Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/soho/square/6381

not my characters, not for money, S2 spoilers.

*****
I am on the outside of your strange world.
   --Sarah McLachlan, Strange World
*****

   [Damn you, Sandburg,] Simon thought, scowling in the direction of Jim's desk. [This is your fault.]

   Simon's current problem had begun about a week earlier, when the most unusual member of Major Crimes had made the peculiar decision to pop his head into Simon's office and ask if he could have a word -- in private.
   Simon had been prepared to say that he doubted it when he'd realized that Jim was nowhere in sight.
   "Gone out for doughnuts," the kid had told him. "He thinks I don't know he eats them. He won't be long, though, so could we..."
   Knowing that the only way to deal with Blair Sandburg's desire to talk was to damned well get it over with, Simon had gestured at the chair in front of his desk.
   "Have a seat."
   "Thanks." After carefully shutting the door, Blair had launched into his speech before he'd even sat down. "The thing is, there's this guy in Seattle who was just in Columbia, and he's found out a few things about Sentinels. I'm supposed to go to Seattle on Wednesday and spend a few days there, so what I wanted to ask was--
   "You want to know if Jim can have some time off to go along?"
   Blair's eyes had widened almost comically.
   "No! That's exactly what I *don't* want. You think I want to try doing serious research with him glaring over my shoulder? He is, like, the *least* objective man on the planet. God, if I could've found a way to run tests on him without his being there, I would have."
   That had seemed fair enough to Simon, but he couldn't really see the problem.
   "So, tell Jim he's not invited. God knows, that's fair enough. Isn't it?"
   "Yes, absolutely, but it won't play out that way. You think he's going to let me ditch him for three days? I'm lucky he lets me leave my room. Remember the first day I went back to Rainier?"
   Simon had thought back and understood.
   "So you're asking me to ask him to back off."
   "No ... nothing that overt. Just tell him you need him here. Keep him busy. It's only for three days. I need to talk to this guy ... and I *really* need a little time without someone checking my pulse every five minutes. Please, Simon, it's just three days..."
  
   Now Simon was two and a half days into those three days, and already desperately sorry that he'd agreed to help Sandburg escape. Not that Jim had admitted to being upset by Blair's absence. It didn't bother him at all. If Jim had bitten off the heads of everyone in sight, if his voice alternated between an irritated hiss and a flat out yell, if nothing was good enough for him ... that was simply because nobody was capable of doing anything right.
   Simon looked at the clock and decided that there was no way Jim could make it to Seattle before Blair left to return to Cascade. No harm in sending Jim home, and the entire department would thank him.
   He leaned out his office door and was about to speak when the elevator doors opened and the lupus in fabula himself entered the room.
   Jim met him before he'd taken more than a few steps and Blair threw his arms around Jim's shoulders. Jim, who hadn't smiled in days, laughed and hugged his partner so close that Blair was lifted off the ground for a moment. The relief of everyone in the bullpen was obvious.
   "Did I miss anything?" Blair asked when Jim set him down.
   "No," Jim answered, shooting a dirty look at Simon. "It's been pretty quiet."
   Simon ignored that and crossed the room to them anyway. He was used to being the bad guy.
   "All right, I admit it. I misjudged the workload. Tell you what -- let Sandburg go home and unpack, and at six I'll take both of you out to dinner."
   The combination of surprise and gratitude on Blair's face entertained Simon immensely. He knew the kid would spend the rest of the night wondering why Simon had done that, and he was free to wonder. Simon would never in a million years admit that he might have been just the slightest bit worried himself.

**********

   "...and he showed me this amazing ritual," Blair was saying, hands moving quickly over a barely touched plate of pasta. "It was a bonding ritual between Sentinels and their partners. He went through the first part of it with me, just to show me how it went. You do the first part on the new moon, and then there's a second part you do on the full moon."
   "Hold on a minute, Chief." Jim was frowning. Simon saw the frown and shook his head. He couldn't get over how seriously Jim took these things. Sandburg had really done a number on him. "You did some kind of a bonding ritual with this guy?"
   "Yeah -- it doesn't mean anything. He's not a Sentinel. He was just showing me the moves, you know?"
   "I bet," Simon commented, picking up his coffee cup. Blair laughed.
   "Not like that. Seriously, this ritual, I don't think it *does* anything, exactly. The tribe just told him it formalized a commitment. I guess it strengthens the attachment, but any ritual can do that for psychological reasons. Like a wedding."
   Simon looked at Jim, one divorced man to another. Jim shrugged, then turned his attention back to Blair.
   "I thought you had respect for these things."
   "I would if it was for real," Blair answered. His tone was affectionate but serious, and Simon suddenly felt that he might be in the way. He decided to keep still and hold his tongue, because Jim and Blair barely seemed to notice him.
   "Look, Jim," Blair went on, "I was just learning the ritual. Studying. I wasn't ... it wasn't like I put my heart into it. Okay?"
   Jim looked into Blair's eyes for a long time before he nodded.
   "Okay."
   Blair smiled, the seriousness gone as if it had never been there.
   "Good. Hey, I forget to tell you about this awesome band I saw last night..."
   Simon waved the waitress over to refill his coffee cup. Obviously they were going to be there for awhile.

**********

   "Something's wrong."
   Simon had been in the middle of briefing Jim on a new case when he'd seen Jim leave the room. Sure, Jim was still parked in the chair, still looking at Simon, but he was unquestionably AWOL where it counted.
   "What was that, Jim?"
   "Something's wrong, Simon. I have to go."
   He stood up, eyes unfocused, and headed for the elevators. Simon hesitated for a moment, then sighed. This might be bullshit, but it was his life.
   "Wait up, Jim. I'm coming along."
  
