't have done that to you, Jim. Ever. Especially not in our home, not where you would have been the one to find me."

"Shhhh, I know, Buddy, I know." Ellison soothed the younger man before turning to his captain. "Could someone have done this to get to me, knowing that I would have found...his body?" The last of the question was barely a whisper as that image tore through his heart.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to call this an attack just yet, Jim." Simon Banks was on dangerous ground, and he knew it.

The response was instantaneous and loud. "What the hell else could it have been, Simon?" The young man in his arms flinched and Jim immediately softened his tone. "Sorry, shhhh, I'm sorry."

One look at Ellison's jaw proved to his captain that that part of the discussion was over. Time to prove the theory. Banks began to think out loud. "Whoever it was, had to drug Sandburg somehow. That would explain the blackout. We'd better have the lab take a closer look at his blood tests. The older man frowned, rubbing his forehead, as he studied the younger two men. Nothing was ever easy with them. He paused as a thought struck him. "Who called 911? That person could answer some questions for us."

"Or be answerable to us, sir. Sandburg was alone when the paramedics got there. What kind of person would leave him alone to bleed like that?"

A soft snoring interrupted them. Jim Ellison might be considered a hard as nails cop by many, but there was no mistaking the gentleness in his touch as he settled his Guide onto the bed. Simon couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. As Ellison fussed with the blankets and double-checked the IV and transfusion lines, Captain Banks began making calls. One way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

Banks steered his best detective out of the younger man's room. "Come on, let's find some answers."

With one last look at his pale and sleeping Guide, Ellison followed his captain into the hallway. As the door closed behind them, a hand brushed the Sentinel's shoulder. He turned to see a wistful expression on Simon's face. "I envy you, sometimes. Most of us never have a friendship like the two of you share. Nowhere close. Hell, eighty percent of the marriages can't touch what you have."

Jim Ellison turned back to his captain, smiling through his pain. Never argue with your captain, especially when he's right.

The detectives caught up with Taggart in the hospital lobby. Before they went upstairs, Conner cornered the men with her. "As hard as this is for us, it's a hundred times worse for Jim. Sandy is his partner and his best friend. Barging in there, loaded for bear, won't help either of them." The last of her comments were aimed at Joel, and he knew it.

"Yeah, Megan, I know. I know."

Megan pulled Joel off to the side. Something was eating at Taggart and it was affecting him greatly. "Joel, who is the boy in the photograph? The one in your desk."

A tear threatened to spill over, as Taggart appeared to be lost in thought. When he finally spoke his voice was hollow and flat. "Davy. David, was my son, Megan. He committed suicide when he was only 17, the same age Daryl is now. It was before I transferred to Central. Simon was the only one who knew."

"Sandy's not Davy."

"I'm trying to remember that."

She gently squeezed his arm as they rejoined the group. "What would Sandy tell you to do, Joel?"

"Find my center. He'd tell me to find my center."

Brown spoke up then, in his best impersonation of the curly haired young man. "I am...relaxed. I am...relaxed," wisely keeping Rafe between himself and Joel. Joel, however, saw the humor in Brown's words and chuckled softly, obviously calmer.

Any comment that might have been made was interrupted by the arrival of the elevator. Once inside, Rafe spoke up.

"Remember, Jim's probably a basket case by now. He's going to need us as much as Sandburg will." Still murmuring their agreement, the group exited the elevator car and walked towards room 312.

As they rounded the corner, Banks and Ellison could be seen just closing the hospital room door. The captain's back was towards the group of detectives, but they could see the slightly shorter man listening to Banks, and then they saw him smile.

"Basket case, my ass." Any calmness that Taggart had achieved in the lobby shattered as he charged Ellison. For the second time that hour, the rest of Major Crimes rushed to keep up the big man.

"Joel, wait."

"Taggart, calm down."

"Easy, man."

Taggart would have none of it. "You bastard, what did you do to him?" Within seconds, he had Ellison by the shirt collar, his fury barely contained.

The Sentinel did not see the attack coming; his focus was on the sleeping young man in the room behind him. No attempt was made to defend himself as the bigger man slammed him into the wall.

Simon, too, was slow to respond. He stepped between the two men as Rafe and Brown grabbed Joel from behind. "Stop it, Joel. Jim didn't do anything to hurt Sandburg."

Taggart released the Sentinel abruptly, shoving him into the wall one final time as he turned to snarl at Banks. "No, he just stood by and let him self-destruct. Is that how you treat someone you care about, Ellison?"

"Joel, stop it!" Banks was worried; his tight knit unit was on the verge of unraveling. "You know Jim would never do that."

"Do I?" There was a coldness to his words that no one had ever heard from the gentle giant.

Ellison leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. The doubt in his friends hurt almost as much as what had happened to his Guide.

Banks knew he had to get the situation under control. Fast. With a quick prayer that Ellison was right about what had happened, he spoke. "Sandburg's wounds were not self-inflicted. He was attacked, and we...all of us...have to find out why."

The captain's announcement was met be shocked silence as his words sank in. Rafe was the first to recover. "But why? Why would someone do that?"

Captain Banks looked over at Ellison, shocked to see him so unwilling to defend himself against the questions and the anger directed at him. "Possibly for revenge. Right now I don't know."

Rafe paled at the image that brought to mind. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Brown squeezed his partner's shoulder and gave voice to what Rafe was trying to say.

"You're saying that someone hates them so much that they tried to kill Sandburg in a way that would destroy Ellison at the same time?" He paused, his forehead creased in thought. "Ellison might not be the target at all. Maybe the idea was to kill Sandburg and discredit him at the same time?"

Banks nodded. "Until we know, all the possibilities have to be considered." He quickly considered his plan of action. "All right, this is what we're going to do. Grant and Martindale will guard Sandburg until the uniforms arrive. When those units are in place, I want the two of you to go to the University. If someone is trying to kill or discredit Sandburg and it doesn't have anything to do with the department, then that's the next likely place."

Ellison never looked up, his words seemed addressed more to himself than to anyone present. "He was upset about something but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Told me 'not to worry'. Damn!" Frustrated, the Sentinel turned and punched the wall. "Damn, I should have made him tell me."

The two detectives nodded back at their commanding officer, already positioning themselves in front of the door to Sandburg's room. The devil himself would not be able to harm the young man, not on their shift.

"Brown and Rafe."

"Yes, sir." They were already impatient. These two young partners looked up to Ellison and Sandburg as the best example of true partners. They had tried to emulate the pair in their own working relationship. This attack on Sandburg was an attack on everything they held sacred. Whoever was responsible was going down; this was an unspoken vow between them.

The intensity on Banks' face never wavered, but inside he softened slightly. He knew the awe that surrounded his favorite team. That awe, and the loyalty it inspired, was going to keep his unit together through this. "An anonymous call was made to 911. It was either our perp, or a witness who may have seen the perp. Either way, I want that caller found."

"Don't worry, sir, he's going down." Brown's voice was almost a growl.

Visions of civil liberties danced in Simon's head. "The caller may have been a witness, don't forget that Brown. We don't 'take down' witnesses. Remember?"

"A witness that just let him bleed, sir."

"Just remember that you can't help Sandburg if you're suspended." Banks glared at all the members of his team. "That goes for all of you."

"What about us, sir?" Megan stood there, quietly composed, awaiting orders.

"You and Taggart start pulling files. You know the drill. Current cases that they are working on. Cases that are going to trial soon, where one of them will testify. Go through all the old cases and look for possible revenge. Did someone just get out of prison? Did someone die in prison? Check out accomplices that didn't go down, or got out early. Family members, too. While you're at it, check on any witnesses that committed suicide on any of their cases. I'm sure there'll be more, but that'll get you started."

Megan's composure wilted slightly. Taggart nodded and began pushing her toward the elevator. "Don't worry, sir," he stated "if it's there, Megan and I will find it." As Megan continued on towards the elevator, Taggart hesitated, then turned to face Ellison, guilt haunting his expressive eyes.

"Jim...I don't...I'm so..."

Ellison pushed himself away from the wall that had been supporting him and reached out his hand. "I know, Joel. You love him too."

~ He's like a son to me. ~ "Are we okay?"

Ellison drew a deep breath, looking more like a lost little boy than a police detective. "Yeah, Joel, we're okay."

Taggart stared at the other man for a long moment. There was much left to say, but this was not the time for it. "If you or the kid need anything, you've got it. You know that, don't you?"

As Ellison nodded his head, Taggart turned and joined Megan at the elevator.

Jim walked to the end of the hall, and stared out the window, watching as the other detectives left the hospital. Banks stood behind him and waited.

"And me, sir?"

Simon mentally braced himself for this one. "Jim, I need you to go to the loft, see if you can pick up on anything the rest of us may miss."

The Sentinel spun around and faced his captain. He had come straight to the hospital with Simon when the call had come in from the black and white responding with the paramedics to the anonymous 911 call. ~ He almost bled to death in our home, before I could tell him how I really feel about him. How can I face that? ~ "No, I can't. Please Simon, I can't face it yet."

Banks had been expecting this, waiting for it. He reached out and grasped Jim's arm before he answered. "You won't be alone, I wouldn't let you do this alone. But we need to do this, for Blair's sake." Jim sagged slightly as he nodded his agreement.

"Come on, Let's go." Simon began to walk towards the elevator, expecting Jim to follow. When he turned around to look, he saw Ellison instead heading back to Sandburg's room. ~ You idiot, Banks. Of course he wants to check on his partner one more time. ~

Without warning, Ellison began to run down the corridor. Grant saw him coming and swung the door open just as he reached it. Martindale followed Ellison into the room, realizing as he did, that the young man in the bed was caught up in a nightmare. Grant held the door open for the captain, then resumed his post at the doorway.

Banks knew that Jim had heard Sandburg's distress. He turned to gauge Martindale's reaction to the situation. Martindale hadn't heard anything until after Ellison had rushed to the room. Some quick thinking may be needed to explain this one. However, no questions were raised. Ellison's response was considered a 'partner's thing' by both Martindale and Grant. Banks could see it in their faces. They, like Rafe and Brown, regarded the partnership between Ellison and Sandburg to be the finest example in the department.

Ellison was totally unaware of the silent discussion going on in back of him. "Easy, Chief, it's all right. Easy there. Talk to me. Tell me what's happening."

Caught in the middle of a nightmare that he couldn't escape, Blair struggled as if to get free from a hidden enemy. "No...off me...get off me!"

Stepping back, a new wave of pain hit the older man's heart. After a moment, as Blair continued to struggle with an unseen foe, Ellison knew that he was caught in a flashback of some type. That it was the past that his Guide was pushing away, not him.

"What's happening, buddy?"

"Off my face...get it off my face...can't breathe..."

"What's on your face, Blair? Tell me what's happening."

"Sweet...smells sweet...sickening...get it off me!"

Ellison sat of the edge of the bed. This flashback could give them answers that Blair, himself, could not. He brushed his hand across his young friend's face.

"It's off now. It's off. Tell me what's happening now."

"Oww"

Remembering what Sandburg had told them earlier gave the Sentinel some idea of how to proceed. "The bee sting, Blair? Tell me where it stung you."

"Back." His tone was soft as he wavered between slumber and wakefulness.

Mindful of the life-giving tubes, Jim gently rolled his partner onto his side. The hospital gown fell open as he brushed his hand over his Guide's back. The caress soothed and calmed the young man. Ellison continued to rub Blair's back, using sight piggybacked onto touch, to find what he was looking for.

"There."

Simon leaned over the detective, straining to see what he had found. He focused at the spot on Sandburg's back that Ellison was pointing to. "Is that a puncture mark?"

"Yeah, it is." Ellison felt vindicated. Finally, some proof that Blair had not tried to end his own life. Ellison knew he could handle anything except being wrong about that.

The gentle stroking and soft words lulled the young man back into a restful sleep. Jim carefully laid him back onto the bed and tucked him in with a loving touch. As contact was broken between Sentinel and Guide, Blair instinctively reached for him. Jim quickly grasped the reaching hand before any damage could be done to the injury already there. Still holding Blair's hand, he settled in to wait for the deep sleep he knew would come.

Simon Banks was a patient man. Three years of dealing with these two men had made him an expert on the subject. He waited until Ellison was fully satisfied that his partner was finally asleep before he spoke. "Come on, Jim. We need to get things started."

Ellison nodded and squeezed the smaller hand one last time before slowly standing up. He wasn't sure about this. Wasn't sure about facing the loft. Wasn't sure about leaving Blair's bedside. The other men in the room understood this. Martindale stepped forward to reassure him.

"Don't worry too much about him. He'll probably sleep for hours now. I promise, if he so much as moans, I'll call you. Okay?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Banks turned an appreciative face towards Martindale. Knowing that Blair was safe and protected was the only way that Jim was going to leave his side.

Not a word was spoken as Banks and Ellison drove to the loft. The captain glanced over repeatedly at his detective, waiting for any kind of a response, but none came. Ellison sat, slump shouldered, in the passenger seat of the police sedan. At first, Simon thought the Sentinel had zoned out, but a closer exam of the man proved that to be wrong, even to an untrained, temporary Guide. Ellison's hands were shaking as he pressed them against his denim-clad legs. Pulling into the loft parking, Simon reached out to the other man.

"Jim" A long moment passed before their eyes met. Simon drew in a deep breath as he was faced with the pain in Jim's eyes. "Jim, how do you want to handle this?"

"Handle this? How do I want to handle this? My God, Simon, I want to go back to this morning and never let him out of my sight. That's how I want to handle this, okay?" Ellison clamped his hand over his mouth and turned away, in an obvious and physical effort to keep his pain and torment inside. "I'm sorry, Simon. I'm so sorry. This is just so damn..."

"I know, Jim. This is killing me, too."

"Let's just get this over with." Jim Ellison launched himself out of the car and towards the apartment building, hands clenched in tight fists at his sides. Banks hurried to keep up with him. At some point, the tightly wound man was going to shatter and Simon was determined to be there to pick up the pieces when it happened. He owed Sandburg that much.

Afraid of what would happen if he slowed down, Ellison took the stairs two at a time, not waiting for the elevator. He slid the key in the lock and swung the door open, taking a deep breath for strength as he did. Banks came around the corner just in time to see what was occurring. Knowing what odors would await the Sentinel, he cried out "Jim, Wait!"

The warning came too late. The horrible smell of blood crashed down, trapping the man as he staggered backwards. The bittersweet metallic scent swirled around his soul, so strong he could taste it, could feel the moisture of it in the air. The very essence of his beloved Guide, spilled without the Sentinel to protect him. Trying to wrench himself away from the odors that were threatening his very sanity, he forced his eyes downward. There, on the floor in front of him, was a bloody shoe print left by one of the medics who had fought to save his friend's life. Lost, Ellison slid down onto the floor, clutching his stomach. The bile rose but could not get past the pain in his chest, so there it stayed, burning the memory deep into his soul.

Banks reached the younger man as he hit the floor. Normal zones he understood. Sandburg had lectured and drilled him on the subject, since he knew what Ellison really was. This was no ordinary zone that the Sentinel was trapped in. Simon fought down his own fear as he saw the wild terror in Jim's face.

Emotions had made the sights and smells in the loft more pronounced than he had ever faced. Fear, etched with the smell. Hopelessness touched by the sight. Panic so close, it could be tasted. His mind filled in the rest. The feel of life slipping away. The sound of it even, as it splattered on the cold hard floor. The sensations were swirling around him, drowning him, allowing him no visible means of escape, and his Guide was not here to save him.

"Jim, follow my voice!" The captain's voice betrayed his panic as he dragged the other man out into the hall, kicking the loft door closed behind them. Being out in the hall of a building like this was a risk, but Banks knew a few more seconds exposed to the graphic aftermath in the loft would shake the Sentinel's very sanity. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all.

"Jim, can you hear me? Come on, Jim, Blair needs you." That did it. Jim's tear filled eyes looked up at Simon and slowly focused.

"I failed him."

"Jim, no..."

"Yes." He backed up slowly, until he reached the far wall. Jim pulled his knees up against his chest and stared at his captain, unaware of the tears spilling onto his face. "Don't you see? He protects me. My whole life, he's the only one who ever really protected me. Every time I need him, he's there. I don't know how he knows, he just does. Now, he needed me. I wasn't there, Simon. Just like always, when he really needs me, I wasn't there." A fist began to pound the floor in time with the words. "Lash...Alex. I wasn't there. I wasn't there. Damn...Damn...Damn..."

"You didn't know."

"I should have. I'm a Sentinel. He's my Guide. He's my..."

Banks sat quietly and watched his best detective. He knew that reaching him right now was next to impossible, so he waited while Jim vented his anger and pain. Eventually the words ran out, and Simon grasped the bruised hand as he began to softly speak to Jim as he had heard Blair do so many times in the past.

"Easy, Jim, easy. It's okay; it's going to be okay. You didn't know. There was no way that you could have known someone was going to hurt him. You're only human, don't forget that. No matter how much we want to, we can't always protect the people we love. Sometimes we just have to settle for picking up the pieces and putting them back together." As Ellison turned his face away, Simon released his hand and squeezed his shoulder. "That's what we have to do now. He was victimized here and now he needs our help. To do that we have to find out who did this to him."

Ellison slowly turned back to face his friend; a pain filled smile touched his face as he spoke. "Reconstructing Sandburg, sir? A job that big, maybe we could qualify for federal assistance."

The joke was feeble, but it gave Banks an enormous sense of relief. Ellison was holding together. Barely, but for now it was good enough.

"Well, maybe state assistance. Less paperwork for Sandburg to do when he gets back on his feet." It was an unspoken given that Sandburg's ability to absorb much of Ellison's paperwork was widely recognized by all that worked around them.

"I've got to go back in there, don't I, sir?" Ellison's face was now dry and his eyes bored directly into Banks' soul.

Under such a powerful gaze, Simon visibly flinched. "No, Jim, I was wrong to force you to do this. I wasn't thinking straight...deep down I wanted..." The real reason he had forced Jim to face the loft sickened Simon now, but Ellison had bared his heart and soul to him, and now he deserved no less in return. "I'm sorry, Jim. I guess part of me wanted to punish you for not being here for him." It was Simon's turn to glance away. "I never thought of myself as being that cruel. Please forgive me."

A hand touched the older man's arm. Simon glanced down at the hand, then up at the face. He saw no anger or disgust, only understanding.

"I needed to face this, to get past it. Otherwise, they win." Jim braced himself against the wall and levered himself up.

Banks' actions mirrored his. "Now what, Jim?"

Ellison squared his shoulders and faced the closed door to the loft. "Now we try this again."

"Jim!"

"I know, Simon. But I have to do this for Sandburg. I can't let him down...again."

"Jim..."

"Please, Simon, help me."

Banks felt his own shoulders sag at that. "All right, what do you want me to do?"

~ Do what Blair would do, Simon. ~ "Just help me stay focused, sir. I need to push past the blood and find what else is there. There's just so much blood in there, Simon. So much of his blood." Ellison's voice became a whisper and Banks had to strain to here the rest of it. "I can do this. For Blair, I can do this." The mantra soothed the Sentinel as if the soul of his Guide was there with him, touching him, supporting him.

Remembering all the times he had seen Guide and Sentinel work together, Banks kept close as they re-entered the loft. "Stay focused, Jim. Go past the blood; find what else there is. What else doesn't belong?" ~ Please let me be doing this right. ~

Ellison froze for a moment, then turned without a word and left the loft. Out in the hallway again, he crossed his arms against the wall and leaned his head against them.

~ I didn't do enough to help him, I put him through all this and I didn't help him enough. I'm sorry, Blair. I couldn't help him the way you would have wanted me to. ~ "Jim, I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"Chloroform, I could smell chloroform, Simon." Jim's voice rose slightly as the realization hit him. ~ I did it, Chief. I didn't let you down. ~ "Whoever it was used chloroform on him and they smoke, Simon. I could smell cigarettes. Not a brand I recognized, but I'd know it if I smelled it again. There was something else, too. I could smell the sourdough bread that he bought today. It was real faint, but it was there."

The captain smiled broadly at his detective. Not only had they survived this, but also useful information had been found. "Good. Blair would be real proud of you. Let's go back to the hospital and see how he's doing." While they waited for the elevator Banks took a good look at the man standing next to him. ~ Haven't seen anybody that proud of himself since Daryl brought home his last report card. Well, he should be, he just walked through hell to help his friend and he made it out the other end alive. ~

Night was beginning to set in as Simon pulled the car out of the parking lot and cut through the alley in back. "Pull over!" Jim's voice was insistent and Simon slammed on the brakes. Jim had the door open and was out before the car came to a complete stop.

"What's wrong?" Before the question was asked, the sounds of retching made the answer obvious. Jim leaned against the dumpster in the alley as his stomach won the battle it had been waging with his mind. Simon stayed back, giving the other man some privacy until it was over.

"There's a service station down the street. You can use the restroom to get cleaned up before we get back to the hospital." Jim just nodded his agreement; suddenly he was too exhausted to speak. The captain walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, waiting for the other man. Ellison took a few steps, then stopped, staring at the dumpster.

"Simon, I need some gloves."

Banks pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his jacket pocket. "Here, Jim. What did you find?"

"How about some physical proof that someone else was at the loft with Sandburg?" Ellison pulled a white bakery bag out of the dumpster. Printed on the side of it was the name of Blair's favorite bread shop. "Here's Sandburg's sourdough bread. I'd be interested to see who else's fingerprints are on it."

"Why would someone go to the trouble of throwing away the bread?"

"Don't you see, Simon? Someone who was planning to kill himself would not go five miles out of his way to buy his roommate's favorite kind of bread for dinner. It really proves it. He didn't try to kill himself." The relief shone on his face like a beacon.

Banks stared at him in amazement. "You weren't sure. Everything you said at the hospital...you weren't sure until just now, were you?"

"I wanted to be."

Simon looked up sharply, reacting to the shy, almost childish tone to the other man's voice. When he looked up, he flashed on the image of a young child who had just had his wish granted.

A Cascade Police Department forensics van pulled up in front of the building. Ellison glanced over questioningly at his captain.

"I called them from the hospital. Stay here while I give this to them." Banks slipped on his own pair of gloves and took the loaf of bread from Ellison's hands. He walked over to the van, taking care to ignore the sound of flesh hitting the side of the dumpster.

Simon stood outside the restroom door as Jim washed his face and hands. Jim let the water soothe him as it ran onto his neck, let the taste of it overcome the taste in his mouth, let the smell of chlorine push away the smell of blood that still threatened to overwhelm him. Ellison pushed away from the sink. His senses were too full of his Guide's brush with death. He needed to replace that with his Guide's life. To see him. To hear his heartbeat. To touch the warmth of his skin. To smell his shampoo. To know that he was all right.

"Let's go." Ellison's demeanor was calm, but his eyes showed the returning fear.

"Jim, are you all right?"

"I need to see him, Simon."

Of the multitude of things that had happened that day, this one thing Banks understood most of all. "Yeah, me too." He squeezed Jim's shoulder one last time as they got in the car.

Ellison leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. Questions were running through Simon's mind, but he kept quiet, understanding the other man's need for solitude.

As they exited the elevator on the third floor, Ellison's cell phone started to ring. He began to briskly walk down the hallway as he reached for it. Sentinel hearing picked up the ringing phone in stereo. The call to him was being placed from the nurse's station. He rounded the corner and ran into an uniformed officer he knew only by name.

The young officer grinned as he set the phone down, silencing the one in Ellison's hand. "Hey, great timing. He's just starting to wake up."

Ellison barely acknowledged his existence as he rushed into the room. "Thanks, Rick."

"Grant told me there'd be hell to pay if we didn't call the second he started to come around."

Simon stopped in front of the officer, "Well, it's a good thing you do what you're told." Captain Banks allowed himself a quick smile. "Otherwise, that would not have been a pretty picture."

Officer Rick Davis returned the captain's smile. Even the beat officers had heard, 'you don't mess with Ellison about his partner.'

Banks waited to get a detailed report from the officers guarding the curly haired anthropologist. The care that was taken with this case pleased him. Every person entering this room had been checked. Sandburg's safety was secure. A brief call to the office told him that some very dedicated people were tracking every possibility. Now Simon could concentrate on the two very special people on the other side of that door.

Simon quietly entered the room, not wanting to disturb the occupants. His heart melted at the sight. ~ Banks, you're getting to be a softie in your old age. ~ Jim had discarded his coat and shoes and was laying on the edge of the bed, already asleep, his arm over the younger man, protecting him. Blair looked peaceful and secure nestled in next to the bigger man. His color was better and the transfusion line had been completely removed from his hand. One IV line was still in his upper arm, and it was capped. As Banks watched, sleepy blue eyes opened up to stare at him.

"Hey, Simon."

"Hey, yourself, Sandburg. How are you doing?"

"Just tired, sir." Blair tilted his head towards the form next to him. "Is he okay, Simon?"

"He is now, Blair. Go back to sleep, son."

"Okay."

Simon shook his head. ~ That was too easy. ~ Lost in thought he didn't hear the nurse come in. She touched his arm, then apologized for startling him. He nodded back to her, bracing for the standard, 'visiting hours are over' lecture he had heard from many of her co-workers over the years. Instead, she handed him a blanket, then raised the railing on the side of the bed.

"There. We can't have either of them falling out of bed, you know."

"You're not kicking us out?" Simon stared at the woman as she turned to answer him.

"I'm working a split shift. I was on duty when Mr. Sandburg was brought up from the emergency room. I saw how gentle your friend was with him. Sometimes the touch of a someone special can do more than all the medicine in the world." She took the blanket back from the captain and spread it over the two sleeping men, then slipped out without another word. Simon settled into one of the chairs, unwilling to walk away from his two friends just yet.

As the night eased into dawn, the men slept undisturbed. The nurse placed a blanket over the sleeping form in the chair. Every thirty minutes she quietly entered the room to check on the occupants, ever mindful not to disturb their slumber.

A hand reached out and tentatively touched Simon's shoulder. "Sir?" He blinked several times before the face of a young woman came into focus.

"Yes? Yes, what is it?" Banks groaned as he straightened up in the chair.

"I'm Trish. I'll be Mr. Sandburg's nurse this morning. The night nurse told me not to disturb any of you, but a Captain Taggart called, and wanted you to return his call as soon as possible."

Large brown hands scrubbed the last of the sleep away. "Thank you. What time is it?"

"It's a little before 7:00am. You can use the phone at the nurse's station. There's coffee there, too."

A hint of amusement touched the tall man's face. "Do I look like I need it?"

The returned smirk was answer enough.

Simon Banks downed one cup of coffee and started on a second one before he dialed the station number. Over 18 hours without a cigar had left him desperate for one. With no chance in the foreseeable future for a cigar, he'd have to settle for coffee, and lots of it.

"Yeah, Joel what's up? It's okay, he's still asleep, so is Jim." Simon listened for a minute, then continued. "I'm sure Jim will understand about yesterday, but maybe you should tell him about David. It might help you both. At least think about it, Joel. Now tell me what's happening."

After the telephone was hung up, Banks turned to the officers guarding the hospital room door. "Tell Detective Ellison that I've gone to the station for a briefing on the investigation. He's to stay here in case Sandburg remembers anything else." The door across the hall opened, catching his attention. "Excuse me, Trish?"

She anticipated his question. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of them both. I've arranged for two breakfast trays to be brought up. They will be fine."

Knowing the situation was as well in hand as possible, Banks left for the station with only a brief "Call me if needed." before he walked to the elevator. When the elevator door opened Dr. Andrews stepped out, pleased that he had caught the captain before he had left the hospital.

"Captain Banks, I think that you will want to see this before you leave." In his hand was a toxicology report.

Banks hesitated before he reached for the folder. Despite the assurances yesterday, nagging doubts remained in his mind about what had happened to the young man. The doctor sensed his reluctance.

"You'll find it very interesting. I certainly did. We found residual amounts of a rather rare and unusual anesthesia in his system. It is something that we don't use in this hospital. It's all in the report, but if you have any questions, please feel free to call me. I'll be here all day."

Simon's hand clutched a little tighter around the manila folder in his hand. ~ Thank God. ~ "Thank you, Doctor. I'm sure this will help us a great deal." ~ More than you will ever know. ~

The smell of stale coffee was evident before Banks even walked into Major Crimes. No one noticed his arrival at first. Not until Brown bumped into him while reading the police report in his hands. "Oooff, what the...oh, sorry, sir, didn't see you there."

"Obviously." The captain shook his head and took a good look at his team. Bleary faces were the norm, and everyone was still in the clothes they were wearing yesterday. Everyone except Rafe, who always kept a spare suit in his locker. The standard joke around the station was that Rafe could come out of a two-week survival school, looking like a walking ad for GQ. Simon inwardly smiled. ~ Nice to see some things never change. ~

Never letting go of his own file folder, Banks scrubbed his face with his free hand. "You guys look worse than I feel. We don't want to be mistaken for the bad guys here, so everyone take an hour to get cleaned up. Meet back here at 9:00am. I'll have Rhonda rustle up some food, it's going to be a long day people." Taking another look around the bullpen, he added to himself ~ a very long day. ~

At ten minutes before the hour, a more presentable group of detectives was returning to the office. "All right, let's move this to the break room. We'll see what we've come up with so far." Simon stepped to the doorway, then stopped, face to face with a pale and tired looking Jim Ellison. Ellison seemed uneasy to be there, but the greetings he received were warm and friendly.

"Hey, man."

"Jim, how are you doing?"

"You okay, Ellison?"

Simon stood back and let the others greet Ellison first. He had seen how uncomfortable the Sentinel was, walking into the bullpen. He hoped the concern evident in their voices would convince Ellison he was not alone. The captain smiled to himself as Taggart reached out and squeezed Ellison's arm and nodded to him. Everyone wanted an update on the condition of their observer, but they waited for the captain to ask.

"Jim, I'm surprised to see you here. Has anything changed? Is he...?" Try as he might, Simon couldn't help the slight tremble in his voice as he asked.

"There's no change, sir. He's doing all right. He just wasn't..." Ellison gave a wry smile, "...thrilled with breakfast. The idea of an algae shake didn't go over real well with the nursing staff either, so the compromise was that I'd get him some bagels and his herbal tea. It was also 'suggested' by one of the nurses that I shower and change while I was out." The officers who were downwind of the big man silently agreed.

Banks studied the younger man. "You haven't gone back to the loft for clothes." It was a statement, but Ellison could hear the unasked question in it.

A look of intense sorrow crossed the Sentinel's face. "I couldn't...not yet, sir."

The captain knew what it had cost Jim to enter the loft the day before. He had only seen the blood, and only with normal vision. His barely whispered, "I understand." was answered by a calming of the other man.

"I thought I'd just take a shower in the locker room, before I take some food back to him."

For the first time since Ellison's arrival, Taggart spoke up. "Rhonda made a breakfast run. Why don't you eat with us and hear what we've got so far. Then you can take a plate back to the hospital for him."

Simon let go of a breath he didn't even know he was holding. ~ Thank you, Joel. ~ "That's settled then. Jim, we will see you in the break room in a few minutes."

A damp but clean Ellison joined the rest of the team in the break room. Wearing a clean set of sweats, he sat down next to Simon and waited for the briefing to begin.

Rhonda had really outdone herself this time. Banks leaned back and took a sip of coffee - fresh coffee. The large table on the side of the room was covered with pastries, fresh fruit and several containers of juice. An extra coffee maker had been placed on the counter next to the regular one to keep up with the demand for it. A dry erase board had been moved in, along with two computer terminals. Rhonda smiled at the questioning glance from the captain. This was more than the snack fund could have handled. "My sister sent all this over."

Brown stopped mid-reach for a cream filled donut. "Your sister, you mean the caterer that got robbed a few weeks ago?"

"Yep, and Blair was real sweet to her. Even called the next day to make sure that she was all right. When she heard that he had been hurt, well, she wanted to help."

"That was nice of her." Brown continued to reach for the pastry, only to have it snagged away by Ellison.

"Those are Sandburg's favorites." Ellison began to fill a plate to take back with him.

"Mr. Health Food actually eats this kind of stuff?" Brown began to laugh. "He made me feel guilty for eating a hamburger last week, and he eats donuts. Go figure."

Ellison returned the smile. "Yeah, well, he doesn't eat like this very often, so I guess it's okay to splurge."

"All right people, let's get to it. Who's got the forensics report?"

"Here, sir." Rafe shuffled through his stack of papers, and pulled out the one in question. "Looks like the window in Sandburg's room was jimmied. No fingerprints, but they did find some dry mud on the fire escape. It looks like it came out of a boot tread, but there wasn't enough to tell for sure. The mud had a lot of clay in it, probably came from north of here, area around the national forest probably. Some mold spores were in the mud too. The forensics team didn't find any unidentified fingerprints anywhere, but they did find a small chemical spill near the front door. The lab won't be able to tell us anything about it until this afternoon. Oh, and that sourdough bread bag had Sandburg's fingerprints all over it."

"Chloroform. That stain is chloroform." Ellison sat up straight, challenging anyone to question it.

Banks remembered the smell the Sentinel had detected in the loft the night before. No one else could know how Ellison would have that knowledge. Covering for the other man, he spoke. "Good guess, Jim. That would make sense if they grabbed him at the door. Especially in light of the toxicology report."

All attention turned towards the captain, and the big man was right down to business. This was no time to tease his people. "Traces of an anesthesia were found in Sandburg's urine. It's a drug called 'Ketamine'. The doctors recognized it, but it's not used at the hospital because of the side effects it causes." Banks took a deep breath before continuing. "It can cause hallucinations and bizarre dreams. Some patients have even suffered amnesia from it. In some cases it can cause respiratory depression, enough to be dangerous. Sandburg was lucky. It slowed his breathing down enough to slow his heart. That's the main reason he didn't bleed to death before help got there."

Pale, stunned faces stared back at the captain. Megan stared at her coffee cup for a long time before asking what was on everyone's mind. "Is that why they used it, sir? Were they trying to keep him alive? Is this a simple case of assault, rather than attempted murder?"

"Simple! Simple?" Ellison was up on his feet, prowling the break room. "Somebody broke in, waited for him, attacked him, drugged him, then..." Frustration showed through the stoic mask as an empty chair was shoved into the wall. "Damn it, nothing about this is simple! Nothing."

"Jim, I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it. The nature of the crime affects the profile of the perp. You know that, it's basic to any investigation. That's all I meant by it."

Ellison seemed to deflate, his anger spent. "I know, Megan. I'm sorry. It's just so hard, seeing him like that. He's so pale and weak - and quiet. I've never seen him like that before. They keep coming into his room and taking blood samples, like he has any to spare. The worst part is that some of the staff are still treating him as a suicide case." Jim made no effort to hide the pain he was feeling for his young friend. "They talk about it like he's not even there. All those residents and interns. It hurts Sandburg to have people think that of him."

"They aren't ignoring the fact that he was drugged." The captain's voice brought everyone's attention back to the matter at hand and Jim sat down. "They're just doing their jobs. Now we have to pull ourselves together and do the same thing. Grant and Martindale, what did you find at the University?"

Before they could answer, a patrolman poked his head in the break room. "Sir, I'm on my way to the hospital for the next shift. Is there anything new that I should know?"

Simon nodded approvingly at the officer. He had seen him on several occasions in deep conversations with the young anthropologist. The officers chosen to handle guard duty were ones that Sandburg knew and would be comfortable with. "Everything is still the same as stated in the briefing earlier. His assailant is still unidentified and at large. Until an arrest is made, he is in danger. Stay alert, we don't want this person slipping on a white lab coat and waltzing in there."

"Do me a favor?" Ellison handed the officer the plate of pastries and fruit that Rhonda had finished preparing for him. "Take this to Sandburg and tell him I'll be there as soon as we're done here. If he needs anything, or if anything happens, I want you to call me immediately. Is that understood?"

"No problem, we'll take good care of him. Don't you worry about it."

"All right, let's get back to business." Banks turned back to Grant and Martindale.

The two men divided the papers between them. Martindale began the breakdown. "Sandburg's been under a lot of pressure at the University, from several sources. He's also been threatened. Death threats to be precise."

"WHAT!" Ellison was back on his feet. "Somebody threatened to kill him, why didn't he say something?"

Grant opened his mouth to answer the question.

"How long ago was he threatened?

This time Martindale tried to speak.

"Who threatened him?"

They looked at each other, then at the captain.

"What is the school doing about it?"

"Jim..." Simon tried to get his attention.

"Was it a student?"

"Detective..." He increased his volume slightly.

"Have you interrogated the suspect?"

"Ellison!" This time the windows rattled.

"Sir?" Jim turned to face him, surprised.

"If you'd be quiet for a minute they'd tell you. Sit down and shut up!"

Ellison returned to his seat and waited for the other detectives to continue. Simon was amazed at how quickly he had regained control, until he saw the tension in Ellison's jaw. ~ You deserve an Oscar for this performance, my friend. ~

After a few nervous attempts, Martindale continued with his report. "The threat was made by a student by the name of Kelly Davidson. He's on the football team, a real 'dumb jock' if you get my drift. Sandburg reported him to the Dean for plagiarism. He copied an old term paper word for word. The guy was so dumb that he forgot to change the date on the paper. I don't think he's our perp. He doesn't have the brains to plan something like this."

When Martindale paused, Grant continued for him. "There is another factor in this. There are rumors that the coach would like to see Sandburg disappear, too. Davidson is the third player that Sandburg's put on academic probation."

"Sandburg is a good teacher." Jim's voice was quiet, but steady. "I've seen him work all night with a student that asked for help. But he won't take any guff from the ones that don't try, then expect him to look the other way. He demands effort from his students."

"Well, this one didn't want to put out the effort, just wanted the grade. This was his second offense, so he's been suspended until a review board meets next week. Nobody knows where he is, or at least if they do, they're not talking. When we tried to talk to the coach, he wanted a lawyer. We will be interviewing him, with his lawyer present, later on this afternoon."

The breakroom was deathly quiet for a moment before Ellison spoke up again. "There's more, isn't there?"

Grant looked at his partner, then the captain, before he answered. "Uh, yeah, there's more." He shifted around in his chair, obviously uncomfortable, before continuing. "He's getting a lot of heat from his advisors, about how long his dissertation is taking. Apparently, one of his grants was pulled yesterday. To make it even worse for him, the registrars office messed up on some of his paperwork and it triggered his student loans payback."

Megan sat up, her lack of knowledge about the American education system evident. "What does that mean?"

The answer came from Jim. "Blair has never had the money for college. What he couldn't get in grant and scholarship money came in the form of student loans. His bachelors, his masters and now going for his Ph.D. - that's a lot of student loan money. They don't have to be paid back until six months after you finish school or drop below half time. The idea being that by then you have a job and can afford to pay them back." He turned back to Grant and Martindale. "How bad is it?"

"It's bad." Martindale couldn't look his fellow officers in the eye. "We checked into his financial records. Sorry, Ellison, but it had to be done."

He nodded, "Yeah, I know. What did you find out?"

"He didn't find out about the registrars mistake until last week. He tried every avenue to get the problem handled, but the powers that be are too busy cracking down on student loan fraud to listen when there is a real problem."

"How bad?"

"As near as we can figure, the minimum monthly payment that they will accept is about $50.00 a month more than his take home pay is now. And the first payment is due at the end of the week, or it goes into default. He apparently got the final word on that yesterday, too."

"Damn." A pained look crossed Jim's face as he realized how much trouble his Guide was in.

"There's more."

"What?"

"The department head is pressuring him to increase his teaching load next term. He's suggesting that Blair's teaching fellowship may not be renewed if he doesn't."

Suddenly the cryptic conversation he had with his Guide the morning before was crystal clear. As was the hurt and the guilt he felt. ~ Why didn't you come to me Blair? I would do anything for you; don't you know that? ~ The Guide had been in trouble, and for all his abilities, the Sentinel had failed to protect him.

"I knew that something was wrong. I should have pushed him harder. I should have done something." Ellison softly berated himself.

"Jim."

The quiet voice of his captain broke Ellison out of his rant. Banks waited until eye contact was made before he continued. "Let's stay focused on the issues. Sandburg was attacked, he wasn't driven over the edge."

"There's something else, sir." Grant hesitated and glanced at his partner. Martindale shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not wanting to continue what his partner had started to say.

"Tell us." Banks' voice softened as he addressed the newest partners in the unit. Since they had the least amount of background in the case history of Major Crimes, they had been assigned what was supposed to have been the simplest part of the investigation. Banks chastised himself - nothing was ever simple with Sandburg.

Grant looked up at the captain for the briefest of seconds, before returning his gaze to the tabletop he found so fascinating.

"We weren't the first to look into Sandburg's problems at the University. Someone else did a pretty thorough investigation more than a week ago. Before Sandburg even knew he had a problem. A second, quick check was made yesterday morning, less than six hours before he was attacked."

Brown shook his head. "Man, they covered all the angles. Set it up so it would look like Hairboy couldn't face losing his career." He swallowed the last of his coffee before continuing. "If it hadn't been for Ellison being so convinced otherwise, it would have worked, too."

His own cup empty, Taggart rose and snagged the fuller of the two coffee pots. He filled his own cup, then Brown's before topping off the rest of the cups on the table. The large brown face was contemplative as he moved around the table. Banks and the rest of Major Crimes waited for him to speak.

"How did they know? Did they just happen to want to go after Sandburg? They just happened to check into his position at the University? It just so happened that there was a problem that was so new that Sandburg didn't even know about it yet? And that problem just so happened to be caused by something out of Sandburg's control. I find it a little odd, don't you?"

"What are you suggesting, Joel?" Ellison leaned forward on his elbows and stared hard at the former Bomb Squad leader.

"What if Blair's attackers didn't just use the situation, but caused it? What if the entire thing was a set-up? If we didn't see the circumstances that could lead up to a suicide attempt, then we wouldn't have considered it."

Conner finally spoke up. "Why go through all this. If they wanted to kill Sandy, why the elaborate charade?"

Banks and Ellison shared a long glance, remembering the conversation they shared in Sandburg's hospital room the day before. The captain took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before answering her questions. "When we know why they did this, we will be a lot closer to knowing who did this, Megan."

"Jim, weren't you working on that stolen cell phone number racket?"

"Yeah, Rafe, we were. But we kicked it back to Bunko last week. Despite the Mayor's $2,800 phone bill, it wasn't a case for Major Crimes. What does that have to do with Sandburg?"

"Maybe nothing, but the call to 911 came in on a stolen cell phone number."

"Guess I better go and get that case back from Bunko."

Megan began to furiously scribble on the notepad in front of her. "Great, that case wasn't on our list of possibles. Another file to pull."

With a slow smile Taggart reached over and grasped the pen from the young woman's hand. "Conner, you've only been here a few months now. So let me clue you in. When it comes to the nutcases and psychos those two have attracted, this list doesn't even scratch the surface."

She turned towards Ellison, throwing her hands up in the air. "What do you two do, advertise?"

Banks leaned forward, blocking the glare coming from his best detective. "Let's look at the files you have pulled, Conner."

With that, Conner and Taggart began to lay file folders on the table in front of them. When the pile reached her shoulder, Megan turned back to Jim. "Actually, the girl in records was quite helpful. She knew exactly which files to include in the" Megan used her fingers to form quotation marks in the air, "crooks who are pissed at Jim Ellison group."

Taggart returned to the table. "Well, what can the man say? It's a gift." His tone was serious, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Ellison snorted and shook his head, glad to be back in the good graces of someone who cared so much about his partner.

~ This is much better. ~ Banks shifted in his chair and studied the interaction of his unit. The initial shock had worn off, and they were once again functioning at their normal high rate of efficiency. He refused to allow himself to think what would have happened to this group if Sandburg had not survived the attack.

Clearing his throat, he began to speak. "Let's have it. Who's on this week's hit parade?"

Joel plucked the notebook out of Megan's hands. "We actually had an interesting variety of cases as possible links here." Pointedly ignoring Megan's grumbling, he continued. "First off, cases of theirs that are going to trial. This is rather interesting." His emphasis on the last word caught everyone's attention.

Collectively, the group sat up, waiting for Taggart's big revelation. "Not a lunatic in the bunch." He grinned and waited for the groans to abate.

"Joel!" Going this long without a cigar was beginning to wear on the captain's patience.

"Sorry, sir, but it's true. Not one of these cases has any hint of complications. We've got some feelers out about family, associates, that sort of thing. But right now, nothing stands out."

"Some of their current cases have a little more promise, though." Megan shifted the files around, to bring the next stack into reach.

Jim nodded. "The heroin overdoses on the North side of town. It's possible the new supplier in town doesn't want Sandburg and me to get too close."

"Exactly."

Simon spoke up. "If this hadn't happened to Sandburg, you would have been giving your report on the investigation today. Bring us up to date on what you've got so far."

"Sure, Simon." Ellison pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "An unknown supplier has brought in a more potent form of heroin into Cascade. We've had five deaths so far and over two dozen overdoses that caused permanent brain damage. One of the last deaths was a student that Blair knew. He took it kinda personally."

Simon hadn't heard about this connection to their observer. "Personal enough to do some investigating on his own? To get the attention of the wrong people?"

"He promised me he wouldn't. But if another student came to him and asked for help, well, you know Sandburg."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Megan picked up another file off the tabletop. "What about the racketeering case you've been working on? Anything of interest there?"

Drinking his coffee, Ellison pondered the question. "I don't think so. Most of our leads have dried up on that one. The name we've got is Matt Anile but we can't even prove he exists. We've got illegal gambling on sporting events, and rumors of extortion, but nothing concrete. One of our informants claims that someone in the DA's office is on the payroll, so..."

"Bribery?"

"Yeah, Rafe. We haven't tried to get any search warrants yet. Sandburg and I didn't want to tip our hand until we had something solid. We haven't gotten a single solitary piece of evidence that will hold up in court. In fact, even the rumors about the case dried up almost a month ago."

"So the heroin case is the more likely of the two?"

"Looks that way."

Joel leaned back in his chair and studied the faces across from him. "There was another death from that new heroin."

"Another one? Why wasn't I told about it?" Despite his concern for his injured partner, Ellison was annoyed that he had been left out of the loop.

"Don't worry about it, mate. I'm sure it had nothing to do with your case."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Megan?" Frustration made his words sharp.

