Stealing Home - part three
by Callista Echo

It's hot under the blankets. There are no blankets to throw off. The pain in my arm has gotten worse. I don't know Waking up I can't figure out where I am. I'm hot and I want to throw the blankets off. what's happening. "Jason?"

"What?"

Tuning into the gentle rocking motion, I realize I'm in the car with Jason. I try and scoot as far away as possible. Jason hates sickness. I think his feelings about it border on phobia. It must have come as a real blow when he realized how sick I get when I drink. I wonder why he insists on it after every execution. Let's face it, he hates to have me come too close even if I'm well, unless he's sighting down the end of a high powered rifle. I'm surprised I'm not up front with the driver.

I sit for a moment trying to get on top of the pain. I know no good can come of this, but I never did get any water and I'm thirsty. "Is there any water?" Maybe this will work. "I need to take the pill."

"Ah, for goodness sake, Eric, you were supposed to take that pill three hours ago." Jason's annoyed but I still have some hope.

"I fell asleep."

"Well, I forgot to bring the damn pills with me. We'll get some more later."

I wonder again at what rousted us from the estate. I'm not surprised Jason forgot the pills. It's the water I really want. I hesitate to ask, as there's no telling how Jason will react to my needing something.

"Could I have some water anyway?"

"When we get to where we're going, Eric." Jason's using his infinite patient tone with me. That one is much preferable to his rage, which I know, lurks under the surface.

I lean back and hope it isn't too far to where we are going. I drift. Aside from the misery, I'm as happy as I get these days. Jim's back. It baffles me that he bothers with me. Maybe he won't again, After all, I forgot him. He was okay with that, though. I hate to imagine the damage Jason would inflict if I ever forgot him. I wonder if seeing Jim is a sign that I'm as defective as Jason says I am. As if Jason knows what I'm thinking, he leans over and pushes against my arm. I can't help it, I gasp. Jason is waiting for me to say something. When I do he'll make sure it escalates until I'm begging for forgiveness. It's what he does when he's bored. I know enough to keep quiet, but I know that won't protect me for long.

"We're almost there, sir."

I'm saved by our arrival.

"I can see that. Pull into that first garage."

Jason slides out of the car. He looks back at me. I'm trying to figure out how to exit without more pain.

"Come on, Kendall, get the lead out."

Fearing that if I'm too slow, Jason will simply yank me out, I stumble clumsily out of the car. For a moment I see stars and think I may pass out. Hold it together, Eric.

"Move it, Eric, I want to get some sleep in before this night is over."

I follow Jason inside. It's an old farmhouse. Jason scouts around and comes back and assigns beds. Mine is the one by the kitchen. "Jason, may I have some water?" It's one of those damned if you do and damned if you don't things. If I go and get myself water, Jason is liable to blow up and not let me have any until tomorrow, simply to prove that he is the giver of all things. If I ask, he's likely to blow up because I'm acting helpless.

"I'm not your mommy, Kendall. Get it yourself." I breathe a sigh of relief. Permission granted. I hunt up a glass and fill it. The water tastes like rust and iron and I drink it all down. I move to the room Jason pointed out and shuffle to the bed. I think about taking shoes off and then, blessed oblivion.

"Chief, buddy? You all right?" Wha? I'm outside. I think I just heard Jim ask if I was all right. I've never hallucinated me and Jim outside. It has to be Jason. Why would he ask if I'm all right? Oh God, he's thought up a new game and I don't know the rules to this one yet. There's always a nasty learning curve when Jason thinks up a new game to play with his guide.

I try and open my eyes. I need to see Jason and try and figure out the right response.

"Jason?"

"No, it's me, it's Jim." My eyes open and it is Jim.

"J-jim?" I can't believe he's back so soon.

"Yeah, it's Jim, remember me?" I'm on the ground and Jim has his arms around me. I can feel him. He's not a dream.

"Jim!" I touch his face. It is rough and warm. He can't be here. Jason will kill him.

"Oh God, you're real, you're here." I have to get up, he has to get out of here.

"We have to get out of here, Chief." Jim echoes my thought. He helps me to my feet and I don't know if I'm going to be able to stay upright. Jim puts his arm around me and I almost push him away. I smell and I'm sweaty and he can't possibly want to be this close to me. He tightens his hold and I know we won't be able to get away if I don't accept his help. For a moment I consider bolting back to the house. Jim has no idea what he's up against and I could get him killed. Life in bondage to Jason would be better than knowing I was responsible for Jim's death. I look at Jim and see the implacable hardness. If I bolt, he'll follow and we'll have even less of a chance.

We move out in silence. I'm glad Jim realizes some of the problems with escaping from a Sentinel.

I don't know how far we have to go. Exhaustion is weighing me down. Just one more step, just one more step. Only the thought of Jason catching Jim keeps me going. Can't let that happen. After awhile I'm not really sure if I'm awake. Is this some terribly wonderful dream, or is this a wonderful, terrible dream? It's wonderful to know Jim is real and he's here, with me. It's terrible to know Jim is real and he's here with me and therefore Jason's prey. Jason never, ever misses. A branch cracks under foot and I almost collapse with the fear that Jim has been shot. There's no grunt of pain, no let up in our progress, so I guess not. I don't know how long we walk, the fever has distorted time. I think perhaps it's hopeless. Jim doesn't have a car and there's no way we'll be able to outrun Jason. Suddenly I feel my legs swept under me. Jim's picked me up and he's carrying me. Now the despair is nearly overwhelming. He can't possible get to safety, carrying me. I hear the crunch of gravel and a car door being opened. There is a car. There is hope. I let go.

He's onto us. I can hear him swearing at the driver, "Fuck. He's gone." There's a moment of silence and I can see him in my mind's eye, cocking his head. "Someone's taken him. Bring the car around."

He's packing and muttering, some of which I catch. "I'll kill him. I'll kill that little freak. I don't care if he is the best, he's a dead man." Too soon they are on the road behind us. I call Simon. Thank God he answers right away. "Simon, I'm heading back east toward Cleveland. Do you know where I am?"

"Yeah Jim, you're near Bellevue, which is about 35 miles south of Sandusky."

"How soon's the next town?"

"You'll come up to Monroeville in about twenty miles. It's a blip, Jim, won't be any help there."

"I think I have just enough gas to get us to Cleveland." Jason can probably hear that but he'd figure that out in any case. "Go to Robbins. I'll alert him at the last minute. There's nobody else to go to. I'll be on the next plane out."

"Thanks Simon." I'll feel a lot better when there's someone I can trust at hand.

Blair is still out. He looks so young with his hair shorn like that. He actually has ringlets and I idly play with one as I push the car to faster and faster speeds. His fever is close to 104 now. The hospital should be my destination, not the police station.

I feel Blair's breathing changing as he struggles to wake up. "J-jason?"

"No!" It comes out as a shout and Blair jerks away from my hand. He looks up at me and I have never seen him look at me like that. He lies very still and doesn't say anything. I hesitate to tell him it's Jim. There's no reason to let Jason know who exactly has his Guide. I assume he's aware of me and if he hears my name, he will be all the more prepared against us. I put my finger to my lips in the age-old quiet sign and Blair nods.

I put my hand under Sandburg shoulder and help him sit up. He's sweated enough to get these clothes wet and now he's shaking. By my best estimation we are still 80 miles from Cleveland. I wish I had some water to offer him, his skin is getting that dry, gray look of dehydration. He leans against the door and watches me out of the corner of his eye. I really scared him back there, and his heart is only now starting to ease up a little. He says nothing, taking my shushing to heart.

"I'm sorry I yelled." Hey, even if Jason is listening this can't hurt. "I know you think Jason is your Sentinel and that it is your job to guide him. I know it's hard for you to be taken away." Maybe if Jason does hear that he'll think Sandburg didn't want to come. I listen to hear if he's listening to me. He is.

"Can't you go any faster? Kendall didn't go voluntarily. That's something at least. Maybe I can get a few more hits out of him before he falls apart completely. Who would take him from me? Who the fuck would want that pint sized pain in the ass? I can't even believe Ellison would want him back. And there's no fucking way Ellison or any of those bozo police dicks could have tracked us. No, there's a new player, but who?"

I think about that. How could he have been with Sandburg these last few months and hate him? I've never met anyone who didn't like Sandburg. It can be damn annoying the way women, children, dogs and everything in between responds to him. So what's with this guy? Looking over at Sandburg I can see he's closed his eyes. He's about as far away from me as he can get in this small space. I guess living in close quarters with a guy who hates your guts would probably make you kind of sensitive. I reach over to pat Sandburg's arm. He flinches and his eyes fly open. He holds himself very still. "Hey, sorry, didn't mean to startle you." I hear Jason snort. "Startle Kendall? My God, breathing in his direction startles him. He's the world's most sensitive baby." Okay, this is getting really weird. The guy is actually having a conversation with me. I know he doesn't know that but it's still weird. Who the hell is he talking about? The Blair Sandburg I know is sensitive about things, and bad things still have the capacity to surprise him but he's always been a trooper, no matter how alien and ugly the scenes he's been confronted with. What did they do to Sandburg? What have they turned him into? And what does Jason mean by hits? Is he talking about drugs?

