Companions To Our Demons 
[A 'Sentinel' Story] 

{By: Holly Lyn}



The tension in the atmosphere surrounding the DataTech Industrial Complex was 
unnerving. Ever since Joel Taggert reported that his bomb squad had discovered a 
large explosive device hidden in one of the storage areas, the rest of Captain 
Simon Banks' men had had precious little to do but wait. The DataTech employees 
had been evacuated immediately after the phone call warning them of the bomb and 
were now safely at home watching the resulting drama unfold via their local 
news.

Even though he was waiting for it, Simon still jumped at the first chirp from 
his cell phone. He mopped a faint film of perspiration from his face and flipped 
the unit open, "Banks."

"Taggert here, sir. It's been neutralized."

Simon sagged against his car in relief and gave the rest of the waiting officers 
a triumphant wave. "Thank god for that. Good work, Taggert. Keep your team on 
standby in case forensics needs back up. Out."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Snicking the phone shut, Simon waved at Jim Ellison and Carolyn Plummer, two of 
his best. A fleeting grimace passed across his face as Blair Sandburg trailed 
after Ellison, like a well-trained puppy. Choosing to ignore Sandburg for the 
moment, Simon started giving orders, "Jim, I want your team to do a room by room 
sweep of every building in the complex. As soon as the rooms are confirmed 
clean, lock them down; the same goes for the entire building. If you see anyone 
who isn't one of us arrest them. Except for the company president, who is 
waiting for news from me outside the gates, all DT employees are long gone. Any 
suspicious looking packages, call Taggert. His squad will be helping Carolyn's 
forensics team for the time being. And be careful. We don't know if the guy who 
set this up is one of those psychopaths who gets his jollies waiting around for 
the big bang."

Ellison nodded and started towards the rest of his men, Blair tagging along in 
his wake. Halfway there he stopped and put a hand on Blair's chest. "I think 
you're gonna sit this one out, coach."

"What? Why? The bomb's been disarmed. You *know* I won't get in the way, man." 
Blair reached up and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Not this time. Listen, Sandburg, this kind of sweep is very intense. You get 
separated from us for any reason and you may wind up getting shot by one of the 
good guys."

Blair swallowed. "Not cool. But, hey, take it easy. Don't go zoning yourself out 
when I'm not there to help you."

Jim watched Blair jog back to Simon and Carolyn and flash him a thumb's up. Then 
he continued on to brief his team.

Carolyn was looking worriedly at the dark clouds chasing each other across the 
mid-morning sky. "If we're going to find anything outside we'd better do it 
fast, sir. I don't trust the weather to hold all day."

"Do you want an extra pair of eyes?" Blair volunteered hopefully. "I am familiar 
with the way this kind of detail-oriented search works. I was on this one 
expedition..."

"What do you think, Simon?" Carolyn interrupted before Blair got on a roll. "I 
don't mind, especially if it helps us get done before the rain destroys the 
site."

"I'll leave it up to you, Carolyn. If you're sure he won't get in the way," 
Simon still looked skeptical.

Blair half turned away and threw his hands up in exasperation. "If you don't 
want my help, Simon, just say so. I'll go sit in Jim's truck until he can get me 
‘out of your way'." He strode off in the direction of Ellison's big blue Ford 
pick-up parked on the perimeter of the emergency vehicles. 

"Simon, he was trying to help," Carolyn said tactfully. She watched Blair try 
the truck doors only to find them locked. He didn't even look back at the two of 
them; he just slumped against the back fender. "You didn't have to hurt his 
feelings."

"He is a *civilian*. There are some situations I don't feel comfortable about 
sending him into."

"You have to stop treating him like a child, Simon. Hasn't he proven himself 
enough times in the field while helping Jim? And he's right, he has been trained 
to do this sort of work. He's an anthropologist. What do you think they do? Walk 
onto a site with a big vacuum cleaner?" She paused and took a deep breath. "We 
really don't have time for this conversation right now. I'll see if he still 
wants to help me. *You* can apologize later."

Looking chagrined, Simon watched her approach Sandburg. She spoke to him 
briefly, put her arm around his shoulders, and led him to join the rest of the 
forensics team. Simon shook his head and went to update the no doubt waiting and 
anxious president of DT.



"We didn't find a damned thing anywhere," Ellison growled at Simon. "If the sick 
son of a bitch who set this up is still on the grounds, he's not in any of the 
buildings."

"Yeah, but there are plenty of trees, bushes, and parked vehicles all over the 
premises he could use as a bolt hole. *If* he's still here," Simon theorized.

Ellison rubbed a hand over his close cropped hair, "Something about this whole 
set up is really bugging me."

Simon perked up, "You getting something with those sentinel senses, Jim?"

Ellison smiled and shook his head. Simon was the only person other than Blair 
who knew about the sentinel abilities but he still didn't completely understand 
what they were; he tended to think they were like a high-powered ESP function. 
"It's more like one of those itches at the back of my neck. Nothing I can quite 
put my fin---" he was interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. "Ellison."

"It's Taggert. Jim, you'd better get over here. Building 17."

"What was that all about?" Simon asked as Jim put his phone away. "Why call you 
instead of me?"

"Let's go find out," Jim started jogging in the direction of Building 17.

There was a tight knot of people huddled in the middle of the road between 
Buildings 16 and 17 but as Simon and Ellison approached they parted to let them 
through. Carolyn and Taggert were kneeling over an inert body and Jim's heart 
leapt into his throat as he recognized the brightly colored vest, tatty jeans, 
and hill climber hiking boots on the still form. "Sandburg!" He sprinted the 
rest of the way.

Carolyn stood as he arrived and gently held him back. Simon continued on and 
dropped to his knees next to Blair. "He's alive and an ambulance is on the way."

"What the hell happened here, Carolyn?" Jim's eyes were blazing blue fire as he 
pushed past her and knelt across from Simon. There was blood trickling from a 
gash on Sandburg's scalp and for a brief moment he zoned out on the bright 
redness of it in contrast to the general grayness of the day. 

"Jimmy, getting mad at him - or at me, for that matter - isn't going to help." 
Carolyn's voice brought him back to reality. "David Penhaligon saw the whole 
thing. He thinks it was a deliberate run down and that he may have gotten some 
pictures of the vehicle." She searched through the crowd surrounding Blair's 
crumpled shape and spotted the long brown hair of the man she was looking for. 
"Davy, come here for a minute!"

The forensics photographer was a newcomer to her team; nervous but competent. He 
sidled shyly over to Carolyn's side and glanced down at the angry Ellison 
through worried brown eyes. "You called me, ma'am?" he asked in a soft Scottish 
accent and looked even more nervous as Simon stood up from examining Blair to 
join their small group.

"Tell Detective Ellison what you saw, Davy," Carolyn prompted as Ellison stood 
up brushing his hands on his jeans.

"Yes, ma'am. I was stood over by where they took the bomb away taking pictures 
of the impressions in the dirt. Blair was helping me to make sure I got shots of 
everything but he thought he saw something over by the base of the building 
across the road. We ran over for a quick look see and he was crossing the road 
on his way to find someone to come and mark what we had found when I heard the 
motor roaring up from behind him. He tried to get out of the way, but I swear 
the driver deliberately aimed for him. I brung up my camera and started taking 
photos of the car just before it ran him down. I think I may have gotten one 
with the license plate of the car." He stopped as the ambulance and paramedics 
screamed onto the road making further conversation impossible for the moment. 
They didn't waste any time before they were kneeling next to Sandburg and 
carefully looking him over.

"What kind of car was it, David?" Simon asked once the noise had abated.

"It was light blue. One of those new swoopy Ford cars you see on telly all the 
time."

"A Taurus," Ellison said. "Man, those things are all over the road. If we don't 
get a plate on it, we may as well try to arrest the wind for all the good it 
will do us."

"I did my best, Detective Ellison," Penhaligon defended himself to the much 
larger man.

"I know you did, Davy," Jim's expression finally lightened. "Let's wait and see 
what your magic camera picked up for us."

The paramedics had completed their initial examination of Blair. After putting a 
brace on his neck, they carefully slid him onto a back board keeping him in 
almost exactly the same position he had fallen in. Only when they were certain 
Blair wouldn't be jostled did they strap him onto a gurney and hook him up to 
their portable monitoring machines. As they loaded him into the ambulance, one 
of the paramedics said, "We're taking him to Cascade General. Would anyone like 
to ride with him in case he comes to?"

"Do you need me here, Simon?" Jim asked as he started towards into the waiting 
ambulance.

Simon was well aware that Ellison's question was rhetorical. Nothing he could 
say was going to get Jim to stay. "Go. I'll try to come by the hospital as soon 
as I'm free."

"Thanks, Simon." Jim climbed in and settled out of the way but as close to Blair 
as he could get.

"Jim!" Carolyn stuck her head inside. "Your keys! I'll bring your truck to the 
hospital for you!" Ellison yanked the keys out of his pocket and tossed them 
seconds before the doors slammed shut.

Before the vehicle started moving the paramedics were working on Sandburg again. 
Jim winced as they sliced through Blair's shirt and jeans to better see the 
damage done by his impact with the car. His entire left side was mottled and 
already starting to show signs of bruising. It was easy to see that once the 
black and blue marks came out they would be spectacular and very painful.

One of the men gently ran his fingers over Sandburg's exposed ribs and Blair 
moaned, twitching away from the pain. "Possible break?" he asked his colleague.

The other man nodded and felt around the swollen left ankle. "At least a sprain 
down here; possible stress fracture. Contusions all over his thigh. The car must 
have been going at a pretty good clip when it hit him."

"He gonna be okay?" Jim asked as he brushed a dark curl of hair away from 
Blair's gravel- scraped cheekbone.

"Hard to say without x-rays," one of the men answered. "If he doesn't have any 
internal injuries or damage to his spine, he'll be fine. Barring, of course, the 
discomfort he'll be in for a while until the bruising starts to go down. Don't 
worry. We're almost at the hospital."

Little spider feet danced across Ellison's nerves. Spinal injuries? Damn! He 
hadn't even considered that. The thought of the energetic Sandburg confined to a 
wheelchair - or worse - for the rest of his life made Jim feel more than a bit 
nauseous. Blair coughed and whimpered. His eyes fluttered open and closed again 
as a wave of dizziness assaulted him.

Jim stroked up and down his partner's right forearm, tickling the palm of his 
hand. "Blair? Can you hear me? It's Jim."

"Jim?" Blair's voice was so soft only the sentinel abilities allowed Ellison to 
hear him. Keeping his eyes closed, he asked, "What the *hell* happened?" Another 
cough and a moan. A small smile fleeted across Ellison's lips. This was the 
Blair he knew. "Don't try to talk, Chief. You got hit by a car. We're taking you 
to the hospital. No arguments, okay?" This time when Jim's hand stroked down 
into Blair's, his fingers were taken into a cold, clammy squeeze and not 
released. They were still holding hands when the ambulance screamed up to the 
emergency entrance of Cascade General.



Ellison checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. Upon their 
arrival an hour ago, Blair had been whisked immediately to the x-ray department 
and Jim had been asked to wait by the nurse's station and fill out the paperwork 
necessary for Blair's treatment. The forms had taken almost twenty frustrating 
minutes as Jim realized just how little he knew about his loftmate's personal 
life. He ended up putting his own name in the spaces for "Next of Kin" and 
"Emergency Contact" and the speculative look on the admitting nurse's face had 
him blushing furiously. Even in his discomfort he was not about to admit to the 
snotty bitch that he didn't know who Sandburg's real family were. Since then he 
hadn't seen any of the team who had rushed Blair away and no one had given him 
any idea of what was going on or what they had diagnosed.

A quiet step in the hallway had him looking up hopefully. His face fell when he 
saw only Carolyn. "Well, that's a fine greeting, Jimmy." She handed him the keys 
to his truck.

"Sorry, Carolyn. I was expecting the doctor with some news."

She frowned. "They should know something by now. I can't believe they left you 
hanging for so long."

"Unless there were some serious hidden injuries and he's in surgery," Jim 
whispered.

Carolyn patted his knee, "I'll see if I can find something out." As she walked 
to the admitting desk, Jim focused his hearing to pick up what was said. Carolyn 
loomed over the nurse, "I'm with the Cascade Police Department. One of our 
advisors, Blair Sandburg, was brought in here an hour ago. Can I speak to 
someone about his condition?"

"Just a moment, ma'am. I'll contact his doctor." Even without his sentinel 
abilities Ellison had no trouble seeing the way the ‘ma'am' had irked his ex-
wife.

"You do that. I'll be waiting with Detective Ellison." Carolyn's heels tapped 
noticeably harder on her way back to the waiting area. "Sweet isn't she?" she 
hissed sarcastically.

"As a basket of lemons," Ellison agreed. "And I thought it was just my winning 
personality." Carolyn chuckled and put her hand on his arm in silent support.

A few moments later a young looking doctor approached the waiting couple. 
"You're the people waiting for word on Blair Sandburg?" At Jim's nod he 
continued in an unmistakable Australian accent, "I'm Doctor Cameron. I didn't 
mean to keep you waiting so long, but we had an emergency asthmatic patient come 
in right after we got your colleague settled into his room. It took a while to 
get him stabilized before his own doctor showed up to take over."

"How's Blair?" Jim cut right to the chase.