"Jim, Megan didn't mean anything by it. We've been working on breaking up the new cathouse that Tina LeMat has set up. It took five weeks to get one of the girls to trust Megan, then she kills herself with an overdose."

This got Simon's attention. "Did she tell you anything? Anything we can use to nail LeMat, or put her out of business?"

Megan shook her head sadly. "She was only 18. She just wanted to go home. I promised to pay for her trip back home. She never made the meeting. Joel and I found her dead in the alley behind the house. LeMat probably watched her die out there and we can't do a damn thing about it."

"What else do we have here?" Simon's voice was beginning to betray the stress he was feeling. "There has to be something that we're missing here."

"Maybe, sir."

"Tell us what you've got, Joel."

"Jim, do you remember about six months ago, we were tracking down those TEC 9's and the silencers that surfaced on the black market?"

"Sure I do. We got the weapons before they hit the street, but the perps got away from us. The ringleader was a guy named Bruce Adamson. We suspected that he had his fingers in a lot more than just gun running. The last we heard, he was in Central America. What's his connection to Sandburg?"

"Remember his wife?"

"Julie, or Janie...something like that. For a while, I thought she was going to turn over on him, but no such luck. What about her? As far as I know, Sandburg never had contact with her." Jim's brow wrinkled as he tried to remember more details about the case.

"Her name was actually Janice, and three and a half weeks ago she was found in a motel room in Tacoma."

"Found?"

"Her wrists were slashed...just like Sandburg."

"My God." Jim's horror was echoed in the silent faces around the table.

"Yeah." Joel studied the table surface, afraid he'd lose control if he saw the pain he was hearing in Jim's voice.

Megan spoke up, breaking the somber silence that had settled over the group. "The Tacoma PD are faxing us everything they have on it."

Brown turned to Megan. "How much of an investigation was there? I mean, they had no reason to suspect that it was anything but a typical suicide. Hell, for all we know, it was a typical suicide."

"Just what the hell makes a suicide 'typical'? If she took her own life, that is as tragic as if someone else killed her. Wouldn't you agree?" Taggart was standing over Brown, using his height to intimidate the other man.

"I didn't mean to imply that..." Brown looked around helplessly, wondering just what he had put his foot into with his comments.

"Joel! This isn't helping." Banks glared at his old friend, willing him to control his anger and his memories. Satisfied that he would control himself, Simon turned his attention from Joel and back to Megan. "Did the Tacoma PD have some suspicions before our request?"

Joel sat back down as Megan gave the group more of the information they had collected. "Yes, they have always had some doubts about the case. The location of the razor that was used was too far away from the body for one thing. There were also some unexplained bruises on her arms. What really got their attention was the ME's report that the angle of the wound was wrong for it to be self-inflicted."

Simon watched his best detective very closely while he spoke. "Luckily, we didn't have to bring in our Medical Examiner on this one." He paused as a shudder passed through the other man, then continued.

"Jim, get the doctor's report on Sandburg's wounds and have Dan Wolf review it. See if he comes up with the same conclusion. Other than that, I want you to stay close to Sandburg. As this drug wears off, he may begin to remember more. Everyone else, keep working on what you've got in front of you."

Simon broke off as Rhonda came rushing in. "What's wrong?"

"There was a call from the hospital. Some intern is trying to move Blair to the psychiatric unit."

"What the hell..." Before the words had stopped echoing, Ellison was at the elevator doors. When they did not open immediately for him, the frustrated Sentinel charged down the stairs.

"Jim, let us know..." The captain's words echoed in the void left by Ellison.

"All right people, we have some leads to follow. Let's get on it." The meeting broke up rather quickly, as the detectives were anxious to track down whoever had dared to attack one of their own. As they passed, Banks quietly grasped Taggart's elbow.

"Joel, we need to talk." After the briefest of hesitations, Taggart followed Simon to his office.

Simon Banks studied the man seated in front of his desk. Opening old wounds was not one of his favorite tasks, but there seemed to be no other choice. "When was the last time you visited his grave, Joel?"

An unreadable face, chiseled in onyx greeted the captain. "You know I haven't been there since the funeral, Simon. Why are you asking me this now?"

"How long has he been gone?"

"You know when it happened." He twisted in the chair, turning his face away from his old friend.

Simon saw the movement, and leaned back into Taggart's vision. "Refresh my memory, Joel."

"Damn you, Simon. All right, we'll play your little game. It's been 9 years since it happened." Still not wanting to look Simon in the face, Joel turned back the other direction.

"Since what happened?" Banks shifted in his chair again, continuing the macabre dance of pain and denial between the two old friends.

Frustrated, Taggart stood up and leaned forward, making eye contact for the first time since the two of them had entered the office. "Why are you doing this to me, Simon?"

"Since what..."

"SINCE MY BOY KILLED HIMSELF! There, are you happy now? I said it." Joel marched over to the window on the far side of Simon's office, refusing to look at his old friend behind the desk. "It's been 9 years, 4 months, and 14 days since my only son took my back-up .380, put it to his head and pulled the trigger. His coach called the house. Davy had never missed practice before. We were worried and went looking for him. His mother found him. Do you have any idea what that did to her? DO YOU? She's never been the same...neither have I."

Banks stood quietly and walked to his friend, listening as the angry voice grew quieter and more resigned. "Do you know what the worst part of it is, Simon?" He continued on, not giving the other man time to answer. "I don't know why. He had everything to live for. He knew that being gay didn't make him any less loved by us. So why didn't he want to live? Why'd he kill himself?"

"We're never going to know the answer to that, Joel." Simon gently laid his hand on the big shoulders in front of him, noting the slight trembling he felt there. "As much as it hurts you, as much as it hurts everyone who loved Davy, you are never going to get the answers to your questions. But I do know that he loved you and that he would want you to move on. He did not do it to hurt you."

"If he loved me, then why did he do this to me? Why?"

"Whatever his reasons were, they weren't about you. That boy adored you and knew that you loved him unconditionally. Never, ever, doubt that."

Joel reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder, still staring out the window. "Thank you, Simon. I think...I think I needed to hear that."

"I'm glad I could help. Have you thought any more about talking to Jim? It might do you both a lot of good."

"Actually, yes. I thought if he was comfortable leaving Sandburg alone this evening, I'd invite him over to give King a run and stay for dinner."

"That sounds like a good idea, but maybe give them a day. I don't think Ellison will be ready to leave him quite yet. Tell you what, I'll drop by for my visit tomorrow about the same time that you get there, offer to sit with the kid while you two talk."

"Thanks, Simon."

An agitated voice and a too fast heartbeat greeted the Sentinel as he extended his hearing from the lobby of the hospital. The soft pleading voice hurried him into the elevator and towards his Guide. "Please don't do this to me, I didn't hurt myself. Jim, where are you?"

"Here, Chief. I'm right here." Jim angrily pushed past the intern and the orderlies surrounding his partner's bed. Blair was sitting up in bed, dangerously swaying, the exhaustion and pain clearly showing on his face. Protectiveness roared to the forefront of the Sentinel's emotions as he rushed to Blair's bedside. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he demanded to know what was going on.

"What are you doing to him? Where's Dr. Andrews, and just who in the hell are you?"

Even while seated, the detective was almost eye-level with the object of his ire. Realizing that, he stood up to tower over the shorter man, slipping effortlessly into his 'intimidate the suspect' mode.

"You're not his doctor, who gave you permission to make any decisions regarding his care?"

"Permission?" The unnamed man in the white lab coat stood even straighter as he looked up at the imposing man now in front of him. "I don't know who you are, but I'm Dr. Keily, and at this hospital, I don't need permission to treat Mr. Sandburg."

The badge flashed as cold and hard as the ice blue eyes locked on him. "Detective James Ellison, Major Crimes division. Mr. Sandburg is my partner. Just what kind of treatment are you prescribing for him, Dr. Keily?" Ellison's accent on his name made it sound more like a slur than a question. "Do you always prescribe a psychiatric evaluation for all the assault victims you treat?"

"Assault victim? Detective, I understand how difficult it must be for you to accept that your partner is unstable. I'm sure no one at your police department thinks any less of you for his problems. There is no reason to keep up this charade. In the long run you are just causing your friend more problems." Keily was on shaky ground, and too arrogant to know it. He reached out and laid a hand on Ellison's arm, as if to make his plea even more personal. "Let us help him."

The Ellison temper was legendary in the Cascade PD, but few had ever seen him this mad. The two officers assigned to guard Sandburg weren't going to miss a second of history in the making as they slipped into the doorway of the hospital room and waited for the show to start.

Ellison shook off the hand resting on his arm and stepped into Keily's personal space. An angry finger jabbed with every word. "You know nothing about the man in that bed. He is my partner and my best friend and one of the strongest and bravest people I have ever met."

By the time Ellison had finished this sentence, he had backed the arrogant man to the doorway of the hospital room. As Keily stepped back out of the room, his foot became entangled with the leg of one of the officers who were standing there. Somehow, neither man in the doorway managed to catch the doctor on his way down, although witnesses claimed that they did make 'some kind' of an effort to help him.

Ellison took advantage of the situation by standing over the fallen man to continue what he had to say to him. "If you had even bothered to read Mr. Sandburg's chart, you would know that there is medical and forensic evidence that shows his wounds were not self-inflicted." Jim stood, sentinel erect with his fists on his hips as he stared at the man who had dared to question his friend and guide even after the evidence had been found. "Pardon me for asking, but isn't that why you have charts? Most doctors I have ever met actually use the patient's charts to know what happened to them. They don't use their suspicions and their prejudices to arbitrarily assign judgment."

Dr. Andrews chose that moment to step off the elevator. He calmly walked over to the group and looked down at his colleague. "Dr. Keily, I must admit this is a different method than I use to talk to the families of my patients. Tell me, is it more effective to lay on the floor to discuss a patient's progress?"

The glare never left Ellison's face and Dr. Andrews kept a serious expression on his. The two uniformed officers tried, but could not stop the laughter they had held in since Keily had started backing out of the room.

Sputtering and swearing, Keily climbed to his feet and straightened his coat. "How dare you talk to me in such a manner? I'll have you banned from here, I'll...I'll..."

"You will do nothing of the kind, Dr. Keily. You're an intern, nothing more. Even having an uncle who's the Chief of Staff won't help you here. This patient is now off limits to you. Do you understand that?"

After waiting for someone to help him up, the red-faced man staggered to his feet and turned towards his superior. "This is not over, mark my words."

Finally letting his amusement show, Andrews responded to the retreating figure. "Oh, I think it is." Becoming more serious, he turned and entered the hospital room.

Blair Sandburg was still and quiet on the bed. Anyone who knew the man knew that this was not right. The officers assigned to guard him shifted uneasily and Ellison made no attempt to hide his worry as the doctor examined the young man. He sat on the far side of the bed and as soon as the doctor was finished checking Blair's vital signs and examining his wounds, Jim grasped the younger man's hands in his own and studied his friend's face. Pale and drawn, with dark smudges underneath the eyes, Blair seemed lost in his own world. Slowly, the ocean blue eyes focused on the concerned face above him.

"They won, didn't they?" The young man turned his face away, his dejection almost a visible cloud around him.

Before Jim could interpret the cryptic question a page came over the intercom for Dr. Andrews. With a smile and a pat to Blair's shoulder he slipped out the door and closed it behind him, leaving the two men in privacy.

With his thumb and forefinger, Jim turned his friend's face back towards him. Blair still would not make eye contact with him, so the Sentinel waited for the words to finally come. When the words did come, they were heartbreaking in their simplicity.

"Everything's gone."

"No." Jim kept his voice firm, hoping his strength would seep into the young man.

"Don't you see, with two slices of a blade they took everything away from me. My whole life, it's gone." He stared down at his heavily bandaged wrists, his words dropping to a whisper as he continued. "They don't allow suicidal police observers to keep their status, and the university doesn't look too kindly on unstable teaching assistants. They might not even let me finish my doctorate."

Blair's voice became ragged and he turned away from Jim before continuing. "You won't need me anymore."

"What?" Ellison bit down a desire to shake some sense into his partner. Instead, he grasped the shoulders of his best friend and pulled Blair back up into a sitting position, forcing him to look Jim in the eye. "You listen to me and you listen good, Blair Sandburg. I don't care what the department says, and I sure don't give a rat's ass about what the university thinks. I need you. Do you understand that? I need you. Hell, you're the only person to ever get close enough for me to need. Nobody is going to take you away from me. Ever. I won't let them. You got that?" Jim stared at the man in his arms, willing him to feel Jim's conviction that everything would be all right; willing him to feel the love that Jim could not yet voice.

Quieting for a moment, the Sentinel leaned his forehead against that of his Guide's, drawing strength from the bond they shared before finishing the thoughts in his head. "I'd be there first, you know. In the psych ward, I'd be there first."

The power of that statement hit the younger man as he pulled back to study Jim. When he saw the haunted expression in his friend's face, Blair tried to lighten the mood a bit. "Hey, at least we'd still be room-mates. Do you know how much about basket weaving I've learned from all the tribes I've studied over the years?"

Jim recognized his Guide's attempt to lighten the mood and played along with it. "Well, Chief, at least you'd still be teaching. You'd have a captive audience, too." The smile was forced and never quite reached his eyes.

Time slipped away unnoticed by either man until Jim felt Blair sway ever so slightly. This time the smile was genuine as he settled his friend back against the pillows. "Nap time, Buddy."

"Jim?"

This time Ellison was prepared for the question he knew was still on Blair's mind. "Don't worry about it right now. The people who are important know that you didn't do this. The rest of them, well, we'll be able to prove it to them when the time comes."

"Will we?"

"Has your Blessed Protector ever let you down?" The smile never wavered, but Blair saw the pain flicker in Jim's eyes. He reached out and caught Jim's hand before the other man could move away from the bed.

"You are, you're blaming yourself for this. Come on, Jim, you're a Sentinel, not the all-seeing, all knowing Karnac. How could you have stopped it?"

Pondering the question, Ellison sat rubbing his face for a moment before speaking. "Yesterday morning, before you left, I could tell you were upset. I should have stopped you, made you tell me what was wrong."

"What does that have to do with what happened? That's like saying that I was the one that...you're still not sure, are you? Part of you still thinks I tried to kill myself." Becoming agitated Blair tried to sit up in the bed. "I thought you believed me, man!"

"I did, I do believe you, Chief." Cursing himself, Jim reached out and caught the younger man before he fell over. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...I saw the panther after you left, I should have known you were in danger, that you needed me." This time it was the older man who turned his face away. "He was trying to warn me and I ignored him. How many times will you get hurt because I won't accept the dreams, the visions? You keep trying to teach me to accept that side of who I am, and I keep letting you down. I'm sorry. Protecting the Guide is the first part of protecting the tribe and..."

Blair patted the older man's arm, trying to reassure him. "It's okay, Jim. I understand how hard it is for you to accept all of this. Just promise me that you'll keep trying."

The Sentinel didn't respond at first. He just pulled his human guide close and hugged him while he heard the roar of approval from his spirit guide. In his mind he saw the animal as it curled itself protectively around the foot of the bed. As the eyes of his spirit guide locked with his own, the Sentinel gave his answer. "I promise."

For the second time in less than an hour, Jim tucked his young friend into his bed. Blair raised an eyebrow and began to speak, but a raised finger and a stern "humor me" stilled the words on his lips.

Ellison sat on the edge of the bed as sleep finally came to Blair, smiling at the muttered comments about overprotective Sentinels and oversized, shedding cats. He took the opportunity to watch Blair undisturbed, taking in every nuance of the young man. Unknown to him, sleep came easier to the injured man as he imagined what it would be like to be loved by Jim Ellison.

Satisfied that his partner's sleep was sound, Ellison moved out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him. With a brief nod to the officers standing guard in the hall, he went in search of Dr. Andrews. Focusing his hearing, Jim walked past the nurse's station to stand outside a closed door at the end of the corridor.

As Dr. Andrews exited the room, he was startled to find the detective waiting for him, but he swallowed his questions, sensing the other man's anger. "Detective Ellison, my apologies for leaving so abruptly earlier."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing at the headache that was beginning to form. "Blair's not your only patient, I understand that. I just don't want to see him go through that again."

"That should have never happened in the first place. I am sorry. Is he still upset, I could prescribe a mild sedative?" When Jim shook his head he gestured towards the small break room behind the nurse's station. "How about some coffee then, my treat?" Without waiting for an answer he moved into the room.

After only a momentary pause, Ellison followed the doctor. When they were both seated at the round table he started to speak, only to be cut off by the other man. "How was he when you left him?"

Ellison absently stirred the cup in front of him. "We had a good talk, he's sleeping now. He'll feel a whole lot better when we can catch whoever is behind this. We both will."

Andrews swallowed his coffee while he fished a scrap of paper out of his pocket. "Maybe this will help. It's a list of all the pharmaceutical companies in the area that stock Ketamine. It might help you track where it came from."

A smile crossed the Sentinel's face as his hand closed on the list. "Yes, it should help us a lot. There is something else that you could do to help us, though."

The doctor set his coffee cup down on the table and leaned towards the detective. "Tell me how I can help you."

Jim drew in a deep breath, glad that he was dealing with a doctor who truly wanted to help his patient, and not the likes of Dr. Keily. "There was a murder out of town a few weeks ago and we feel that the person or persons responsible may have been the same that attacked Blair. The wounds are the same, slashed wrists. Our M.E. would like to look over your findings to see if he can find any hard evidence to help link the two cases together."

"Are you saying that you have a serial killer on your hands?" The doctor did nothing to hide his surprise and nervousness. "Could we have more victims coming in?"

Ellison did his best to assure Andrews without giving away vital information about the case. "No. No serial killer. We think it may have something to do with another case we've been working on. I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more than that at the moment. Now about those records?"

"Of course, detective. I'll need Mr. Sandburg's authorization, though." He paused, obviously deep in thought. "In fact, you may want your medical examiner to come to the hospital this afternoon. We've scheduled his surgery for this afternoon. I've arranged for a plastic surgeon to work with me to make the scars less noticeable. We put people back together here, but we're no experts on how they got injured in the first place. The medical examiner could sit in on the procedure, get a first hand look at the wounds when we open the area back up."

"Is all that really necessary? I mean we want the least amount of scarring, but to put him through a surgical procedure?" Jim couldn't hide the panic at the thought Blair being subjected to any more pain and trauma with a procedure he could not be there for.

Understanding was evident on the kind doctor's face. "I'm afraid it really is necessary. He was too shocky and weak yesterday, or we would have done it then. Yesterday our main concern was establishing blood flow back to his hands and keeping him alive. Now we have to make sure that he will have full mobility in his hands."

All the fear that Jim Ellison experienced the day before came back tenfold, threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't comprehend the possibility that the hands that guided him could somehow be limited. "But he's moving his hands all right today."

The doctor hastened to reassure the big detective. "Yes, he has gross motor skills. What we are concerned about now are his fine motor skills. If one of the tendons in his wrists were damaged, or even if too much scar tissue builds up around them, it might have an affect. Maybe not now, but at some point down the road. The sooner we can correct the problems, the easier it will be on him. I will be the one to repair any tendon damage and Dr Yamamoto will be the plastic surgeon. He's a good man; we went to medical school together."

Jim forced down his fears and concentrated on what was being said to him. "This Dr. Yamamoto, do you trust him, I mean really trust him?"

It was a few minutes before the gray-haired man made eye contact with Ellison. Another minute before he spoke. When he did, his voice was quiet and sad. "In Denver, five years ago, my wife was badly injured in a car wreck. She was thrown through the windshield. After she was released from the hospital, I moved my practice here to Cascade so Dr. Yamamoto could be her surgeon. I have already trusted him with the most precious thing in my world. So yes, you can trust him with your partner."

At a loss for words, Ellison just nodded and waited as Andrews refilled the coffee cups. Sandburg was lucky to have as compassionate a doctor as Andrews, but there was still the matter of Dr. Keily, and how many of the staff would treat Blair in the same heartless manner.

Understanding the remaining concerns of the other man, Dr Andrews spoke first as he returned to the table with the coffee. "On behalf of the hospital I'd like to apologize for that scene earlier. I have no idea what Keily thought he was doing. I've already spoken to the Chief-of-Staff and related or not, he won't allow that type of behavior in his hospital."

"Is that right?" Try as he might, Jim could not quite keep the anger out of his voice. "Just what is being done about it?"

"Well, until the review board meets next week, let's just say he is on a rotation where his noteworthy bedside manner can be put to use."

Jim couldn't help but snort, "Yeah, right. Just where would that be, the morgue?"

"Well actually, yes." He waited until Jim finished choking on his coffee before continuing. "He's been a problem since he arrived, just has no people skill."

"Really?" The sarcasm was thick in the Sentinel's voice, and evident on his face.

Dr. Andrews couldn't hide the humor he was feeling. "Not even Keily can insult a corpse. Or at least if he does, they won't be complaining about it."

Jim felt himself relaxing, finally convinced that Blair was safe and well cared for in the hospital. "What time is the surgery scheduled for? He had a pretty big breakfast."

"Yes, I heard about the care package, actually I had part of it. We let him have the fruit and the tea, since they would digest easily enough. I'm afraid the rest of the food, well, we all enjoyed it."

"Don't tell anyone from the department. I had to practically fight to get him those donuts."

Laughing, the doctor stood as his pager went off. "Your secret is safe with me, detective. His surgery is set for 3:00pm. He should be back in his room by 7:30pm at the latest."

Ellison also stood. "Thank you for everything, doctor." When he was alone again he sagged back into the hard plastic chair. Allowing himself only a minute's weakness, Jim stood again and made the necessary phone calls to bring Cascade's Chief Medical Examiner to the hospital.

Simon Banks softly pushed open the door, waiting for a moment to see if Jim was awake. Jim was slumped forward in his chair; one hand supporting his head, the other resting on Blair's upper arm. As Simon debated on whether to disturb him, Jim opened his eyes and nodded at his captain. He nodded back and set a bag on the nearby table. A moan from the bed captured the Sentinel's attention and Simon patiently waited for Jim to settle the injured young man back into a peaceful sleep. When that was done, Ellison motioned towards the door, then followed Banks out into the hallway.

"He seems kind of out of it, Jim. Is he okay?" Simon's attempt to ask the question casually brought a smile to Jim's face.

~ Sure you don't care about him, Simon. ~ "Yeah, he's just groggy from the pre-op sedatives. More of his memory is coming back and the combination is making him pretty restless."

Simon perked up at this information. "He's remembering? That's great!"

As if to slow the captain down, Ellison gestured downward with his hands. "There's nothing that will help us yet. It's like he's getting 'flashes' of what happened, but he can't sort them out and make sense of them. We just have to hope he can remember what they were when he wakes up after the surgery." Jim hesitated as two orderlies pushed a gurney towards them.

Banks held the door open as the stretcher was maneuvered into the room. Ellison remained like a statue in the hall. The captain turned his attention back to Jim. ~ Zoned? ~ A soft cry of pain snapped the Sentinel's attention back as he rushed into the room and began to interrogate the two hapless men. ~ Or maybe not. ~

Knowing what Jim was capable of doing to anyone he perceived as hurting his Guide, Simon moved to intercept the angry Sentinel. "Jim, let them do their job. It's time to move him up to surgery."

"They don't have to treat him like he's just some slab of meat." The anger of the last two days was just under the surface, and Jim was ready to let it out. Instead he exhaled noisily and turned back to the men. "He's been through a lot, be careful with him."

One of the men turned to Ellison. He was not as tall as Simon was, but taller than Jim with meticulously braided hair. Through his headset, Jim could hear Jamaican music. The cop's expression softened as he was answered. "No man. We be as gentle as a mama with her newborn babe. We heard what happened, that's the lowest attack I ever hear of. With all he be goin' through, any time he move, it gonna hurt. No way to stop it until he can work the stiffness outta his bones." His head shook as he spoke, the beads in his braids a colorful contrast to his ebony skin.

With a great deal of effort, Jim backed away and let them do their jobs. Intellectually, he knew they were being as careful as they could be, but his hands clenched tightly at his side with every moan. Jim and Simon followed the gurney as far as the elevator, where they were given a few moments to say good-by.

Simon bent over the young man who had eased his way into the tall captain's heart. Seeing how still he seemed to be, Simon better understood Jim's pain. "You be good for those doctors, you hear? Dan will be in there with you and if you cause any trouble, I'll know about it, Sandburg." Wanting to say more, but not trusting his voice, he stepped back to give Jim some room.

Jim stood quietly next to his partner. Instead of speaking to the sleeping figure, he brushed the hair back out of Blair's face, his fingertips lingering on the soft cheek. Simon was surprised and started to question him until he saw the wet brightness of Jim's eyes. ~ Oh, Jim. ~ Keeping his questions to himself, he stood closer and squeezed the other man's shoulders as the elevator whisked their friend away.

Ellison tracked the elevator up to the eighth floor, where it was met by a friendly nurse. He tried to extend his hearing to find the surgical team, but lost them when Simon shook his arm. "It won't do either one of you any good for you to stand here and listen to that. Dan promised me that if there was any kind of problem, he would come get us." He firmly steered the Sentinel back to the room. "Come on, I brought us some decent coffee."

Dan Wolf walked into room 312 with a smile brightening his sturdy face. Before Ellison or Banks could ask, he began to speak. "It went great. There was less tendon and muscle damage than they were expecting, and the doctors were able to completely repair it. That plastic surgeon was something else. With the right follow up care, the scars will barely be visible."

Jim let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank God." He ran his hands through his hair and paced the small room with nervous energy. "He's gonna be all right." Stopping suddenly, he pivoted to face Dan again.

"What kind of follow up care will he need?"

"I'm sure the doctors will have more for you, but there are two big things that will help his skin to heal. Keep it out of the sun, even on a cloudy day. He doesn't need the UV's right now, and use vitamin E on the scars."

"Vitamin E?"

Wolf pulled off his surgical hat and rubbed at his face with it. "Yeah. Just cut open a capsule and rub the gel on the scar tissue. It'll make a big difference."

Simon quietly choked on his coffee as a vision of Sandburg, bundled up like a snow baby and dripping vitamin E, came to mind. As Dan moved across the room he slapped Simon on the back. The twinkle in his eye showed he had the same thought. Ellison was lost in thought and missed the exchange between the two men then he brightened. "No sun and lots of vitamin E. We can do that." His expression changed to surprise as Simon groaned at his statement, then to outright confusion as Simon answered him.

"Just don't let him ooze all over the bullpen."

"Sir?"

Wolf clapped him on the back. "Don't worry about it, Jim. Just take care of your partner. I convinced the docs to let you sit with him, and..."

"Thanks, Dan." With that, Ellison was out the door, already focusing on the distant heartbeat of his Guide.

"...I'll go over my findings with Simon. Bye, Jim." With a wave to the retreating figure, he turned to Banks with a knowing grin. "Gee, was it something I said?"

Without the slightest hesitation, Ellison headed straight for his partner's bed in the recovery unit, briefly acknowledging the guards now posted outside. Before he could reach it, his path was blocked by what he could only describe as a sturdy woman in hospital greens. "Sir, this is a restricted area."

"I'm Detective James Ellison, with the Cascade PD. This man is my partner and I have permission to be in here with him," He pulled out his badge and had it in the woman's face before he finished speaking, "and just who might you be?"

"My name is Peg, and you may see your partner when I've finished checking on him." She proceeded to examine the fresh bandages on Blair's arms and to check his vital signs, diligently recording each finding and stepping around Ellison at every move. Finally she had had enough. "Detective, this would be much quicker if I didn't have to walk around you."

Silently Ellison took a step backwards, his gaze never leaving his Guide's face. As soon as the nurse was finished, he sat down next to the bed and propped his arms up on the bed rail. Comfortably situated, he allowed himself to freely study the sleeping figure.

~ Oh Chief, nothing is ever easy with you is it? Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. Other times I don't have a clue what is going on inside that head of yours. You said that you knew what it was like to hurt so badly that you wanted to die. When was that, buddy? Dear God, please let it have been before we met. If you were hurting that badly and I didn't see it...I don't think I could take it. Why didn't you ever tell me? Why couldn't you trust me enough to tell me? ~

His silent contemplation was interrupted by the return of Sandburg's nurse. "Hello Peg." She barely nodded at him, a sharp contrast to the gentle nurses that had been caring for Blair on the third floor, and that was unacceptable. "How often will you be checking his vital signs?"

She turned to look at him, clearly reading the challenge in his voice. "Every 15 minutes, until he is moved out of recovery."

Glancing at his watch, the detective commented, "It's been 17 minutes."

After one of the quickest stays in the recovery room, Blair Sandburg was back in his own bed by 6:15pm.

Joel Taggart had spent the better part of the day trying to figure out just what he was going to say to Jim, with no real success. Deciding to 'wing it', he took a deep breath and entered the hospital room of their young friend. As was expected, Blair was sound asleep on the narrow bed, a new IV and a heart monitor evidence of his recent surgery. Simon glanced up and smiled at the visitor before turning his attention towards the quiet figure at the window.

"Jim, Joel's here."

For a moment there was no response, then Jim turned and greeted the other man. "Hey Joel, how's it going?" As had been the norm since Blair was admitted into the hospital, his smile was forced and Joel could see the pain hidden behind it.

Joel faltered when he looked at the still form asleep in the bed. Taking a deep breath, he returned the forced smile. "How are you tonight, Jim?"

Not even realizing the question, Ellison began to answer automatically. "The surgery went well. Both Dan and the doctors were pleased, but he probably won't wake up until morning."

Joel bit back a smile as he studied the other man. ~ When did you get so predictable, Jim Ellison? ~ "Jim, I know. I talked to Dan before I left the station. I was asking how you were."

"Me?" The question startled Jim, and he blinked, not quite knowing how to answer it. "Joel, I'm not the one who's in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery. I'm..."

"...hurting, too." Joel finished the sentence for him. "Sandburg would throw a fit if he woke up and saw you now. You won't be able to do him much good if you don't take of yourself. Come on, it's time to take a break." To accentuate his point, Joel reached over and snagged Ellison's coat.

Jim held his panic in check, but his friends could see it in his eyes. "No, I can't leave him. What if he wakes up? What if he needs me and I'm not here for him?" Stepping towards the bed, Jim shook his head and grabbed the bed rail. "I don't want him to wake up alone. Don't make me leave him, Simon."

Just that moment, the door reopened and admitted Rafe and Brown. Simon nodded briefly at them before turning back to Ellison. "He won't be alone. Maybe we've never made it clear, so let me say it now. Sandburg may be your partner, but he's our friend too. Blair calls you his 'Blessed Protector' and I know how much that means to you, but don't protect him so much that you cut him off from the rest of the people who care about him." Simon's voice became suspiciously rough and he rubbed at his eyes.

When Simon became quiet, Rafe spoke up. "Hey, man, we're not here to make you leave or anything. We're here because we care. Did you know that Blair was the first person to shake my hand when I transferred into Major Crimes? There was a big case breaking and everybody was swamped, but he made sure I knew where everything was, that I could fit right in. He even brought me up to speed on the case so I wouldn't feel like the odd man out when you all were talking about the bust later. He was my first friend when I transferred in from patrol, and he'd be here if it was me in that bed."

Brown's low melodic voice followed that of his partner. "He'd be here if it were any of us, Jim. Please, man, let us return the favor."

Light blue eyes locked with dark brown ones as several seconds passed. Apparently satisfied with the sincerity of the words and giving in to the inevitable, Jim accepted the coat from Joel and nodded wordlessly. He reached out and touched Blair's shoulder, wanting to do more, but not with such an audience. Before he reached the door, Jim turned around as if to speak. Anticipating his words, Simon spoke up.

"If there is any change, one of us will call you. I promise."

Ellison hesitated, then nodded again silently before Joel shepherded him out the door. A collective breath was held until the elevator was heard departing the floor.

"Man, I thought he'd never leave." The voice was weak and exhausted sounding.

Simon stared down at the bed in shock. "Sandburg? Blair, you're awake!"

"Yeah, been awake for a couple of minutes now, but I didn't want Jim to know."

A frown marred the captain's face, while Brown's broke into a wide grin. "If he knew you were awake, Joel'd never have gotten him out of here."

Simon was still frowning. "He didn't hear you." It was a statement, but Blair could hear the unspoken question behind it.

"Well, he was pretty exhausted, that always affects his focus." The answer was vague enough, but Simon could read the truth of it in Sandburg's tired smile. The smile broadened a bit as Blair continued. "It did him a lot of good to hear what you had to say to him. It did me good, too."

The young man slipped quietly back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that he had three guardian angels watching over him, and one more with his Sentinel.

The ride back to Taggart's house was quiet. Jim seemed lost in thought and Joel did not want to disturb the other man's silent contemplation. When the car pulled up in front of a nondescript brown clapboard house, Jim frowned ever so slightly. Even though he had been here many times since Joel had taken in King, he had never paid much attention to the house itself. It wasn't that it was run down, in fact it was perfectly maintained. Perfect and cold. While the other houses in the neighborhood had flowers and weeds and toys in the yard, Joel's front yard was a solid lawn. It reminded Jim of a movie set - nice to look at, but no life behind it.

Following Joel into the house, Jim's frown turned into a smile as they were greeted by the sound of paws sliding on the hardwood floors. He braced himself automatically for the forty-plus pounds of half-grown chocolate lab that would be sailing towards him any second. Dropping his jacket, Jim reached out and caught the airborne blur sailing towards him.

Joel just shook his head at the sight. The adolescent dog was well mannered when guests came over, but King didn't consider Jim a guest, he was a playmate. The big man started to scold King, but one look at his friend's face stopped the words from forming. For a split second he saw not a tired and hurting man, but a happy ten-year-old and his dog.

Jim couldn't help but laugh as he found himself with an armful of excited pup. It wasn't that today's greeting was any more vigorous, he just needed it more. A small corner of his brain was thinking 'yuck' as he was thoroughly licked from one end to the other. Between the wiggling and the wagging, he was getting thumped on both shoulders by a very strong tail.

To Joel, the last chuckle sounded suspiciously like a sob as Jim buried his face in the soft fur. Even the dog sensed the change, as he immediately settled down and nuzzled his face into the crook of Jim's neck. After a final squeeze, Ellison put the dog down and opened the hall closet to retrieve the running shoes he had left there.

While Jim pulled off his heavy work shoes King disappeared into the kitchen, tail wagging. More relaxed than he had been since this whole nightmare started, Jim slipped into the well-worn Nike's that had taken up permanent residence at Joel's since King had come home with him. In some ways King was more Jim's dog than Joel's. They had bonded the first night that Jim had come home and found his roommate with the litter of abandoned newborn puppies. The loft was no place for a dog, and Jim was eternally grateful that King had found a home with Joel rather than go to a pet store. The runs were now a part of his regular routine.

A soft thump, thump, thump brought Jim's attention back to the present. King was sitting at the front door, his leash hanging from his mouth. His head was slightly cocked as he studied Jim intently. "What's the matter, King? Am I too slow for you tonight?" The dog let out a small yip as he bounced towards the door, his feet in constant motion. ~ So full of energy, just like Blair. ~ A shadow of sadness passed over his features as he reached down for the leash. "Yesterday was our day to run, but I'll make it up to you."

"I'll have dinner ready for you when you get back." Joel's voice had a no nonsense air about it, but still Jim hesitated.

"I'm not sure I should be away from the hospital that long."

"Jim." Joel Taggart knew what buttons to push and when to push them. "Don't you dare do that to me. Don't you dare make me face Sandburg and admit to him that you were here, and I let you leave without feeding you."

A raised eyebrow was the only indication that Ellison found this thought amusing. "Are you telling me that you're afraid of my partner?"

"When I turned eighteen, I left for boot camp. While I was gone, my mother got a dog. It was one of those little things, all hair and lots of noise. You know the type."

"Yeah, Joel. I know the type."

"I didn't take it seriously, teased my mom about getting a real dog the next time. Teased the dog, too. I've still got the scars on my ankle to prove it. When I watch Sandburg sometimes I think of that dog. Does that make sense?"

Ellison thought for a moment before answering the question. The standing joke around the department was 'don't mess with Sandburg or you'll have to deal with Ellison', but the quieter comments seemed more serious. 'Don't mess with Ellison or you'll have to deal with Sandburg.' "Yeah Joel, that makes a lot of sense. Thanks." The silence that followed was one of comfort, before man and dog left for their run.

Forty-five minutes later the pounding of feet signaled their return as Jim and King thundered through the kitchen door, sliding to a stop at their regular spot at the counter. On the countertop was a bottle of drinking water and on the floor was a fresh bowl for King. The normalcy of this was quietly reassuring to the Sentinel.

The beeping of the microwave drew Jim's attention away from his water and towards Taggart who suddenly looked very guilty.

"Joel?"

"Um, yeah Jim?" Suddenly Joel Taggart, Bomb Squad Captain, looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I was hoping to have this thawed out before you got back. It's probably sacrilege to be thawing Blair's ostrich chili in the microwave. If he finds out, he'll spend the next six weeks lecturing me about the evils of radiation and food."

Jim tried to keep his face straight and his voice droll. "I'm sure it would be an interesting lecture, Joel. Where did you get the chili?"

Suddenly, stirring the half-thawed chili became very interesting to the older man. Staring at the pot, Joel answered very softly, "The gang spent the afternoon over at the loft, cleaning. Been there since about - well, since before Blair went into surgery. We didn't want you to have to deal with it, and I thought you might like a 'home' cooked meal, so I grabbed this out of your freezer." Jim didn't miss the emphasis on the word 'home' and the softening of his features showed Joel that the gesture was noted and appreciated.

"I brought some clothes back with me, they're in the back bedroom. You've got time if you want to take a shower." Another beep and Taggart was back at breaking up the frozen chunks of chili.

Jim grabbed the water bottle and headed down the hallway. "Sounds good. Thanks, Joel. Just don't nuke that stuff to long. I don't want glow-in-the-dark ostrich for dinner." As he walked down the hall, Jim ducked to avoid a well-tossed potholder. ~ Didn't need to see it coming, could hear the air moving. Have to remember to tell Blair about this in the morning. ~

Joel stared after him for a few seconds. "How does he do that?" Half expecting an answer, he looked down at King who was sitting next to his feet, the retrieved potholder already in his mouth. "Smart-alec dog." King just thumped his tail on the floor even harder.

Jim emerged from the bathroom wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and one of his favorite pullover sweaters just as Joel was setting out the food. It was a simple meal of the chili with crackers and a fresh green salad. In deference to his friend's exhaustion beer was conspicuously absent, replaced instead with tall glasses of milk.

Inhaling deeply, the Sentinel allowed not only the smells to penetrate his mind, but the memories they invoked. Happy, peaceful memories and sad, painful memories. They all had one thing in common, the deep and all-encompassing bond he shared with his Guide.

Joel handed Jim a bowl of the steaming chili before dishing up his own. Discovering how hungry he really was, Jim ate in silence, not noticing Joel's distraction. Finally, the worst of his hunger sated, Jim realized that Joel had not touched his food.

"Joel, what's wrong? Something's been bothering you since all this started. Something besides Sandburg."

Looking anywhere but at Ellison, Joel began to speak. "How long do you think I've lived here?"

The question startled the younger man. "I don't know, Joel." A more studied look at the room showed walls that could stand a fresh coat of paint, but Jim could not see any evidence of anything ever having been hung on the walls. It was beyond a simple dcor, it was stark, empty, and naggingly familiar. It was the loft, before Sandburg moved in. Realization began to sink in.

"You've been here a while now, haven't you? But it still looks, well empty. It reminds me of the loft before Sandburg moved in. What's up, Joel?"

"It's empty. I live in a house because it is a better investment than renting. I haven't had a home in nine years." Taggart hesitated, stumbling over what he needed to say.

Ellison gently encouraged the other man. "What happened nine years ago?"

In answer, Taggart reached into his wallet and pulled out a smaller copy of the photo Megan had seen earlier. "This was my son, Davy. He was on every team at school, this picture was taken at the beginning of football season." Joel's voice caught as he handed the picture to Ellison.

Jim studied the worn photo. A younger version of Joel smiled back at him, helmet in hand. Dialing up his sight, the Sentinel saw the smile did not reach the young man's eyes. Forcing a smile himself, Jim handed the picture back and waited for Joel to tell him about the son he had never spoken of.

"Sharon nearly died when Davy was born. She was in the hospital almost a month, and it was a year before she had all her strength back. The doctors said it was too much of a risk for her to have anymore children, but we didn't care. We had Davy, and he was enough. He was a great kid, Jim. A father couldn't ask for a better son. A month after he turned 17, he didn't show up for practice. His mother found him..." Joel's eyes filled with tears as he fought for control.

Jim waited; understanding how much Taggart needed to stay in control. When he began to speak again, Jim needed to use his sentinel hearing to catch the words. "Davy had shot himself. He used my gun to take his own life, Jim." The older man began to speak faster, as if he could keep ahead of the pain. "My beautiful little boy was lying on the ground with my gun in his hand and half his head gone and his mother found him like that. When I got there she was just sitting on the ground, rocking him and singing his favorite lullaby. No one can know what that did to us."

At first, Jim didn't know what to say to him. This was much more Sandburg's department than his. Thinking back over the friendship that had developed between Taggart and Sandburg, Jim began to understand better what was happening. "Blair reminds you of Davy, doesn't he?"

"Davy was smart and quick-witted. He had such an incredible way of looking at the world, Jim. When he was sixteen, he came out to us. When he told us that he was gay he said that he wanted to help other gay teenagers whose parents couldn't accept them. That was just his way; he was always helping someone. He could juggle ten things at once and keep on top of it all. At least, we thought he could."

A tragic, twisted circle formed in the Sentinel's mind. A life full and complete until fate stepped in and took it all away. A life empty and lonely until fate had given a wonderful gift. Two men who have never known happiness at the same time. Would Joel's next chance at happiness somehow be dependent on Jim's pain? Refusing to dwell on this thought, Jim tried to answer the other man.

"My God, Joel, I can't imagine...no, I guess I can imagine." ~ I almost found Blair like that. ~ "This must be bringing up some pretty bad memories for you." Ellison fell silent, remembering how bad it had been for him, and knowing how bad it could have been.

"Yeah, it did." Taggart finally looked up and made contact with the pain-filled eyes across the table from him. "I took it out on you. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

There was no hesitation in Jim's answer. "But it was understandable." There was, however, a hesitation before Jim continued. "When Davy told you he was gay, it must have really been hard on you."

Taggart instinctively knew where the conversation was headed. "He was my son and I loved him. That love didn't lessen because his chosen path was different than mine. A parent just wants one thing for their child, Jim."

"What's that, Joel?" Jim refused to look up at his companion. Joel understood the reasons behind this; he had seen the way the two men looked at each other when they thought no one else was around. Joel stepped around and squeezed his shoulders as he spoke.

"To be loved. If being with another man gave him that kind of love, then so be it."

"He was lucky, a lot of parents wouldn't be that understanding." Jim couldn't even comprehend what kind of reaction he would have gotten out of his father on that subject.

Joel let go of his shoulders and sat down next to Jim. "Any parent who would deny his child true love doesn't deserve to be a parent." He didn't have to say any names to let Jim know that this was no longer an abstract conversation. "Not everybody gets a second chance, let alone a third. Don't let the opinion of someone who doesn't matter keep you apart from the one you really love."

Jim thought about it for a minute. "If they don't understand, then to hell with them?" The barest of smiles crossed his face as he turned to the older man as if to seek approval.

"If they don't understand, then they don't know you, do they?" Leaving Ellison to his thoughts, Joel stood up to clear the table.

Joel came back to the table with two coffee cups. Ellison gave him a rueful smile. "You don't seem surprised that we're having this conversation."

"You and Sandburg went from casual acquaintances to best friends in a matter of weeks. Before we even got used to having him around, the two of you formed a bond like I've never seen. Don't throw that away because of what society thinks is right. Life's just too damn short."

"He and I haven't talked about it yet."

Joel snorted, "Why doesn't that surprise me? Are you going to?"

Jim thought hard about Joel's question. The idea of denying his love for Blair made his blood run cold. "It's time, I think."

~ Finally! ~ The big man smiled. "Just promise me one thing, Jim."

"What's that, Joel?" Jim couldn't help but smile back.

"Let him get back on his feet before you sweep him off of them. Just take it slow."

Jim's smile widened slightly. "Have we broken any speed records yet?"

The two men shared a good laugh before Ellison turned serious again.

"Joel, I'm probably the last person in the world to be saying this, but shouldn't you think about moving on, building a new life?"

The older man carried the cups to the sink before he answered Ellison. His voice suddenly sounded resigned and defeated. "Jim, I had everything a man could ever want. Whatever I tried to replace it with would just come up short. Don't feel bad for me. I have a good job and even better friends. That's enough for me."

"Don't sell yourself short, Joel." Ellison felt uneasy at the thought of his friend so calmly giving up on the idea of finding happiness.

A small smile passed over the older man's face. "Hey, just look at it as my turn at the lonely life. You've already had your shift." Somehow, this just increased the Sentinel's concern.

"Why don't you feed King while I put these dishes in the dishwasher." Joel turned back towards the sink, effectively ending the conversation.

After another session of roughhousing with the dog, Jim dragged the new bag of dry dog food out of the garage and plunked it on the countertop. "Umph, Is it my imagination, or do you buy a bigger bag of food every time."

"What do you expect, he's a lot bigger." With a small chuckle, Taggart leaned back and watched Ellison struggle with the chain-stitched bag. Suddenly he sat up; staring at the string Jim was preparing to pull. "That's it! That's why they went after Sandburg."

"Because of dog food?" The Sentinel was completely confused.

"No. Look at it, Jim." Taggart reached out and caught the end of the string he found so fascinating. "Look at the string, don't you see?"

"See what, Joel?" Ellison was worried along with confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It looks complicated, doesn't it? All those layers of the bag, and the bulky stitching that holds it all together. But when you pull on this one end, it all narrows down to just one thin string holding it all together."

Jim shook his head, still unsure of where Taggart was headed with this. "Joel, I still don't follow you."

"If somebody had attacked you or me, Megan, heck any of the cops in the unit, we'd have become obsessed with finding whoever did it. We would be focused on the case, not spend too much time at the hospital. Even if it had been Simon, we would have handled it by the book."

