Captain Simon Banks groaned aloud when the harsh jangling of the telephone interrupted his dreams. He cast a bleary eye toward the glowing orange numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. Twelve fifty-eight a.m. He groaned again, unhappy about being awakened. Because of a major ice storm that had hit the city two days ago, everybody in the precinct had pulled in overtime to help keep everything up and running until the power had been restored. That had finally happened about twelve hours ago. Consequently, once things started to get back to normal, Simon had sent most of his squad home with orders to eat and sleep. When the phone rang, he had managed to log in only an hour of sleep after being awake for nearly thirty-six hours.

"What?" Simon barked into the receiver.

"Captain, it's Blair. I'm sorry to wake you, but it's urgent."

"This had better be good, Detective. What is it?"

"Jim's gone."

"Gone where?"

"No, Captain. I can't find him anywhere. He's missing."

"Sandburg, he probably had errands to run or stopped for a drink. He doesn't have to check in with you, you know."

Blair sighed and bit his lip so he wouldn't say something out of line to his captain. He rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. Fuck. This was exactly what had happened the last time -- when Colonel Oliver had kidnapped his partner. Blair grimaced, hating the way the past seemed to insist on repeating itself. Simon had said almost the same thing then, and look what happened. He'd been chased by mean, miserable men carrying guns, had almost been filled full of lead and ended up in lockup with some less than desirable characters while Jim had been kidnapped, drugged and almost killed. Luckily, an undercover DEA agent had been saved in the nick of time from an assassination attempt. This time, Blair was determined. He would convince Captain Banks that Jim was gone and that something had to be done, and done now. He refused to back down. Jim's life could be at stake.

Blair took a deep breath, counted to three, and released it. He then spoke slowly and calmly. "Captain, please listen to me. Jim is missing. You know I wouldn't call you if I weren't sure. We decided to have something to eat before we crashed for the weekend. You know after the last few days that Jim's too tired to be out drinking. He went for pizza at eight-thirty and he hasn't come back. I called the pizza place and he picked it up ten minutes after he left here. I've been out looking for him since ten o'clock. I can't find him or his truck and he doesn't answer his cell phone."

Simon huffed an unhappy breath into the phone. "Okay, okay. I'll call the station and put out an APB. I'll have to trust your judgment on this, Sandburg, but I hope you're not jumping the gun. It will be awfully embarrassing if he's just out for a few beers."

"Thank you. I know something's wrong, Simon. I just know it." Blair paused before he added quietly, "I can feel it."

-------------------------------------------------

Blair paced nervously in front of Simon's desk, running his hands through his hair. "It's been over twelve hours, Captain. Where the hell could Jim be?" Leaning on the desk, he added, "Now do you believe me? I knew something was wrong."

"Detective, I believed you last night or I wouldn't have put out the APB." Simon leaned back in his chair and pulled a fresh cigar from its holder. "I've alerted the entire city. Listen, Sandburg, Jim is widely known by a lot of officers. Everybody's been given a recent picture and a description of his truck. You know we'll do everything we can. I'm sure he'll turn up. We have to be patient." Flipping open the lighter, Simon puffed on the cigar until it was lit to his satisfaction.

"Captain, I've already called all the usual places -- hospitals, morgues, state patrol, county sheriff -- that sort of thing. I don't like this one bit. There's absolutely no sign of him." Blair paced a few more times, then he stopped and placed his hands back on the desk. With a thoughtful look, he said, "Simon, can you check all the crime reports from last night after eight o'clock through about midnight within a six or eight block radius of the pizza parlor?"

"Why?" Simon asked. "You got a hunch?"

"Yeah," Blair answered. "Last night -- actually this morning, I was so focused on looking for Jim and his truck that I didn't pay much attention to anything else. I want to see what was going on in the area that could have distracted or interrupted him on his way home. I know he made it to the pizza place, so whatever happened would have had to happen on his way home."

"Okay, give me a second to access the information." Simon tapped out the commands on the keyboard in front of him. Blair waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the desk. He stopped when Simon gave him a warning glare. Turning back to the monitor, Simon relayed the information that appeared. "Let's see. A mugging five blocks away, at ten-fifteen. The victim is in the hospital; the mugger's in custody. There was a structure fire at nine twenty-eight, but that was 12 blocks away. There was a car fire on Elm Place that was reported at eight fifty-five. There was?"

"Stop. What does it say about the car fire?" Not waiting for Simon to relay the information, Blair moved around his desk to read over his shoulder. "2002 Buick Century, no tags, no plates." Blair stood up and practically bounced. "That's it!"

Simon looked up at Blair and had to smile at the pleased look on his detective's face. "That's what? What does a car fire have to do with Jim missing?"

"Elm Place is the street that intersects with Poplar. The pizza place is on Poplar." Blair was silent for a moment before he said, "What would throw Jim off enough for someone to grab him? Let's face it, if he's on his game, not much. But if something's going on to distract him -- something that brings out his Sentinel instincts -- then he's a lot more susceptible to some kind of distraction that could cause a problem. Something like," Blair thought for a moment before he said, "...like if someone runs up to him, yelling, my car's on fire, my kid's trapped, maybe. What does Jim do? First he smells the smoke so he knows that there's a fire, so he's not suspicious. The guy or gal is tugging on his sleeve, urging him on. He follows the person around the corner and sees the car on fire. Jim races up to the vehicle to look inside. The bad guy follows, whacks him over the head or sticks a needle in him. Bam! Jim's down for the count." Blair stopped to take a breath before he added, "You know how he is if he's been drugged, especially if he's caught off guard. There's no telling what kind of reaction his senses would have."

"Sandburg, you have quite an imagination."

Blair shrugged and continued his scenario. "I talked to the guy working the counter at the pizza place. He knows Jim. We buy pizza there at least a couple of times a month. He knows Jim's truck and he says he saw it drive off but he didn't see who was driving. He didn't have any reason to even look because he had no reason to think something had happened to Jim." Blair sat on the corner of the conference table, his hands flying through the air, punctuating his dialogue. "I figure the kidnapper comes back for the truck, then drives back around the corner to the burning car. Jim's out cold on the sidewalk. He stops, tosses Jim in and drives off. It would take only a few minutes."

Simon sat quietly, thinking about Blair's scenario. Nodding, Simon puffed on his cigar. "Playing devil's advocate here for a minute, Sandburg, if it were someone out for Jim, someone from his past with a grudge, wouldn't Jim recognize him, or her for that matter? Besides, Jim's a pretty big guy. It would take another guy strong enough to pick him up, or two people otherwise."

"Maybe the person has changed his appearance, has gotten older, or was in disguise, or paid someone to help him. I don't know, Captain. I only know that Jim is gone and I have a hunch that that car might have something to do with it. I don't know if it's one person or several , but I have to follow through with this." Blair looked at Simon solemnly. "Please, Captain, have them dust that car for prints."

Holding up his hand before Blair could start in again, Simon nodded. "Enough. We'll follow your hunch. It's all we have right now and at least I'll feel like we're doing something." Simon waved toward the door. "Go. Get out of here while I try to get some work done."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Blair said, "Thank you, Captain."

-------------------------------------------------

Several hours later, Blair was at his desk calling the hospitals yet again when Simon walked from the elevator and through the bullpen, yelling over his shoulder, "Sandburg! My office."

Blair practically leapt from his chair and followed.

"Please, come in. Close the door and sit down."

Suddenly uncomfortable with Simon's calm voice and polite demeanor, Blair closed the door and sat on the edge of a chair.

"Blair, first, good work. It took the forensics team two hours of searching, but they finally found a print on the gas cap of that car. Most of the vehicle was burnt so badly that they couldn't find anything." Simon kept a close eye on Blair while he spoke, gauging his reactions. He gave his detective a small smile.

Blair nodded when Simon paused, unable to speak. Now he was even more unhappy that Simon was praising him and calling him by his first name. This was not good. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and waited, still and pale.

Simon slid a green file folder across the desk to Blair. He cleared his throat before he said, "This is who we've identified from the print." When Blair didn't pick up the folder, but instead, stared at it, Simon filled in the important information. "Sebastian Kelley. Age, thirty-seven. White male. Height, six feet. Weight, one ninety-five. Convicted murderer of two children, ages eight and nine, both male. Both?" Simon stopped and wiped his left eye. Unhappy, he glanced at Blair and sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I hate my job."

Blair's eyes remained locked on Simon's face. He was barely breathing and his voice was very quiet when he said, "Captain, just tell me, please."

Simon cleared his throat and continued. "Both children were sexually assaulted, tortured and murdered by Kelley in 1993. Jim was the arresting officer. Kelley was tried and found guilty but insane. The judge ordered him to be incarcerated at a mental hospital for the criminally insane for the remainder of his natural life." Simon pointed at the file folder. "A notation in his file that the family petitioned the court and was granted permission to transfer him from Washington to a private maximum-security mental facility outside of Boise, Idaho. I called the facility and spoke to the director. He informed me that three months ago there was a major fire caused by a natural gas explosion. Fifteen inmates and four staff members were killed." Simon blew a smoke ring and spun his chair around. He pulled two clean cups from a small tray. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Simon poured the hot liquid and passed a cup to his detective, who took it with a nod of thanks.

Simon took a sip before he continued his story. "After he told me the details, I remembered hearing about the fire on the news back then. It was a real mess. The director told me they still haven't positively identified all the bodies. All the files were destroyed -- dental records, medical records, everything's gone. Plus the fact that there are still six people unaccounted for and presumed dead. I checked on the Buick; it was reported stolen a day after the fire from Boise. I think it's pretty obvious now that Kelley didn't die in that fire. He's in Cascade. I'd bet a year's wages on it."

Watching Blair carefully, Simon shifted in his seat. He was uneasy about continuing the conversation. Sandburg sat as still as a statue, never looking away from Simon's face, barely blinking. His face was totally unreadable. Simon disliked this quiet reaction even less than an emotionally out of control detective, which is what he had been expecting.

"Detective? Blair?" Simon asked softly. "You still with me?"

Blair answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm listening, Captain."

"You were right about Kelley; about his appearance. Since Jim arrested him almost ten years ago, he's lost fifty pounds, and most of his hair. He now wears glasses and some of his facial features were altered after an extensive beating by another inmate three years ago. It's entirely possible that Jim would not have recognized Kelley, especially if the man was acting hysterically about the car fire. Your scenario was most likely right on, Sandburg." Opening the file folder, he pulled out a picture and slid it across the desk to Blair.

Blair picked up the photograph gingerly with his thumb and forefinger as if the very touch tainted his skin. He stared at it intently for a long minute before stating, "And now he has Jim."

"We don't know that for sure."

Blair leapt up, his eyes locked on Simon's, his tone of voice downright testy. "Oh, come on, Captain. It all fits. Don't treat me like I'm some rookie. I may have been a cop officially for barely a year, but I've been around here long enough to know better. Do not pull any shit with me."

"Sandburg, that's enough," Simon said quietly. He understood how upset Blair was and he was a bit relieved to see what he would consider a normal "Sandburg" reaction. A too quiet Blair was definitely a bigger problem. Still, Simon was apprehensive about involving a rookie detective in such a personal case.

Blair ran his hand across his forehead. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be disrespectful, but you can't protect me from the truth. If he has Jim, then we had just better find him," he said adamantly.

"Well, Detective, that's exactly what we are going to do." Simon's tone was just as firm. He turned back to the file and waved Blair out the door.

Blair rose and waited until Simon looked up. When their eyes met, Blair's gaze was very intent. "You are assigning me to this case, aren't you?"

Simon did not look away, but thoughtfully chewed on the end of his cigar. Blair waited a minute before he asked, "Captain, you are assigning me?"

"Sandburg, I heard you the first time."

Blair stood rooted to his spot. "And..."

Shaking his head, Simon rose. Blair refused to back down even when his boss came from around the desk and stood looming over him, looking like an immovable mountain.

Blair stood tall and kept his voice as steady as possible. "I'm making a formal request to be assigned to this case and I'd appreciate it if I could work alone. Please, Captain, I can't work with anyone else right now. Not on this. Please." Blair forced himself to wait patiently after he made his request. He realized that if he sounded the least bit over the edge Simon would refuse outright. From the look on Simon's face, at least he now had the captain considering his request. He stood quietly, his hands in his pockets, waiting for Simon to render his decision. Finally, after several long minutes of being under his captain's silent scrutiny, he got his answer.

"Detective, I'll honor your request at this time, but I have a few ground rules that must be followed. I don't think I need to remind you that you're one of my men and I expect you to conduct yourself in the manner befitting a detective of this division. I want updates twice daily on your investigation and progress, in writing. No taking unnecessary risks and no going off without at least two people knowing your whereabouts at all times. You keep your cell phone glued to your body. Are we clear on this?"

"Yes, Captain. Thanks. I won't let you down."

"Sandburg, I wouldn't assign you this case if I didn't think you were capable of handling it. I just want to be sure you and I have a complete understanding of what's expected of you. You're used to working with Ellison. This is totally different. You're personally involved and that makes this assignment much more difficult to handle. Follow my rules and things will run smoothly."

Blair nodded. "I will, sir. Thank you. I appreciate your faith in me."

"Good. Now get to work."

Leaving quickly, Blair managed a small smile. Simon hid his care and concern behind gruffness, exactly like Jim. The familiarity gave Blair a tiny measure of comfort. Hurrying to his desk, he dug out several legal-size yellow pads of paper and a couple of pens. Carefully, he set out in writing his plan to find his partner. Writing down the steps he intended to take made him feel better and gave him a sense of control over the situation. His own actions were something he could control and that feeling was important right now. Blair had no power over the circumstances surrounding Jim's kidnapping but he could make sure he did everything he possibly could to find his partner.

On the first sheet of the paper, Blair noted the time of day in four-hour increments starting with four p.m., the current hour, to eight p.m., and continuing until he had seventy-two hours in blocks of four hours each. Sighing, he hoped that Jim would be home, safe and sound, long before seventy-two hours passed. Next to each block of time, he noted what he would do during that specific time period: street search or phone calls and following up leads. Blair chewed on the end of the pen, mulling over his plan.