"He's a very lucky young man even if he may not agree for a week or so. 
Detective, is it?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm Detective Jim Ellison and this is Lieutenant Carolyn 
Plummer."

Cameron smiled and shook their hands. "Your friend is gonna be fine but it'll 
take a bit of time for everything to heal up properly. The most serious damage 
is on his left side: sprained ankle, bruised ribs, a bit of muscle damage around 
his shoulder. He's pretty much bruised all over and has a concussion. We're 
going to want to keep him here overnight to monitor the concussion but you 
should be able to take him home sometime tomorrow as long as he takes it easy 
for a few days."

Jim sagged back in his seat and rubbed his hands over his face in relief. 
Carolyn squeezed his arm gently and asked, "Would it be possible to see him?"

"I don't see why not. We moved him to his own room - ah number 357 - a little 
while ago. We had him under sedation for the examination so he may not be awake 
yet. But let's go see, shall we?"

As Cameron led them down the hall toward the bank of elevators he pulled his 
shoulder length blond hair free of it's band and shook it loose. "God, that 
feels good. I've been on duty for eighteen hours what with one thing and another 
and as soon as I'm done here I get to go home!"

"Don't let us keep you, doctor," Carolyn said. "I think we can manage to find 
our way around."

"It's okay. I wanted one last look in on him before I left to make sure he's 
resting comfortably."

The elevator deposited them on the third floor and Doctor Cameron led them down 
another corridor to the room at the end of the hall. Opening the door quietly, 
he ushered Jim and Carolyn in before him.

Blair was lying on his back and propped up slightly by the adjustable bed. "When 
he's resting at home, you'll want to keep him propped up with pillows or 
something until the bruising goes down on his ribs. With any injury that close 
to the lung there's always a slight chance that pneumonia will develop and the 
elevation helps to alleviate the possibility," Doctor Cameron explained in a 
whisper.

"What about the rest of it?" Ellison asked just as quietly as he approached the 
bed for a closer look. His sensitive hearing told him Blair's respiration and 
heartbeat were only slightly irregular probably due to the medication.

Cameron eased the bedding down to Sandburg's waist. There were bandages wrapped 
around his ribcage and the doctor took Jim's hand to show him how tightly they 
were wound. "When he takes a bath--no showers until that ankle is stronger--
you'll need to put this gear back on him. Try to keep the tension at about this 
level. It's snug but will prevent him from doing any more damage to the tissues 
surrounding the ribs. I'll also leave a sling for him to wear if his shoulder 
becomes too painful. He's not going to want to move it around too much in any 
case since that will aggravate the ribs, too. The ankle is just a sprain. Ice it 
and keep it elevated as much as possible. Let him walk around a little. He'll 
know when he's had enough. If he has any trouble breathing, any sharp pains, get 
him back here immediately. The x-rays didn't show any cracks or breaks but 
sometimes hairline fractures are so small they won't show up."

Jim had been calculating the degree of bruising he could see and ouched silently 
for his friend. "Is there any medication I should get for him? Pain pills?"

"Oops! Almost forgot!" Cameron grinned sheepishly. "I was going to leave the 
prescription at the desk for when you sign him out but I might as well give it 
to you so you can get it filled right away. And I'll give you my beeper number 
in case you have to bring him back in."

"Thanks, doc," Jim nodded taking the prescription and the doctor's card and 
shoving them into his wallet.

"If there's nothing else, I'll be shoving off. Good luck, detective." Cameron 
left silently on his rubber soled shoes.

"Are you done dissecting the corpse, guys?" Blair's drowsy whisper startled Jim 
and Carolyn. Dopey blue eyes looked up at them from beneath wavering dark 
lashes.

"Chief? How long you been awake?"

"Long enough to know that I'm not going to croak even though I wish that I had." 
Blair coughed then gasped as his ribs protested the sharp movement. 

Carolyn spotted a pitcher of water on the stand next to the bed and poured him a 
cup full. She gently supported Blair's head so he could take a drink without 
moving around too much. "Better?" she asked lowering him back to the pillows.

"Much. Thanks." His eyes drifted closed. It was so hard to stay awake and 
focused on what was going on in the room around him. From far away he thought he 
heard Jim talking but couldn't make out the words. 

"Blair?!" Suddenly Jim's voice was louder and Blair opened his eyes to find his 
partner leaning right over him, inches away from his face. He smiled and blinked 
slowly.

Ellison was pinned by the unwitting sensuality of the gaze directed at him. He 
knew it was the drugs racing around in Sandburg's system that made his eyes look 
so soft and vulnerable but that didn't stop his agitated nerves from sending his 
heart rate into hyperdrive. He willed his breathing to steady down with a 
concentration that would have pleased Sandburg had he been alert enough to 
appreciate it and asked his question again. "Do you remember anything about the 
car that hit you? The driver?"

Blair slowly shook his head. "‘Fraid not, man. Happen'd too fas'." The sedative 
was taking hold again and he was going down hard. "Sorry."

Jim gently patted Blair's right thigh. "It's okay. You get some rest and I'll be 
back to spring you. The doc said you could go home tomorrow provided you have an 
easy night and behave yourself." The warning went unheeded as Blair succumbed to 
the lure of the medication and slid into an easy sleep.

"Come on, Jimmy," Carolyn prompted. "Simon wanted you back at the station as 
soon as we knew Sandburg was okay."

Ellison nodded and slowly followed her to the elevators.



Carolyn didn't say a word when Ellison handed her his keys to let her drive his 
truck to the Police Station. She even held her tongue when he didn't utter a 
sound during the entire trip; he just sat next to her in stone-faced silence. By 
the time they were walking down the hall to Simon's office she had had enough. 
"Jim, it's not your fault."

Ellison stopped in his tracks and glared at her. "He didn't need to be there on 
this one, Carolyn."

She grabbed the front of his jacket. "So what if he didn't? Did he make the 
decision to go along with you on the case or did you ‘force' him?"

The muscles in Jim's jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he found 
his voice. "So what did Simon want to see me about anyway?" Neatly sidestepping 
the issue at hand, he walked around her and straight on into Simon's office.

"How's the kid?" Simon asked.

"Banged up pretty bad. Concussion. Doc is gonna let him go home tomorrow, 
though," Jim responded succinctly and closed the door once Carolyn joined them. 
"Do you have something for me, Simon?"

Ellison slumped into a chair across the desk and Simon raised his eyebrows at 
Carolyn. She shrugged and motioned with her hands to go easy on her ex-husband. 
Ellison didn't even notice the silent communication going on around him and that 
was enough of an indication of his mood to put Simon on alert. "We're still 
waiting for Penhaligon to get the enlargements of his photos to us. But, Jim, 
have you noticed any other possible attempts on Sandburg lately? Or has he 
mentioned any weird things happening to him? From what Penhaligon said, this was 
a deliberate run down."

"He hasn't said anything to me..." Jim started and broke off frowning. "Wait a 
second. He usually gets to the loft before I do if we aren't working together 
and there have been a couple of times he's asked me why I left the windows open 
when it's so cold outside."

"And?" Simon asked.

"I never leave the windows open. The loft is too big and it's too expensive to 
reheat to do anything that dumb."

"So someone's been in there," Simon started jotting notes down.

"It's possible. It would also explain the missing newspapers and the fact that 
both of us have found our mail stacked neatly in the in basket instead of the 
usual jumble that we leave it in. Come to think of it, Sandburg found leftover 
food in the refrigerator that neither of us could remember putting in there a 
week or so ago."

"Haven't you gotten around to putting in any security on that place yet, Jimmy?" 
Carolyn teased. "Even *I* could pick the locks when I lived there and locked 
myself out."

Simon grinned briefly. "None of these incidents are aimed specifically at 
Sandburg, though. And even what happened today affects you almost as much as him 
if not in so spectacular a manner." He punched an internal number on his desk 
phone and barked, "I need information on past perps busted by Jim Ellison who 
may have recently gotten out and I need it yesterday! ... What do you mean not 
until tomorrow morning? ... I thought that area was off limits to personnel with 
food and drink! ... Well, just see that it doesn't! And when you find out who 
did it, I want to see them in my office!"

Ellison was looking mildly amused as Simon slammed the handset into its cradle. 
"Bad news, sir?"

"Some idiot managed to spill a cup of mocha latté down the back of the server 
unit on the records computers. A replacement won't be available until tomorrow. 
But we've got top priority when it gets up and running again." A knock at the 
door stopped the tirade. "Come."

Davy Penhaligon sidled into the office and closed the door again. "I've got the 
enlargements you wanted, sir." He handed over a large folder and backed towards 
the door.

"Hang on, Penhaligon," Ellison ordered. "You're the only one who saw this 
happen. Stick around and explain what we're seeing in the pictures." Penhaligon 
looked at Simon for confirmation and moved in closer to Carolyn at Simon's nod.

Simon opened the folder and they studied the first dozen photos which were 
simply shots of the overall crime scene which was liberally peppered with the 
identifying number cards showing where anything that might be considered 
evidence or a clue had been found. Sandburg was featured in several of them as 
he squatted for a closer look at the ground markers. One of them even caught the 
excitement in Blair's face as he pointed across the road, waving to Penhaligon 
to follow him. Jim smiled briefly at the eager look Sandburg wore, the one Jim 
usually saw at the end of a successful training session with the anthropologist. 
The smile disappeared when Penhaligon pointed out a shadow watching from behind 
the corner of one of the surrounding buildings. Except for that one brief 
glimpse, all of the photos had shown that the two men were alone while they 
worked.

The next set of photos showed a series of bootprints leading along the side of 
the building that the bomb had been found in. "There's no marker here," Carolyn 
observed. "And Sandburg is the one who picked up the prints?"

"Actually," Davy responded, "he saw a glint of sunlight off of a discarded gum 
wrapper and we found the prints when we got there."

"You sure he doesn't want to be a cop, Jimmy?" Carolyn prodded Ellison's arm 
with a fingertip and looked pointedly at Simon.

"Oh yeah," Ellison affirmed and grabbed the third set of pictures. Sandburg was 
in motion in the middle of the street trying to get out of the way of a light 
blue Ford Taurus. Despite the action going on in the photographs, they were 
crystal clear and Ellison took a moment to praise Penhaligon on his work, "You 
did a good job with these, Davy. Nice detail."

"Ta. I thought it might be important at the time," Davy flushed deep red with 
embarrassed pride.

The final few frames showed the car impacting with Sandburg and then speeding 
around the nearest corner out of sight. Jim's fingers clenched in anger and he 
swallowed several times before speaking. "The son of a bitch," he growled under 
his breath.

There was a smaller folder next in the pile. The two enlargements in this one 
were grainier but in the first one showed a clear shot of the license plate of 
the car and the second a fuzzy image of the face of Sandburg's assailant. "Lee 
Brackett!" Simon spat. "Jim, that looks like Lee Brackett!"

"I thought he was supposed to be locked up in a Federal prison," Carolyn said.

"He is," the words were forced between Ellison's gritted teeth. "He'd better 
be."

Simon was on the phone to Records again, "When that computer gets back up, make 
the first check on a Lee Brackett. Federal case ... Yeah, that's the one ... No, 
I don't know where he wound up. If I did, I wouldn't need a computer to tell 
me!" The phone was slammed down again and Simon sighed, getting a grip on his 
temper. He looked at Ellison with haunted eyes, "If Brackett is on the loose, 
he'll be coming after both of you, Jim, and he won't give up this time."

"I'm going back to the hospital, sir. Sandburg needs some protection." Ellison 
was on his feet.

"I'll get a team over there as soon as I can brief them, Jim. And a tail for you 
until we have confirmation. I don't want to lose anyone to this nut case."

"Thanks, Simon." Ellison flew out the door toward the elevators.

Blair was moving his supper around the plate with a singular lack of enthusiasm 
when the door to his room opened. He looked up in sleepy surprise as Jim sidled 
quietly into the room and stood staring at him for a moment. Pushing the food 
away with a grimace he settled into his pillows and said, "Jim, I didn't expect 
to see you again till tomorrow, man. Is something wrong?"

Ellison sat on the bed and pulled the dinner tray back into position over 
Blair's lap. "You should eat, Chief. Get your strength back."

The tray was shoved away with a shudder. "This is *not* food, Jim. This is 
someone's science experiment gone horribly wrong. If I'm getting out tomorrow 
I'll eat then ... I *am* still getting out tomorrow, aren't I? I mean, you're 
not here to pass along any bad news are you, buddy?"

Jim grinned briefly at the desperate, hopeful look on Sandburg's face. "You 
still get to go home tomorrow."

"But there is something wrong. Come on, Jim. What is it?"

Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, Ellison said, "We've seen 
Penhaligon's pictures of the hit and run. We think Lee Brackett's on the loose."

"Brackett!" Blair tried to sit up and fell back on the bed winded and clutching 
his side. "What is that lunatic doing out already?" he gasped past the pain.

"Jesus, Sandburg! Are you okay?" Jim was reaching for the call button beside the 
bed.

Blair's eyelashes were spiked with tears as he tried breathe shallowly. "Can't 
... breathe ... hurts ..." he whimpered.

Jabbing the button several times, Ellison watched helplessly as a nurse ran in 
accompanied by Doctor Cameron. Cameron grinned cheekily at Ellison and said, 
"No, I haven't been home yet. Looks like it's a good thing, though. What 
happened?" He eased Blair into a reclining position and pulled his hands away 
from his side. "I think we need a mild tranquilizer here, nurse," he instructed 
and she departed quickly.