Joel continued, picking up speed. "But it wasn't one of us, Jim. It was Sandburg. We keep focusing on the fact that he's your partner, but look at us. We fell apart, all of us. He's the string that holds our unit together. Taking out Blair cripples the entire unit." Taggart nodded to himself, figuring it out as he spoke. "Maybe we're looking at the wrong cases. Maybe it's a case too big for one team to handle on its own. Maybe it's time to look at what the entire unit is working on." ~ Megan's going to kill me for sure for this one. ~

Shocked by the words, Ellison stared at Taggart's hands while he pulled the string out of the bag top, one stitch at a time. "A pre-emptive strike, designed to do the most damage. Why didn't I see it before?"

"Maybe you were a bit distracted. After all, if I'm right, that was their plan." Both men fell silent as they thought about what they had realized.

An impatient whine brought the two men out of their contemplation. Joel laughed and poured a bowl of food for the hungry dog. "Yes, we're done with your food now. Here you go, King."

The approving roar of a big cat off in the distance was almost drowned out by the excited yipping of the half-grown dog at his feet, but the Sentinel heard it.

The door closed quietly behind him as Ellison slipped into Blair's hospital room. Only one light was illuminated as Simon read the newspaper. Soft snuffling sounds could be heard from the bed. Jim bent over his Guide, taking in the peaceful slumber before joining Banks. As he sat down in the other chair Simon set the paper aside. "He's been asleep ever since you left."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, I didn't mean to be gone so long."

"That's all right. Did you and Joel have a good talk?" Simon studied the other man. He seemed calmer and more at ease than when he had left.

"You guys make quite a tag-team." Jim stopped and smiled, showing that he wasn't angry at being manipulated. "Thanks. We had a good talk about Davy amongst other things."

"I'm glad to hear it." Simon stood up and stretched his tall frame. "I'll assume that it would be a waste of time to try and talk you into going home and sleeping in your own bed."

Jim had dropped the railing down so he could sit on the edge of Blair's bed. He began to trace Blair's features with his fingertips, a look of pure love on his face. He answered without ever looking back at his captain. "A total waste of your time, sir."

~ I'll be damned. Joel introduced him to the clue bus. ~ "Then I'll see you in the morning." He smiled broadly at the other man's back, pleased that he'd finally seen the light.

Banks almost made it to the door before Jim spoke again, this time actually looking up at him. "Joel's got some new ideas on the case."

"I'll call him." Simon nodded towards the sleeping figure. "Take good care of him."

"Always." After the door closed behind Simon, Jim turned back to Blair. "Always and forever, if you'll have me." He gently began to card his fingers through the wavy hair.

Sleepy blue eyes opened and gazed at him. "Hey, Jim."

"Hey yourself." He leaned closer so Blair could see him easier. With his thumb he stroked across the confused brow.

"Jim, man, what's happening?"

Jim shifted even closer. "I'm ready to take that trip with you." When Blair sharply inhaled and closed his eyes he thought that he had made a terrible mistake.

Before he could pull away the beautiful eyes opened again, this time shining with love. "Took you long enough."

Smiling now, Jim nuzzled his face against Blair's. "I thought the good stuff was worth waiting for?"

Blair tipped his face up and nipped Jim's lower lip. "Yeah, but I want to still be young enough to enjoy it. How much longer are you gonna keep me waiting?"

"No more waiting, baby. I promise." He gently dusted kisses over his beloved's face. "Never gonna waste time again. Can't wait until you're well enough to go home." Reluctantly he pulled away, keeping his hands on Blair's shoulders to keep him from rising up.

"Jim..."

"When you're stronger, Blair." Anticipating the next question, he answered it before Blair could speak. "We're not waiting, we're going slow."

Blair tried to pout, but sleep was rapidly overtaking him. "If this is slow, then the turtle just won the land speed record."

"Sleep, babe. The sooner you're recovered, the sooner we go home." He brushed his fingertips over his sleepy love's eyes until he was sure that slumber had fully overtaken him. Only then did the exhausted Sentinel move to the other bed and lay down, letting the essence of his Guide soothe him and ease his own path into sleep.

Files. Stacks of files on the tables. Stacks of files on the desks. More stacks on the floor. Stacks in every chair. Rafe walked in and after searching for a seat began to move the pile now occupying his chair.

"Touch those files and die." The words were just short of a growl.

"Good morning, Megan. Been here long?" One corner of Rafe's mouth twitched as he watched Megan. The tone of her voice told him that was the wrong thing to do.

A dusty and bedraggled looking Megan Conner climbed to her feet from between the desks. "No, not long. Just forever. When we find whoever did this to Sandy, I'll..."

"Read him his rights and make sure he understands them. Isn't that right, Inspector?" Captain Banks stood in the doorway, looking much more rested than he did upon his arrival the previous morning. "We need to review any new findings before we get started this morning. Conner, would you mind moving these files into the break room." A glance at the face of the Aussie detective changed his mind. "On the other hand, let's just review them right here." ~ Did she just growl at me? I've been listening to Ellison and his spirit animal mumbo-jumbo too long. ~

"Sir?" Rafe felt safer asking the question that had been on his mind, now that Captain Banks was between him and Megan. "What happened last night? I mean, why has the focus of the investigation changed to involve so many other cases?"

Simon allowed himself a small chuckle as he looked around the bullpen. It did look as if the records department had exploded in here. "I'll let Joel explain his theory when he gets here. He'll be in about 8:30am, after he drops off some breakfast at the hospital."

Brown walked in, another stack of files in his hand. "How's Hairboy today, anybody heard?"

Rhonda appeared with even more files. "Detective Ellison called about twenty minutes ago. He said that Blair slept well and seemed pretty comfortable this morning when they woke him up to check on him."

That's good, but we'll feel a lot better when he is home and driving Jim up the wall." A universal nod went through the group, agreeing with the captain. "Until Taggart gets here, let's keep reviewing those files. And Conner," Simon began to back up into his office as he spoke. "Are those dust bunnies in your hair an Australian fashion accessory? I don't think I've seen them before."

Before Megan could react, Banks was safely behind his office door. Despite herself, Conner couldn't help but smile as she ran her hands over her dusty hair.

Jim Ellison leaned against the corridor wall and sighed. It seemed like hours since the lab technician had chased him out of Sandburg's room. ~ Accused me of hovering, imagine that. It wouldn't have hurt anything to let him sleep a while longer. ~ Finally the lab tech left, blood sample in hand, and Ellison was able to return to his partner's side.

"Hey babe, that's a heck of a way to have to wake up. Are they done poking you for a while?" Jim pulled his chair back to Blair's bedside and settled in, smiling at Blair's sleepy expression.

"My new motto: sharp and pointed is my world. Seems like every time I open my eyes, somebody is coming after me with a needle." Blair chuckled at his own joke, then suddenly stilled, fright tingeing his voice. "Jim?"

Instantly alarmed, Ellison moved closer to his love. "What is it, Blair? What's wrong, baby?" Blair struggled to sit up, his eyes unfocused, as if not seeing his current surroundings. Jim steadied him, unsure of what was happening. "Are you remembering something? Come on babe, tell me what's happening in that head of yours."

"I saw him, Jim. I saw a guy standing over me with a needle in his hand, and it was at the loft. I saw him." Blair looked up at Jim, his face more animated than Ellison had seen in several days. "I saw him."

A smile that would light up even the gloomiest day in Cascade lit up the younger man's face, then was reflected in the face of his mate. "That's great, Chief. That is really great!"

"What's great, guys?" Joel Taggart stood in the doorway with several bakery bags in one hand and a tray of cups in the other.

Jim scrambled to his feet and reached for the cardboard tray before it buckled from the weight of three large coffees. Setting it down on the table next to the bed he answered Joel's question. "Blair remembered the guy who attacked him at the loft."

"Really? Man, that is great!" Taggart bent over and squeezed the young man's shoulder, not noticing that his excitement was overwhelming the younger man. "Could you ID him if you saw him again? We could start pulling mug books and bringing them down for you to look at. Then we could..."

"Whoa, slow down Joel. He just started to remember. This is not the time to start shoving a bunch of mug shots at him. We don't want some hotshot defense lawyer claiming we influenced his identification by showing him any mug shots while he's under the influence of any medication." Ellison's voice was calm and steady. He seemed more in control of himself than he had at any time since this whole nightmare had started.

The calmness in Ellison's voice spread to his older friend. "You're right, Jim. I just want this guy caught."

Despite the steadiness of his voice, the pain showed in Jim's eyes. "Nobody wants this S.O.B. caught more than I do, Joel. But I won't risk him getting away and going after Sandburg again because of a mistake on our part."

Blair relaxed at the sound of his Sentinel once again in control. He reached out and touched Jim's arm before he spoke. "What about a sketch artist? I could work with the artist on what I do remember, then you could compare the sketch with the mug shots down at the station."

Before either man could respond to the suggestion, a young woman in a lab coat walked into the room. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg, but there was an accident in the lab with your blood sample. I'm afraid that we'll need another one." She smiled sweetly and began to prepare a syringe.

"Um, well I kinda need as much of my blood as I can get right now. How am I suppose to recover from traumatic blood loss if you keep taking more of it? Um, Jim, how about a hand here? Jim?"

Ellison smiled and kissed the tip of the young man's nose. "Sorry, Chief, but they really need to watch your blood chemistry right now. Joel and I will be right outside." The two men moved out into the hall to give the lab tech room to work.

To sentinel hearing the retort was as clear as a bell. "Yeah, well they should be able to watch it, they've got more of it than I do." Jim chuckled in spite of himself, then caught Taggart staring at him.

Grinning even wider, Ellison wiped at his face. "Sorry, Joel, he's beginning to get a little testy."

"And you're glad to see it."

"Damn straight."

"Me too." Joel smiled back at Ellison. "A grumpy Sandburg is a recovering Sandburg. It also looks like things are going all right between the two of you now also."

Jim looked at him in confusion, then realized that he had kissed Blair in front of Taggart. "Sorry, guess I wasn't thinking."

"Don't mind me, but you might think about how public the two of you want to be. Personally, I'm thrilled, but others might not be so inclined." Joel grinned at his friend's embarrassment.

Jim shook his head. "You're right, besides I need to talk about this with Blair. I don't know how comfortable he'll be about being out. So much for my big speech about taking it slow."

"You're happy, it's allowed. I'll go call the station and get the sketch artist over here." Taggart moved to the nurse's station, nodding to the nurse at the desk before picking up the phone.

Sentinel eyes followed the dark form for a moment before hearing took over, turning his attention back to the room in front of him. Even the uniformed officer in front of the door could hear his Guide's complaints. "Ouch! Come on, it should be easy to find the vein. See where everyone else has done it?"

Jim couldn't help it. "Just think of him as a large dot-to-dot drawing." He didn't think his voice was loud enough to carry into the hospital room, but the officer at the doorway found his comment amusing.

"I heard that." Blair's voice floated through the heavy door.

~ I'm the one whose suppose to have the great hearing, Chief. ~ The Sentinel had the good grace to look embarrassed, even though he was pleased to hear the humor back in his Guide's voice.

Joel returned to Jim's side just as the lab tech exited Sandburg's room. She blushed and turned away from them as she walked down the corridor. Not bothering to hide his grin, Ellison walked into the room with Taggart. Joel looked at the happy man in the hospital bed, "What'd you do, Sandburg?"

"I told her I was off the market."

Ellison laughed and looked pleased as could be. Before he could say anything, Joel interceded. "I talked to Simon, and the sketch artist is on her way. Let's eat before these cinnamon rolls get cold."

Before Blair could reach for his, Jim had it out and was carefully cutting the pastry into bite size pieces. Much to his credit, the younger man did not say a word until Jim handed him his fork. Pointedly ignoring his partner, Sandburg turned to Taggart. "Joel, do me a favor, would you?"

Instantly concerned, the older man moved closer to the bed. "Sure Blair, anything. Just name it, kid."

Blair's face showed a serious countenance, but the eyes couldn't hide the sparkle. "If he starts making airplane noises or wiping my face, I want you to smack him for me. Could you do that?"

"You got it." Taggart kept his face serious until he saw the napkin already in Jim's hand. Then he made no effort to contain his laughter.

Jim stared at Taggart, then at the paper napkin in his hand. "What?"

Joel and Blair just laughed harder. Eventually realization hit Ellison and he joined in.

Out in the corridor those who had been privy to the pain suffered by those in that room rejoiced at the sounds now emerging from it.

"All right, people" The voice of Captain Banks boomed out over the bullpen. "We should be getting the sketch of Sandburg's attacker any time now, and I want to be ready to compare it with a list of suspects. That means we need our list of suspects ready to go. Let's get a move on, people."

Rafe moved to the board and pinned up another mug shot. Once they had heard Taggart's theory about the assault on Sandburg, the men and women of Major Crimes looked at their cases in a new light. Everyone, including Banks, had been amazed at the overlap they had found. Many of the lower rank criminals had showed up in more than one of the cases that were being investigated by members of the Major Crimes unit. If nothing more came of Taggart's theory, everyone agreed that a regular group review of all open cases would be a good idea. None of the names being added to the ever growing list were major players who would attract a lot of attention, but one of them was more than he appeared to be. The entire unit was sure of that.

Any further comment was stopped by the arrival of Jim Ellison with a sketch in his hand. "Hey guys, here's the guy we're after. Let's match him up and nail him."

Simon took the paper from Ellison's hand. "Rhonda, let's get copies of this, pronto. Jim, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be with Sandburg all day."

"They're evaluating him for physical therapy, so he chased me out. Said I was 'hovering' if you can imagine that." Ellison seemed honestly surprised as he glanced around the room, looking for support.

Captain Banks had never seen his people work so hard at looking busy, so it was up to him to answer his best detective. To his credit, he did it with a straight face. "No, Jim, I can't imagine that at all." ~ And people wonder how I made captain at such a young age. ~ "I'm going to handle Coach Hughes' interview, then we'll start putting all this together."

"I want to do it."

"What?" Banks seemed puzzled by the request Jim had made.

"Simon, let me interrogate him." Ellison was building up steam and Simon knew this was one idea he had to derail in a hurry. No way was he going to let Ellison anywhere near someone who had caused Sandburg any trouble. He especially wasn't going to let Ellison do it a mere hours after admitting his love for the young man in question.

"Oh no, absolutely not. This is an interview, not an interrogation and you are not going to be in there with him. No way in hell, Jim." Simon took a deep breath before playing his trump card. "You can do Sandburg more good listening from the observation room."

Ellison didn't say anything, but he nodded his acceptance to the taller man. ~ Damn, you're good, Simon. ~

Coach Hughes sat in the interrogation room with his lawyer, waiting for his interview, not realizing he was under careful scrutiny from behind the two-way mirror. He leaned over and began complaining to the stuffy man seated next to him. "Is this going to take long? I need to be at the club, playing racquetball by 3:00pm."

His lawyer already seemed bored and disinterested. "I'm sure the world won't end if you're late for a game. If you look like you're in a hurry, you'll just make them more suspicious."

The words were clear and loud to the Sentinel, but even the others in the room could hear the conversation well enough so Jim just turned and raised an eyebrow at Simon and Chancellor Edwards. Before any of them could comment, the coach began to complain again.

"This happens to be a matter of life or death. The parking valet at the club told me that the head coach for the Broncos would be at the club this afternoon. How is he going to notice me if I'm stuck here talking to some petty detective about a pathetic TA that can't take a little heat? This is my future we're talking about."

Simon did not need sentinel senses to feel the heat of anger rising off the other man. It matched his own. ~ Petty? I'll show him petty. ~ Jim began to speak before Banks could even open his mouth. Unfortunately, he was speaking to the Chancellor, not to him.

"You let a jerk like that coach your athletes?

Much to her credit, Chancellor Edwards did not take offence to either the question or the tone in Ellison's voice. "Coach Reynolds is on medical leave, recovering from a heart attack. I'm afraid the Boosters Club shoved Hughes onto us. It appears he sees us as a stepping stone on his way to a bigger pond. Too bad he doesn't realize the dangers of slipping and falling into the pond." She turned toward the two men, a smug smile on her face.

Ellison made no attempt to hide his grin or the admiration in his voice. "I like the way you think, lady."

Returning his smile, she turned to Captain Banks. "Thank you for letting me sit in on this. I realize it's highly unusual, but if anyone from the University was involved in what has happened, I want to know about it."

Simon acknowledged her words with a nod. "The department appreciates your willingness to assist in the investigation, madam. Now this 'petty detective' has an interview to conduct."

"Sounds like you're going to enjoy this, sir." Jim's comment caught the captain before he stepped out of the room.

His answer was only for Sentinel ears. "You bet your sweet ass I am."

Being 6' 4" had its advantages. Simon Banks used all of them when he entered the interrogation room. Dropping the file on the table, he leaned over and stared at the coach who shifted nervously in his chair.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Captain Banks from the Major Crimes division. My apologies for not having someone more suitable here to conduct this investigation. I guess you'll have to settle for me." Even Simon could hear the gasp and low moan when the arrogant man realized that his prior rants had been heard. ~ Some days I really love my job. ~

As Banks shifted into his full intimidation spiel, Jim let some of his attention shift to the woman next to him as she began to address him.

"You're Detective Ellison, aren't you? I'm sorry, we weren't formally introduced earlier. I'm Katherine Edwards, the chancellor at Rainier."

Ellison hurried to shake the older woman's hand. "Yes, ma'am, I'm Jim Ellison. Blair works with me here at the department. He's been a real asset to us."

Edwards inclined her head towards the glass. "Your captain spent 20 minutes on the phone telling me the same thing. Mr. Sandburg has proven himself to me already with his commitment to the truth and his desire to protect those who have been hurt. I want the truth just as much as you do, Detective Ellison."

~ Well, almost as much as I do. ~ Jim let his thoughts drift back to the college kids that had committed murder to steal from their fathers. His anger flared briefly at the way Blair had been treated by the University, then softened as he reminded himself that the chancellor was there to help his friend. He would give the woman one more chance.

The arrival of Henry Brown in the interrogation room brought all attention back to that small room. Henry smiled widely as he placed a file folder on the table in front of Simon. "I think you are going to find this highly educational, sir." He turned to leave the room, then turned back to the very nervous man seated in front of the captain. "When people find out about you, you won't even be able to coach pop warner ball."

All eyes, on both sides of the glass, were on the captain as he studied the report that Brown had brought to him. Eventually, he closed the file and set it on the table, smiling in a way that had made suspect's blood run cold since he was beat cop. "Interesting side-line you have going. Tell me, doesn't the University frown on their coaches making illegal bets on their own games? And you usually bet against your own team. That must instill a great deal of confidence in your players."

"What? How? There is no way..." A kick under the table from his lawyer shut the babbling man up.

"You didn't think we'd find your bookie? I haven't given my men any raw meat in a few days. They're getting hungry." Banks paused a moment to lean forward, pleased to see Hughes shrink back. "Hungry detectives always find out the most, wouldn't you agree?" With that, Banks stood up and left the room.

"I'm screwed. What did they find out?" Hughes spun around and began to interrogate his lawyer. "What are you going to do? How are you going to fix this, Howard?"

"How my sister married an idiot, I'll never know. It's a little late to be asking my advice, Willie. I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, but you'd better hope they are in the mood to make a deal."

Banks quietly slipped into the observation room. Taking in the amused countenance of his best detective and the angry expression on the chancellor's face he remarked, "Now we let him stew."

The chancellor was clearly confused as well as angry. "We've had a decent season. Are you telling me that he was coaching them to lose? Why would he bet against them then?"

"He may have coached them to lose, but apparently he really is a lousy coach. Their best wins were when he had bet against them. He owes somebody, somewhere, a lot of money." Banks sat down and leaned back in his chair. "He'll tell us who; we just have to let him worry about it for a while."

Edwards sat down in front of the captain, obviously upset. "Are you saying that Coach Hughes was the one who attacked Mr. Sandburg?"

Banks exchanged a glance with Ellison before he answered her. "He didn't commit the assault. I don't think he is capable of doing anything without a press agent in tow. But there is a very good chance that he is involved in some capacity. Pretty soon he will be begging to tell us all about it.

Letting the suspect sweat was a familiar game to Banks, one he played very well. Simon sat in the observation room with Ellison and the chancellor, drinking coffee and making small talk until the moment he was waiting for. The moment where he saw the subtle shift in the suspect's demeanor from arrogant to something very different. Halfway through his second cup of coffee that moment arrived; he saw it in the change in Hughes' behavior. Without a word to the others, he slipped out of the observation room to continue his interrogation.

Still silent, Banks entered, and resumed his place at the table, picking up the folder and again reading what was in it. This time, Simon allowed himself to make small sounds of approval and began to make notes to himself while reading it. It didn't take long.

"All right, all right! I owed the wrong people money. They wanted some information and I figured Sandburg owed me!" The soon to be former coach of Rainier University began to pace around the room. His lawyer moved to stop him.

Willie, perhaps we should..."

"Shut up, Howard! You're just a damn tax attorney, so don't tell me what to do."

"Fine." Picking up his briefcase, Howard turned to his brother-in-law. "I'll tell my sister that you'll be late for dinner. When the IRS calls you in for an audit let me know. I'm sure I'll be waiting with bated breath." The door echoed as it slammed behind him.

"Are you waiving your right to a lawyer present?" Simon wasn't expecting an answer yet, but the question was required.

The rant never slowed down. "Who does he think he is? He's no better than Sandburg is. They're all the same. Don't they..."

"Are you waiving your right to a lawyer present?" Still following correct procedure, Banks asked again.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." With a dismissive wave of his hand, Hughes continued. "I deserve so much more, don't you see? Nobody understands what I'm capable of, and nobody is going to see it while I'm stuck at a second-rate school. Along comes Sandburg, believing that educating these kids is more important than what they do out on that field. How nave can you get? These stupid kids were my ticket to the big league and he cut it off. Somebody wanted to hurt him and it would get him out of my hair at the same time. What's wrong with that?"

Simon banks kept his cool demeanor, but inside he was seething. "Well, for starters, it makes you an accessory to attempted murder. How do you feel about coaching the prison football team." Banks leaned forward with a smirk, imagining this man in prison. That image was reflected in his face. "Sort of gives new meaning to the position 'tight-end', doesn't it? You'd better tell us everything you know and pray for a sympathetic judge."

"All they wanted was the password to get into the main frame. That's all I did, I didn't do anything wrong. They just wanted to see his financial aid status." Not quite so arrogant now, he began to cry.

Simon was not the least bit impressed. "Who are 'they'? When did you meet them?"

"I got a phone call two weeks ago. They said if I gave them what they wanted, my debts would disappear, so I did. I never saw them, never heard any names. I don't know any more. It's not my fault."

"Hawkins!" Banks yelled as he stood, gathering papers. When the uniformed officer came in, Banks indicated the crying man. "Take him down to booking. We'll start with illegal gambling, racketeering, and accessory to attempted murder."

As Hawkins led him out of the interrogation room, Hughes came face to face with Chancellor Edwards as she left the observation room. Her voice was sickeningly sweet as she addressed him. "Coach Hughes, when you make bail, please come see me in my office. We need to discuss your future at our little 'second rate' university." She smiled once more as she swept past him in the hall.

Both Ellison and Banks were pleased with the progress made by the investigation, and had a quick cup of coffee before returning to the task. While sipping at the strong black coffee, Jim's curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the notes Simon had been making during his interview of the coach. "What else did you find out, sir?" He picked up the paper and read: coffee, oregano, paper towels, video for Daryl...

"You cracked him with a shopping list? A shopping list?" Ellison made a small motion of genuflection. "I bow to the master, sir." After a short laugh, Ellison sobered. "This could be the break we've been looking for, Simon. Their set-up was pretty secure, but I think the university connection is their weak link. That's the angle we need to approach this from."

Banks thought for a bit, then agreed. "Alright, then what is our next step?"

"It's only a couple of weeks till finals. That's kind of an odd time for a student to be canceling an appointment with his teacher. Let's check on who and why. I'll call Sandburg and find out what he can tell me."

Banks looked over the rim of his cup with a knowing smile. "You just want to check on the kid."

Ellison didn't answer, but he did blush as he picked up the phone.

The rest of the Major Crimes team was already in place when Banks and Ellison entered the room. Taggart hung up the phone as he saw them. "That was Dan Wolf. He's on his was up with his findings."

"Good." Jim was ready to solve this case and eliminate any doubt as to what happened to his partner.

Dan Wolf stepped through the doors of the conference room and was immediately struck by the intensity he saw there. Banks looked up and greeted him with a curt nod. "Dan, glad you could make it. All right people, let's get started. Dan, let's hear what you've found."

Wolf stepped to the projector and flipped it on. Twin photos appeared, one from an autopsy, one from a too recent surgery. Ellison shuddered, but never looked away. Before the Chief Medical Examiner could begin, Simon interrupted him.

"Let's just have the short version, Dan. We don't quite need all the details." Banks looked a bit green, and when Wolf looked around the room, he was not the only one.

~ This is Blair we're talking about, not some unknown victim. ~ "Sure, Simon. I understand how rough this one is. The wound pattern on both Sandburg and Janice Adamson are pretty consistent with each other. In both cases, the wound started at the mid-forearm and proceeded towards the wrist. We can determine this by the changes in the depth of the wound."

"We can also determine the position of the weapon by the angle of the cuts. If somebody were going to cut their right wrist, for example, they would be holding the blade in their left hand. Therefore, the angle of the wound would lean towards the thumb of the right hand, not the little finger." Dan waited, amused, while the detectives mimed the action and understood what he meant.

Rafe frowned, then spoke up. "Wouldn't the natural action be to cut from the wrist towards the elbow?"

"Yes it would." Dan was pleased to see the awareness spread through the room. "It is a natural motion to cut by pulling the knife, not pushing it. Also, we would expect the wound on the left arm to be a flipped, or mirror image, since it should have been inflicted by the right hand. It's not. On both Sandburg and Adamson the wound pattern is the same between the left and right arm."

Ellison nodded, his voice surprisingly in control. "As if someone reached down and grabbed each arm and sliced it open. Do you think the same person was responsible for both sets of wounds?"

"I'm pretty sure of it." There was no doubt in the medical examiner's voice. "Even the differences in the physical evidence match the circumstances of the two attacks."

"Like the fingernail."

"Don't get ahead of me, Megan." Dan reached for a new folder to answer the questions he knew were coming.

"What fingernail? What is she talking about, Dan?" Ellison was immediately on edge.

"Slow down a minute, Jim. Besides the bruises on the Adamson woman and the drugs we found in Sandburg's system we found one other difference. Her wounds were inflicted with a straight razor. His own Swiss army knife caused Blair's wounds. Since Sandburg always carries the knife in his pants pocket, we gave his clothes a better going over. In the left front pocket we found a broken fingernail sliver. It's not Sandburg's, so chances are it belongs to one of his assailants.

"Are you sure it's not Sandburg's?" Joel Taggart sat up straight as he asked.

The answer came from Megan. "It came off the hand of a smoker." She turned and looked directly at Ellison. "Even I could see the tar stains on it."

Banks shifted around uncomfortably and Ellison stared at the floor in response to her comment before he spoke. "There was the faint smell of cigarette smoke at the loft that first day."

Brown seemed uneasy and his weak joke only confirmed it. "Great, now we have a Cigarette Smoking Man. If Mulder shows up, I am out of here."

Megan smiled at Brown, then returned her gaze to Ellison. "Well, he'd be right at home."

"Come on, Brown. It's not that bad." Unwilling to look up at his fellow detectives, Ellison picked up the photos Dan had brought and began to study them. "Uh, Dan, did you take a look at this?" In his hand were photos of the bruises on Janice Adamson's arms.

"I saw them. Seemed a little odd to me, too." He took the photos from Ellison and slid the first one into the overhead projector. "This is the bruise pattern from her right arm."

The assorted officers studied the image. A hand shaped bruise was barely visible on the pale skin. Wolf continued, "Either they didn't think about leaving bruises, or they thought she would bleed too fast to make any bruises. Either way, it was enough of a clue to mark this as a suspicious death."

Simon picked up where Dan left off. "It was a mistake on the attacker's part, so for the second assault they used drugs to subdue their victim. They chloroformed Sandburg as he walked into the loft, then injected him with the Ketamine."

"Right, an unconscious man doesn't fight back. Sandburg's a real scrapper in a fight, it was the only way they could have gotten him." Taggart smiled at the memory of Sandburg taking out the terrorists that had taken the building hostage on his first day as an observer. "So what's so odd about the photos?"

"It's not that photo, it's this one." Dan slid the second image into the projector, again putting twin images on the wall.

"They're not as defined as the other set of bruises." Rafe seemed puzzled by Ellison and Wolf's interest in the two photos.

"It's more than that, Rafe. Look." Ellison stood up and moved to where the photos were projected onto the wall. Understanding what Jim was going to show Dan moved the equipment until the projected image was approximately life size.

"Look at this." As he talked, Jim moved his body several times until he was sure of the positioning. "She was held from behind. You can see exactly where his hands were." Ellison reached out and lined his fingers up perfectly with the marks in the first photo.

"But there is something about the second photo?" Banks knew there was something Ellison could see that the rest of them could not.

"Look at the shape of the bruising." Wolf began to explain but Jim cut him off.

"Look at this." Ellison again reached out and lined his fingers up with the faint bruises in the photo. "The other photo shows clearly that her assailant held her from behind. Assuming he held both arms at the same time, his hand would line up like this." The bruise caused by the attacker's thumb was easy to identify, but the Sentinel spent several minutes studying and experimenting to find the most likely placement for the rest of his fingers.

"A finger's missing." Ellison's statement startled everyone.

"How can you tell?" Rafe was beginning to get seasick from tilting his head to see what was so apparent to the other man.

"Look." Everyone squinted at the faint marks on the photographed skin. Ellison easily placed his fingers on the marks, one finger still in the air. "His index finger didn't leave a mark."

Conner leaned forward, obviously not yet convinced. "You think that because you can't see the bruise his index finger left, it isn't there."

Not understanding Megan's cryptic emphasis, Brown continued with his own interpretation. "The finger doesn't have to be missing. There could be some type of injury to explain why he didn't use all of his fingers. Heck, maybe she bit him."

"Whatever. It still is piece of the puzzle."

"You're right, Jim. The more pieces of the puzzle we get, the more complete the picture. We've got at least two assailants. One who held her, possibly with an injured or deformed hand. One who slashed her wrists." Simon settled the argument before it even started. "What else do we have from the university angle?"

Grant spoke up to answer the question. "We checked on the kid who had the appointment with Sandburg and then cancelled it."

"Did he check out?"

"Nope."

Jim leaned across the table. "Tell me." He growled.

Not wanting to be on the receiving end of Ellison's ire, Grant wasted no time telling him what they had discovered. "His roommate paid him to make, then cancel the appointment. We've arranged to pick up the roommate for questioning. All we know about him right now is that his name is Brian Gibson and he's a computer science major. We should have him in custody in a few hours."

"All in one breath and without Ellison interrupting him. I'm impressed." Brown's words were whispered to his partner, but the Sentinel still heard.

Biting back a smile at Brown's comment, Jim responded to Grant's findings. "He's a computer major? This could be how they changed Sandburg's records. I want to be there when he is questioned." He looked directly at Simon. "I'll behave, sir."

~ When pigs fly, Ellison. ~ "I'm sure you would, Jim. However, this is more important for you to follow up on." He opened up the next file on the stack in front of him. "The lab finished its analysis of the mud found on the loft's fire escape."

"Have they been able to narrow down where the mud came from?"

"Yeah, Jim. They've been able to narrow it down to about a 20-acre area of the national forest in the same spot where Adamson had his operation. That makes the second connection between Adamson and Sandburg and I want it checked out." Jim picked up the lab results and headed out the door without another word.

Simon frowned at his empty coffee cup before continuing. "While Ellison and I are checking out Adamson's old camp I want Gibson picked up and I want a match found for that sketch. While you're at it, find me somebody with a missing finger. And make some fresh coffee." After slamming his cup down, Banks hurried to catch up with Ellison.

"Gee, he doesn't want much, does he?" The feminine voice was loud enough for a departing Sentinel to hear.

They were halfway to their destination before either of them spoke. "Jim, you know if there is somebody there, we will have to call for back-up and wait."

"I do remember standard procedure, sir." Jim turned away from the window to address his captain. "You don't have to worry about me anymore, Simon. I've got it under control." He seemed annoyed that he was being questioned.

Banks did not look totally convinced. "What changed?"

"Blair's physical recovery is going well. We've proven he didn't try to kill himself. When we get Gibson we will be able to take care of the problems at the university."

"What about his emotional recovery?"

"All Blair needs is time and to feel safe again. He's going to be okay, so we have plenty of time."

Banks began to understand. "And to feel safe again?"

Ellison settled back into the seat and thought for a minute before answering his captain. "I'll take care of that, Simon."

"Why do I get the feeling that things have changed between the two of you?" Banks smiled and watched him out of the corner of his eye while navigating the bumpy road.

Ellison took a deep breath before asking his own question. "Are you asking as my captain or as my friend?"

Banks slowed the car and pulled over so he could turn and face Jim. "Have the two of you finally stopped dancing around each other? If that's the case, then, as your friend, I'm thrilled. As your captain, I'm ignorant, and I'll remain that way as long as it doesn't interfere with your work."

"Thanks, Simon. You don't seem that surprised. Were we the last ones to figure it out?"

"Well, there is a janitor on the second floor...but seriously, Jim, as much as the two of you obviously care for each other, is that enough to make him feel safe?"

"When everyone involved is caught and the cases are airtight, then he'll feel safe. I'll play this one by the book, Simon. I won't take any chances where that is concerned."

With that, a relieved Captain Banks knew he had his best detective back.

About three miles from Adamson's original base camp Jim had Banks stop the car. He stood on the road and listened before getting back in. Simon watched, expectantly.

"Well?"

"I heard heartbeats, lots of them."

Simon reached for his radio.

"But they were all 4-legged kinds."

Simon returned the radio. ~ Smart-ass. ~ "The kid deserves a raise for putting up with you."

"Uh, Simon, he doesn't get paid for putting up with me."

"Then he deserves a medal."

Watching the odometer, Banks stopped every half-mile for the Sentinel to check the area. No signs of two-legged life were found before they pulled the car into Adamson's old camp. Ellison stepped out of the car before it came to a complete stop, a look of intense concentration on his face. Banks threw the car into park and followed, pulling on a pair on latex gloves.

"What is it, Jim. What are you sensing?"

The Sentinel pushed through some heavy brush and stepped out into a second clearing. The ground was littered with cigarette butts and off to the side was a discarded tin cup.

"Same brand?"

"Yeah, Simon. That is the same brand I smelled in the loft." He turned to his captain, who was bagging evidence as he talked. "Adamson was behind it." Jim appeared ready to take on the man and his associates single-handed.

Standing up with both hands full of evidence bags, the captain cautioned his eager detective. "Let's make sure we have enough to nail him six ways to Sunday."

Ellison gave no indication he had heard his captain. He was already on his way to the only building still standing in the compound.

A quick scan of the building showed nothing amiss. A firm kick to the door sent it flying. The first glance at the interior stunned the Sentinel.

"What the hell?"

Banks set the gathered evidence outside the door. "What is it, Jim?" He skidded to a halt just behind the shorter man.

"What did you...sweet mother of God, what is it?"

Both men circled the room, unbelieving of what they saw. In this broken down shack, buried miles inside a national forest, was what could only be described as a bordello. An antique dresser was off to the side, covered with women's toiletry items. A king-sized bed was in the center, complete with satin sheets. What made the scene even more incongruous were the fur-lined cuffs at each corner of the large bed and the variety of unusual sex toys lined up on the shelf next to it.

Simon walked around the bed twice before he spoke. "I never figured Adamson for the kinky type. Clue me in here, Jim. Is he a transvestite who likes to torture women? What the hell is all of this, Ellison?" He studied the many items. "Hell, Jim, I don't even know what some of these things are."

Ellison thought back to his time in vice. "Simon, I don't think you want to know."

Jim studied the cuffs on the bed. He had studied and fought Adamson enough to recognize the scent of his sweat. "Actually, Simon, he likes to be on the receiving end of it."

"You mean he...?" Simon swallowed hard

"Yeah." Jim bit back a smile at his captain's expression.

"Yuck" A shudder followed the comment from the dark-skinned man.

"Yeah." This time Jim couldn't quite stop the smile, so he turned his head.

Simon began his pacing again. "Is that why he had his wife killed? She didn't want to play anymore, and he wanted to keep his dirty little secret hidden."

Ellison surveyed the items on the dresser. "I don't think she was his playmate. How would you describe her? You saw her during the investigation, what did she look like to you?"

"Skinny, bad complexion, bad teeth, hair that looked like a mop fingernails that were chewed." Banks walked over to Ellison and saw what had garnered his attention. "Not the kind of woman who would use imported French perfume, bright red nail polish, or $20.00 a bottle hand lotion. So he got rid of the wife and got a new playmate. How does that fit in the picture?"

"Another piece of the puzzle, Simon. Just another piece of the puzzle."

Captain Banks called in his request for a forensics unit to be dispatched to the former hideout of the gunrunner. After receiving an update from Brown, he moved to track down Ellison. He found him staring up into a tree.

"Jim, you okay?"

"Simon, do you know what the first crime scene was that I dragged Sandburg to?"

Banks had no clue what was going through Ellison's mind, so he waited for the other man to continue.

"We went out to where I had been staking out the Switchman, out to the blast site. I sent him up a tree to check out a bird's nest." Jim turned to Simon, shaking his head. "As scared as he is of heights, he never batted an eye, never uttered a complaint. He just climbed that damn tree and never said a word."

"Next time, are you going to let him climb that tree?"

"Sir?"

"When it's really important, Sandburg doesn't let his fears keep him down. What about you, are your fears going to keep him down?"

"Simon, I'm not afraid."

"Like hell you're not. I'm afraid, and I'm not his 'Blessed Protector', not the one in love with him. When he's ready to take that risk are you going to let him?"

Jim shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking back to the car. "Do I have to like it?"

Simon patted him on the back as he passed. "No, Jim, you just have to let him. Come on, looks like we may have gotten a break in the case."

"Did you check on Sandburg?"

Simon smiled at how Ellison had managed to slide the question in. "Rafe sneaked in some Chinese food about an hour ago. He's doing fine."

Taggart was standing outside interrogation room three when Banks and Ellison stepped off the elevator. Ellison immediately went to him. "What's going on, Joel? What do you have?"

"Oh, not much." The casual tone in his voice could not mask the sparkle in his eye. "Just a signed confession from the computer hacker, the name of the man Blair saw in the loft, and a possible ID on the 4-fingered sloth that helped him. That's all."

"Joel, I could kiss you!"

"Save it for Sandburg."

Ellison froze for a split second then gave a nervous laugh, glancing around the busy corridor. "Umm, yeah, let's see what you've got."

Taggart opened the door, motioning Ellison and Banks in, ahead of him. Rafe was seated at the table, across from a very unhappy young man.

"Hey, Jim. Find anything interesting in the woods?"

Ellison glanced at Simon, who actually blushed at the memory of what had been in the old building. "Yes, Rafe, I suppose you could say we did." Ignoring the choking sounds coming from the taller man, he continued. "Right now, I'm more interested in what you've got."

"Jim, this is Brian Gibson. His brother is a heroin addict who couldn't pay for his habit and owed money to the wrong people. His supplier promised to forgive all past debts for just one little favor."

Ellison cut in sharply. "Let me guess. You hacked into the university's mainframe using an access code that they gave you. Then you proceeded to destroy a good man's life. Does that about cover it?"

"Almost." Brian slumped down in his seat as he gave them the rest of the story. "They wanted copies of everything in his file. About a week later they gave me a disk and told me to download it into his file. Another week after that, they wanted another copy of his file, and they needed him to go home at a certain time. That's as far as my involvement went, I swear." After he stopped talking, Brian looked up at the man towering over him. He swallowed hard and continued to plead his case.

"Brandon is my twin brother, and he was in trouble. I couldn't turn my back on him, he needed me. I didn't trust the people he was messed up with, so I made a copy of the disk before I gave it back to them. I gave it to the lady cop."

"You made a copy?"

"I broke through the protection they had set up. Piece of cake, really." The young man dropped his eyes back to the tabletop before speaking again. "Brandon's girlfriend was a student at Rainier, too.

"Was?"

Rafe answered for the young man, his voice low. "The student Blair was so upset about, the one that OD'd a few days ago." Gibson, again ready to tell his story interrupted him.

"I was scared, kept a pretty low profile. I didn't even hear about Becca until the day after Mr. Sandburg was hurt. I knew they had something to do with it, that somehow I had helped them do it."

"Why didn't you come to the police on your own?"

"I had to take care of my brother first. I got him in a detox center out of state under a false name. They'll never find him. I came straight here from there. You've got to believe me."

"You're going to have to prove it to me, kid." The Sentinel was a man with a mission. "How many were there? Will you be willing to identify them for us?"

"I never saw one of them. He just talked to me over the phone. It was a weird voice, almost mechanical, fake. The other one looked like a goon from a really bad gangster movie. Even had a finger that didn't work right."

"What!" The yell was in stereo.

"Are you sure?"

"Which hand?"

Ellison growled, ready to spit nails. "I want this guy, Simon."

Simon seemed to agree. "Rafe, get this guy looking at mug books. I want a name for this man.

Rafe handed Gibson over to an uniformed officer before he sat down next to Banks and Ellison in the interrogation room. "Guess it was the heroin case after all."

"I don't think so." Ellison began to pace, unconsciously mimicking his Guide. "I still think Joel's right. This is part of a bigger picture. We still need more pieces of the puzzle."

Simon Banks thought long and hard before speaking. "We know nothing about who runs this new heroin pipeline. What if Adamson has branched out?"

Rafe answered the captain. "Heroin doesn't strike me as Adamson's style."

For a bit, Simon didn't know how to reply to Rafe. "Lets just say that we've learned Adamson's style is a bit more varied than we gave him credit for." Next to him, Ellison gave a suspicious cough.

The unit's youngest detective seemed confused. "You're saying that Adamson and the head of this new drug group could be one if the same."

Ellison snorted. "You got anyone better in mind?"

"Well, word on the street has always been that some guy named Matt Anile is the major drug connection in Cascade."

"In the last 5 years, we've gone after him a dozen times. We can't even prove he exists." Banks threw his glasses on the table in disgust. "All right, what do we have so far."

Ten minutes later, Banks was repeating the question to his unit, after moving to the conference room. "What do we have to piece this together with? As Sandburg would be telling us, this is the time to open our minds to any possibility."

Ellison started. "We have Adamson recently using the mountain hideout. Only this time he's using it for some pretty kinky stuff. We can also link the suspects in Sandburg's attack to this location."

Brown added his work. "Jeff Goldman. He's the perp that Sandburg saw in the loft. The last known job that he had was as a driver for Tina LeMat. He also was seen by one of our snitches with Michael Zimmerman."

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Ellison studied Brown, trying to remember why he knew that name.

Brown gently prodded him. "Zimmerman, the bookie, as in bookie to the mob. Word on the street is that he handles a lot of work for the syndicate, and answers to Matt Anile."

"Hughes was blackmailed because of gambling debts. Can we get Zimmerman's records?"

"Already in the works. In fact, here they come now." Brown turned to help Conner with the stack of papers she was struggling through the door with.

Ellison also jumped up to give the Australian detective a hand. Once on his feet he froze, staring at Megan.

"What? Do I have something caught in my teeth?" Her hand was halfway to her mouth before she caught herself.

"New perfume, Conner?"

Even Simon had to wrinkle up his nose. "Isn't that a bit strong, Inspector?"

"Very funny gentlemen. If you must know, a suspect threw a bottle of perfume at me today. We finally get the interview we want, but now I smell like some cheap floozy after some all-night romp." Obviously ruffled, Megan brushed her hair back into place.

Jim couldn't help but cough. "Interview with who, Ivana Trump?" Softly, more to himself he added, "I've smelled that before."

Megan grimaced before she responded. "It was Tina LeMat. Unfortunately all we learned was that she has expensive taste in perfume, good aim, and gets turned on by leather whips."

Ellison's expression was smug, and after a few seconds comprehension appeared on the face of the captain. "Oh my God."

It took almost twenty minutes to bring everyone up to date on what they had found out in the woods. It took only about twenty seconds for Conner to announce "I need a shower."

Jim sounded disgusted. "Okay, it looks like Tina LeMat is Adamson's new toy. The name, Matt Anile keeps popping up. How are they connected?"

The door opened and Taggart joined the group. "Did I hear you ask about Matt Anile?"

"Yeah, Joel. You got something?"

Joel carefully laid a computer printout in front of Jim. "Just this printout of the drug companies in the area that sell Ketamine. Notice that number four's controlling stocks is owned by something called the Woodlands Investment Group." Taggart waited for the questions he knew would come.

"And who are they?" Ellison was the first to rise to the bait.

Taggart couldn't help the grin on his face. "They are actually one person, in fact one Matt Anile. How's that for interesting tidbits?"

"Very interesting, Joel. Good job." Simon was pleased with the work and how it had been conducted.

Martindale opened the door and rushed in. "We've got it, sir. The kid found the mug shot." He dropped the information on the table, where Ellison eagerly picked it up. "The guy's name is Frank Goodwin. He is a two-bit hustler that we questioned in regards to the cell phone scam a few weeks back. We didn't have enough to hold him then. And get this, the guy had blood poisoning in his hand a few years back and the doctors had to fuse one of the joints in his finger solid because of the damage."

"YES! What do you want to bet that this guy works for Anile?" Ellison was ready to close this case and throw away the key. "It's time we track down this elusive Mr. Matt Anile and put him away."

"It can't be that simple, no way." Brown's voice was quiet, but cut through the excitement in the room.

"Finally it is that simple, Brown. Somebody has to have seen this guy. He can't be anonymous to the whole world." Ellison was on a roll.

Brown shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I play these word games with my sister's kids all the time. You know, what words can you make from another word, that sort of thing."

"So?"

"So, what words can you make from Matt Anile, or more precisely, what name can you make out of it?"

"Oh my God."

"No way."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Come on, man. You know I've never been good at your word games." Rafe's whine cut through the chatter. "Would somebody tell me?"