Nighttime search might be more useful since at night there were fewer people on the streets and not as many cars in the parking lots and alleys. If Jim's truck were stashed away somewhere, it might be easier to spot at night where there were less distractions, he mused. Blair scheduled two searches a day, eight hours total. He gave himself two telephone sessions, jotting down in a neat row the name and phone number of the places he would contact twice a day. Besides his and Jim's usual contacts and snitches, the list grew as he added the city and county morgue, the county sheriff's offices and substations, and the Washington State Patrol. After a quick search on the Internet, he added a list of emergency clinics, along with all the hospitals within a two hundred-mile radius of Cascade.

Carefully studying the pages he had composed, Blair tamped them into a tidy pile. After he had stapled the papers together, he slipped them under the clamp on his clipboard. He reread the neat printing before he sighed quietly to himself and erased a line here and there. On the newly blanked spaces, he assigned himself four hours a day to go home, change, shower and sleep. Blair tapped the pen against the clipboard. He knew that if Simon thought he wasn't at least trying to take care of himself, the captain would be within his rights to pull him from the case. Personally, he didn't care if he ever ate or slept again, but he knew that if Simon should happen to glance over his self-imposed schedule, it would look better -- more responsible -- if he scheduled in personal time.

A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost five o'clock. Time to hit the streets for his first search session. Turning off the computer, he rose and stretched. Blair pulled his .38 from its holster, checked the ammo and slipped it back into its place. Satisfied, he then grabbed the clipboard, a pad of paper, two pens and his jacket, and quietly left to begin his search for his lost partner.

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"Captain, I can't believe that with the manpower we have, that we haven't been able to come up with a single good lead. Damn it, Simon! He couldn't have just disappeared." Pacing once again in the small confines of Simon's office, Blair rubbed his temples where the beginning of a major headache was making itself at home.

Simon sighed. Another twenty-four hours had passed and he was starting to feel depressed with their lack of progress locating Ellison.

"Sandburg," Simon said sadly, "unfortunately, people do disappear without a trace. It happens all too often and right now, there isn't much more we can do. We've exhausted every lead that we've had so far. You know that I've called in favors from every snitch in the city and so has every other officer in Major Crime. Nothing at all! Kelley is not talking to anyone that's for sure. He is keeping a low profile. The man's not out to boast about grabbing a cop; he's out for revenge.

Pouring another inevitable cup of coffee, Simon sipped the tart brew before adding a dollop of cream. "You want a cup?"

"No, thanks. If I drink any more coffee, I'm going to be climbing the walls." Dropping heavily into one of the chairs in front of Simon's desk, Blair put his head back. "Where is he?" he groaned.

Simon shook his head. "I wish I knew. I'm totally open to any other suggestions you have, but I just don't know what else we can do right now. Believe me, we won't stop looking. We have every officer on patrol looking for Jim. At five, I'm having a press conference. I'm having Kelley's and Jim's pictures shown on all the television stations in Cascade offering a reward for any information. I'm worried about Jim as much as you are, but we don't have any leads to follow at this point. All we can do is keep looking."

Blair sat up and his eyes met Simon's. "I refuse to believe that we can't find him. He has to be somewhere! I know he is still alive. I would know it if he were dead. I would feel it," he stated steadfastly.

"Detective, that's a well-intentioned sentiment, but you can't be sure. I know how close you two are, but I don't understand how you can know that he's alive with that much certainty. I've been in this business too long to ignore the fact that Jim could be dead. That's a very painful thought for me, but I have to be realistic."

Blair silently studied Simon, contemplating what he was about to say. He shifted restlessly before clearing his throat. "Simon, I need to talk to you as a friend, not as my superior officer."

Simon clamped his teeth around his cigar and returned Blair's gaze. Sandburg's quiet words were very serious and he was suddenly not sure he wanted to hear whatever Blair had to say. Knowing he didn't have a choice, he steeled himself and said, "If you are going to tell me about some kind of hocus pocus with this Sentinel thing, then I'm not sure I want to hear it. On the other hand, I know if you brought it up, you must feel it's important. If you think it would help us find Jim, then I think you should come right out and tell me."

Nodding Blair said, "Jim and I talked about this quite a bit, but we weren't sure you would even want to know. Now I'm not sure if you'd even believe me. Hell, I don't know what to do, but I have to trust you, Simon."

"I hope I'm a good enough friend that you feel you can trust me, Blair. Whatever you have to tell me, I'll do my best to understand. I want Jim returned safe and sound as much as you do."

"Okay. Okay." Blair crossed his arms on his chest and sighed. "It's not sentiment when I say Jim is alive. I don't know if it will help us find him, but it will help you know why I have to find him. I know he's alive because I can feel him."

Much to Simon's credit, he didn't laugh or grimace. In fact, his total lack of reaction gave Blair the impetus to continue. "I mean I can 'mentally' feel him. I can tell he's alive, just like he can tell if I am also. It's not ESP or anything like that; it's just a feeling, but it's as real to me as anything I can actually touch." Blair stopped to give Simon a moment to process this bit of information.

Simon rolled his cigar between his fingers and nodded. "Sandburg, I wondered what was up with you two for the last year or so. I knew something was different. I just didn't know what it was. Is that about when this "feeling" started for you both? Sometime after Jim pulled you out of that fountain?"

Blair sat up, surprised. He was unaware that Simon had noticed anything different between he and Jim. Hell, he didn't even realize that he or Jim had been acting any differently since the spiritual connection between them had grown and strengthened. Blair knew that he and Jim had a bond between them as Sentinel and Guide but until he had died in the fountain, he hadn't realized how strong it was. Then shortly after he had graduated from the police academy, they had taken the final steps to forge a bond stronger than Blair had thought possible -- they had become lovers. When Blair had brought Jim back from a deep zone out after a chemical accident by entering the spirit plane and connecting their animal spirits, he realized that the bond was now forged for life -- and beyond. They were committed, body and soul, to each other and nothing could interfere.

Blair gave Simon a crooked smile. "Yes, sir. That's about right. You remember that day Jim was taken to the hospital because of the chemical accident? Well, we never told you this, but I got Jim out of that major zone out because of a vision I had. The woman you met that day is a powerful Guide and she showed me how to connect our animal spirits together, which is exactly what Jim had done that day he saved my life when you guys pulled me out of the fountain. I did the same thing for Jim and right after that -- and ever since then -- we've been spiritually connected." At Simon's skeptical expression, Blair held up a hand. "I know, I know. It sounds really weird, but it's true. I can't explain it any better than that and I hope you can believe me, but it's true. Simon, I know Jim's alive, but you should know that I'll keep on looking no matter what. Even if I feel?" Blair's words trailed away. He couldn't bring himself to say the words; to contemplate the idea.

"Blair, I believe you. I don't know how or why, but I believe you. You know we will keep looking for him, no matter what. All of my officers are important to me, but you and Jim are also good friends. Anything else I should know?" Simon's warm brown eyes met Blair's questioning blue ones.

"Simon?"

Simon smiled. "What else did you want to tell me, Blair?"

Blair blushed. "Ah, I don't have Jim's permission to say anything. I'm not sure? It's awkward because you're our boss?" Blair tugged on a short strand of hair.

"It's you and Jim, isn't? You're "together"? Simon made quotation marks in the air. "Trust me, I don't want details. A simple yes or no will suffice. It makes sense, Blair. I've never known Jim to be so -- devoted to anybody before you came long. He's always been a dependable and caring cop and a good friend to me, but with you, it's different. I'm not judging, but I want you to be careful with this kind of information. There are people who would like to get even with Jim for his excellent police record. I don't want any trouble."

"I understand. We've been very careful. Nobody knows, not even my mother. Please don't say anything."

"It goes no farther than you and I. Now let's try to find that partner of yours."

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"Sandburg!" Banks called out of the open door to his office.

Blair was in his Captain's office in a matter of seconds. "Yes, sir?" he asked expectantly.

Simon rose from behind his desk and moved to stand directly in front of Blair. Glaring down into his face, Simon growled, "When was the last time you went home?"

Blair fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing his arms, unable to meet his captain's gaze. "Well? I meant to? I ate earlier?" Shrugging, Blair conceded defeat.

Simon rolled his cigar between his fingers. "Since I'm in charge, I happen know this information. You haven't been home in two days. Trust me on this, I checked."

Blair bristled. "You have somebody checking up on me?"

Ignoring the question, Simon's eyes narrowed. "This is a direct order. You will go back to your place for at least twelve hours. You will not go out riding around looking for your partner and you will eat, shower and sleep. Am I making myself clear?" Simon sighed and put a hand on Blair's shoulder. His tone was a bit softer when he said, "Go home and sleep. You look like hell and you're not going to be any help to me in this condition. If anything breaks, I'll be the first one to call you."

Quickly glancing at Simon from the corner of his eye, Blair swallowed hard. He was tired. No denying that, but he felt almost guilty even thinking about eating and sleeping. He tried to speak, but his throat closed up on him. He knew he was close to falling apart and he was very angry with himself for even feeling that way. He also had enough sense to know that Simon was right -- he wouldn't be of any help to Jim in this condition.

"Okay, Captain," Blair said softly.

Simon followed Blair into the bullpen. "Rafe? Take Sandburg home."

"Captain?" Blair started to protest.

"Humor me on this, Sandburg. I'd rather not have to explain to Jim how you got into an accident after falling asleep at the wheel."

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Sandburg," Rafe said kindly. "We'll hit a drive through and grab you some dinner on the way."

Nodding, Blair followed Rafe from the bullpen.

Simon stood watching Blair as he followed Rafe toward the elevator. He contemplated the impact that this one young man had had on the officers and staff in Major Crime these last few years. Thanks to Jim Ellison, who had brought Blair into their midst expecting a little help with his senses before sending him on his way, it was now impossible to imagine life without the mostly interesting, sometimes annoying, often irritating and very likeable former grad student. Sandburg was now one of his best detectives and favorite people. He had somehow managed to weasel his way into their lives and find a permanent place in their hearts.

Chuckling to himself, Simon shook his head. He had caught himself trying to be protective of Blair a couple of times since he had officially joined his detective division even though he knew that Sandburg had more than four years of police experience under his belt. Granted, three of those years had been as an "observer", but being partnered with Ellison had provided him with the best instruction that the Cascade Police Department had to offer. They had handled more tough and dangerous cases than most detectives handle in twice that time. Simon knew that he had to keep on eye on Blair as his captain, not as his friend. It wasn't always easy, but that was his job. He owed it to Blair to allow him to be the best he could be on his own merit and to let him find his own way as a cop.

As Simon made his way back to his office, he mulled over the bigger problem. Where in the hell was Ellison? He was way past simple concern for his friend, he was downright terrified. He knew Sandburg had his "feeling" that Jim was still alive and that he held on to that feeling like a lifeline. Simon was almost jealous he couldn't share in it. The only feelings he had were fear for his friend's life and helplessness at his inability to help him. He didn't like it one damned bit.

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At first, he tried to use the dials to control his senses, to deaden the pain, to block out the panic, but the insect attacks that came with more and more frequency quickly robbed him of his ability to control much of anything. He screamed endlessly until his throat closed up and even breathing was laborious. Still the bugs came, biting into his skin -- his arms, his legs, and his buttocks. Lights were so bright that he was nauseous. Sounds so loud that he was bleeding from his ears. His body rebelled, seeking refuge in the darkness that he allowed to overtake him, until he was pulled back into the light against his will, over and over.

+++++

He was so thirsty! That thirst consumed his thoughts -- when he could think. He had visions of cool pools of water and of gentle rain hitting his face. He raised his face up and opened his mouth to catch every drop, but the thirst never abated. Crawling on his hands and knees, he searched for something, anything, to relieve his thirst. The surface under his hands felt smooth and cold to his touch. Everything was jumbled. His mind flitted from scene to scene. Sometimes, he thought he was home in his bed, waking from a nightmare. Other times, he was -- somewhere -- he saw computers, desks, chairs, telephones, and people -- people with guns? His mind refused his every command and he lay, helpless and sobbing, under the onslaught.

+++++

His body ached and trembled. He was hot -- so hot sweat dripped from his skin in burning rivulets, and the echoing sound of the drops hitting the floor sent shards of pain through his head. Crying out, he clamped his hands over his ears to block out the sounds and fell to his knees. It wasn't long before his throat was too raw for sounds to emerge and all he could do was lay curled in a tight ball on the floor, whimpering. Then the cold came. Biting through his skin down to his bones. His feet were blocks of ice. His fingers were useless. He prayed to be warm; prayed for water; prayed to die.

+++++

Then they came, always they came, relentless and dreadful. The bugs would clamp their jaws around his wrists and drag him across the floor. His naked skin, ultra sensitized, was rubbed raw against the floor, tiny grains of sand huge as boulders dug into his flesh. He tried to cry out but he was quickly silenced by -- something. He could barely breathe His hands were soon immobilized, as were his feet, which were painfully bent behind his back and secured to his wrists. Trussed, he was helpless -- at the mercy of his tormentors.

+++++

Irritating pricks on his skin had his muscles crawling, rolling to get away from the nips. The bugs bit his legs and arms, his thighs and buttocks, over and over, making him wish he could scream. His harsh breathing further dried out his parched throat. Then the lights came. First, bright and blinding, endlessly flashing, hour after hour until, overloaded, he passed out into the welcoming blackness.

+++++

Each time he retained consciousness, he cried in distress. He wanted -- welcomed the darkness -- the absence of feeling. Once, when he discovered that he was no longer bound, he struggled to his feet and with one hand guiding him in the total blackness, he stumbled around his prison, over and over. The same endless cold, slick surface under his fingers. There was no water to be found, just blackness and cold. Exhaustion came quickly and he slid down the wall to hit the floor hard, his tailbone screaming in pain. His hands felt down his legs and found feet. The toes were cold and unresponsive to his touch. His fingers barely moved, skimming the surface of his skin. He touched his chest, his belly, his shoulders, his face. Hardly any sense of touch registered to his fingertips and he moaned softly.