   Jim was silent all the way to the loft, and Simon quickly gave up on asking questions. He supposed he'd find out what was going on soon enough.
   The truck had barely stopped when Jim got out and ran for the building, not even shutting the door behind him. It was strange behaviour. Simon didn't like it.
   He chased Jim up the stairs, two at a time.
   The loft door was open when they got to the third floor, and that was pretty chilling, because neither Jim nor Blair would ever leave their door unlocked. Not after the events of the past three years. Simon entered the loft on Jim's heels and almost ran right into him, because he'd stopped dead just inside the door.
   "Blair..."
   Simon moved slightly to one side and saw what Jim was seeing -- Blair, curled up on the floor in front of the couch, trying not to cry.
   "He's gone," Blair said softly. His voice was shaking. "He must have known you were coming. He left before ... he left before anything happened."
   Jim went to Blair and knelt in front of him. He placed one hand under Blair's chin and raised his face. Simon winced at the sight of bruises around the kid's eyes, a cut on his cheek that seemed to match the corner of the coffee table. His shirt was open, and Simon could see the edges of another, larger bruise starting on one shoulder.
   "What happened?" Jim asked. His voice was cold, but Blair didn't seem to mind. He knew better than to think the coldness was for him.
   "Tonight's the full moon," Blair told him. Simon thought at first that Blair might have a concussion, and searched his eyes for uneven pupils before he saw that this line of conversation somehow made sense to Jim.
   "He came here to finish the ritual?"
   Simon looked sharply at Jim, then remembered what Blair had said in the restaurant the night he'd come back from Seattle.
   "What? I thought you said that wasn't anything serious," he said, touching Blair's shoulder. "Why would he come all the way here ... and what in hell is the second part of that ritual, anyway?"
   Blair looked down, and his shoulders began to shake. Simon realized that he was crying. Jim put his arms around Blair and rocked him gently.
   "Shh ... it's okay, Chief. I've got you."
   Simon saw another bruise coming in on Blair's back. He didn't know how bad the kid was hurt, and it made him uneasy.
   "Do you need to go to a hospital?"
   Blair didn't say anything, but he gave a quick shake of his head. Jim pressed his face into Blair's curls and held him tighter.
   "It's okay. It's okay."
   He raised his head to look at Simon, letting Simon see what his voice carefully hid. Jim was scared.
   Simon sat down beside them and placed a hand on Blair's back, careful not to press too hard.
   "Blair, you have to tell us what happened."
   It took a few minutes for Blair to calm down enough to speak, and when he finally did answer Simon, he kept his face pressed against Jim's shoulder.
   "He lied to me. He ... he must be a Sentinel, because the ritual means something to him. He was trying to ... trap me in to working with him. I think he thinks this ritual creates a real bond, something you can't just back out of."
   Jim was still rocking Blair absently, staring over his shoulder at the far wall of the loft.
   "What was the second part of the ritual, Blair?" he asked evenly. Simon knew it was a good thing Blair couldn't see how dead white Jim's skin had gone.
   "He said he just happened to know about my research," Blair continued, ignoring Jim's question. "He said he heard about it from a friend, but he must have been following it on his own. I probably led him to that tribe, indirectly. He recognized himself in what I wrote. And he got it in his head that I was going to help him. When he came here, he thought ... I'd go along with it. When I told him I wouldn't, he was pretty fucking annoyed with me ..."
   "He tried to force you into it," Jim said. Blair nodded. His arms were around Jim's waist, holding so tight that Simon knew it had to hurt. "What was the second part of the ritual?"
   Blair was silent. He'd started to cry again. Jim met Simon's eyes.
   "Simon ... I think maybe Blair and I should be alone."
   Simon carefully shut his mouth on all the things he wanted to say.
   "Call me," he said in their place, "if you need anything."
   He shut the door behind him as he left.

**********

   Jim showed up at work the next day, Blair a few days later. They didn't discuss what had happened ... not with Simon, anyway, and he was pretty sure they wouldn't say a word about it to anyone else.
   He did hear Brown ask Blair where he'd acquired the bruises, and he'd gone to his office and shut the door as soon as he heard Blair's response.
   "I got into a fight with another anthropologist," Blair had said with a bright smile, "over a tribal rite."
   Simon had never liked the darker side of Blair's sense of humour.
   He would've liked to let it go, but there was a crime involved, and he was concerned that Jim might intend to do something about that. After a week of silence, he chose a time when Blair was at the university, and called Jim into his office.
   "What is it, sir?" Jim asked, standing near the door.
   So that was how it was going to be. Simon pointed at the chair.
  
   "Sit down, Jim."
   Jim did so, raising his eyebrows.
   "Something wrong, sir?"
   "Jim, a week ago we went back to your loft and found--"
   "I know what we found, Simon. I was there."
   Obviously it was still a sore point for Jim.
   "I still don't know exactly what happened, because the two of you have elected not to tell me, which by the way probably means that you're failing to report a felony..."
   "It's all right, sir. The person who did it seems to have left the country." Jim took a deep breath. "And Sandburg thinks he won't be coming back."
   "Did you have ... uh .... words with him?"
   Jim smiled.
   "No. I'd love to, but he left the day it happened. He had a flight booked to Bogota. Apparently he didn't know I was a Sentinel ... he somehow sensed it as I was driving to the loft. Seems to have scared him off."
   Simon shook his head.
   "Sentinels everywhere. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"
   "Sandburg's been at this for years, looking for Sentinels. I swear he's probably mentioned this search of his to everyone in his field. He gets information on Sentinels from his colleagues all the time. It shouldn't be a big surprise that he finds the real thing every once in awhile. I just wish he'd give it up, because most of us don't seem to be particularly nice people."
   Simon suspected Jim might be including himself, but he left it alone. As he'd told Blair on one occasion, he wasn't running an encounter group.
   "I find it hard to believe that he spent three days with one and didn't know. Hell, I find it hard to believe that *you* didn't know."
   Jim shrugged.
   "If he had his senses turned down and didn't do anything strange, Blair wouldn't have any way of knowing. I agree, I should have known, but I guess it makes a difference that he wasn't in Cascade. I did feel weird the day he showed up here, right from the time his plane would've arrived. And the weird feeling went away around the time Blair said he would've left for Bogota."
   Simon leaned forward and caught Jim's eye.
   "Jim ... what did happen to Sandburg?"
   That revealing little muscle at the edge of Jim's jaw twitched.
   "I'm sorry, sir. He's asked me not to talk about that."
   Simon sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose.
   "Fine," he said, giving up. "Just answer me honestly on this one -- is he all right?"
   Jim ran his hands over the arms of the chair.
   "Yeah. More or less. He'll be okay."
   "Good enough. Get back to work, Ellison."
   Jim stood.
   "Yes, sir."

**********

   "Do you think he looks sick?"
   A few days had passed since Jim had declined to discuss that probably felony with Simon. Now he was keeping a speculative eye on his partner from Simon's office, his head cocked as though he was listening to something.
   ["I *really* need a little time without someone checking my pulse every five minutes."] Simon looked at Jim's intent expression and sighed. [I hear you, kid.]
   "I don't know," Simon said. Blair did look a little pale, and his usual energy was nowhere in sight.
   "He's probably just tired. You told me yourself, he's up `til three in the morning half the time, grading papers or working on that goddamned dissertation of his. Have you considered asking him if he feels all right?"
   Jim took his eyes off Blair long enough to glare at Simon.
   "You think he'd give me a straight answer?" He slumped down in his chair. "He said he was tired, but ... something isn't right. He doesn't smell the same."
   "I don't think I need to hear this."
   Jim's expression was understanding, but that didn't stop him from plowing ahead.
   "Everyone has their own scent. That's how dogs track people. I smell it, too."
   Simon drained his coffee cup.
   "One more reason I wouldn't trade places with you."
   "It's not a bad smell. Actually, it's funny ... I usually find that if I like someone, I also like their scent. Might be related to pheromones in some way..." He stopped himself. "I was talking like Sandburg again, wasn't I?"
   "I have to tell you, it's a bad habit."
   Jim's smile came and went quickly.
   "Look, sir, he won't tell me the truth. I don't know why. He never tells me when he's sick. And besides the fact that I'm concerned about him, I *hate* it when he lies to me."
   "And you want me to talk to him."
   Jim stood.
   "Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it."
   "Hold on, cowboy. You're on your own."
   Jim's eyes narrowed.
   "Pardon me?"
   "I don't want to spend my time being a go-between for two adults who are afraid to fight with each other. You think he's lying to you? Ask him. See what he says. Yell at him, throw things, I don't care what you do, but leave me out of it. You got that?"
   Jim looked surprised, but strangely calm..
   "Yes, sir," he said mildly, and left.