"He tried to sit up too quickly."

Cameron tutted at his patient, feeling around the bandaged area. "I thought I 
warned you about making any sudden moves." Blair closed his eyes and swallowed 
several times but didn't try to reply. The nurse returned and handed the doctor 
a prepared shot which he promptly administered. The tension drained from Blair's 
body and his breathing became a fraction easier. "Let's get you down to x-ray 
for some quick pictures to make sure you haven't damaged anything more, okay?"

"Can I stick around here?" Ellison asked as the nurse called for a gurney.

"Yeah, I don't think it'll take more than 10 to 15 minutes to bring him back up. 
He may be a bit out of it by then with the relaxant, though."

"He's always a bit out of it, doc," Ellison responded and grinned at the semi-
murderous look Blair managed to shoot at him as they wheeled him out of the 
room.

The door was left open and a uniformed police officer stuck his head around the 
door frame a few minutes later. "Detective Ellison? Captain Banks told me to 
report to you. I'm Officer Jack Kramer. My partner and I have been assigned to 
Mr. Sandburg while he's here."

"Where's your partner?"

"Parking the car. I thought one of us should get up here right away. Where is 
Mr. Sandburg?"

"They just took him down to x-ray. He'll be back soon. Did the Captain say 
anything about *my* protection?"

"Not to me, sir. I got the impression he expected to see you back at the 
station." Jim's eyebrows rose and he reached for his cell phone, punching in 
Simon's speed dial code. 

"Banks."

"Ellison here."

"Jim! Did Kramer and Woo make it to the hospital?"

"Yeah. What's this about me going back to the station to pick up my back up?"

"I don't want you going back to the loft, Jim. Brackett's already proven that he 
can get in any time he wants and I'm not going to take chances. Sandburg will be 
out of the hospital tomorrow and then we'll set the two of you up in a safe 
house. I thought you might appreciate some company tonight and was going to 
offer you my spare room."

"Uh -- thanks, Simon. Appreciate it. But what about clothes and stuff for both 
of us?"

"I'll send someone to your place to pack some bags. Do you want anything in 
particular?"

"Not for me, no. But they'd better be careful packing for Sandburg. Nothing too 
snug in the way of clothes. Something like sweat pants would probably be best 
although any pressure on those bruises is gonna be torture for a while."

"You tell him about Brackett?"

"Yeah. He's back in x-ray so we didn't have a chance to make a game plan yet."

"What?!"

"He sat up too fast when I told him. It looks like he may have pulled something. 
They're checking him out to make sure it's nothing more serious than that. 
Listen, as soon as he's settled again, I'll head back to the station. Should I 
pick up anything for dinner? It's the least I can do since you're offering me 
crash space."

Simon chuckled. "Since you're buying, how about grilling some steaks on the 
hibachi and beer. I've got fudge ripple ice cream in the freezer for dessert."

"I thought you were saving that for next time Daryl comes over."

"So, I'll get some more," Simon's reply was tinged with guilt.

"Okay, you're on. I'll tell Sandburg what we're doing and then head back to 
base. Anything new on Brackett?"

"Not until we get our drive unit up and running again. Just be careful out 
there, Jim."

"Thanks, Simon." Jim snapped the cellular unit shut and turned towards the door 
at the sound of footsteps.

Kramer had been joined by his partner, Erika Woo. Next to Kramer's six foot five 
height and muscular build, she looked like a tiny porcelain doll but Ellison 
knew that she was a black belt in karate and one of the best in the department 
with a handgun. She nodded to him in greeting, "Detective Ellison, nice to see 
you again!"

"You know each other?" Kramer asked.

A wicked grin crossed Erika's face. "Oh yes, we do. I kicked his butt in the 
departmental shooting competition last year. Been practicing, Jim? I'd hate to 
have to humiliate you two years in a row," she teased.

"Dream on, Woo," Jim shot back. "Even if you *do* beat me again, you're gonna 
have to work at it."

They were interrupted by the interns wheeling Blair's gurney back into the room. 
As soon as he was hoisted onto the bed, a nurse breezed into the room and, to 
Sandburg's drugged disgust, hooked him up to an IV. "Now, Mr. Sandburg, if you 
pull that out I'm going to be coming in here every couple of hours tonight to 
stick a needle in you so be a good boy and leave it alone."

"Yes, ma'am," Blair mumbled unenthusiastically. As soon as she was gone he shot 
Jim a baleful look and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. "You have 
*got* to get me out of here, man."

"Tomorrow, Chief." He indicated the two uniformed officers, "This is Jack Kramer 
and his partner, Erika Woo. They're gonna be stationed outside your room tonight 
just in case. Okay?" Blair nodded drowsily and yawned. "Did the doc say anything 
about ..." Ellison waved vaguely at Sandburg's bandaged torso.

"He's waiting for the x-rays to develop or something. I guess I'm okay; he sent 
me back here." Blair settled himself a little more. "Now what were you saying 
about Brackett?"

"We think one of Penhaligon's pictures shows Brackett in the car that ran you 
down. Unfortunately, the drive unit of the R and I computer section was attacked 
by a mocha latté so we can't get confirmation until tomorrow."

Blair allowed his eyes to fall shut and tried to slow the sudden trip hammer 
beat of his heart. "What're we gonna do, Jim?" Forcing his eyes open against the 
pull of the drugs pulsing through his system, Blair waited for a response.

"Just relax. Simon and I have come up with a plan of attack. To start with, you 
are gonna rest here overnight. Officers Kramer and Woo will be here for your 
protection."

Blair nodded grimly, still not quite convinced. "What about you, man?"

"Simon offered to let me stay with him tonight." A husky chuckle from Blair made 
Ellison smile as well. "Hey, is it any more unlikely than you and I living 
together?"

"Maybe not," Blair agreed.

"Anyway, I'll be back here to pick you up tomorrow morning and we'll go to the 
station. I think Simon's gonna want some sort of report or statement from you on 
the incident and then we'll be off to a safe house somewhere until Brackett is 
picked up. If it is him. I can't believe the Feds would let him get away from 
them."

"What was that you once told me about the Feds, Jim? That the cure was worse 
than the disease sometimes?"

"Oh yeah. I think Brackett was involved that time, too," Jim responded. He 
slapped Blair gently on his good shoulder and stood up to leave. "You get some 
rest. If you need anything, Kramer and Woo are right outside. If you need to 
talk, you know Simon's number. I'll be here as early as I can in the morning."

"Thanks, man," Blair nodded and lay his head back on the pillows.

Ellison ran into Doctor Cameron out in the hallway. "How do the x-rays look, 
doc?"

"He didn't crack or puncture anything. What probably happened was a muscle spasm 
in his diaphragm. He's got a lot of bruising around that area and the sudden 
movement when he tried to sit up caused the diaphragm to seize up on him. The 
nurse should have put him on an IV containing a mild tranquilizer to bring the 
spasms under control. I've got one more prescription for you to pick for him. 
It's an herbal muscle relaxant. He'll be able to take them more often than a 
normal drug because his system will flush out what he doesn't use."

"He'll appreciate that. He's not fond of putting ‘unnatural' things in his body 
and I'm probably gonna have to fight with him to get him to take the other pain 
killers you prescribed."

"Quite the headstrong lad, isn't he?"

"You don't know the half of it," Jim smiled ruefully. "Listen, he's a bit 
freaked out right now about the guy who may have done this to him. Give him the 
good news and reassure him that he's safe here, will you?"

"No sweat. And I'll see you tomorrow before you take him out of here."

Ellison offered his hand. "Thanks for your help, doc."

Cameron shook his hand, "All part of the service!" He headed down the hallway 
towards Blair's room.



Jim went over his mental checklist as he drove to the hospital the next morning. 
Carolyn had been kind enough to take the list he'd made up and an armed escort 
to the loft to pack overnight bags for himself and Blair. Knowing that Blair 
wouldn't be too mobile for the first couple of days out of the hospital, he made 
sure to include CD's, video tapes, favorite books, and Sandburg's ever present 
notebooks in addition to toiletries and several pairs of loose fitting sweats. 
His own list included the basic necessities and a few changes of clothes. He 
figured he'd be spending a good portion of his time helping Blair in the 
beginning and by the time Blair was able to maneuver well enough on his own they 
would be in a comfortable routine which would allow him to improvise his own 
leisure time activities.

He also called the University and explained Blair's absence to his department 
head. To avoid the inevitable questions, he told the secretary that Blair had 
been involved in an accident and would be recuperating at home for a week or so. 
The insincere platitudes he received from the woman had cost him his appetite 
much to Simon's annoyance since Simon had spent the majority of the morning 
whipping up his favorite omelets for the two of them.

The gods were smiling on him and gave him a parking spot close to the hospital 
entrance. He grabbed one of the sweat suits and a pair of sneakers from Blair's 
stuff, then dumped the overnight bags in the back seat, locked up, and whistled 
on his way through the doors. The first voice he heard belonged to Doctor 
Cameron, "Detective Ellison! Here to spring the prisoner so early?"

"Don't you ever go home?" Ellison quipped in return before turning serious for a 
moment. "So. How is he?"

"If I said as well as could be expected, would that sound too hackneyed?"

"That good, huh?"

"I'll let you be the judge of that when you see him. Come to my office for a 
second." Ellison followed him to a cluttered room and sat in the only chair that 
didn't have books and folders piled on it on the visitors side of the desk. 
Cameron didn't waste any time. "I gave him the basic do's and don'ts yesterday 
and I think his return to the x-ray room made him all too aware of the fact that 
I wasn't just blowing smoke. You got the prescriptions I handed you yesterday?" 
As Jim nodded, Cameron pulled a paper sack out of a drawer. "I've put together 
some extra bandages and a pot of liniment you can use to rub on the bruises to 
help draw them out and make them stop aching sooner. Do you have any other 
questions for me?"

"Not that I can think of but I've got your card if something comes up once we 
get to our safe house. Is there a beeper number or will that number send me to a 
messaging service?" Jim tucked the supplies into his jacket pockets.

"It's a messaging service. Just leave a return number and I should call you 
within half an hour unless we have a rush on here. But I *will* get back to you 
eventually. Here. Sign these release forms and you'll be all set." He handed Jim 
a clipboard.

"Okay." Jim signed all of the forms. "I guess I'd better go get him before he 
starts climbing the walls. Thanks for all your help, doc."

"No sweat, mate." Cameron ushered him out of the office.

Jim was whistling again as he jogged down the third floor corridor. Kramer and 
Woo smiled and waved him into the room. The whistle died as he caught his first 
sight of Blair. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent in the harsh 
hospital lighting and the scrapes and bruises stood out in stark contrast. His 
eyes were puffy and swollen with dark circles indicating lack of sleep. "I hate 
to tell you this, Chief, but you look like shit."

"Tell me something I don't know, man. Can I get out of here?"

"You sure you're up to it?"

"The sooner I'm out, the better I'll be, believe me."

"If you say so," Jim muttered under his breath and dropped the sweats on the 
bed.

Watching Blair sit up and move to the edge of the bed was an excruciating 
process and Jim wondered again whether he was making the right decision. He 
wasn't about to argue, though, and moved to offer assistance. Blair shrugged him 
off at first but at the twinge of pain that shot through his shoulder he said, 
"I'm sorry I'm in such a pissy mood, Jim, I didn't sleep too well last night and 
I'm hurting like hell. Sorry."

"I understand. Would you like some help?"

"Yeah, man, thanks."

Ellison removed Blair's hospital gown with all the gentleness he could muster 
but even the soft brush of cloth over some of the worst bruises had Sandburg 
flinching away. Once the sweat shirt was on he stopped to let Blair get his 
breath back. The younger man had moaned only once when Jim had had to raise his 
left arm into the sleeve but his face had gone gray and was filmed with sweat. 
"That was the hard part, Chief. It's down hill from here."

Blair nodded and said, "Let's get it over with, man."

Jim picked up the pants and eased them on each leg up to the knees. He knew that 
Sandburg would not be able to put his own socks or shoes on and performed that 
service as well leaving the left one untied to accommodate the bandaging on his 
ankle. "You're gonna have to stand up for the home stretch."

"I was afraid you were gonna say that." Blair took a deep breath, leaning on 
Ellison until he was able to balance on his own, and Jim quickly pulled the 
pants the rest of the way up.

"Even if the hospital allowed it you couldn't make it to the car on your own." 
Ellison carefully settled Blair back on the bed. "I'll be right back." He 
returned moments later pushing a wheelchair, "Your chariot awaits, m'lud."

"Very funny." Blair limped two steps to the chair and settled with a sigh of 
relief to let Ellison convey him to the car.



As Jim parked in the station garage, he looked at the exhausted bundle sleeping 
in his passenger seat. It was a shame to have to wake him but Simon was waiting 
on them. "Come on, Chief, rise and shine."

"Drop dead, Jim," Blair mumbled, raking his right hand through his hair.

"You slept all the way here. Do you feel *any* better?"

"I'd have to be dead to feel better, okay?"

"My. We're cranky, aren't we?" Jim tried to lighten the mood. The corners of 
Blair's mouth quirked up and he mouthed ‘touché' back. Jim grinned, "Let's go up 
to see Simon and we'll make arrangements to get us out of sight for a while. Let 
me put your sling on and we'll take it slowly."