I reach over to take Sandburg's arm. He cringes and his heart rate increases. He looks at me and slowly extends his hand. His trembling goes up a notch. He's afraid of me and what I'm going to do. I should never have yelled. I push the sleeve up and quickly scan the pale skin of his arm. No marks. I pull his sleeve back down, and pat his arm. Sandburg slowly retracts his arm as if he thinks I might still have plans for it.

I want to talk to Blair, reassure him, fill him in, but I can't with Mr. Big Ears tuned in. They've been steadily gaining on us the last three miles. Reaching back I haul my bag up front. I motion to Blair to open it and he does. I take out one of my shirts. "Put it on." Blair looks at me quizzically. He's well aware of Jason listening and clearly doesn't want to say anything that Jason can hear. "Go on, yours is soaked."

Sandburg starts to take the sweatshirt off. He can't without aggravating his arm and I hear a sibilant moan as he gets his arm out of the sleeve. I reach over to extract him from the heavy fabric. The paleness of his skin is in sharp contrast to dark hair on his chest. I can see his infected arm and it looks bad; the kid needs medical attention. Slowly he gets the shirt on, but he's unable to button it and I'm sorry I started this. I think I just wanted something of mine, something from the loft, from his old life, surrounding Blair. Now Blair looks more washed out and in more pain.

The road has been blessedly empty but as the morning progresses, the traffic is building. I don't know if that will ultimately work for or against us. Jason's advancement on us has been steady...the rental car no match for the luxury vehicle the Tessuad has equipped Jason with. I've been listening to the sounds of a rifle being assembled. Jason is well equipped and the difficulty of finding shelter from him has just gotten more complicated.

The landscape has changed from farm to suburb. "I want them before they get to the city." Jason talking. "This traffic is making it harder to gain ground." The driver is being reasonable.

"I don't care if you have to drive over the cars in front of us, just make sure we overtake them in the next ten minutes."

He can't be planning on shooting us from the car, they'd be too much chance of killing Sandburg. From the sound of his voice he is within a half a mile of us now. Sandburg has been watching my face as I listen and seems to understand that Jason is closing in, because his heartbeat is racing.

Where's a cop when you really need one? I can't believe no one has called in the two crazed drivers speeding along at ninety miles an hour. I'm afraid any call I make would only result in back up for Jason. So far he hasn't called anyone. He's either sure he'll be able to deal with us on his own or he hates to admit he lost his Guide. Far behind us, I can see a black car weaving and passing cars. I free my gun and place it on the seat. The showdown is eminent and I wish I could stash Sandburg somewhere safe. He's in no shape for this test of loyalty. He's given up on the buttons, so he's only half dressed, his eyes are dull and glazed from a combination of pain and fever. I don't even have an aspirin to offer him.

Way before I'm ready the black car is behind us. It moves into the other lane and begins to swerve, trying to force me off the road. I ease up on the accelerator, hoping to create a little space and a saner speed. The black car stays with me, the sound of metal tearing metal so loud, I have to fight to keep my hands on the wheel and not over my ears. Jason's Cadillac is heavier and it's inexorably moving us to the edge of the road. I spare a quick glance at Blair. He's braced himself but rather than fear, I see focus. There's no doubt he's guiding me in ways neither of us can quantify.

The car lets us edge ahead and I accelerate. It's that old familiar nightmare of nowhere to run. I hear the sound of a rifle shot and the steering wheel jerks in my hand. Now the Cadillac moves in to finish the job. I open my window and grab the gun. We're going down together. I take careful aim and shoot at the driver. Even with the chaos of two cars entangled, I hit him. I fire again, the driver is not the problem here, and I'm gratified to hear Jason grunt in pain. His heart still beats strong and I know the battle has just begun. I can see Jason is trying to control the Cadillac but even with his enhanced senses there's no way to stop the skid that propels our two cars into the trees that line the road. I'm just barely able to keep us from hitting a massive oak straight on, but then the car fishtails and our back end smacks into it with enough force to rattle my brain and leave bruises in unlikely places.

Blair's making sounds of distress and trying to get his seat belt undone. I help him with it and as soon as he's free, he's out the door and running to Jason's car. Shit. He's worried about that asshole who's trying to kill us. I'm almost as angry at Blair for his defection as I am at the freaking church that took him in the first place. I run after Blair and before he can get to the car, I spin him around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Sandburg?" I yell and his eyes go wide. He's in no shape to be standing there. Yet he is, his chest bare, the sweat gleaming on the dark hair that grows there, shaking from the cold and the heat of the fever, trying to reassure himself that Jason still lives.

At the sound of his name, he throws his hands over his ears and goes to his knees, moaning. My anger fades and all I want is to reach down and pull him up, hold him, soothe the pain away. I can't afford to with Jason still breathing. I leave Blair on his knees and run to the Caddy. I knew Jason was hit and the crash has temporarily knocked him out, but his heart is strong and I don't doubt for a minute that this guy is still a threat. I open the door and haul him out. His eyes are fluttering and he ineffectually tries to get my hands off of him. I can tell, right then, the guy's no fighter. A marksman, buff, but not used to getting his hands dirty. I punch him in the face hard and then I punch him again and again. I don't care if Blair is watching or if this bothers him. I look over and Sandburg's no longer on his knees. He's collapsed in a heap but he's watching every move I make. I pull off Jason's belt and secure his arms.

The traffic has kept moving but I know the State Patrol will be here any moment. Nothing I tell them will make sense and by the time they get verification of my story, they'll have Blair in a hospital and me in jail. I can't protect Blair from a jail cell. With the Tessuad's influence they could have Blair released into their care before I'm out.

We have to get out of here. I run to the car, find my gun, and reholster it. I rummage in my bag for the extra clips and a sweater and the phone. Moving back to Blair, I pull him up. He seems to going into shock. It takes more time than we have but I finally maneuver the sweater on to his shivering body. I take off my jacket and get that on him and then I steer him into the woods. He moves with me passively, looking back at Jason once, with a look I can't quite interpret.

I'm tempted to transport Sandburg in a fireman's carry but I know how much that will hurt. For now, Blair is able to stay on his feet and we make some progress. When we're far enough into the woods to be hidden from the accident, I call Simon. I get his voice mail...he's in the air, on his way here. I leave him a message, telling him what happened, knowing he'll be able to connect with Robbins and find the accident site. I don't know what to tell him about where we are or where we'll be, so I just tell him I'll call him back. I debate calling Robbins. I don't have any reason not to trust him, but someone in his department is dirty and it feels like a mistake to expose our position.

We keep moving. I can hear the State Patrol trying to make sense of the scene. So far, there is no pursuit. I keep us on a parallel to the highway. Sandburg's breathing is getting raspier and only my arm around him keeps him upright. He hasn't said one word to me but now I hear him saying my name. I'm shocked at the thrill that goes through me. "Jim..." he gasps, "I can't...I'm sorry, I ..." and he folds in my arms. I pick

him up. Blair may be on the short side but he's always been one solid, sturdy guy. He's still heavier than I'd like, considering I don't know how long I'm going to be carrying him, but these months have depleted him in some indefinable way. He's sick, that's part of it, it's more than that though. The energy signature that defined Blair and guided me has changed. At some fundamental level, those bastards have managed to change Blair. I look down into Blair's darkly handsome face and I ache for what's been taken. I shake myself, there isn't time to mourn. We have to keep moving.

The woods we are in seem to be about a mile wide, with highway on one side and a rural road on the other. I change our course, making for the other road. When we finally get there I scope it out, up and down. I can make out a dirt road leading off the byway we're on and I figure it's as good a place to head for as any other. As soon as we get to it, I can see it leads to a lake about a half mile away. The whole area has the feel of summer cabin territory and in the month of March, it should be pretty deserted. I set Sandburg down on the ground and kneel next to him, trying to catch my breath and get some feeling back in my arms.

Still no sound of pursuit but I can't sit here wasting our lead time. I get Sandburg back in my arms with some difficulty and set off toward the lake.

Blair's eyes are opening and when he realizes I'm carrying him, he immediately tries to stand up. "You'll...hurt...yourself." He can barely get the words out and he's in no condition to stand, let alone walk. "You trying to tell me you think I'm outta shape?" I tease, but Blair looks stricken and ducks his head. "Let me worry about that. Just take it easy. I'll have us someplace warm and we'll get you comfortable." Blair looks up at me in utter bafflement with those unexpectedly blue eyes. "Okay, Chief?" He nods. As we move out, he's tense but after we've gone a few hundred yards and I'm not gasping for breath or falling down, he relaxes enough to lay his head back.

I see a cabin and it would be easy enough to break in but I decide to keep going, hoping for something further off the beaten track. A little way down the road I'm rewarded when I see an overgrown path that leads to a dilapidated cabin hunkered behind overgrown brush. Hard to spot unless you have enhanced vision and it's perfect for us.

The door is easily dealt with and soon we're inside. To my surprise, it hasn't been abandoned and there's a bed and a few blankets. It's clearly a rough stopping place, probably for hunters. There are candles and a some canned goods, bottled water and a propane stove. Finally, something is going our way.