**********

   "Simon? It's Jim. I'm going to be ... I don't know when I'll be in."
   Simon didn't like the sound of that.
   "What's up?"
   "Sandburg's in the hospital."
   Carefully controlled voice, even tones, moderate volume ... no question about it. Jim was scared.
   "So he *was* sick. What's wrong with him?"
   Jim hesitated before answering.
   "They're not sure. They say he's severely anemic, but they don't know why. One of the doctors said something about an auto-immune disorder. They're giving him a transfusion right now."
   It never failed to amaze Simon, how two grown men could need more tending than his teenaged son.
   "What hospital are you at?"
   "General."
   "I'll meet you there."

**********

   Simon stayed at the hospital for most of the day. Blair slept, doctors milled around him, and Jim paced. He told Simon that he'd found Blair passed out on the kitchen floor that morning, and Simon decided to keep his questions to a minimum. He knew Jim's nerves were badly frayed.
   Jim could be a bear when Blair was in trouble, but to Simon's relief he behaved himself reasonably well. He even agreed to go home for something to eat before evening visiting hours began.
   Not that he ate. Instead, he wore down the rug as he paced in front of the answering machine. Most of the messages were for Blair. Simon was amazed by the number of calls asking Blair for help with a project, begging him to cover a class, demanding his time and attention.
   "Popular guy," Simon commented.
   "This is nothing. His students don't have this number."
   "I'm surprised we see him at the station as often as we do."
   Jim looked uncomfortable.
   "Sandburg says I'm a priority."
   A few more messages played through before they heard something that stopped Jim in his tracks.
   "Blair," a young man's voice said, "I called the university and they told me you were sick. I'm sorry ... but I told you, you *have* to complete the ritual. I realize I've backed you into a corner here, but I need help, and there aren't a lot of places I can turn. Anyway, it doesn't matter if you want to help me or not. You can't ignore this. If you don't go through with it, you're going to get sicker. You could die. Look, I know I lost it on you the last time, but this is really important. I'm willing to meet you on the next full moon. Leave a message on my machine in Seattle. Take care."
   Jim sat down hard on the couch. Simon put a hand on his shoulder.
   "Sounds to me like that crazy bastard has got the kid so wound up that he's making himself sick."
   Jim tensed under his hand.
   "Tell me something, Simon ... do you think I'm imagining my senses?"
   Simon frowned.
   [Where did that come from?]
   "No, of course not. Why--"
   "Blair isn't imagining this. This is as real as my senses, as real as my knowing when Alex was around and knowing he was in that damned fountain before I turned around, it's *all* real, and Blair and I do not have the luxury of not believing in it!"
   Simon took a seat on the back of the couch. He didn't know what to say. He was aware that Jim's life had taken a serious turn for the weird a few years earlier, and he knew that Jim and Blair had been through things he didn't even *want* to understand, but most of the time ... he chose to forget.
   Overall, he thought Sandburg had been good for Jim, even if he would rather have chewed his arm off than admit it. The entire department had enjoyed the benefits of a kinder, gentler Jim Ellison ... and most of the time, Simon was pretty sure the man was happy. But he desperately wished that it didn't have to come at the price of Jim living with one foot in a place Simon couldn't even find.
   "Okay," he said finally. "It's real. What do we do now?"
   "We go back to the hospital," Jim said, lifting his face from his hands, "and find out what my partner has been keeping from me."

**********

   "Damn it, Jim, the kid is in no condition to be yelled at!"
   Jim whirled around from the bed to glare at Simon.
   "Stay out of this. Sandburg knows how important this is, and he *knows*," he added, turning back to Blair, "that he should have been honest with me from the beginning."
   Blair was awake, but in spite of the blood dripping into his arm, he was still nearly as pale as the sheets surrounding him. His eyes were locked on Jim.
   "I'm sorry," he said. Simon could barely hear him, but since this was aimed at Jim, he supposed volume didn't matter.
   Jim sat on the corner of the bed and took Blair's hand. The bluster was gone.
   "Talk to me, Sandburg."
   "I didn't know what he was in Seattle. He lied to me. I found out when he showed up at the loft. He said that since I'd already done the first part of the ritual, I'd have to do the second, or I'd get sick. Some kind of curse, I don't know. I thought he was making it up to convince me."
   Jim shut his eyes.
   "Don't lie. Stop it."
   Simon hadn't seen any sign of a lie on Blair's face or in his voice, but Jim heard his heartbeat and caught his scent, so Jim would always know. Blair sank a little farther into his pillow.
   "Okay ... I thought it might be true, but I wasn't going to do it anyway." He pressed Jim's hand. "Apart from ... the obvious ... I wasn't about to commit myself to working with him. This ritual ... it's more than I thought it was. I would have had to stay with him. I wouldn't have had any choice."
   Jim shook his head.
   "You have any bright ideas, Darwin?"
   "Yeah. He wasn't the only one on that expedition. I know one of the other anthropologists. I'll call her and see if the tribe's shaman mentioned any way to get out of this." He blinked sleepily and shifted his gaze to Simon.
   "Hi, Simon. Sorry about this."
   Simon patted his leg.
   "I'm sure you can't help it, Sandburg. You were probably born this way."
   Blair smiled, shut his eyes, and went back to sleep. Jim stayed on the edge of the bed, watching him.
   Simon stood at the foot of the bed and kept watch over both of them until visiting hours were over. Jim was still there when he left.