Even moving at Blair's snail-like pace, the anthropologist was trembling with 
fatigue and ready to collapse when they left the elevator. Ellison guided him to 
the chair behind his desk and called Simon's office. "We're here, sir. As soon 
as Sandburg takes a breather we'll be in your office."

"Whenever you're ready, Jim. I'm just going through the data R and I pulled for 
us this morning."

"It should only be a minute, Simon," Jim hung up and gave Blair an appraising 
once over. "You know, Chief, all you have to do is say the word and I'll take 
you back to the hospital. You'll get round the clock body guards and the doctors 
are right there if you're feeling bad."

"Jim, the hospital is the reason I'm so wiped. Between the duty nurses coming in 
to check on me every hour during the night to make sure I hadn't expired and the 
pain every time I tried to move a different part of my body to get more 
comfortable, I'd be surprised if I managed a total of an hour's sleep last 
night. And the food? I wouldn't even have fed it to the kong-sized rats in my 
old warehouse, man. I thought torture was illegal in Cascade."

Ellison still looked skeptical but Sandburg seemed lucid enough and was the best 
judge of how horrible he was feeling. "Ready to beard the Captain in his den?"

Blair glanced at his watch and made a face. "Can you get me some water or coffee 
or something? I forgot to take the muscle relaxant before you picked me up."

Jim returned quickly with a large cup of water and watched him choke the over-
sized capsule down. "How potent are those things? I mean, you're not gonna pass 
out on us in there, are you?"

"I should be okay. The pain pills are what have the potential to knock me out 
and I shouldn't need one of those until he's done with us." 

Sandburg made it to his feet under his own steam. Jim picked up the half 
finished water and his own coffee cup in his right hand and offered his left arm 
for Blair to lean on as they traversed the distance to Simon's office.

Whatever Simon had been going to say in greeting died on his lips at his first 
sight of Blair. "Jesus, Sandburg! Are you sure..."

"He's sure, Simon," Jim cut in and steered Blair to the most comfortable chair 
in the room. Once he was settled, Ellison handed him his water and sat himself 
down. "Anything interesting in the R and I files?"

"Interesting would be one way of putting it." Simon had a sour expression on his 
face. "Brackett escaped 10 days ago during a transfer from the local Federal 
prison to one in Washington, DC. Apparently they found out he had connections to 
some unsolved break-ins in the Pentagon and wanted to bring him up on charges 
there to add to his indiscretions here in Cascade."

"And they didn't bother to tell us?" Jim's voice rose in anger. "I guess it 
never occurred to them that he just might come after the guys who put him in 
prison in the first place."

"I don't know what happened, Jim," Simon said calmly. "But they've sent three 
teams to Cascade to track him down now that they know where he landed. They do 
agree that you and Sandburg would be best gotten out of the way until his 
recapture."

Ellison leaned forward. "I've got a friend from my days in Vice who has a 
vacation house on one of the islands out in the Sound. It's got phones, 
electricity, and all the other basic necessities. The only down side is the fact 
that it's so isolated. If we have any problems out there, it'll take a while for 
help to arrive."

Simon considered the option for a moment. "Do you think your buddy would let you 
borrow it on such short notice?"

"I can call him and find out. Make sure the electricity is turned on. Have him 
get some food and supplies in for us before we get there. He shouldn't have a 
problem as long as we reimburse him for everything."

"If he agrees, we'll arrange to take you out after it gets dark tonight. But I 
want you to set up a regular check in schedule with either myself or one of the 
people in communications before you go."

Ellison nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Was there anything else?"

"Uh, yeah. Sandburg?"

Blair sat up in his chair, trying in vain to look a little more alert than he 
felt. "Yeah, Captain?"

"We got a pretty detailed statement from David Penhaligon on your accident. Is 
there anything you might want to add that you and he didn't discuss while you 
were working together?"

"Not that I can think of. And I didn't really get a good look at the car or the 
driver. I was a bit preoccupied."

"Simon," Jim broke in. "I assume someone ran the license number of the car?"

"For all the good it did us. A man identified as Brackett rented it from the 
airport and paid cash. He told them he was bringing it back the same day so he 
didn't leave a contact address. I had a forensics team go over the car but it 
had already been cleaned out so there was nothing left for us to find. He's 
good."

"Let's hope he's not *too* good," Ellison said. 

"Or alternately we can hope he's so pissed at us he's going to start making the 
kind of mistakes that will get him caught sooner rather than later," Blair 
added.

"Amen," Simon agreed. "Do you want to help set up the surveillance on the loft 
or was there something else you needed to take care of before the two of you 
disappeared, Jim?"

"I don't think there was anything else. The only thing I need to do is finish my 
report on yesterday but I can do that in less than an hour. Then I'll make the 
arrangements for the house." He looked at Blair who was slumped in his chair. 
"What are we going to do with you, Chief? You want to lie down and rest 
somewhere?" A funny look passed across Sandburg's face and Jim watched the blood 
drain from his cheeks. "Blair? You okay, buddy?"

"I -- uh," Blair swallowed rapidly. "Jim, I don't feel so good. I think I'm 
gonna..."

That was Ellison's cue to move and move quickly. He scooped Blair out of the 
chair as gently as he could and bolted through the Major Crimes bullpen. "Coming 
through!" he shouted, warning people out of his way. Fortunately the men's room 
was directly across the hall from Major Crimes. Jim deposited Blair on his feet 
right outside the first cubicle and let him make his own way to the toilet. As 
the sounds of painful retching filled the small room, Jim busied himself by 
grabbing a handful of paper towels and running them under cold water.

Blair flushed the toilet and tottered out to slump against the wall next to the 
sinks; his whole body was trembling in reaction and his hands shook noticeably 
as he pushed his hair back behind his ears. Jim ran the first cold towels over 
Blair's face and hands and grabbed a few more to press against the nape of his 
neck. "Whoa. Thanks, man," Blair mumbled as he began to relax.

"That does it. You're going back to the hospital."

"No I'm *not*," Blair protested. "Jim, I told you I got zero sleep last night, I 
couldn't eat the rotten food they had in there and now I'm a little stressed out 
and doped to the eyeballs. Is it any wonder I got sick? If you make me go back, 
this is only gonna to get worse." Ellison eyed him skeptically and Blair tried 
to convince him he wasn't lying. "Listen, I actually feel better now that's out 
of my system, okay?"

Simon popped his head in the door, "Everything okay in here, Ellison?"

Jim sighed. "Blair seems to think so, sir."

"I see. What's the story, Sandburg?" Blair repeated what he had just told Jim. 
"It's your call, boys," Simon left the decision up to them.

"Okay, Chief," Jim finally capitulated. "But you stay where I can keep an eye on 
you which means for now you camp out on the sofa in Simon's office while we take 
care of some business. Got it?" Blair nodded and dried his face, hands, and 
neck. "Now, can you make it back on your own? You're no light weight, you know."

Blair chuckled, "You'd never know that by the way you hauled my butt in here, 
man." He tossed the used paper towels in the garbage and said, "Any chance of 
getting some soup and something to drink? I'm starting to feel hungry."

Ellison made a sour face but Simon grinned and said, "I'll send Rhonda out for 
something."



"Hey, Sandburg, you okay?"

Blair used his good arm to steady himself against the upward surge of another 
wave and considered Jim's question. He'd spent a very restful day sleeping on 
Simon's couch, eating when he woke up, and generally allowing his body to start 
healing itself. Apart from a vague sense of light-headedness due to the remnants 
of his concussion and the roll of the ferry on the Sound, he felt much better 
than he had when Jim picked him up from the hospital. "I'm okay, man. Why do you 
ask?" The van they were sitting in lurched again and in the stark overhead light 
Blair watched Jim's face blanch. "Maybe I should be asking *you* that question."

Jim swallowed a few times. "Fine. I-I'm fine."

"You're seasick!"

"Don't be ..." Ellison swallowed again, "ridiculous." He pounded on the front 
wall of the compartment and a small panel slid open. "Any idea how much longer 
this is gonna take, Woo?" he asked.

"I think we're still about fifteen, twenty minutes out, Jim," she replied, "The 
storm that's on its way in isn't making it any easier on us."

"Wonderful. Thanks." The panel slid shut and Ellison closed his eyes and leaned 
his head against the wall. "Just great."

Blair's mouth twitched at the corners. As much as he'd like to get all the 
mileage he could out of this incident, Jim had gone above and beyond the call of 
friendship since he'd been run down by Brackett and deserved better than to be 
the butt of a few bad jokes. Seeking to divert the other man from his misery, 
Blair nudged his bulging overnight bags with his toe. "So, uh, Jim. Dare I ask 
what's packed in these?"

"Huh?" Jim cracked one eye open.

"The suitcases, man. What did you pack for me?"

"I didn't. Carolyn did. Simon didn't want to chance Brackett catching me at the 
loft. I wrote up a list and Carolyn volunteered to pack everything up. If she 
found what I asked for of yours, you should have clothes and toiletries in one 
bag and stuff to keep you entertained while you convalesce in the other."

This time Blair smiled openly. Definitely above and beyond the call. "Remind me 
to thank her when we get back."

"I think you owe here more than just thanks, Chief. I think it was very brave of 
her to go rummaging through your room. Never know what might be lurking in there 
on any given day."

"Oh, ha ha," Blair grinned.

There was a slight forward lurch and the panel slid open again. "Welcome to your 
temporary home, gentlemen. They'll be letting us off this tub shortly and we'll 
whisk you to your secluded vacation spot forthwith," Woo cracked with a smile. 
Jim snorted and reached up to close the hatch on her grin.

The drive to the house took ten minutes and it was another ten on top of that 
before Kramer opened the doors. "The place is clean, guys. Come on out."

Ellison tossed the overnight bags to Kramer before helping Blair down to the 
uneven dirt driveway. Kramer picked up Blair's bags leaving Jim to see to his 
own carryall and get Sandburg inside with no mishaps.

Woo met them in the entranceway just as the wind kicked up a notch higher and 
large raindrops began to fall from the midnight dark sky. "Listen you two, if we 
don't get a move on back to the boat, we are gonna be stuck here tonight 
sleeping in the van," she grimaced.

"Go." Ellison steered her to the door. "I'll make sure we're secure and call in 
before we settle for the night."

Kramer hustled his partner out the door with a parting, "Watch your backs," as 
Ellison closed and locked the door behind them.

"Nice place your friend has here, Jim," Blair was standing at the end of the 
entranceway looking into a sunken living room full of rustic looking, heavy wood 
furniture. There was a big screen television in one corner and a state of the 
art stereo system took up half of the far wall.

Ellison had all of their bags with him as he strode past Blair down the hallway 
leading to the bedrooms. "We can have a good look around tomorrow, Chief, but 
I'm beat. Are you gonna be able to sleep tonight?"

"Once I take those knock-out pills Dr. Cameron prescribed I should be good for 
at least eight hours," Blair replied following him.

After checking in all three of the bedrooms, Ellison tossed his carryall on the 
bed of the one nearest the main area of the house. He deposited Sandburg's bags 
in the enormous master bedroom at the back saying, "You only get this room 
because the bathroom's right here in case you need to get up in the middle of 
the night. If you weren't so feeble and decrepit I'd probably make you sleep out 
on the sofa so you wouldn't damage the furniture." Jim laughed and dodged the 
playful slap his friend aimed at him. "Seriously though, Sandburg, if you need 
something just yell."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair replied earnestly. He reached out and squeezed Ellison's 
left bicep. "Thanks for everything."

Ellison nodded and headed back down the hallway to the phone he'd spotted in the 
living room. Dialing up a number he knew as well as his own he only waited for a 
short time before the communications operator picked up. "Cascade PD 
Communications Center, Officer Dorward speaking."

"Dan! Jim Ellison here. I'm making my first check in from the safe house. It's 
12:17 a.m. so we'll make the next one around 8 a.m. and then every two hours 
from 8:00 until we decide to crash for the night. Let Simon know that the house 
has been checked out as secure and Kramer and Woo left this location 
approximately 15 minutes before this check in."

"Will do, Jim. Anything else?"

"Nope, that's it. Thanks, Dan."

"Your call has been logged in at 12:17 hours, detective. Have a pleasant 
evening!"

Ellison hung up and took another ten minutes to go through the house room by 
room inspecting the door and window latches and testing their strength. The wind 
was starting to whip around in earnest now and he spared a sympathetic thought 
for Woo and Kramer on the ferry in the Sound heading back to Cascade. So far the 
rain was still sparse but the sky was threatening to dump buckets at any time.

He heeled his shoes off and stepped into the hall bathroom to use the facilities 
and splash some cold water on his face. Sandburg's light was off when he 
finished and he headed for his own bedroom to get as much sleep as he could. His 
senses were keyed up in response to the potentially dangerous situation they 
were in and every sound in the house seemed magnified a hundred times. If this 
kept up it was going to be a long night. He wasn't about to disturb Sandburg 
just to have him help with his relaxation exercises so he slid into bed forcing 
himself to relax limb by limb and modulating his breathing so he was making no 
more than three inhalations in a minute. His pensiveness eased away and his last 
conscious thought was that maybe this meditation thing wasn't such a bad idea 
after all.