Ellison smiled and nodded at Brown, giving him the go-ahead.

"Tina LeMat."

It took two more days to get all the paperwork in order, and the search warrants in hand, but no one was willing to risk the slightest mistake. When it occurred, the arrest went off without a hitch, although one detective was conspicuously absent. The search yielded enough information to link LeMat, AKA Anile, to multiple unsolved cases being investigated by the Cascade PD. Adamson, it appeared, had been demoted to boy-toy when his part of the operation had come under investigation.

Only Joel and Simon weren't surprised by Jim's lack of interest in the arrests. They knew that Jim's attention was now completely focused on a more personal aspect of his life. Of course, the fact that Blair had asked him to stay away from the bust might have had something to do with it. Banks had been secretly relieved at the request; the thought that Ellison might let his feelings cloud his judgment had crossed his mind more than once.

Even when the feds arrived and took LeMat into custody, there was no argument from the arresting officers. They had done what they had set out to do. Sandburg was safe, his reputation was restored, and at that moment he was going home with Ellison.

Across town, the arrest of Ms LeMat was a minor moment in a very important day as Jim paced nervously while Dr. Andrews and Dr. Yamamoto both examined Blair for one last time. After what seemed like an eternity, he was allowed back into Blair's hospital room. Dr. Yamamoto was the first to speak.

"He's healing quite nicely. Given time, the scars shouldn't be visible to the human eye."

~ But what about a Sentinel eye? ~ Lost in that thought, Jim barely acknowledged the doctor's departure. When he tuned back in, Dr. Andrews was speaking to them both.

"Remember, no lifting or excessive bending of your wrists until we give you the all clear. You can shower, but don't let them soak. I've scheduled a follow-up appointment for a week from Thursday, at 3:30. If that time doesn't work for you, just call my office and reschedule."

"No, that will be fine." Jim accepted the stack of instructions and the two wrist braces that the doctor handed him.

Blair looked at the braces in surprise. "What are those for? I haven't needed them yet."

"It's a precaution. If you're out in a crowd where you might be jostled, or if you're a restless sleeper, I want you to wear them. Besides, it's pretty standard after carpal tunnel surgery."

"Thank you." Jim was touched and relieved by the gesture, giving his partner the option to hide the true cause for his surgery. He set them down next to the white pharmacy bag he had gotten earlier. "I picked up his prescriptions and the vitamin E capsules already. About the vitamin E, how much is too much?"

Andrews bit back a smile. He had heard Ellison had been pestering the nursing staff on this very subject. "Well, you don't want it dripping off of him, he might slip and fall. Wait until the stitches dissolve and then twice a day is plenty, just massage it into the skin gently and wipe off the excess. Any other questions?"

Blair just shook his head; he was ready to leave. Ellison thought for a minute before answering. "Does he have to go home?"

"Jim?" A hundred expressions crossed the younger man's face, finally settling on confusion.

Even the doctor was surprised. "I assure you, Detective Ellison, he's quite strong enough to leave."

Quickly, Jim explained himself, hating the pained expression in Blair's eyes. "The arrests are happening right now, I don't want him to have to deal with the reporters. One of them is bound to show up at the loft, looking for an exclusive interview. Let's just avoid it until he's healed."

"Do you have someplace in mind?" Both Jim and Blair shook their heads in answer to the doctor's question.

My wife and I have a cabin just outside of Sequim. It's surrounded by woods, you're welcome to use it."

"That's very generous, but..."

"But nothing, detective. A friend of mine is the local doctor there. If you want to get away from everything for a few days, I'd feel better if I knew he had access to proper medical care, just in case. It's either my cabin or you stay in town." Andrews waited for Ellison to concede.

Jim opened his mouth as if to argue, then changed his mind. "Thank you."

"Don't worry, you won't be roughing it. My wife insists on all the comforts of home. Take the highway to the north side of Sequim and stop at Olympia Reality Company. They have the key and can give you directions." He patted Blair's knee. "I'll see you next Thursday."

Blair waited until the door closed behind the doctor. "Jim, what's going on? Are you expecting it to get that bad?"

Jim stepped up to the bed and reached out his hand. Instinctively, his Guide nuzzled his face in the open palm. "No, but it's a great excuse to get you all to myself for a week. I think it's time we worked on our 'inter-personal relationship'."

Laughing, Blair tilted his face up for a kiss. "I like the way you think, man. Let's get out of here."

After a chaste kiss Jim reached over and picked up the stack of clothes sitting on a near-by chair. Blair frowned at the unfamiliar shirt. "Where did those come from?"

"While I was waiting for your meds, I went down to the mall to pick up some clothes. It was closer than driving back to the loft."

"Right..." Something about this didn't add up, but Blair let it go, distracted by the feel of Jim's hands on his legs. When Jim had the boxers up to his hips he stood up. Smiling, and with a lot more hands-on work than was necessary, Jim slid the waistband up to the proper position. He took his time adjusting the fabric under his hospital gown, enjoying the increase in his new love's heart rate and breathing. Before they could progress, there was a knock on the door.

Quickly disengaging, Jim called out a hoarse greeting before sitting down on the bed next to Blair. Joel poked his head in the door, a knowing grin on his face. "Am I interrupting anything?" The redness of Ellison's face was the only answer he needed. "Guess I am; well good, that means I can give you this." The big man pulled a wrapped present out of a bookstore bag and handed it to Ellison. He turned to Blair. "I bet you're ready to go home."

For the first time since Joel had known Sandburg, he saw the younger man blush. "Actually, Joel, we're not going home. We're umm..."

Jim reached out and squeezed Blair's fingers. "It's OK, babe. Joel knows about us - Simon, too." When he saw Blair's raised eyebrow, he hastened to explain. "Actually, I think we were the last ones to figure it out."

"The last ones? Man, I thought we were going to have to pool our money and buy you a clue. You guys gonna be scarce for a few days? Sounds like just what the doctor ordered, but you call if you need anything." With that, Joel clapped Sandburg's shoulder and left the room.

"He seems all right with us." Slightly worried, Blair turned to Jim. "How many people have you told?"

"Joel really helped me with all of this, and Simon figured it out on his own. There's a difference between being publicly out, and being truthful with close friends. Are you OK with it?"

"As long as you're safe, I'm OK with anything, Jim. So, what did he get us?" Smiling now, he pointed at the package.

"Imp." But Jim was smiling broadly as he ripped the brightly colored paper open. "Oh!" His voice squeaked as he studied the 'Handbook of Gay Sex' he now held in his hand.

"Jim? If we're moving too fast for you..."

"No. NO, babe; that's not it. I'm just trying to visualize Joel Taggart walking into the gay section of the bookstore, picking this out, and having it gift wrapped."

Blair had to laugh. "Kinda boggles the mind, doesn't it."

By the time they reached the realty office Blair was sound asleep, curled up on the seat of the truck. Careful not to jar his lover's newly healed arms, Jim slid out and carefully closed the door. Only one person was in the office when he entered. "Hi, I'm Jim Ellison. Dr. Andrews is letting us..."

"Yes, we're expecting you. I've got the keys and a map right here. The power's on, and my husband stocked the kitchen for you." The gray-haired woman smiled broadly as Jim went to reach for his wallet. "Do you see this book, young man?" She pointed to a several inch think volume of real estate law sitting on her desk.

Confused, Jim froze. "Umm, yes, ma'am."

"Good. Dr. Andrews said that I was to hit you up-side the head if you took your wallet out and tried to pay for those groceries. He said to tell you that they were paid for out of Dr. Keily's going away party fund. Is that understood?" Her ever-widening grin made Jim wonder just what the good doctor had told her.

Jim wondered just what the kindly doctor had done to the annoying intern that had caused so many problems, but he decided not to worry about it. "Understood." He took the keys and the map and retreated to the safety of the truck.

When he opened the truck door he found his partner still sleepy, but upright in the cab. "Hey, did you get the key?" Before he could answer, sensitive ears picked up the sound of the agent talking to herself. ~ Hope I bought large enough. ~

Distracted and curious, he just nodded before pulling out of the parking lot. Luckily Blair was too sleepy to notice.

"Wow."

"Yeah, Chief, wow."

The two men stared out the windshield at the beautiful log and stone home the doctor had referred to as a cabin. The foundation was tall enough to indicate a daylight basement under the two-story building; its covered porch looked comfortable and inviting.

"Let me grab our stuff and we can go in."

Blair looked surprised when he saw Jim pull several bags out from under the seat. Ellison quickly explained. "I got the idea to get away while I was getting your clothes, so I bought some extra."

The idea of Jim buying clothes rather than driving over to the loft still bothered Blair but he kept his concerns quiet as Jim wrapped an arm around him and lead him up the steps. With a quick turn of the key Jim had the door opened and moved to the side, letting Blair enter first. Once they were inside, with a quick turn of the latch, he locked the outside world away.

Blair gave an appreciative whistle as he looked around. The main floor was in two large rooms, the first being the great room with the largest fireplace he had ever seen. Through the large arch was a gourmet kitchen with an eating area that opened up to a large deck. Stairs leading to the lower level could be seen off the kitchen along with laundry facilities. Jim dropped the bags on the overstuffed sofa and followed Blair into the kitchen. "I must admit, this beats the hotel I was going to take us to."

Blair couldn't help but laugh. "Jim, this beats any hotel, anywhere. It's beautiful and isolated and I can make you scream all night long without disturbing anyone." He leaned back into the arms that encircled him.

"Who says I'm a screamer, Chief?"

Turning and rising up on his toes to brush his lips against his soon-to-be lover's ears, Blair whispered his answer. "You will be." Laughing, he slipped away and walked down the stairs. Jim took two steps before he had to stop and adjust himself. Finally, he was able to follow his new love.

At the bottom of the steps it was Jim's turn to whistle. An antique pool table dominated the center of the room, sandwiched between the built-in bar on one wall and the large picture windows on the other. The property sloped enough to give an incredible view of the valley below. A smaller version of the upstairs fireplace was centered on the wall opposite the stairs they had just descended. The final touch was the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.

"Upstairs, now." Before either one of them could get any firm ideas of what could be done on that rug, Ellison turned Blair's shoulders and headed him back up the stairs. Once back on the main floor, he detoured slightly to grab their bags before steering the younger man up the stairs to the upper floor.

Two small guestrooms flanked the upper hallway. Barely sparing them a second glance the two men continued down the hall to what was obviously the master bedroom. Almost the size of the great room downstairs, the room was set up as a bedroom and sitting room with a loveseat set in front of the fireplace. On the other side of the room, the king-sized bed was on a raised platform, affording its occupants an unobstructed view of the valley. To the side appeared to be the master bath.

"Into bed, Chief." Jim dropped the bags on the chair next to the bed and turned to his partner. "Sit down and I'll help you with your shoes."

"Jim?"

The expression on Blair's face tore at Jim's heart. "I know, baby. I want to throw you down on that bed and have wild passionate sex with you, too. But you've only been out of the hospital a couple of hours and you need to rest." Smiling now, Jim pushed him down on the bed. "I promise I'll make it up to you, even if it takes me the next thirty years." Once the shoes were off he continued to undress Blair until only the boxers were left. "Under the covers while I get you something to take your pills with."

Blair didn't argue with taking his pills, which told Jim just how much he needed them. "Stay with me?" Sleepy blue eyes stared up at him.

"Only if you wear the braces." Jim carefully wrapped each wrist in the protective braces before shucking his own clothes and sliding into the bed. Blair draped himself across the muscular chest and sighed as sleep overtook him almost immediately.

Jim lay awake for a long time, cataloguing the sensations of sleeping with Blair. The soft curls felt like satin beneath his fingers. The crisp body hair caressed his chest with every breath. Against his thigh he could feel the warmth of the most intimate part of Blair. Clamping down on his own desires, Jim followed his beloved into slumber.

Awareness tugged at Jim in the form of a hot tongue lapping at his nipple. Opening one eye, he found Blair watching him, mouth hard at work. When a groan rumbled through the body underneath him, Blair moved up for a kiss.

Eventually, the need for oxygen broke them apart. Jim leaned back on the pillow, gasping. "Oh, babe, I want you so bad, but I'm afraid of hurting you." He looked around the room and then smiled when his gaze fell on the loveseat. "Stay put for a few minutes, I've got an idea." After a quick kiss to Blair's nose he slid out from under the younger man.

"What are you doing?" Blair watched as he started a blaze in the fireplace.

"Getting creative."

Blair fell back onto his back. "Oh man, I am so screwed."

"Not yet, but you will be." Intent on building up the fire, Jim didn't pick up on the momentary tenseness his joke caused. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he returned to the bed and pulled the extra blanket off the foot and draped it over the loveseat. Intrigued, Blair sat up and waited for Jim to explain.

"I want to explore your body, I want to learn every touch that excites you. Come here." Jim reached out and gently brushed his fingertips over Blair's hand while his other hand grasped Blair's elbow to actually pull him up. Once Blair was up on his feet, Jim reached down and tugged at his shorts, letting them fall to the floor.

Without looking away, Blair stepped out of the fabric and closer to Jim. "Now your turn." When Jim hesitated Blair moved back and looked down. "Just because I can't use my hands much, doesn't mean that I don't want to look. Flushing at the words, Jim slowly eased the elastic over his hardening erection. Blair watched intently and then moved closer again, rising up on his toes slightly to bring his cock in line with Jim's. Both men gasped as the two rising cocks made contact. Jim took a deep breath and walked Blair over to the waiting seat.

Blair allowed Jim to settle him on the soft blanket with a smile. He continued to smile as he stared at the shaft only inches away from his face. "Explore all you want, but..."

"But what?" Jim's voice was barely a whisper.

"But I really want to feel your come dripping off my body while you're touching me."

"Oh, God." Only the Sentinel's instinctive need to protect his Guide allowed Jim to twist his body enough to land next to Blair. Remembering one picture in the book Joel had given them; Jim pulled Blair onto his lap, nestling his cock between the younger man's ass cheeks.

Approving of the seating arrangement, Blair shifted around slightly until the tip of Jim's cock was nudging against the back of his balls, leaving a moist patch on the warm skin. "Oh yeah, this'll work." He leaned back, tilting his head to allow Jim access to his throat.

Jim willingly suckled on the tender flesh as his hands wandered the flesh beneath them, noting every gasp and increase in heart rate. Blair's nipples were highly sensitive, but stroking the insides of his thighs really got him twitching. With every stroke and corresponding twitch, sensations would explode in Jim's body as the barely visible hairs on Blair's back teased his own nipples and his cock would slide ever so slightly between Blair's cheeks. Blair noticed the effect it was having on him and began to clench his ass as he moved.

Jim groaned as the pleasure threatened to over take him and tried to dial back. Knowing that Jim had no experience with men and wanting him to come first, Blair kept on Jim. "Oh, yeah, just like that. Give it to me, I want to feel your come all over my balls. Want to ride you when you shoot."

It was enough to drive Jim over the edge. His sense of touch spiraled up, centered on his pleasure. Every goose bump on Blair's ass was like a finger, stroking him. Every tiny hair was a whip of pleasure. When Blair shifted, his center came into direct contact with Jim's cock. The twitching and spasming of the small opening was like tiny lips running kisses along his length of his shaft. Jim barely had time to take a deep breath before throwing his head back and letting out a roar as he came. Working more on instinct than conscious thought, he scooped the steaming fluid into his hand and coated his lover's shaft with it. After less than a dozen strokes he felt the telltale tightening of the balls he held in his other hand.

"Now you come for me," he whispered in the ear so close to his lips. With a deep moan Blair did just that, coating his own chest with streams of come. As they lay there, limp and sated, Jim absently drew patterns on Blair's chest, then raised his fingers to his mouth, letting the taste explode across his taste buds.

Blair turned his head to watch. "Can you taste the difference between us?"

Too content to even utter a sound, he only nodded.

Jim stood next to the fireplace, toweling himself dry. Storm clouds had darkened the sky, but the glow of the fire warmed the room and gave a golden glow to the Sentinel's smooth skin. He smiled as fingertips brushed his chest. "Hey, baby."

"I'm hungry."

Jim dropped his towel onto the loveseat. "Let me get some clothes on and I'll fix you some breakfast. What are you hungry for?"

"You." Using the flat of his forearms Blair pushed his lover down onto the cushion.

"I don't want you to hurt your wrists." Worry and lust warred on the handsome face as he sprawled on the seat. Blair smiled and dropped to his knees in front of his splayed legs, resting his arms on each side of him.

"Then I guess you'd better lay still while I have my way with you."

Jim remembered the conversation they had when they first arrived at the cabin. "Are you gonna make me scream?"

Blair's smile sent a wave of fire through Jim's body. "First I'm going to make you beg, then I'm gonna make you scream."

Nipping and kissing along Jim's inner thighs, Blair worked his legs apart until he had total access to the most private parts of his lover. He then started on one knee, licking and sucking up his leg until he reached the crease of Jim's hip. Blair's lips barely brushed against the throbbing balls before he moved to Jim's other knee to repeat the action. By the second time he reached Jim's testicles the older man was moaning loudly, his head pressed back against the small sofa. This time Blair laved the globes until they were coated with his saliva then leaned back on his heels and slowly blew across the moist flesh.

"Please, baby." He shuddered every time Blair exhaled.

"Please what?" This time Blair flicked his tongue across the tip of Jim's cock, tasting the leaking juices.

"More...more..." Jim tossed his head from side to side.

"You mean like this?" Blair sucked the head into his mouth and twirled his tongue around the crown.

Jim bucked and thrashed, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his body. Without warning, Blair opened his mouth wider and swallowed, not stopping until his lips were brushing golden curls. As soon as Jim began to piston his hips Blair retreated, just keeping the barest of contact with the tip of his now throbbing penis. Again and again the pattern repeated until the older man was incoherent with desire.

One last time Blair slid Jim's cock down his throat, but this time he moved ever so slightly so that Jim could see his face, flushed with passion. It was enough and when Blair began working his throat muscles Jim let out a strangled scream as he came.

When Jim opened his eyes it was to the sight of his beloved contentedly licking the cream off his lips.

"You screamed."

A soft smile greeted his words. "Yeah, babe, I sure did." He reached down and lifted Blair up onto his lap. "I've never had a lover who could make me scream before, let alone one that could make me scream and still want more."

"You still want more?" Blair bent down and kissed him hard, letting Jim taste himself on the soft lips. "You gonna have your way with me now?"

"Yep." Jim started to chuckle. "As soon as I have enough strength to move. Coming that hard takes a lot out of me."

Blair's eyes turned sultry as he licked the last drop of come of the corner of his mouth. "Sure does."

Jim stood in front of the refrigerator, determined to get some food into his sensual partner before getting sidetracked again. Two lean steaks were calling out his name as he noted the sour cream and real butter on the shelf above. On the far counter were several large baking potatoes, ready to go. As he reached for the meat the squeak of the stairs announced the arrival of his better half. Blair stood on the landing in his shorts watching Jim, legs apart. The light behind him made his boxers almost transparent. Blair continued down the stairs, his shaft thickening and shifting as he walked while Jim watched, transfixed.

"Jim, after we eat would you shower with me and wash my hair? That shower is huge; we should have plenty of room to maneuver in there."

Without a second thought Jim tossed back the steaks and grabbed the sandwich makings.

Jim checked the water temperature for the umpteenth time as Blair waited impatiently. "Come on, Jim. If I have to wait much longer to get my hair washed I'm gonna give up and shave the damn stuff off."

"You wouldn't?"

The other man's horrified expression made Blair laugh and he moved up behind Jim. "You like my hair? You have plans for my hair?" Blair watched Jim's ears turn a bright red. "Can you tell me?"

"It's more than that. I don't want to lose any part of you, not even your hair." Satisfied with the water, Jim turned and gathered the young man into his arms. "We're going to be in the water for a while, how do you want to protect your arms?"

"Got it covered." Blair pointed to the vanity counter and the roll of plastic wrap that was on it. "Just wrap the bandages up and I'll be all set. We've got plenty."

"It's a 200 foot roll, but I can think of lots of things we can do with it." Jim smirked as his lover blushed this time.

With his arms completely encased in plastic, Blair stepped into the oversized shower, Jim right behind him. "Man, this feels good. I appreciate you washing my hair in the sink, but nothing beats doing it in the shower."

Jim nuzzled up behind him. "So you like doing it in the shower? Fancy that, me too." He smiled as he nipped at the tender ear just below his lips.

Blair reciprocated by rubbing his ass against the growing hardness he felt behind him. Jim growled and moved away to snag the shampoo.

Jim let the fragrance fill his senses as the creaminess filled his hand. He recognized the brand as one Blair liked but would never spend the money on. He smiled as a quick decision was made. ~ No more - no more going without something that makes you feel good, babe. I'll make sure of that. ~ "Turn around and put your arms around my neck, okay?"

Seeing where Jim was headed with this, Blair willingly complied. Once he had his arms wound around Jim, he leaned back, allowing Jim to guide his head to the water. The gentle massaging action of Jim's hands in his hair soon had him purring in contentment.

Blair opened one eye slightly to watch his beloved unobserved. A look of contentment filled the other man's face as he cared for his mate. Hiding a smile, Blair rolled his hips forward, allowing his cock to bump against Jim's.

Jim was enjoying the sensation of Blair's curls wrapped around his fingers when he thought he felt a nudge against his groin. He paused for a moment in his pampering, and when Blair remained relaxed and pliant in his hands, he resumed. Sure enough, a few seconds later there was another nudge, this time accompanied by the barest twitch of Sandburg's face. Jim decided to play along. As Blair's hips moved towards him the third time, he met them with a thrust of his own. The delighted squeal was music to his soul and he slid his hands down to Blair's ass and pulled him close. The suds cascading off Blair's hair made a wonderful lubrication and he opened his hands to capture enough to use.

"Can't forget this hair," Jim teased as the lather built up where their bodies touched.

"You're very thorough." Blair was smiling, but caught his breath as Jim's fingers moved back again and skimmed his center.

"Blair?" Jim noticed the change in his partner's demeanor. "If that is something you don't want, just say the word, babe. We don't do anything you aren't comfortable with."

"I want to do everything with you, Jim. I just want to take our time getting there. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay, sweetheart." Jim moved his hands back to cup Blair's ass and move them in that now familiar rhythm. Blair met him stroke for stroke, and Jim lost himself in the sensation of the velvety heat of Blair's cock rubbing against his own. Much too soon he felt the tightening of his balls, seconds before Blair exploded. The smell pushed him over the edge, and with a shout he came over Blair's stomach. The two men stood arm in arm as the shower washed away the evidence, but not their love.

Blair lay on the bed, his slightly damp hair cascading around his head like a halo, as Jim carefully changed the bandages on his wrists. He watched as the older man carefully examined each healing mark before gently wrapping them. "Are they healing all right?"

"Yeah, they are." The relief was evident on Ellison's face as he fastened the last piece of adhesive. "Already the scars are a lot less noticeable than I thought they would ever be." He lifted Blair's hand and softly kissed the fingertips. "How are they feeling, is there pain when you flex your wrists?"

"No, actually they feel pretty good. I bet we could forget about the bandages and keeping them dry now." Blair brushed his fingertips lightly against Jim's lips.

"Not until we get the okay from the doctor. We're not doing anything that could put you at risk, baby. We've been through too much to rush things now. Jim gathered up the supplies and stood. "Why don't you take a nap while I get the grill going? There's steaks in the fridge that I want to use up before we go home in the morning."

"Steaks?" Blair rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "You've been feeding me sandwiches when there are steaks here? Why you..." Blair rolled back and grabbed the towel, intending to snap his lover with it.

Laughing, Jim dodged out of the way, bumping the nightstand open in the process. Sentinel vision zoomed in on an unopened box in the top drawer. The words 'ribbed' and 'extra-large' were boldly displayed under the logo he'd been familiar with for many years and he flashed back on the cryptic comments he had overheard at the Realtor's office. Jim blushed a deep red. "You can drop off the key when we leave."

"What? Why?" Blair blinked in confusion at the change of the conversation. When no answer was forthcoming, Blair raised up and tried to peer into the partially opened drawer. Jim distracted him with a kiss and slid the drawer shut. "Hey! You dweeb!" Blair tried to glare at him, but began laughing instead.

"I'll wake you up when I put the steaks on." He was halfway down the stairs before he heard the drawer slide back open and the laughter of his better half.

Hand in hand the two men took one last look around the cabin. It had been a week neither one would ever forget. While Blair had slept last night, Jim had washed their clothes, and he placed the bags of clean clothes behind the seat before helping Blair climb up. The younger man chuckled at his lover, but nevertheless allowed the assist.

Once they were on the road Jim pulled him closer. "It doesn't seem possible that it's time to go home already."

Blair agreed, "Yeah, but it will be good to see everyone again. How are we going to play it? I mean, Simon and Joel know, but what about the rest of them, do we make an announcement or do we wait?"

Jim thought for a moment. "No matter how open we are, we have to keep it 100% professional at work."

"Agreed." Blair leaned his head onto Jim's shoulder. "I don't want to give the brass any reason to separate us."

Any further discussion was thwarted when they pulled into the parking lot of the real estate office. Jim dug into his pocket and pulled out the key to the cabin. "Here you go." Blair took the key and climbed out of the cab. Half way across the lot he turned around and gave Jim a wicked smile. Jim slid down in his seat with a groan as his lover walked the rest of the way with a decided bounce to his step. Slumped down, he cranked up his hearing to see just what Blair would say.

~ Hi, I'm here to return the key for Dr. Andrew's cabin. We really appreciate everything you did for us. ~

~ Was everything...satisfactory? ~

Jim slid even further down in the seat at the amusement in her voice. When he heard Blair's response, he covered his face with his hands.

~ Well, there was one item that was a bit small, but we made it work. ~

Jim wasn't sure if it was his Sentinel senses or his over-active imagination that detected a temperature increase in the small office. Before he could examine that thought too closely, Blair was back in the truck.

"All done. See, that wasn't so hard." Blair waggled his eyebrows and Jim could only laugh as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot.

Cascade Medical Center

Dr. Andrews folded his glasses and put them back in his pocket, smiling at the anxious man hovering at Blair's side. "Relax, Jim, his recovery has been phenomenal." When the big man made such a forced attempt to do as he was told, Dr. Andrews laughed and turned his attention to Blair. "I'll have my nurse give you a list of exercises to help strengthen your wrists, but barring any problems I don't think I need to be seeing you again for a while. Make an appointment for two weeks from today. Do either of you have any questions?"

Blair started to shake his head, but Jim spoke up before he could move. "What kind of problems should we be watching for?" Blair rolled his eyes, but the doctor answered patiently.

"He's healed enough that we don't have to worry about infection, and the stitches have dissolved properly. Our main concern now is that Blair doesn't over use his wrists and irritate the repaired tissues. I'm assuming that you have that covered." He gave the tall man a knowing smile that made Jim's ears turn red and Blair almost fell off the examining table laughing. "But seriously, the real concern would come later, and that would be internal scar tissue. If any odd sensations start showing up, I want him back here on the double, no matter how long it's been."

Even Dr. Andrews had to smile at how seriously Ellison took that request.

It was well past dark when the two men arrived back at the loft after a leisurely dinner by the waterfront, and Jim hustled Blair upstairs after allowing him a quick bathroom stop.

"Jim?" Blair couldn't help but question Jim's strange behavior. Jim just pulled him closer while they cuddled on the big bed.

"I have to be in court tomorrow morning; why don't I drop you off at the station and you can see the gang?" Jim held his breath, waiting to see what Blair would do.

Blair thought for a second, then decided not to call Jim on his misdirection. He'd find out what was bothering his lover soon enough. Instead, he snuggled down against Jim and let sleep claim him. Relieved, Jim soon followed.

Simon Banks signed the last report on his desk with a flourish and sent it sailing into his out box. Leaning back with his favorite coffee blend, he took a break to watch the interactions of his unit. The center of the activity, not surprisingly, was Sandburg.

It had only been two weeks. Two weeks since Sandburg had been rushed to the hospital after an attack, which had not only injured him, but had almost destroyed the entire unit. He had been back at the station for two hours now. Two hours of coddling and hovering by those same men and women, grateful that he was back where he belonged. Two hours which had already stretched the young man's patience to the breaking point.

Paperwork done and coffee in hand, Captain Banks was ready for the show to begin. He didn't have long to wait. By Monday morning, he would be wishing the wait had been longer.

"Here you go, Blair. I grabbed one of your favorites." Joel Taggart set a cream filled donut in front of the young man. "It was the last one they had."

"Thank God." The words were muttered, but only loud enough for a Sentinel to hear. The Sentinel, however, was spending the day in court.

"What was that, Blair? Do you need anything else? Are you all right?" Taggart studied the young man seated at Ellison's desk. He still seemed too pale and too quiet for the older man's comfort.

Blair smiled and took a deep breath before answering the question. He understood everyone's concern. It could be weeks or months before full strength and flexibility would return to Blair's wrists.

"Thanks for the donut, Joel. I'm fine, really. I just get a little stiff, you know?" When the other man still seemed unconvinced, Blair took a bite from the donut before continuing. "It's good to be back, even if it's just to do Jim's paperwork."

That seemed to satisfy Taggart. "All right, but if you start getting tired, you let us know and one of us will take you home. Okay?"

Blair bit back a chuckle. "Joel, it's only 10:15 in the morning. I think I'll be able to last a little while longer."

"Promise me?" The big man seemed to have taken hovering lessons from Ellison, himself.

"Yes, Joel, I promise." It took some effort, but Blair kept a serious expression on his face.

Finally satisfied, the former Bomb Squad Captain returned to work. After he left, Blair opened the top right hand drawer of Jim's desk and slid the donut in, next to the five half-eaten pastries already there. ~ One off-hand remark by Jim while I was in the hospital and now every cream-filled donut in Cascade has my name on it. ~ Blair barely got the desk drawer closed before Henry Brown walked up, a white pastry bag in his hand.

"Hi, Brown. Umm, what's in the bag?"

Rafe looked up as an unfamiliar, gray-haired man stepped off the elevator and walked through the doors of Major Crimes. As the unit's fashion critic, he noted the chain store suit and nondescript shoes.

Exchanging glances, Rafe and Brown knew what he was.

"Fed."

Bypassing the closed door of Simon Banks' office, the fed walked up behind Sandburg and scrutinized him.

Feeling the stare, Blair turned around. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Blair Sandburg?" The nameless fed continued to stare at the young man.

He hesitated, uncomfortable from the tone. "Who are you? What's this all about?"

"You damn murdering punk!" Enraged, the Fed jerked Blair up by the shirt and began shaking him. "Did you really think you were going to get away with it? Did you think hiding behind these cops was going to keep me from finding you?"

"Who are you?" Blair's frightened cry cut through the shock that had paralyzed the bullpen. Rafe and Brown were the first to react and quickly had him off Blair while Taggart steadied the young man.

"Easy, Blair. Are you all right?" Taggart resisted the urge to pull Blair into a bear hug, but did not release his grip entirely.

The arrival of Simon Banks brought the commotion to a halt. "Get him out of here." Banks' voice was deadly quiet; the only sound was that of the cigar snapping between his fingers.

"I'm Special Agent Terrance Williams and I have a warrant for this man's arrest."

The captain did not seem impressed. "What are the charges against Mr. Sandburg?"

With a smug expression on his face, Agent Williams pulled the warrant out of his jacket pocket. "This warrant is from the state of Texas for the murder of Special Agent Dwayne Olson. What do you think of your buddy now? Are you still so hot to protect a cop killer, Banks?"

"Blair?" Simon turned questioning eyes towards the young police observer. "What is he talking about, son?"

The young man in question stood frozen in the middle of the room, his arms wrapped around his stomach. A closer observation showed the tremors running through him.

His voice was low, almost a whisper. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think he was dead. I didn't think I hit him that hard. I'm sorry." Sandburg turned to face the agent. "I'll go with you. I won't fight extradition."

This was going even better than the agent had planned. "While you're at it, why don't you save everybody a lot of trouble and plead guilty when we get there?"

"That would probably be best." The traumatized young man stared at the floor.

"Sandburg!" Banks couldn't believe that he was giving up so easily.

"I'm sorry, Simon. It would be for the best. I don't want to be an embarrassment to the department or to Jim. ~ Oh, Jim, my love. ~ I don't want this to hurt him. If I go quietly, there won't be the publicity and it will be easier on him, on everyone." The pain on Blair's face when he looked up was enough to break anyone's heart.

It was happening again. Someone was hurting Sandburg and the entire unit with him. Banks could see it in their eyes, feel it reflected in his heart. Not again. Never again. ~ They can't go through that again. Jim can't go through that again. Hell, I can't go through that again. ~

Decision made, Banks stepped into action. "Rafe, Conner, take Agent Williams to get the paperwork started. A patented Banks stare quieted the young detectives' questions while Banks continued. "Make sure he sees the proper people in Internal Affairs, then run him over to the District Attorney's office. We want to make sure all the proper paperwork is filled out. ADA Greene would be the best one to see."

Rafe straightened his shoulders and nodded at Simon in understanding. "Don't worry, sir. We will make sure the proper procedures are followed, all the proper procedures."

Megan, too, began to understand. One thing she had learned about the American justice system was its love of paperwork. The innumerable ways of explaining an arrest boggled the mind at times. But why ADA Greene? She was a formidable woman who had no love for federal agents. Not only that, she had a soft spot for Sandburg, and a secretary who adored him. Best of all, according to the station scuttlebutt, she had meetings all day, preparing for a case that had been damaged by another federal agent. The pieces clicked together. ~ This could be fun. ~

"What are you going to do with my prisoner while I attend to your busy work, Captain?" The slur was apparent to every officer present, and Sandburg cringed at the idea of being the cause of such embarrassment.

Simon took a moment to remind everyone again just how tall 6'4" could be. When he spoke his voice was colder than any member of the unit could ever remember hearing. "This is the Major Crimes unit of the Cascade Police Department. We have the highest solve rate of any unit in this department. We have the highest solve rate of any unit in this state. We have a higher solve rate than any federal agency that we deal with. The prisoner will be just fine here with us. He won't be your prisoner until you complete all the paperwork this department deems necessary. Is that understood?"

Realizing his place in the hierarchy did not please the man, but bowing to the inevitable, he accepted it. "I trust that when I am done following your department's many procedures the prisoner will be ready for transport." Without another word he followed Rafe and Conner out into the hall.

Banks spared a quick glance at the shell-shocked faces around him. As before, whatever affected Sandburg affected them all. His voice was soft, so as not to startle the young man still leaning against Taggart. "Get me some answers, folks."

His words to Joel were even softer. "Go get Jim." With that, he pulled Blair closer to him and guided the young man towards his office.

Seated on the small sofa in Simon's office, Blair seemed even younger and more frightened as his trembling increased. Banks reached out and touched his arm. Blair was cold to the touch and Simon instantly became concerned about the real possibility of shock setting in. Realizing there was no blanket or afghan to warm Sandburg with, Banks slid off his own coat and draped it over the younger man. Next, he poured a cup of coffee, sugared it and placed the warm mug in Blair's icy hands.

"It's hot, Blair. Drink it slow." Banks pulled a chair up next to the sofa and settled in to watch the observer.

"Ugh, it's too sweet." Blair grimaced and started to set the cup down. "Shouldn't I be in a holding cell or something, sir?"

"You're in something, Sandburg. You're in my office. Now drink that coffee, I don't want you to go into shock. Jim would have my hide for sure." Simon nudged the cup back towards Blair's face. "Come on, son, a few more sips now."

Blair obediently swallowed the bittersweet liquid. When he had drank enough to satisfy the older man, he set the cup back on the table. "Will the paperwork be done before Jim gets back from court?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in a hurry to be sent to Texas. It's a death penalty state, son. He's got a warrant for your arrest on a capital crime. Since when do you have a death wish?"

Blair shrank back even more on the sofa and pulled his knees up beneath his chin, carefully clasping his arms around them. "I don't want him to see me being taken away. I don't want that to be the last memory he has of me."

~ This was not in the job description. ~ Banks watched the man seated before him. Blair looked impossibly young and child-like in Simon's oversized jacket, his eyes frightened and lost in the private pain. Simon could not even begin to fathom how to reach through the pain. Before he could come to a decision, he was interrupted by the reappearance of Rafe. Silently acknowledging the younger detective, he slipped out the door, following him.

"Rafe, this had better be good. Are you sure you should have left Conner with Williams alone? I don't want him pulling a fast one and getting the okay to pull Sandburg out of here before we figure out how to stop this."

"Don't worry, sir. Sheila from IA and Conner have it covered. We thought this couldn't wait." There was hardness in the younger man's eyes that Banks had never seen before. "Look at the date on this warrant."

Banks stared at the document, then adjusted his glasses and looked at it again. "This can't be right."

"Yeah, it is. Blair is being arrested for a murder that happened over twenty years ago, when he was ten years old, Simon. He confessed, sir. What drives a ten-year-old kid to kill somebody? Especially somebody like Sandburg."

Simon shook his head, gazing at the lost soul sitting in his office, wishing Jim would get there. "I don't know, Rafe. But I sure as hell am not going to let him out of this building until I do."

"Where is he?" Ellison barreled into Major Crimes at an almost dead run. "Simon, what's going on? Where is he?

~ Definitely not in my job description. ~ "Calm down a minute, Jim."

"Calm down, Simon? Joel pulls me out of court to tell me that my partner is being extradited to face murder charges in Texas, and you tell me to calm down? With all due respect, sir, are you nuts?"

"Ellison!" A dark finger was jabbed repeatedly into Jim's chest. "You listen to me and you listen good. Take a good look at your partner, you look at him with everything you've got. Do you know what you're looking at?" Simon didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "You're looking at a man so tightly wound that he's ready to snap. He needs your support and your strength, not your attitude. Is that understood? Is that understood?"

Jim silently nodded, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. After he felt more in control, the Sentinel opened the door and eased in to kneel at his Guide's side.

"Hey, Babe, how are you doing?"

The young man looked up, startled. "Jim, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing...Where did you think I'd be?" Ellison looked at the pain filled eyes, hoping to find answers there.

Blair's eyes lowered again before he answered the man who was his Sentinel, his best friend, his life partner. "I thought I'd be on my way to Texas before you found out. I didn't want you to see them take me out of here in cuffs."

"Then what? Did you think I would just leave you there? If they take you away then they take me too. My god, did you think I'd just abandon you? I thought we had worked all this out after we got back from Sierra Verde and especially after this last week." Jim rubbed his forehead in frustration, trying to find a way to reach out to his beloved. "Remember, no more holding back, no more hiding, no more secrets? We talk, no matter what, we talk about it."

The voice was small and child-like and broke Jim's heart. "I remember. I didn't want anything to hurt you. Williams was Olson's partner, I remember him now. He hates me and I didn't want him to hurt you."

"The only way he could hurt me is by hurting you, Blair. Let me protect you, that's the only way you can protect me. Don't you see that?" Jim was pulling out the big guns on this one and he knew it, but the slight nod he got was worth it.

A short rap on the door preceded Conner into the room. Simon slipped in behind her. With the barest acknowledgement to the others, she sat beside Blair and took his hand. "There are a lot of questions that you need to answer for us." She smiled apologetically at Jim. "But this one can't wait. You said you didn't hit him that hard. What did you hit him with?"

Blair's blue eyes stared blankly at her, then slowly focused. "A pan of some sorts. It was one of those big cast iron ones. I hit him on the back of the head. I just wanted him to stop. That's all. I just wanted him to stop."

~ Stop what, Baby? ~ Jim's unasked question reflected back at him from the other faces in the suddenly small office. Instead, he clenched his fists and waited for Megan to finish her question.

"That's all you did?"

"Wasn't it enough?" A hint of disgust worked its way into Sandburg's voice.

Megan allowed her sweetest smile to cross her face as she squeezed Blair's hand. "No it wasn't. All you did was give him a concussion; he died of a gunshot wound to the back.

"He was shot?" Blair looked between the people in Simon's office, a look of confusion on his face.

Megan waited for understanding to come. "That's right."

"But I didn't shoot him."

Megan didn't answer; she just patted his hand before she stood up.

"I...I didn't kill him?"

"No, Sandy, you didn't." She moved out of the way, giving Jim better access to his partner.

~ Thank you, Megan. ~ Jim leaned closer to his love. "Now will you let us fight for you?"

"I didn't kill him, Jim." Relief was written across Blair's face.

"I know, Babe." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jim realized what he had let slip. He turned to see Megan's reaction and only saw a gentle smile. She squeezed his arm as she moved further away.

Megan stepped closer to the captain. She spoke softly, not wanting to disturb Blair, but knowing Jim would be able to hear her easily. "I've asked Laura Woodley to come in and take his statement. She's set up in interview room 4."

Simon indicated his acceptance, while behind him Jim nodded in silence. It was a wise choice on Conner's part. Laura Woodley specialized in dealing with traumatized children and adults. Both Ellison and Banks trusted her to get the answers needed without damaging the tender soul that housed them.

"Chief?" Jim gave his friend a moment before continuing. "We need to take your statement, Blair. Are you okay with that? We need to know what this is all about." ~ I need to know what happened, who hurt you. ~ The Sentinel briskly rubbed his Guide's icy hands, hoping to infuse enough warmth to quiet the young man's pain.

"Who will be taking my statement?" Blair's simple question seemed to ask so much more. Jim could see it in his eyes and remembered back to an afternoon in a hospital room, a memory still too close, too painful for the older man. Blair had been unable to talk to Jim, needing the neutrality of speaking to Simon, instead.

Remembering too, how overwhelming it had been to just overhear the bedside conversation, Jim understood how he could not be the one asking the questions. "Detective Woodley, Laura Woodley. She... she is very good at this. She will be able to help you piece together what you remember and make sense of it." Ellison stumbled, unsure how to ask what he really wanted to know. "Do you want...would it be all right with you if I sit in the observation room? If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll understand, and I'll be somewhere else, somewhere that..."

"Jim, it's okay." This time it was the Guide who rushed to comfort the Sentinel. "I want you in the observation room. You're right, no more secrets." Sandburg stood up slowly, leaning on Jim when he swayed. "Let's get this over with, before Williams gets back here. I don't want him listening in. He thought his partner walked on water and I'm afraid he won't like what he hears."

As the group exited Banks' office, Simon answered in a voice loud enough to carry through the bullpen. "Don't worry Sandburg, he won't be anywhere near you while you give your statement." ~ My people will make sure of that. ~

Jim walked into the interview room with Sandburg, fussing with him a little as he got settled. Woodley had seen the special friendship between the two men and she gave them time. She was, however, surprised to see Captain Banks hovering over the two of them.

"How ya' doing, Chief? If you're not ready to do this, just say the word. Williams has waited this long, he can wait a little bit longer if you need some more time."

Blair was calm as he looked up at Jim. "I'm ready. For the first time, I'm ready to talk about this. I never even told Naomi everything that happened." The expression in his eyes spoke volumes. "I'm ready to let go of the shadows."

"Okay." Jim nodded and sat back. "Promise me that if it gets to be too much, you'll stop. There's no shame in asking for a break. You have all the time you need and if you need me..." His voice faded off, as emotions came too close to the surface.

This was still not Ellison's strong suit, no matter how strong the love; Banks realized and stepped in. "How about a safe word, kid. All you have to do is say the word and Jim will be in there for you. What do you think?"

Blair glanced up at his two friends and saw nothing but compassion and understanding. "Yeah, that'll work."

Banks seemed relieved that Blair was willing to accept their help. "What word, son. What word would be safe for you?"

He didn't even have to stop and think. "Home."

Jim's eyes were bright, but his voice was steady. "Yeah, that sounds good to me, too."

Simon settled himself and Ellison in the observation room. Without asking, he handed Jim a cup of coffee. ~ Let's keep those hands occupied. ~ Jim glanced questioningly at his superior, but accepted the coffee. Before the interview could begin, a well-dressed man walked into the room and identified himself as Sandburg's attorney. It was Banks' time to turn questioning eyes toward the other man. Before the answer could be given, the question was vocalized on the other side of the glass.

"What do you mean, my attorney? Nothing personal, but I don't think I can afford you." Already suspicious, the young man's face turned towards the mirrored wall.

Not bothered by the question, Blair's new lawyer answered him. "It's been taken care of. Your partner hired me. You just worry about yourself, leave everything else to me."

Busy with his papers, he didn't notice Blair turn and whisper "thank you" to the mirror.

The lawyer turned back to Detective Woodley. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Nathan Henshaw III, and I've been retained as Mr. Sandburg's attorney. I assume Mr. Sandburg has been read his rights and you have not begun interrogating him without me present?"

Much to her credit, Detective Woodley took no offence at Henshaw's tone. "Mr. Sandburg is not under arrest. We are interviewing him as a possible witness in a crime. I will handle this as I do all interviews with victims. If Mr. Sandburg wishes to stop, he may do so at any time." She paused and smiled before continuing. "Any claim Agent Williams may have on Mr. Sandburg will have to wait until he goes through all the proper procedures, and I do mean all the proper procedures."

"Blair, are you ready to begin?" Her voice was calm and soothing, not only to the young man seated at the table, but also to the older man behind the mirror. Blair nodded his head and she turned on the recording equipment.

"This is Detective Laura Woodley. I am interviewing Blair Sandburg in connection with the murder of Dwayne Olson, which occurred on or about the 18th of April, 1979. This interview is being conducted on October 18th, 2000."

"Mr. Sandburg, how old were you in April of 1979?"

"It happened just before my tenth birthday."

"What was the nature of your relationship with Dwayne Olson?"

"My mother was engaged to his brother. He was in a car accident and I was sent to stay with him while Tony was in the hospital."

Woodley leaned forwards and spoke very clearly. "Were you comfortable with those arrangements?"

The usually verbose observer silently shook his head, staring intently at the table in front of him. Eventually, he looked up and quietly gave his answer. "No, ma'am. After about a week he started hurting me. He did things to me, things I didn't like...things I didn't want him to do."

"These things he did, can you tell me about them?

Blair didn't answer; he just began to rock back and forth, ever so slightly.

"Did he hit you?" She kept her voice soft and even.

"Yes." His answer was barely a whisper.

"Did he use his hand to hit you?"

Blair's tone was even softer now. "Yes."

"Did he ever use any objects to strike you with?"

Blair was silent. The rocking increased.