**********

   "Hide this," Simon said, handing a wrapped package to Blair. "They don't allow food in hospitals."
   Blair laughed and obediently stashed the package between his bed and the night stand.
   "They're letting me out tomorrow anyway."
   Simon looked him over. He had more colour, still not enough, but he didn't look like a sheet of paper anymore. There was some life in his eyes.
   "You seem improved."
   Blair shrugged.
   "Figuring about a pint every two months for the past ten years, and considering my active lifestyle since I met Jim, I think I've now taken about as much blood back as I ever donated. Pretty soon, my karma will be seriously compromised."
   Simon pulled up a chair.
   "They ever figure out what was wrong?"
   Blair shook his head.
   "No, and they haven't fixed it, either. I have to come back for more blood next week. They said I was destroying my red blood cells. You know what one of the doctors said to me? He said, `quit it'. How many years do you think he went to school for that?"
   Simon rolled his eyes.
   "You're preaching to the choir, Sandburg. Did you get ahold of that friend of yours?"
   Blair looked down so quickly that Simon wished he could bite back his words.
   "Yeah," he said softly. "I talked to her this morning."
   "And?"
   "And there is a way to deal with this, but ... I don't know if it's worth it."
   Simon stared at him.
   "Assuming we believe in all this ritual/curse mumbo jumbo..."
   Blair smiled quickly.
   "Yeah, let's assume that."
   "... you could die if this doesn't get straightened out."
   Blair nodded. He was looking at the blankets again.
   "So," Simon continued, "it pretty well has to be worth it. Right?" ' Blair met his eyes. Simon wished he hadn't done that.
   "Tomorrow night's the new moon. If I start again, do the first part of the ritual again with another Sentinel, and then complete it on the full moon, that'll take care of it."
   "Well, good," Simon said. "You know another Sentinel. Where's the problem?"
   "The problem is that I don't want to involve Jim in this. I don't want him to put him through this ritual, and I don't want him to be permanently stuck with me. I can't do that to him."
   Simon reached for a cigar before remembering that he was in a hospital. Blair saw the move and smiled.
   "You should quit anyway."
   "I have a very irritating life. I will not give up my small pleasures." He put a hand on Blair's arm. "Blair, I have seen Jim under circumstances that you were not ... around for. I can tell you a few things about him that you should know but apparently don't ... and you will *never* tell him that I spoke to you about these things. You are going to promise me that before I go on."
   "I won't tell him."
   "All right. First of all, Jim is involved in anything you are involved in, God help him. I think that's crazy and always have, but I don't think he makes any distinction between your lives. That will not stop being true if you die. Do you understand me?"
   Blair nodded, his eyes huge. He said nothing.
   "Good. You don't want him stuck with you. You know what my mother used to say? She said turnabout was fair play. You couldn't shake him if you tried. If you tie him to you with some witch doctor hocus pocus, I doubt he will even notice the difference. Am I making it clear that I don't care for any of this?"
   "Yes, sir."
   Simon pressed Blair's arm.
   "I believe in being your own man. I don't like it that Jim has become some inseparable part of something else. It offends me. If I have grown to like you, Blair, it only means I'm offended on your behalf as well. However," Simon added, "this isn't something I can change. And the truth is, it seems to work for you. It seems wrong to me, but maybe it's not wrong for you and Jim. I can't deny that you're the best team I've ever worked with." He let go of Blair's arm and stood. "What any of us think about this isn't important. Things are what they are, and if you pretend otherwise, you're going to make mistakes."
   One corner of Blair's mouth curved up.
   "Simon, you new-age guru."
   Simon grabbed an extra blanket off the end of the bed and threw it at Blair's head.
   "Shut up, Sandburg. If you ever mention this talk again, I will take out my gun and shoot you."
   Even as he stepped into the elevator, he could still hear Blair laughing.

**********

   Jim was entering the hospital as Simon left. Simon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
   "Find anything in Seattle?"
   Jim had a sour look on his face.
   "Guy hasn't been there in weeks. Sandburg was right -- he's checking his messages. We could put a trace on the line, but if he's in South America ... " He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You were just upstairs?"
   "Yeah. He's doing pretty well. Says they're sending him home tomorrow."
   "They still don't know what's wrong with him," Jim said, glancing over Simon's shoulder as though he was afraid of being overheard. "I guess you can't blame them. You didn't tell him where I was, did you?"
   "He didn't ask and I didn't offer."
   "Good." Jim shook his head. "I know it's petty, but he told me I'd be wasting my time, and ..."
   Simon held up a hand.
   "No need to explain. There's nothing worse than the kid being right."

**********

   Simon had intended to leave them alone for a few days, but the next night he found himself driving by the loft on his way home and decided that it wouldn't hurt to stick his head in for a minute, see how the kid was holding up.
   When he got to their door and heard the sounds of a scuffle combined with helpless laughter, he decided to turn and leave ... but as usual, Jim knew he was there. The door swung open, treating Simon to the sight of his best detective covering in red paint and grinning like a maniac.
   "Simon," he said with expansive good humour. "Come on in!"
   Simon looked inside. Blair was crouched behind the kitchen table, laughing, red paint drying in his hair.
   "Uh ... I don't want to interrupt ..."
   "Don't worry about it," Jim told him, putting one big red hand on Simon's favourite coat and herding him inside. "We're having a small tribal ritual."
   "That's funny," Simon said, swatting Jim's hand off his shoulder. "Looks to me like a paint fight."
   "There was an accident," Blair said.
   "Sandburg, you *are* an accident."
   Blair actually stuck his tongue out at Jim.
   "Leave my parentage out of this." He looked at Simon. "I was trying to do Jim's face paint, and the jar tipped over."
   "Typical," Simon commented. Blair didn't seem fazed. He stood up, then sat down quickly on the nearest chair. Jim shot him a concerned look.
   "You feeling all right, Chief?"
   "Yeah ... I guess I'm a little tired."
   Jim went to him and pulled him to his feet.
   "Go have a shower and get the paint out of your hair. I'll clean this up."
   Blair shook his head.
   "Jim, we have to..."
   "I know. We'll try again once I have the paint cleaned up, okay? I want to get it before it dries."
  
   Once the shower started running, Simon caught Jim's eye.
   "Do you know what you're getting into here?"
   Jim casually turned away, focusing his attention on a spot of paint on the floor near the couch. Simon was pretty sure he'd seen Jim smile.
   "Do *you* know what I'm getting into?"
   "No," Simon admitted. "Not exactly. But it sounded pretty ... intense."
   Jim switched to scrubbing the table.
   "Has to be done," he said.
   "Are you okay with that?"
   Jim set the washcloth down. There were times when he reminded Simon of a huge cat, and never more so than at this moment. His expression was lazy, content, and just the faintest bit smug. When he smiled, Simon thought for a moment that he saw bright yellow feathers at the corners of Jim's mouth.
   "Come on, Simon. When did I ever have any choice?"
   Simon took a step back.
   "It's getting late. I just wanted to see how Sandburg was feeling." The loft didn't feel right ... too warm, humid, and Simon could've sworn he heard things moving through brush that wasn't there. He took one more look at Jim's face, and thought it was possible that he didn't know his friend at all. It was also possible that he didn't want to.
   "I'll leave the two of you be."