The tantalizing smell of fresh coffee coaxed Blair out of sleep the next 
morning. His nose twitched, his stomach growled loudly, and his bladder began to 
send him insistent messages regarding the last large glass of water he had 
consumed with his pills. As he tried to sit up, a sharp pain stabbed through his 
ribs forcing him back down with a groan. That seemed to be the signal for every 
other bruised portion of his anatomy to set up a chorus of aches and another 
involuntary moan passed his lips. Footsteps heralded Ellison's arrival with a 
worried frown on his face and a cup of hot coffee in each hand. "Sandburg? You 
up?"

"I don't think I'd exactly call it ‘up' at this particular moment in my life," 
Blair responded with a grimace. "Everything stiffened up overnight, man. I can't 
move and it's sort of imperative."

Jim chuckled as he put the coffee down, levered Sandburg to his feet, and gave 
him a gentle shove in the direction of the bathroom. He sat on the bed and took 
a long pull from his own cup waiting to see if he would be needed further. 
Looking up as Blair came back into the room Jim noted his wistful expression and 
the disgust which crossed his face as he ran a hand through his lank and 
lifeless curls. "What's wrong, Chief?"

Blair blushed to the roots of his hair. "To put it bluntly, the last time I 
needed help taking a bath I was four years old...I feel *totally* grungy, man."

Blinking in stunned surprise, Ellison set his coffee cup down. This wasn't 
something he had considered when he'd made his plans to get them away. He 
cleared his throat, "What exactly do you need help with?"

"Um..." Blair was clearly as uncomfortable with this as he was. "Getting in and 
out of the tub for starters... Washing my back..."

Ellison held up a hand to stop him. "Okay, Sandburg, one ‘Jim Ellison Deluxe' 
coming up."

"‘Jim Ellison Deluxe'?" Blair's jaw dropped.

"Uh huh. Carolyn used to love it when I gave her ‘the treatment'." When it 
became obvious that Blair was not going to move without help, Jim led the way 
into the bathroom and began to fill the massive over-sized tub. He found a 
container of bubble bath and poured some in thinking that the silliness of it 
might help to diffuse an increasingly awkward situation.

The room was soon warm and steamy and Jim stripped and unbandaged Sandburg as 
quickly and efficiently as he could. His jaw clenched tightly as the full extent 
of the bruises were revealed from under the bandages. He could actually make out 
the inverted oval imprint of the ‘Ford' logo amidst the dark discoloration as 
his sensitive fingertips brushed across Blair's ribcage and the sprained left 
ankle was swollen to the size of a softball. "We'll put some ice on that as soon 
as you settle down after breakfast."

"Sounds good," Blair agreed and held tightly to Jim's arm to keep as much weight 
off of the ankle as he could while he maneuvered himself into the tub. With a 
little more help he was soon seated with hot, soapy water lapping around his 
chest, his tiny gold nipple ring glinting through the bubbles. 

Jim dutifully picked up the washcloth and sponged down Sandburg's back. He 
watched the lines of pain around Blair's mouth ease imperceptibly and smiled as 
his partner leaned further back and closed his eyes. "Don't go to sleep in 
there," he warned.

"Yes, mom."

"I'll ‘mom' you in a minute. Now is there anything else you want help with 
before I go and see what we have on tap for breakfast?"

"Well..." Blair hesitated.

"Yes?" Jim asked warily.

"I can't move my arm and my hair is driving me nuts."

Jim sighed. "The things I do for you, Sandburg ... Okay ... Slide towards the 
other end of the tub."

"What?!"

"Relax, Chief. I need room to lower your head without straining your ribs too 
much." Blair nodded and shifted as far as he could down the tub. Jim held his 
head steady and lowered it to just above the water. He cupped it in one hand and 
wet Blair's dark locks thoroughly before sitting him back up and grabbing the 
herbal shampoo from Sandburg's toiletries bag.

Taking great care not to splash shampoo in his friend's eyes, or re-open the cut 
on his head, Jim worked the shampoo into a rich, thick lather gently massaging 
the scalp underneath. He scanned the countertop and saw the large water glass 
that Blair had used the night before. Rinsing it out first, he brought it over 
to the tub and filled it with warm, clean water from the faucet and poured it 
over Blair's head. Jim repeated the process several times stroking the water 
logged curls, rinsing them clean while holding Blair's head securely to stop him 
from going completely under the water. 

Ellison found himself enjoying the different sensations as the shampoo washed 
away. He was fascinated by the way the silken strands molded themselves around 
Blair's face and clung to his own fingers as he gingerly combed through it. 
Shaking his head, Jim reached for the toiletries bag again to bring out Blair's 
disposable razor and shaving soap.

Blair didn't even open his eyes as Jim lathered his face and made the first 
stroke up his throat. He sighed and sank deeper into the water. The Jim Ellison 
Deluxe treatment was something he could get used to very quickly. "Mmmm, that 
feels good," he purred totally relaxed. "Hey, don't forget to wash behind my 
ears as long as you're back there, okay, man?"

Jim rinsed the dregs of soap from Blair's face and helped him sit upright. 
Yanking the plug free he held out a huge fluffy bath towel. "Damn!" Sandburg 
cursed. "I can't get up... my ankle!" Blair needed to be lifted physically out 
of the tub. "Ouch! Ow! That hurt!" he complained as the various bumps and 
bruises made themselves known again.

"Hang on while I grab a towel for your hair." Jim pulled a second towel off the 
rack. He began another soothing massage on the dripping hair as Blair patted 
himself dry.

Sandburg sat quietly on the closed toilet as Jim rebandaged his ribs and ankle 
and helped him into a clean pair of sweats. He couldn't hide his astonishment, 
however, when Jim picked up a comb and began to ease the tangles from his hair. 
"More of the ‘Ellison Deluxe'?" he teased gently. 

"Just don't get used to this, your highness. As soon as your butt's out of 
traction, so to speak, this body slave is gonna stage a revolt," Jim responded 
concentrating on his task, but when their eyes met in the slowly clearing mirror 
he was smiling broadly.



The rest of the day passed by quietly for both men. Sandburg sprawled on the 
futon pad that was in the bay window of the living room keeping his ankle 
elevated and iced most of the time while he watched the storm sweeping over the 
island. Every once in a while he would get up and take a slow amble through the 
house to keep his muscles from seizing up again but he would soon return to his 
nest of blankets and cushions, put on the headphones to his personal stereo, and 
pick up whatever papers he was working on at the time.

Ellison investigated the large bookshelves in the den and commandeered the couch 
with his shoes off and his feet up on the cushions to plow through the latest 
Clive Cussler novel. His watch went off every two hours to remind him to check 
in with Simon but other than that, he was perfectly content to sit reading and 
listening to the sounds of the wind and the rain. It was a little disconcerting 
to be spending so much time with Sandburg when they weren't working on police 
work or discovering more facets to his Sentinel abilities. Sure they lived 
together but they also had their own lives off the job and away from Blair's 
studies and classes. Jim was privately amused to be able to see first hand a 
Blair who wasn't racing all over the place like a perpetual motion dynamo.

It was early evening when Blair finally broke the companionable silence. "Oh, 
man, if I look at one more of these theories of Burton's tonight I think my eyes 
are gonna explode!" he rubbed his eyes and stretched some kinks out of his back 
with a slight ‘ouch' as the muscles in his side protested the movement.

"You've been hard at it all day, Chief. Give yourself a break. Watch some TV or 
pick a movie out of the collection. I think he's got almost everything that's 
out by the looks of those cabinets." Jim stood and stretched himself. "How about 
if I put a couple chops under the broiler for dinner, then we can fire up the 
air popper for some popcorn and do the movie in style?"

"Sounds good. Can I do anything to help?"

"You want to pick out a veggie dish? Maybe make up some of that garlic bread we 
had with the spaghetti last week?"

"I can do that."

"And don't forget..."

"...To take your pills," Blair chimed in the last half of the sentence and 
sighed. "I was wrong, you know."

"About what?"

"You're *way* worse than my mother ever was," Blair chuckled following him into 
the kitchen.

As Jim started the meal, he thought back to when he had to fill in the 
admissions papers to get Blair into the hospital. Sometime during their stay at 
the safe house he was going to have to broach the subject of the Sandburg clan 
if only to satisfy his own curiosity. Now was not the time; they'd had a 
wonderfully peaceful day and he didn't want to ruin the mood of the evening just 
to satisfy his curiosity. Especially if it was a delicate subject. Which it very 
well could be given the fact that his housemate hadn't said a word about them 
during the entire time they had lived together.

Focusing his attention back on the present Ellison caught sight of Blair rubbing 
at his temples. "Got a headache?"

"Mmmm," Blair nodded. "But the pain pills should take the edge off it."

"Guess you won't be overdoing the paperwork again tomorrow, huh? Don't forget 
you're probably still concussed. Hell, you only got out of the hospital 
yesterday morning." Jim went into Blair's bathroom and returned carrying one of 
the pain killers.

"I'm just used to being able to get up and do something else while I'm working 
on stuff like this. Let's face it, Jim, there are not a whole lot of options for 
me here." Blair swallowed the drug with a grimace. "Maybe if the weather was 
better I could go sit outside for a while but being cooped up like this is 
starting to get on my nerves."

"I know. I know. It's not exactly a picnic for me either, Chief, but with 
Brackett out there, there's not a whole lot else we can do."

Blair sighed and finished preparing the cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots for 
the vegetable steamer then turned his attention to the loaf of fresh French 
bread. "Uh, Jim? Do you think that tomorrow we could, um -- maybe..." he 
hesitated only briefly before continuing in a rush, "work on some Sentinel 
stuff? Maybe see what affect the storm has on some of your senses?"

Ellison shrugged, "I don't see why not. Now can we get dinner done? I'm 
starved."



"No, Sandburg. I do *not* want to sit through a series of ‘slash them teenager' 
flicks. Pick something else, will ya'?" Jim called in from the kitchen.

Blair slid the first two ‘Halloween' movies back onto the shelf and bypassed the 
‘Nightmare On Elm Street' series. He was about to suggest one or all of the ‘Die 
Hard' movies but did he really want to sit through six hours of Bruce Willis? 
"How about ‘Ghostbusters' and ‘Wayne's World'?"

"‘Ghostbusters' yes. ‘Wayne's World' no. Come on, Chief, do you want me to come 
out there and pick something?"

"Oh god," Blair muttered too softly even for Jim's sensitive hearing to pick up, 
"merc movies." He looked a little further down the line, "Oh cool! ‘Terminator 
2'!"

Jim wandered in with a huge bowl of popcorn, "That sounds good."

"We have a winner!" Blair grinned and slid ‘Ghostbusters' into the VCR before 
joining Jim on the sofa. "It doesn't get much better than this, man. Movies, 
popcorn, a roaring fire, and a good friend to share them with."

The simple statement caught Ellison off guard. It was true that Sandburg was 
generally more demonstrative about his feelings than most but usually when they 
said something about their partnership it was done in jest or with an air of 
kidding around. The way Blair had just said it, implied that his feelings went 
beyond the convenience of having a live Sentinel to study. That perhaps once his 
thesis was done and the Sentinel abilities were under control they might be able 
to continue their relationship on a purely personal level.



Blair was unusually quiet during the first movie. Jim was so used to hearing his 
sarcastic comments about little things which bugged him during anything they 
watched together that the silence was a bit unnerving. The tape finished 
rewinding and as he got up to change it for ‘Terminator 2', he noticed Blair 
rubbing at the back of his neck and squinting in the general direction of the 
ceiling. "Headache still bugging you?" he asked as he ambled into the kitchen 
for the remainder of the popcorn.

"Yeah," Blair confirmed and knuckled his eyes. "I thought it'd go away if I 
relaxed and took the drugs, but it's gotten worse.

Jim sat at the far end of the sofa and crossed his legs, placing a pillow in the 
valley they formed. "Lie down and put your head in my lap," he instructed. 
Blair's raised eyebrows expressed doubts the anthropologist did not voice. "I'd 
like to try a little relaxation technique an old girlfriend taught me." Blair 
still looked skeptical but propped his sprained ankle on the other armrest and 
lay back resting his head on the pillow. Ellison placed his hands gently on 
Sandburg's shoulders and felt the bunching muscles beneath the surface of his 
skin. "Geez, Sandburg, I'm not gonna strangle you. Will you loosen up?"

Blair looked up at him guiltily. "Sorry, man. This is just a bit weird, okay?" 
He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes.

Jim could still see the erratic pulse beating in the hollow of Blair's throat 
but it was gradually slowing down and the weight in his lap increased as Blair 
let himself unwind. "That's better," he said and began to stroke his fingers 
lightly across Blair's forehead. He let his fingers pick up the sensations of 
the smooth skin; the tension lines radiating up from between Blair's eyebrows. 
His fingers drifted lower, down the other man's face towards his cheekbones, and 
he began tracing a slow swathe between the center of Blair's forehead and his 
cheekbones, paying special attention to the shallow depression of his temples. 
"Mmmmmm," Blair rumbled deep in his throat. "Jim, that feels fantastic." His 
words were slurring as he relaxed even further into the tranquilizing sensation 
of the feather-light touches skimming across his skull. Then Jim used his thumbs 
to keep up a gentle rhythm on his temples, but the rest of his fingers drifted 
down through his hair to the corded muscles in his neck and he began a massage 
similar to the one Blair had enjoyed when he'd had his hair washed earlier in 
the day.

Ellison smiled as Blair gave himself up totally to the soothing feeling, going 
completely boneless under his caresses for a full fifteen minutes. "How's the 
head feel?" he eventually asked.