Behind the mirror, pain and silence were reflected. Simon watched, helpless, as they each struggled, drowning in the horror. One remembered, one imagined, both separated by a wall of glass. Unable to reach one, Simon turned to the other. "Jim, you've got to keep it together, for Blair's sake. Imagining what he went through won't help him." Still as silent as his counterpart he nodded, his fingers tracing the figure reflecting through the glass.

"What did he use to hit you with, Blair?"

"His belt, a switch, an electric cord. He never hit me where it could be seen, in case anybody came by.

"Didn't your mother ever notice the marks?"

This brought the first reaction out of the young man. He sat up and made eye contact.

"It wasn't her fault. She never saw them. She had to take care of Tony, he needed her. He needed her a lot."

~ What about you, Chief? You needed her too. They left you alone with this monster and they didn't even notice. ~

"Did he hurt you in other ways?"

"Yes." With each answer, the voice became more child-like.

Woodley moved around the table and knelt down in front of the trembling young man. "Blair, did he ever hurt you in a sexual manner?"

A nod.

"Did he touch you in an inappropriate way?"

Blair's answer was muffled as he began to chew on the edge of his thumb. "Yes."

"Did he force you to touch him?"

A shudder. "Yes."

"You said he touched you. Was there penetration?"

"Yes. I don't want to talk about what he did anymore. Is that okay?" His rocking became almost frantic. Any desire on Woodley's part to continue the line of questioning was squelched by Henshaw.

"Let's move on for now." The older man patted his client on the arm, hoping to comfort him. Instead, Blair reacted as if he'd been struck, pulling his knees up against his chest, trying to become as small a target as possible. The action was pure instinct and heartbreaking to all who witnessed it.

Blair's trembling was visible in the two-way mirror, even without a sentinel's vision.

"Tell me you want to go home, Chief. Let me take you home." Jim Ellison leaned against the cold glass wall; forgotten coffee still wrapped in his hand. "Just tell me 'home', that's all you have to do."

"Jim." Simon rubbed his forehead, not wanting to remind his friend, but finding no other choice. "Even if he says his safe word, you can't take him out of here. He needs to stay here at the station until we get this warrant straightened out."

Ellison turned and faced his captain. "Simon, if Blair tells me that he wants to go home, then I will take him home. You don't have enough people to stop me, so don't try." His voice was composed and his gaze never wavered.

It didn't take long for Simon to turn away, shaken by the quiet determination and intensity he saw. ~ Please don't make me try, Jim. ~

"Blair, let's talk about the last time you saw Dwayne Olson. What do you remember about that day?" Deciding to try a different angle, Detective Woodley sat back in her chair and moved to another line of questioning. "Start as early in the day as you can recall and some background, if you could."

"All right, I'll try. Tony was in a hospital in another town, so Mom was staying there. It had been about three weeks since the accident and about two weeks since they moved him to the second hospital. They were getting ready to move Tony to someplace else again, a rehab center, I guess. I fixed Dwayne his breakfast, but there was something wrong, he didn't like it." Blair shifted in his chair as the memories began to surface.

Woodley straightened as well. "You fixed his breakfast? You weren't even ten yet, how could you reach everything?" She had a hard time imagining this slight man as a nine-year-old child, struggling to reach over a hot stove.

"I ...I had a box I stood on to reach the stove. Anyway, I fixed his regular breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast but he didn't like it and threw it at me. I still have the scar from the plate hitting me." Blair let out a bitter laugh as he rubbed at the faint mark on his left temple. "Then he got mad because of the mess." Another harsh laugh escaped. "In a way I guess it's kind of funny, me standing there with scrambled eggs and blood all over me."

Blair glanced up at the two people in the room with him and saw no smiles, nor were they reflected behind the mirrored wall.

"It wasn't that bad at first. He grabbed me, but I tripped, so he ended up dragging me to the bathroom. I think he scrubbed me pretty good, but I don't recollect if he drew blood. I remember that he made me stay in the tub for a long time. It was past lunch before he let me get out and I was really cold." Blair's voice was detached as he began to detail the abuses he had suffered that last day.

"He still hates to be cold, Simon. How could I have ever teased him about it?" Jim paused, then turned towards his superior when there was no response. "Simon?"

The other man sat staring at the floor; unaware of Ellison's questioning concern. Eventually he looked up, his pain-etched face seeming older than Jim could ever remember recalling. "She ignored what was happening to her son. What kind of a woman could do that?"

It was Jim's turn to be the comforter in the small room. "Simon, she wasn't there; she didn't know."

"She was his mother. How in the hell could she not know?" No one under his command, not even those he considered friends, had ever seen Banks become this emotional, but he didn't care. "Nine, hell, even ten years old is still a baby. You don't leave a baby with someone you don't know. I don't care if he was going to be the brother-in-law, she didn't know him. No matter what else happens, your kid comes first. She didn't learn that lesson fast enough and Blair paid the price for it."

Jim nodded slightly before turning back towards the glass. "Maybe, but I can't worry about it right now, because you're right. I need to spend all my energy on taking care of Blair. I can't waste it on being angry at her."

Stepping close to Jim, Simon laid his hand on the small of Jim's back; a touch of comfort he had seen many times between the two friends. "That's all right, Jim. I have enough anger for the both of us."

"What happened after he let you out of the tub?" Woodley was good at her job and as much as she hated pushing about such painful ugliness, she knew how necessary it was at times. "Do you remember what happened after that?"

"Well sure." The memory seemed to lighten Blair's pain. "He put me in the closet."

Woodley glanced past Blair, to Henshaw, then towards the mirrored partition as she shrugged her shoulders. Blair tilted his head, noting her confusion.

"He'd put me in the closet if he wasn't in the mood to hurt me. It was safe, see. As long as I was locked in there, nothing bad would happen to me. Guess that's why I never became claustrophobic. The young man smiled at his own pun, then the pain returned to his face. "Eventually, he'd unlock the door."

"What happened that day, when he unlocked the door?"

Blair's gaze returned to the floor. "He was drunk and really mad."

Woodley continued to press. "Why was he mad, Blair? Do you remember, was it about you?"

The silence was painful, as the young man relived the incident in his mind. "No. Well, not exactly. He had called the hospital. He said the doctors had told him Tony would never be well enough to come home. It was my fault; the accident was my fault, and he wanted to know why I did it."

It was a long time before the question was asked which could not be ignored. "Why you did what, Blair?" It wasn't fitting for an investigating officer to shed tears at the witness' pain, but the men behind the mirror didn't notice through their own tears.

For too long the tears of pain had been beaten into submission and now could not be released. With a dry face, he answered with the barest of whispers. "Why I destroyed a good man? Why I took a man who wanted to be my father and twisted his love into something that took his soul away? That's what he said. He said God had taken Tony's soul from him as a punishment for trying to be a father to a fatherless bastard. He said it was my turn to be punished."

Even the questions were whispered. "Is that what he did? Did he punish you?"

"Yes. He punished me. He hurt me really bad." Blair pressed the heel of his hands against his temples. "I don't want to talk about this, but I guess I have to."

"No, you don't." This time Henshaw was a little more adamant about stepping in. "You are the victim here and you don't have to talk about anything that makes you too uncomfortable.

"Thank you." Jim's voice was hoarse as he thanked the man who could not hear him from behind the mirror. So focused on what was happening on the other side of that thin wall of silver-coated glass, Jim did not hear Simon until he touched Jim's shoulder.

"He seems to be pretty good. At least he's taking care of Sandburg. How'd you find him?"

A ghost of a smile brushed against Jim's unusually pale features. "I don't know, Simon. You'll have to ask Joel. I gave him my paycheck and asked him to get Blair the best lawyer he could find."

"Your paycheck? Your entire paycheck? I never considered the costs of..."

A flash of anger reminded Simon he was dealing with a very over-protective Sentinel. "We're talking about Blair, sir. I don't give a damn about the money."

Simon's response was just as angry. "And you think I do? Damn it, Jim, when are you going to get it through your thick skull. You may love him, but he's my friend, too. Did it ever occur to you that other people are hurting for him besides you? Why can't you let us help him?" Banks began to pace the tiny room. "None of us will ever understand the depth of the relationship the two of you share, but it doesn't lessen the friendship we feel for him."

Ellison sagged against the glass wall, rubbing his face with one hand. "You're right, Simon. I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional. It wasn't thought out at all. Joel showed up outside the courtroom and told me Sandburg had been arrested. He needed a lawyer, the lawyer needed a retainer and the paycheck was in my pocket. Even if I had thought about it, there wasn't time to do it any differently. I'm sorry." Jim's voice picked up speed as he spoke, truly embarrassed that his actions could be interpreted as cutting their friends out of their lives again.

"No, Jim. I'm sorry. We settled this last week. I had no right to bring it up again. Just promise me that you'll let us help with the rest of this mess."

"I know I don't have to talk about this Mr. Henshaw, but I need to. I want to. Otherwise, I keep being his victim. He's taken enough of my life already; he's not getting any more." ~ Not when my life is Jim. ~ Blair sat up a little straighter and looked past Henshaw and Woodley, looked to the mirrored wall. He closed his eyes and looked again with his heart at the man who would always be there for him. Blair Sandburg opened his eyes again. "I am no longer Dwayne Olson's victim."

Blair continued to explain the circumstances of that day so long ago. "He didn't give me time to get dressed. He just dragged me into his study. I fell, I think, and hit my head. The next thing I remember was him standing over me saying if I didn't wake up soon, he'd make sure I wouldn't wake up at all. I heard him take off his belt, and then he hit me with it. He hit me across the face with it. He'd never hit my face before, always someplace where it wouldn't show, so I knew I was in big trouble."

Woodley reached across the table, but didn't touch him. "Because this time he didn't care?"

Blair looked down at his hands before he looked up at her and continued. "I could see it in his eyes. It was like he had snapped. He didn't care about anything, not about being discovered, not about anything. I knew I was going to be dead soon.

"What were you thinking?"

He thought about her question. "I was scared for Mom. I didn't know what he would do once he didn't have me to hurt anymore. I thought he might go after her."

The answer clearly shocked the middle-aged woman as she straightened in her seat. "What about you? Weren't you scared for you?"

At first, Blair didn't answer her, but turned and looked into the two-way mirror.

Simon watched as the young man stared at the observation mirror. For a second it seemed as if he was looking directly through the mirror and into their faces. Simon shook off the thought. ~ Don't be ridiculous, he's not the Sentinel. Besides, even Jim can't see through that mirror. Can he? ~ As the seconds ticked by, Banks recalled another conversation with the young man. One that had happened just a week ago, one that still hurt to think about. ~ I've been there, Simon. I know what it's like to hurt so bad that you want to end it. ~ He turned to Jim but before he could ask he saw the same memory in the other man's eyes.

Ellison turned to him, leaning heavily on the mirrored wall as horror took his strength. "Oh my God, Simon. Oh my God."

Blair turned back to his interviewer, but not before she saw an apology in his eyes -- one which was not meant for her. "For myself? No. I wasn't scared, I was relieved. It was going to be over." He again turned his face towards the table. "I was ready for it to be over."

"What..." Woodley's voice cracked before she continued. "What happened next? Can you tell us?"

"He...I tried to get away, but there was no place to go. He pinned my arm behind me and started to grope me. He had done it before, hell, after two weeks, it was routine. But this time was different. More..." Unable to find peace with the memories, the hurting observer stood and began to pace the small room. His third circuit of the room brought him next to the mirror and he stopped, leaning his head against the cool surface and brushing his hand across it.

On the other side of the reflective wall Jim paced as well, the forgotten mug wrapped dangerously tight in one hand. Simon was braced for the sound of flesh against plaster, but it never came. Instead, the Sentinel gave a sharp laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob as he closed his eyes and leaned against the chilled surface. "Why, Simon? Why wasn't there anyone there to protect him?" Simon didn't answer him, but instead watched his friends become true mirror images of each other, unknowingly leaning together on the glass. One hand each, brushing the surface in perfect sync.

"How was it different?" The question was softer, lower. It was as if the weight of the memories were pushing down on them all.

"He didn't have anything to lose, we both knew that he was going to kill me. It was like that had freed him. Freed him to do what he wanted with me, without worrying about getting caught. He didn't care about anything but his own sick fun. He had his gun and he..."

The pacing resumed as Blair again coped with a new onslaught of memories. Trembling hands tied back his hair before he spoke again. "I...I never answered your question earlier. Yes, there was penetration, he used...he used objects." Another bout of pacing interrupted the questions, as Woodley waited for him to calm down.

"He had his gun." Blair broke off, his eyes pleading with the older woman to understand what he couldn't say.

"Did he threaten you with the gun?"

"No, he used it on me." Pain filled eyes stared at the woman, willing her to understand what he could not vocalize as he sank back into his chair.

"Used? Oh dear Lord." The silence which followed was deafening. After a quick glance at Henshaw's face, the veteran of ten years of child abuse cases drew a deep breath and forced herself to maintain her professionalism.

"Blair, I'm sorry, but I need to ask this officially for the record. Are you saying that Dwayne Olson, in the act of a sexual assault, caused sexual penetration with his service weapon?"

Blair leaned against the wall before sliding down onto the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle; eventually he dipped his head in conformation. "Yes, he did. It was a revolver and he put one bullet in it and spun it. Said we were going to play Russian Roulette."

Impossible as it seemed, the people in the room with Blair paled even more. Taking a look at the face of the female detective, Henshaw asked the needed question. "While he was...assaulting... you with it, did he...?" Even the attorney couldn't verbalize the image in his head.

Blair didn't need to hear the question to know what it was. "He pulled the trigger three times."

Simon stared at the scene in front of him, unable to react until he heard the sound of breaking ceramic. Turning, he glanced down and saw the shards of broken coffee mug in a puddle of cold coffee on the floor at Jim's feet. ~ He dropped his cup. No surprise, I'm ready to lose my lunch. ~ Before Banks could offer to have it cleaned, a drop of red splashed down into the dark brown liquid. Following the trail up, he found a bloody hand still clutching the shattered remnants of the mug. "Shit, Jim!" He pulled out a handkerchief and began to clean the wound, stopping to pull out several imbedded pieces of what had been Jim's favorite mug.

The other man didn't flinch when the large chunks of pottery were being removed from his hand and Simon realized he was dealing with a zone-out. The Sentinel's face was blank, his eyes locked on the young face behind the glass wall. "Shit, Jim." He repeated, shaking the shorter man hard. "This is not the time to do this. Sandburg's in no condition to pull you out." Remembering Jim's last zone-out at the loft after the attack on Sandburg, Simon spun him around, causing him to break visual contact with what was happening.

"Blair, oh babe, what...God, Simon what kind of a monster would do that to a little boy." Jim's legs sagged and Banks dragged him to the nearest chair and continued to work on the bloody palm. "I wish he wasn't dead."

"You wish WHAT?" That was not the response Banks was expecting. "How could you want him alive?"

Ellison's voice was low, but the intent was clear. "So I could kill him, myself."

Simon finished his first aid. ~ Not if I got to him first. ~

Stepping in front of Blair, Woodley knelt down and grasped his hands. "You're tired, I know, but we're almost done. Tell me what happened next."

"Mom walked in. I could tell by the look on Dwayne's face, that he wasn't expecting her." Blair pulled away, uncomfortable with the contact. "She saw what he was doing to me and she went wild. She jumped on him and started hitting him. I'd never heard her even raise her voice before that day and there she was, like a wildcat, hanging onto him and ripping him to shreds. They ended up in the kitchen before he finally kicked her off. She went down hard and didn't move. I thought she was dead. I thought he had killed her."

He stopped again, lost in thought for a while. Those with him waited patiently, understanding how horrible this must be to recall. It had to be. Just hearing it was almost more than any of them could bear.

"He was standing over her, staring. I thought she was dead. He started taking his clothes off, he was going to rape her. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let him touch her, even if she was dead."

"What did you do?"

"There was this big pan on the counter, a skillet. It was real heavy; it must have been cast iron. Before the accident, Tony had been working with me on my batting for little league. I picked up the skillet and swung it like I was going for a home run."

Professionalism was out the window. "You poor baby, weren't you scared, what if he had used it to hurt you?"

"I wasn't scared...." The young man thought for moment. "I was resigned. I thought my mother was dead, and I knew that he was going to kill me, it was just a matter of when. I didn't want to see what he was going to do to her body, so..."

"So you tried to provoke him into finishing you off first." Henshaw's face showed a depth of compassion rarely seen in his profession.

"Yes, sir." Blair chewed on his bottom lip. "I must have improved my batting more than I thought, because he went down and landed on Mom. She moaned when he fell on her. I think by then I was in shock because the rest is kind of fuzzy."

Woodley was surprised by how much he had remembered. "That's all right, Blair. Just tell us what you do remember, no matter how little, or unimportant it may seem."

Blair glanced up at her, then let his gaze drop back down to the tabletop. "She crawled out from under him, and...she was crying and asking me if I was okay. Then she said we had to get out of there before he woke up. She wrapped me in her sweater and told me to get in her car, then she disappeared. When she came back, I hadn't moved. I couldn't stop staring at him lying there. I remember Mom grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around me. Then she picked me up and we ran out to the car." Exhausted by the memories, Blair leaned back in his chair.

Woodley knew her next few questions were very critical to the young man's future. "Blair, how long was your mother out of the room?"

He understood the question. "Only about 45 seconds, no longer that a minute, I swear. All she took were our emergency backpacks, we left everything else we owned there."

"Where was the gun?"

Blair frowned, trying to remember. "The last time I remember seeing it was in the study. I think he dropped it when she jumped on his back."

"Did you, at any time, pick it up?"

"Willingly touch it?" He seemed to shrink back at the thought. "No, never, I couldn't. Not after what he used it for."

Woodley decided to drop that line of questioning. The attorney seemed ready to jump on her about it and later she could have sworn that she heard the growling of a large cat in the distance.

"All right, Detective, I think you have enough for today. Mr. Sandburg has answered all of your questions." Henshaw began to gather his notes. He had allowed the questioning to continue unchecked because it benefited his client, but now it was time to stop.

"He's given you enough information and he's been through enough for one day. There is not enough evidence to hold him on any crime, not according to Washington law, not according to Texas law and not even according to federal law. When Williams crawls out from under whatever rock he's hiding beneath, you can tell him to get a court date because he's not taking my client anywhere without a court order from this state."

Woodley was glad. Although she couldn't admit it, she wanted to protect the young man too. "All right, I just have one more question if you don't mind?" Woodley asked quietly, trying to maintain her professionalism, but knowing if she didn't get out of the room soon she would break down and cry.

Henshaw studied his client, then nodded.

"Blair, to the best of your knowledge, was Dwayne Olson alive when you and your mother left that night?"

He stared at her hard before answering. "I honestly don't know, but I do know there were no bullet holes in him."

"Simon, what do I do?" Tears welling up in his eyes, Ellison turned to his captain and friend. "How do I fix this?"

Banks thought for a long time before answering him. "Look at him, Jim. He's not broken, he doesn't need fixing. He's already survived this. He's just going to need your support. Sandburg is strong enough to get through this."

Haunted blue eyes stared at, then through the captain, before Ellison answered him in a broken whisper. "Yeah, but I don't know if I am."

"This is my official statement, isn't it?" Blair was still quiet, but there was a calmness about him now.

Laura looked up, surprised that he had the energy left to continue. "Yes, it is. Is there something you want to add, something we haven't covered?"

He nodded, looking away for a moment to collect his thoughts. "When the authorities in Texas get this, I want them to know that the people I work with here at the department knew nothing about this. I would have never come to work here if I thought this could have reflected on them."

"I love my mom, I love her a lot. But my friends here are not just friends; they're my family. In some ways, Simon's almost as much of a father to me as Tony was; though he'd never admit it. And Jim, well Jim's more than a best friend, a lot more. That's why I was willing to return to Texas without a fight -- so I wouldn't drag them down with me." Blair sat up straight in the chair and stared at the two people seated at the table with him. "I didn't kill Dwayne Olson. I know that now." He looked more confident and in control than he had since this whole thing had started.

Henshaw tentatively reached out and touched Blair's arm. This time the young man did not react badly. "This is still going to be very difficult. There is a lot of pain in those memories you are carrying around. Are you ready to deal with them?"

"No matter what Williams may wish, Dwayne Olson's ghost can't reach out and grab me. As far as the memories, well, I've got a blessed protector and a bunch of guardian angels who won't let me drown ever again.

Woodley smiled at him. "I know you'd like this to be done, so let me have this typed up, then you can sign it and get out of here. With any luck, this statement should satisfy anyone involved in the case."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, anyone except Williams."

Woodley smiled and picked up her papers. "I wouldn't worry too much about him. You'll be playing with your grandchildren by the time he finishes the paperwork." Her smile became almost feral. "After all, we're a government agency too." With that, she slipped out of the room.

Before Henshaw could say anything, Blair began to speak. "I know you're my lawyer and you probably have a ton of questions you need me to answer, but could you give me a few minutes alone, please?"

"Of course, take all the time you need. I'll see about finding someplace more comfortable for you to wait." Henshaw patted his young client's arm and stepped out of the room. Once out in the hallway, he didn't hesitate, but continued into the observation room.

"Mr. Henshaw, thank you." Ellison wasted no time once the older man entered the room. Henshaw smiled, he had been briefed by Taggart on his way over and understood that when dealing with his new client, he would also be dealing with this man. "You must be Detective Ellison. Joel told me about you. ~ Enough to make me want to bring a whip and chair. ~ Let me assure you that I will do everything legally possible to protect your young man. He's obviously very traumatized by what happened, but he's also strong and in control."

Ellison silently acknowledged the man, but his attention was drawn back to the mirrored wall. His partner was now sitting cross-legged, wedged in the hard wooden chair in an attempt to meditate. When the silence became uncomfortable, Simon softly voiced his question, still stunned by Blair's comments about their friendship.

"What happens now? How anxious is Texas to get their hands on him?"

Before Henshaw could answer the question, Brown rushed into the room, Joel Taggart on his heels. "Texas doesn't want him."

"Then what the hell is going on?" Ellison's presence was back in the room and he had landed with both feet. "If they didn't want to prosecute him, why did they send a federal agent to get him?"

Taggart spoke for the first time, also watching the young man beyond the mirror.

"They didn't send him, he came here on his own. The warrants were real. They were issued to bring Blair and his mom in for questioning as witnesses, nothing more." Taggart paused and tilted his head towards the mirror. "How's he holding up?"

Ellison gave a mirthless laugh before turning away. "Better than I am." He rubbed his face before continuing. "Are you saying that this Williams character has some sort of vendetta against Sandburg? Why? He was just a kid. Why didn't he go after Naomi, she would have been a more likely suspect?"

"Yeah, you would have thought so, but he's only interested in Sandburg, not his mom." Brown continued, frowning as he spoke. "The agent in charge at the time of the murder had the records sealed. He retired about six months ago and Williams convinced his replacement to unseal the records."

Ellison turned to face Brown. "Are you saying that there was some sort of cover-up? Why?" The silence was long and uncomfortable as Brown looked at everyplace but at the face of the man asking the questions. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Did Sandburg... did Blair ever mention photographs?"

"What kind of photographs?" Horror began to show on the Sentinel's face as he began to understand what Brown was trying to say. "Olson?"

"I'm sorry, man. That sicko took pictures of what he did to the kid. Get this; the guy was part of a task force tracking serial child molesters. He was a profiler who got too much into the heads of the sick bastards he was tracking. Guess the FBI had to be pretty embarrassed to find that one of their own was taking lessons from the creeps he was after."

"So when he ended up dead one night, they just figured good riddance to bad rubbish." Ellison broke in, anger coloring his words. "They covered it up to protect the Bureau's image and just ignored the fact that there was a little boy out there who needed help."

"Sort of brings new meaning to the term, 'we're from the government, and we're here to help you', doesn't it." The attorney's voice had a bitter edge to it and he seemed lost in thought.

"Well, I," Simon paused to pull off his glasses and rub his eyes, "for one, will be a little more understanding when Naomi starts complaining about not trusting the 'pigs' to take care of her son. Any luck in finding her?"

Joel answered, regret tingeing his voice. "She left the most recent location we had for her over three weeks ago. She doesn't even know about him being in the hospital. Jim, do you have any ideas where to look for her? Did she give the kid any clue where she was going next?"

"No, when I brought him home from the hospital I offered to track her down, but he really didn't know where she was. Don't worry about it, Joel. He has me, us."

Jim's final words on the subject were faint as he turned back towards the window, watching his pale friend swaying ever so slightly in his chair. "Oh, Blair."

As he moved to leave the observation room, Henshaw reached out and snagged Jim's arm. He placed a folded paper in Ellison's hand, one that the younger man recognized immediately. Before Jim could say anything, Henshaw began to speak. "Some things you do because they're the right thing to do. Sometimes, it's so right that you can't let it be tainted with money. We'll do what needs to be done, you just take care of your partner." Jim opened the folded paper, revealing his endorsed paycheck.

There was nothing he could say, except, "Thank you." When he did, his voice was suspiciously rough and his eyes bright.

Silently, he slipped away and entered the small room his friend waited in.

"Hey, Jim." A tired smile greeted him.

"Hey, yourself." Ellison studied his friend and partner of three years, his lover of one week. Not wanting to make him feel intimidated, Jim pulled a chair close and sat down, straddling it, becoming eye-level before speaking again. "How are you doing? You look exhausted."

"Man." Blair pinched the bridge of his nose, then briskly rubbed the palms of his hands over his face. "I have never, never felt this tired. What..." The young man's words stumbled out. "What's going to happen to me now? I told Williams I wouldn't fight extradition. Can I...can I change my mind? Or is it too...is it too late, Jim?"

"There won't be any extradition because there weren't any charges." Ellison smiled at the confusion on his young love's face.

"But the warrant?"

"The warrant was for questioning. The authorities in Texas wanted to question you and Naomi as witnesses, that's all." Jim watched his partner, debating on how much to tell him right now, how much he needed to hear.

Ellison leaned forward and placed his hands on the sides of Blair's face, gently stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. "Williams has his own agenda and right now we don't know why. That warrant for questioning isn't going to get anywhere here in Cascade. He can't have you; I won't let him." He pulled Blair close, resting his forehead against Blair's.

"But if they wanted me for questioning, and I don't go...won't that make it worse?" Sandburg pulled back and worried at his bottom lip with his teeth.

"You were questioned, remember? You gave a deposition, which is being typed up right now. It's standard procedure, it's interdepartmental co-operation to send all agencies involved a copy. That's all the DA in Texas ever wanted. According to them, you've never been a suspect in the death of Dwayne Olson."

"What about the FBI?"

Ellison patted the face he held so tenderly in his hands. "They are refusing to get involved in Williams' little vendetta. He's here alone, without the blessing of any department or agency that has any say in this matter."

Sandburg stood up, pulling away from his friend and resumed his pacing in the small room. "I played right into his hands, didn't I?" Finally giving in to some of the anger, he slammed a chair into the far wall. "Man, I was such an idiot! All he had to do was wave that damn warrant and I was ready to go marching off to death row."

"Why?"

One word from Jim shouldn't have been enough to rock Blair's world, but the pained expression behind it was. For once, the man who always knew what to say didn't have a clue. Ellison took advantage of the silence and stood behind the troubled young man. He never reached out, but instead stood close enough so his words could be felt as well as heard. The words fluttered past his neck and went straight to his heart.

"Why couldn't you trust me?"

"No." The question seemed to deflate the young man. "No, I do trust you, man. I trust you with everything I've got. This wasn't about trust; I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"What else?" Jim could sense that Blair was holding something back. He turned Blair around by the shoulders and repeated the question. "What else?"

"When people know you've been 'damaged' they treat you different." The sadness in the voice of his soul mate was heart breaking, but Ellison forced himself to listen without interrupting. "Doesn't matter, revulsion or pity, it's always there. You can see it in their eyes. What we have together is the most important thing in the world to me."

"You thought you'd lose that?" ~ Do you have that little faith in me, Chief? ~

"No. NO!, Jim, that's not what I thought at all. But I was afraid things would change. That you..." Blair stopped, struggling to find the right words to express what he feared. "Not very many people in my life have treated me as an equal. I was always smaller, younger, different. Especially here in your world. Do you know how many times I've heard 'you're not a cop, Sandburg' or 'you're not trained for this, Sandburg' or 'let the professionals handle it, Sandburg'? You are the first person to really treat me as an equal, even before we were lovers. You worry, you argue, but when it comes down to it, when it really counts, you treat me as an equal." Speech over, Sandburg slumped over in the nearest chair. "I knew it was going to change, I just didn't want to see it when it did."

Understanding how important his next words were to his beloved's psyche, Jim thought carefully as he crouched down in front of the chair, stroking his arms in a soothing pattern. "You've come through the most horrible nightmare I could ever imagine and you did it on your own. Now you're trying to protect me."

"You're right, though, about how I'd feel. Well, almost right." Jim stopped and smiled; his eyes bright with unshed tears. "You are the strongest, bravest, most courageous person I have ever known, ever had the honor of loving. It's not a matter of you no longer being my equal; it's a question of my no longer being yours."

Two exhausted men entered the loft well after dark that night. Guided more by instinct that sight, Blair eased across the room to collapse on the sofa. Jim detoured into the kitchen to set down the bags of take-out and flip on a light before settling down on the arm of the sofa, pulling Blair back to lean against him and gently kissing his temple. Jim was amazed by the strength shown by the smaller man, but didn't have a clue as to how to broach the subject. As usual, it was Blair who broke the silence.

"What took them so long? He was a FBI agent, for God's sake. Why did it take 20 years to track me down? We never hid; we never used fake identification. Weren't they looking for us?"

~ Don't go there, Baby. ~ "I don't think they were." ~ Please drop it. I won't lie to you, so please don't ask me. ~

"Why not?" Blair shifted around to see Jim's face. "Why weren't they looking for me, Jim?"

"They... they knew about the abuse, Sandburg. I'm sorry, I guess they figured he got what was coming to him." Jim answered as honestly as he could, knowing his mate needed the truth.

"They knew? They knew?" Blair ran shaky hands through his hair before continuing. "What do you mean, they knew? Knew when? Did they know all along what was happening to me? I don't think I could take the idea of somebody else knowing and not helping me."

"It was during the investigation that... wait a minute... somebody else? Are you saying that somebody knew what was being done to you and didn't stop it, didn't tell anyone? Was it Naomi, did she know?" Ellison clamped his mouth shut, instinctively knowing that he couldn't push his Guide to talk about this. He had to wait and proceed at the other man's pace. Patience was not the Sentinel's strong suit; but he was learning.

As his grandfather had told him many times, patience has its own reward. Jim's came when Blair turned around and leaned back against him. Over the last ten days, Ellison had learned that his beloved could not always face him when baring his soul. In a move that would have made his grandfather proud, Jim tenderly stroked the tense shoulders while waiting for Blair to speak.

"No, it wasn't Naomi, he did everything while she was staying at the hospital with Tony. Dwayne's house was in the country. I mean way out in the country. There was only one other house I could even see from there. I got away from Dwayne one day and ran there as fast as I could. I figured, you know, that he would help me, that he would stand up to Dwayne or maybe help me get away. At the least, I thought I could call my mom and she could come save me."

"What happened?" Deep in his gut, Jim needed to hear the answer even though he knew it would be something he didn't want to hear.

"He took me back. He said Dwayne was an important man because he was a FBI agent and that I wasn't worth it. He..." Blair's head bowed down as his voice broke, "he dragged me back there because I wasn't worth the trouble."

Jim bit back a cry of pain, pulling his love even closer to his chest to bury his face in the chestnut curls. It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did his voice was rough and shaky. "You are to me, Baby. You're worth it to me." When he could breathe again, Jim squeezed the younger man, then released him.

"Why don't you clean up while I reheat the Chinese food?"

Blair nodded, then slipped off to the bathroom unaware of the drops of salty moisture glistening in his hair.

Simon Banks had been staring at the same page for over an hour when Joel knocked on the door and entered the office without waiting for an answer.

"I thought you went home, Joel." Banks made no attempt to hide his exhaustion from his old friend.

"I'm on my way. I'm going to meet Sharon for a late supper in a few minutes. Thought you'd want to see this right away and be the one to tell Jim and Blair." He handed Simon the printout in his hand. "We've finally located Naomi."

"You've located her? That's great, Joel. I'll take care of this myself...wait a minute, did you say Sharon? Your Sharon?"

"Yeah, Simon, my Sharon. The kid called her while he was still in the hospital and got us to talk, believe it or not. Hell, before we knew what was happening, he had us in a counseling group for parents who'd lost a child. That's where I met that lawyer, Henshaw. His daughter was killed by a drunk driver."

Simon couldn't help but smile at the burly man standing in front of his desk, blushing. "So are you and Sharon going to start..."

"We're talking, Simon, that's all. We're talking, but talking is good, right?"

"Talking is very good, Joel." For the first time in hours, Banks smiled. "So what are you still doing here? Go on, get going." Simon made shooing motions with his hands.

Joel paused at the door. "So what are you going to do about Naomi? I'm not sure seeing her would be the best thing for the kid right now."

"Neither am I, but I'm sure as hell going to find out, before she gets anywhere near him."

"That's not what I meant, Simon." Taggart stepped back into the office and closed the door behind him. "Come on, man, she fell in love with a guy who wanted not only her, but to be a dad to her kid. Then he's in an accident and Naomi leaves her son with the guy's family while she stays at the hospital with him. She loved Tony. How was she to know that his brother was some sick pervert? He was an FBI agent who tracked down the sick bastards who hurt little kids. How was she supposed to know that he had become one?"

"She just should have."

"Like you should have known that Daryl's nanny would neglect him?" Understanding showed in Taggart's face as he moved to sit in front of Simon's desk. "When I was projecting my pain about losing Davy, you called me on it. Now it's my turn. A bad woman came into your son's life, and you didn't recognize it in time to prevent him from getting hurt. That doesn't make you a bad parent, it makes you human, just like Naomi. The two of you are a lot alike, you know."

"Naomi and I are nothing alike." Banks noticeably stiffened and turned away. "How could you even suggest it?"

Joel recognized that this macabre dance was the mirror image of one which had occurred just over a week ago in this same office. He took a deep breath and turned the table on his old friend.

"Did you know the nanny had a drinking problem when you hired her?

"What?" Simon's anger exploded from behind his normally cool persona. "How in the hell could you even suggest such a thing?" No matter where he turned in his chair, it seemed Joel was still in front of him. "If I'd had any idea what kind of a person she was, I wouldn't have let her in the same state as my boy!"

Joel kept the pressure on. "How many times did she neglect him or hit him? How many times did he lay in his crib and cry because she was too busy hitting the gin to take care of him? How many times did he go hungry because she couldn't be bothered to feed him?"

Simon seemed to deflate right in front of Joel, his voice breaking. "Do you know how many nights those same questions kept me awake? He was just a baby, he doesn't remember anything about her, but I'll take the memories to my grave with me."

"When you discovered what she was doing, you stopped her, didn't you?" Joel knew exactly where he was going with this.

"Did I stop her? If I'd had my gun, I would have shot her. If Joan hadn't been there, I would have killed her with my bare hands." Simon began to see the pattern his friend was developing.

Taggart nodded and smiled at the recognition he saw in Simon's face. "Daryl is a strong young man with an innate sense of right and wrong who grew up secure in the love of his family. In a love which was strong enough to heal him. Sound like anyone else we know?"

"Damn, you're good, Joel."

Taggart smiled softly. "Yeah, well, I learned from the master." With that, he left Simon to his thoughts.

A much calmer Simon Banks called and made reservations for the red-eye flight to New Mexico.

The dishes were left in the sink as Jim led Blair up the stairs to the bedroom. Without uttering a sound he stripped the young man down and helped him into bed. Blair watched as Jim stripped down and lay on top of the covers.

"Are you ashamed of me?" The child-like voice startled Jim.

He rose up on one elbow to watch Blair. "What?" He realized that Blair was referring to the blankets that formed a barrier between their bodies. "I thought you'd be uncomfortable, so I..."

"I need you. More than ever, Jim; I need your arms around me." Blair stared at him, praying that the ghost of Dwayne Olson wouldn't destroy their young love.

It took only a second for Jim to realize that everything between them was on the line right now. With a reassuring smile he pulled the covers out from under him and crawled underneath them. When he opened his arms, Blair scooted over and buried his face against Jim's strong chest.

Instinct took over and Jim stroked the tense shoulders and back. When his hand ventured lower he froze, remembering Blair's reluctance at ass play. He pulled back sharply and rested his hand back onto Blair's shoulder.

The younger man looked up, questioningly, and then sadness filled his face. "I'm sorry, it must make your skin crawl to even think about it. I can go sleep downstairs if you'd like."

"No." Jim's words were barely whispered and he clung to the figure in his arms. Struggling to put into words what he was feeling, he rocked them back and forth as he tried to explain. "Up at the cabin, when I was touching you...down there...and you wanted to wait, it was because of what that animal had done to you, wasn't it?"

The silence that greeted him was enough of an answer for the Sentinel. He didn't need to dial up his hearing; he could feel the pounding of Blair's heart against his own ribcage.

"It's all right, Babe. That's something we don't ever have to do. I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable about us - anything about us." Solemnly, he sealed his words with a kiss.

Blair shifted slightly, resting his chin on Jim's sternum. To the Sentinel, it was a long time before the younger man spoke. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I want to do everything with you. Up at the cabin, I just..." He swallowed hard and laid his forehead on Jim, muffling his words.

"You just what, Blair?" Jim's fingers traced soft patterns on Blair's upper back as his words barely broke the silence of the room. The younger man settled in further. Jim could feel Blair's eyelashes tickling his nipple as he turned his face.

"This last week at the cabin, it was like a honeymoon." Blair paused and Jim smiled at the description. "It was so picture perfect and I didn't want to talk about Dwayne and what he did to me, but I knew that if we made love...you'd feel the scars."

Jim bit back a curse and pulled Blair even closer. He'd never even considered the possibility that Dwayne's attack had left those kinds of scars and once again he cursed the fates that had killed Olson before he could exact his own revenge. Gentle snoring broke into his dark thoughts, but it was near daybreak before the Sentinel followed his Guide into slumber.

Jim woke to the sounds of Blair puttering around the kitchen. Wordlessly, he slipped on his robe and went down the stairs to watch Blair put the finishing touches on their breakfast.

When Blair finally noticed Jim's scrutiny he smiled. "Morning Jim. Did you sleep much or were you up, keeping me safe most of the night?"

"Comes with the territory, Sandburg. You didn't have to fix breakfast this morning."

He shrugged. "I know, but it's normal. I needed normal, I guess. Eat up while it's still hot."

Ellison sat at his place at the table before he looked at his plate. It was his regular Saturday breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast.

~ "I ...I had a box I stood on to reach the stove. Anyway, I fixed his regular breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast but he didn't like it and he threw it at me." ~

Jim stared at his breakfast; one that his friend had been making for twenty years, then barely made to the bathroom. Concerned, Blair followed, but stayed in the hallway to give him some privacy. When the sound of retching stopped, Blair quietly entered the small bathroom, filled a small glass with water and handed it to the older man.

"Here, Jim. That's it, slowly. Little sips, how are you doing? Better?" Blair rubbed circles on his friend's back and watched as his breathing slowed and calmed.

Jim took a deep breath as he stood and turned to face his beloved. "How could you stand me doing it?" His hands began to wave around as his agitation came to the foreground. "How could you stand to fix me breakfast? Were you scared to say something? Were you scared of ...oh, God, were you scared of me?"

Blair caught the flying hands and held them tight. "Jim, what are you talking about? Why would I be scared of you? Why would fixing your breakfast..." Realization hit the younger man and he fell silent, unsure how to answer the other man's questions.

Sorrow hit as the Sentinel misunderstood his Guide's silence. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Blair."

"No, Jim." Blair struggled to find the right words to say what was in his heart. While he thought, he began to rub the palms of his Sentinel's hands in an instinctive calming pattern. "Nothing about you reminds me of him. Do you understand that, Jim? Nothing. He was pure, unadulterated evil. The two of you are so different, I can't even think of you both at the same time. For everything he took away from me, you gave back ten-fold. The only way I can go back through the darkness which he left me in is because you're shining on me, illuminating my way home." Blair saw Jim lean his head down towards him and moved slightly so their foreheads rested together.

The two men stood for a long time like that, drawing strength from one another, until the soft rumbling of unfed stomachs pulled them apart. Blair chuckled and it was like a drink of water to his friend's thirsty soul.

Jim's smile matched his. "Never let it be said that I made you fix breakfast twice in one morning. Let me take a quick shower and we'll go grab some breakfast on our way to the beach."

"The beach? It's still wintertime."

"Good, less crowded."

"Bad, more cold."

Jim's hands slid out of Blair's soothing ones to reach up and tug on the collar of one of the flannel shirts the other man was wearing. "A bundled guppy is a warm guppy."

Blair laughed again as he left the bathroom. "Just no snowsuit, man."

~ Have to get him one for his next birthday. ~ The older man's soft laughter was a welcome sound to Blair as the shower started.

New Mexico

"Simon, what's wrong?" Naomi was out the door and across the dirt yard before the rental car came to a stop. "What's happened to Blair? Is he...Simon...no..."

Strong dark hands grasped her arms as her legs buckled. "He's alright, Naomi. He's with Jim. Jim's taking care of him." Not knowing what kind of a reaction the red-haired woman would have, he did not release her as he spoke. "I need to talk to you about Dwayne Olson."

"Dwayne...is he...did he come after Blair? Did he try to hurt him?" Despite Simon's strong grasp, she pulled away from him. "What has he done to my Blair?"

Looking into the frightened face of Blair's mother, Simon felt the last of his anger towards the woman fade. "He's dead, Naomi. He will never hurt Blair again." Understanding the relief she would feel at those words, Banks was prepared when she sagged against him. "Blair's safe, it's over. Olson will never hurt Blair or anyone else ever again."

Trying to regain her composure, Naomi stepped back wiping her eyes. "How did he die? Did Jim kill him?"

"Naomi..." Simon wasn't sure just how to tell her what had happened in the last day, how their worlds had been turned upside down. "Olson was killed the night you and Blair left. He was..."

"I killed him. That's why you're here without Blair, you're here to arrest me."

"Why don't we go inside and talk about what happened that day." Simon gently turned her towards the door of the small house and followed her inside.

Naomi entered the house, stepping past the living room and into the kitchen. Without a word, she started to make a pot of tea. Simon kept silent also, giving her time to compose herself. While he waited, he examined the contents of the sparse room. Simon's hands began to shake as he saw the large tray of prescription bottles on the table.

Before he could ask, Naomi spoke up. "They're not mine. I'm here taking care of an old friend." She set a cup in front of him, then sat at the table with her own cup in hand. "What do you need to know? I walked in and he was attacking my baby. I hit him; I hit him hard enough to kill him, then we ran. He was alive when we left, but I didn't get him any medical help. I had to protect Blair."

~ Like you're doing now. ~ "What did you hit him with?"

"I'm not sure, it was a long time ago."

"Why did you shoot him?"

"What? I...he..."

"You didn't shoot him, did you? You weren't the one who hit him either, were you? Tell me the truth, what happened that day? Lying won't protect Blair and we can't protect him if we don't know the truth, all of it."

"You don't know what it's like...to walk in and find someone hurting your baby."

~ Yes I do. ~ "Tell me."

"I had just spent three weeks at the hospital with Tony, my fianc. He had been in a horrible car accident. The hospital near where we were living wasn't set up to handle such serious injuries and he had been moved to another hospital further away."

"Dwayne was Tony's brother. They weren't close but he lived only about 50 miles away and he offered to keep Blair while I stayed at the hospital. At first the doctors thought Tony could hear me, that my being there was helping him." She stopped to wipe her eyes and Simon handed her his handkerchief. "He was the only man who ever loved me enough for me to want to stay. He loved Blair so much; he was so excited to be his dad. Tony was going to adopt Blair, he'd already started the paperwork so that we would be a real family. I had to do everything I could to help him get better. Can't you see that?"

Simon nodded without saying a word. He could understand why Naomi had made the decisions she had. Understanding, however, didn't help the hollow pain in his chest.

Naomi stood and began to pace in the small room. "That last day, the doctors had finally admitted there was no hope, the brain damage was too severe. 'Our' Tony was gone...and he was never coming back. I left the hospital to drive back to Dwayne's house. There are just some things you don't tell a child over the phone, that you don't tell anyone over the phone."

Naomi slumped back into the chair and began to cry again. Simon leaned forward to hear her soft voice. "When I got there, he was hurting my beautiful little boy, Captain Banks. I tried to stop him, but I didn't do a very good job. He threw me down and I was fighting to stay conscious. Then I felt him land on me, and Blair was standing over him. He dropped something out of his hands, something big and dark, and started backing away."

"I tried to get him to talk to me, to tell me if he was okay, but he wouldn't answer me. I put my sweater on him and pushed him towards the door and told him to go get in my car. Then I went upstairs to get our packs. I had moved us out of the apartment we had before the accident and all of our things were there, at Dwayne's."

"What was so important that you left Blair in the room with his molester?" Try as he might, Banks could not keep all of the anger out of his voice.

Naomi visibly stiffened at the tone of Simon's voice. "I had cash hidden in my pack, along with Blair's birth certificate and addresses of people who could help us if Dwayne came after us. I didn't go back to retrieve a new dress, if that's what you were thinking. And I thought that Blair was in a dead run out to the car."

It was Simon's turn to cringe. "I'm sorry, I was out of line. Was there anyone else you know of who might have had a reason to kill Olson?

Naomi scraped at a spot on the kitchen table with her fingernail. When she finally answered, her voice was barely a whisper. "Obviously, I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. I'm probably not the person who you should be asking."

"Did you ever suspect?" Somewhere the questions had ceased to be part of a police investigation and were now from one parent to another.

Naomi was lost in her own painful memories as she absently answered the question. "No, I never suspected. I never dreamed he could be so different from Tony. Tony loved Blair so much; wouldn't he have told me if his brother was a danger to him? Dwayne was Tony's brother, he would have known, he should have known."

Remembering his own failure to protect a boy he loved, Simon grasped Naomi's arm hard enough to make her wince before realizing and letting go.