**********

   After a week of not seeing any sign of Blair and dealing with an increasingly distracted detective, Simon cornered Jim in the break room.
   "Where's Sandburg? Still sick?"
   Jim was standing at the coffee machine. Simon couldn't see his face, but his back stiffened.
   "No. He went in for tests two days ago and his red cell count was back to normal. The doctors can't explain it."
   Simon sat at the table and waited. When Jim turned around, Simon pushed a chair toward him. Jim remained standing.
   "I really have to get back to--"
   "Now, Jim ... it won't hurt to sit down and talk with your captain for a few minutes, will it?"
   Jim obviously didn't like that, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He sat.
   "What's up, Simon?"
   "I'm just wondering why I haven't seen your partner around."
   Jim's mouth twitched.
   "I thought you wanted to be left out of these things, sir."
   Simon spread his hands.
   "I said I didn't want to be a go-between. That doesn't mean I'm not interested when a member of this department is conspicuously absent for days on end."
   "I wish I had that on tape. I'd love to play it back for Sandburg."
   Simon was staring at the vending machine, considering one of those new double chocolate Coffee Crisps. Maybe later.
   "Jim, you know I'll deny we ever had this talk. You still haven't told me why you're working alone."
   Jim was starting to look uncomfortable.
   "Well, he had a lot of work to catch up on at the university, since he's been sick..."
   "Is that what he told you?"
   Jim looked up sharply, and Simon chuckled.
   "Unfortunately, after three years, I know what Sandburg sounds like -- even when it's coming out of your mouth."
   Jim was frowning at his coffee cup.
   "We're having some personal problems. It's not a fight. We'll get over it." He looked at Simon again. "And, as requested, I'm leaving you out of it."
   He took his coffee and went back to his desk. Simon stayed in the break room for awhile, contemplating the endless mystery of why he wasn't happier about getting his own way.

**********

   Simon never felt comfortable at the university. It was interesting to him that Jim had managed to achieve a certain easy familiarity with this place. The faculty treated him with the same amused affection that Simon's detectives showed Blair. Most of them, taking their cue from Jim and Blair's first meeting, called Jim "Friday".
   Simon, on the other hand, wasn't well-known at Rainier, and he attracted more than a few suspicious stares as he waited outside Blair's office for a pair of students to leave. The students, apparently, were waiting for Blair to get back.
   "Why don't you just leave it on his desk?" a young man was saying.
   "I want to make sure he gets it," an equally young woman answered. "I'm lucky he gave me an extension, considering."
   "What happened, anyway? I thought you were done that a week ago."
   "I was. I just hadn't printed it out yet. What happened was that my roommate was sitting at my computer and eating a Blizzard."
   "There has to be more to this."
   "He left half of his Blizzard sitting beside the computer, where it melted. So, my dog comes along a few hours later and tips it over. It lands on my floppy and the power cord. I get home and the damned dog is surrounded by chocolate-covered bits of plastic. He's been recycling my essay all week. Not to mention, I have to get a new power cord for my computer, since he chewed straight through it."
   "And he's not dead?"
   "No. The power bar was turned off. Unfortunately."
   Simon leaned against the well. It seemed it wasn't just Sandburg ... everyone around here lived on the ragged edge of disaster.
   "So, what'd you tell your prof?"
   "The truth. The dog ate my fucking homework."
   "Jesus. What'd he say?"
   "Well, after he stopped laughing..."
   Simon smiled. He could picture the way Blair would react to a story like that.
   "He gave me a week's extension. And he said I shouldn't keep my backup anywhere near my computer."
   "Which is true."
   "Yeah, I know. He was pretty cool about it, thank god."
   "I heard he was good. I tried to get into one of his classes last semester, but the waiting list was ridiculous."
   "He's really interesting ... and he's not hard to look at."
   Simon felt a headache coming on.
   "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."
   "But he marks *way* hard. I heard he started university really young, so maybe he thinks everything is easier than it really is, you know?"
   "Yeah. I had a physics prof like that. Sucks. He was an asshole, too."
   "At least Sandburg's nice."
   Simon wondered if he should stick his head in there, make sure they weren't stealing anything. He was moving to the door when the girl spoke again, stopping him.
   "Did you hear someone tried to drown him last spring?"
   Simon shut his eyes. Of course the whole damned campus would know.
   "Oh, yeah. I heard it was some girlfriend of his."
   "No, I don't think so. He's been working with the cops for his doctorate. Two years ago he walked into a friend of mine's anth 101 class on crutches. Said he'd been shot."
   "Wild. I wonder why he got drowned. You should ask him."
   "Yeah, right. *You* fucking ask him."
   "I can't really talk about it," a soft voice said. Simon's eyes flew open. Blair must have walked right past him. "Is that your essay?"
   "Yeah."
   She sounded horribly embarrassed. Simon was glad.
   "Thanks for the extension. I'm sorry about..."
   "It's okay," Blair told her. "Really. It's just ... not up for discussion."
   The students left quickly. Simon glared at them as they went by, for good measure.
   "You gonna stand out there all night, Simon?"
   Blair was at his desk when Simon entered the office, looking grown-up and smart with papers all around him and glasses framing his intense eyes. Simon saw that Blair's hands were shaking and had to fight the urge to put his arms around the kid. No sense giving Sandburg the impression that he could play Simon the way he played his partner.
   "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Simon said, taking a seat.
   Blair didn't look up from the paper he was reading, but he smiled.
   "As long as you don't want me to extend a deadline or change a grade, you're more than welcome." He set the paper down. "Is something wrong?"
   "Wrong? Well, Jim is in serious danger of suffocating under a pile of paperwork."
   "Uh huh." Blair didn't look surprised. "I think the reason he went along with our deal in the first place was that it occurred to him I could probably type."
   "That would explain it," Simon agreed. "So ... when can we expect to see you at the station?"
   Blair's eyes were bright.
   "I didn't think I was on your payroll."
   "No, no, you aren't ... but you always say that you want to be recognized as part of the team, and that goes hand in hand with showing up for work."
   Blair stared at him for a moment, then started to laugh. He laughed for what Simon judged to be about a year, until tears were streaming down his face. He finally lay his head on the desk so that Simon could only see his shoulders shaking.
   "Glad I could brighten your day, Sandburg."