"Hnnnh?" Blair opened eyes which were hazy from relaxation. "Better. Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, Chief. We're not finished." Jim helped Sandburg sit up and 
raised an admonishing finger. "Stay here."

"Uh huh," Blair yawned and refocused on the movie. Nothing really exciting was 
happening yet. Both Terminators had reached the present day and were hunting for 
Sarah Connor's son, but the fireworks wouldn't really start until all three 
characters met up in the mall and the chase was on.

Jim returned carrying towels and a tube of the liniment Dr. Cameron had given 
him. He put them on the floor near the fire and added the futon from the window 
seat to his supplies. "I think part of your problem is that you're wound tighter 
than a main spring. I wanna give you a rubdown with the stuff the doc gave me 
for your bruises. It should also help loosen up the rest of your muscles. You 
probably don't realize it, but when you carry yourself differently or stiffly to 
compensate for injuries of this kind, you can throw everything else out of 
whack, too."

"Okay," Blair agreed easily and helped as much as he could when Jim stripped him 
down to his boxer shorts and unwound the bandages from his chest.

"Now I want you to lay on your stomach first," Ellison instructed as he covered 
the futon with the towels to keep from getting the creme all over the place. 
"Let me know if you're too uncomfortable and I'll grab some pillows to prop you 
up." Blair nodded and accepted help to get himself into a prone position on the 
floor. Jim was careful not to move him too quickly or make him twist suddenly 
and the maneuver was accomplished more or less painlessly. "You want a cushion 
under your head?"

"No. ‘m fine just the way I am," Blair responded resting his chin on his right 
wrist so he could watch the TV while Jim worked on him.

"All right. Let me know if this is too much." At Blair's nod, Jim warmed some of 
the liniment in his hands and began to spread it over Sandburg's back and down 
his arms. To both of their surprise the ointment had a pleasant baby powder 
scent instead of the astringent medicine smell usually associated with muscle 
rubs. They inhaled deeply and sighed at the same time causing Blair to get an 
attack of the giggles. "Ow. Ow!" he whimpered as the spasms hit his abused 
muscles.

Jim kept up his stroking motion making sure all of the excess creme was smoothed 
into Blair's back and shoulders before giving the same attention to his legs. 
"Okay, Chief, we need to get you over on your back. Any suggestions?"

"Um, yeah." Pushing himself up gingerly to lie on his right side, Blair rolled 
to his back with a slight ‘oof' sound.

Ellison chuckled. "*Very* graceful. Ready for the flip side?" Blair nodded and 
closed his eyes, opening them quickly when Jim asked, "What happens if I get 
this stuff around the nipple ring?"

"Once the burning pain subsides, and I can move fast enough to catch you, I'll 
show you just how much it hurt," Sandburg said warningly.

Jim cleared his throat and went to work again, studiously avoiding contact with 
the sensitive area. He paid special attention to the bruising around Blair's 
ribs and the top of his left thigh which had taken the brunt of the impact with 
the car and was pleased to note that he didn't seem to be causing his friend any 
additional discomfort with his ministrations.

Finally finished, Jim wiped his hands on one of the towels. "I'll help you back 
into your sweats after I wash my hands. Should I make up an ice pack for your 
ankle while I'm in the kitchen?"

"I suppose so," Blair replied and stretched as far as he could. "Hey, Jim. I 
really appreciate all the stuff you're doing for me, man."

"Don't mention it, Chief," Jim called from the kitchen. "I'm pretty sure you'd 
do the same for me if the circumstances were reversed. Although I don't know if 
I'd be willing to let you put any of that tribal medicine to use rather than 
good old U. S. hospital issue."

Blair smiled. "Don't knock it, Jim. It may look and smell a bit weird, but that 
‘tribal stuff' is what today's remedies evolved from without all the chemicals."

Jim returned with the ice pack and got Blair dressed and securely propped on the 
couch before he cleared the towels, liniment, and futon out from the middle of 
the floor. Blair took that opportunity to rewind the tape to the beginning of 
the action at the mall and they settled in to watch the rest of the movie in an 
easy silence.



#####



The storm set in with a vengeance sometime after they'd gone to sleep and by 
morning showed no signs of letting up. Branches and leaves had blown all over 
the property and raindrops the size of quarters were turning the visible ground 
into a swamp of mud, effectively trapping them inside for the duration. The good 
news was that they still had electricity and the telephone was working, the 
pantry was very well stocked, and, Jim had to admit, his housemate was good 
company.

Jim was also pleased to note that Blair was more ambulatory and congratulated 
himself for being a big part of that new found mobility. After Jim's rub down 
the previous night and a long soak in the tub that morning, Blair admitted that 
he was feeling much better and that the bruises weren't bothering him as badly 
as they had been.

Blair napped most of the morning and early afternoon, but he found a burst of 
energy later in the afternoon and they spent some time working on Jim's hyper 
senses. Since Blair's equipment was all back at the University lab in Cascade, 
they couldn't do any technical studies so they stuck with simple stuff. Jim 
actually found himself enjoying going through the paces Blair set for him as he 
had him listen to the sounds outside and isolate the rain on the leaves from the 
wind rustling through them. He even managed to pick out the sound of a single 
leaf falling through the surrounding trees. They played with his sense of smell 
next. Blair was astonished when he separated the distant scent of the Sound from 
the closer smell of the rain drenched foliage around the house. He was also able 
to pick out the faint fragrance of a single wild rose that only he could see 
outside the perimeter of the tree lined boundary of the property.

Blair's enthusiasm was back full force as he grabbed his notebooks, settled into 
his nest on the window seat, and began scribbling the results of what they had 
done.



It was late evening before Ellison considered broaching the subject of the 
Sandburg family. There really was no reason to put it off any longer. The dishes 
were done, the fireplace stoked, and he'd been staring at the same paragraph for 
15 minutes. He blinked, looked up, and refocused on the man he was so pleased to 
call his friend.

"Did I grow an extra head or something?"

Jim started out of his reverie. "What?"

Blair chuckled. "You zoned out, man. On *me*. Something wrong?"

Jim shook his head. "No. Nothing's wrong. I ... uh ... there's just something 
I've been wanting to ask you for a while and I hope I'm not stepping over some 
invisible line here that I don't know about."

"You won't know until you ask," Blair invited and put his notebook to one side.

"When I was filling out the paperwork to get you admitted to the hospital ... 
The nurse gave me a hard time because I put myself as your ‘emergency contact'. 
It struck me as being sort of unfair that you know everything about me down to 
my PIN number and I don't have the first clue about your background except for 
the far-fetched stories you've told me about your adventures in every dirt water 
country on the face of the planet."

"Far-fetched!" Blair spluttered. "I'll have you know that every single one of 
those *stories* is 100% true, tough guy."

"Uh huh," Ellison snorted. "Then there were spiders nesting in your beard in 
Sumatra. And my all time favorite, flying choppers in ‘Desert Storm'."

"Hey, man, the spiders were real. To this day I get the heebie jeebies just 
looking at them." Looking chagrined Blair added, "I didn't realize you heard 
what I said about the choppers. You were sort of busy at the time."

"Yeah. I was hanging on to the strut of an airborne helicopter hoping that we 
wouldn't have to put your dubious skills as a pilot to the test," Jim grinned 
broadly.

"Haven't you ever heard of survival through improvisation, Jim? Most people 
learn the skill early on, like ‘the dog ate my homework' or ... or ‘if we party 
tonight we'll still have all night tomorrow to cram for finals'. Don't tell me 
you never did this stuff as a kid?"

"Wait a minute, Chief. I thought we were supposed to be discussing you here," 
Jim's tone was gently teasing. Blair squirmed deeper into the corner of the sofa 
and Ellison raised a hand, "We don't have to if you don't want to."

Blair smiled almost shyly. "It's okay, Jim. It's just that I know what everyone 
thinks of me when they see the hair, the clothes, and the jewelry. The few 
people I've told about the way I grew up just didn't understand or they outright 
laughed."

"I won't laugh. I really want to know about your family."

"All 38 of them?" Blair grinned.

Ellison gaped. "Thirty ... Sandburg, if you don't want to tell me...."

"Mom, me, and the 36 others who lived on the commune."

Jim was speechless. When Blair first joined the precinct as an advisor the air 
had been rife with comments like ‘neo-hippy', ‘nothing better to do since the 
Grateful Dead broke up', and ‘flower child wannabe'. He and Simon had even made 
some of their smart ass comments to Sandburg's face. And now to find out the kid 
had actually grown up on a commune? //No wonder he kept so quiet about it.//

Blair cleared his throat and Jim realized he'd been silent for too long. Not 
looking Ellison directly in the eyes, Blair said, "You know, Mom always told me 
if you can't say something nice don't bother to say anything at all .... But 
I'll give you credit, you didn't laugh," his voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Sandburg, I'm sorry," Jim put his book down and crossed the room to join his 
guide on the couch. "You just caught me by surprise."

"The ‘neo-hippy, witch doctor, punk' caught you by surprise by telling you I 
grew up on a commune? Come on, Jim, don't give me that," the hurt Blair was 
feeling was painfully evident in his sarcasm.

Ellison sighed. "Blair," he said placatingly, "it's one thing to make fun of 
something like that when you're ignorant of the facts, but do you honestly think 
I'd joke about it now that I know the truth?"

Blair smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, too, Jim. I didn't mean to get so 
defensive on you. But I had a hard time of it when my mom finally put me into a 
real school."

"I can imagine. How old were you?"

"Twelve or thirteen? I already knew what I wanted to do so she decided to take 
me out of the commune class room and get me into a normal junior high school."

"Ouch," Jim shuddered. "That *must* have been rough."

"Uh huh. Not only was this a totally new environment from anything I'd been 
exposed to, but the commune teachers were very strict, contrary to popular 
belief, and I was actually ahead of everyone in my class. The other kids hated 
me. I was the new kid who'd never been in a structured school setting and there 
I was, kicking all of their butts in the academics. I looked different, too, you 
know? I got teased unmercifully and even beat up a couple times."

"Didn't your parents do anything?"

"I never told my mom. She gave up the whole lifestyle that she loved so I could 
follow my dream. No way was I gonna wimp out on her, man."

"And your dad?"

Blair shrugged. "I don't know who he is. To tell the truth, I'm not even sure 
Mom knows who he was." Sandburg's voice was tinged with regret and once again 
Jim was left speechless but before he could say anything, a bright light flashed 
across the sky followed almost immediately by a deafening crash of thunder. The 
house lights flickered, dimmed and went out completely and the sky opened up 
with a torrential downpour.

"Yikes," Blair said softly. "*That* was impressive."

Ellison snorted in amusement. "No kidding. It's a good thing I had the senses 
turned down or I'd be deaf right now."

"Uh, Jim? Are we, like, gonna be okay out here? Your friend wouldn't happen to 
have a generator, would he?"

Blair's eyes were huge in the firelight and Ellison could see a touch of fear on 
his face. "There's no generator, Chief, but there's nothing to worry about. This 
house has come through worse storms than this one. What say I make our last 
check in and we call it a night? Maybe this'll blow over by tomorrow." Jim 
reached for the phone and frowned when he couldn't get a dial tone.

"Problem?" Blair asked moving closer.

"Nothing to sweat over. The phone's out. Let me grab the cell phone real quick."

Blair nodded and Jim disappeared into his room. The sound of Jim's carry all 
being unzipped was followed by a string of curses and Ellison strode angrily 
back to the living room. "Damned cell phone is dead, too! It looks like the 
power button got pushed when I shoved it into my bag."

"So what happens when you don't make the call in?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot *can* happen until the storm dies down a little. 
There's no way they'd chance sending a boat or a chopper out in this." Ellison 
reached out and pulled Sandburg to his feet. "Bed, Chief," he instructed.

As Blair started to move forward, the sound of glass breaking in one of the 
windows was accompanied by the thunk of something slamming into a wall behind 
them. Ellison shoved Blair to the floor behind the couch and followed him down 
hearing a sharp grunt of discomfort as he landed on top of him. "Jim," Blair 
gasped, "I can't breathe."

Ellison rolled away from the smaller man, "Sorry. You okay?"

Propping himself up against the back of the sofa, Sandburg caught his breath and 
nodded. "I guess we can rule out a car backfiring?"

"Good call, Einstein." Ellison crawled across the floor on his elbows to peer 
out of the shattered window but there was nothing to see except rain and falling 
leaves. Keeping low, he disappeared into his bathroom and dragged his toiletries 
case with him as he rejoined Blair behind the couch.

"What're you doing?" Blair asked as Jim began rummaging around in the bag.

"I've got to go out there, Chief. I have a bad feeling about this." Ellison 
pulled two hand guns from under his razor and produced the clips from the back 
pockets of his jeans.

Realization flooded Sandburg's mobile features. "You think Brackett's out there, 
don't you?"

"We won't know that until I take a look around." Jim slapped a clip home in both 
guns and cycled a round into each chamber.

"If it's him, how the hell did he find out where we are?"

Ellison's jaw clenched several times. "Tell you what. Let me catch him and you 
can ask him." He was in full cop mode now; no joking, no teasing, just straight 
ahead action and a keen survival instinct. He slipped one of the guns into his 
waistband and held the other out to Blair. "Take this."

Blair backed away with his hands in the air, "Uh uh. No way, man."