+++++

Awaking yet again, he blinked rapidly several times, realizing that some semblance of reason tickled at his brain. Who was he? Where was he? Thoughts bombarded him, images flashed by his eyes. Blair? Forcing himself to rise, he leaned back against the cold wall and tried to think. He shook his head and rubbed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes, making stars dance before them. He opened his eyes to pitch dark. Blair! Had he said it aloud? He cocked his head and tried to listen. He heard nothing, utter silence. He saw nothing, total darkness. Was he dead? He shakily stood on his feet and with his hands held out in front of him, he walked two tentative steps before it happened.

+++++

Loud screeching sounds poured from the ceiling, the walls. Lights flashed so bright that he was struck blind when they bombarded his optical nerves. Screaming in pain, he dropped to the floor, unable to summon enough energy to cover his ears or eyes -- a helpless heap. His stomach heaved and if he had been fed anything during his confinement, he would have been instantly sick. Nothing came from his body but dry heaves. Inevitably, the bugs came. He was forced to his stomach. His arms were yanked behind his back. Barely managing to feel, he realized that ropes circled the wrists, around and around, tightly, until what little feeling was left quickly dissipated. His knees were bent and the ankles first tied together, then the end of the rope was wound around the wrists and pulled until his hips were lifted from the floor. He was shove onto his side and the insects attacked again. Mouth open in soundless screams, bite after bite from the attacking bugs rained down his arms, thighs and buttocks. Without warning, something hard was shoved into his mouth and he choked when a stream of liquid rushed down his dry throat. He coughed violently, unable to breathe, unable to swallow. After a few moments, he caught his breath and licked his lips to capture the residual wetness. A few taste buds that still functioned noted the foul taste and sent a delayed signal of danger to his brain. He vainly tried to pull away. His nose was clamped shut and he gasped for air. The hard object once again was pushed into his mouth and this time he drank, in spite of the taste.

+++++

Something moved in front of him and he tried to focus. The creature blocked the lights for a moment and he saw the bug's eyes, large, round and dark, staring at him. He saw the toothless mouth open in what he could imagine was a grin. Terrified, his eyes widened and he tried to pull away. The bug moved forward, the lights returned, the harsh sounds shrieked relentlessly. His mind rebelled and collapsed into a chasm of darkness.

+++++

Moaning, he woke. Lying very still, he realized that he was able to focus, to think. He knew he had been kidnapped. He scanned his body, realizing that it had been many days since he had been taken. Concentrating, he cleared his mind and the first image he allowed to be seen was his mate, his partner, his lover. He breathed deeply and flexed his arms, then legs. Surprised that they responded, he pushed himself to a sitting position. Running his fingers on his skin, he felt the 'bug bites'. Needle marks. He licked his lips and tasted. Drugs. Rising, he used his senses to maximum, concentrating. No sounds. No light. No smells other than his own bodily stench. From the smell, he knew he had been here for quite a while.

Holding up a hand, he focused. Nothing. He couldn't even see his hand from five inches away. Making a quick trip around his prison, he felt the walls with his fingers and the floor with his feet. Metal. Cold sheet metal, no doors, no windows. A minute seam running from floor upward between the sheets didn't yield any information. It would be where the panels were joined or it could be a door, but there were no handles or knobs on the inside of his prison. The ceiling was too high to reach to inspect. No big surprises there. He was sealed in his crypt.

Sliding down a wall to sit, he crossed his legs, dropped his hands onto his knees and breathed in to the count of ten, out to the count of ten. He worked quickly, knowing that he more than likely had only minutes before his kidnapper returned. Clearing his mind, he started his mantra. Over and over until he dropped into a deep meditative state, his thoughts centered on his only link to sanity -- Blair. Imagines of his lover appeared before him. Blair's warm hands touched his skin. Blair's soft lips pressed against his. Blair's hair brushed his chest, his groin, his legs. Blair. His entire being centered on his mate, his life partner. His lips moved while he chanted. Blair, I love you. His connection to his Guide hummed, alive and real. He felt it with every fiber of his being. He reveled in the attachment as long as he was physically able, laughing hysterically at the wonderful feeling. Finally exhaustion overtook his tired mind and body, and he slid sideways to the floor to sleep.

It was all too soon before the bugs returned.

-------------------------------------------------

Back at his desk after the required twelve-hour reprieve, Blair was filling out his latest report for Captain Banks. After he went home yesterday, he was exhausted enough that he had managed to sleep without dreaming for more than six hours. He had showered and had eaten, and most importantly, he had meditated for an hour. That certainly helped his mental state and he felt a lot better than he had last night. Thoughtfully, he chewed on the end of his pen. While he was meditating, he had the strangest feeling that Jim was in the room with him. He had enjoyed the warm, comforting feeling and murmured soft, soothing words of love and reassurances that they would soon be together. When he came out of his trance, he felt as if he had actually communicated with Jim. He knew beyond a doubt that at that moment, Jim was alive. Not knowing for how much longer is what scared the shit out of him, but he buried his momentary panic and went back to work.

Blair worked quietly, aware of the many compassionate glances from his fellow officers. Several of them tried to talk to him, but their sympathy was too much to take right now. In fact, it made him feel even worse, so when somebody asked him how he was doing or expressed their concern over Jim's well-being, he mumbled "Thanks" or "Okay" without really looking at the other person. He knew he was being rude and he honestly didn't mean to hurt their feelings, and while he knew they were only trying to help, kind words aren't what he wanted right now. He wanted Jim, alive and happy, sitting next to him and yelling at him over something silly or teasing him the way only Jim could do. Sighing, Blair worked with his head down, not looking around and not meeting anybody's eyes. He was feeling helpless and useless and he hated feeling that way. For now, to stay in control, he did what worked for him. After Jim was home, he would apologize to his friends and hope that they understood.

Since the captain had given Sandburg permission to handle the case, he had kept to his schedule religiously, except for his personal time, which he managed to excuse away and for which Simon had already called him on. He kept detailed notes on each and every street he checked, every phone call he made, and everyone with whom he spoke. He had filled four legal-size yellow pads and had started on a fifth. He had taken enough psyche classes in his day to know he was being a bit obsessive/compulsive, but he didn't care about that right now. It helped him to stay focused.

Working steadily, he finished typing up his notes from the most recent daylight search. Hitting the print command, he pulled his notes close, double checking the phone list. After he retrieved a soda from the vending machine, he sat down and started on the calls, noting that he had two hours before his next nighttime search. He thought about the day's search and the strange feeling he had all day, like he was being watched. Blair hadn't seen anyone following him; it was just an instinct thing. A hunch, Jim always said. He considered saying something to the captain, but he had already had told him about "feeling" Jim was in trouble and "feeling" that he was still alive. He didn't think that Simon would like to be told about yet another "feeling", so he filed it away in his brain. He started to make a list of the areas and streets he was checking tonight when Captain Banks called him on the intercom.

"Sandburg!"

Simon waited until Blair came in and closed the door. He was smoking his usual cigar. Blair gave a small smile at the familiarity of the gesture. He couldn't remember ever seeing Simon without one in his hand or mouth, unless he was physically incapable of holding or smoking it.

Not wasting time with preliminaries, Simon said, "We may have finally gotten a break locating Kelley. The picture we put on the television seems to have paid off. A woman called with a tip about a guy she is renting a room to and she positively identified Kelley out of a batch of photographs she was shown. She said she wants the Crime Stopper's reward she saw on TV last night. Hell, I'd give her the thousand bucks myself if she's right."

"It's about time!" Blair said excitedly, reaching out to take the information sheet that Simon held in his fingers just out of Blair's reach.

"Detective, I know exactly what you're thinking. You're not going over there by yourself. I don't mean to step on your toes, but I'm going to follow up with this and you can come along. I don't mean to come down on you, Blair, but you shouldn't even be involved in this case. It's way too personal. So far, you and I haven't had a problem, but if things don't go well, I don't want to lose you, too. I don't want to have to worry about how you'll react if something -- bad happens." Running a hand over his forehead, Simon groaned. "Ellison is rubbing off on me. Now I feel like I have to watch out for you. Sorry."

Managing a small smile at Simon's unusual demeanor, Blair rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it. I don't care if the entire cavalry comes with us! Jim needs me," he added. Jim's life was at stake. Who led the charge into the rescue was irrelevant as long as his partner was returned to him safe and sound.

Simon gave him the usual stoic glare that Blair ignored, as usual, before he finally said, "All right. Let's go."

-------------------------------------------------

Simon and Blair had been sitting in Simon's vehicle watching 653 Harborgate Lane for the past five or six hours. Both men were quiet, each lost in his own thoughts and prayers. Simon was becoming restless though. He had decided to wait and watch for Kelley, hoping that he would lead them to Ellison, knowing that if they picked him up as an escaped mental patient, that he would clam up and demand to be sent back to the hospital. They had no proof that Kelley had taken Jim and Kelley had nothing to lose by killing Jim, or any one else for that matter. He was already serving a life sentence without parole.

But Simon also had a responsibility to apprehend the escaped patient before he harmed anyone else. If Kelley didn't lead them to Jim soon, he would have no choice but to pick him up. If that happened, he didn't know how they would ever locate one lost Sentinel.

Sighing, Simon took a sip of his now cold coffee. He grimaced at the bitter taste before replacing the cup in a holder. "Sandburg, if we don't see Kelley within the next hour, I'm calling for a relief team. We can give this stakeout another twelve hours, but after that?"

Simon chanced a glance at his quiet companion. He more than expected that Blair would launch into an argument over his statement and he was pleased when he saw Blair start to say something, then stop. Simon had no use for officers who didn't or wouldn't follow orders. Everyone's safety was at stake and a good cop followed orders.

Blair was a smart guy as well as a good cop. He realized that Simon made his decisions based on what was best for the circumstances. As much as he would have liked to rail against Simon's words, he knew his boss was right. Fresh eyes would be needed soon. It was too risky to take the chance that they would become tired enough to miss Kelley if and when he made his move. He also knew that Kelley was a dangerous man who needed to be removed from society. Jim was his life, but he couldn't let the escapee hurt anybody else, even to save his partner.

Another twenty minutes passed when, finally, a male figure emerged from the house. Blair sat up straight and grabbed Simon's coat sleeve, tugging excitedly.

"I see him," Simon acknowledged.

They watched intently as Kelley went into a garage adjacent to the house and opened the garage door. He disappeared inside and in just a minute or two drove out in a 1998 white Honda Accord. Simon followed at a discreet distance for about twenty-five minutes, through several subdivisions, past the Cascade Mall and out into an industrial district along the waterfront. Making a right turn on Cunningham Boulevard, Kelley pulled his vehicle up to the gate of a twenty-four hour access storage unit facility. Simon pulled to the curb half a block away and killed the headlights and engine. Blair focused a pair of binoculars on Kelley and watched as the escapee punched in an access number into the automatic gate panel. The gate slid open to admit the Honda, then closed shortly afterward.

Simon and Blair climbed out of the car and stopped long enough to strap on their Kevlar vests. They quietly approached the closed gate, unable to see to the other side through the solid metal fence surrounding the storage yard. They approached the closed gate. Another quick sweep of the surrounding street revealed no by-standers and peering through the chain link gate did not disclose Kelley's whereabouts. Simon pointed a thumb skyward. Blair nodded and together they scaled the gate and dropped to the ground. Looking around yet again, the white Honda was nowhere to be seen from their vantage-point in front of the storage facility. A dozen rows of gray, metal buildings ran vertically from their position, making it impossible for them to see down any of the rows but the one directly in front of them.

Simon leaned over and whispered, "Sandburg, you check the aisles to the right and I'll check the left. If you see where he's gone, come back and get me. Don't go in alone."

"Yes, sir," Blair acknowledged quietly, taking off to his right. He hugged each building tightly, peering down the aisle to check for Kelley. When the coast was clear, he quietly sprinted across the opening to the next building.

Carefully, each man searched the aisles on either side of the gate. Simon stopped at the end of the fourth row on his side and waited, looking toward Blair. When Blair reached the end row of aisles on his side, he retraced his steps and crossed over to where Simon was leaning with his back against the metal wall of the building. Blair leaned against the wall next to Simon.

"The car is parked down this row, about forty yards in," Simon said. When Blair nodded, Simon added, "First, I'm calling for backup. Then, you go down this row and come up on the other side of Kelley's car. I'll give you a few minutes head start, then I'll go in his side. Got it?"

"Got it."

Simon pulled out his phone and quickly made the call. He also ordered the dispatcher to locate the owner of the storage facility and have the electronic front gate deactivated, or to send someone with a set of cutters to cut through the fence. Pocketing the cell, he pulled his gun and with a nod, gave the command to proceed. Immediately, Blair took off and disappeared from sight. Simon waited to the count of fifty, then after checking to be sure Kelley was out of his line of vision, he started down the front side of the building, hugging the wall.

Simon studied the units as he made his way down. Each unit in this section had no windows and had two methods of entry. There was a metal walk-through door and a metal roll-up garage door. When he made it to the unit where Kelley's car was parked, he noticed that the garage door was still secured with a thick padlock on the outside hasp and that the walk-through door was ajar.

Carefully, Simon listened for sounds from inside the storage unit. Hearing no movement, he took a step toward the door and was just reaching for the handle when the door was pushed outward with such force that it caught him hard across the arm and shoulder, forcing him several steps backward. He lost his balance, fell back against the side of the building and his gun flew out of his hand.

Kelley stepped from around the door, quickly kicked Simon's pistol across the cement and with the gun he held in his hand, hit Simon hard on the side of the head. Simon slid down the metal siding and collapsed into a heap. Smirking, Kelley pointed his gun at the fallen man, clearly intending to shoot. He never heard Blair come up behind him until the sound of Blair's pistol cocking echoed loudly in the metal canyon between the buildings.

"Cascade Police. Drop the gun now!"

Kelley spun quickly, the barrel of his gun pointing directly at Blair's chest. Never taking his eyes from Kelley's face, Blair ordered, "Drop it! This is your last warning."