   Blair raised his head and wiped his eyes.
   "Oh, god, Simon ... you say *I'm* a bad liar ... that was *awful*! What did you really want? Jim didn't send you here, did he? Because I thought you told him you didn't want to be a go-between."
   "Does it ever occur to either of you that something I say to one of you might be confidence?"
   Blair shrugged.
   "Only if you say it is. I thought you expected partners to talk to each other."
   Simon looked at him without much warmth.
   "Do you make yourself annoying on purpose, or is it just a side effect of your personality?"
   Blair smiled and began organizing the papers on his desk.
   "It depends. I know you hate this, man, but you are in *my* office, so why don't you tell me what you're doing here?"
   He met Simon's eyes with calm and effortless confidence. Simon saw suddenly that he had no authority here. In this office, he wasn't Blair's boss. He was a man with very little post-high school education sitting in front of a professor with two degrees and most of a doctorate to his name. He wasn't going to get Blair's subservience. The best he could hope for was that Blair considered him a friend.
   "Jim's been distracted, and you haven't been around. He told me you were having some personal problems. I know this isn't really any of my business, and I'll probably be sorry I stuck my nose in, but I have to admit I'm a little concerned."
   Blair took a few moments to think that over, carefully shifting papers into his backpack. Simon was starting to give up on ever getting an answer when the kid finally spoke.
   "It's okay. It will be, anyway. It's just ... I never expected to be *involved* in this whole Sentinel thing, you know? I thought I'd observe, make notes, help him with his senses ... but ever since Incacha called me a shaman ... " He shrugged, hands playing idly with a scrap of paper. "I'm not just on a ride-along anymore."
   Simon leaned back in his chair.
   "Just so long as you don't drag me any futher into this."
   Blair rewarded him with a smile.
   "I didn't drag you here tonight."
   "No," Simon conceded. "You didn't. But there *is* another reason I came." He pulled a racing program from his coat pocket and set it in front of Blair. "Any recommendations?"
   "I bet Jim's told you not to encourage me."
   "Do you see Jim around here anywhere?"
   Blair nodded.
   "Good point."
   He took the sheet and looked it over, chewing on the end of his pen. He was immersed in it so completely that the outside world might as well have disappeared, and it occurred to Simon that there might be a reason the kid understood zone-outs so well.
   Quickly, Blair circled a few names and returned the program to Simon.
   "You didn't get those from me," he said. "They came to you in a dream."
   Simon folded the paper and tucked it away.
   "I'll go you one better. I was never here."
   "No." Blair shook his head, curls flying everywhere. "That's no good. He'll smell your cigars."
   "What?" Simon asked, confused. "I'm not smoking."
   "I know. He'll smell them anyway."
   Simon raised his eyebrows.
   "I didn't realize his sense of smell was that acute."
   Blair's mouth curved a little at one side.
   "Normally it isn't ... unless he concentrates."
   "What are you saying, Sandburg? That he checks you over when you get home?"
   Blair seemed nervous, as though he'd given too much away.
   "I'm not sure he does it on purpose. He might just be, like, really tuned into me. But he always knows where I've been and who I've been talking to."
   "That would drive me nuts," Simon told him.
   "It's okay once you get used to it. He gives me grief about something that's none of his business, I tell him to go to hell."
   "I can't see him liking that too much."
   Blair looked at the pen in his hands as if wondering where it had come from. He put it in a drawer.
   "No, but what am I gonna do? Can't lie to him -- you know that. He just has to understand that he can't push me around. As long as he's got that, everything's cool."
   Simon didn't think he could handle that kind of scrutiny, but Sandburg was pretty laid back. If it really bothered him, Simon guessed he would've been gone a long time ago.
   "You know how Jim is," he said. "He worries about you."
   "I know. It's good. I just ... I've always had a lot of freedom, and this is ... " He took a deep breath, warning Simon that he intended to go on for awhile. Simon didn't care. He didn't have anywhere he needed to be. "The thing is, Jim's given me a home and he's family to me, and I love that, but that comes with restrictions. I'm not used to it. And everytime I think this is it, I don't have any more privacy to give up ... well, I'm always wrong. This Sentinel thing demands a lot."
   Simon was getting worried for the kid. It sounded like a lot of pressure, and Blair really was young.
   "Maybe you should tell Jim how you feel."
   "He knows. He good about it ... like, *way* better than you'd think. The thing is, neither of us has any choice, so we *have* to deal. But it's like Jim said the other night -- he was born to this, and I probably was to, so we must have what it takes."
   Simon laughed softly, and Blair blinked in confusion.
   "What?"
   "I was just thinking about how I resented it, when you and Jim first met. I had this good friend, and all of a sudden he was spending all of his time with some weird little hippy, and if I wanted to see my friend pretty soon I had to put up with the kid, too. And the hell of it, Blair, was that I couldn't complain. I mean, sure, I said things, but god help me if I went too far, because the sun rose and set on you right from the start. I thought you were stealing my friend."
   "Simon, I never meant--"
   "I know. I know. And you didn't. I resented Jim pushing you on me, but ... " Simon paused, then admitted it. "He was right about you."
   Blair looked down, suddenly shy. Simon put one big hand over both of Blair's.
   "I see what goes on. You two are damned hard on each other sometimes. And even when you're not fighting ... I can see that you're both very demanding. No lies, no secrets ... to be honest with you, Sandburg, I don't think you and Jim are friends because of this Sentinel thing. I think you're friends in spite of it."
   Blair had a gleam in his eye that Simon thought might be academic interest.
   "You may have something there."
   Simon thought of the look that had been on Jim's face the other night, the lazy contentment of a big cat after a kill. There was no question about what Jim wanted ... but Simon wasn't sure if anyone had ever asked Blair. He didn't want to get this involved, but the sad thing was, there wasn't anyone else in the world who could do it.
   "Tell me something, Sandburg. All the trouble ... is it worth it to you?"
   "I told you -- we don't have any choice."
   "Pretend you do. What would you choose?"
   Blair smiled, and it reached his eyes.
   "It's worth it."
   Satisfied, Simon stood up.
   "Then you're all right."
   He was at the door when Blair's voice stopped him.
   "Simon?"
   "*What*, Sandburg? I want to get home before the sun comes up."
   "I'll be at the station tomorrow."
   Simon nodded.
   "See you tomorrow."
   He left.