Grabbing a handful of Blair's shirt, Ellison yanked him forward until they were 
nose to nose. "Sandburg, there is quite probably a homicidal, rogue, ex-CIA nut 
case out there who has already tried to run you down with a car. Is there any 
doubt in your mind that he will kill you given half a chance?" Blair shook his 
head and swallowed. The fear was back in his eyes and Ellison eased up a little. 
"Do me a favor, Chief, and take the gun. Use it if you have to."

Blair's hands were shaking as he took the weapon, "God, I hate this," he 
mumbled.

"I know," Jim said gruffly, "but I'll feel better knowing you have the means to 
defend yourself while I'm outside. Now, stay out of the line of sight of the 
windows and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Ellison scrambled across the floor and let himself out of the house drawing his 
gun as he went through the front door. His hyper senses were strained to their 
full extent but the storm was so violent that the only things he could hear, 
see, and smell were the rain, dead leaves, and wind. He was soaked in seconds 
and turned down the dial on his sensitivity to cold to keep from being 
distracted by it.

As soon as he was convinced there was nothing in his line of sight from the 
front porch, he moved around to the one side of the house that was truly blind 
with only a tiny window from Blair's bathroom and no doors. He scanned into the 
trees and bushes as best he could and moved to the far corner of the building. 
There was no warning before a sharp blow struck his wrist and sent his gun 
spinning away to land in a mud puddle. Lee Brackett jumped at him from around 
the corner wielding a short handled shovel and took another swipe at him.

Jim backed up to avoid the blow and slid on the slippery mud beneath his feet. 
He managed not to fall, but Brackett took the opportunity and got in one good 
shot to his ribs with the shovel. Rolling with the blow, Ellison came up in a 
charge and tackled Brackett pinning him to the ground and digging his knee into 
the man's midsection. "How the hell did you find us, you bastard?!"

"You should know by now, Detective, that I have many sources of information at 
my disposal from my days as a spook. It was too easy to tap into the Cascade 
PD's computer system and trace the phone number you were calling from," Brackett 
laughed. "Your time was measured from the moment you left the precinct the other 
day. The storm just made it easier for me to isolate you and your better half. 
You never even noticed that I'd gotten in and drained the battery to your cell 
phone!" 

Twisting like an eel, Brackett broke Ellison's hold and slithered away getting a 
better grip on his shovel. A loud cracking sound overhead distracted Ellison 
momentarily. As Jim looked up to avoid the large branch falling towards him, 
Brackett took another swing and the shovel connected with the back of Ellison's 
head sending him face first into the mud.

Brackett was breathing heavily as he dragged Ellison to a nearby clearing and 
rolled his body into one of two freshly dug graves. He didn't even check to see 
if the man was still breathing. If he was, it wouldn't be for long as there was 
no way the detective was going to be able to dig himself out if he regained 
consciousness. Employing a trick which had served him well in the past, Brackett 
placed boards about six inches above Ellison's inert form before he began to 
fill in the hole. The boards served a two- fold purpose in this case. If Ellison 
*were* still alive, they prevented him from escaping; once he was undeniably 
dead, they would keep the wet earth from settling to show the location of the 
grave.

When the hole was filled to his satisfaction, Brackett dropped the shovel near 
the second grave and held his hands out to let the rain wash away the 
accumulated grime. //One down and one to go// he gloated to himself //and 
Sandburg is hardly a threat. Once he finds out Ellison is dead, the bookish 
little twerp should fold like a paper fan. No challenge whatsoever.// Brackett 
rubbed his hands together one final time, stamped the mud down evenly over 
Ellison's grave, and headed back towards the house where his next target was 
hiding. He was so confident of his ability to take Sandburg he didn't bother to 
pick up his shovel as he left. //No challenge at all!//



Blair had no idea how long he'd been crouched behind the sofa with Jim's spare 
gun sitting ready at his side. It seemed like forever and the only sound he'd 
heard from outside was a large branch breaking from it's trunk and crashing to 
the ground. The howling wind and lashing rain made it impossible to hear 
anything else.

A sudden sharp, icy draft blew through the house raising goosebumps on Blair's 
skin and he instinctively knew that someone had opened and closed one of the 
doors. Blair fought the urge to call out and reveal his hiding place. //Jim 
would say *something*. Let me know it was him. Tell me everything was okay. 
Wouldn't he?// Clutching the gun tightly to his chest, Blair tucked himself 
further into the dark corner behind the couch to wait for an indication of who 
was in the house.

The sound of soft footsteps approaching the living room from the front door had 
Blair's heart hammering in his throat. He saw a shadowy figure enter the room 
and pause in the doorway. The intruder peered into the dark room obviously 
looking for something ... //Me?// ... It definitely was not Jim, the build was 
all wrong. He was as tall as Ellison but was too lean and lanky to be the well-
muscled detective.

In answer to a half realized prayer, lightning lit the room for a brief instant 
revealing the stranger's features. //Lee Brackett.// Blair squeezed his own eyes 
shut trying to block out the terrifying total lack of sanity he'd seen in 
Brackett's eyes. During their last encounter he'd been able to reason with 
Brackett, making him understand the procedures necessary to use Jim's special 
skills. There would be no chance of reasoning with a madman.

//And where was Jim? Surely he hadn't allowed Brackett to lead him away from the 
house leaving it vulnerable, open to attack?// Blair refused to let his mind 
dwell on the other possibilities for why Jim wasn't here. //It's up to me, I 
guess ... God, I *hate* this.// He shifted to ease a cramp in his bruised thigh 
but a sharp pain froze him in place and a strangled gasp forced it's way between 
his lips.

Brackett swung around targeting the soft sound and strode purposefully to the 
couch. He put one hand on the corner of the sofa and shoved it halfway across 
the room completely exposing Blair's hiding place.

Blair scrambled backwards until his back was braced in the corner and raised the 
gun. His hand was shaking so badly there was no way he was going to hit 
anything. He swallowed and bent his right leg using his knee to steady his aim.

Brackett laughed, "Like you're really gonna shoot me? You do amuse me, Mr. 
Sandburg."

"You just stay right where you are, man," Blair gritted between clenched teeth.

"Oooo! I'm shakin'!" Brackett moved in a little closer. "What makes you think 
you can take me out when even the great James Ellison couldn't do it, little 
man?"

"What do you mean? Where's Jim?"

"He's dead," Brackett said matter-of-factly. "Or he will be shortly. I didn't 
stop to check before I buried him, you see. Actually, taking him out was easier 
than I thought it would be. One shovel to the back of the skull and it was all 
over." Brackett took another step closer and crouched down. "Now, Mr. Sandburg, 
we both know you have no intention of using that weapon so hand it over and I'll 
make this as easy on you as I can."

Blair's throat closed so tightly he could scarcely breathe. His eyes were 
burning and he could feel the wetness of tears trickling down his face. //Jim. 
Dead?// A detached calm settled over him. One way or another this whole sadistic 
charade was going to be finished in a few minutes. Him or Brackett. It was his 
decision to make.

Swallowing the huge lump in his throat, Blair blinked to clear his eyes. "You 
bastard," he whispered hoarsely. Brackett smiled at him. "You sad, sick, sorry, 
son of a *bitch*!" Blair's voice got stronger with each word as he tried to 
drown out the cruel sound of Lee Brackett's laughter. His finger tightened 
convulsively on the trigger and he felt the gun buck eight times. Eight 
explosions of sound deafened him. Eight deadly little missiles sped on their 
way.

Brackett's last, fatal mistake was that he was so close to Blair there was no 
way for him to get out of the path of the bullets and no way for Blair to miss. 
A look of shock passed across his face before he was punched back into the 
entranceway to lay sprawled on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been 
cut.

Blair's death grip on the weapon finally eased up as he realized the clip was 
empty and his tormentor wasn't going anywhere any more. In a small, still 
functioning part of his brain he knew he was going into shock but something 
Brackett had said kept replaying over and over in his head ... //‘He's dead. Or 
he will be shortly ... Or he will be shortly ... Shortly ... Shortly ...'// If 
there was even a tiny chance that Jim could still be alive, Blair had to move 
his ass and find him. //And if he's not?// A second inner voice - which sounded 
remarkably like Brackett - mocked him. "Then I bring his body back to Cascade. 
Just like he was going to do for Simon and Daryl when we went to Peru," Blair 
said aloud, cementing his resolve.

Gingerly placing the empty gun on the coffee table, Blair felt like he was 
moving in slow motion. He could feel every pulse beat, the air sliding into his 
lungs was cold and dry. Images looked sharper, everything had a focus and 
clarity that would have overwhelmed him had he been in any state to notice. He 
stepped over what had once been Lee Brackett without glancing down. There would 
be time enough to deal with the consequences of *that* later.

Outside the wind and rain had eased off a little but the cold and wet didn't 
phase him as they soaked through his sweats and the socks on his feet. //Should 
have put shoes on. No time! Got to find Jim!// Brackett's foot prints leading 
toward the house hadn't quite been obliterated by the weather and he tracked 
them carefully back to a clearing. There was a shovel next to a hole in the 
ground. A grave. //My grave. *Don't* go there!// And right next to the hole was 
a same-sized area of freshly moved mud. //Oh, god. Jim!//

Sandburg grabbed the shovel and, heedless of the pain in his healing ribs and 
shoulder, attacked the soft, soggy ground with a single-minded determination. 
His breath plumed the air with every exhalation but all he could feel was the 
heat of exertion. Rain mixed with the sweat he was working up as he flung the 
dirt out of his way. The cool water dripping from his hair eased the salt 
burning of his eyes.

The shovel thudded into something that definitely was not dirt and Blair slowed 
his frantic pace. He cleared the mud away surrounding the edges of the boards 
and, using the edge of the shovel, pried them away to reveal Ellison as still as 
he'd been when Brackett dumped him into the grave.

Careful not to dislodge any additional dirt, Blair clambered into the hole and 
straddled Ellison's hips. "Jim?" he pleaded trying desperately to find a pulse. 
There was a faint tinge of blue around Jim's lips but ... //Yes!// ... There was 
a pulse! Slow but strong; however, Jim was not breathing. Blessing the CPR 
training he'd had to take before becoming a teaching fellow, Blair tilted 
Ellison's head back to clear his air passage. There really was no room to 
perform the CPR properly so he leaned over as far as he could and began 
breathing air back into Jim's depleted lungs. To his dismay there was no sign 
that Ellison was ready to resume breathing on his own. "Damn it, Jim! Don't you 
*dare* check out on me now, man!" he cried softly about at the end of his 
endurance.

Another deep breath. He felt Ellison's lungs expand as he breathed out and 
suddenly Jim was coughing, dragging air in on his own in great whooping gasps. A 
sob escaped through Blair's chattering teeth and he placed a hand over Jim's 
heart feeling once again the strong beat and now the rise and fall of his chest 
with each breath of air. "Jim?" he asked softly, tentatively.

Reluctant to open his eyes, Jim lay there listening to the wind in the leaves, 
the rain still falling, and what sounded like castanets close by. There was a 
slight weight on his abdomen but it wasn't impeding his attempts to catch his 
breath. His head was aching with the worst of the pain centered at the base of 
his skull. Suddenly everything came flooding back: leaving Blair in the house, 
the fight with Brackett, then total darkness. All in all he was quite surprised 
that he was still alive; he was sure Brackett had intended to kill him once he'd 
been knocked out of commission.

Jim finally opened his eyes, blinking to clear the rain away, and saw Blair 
straddling him with his thin arms wrapped around himself. Blair's eyes were 
closed and he was shaking so hard that Ellison knew it wasn't just the cold. He 
tried for a little levity, "Hey, Chief," he rasped hoarsely, "I thought I told 
you to stay inside?"

Blair's fragile hold on composure shattered. Ellison watched as tears leaked 
from beneath tightly closed lashes and Blair began to shake even harder. //What 
the hell's been going on? And where the hell is Brackett?// As carefully as he 
could, Ellison wriggled into a sitting position. Blair was now straddling his 
lap and he enfolded the smaller man in a comforting embrace. Sandburg's skin 
felt like ice and even his clothes were more soaked through than his own. 
//Why?// Jim pondered. But that could wait. He ran his hands up and down 
Sandburg's back hoping to coax some warmth back into his friend, only then 
noticing the muddy state of their clothes. He took a good look around and gaped 
as he realized where they were. Blair's hands were grasping the front of his 
shirt and Jim gently pried one loose. The raw skin and blisters on his palms 
provided the final piece of the puzzle. //Jesus! No wonder the kid is such a 
mess. Where *was* Brackett? Not like him to leave a job unfinished. God, Simon 
is gonna have a fit when he finds out about this.//

Blair's grip on his shirt finally eased and Ellison relaxed his own hold. He put 
a finger under Blair's chin and tilted his face up to get his attention. "Do you 
think we can go back inside now, Sandburg? It's not exactly comfortable out 
here, you know?"

"Sorry, Jim. I didn't mean for that to happen," Blair wiped his eyes and tried 
to stand. He made it to his knees but couldn't get his legs to cooperate any 
further; his sprained ankle was giving him hell. Slumping at the other end of 
the grave, between Jim's feet and the wall, he hugged his left arm to his side 
and said, "I hope your legs work better than mine seem to be doing, man."

Jim took a deep breath and braced his arms against the side of the hole until he 
could get his own legs to hold him up. The world took a nasty spin and he held 
on to the edge of the grave until it steadied itself once again. He looked down 
at Sandburg huddled at his feet and at the chest high level of open ground 
trying to figure out how he was going to get the two of them out without his 
aching head falling off. "Hey, Chief?" Blair looked up, dull-eyed and listless, 
through strands of rain soaked hair. "If we can get you to your feet I think I 
can get us both out of here. Okay?"