"You care about him." It was a statement as much as a question.

For a second, Simon looked like he was sharing a private joke with the woman across the table from him. "Sometimes I catch myself treating him like Daryl, like an older version of Daryl."

Naomi returned the smile. With a quiet "Wait here" she left the room, only to return a few moments later with a photo album. Opening the heavy album, she slid a faded envelope out from behind a photo of a smiling, curly-haired boy in a Superman costume. "It was easier for Blair to never talk about what happened. Even all the therapists I sent him to couldn't get him to open up completely. Jim makes him feel safe, and so do you. I can tell by the way he talks about you."

Simon gently squeezed her hand and waited for her to continue.

"Blair doesn't know that I still have these pictures. Losing Tony hurt him as much as what Dwayne did to him. We were on top of the world, you know. The three of us were the perfect family. How could it all go so wrong, so fast?" Naomi fell silent as Banks studied the pictures on the table.

A younger Naomi with a curly-haired boy sat roasting marshmallows at a campfire. The same young boy with a tall, dark haired man was flying a kite in another one. Picture after picture of a happy, loving family. Pictures which reminded him of a time when he had taken similar pictures.

"Was it wrong?" Naomi's voice brought Simon back to the present. "Was I wrong to want a chance to be happy, for us to be happy?"

"No, of course not." Simon blinked back tears as he thought about the little boy who had been hurt all those years ago and how he had grown up to be the man who affected them all so deeply now.

"How do I help him through this?"

Simon thought for a moment before answering the petite redhead. "I think part of what is keeping Sandburg going right now is his belief that he is protecting you from it."

"You're not going to tell him about your trip down here, are you?" Naomi saw the troubled look on the dark face in front of her and hastened to reassure him. "It's probably for the best he doesn't know. If things change and he...if he needs..."

Banks knew what she was trying to say. "I'll call you the second that happens. You have my word." An unspoken message seemed to pass between them as one parent to another in the silence that followed.

"Take care of him."

Simon didn't say anything as he picked up his coat, but the expression on his face was answer enough. He was almost to the door before she spoke again.

"Tony loved Blair like he was his own. He said blood didn't make a dad, love did. That's why he wanted to adopt him, to tell the world that Blair was his son now. He couldn't have known what kind of man Dwayne was. He wouldn't have kept something like that from me. Would he?"

Banks didn't have an answer for her as he walked back to his car.

Cascade

Two men sat wrapped around each other on the cold and deserted beach, drawing strength and warmth from each other. Blair looked up into the face of his lover only to find eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Jim?" He turned to face his older companion. "Talk to me, man. What's going on?"

"I can't get it out of my head. I think about what you went through and..."

"Two weeks."

"What?"

"It was two weeks out of a whole lifetime. I was lucky; it could have been a whole lot worse. What if Naomi had been in the car with Tony? Dwayne knew the system and how to work it. He could have ended up with custody of me. I could have ended up his own personal playground and who would have stopped him?" Blair hesitated as he felt a shudder pass through Jim's body.

"Don't say that. Don't even think that." Ellison's voice was raw with emotion. "You could have died before I even met you. I keep seeing you at the hospital that first day, when you pretended to be a doctor so you could talk to me. Do you remember?"

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Blair smiled. "My brief foray into the medical profession? Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

"It's almost like a vision."

That got the younger man's attention. "Tell me."

Jim nodded and cleared his throat before starting. "You're standing in front of me, giving me that line of bull about the correct pronunciation of the name on the lab coat you acquired and you start to disappear."

"Disappear?"

"Yeah, like you're fading or something. There's a voice. It's not out loud, but in my head, telling me you were the only one who could ever help me, but you were already dead because there was no one to protect you. Then you realized what was happening to you and you reached out to me. I tried to grab you, but my hand went right through your arm. You kept fading until there was nothing left but your voice, begging me to help you. In my head I could see everything that I was losing with you and I started screaming 'No' but then you were gone and suddenly I was in a straight-jacket in a room somewhere with my senses totally out of control. I was so alone, Blair. I've never felt that alone before."

"Oh, Jim." Blair's voice was barely above a whisper as he took Jim's hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. "Do you feel that? Do you? I'm here and I'm real. He didn't take me away from you. Nobody is going to take me away from you. Certainly not Dwayne, or his memory."

"Not even his partner?" Jim's voice was rough as he turned to face his friend. "What was that all about, Chief? I still don't understand. When I was accused of being a dirty cop you were right there, fighting for me, believing in me. Why didn't you want me fighting for you? You never gave me a chance."

"I'm an anthropologist, Jim."

"If that was suppose to be a big revelation Sandburg, I think it lost something in the translation." In spite of himself, Jim grinned at him. "You want to clarify that, Buddy?"

Blair pulled away slightly and settled himself on the damp sand. His fingers traced an abstract pattern in the sand while he collected his thoughts.

"I'm an anthropologist who's been partnered with a police detective for three years. Don't you think that's going to look pretty strange to the feds who claim I'm essentially a cop killer? What if they start digging? What if they find my earlier papers on Sentinels, man? Brackett found them, he figured it out."

"That's what you meant? When you said you didn't want to 'drag me down with you' you were talking about my senses?" Jim reached forward and grabbed Blair's upper arms. "Don't you get it, Sandburg?"

"Jim." There was a hint of pain in Blair's voice as he struggled not to react to the strong grasp.

With a shudder, the Sentinel released his grip. "Sorry, I'm sorry." He rubbed the bruised arms as he struggled to say what was in his heart.

"If I've never said the words, let me say them now. You are important. To me, you are very important. If it would keep you safe, let the FBI find out. Hell, let them all find out. You. Are. What's. Important."

Blair's eyes widened in alarm. "No. You can't mean that. If the wrong people found out about you..."

"If the wrong people find out, then so be it. If I had to deal with it, I could." Ellison let his hands slide down to grasp the tightly clenched hands of his Guide. "I couldn't deal with losing you. The fountain was bad enough, but last week..."

Blair allowed his fingers to intertwine with his Sentinel's. "We haven't really talked about it. I kind of got the feeling that you weren't ready yet."

"Did you know that the loft still smells of blood?"

"Still?" Blair was amazed by the admission. "Joel and the guys replaced my mattress and bedding. Simon had a crew come in to strip and refinish the floor in my room. Megan's still complaining about wrecking her manicure scrubbing the rest of the loft." Blair leaned forward. "Maybe we are dealing with a sense memory here, Jim?"

Ellison smiled at the 'we' in his friend's question. "I guess so. I went back to the loft that day with Simon to see if I could pick up on anything. I was drowning. It was so overwhelming that I...if Simon hadn't been there to drag me out..."

"Oh, Jim."

"If you had...if the doctors..." Jim looked away and took a deep breath. "I could never have gone back there. It was all I could do to wear the clothes Joel got out for me."

"After that first time, you never went back to the loft until we came home from the cabin, did you?" It was more of a statement than a question and Jim just nodded to him.

"You haven't been alone in the loft since then."

The bigger man shrugged. Turning the younger man's hands over, he softly rubbed his thumbs over the fresh scars. "Our home should have been safe. I should have been able to make it safe."

Blair slid his hands out from under Jim's. "It wasn't your fault, man. You've got to let go of this guilt." Leaning forward, Blair grasped Jim's face and tilted it up until they made eye contact. "It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. Okay?"

Jim gave him a wry smile. "Okay, Chief." He straightened up and pulled away slightly. "Simon's coming."

Blair glanced over Ellison's shoulder to see the big man walking towards them. "How did he find...I'm under surveillance, aren't I?"

Recognizing the troubled expression on his beloved Guide's face, Ellison hastened to reassure him. "It's not like that, Sandburg. You've got a lot of friends in the department. They just want to make sure Williams stays away from you."

"But department man hours..."

"Aren't being used. Megan's our shadow this morning. We've got Rafe this afternoon."

"But..."

"No buts about it, Baby. We just want to keep you safe."

"Hey, Simon. How's it going?" Sandburg looked over his partner's shoulder to greet their captain as he walked up.

"How ya' doing, kid?" Simon squatted down next to the pair, careful not to drag his coat through the sand. Although he was addressing Blair, Banks kept glancing at Ellison.

"Blair." Simon Banks kept his voice as soft and gentle as he could, not wanting to spook the young man. "I just got off the phone with the FBI."

One look into the dark troubled face and Blair was expecting the worst. "Oh, God."

"No, son, it's all right. They haven't changed their stance. As far as they are concerned, you are still just a witness to a crime." Banks did his best to calm the young man's fears before facing a suddenly angry Sentinel. "They believe it's possible that Olson's murder had something to do with his work or that someone else knew what he was doing and decided to put a stop to it."

Remembering their conversation the night before, Ellison glanced away to keep Blair from seeing his anger, not wanting his love to believe it was directed at him.

Unaware of the admissions made by their young friend, Simon misunderstood Jim's actions. "Jim, we don't know how many other children Olson hurt. It's possible that a parent of an earlier victim came gunning for him; or even someone in town who found out what kind of a man he was. Under the circumstances, it is entirely possible that it was a justified shoot. Nobody is trying to pin this on anyone. They just want some answers."

Ellison seemed lost in thought. ~ Pin. Yeah, I'd like to pin the bastard that turned away from Blair. Pin him to the table like the bug he is. ~

"Jim, you zoning?" Blair's words and touch brought him back to the here and now.

One glance at Blair's face told Ellison that the young man knew his troubled thoughts. He squeezed the hand resting on his arm to acknowledge it before he answered. "I'm not going to zone on you, Buddy." To Simon, he added, "They want him down there, don't they?"

~ So much for gradually working up to it. ~ "I'm afraid so. We're booked on an early afternoon flight."

"We, sir?"

"Really Jim, you don't think I'd turn you loose on the good state of Texas without a keeper?" The tone was light and teasing, but Ellison could see the fierce protectiveness reflected back from his captain's eyes. ~ If somebody else tries to hurt him, they are going to have to go through the both of us to do it. ~

"What about Williams? Is he going to be there?" The voice was so soft that the two bigger men almost missed it.

Before Ellison could make known any threats he may have towards the rogue agent, Banks hastened to reassure the partners. "Williams is out of the investigation and awaiting disciplinary action. He won't be anywhere near us; I made that part of the conditions of our being there. I've also insisted on full immunity, in writing, for Sandburg. There is no way they can come up with some trumped up charge once we get there."

The look of gratitude on Ellison's face said more than words ever could.

"Be sure to turn down your hearing, Jim. The plane will be taking off in a few minutes."

"Yes, mother." Jim's tone was teasing, but his face showed the gratitude that Blair was still concerned about him after all he, himself, had been through.

Simon smiled at the attempt at normalcy and had to join in. "Am I going to have to separate you two? And if I hear one chorus of 'Are We There, Yet?' I will personally lock you in the luggage compartment."

"Nah, Simon." The smile on Blair's face didn't quite reach his eyes. "This is one time I'm not in a hurry to get to where I'm going." Looking suddenly very young, he leaned his face against his Sentinel's shoulder. Murmuring words too soft for Simon to hear, Jim pressed his cheek against the top of the curly head, then turned to kiss it.

Only the arrival of the stewardess with the beverage cart was enough to disturb the pair. The cart produced coffee easily enough for the two taller men and after a brief search, a bag of herbal tea was found for Sandburg. Before she left, the stewardess deposited three bags of peanuts on the middle tray. Banks and Sandburg made short work of their bags, while Ellison's remained untouched.

Blair smiled at Jim. "Are you going to eat those? Because if not..."

"You can always have my nuts, Baby."

Blair's smile grew wider as he happily munched on the honey roasted peanuts. He could think of a thousand ways to answer Jim's off-the-cuff remark, but judging from the look on Simon's face as he struggled not to say anything, he couldn't top what the other man was thinking.

Jim glanced between them, rerunning the conversation in his head. When he finally realized what he had said he blushed a bright red and decided a new topic was in order. "Well, we've got a two-hour layover in Denver and I, for one, plan on getting some real food while we're there. You need a good meal under your belt too, Sandburg."

Blair's smile faltered a bit as he glanced up at his Sentinel. "You figure I won't have much of an appetite when we get to Texas." His voice dropped, but was still loud enough for Jim to hear. "You're probably right."

Simon felt his heart breaking for the young man sitting between Jim and him and lost interest in teasing Jim. "Tell us about the town we're going to, Sandburg. What do you remember about living there?"

Ellison shot Simon a pointed look, but remained silent as his best friend began to speak.

"When Mom and I were living with Tony, we were in Sierra Blanca. It was actually a pretty neat little town to grow up in. Everybody knew everybody else, so you couldn't get away with anything, but you could walk home at night without ever being scared. Mr. Roberts ran the general store..."

"The general store?" Simon couldn't help but be amused at the images that brought to mind.

"Yeah, Simon. A real general store. It even had the ongoing checkers game set up on the old barrel next to the pot-bellied stove." Lost in a pleasant memory, he sat back and began to chuckle. When he realized that his two friends were staring at him with smiles of their own, he hastened to explain.

"Mr. Roberts and the town barber had this battle going on about which one of them was the better checkers player. Bud, the barber, claimed he was the best player in the county. He sure didn't take it seriously when some snot-nosed kid challenged him."

Jim was openly laughing by this point. "Let me guess, you beat him?"

"I jumped five of his pieces in one move. Man, I didn't know a person could turn that color. After that, I got all the penny candy I wanted from the store."

Simon shook his head. "Only you, Sandburg; only you."

For the rest of the flight Blair regaled his friends with tales of his time in Sierra Blanca. By the time the three of them had disembarked in Denver they had heard about every character the young man remembered from the months he lived in Sierra Blanca.

The waitress had removed the last of the dishes before Banks began pressing for more information. "What do you remember about Dell City?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." Blair frowned, deep in thought before he answered. "Dwayne was at the hospital with us at Van Horn..."

"Van Horn?" Ellison interrupted, needing to know as much as possible.

"Yeah, Sierra Blanca didn't have a hospital. Van Horn was the closest town that did. Anyway, the doctors thought that having Mom with him could help bring him out of it, so Olson convinced Mom that I should go home with him. It was dark when we got there and he lived so far out of town that I never saw Dell City itself.

"How far was it between the hospital and Olson's house?" Silently, Simon acknowledged the need to reassure himself that Naomi could not have maintained much control over the situation.

"Distance-wise, I'm not sure. Tony's accident was during the worst summer storms they ever had in Texas. That's why it was a couple of days before they moved him from the clinic in Sierra Blanca to the hospital in Van Horn. The storm had washed out entire sections of road. I know we left the hospital right after lunch and like I said, we didn't get to his house until after dark."

"When did the...how long before he...?"

"Jim, this really isn't the place for those kinds of questions." Simon's voice was soft, but left no doubt as to his concern.

"It's okay, Simon." The gentle words and the hand on his arm stopped anything else Banks might have said.

"The first week he was really nice to me. In fact, things didn't change until after the second round of storms. The bridge was washed out and we were cut off from the main road."

There were a lot of questions in Ellison's mind, but he knew his Guide had answered all he could for now. "Come on, Chief, our connecting flight leaves pretty soon. He threw a couple of crumpled bills on the table and steered the emotionally drained young man towards the door. Simon grabbed the check and followed them, stopping at the cash register.

The plane was airborne and Blair was fast asleep against the window before either of his companions spoke of the reason for their trip again. Banks gave several false starts before he finally broached the subject to the worried and over-protective Sentinel folded into the middle seat.

"Jim, it would help if we knew everything he remembered about this before we arrive. The county sheriff and a local FBI agent will be interviewing him and I don't want any surprises."

"I thought you said he had immunity!" In deference to his sleeping friend, Ellison never raised his voice, but his intent was still clear.

"Calm down, Jim. I'm not talking about legal concerns. I'm talking about emotional ones. Some of his memories have got to be overwhelming and total strangers are going to be asking him questions. I don't like it. If we knew more about it, we could know when to make them back off."

Jim turned and studied his sleeping lover, frowning as a shudder ran through otherwise still figure. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Simon stand and retrieve a blanket from the overhead compartment. Without a word Jim reached for it, letting his grateful smile speak for him. Strong hands smoothed the coarse fabric and soothed away the tension.

Simon waited silently and patiently for Ellison to be satisfied that their friend was sleeping comfortably. He knew from vast experience Jim wouldn't answer him until that happened.

"We have to let him do this at his pace. I don't want a stranger there when he tells us about that bastard, but some of this is going to be so bad that I'm afraid he may only be able to tell it once." Ellison turned back towards his sleeping friend, but not before his captain caught a glimpse of the pain etched in his face.

Before Banks could think of any way to reassure him, the pilot announced that they were on final approach to El Paso.

Silence reigned in the dark blue rental car as the trio made their way from El Paso to Sierra Blanca. Simon sat alone in the front seat, dividing his attention between the road and the two quiet men sitting in the back seat. As expected, Ellison's full attention was on his partner who was staring out the window as miles of tumbleweeds passed by. Only the occasional slight movements from the taller man convinced Banks that he had not zoned.

"Simon, pull over." The sudden request from the young man was so unexpected that Banks almost put the car in the ditch to comply. Both he and Ellison were shocked to see the smile that lit up Sandburg's face.

"It's still here." He scrambled out of the car before it had come to a complete stop, Ellison a half step behind him. The tall police captain took a few seconds longer to put the car in park and unfold himself from the driver's seat.

"Tony built this for me. Isn't it great? I can't believe it's still here." Blair stood in the middle of an empty field, eyes closed, soaking up the memories he could feel around him. Behind him, Blair's two companions exchanged puzzled glances as they looked over the barren field and the rotting benches beyond it.

"Every kid in Texas played football. That is, every kid but me. I was too small for even the peewee teams. Do you know what it's like to be the only kid in town who doesn't play the town sport? Tony decided that I could hold my own in baseball, so he convinced the football coach that it was a great sport for the off-season.

Jim nodded, remembering back to his own childhood when the kids who warmed the bench in football often excelled in sports where size was not an advantage. "So in baseball, the playing field was a little more equal?"

"Better that equal, actually." A glimmer of the Sandburg spark showed on the younger man's face. "Tony spent a couple of years in the minors before he tore up his arm. He taught me everything he could about pitching and game strategy. By the time the team started practicing I had the best fast ball in the county. After that the linebackers were too worried about the state baseball championship to risk beating up their star pitcher."

Simon had no trouble imagining the quick-witted young man as an intense little boy winding up behind the pitcher's mound. "Did Tony coach the team?"

"Nope, the football coach doubled up and coached both sports." Blair gave all appearances of revealing a deep, dark secret and without realizing it, his friends leaned forward to hear the rest of what he had to say. "People around here couldn't imagine a 'city boy' understanding enough about a sport to be able to teach it to a bunch of kids."

Jim made no attempt to hide his laughter. "Didn't any of them know that he played pro ball?"

"He may have played pro, but he didn't play in Texas." Blair's soft laughter echoed that of his Sentinel. "He wasn't really interested in coaching, said it was too much 'politics' for him. He'd rather just teach the fundamentals of the game. He got his publisher to sponsor the team, uniforms and everything."

"Publisher?" Ellison turned serious. "What exactly did Tony do?"

The laughter stopped, but the sweet smile never left the young man's face. "He wrote children's books. They were all about adventure and exploring. Man, I loved those books; that's how Mom met him - she took me to a book signing of his. He made all those different places seem so alive. In all of his books he used the character of a kid as a magical explorer who got to learn the hidden secrets of each mysterious place. The reader 'saw' through the kid's eyes. The book he wrote while we were together, well that kid was me."

Blair bent down and began to gently brush away the dirt covering the abandoned home base. The two men with him knew they were seeing a rare glimpse into the soul of their friend and waited patiently for him to continue.

"Tony made learning come alive for me. He was the one who told me the legend of the Sentinels. When I told him that I was going to grow up and find a real Sentinel, he never laughed at me. He said all facts were myths until somebody was smart enough to prove them real; that if a Sentinel was out there, I could find him."

Ellison squatted down next to his partner and swallowed twice before he could speak. "He was right; you found me."

Blair reached up and squeezed the hand resting on his shoulder. "I just wish he could have known." He leaned against the weight pressing on his shoulder, drawing strength from his Sentinel. "Simon, could you do me a favor while we're here?"

Banks felt like a voyeur intruding on a private moment and then suddenly called on it. "What..." he cleared his throat before continuing, "what would you like me to do?"

"Nobody ever told me what happened to Tony. The only thing Mom would ever say was that he would never get better. I need to know...I need to know what really happened to him...I never got to say good-bye."

Banks reached out, but propriety kept him from touching the young man's face so instead he patted Blair's other shoulder. "Of course. I'll find out everything I can about what happened."

Blue met brown as two sets of eyes met. One asking, one accepting the importance of the task. A dark, strong hand offered assistance to the two forms kneeling in the Texas dirt, but they stood together, as one, and walked back to the car as Banks followed behind.

"What happens when we get to town?" The car was back on the road before Blair hesitantly asked his questions. "Are we staying in Sierra Blanca, or are we going on to Dell City?"

"The sheriff is meeting us in the morning and then we'll drive out to Dell City together. Someone destroyed a lot of the records from back then and the sheriff wants you to visually confirm they have the right house before the FBI arrives the next day."

"They want him to go out there twice? And just how many of the FBI are coming here?" The anger and fear which had become so much of the Sentinel's world of late eased with the calming touch of his Guide. "Sorry, Simon."

"It's all right, Jim. We thought it might be easier to break this down into smaller steps for him." Simon adjusted his attention to the young man sitting next to Ellison. "If you'd rather wait until the FBI agent arrives, I can put the sheriff off for a day Blair. It's your call."

Sandburg gave honest thought to the options his captain had given him before giving him his answer. "You're probably right, Simon. I'm not sure what it's going to be like to walk back into that house. It might be nice not be expected to give a formal statement right then." He smiled at his friends, trying to relieve some of the tension before changing the subject.

"So where are we spending the night? I can't imagine Sierra Blanca has gotten big enough to support a motel."

"No. One of the residents runs a bed and breakfast in town. She's a widow by the name of Mrs. Bowmer." Simon glanced up in the mirror to see if Sandburg recognized the name.

"You're kidding, right? Old Lady Bowmer?"

"You remember her?" Jim couldn't recall her name from the previous conversation they had had about the local folks of Sierra Blanca.

"Let's just say her husband was the only barber in town."

A quick cough was heard from the front seat as Jim grinned at his friend. "I would assume that checkers is out then?"

A petite, gray-haired woman bustled out of the clapboard house before the dust had settled around the car. "Oh my, you boys must be tired and thirsty. It's such a long drive from El Paso. Come on in, supper's waiting on the stove." She stopped and took a long look at Blair. "You're Anthony Olson's boy, aren't you? My, how you've grown up. He'd be so proud of you. It was such a tragedy and you never came home again. You know my Bud was always ready to give you a rematch. He never forgot the trouncing you gave him." She moved ahead of them, into the kitchen, never stopping to take a breath of air.

~ She talks as much as Sandburg, I didn't think that was possible. ~ Ellison's quiet musings were interrupted by Simon's whispered words.

"You sure she's not Sandburg's long-lost aunt? She's got the lungs for it."

Unaware of the exchange behind him, Blair allowed himself to be led to the table where, long ago, he and his teammates had spent many an afternoon ridding the world of Mrs. B's chocolate chip cookies. Jim and Simon joined him and they enjoyed a late supper of chicken potpie and homemade biscuits.

Sensing Blair's stress and exhaustion, their hostess did not pry into the details of their visit, earning her the gratitude of his two companions. After the three men had polished off a large proportion of a peach pie she shooed Blair and Jim upstairs. "That boy is asleep on his feet. You just take him upstairs and put him to bed. I've put the two of you in the last bedroom on the left side of the hall. Your Captain Banks has the room across from you. Now go on, the good captain will fetch your bags for you and bring them up.

~ Fetch their bags? ~ Banks opened his mouth to comment but quickly closed it, seeing the look on the elderly woman's face. ~ The last time I talked back to a woman like her, my grandmother whipped my butt, but good. ~ With that memory in mind he fled the kitchen for the safety of the outdoors, reminding himself to check in with the station, using his cell phone in the privacy of the backyard.

Jim smiled at the retreating back of his captain and friend. Before he could steer his sleepy Guide up the narrow stairs, Mrs. Bowmer spoke again.

"Breakfast will be whenever you get up. He looks like he could use some extra sleep."

"Yeah, he could. But I guess that depends on what time the sheriff wants to leave for Dell City." Ellison turned towards her, his hand never leaving Blair's back. "I'm assuming he'll want to get an early start."

"He'll leave when you're good and ready to leave. If Tommy Montgomery doesn't like that, you just remind him who used to change his diapers when he was little. He may be all grown up, but I can still turn him over my knee."

"Yes, ma'am." Jim bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he hurried Blair upstairs.

Mrs. Bowmer was starting the dishes when Simon carried in the three overnight bags from the car. Sensing a good opportunity to find out more about the accident which had shattered young Blair's life; he took the luggage upstairs to deposit them in the appropriate rooms. He noted that Jim and Blair were firmly ensconced in the room Mrs. Bowmer had assigned to him, since it had a queen-sized bed rather than the twin beds across the hall. Once that was done, he returned to the kitchen to ask some questions in private.

Slipping back into the cheerful yellow and white room, Simon picked up the dishtowel and silently began to dry the dishes in the rack.

"You don't have to do that." She didn't seem as startled as she made out to be by the appearance of the captain at the sink.

He smiled at her, hoping to slip in some unobtrusive questions while they chatted. "Yes, ma'am, I know. I just thought that..."

"...I could answer some questions about what happened all those years ago?"

At Banks' guilty look, she laughed. "Captain Banks, I am 83 years old. I have, on occasion, been referred to as a busy-body." She paused, noticing the slight choking sound he made and seeing the humor sparkle behind his glasses. "So, ask away. I don't know too much about what happened in Dell City, but I'll tell you everything I remember."

Simon slowly nodded as he dried the large baking dish. "Actually, I was hoping you could tell me a little about Tony's accident. I promised Blair I would find out what happened to Tony after he and his mother left."

"He's still alive, but I'm not sure knowing that would be best for the boy." She shut off the water and turned towards Banks, daring him to continue.

This time the elderly woman did not intimidate Simon. "I think that decision should be made by those who know him a little better, don't you?"

She pursed her lips, then gestured to table before turning to pour two cups of coffee. Simon waited while she brought the coffee to the table and settled herself. "We'd never had a year like that. So many freak storms, it was like God himself was trying to punish this part of Texas. Anthony was in the barbershop when that one storm started brewing. Had his hair cut every third Wednesday, regular as clockwork, that man did."

Simon took a deep breath and rubbed his face, willing himself not to hurry her along.

"Anyway, when the storm started, he and Bud were arguing about some such thing, I think it was about the boy's hair. His mother wouldn't let Bud cut it, she did it herself. I don't know why she didn't trust Bud; he gave the best crew cuts in all of west Texas. But Anthony would just tell him that all those curls were just too cute to cut. Really, Anthony was right; I mean, just look at that head of hair on him now, but I would never have told Bud that of course."

~ Breathe. Come on, breathe. She's not as bad as Sandburg, she's worse. My God, is it something in the water here? ~ Willing his eyes not to cross, Simon settled in to wait for some useful information to creep into the monologue.

"As soon as the first thunderclap hit, Anthony told Bud he was going to the ball field to fetch his boy. He doted on that boy something awful. People in town used to tell him he was going to spoil him rotten. But he would tell us that he never wanted the boy to ever feel fatherless again. How could you argue with something that sweet?"

~ How, indeed? ~ Simon swallowed hard against the pain that question brought to mind.

"As near as any of the town folk could figure, something caused the car to go off the road into the creek bed, where it was carried downstream. The car was found in a gully, miles from the road. Have you ever seen a flash flood, Captain Banks? It was the next morning before the water went down enough to get to the car. The worst part of it was that everyone thought little Blair was in the car with him. You could see his raincoat through the window. Poor Naomi. She was with the group which stayed to monitor the wreckage, believing her baby was inside. You never saw such terror as when they reached the car that morning and found he wasn't in there."

Simon sat up, horrorstruck. "Where in the hell was he?"

For the first time, tears glistened in the wrinkled blue eyes. "He was still at the ball field. When we found him, he was asleep under one of the benches. He kept telling us he couldn't leave, that his daddy was going to be there soon, that his daddy promised to always pick him up and that his daddy never broke a promise."

"My God, what did he do when you told him what happened to Tony?" Remembering what had happened to Jim in the observation room, Simon forced himself to loosen his grip on the delicate china cup.

"He...he blamed himself. He was instantly convinced he was responsible for the accident. He even..." The frail woman's voice trailed off and she bit her lip, staring at Simon.

The question was ground out between clenched teeth. "He what?"

She twisted the gold band on her finger as she continued. "We couldn't make him understand that everyone in town thought he was trapped in the car, too. He convinced himself he was left at that field all night as punishment for the accident."

Tiring, their elderly hostess bade the captain goodnight and left him alone in the quiet kitchen. Through the last of the coffee he sat, trying to absorb the enormity of his young friend's loss. Finally, he gave up and moved to the stairs, praying for an undisturbed sleep.

Simon stopped at the door on the right side of the hall, studying the sliver of light reflected on the hardwood floor. Not wanting to disturb, but needing to see, he warred with himself. It was a choice he did not have to make.

"I'm awake, Simon. Come on in." Ellison sounded in control, quiet.

Banks pushed the door open and eased his tall frame into the room. "Is he asleep?" Concern marked his face, but there was softness too as he studied his two friends.

"Out like a light." Ellison glanced up at his captain and grinned at what he knew they must look like. He was leaning against the headboard of the big bed, reading a paperback one-handed. Curled up against him was his partner, his head settled on a pillow on Ellison's lap and his arms wrapped around Jim's muscular thigh. "I didn't have the heart to move him." Jim's free hand was tangled loosely in the chestnut curls, massaging his lover's head.

Simon tilted his head towards the door. "I was talking to Mrs. Bowmer, umm...how much did you hear?"

"All of it, sir. I'm sorry, right now someone could say Blair's name in Pittsburgh and I could probably hear him"

"It's all right, Jim. I'm glad you heard. You're not having trouble with your senses right now, are you?"

Ellison set his book down before answering. "No, I've got them pretty much clamped down right now, can't afford the distractions. But anything that affects Sandburg right now catches my attention, no matter what."

"That's understandable." Banks kept nodding, as if to himself, as he studied the pair. "I called the station and had Joel check on some things for me. Tony Olson is in a care facility in El Paso. After we're done in Dell City tomorrow I'm flying up there to talk to the doctors."

"Flying, Simon? I didn't know there was an airport around here."

"There isn't," Banks' face turned a slight shade of green. "I'm catching a ride with a cropduster. Not a word, Ellison; not one single solitary word." His finger jabbed in time with the words.

The Sentinel kept quiet, but did nothing to hide the gratitude on his face. It was Banks who broke the silence.

"Do you want some help getting out from under him?"

Ellison shifted, then grimaced. "No, he'll wake up in a few hours. I'll move then."

Simon knew daybreak would find Jim still sitting on the bed in the same position, but didn't argue as he slipped out the door.

"Good night, Jim. Yell if either of you need something tonight."

"I will, sir, and thanks."

Sheriff Montgomery didn't say a word as his patrol car pulled into the driveway with three passengers inside. What records remained showed that this was the house of horrors Blair had experienced as a child. Twenty years and new owners had left their mark on the place and he wanted to see just how much the young man could reconstruct from his memories. Silently, he waited for the some sign of recognition as they climbed out of the car.

"They painted it. It was brown before and I remember the porch being a lot bigger."

"Sandburg, everything's bigger when you're a kid." Simon reached out a comforting hand and patted Blair's shoulder. The reassuring gesture and the slight teasing in the tall man's voice showed the sheriff that these men were friends as well as colleagues.

"Actually, the kid's right. The house received some damage about twelve years ago and the porch had to be replaced. The owners didn't want to spend the money to make it the full length of the house. I don't know what color it was when you were here, but it's been painted several times that I know of." The sheriff broke off when Ellison turned the young man towards him and began to speak.

"Hey, Blair, how are you doing? You okay?"

Blair smiled patiently at his worrying lover. "It's all right, Jim. I need to do this. If nothing else, I need to exorcise some old ghosts."

Ellison seemed unconvinced. "If it gets to be too much, I want you to tell me, we can stop whenever you need to. Promise?"

Stepping closer to his protector, Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. "I remember my safe word." The two men touched foreheads briefly before turning to enter the house.

The house was unoccupied as had been arranged. Blair walked silently through the empty rooms; three shadows following wordlessly behind him, waiting for him to break the spell of quiet which had fallen over the scene.

Blair continued to roam through the house, letting his hand trail along the tops of chairs and tables, seemingly unaware of anything else around him. Just when Ellison thought he couldn't stand the silence anymore, Blair spoke as he knelt in front of a large antique desk.

"Some of the furniture is the same as when we were here. I thought I was imagining it, but the marks are still on the desk." It took three visible attempts before his shaking hand touched the scars in the finish on the desk leg.

Acting as both detective and lover, Ellison crouched next to the young man, but didn't quite face him. "Tell us about the desk, Blair. What do you remember about it? How can you be sure it's the same one?" Looking up at Montgomery, he changed the questions. "How much is still here from Olson? Were you aware he'd be facing such vivid reminders of what happened?"

The stocky man grimaced and shook his head. "The county sheriff back then joined the FBI right after this Olson guy bought the farm. Whatever records the county had on the case left about the same time. The whole thing stinks like last week's manure pile and I want it closed and gone before I retire. I don't know what went on here, but I sure as hell intend to find out. If that means I gotta rattle that kid, then so be it." The end was punctuated by a sharp jab on Ellison's arm.

"Simon, tell this red-necked ostrich to get his hand off me and his head out of the sand." That accomplished, Ellison turned his wrath back towards the hapless man in front of him. "The kid wasn't even ten years old. He was victimized. First by Olson, then by the FBI, and now, apparently, by you. Use your imagination, Sheriff. How many scenarios can you think of involving a child that the FBI would want to cover up? He is here of his own volition to help sort out what happened the night Olson died. You are not going to harass him or intimidate him in any way."

The sheriff took a step back, but to his credit his voice was steady. "If he's just a witness, then he doesn't have anything to worry about, does he?" After a stressful silence, he exhaled sharply, then leveled with the three men in the room with him. "Okay, look, my oldest sister bought this place a few years back. She and her husband take in foster kids. If there is anything here still that could hurt those kids, I need to know about it. I want to know about it. I promised her."

"Sheriff..." The quiet voice broke through the tension in the room. Montgomery bent down to hear the soft words better.

"I'll tell you all I can remember, but I need to do it in my own way."

Ellison squashed any answer Sheriff Montgomery might have had. "That's right. This is how it's going to work, Montgomery. Sandburg will tell you what he remembers and is comfortable talking about. I may ask him a few questions to help clarify his memories. Any questions you might have will wait until the FBI agent is here tomorrow to take his statement. He is going to be questioned only once. Is that understood?"

The few doubts the sheriff had about who was in control of the situation dissipated when he looked at the dark face which was hovering above the two figures kneeling on the floor. "Of course. Do you mind if I take a few notes?"

With a nod, Ellison granted him that. Effectively dismissing the other man from his mind, he turned back to Blair. "You were telling us about the marks on the desk. Do you remember what they were from?"

Blair nodded, but didn't speak at first as his fingers trailed from the desk leg to his own wrist, rubbing it as if it ached with the memory. "He...he would handcuff me to it while he worked so I wouldn't get away from him. He'd tell me about the case he was working on, sometimes even show me the pictures from the crime scene. I couldn't get away from him, you know."

Blair sat back and pulled his knees up under his chin. "I'd just have to sit here and pretend to look at what he was showing me and pray that he wouldn't want to try it out on me later. He said...he said he needed to know if what was in the reports was physically possible. It was like he was doing it for his job, man. He said he had to save the good kids." He turned to look at his Blessed Protector. "Why wasn't I good enough to save?"

Unwilling to trust his voice, Jim pulled the young man close and began to rock, ever so slightly, back and forth.

Choking down the bile Simon rushed for the door, not stopping until he reached the patrol car. Leaning heavily against it, he realized with a start that he wasn't alone. "Sheriff?" Unsure of the other man's reaction, he waited to see the response.

"I never knew. I never dreamed something that bad could happen here. No wonder they covered it up." Seeing the dark fury on the tall captain's face, he hastened to clarify himself. "I'm not saying it was the right thing to do. I'm saying I understand it. Twenty years ago most of the kids around here didn't even know what the word 'molester' meant. Hell, my folks didn't even have a lock for their front door back then. That was the kind of stuff you only had to worry about in the big cities. By the time they knew what had happened, the kid was gone, and the sicko was dead. I think it was kind of natural to want to sweep it under the rug."

Simon pushed himself off the hood of the patrol car and took a cigar out of his pocket and began to finger it. "Well, you may understand sweeping it under the rug, but I want to dig that bastard up and shoot him again." He looked up, almost embarrassed by his admittance.

"Got a shovel in the trunk."

"What?"

"I've got a shovel, just say the word." The arrival of a dusty station wagon prevented Simon from questioning further.

"Donna, what are you doing back so soon?"

Banks studied the brown-haired woman as she exited the Buick with a sleeping child. The family resemblance was strong; there was no doubt this was Sheriff Montgomery's sister.

"Sorry Tommy, but I've got a sick one here. We'll stay out of your way."

"That's quite alright, ma'am. We didn't mean to chase you out of your home." Simon felt a flash of guilt at the requirement he had insisted on.

"Donna, I'm sorry. This is Captain Banks from Cascade, Washington. His men are still inside. Captain, this is my sister, Donna Davis." The introductions were hastily made, as the three adults stood uncomfortable with the reason that had brought them together.

She shifted the toddler to her other shoulder. "Washington sent down a senior officer? I didn't realize this was part of an ongoing investigation."

Banks shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "The victim grew up to be one-half of my best team; I couldn't let them go through this alone."

Understanding flashed on the plain face. "Did they need some privacy, is that why you're out here?"

"No, I...I needed some fresh air." Simon looked away, his gaze falling on a ramshackle old house - the only one in sight. He heard the whispered tones as the sheriff told his sister about the history of the large, antique desk now so predominately displayed in her living room.

The bang of the front door screen brought everyone's attention to the two men now exiting the house. The shorter of the men walked with his head down, seemingly unaware of the gentle guidance given him by his companion. When their path brought them near the patrol car, Banks reached out and opened the back door before moving away to give them privacy. Ellison sat his partner down on the vinyl seat and then squatted down in the dirt in front of him, waiting for a reaction. Eventually, he looked up and gave a weak smile.

"I'm sorry, Jim. It just got to be too much, you know." He looked back at the house again, this time his eyes following upward to the small balcony nestled in the tall peaks of the roofline. "Oh, my God..."

"What?" Jim turned to see what Blair was seeing.

"It doesn't seem so far off the ground from down here."

~ I don't think I can hear any more of this right now. ~ "Tell me about the balcony, Blair. What do you remember? Did something happen up there?" Jim reached out and touched Blair's knee, grounding him with his touch, as the Guide had done so many times for the Sentinel.

His voice was so soft; Jim struggled to hear him clearly. "The night the bridge washed out was the first time he hurt me. The next morning he dragged me up there and...and held me upside down over the railings while we 'talked' about how I would never tell anybody anything. He held me by one leg and kept loosening his grip, like he was going to drop me. I...I kept promising that I'd be good and he kept laughing and letting me slip a little more. I was so scared, Jim. I was so scared." His voice dropping too low for even Ellison to hear, Blair turned away and rested his head against the seat.

Jim recognized this silent plea for privacy and moved away from the car. He automatically joined the group gathered a few feet away, still glancing up the innocuous wooden platform overhead.

"Is he all right?" The sheriff's concern was genuine and melted some of Ellison's earlier hostility towards the man.

"Yeah, he just needs a few minutes." Jim swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check.

"Jim, what happened up there? What did he tell you?" Simon's anxiety grew as he watched the clenched jaw and fists on the other man.

"Don't ever ask me that." His breathing became harsher and louder as he paced back and forth. "Don't ever ask me what happened on that balcony." Ellison stopped and stared at the battered old house that had caught Simon's attention earlier. The one with the perfect view of the balcony; the one Blair had run to in terror those many years ago.

The fury was instant and classic Ellison. "The old man who lived there, what happened to him? Is he still alive?"

The sheriff shrugged his shoulders and looked to his sister. Her grip on the youngster still sleeping peacefully in her arms tightened a fraction, enough to be noticed by her questioner.

"What do you know about him?"

"Bradley Barnes. He's lived there for almost 40 years. He never leaves that house, but the kids are afraid of him anyway."

"Sis, why didn't you say anything? Has he threatened you or the kids?" Montgomery took a better look at his sister's neighbor's house.

"No, he's never done anything. He just gives us the creeps."

Ellison's voice held an edge that even Simon Banks had seldom heard. "Sometimes doing nothing is just as bad." His jaw clenched even tighter as he faced the people around him. "Sandburg got away once; he made it that far."

Banks and Montgomery understood what was involved in that statement and waited patiently for Ellison to regain his composure. Mrs. Davis quietly slipped into her kitchen, rather than show her tears to the men she barely knew.

"I want to talk to him."

"I know you do, Jim. But look at Sandburg, he's exhausted and he doesn't need to be here when you confront Barnes." Banks motioned at the slumping figure in the back seat of the patrol car.

"It'll be just an interview, Simon. Really. I've got a handle on it." Ellison's knuckles turned white, belying the calm expression he turned towards his companions. "Besides, Barnes knows we're here. The longer we wait, the more time he has to concoct a story. I want to catch him before he comes up with something."

"Ellison's right, Banks."

Simon groaned at the words. Now was not the time to have the sheriff agreeing with the angry detective. "Even if I agree with it, there is no way Sandburg should be here for this. He's at the end of his rope. It's time to take him back to Sierra Blanca and I have a cropduster to meet in a few hours."

It was the sheriff who came up with an answer. "Donna's husband just finished working on my car. It would save me a trip if you'd drive it back to town for me; I could pick it up at the boarding house later." When Simon still hesitated, the sheriff seemed to understand his concerns. "I'll go with Ellison - I want to get a good look at this joker myself."

Outnumbered and recognizing a losing battle, Banks accepted the keys the sheriff was handing him. Kneeling by the open door of the patrol car, Simon studied the dozing figure inside. With the instinctive touch of a father, hands brushed back the hair off the sleeping face before he spoke.

"Blair, son, it's time to wake up."

The young man pressed his face deeper into the cushion before giving a sleepy response. "Mmmm, it's Saturday, don't have to go to school, Tony. Get to sleep in."

Banks couldn't help but smile at the response from the still sleeping form in front of him. ~ Should I? ~ "But you don't want to miss cartoons."

"Cartoons? What?" Suddenly awake, Blair sat up, rubbing his face. "What a weird dream...hey Simon, what's going on?" He blinked, still trying to get his eyes to focus.

Banks stood up and offered a hand to the seated figure. "Come on, we're going back to Sierra Blanca."

Blair accepted the hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Simon didn't release him until he was steady enough to stand on his own. "Um, Captain, if we're going back now, why did I get out of the car?"

Chuckling at the sleepy confusion, Banks steered him towards the bright green Ford the sheriff had pointed out to him. "Sheriff Montgomery needs a car driven back into town, so we're going to drive it back for him."

Blair took another three steps before the implication of the words sunk in. He stopped, pulling the captain up short. "Jim's staying here? What's going on Simon?"

"It's all right, Sandburg. He's just got some follow-up questions. He'll be riding back with the sheriff." Banks tried to move the stationary figure, but Blair held his ground.

"Interview? Who's he going to interview here?" Sandburg glanced around, then spotted the old house. "No, no he can't do that, not alone."

~ Damn, I did not want to have this conversation. ~ "He won't be alone, the sheriff will be with him."

"But he needs his Guide...he needs...me."

"Blair..." At first Simon was speechless at the depths of the devotion he saw in the young man, then he knew. "Do you think that Jim could interview that man if he knew you were there, listening to what was being said? He needs to feel like he's protecting you, it's important to him."

"He needs me." The words were so soft that Banks almost missed them, would have missed them except he was waiting for them.

"You are with him, always. Don't you know that by now?" He tapped Sandburg's chest and bent down to look him in the eye. "You're right there; even when you're apart, you are right there for him. Sometimes that just has to be enough." Banks smiled as Blair looked up at him. "Sometimes it is enough."

Thoughtful blue eyes studied the other man for long minutes before they closed and the head nodded in consent. Banks let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "You get in the car and I'll check on Jim before we go." He waited until the shaky young man was safely in the car before returning to Ellison's side.

"Is he okay?" Ellison looked past his captain at the figure now seated in the other car.

"He's worried about you." Banks hoped the emphasis was enough to get the meaning across.

"Me? He's worried about me?" The Sentinel let his hearing focus on the Ford Falcon.

~ Be careful, Jim. Don't let him get to you, you've got to keep your senses dialed down. Everything about him is evil. Don't let your senses feed off your emotions. I won't be there to pull you out of a zone. I love you, Jim, so be careful. ~

"Tell him I'll be fine; tell him I'll be...careful." The message passed on several levels and both men relaxed.

"If I'm not there when you get back, then I'll be on my way to El Paso. Mrs. Bowmer will take good care of him for us." Simon laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation. "She told me this morning he was too thin, so she was going to fatten him up a bit."

Ellison, too, smiled at the memory of their hostess bustling about in her kitchen that morning baking all of 'Blair's favorites' that she could remember. "She's right, the last couple of weeks have been hard on him, he can use all the pampering he can get."

Banks acknowledged both men before climbing in the older car. ~ Man, I haven't driven one of these since high school. ~ As he fired up the engine, Sandburg awoke and turned to him, a puzzled look on his face.

"Cartoons, Simon?"

Banks raised one eyebrow as he turned towards him. "Go back to sleep, kid." When the blue orbs obediently closed he allowed himself a silent chuckle. ~ One of these days I'll have to surprise them on a Saturday morning. ~

Ellison watched the car until even Sentinel vision could no longer see the vivid green reflected against the dusty scenery.