I lay Blair on the bed and get the water. There are so many things he needs done but water is paramount. I hold the bottle for him and he gulps greedily, the water splashing down the front of his sweater. After he drinks one bottle, I get another and make him take it slow. Halfway through, he stops, the effort of drinking having exhausted him. I hunt around, thinking a hunting cabin might have some first aid and I'm rewarded when I find a small kit in one of the cabinets. There's Tylenol and I whoop when I see it. I prop Blair back up and put two pills in his mouth and give him water. Then I repeat the process.

Blair's skin is slick with sweat and I find a towel and start to get him dry, starting with his face and working on down. He watches me, a serious look on his face, confusion fighting with the comfort he seems to be taking in my care. When he's dry, I pull the blankets up. It's cool in the cabin but there's no way I can risk a fire. Blair's eyes are closing and in a few minutes, he's asleep.

I sit on the floor and lean against the bed, pulling the phone out. Thank God, Simon answers and I give him directions as best I can. Blair needs a hospital but if I had my way, we'd hop on a plane and head straight back to Cascade. I hate the feeling of being this exposed and dependant on strangers. I settle back to wait for Simon to find us. I hope it's soon. Blair still has my jacket on and I'm freezing. I must have nodded off because I'm woken by the bed's vibrations. Blair is sleeping but shivering. His fever has come down a notch but it's still hovering around 103. I pull back the blanket and turn Blair on his good side, facing the wall. I climb into bed and spoon around him, trying to convey some of my heat. Not that I have much myself. I replace the blankets, and take comfort in the feel of Blair's body next to mine. For so long he has been absent or untouchable and it feels like a miracle that I'm able to have contact, to feel skin and muscle and bone. I stroke his hair, something I'm often tempted to do but have never allowed myself. Blair reacts to my hand in his hair by relaxing, his body leans into mine, and the shivering abates.

I lean over him, being careful not to jostle his arm. I study this new Sandburg. I want to tell myself the old Sandburg is in there. The bouncy, irrepressible, talking all the time Sandburg. The one who is my friend, who is loyal to me, who is MY Guide. But there's a Sentinel out there who's staked out a piece of Sandburg; who's co-opted his loyalty and used my Guide for his purposes. And I don't know what that means. For me, or for Sandburg.

This time I stay awake, tracking on any one approaching. It's a little soon for The Tessuad to come after us but I'm not about to make the mistake of underestimating them.

Two hours have passed when I hear a car approaching. At first I think it's Simon but then I tune into the fact there are two cars and four people. I throw the covers off and pull Blair up and heft him into my arms. He moans but doesn't wake up. I make it to the door, when the cars pull up.

It's Simon. And Megan, Joel and Rafe. They all came.

"Jim!" They pile out of the car and rush to us, rush to Blair, "How is he?" Each one of them eager to see for themselves that he's back with us. Megan brushes the hair back from Blair's face. "Sandy?" Blair remains oblivious to the joyous reunion.

"His arm is infected and he needs antibiotics. His fever is at 103. He should be in a hospital but I don't trust anyone around here and there's a little problem of the bullets I put into Jason and the driver... Not to mention leaving the scene of an accident, after punching out the guy in the other car and leaving him tied up with his own belt ...all reasons that can be used to take me away from Blair."

I carry Sandburg to one of the cars as I tell them all this. Megan gets the map out and studies our options. "We can drive to Toledo and get on a plane there. If luck is with us, we should be back in Cascade by midnight."

It's a plan and I'm so fucking happy to have my team around me, and Sandburg in my arms, I put off the worry about what next...I'll be able to defend Blair a lot better in my own city than here.

When I open my eyes, I know I'm back in the clinic. There's no mistaking that place for my room at the Center, or any of the many hotel rooms I've stayed in. I close my eyes as I'm in no hurry to be ministered to by Dr. Albright or any of the others. My arm aches, and I can feel that I have an IV in my other hand. I guess we finally made it back. I'm glad, being alone with Jason all the time has been lonely...and scary. Although there is no one at the Center I'm close to...and being at the Center was often lonely and scary, at least there will be a reprieve from the grim work Jason and I do.

I hear someone enter the room but I keep my eyes closed. There just doesn't seem to be any point in opening them.

"Chief?"

My dream is back, Jim is here. I smile and then quickly stop. I can tell someone else is in the room and I can't let on about these waking dreams.

"Simon, Sandburg's awake."

At the sound of that name, my head fills with pain and I cry out and try to bring my hands to my head. Someone holds them down and I hear someone else calling for a nurse.

"Sorry, Chief, sorry, I should have figured that out before this."

Oh. God, I'm going mad. I can feel Jim's hands on my face, touching me, soothing me. How can I feel a dream? No one at the Center would touch me or offer comfort. I'm undone by the unexpectedness of it. I feel the tears and try to turn away from the gentle hands. I realize they must be Jim's hands holding me in place when I hear him say, "Open your eyes, Chief. Come on, do it for me."

I open my eyes, expecting to see Dr. Albright scowling at me and telling me to snap out of it. Instead, I see Jim. I reach up and touch his face and it feels real. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief, it's me." Jim's smiling at me. There's a big, black man behind Jim and he's smiling at me. Two people smiling at me. The black man leans towards me and I wait to see what he'll do to me. He pats my knee and says, "Glad you're back with us, Sa-" Jim cuts him off. "Don't say his name, Simon, it sets off pain in his head."

I guess that's right. Every time Jim has called me by the name of his friend, my head feels like it's going to explode. Thank God that guy has a nickname, or Jim and I would never have managed a conversation.

"How did you..." I'm confused and a little scared. It really can't be all right that they are here at the Center. Someone's going to be punished for this.

"You have to go." I push at Jim, but it's like pushing at a statue. Jim's smile disappears and I miss it, but he's got to get out of here. "Go, before they come in." I'm looking around, glad that the nurse hasn't responded to the call. I look at Jim. He really doesn't understand. "They'll hurt you."

Jim's smile returns. "Shhh, it's all right. We got away. You're not with them. You're back with us in Cascade, in the hospital." Cascade, hospital? Oh, wow, that dream I had, about the car chase and Jim...that was real. He went to all that trouble, put himself in danger, to rescue his friend. But he got me instead. What will he do, what will he think, when he finds out I'm not who he thinks I am? And what will the Tessuad do to me when Jim figures out his mistake and sends me back? I shut my eyes. Okay, this can't last, but maybe I can have it for a few days. I fall asleep on that thought.

The doctor is a lot like the doctors at the Center, efficient, focused, impatient. He asks me what my name is and I tell him. He asks me if I'm sure and I don't know how to answer. If I say I am sure, will they send me back right away? If I say I'm not, will they be even angrier when they find out? I'm hesitating and the doctor comes towards me, I'm sure to take my wrist and help me to remember. Before he gets to me, Jim steps in, placing himself between the doctor and me.

The doctor doesn't seem to notice he just brushes past Jim and lifts one of my eyelids.

"So is that you're real name?"

"Yes." I see disappointment on Jim's face and I wait for the anger. Instead, he puts his arm around me. I know I don't deserve the arm but I'll take what I can get until it's all gone.

"And when I say," the doctor looks at his chart, "Blair Sa-" The pain in my head blots out the last part of the name. I hold onto my head so it stays on my neck and I'm vaguely aware of Jim and the doctor talking. That name really scares me, it has the power to take away Jim. No wonder I feel s much pain whenever I hear it.

Jim's hand is on my forehead, stroking my face, trying to ease the pain. The doctor waits impatiently. When I've stopped moaning, he continues. "You've had brain surgery, can you tell me anything about that?"

"Huh? I haven't had surgery. I was hit by lightning awhile back."

"Hmm. Is that right? I guess that's all for now." He flips his chart closed and gives Jim the look that says let's go talk. "I'm just going to talk to the doc. Will you be okay?"

I nod my head. I watch them leave and wonder if Jim will come back. One of these days will be the day he doesn't, the day he realizes his mistake and turns his attention to finding his real friend. How mad will he be that he wasted this much time on me, when his friend was somewhere else?

There's a white noise generator on the table next to me. Jim thinks of everything. Jason will be on the hunt for me. I can't imagine he'd find me in Cascade but clearly, Jim is taking no chances.

The guy named Rafe comes in and sits down. "You up for some cards?" He's uncomfortable around me. He probably realizes that Jim is deluding himself but he goes a long with it. Jim has great friends. They've all been in to see me and act happy that I'm here. I know that they are happy for Jim, who cares so much about B-I feel a twinge-the other guy...has his friend back. Some like Rafe, seem suspicious of me, others, like Megan, accept me without hesitation. I feel regret that they'll resent the trust they placed in me. I haven't lied, though, I never claimed to be the other guy and Jim is so sure....

Rafe deals. He has to tell me the rules. The other guy would know, but I've never played cards before. It's fun and after awhile, Rafe relaxes.

The doctor is waiting for me in his office. I hate to leave Blair, even in Rafe's hands, for very long. Okay, for any amount of time. The white noise generator that is hopefully protecting Blair from The Tessuad is also making it harder for me to track on his well being. I can do it but it takes a lot of focus and it's the kind of thing that goes so much better with Blair by my side. So while I want to hear what this guy has to say, I want to do it as fast as possible.