Kelley's face screwed up in what appeared to be a grin. The ugly face, with thick glasses, missing teeth and a misshapen nose, gave him a garish look. He smirked and shook his head. "No way, asshole." He calmly extended his arm and took aim.

Blair never hesitated. He fired, hitting Kelley in the shoulder right below his collarbone. The man screamed and dropped to the ground, his weapon flying from his hand. Blair ran up to him and kicked the gun across the cement. He stood over Kelley with his pistol trained on the man's head and called, "Simon? Captain? Are you okay? Simon!" He flicked his eyes toward Simon's position just enough to see that he was pulling himself up from the ground.

Simon found his feet and rubbed his head while he retrieved his weapon. "I'm okay, Detective. How about you?"

"I'm fine, Captain. I guess we need to call an ambulance." Blair nodded toward Kelley, who writhed on the ground, his hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder.

Blood seeped from between Kelley's fingers and dripped onto the pavement. Ignoring the pain, he glared at Blair. When their eyes met, he sneered, "How does it feel, motherfucker? You're too late. Five minutes too late. It sure makes me feel fucking good. I know I'll have many years of pleasure just thinking about it."

"Shut up," Blair growled, readjusting the hold on his weapon.

Kelley managed a nasty laugh. "Five minutes earlier and you might have been able to save the cocksucker. You're a worthless son-of-a bitch. I've been watching you for days, asshole. I'm sure glad you're not watching my ass."

"I said shut up!"

"Sandburg?" Simon said, lowering his gun, but still at the ready should he need it. He stopped and waited, gauging Blair's reactions and taking measure of his ability to handle a tough and dangerous situation.

Kelley wouldn't shut up. "You're one sorry motherfucker, cop. Look at you. You haven't got the balls to finish the job. Go on, finish it," he said in a low, evil voice. "Shoot me. I killed your partner. Don't you want revenge? You're a coward, just like your partner. He died screaming and begging for his life."

While his face remained unreadable, Blair's hands shook slightly. Simon moved a step closer to him and said quietly but firmly, "Don't listen to him. He's not worth the price of a bullet. You know that." Leaning down, Simon yanked Kelley's hands together, making him scream in pain, and none too gently cuffed Kelley's hands in front of him.

Blair's eyes never left Kelley's face and his voice was calm. "Don't worry, Simon. He's a liar and I don't give a damn what he says."

The distant sound of sirens became louder and soon the flashing lights announced the arrival of the backup unit. Simon patted Blair's shoulder before going to the open space at the head of the aisle to flag his officers down. Two patrol officers, with Simon right behind them, run down the aisle toward Blair, weapons at the ready.

"Cover him," Simon said to one of his men, waving a hand at Kelley. Turning to Blair, he added, "I've called for two ambulances."

"Two, Captain?" Blair asked.

"Jim might need medical care."

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. I wasn't thinking. I keep expecting to find him alive and well." Blair sighed audibly.

"It's okay, Sandburg. You're doing a good job."

When one of the uniforms moved closer to cover the captured man, Blair finally lowered his weapon. "Captain, if you have this handled, I'm going in." He jerked his head toward the open door of the storage unit, holstering his weapon.

Simon nodded. "I'll back you up." He turned to the second officer. "Stay on your toes. I don't trust him, injured or not. Get the EMTs to take care of him when they arrive, but keep a close eye on him. He's a dangerous man."

"Yes, sir," the officer said.

Simon holstered his weapon now that both patrol officers were covering the downed man. With a disgusted glance at Kelley, Simon said, "If he tries anything, shoot him again."

Kelley's eyes widened and he nervously swallowed.

"Yes, sir," both officers answered, exchanging knowing smirks. Their captain was very good at being imtimidating.

Nodding, Simon followed Blair through the open door.

-------------------------------------------------

While the outside of the storage facility was lit by dusk to dawn lights, the inside of the unit was pitch black. After fumbling for a light switch and finding none, Blair pulled a flashlight from his pocket. Simon grabbed his penlight from his shirt pocket and they both turned them on. Blair held the light in front of him and took two steps before he was stopped by another heavy, insulated metal door. With a shaky hand, he turned the knob.

"Shit." Turning the knob several times, he glanced back at Simon. "Keys?"

Nodding, Simon turned and raced out. He quickly searched Kelley's pockets until he found a set of keys on a metal ring. Returning, he handed them to Blair, who tried three before he found the one that fit the lock. Pulling it open, he flashed his light straight ahead.

"What the hell is this?" Blair exclaimed.

Simon moved beside him and trained his light forward. They had been expecting a room, but instead, there was a wall made of old mattress material.

"Damn it!" Blair muttered, "It's like that Russian hit man. He used the mattresses like a giant silencer." He sighed. "To keep noise out?" Blair's hand went up to his mouth. "Great. This is just great," he mumbled while he started yanking the material away. Passing it to Simon, he added, "Did they both go to the same psycho killer school or what?"

"I don't know, Sandburg. It's all too weird."

Blair tugged another mattress, then another. Six layers later they were rewarded with yet another solid metal door. After Blair unlocked it using the keys, he stopped and turned to Simon, who hovered right behind him.

"Captain, if Jim is in here, his senses may be overloaded or worse. Let me go in first. There's no telling what kind of condition he's in."

At Simon's nod of agreement, Blair turned the handle and pushed the door open. He blinked and tried to see into the room, but it was blacker than anything he had ever seen. First he checked the floor right inside the door, taking care that nothing blocked his way. He stepped forward and called softly, "Jim? Are you in here?" He took another step forward, using the light to search the room. "Jim, it's Blair." The light slowly made a trip around the room. The bright beam bounced off the metal walls, momentarily blinding him. Holding up his arm against the glare, he took another step and moved the light into the far corner. That's when he saw Jim curled up in the corner.

"Oh, my God!" Blair cried out, tearing across the small space to slide to his knees. Dropping the flashlight, his hands reached out and he hesitated, unsure if he should move Jim or even touch him. In the next heartbeat, he put his palms on the cold skin. "Jim? Jim?" Blair ripped off his jacket and laid it on the floor. Very gently, with his hand under Jim's head, he rolled him onto his back.

Simon knelt down beside them. He pulled off his coat and covered Jim's unconscious body with it. "I'll get the paramedics." Not waiting for Blair to reply, he pulled himself to his feet and strode out the door.

Blair barely registered Simon's presence or absence. He pressed shaking fingers to Jim's neck, searching for a pulse. The skin was ice cold to his touch. He tried to concentrate, to find a pulse, but his hand was shaking so badly that he finally put an ear to Jim's chest.

"Damn it, Jim! Please, please. Don't die on me! Oh, God, please," Blair pressed his ear to the cold chest and listened intently where he could finally hear the faintly beating heart. "Jim, please!" Blair put his trembling hands on Jim's face. "You're so cold!"

Simon raced back into the room with a blanket. "The first ambulance is here and the EMTS are already stabilizing Kelley. The second one is about a minute away. I thought about asking them to dump him on the ground and come help Jim, but?" Simon covered Jim with the blanket. "I'll go and wait for the other ambulance. Is he alive?"

Blair nodded. "He's so cold. I don't know how he could be so cold and still be breathing. Hurry, Simon, please."

Simon left and thankfully, returned momentarily with the paramedics. Blair moved out of the way and watched while the team worked quickly. They checked his vitals and started an intravenous drip before they felt ready to move him. Next, Jim was put into a neck brace, slipped onto a backboard, covered with several blankets and securely strapped down. The EMTS, with Blair and Simon's help, lifted him from the cold floor and carried him out to the waiting gurney. Jim was swiftly moved to the warm interior of the ambulance where there was better light to reassess his condition. Blair followed the gurney with his eyes his partner, barely breathing, hands clenched tightly. He had to remain calm for Jim.

The other ambulance was still parked at the front entrance, back door open, while the EMTs worked to stabilize their patient for transport. Kelley was not cooperating. He was yelling at the top of his lungs and when Blair glanced into the interior, he could see the paramedics trying to restrain the unstable man when he took a swing at one of the EMTs. Blair could hear his screams and curses, and he saw Kelley's still handcuffed fists fly through the air as he tried to fight off the attendants. It took one of the EMTS and another of the patrol officers to hold him down while they placed the restraints on his arms and legs. Foul curses escaped Kelley's lips in a constant stream, mixed with diatribes about police brutality and the desire to kill every cop he could.

Blair sat quietly in the corner of the ambulance and tried to block out Kelley's voice while the EMTS worked on Jim.

"His vitals are fairly stable," the black paramedic stated, making a note on the chart. He glanced at Blair. "Give me his statistics, please." The man wrote on the clipboard while the second EMT, a young woman, started a second IV and clamped a mask over Jim's mouth. She then layered several blankets on Jim's body.

Blair nodded, happy to be able to help. "Jim Ellison. Age 42. Allergies to a wide variety of meds, some foods, some airborne allergies also. He's in good health otherwise. His doctor works out of Cascade Memorial. Jeff Roberts. Can you call him in, please? He knows Jim's full medical history."

"Prescription drugs?" the man asked, checking Jim's arms.

"No," Blair answered. "He rarely uses any kind of drugs, even over-the-counter, because of the allergies."

Nodding, the man made a few more notes. "He's covered with needle marks," he added, quickly checking Jim's legs and shaking his head. He pulled the two-way radio speaker into his hand and hit the send button.

Blair added, "He's been missing for five days."

Nodding, the man spoke into the radio. "Cascade Memorial. This is Trauma Unit 48."

"Cascade Memorial. Go ahead."

"We have a male patient, age 42. Police officer. Went missing five days ago. His pulse is 42 and sluggish. Respirations, 10 and shallow. Temp, 90.5. Severe hypothermia. Allergies to meds. Dehydrated. Appears to have been injected multiple times with unknown substances. Inhalation rewarming has been initiated with the hypothermia treatment unit. IV, Ringers, wide open. His personal physician is Dr. Jeff Roberts. His partner requests Dr. Roberts be contacted for emergency consult."

"Copy that, Trauma 48. Contact Dr. Roberts. ETA?"

"Eight minutes."

"Copy that. Continue inhalation rewarming and IV. Over."

The EMT gave Blair a smile. "We'll be at the hospital shortly. You're friend is lucky. We have one of the few inhalation warming units in the city."

"What is it exactly?" Blair asked.

"Instead of just oxygen, this unit gives the patient warm, humid air. It warms the lungs and heart internally. The warmed blood flows to the brain and other internal organs, as well as the warmth from the muscles that are also being warmed internally. It's a chain reaction and it's the most effective treatment available for his condition. I attended a seminar a while back and applied for a grant to field test it. We've used it numerous times and each time, it's been highly effective. We haven't lost a patient yet from hypothermia. In fact, the recovery rate is almost miraculous in field studies."

"That sounds good. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope he's okay."

"Me, too," Blair said quietly.

When they arrived at the hospital, Jim was quickly wheeled into the ER.

"Put him in Trauma Room 3, George," the head ER nurse said. "Sir? Are you with the patient?"

"Yeah, I'm his partner."

"You can wait over there. Ask the desk clerk for the forms. He's in good hands, Officer."

"Has Dr. Roberts been contacted?" Blair asked.

"He'll be here in about fifteen minutes. He told me about the patient's allergic reactions. As long as he's stable, we'll keep him on the warmed air and IV fluids until his doctor arrives. I'll let you know if there's any change."

"Thanks."

Smiling, the nurse left. Blair sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He found a seat against the wall and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Simon strode into the waiting area a few minutes later. He stopped when he saw Blair, eyes closed. Simon spotted the coffee machine and headed toward it. Two cups in hand, he took the seat next to Blair.

"Sandburg?" Simon said softly.

Blair sighed. "I'm not asleep, Captain."

"Coffee?"

"Thanks." Blair pried open his tired eyes, took the cup from his friend's hand and sipped the hot liquid.

"How is he?"

Blair shrugged. "They used some effective technique for hypothermia treatment. It's called inhalation rewarming. It pumps warm air directly into the body and warms from the inside out. The paramedic said it's highly effective."

"That's good, Blair. Jim will be okay, then."

"I hope so. Simon, you didn't see his arms and legs. He's covered with needle marks. Damn it! There's no telling what kind of shit Kelley pumped into him. And I'm sure he didn't care much if the drugs were legal or illegal." Blair's hand crushed the cup, sending the cooling coffee dripping down his fingers. "Dirty needles. God knows what garbage he used. Jim could die!"

"Blair, take it easy. We'll just hope and pray he doesn't. What else can we do?"

"I should have put a bullet in Kelley's skull. That's what I should have done."

"Would that have solved anything? Would it have helped Jim?"

Sighing deeply, Blair said, "I don't care."

"Yes, you do. I know you, Sandburg, and you care. You always have and you always will."

"You make me sound so -- wussy."

"Wussy? Not hardly. You're one of the strongest people I know. Jim is lucky to have you."

Turning sad blue eyes on his friend, Blair gave him a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Simon. All I want is for Jim to be okay." Blair was quiet for a long while before he said, "Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"Ah, am I going to be reprimanded?"

"What for?"

"I didn't use deadly force. I know that it's policy. When a police officer pulls his firearm, he should intend to use deadly force. I know that, but I just couldn't. It didn't seem? necessary."

"Blair, you did what you needed to do to apprehend the perp." Blair shrugged. Simon asked, "What would you have done if Kelley hadn't given up, had tried to make a move for his weapon or did something else that signaled that he wasn't surrendering. What then?"

Blair sighed. "I would have used whatever force was necessary to protect myself and you."

"That's all I can ask of you, Sandburg. I had no doubt that you assessed the situation. You weren't angry or upset were you? When you shot him?"

Blair looked startled for a moment before he sat up straight. "Now that I think about it, no. I was very calm. I thought about what to do. I looked at everything surrounding the situation, then I made my decision."

"Before you fired."

"Yeah, before I fired."

"There you go. You did the right thing."

Blair gave Simon a small smile. "Okay. Thanks, Captain."