**********

   To the untrained eye, Blair and Jim wouldn't have seemed quite right the next day ... but Simon was well-versed in their behaviour, and he figured they were just fine. Jim wasn't standing as close to Blair as he usually did, wasn't touching him as often, but the distance wasn't cold. Jim's actions were clearly solicitous, a gentle concession to Blair. And, just as clearly, Blair appreciated it.
   Simon wasn't at all surprised when, toward the end of the day, Blair stood behind Jim's chair and placed shaking hands on Jim's shoulders. Jim, without turning around, shut his eyes and smiled.
   Simon also wasn't surprised, a few days later, to find Blair wearing a new earring. It was a hoop of white gold, intricately --and no doubt expensively-- etched. Simon didn't know what it symbolized, but from the way the kid kept reaching up to touch it, it was pretty obvious that it meant the world to Blair.

   The day of the full moon, Simon half-expected Jim and Blair to take a day's leave. Whatever this ritual called for, it seemed pretty intense, adn he'd thought they might want time to think.
   But no, they showed up right on time, and behaved as conventionally as they ever did ... until about two o'clock that afternoon.
   Jim stopped on his way out of the break room, face twisted with pain. Blair went to him immediately, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder and speaking to him soothingly. As soon as Jim was able to focus on his partner, he grabbed Blair's shoulders in a grip that must have hurt.
   Simon was beside them by then, and he heard Jim's harsh whisper.
   "He's in Cascade."
   "Okay," Blair said, scared but standing his ground. "We can deal with this."
   "*We* aren't going to deal with this. I am. You're going to stay here with Simon."
   "Jim, I don't think that's such a good--"
   "Damn it, Blair, he's looking for you. I am going to get to him before he finds you, and you are going to stay here where you're safe. Have you got that?"
   Simon could swear that when he got mad enough, Blair's eyes actually gave off a physical chill.
   "Let's discuss this in Simon's office," he suggested with just as much ice in his voice. They went, and Simon followed. He'd briefly considered giving them their privacy, but hell, it was *his* office.
   Once the door was shut, Blair turned on Jim.
   "You know what'll happen if you go after him. You'll kill him, or he'll kill you. I say we stay right here, and as soon as he lays a hand on me -- which we both know he will -- we can have him locked up until tomorrow, when this will not be a problem anymore. Have *you* got that?"
   "He is NOT going to touch you!"
   Simon felt gooseflesh rise at Jim's tone. He didn't think he'd ever heard anyone so furious. And there was something else, something ... primitive ... that Simon didn't even want to think about.
   With admirable calm, Blair put a hand on Jim's arm.
   "Stand down, big guy," he said evenly. "This isn't the jungle. And one touch is not going to hurt me."
   They locked eyes for an uncomfortably long time. Simon was beginning to wish he *had* stayed outside when Jim placed a hand over Blair's and took a few deep breaths.
   "You sure I can't kill him?" he asked with a slight smile. Blair smiled back and shook his head.
   "Behave," he said. Jim's smile grew. Simon decided it was okay to breathe again.
   Jim turned his head toward his desk.
   "My phone's ringing," he said on his way out the door. Blair stayed back. He was giving Simon a look that was dangerously close to the way Daryl looked when he needed his dad to bail him out of a mess.
   [Oh, Jesus, Sandburg ... I know you don't have a father, but give me a break, here...]
   "Simon? Promise me you won't let him do anything stupid."
   Simon gawked at him.
   "*I'm* supposed to stop him? You're the lion-tamer around here, Sandburg."
   "Promise me," Blair insisted. With the anger gone, Simon could see how scared he really was.
   "I promise," he said before he could stop himself. Blair relaxed, and Simon scowled. The unstinting trust in those wide blue eyes made letting Blair down unthinkable. Simon was convinced the kid had practised that look in front of a mirror.
   Satisfied that he had Simon's compliance, Blair had turned his attention to Jim. Even from the office, Simon could see a stiffness to Jim's shoulders that said trouble.
   "Shit," Blair said succinctly, taking off for Jim's desk.
   Jim was still on the phone, almost growling his words.
   "No, he isn't. No--shut up. You know what I am. You think I would let that happen? He doesn't need you. Stay away from him."
   There was a pause while Jim listened, growing angrier by the second. Blair tugged at his arm, but Jim swatted his hand away.
   "You had no right to do this. He is not *yours*."
   The implicated of that was clear. Simon didn't like it. Blair, who was still vying for Jim's attention, didn't seem to have noticed.
   "You're not too good with plain English, are you Sparky? Let me lay it out for you again. You are -- no, you can't. He doesn't have anything to say to you. Shut up. He'll have what he needs, and he doesn't need you. Now, get the hell out of my city before I--"
   He was silent again for a moment. A cold smile crossed his mouth.
   "What do you know? You finally got it. You weren't going to tell him that, were you? You didn't want him to know he had a choice ... yes, I can, but that's not our problem. Leave us alone. You lost. Live with it."
   Jim slammed the phone down.
   "You know," Blair said gently in the sudden silence. "he's going to come here anyway."
   Jim looked at him, and to Simon's shame he was relieved that Jim's gaze was aimed at Blair. Jim might have stepped straight out of the jungle.
   "Oh," he said, touching Blair's dark curls, "I know."
   Simon turned on his heel and went to his office. It was too late, but he was at least going to enjoy a few minutes of pretending that he wasn't involved.

   It was decided that Jim and Blair would wait in one of interrogation rooms, where they'd be out of the way,. and where Simon could keep an eye on things. They both seemed convinced that this man would find them wherever they were.
   Simon asked if it wouldn't be simpler to arrest the man for whatever he had done to Blair on his last visit to Cascade, but Blair wasn't having any of that. He still didn't want to talk about it, let alone file an official report.
   "So, let me get this straight," Simon said. "Your plan hinges on this guy losing his cool and attacking you in some way, and Jim staying back long enough to let that happen, so that we can put the man under arrest."
   "Right," Blair said.
   "And you think this is gonna work, with the state your partner is in."
   "His partner is standing right here," Jim reminded them.
   "It doesn't matter where you are," Simon told him, and Blair's mouth curved up for just a second before he got it under control.
   "Jim will be fine," Blair said.
   Simon rubbed his temples. He had one hell of a headache coming on.
   "You know what happens when another sentinel enters his territory. What makes you so sure he can control himself?"
   Jim's eyes darkened in a way that was bad for Simon's nerves. Blair put a hand on Jim's back, and Jim looked at his partner. They didn't say anything, but after a look into Blair's eyes, Jim opted to wait in the interrogation room. After the door had shut behind him, Blair smiled at Simon.
   "He has me."

**********

   Simon didn't turn the intercom on, so he couldn't hear their words, but he watched them through the one-way glass. Jim was standing so close to Blair that it would've been hard to slide a credit card between them, making Blair tilt his head far back to meet Jim's eyes.
   Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder, compulsively releasing and then tightening his grip, over and over. Blair spoke rapidly, worry plain on his face. Jim slouched, looking unhappy but acquiescent. He let Blair go and backed away.
   Once he'd left the interrogation room, he stood beside Simon and watched Blair through the glass.
   "He thinks it might be a better idea if I waited in the break room. You can call me when the guy shows up."
   Simon looked at Jim. Jim's eyes were locked on Blair, and his jaw muscle was twitching.
   "I won't let him get hurt, Jim."
   Jim nodded, still looking at Blair.
   "I know."
   He shut his eyes and left. Although he couldn't have seen or heard Jim go, Blair looked up as soon as Jim turned from the one-way glass. His stayed fixed on Jim's back as Jim walked away.
   Simon had an irrational urge to press the intercom and tell Sandburg to knock it off, because this witch doctor bullshit was starting to give his poor, rational captain a bad case of the creeps.