Normally Sandburg would be in on this, normally he would insist, but he's so far from normal, I don't think he even knows that's an option. So far, he seems to think leaving everything to me is the way it's done. As much as that alarms me, right now, I'm grateful. I really want to know what Blair's facing and I'm not sure Blair would be able to accept anything the doctor has to say, anyway. "Detective Ellison, I'm going to be brutally honest here. I don't know what they did to your partner. The surgery involved an very small part of the brain. Frankly, It is most likely the reason for your friend's amnesia, although, if I were going to set out to try to cause memory loss, that's not the site I would pick. His blood work is clear, but we'd only be able to trace what he'd been given recently. You were correct about the bracelet, it was used to deliver electrical shocks. The curious thing is how precisely it was placed. The nerve pathway the electricity traveled led to the part of the brain that governs cognizance. Why you would want to do that is beyond me."

"What would that do to him?"

"We don't exactly know...we could put it back on and trigger it to find out..." The guy's serious and if he weren't the best authority on this stuff, I'd ditch him for someone with a pulse.

"You won't be putting that thing back on Sandburg." He has the good sense to back up.

"I didn't think so. Our best conjecture is that it scrambled Mr. Sandburg's brains. He'd be conscious and responsive but not cognitive of what was going on around him. It looks like he's been wearing it at least a month. The infection started right where the conductor probe penetrated his skin. I'd like to schedule surgery tomorrow."

"Surgery? What does he need surgery for?"

"We need answers here and I can't get them from the outside of his brain, I need to get inside. I need to do some exploratory work." This guy sounds like Sandburg describing a 700-year-old dig. He's all excited what was taken and what was left behind and it ain't going to happen.

"No way, Doc. Sandburg has had enough trauma for a lifetime. There is no way he's going to have exploratory brain surgery on top of everything else."

"Detective Ellison, I commend your unwilliness to subject Mr. Sandburg to more pain but he may never recover if we don't know what they did to him."

Sandburg never recover? Nah, that couldn't happen. Then I think about that. I want the old Sandburg back, I want the guy I know I can always count on back. Those bastards went into his brain and crossed wires and maybe Dr. Graves can go in and uncross them. Sandburg would want to be back, I know that.

Then I think about the man with Rafe, the one that's had his life turned upside down and emptied out and I know I just can't add one more day of pain to his life. Maybe later....if all else fails, but not tomorrow.

"No, no surgery. We'll talk in a few weeks." I get up to go.

"I think you're making a mistake, Detective." Dr. Graves is using his best intimidation techniques, including peering at me over his bifocals.

"Yeah. I know what you think." I walk out the door and back to Sandburg.

As I get closer I can make out their conversation.

"Geez, kid, at this rate you'll lose all your lunch money on Poker Night."

"Poker Night?"

"Yeah, once a month a bunch of us get together and play poker, you included."

"Oh."

Walking in I see Blair studying his cards, a frown on his face. I go behind him and see what the problem is. I take his hand and rearrange it and hand it back. Sandburg looks at what I did and then beams me one of his smiles. He slaps his cards down and says, "Gin!"

Rafe throws his cards down in disgust and says, "Did you have to come in just then and play tutor? I was just on the verge." Rafe scowls and shakes his fist at me and before I know what is happening, Sandburg launches himself at Rafe. They land on the floor in a heap.

Rafe yells, "Hey, get off of me!" but makes no real move to use his strength against Blair. I reach down and pull Sandburg up. "What's going on, Chief?" Sandburg has pulled his IV out and his face is red, I'm not sure if it's from anger or exertion.

"He...he was-" Sandburg looks back and forth between Rafe and me. His head falls forward and he mumbles, "I guess he wasn't."

"Wasn't what, Chief?" Maybe he does need brain surgery.

"I thought he was going to hit you." He says this very softly.

"Rafe? Hit me? As if he could." I laugh, hoping to defuse the tension. Rafe looks stunned.

"I would never hit Jim. I might want to hit Jim, but I never would." Rafe's attempt to make light of it, fails.

"I'm sorry I doubted your ability to take care of yourself, Sentinel. I'm sorry I tried to hurt your friend." Sandburg still hasn't looked up and he's shaking again.

Sentinel? Where did that come from?

"Rafe's not mad, Chief." I motion Rafe to go, but Sandburg tunes in and looks around me.

"I'm sorry, Rafe." His voice quavers. Rafe sees his distress and comes over.

"It's okay, you always were kind of protective of Jim."

The shaking actually gets worse and I pull Blair into a hug. He lets me but doesn't return the hold. I pat him on the back. "Don't worry, Chief, it takes awhile to know who the good guys are after what you've been through." At those words, Sandburg's arms tighten around me a ferocity that threatens to crack a rib.

I tilt Blair's head up. His eyes are red from holding back tears. He looks ashamed and worried. He looks exhausted. "Come on, let's get you back into bed." I tuck him back in and replace the IV.

I decide I need to talk to the doctor. The sooner I can get Blair home, the better.

Jim brings me to his home, the loft. He calls it our home. Bl-the other guy lived here with him. Their home. It's nice. It's the first home I can ever remember being in....the first one since I was thirteen, I imagine. This room reminds me of a nomad's tent. How I know what a nomad's tent would look like is beyond me, but that's what comes to mind as I take in the colorful material and artifacts. It's smaller than my room at The Center and cozy.

I'm sitting on the bed, listening to Jim cook. A Sentinel cook! He won't let me help, wants me to rest. So I'm sitting on the bed, listening, smelling. It smells wonderful. Have I ever smelled food cooking? I don't think so. It's always been the cafeteria or room service. Jim looks into my room and I jump up. "Why aren't you laying down, Chief?"

"Lay down? In the middle of the day?"

"Yeah, lay down, rest. You just got out of the hospital." He stands there, waiting, spatula in hand.

"Oh-kay. I lie down on the bed. Jim comes over and actually fluffs a pillow and hands it to me. I take it and he seems satisfied when I put the pillow under my head. "I'll wake you up when it's ready."

What kind of Sentinel is he? A guide's welfare beyond function is of no concern. That's the drill, anyway. I never thought that was right. Not that I think a Sentinel should care about his guide, I'm not trying to say that, but really, if you thought about it, in a primitive setting, a Sentinel would be quite dependant on his guide. If he zoned on a snake's coloring, he'd be snake food. He really would need his guide up and running at all times. Not like now, where they use you and put you in a room until the next time. So you'd think that genetically speaking, a Sentinel would be programmed to care about guides.

Perhaps Jim is genetically more of a throwback. Or maybe he just likes Bl-I gotta find a way to refer to that guy without the spike of pain that comes every time. Let's try B.S. Sounds kind of mean, wonder if he got teased all the time about that. But no pain. B, I'll just say B. So maybe he just likes B. and this is how Jim treats the people he likes. That makes more sense than a Sentinel looking out for a guide. I mull over the genetic implications as I fall asleep.

I've been at Jim's for two days. My arm is just about healed and I don't think I've ever felt this good. Or eaten this much. When I told Jim I could only eat one serving because I couldn't let my body's desires rule me, he made my one serving huge. I don't eat it all of course, but I can't get over how good the food is. Faced with all this fruit and vegetables that crunch (I didn't know they could do that) and ice cream...how could anyone choose the path of redemption? Oh, no, it's another test and of course, I'm failing it. I need to center myself in goodness. I'll never be able to go back if I don't get a handle on all these desires that have been awakened in me.

And I have to go back. Once they find the real B there will be no place for me here. Besides....I want to stop myself from thinking about this, as I've stopped myself for two days, but I can't. Jason will come for me. He'll come to take me back and to be retrained, or, if he's decided I'm a threat, he'll kill me. He'll kill Jim. I need to get back to The Center and convince them that Jim made a mistake and he's not their enemy.

Jim's at work and Joel is here. Jim hasn't left before but something came up and now Joel is on the couch, watching TV while I'm supposed to be sleeping. How am I going to get back? I don't know where they are. I don't have any money.

I walk out of my room yawning. "Just have to use the bathroom." Joel nods at me and goes back to CNN. I go to the bathroom and on the way back, I snag the remote phone. I call directory assistance and ask for The Tessuad Nation. They aren't listed. I ask for The Center. They have a fitness center and a gardening center and a Zen center but not my Center. What am I going to do? If I stay, I'll get Jim killed. Okay maybe I can't get back but I can just leave. The more distance I put between me and Jim, the safer he'll be.

Peeking out to the living room, I can see that Joel has fallen asleep. I guess this it. No, first, I have to write a good-bye.

"Whadya mean he's gone?" I can't believe it, Sandburg walked out again. Okay, not again. Technically he didn't walk out the first time. But this time he did. Joel hands me the note he found.

Dear Jim, I have to go back. I (bunch of sentences crossed out) I'm not Bl (now the handwriting goes haywire and I know the pain hit because he tried to write his name.) I'm not your friend. I'm sorry, I really wish I was. You'll find him, I know you will and he'll be happy you didn't stop looking. Thank you for sharing your home with me. I don't think anyone's ever given me as much as you have. Please stay away from windows until I can get back and tell them you made a mistake. I'll always remember you. Eric

I knew Sandburg wasn't remembering but I badly miscalculated the hold The Nation had on him. I reread the note. He was scared but determined to protect me. He thought explaining I had made a mistake would save my life. We had debated telling Blair what had happened. The department psychologist had said to wait. Fuck. I should have O.K.'d the brain surgery, I should have told Blair what had happened and all the proof we had. He'd been sleeping a lot and then so mystified, I hadn't wanted to confuse him more. And now my mystified and confused friend was out in Cascade, searching for a way back into the organization that had mind-fucked him in the first place. I call Simon and he immediately puts out an APB on Sandburg.