"Good work, Detective."

The men then fell silent, each to his own thoughts. Blair stayed quietly in his spot, his tired body still, but his mind raced a thousand miles a minute. Would Jim be totally zoned and unable to wake up? Would he wake to overloaded senses where everything was too much and he couldn't control them? Blair had no idea what to expect, so he tried to run all the scenarios through his head in order to be somewhat prepared. Time passed slowly before Jim's doctor made an appearance.

"Blair! Sorry. I came in the East side entrance and went straight to Jim's room."

"That's okay, Dr. Roberts," Blair said, relieved to see Jeff Roberts. The doctor was one of the few people who knew Jim's full history, including that fact that he had hyperactive senses. "How is he?"

"He's doing much better. He's still unconscious, but his core temp has risen to 96 and he's responding well to treatment."

"Oh, man. That's great. When can I see him? I'm not sure how his senses are going to react to all of this."

"Jim's up at x-ray right now. Once he's had a full set and a CT scan, I'll put him in observation. If his tests are clear and he's awake and coherent, then we'll see how he's doing. I've ordered a full blood work up. From the needle marks, I think I can safely say he's been drugged, but we need to know with what before I can treat it. In fact, given Jim's sensitivity to drugs, I'm hoping that we can let his body clean itself out. I'd hate to have to administer any type of meds after what he's been through. I need you close in case he needs help with his senses so I'll come and get you as soon as he's brought back down."

"Okay, Doctor. I'll be waiting right here. Thanks."

Before Dr. Roberts left, he shook hands with the captain. "We need to meet when nobody's life is in jeopardy, Captain Banks."

Simon chuckled while he shook the doctor's hand. "I'll hold you to that, Doctor."

Giving a quick wave, Dr. Roberts left to check on his patient.

"See, Sandburg, I told you he'd be okay," Simon said with satisfaction.

"I'll be a lot happier after he's awake and talking to me, Captain. You know how iffy Jim's reaction to drugs is. If he's full of street drugs and other shit, it could be bad news. So until I see him with my own eyes, I'm being optimistically cautious."

It was another hour before Jeff made another appearance. "Blair?" he called, walking toward the dozing man.

Blair's eyes flew open and he jumped up. "Yeah?"

"Come with me. Jim's in an observation area and he's starting to come around."

"Oh, great, man. Good news." Blair followed close at Jeff's heels. When Jeff pushed back the curtain of the observation area, Blair took a good look at his partner. Jim was pale and still, but when Blair crossed quickly to his side and put a hand on his arm, he was pleased that his skin felt normal to his touch.

"Jim?" Blair said softly, lightly rubbing Jim's arm. "Come on, Jim. Wake up for me."

Jim's fingers flexed slightly when Blair touched them. His tongue flicked out to lick his cracked lips.

"Do you have something I can put on his lips? It looks painful."

"Let me get some salve."

"Thanks." Turning back to his lover, Blair leaned down and whispered, "Jim? Come on, open those eyes and look at me. I've been waiting long enough. Come on, man. Do it now."

Jim pulled in a deep breath and blew it out before his eyes fluttered open.

"Good, Jim. Come on, you can do it. I'm right here. Can you feel me holding your hand?" Blair lightly squeezed Jim's fingers.

Jeff returned and stood on the opposite side of the bed from Blair. He popped the top off the tube he held in his hand and after squirting a small dab on his finger, he gently rubbed the ointment on Jim's dry lips.

"That should help." Handing the tube to Blair, he said, "Just rub a bit on whenever he needs it. It's full of vitamin E. It will help heal up those cracks."

"Thanks." Blair slipped the small tube into his shirt pocket.

"Jim? It's Jeff Roberts. Wake up for me."

Finally, Jim blinked several times before he was able to focus.

Blair grinned. "Hey, man, how are you feeling? Is the light bothering you? Does anything hurt?"

"Blair, slow down and give him a second to acclimate himself," Jeff said with a smile. "I know you're anxious, but let's give him a chance to get his bearings."

"Sure, Doctor. Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

After a few moments, Jim's eyes focused and he looked back and forth from the doctor to Blair and back to the doctor. He glanced around the room and then returned his gaze to his partner.

"Jim?" Blair said softly, intently watching Jim's reaction to his presence. While Jim didn't appear to be zoned, he did seem somewhat disoriented. The look in his eyes was very strange -- flat, without emotion. For a second Blair wondered if Jim recognized him but when he looked again, he felt a shiver run down his back and the hair on his arms stood up. It wasn't that Jim didn't recognize him. It was more like he didn't care if he did. Blair had never seen such an empty look on anybody's face before and it took all his control not to panic.

Blair moved closer and lightly clamped both hands around Jim's arm. "Jim, it's Blair. Are you all right?"

Finally, after a long moment of staring directly into Blair's eyes, Jim said, "I'm fine."

"Jim, you remember me don't you?" Dr. Roberts asked.

Jim nodded. "Dr. Roberts."

"Right," Jeff said.

Blair tore his eyes away from Jim's blank face. "Jeff? Something's wrong. He seems -- out of it somehow."

Jeff nodded. "He doesn't seem quite like himself, but that's not unusual. He's suffered a traumatic experience." Jeff scanned Jim's chart. "His vital signs are good. His body temp is ninety-seven. The x-rays are clear and his CT scan is normal. The only information we're waiting on now is results of the blood tests. Let me go out and see what the hold-up is on those. I'll be back. You stay with him."

"Okay. Hurry. I just don't like it. Jim's not outwardly emotional, but even for him, this is unusual. I'm really worried."

"Hang in there, Blair," Jeff said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out."

Nodding, Blair turned back to his partner while Jeff went in search of test results.

"How are you feeling, Jim? Can you tell me?"

"Tired."

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"No."

"Do you know where you are?"

Jim's eyes flicked around the room once. "In a hospital."

"You know your name, right?"

"Detective James Ellison."

"How about my name?"

Jim barely glanced at Blair. "Blair Sandburg."

"What year is it?"

Jim shrugged. "2003."

"Okay, right. So we know that you're not suffering from amnesia. Do you remember what happened?"

Jim didn't respond, but closed his eyes. Blair sighed. Something was definitely not right.

Jeff returned in a few minutes. "Bad news, Blair. The lab is backed up right now. They had some sort of a computer problem earlier today so it will be another twelve hours before we'll get the results of Jim's tests."

"What are we going to do now?"

"I think I'll keep him here for another couple of hours. I want to get another liter of fluids into him. After that, it might be better if you take him home what with his senses and all. He's not suffering any physical injuries that need treatment. The bruises around his ankles and wrists didn't break the skin. Emotional damage, however, is another story. If Jim were a normal patient, I'd suggest admitting him to the psychiatric ward for observation, but with his senses, that's not a good idea.

"Are you okay with taking care of him? My best advice right now is to take him home. Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids. Start him on a bland diet and lots of rest. I want him off his feet for at least two or three days and I probably won't even think of releasing him for duty for at least two weeks."

"I can take care of him," Blair said adamantly. "He'll be happier at home. If I need to, can I call you? Would you come over if things seem -- worse?"

"Sure, Blair. If Jim needs me, you call."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. If it weren't for you being Jim's doctor, well, things would be a lot more difficult. I owe you."

"Just pay my bill and we'll be square."

"Sure, man. That's easy enough to do. Now that Jim's back."

"Two hours, Blair. We'll let him rest and then I'll give him another run through. If he's responding as well as he seems to be, he can go home."

"I'll sit with him."

Jeff put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Jim needs me," Blair said unnecessarily.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "I'd never have thought of that," he said teasingly. "Try to relax. I'll be back."

"Oh, darn!"

"What?"

"Simon! He's still waiting. I'd better go out and tell him what's going on."

"You want me to talk to him?"

"Would you? Then I wouldn't have to leave Jim alone." Blair gave his sleeping lover an affectionate glance.

"I'll pass on the news."

"Thanks, man. You're a good friend."

-------------------------------------------------

"Sandburg?"

"Wha...?" Blair blinked.

"Blair? You awake?"

"Yeah, I'm awake," Blair said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing here, Simon?"

"Dr. Roberts told me that Jim was most likely going to be released in a few hours so I ran over to your place and got him some clothes."

Blair rose and stretched. "Good idea. Thanks, Simon. I hadn't even thought about that."

"He's awake, I see."

"Did he talk to you?" Blair asked while he kept an eye on Jim's quiet form. His eyes were open and he lay very still.

"He didn't even acknowledge that I walked into the room."

Blair sighed. "Something's wrong, Simon. It's really freaky. It's like he's not really here." At Simon's raised eyebrow, Blair held up a hand. "I know. I know. It sounds weird. Maybe if you talk to him."

Simon nodded. "Okay." Walking around the bed, Simon noticed that Jim didn't respond to his movements. "Jim? Hey, buddy, how are you feeling? Ready to go home?"

When Simon touched Jim's arm, he finally blinked and looked at his friend. "I'm fine."

Glancing at Blair, Simon shrugged. "Jim, do you know who I am?"

"Captain Banks."

"Do you know why you're in the hospital?"

"No."

"You ready to blow this joint?"

Jim's eyes met Simon's briefly before they slid away. He shrugged.

Simon gave Blair a questioning look.

"See what I mean? It's not like Jim at all."

"I have to agree with you, Sandburg. What did the doctor say?"

"Just to take him home. Make sure he gets plenty of rest, lots of fluids and healthy food."

"What about the blood tests?"

"There's a problem in the lab. The results won't be available until later today."

"What are you going to do?"

Blair's eyes met Simon's. "Take him home and take care of him."

"I'll do what I can to help. You know that."

"Thanks, Simon. I just hope after he's home, he'll start acting more like himself. This way?" Blair waved a hand in the air. "I'm scared, Simon. Really scared. I know he's going to be okay physically, but mentally, I'm not so sure. It has to be something with his senses, but I'm so tired I can't think straight. I have to get him home and settled, and then get some sleep. Then I can figure this out." Blair paced for a few minutes. "You don't have to wait. Besides, it's past time for you to go to work."

"Save it, Sandburg. Besides, you'll both need a ride home."

Blair gave Simon a tired smile. "Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it."

Simon waved off Blair's thanks. "That's what friends are for. Besides, sleep is highly overrated."

-------------------------------------------------

Jim restlessly paced the living room. He set up a pattern from which he didn't deviate: past the television, around the yellow chair, along the balcony windows, behind both sofas, around the kitchen table, past the fireplace and back to the beginning. Occasionally, he stopped and seemed zone to Blair, but as soon as Blair approached him, he started on his trek again.

Blair tried talking to him. He tried offering aromatic tea. He heated chicken soup. He turned on the television to a basketball game. He tried soothing music and a CD that played the sounds of rainfall and babbling brooks. Finally, after many hours, he planted himself in Jim's path. When Jim reached Blair's position, he skirted him like an inanimate object.

Blair was exhausted. He'd slept sporadically the entire week Jim was gone and now everything came crashing down around his ears. He refused to give up, though, in spite of his weary body. He talked, cajoled, sang and talked some more, but his efforts fell on deaf ears and his head pounded with the mother of all headaches. Finally, unable to stand it another minute longer, Blair wrapped his arms around Jim and forced him to stop. Only because of Jim's declining physical condition was Blair able to manhandle him. Together they sank to the floor. Blair held Jim's shoulders tightly and crooned nonsense words into his ear until, after almost an hour, Jim fell into an exhausted sleep.

Blair leaned back against the sofa and pulled the blanket draped over the back over their bodies. He dropped his head back and fell sleep.

When the telephone rang, Blair groaned deeply and after carefully slipping out from under Jim's sleeping form, pulled himself off the floor. By the time he grabbed the cordless receiver, the answering machine had picked up.

"Sandburg! It's Banks. Call me ASAP."

Blair hit the 'on' button. "Simon!"

"Oh, hey, Sandburg. I thought you might be sleeping."

Blair sighed loud enough for Simon to hear. "I was sleeping, but not very well. Jim's restless. He's hardly slept an hour since he got home from the hospital."

"Give him some time, Blair. It's only been about twelve hours. I'm sure with his senses, he's all muddled up."

"Yeah, I know. I just wish he'd talk to me. I wish there was something more I could do." Blair yawned.

"Anyway, I hate to do this, but if I sent Rafe and Brown over for a few hours, could you come to the office?"

"It's getting late, Simon. Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it over the phone. You need to come in."

"Sure, Simon. Okay. I'll grab a shower and be there in an hour or so."

"See you shortly."

-------------------------------------------------

The door to Simon's office was open when Blair entered the bullpen. He said hi to everybody still working while he walked through and stopped in front of Simon's door.

"Come on in and shut the door behind you."

Blair did as asked and stood in front of the closed door, hands in his pockets.

Simon came out from behind his desk and walked over to the conference table. He waved a hand encompassing the four or five cardboard boxes sitting on the table.

"We confiscated this stuff from Kelley's room. I wanted you to know about it in case it helps Jim. How is he?"

"About the same. He's not eating or sleeping well at all. He's -- out of it. That's the best description I can think of. It's like that old song -- the lights are on but nobody's home. I don't like it."

Simon dejectedly shook his head. He held out one of a stack of videotapes. "We found this in his VCR. You'll never believe what's on this tape. It's all those news reports, interviews and your final news conference regarding Jim's Sentinel abilities from almost two years ago. I haven't checked yet, but he must have gotten this from the television station archives."

Blair took the tape from Simon's outstretched fingers and stood holding it in his hand, staring at the black plastic as if it would bite.

"The rest are the tapes he was making of Jim's -- incarceration. The man is fucking insane." Simon cleared his throat. "This box is full of books, newspaper articles and a lot of information downloaded from the internet. All of it deals with sensory deprivation, solitary confinement and prisoners of war. Stuff all relating to that topic. Oh, and these." Simon held up a spiral-bound notebook, the inexpensive kind kids use in school to take notes. "There are journals. Ten books full of his rantings and ravings. This one deals with Jim's kidnapping. You might want to read them someday, but right now? They're very -- unpleasant, as are the couple of tapes I looked at. I'm sure the rest are as terrible."