**********

   Blair sat perfectly still for the next half hour, so still that Simon was tempted to go in there and check his pulse. Simon finally decided that the kid must be doing some weird meditation thing and left it alone.
   When Blair abruptly stood and moved to stand against the back wall of the room, Simon was startled enough to drop his cigar. Less than a minute later, the door to the outer room opened and Simon knew that their guest had arrived.
   He was younger than Jim, and not so broadly built, but something about the intensity of his face made Simon think that this man could be mistaken for Jim's brother.
   The second he saw the Sentinel's eyes, he knew there wouldn't be time to call the break room. Even at his worst, Jim had never been as far gone as the man who was moving toward the interrogation room door. He was feral, beyond the reach of reason. He didn't even seem to notice that Simon was there.
   He was on Blair before Simon could stop him, grabbing a handful of hair and forcing him against the wall. Simon took out his gun and moved to their side.
   "Let him go and step away!"
   The man responded by giving Blair another rough shove into the wall. Blair tried to turn his face away, but the hand in his hair kept him still.
   Before Simon could speak again, Jim entered the room. The other Sentinel let Blair go and faced Jim. Simon was badly afraid that someone wasn't going to live through this, and he could see that Blair was just as frightened.
   "Jim," Simon said," keep back. I'm going to put him under arrest."
   Simon couldn't even be sure that Jim had heard. He kept moving forward, slowly, as though he was savouring the thought of tearing the enemy apart.
   Besides the fact that he didn't believe in using his gun when it wasn't absolutely necessary, Simon was starting to worry about who the bullet would hit. He backed away, wondering if it might be a better idea to let Jim drop this guy. Then he and Blair could stop Jim before it went any further.
   Blair seemed to feel the same way. He was rooted to the spot where he'd been pushed, breathing hard, watching every move Jim made.
   The other Sentinel put up a fight that astonished Simon. He'd only seen that kind of desperation in men who were fighting for their lives. Carefully, Simon placed himself between Blair and the fight. He didn't want the kid getting hit by a stray blow.
   It was a hell of an effort, but Jim was fighting just as hard. The younger man went down, and it looked as though he was going to stay down. Jim reached for him again, intent on finishing the matter.
   Blair moved past Simon and put his hands on Jim's arms.
   "Don't," he said. "C'mon, Jim. Let him go. It's over. You won. Let him go."
   Jim gave the other sentinel a shake, and for a second Simon thought he might ignore Blair, but then he opened his hands and let the body fall.
   Jim turned to Blair and reached to touch him. Blair jumped back and placed himself against the wall, shaking.
   Simon couldn't do much for that, so he chose to attend to business. He went through the motions of putting an unconscious man under arrest, and it was then that he noticed the noise had attracted attention. Half the department was in the doorway, most of them gaping at the scene.
   "Who the hell is that guy?" Brown asked, speaking for all of them. Blair smiled a little. That unpleasant, wicked sense of humour was in his eyes.
   "Full moon," he explained with a shrug.
  
   Simon let his men take care of the details, then ushered them out of the interrogation room as quickly as he could manage. Jim was pacing one corner of the room, Blair was trembling in the other, and neither of them looked happy.
   He left them alone, but couldn't keep himself from turning to the one way glass and watching from the outer room.
   Jim stopped pacing and faced Blair. Blair tried on something that looked vaguely like a smile, then gave it up. Jim moved forward enough to rest his hip against the table, then extended his hands. Blair looked from Jim's hands to his face, back and forth a few times before taking a shaky step toward Jim. Jim didn't move. He might not even have been breathing.
   Blair lay his hands over Jim's, and Jim caught them gently. Blair gave him a real smile and wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. Jim shut his eyes and pressed his face into the curve where Blair's neck and shoulder met. He ran a hand over Blair's hair, barely touching it. Then he whispered something in Blair's ear, and Blair nodded. He stepped back and left the room.
   "I'm gonna head back to the loft," he told Simon, apparently unsurprised to find him at the window.
   "Good. Go home, relax."
   Blair touched his arm.
   "Thanks."
   Simon pressed Blair's shoulder and went to talk to Jim.

**********

   "You okay?"
   Jim didn't look at Simon.
   "Yeah. I'm still ... edgy. I want that son of a bitch out of Cascade."
   "I hear that," Simon said, provoking a smile from Jim. "Look, Jim, if you want to cut out of here early..."
   "Nah. I have some work to finish up ... and Sandburg could use a little down time."
   "You guys finish this tonight?"
   Jim had an odd smile, one Simon didn't think he'd seen on Jim's face before.
   "You could say that. But you know how it is, sir ... you close one door, you open another."
   The conversation ended there because Jim walked away before Simon could think of any response.

**********

   Simon was one of the last to leave that evening. On his way past Jim's desk, he noticed that Sandburg had forgotten his backpack. That was a little unusual, thought definitely not out of character. The really strange thing was that Jim hadn't noticed it sitting there and simply brought it home.
   Oh, well ... it wouldn't kill him to drop the backpack by the loft on his way home.
  
   It was nearly seven when he arrived, and he was surprised when he had to wait for the door to be answered. When Jim was home, as Simon had expected him to be, the door was usually answered before Simon had a chance to knock.
   This time it was Blair who opened the door and ushered Simon into a loft lit by a fireplace and candles.
   "My backpack ... thanks, man. I have an eight o' clock class tomorrow. Not having it wouldn't seriously sucked."
   "Sandburg, did it ever occur to you that you might get more respect as a university professor if you didn't sound like one of your students?"
   Blair grinned.
   "My *students* respect me."
   Somewhere in the back of his mind, it struck Simon that the attitude was perfectly Blair. But most of Simon's brain was dealing with what his eyes were showing him, now that they'd adjusted to the dimness of the loft.
   Simon knew that Blair was generally considered a good-looking guy, although personally he wished the kid would get a haircut and some normal clothes. But there was something strange about Blair tonight.
   He was wearing a dark blue shirt and faded jeans, one just a little too dark and the other a little too light to match his eyes. His hair was brushed out so that every highlight shone, lightening the colour from almost black to a warm reddish-brown.
   His eyes seemed even larger than usual, the lashes longer. He didn't look like a scruffy neo-hippy. He looked as if he might be hiding a pair of wings behind his back.
   Blair was silent, very serious, and Simon suddenly understood that he was seeing something intensely private.
   "Where's Jim?" he asked.
   "He went to pick up dinner."
   "Well ... uh ... I should go. Good luck with whatever this thing is."
   Blair was leaning against the kitchen island, somehow managing to look both older and younger then usual.
   "Thanks for bringing my backpack."
   "No trouble. I'll see you tomorrow."
   [But not *this* you. I'd be very surprised if I ever saw this again.]
   Blair nodded. Simon let himself out.

**********

  
   Simon was greeted the next morning by the news that yesterday's guest had died in the night. Heart attack, apparently. Simon went to Jim's desk to inform him and found Jim humming to himself.
   "Jim ... I don't know if you've heard ..."
   Jim looked up from a stack of paperwork.
   "Yes, sir?"
   "The other Sentinel ... he died last night. They think it was a heart attack."
   Jim didn't even blink.
   "I knew something must have happened," he said mildly. "Couldn't feel him. Not that it matters anymore," he added. "Good enough."
   He went back to his paperwork, and the humming.
   "I take it," Simon said, "everything went well last night?"
   Jim glanced at him. He had that content look again, the one Simon couldn't stand.
   "Yup."
   Back to the papers.
   "How's the kid?"
   Jim shut his eyes.
   "Ah ... good," he said slowly. "He's a little tired. His class must have let out early. I'm pretty sure he's in his office." He opened his eyes. "He'll probably be here soon, so you can ask him yourself."
   Simon didn't ask how Jim knew that. What good would it do?
   "You got what you wanted?" Simon asked, surprising himself with both the words and the anger as they slipped from his mouth. He didn't even really know what he was angry about.
   Jim didn't bristle. He gazed at Simon placidly.
   "Yes, sir," he said. "I did."
   Simon, who didn't know a lot but considered it too fucking much, had nothing left to say. He went to his office and shut the door.