Sandburg is picked up the next morning. It was a long cold night to be wandering the streets of Cascade. He didn't know where he was or where he was going. When I go to the station to pick him up, he's at my desk. The sight of him releases a knot of tension and pain in my chest and I take my first real breath since Joel told me Blair had left. Simon has put his coat around him and Rhonda brought him tea. He looks miserable; cold, lost, confused. He has his hands cupped around the tea and he's hunched over it like it's a little campfire. I go to him and he looks up at me. There's fear and shame in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, just puts the cup down, stands up, and takes Simon's coat off.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, Chief?" I yell, I don't mean to yell, in fact, I distinctly told myself I wasn't going to yell. I can't help myself, I yell. Blair jerks back and then freezes. His eyes are wide and he stands there, mute. Mute! I want to shake him. I want to make him talk, explain, obfuscate, lie, anything...just be Blair. Before I quite know what he's doing, Blair has dropped to his knees and is reciting some of that mumbo jumbo from The Center. He's shaking and his head is down, I can only make out the words because of my hearing.

He's saying, "For the Good, By the Good, Lead me to the Good, I am not worthy, take away my sins. I am for your use, body, mind and soul, I am nothing except what you make me. Forgive me, and help make me worthy." He's saying it over and over again, faster and faster, until all the words are running together in a litany of gibberish. I pull him up and the look in his eyes makes it clear he expects no mercy. "You think I'm going to punish you?" I can't help the hurt and anger that's in my voice.

"No. You will discipline me." And from the way he says that I can tell that that's worse.

"Oh. Chief." I wrap my arms around him. He holds himself still with an effort, small tremors still rack his body. He doesn't relax, just waits. I can't bear what all this means, what had to be done to him to bring him to this state. I cup the back of his head and bring it down on my shoulder. Simon has sent everyone off on tasks and I'm glad to have some privacy as I search for a way to make Blair understand. "I'm not Chief." Blair's voice is muffled as he makes his declaration onto my shoulder. He stands contained, refusing the hug. "Okay, what do you want me to call you?"

"My name is Eric." I squeeze him tighter. "But I to be honest, I want you to call me Chief." "Huh? Run that by me again."

"I like you calling me Chief, but I'm not Blair Sannn-ahhh!" Blair collapses in the circle of my arms from the pain. Even has he groans he's trying to say his name, "Sannndburg." He says it, but the cost is high. His eyes have rolled back in his head and the shaking has mutated into convulsions.

"Call 911! Get an ambulance."

I'm in my room, correction, I'm in Bl-air's room. There-I managed to think his name. I feel the familiar pain but it's a dull echo of what it's been. Jim brought me back from the hospital. I can hear him talking to Simon, but I can't make out the words. I don't know why I felt like I had to say Bla-Blair's name. It just felt like a wall I had to punch through and now that I have I can breath a little easier. They ran tests and threw theories around and eventually they let me go. A hypnotist is coming this afternoon. Jim's idea. He's says it's my idea, from before. So it's Blai-r's idea. Almost got it all out in one word that time. I'm lying on my bed and trying to memorize everything. The way the light looks, the smell of the loft, the sound of Jim's low voice and Simon's rumble. I'm going to ask for ice cream before the hypnotist comes. One more time before I go back. It's a good idea, the hypnotist. Jim says he will be able to lead me back and I'll remember. I won't remember what Jim wants me to remember but maybe I'll remember how it was before the lightning. Maybe I'll be a better guide with my memory back, maybe I'll be happy at The Center, when I remember always being there. A lot of maybes.

The hypnotist is a woman. She knows Blair and seems happy to meet me. The process of getting hypnotized feels a lot like meditation and I sink into it easily. The session lasts for three hours and when it's done, she says I'll remember everything we talked about and I do. Miriam starts out trying to guide me to my life before the lightning. She asks about my childhood and growing up, who my friends were, my pets, my Mom. I tell her what I know but no memories come. There is nothing in my head about any of that except Ruth's voice, filled with contempt, as she recounts how I came to be at The Center. Then Miriam takes me back to my life at The Center. I tell her about waking up from being hit by lightning and relearning the routines, the Doctrine, the way things were. She asks about everything, my room, my friends, my daily life, the visit with my mother. When I describe that meeting I hear Jim exclaim, "Those bastards!" and Simon shush him. Miriam guides me back down and we resume. For some reason I remember my odd reaction to the word paperwork and I tell her that. She asks about Jason.

I could have told her all that stuff without being hypnotized. But then she pressed for details and I told her about the tank and my visit with Jim. She made me go back to my first encounter with Jim and talking about that made me remember my first dream...the one when I'm dead and my hair is long. She asked about other dreams and I remembered the one I had about the woman who wasn't my Mom. I'd forgotten that. There are other things I'd forgotten. Like why Jason couldn't find me and Truesdale being allowed back in and the party that disappeared. We stop there.

Sandburg's been under for over three hours. He's pale and sweating. I want to bomb that place. I want to watch that twisted, cold prison burn to the ground, with all the twisted, cold people inside. All of them that had a hand in taking Sandburg and set out to break him down. That was bad enough but that they wrapped it in religion, in goodness, and service...and bent every idea he had about himself and his worth to their purpose...No, I'd kill each one separately, some slowly...I shake myself out of my reverie. I know I'm indulging myself because what Blair is describing is too hard for me to hear. But I have to hear, I can't leave him alone with this. He's been alone too much as it is. The hardest part is the flat, accepting way Blair speaks of what they did to him. He has bought into the belief system of Guides being of little value. He believes that his life's purpose is to serve those rat bastards. He accepts their authority over his body and soul. I have to get away from this. It's unbearable. Better they had broken every bone in his body. That would be straightforward and fixable. This...I can barely hear Blair in this recounting. Eric Kendall is living his life. I get up. Miriam and Simon look at me and I motion that I'm leaving. They don't like it but they don't want to interrupt the session to argue with me and I get out of there as fast as I can.

When I come out of being hypnotized, Jim is gone. I expected that but I feel a wave of desolation sweep through me anyway. I try and ward it off with a little Doctrine, but I can only get a few sentences out before I'm crying. Simon comes over to me and I rub at my eyes to stop the tears before he can yell at me for being such a baby. He sits down and pulls me into a hug and says, "Hey, it's okay, that was a long session. These things are very stressful." He pats my pack and I'm so shocked I stop crying. I wonder where they'll take me until they can send me back to The Center. Maybe the police station.

"I'm okay, now. We can go."

Simon and Miriam exchange a look. "Go where?" Simon isn't standing up.

"Wherever I need to go before The Tessuad comes and gets me."

"What? Blair..."

I feel a twinge at the name but no spike of pain. Simon stops talking after he says that name, realizing his mistake.

"You all right? No terrible pains in your head?" Simon is confusing me.

"No, I'm okay, really, we can go."

"Blair, this is great. I can say your name." I've made Simon happy.

"No, you can say Blair's name, but I agree, I'm really glad that my head stays in one piece."

"You're name is Blair Sandburg, kid and we're going to prove it to you."

Oh, man, I wish that was true. If that was true, Jim would be here, but he's not. I guess he heard enough to finally convince him.

"Thanks, Simon, but there was nothing in that session that indicated that I was Blair and you know it."

"Don't contradict me, young man." Simon is glowering and I back up. How could I forget and argue with him? I wait for him to force me to the ground and show me the wrongness of my being.

He looks at me puzzled. Maybe he expects me to drop down on my own. I go to my knees and wait. I feel his hand on my neck and try to accept what's coming. Instead of pain, he grabs the back of my collar and hauls me to my feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Oh no, I did it wrong, I wasn't fast enough, something, what? What does he want me to do?

"I'm s-sorry. I-I was...I didn't mean to contradict you-I..." Simon is still holding me by my shirt when Jim blows in and pulls me away from Simon.

"What's going on here?" Jim's got an arm around me. He sees me as his guide so of course he doesn't want anyone else to discipline me. I shut my eyes and just wait. They'll sort it out and then Jim will...discipline me himself. I wish it were Simon who was going to mete out my instruction. Jim has been so good to me, I hate that I've disappointed him and forced him to show me the true way. Oh, Kendall, why can't you ever get it right?

The voices calm down, they seemed to have hashed out what to do with me. Jim takes me to Blair's room and sits me down on the bed. I keep my eyes closed. I don't want to know which method of training he'll pick. I don't want to see the contempt in his eyes that I always saw in Jason's when he had to waste his time on me. I feel his hands on my shoulders, pushing me down on the bed. Panic surges through me, I don't recognize this form and laying down feels more vulnerable. I open my eyes, I must risk the contempt in order to prepare myself for what's coming. Jim is gazing down at me. He doesn't look angry or scornful, just puzzled, maybe worried. Oh, he doesn't know what would work best. I'm tempted to tell him which one affects me the most...but he might think I'm trying to fool him into giving me the easiest and get angry.