Blair never moved, barely breathed. He struggled to control his anger that threatened to burst out of him with the fury of an erupting volcano.

Simon went over to his desk and pulled a sheet of paper from the top of a stack. He held it out to Blair.

"I had Cascade Memorial fax me over a copy of Jim's blood tests. It doesn't look good. He tested positive for cocaine, morphine, LSD and some designer drug similar to Golden called Sweet Dreams. Shit, Sandburg, his room looked like a damned pharmacy. You name it, he had it. A box full of needles, too." At Blair's unmoving form, Simon said, "Sandburg? Did you hear me?"

Blair released the breath he had been holding before turning cold blue eyes on his captain. "I heard you. Now I wish I had killed him," Blair said harshly.

"Blair, you don't mean that. Kelley is an evil, deranged person. You know you can't let that kind of person drag you down to his level. There is no reason for you to do something you knew wasn't proper or necessary." Simon kept his tone of voice calm but firm.

Blair's anger almost frightened him. He tried to reason with himself. Out loud, he said, "You're right. If it happened again, I would handle it the same way. I know I did the right thing. Jim is -- safe." Blair's voice cracked on the last word and the anger that lay banked blazed up. "Damn it, Simon! There's no reason for anybody to do this to another human being! Kelley is an animal! It just doesn't make sense. For God's sake, Jim didn't kill those kids! Kelley did. Why does Jim have to suffer because Kelley's some psycho?"

Blair's hands clamped around the tape that he still held and in his anger, the plastic cracked and the case snapped in two. He never noticed, but let the broken item slip from his fingers and drop to the floor. "I'll tell you who's to blame," Blair raged. "It's the fucking hospital that let him get away. They had him and they let him get away. It's just so stupid! If the criminals didn't do the terrible things they do, nobody would have to track them down. They wouldn't go to jail. Why does Jim have to pay for Kelley's mistakes?"

Simon waited until Blair stopped to take a breath. He understood his friend's anger and he waited until Blair had gotten the worst of it out of his system before he said compassionately, "For what it's worth, at least we caught him before he could hurt anybody else. You did a good job, Blair."

Blair swallowed and nodded. He held out his hands in resignation, allowing his anger to lessen somewhat. "You're right. At least we caught him." He shoved his hands back into his pocket and dropped his head. His eyes landed on the broken tape case on the floor. Bending down, he picked it up and dropped it on the corner of the conference table. "Sorry, Captain," he whispered tiredly, running his hands down his face. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sandburg." He understood Blair's anger. Hell, he felt the same way. Changing the subject, he said, "By the way, we've recovered Jim's truck. It was parked in a unit next to the one where we found Jim. I've had it brought to the parking garage. It will be here when Jim's ready to claim it."

"Simon, I need to do something to help him. He's just not himself. I understand he's had a terrible experience and now I know that all those drugs have really messed him up. I'm really worried. Physically Jim can handle anything, but I have a bad feeling that this time, mentally he couldn't take it. He can't handle those kinds of drugs with his senses. That son of a bitch Kelley, he didn't just want to kill Jim -- he could have done that the first night with one bullet -- he wanted Jim to suffer." Blair rubbed his tired eyes. "Unfortunately, it seems like he managed to accomplish what he set out to do. Why else would he inject Jim over and over? I'll bet he was using just enough to make Jim nuts each time. If he had meant to, he could have given him an overdose. No, Simon, he was enjoying Jim's suffering." Blair's sad blue eyes met Simon's very concerned brown ones. "If that's all, sir, I need to get home. Jim needs me."

Simon put his hand on Blair's shoulder. "Blair, one more thing. I'm proud of the way you conducted yourself and this investigation. Also, both families of those children Kelley killed have called and asked me to pass on their expressions of gratitude for what you did. They appreciate the fact that you got him back where he belongs. And I don't think I've had a chance to thank you for saving my life." At Blair's shrug, Simon added, "You did, you know."

Listening to the captain's kind words put Blair as close to tears as he had been since the entire disaster had started. He knew that if he looked into Simon's eyes, he probably would cry. Embarrassed, he studied his shoes closely and said, "Thanks, but I couldn't have done it without you, Simon."

If Blair had looked up, he would have seen Simon smile at him. "Go home, Blair." Simon gave Blair a small nudge toward the door.

-------------------------------------------------

"Come on, Jim. You have to eat something," Blair cajoled. "It's chicken soup, one of your favorites."

Jim dazedly looked at the bowl on the table in front of him. He reached for the spoon. Blair held his breath, waiting. Jim's hand moved toward the utensil, his fingers touched it, but then his hand fell away and he sighed. "Not hungry," he muttered.

"Please, Jim. You haven't eaten all day."

The knock at the door stopped Blair's disastrous attempts at trying to get his partner to eat. Pulling open the door, he waved a hand. "Oh, hey Simon. Come on in."

Simon walked into the loft carrying a large white bag. "You look like shit." He saw the circles under Blair's eyes, the disheveled hair and the wrinkled clothes. "I brought Jim doughnuts," he said, holding up the bag.

"Thanks." Blair tiredly waved toward Jim, who still sat at the table, seemingly unaware of Simon's appearance.

"Hey, Jim." Simon set the bag down in front of Jim and sat next to him.

Jim gave Simon a blank stare.

"Jim? It's Simon. How you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure you are." Rising, Simon raised an eyebrow at Blair. "No progress?"

"No," Blair said. "He's running a fever and barely eating. I've had a hell of a time getting any water or juice down him. Simon, he's getting worse, not better."

"Have you called his doctor?"

Blair shook his head. "No, it's not a doctor he needs. If Dr. Roberts sees he's not responding, he might think it's better for him to be hospitalized and on intravenous feeding even though he understands about Jim's senses. I can't let that happen." Blair yawned. "Excuse me. Anyway, I've been thinking about this for the last twenty-four hours straight, since Jim can't or won't sleep and I can't sleep when he won't. It's a vicious cycle." Pulling at a strand of unwashed hair, Blair said, "I think I know what's wrong. It's just that I'm so tired I can barely think straight!"

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so. I know what to do, I'm just not sure because of Jim's condition. He's not in the best of shape and if I take him into a vision, it's going to be really hard on him."

"What vision? Is it dangerous?"

"It can be pretty intense. But all of this, his condition, is all Sentinel related, Simon. I just know it. He's empty inside. I think he's disconnected from his very soul. I know it sounds strange, but it all makes sense. He was so -- traumatized that everything's gone -- his feelings, his sense of self, and definitely his senses. It was a defensive mechanism, but now, I don't think he even knows what's going on, which is why he can't fix it himself."

"Maybe to you it makes sense, but it sounds too farfetched to me. You're saying that you think Jim's soul is -- broken?"

"Well, yeah, more or less. Maybe not broken, but turned off."

"And just how do you think you can fix it? With a vision?"

Blair nodded. "I need help. If I can -- connect with Jim's animal spirit or find Incacha, maybe I can fix this." He waved toward his lover. "He needs me, Simon. I have to fix this."

"What do you want me to do?" Simon might not understand, but he was still ready and willing to help.

Giving his friend a tired smile, Blair walked toward the door. "Honestly? Go home. I need to do this alone. As much as I'd like your help, this is a journey that Jim and I need to make."

Simon clamped an unlit cigar between his teeth. He was thoughtful while he walked toward the door. Stopping in front of Blair, he asked, "What if??"

"I don't know, Simon, so don't even ask."

"I'll call you later."

"I wish you'd let me call you. Just be patient and I swear, I'll call the moment I can. Please."

Simon shook his head. "I don't like it one bit, but okay. Call me the second you're -- finished."

Blair gave Simon a tired smile. "I will. I promise." Blair softly closed the door and leaned back on it for a moment, studying his hurting lover. "Jim, I'll fix this, or die trying."

-------------------------------------------------

Blair walked over to where Jim still sat at the table with his head down on his folded arms. A hand on his forehead revealed that he was hot to Blair's touch. "Shit, Jim. We have to do something now. I know you're not feeling very well, but you have to help me. I can't do this alone." Staring down at his unresponsive lover's head, Blair ran gentle finders through the soft, short hair. "It's going to be okay. I promise." He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on the back of Jim's skull before turning to his task.

Methodically, Blair prepared. He turned off the phone, all of the lights but one small nightlight on the top of the bookshelves, and lowered the blinds. He considered lighting a candle and incense but dismissed the idea. Jim might accidentally touch them and hurt himself in his present state. Next he pushed the sofas back from the coffee table and centered it in the middle of the throw rug so that they could both sit comfortably on either side. Talking to himself while he prepared, Blair muttered, "You can do this. This is the only way." He locked the front door. "I'm hurrying, Jim. I know you're suffering."

Blair took one last look around, satisfied that he was ready. Gently, he roused his lover. "Come on, my love. Stand up." Jim moaned softly when Blair shook him. Blair persisted until he finally got Jim to his feet. With a hand under an elbow, he guided Jim into the living room and pushed until Jim sat cross-legged on the floor on one side of the coffee table. He put his arms, palms up, elbows bent, out on the coffee table. With a hand on either side of Jim's face, he searched his blank eyes long and hard. "I love you!" he said vehemently. "I'll fix this, no matter what."

Jim barely blinked but his body trembled under Blair's hands. Blair knew it was the fever and dehydration. He'd better hurry. The Sentinel was losing ground quicker than he thought he would and there wasn't much time. The idea that Jim could die wiped away any doubts that he had about what he needed to do. A calm, peaceful feeling washed over him. He was ready.

"Jim! Can you hear me?"

Jim blinked. "I'm fine," he whispered.

Blair smiled, petting the warm skin. "It will be okay. Remember that I love you. Can you do that?"

Jim shrugged. "I guess."

"Okay. Let's do it." Blair sat down opposite Jim and placed his wrists in Jim's palms. He wrapped his hands around Jim's wrists and concentrated. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, breathing in and out regularly until he could feel Jim's pulse against his palms.

Out loud, Blair spoke softly. "Close your eyes. Breathe. In and out. Again. Concentrate. Travel to that place, the place of your animal spirit. See it in your mind. Concentrate..."

-------------------------------------------------

The hot, humid air took the Guide's breath away. His eyes flew open and he blinked rapidly, sweat dripping down his forehead. He glanced around quickly. The Sentinel stood quietly at his side. The Guide's hand was wrapped around the Sentinel's wrist, linking them together. Wiping the sweat away, the Guide then saw the tumbled stones of the altar. Stela a thousand years old danced across the weathered surface. He had been here before, at another time and in another life, but he recognized the area. Taking in a shaky breath and blowing it out, the Guide closed his eyes.

"Please, Incacha, help me," he whispered.

"Why have you come?" a strong voice said.

The Guide's eyes flew open. "Incacha, thank you!" The strong warrior stood on the stone slab with his left hand on the head of the wolf that leaned against his leg. The warrior's hand stroked the furry head slowly. At the very end of the slab lay the jaguar, curled into a ball, apparently sleeping with his back to Incacha and the wolf.

"Enqueri is in pain," Incacha said, casting worried eyes toward the jaguar.

"Yes. I want to erase his pain. I don't know what to do. Can you help me?"

"You have performed your duties well since I passed the way of the Shaman on to you, but you have much yet to learn."

"I want to learn all that I can, but I need to help Enqueri return to himself first."

Incacha turned compassionate eyes on the Sentinel. "He is not with us."

"No."

"The cruelty of man has taken his spirit. Perhaps there is no hope for your people."

"No!" The Guide took a step forward, releasing his hold on the Sentinel's wrist. "I don't believe that. Jim? Enqueri is willing to give his life daily to protect his tribe. He is only one man. He can't save the world, but he can save people, one by one. He does this. He deserves to live!"

Incacha's face was serious but his voice was soft. "And you are by his side each time."

The Guide nodded. "Yes. It's where I belong. Please, Incacha, please tell me what to do to help him before it's too late."

Incacha seemed to consider the request before he said, "What are you willing to do to restore the Sentinel's spirit to him."

"Anything. I'm willing to do anything. Tell me what you want and I'll do it," the Guide implored. "Please." He bowed his head in supplication.

"What are you willing to do to restore the spirit to the Sentinel?"

The Guide raised his head and looked questioningly at Incacha, who gave him the ghost of a smile. "I don't understand. I said..." He fell silent for a moment and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened them and smiled. Now he understood. He stood tall and said, "My life. I will give my life for the Sentinel."

"It is done." Incacha nodded and smiled.

Suddenly, the world around them dissolved into a thick, white mist. The wolf rose and leapt forward, melding into the Sentinel's body in a bolt of lightning and a rumble of earth. The Sentinel trembled and fell to his knees, breathing harshly. His eyes cleared and the first thing he saw was the jaguar. It rose from its huddle at the end of the slab, took two long steps toward the Guide and leapt forward, disappearing into his body. Before the Sentinel could react, in a heartbeat, they were gone, lost in the swirling mist that clouded the Sentinel's eyes.

"No!" the Sentinel screamed, reaching out a hand toward where his Guide had disappeared. "No!" he shouted again in anguish before everything went black.

-------------------------------------------------

Jim Ellison woke all at once. His eyes flew open and he held his breath. Pain tore across his forehead and his stomach lurched at the sensations bombarding him. Struggling to catch his breath, he bit his lip and slammed the dials closed as fast as he could until he felt, heard, smelled, and saw nothing. Concentrating on his inner body, he lay very still and remembered his breathing. In for ten, hold for ten, out for ten, hold for ten. Over and over until his heart stopped pounding. Very slowly he opened each sense a notch at a time until he felt that he had some control.

Finally, Jim opened his eyes. His head still ached, but the pain was bearable. He sat up much too quickly and the room swam before his eyes. He was instantly nauseated. Closing his eyes, he lay back down and ran through another set of breathing exercises until his stomach settled. Rubbing a hand on his temple, he sighed. Jim rolled very slowly onto his stomach and got to his hands and knees. He breathed in and out several times and opened his eyes, allowing a small bit of light to filter through. Thankfully, the room wasn't brightly lit. Reaching out a hand, he found the corner of something so he pushed himself to his knees and then sat back on his heels to get his bearings.