"How do you want to handle this?" The sheriff's question and the scene it brought back hit him hard and he stumbled as he turned to face Montgomery. Had it only been a week since Simon Banks had asked him that same question standing outside the bloodstained loft? ~ How much more can Blair take? How much more can I take? ~

"Sorry, it's been a long couple of weeks." Ellison rubbed his hands across his face, taking a moment to compose himself.

"It's okay, I didn't realize this had been going on that long. I thought that the FBI just found him a few days ago.

"They did; we were just coming off a really bad case. We hadn't really gotten our feet back under us yet." Ellison hoped that Montgomery wouldn't pick up on how shaky his voice had become, but one glance told him otherwise.

Instead of suspicion or scorn, the sheriff's words were full of compassion. "Sounds like it was pretty rough on him." He didn't push the other man, but waited, accepting only what knowledge he could willingly give.

Once started, the words came tumbling out. "We...we'd had someone pulling strings among the criminal element in Cascade for a while now and one of our investigations got us closer than we realized, so to throw us off the track he, or actually she, had Sandburg attacked. They drugged him, then slashed his wrists so it would look like he had killed himself. It was real touch and go for a while. He hadn't even been cleared for duty yet - he was just filing some paperwork for me when Williams came in and tried to arrest him for Olson's murder."

Montgomery gave a low whistle. "Damn, that's rough. No wonder you're so protective of him."

"They wanted me to find him." Ellison was finally able to give words to the feelings he had bottled up since that day. "They attacked him in our home, so I'd have to live with it."

"Your home? You live together?" There was no hiding the surprise behind the words.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Jim's temper boiled just beneath the surface, but visible.

The sheriff seemed to realize his mistake and quickly backtracked. "He seems like a good kid."

"The best." Ellison's glare softened as he turned to his companion and saw no malice behind the words. He turned away and continued to speak, softly this time, as if the words were private, for him alone.

"Sometimes, when the darkness of the world is so overpowering, and there is just one glimmer of light left in the universe, you just have to grab hold and pray it doesn't extinguish. He is my light."

Montgomery watched as the last of the words were barely a whisper and the proud head bowed down. Later he would be convinced that more was said, although he could not hear it.

"Let's go." With a deep breath, Ellison was in control again. He turned and headed towards the other house, painfully aware he was retracing the path taken so long ago.

Time and neglect had taken it toll on the small cottage, that much was clear. Beyond that was darkness, a gloom which even the bright daylight could not seem to dispel. The Sentinel shuddered, unsure if it was his imagination or his senses that felt the waves of malaise is that seemed to permeate the property. Unsure, that is, until he saw a flash of black fur. Never before had he seen his animal spirit so agitated. The animal was pacing, its teeth bared, its hackles raised. Without a thought, Ellison adjusted the gun holstered against his back.

"Damn, this place gives me the creeps. No wonder the kids are scared to come near it." The sheriff adjusted his hat and glanced nervously at Ellison. Jim noticed that the safety was off the sheriff's gun, but only nodded.

"Let's get this over with." Ellison focused on the rotted steps, picking his way carefully, stepping over the ones which seemed ready to give way. Without questioning, Montgomery followed his path up onto the porch. Once there, Montgomery turned around, staring in amazement at the filth and debris that littered what was once probably a beautiful home.

Using the sheriff's momentary distraction, Ellison extended his senses as much as he dared. Hearing was easy. The wheeze of disease-filled lungs was almost painfully loud to the Sentinel. Allowing his sight to follow the sound he saw the crippled old man through the curtains covering the windows.

Gnarled, twisted fingers held an unfiltered cigarette. Tar stains gave way to the yellowed skin of advanced liver failure. His dirty undershirt was all that covered his sunken chest, showing the faded tattoo of a swastika on his right arm. The old man seemed unconcerned at their presence outside his window. Ignoring the crawling of his skin, he moved onto smell. Expecting the cigarette smoke to be the strongest odor, the Sentinel let his guard down as he dialed up his sense of smell.

Death. Putrefaction. Decay. Slamming into the Sentinel faster than the man could cope. Gagging and wanting to retch, he turned away, afraid to open his mouth, afraid to taste what he had smelled. Clamping down on his senses, Ellison struggled to regain control, allowing the image of his friend to fill his mind, his heart and his soul. Calm now, he turned back to the sagging door, ready to face one of the horrors his friend had faced so long ago.

Repulsed by what even normal senses could detect, the sheriff had not noticed Ellison's struggles. He rapped sharply on the door, and announced their presence. "Barnes, Bradley Barnes! It's Sheriff Montgomery, open up!" After a pause, he repeated himself. "Barnes, we know you're in there!"

Another pause, then, "Yeah, what do you want?" was issued from inside the door. It was enough for the sheriff and he shoved the door open and entered the dark room.

Ellison followed, glad for once to let another officer take the lead. Montgomery seemed more than willing to lead the offensive.

"Barnes, we're here to talk to you about Dwayne Olson. Do you remember him living in the house up the road?"

A twisted smile crossed the old man's face. "Sure I remember him, the city-slicker who'd get a jones for little boys." He turned and stared at Ellison, "You have the same taste in skinny little Jew boys?"

Hands balled into fists, Ellison took a step towards the object of his hatred, but Montgomery quietly moved between them.

"Watch your mouth, old man. He's an officer of the law." This deflected Barnes' attention back to the sheriff and gave Ellison time to regain control while a vile response was spit at them.

"Well, so was Olson, sure as hell didn't make him some kind of Boy Scout."

"What do you know about that?" Ellison was back in charge of his emotions and the investigation. "You were the closest neighbor, what did you know?"

Barnes seemed to enjoy the exchange. "You hear things, you know. You notice this and that."

"When you heard things, what did you do? Did you try to help that little boy?"

Never wavering, Barnes was obviously relishing the pain Jim couldn't quite hide in his eyes. "Nah, wasn't...worth it."

Behind him, Ellison could sense Montgomery tensing up. Whether to help him or to stop him, the Sentinel couldn't be sure, nor did he care. Instead he leaned even closer into Barnes' face and ground out his next question. "What about the night Olson died; did you happen to notice anything then?"

This time the Ellison glare broke the old man and he noticeably flinched. "So, what about it? Yeah I heard it, my windows were open. Somebody popped a round in his back. Seems like you should think he had it coming."

Ellison stood so quickly it startled both Barnes and Montgomery. With an officially polite smile he spoke again. "Thank you for your time. You've been most...helpful." With that, he turned and strode out the door.

Montgomery had no choice but to follow. They were half way back to the house before he caught up with the long-legged detective. "Ellison, what the hell was that?"

Jim didn't stop, didn't slow down until he was next to the parked patrol car. When he did turn around, there was an expression on his face Montgomery had never seen on anyone before - a mix of hatred and joy. "I've got you, you mother-fucker. I've got you."

"What?" Slowly, confusion gave way to understanding as the sheriff slowly shook his head. "Of course, and you gave him enough rope to hang himself. Shrewd move, Ellison, but why wait? You could have broken him."

"We wait for the FBI. I want this totally by the book, no chance at a slip up."

Montgomery nodded, but before he could respond, his attention was caught by the sight of a large desk being shoved through the front door of his sister's house.

"Donna, what are you doing?" He moved out of the way as the antique slid down the porch steps.

Ignoring her brother, Mrs. Davis turned, instead, to Ellison. "Get it out of here; I want it turned into fire wood before the kids get home. Take it out back, there's an ax by the woodshed." She studied the two men in front of her, the tall detective understood her, but her brother did not. "Tommy, please, I can't see one of my boys sitting at that desk, doing their homework. I can't and I won't, and I want it destroyed. Now."

The slam of the screen door as she returned into the house made both men jump. Montgomery was the first to find his voice and he tried to make light of his sister's actions. "Sorry about that, I guess you know who got the temper in the family?"

Ellison didn't answer him. He just picked up his end of the heavy oak desk and waited for the sheriff to pick up the other. As they moved it to the back of the house Montgomery again tried to talk to Jim. "You don't have to do this. I can break it up for her later if she insists."

His words went unanswered, as Ellison picked up the ax and studied the blade, turning it to catch the afternoon sun. Finally recognizing his imposition, the sheriff moved away, retreating back into the house.

Ellison stared at the desk. No matter how much he wanted to, he'd never be able to punish Olson. That was taken from him by one as vile as Olson, himself. He raised the ax over his head; the wooden object in front of him was as close to Olson as he would ever get.

~ "He...he would handcuff me to it." ~

A resounding crack echoed in the air, then the blade arched back up.

~ "...I couldn't get away." ~

Crack.

~ "...my turn to be punished." ~

Crack.

~ "...I still have a scar from the plate hitting me." ~

Crack. Tears and sweat mixed freely in the mid-day heat.

~ "...Why wasn't I good enough to save?" ~

Crack.

~ "...He dragged me back there because I wasn't worth the trouble." ~

Crack.

~ "...I didn't want to drag you down with me." ~

Crack.

The ax handle slid from nerveless fingers only seconds before knees hit the dirt. Jim finally gasped for air letting the exhaustion fill him, replacing the rage and the pain. He knelt, head bowed, in front of the pile of broken kindling, unaware and uncaring of the two sets of eyes watching him from the house.

Dust churned behind the police sedan as the two men drove silently back to Sierra Blanca. Ellison watched it in the passenger side mirror, churning and falling away, churning and falling away. Lost in the pain and wishing he could outrun it as easily as the old cruiser could outrun the dust, he began to zone.

Sparkling grains danced about him, each one shining brighter than the one before as his focus slipped closer and closer. From the distant clouds behind them to the microscopic particles that changed direction every time he took a breath. Reality slipped away, the torment along with it. As the rest of his senses went silent, Jim could feel the tingle of each speck as it brushed against him, soothing and stroking him as a mother would calm a distraught child. Only the sudden grip on his arm kept him from sliding totally away.

"Ellison...Ellison!"

"What?" Jim shook his head to clear it as he turned to the sheriff. "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"Lost in thought? I thought you had stopped breathing for a second there."

"I'm sorry," Jim repeated as he thought of a way to explaining away what had happened. "I was meditating. Sandburg taught me this technique to relax and slow my breathing down when I'm stressed."

The sheriff was not entirely convinced. "Well, I think you learned it a little too good. Do me a favor and don't do that again without warning a guy. I was ready to pull over and start CPR."

Ellison tried desperately to redirect the conversation. "Were you asking me something?"

"What?"

~ Distraction is a wonderful thing. ~ "Before, when you interrupted my meditation, were you asking me something?"

"Oh, yeah," Montgomery rubbed his eyes before continuing. "Why do you think he did it? I mean the kid was gone, so why bother?"

Ellison exhaled sharply through his nose. "I don't know, but it makes it premeditated in my book. I want him to go down for first degree murder." After a few seconds, he continued. "I want to see everything you still have on the night of the shooting; Medical Examiner's report, newspaper clippings, everything."

"Sure, but what are you looking for?" Montgomery had relaxed, but was still watching Ellison out of the corner of his eye.

"I want to make sure his lawyer can't claim Barnes was just a concerned citizen who saw the body. Before the FBI arrests him tomorrow, I want to make sure we can prove the only persons who knew Olson was shot in the back were the investigation team and his killer. I don't want that scumbag to walk on some damn technicality."

Ellison's last words were spoken with such a vengeance that Tommy Montgomery blessed his long dead grandmother for keeping him on the straight and narrow. He didn't ever want to be on the wrong side of the law when dealing with this man.

Back and forth, back and forth, Simon paced nervously in the small office. Five steps to the window, three steps to the desk, then four more to the door. Twenty-two trips in forty-five minutes, then the door opened, startling the captain.

"Captain Banks?" The speaker was short and balding, wearing a white lab coat and a smiley face tie.

"Yes, yes, I'm Simon Banks." The handshake was delayed as he wiped sweaty palms on his slacks. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"That's quite all right. I'm Dr. Young, Chief of Staff here at Maxwell Care Center." He moved behind the large desk and sat down, gesturing towards the chair situated in front of his desk. "The nurse tells me that you have some questions about one of our long term patients."

"Yes, I do." With a deep sigh, Simon sank into the leather seat and briefly rubbed his forehead before continuing. "You have a patient here by the name of Anthony Olson..."

"Tony." The doctor smiled his recognition.

Banks was stunned. He did not expect such informality in regards to a patient in a coma. "Yes, Tony. As I was saying, I've promised his son I would check on his condition, and..."

"Little Blair? How is he? Of course he's not a little boy anymore, but to us he still is."

"How do you know about Blair?" The arms of the chair creaked ominously under the pressure of Simon's grip.

"Tony talks about him all the time."

"What!" Simon forced himself to release the antique walnut. "Are you telling me that Tony Olson is conscious and aware of his surroundings?"

The expression of Simon's face told the doctor he had not handled the situation well. He tried to explain himself. "In a manner of speaking he is aware. Perhaps I should explain the nature of his injuries and the resulting condition he has suffered."

"Yes, perhaps you should." It took all of Simon's training not to reach across the wooden expanse and shake the answers out of the smaller man.

Jim leaned back in his chair, exhausted. It wasn't possible to dial back his senses enough to deal with the dust accumulated on the old files. Wordlessly, Montgomery handed him a cup of coffee. Jim held it under his face, letting the fragrant steam wash away the stale smell he had been bombarded with. Before the silence became uncomfortable, he answered the unspoken questions. "There's enough to give us probable cause, and maybe more."

"What do you mean?" Montgomery had his own coffee and was now perched on the edge of the desk Ellison had commandeered. "Did you find something they missed back then?"

Ellison turned to the sheriff with a smug look on his face. "The gun was wiped clean, but they found one unidentified fingerprint on the inside of the door. If we can match that to Barnes..."

"You mean they never compared his prints?" Montgomery slid off the desk and began to pace. "We need to get him fingerprinted before the FBI gets here. That way..."

"Nope."

Montgomery turned and stared at Ellison. "I don't understand. Why would you want to wait and let the FBI fingerprint him? If that's not his print, then we could blow the whole case out of the water."

Ellison tapped one of the files he had been studying. "Barnes was dishonorably discharged from the Army. We can get his fingerprints from his Army records, without tipping our hand."

The two men shared an almost feral smile. "I like the way you think, Ellison."

Simon Banks nervously tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk as he waited for the doctor to finish his phone call. ~ What on earth could be wrong with Tony that everyone involved thought it would be best for Blair to never see him again? He can communicate, he remembers Blair, obviously still loves the boy. What in the hell is going on? ~ The click of a disconnecting phone line brought Simon out of his musings.

"I've had my secretary reschedule my afternoon appointments, this may take awhile." Dr. Young smiled reassuringly at Banks, but the captain was not calmed by the effort.

"Just tell me what is wrong with him. Then explain to me just why everyone thought it would be better for Blair to grow up without his father, than to see him permanently injured." Simon exhaled sharply, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Captain, Tony is not Blair's biological father; the adoption was never completed..."

"Do you have children, Dr. Young?" Banks dropped all pretense of calmness.

"No, I don't."

"Then don't you dare presume to understand what it's like to be a father. Biology be damned, that man was his daddy and you're going to tell me what reason any of you had to take him away." Banks stood up, kicking his chair away, and leaned into the doctor's personal space. "Is that understood?"

In spite of his exhaustion, Jim couldn't help but smile as he stepped into the warm friendly kitchen. His nose twitched as he sought to identify the smells wafting around the cheerful room. ~ Cinnamon and sugar, that's easy, but what kind of berry do I smell? Raspberry? No, blackberry...? ~ Realizing his tiredness made him prone to a zone out, the Sentinel pulled back and instead asked, "Mmm, smells good, what is it?"

The elderly woman turned around with a pan and presented it with a flourish. It's my Mixed Berry Cobbler. I make it every summer for Founders Day and I keep some berries in the freezer for emergencies." Smiling, she set the pan in the waiting oven. "I think this qualifies, don't you?"

More relaxed than he had been since they'd left the house that morning, Jim leaned against the counter and helped himself to the plate of cookies there. "Yeah, today definitely qualifies as a cobbler emergency." He tilted his head to look up the stairs. "How's he doing?"

"Sleeping, but he's awfully restless." Anything else she was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of the sheriff.

"Hey, Mrs. B, is that a berry cobbler I smell?" Montgomery moved towards the ancient gas stove. His path was blocked by a short, gray-haired dynamo who tapped his nose with a flour-coated wooden spoon.

"You can wait for the Founder's Day picnic, young man. This cobbler is for these three boys."

Tommy Montgomery pulled himself up to his full height, attempting to look official as he stared at the neighborhood grandmother. "Now I happen to know for a fact that your cobbler serves six." In spite of his best intentions, the corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to stare down his adversary.

Mrs. Bowmer stepped back, resting her hands on her hips. Sentinel eyes tracked the fine trail of flour that drifted off the spoon still in her hand as he watched the exchange. "Thomas Jeffrey Montgomery, don't you ever try to intimidate someone who's powdered your naked behind. Is that understood?"

Ellison bit the inside of his cheek as the sheriff turned to him, face reddening. "We've got a match on the fingerprints and the FBI will be here in the morning. I'll pick you up then."

Any answer Jim may have had was wasted as Montgomery rushed out the door with a mumbled good-by. Instead, he rubbed his face to hide the grin he could no longer prevent. The grin quickly faded as the muffled sounds of a nightmare drifted down from the upstairs bedroom. Not waiting to explain to their hostess, Jim took the stairs two at a time.

Banks sagged back in his chair; the news from the doctor had drained off all his former anger. "My God," he whispered as he pulled off his glasses and rubbed tiredly at his face. "What you're saying is that time has stood still for Tony? That he is trapped twenty years in the past?"

"Yes." Dr. Young leaned back in his own chair and steepled his fingers together under his chin as he studied the other man. "Tony is incapable of forming new memories. As far as he is concerned today is the day of his accident, as will tomorrow and the day after that. To him, Blair is the curly-haired moppet he tucks into bed every night. If Blair were to walk into his room right now, he would be a total stranger to Tony and there is nothing we can do to change that."

Without a sound, Simon pulled out a notepad and began to copy down the medical terms the doctor had used to explain what had happened to Tony Olson.

"You're going to tell Blair about him, aren't you? Would it make any difference if I told you that it was Ms Sandburg's decision in the first place to not tell her son about the extent of Tony's damage?"

Banks looked up, pen in hand. "You've been in touch with Naomi? When?"

Young glanced briefly at his notes. "It's been about ten years since I've spoken with her, but she was very adamant about it. She didn't want Blair to know."

Finished with his notes, Banks shoved the pen and pad back into his jacket pocket. "Well, that's just too damn bad."

"Captain..."

"No. Naomi Sandburg may love her son, but she doesn't have a clue as to what he needs. He knows Tony is alive, he deserves to know the truth."

"Perhaps if you explained to him that it was for his own good?"

"Doctor, I realize you mean well," Simon paused and took a deep breath, "but he is not one of your brain-damaged patients. If I am less than honest with him, he'll find out on his own. When he does..." The big man's voice broke and he swallowed hard before continuing. "When he does, it will be like losing his father all over again, and I can't..." Banks cleared his throat, but his words became rougher as he continued, "I won't let him go through that alone. Now I want to see Tony before I leave." Simon stood up and grabbed his overcoat, indicating the conversation was over.

Realizing his defeat, Dr. Young stood as well. "I'll take you to his room."

"Blair?" Jim slipped into the darkened room, not bothering to turn on the light. "Easy, babe, it's me." He reached out and brushed back the tangled curls from his lover's face, hoping to impart a bit of comfort and coax Blair from his nightmare. Instead, the moans turned into pleas.

"No, no...please don't hurt me. I'll be good, Dwayne...please don't...no..."

Jim drew back as if he'd been struck, hovering at the bedside of his Guide, unable to comfort, unwilling to leave. He continued the gentle murmuring, hoping to reach past the terror and soothe his beloved's soul, wondering which of the two - horror or comfort would bring the younger man to awareness first.

Jim's question was soon answered as Blair sat up with a strangled scream. He waited, aching to give comfort, but not wanting to force himself onto the traumatized young man. The barest of whispers was all he could manage. "Blair?"

It was enough. Sentinel hearing was needed to detect the broken "Jim" that ghosted back and Sentinel sight was needed to see the slight movement toward him, but it was the heart of love that told Jim what to do as he wrapped his arms around the trembling form.

Simon took a deep breath before opening the door before him. With one last prayer that he did this right, he nodded to the man next to him and entered the room. Dr. Young patted him briefly on the shoulder before stepping in front of him and addressing the man seated next to the window.

"Hello, Tony." Young bent down and touched the older man's arm. "I'm Dr. Young, you're in a hospital, but you're going to be fine."

Banks took the opportunity to study the man who had meant so much to Blair. The dark hair had faded to gray, while his skin had the pallor of someone who had been out of the sun for many years. With a start, Simon realized that Tony probably had not been outside since that fateful day twenty years ago. His legs were stick thin, as was one arm. These outward signs of the injuries could be noticed immediately, while the more subtle ones took a bit longer. Simon concentrated on the interaction between doctor and patient.

"Accident? What happened?" The words were slow and carefully spoken, as if with great effort and concentration. His face was tilted to one side, and a slight tic was evident.

The doctor's words were patient and careful and Simon realized this conversation had taken place hundreds, perhaps thousands of times. "You had a car accident, Mr. Olson."

"Car accident? Was my family hurt?" His words sped up with the anxiety and became more slurred. "Are they okay?" The shriveled hand began to softly twitch against the arm of the wheelchair, unnoticed by its owner.

Dr. Young gently grasped both of Tony's hands. "No, they're fine, they weren't in the car. Do you remember driving in the storm?"

"The storm...oh, yes. I was on my way to pick up Blair and I leaned over into the backseat to hide his present. When I looked up, there was this wall of water coming at me." For a split second Simon thought he had just witnessed some type of breakthrough, but the calm expression on Dr. Young's face told him that this, too, was familiar territory. The disabled man began to speak again.

"When can I see my son?"

Dr. Young was ready for the question, Simon wasn't. "The hospital doesn't allow children to visit, I'm sorry."

Tony gave a crooked smile. "Well then, when can I go home? I don't want him to think I've disappeared on him."

~ Oh dear God, how can words hurt so much? ~ Simon stumbled backwards, bumping into a small table in the room and attracting the attention of the other two occupants. Tony turned slowly, following the sound and Simon idly noticed that the Doctor turned with him, never leaving his line of sight.

"Hello, who are you?" Tony didn't seem alarmed or concerned to find a stranger in his room, only mildly curious. It was then that Simon realized that everyone was a stranger to him, every time they walked into the room. He thought quickly as to how he could explain his presence while still getting the man to talk about Blair.

Simon pulled a chair up and sat down, realizing that his legs were shaking. "Hello, Mr. Olson. My name is Simon Banks. Our boys are friends."

"Banks? I don't remember the name. I try to know all of Blair's friends."

"We...we just moved to town. Blair's been very nice to my son."

"Making him feel welcome? That sounds like my boy. Your son couldn't have a better friend."

Simon swallowed hard as he nodded. "Is there anything I can do for you or for Blair while you're in the hospital?"

"Did the rainstorm cancel the game?"

"What?" Simon looked to the doctor for guidance.

Dr. Young's answer was smooth. "They're going to let the field dry out another day before they decide that, Tony."

Tony seemed to accept the explanation. "If I'm not out of the hospital before then, would you go to the game for me? I missed the first eight years of my son's life, and I promised myself he would never be the kid without a dad around when something important was going on. Could you do that for me?"

Finding his voice at that moment was probably the hardest thing Simon Banks had ever done. "Of course, I will." He cleared his throat and continued, making what seemed to be more of a vow than conversation. "From this day on, Blair will always have a dad with him. I would be honored to fill in for you until you're strong enough to be there yourself."

Tony smiled his thanks, then a small bird landed outside the window, distracting him. It took less than thirty seconds for him to turn back, but that was enough. He looked blankly at Simon, and then his words confirmed it.

"Have we met?"

His back ached and his left leg was numb, but Jim never faltered as he comforted the trembling form in his arms. Eventually, Blair calmed and raised his face to look at his mate.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, Baby?" Try as he might, Jim couldn't keep the slight quiver out of his voice. "You doing okay? That was some nightmare."

Blair didn't answer; he just nodded before he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Jim's chest. Jim could feel the soft wisp of air as his guide opened his mouth, trying to speak. He knew that for someone like Blair it wasn't healthy to keep all that pain bottled up, so he encouraged him to find the words.

Blair shifted around restlessly as he tried to say the words. Eventually, they came.

"He was there...it was Dwayne. He was hurting me so bad and I couldn't get away."

The younger man shook as he pressed his face into Jim's shoulder, but the Sentinel could feel no trace of the moisture he was expecting. ~ Come on, Chief, let it go. Don't keep all that pain bottled up inside you. ~ "I'm so sorry, Blair, I wish I could have been there for you."

"You were, that's what made it so bad."

~ Dear God, no. ~ Jim straightened up in horror, waiting for Blair to finish.

Blair didn't seem to notice Jim's reaction as he told the details of his nightmare in a flat monotone voice. "He was hurting me like he used to and you broke through the door, but Williams was there and he grabbed you. The more you fought, the more he was hurting you. Dwayne was laughing and I kept begging them to stop it, to let you go. Dwayne told me that if you would turn away Williams would stop, but you kept trying to drag yourself closer to save me...and Williams was killing you...you wouldn't stop trying to help me...and..."

Jim couldn't take anymore. "Blair..." he whispered in a broken tone as he brushed his fingers under the still dry eyes.

"I don't want them to hurt you, too."

"They already have. They hurt me twenty years ago." Jim gave a sad smile and tucked the sweaty curls behind Blair's ears before continuing. "I just didn't know it at the time."

For the first time since he had awakened, Blair made eye contact with Jim, and the older man smiled as he saw the understanding cross his best friend's face. After a moment Blair returned the smile, then frowned as he plucked at his damp T-shirt.

"Man I feel sticky, I'm gonna take a shower."

Concern instantly radiated off the Sentinel as he felt the subtle tremors still coursing through his Guide's body. "You're still pretty shaky, Chief. How 'bout if I help you take a bath instead?" It only took a second for what he had said to register with Ellison.

"Oh, God! Blair, I am so sorry! I didn't...I'd never..."

"Jim...Jim, it's all right." Blair patted him on the arm to gain his attention. "You couldn't remind me of him if you tried, it's okay. You're probably right; I'd fall on my face in the shower. You gonna scrub my back?" Blair smiled up at Ellison, trying to get his friend to relax.

Jim returned the smile, but it was forced. "I'm sorry, you're the one that's had to live with this for twenty years, but I'm the one that can't cope. Why is that?"

"I kinda had a head start in the coping department, been at it for twenty years."

"Smart Alec." This time the smile was real.

Simon didn't realize he was back in Dr. Young's office until the back of his legs bumped against the chair. Gratefully, he sank into it and buried his head in his hands. A scraping noise caught his attention and he looked up to see the doctor pulling his own chair around to sit in front of Simon.

"How do you get used to it? How many times have you introduced yourself to him over the years?"

Dr. Young nodded his understanding. "Some of the employees never get used to it. We try to limit his contact to the long term nursing staff. They are the ones who have had the most experience with him."

"Does he ever question things?" Simon struggled to grasp the implications. "He's aged twenty years, what does he see when he looks in the mirror?"

"There's no mirror in his room and he's never been out of it except for medical reasons. He has no contact with the outside world, no television, no radio, no newspaper. He wouldn't understand any of it." Dr. Young leaned back and waited while Simon thought about what he had said.

Simon rubbed his face briefly before he spoke. "My God, what a lonely existence."

"To us, yes. But to Tony, there is no linear time. Every time he opens his eyes, he is waking up from the accident. Once in a while, when he seems depressed, we give him this to read." As he spoke, Dr. Young walked around to his desk and opened a drawer. After rummaging around for a bit, he pulled out a manila envelope and brought it to Banks.

Simon stared at the large envelope without taking it. Hesitatingly, he reached out and the doctor placed it in his waiting hand. His large hands shook as he reached in and drew out the single sheet of paper.

"We make a new copy of it every few years."

Simon looked up, bewildered. "What?"

"When it starts to look worn, that's when we make a new copy of it for him."

The doctor's cryptic words didn't make sense until Simon looked down and realized what he held in his hand was a get well letter written by Blair all those years ago.

                Dear Daddy, 
                I miss you. I love you. Will you come home soon?
                Mommy says I can't come to the hospital, but she
                will take this to you for me. Tomorrow I am going
                out to Uncle Dwayne's to stay so Mommy can stay
                with you at the hospital. I want to stay too, but the
                nurses say that I'll get in the way. I'll be a good boy
                for Uncle Dwayne, I promise. Can we go fishing
                together when you come home?

                                        Love,
                                        Blair

Simon didn't say anything for a long time. Finally the doctor broke the silence. "When we give that to him, he holds onto it for hours, talking about Blair. It's the longest single stretch of awareness he ever has."

"Would it have made a difference if Blair had been allowed to see his father at the time?" Simon wasn't sure if he was ready for the answer or not.

"No." Dr. Young tried to be as gentle as possible. "Brain damage of that magnitude doesn't get better, no matter how much we wish for it. You have a son, yes?" When Simon nodded, he continued. "You've seen Tony, seen how he can't remember anything he is not directly looking at. How do you explain that to a child? What would happen when Blair grew, and Tony no longer recognized him? If that were you in that room, would you want your son to have to cope with that?"

Simon didn't have an answer for him.

A few well placed words to their hostess meant the bathroom was ready when Jim guided his still trembling mate through the door. The large claw footed tub was full of steaming, bubble-covered water, while towels and a terry cloth robe hung across the radiator, ready and warm. The most thoughtful touch was the chair, which Blair gratefully collapsed into.

"Man, I just woke up. I shouldn't be this tired." He didn't protest when Jim knelt down and pulled off his socks.

"You've had a rough couple of days, Chief, not to mention you're still recovering from the attack." Standing up, he pulled Blair's T-shirt up and off of him, then steadied the younger man as he removed his sweatpants and boxers. Nothing more was said as he settled Blair in the tub.

"Oh, man, this tub is heaven. Do you think she'd notice if we snuck it back with us?"

Jim grinned as he watched Blair visibly relax in the hot water. "If you think you can get it into one of the suitcases..." He waited, hoping for a smile at that image.

Even better, he was rewarded with a chuckle. "Well, maybe Simon's. He doesn't exactly travel light."

"Of course if we had Rafe with us, his suitcase would be plenty big enough." Jim soaped up the washcloth as he spoke and began to gently wash Blair's arms.

Blair looked up and grinned cheekily. "Yeah, but who'd tell him that we sacrificed his clothes for the cause?"

"You're the one that wants the tub." Jim scooped up a handful of bubbles and deposited them on Blair's nose.

"Funny, man." Blair reached up and grabbed Jim around the neck. "Join me?" After a momentary hesitation, Jim nodded and stripped off. Blair scooted forward and Jim climbed in the tub, pulling the smaller man against him. Silently he began washing the other man's chest, lathering the soft fur under the soapy cloth.

Jim smiled to himself, as the tense figure relaxed under his gentle strokes. Abandoning the washcloth he kneaded the tight shoulders with soap-slicked fingers. The only sounds in the room were the contented sighs of a calming Guide.

"How's that?"

"Mmmm"

"Ready for me to wash your hair?"

"Mmmm"

"Blair?"

"Mmmm"

"Baby?" This time he tilted the young man's face up slightly so he could look him in the eye.

"Mmmm" Sleepy blue eyes opened to look at him.

Jim moved slightly to the side. "I need to lean you back so I can get your hair wet. Is that all right?"

"Sure it's all right, 'cause it's you." His eyes slid closed again, but not before Jim saw the trust shining in them.

~ Thank you, my love. ~ Jim gently eased him back and used his free hand to pour water over the chestnut curls before working the shampoo into them. As he worked he heard Mrs. Bowmer moving about in their room.

By the time he had Blair's hair rinsed clean, she had made several trips up and down the stairs and the famous Sentinel nose had tracked the berry cobbler out of the oven, into bowls, and up the stairs. He paused, extending his sense of smell until, yes, there it was -- vanilla ice cream. He had been so tuned into the smells coming from the kitchen he had missed the sounds of the freezer opening. ~ Good. After all, how can we eat warm berry cobbler without ice cream? ~

"Come on, Babe, time to get out." With a soft nudge he woke his dozing partner. With the barest of murmurs, Blair reached up and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and allowed himself to be lifted up. Once he was on his feet and out of the tub, Jim loosened his grip long enough to grab one of the warm towels and wrap it around his waist. The other two towels made quick work out of his wet skin and hair.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?" Jim snagged the robe and helped Blair thread his arms through the sleeves. "Towel?" Blair pulled the damp towel off as Jim tied the robe closed for him with a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You're going to think I'm crazy, but I could swear I smell cobbler."

"I thought I was the nose of the team?" His arm around Blair's shoulders, they walked down the hallway. With a smile, he opened the bedroom door.

"Oh, man, I was right!" Blair spotted the food-laden tray right away.

Jim smiled at the enthusiasm in his love's voice, but he was even more grateful to see that their bed had been made up with fresh linens, and an extra blanket had been added across the foot along with a clean pair of sweats. He steered Blair past the tray on the dresser and set him down on the bed. "Clothes first, then we'll eat."

Under the sweat pants he found a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, which he handed over to Blair, along with the sweatpants. When he saw that Blair was steady enough to dress without falling over, he moved to the dresser and picked up the bowls. Blair slid under the covers and scooted over. Jim handed him one bowl, then sat on the edge of the bed.

"Tell me about the Founder's Day picnic." Jim kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows Blair had moved for him.

"Mmmm, this smells like heaven." Blair took an appreciative sniff before answering Jim. "Founder's Day? Oh, yeah, all the businesses would close and the whole town would meet in the Town Square for the biggest picnic you ever saw. There were games for the kids all day and a huge fireworks display that night. Man, you wouldn't believe the food -- pie eating contests and chili cook-offs, the works."

Any other questions Jim may have had were put on hold as he watched Blair dig into the cobbler with an enthusiasm he had missed so much in the younger man. Smiling, he snuggled closer and began eating his own helping of the sweet dessert.

Many hours later, when an exhausted Simon Banks returned, he found them still in the same position, sound asleep. Smiling, he removed the bowls from their lax hands and covered Jim with the extra blanket before returning downstairs to help himself to the remaining cobbler.

The morning air was crisp and Simon gladly pulled on the heavy sweater he had packed at the last minute, glad he had ignored Henry's opinion that it was always hot in Texas. Not wanting to disturb the occupants of the other room he carried his shoes with him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sitting alone at the table was Ellison, slumped over a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Jim, I didn't expect to see you up this early." Simon hesitated, unsure of how to read his best detective's mood this morning.

After a momentary hesitation Jim raised his head, a forced smile on his face. "Good morning, Simon. I didn't hear you come in last night."

Simon poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Ellison. "No, you seemed pretty out of it when I checked on you." He wasn't sure if he should say anything about covering Jim up, but Ellison beat him to the punch.

"Thanks for the blanket." This time the smile was a little more genuine.

"How's he handling all this? Yesterday was pretty rough; has he talked about it at all?" Simon took some time to study the other man's expression. There was a haunted air about him that Simon had never seen before.

Jim shuddered as he spoke. "He was asleep when I got back, then he had the most awful nightmare."

"About Olson?"

"About Olson, and Williams, and me."

The hitch in Jim's breathing warned Simon not to ask anything further. Instead, he leaned forward and grasped Jim's arm in a show of silent comfort and support and waited for the other man to continue.

"Why did Williams drag all this back up? What did he want with Blair? What did he accomplish with his stunt in the bull pen?" Ellison rubbed his hands over his face. "God, that seems like forever ago."

Simon leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. "I don't know, Jim, and neither does the FBI. Maybe we'll get some answers when the agents show up today."

"We better, I want that man accountable for his actions." Anything further he wanted to say was stalled as Sandburg stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Jim watched his movements, a loving smile creeping across his face. Simon couldn't help his own smile as he observed the change.

"Morning, guys." Blair made a beeline to the coffeepot and helped himself to the coffee. He didn't say anything else until he sat down next to Jim. "What did you find out about Tony?"

Simon choked slightly on his coffee as he swallowed wrong. ~ Damn it, kid, I wasn't expecting you to spring that on me so quick. I still haven't figured out how to tell you.~ "I spoke at length with the doctor..."

"You could have done that on the phone, Simon. Did you see him, did you see Tony?"

Simon studied the young man in front of him, practically vibrating with excitement. Knowing he was about to shatter that, Simon took a deep breath before saying what had to be said. "Yes, I saw him."

"And..."

"Blair, you've got to understand. Tony's injuries were massive. Massive enough that he's spent twenty years in a care facility."

"How many people are in nursing homes because they don't have any family willing to take care of them? What if..."

"No, son, I'm sorry." Simon scooted his chair around so he was next to Blair and grasped both of his hands, rubbing his thumbs across the top of his wrists as he spoke. Jim placed his hands on Blair's shoulders, lending silent support as he, too, listened to the words. "He would not survive outside a facility like where he is now."

Blair seemed to study his words, nodding to himself. "You mean he's in a coma."

A simple 'yes' was so tempting as Simon opened his mouth to speak. But would that suffice, or would the young man sitting there insist on seeing him anyway? Could he risk the lie?

"Sometimes people in comas are aware of what's around them. Maybe he could still hear me." Blair's voice was soft and almost child-like.

"He's not in a coma, Blair." Simon released one hand as he reached for the notepad he had filled the day before. ~ Lord, give me strength. ~

Blair sat up straight. "You mean he's awake? Simon, did you talk to him?"

"Yes, I did, briefly. He has a form of amnesia that..."

"Amnesia? You mean he doesn't remember? That's okay, we'll just make new memories."

"I'm sorry, son, you can't." Simon dropped his notes on the table and grasped Blair's hand again. "Tony can't make new memories."

"I don't understand."

"Simon, perhaps you'd better tell us exactly what the doctors told you yesterday." Jim's words were soft, but his tone was firm.

With a pained expression, Simon nodded and leaned back, releasing Blair's hands. He needed the emotional distance to tell his friends what had happened to Tony during that tragic night.

"The accident was pretty bad, Blair. The car was mangled severely by the time it came to rest; then it was surrounded by the floodwater. That meant a delay in his treatment."

"Did that make it worse?" Blair was picking at the edge of his thumbnail until Jim reached over and grasped his hand.

"It did, son. I'm sorry. He had a spinal injury, but the worse part was the internal injuries. He lost a lot of blood, and then the delay in treatment caused an infection to set in."

"Why did that cause amnesia, Simon? I don't understand."

"He was very sick, Blair, and very weak. On top of that, the blood loss was too much and it triggered a series of strokes."

"That's what caused the amnesia?"

"Yes. His injuries and his fever were so life threatening that at the time the strokes seemed to be the least of his problems. When it was all over, though, they had done the most damage, and it was irreversible."

"If they had caught the strokes when they were happening, could they have..."

"No, it wouldn't have helped. I'm sorry."

"Chief," Jim spoke up for the first time, "what kind of treatment was available back then for stroke victims?"

Blair seemed to deflate at the question. "I know, Jim. If the patient survived, then they would try physical therapy to help them regain what they had lost. There was nothing else they could do. It's just different when it's your own..." Blair winced as his words ran out.

Jim turned his focus from Blair to Simon. "You said he can't make new memories, I don't understand. I thought in amnesia you lost past memories, not new ones." He raised an eyebrow as Simon reached over and picked up his notepad. "You took notes, Simon?"

"I'd never heard of this either, Jim." He flipped through the pages before speaking to the young man in front of him.

"Blair, do you know what the hippocampus is?"

"Sure, it's the part of the brain that converts short-term memories into long-term ones. Are you saying that's the area of Tony's brain that was damaged?"

"I'm afraid so. It's given him what they refer to as Total Anterograde Amnesia. He can carry on a conversation to a point, but as soon as he's distracted, or even loses eye contact, then it's gone."

"Totally?"

"Blair, when we were talking, a bird flew past the window. Just that little distraction and he didn't even know he'd ever met me."

"I want to see him."

"Chief, I don't think that's such a good..."

Before Jim could get started, Simon cut him off. "Blair, he doesn't know you anymore. He thinks the big game is in a few days, that he just woke up from the accident."

Blair nodded as he spoke. "I know that. I won't tell him who I am; I just need to see him for myself. Can't you understand that?"

Simon puffed out his cheeks and looked up at Jim. Ellison seemed lost in thought, but before Simon could say anything, he began to speak.

"Tell you what, Babe, if you still want to see him tomorrow when we get back to El Paso, we'll take you to see him. But think about why you want to do this. It won't make any kind of difference to Tony, and if you're doing it out of misplaced guilt, you'll only be hurting yourself. This shouldn't be a snap decision."

Banks agreed, "Jim's right. You don't need to make a decision until we get to El Paso."

"In the meantime," Jim tugged on a curl as he tried to lighten his best friend's mood, "why don't you go up and get dressed before the sheriff gets here with the FBI agents."

"You trying to get rid of me?"

Ellison had the good grace to blush. "No, I just want to set up some ground rules with them before we get started today."

Blair turned to their captain. "I hope you brought bail money."

Ellison didn't see the glint return in his Guide's eye. "You're not going to be arrested, I give you my word, Blair."

"He wasn't talking about needing it for him." Simon stood up and turned to the coffeepot, effectively turning his back to Ellison.

Jim looked back and forth between his two friends. "What? I'll be my usual charming self."

In union they answered him. "That's what we're afraid of."

"Sheriff." Ellison's greeting was curt, bordering on rude. If the truth were told, he was much more nervous about this meeting today with the FBI than he was letting on.

"Good morning, Detective Ellison, Captain Banks." Montgomery looked around the cheerful kitchen. "Is Mr. Sandburg still resting?"

Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with the two federal agents standing in back of the sheriff, Simon stepped up, blocking Ellison. "No, he's upstairs, getting dressed. Before he comes down, we'd like to hear what the FBI has to say about the evidence that's been brought to light."

"Of course, my apologies. This is Special Agent Rand and his partner, Special Agent Taylor. They've already examined the matching fingerprint and the original interview transcripts."

"Transcripts?" Ellison moved past Banks as he spoke. "What transcripts? Sheriff, I thought you said most of the records were destroyed."

"Ours were." The sheriff spoke fast, as if realizing the error in casually mentioning the new information.

"The FBI has always had a complete set of files on this case, detective. The sheriff was not aware of that fact until this morning." The taller of the two agents, Taylor, stepped forward and leaned against the sturdy wooden table. "Your Mr. Barnes was identified early on as a suspect; I'm afraid the agent in charge at the time really dropped the ball. Now that you've tied him to the scene of the murder, it's made our jobs a whole lot easier. Now, if we could speak to Mr. Sandburg?"

"Not until we get a few things straightened out, gentlemen, and we're going to do it at the sheriff's office."

One look at the scowling detective and his equally grim captain told the two agents that it was going to be a very long morning.

"I don't believe this. I don't friggin' believe this." With a disgusted snort, Ellison tossed the files down onto the conference table. "Why in the hell hasn't Barnes spent the last twenty years in jail?"

"Jim..."

"He knew. Barnes knew that the FBI let him walk. He was toying with us yesterday, like it was some kind of game." Pushing away from the table, the agitated man began to pace the small room.

Banks tried again. "You can't know that for sure."

Jim stopped pacing and stared out the window overlooking the town-square. "You weren't there, Simon. You didn't see him -- gloating about what that sick bastard did to Blair, about Olson being shot in the back. Only the killer and the investigating officers knew about the location of the wound." Ellison turned back, picking up the file and shoved it into Banks' hands. "It's in the report, Barnes knew something that only the killer should have known, and they did nothing about it."

The captain continued to play peacemaker. "There's no point in second-guessing a twenty-year-old investigation. The better question would be why did Barnes do it."

"No sir!" Ellison turned his fury towards the two agents. "The better question would be why Williams went after Blair if he knew what was in this report. What is his vendetta against Sandburg?"

Taylor and Rand said nothing as they shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chairs. Finally, Simon Banks had had enough. "Well, gentlemen, I think you owe Detective Ellison an explanation, now."

Rand nodded at his partner, and Taylor began to speak. "Olson was Williams' training officer when he was a rookie. After everything went down, the brass had him transferred back east. He managed to get transferred back a little over a year ago, and eventually got his hands on the files of the case."

Ellison slammed his fists down on the table. "We know all that! What is his fixation with my partner?"

Taylor stared down at the floor. "We, umm..."

"Tell us now." Banks and Sheriff Montgomery moved closer to Ellison in a show of solidarity as Banks continued to speak. "You can tell us now, or perhaps you'd rather tell the good citizens of this fine community why they were denied the full protection of the federal government?"

"You wouldn't dare."

The sheriff walked around and leaned against the table between the two agents. "Do you know what one of the best things about living in a small town is?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Everyone is either a friend or a relative. For example, my little brother's father-in-law is the editor of the local paper. I'll be seeing him at the school play next Thursday and he'll be asking me if anything new is up. After all, his sister-in-law is the nice lady who runs the bed and breakfast these gentlemen are staying at, so I'm sure he knows that they're here. What should I tell him?"

"I'm sure we can handle the situation without bringing the press into it." Rand never looked up as he spoke. "When Williams was through with the Olson file there were some things missing out of it."

"What kind of things?" The Sentinel's voice dripped ice.

"Photos."

"Oh, God," Banks choked as he moved away from the table.

Taylor tried to salvage the situation. "Just because he has some evidence without authorization..."

"You're telling me," Ellison leaned as far as he could into Taylor's personal space without knocking the man over, "Williams stole pictures of Olson molesting a child? He then tracked that same child down and tried to force him into leaving with him. I think we're all pretty sure he wasn't planning on arresting Sandburg, aren't we? What in the hell are you planning on doing about it?"

"We don't know." This time it was Rand that spoke. "We will be speaking with him on this when we reach El Paso this afternoon."

One look at Ellison reminded the two agents the man was ex-covert ops. "You won't mind if we tag along then, will you?"

Blair looked up from his breakfast as his friends walked through the door, followed by the sheriff and two men he did not recognize. "Hey, guys, you're just in time for breakfast; Mrs. B. makes the best omelets in the state."