He drops down to his knees beside the bed. "Chief, what's going on here? Your heart is in overdrive. You're shaking, are you in pain?" No, but I will be.

"What?" Jim puts his hand on my forehead. "What are you talking about? Are you getting a headache?" Oops, I guess I said that out loud.

"No, I'm fine, please, Could you..." I'm about to ask him to get on with it. God, Kendall, will you ever quit questioning the way things go? He will get to it when he wants to and if he wants to play the game Jason did at the beginning, then that is the game that will be played. He'll act concerned and I'm supposed to relax and then he will punish, uh, discipline me.

"I await your discipline." Maybe that'll get him back on track.

"Discipline? For what?" He needs to know I understand my failure. "For contradicting Simon."

Jim sits on the bed next to me and puts his head in his hands. He's realizing that not only am I not his friend, but I'm a lousy guide. "What am I going to do with you, Sandburg?"

Huh? Hasn't he accepted the obvious yet?

I risk telling him the truth again. I'm due for instruction anyway. "Didn't that session make it clear to you that I'm Eric Kendall?"

"Dammit, Blair! The hypnosis only proved what sadists they were in their determination to make you over into something they could control and use."

He puts a hand out and shakes me, "You are Blair Sandburg and I can prove it."

He pulls out some IDs "See, this is your police observer ID and this is your TA ID and this is a copy of your driver's license." I look at them. Okay, I knew I looked like Blair Sandburg. That doesn't make me Blair Sandburg.

I shake my head and say as gently as I can, "I only look like him, Jim."

"NO!" I freeze. I did it again. Why can't I keep my mouth shut? But he has to know. To be quiet is to make him think I agree with him and he'll just be angrier when he finds out he's been wrong about me.

"You are Blair Sandburg. You were taken from this loft five and a half months ago. A terrorist organization that masquerades as a religion kidnapped you. The Tessuad Nation. They did brain surgery on you and brainwashed you. I'll run your fingerprints for you, I'll get your dental charts. I'll prove to you that you are you!" He's shaking me and then he seems to realize he's shaking me and he stops. I don't know what to say. The Tessuad Nation, terrorists? Kidnapped? It seems absurd and impossible and yet some things, not yet spoken of, make more sense, and other things make no sense of all. I try and think about The Center and the people and the life...all false? I can feel little doors in my head slamming shut and the pain edging back in. Can it be? Don't think about it. But...DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! The voice in my head is emphatic and shrill and the pain is fierce now. I bite my lip and try to hold my breathing at a steady rate. Just then Miriam sticks her head in the door and says, "Guys, I've got to go. Simon is having the tape transcribed and I think when you read it over there will be a lot of information to help sort this out. We need to schedule another session...the whole time with Jason has to be gone through. Tomorrow?"

Jim stands up and says, "Yeah, same time?"

"Sure, see you then." Jim escorts her to the door and I grab my head and press, trying to beat back the pain. Jim comes back and sees me. He leaves the room and I'm glad. He's seen enough of me moaning and being useless. To my surprise, he comes back with a wet washcloth and pushes me back into the bed. He wipes my face and then places the cloth on my forehead. "What's going on, Sandburg?" Sandburg? Not Chief? Not Blair?

"I think it's just an affect of the hypnosis. I'll be all right."

"You look beat. How about taking a nap before dinner?" I nod my head. Code for, I have things to do and need you out of my way. That's all right. I understand that. There's so much I don't understand and as I try and sort through the things Jim told me, the voice comes back: THERE IS ONLY PAIN DOWN THAT PATHWAY. DEATH. JIM DEAD. NAOMI DEAD. Naomi? TURN AWAY, NOW. As predicted the pain comes, that terrible feeling of shattered glass in my brain and then worse, the fear...Jim dead, Naomi dead; because of me, because I couldn't contain myself, couldn't submit. I must submit, accept, serve. The pain eases a little as I stop struggling to understand. I chant a little Doctrine and I fall into darkness.

I called Naomi. She's been in India and oblivious all this time. That was fine when we knew nothing but now I need her here. I need her to reconnect with Blair and bring him back. She was shocked and angry at being left out of the loop. She'll be hell to deal with when she gets here and I don't care. I'd take on 100 Naomis if they could take away this scared, religious refugee with Sandburg's face and bring me back the real Blair.

He expected me to hurt him. To deliberately hurt him-for contradicting Simon. I almost did hurt him, I was so pissed that he thought I would do that. Yeah, I know, that's like a oxymoron or something. I know it's not me, it's what those fucking rat bastards made him believe was right. But that he expects no better from me...it's like he doesn't know me at all---and I find the idea of not being known by Blair...painful. Lonely. What is it that Sandburg gave me in knowing me? I need to think about that.

Naomi won't be here for days, maybe even longer. It's a long haul from where she's at and the arrangements are tricky. Maybe by the time she gets here, her baby boy will be back with us.

I'm cooking stir-fry tonight, Sandburg is unfailingly excited by vegetables. Some things haven't changed. He's also enraptured with ice cream. It's the only thing he's gotten up the nerve to ask for. As with everything I offer him, he'll only take a little bit, believing that anything that is good is evil in quantity.

While I'm cooking the memory of Sandburg in a different time comes back, when the age old argument about how much thyme is too much thyme raged. "Jim, man, come on, if you put in fresh herbs you won't need as much salt."

"I like salt, Chief, it provides an important mineral."

"What, they've discovered sodium is a mineral now?"

"Not sodium, iodine. I always get the kind that has iodine in it. You can't get iodine in you diet any other way."

Sandburg groans. "No one needs the vast amounts of iodine you must have floating in your system."

"I don't know, Chief, there's every possibility they'll discover that iodine promotes better prostates, or longer life...I may end up the oldest living guy still able to pee."

Sandburg rolls his eyes and adds the thyme with a liberal hand....

What if that Blair doesn't come back? I stop chopping vegetables. He is back, dammit, just not all the way. Ten days ago you have given anything to have him in his room, returned and safe. Now you're carping because after everything Blair's been through, he's not 100%. I check in with Blair with my senses, he's breathing indicates he's sleeping. The session zapped him, big time and I decide to slow dinner's progress, and let him sleep.

A few hours later, Blair is still sleeping. I go in to wake him for dinner. His eyes are open but his breathing and heartbeat indicate he's asleep. I gently nudge him but nothing changes. I shake him a little harder. Nothing, his eyes remain fixed and fear takes the place of complacence and impatience.

What the hell is happening? I debate calling 911. Blair's vitals are all strong...If this isn't physical they might shove him onto the psychiatric ward where I won't be allowed to go. He cannot be placed somewhere I can't go. That's totally unacceptable. I grab the phone and dial Miriam. Maybe this is an off shoot of the hypnosis.

Thank God, she answers right away and can come back. She's a licensed psychologist as well as a hypnotist so maybe she'll be able to assess Blair's condition. He's curled up and even I can tell it's close to fetal. I climb into his bed behind him and pull him to me. I arrange him so he's sideways, with his face on my chest. I tug at the blanket and get that over him. Blair stays tight in his defensive posture. I stroke his arm and try to call him back, using the tone that always works when Blair uses it. It takes awhile but eventually he starts to relax, his hands unclench, his knees unbend. I feel the flutter of eyelashes as his eyes close. I hold him to me tightly, my irritation at what or who he isn't replaced by the fear of losing what's left.

My hearing picks up Miriam's progress to the loft. I place Blair on the pillow and go out to let her in. She's breathless from the rush to get back. "Where is he?"

"In his room." I lead the way and she looks in on him. He looks misleadingly peaceful in his sleep. We go into the living room and I describe the way I found Blair. Her head goes down, her long, dark hair hiding her thinking process from me. She tilts her head and looks at me accusingly. "What did you say to him?"

"All I did was tell him that he is Blair Sandburg and I would prove it to him."

"That's all?" Her arms are folded.

I think back. "I did tell him he was kidnapped."

"And?"

"And that The Tessuad Nation were really terrorists and the religion was a sham."

"He needs to know this, we almost lost him when he decided he should go back to them, Miriam."

"Yes, he's confused and yes, there is some danger to him because of his confusion but that's nothing compared to the danger of tripping over some of the mental landmines those people put in place. Which is what I think happened here."

"Do you think I...that telling him...hurt him?" So much for the truth shall set you free.

"I don't know. I'm going to wake him and then we'll see what state he's in."

She bends over Blair and calls softly to him. She calls him Eric and I can't help but think that's a step backward. Blair opens his eyes and immediately leaps off the bed. He looks back and forth between Miriam and me and it takes him a moment to place her.

"Eric, are you all right?"

"His name is Blair." Miriam shoots me a glare and I shut my mouth. Even I can tell I'm not being helpful right now.

Blair's hand is on his head but he says, "I'm all right. Is it time for Doctrine?"

I look at Miriam hoping she knows how to respond to that. "Eric, you aren't at The Center anymore. You're safe here. Can you tell me what Jim said to you?"

Blair looks at me, and then at Miriam. "He said I'm Bl---air S-s-sandburg," the effort to get his name out drains all color from his face, but he pushes forward, "and th-that he could pr-prove it."

"Anything else?"

"No." That answer, short and sure.