Jim glanced around, realizing he was in his own living room. His hand rested on the coffee table. The loft was very quiet. The only sound he heard was the gentle rumble of the refrigerator motor. Shaking his head, he searched for Blair. When he saw his mate lying on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, he panicked and rose too quickly. His headache came back with a vengeance and his stomach lurched. Sinking back to his knees, he bent his head and caught his breath. Then he tuned his hearing onto his lover, listening for his heartbeat. His reward for his effort was another blinding stab of pain running through his head. He moaned softly.

Dropping to his hands, Jim did the only thing he could -- he crawled over to Blair's side and put a hand on his chest. Turning his sense of touch up slightly, he almost sobbed with relief when he felt the thump of Blair's heart against his palm.

"Thank God," he whispered, his throat dry and raw. "You're alive, Chief." He took another calming breath against the headache that refused to abate. "Blair? please." He patted the warm cheeks gently. "Wake up, please, Blair," he pleaded.

Blair moaned softly and opened his eyes. "Oh, man, what the hell happened? I feel like I've been hit by a truck." He rubbed his hands on his temples while he looked anxiously at his partner. "Jim! Are you all right? Jim?"

The little bit of strength Jim had left had disappeared. He sat with his eyes closed and his hand still on Blair's chest. It took all of his energy to remember to breathe.

Blair gently moved Jim's hand and got to his knees. "Jim, talk to me. Come on. I know you can do it. Please, Jim. You're scaring me. Are you okay?"

Finally, after what seemed to be forever to the anxious Guide, the Sentinel's eyes opened and stared. Blair searched Jim's face intently. He wasn't zoned, Blair knew and for a moment, he panicked. "Oh, God. It didn't work. Jim, please answer me. Please," he begged, putting warm hands on Jim's cheeks and kissing his lips tenderly.

Jim trembled and blinked rapidly. "Blair?" he croaked. "I'm -- okay." His hand moved and he touched Blair's face. He gave him a tentative smile and then he promptly passed out, falling into Blair's arms.

-------------------------------------------------

This time, Jim woke slowly. When he opened his eyes, he saw the face of his anxious partner hovering close.

"Jim?"

"Blair!"

"Thank heavens! How do you feel?"

Jim licked his dry lips. "Thirsty. Tired. I'm cold." His steel blue eyes met his partner's. "What happened?"

Blair put a hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy. Let me get you something to drink and get another blanket. I'll only be a sec."

Jim nodded while Blair raced to the spare room for the blanket and grabbed a bottle of electrolyte drink from the fridge. He covered Jim and popped the top of the bottle.

"Let's get you up a bit so you can drink this. Your blood sugar is out of whack, which is why you're light-headed and cold. This will help."

Jim nodded and allowed Blair to slip an arm behind his shoulders. Blair piled a couple of pillows behind Jim so he could recline more comfortably.

"Better?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Drink this nice and slow. It's been a while since you've had much on your stomach and we don't want you upchucking all over the furniture."

Jim gave Blair a crooked smile. "Sure, Chief." He took the bottle from Blair's outstretched hand, but his own hand trembled.

Blair smiled. "Let me help you. Okay?" He knelt on the floor next to the sofa.

"Yeah. I'm a little shaky, I guess."

"Trust me, a little shaky isn't anything compared to what you've been through."

Jim sipped the drink slowly. At his raised eyebrow, Blair shrugged. "I'll tell you all about it after you've recovered a bit."

When the bottle was drained, Blair grinned and set the empty bottle down on the coffee table. "Feeling better?"

"A bit. Thanks."

"Are you hungry?"

Jim considered for a moment before he said, "Yeah, I guess I am. Famished, actually."

"Cool. I'll fix you something, but it's got to be easy on the tummy." Blair patted Jim's belly through the blankets. "Scrambled eggs?"

"Sounds good."

"Rest. It will only take a few minutes. You'll eat and then we'll talk."

"Okay," Jim said tiredly, closing his eyes.

Blair hopped up and went into the kitchen, humming happily. It took only a short time for the scrambled eggs to be cooked and put into a bowl. He had added just a bit of grated cheddar cheese to up the protein level. It had been more than a week since Jim had had a substantial meal and he wanted him to feel satisfied after eating.

"Jim? You sleeping?" Blair sat the bowl down on the coffee table and knelt back on the floor.

"I'm awake. Just dozing." Jim's eyes opened and he looked gratefully at his lover. "I'm not sure what happened, but thank you. I feel really strange."

"Come on, open up. Food's coming."

"I can feed myself."

"I know, but... well? if you don't mind?"

"Blair?"

"Sorry," Blair whispered, turning his face away to retain his composure. Looking back lovingly at his mate, he said, "It's been a rough week. Would it sound stupid if I asked if I could feed you? I know it's dumb? Never mind. Forget it. Here you go. Eat while it's hot." Blair held out the bowl.

"It's okay, Blair." Jim's affectionate eyes met Blair's. "It would be nice to be taken care of. Just this once."

"Oh, great! Just this once." Jim lightly wrapped his hand around Blair's wrist while Blair fed him the eggs. With Blair doing all the work, all Jim had to do was chew, swallow and keep his eyes glued on his lover's face. In short order, the food disappeared.

"There you go. Better?"

"Yes, definitely. Love you, Chief."

"I love you, man. So much." Blair slipped an arm around Jim's shoulders and pressed warm lips to his forehead.

Jim tipped his head and their mouths bumped.

Grinning, Blair kissed the still-dry lips gently before he rose and said. "Oh wait. I have some salve for your lips. They're probably killing you."

"They are sore," Jim acknowledged.

Blair dropped the bowl into the sink and ran some water into it. He'd wash up later. Then he retrieved the tube of lip balm from the counter. Squirting a glob onto his finger, he returned to the sofa.

"Here you are." Blair stopped, finger extended and looked down at his lover. Jim was fast asleep.

Blair grinned from ear to ear and very gently rubbed the salve onto the chapped lips. "I love you," he whispered. Rising, he smiled while he tucked the blankets around Jim's body. Grabbing the cordless phone from the kitchen table, he dialed.

"Simon! It's Blair. I have great news!"

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When Jim woke early the next morning, just before sunrise, he was warm and comfortable. He did a thorough check of his senses and was very pleased to see that his base line was almost back to normal. Sighing gratefully, he glanced around the darkened loft. Only the top of Blair's curly head showed from under the blankets. The gentle breathing indicated that his lover was deeply asleep. Jim had to smile. Only Blair would feel the need to sleep close to his mate even though there was a comfortable king-sized bed upstairs. Jim stretched and rose, needing to use the bathroom. He scratched an itch on his arm and was surprised to feel a myriad of tiny scabs under his sensitive fingertips. Quietly he went into the bathroom and turned on the light. He gave himself a thorough once-over, discovering dozens of healing needle marks on the front and back of his body.

As Jim used the toilet and washed his face, he tried to remember what had happened. After running his tongue around his furry mouth, he brushed his teeth thoroughly and rinsed with mouthwash not once, but twice. Staring at his face, he rubbed his hand over the scraggly beginnings of a beard. It was quite long and he knew from experience that he hadn't shaved for at least a week.

"Weird," he muttered, lathering up with shaving cream. With a fresh blade, he scraped away the beard and rinsed off the residual cream. After splashing on a mild after-shave, he happened to notice that he had fading bruises on his wrists. He searched his body carefully and found the same type of bruises around his ankles. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, he thought deeply. Something important had happened but try as he might, he couldn't remember what. Sighing in exasperation, he rose, intending to demand an explanation from his partner. He didn't have to go very far to find Blair because he was just coming down the hall toward the bathroom when Jim opened the door and stepped out.

Jim had to grin. Blair's hair was short now, but still, the curls stood up on end, giving him a brown cloud around his head. The reddish highlights seemed to have disappeared when it was short and the curls still tumbled every which way unless it was shorn to a half an inch or gelled down. Jim preferred the curls. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Blair stopped directly in front of his mate and planted warm hands on his chest.

"Good morning, my love. You're up early." He turned his head up slightly in invitation.

Jim smiled and cupped a hand under Blair's chin. "'Morning, Chief. I'm wide awake and hungry." He leaned down slightly and accepted the invitation.

Their lips met tenderly. Like long-lost lovers, their mouths pressed together tentatively and gently for a few moments. Tongues peeked out quickly in almost shy exploration, licking warm skin before retreating back to study and enjoy tastes. Blair moaned softly. Jim echoed the sound, wrapping his other arm around Blair's shoulders while his hand controlled the kiss. With another deep groan, Jim deepened their link, thrusting his tongue into the hot depths of his lover's mouth. Blair broke away, panting.

"Wait. It's too fast. You're hardly in any condition?"

Jim clamped his mouth over Blair's, silencing him. His arm wrapped around the back of Blair's head, cradling his skull in the crook. Pinned, Blair could only whimper and return Jim's passion with equal tenacity while his hands slipped under Jim's t-shirt and across the hot expanse of chest. Rubbing his forefingers on both nipples, Jim shuddered and released Blair's mouth.

"Oh, shit Blair!" Jim exclaimed. "It feels like it's been so long! I need you. I need you to touch me. I need? I don't know!"

"Shhh." Blair tugged Jim's head to his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm here and I love you."

"I'm so confused!" Jim muttered against the skin of Blair's neck. "Something's wrong. I can feel it, but I don't know what it is!"

"Okay, okay. Settle down," Blair crooned, petting Jim's short hair gently. "Tell you what. You take a shower while I fix some food. Then after we eat, I'll shower and when I'm finished, we'll talk."

Jim straightened. "Don't you want to take a shower with me? I want you close. Please, Blair."

Blair sighed. "Listen. You've had a very traumatic experience." At Jim's puzzled gaze, he nodded. "I know you don't remember and I'll tell you everything, I promise, but you need to be comfortable while we talk. You're hungry and you definitely need a good scrubbing. I know what will happen if we shower together. I'm horny. You're horny. We'll fuck like bunnies but I can't believe I'm saying this, making love has to wait. Trust me on this, Jim, please. I'm your Guide. I wouldn't steer you wrong."

Their eyes met. Blair's solemn gaze asked for and received Jim's acquiescence without having to say another word. Jim gave Blair another light kiss on the lips, turned and went into shower. Blair huffed out a breath. Then he moved into action. Upstairs, he grabbed clean sweats for himself and Jim. He smiled. They'd skip the underwear today. Opening the bathroom door, he said, "Clean clothes, Jim!" dropping them onto the end of the counter.

"Thanks, Chief."

He grinned while he closed the door. "I love you," he said softly.

A huge smile broke across Jim's face. "I love you, Blair," he said to himself. "Later, I'll show you." Happily, Jim went back to scrubbing.

Keeping to the doctor's suggestions of a light diet, Blair tossed together a quick meal of fettucini noodles with cream sauce. He kept it light, cutting down on the butter and garlic, and adding fresh basil and a handful of sun-dried tomatoes that Jim liked. A small tossed salad and a few slices of warmed French bread completed his meal. That was when he realized it was barely eight o'clock and he was cooking dinner. Laughing, he set the table.

"What's so funny?" Jim asked, emerging from the bathroom looking clean and incredibly handsome.

Blair felt his body surge with lust and love. Heat rushed to his face and he blushed deep red.

"I like how I do that to you, Chief," Jim said smugly.

"You're such a dick," Blair groused.

"But I'm your dick," Jim answered, hugging Blair from behind and nuzzling his neck. "You definitely need a shower."

"Food first. I'm starving! Sit. You deserve to be waited on today." At Jim's raised eyebrow, Blair chuckled. "Trust me on this."

"You keep saying that. I trust you. You know that. I'll get drinks."

"I hope you don't mind, but I made dinner. It's been a couple of days since we had a good meal and breakfast didn't sound good."

Jim laughed while he grabbed a half-gallon container of milk from the fridge. He pulled two glasses from the cupboard and set them down on the table. Opening the top of the milk, he sniffed. Satisfied it was fresh, he poured.

"It smells great!" Jim said, sitting down and accepting the bowl from Blair's hand. Using the extra small plate, Jim helped himself to salad and a slice of bread. He dug in enthusiastically. "I'm still famished. I feel like I haven't eaten in a week."

Blair coughed, choking on his food. When Jim patted him on the back, he coughed again. "Thanks, man. I'm okay." Returning to his food, Blair ate a few bites while keeping an eye on his mate. Satisfied that Jim was doing okay, he finally relaxed and began to enjoy his food.

Finished, they cleaned the table together and piled the dishes in the sink.

"Go," Jim said. "I'll do the dishes while you shower."

"You sure? You're still recovering."

"I'll wash them and let them drip. You can put them away later."

"Deal." Blair kissed Jim's lips, tasting the residual flavor of Italian dressing. "You taste good."

"Hmm. You, too."

Smiling, Blair went to take a shower.

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Snuggled in the large bed with plenty of pillows for a comfortable nest and hot cups of mint tea with honey, the Sentinel and his Guide lay close, talking quietly. Several lavender-scented candles burned softly on the dresser, casting a warm, flickering glow on the two lovers.

"So you don't remember anything after you picked up the pizza on Friday night?"

"No, nothing. Well, that's not really true. I remember waking up in the hospital but it's strange. Remember that time with Tommy Juno when I said I was watching myself from outside myself? It was like that, kind of. It was not me, but then it was. Weird."

"I think I understand. It was a Sentinel defense mechanism. In order to save yourself, you watched yourself so you'd know what to do next."

"Geez, Blair, that sounds almost -- nuts."

"No, man. It's a thousand years of breeding. Hell, two thousand. Who knows?"

"So after you were utterly brilliant suggesting to Simon to dust the car for prints, then what?"

Blair sipped his tea, blushing slightly. "Well, I don't know about utterly brilliant, but it was a good hunch. They identified Kelley from the print and I searched for you. We all did. The entire police force city wide. Then Simon put your ugly mug and Kelley's on the television on that Crime Stoppers show and thankfully, some nice old lady fingered Kelley."