Ellison just grimaced as a wave of stress induced nausea rolled over him, allowing Simon to answer for both of them. "That's all right, son. We're not really hungry right now."

The younger man was sensitive to the anguish in his Sentinel's eyes and he squeezed Jim's arm. "It's almost over, Jim. One more time out to Olson's and we can go to El Paso."

Ellison knew his friend was only thinking of Tony, and had no idea of what else awaited them in El Paso. He swallowed hard and blinked back the moisture as he forced a smile on his face. "You bet. In fact, we're going this afternoon, so why don't you go back upstairs and pack."

"Jim?"

"Please, Blair, trust me on this and just go up and pack. We're going to get all of our questions answered in El Paso. Please, Blair."

Seeing the pain in Ellison's eyes was almost Blair's undoing, but he instinctively knew that any questions needed to wait until they were alone. "Sure, what about your clothes, why don't you come pack too?"

For a second, neither man moved. Ellison was so grateful at the 'out' his friend had given him, but at the same time was terrified that he would fall apart when explaining the new developments to him. His doubts vanished with the softly whispered, "now trust me" that filled his ears and his heart.

With more peace than he had thought possible only minutes earlier, Ellison followed his Guide up the stairs.

By the time Ellison reached the bedroom, Blair was sitting next to a half-packed bag. Surprised, he sat down on the opposite bed. "You already started packing?"

"Yeah, while you were at the sheriff's office with those FBI guys. What's going on, Jim? You hustled them out of here pretty fast, what couldn't you talk about here?" He watched Jim's reaction to his questions.

Ellison sat down and began to throw his own clothes into his suitcase. "It was nothing; like I said, I just wanted to lay down some ground rules."

"And?"

"They were all gung-ho to question you, so Simon and I wanted to straighten them out."

"About?" Blair continued to pack as he observed Jim out of the corner of his eye.

"The new evidence." Ellison's folding became less and less precise as he filled his bag, unwilling to look up at his partner.

Blair stilled and then moved to the chair next to Ellison's bed. "What new evidence?" He reached out and took the shirt from the Sentinel's hands. "Stop torturing the permanent press and tell me what's happening."

Jim watched the tangled fabric slide out from his fingers then rested his elbows on his knees, letting his body sag. "We can place Bradley Barnes at the murder scene."

"Okay, umm, who's Bradley Barnes?" Sandburg leaned forward to look at Ellison's face.

The question stunned the older man until he realized Blair had never called the man by his name. "I guess you didn't know his name. Barnes is the old man who was Olson's neighbor."

"Him." The shudder was easy to recognize, but the words required Sentinel hearing. "To me he was the Bogeyman." Blair studied his feet, "it was him?"

Jim started to reach out, to comfort his mate, but he didn't know how it would be received. He drew back his hand, letting it rest instead on the back of Blair's chair. "Yeah, there were some unidentified fingerprints, and we matched them up to Barnes' old military records."

"But why?" Blair stood up and began to pace. "Why kill him? I mean, he sure didn't give a damn about what was happening to me, so why bother?"

A gentle hand stopped the younger man's pacing. "I don't know, Blair. But I promise you this, before today is over we're going to get all our questions answered."

Three cars pulled into the trash-littered driveway of the ramshackle old house. Out of the first car emerged the sheriff, eager to close this blight on his town's otherwise proud history. The two FBI agents stepped out of their unmarked sedan, pleased to have the answers to a twenty-year-old crime handed to them on a silver platter. The third car, a rental, pulled in, but the occupants were deeply immersed in a conversation.

"Sandburg, son, you don't have to do this. We can just let the FBI handle it; in fact, they really don't need any of us."

Blair smiled reassuringly at the brown eyes studying him in the rear-view-mirror. "I need to do this, Simon. Really."

"Jim, I can't believe you're going along with this." Banks was not swayed by the pleading eyes of the younger man.

"Simon," Ellison's words were for the dark-skinned man in the front seat, but his gaze never left the man at his side. "I may not like it, but part of this trip is about closure. Sandburg deserves to watch the cuffs get slapped on that old man. It may be the closest to retribution he gets."

"What in the hell does that mean?" Banks spun around in his seat and stared hard at his best detective. "There is no way that they're going to shove this under the rug. Not again, I won't stand for it. Barnes is gonna go down for Olson's murder."

Jim couldn't help but smile at his captain's almost feral defense of the young friend. "Simon, you didn't see him. I don't think he's going to live long enough to stand trial. He...he smelled of death."

"Then it's a good thing the sheriff 's got that search warrant. Any other scumbags missing?" Banks got out of the car and slammed his door closed. With a shared sigh, the other two men followed, both making sure to latch their door softly, and hurried to catch up with him.

"Guys, listen to me, okay?" Blair reached out and snagged both of their arms. "This monster haunted my nightmares for years, almost more than Dwayne. Sometimes I can still...I can still here him telling me that I'm not worth the bother."

"Oh, God." Simon's voice was barely a whisper. Jim was silent, but the flex of his jaw was eloquent.

"I need to see him. I need to see that he is not the huge monster of my nightmares."

"Okay, but I want you to promise me something." Jim turned him so that Blair was facing away from the house.

"Anything, man." Sandburg smiled indulgently. He knew how much his life mate needed to be protecting him right now.

"Promise me..." Jim's voice broke and he turned his head away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Just remember, you have a safe word. I want you to use it if it gets to be too much. Okay?"

"You ready to do this?" The loud voice of Agent Rand interrupted the quiet moment of bonding between Sentinel and Guide. Banks instantly stepped between the agent and his friends, giving them a chance to collect their thoughts.

"You dragged your feet for twenty years; you can afford to give them five minutes."

Rand started to protest, then thought better of it, realizing how grateful he was that he'd never pulled duty in the Pacific Northwest. Instead, he beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the unmarked sedan, and Simon turned his attention back to his friends.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, Simon, I'm ready to do this." Sandburg turned to Ellison and squeezed his arm in an attempt to reassure the older man. "I will always remember my safe word, Jim, and it won't be too much, because I'm not alone. Right?"

Ellison swallowed hard before he answered - his voice thick with emotion. "You've got that right, Baby." With the briefest nod towards Banks, he placed his hand on Sandburg's back and guided him towards the rickety porch. Without a word, Banks fell in behind them as the two agents and the sheriff moved ahead and banged on the door.

"Barnes, open up!" Montgomery waited until the count of five before pounding the door again. "Barnes, we're coming in." Satisfied the old man had enough warning the sheriff shoved open the door and moved in, weapon at the ready, the two agents right behind him. Ellison held his group back, unwilling to expose his Guide to the situation until it was controlled. When he heard the soft 'click' of the handcuffs he allowed Sandburg inside, never moving from his side.

Barnes was sitting in a kitchen chair, his wrists cuffed in front of him, in deference to his age. Beside him, on the table, was a half-empty bottle of gin. He grinned up at Ellison as they stepped into the room. "So the hot-shot figured it out. Guess the big city cop's got more brains that these imbeciles in their fancy suits. Old J. Edgar must be turning over in his grave about now."

Taylor tried to divert the old man's attention from Ellison. "You act like you wanted to be caught, old man."

"Well, hell, I'm not getting any younger. This way, when I die, the town will bury me like the hero that I am."

"Hero? How in the hell do you figure that, Barnes?" Sheriff Montgomery slammed his hands down on the table to emphasis his anger, but the old man didn't flinch.

"I killed the pervert." Barnes was obviously pleased with what was apparently his life's greatest accomplishment.

Montgomery reacted before Ellison could. "Well, you were about three weeks too late to be a hero in my book. The kid was already gone, the damage was done."

"Why?" It was whisper-soft, and the first word uttered by the young man since entering the house.

Barnes stared at Blair, his cold smile growing wider as he spoke. "Well, after you left our fair town, there was a real shortage of Jew boys. Couldn't take the risk that he'd go after one of ours, now could I?"

Only the quick reach of the two FBI agents prevented Ellison from reaching Barnes, but they couldn't quiet him. "Damn you, you're just as much trash as he was! You sick, worthless piece of sh..."

"Jim! Come on, man, look at me!" The soft, but firm urgings of his Guide drew Ellison from the object of his hate. "That's it, Jim. Look at me, not at him." Slowly Sandburg turned Jim away from the old man and towards himself.

"Damn it, Chief...he..." The older man broke off, as a sob threatened to break through his control, knowing Blair would understand.

Blair's calmness balanced the Sentinel, as his words centered him. "He's not...worth it, Jim. He's not worth the bother."

Three hours after the satisfaction of watching Bradley Barnes being placed in a holding cell the three men from Cascade were on their way back to El Paso. Their good-byes with Mrs. Bowmer were especially poignant, and she had extracted a promise from them to try and make the next Founder's Day celebration. Jim had received an extra lecture on the care and feeding of her favorite 'sweet boy', and the front seat of the rented car was filled with more food than they could eat in a month.

Simon covertly studied the two men in the back seat. Blair had been writing in his journal since they had cleared the city limits, while Ellison seemed lost in his own thoughts. Without turning towards the pile of goodies next to him, Banks reached over and wrapped his fingers around a sweet morsel.

"Drop the macaroon and no one gets hurt." Jim hadn't moved from his comfortable spot, but the slightest of smiles was on his face. "Do you want me to tell Mrs. Bowmer that you ate Sandburg's cookies?"

Banks couldn't help the shudder that ran through his tall frame. Their petite hostess had reminded him of his grandmother, and Grandmother Banks had made sure all of her 'boys' toed the line. Before he could come up with a snappy response, Sandburg came to his rescue.

"Let the man have the cookie. We've put him through enough lately that he's earned a couple of cookies." Blair closed his journal and turned to face his seatmate. "Jim, I know you and Mrs. B. have the best of intentions, but if I ate all that stuff, I'd explode. Besides, when was the last time you saw me eat coconut?"

Jim thought for a minute before the obvious sunk in. "You don't like coconut." He turned to the captain. "Well, heck, hand me a couple of those, would you, Simon?"

Blair smiled and picked up his journal again. "However, touch the peanut butter crisps and die, gentlemen." Banks wisely handed that entire plate to the shorter man in the back seat as he decided on how to broach another subject.

"Blair?"

"Yeah, Simon?" He used both hands to brush the golden brown crumbs off his shirt.

"I was wondering what kind of graduation party to have for Daryl. Any suggestions? This is a pretty big step, what kind of graduation party did you have?" Banks covertly watched in the rear view mirror. ~ Tony had such high hopes for everything he wanted to do for you, I hope you got some of them. ~

"Didn't have one."

"Why not?" Ellison was the first to ask the question, not noticing the pained expression on Simon's face.

"Cause I wasn't done."

"But you had finished high school."

"Guys, before I finished high school, I knew that I wanted to be an anthropologist, and I had to get my Ph.D. to do it right. The only graduation ceremony I care about is the one that gives me those three little letters. When they give me my doctorate, then you can watch me party hearty."

Simon finally cleared the lump in his throat enough to speak. "Are you telling us that you've never had a graduation party? Ever?"

"Nope, never even gone to the ceremonies."

"What about Naomi?" Banks asked the question automatically, already planning the big blow out for the night their Blair became Dr. Sandburg. ~ I promised you Tony, never again would he pass a milestone without a 'dad' at his side. ~

"She understood, man. She knew that the doctorate was the only part I care about. The rest is just steps along the way, just stepping stones."

Ellison wasn't as easily persuaded. "Are you saying that there isn't any part of the graduating ceremony that you didn't miss?"

"Well..." Blair looked up and saw the compassion in his friends' eyes, and that gave him the courage to continue. "The year I graduated from high school, I was the class valedictorian. I should have given the class speech because of that. The vice-principle didn't think I projected the image he wanted the school to be known for, so he gave the speech to one of the salutatorians. Someone who wore button down white shirts to school and whose dad drove a BMW. It sure wasn't me."

Seeing the somber mood of his friends, Blair tried to lighten the mood. "Say, after I become 'Dr. Sandburg' how about getting everybody together for some pizza and beer?"

"Sounds good, Chief." Jim didn't really trust himself to say anymore and he saw that Banks was deep in thought, and muttering to himself. Thinking the captain was lost in anger over what their young friend had missed he dialed his hearing up.

~ Country club. ~

~ Caterers. ~

~ Gotta get good music. Ask Daryl about that. ~

~ An outdoor BBQ? ~

~ Yeah, Tony'd like that. ~

The miles slipped away with two men musing over the past and one planning the future.

Ellison waited until the motel shower was running before telling Banks his plans for the afternoon. "I'm meeting Rand and Taylor at the sheriff's office. I want local cops involved in this, so they can't sweep Williams back under the rug. I need you to stay with Blair and not let him talk you into going to see Tony until I get back."

That set off an alarm in Simon's head. "What's going on? Why don't you want me with you at Williams' place?"

"I don't want Sandburg left alone." The familiar tick of the jaw was a dead give-away that something else was bothering the Sentinel.

"Jim, he's fine. He's handling some of this better than we are."

"I know he is." Ellison began pacing the nondescript room.

Banks reached out and grasped Jim's arm on his third circuit of the room. "What aren't you telling me?" He saw the Sentinel's focus shift towards his Guide before turning to answer the question.

"This is Williams' territory. What if he knows we're here? What better time to go after Sandburg that while we're banging on his front door?"

"You can't be serious?" Banks released Jim's arm and sat down heavily on the bed, just missing the suitcases. "He wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't he?" Jim hissed. "He came into our squad room and tried to take him with a twenty year old warrant for questioning. I wouldn't put anything past him." Anything else he wanted to say was halted when they both heard the shower shut off.

The residual stress was palpable when Blair walked out of the bathroom. "Umm, guys, what's going on?"

"It's nothing, Sandburg." The flex of Ellison's jaw and the use of his last name told a different story.

"Tony? Did something happen to Tony?"

"No! No, that's not it at all. It's just some loose ends of the case that I want to get tied up, that's all. Honest, Chief."

"If it's just some loose ends, then it can wait. Let's go see Tony first." The hopeful look on Blair's face was Ellison's undoing and he looked at Banks for help.

Simon stood up and stepped forward, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Son, it's almost dinnertime at the nursing home, then visiting hours will be over. It's better that we wait and see Tony in the morning, when he is the most rested."

Blair studied the two men carefully before nodding his agreement. "All right, we'll see Tony in the morning, but you're not talking me out of it." He paused, as if weighing his next question. "What loose ends are left? Barnes is in custody; I gave my statement back in Cascade...oh. Williams, right?"

"Yeah, Buddy, sorry."

"But I've been totally cleared, can't we just drop it? I mean he can't still have any interest in me now."

Ellison paled as he thought about those missing photos and the various reasons Williams could have for taking them. His ever-observant partner picked up on it immediately. "What is it?"

"We need to make sure. Just trust me, okay?" Jim held his breath, willing his mate to accept and not question this.

"Always, man." The words were but a whisper, while the feelings echoed throughout the small room.

The mood held until the sound of a car horn broke through the quiet. Simon looked out the window and announced what Ellison already knew. "Your ride's here."

"Aren't you going with him, Simon?" Sandburg turned to him with a questioning look.

Banks thought fast and pushed the younger man towards the round table in the corner of the motel room. On the table was a battered checkers set. "Joan's parents are coming for Daryl's birthday next week. I have never beaten my ex-father-in-law in checkers. You are going to help me change that. Is that understood?"

Grateful for the distraction, Ellison slipped out the door to meet the taxi waiting in the parking lot.

A small, yellow house with white trim sat alongside several other houses of the same vintage. All older homes, well-kept, with freshly mowed lawns and brightly colored flower beds. Children's laughter echoed as the bikes darted down the gravel road. Neither Taylor nor Rand said a word as they pulled next to the curb. Ellison had his door open before the car was at a full stop. At the sound of his door slamming, an older gentleman straightened up from under the hood of his car and came over from across the street, wiping his hands on a rag.

"If you're looking for Terrence, he went to the parts store to pick up an oil filter for me. Can't believe the kid there sold me the wrong size filter."

"Then you know Special Agent Williams?" Rand leaned back against the side of the sedan, as if making idle conversation.

"Oh, yeah. The whole neighborhood was thrilled when he moved in a few months back. Makes all the parents here feel safe knowing that a FBI agent is living around here, especially one that tracks down child molesters. Do you boys work with him?"

Ellison waited to see what kind of response the two agents would give him. Rand seemed to stumble over his answer, so Taylor stepped in. "Actually, we work out of the Dallas office, but we needed to confer with him about a case. The sheriff is meeting us too." With a nod of his head, Taylor pointed out the county car pulling up at the curb.

One of the largest men Jim had ever seen unfolded himself from the front seat of the patrol car and walked up to greet them. "Gentlemen, I'm Sheriff Gib Lobel. I spoke with Montgomery and he brought me up to speed on the situation."

Not wanting to tip their hand to the neighbor, Ellison rushed through the introductions. "These are Special Agents Taylor and Rand, and I'm Ellison from Cascade. Apparently, Special Agent Williams is running an errand. Mr...."

"Little." The older man seemed pleased to be included.

"Yes, Mr. Little was just telling us how happy the folks around here are to have Williams as a neighbor." Jim hoped the sheriff picked up on what he was trying not to say.

"We sure are. In fact, Terrence knows all the kids around here by name, and just last week he bought all of them Ice Cream when they brought home their progress reports from school." As a car slowed down to pull into the driveway, Little turned around. "Well look, here he is now." Waving, he walked up the driveway to greet the man stepping out of the car. With a pat on the back, Williams handed a package to Little, refusing any money for it.

Ellison felt sick, knowing the probable reason Williams was working so hard to gain the friendship and trust of the area families. One glance at Lobel showed the same disgust. Wanting this dealt with away from the prying eyes of well-meaning neighbors, Ellison hung back, letting the agents initiate contact and getting all of them into the house.

Taylor seemed to have the same idea in mind. Ellison cranked up his hearing ever so slightly to hear the exchange between the two men. "I hate to bother you on your vacation, but we really need you help with a case. Could we come in and talk about it?"

Williams' ego allowed him to believe that his expertise was really needed and he opened the door and invited the four men inside. "You know that I'm always willing to help with a case; how have you boys been? Haven't seen you two since the Christmas party." Barely taking a breath, he stuck his hand out to the sheriff. "Sheriff Lobel, isn't it? We met at the county offices once, but were never formally introduced. How are you?"

The sheriff's stony silence didn't seem to bother him and he moved over to stand in front of Ellison. Jim shut the door with a resounding click as he waited for Williams, glad that they had never actually met in Cascade. Williams' smile reminded Jim of a used car salesman. "I don't believe we've met; I'm Special Agent Terrence Williams, of the CAC unit."

Jim decided to play dumb. "The CAC unit?"

"Crimes against Children. We're a pilot program, designed to assist local law enforcement in combating the predator usually associated with child molestation, stranger abductions, that sort of thing."

"You being the expert on predators, of course." Now that they had him inside and surrounded, Ellison did nothing to hide his anger.

The bland smile faded from Williams' face. "Who are you?"

A feral smile spread over the Sentinel's features. "That's right. You don't know me nearly as well as I know you. I'm Detective Ellison from Cascade, Washington. But you do seem to know my partner, Blair Sandburg, don't you? In fact, it seems that you wanted to know him a bit too well." Ellison stepped into Williams' personal space, causing the man to step backwards and into Lobel who caught his arms and handed him a search warrant.

Williams jerked out of the sheriff's grasp and stared at the warrant in his hand. "What in the hell is this? I thought you wanted my help on a case."

"Oh, but we do." Rand's voice practically oozed. "We want you to show us what happened to the missing photos from the Olson case."

"Photos?" Williams was starting to sweat. "What missing photos?"

"It's simple," Taylor began to get into the act now too. "The photos were in the file. You took the file. When you returned the file, they were missing."

"Oh, is that all?" Williams gave a nervous laugh. "They must have fallen out of the folder. I'll take a look for them."

"How about if we help you look for them?" Lobel nodded at Rand and Taylor before keying his radio and telling his deputies to move in. Williams was speechless as two carloads of uniformed men entered and began to methodically search his home.

Ellison made a show of going through the bookcase in the living room, but what he was actually doing was studying Williams' reaction to the working of the men around him. When three deputies moved into the bedroom, his heart rate skyrocketed.

~ Something there you don't want us to find? ~ "You know, most people keep porn in their bedroom if they have it. What do you say, shall we take a walk in there and see what turns up?" Without giving him a chance to react, Ellison pulled Williams to his feet and dragged him into the bedroom. Once there, he shoved him down on the bed and began walking around the room, monitoring Williams the entire time. After three laps around, Jim was certain that Williams kept his 'dirty laundry' in the walk-in closet along with the clean clothes, and joined the officer already working on it.

Between the two of them it was only a matter of minutes before the closet was empty, the contents piled in the center of the room. Another of the deputies joined them as they began the task of sorting through the large pile. Immediately, Ellison noticed Williams relaxing, and stood back up. After thinking for a minute, he returned to the now empty closet while carefully monitoring Williams. He wasn't surprised when Williams' heart rate and breathing skyrocketed.

Carefully and slowly Jim dialed up his senses to examine what seemed to be empty space. Hearing was odd; distortions echoed throughout the bungalow and were amplified in the closet. Sight was difficult without his Guide, as the entire closet was lined with cedar strips and the pattern made him dizzy and on the verge of a zone out. Dialing those back, he tried smell next. Past the scent of cedar, of laundry starch, of dust, there was another odor. Barely detectable, but recognizable to any man, the musky scent drew him to one wall of the closet. From out in the bedroom the sour scent of fear was a sharp contrast to what had gathered his attention in the closet.

"Did you find something?" Ellison had been deep in thought and the arrival of the sheriff startled him.

"Maybe, hang on a second." Jim walked past Lobel and began pacing off the size of the room. Once he was satisfied with the measurements, he continued in the same manner throughout the neat house. Williams' agitation was now visible to everyone there.

"What have you got? You're sure making him nervous in there." The sheriff followed Ellison but didn't interfere.

"It doesn't add up. The closet should be about four feet deeper than it is."

"A false wall?"

Ellison turned to the sheriff, an unreadable expression on his face. "Let's go find out." Not trusting his emotions, Ellison never looked at Williams as he walked past the man and re-entered the closet, Lobel behind him. Now that he knew where to look, finding the hidden latch was ridiculously easy for the Sentinel, and within seconds the door slid open.

"Oh my God." Even whispered, the sheriff's words were louder than Ellison could have managed at that moment. In front of them was a collection of sexual torture devices that made Tina LeMat's stash seem like a mild kink. Many of the items were new, unused; as if waiting for their first victim. Understanding whom that was to have been made Jim gasp in pain. The scent, forgotten for a moment, made him choke and he instinctively followed it to its source.

On the third shelf down from the top, looking innocent among the leather and the clamps, was a stack of pictures. The curly brown hair and the blue eyes in the top photo were easy to recognize. So was the telltale translucent puddle still damp across it. Without touching anything, Jim bolted out into the hallway, only stopping at the outside door when his vision caught sight of the group of curious neighbors gathered in the yard.

~ How many of their kids have been in this house? ~ As that thought ripped across his belly Ellison made a dash for the bathroom, barely making it in time. As he rinsed out his mouth, Jim looked up to see Lobel waiting discretely outside the bathroom door. He stepped out to stand across from the sheriff. "Sorry about that."

Lobel just shook his head. "Don't be, I'm just glad this place has two bathrooms."

Jim understood. "There were more photos than he took from the file. Do you know if those are from other cases or if he..."

"If he started taking his own pictures? I don't know, but I can tell you that I'm gonna need a good stiff drink before I find out." Lobel paused, as if weighing what he wanted to say and Ellison waited, understanding how difficult this was. "Listen, Ellison, it's going to be a pretty bad scene when we tell his neighbors what kind of a man was around their kids. It might be easier if there isn't a northerner around at the time. I'm gonna have one of my deputies drive you to the station before we bring Williams outside."

Ellison started to object, then realized how much he didn't want to see Williams right now, and nodded his agreement.

Neither man spoke until they were at the sheriff's office. Once they were in the building the young deputy turned to Ellison and pointed out one of the interrogation rooms. "You can wait in there if you'd like, sir, or there's coffee in the break room."

"That sounds good." The emotional drain was heavy and Ellison was ready for some caffeine. He followed the deputy down the hall and into the breakroom, spotting the phone on the table. "I need to make a local call, do you mind if I use the phone?"

His escort seemed to understand, and grabbed a hastily poured cup of coffee. "No problem, just dial 9 for an outside line. I'll give you some privacy." He was out the door before Ellison reached the coffeepot. Cup in hand, he dialed the number for what he so desperately needed to hear.

"Banks." Expecting a call, the captain had grabbed the phone before the first ring was done.

~ He's in custody. ~ The words didn't begin to cover the pain that was obvious in the Sentinel's voice.

"Was it bad?" Simon kept his tone low and soothing, not only for the distressed friend on the phone, but for the sleeping friend only a few feet away. He heard a choked sob before Jim spoke again.

~ Yeah, it was. Is Blair with you? ~

"He just dozed off a few minutes ago, but I can wake him..."

~ No! No, I need something else, but it's going to sound pretty strange. ~

"Is this one of those Sentinel things?"

~ Maybe. ~

Banks listened and understood. Quietly, he laid the phone receiver on the sleeping man's chest, over his heart, and moved away.

"Detective?" The timid voice brought Ellison out of his near zone-out. Jim opened his eyes to see a young female deputy standing next to him, shifting nervously. Giving her a reassuring smile he returned his attention to the phone.

"Simon, thanks." Not waiting to see if the captain had heard him he set the receiver back down on its cradle, and turned to the young woman. "Are they ready for me?"

"Umm, yes, they are." Ellison got the distinct impression that there was some kind of problem.

"What's going on?" Ellison stepped between the deputy and the door, effectively blocking her path and forcing her to answer his question.

She seemed almost grateful to tell what she had heard. "Those agents are planning to send Williams back east to be assessed by some FBI shrink. They're going to over-rule local law."

"Like hell they will!" Ellison stormed out of the breakroom, almost hitting the young woman in the face with the door. He already knew where he was going, although it was not necessary to dial up his hearing to follow the loud argument coming from the interrogation room.

The Sentinel was very proud of his control when he didn't kick the interrogation room door open, although his hands did almost as much damage. "What charges are you filing, Lobel?"

"The state charges are immaterial, detective." Rand's words were bland, as if he knew something the rest of them did not. "Special Agent Williams has been under a great deal of stress, and it has obviously made him very ill, the way he's become obsessed with your Mr. Sandburg. Our superiors in DC will make sure he gets the best care possible."

"So you've decided that you can just ignore the laws he broke in this state?" Jim couldn't believe how fast things were spiraling out of control.

"What laws would that be? We can speculate, but there is no proof of any crimes being committed by Williams while in Texas." Taylor leaned forward, blocking Ellison's view of the smug Williams sitting next to him. "Listen detective, we don't like this, and we're really glad that he never lived in our neighborhood, but our hands are tied. The brass is never going to let this get anywhere near trial; they don't want the image of the bureau tarnished. He'll never be allowed anywhere where he can hurt your partner, or anyone else. Just be grateful for that."

"Grateful? Grateful? What kind of people are you? You saw what was in that closet, you know what he was planning to do with it."

"Again, speculation. Now if you had let him take your partner out of Cascade, you could possibly have more to hold him on."

"Why, you..." It was only the bulk of Sheriff Lobel that kept Ellison from taking on both agents and their smug charge.

"Easy, boy, easy." Lobel pushed him down in one of the chairs and winked. Ellison froze, unsure of what the sheriff was planning. "After all, they have their procedure, as do we. Mr. Williams here was complaining about all the procedure you folks made him go through up in Cascade. We heard about it all the way back here from his place. Well, before he can leave here, he'll have to go through Texas procedure, and as you know, everything's bigger in Texas."

Jim allowed himself a glimmer of hope as Williams began to squirm. Lobel explained further. "You federal boys seem to think that there was no actual crime committed here by Williams. Well, we're not quite ready to say for sure; after all, there are a lot of children that he's had contact with and there is that stack of photos we found at his place. Until we identify every child in every photo, and interview every kid that's been within twenty miles of that man, then he'll be a suspect, and as a suspect, he will remain in our custody. Unless you gentlemen would like to go in front of a local judge and explain your side of the matter."

The room was deathly quiet as the realization hit. Ellison smiled as Rand and Taylor stared at each other, mouths open. Williams slumped down and laid his head on the tabletop with a soft thud. Lobel ignored them and turned his attention to Ellison.

"I figure that it'll take a couple of months at least to sort through all of this, and get it before a judge for an extradition hearing. Our jail isn't as fancy as any federal facility, but it is real cozy. In fact, many of our inmates are very friendly with the staff. News travels quite fast in prison, don't you agree, detective? Two months might not seem that long to us, but to a federal cop who was using his position to track and possibly abuse children, it could seem like a very long time."

"Oh, God, you wouldn't." Williams was a white as a sheet. He turned to the two agents flanking him. "You can't let him get away with this."

Rand looked at Taylor. "He's right, we were told to get him out of here as soon as the paperwork was done."

Taylor agreed. "Of course, they didn't tell us that it would take that long. When they finish the paperwork, we'll pick him up. Right?"

"Absolutely." Neither man seemed too broken up over losing control of the situation. "Our butts are covered." Rand nodded to his partner and stood up.

Taylor picked up their copies of the report and gave Lobel a card. "Give us a call when he's ready for transport." Neither man gave Williams a second glance as they left.

The sheriff called in two deputies to remove the prisoner. After they closed the door behind them, he turned to Ellison. "I'm sorry that we couldn't do more."

Ellison cleared his throat several times before his voice was audible. "I know, and I do appreciate what you were able to do. You're right, that can be a long time for someone like that, especially if the general population knows about him."

"But it's not enough?"

"Nothing will ever be enough, but it will have to do, won't it?" A sad smile crossed the tired face as Ellison walked out of the claustrophobic room. He didn't stop until the outside door of the station was behind him. Then he began walking in the direction of the motel.

It was after midnight before Jim entered the room they had rented for the night. Simon was dozing in the chair, a forgotten book draped across his chest.

"Hey." The soft voice drew Jim's attention towards the bed. Blair was sitting up, rubbing his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't, I'm kind of slept out." Blair got up and moved next to him. "You're freezing, let me get my shoes and we can go get coffee. There is an all night diner across the street. Have you eaten?" He tugged on Ellison's arm, but Jim didn't move.

"Jim?"

There was no response from the obviously hurting man.

"Is it over?"

This time there was a nod.

"Was it bad?"

The nod was accompanied by a shaky intake of breath.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A shake instead of a nod, that seemed to travel throughout the larger man's body as a shudder. "Just want to hold you."

That seemed to propel the younger man into action and he pulled Jim across the room. Bypassing the closer bed, he sat Jim down on the one he had been sleeping in, knowing that the Sentinel would be able to feel the body heat remaining trapped between the blankets. Quickly and efficiently he removed Jim's clothes, down to his boxers, and tucked him in the bed. Blair then turned to Simon. Two sets of eyes met in understanding as Banks quietly left to discover what had transpired that afternoon.

After locking the door behind Simon, Blair settled himself on the bed, ready to battle any demons that would disturb his Sentinel's rest. Instinctively, Jim nestled his face in the soft chest hair, feeling the delicate vibrations of the beating heart beneath his cheek. Strong, soothing fingertips ghosted across his temple, easing the hurting man into a healing slumber.

Little was said over breakfast the next morning. Jim seemed limited to one word answers and Simon's response to Blair's unasked questions had been a terse "later" while Ellison had been in the shower. Under normal circumstances, Blair would have been miffed at his two friends, but he understood they were trying to protect him, and waited until the words would come to them easier.

After a hearty breakfast the three men set out to the care facility that had been Tony Olson's home for the past twenty years. Twice Jim turned to his partner and began to speak, only to stop and turn away. On the third time Blair grasped his arm and refused to break eye contact.

"I appreciate that you are trying to protect me, but I'm all right. If something happened that I need to know about, then I want you to tell me."

Ellison nodded and turned to Banks. "How much do you know? I'm sure that you did some checking after I got back to the motel last night."

Banks glanced up in the rear-view mirror. "I got a full report from Lobel last night, but I haven't talked to Sandburg about it yet."

"Something is tearing you apart, man." Blair rubbed Jim's arm in an attempt to relax him. "You don't have to tell me everything, but I think you need to tell me part of it, whatever is tearing you apart."

Jim licked his lips before speaking. "He was turning into another Olson. He had everything there to hurt somebody."

"Dwayne taught him well, huh?" Blair looked at the floor mat as he asked his next question. "Had he done it, had he crossed that line yet?"

Jim thought for a moment. "I don't think so, everything he had there looked new, like maybe he was fighting the urge, or working his way up to it. Who knows how a mind like his thinks. He seemed to have a fascination for the kids in the neighborhood, but I'm sure that he hadn't done anything, at least in that house."

"Is he going to get the chance to do it later?"

Ellison thought about what would happen to Williams, about what could happen to child molesters in jail, even the ones that had not crossed that fine line. There was no group in jail that would protect him, not even the guards. Lobel had been right; two months could be a very long time indeed. "No, Chief, he's not going to get the chance to hurt any kids."

An enormous weight seemed to lift off the younger man and he leaned back against the vinyl seat. "Then it was worth it."

"What?" Ellison didn't seem to understand. When a red light stopped the progress of the car, Banks turned around, also puzzled by the reaction.

Blair pointed out the window at a small playground. "Look." Sitting in the sandbox was a small, blond haired boy. On the swings were two more children, one with a riot of curls. Jim thought he understood, and relaxed as his Guide explained.

"Olson's been dead for over twenty years. Barnes will never see the inside of a courtroom, we all know that. All this pain, for all of us, and what did it accomplish? But look at those kids, they're innocents. And now one less potential threat is gone from their world. Olson passed his evil on to Williams, but we broke the cycle. It stops here and now."

A famous Sandburg smile broke the gloom in the car. "I can live with that. I really can." He leaned back as the light turned green and Simon pulled away from the intersection. "Now let's go see Tony."

Jim watched the younger man, allowing Blair's contentment to fill his own soul. Finally coming to terms with what they had experienced, he turned back to Banks. The older man's diversion had been a Godsend the previous day. "Tell me Simon, are you ready to beat Daryl's grandfather in checkers?

"Bite me, Ellison." For emphasis, Banks chomped down on an unlit cigar.

The soft crunch of the gravel underneath the tires was the only sound as Simon pulled the car up in front of the Maxwell Care Center. Blair traced the outline of the building into the moisture on the window as his companions waited. "It seems like a nice place, you hear about some of these, and..."

"It's a private facility, son. His publisher pays for it out of the proceeds from his books." Simon turned around and leaned his arm against the back of his seat. "There's a whole new generation of young people reading Tony's books."

"Really? That's so cool. I never thought about it, but they were such classics that they would never become dated. Remind me to track down his publisher when we get home, I want to thank him for taking care of Tony. A less honorable man would have taken advantage of the situation."

"We'll take care of it, Chief. Do you remember his name?"

"He was just Uncle Martin to me. He had an assistant named Sid; but Sid left for another company a little while before the accident. I'm sorry, I don't remember any more than that."

Banks growled around his well-chewed cigar, "Sandburg, you were just a kid, you weren't expected to remember business contacts."

"I guess we should do this, right?" Blair drummed his fingers against the door handle.

"That's entirely up to you." Jim rested his hand on the thin shoulder. "In some ways this man will be a total stranger to you. No one is going to think less of you if you decide not to do this."

Blair leaned back, resting his head on the strong chest behind him. "He's not the stranger here, I am. I know that I've grown up into someone he won't recognize, but what if I've grown up into someone he won't like?" Not giving his companions a chance to answer, he straightened and shoved the door open, stumbling out into the crisp spring morning.

"Are we doing the right thing, Simon?" Ellison gave Banks a hard look before he climbed out of the car. Banks had been unsure, but now he couldn't even answer the question. The two of them followed his now subdued Guide into the nursing home.

Blair seemed in control as he stepped up to the reception desk, but the Sentinel could detect minute tremors coursing through him. "Yes, I'm here to see Anthony Olson, I'm his...I'm his son."

The blue-haired woman looked up and smiled. "Blair, right? Dr. Young said you might be by to see him."

"You know Tony, then?" The younger man's voice was full of hope.

"I've sat behind this desk for 32 years, I know everybody. One of the nurses is giving your father his morning bath, and then he'll get breakfast. We try to keep a routine established for all our patients. I'll send you back to speak with the doctor first and by the time you're done, Tony should be ready for a visitor. How does that sound?" Without waiting for an answer, she buzzed for Dr. Young.

Blair wandered around the lobby, expending nervous energy as they waited. Through the window into the courtyard he could see the more mobile residents having their breakfast next to the raised flowerbeds. The staff seemed gentle and attentive and he relaxed, the unspoken nightmare of Tony trapped in a heartless facility faded away. There was one person whom he trusted to confirm this.

"Jim?"

Only one word, his name, but the Sentinel knew exactly what his Guide was asking. He too, had experienced concerns for the injured man's welfare. Ellison remembered the one time he had entered a care facility to arrest an aide who had been stealing the patient's medication and selling it on the street. Less than a month later the home had been closed by the state, but the sensitive man had never forgotten the hopelessness he saw within those walls.

One by one, he opened his senses to fully experience what was now Tony Olson's entire world. Instead of the expected odor of ammonia and urine, he found the scent of baking bread, fresh flowers and the same natural cleaning compounds they used in their own home. Hearing gave him not the sounds of misery, but the gentle murmuring of caring voices and the soft laughter of bingo game. Looking through the courtyard he could see into the rooms beyond, filled with personal belongings, sparkling with natural light.

To complete his inspection, Jim ran his hand over the edge of the large desk centered in the room. The wood was smooth and cared for. Sensitive fingertips did not pick up the roughness of a quick dust job, but rather the silkiness of a true polishing. When the older woman gestured towards the plate sitting on it, he helped himself to the pastries piled high. Fresh and flaky, the flavor exploded in his mouth. Linking taste and smell, the Sentinel followed the sweet bread throughout the building. This was not a treat to impress the visitors, this was what the residents were enjoying with their morning meal.

A smile and a nod conveyed his answer to his soulmate. It was enough, as Blair could read the rest in his eyes.

"Dr. Young can see you now." The receptionist's words broke through the quiet but not the connection, as they followed her through the inner doors, Simon bringing up the rear.

Silently, the three men entered the slightly cluttered office. Dr. Young, this time wearing an Animanics tie, stood up to greet them. "Captain Banks, good to see you again; and you must be Blair." He gave the younger man an apprising look. "It's hard to remember that you're all grown up. Captain Banks speaks very highly of you."

"Really?" Blair's voice almost squeaked as he turned to look at the other man. Simon just raised an eyebrow in response.

Dr. Young next turned his attention to the third man in the room. The big silent one with Blair's shoulder clutched in his hand. A deeper look, one past the stony face, showed the doctor eyes clouded with pain. He softened his opinion and offered his hand. "And you are?"

Jim blinked and found a hand thrust towards him, the owner obviously expecting some kind of response. He stammered out a reply as he extended his free hand. "Jim...Jim Ellison, I'm Blair's partner."

"You mean with the police department?" Dr. Young watched as Jim's attention again turned to Blair.

Again, Jim gave an answer without really registering the question. "Yeah, there, too."

Simon opened his mouth, then closed it without uttering a sound, realizing that Jim hadn't noticed that he'd outed them. Concerned, he turned to see the doctor's reaction.

Dr. Young wasn't sure how to take the cryptic comment and again turned his attention to the man at Blair's side. Beyond the stony countenance, behind the pain, was the glow of love. The kind of love that took one's breath away. The kind of love that Tony would have wanted Blair to grow up and find; even if it came in a six foot package with a receding hair line. As he watched, Blair turned towards his mate, his own face echoing Jim's love. When Jim's hand moved off Blair's shoulder and up to his face, Blair nuzzled his cheek into it without a moment's hesitation. Dr. Young felt like an intruder in his own office. Before he could make a graceful exit, Blair turned back to him. His words were softly spoken, but there was a strength behind them.

"I'd like to see my father now. Is there anything I need to know beforehand?"

"Yes, I'm afraid there is." Dr. Young paused, unsure how to present this new wrinkle in the young man's plans to reunite with his father.

Jim quickly reached out with his senses and found the man to be nervous. Dreading the worst, he moved closer to Blair. His young lover responded by leaning back against him ever so slightly.

Simon looked back and forth between the doctor and his men. It wasn't possible; he could not have delayed this meet only to have Tony taken away again. He reached out and grasped Ellison's arm, hoping to add his own strength to the bond.

Dr. Young saw their reactions and tried to backpedal. "It's not that bad, really. One of our nurses came back from vacation today and didn't know you were coming. She gave him the letter this morning."

"Oh, God." Simon had hoped never to face those innocent words again.

"Letter?" Blair shook his head as he puzzled over the doctor's comment and Simon's reaction to it. "Simon, what is he talking about?"

Simon pulled away and began pacing, rubbing his face as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Blair, do you remember writing a letter to Tony while he was in the hospital?"

Slowly, Blair nodded. "Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything? That was over twenty tears ago."

Young took over the explanation for Simon. "To us, yes. But to Tony, every morning he regains consciousness from the accident and he's worried about you."

"So the letter..."

"Helps him know you're all right." With a gentle smile, Dr. Young finished Blair's thought. After a moment he continued his explanation. "He is very focused on the letter, and asks anyone who comes in to read it out loud to him. I just didn't want you to get blindsided by it. If you prefer to wait until after his mid-day rest, he won't remember seeing it. It might be easier for you."

"No. No, I'd like to see him now, please." Blair squared his shoulders and waited for the response.

With no other option available, Dr. Young led the group out of the office and down the hall.

Once he reached the door to Tony's room, Dr. Young once again turned to the young man at his side. The determination he saw answered his questions without a word and he silently opened the door.

Blair looked back at the two men who waited in the hall and gave a gentle smile. His words were only loud enough for the intended person to hear. "I remember my safe word, Jim." With that he took a deep, calming breath and followed the doctor into the room.

Simon watched the interaction between his best team as Sandburg entered the small room. Whatever private message Blair whispered to his Sentinel had visibly calmed the older man, but Ellison had still jumped when the door closed. When Ellison cocked his head to the side, Banks realized that the other man was listening to what was happening behind the now closed door. Feeling helpless to do more, he placed a steadying hand on Ellison's shoulder.

Blair entered the small room, startling at the soft noise made when the door closed behind him. Dr. Young just smiled at the quiet "sorry", never realizing the apology was not for him. His smile faded as Blair looked past him and got his first look at his father, in twenty years.

~ Daddy. ~ Blair bit his lip to keep from saying the word out loud as all the memories rushed back. The weekend spent camping on the gulf coast. Pitching lessons out in back of the house. Tony running behind him, cheering him on the first time he rode his bike without training wheels. The two of them raiding the refrigerator while Naomi slept followed by vague memories of being carried back upstairs and being tucked into bed. Memories he had locked away all these years, unable to reach past the pain of his loss to recapture the warmth of his father's love.

Memories, Blair shook his head at the irony of it. The only thing Tony had left; the only thing Blair could never share with him. Almost against his will, he was drawn to the frail figure in the wheelchair, listening as Tony's familiar voice rose with excitement.

"He's a good boy, doctor. He wouldn't cause any problems if you let him come visit me. I just want to see him before he goes to stay with my brother. Five minutes, just let him come see me for five minutes." Tony's pleading face looked past the pained expression of Dr. Young to see Blair standing behind him.

Tony's face lit up and for one glorious second, Blair thought that his father recognized him. A pale and trembling hand reached out, clutching the crisp, new copy of the letter Blair had written to his father all those years ago. "Here, you read it then tell me if you think he's old enough to come visit his old man."

Blair took a deep breath and began to read, as much from memory as from sight.

                        Dear Daddy, 
                I miss you. I love you. Will you come home soon?
                Mommy says I can't come to the hospital, but she
                will take this to you for me. Tomorrow I am going
                out to Uncle Dwayne's to stay so Mommy can stay
                with you at the hospital. I want to stay too, but the
                nurses say that I'll get in the way. I'll be a good boy
                for Uncle Dwayne, I promise. Can we go fishing
                together when you come home?

                                        Love,
                                        Blair

When he finished, he returned the letter to Tony, taking the opportunity to squeeze his hand. "Your son loves you very much. I'm sure he understands why he can't be with you right now."

Tony clumsily wiped his eyes. "I love my little boy so much. I don't want him to forget about me."

Blair knelt down and carefully gathered the hands that had guided and supported him all those years ago into his own hand. With his other hand he gently smoothed away Tony's tears. "No matter what happens, little boys never forget their daddies - and they never stop loving them. Your little Blair will always remember you and will always love you."

When Tony's eyes met Blair's, he could see that exhaustion was rapidly overtaking the now elderly man. With obviously fading strength Tony reached up with his good hand and cupped Blair's cheek. "Thank you. Does your father know what a wonderful young man you are?"

"I'd like to think so." Blair's voice was barely a whisper as he returned Tony's hands to his lap and kissed the now sleeping man on the forehead. "I'd like to think so."

Out in the hallway, Simon Banks watched the many emotions that flickered across Ellison's usually stoic face. He didn't need much of an imagination to guess what was going on in the closed hospital room. Before Simon could work up the courage to ask, Jim stiffened and pulled away from him. The opening of the door drew his attention away from his companion.

The minutes passed slowly for Jim as he listened and ached for his lover, Simon's presence grounding him and allowing him to focus on the conversation. Nothing prepared him for the devastation on Blair's face as his partner stumbled through the door. Before he could reach out, Blair turned and leaned against the door that he had just closed behind him. Sentinel hearing wasn't necessary to hear the broken words.

"Bye, Daddy."

Jim didn't remember moving, just suddenly Blair was within reach. As he tentatively reached out, his Guide instinctively turned towards him, allowing Jim to tuck him under the taller man's chin.

They stood there for a long time, drawing strength from one another until a broken voice breached the silence as the first traces of long awaited moisture could be felt on the Sentinel's shoulder.

"Home, Jim, I want to go home."

Worth the wait? Let me know.

Emerald_green37@comcast.net

End As the Bough Breaks by Emerald: Emerald_green37@comcast.net

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