"Nothing about The Tessuad Nation?"

"No."

"Eric, I want to hypnotize you again, would that be all right?" I hate the way she talks to him, like he's not all there and is breakable.

"Yes."

"Good, let's sit down in the living room."

This time Miriam takes him through the last few hours. When she asks him what I said, he repeats what he told us before. She switches tactics and takes him down a little deeper and then tells him he is safe and home and that I'm safe and home. Then she asks, "What did Jim say to Blair?"

"He told him The Tessuad were terrorists."

"And when he told him that, what happened?"

"The pain came and the voice."

"What did the voice say?"

"Not to think about that."

"And if he thought about it?"

Then-ahhh..." Blair's face contorts with anguish.

"What, Blair? What did they tell Eric?"

"They'll kill Jim. They'll kill Naomi. I can't-I must-AHHHH...." It's like the back door that Miriam opened by talking to Blair has been slammed shut. He covers his ears, as if he's trying to block out the voices in his head.

Miriam places her hand on Blair and quickly brings him back out. He's panting, close to hyperventilating and Miriam goes down on the floor, next to the couch and strokes his hair, murmuring soft reassurances. Blair gets more and more agitated, looking around. When he sees me, he reaches out and I move to the end of the couch and open my arms to him. He is up and inside my hug in a minute and I hold on, murmuring my own reassurances.

"Hey, I'm here, you're here. It's okay. Blair?" I push him away a little so I can look him in the eye and say, "They aren't going to kill me. They aren't going to kill Naomi. You can remember who you are and everything will be all right." Blair searches my face, looking for, what? Truth? Strength? Conviction? What ever it is he's looking for he seems to find it because he releases his breath and resumes the hug. After a while, he pushes away from me on his own and asks, "Who's Naomi?"

What do I tell him? I look to Miriam and she nods. "She's your mom."

"My mom?" Sandburg tilts his head considering that piece of information. "Does she work for The Tessuad?" I laugh, "No."

"Where is she?"

"She was in India but she should be back here in a few days." I get an idea and run upstairs. I go through the stack of photographs from just before Blair entered the Academy and find one. I take to Blair. He squints at the photo of his mom and him. It's the one where Blair is explaining something with his extravagant gestures and Naomi is looking impossibly young and happy. She's laughing. Going into Blair's room I find his spare pair of glasses and hand them to him. Absently he puts them on and touches Naomi's face with his fingers.

"My Mom..." He says it half as a question, half in wonder. "I saw her in dream, once." He looks up at me. "I saw you in a dream, too. She never came to visit me though."

"She didn't know you were missing. She was working in an Ashram in India and we never told her...we'd hoped we'd have you back home, safe and sound before she was came back."

"She has to stay there." Blair's voice is flat.

"She's coming here to see you."

"No. She has to stay there. She's safe there." He walks over to the phone and hands it to me. "Call, tell her to stay there." "Naomi won't stay, Chief, she won't listen to me."

"She won't listen to you? You're a Sentinel. She has to listen to you!" I keep forgetting that Sandburg is still mentally a Tessuad. "It doesn't work like that in the real world. Naomi doesn't know I'm a Sentinel and even if she did, she wouldn't listen to me." "Would she listen to me?" I don't think he can believe anyone would listen to him, but he's desperate to keep Naomi away so he'll try. "Yeah, maybe, if you can convince you're all right."

We spend close to three hours on the phone, tracking Naomi down and convincing her to stay put. I hate to say it, but it really wasn't that hard, once we convinced her that Blair was all right. My theory is she loves her son, but mainly in the abstract.

Details are way too distracting when your aim is spiritual enlightenment.

Blair is relieved that she decides to stay in India. I watched him as he talked to her. At some level he remembers her, adores her. His face lights up as he listens to her voice. When he gets off the phone, I ask him what he remembers about her.

"I remember the dream I had about her."

"Anything else?"

Shakes his head no.

"Not even her voice?"

"No."

Blair sits back down on the couch, puts his head in his hands.

"Headache?"

"No...yes, pretty much always but no, I'm fine. What are we going to do Jim? They'll come after you. Jason will want to kill you because you're a Sentinel who took his guide."

"Yeah, territorial imperative, hard at work."

"He could come here at any time, be miles away, shoot you on the balcony, at the station." Blair's up and pacing. "It's what he does. It's what...."Blair's voice slows and drops off, "it's what we do. Oh, God. I helped him kill people. I killed people." Blair's eyes have no focus, as he seems to be taking in the enormity of what he just said.

I suspected something like this because of the high-powered rifle and the odd nature of their European itinerary. I step into Blair's unseeing path and grab a hold of him. "Blair, you were brainwashed. Whatever you did with Jason was not of your free will. Listen..." But Blair is not listening. He's sobbing on my shoulder and if I didn't have a firm hold on him, he'd be on the floor.

The sobs that shake his body continue for twenty minutes. The harshness of the ragged sounds tears at me. Blair's soul is breaking under the knowledge of his actions. I know how Blair reveres life, embraces it, loves it so, that he's spent his life studying the different ways cultures support it. To have his gift used for destruction is a desecration.

Eventually, Blair finally simply runs out; of tears, energy and the will to process the horror of what he's done. It's the way he was used but he isn't ready to recognize the difference.

I lead him into the bathroom and set him on the top of the closed toilet lid. Wetting a washcloth I wipe the tears from his face. His expression is lax, he's limp with exhaustion. I can't imagine doing this to...the old Blair...the real Blair? That Blair could fight his own battles, wipe his own tears...this Blair had been so thoroughly co-opted that he has no place left to him to call his own, no sanctuary at all. I must be his sanctuary. His sanctuary, his will, and his Guide. Just until he retrieves those things for himself. Which he will. Soon. But in the meantime, The Tessuad Nation has damaged him enough. At least with me, he ought to be safe.

I pull Blair to his feet, he comes without resistance. He's loose, as if all his tears have washed away the last of his ability to fight. I nudge him up the stairs. Blair is exhausted, I'm exhausted, and he's in no shape to be alone.

Cut the crap Ellison, you're in no shape to be alone. Listening to Blair cry churned up memories of the nights I lay in bed casting out my senses, hoping for a glimpse of Blair in all the noise that surrounded me. Never finding a trace. Trying to squash the panic I felt living in a world without Blair. I never cried. Ellisons don't cry, no matter how much it hurts, how deep the wound. It's as if Blair cried for both of us. I feel the way I felt, long ago, when mom was still with us and I was just Jimmy, not an Ellison. I cried then. Don't know about what, just remember I cried, Mom was there and it felt like this afterward.

We're in no shape to be alone and there's no need to be alone. We have each other, it's time we made use of that. I get Blair into one of my flannel shirts and into bed. He lies there, his eyes open, watching as I take my clothes off. He looks dazed but his eyes track me. There is apprehension in him, I can feel it, but also acceptance.

Crawling into bed next to him and I mimic his pose. We lie there, side by side. Blair is waiting for me to do something, and from the tension he radiates, he expects it to hurt. I roll on my side and pull the blankets up. "Hey Blair?" He turns his eyes to me but doesn't move his head. I put my hand on his chest. I can hear his heart beating, a steady thump, but I need to feel it. It feels deceptively strong and whole. No words come to me, or more accurately, no words that are of any use, come to me. Never found words to be helpful. Blair, on the other hand, works magic with them. I start to rock Blair with the hand on his chest. Just a gentle little back and forth. Movement, action...my forte. When I first put my hand on his chest, Blair tensed. When I start to rock him, he resists the momentum for a beat and then allows it. After a while, I watch as his eyes close, his long lashes coming to rest on his pale face. His breathing deepens, and he sleeps. "I know you don't remember me, us, the way we were friends. But we were. And we are." I whisper these words between us, knowing he can't hear. That's all right. I can hear and it needed to be said. I fall asleep, my hand on Blair's heart.

Waking up to midmorning sun, I open my eyes to see Blair awake, watching me. "Hey Chief. How're you doing?"

Blair thinks about that. "You're asking me how I'm doing?" He finally asks.

"Yes."

"You really want to know?"

"Yes." I bite back any other comments, afraid they will sidetrack Blair.

"I'm thirsty."

"Hungry too, I bet." I swing out of bed. "We skipped dinner. Let's get breakfast going."

As we come downstairs, I can hear Simon getting off the elevator.

"Simon's here." Blair goes into his room and shuts the door. I'm not sure if he's worried about yesterday or just getting dressed.

I open the door as Simon's hand prepares to knock. He looks unsurprised and walks in. "How's Sandburg today?"

I remember that Blair's thirsty and pour a glass of juice as I tell Simon about the fallout from the session. I knock on Blair's door and when he opens it, I hand him the glass. "Come out when you're ready." I say, figuring he can interpret ready however he needs to.

Simon has the transcript from yesterday and starts in on the information that might help us. "I've released Jason's name and the photos from the airport to the FBI and Interpol. Sunjata was picked up three days ago but the FBI says she's given them nothing so far. They wanted to interview Sandburg and I told them they could have a copy of the transcripts but that he was in no shape to be interviewed yet."