"That show is great! It's brought in a couple dozen perps in the last five years. I'll have to remember to thank Morgan Ramsey over at WTMT for running it. He's an old Army buddy."

"Thank him for me, too. Anyway, Simon and I staked out Kelley's house. He led us to the storage facility. We found you. End of story."

"I don't think so, Chief. There's a lot more you're not telling. I can't believe you've managed to condense five or six days into a couple dozen words." Jim finished his tea and set the mug on the nightstand. "Finished?"

Blair sighed. "Almost." He drank the last bit and passed the cup to Jim.

"Tell me. Please, Chief. It feels like I lost a big piece of my life."

"Not a big piece, Jim. Just six days, give or take."

"It's still hard to believe. Six days. Imagine that. So spill or I'll call Simon. He's not nearly as sentimental as you are. He'll give me the gory details."

Blair slipped an arm around Jim's waist and held tight. He huffed a shaky breath against Jim's skin before he whispered, "I had to draw my weapon, Jim. I had to fire it to save Simon's life."

"Oh, God, Blair! I'm so sorry!" He tried to pry Blair from around his body, but Blair held on tightly. "Shhh. It's okay. Do you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Jim waited patiently until Blair composed himself. He could tell Blair was going to speak when he released a bit of the stranglehold he had on Jim's chest. Jim's hand comfortingly rubbed warm circles on his back.

"He whacked Simon on the head. Simon was out of it and he was going to shoot him, so I warned him. Twice, in fact. He laughed at me and took aim. I fired."

"You saved Simon's life."

Blair shrugged. "I guess."

"I don't guess. What did Simon say?"

"He said, Good job, Sandburg, and thanked me for saving his life."

"See, told you so. How do you feel about it now?"

"I haven't had a lot of time to think about it since you weren't doing well, but I think I'm okay. I mean, I was very calm when I made the decision. I wasn't hyped or distressed. I think I did the right thing. I assessed the situation and knew that it was the only option."

"And the asshole's condition?"

"I hit him in the shoulder. He's not dead, but I hope it hurts for a long time, and every time it hurts, he remembers that I did it because of what he did to you."

"Thank you, Chief."

Blair finally raised his head and looked into Jim's concerned eyes. "You're welcome."

"You'll talk to me again if this should bother you?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"Geez, Jim. I promise as long as you promise to talk to me about things if and when you start to remember." Blair was quiet for a moment before he said, "There are video tapes and journals. He wrote it all down. He taped it. I'm sorry, but I don't want to see them or read about what he did to you. I can't do it. I just can't."

Jim was quiet for many minutes. He sighed deeply and said, "I'm not really sure I want to either. I know it makes me sound like a coward, but I'm not sure I want to remember."

"No, Jim. You're not a coward. You never could be," Blair said firmly. "You're the bravest man I know. You've saved my life so many times!" Blair pushed himself up to sit and crossed his legs. "You're home and you're safe. You're recovering. In all honesty, I'd rather you didn't watch them. Simon will make sure the stuff's locked in evidence so nobody can see them. It may damned well sound cowardly, but I want to put it behind us. I want to forget." Blair hugged himself tightly. "I don't want to ever have to live through that again," he whispered, dropping his head.

"Chief," Jim said softly, putting a finger under Blair's chin and raising his head. "Thank you."

Blair gave Jim a shaky smile. "For what, man?"

"For loving me that much."

Blair nodded and swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Sure, Jim. Loving you is the easy part. Keeping you safe is a lot harder. How are your senses doing?"

"Good, really good."

"No residual effects from the drugs?"

"I don't think so. Everything seems okay. Other than..." Jim deliberately let his words trail off.

Blair was instantly alert. "What? Tell me," he demanded.

Jim smiled. "Make love to me, Blair."

Sighing with relief, Blair smacked Jim's arm lightly. "Oh, man. I'd love to. You sure you're feeling okay?"

Grinning, Jim's hand reached out and clasped his hand with Blair's. He guided their joined hands to his lower body and pressed them against his groin. "I'm feeling very okay." Jim's eyes sparkled and the crinkles around them deepened.

"You feel very okay," Blair echoed, rubbing lightly over Jim's growing erection through the blankets. "Very, very okay." When he pulled back the blankets, he leaned down and kissed the outline of Jim's penis through the thin material of his boxers. Then his tongue touched the small wet spot that would soon grow into a large wet spot if the boxers didn't disappear quickly. Blair moved to his knees, tugged at Jim's shorts and grinned at the enthusiasm with which Jim quickly lifted his hips to help shed the boxers.

"You have the sexiest body of any person on the planet, Ellison," Blair growled, drinking in the sight of Jim sprawled on the bed, waiting somewhat impatiently for Blair to touch him.

"Hurry up, Chief. You're killing me here."

Blair licked his lips. "There will be no hurrying tonight. Because of your delicate condition, I have to take this slow and easy. I don't want you to suffer any post-traumatic stress."

"Damn it, Blair. I expect you to fuck me senseless and be quick about it," Jim ordered in his best cop voice.

Blair laughed with delight. "Jim, shut up or you'll be using your hand to take care of this." Blair's fingers danced across Jim's belly, down his hipbone and around the base of his hard member. "From the sofa," he added as an afterthought.

Jim feigned a shocked look. "You wouldn't! I'm a delicate creature and I need to be handled with kid gloves. You just said so."

"So much for the tough ex-Army Ranger, Special Ops bad-ass Sentinel of the Great city. One little kidnapping and you're falling apart."

Chuckling, Blair removed Jim's t-shirt and tossed it to the floor. His naked lover lay fully exposed to his eyes, hands and mouth. Jim tugged on Blair's boxers, but he playfully slapped his hand away. "Lie still, Jim," Blair ordered.

Jim laced his hands together behind his head, giving Blair the signal to do what he liked. "You know, Chief, you're a bossy son-of-a-bitch?"

"I know. And you love it."

Jim laughed. "Yeah, I do. So tell me what you want and I'll do it. I'm at your command." He wiggled his hips, making his full penis waggle back and forth.

Blair laughed along with Jim. "Oh, man. I've got you where I want you. I do love you, you jerk."

"Always with the sentiments. I can't stand it when you get all mushy on me. It's embarrassing.

"Come here, sweetiepie," Blair said sexily.

Jim laughed deeply, but his laughter was quickly silenced when Blair's mouth covered his. Deep, wet, slow kisses soon had Jim whimpering and pushing his hips into the air.

Blair released the reddened lips. "What do you want?" he asked, caressing the heavy sac between Jim's legs.

Jim wantonly put his feet flat on the bed, lifted his hips and spread his legs wide. "Please, Blair," he begged. "I need you."

"For you, Jim," Blair said between kisses to his lover's forehead, nose and eyelids, "anything." Grabbing the lube from the nightstand, Blair said softly, "Roll over, babe."

Jim flipped so quickly Blair was worried he might hurt something.

"Easy," Blair crooned, caressing the warm skin of Jim's back and buttocks. "Take it easy." Coating his fingers with the lube, he blew on them to warm before trailing them down the crease of Jim's ass. When Jim spread his legs, Blair laughed softly. "So eager," he murmured, rubbing Jim's opening lightly before pushing in gently.

"Blair!" Jim cried. "Please. It feels so good. Please."

"Shhh. All in good time, my love." Working his fingers slowly, Blair coated Jim's channel thoroughly. "It's been a while. I'm being careful."

"Okay," Jim whispered, clutching the sheets in his fists. "Blair!" he cried when the exploring fingers rubbed his prostate. "Oh God!" He humped the sheet, searching for friction on his aching erection.

"On your hands and knees, Jim."

Jim nodded and rose, offering his body fully to his lover. Blair's fingers carefully worked Jim's body several more times, massaging the hidden nub until Jim was shaking. When he removed his fingers, he cleaned them on a baby wipe and tossed it to the floor.

Liberally coating his hard shaft, Blair put a hand on the small of Jim's back. "Ready?"

"Yes!"

Blair smiled and gently pushed until he was fully sheathed in his lover's body.

"Finally!" Jim cried and started to rock back and forth.

Blair's hands held his mate's hips and he set a slow, steady rhythm. "Jim! God, Jim you feel so good!" Blair concentrated on the feeling of his body encased in Jim's. The heat was almost overwhelming and he thrust slowly but steadily, carrying them both closer and closer to the edge.

"Harder, Chief. Harder. Please, please?" Jim tried to reach under his belly to grasp his aching dick, but Blair's sudden forward thrust took his breath away and he dropped his hand.

"I love you, Jim, but you have no patience," Blair said. He reached around to take Jim's erection in his hand. "Let me do this. Just enjoy the ride, babe." He pushed his shaft in as deep as possible and held very still while he stroked Jim's straining erection. "I love being buried in you," Blair crooned softly, stroking steadily. "I love everything about you." He picked up his speed on Jim's shaft and felt it swell in his hand. "Come for me, Jim. Can you feel me in you? You're so hot!"

"Blair!" Jim shouted, holding his breath while his penis spurted hot sticky semen all over the sheets.

Skillfully, Blair milked Jim for every drop. Only when Jim's shoulders sagged to the bed did Blair release his hold on the softening member. Gently, Blair pushed Jim's hips to the bed and with his foot, he spread his legs wide.

Jim moaned deeply when Blair resumed his slow, gentle fucking. In and out, over and over, while his mouth rained small kisses over the back of Jim's neck and shoulders. Trailing his tongue after the kisses, he whispered into Jim's ear, "You are so fucking sexy, Jim. I love everything about you." At Jim's answering groan, Blair chuckled lightly. "Your senses are on line now. You can feel me buried in you. Feel my pulse through our connection." Blair rocked his hips gently, pulling out until only the head of his erection was held by Jim's body before sliding back in fully. "Can you smell my passion? Taste it on your tongue?"

"Yes!" Jim growled, "God, yes."

Blair nibbled gently on Jim's earlobe. "You're mine, Ellison. Do you know that? You are so mine, and I am yours, body and soul. Everything I have is yours. You know that, don't you?"

Jim shuddered under Blair's skillful tongue while he reveled in the feel of their bodies locked together. "Always, Chief," he managed to say.

"I like it when you call me that. Don't ever call anybody else "Chief"? It's mine. Only mine."

"Yes, Blair," Jim answered. "Anything for you." When his prostate was once again hit, Jim almost yelled. Biting his lip, he squeezed his inner muscles together tightly and grinned when he was rewarded with a deep groan and a shout from his lover.

"Jim!"

Jim felt Blair's body gathering for his orgasm and he encouraged him, lifting his hips slightly to give Blair the deepest penetration possible. "Yes! Yes, Blair. I'm waiting. I want to feel you come in me. I love when you're in me, Blair." He squeezed his buttocks together around Blair's shaft. "Now, Chief, please. I want to feel it!"

Blair responded to Jim's encouraging voice. He thrust twice more and came long and hard. "Jimmm! Oh my God!" he shouted while his seed filled Jim's receptive body.

"Yes!" Jim cried triumphantly, pleased at Blair's responses.

Blair gave one final spurt and collapsed across his lover's back, panting until he regained some semblance of reason. "I hope that's what you wanted," he blurted out, laughing softly against Jim's shoulder blade.

Jim groaned. "Smart mouth. Now get off me and come here so I can hold you."

Blair laughed again. "Sure, man. I'd love a good cuddle. But first?"

Grabbing a handful of baby wipes, Blair made quick work cleaning up himself and his lover. He tossed a clean bath towel on the huge wet spot Jim had made. "You made a big mess, man. Don't want either of us to sleep in the wet spot," he muttered.

"Don't blame you," Jim said sleepily. "Thanks, Chief. That was wonderful. Just what I needed, too. Want to hold you."

Blair sighed contentedly and settled down with Jim's front pressed against his back. "Uhmm. Nice," he said, his words slurred with sleep. "Love you." When Jim slipped an arm around his waist, Blair captured the hand and bought it to his lips. "So much."

"Mine." Jim's arm pulled Blair's body closer and he kissed his ear. He snagged the blankets and pulled them up, covering their cooling bodies. He had just started to drift off when his eyes popped opened. "Blair... Thank you."

"It's okay," Blair answered, yawning. "Just doing my job."

"You are such a liar."

Rousing himself and realizing that Jim wasn't quite ready to sleep, he asked, "Why?"

"It's not your job to take care of me, to keep me safe, to love me, to stay with me through thick and thin, and to fuck me senseless when I ask."

"I like it. Besides, who else is going to put up with you but me?"

"That's because you're mentally deranged."

"I did work at Conover one summer."

"Ah ha. See? Told you."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Your wish is my command, oh Master."

"Don't start that again or we'll never get to sleep tonight."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

Jim snuggled impossibly closer and nuzzled Blair's neck, kissing the sweet smelling skin behind his ear. "That promise sounded very serious. Are you okay?"

Blair shrugged. "No, but it's cool."

"What can I do?"

"Don't ever die on me."

"Blair, that's impossible. I can't make that kind of promise."

"I know."

Only the quiet sounds of breathing could be heard until Jim said, "Blair?"

"Yeah?"

"I promise that as long as I can, I'll love you and only you. Is that all right?"

Blair brought Jim's hand up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles that held his hand tightly. "It's all right, Jim. Now go to sleep. You need to rest."

"Okay. I am tired and I do need to sleep, but only so that I can make love to you in the morning."

"It's already morning."

"Well, in the afternoon then. Do you have to be so -- precise?"

"Don't want to miss out on anything."

"Go to sleep, Sandburg."

"Meanie."

"Big mouth."

"I can't sleep now."

"Why not?"

"Because you called me "Sandburg". That means you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed. I'm sleepy."

"So?"

"So?"

Blair waited patiently until Jim shook his head in loving exasperation. "Sleep well, my love," he said softly into Blair's ear.

Blair grinned, shut up and slept.

The end.

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Author's Acknowledgements: Thanks to Patt for the great art and to DebraC and Ankaree for the beta. You guys are great!