"Thanks, Simon." I look over the transcripts. It's a little easier to read than to listen to but not much. Okay, what do we know? They needed Blair to guide Jason. They have a large complex, well staffed. Either they have more Sentinels that would supposedly need Guides, or the whole Guide program thing was a sham to gull Blair. They seem to thrive on blinds within blinds, but maybe I'm grasping at that, rather than the implication that this organization has more Sentinels.

Jason is an assassin, Douglas has done an impressive job of coming up with the names of people mysteriously taken ill and subsequently dying. This one small piece to comfort Blair with. Evidently Jason didn't do the actual killing. He merely pumped a tranquilizer dart into the victim and a team on the scene did the rest.

"I don't think we need to put Blair under hypnosis again. We have all the cities they landed in and we have a damn good guess what the agenda was. I don't want to cause Blair any more distress and I don't want him remembering guiding Jason through a kill. At least what Blair would think of as a kill."

"It's not your call, Jim. We don't know what Blair saw, who they met with, what kind of secrets they were careless with. Miriam's good, you saw that yesterday."

"You didn't see Blair afterwards, Simon."

"I heard about it from, Miriam. If this were only my call, I might go along with you on this, but it's not. If we don't do it, the feds will and I'd like to retain some control here."

Okay, Simon's right but Blair's not even ready for breakfast, let alone a revisit to the recent past. I push past Simon and get the coffee going, hoping the smell will lure Blair out.

I'm on my second cup when I give up on subtle and go to Blair's room. I knock and Blair opens the door. He's dressed and he doesn't look at me. "Blair? Come on, breakfast's on."

"Jim," he looks at me now and the emptiness I see in his eyes is everything I feared. "I...I don't know how you can even stand to have me in your home, after what I've done-"

I stop Blair right there. "You didn't kill anyone, Chief. Hell, we know now Jason didn't even kill them. He tranquilized them. That bracelet you wore?" Blair's head comes up. "It was a device that when triggered, gave you an electric shock. It disrupted the part of your brain that has to do with cognizance, The doctor says you wouldn't have had any awareness of what you were doing."

Blair's looks at me with disbelief. "No, We celebrated after each kill. I got drunk." Blair turns away in shame. "They were dead and we celebrated." Blair whispers. I move to Blair and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Do you remember drinking?"

"No, but I always woke up with a hangover the next day and Jason would kid me about how bad I was at holding my liquor."

"I think the hangover you woke up with was an aftereffect of the bracelet, Blair. The hypnosis session this afternoon will tell us more, I think. Chief, they stole you, they stole your life and then they used you for their purpose."

Blair sinks to the bed. I sit down next to him. "This is really my bed?" I laugh, I wasn't expecting that question. "Yeah, Chief, this is your bed, your books, your clothes, your stuff."

His hand is smoothing the blanket and his eyes are wandering around the room. "I own this stuff?"

"Yeah, you own this stuff." The concept seems to be as hard for him to grasp as the idea that he's not Eric Kendall. "Did you buy it for me?"

"No, you came fully equipped. You're working on your Ph.D. in Anthropology. You're a teacher."

"Me? I know enough to teach?" His voice rises high with surprise. I ruffle his hair.

"Chief, sometimes I think you know just about everything. Come on, let's eat breakfast."

The hypnosis session is another long one. I want to bolt, more than once, but I make myself stay and listen to all the ways Jason misused Blair. It's an insidious routine of deprivation and pain. The worst part for Blair would have been the isolation.

Blair describes his sleeping sickness and the first "kills." Miriam carefully takes him through his protests to the killing and Jason's reaction to them. Blair has little recall of the entire time he was in Europe. The electrical shocks alone were disorientating and then the infection set in. Listening to him describe, in his flat, matter of fact way, being sick and left alone, killed me. It makes no sense.

Jason as a Sentinel, should have felt the need to keep his Guide safe and well. Yet he seemed to be able to turn off the internal directive to protect his Guide. My God, not only did he not protect, he actively inflicted pain. As Blair described the various ways he was disciplined my stomach clenched. I could see that both Miriam and Simon had an equally hard time hearing what Blair had been put through. Blair recites it all in a matter of fact tone that speaks volumes about the depth of the programming The Tessuad used on Blair.

Miriam starts the countdown to bring Blair back and I sit on the coffee table waiting for Blair to come back to me. Listening to Blair talking about being Jason's Guide makes me feel agitated and there's a rage building I recognize from the time with Alex. I can't let that out.

Blair opens his eyes on the count of five. He looks at me expectantly. "Was I as much trouble for you?" he asks me, and my mouth drops open.

"Trouble? Hell, no Sandburg. Annoying, making me take tests every time I turned around, and then there were the messes you made..." Blair's face had brightened at "Hell, no", but now fell...I forget he doesn't understand teasing anymore. I transfer to the couch and sit next to him. "Blair, just about everything I know about being a Sentinel and how to maximize my senses, I know because you taught me." Blair looks down at his hands. "You heard what happened, what I was like. Maybe before the lightning I knew something, was good at something but now I'm a liability for a Sentinel. The only way I was any use at all was by Jason disciplining me. That's why he had to use the bracelet."

I'm wondering if the brain surgery or all he's been through has damaged his IQ. Why can't he get this? Why can't he see what they did? "You? A liability? What're you talking about? The whole reason they bothered with all this was because you're the best. Jason, on the other hand, is the worst excuse for a Sentinel I can imagine." Blair looks shocked.

"Jason's a sixteen. There's no one with greater senses."

I know this is the Tessuad's PR drivel but it still gets to me. Blair's loyal to this monster. I've heard Blair explain his thinking on the bond that forms between Sentinel and Guide and I never paid very close attention. Something is or something isn't, why dissect it? Blair and I had that bond and I sometimes I chafed at it, but I also depended on it.

Now Blair seems to have formed a bond with Jason and I wonder what that does to ours. Is there an ours? I wonder again, if I'd given Blair a choice, would he have come with me freely? The rage is pushing at me. I tamp it down. I cannot let myself go there.

I look over Blair's shoulder to Miriam and Simon. She's packing up the tape recorder and getting ready to go.

"Blair, these were long, difficult sessions and you're going to feel pretty wasted for awhile. Take it easy and I'll be back in touch." Miriam gives Blair a smile and Simon walks her to the door.

"Okay, what the hell is a sixteen?" This is the first I've heard of numbers in association with Sentinel abilities. "Sentinel's abilities range from a three to a sixteen. Most Sentinel's fall in the range of four to six. So you can see, Jason is extraordinary." "You've never mentioned this before, so I'm betting this is some more Tessuad nonsense. They told you that to convince you this guy was good and worth following. Chief, you're the sixteen. He's a fucking zero."

"No," Blair protests, "you don't understand, maybe I told it wrong..." Blair's hands are fluttering around as he tries to find a way to express himself. I grab them and hold them still.

"Chief? Reality check time. They kidnapped you. You were never hit with lightning. They brainwashed you and created Eric Kendall. Jason is merely a decent marksman, not a Sentinel god. Got that?" I say the last a little too forcefully, my anger edging in. "You are Blair Sandburg. You're the leading authority on Sentinels and most likely the only true Guide, anywhere. You're my partner, my Guide and you have never, ever, needed to be hurt to know what to do as a Guide."

Blair stands there, his hands tangled in mine, his eyes lost.

"You don't believe me, Blair?" I say it softly but I can't fully hide the exasperation I feel.

He starts to fall to his knees in a pre-conditioned response to the tone in my voice, a tone he must have heard often. I keep him upright by hanging onto his hands. "Believe me, Blair. Please believe me."

Blair shakes his head, the war waging in there almost visible. "I know you wouldn't lie to me but how do I...I mean Jason said-and I am...I know, I don't know-" Blair's babbling goes on for a bit and finally runs out without a single coherent sentence being said. I still have a hold of his hands and I let go, feeling a tiny spasm of loss as we disconnect.

"It will take time to sort through, and when your memory comes back it will all be clear."

I'm surprised when Blair shakes his head. "Won't come back. I can't feel anything in there. The place where the memories live? It's empty, man. I've tried meditating and you saw how Miriam tried. There's nothing in there. That avenue to enlightenment has been cut off." Blair's babbling again, only coherently this time and it's actually more frightening. Blair must have picked up my fear because his eyes go wide. I put a hand up to stop the spiral that's begun.

"Shhh. First things first. You, nap. I'll sort through the transcripts and you and I will fashion a plan. After you nap." Blair stands and I give him a little push towards his room. He takes a step and I realize he's obeying me. Obeying me. For all the times I've wished he would obey me and stay in the truck, or keep behind me, Sandburg obeying me is not a good thing. Not now anyway. "Do you want to sleep?" Hesitation, then, "No." He watches me to gauge my reaction to his rebellion.

"Okay, you take the first twenty pages and do the notes and I'll do the next twenty." I put the papers in two piles and sit down at the table. Blair takes a chair, his eyes never leaving my face.

Two hours later I have a legal pad scribbled with questions and observations. I look over at Blair and he's outlined his notes three different ways. Timeline, facts that can be verified and propaganda. The propaganda outline is by far the longest and most detailed. I may not be the brain that Sandburg is but sometimes I'm fucking brilliant. Blair is tackling this like he tackles everything he studies. With his precise, analytical, academic brain that is still clearly intact. The Tessuad don't stand a chance.

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