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

"Brace your feet on the floor and give me your right hand." Blair complied and 
Ellison got a firm grasp on the extended hand. Offering up an encouraging smile 
he steadied himself, levered Sandburg to his feet, and leaned him against the 
wall of the grave. "Step one complete. Now I'm going to boost you out of here, 
okay?" A subdued Blair was always cause for concern and the unenthusiastic nod 
worried Jim. "Here we go," he said and picked his loftmate up by the waist 
hoisting him out of the hole in one smooth motion.

Blair rolled up onto his knees and looked down at Ellison. "Are you gonna be 
able to get out of there on your own?"

Jim wasn't sure about that himself but he wasn't about to tell his shell-shocked 
partner this. "No problem," he said with a confidence he didn't feel. Placing 
his palms on the edge he gave one almighty heave, hauled himself to ground 
level, and lay panting next to Sandburg. "Matched pair, aren't we?" he chuckled.

A grin fleeted across Blair's face. "Yeah. Guess so." He was shivering again and 
his face was pinched with cold.

"Any idea how far we are from the house?"

"Maybe a hundred yards? I'm not sure. I wasn't paying attention at the time, you 
know?"

"A hundred yards? We can do that easy, right, Chief?" Jim clambered to his feet 
and had to wait until the world stopped doing flip flops before he leaned over 
to pull Blair up beside him.

Blair's legs were like rubber and Jim's balance was shot from the concussion so 
it was hard to tell just who was holding up whom on their trek back to the 
house. They made it to the porch just before the sky opened up with yet another 
fierce downpour. "Shit!" Jim exclaimed. "One of us must have really pissed 
somebody off up there recently." Blair didn't answer. In fact, he was staring at 
the front door like there was something nasty lurking behind it waiting for them 
to go in. //Maybe there was.// Ellison's mind suddenly went back into cop mode; 
Sandburg still hadn't mentioned Brackett.

Jim opened his senses of hearing and scent and was immediately assailed by the 
smell of cordite and fresh blood. //What the hell?// He pushed the front door 
open and stood on the threshold staring in shock at the sight that greeted his 
enhanced sight. Brackett was sprawled at the far end of the entranceway with 
seven bullet holes in his upper torso and one to the left of center in his 
forehead. You just didn't get any deader than that. The sound of a choked off 
moan brought Jim back to the present and he turned just in time to see Blair 
draped over the porch railing losing his dinner. He slumped to the deck leaning 
against the house for support.

"Blair?" Jim crossed over to him and tried to pull him to his feet. "Come on, 
Chief, let's get you inside."

Sandburg clutched the railing and shook his head sending raindrops and mud 
flying. "I c-- ... I c-can't ... g-go in th-there," he stuttered, closing his 
eyes and swallowing against another bout of nausea. "I sh ... I had to shoot h-
him."

Ellison groaned quietly. He had a splitting headache and occasional waves of 
dizziness were still threatening his equilibrium. All he really wanted to do was 
drag himself into a hot shower then crawl into bed and sleep for a week. If he 
was alone, he wouldn't have a problem leaving Brackett where he'd fallen until 
help arrived. On the other hand, if he had been alone he would certainly have 
suffocated by now after having been buried alive. It looked like Blair was going 
to need a lot of help to cope with what he had been forced to do. Jim owed Blair 
a huge debt of gratitude and if partial repayment came in the form of getting 
him through the trauma of his first kill, then Jim was ready no matter his own 
physical discomforts.

Kneeling next to his distraught loftmate, Ellison reached out and brushed a hand 
through Sandburg's water-logged curls. "You did what you had to do, Blair. If 
you hadn't, we'd *both* be dead right now." Blair's eyes never opened but Jim 
knew he'd heard when more tears began to slip down his face. "I'm going in to 
take care of Brackett and check on the electricity and phones. When I'm done 
I'll come and get you. Are you going to be okay if I leave you here?" Ellison 
kept his voice low and soothing, not wanting to spook Sandburg any more than he 
already was.

"Yeah, Jim. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Blair's voice was so quiet only 
someone with Sentinel senses could have heard it.

Gripping a thin shoulder in reassurance, Ellison stood and entered the house 
keeping his hearing tuned in to Blair, ready to return in an instant if he heard 
any unusual sounds of distress. He manhandled the corpse into the kitchen, 
dropped it near the back door, and went outside to grab a heavy plastic 
tarpaulin off of a depleted pile of cut wood. Spreading the tarp next to the 
body, he rolled Brackett up in it and secured the unpleasant package with duct 
tape. //Good riddance to bad news.//

Jim deposited the body out in a metal tool shed at the back of the property and 
hurried back inside to wipe up the blood trail leading to the kitchen. As he 
placed a small throw rug over the bloodstained wood floor of the entryway, he 
was grateful that his friend who owned the place was a cop. He'd understand what 
had happened and he would also know that he'd eventually get reimbursed for the 
repairs.

The lights and phone were next. Both were still out so Ellison ducked back 
outside to check on the main junction box. He cursed Brackett loudly when he saw 
all the wires had been cut through; not only were they without power and phones 
but the water heater was electric and both he and Blair were in dire need of 
warming up. Fortunately the stove was gas and there was plenty of wood for the 
fireplace. This left only the problem of communicating to Simon or someone else 
back in the precinct. Ellison went into his room and grabbed his cell phone and 
the battery recharger. He'd powered up the charger before leaving the police 
station so unless Brackett had drained it when he found the phone, once he 
connected them they would have a working cell phone in about eight hours or so. 
Mentally crossing his fingers, Jim snapped the two units together and breathed a 
sigh of relief when the red ‘charging' light lit up. "Okay," Ellison muttered to 
himself, "now comes the hard part."

Sandburg hadn't moved from his spot on the edge of the porch. Jim knelt next to 
him. "Blair?" he asked quietly and put his hand on the younger man's knee.

Blair opened haunted, bruised-looking eyes. "J-Jim? Is he ...."

"Not in the house any more, Chief. The bad news is that he cut all the power and 
phone lines. There should be a bit of hot water stored in the heater, there's 
enough wood to last a week, and the cell phone should be charged by tomorrow 
morning." Jim knew he was rambling and stopped himself with a wry grin.

The whisper of a smile crossed Blair's lips and he looked mildly embarrassed. "I 
haven't been much help. I'm sorry ..."

Raising a hand Jim stopped the apology. "Let's get you inside and both of us 
warmed up." He pried Blair's hands from the wooden railing chafing them to 
restore the lost circulation. Mild amusement changed to alarm as he realized how 
chilled the anthropologist really was. Not bothering to ask permission, Jim 
scooped Blair into his arms and carried him through the house to the hall 
bathroom.

Hiding his face in the crook of Jim's neck as they passed over where Brackett 
had fallen, Blair understood just how lucky he was to have Jim as a friend, not 
just a working partner or study subject. Sure he was a hard as nails cop most of 
the time but he had a capacity for gentleness and caring that could be 
overwhelming. A lot of guys would have been uncomfortable dealing with tears and 
fears no matter what had caused them. Jim seemed to understand how hard it was 
for him to accept what he had done to Lee Brackett. Instead of letting him 
muddle through the shock and confusion alone, Ellison was there with him every 
step of the way. His emotions were still too close to the surface and once again 
tears trailed down his cheeks feeling incredibly hot compared to the chill of 
his skin. He closed his eyes again just as Jim crossed the threshold into the 
bathroom.

A lick of warmth unfurled in Ellison's stomach as Blair snuggled deeper into his 
hold. He stepped into the large shower stall and turned the tap on full letting 
the rising steam caress warmth into both of them before turning on the overhead 
shower allowing the warm water to sluice the mud, sweat, and grime off of them 
and their ruined clothing.

Propping Blair against the far wall, Ellison stripped them both and lathered up 
some shampoo to scrub the mud from Sandburg's lank hair. By that time, Blair was 
enough in command of himself to run a bar of soap over his skin maintaining an 
unsteady balance on his good ankle. Jim left him to the task of rinsing off as 
he lathered his own hair and body.

The water was just starting to run cold as Ellison shut it off and bundled both 
of them into huge fluffy towels. He left Sandburg in the steamy warm room as he 
started a fire and gathered clean clothes.

By now, helping Sandburg bathe and dress was routine and it wasn't long before 
they were seated in front of the roaring fire with their wet clothes and Blair's 
bandages drying on the hearth. Gently toweling Blair's hair, Jim asked, "Could 
you manage a bowl of soup or stew? The stove is gas operated. It would only take 
a few minutes to warm something up."

Blair nodded. "Thanks, Jim. That sounds good."

"I think I'll join you. Keep working on your hair. The last thing we need is for 
one of us to come down with pneumonia."

"Yes, mom," Blair's muffled comment filtered through the folds of the towel as 
Jim departed for the kitchen.



It was almost midnight when Ellison put away the last of the dishes they had 
used. Sandburg had managed half a bowl of vegetable stew and a huge mug of 
whiskey-laced coffee before consenting to take his prescribed herbal muscle 
relaxants. Ellison dragged the couch closer to the fireplace for maximum warmth, 
wrapped Blair up in a down comforter, and sat quietly with him until the 
exhaustion, whiskey, and herbs took effect knocking him out.

The soft snoring was soothing and, as Jim laid on the couch holding Blair close 
to ward off additional chills and nightmares, his own eyelids drooped and he 
allowed himself to drift easily into sleep.



#####



The sound of a key sliding into the front door lock brought Jim to instant 
awareness. It was obviously morning; the sun was struggling to break through the 
last of the storm clouds. Another rasp reached Jim's ears and he carefully 
wriggled out from under Blair's weight wincing as various aches and bruises made 
themselves known. His left arm was completely numb from supporting Blair's head 
all night but Jim scooped up his gun with his right hand and cautiously advanced 
on the front door.

He relaxed as the door opened and the familiar scents of Simon's cigars and 
Carolyn's favorite perfume wafted in. Simon stepped across the threshold with 
his gun drawn but his jaw dropped at his first sight of the disheveled 
detective. "Jim! You look awful!" Officers Woo and Kramer holstered their 
weapons and grinned.

Ellison was almost rocked off his feet as Carolyn pushed past Simon and cannoned 
into him hugging him tight. "It's been a rough couple of days, Simon, but we're 
fine." Jim kept his voice down and motioned the others through to the living 
room where Blair was still sleeping. "Lee Brackett paid us a visit," Jim 
whispered leading their rescuers on to the kitchen. "He won't be bothering us 
any more."

"Dead?" Simon asked.

"Very," Ellison responded and gave a brief version of what had happened over the 
course of the previous evening. "I wrapped the body in a tarp and stuffed it in 
the shed out back." Carolyn waved Kramer and Woo to follow along as she headed 
out the back door.

"Sandburg shot him?" Simon gaped glancing through to the living room at the dark 
tangle of curls just visible at one end of the sofa. At Ellison's tired nod of 
confirmation he asked, "Is the kid okay with that?"

Jim sat at the small kitchen table dropping his head into his hands and rubbing 
at tired, gritty eyes. "It's hard to tell with him sometimes. He seemed really 
shocky last night. Quiet. Withdrawn."

"Sandburg?" Simon snorted in disbelief. Ellison glared at him. "Sorry, Jim. It's 
just hard to imagine that sort of behavior coming from him."

"We're talking extenuating circumstances here, Simon. First he's targeted by a 
lunatic and winds up in the hospital. We bundle him out here to the boonies to 
protect him; it doesn't work. He has always been adamant in his refusal to use 
guns, now he's shot and killed someone." Jim reached back to massage his sore 
neck muscles. "Brackett had him convinced that I was dead and buried. And once 
he found me and dug me out - let's not forget how bad he was hurting from the 
hit and run - we were cut off from any help in the middle of a hellish storm 
front. We really blew this one, Simon, right from the very beginning at 
DataTech. And Blair's the one who got caught in the middle."

"He seems to be sleeping okay."

"Last night I poured enough whiskey in him to knock *me* out and topped that off 
with Dr. Cameron's prescription muscle relaxants. It's a good thing they were 
only herbal or I'd've killed the poor kid." Ellison yawned and scratched the 
stubble on his jaw. "I don't think he'd have slept without the extreme measures. 
As it was, he dropped like a stone."

Simon nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose under his gold-rimmed glasses. 
"The department owes him big time for this, Jim. Brackett's off the street for 
good and, most importantly, we didn't lose either of you. Just let him know if 
he needs any help getting through this, the department resources are at his 
disposal."

"It'd be better coming from you, Simon," Jim responded with blunt honesty.

"I don't know about that. We've never really seen eye to eye ..."

"*Tell* him, Simon. Who knows? Maybe it'll help him." Jim's sharp ears caught a 
small sound of distress in the living room and he saw the mound on the sofa 
beginning to move.

"Jim?" Blair's voice called plaintively.

Simon followed Ellison to the other room and stood back to watch the by-play 
between the duo who were rapidly becoming his favorite team.

"What's up, Chief?" Jim asked and pulled the comforter down to Sandburg's waist.

"I have to *go*, man, and I can't move. Everything seized up again overnight." 
Ellison grinned and as he helped get Sandburg to his feet, the anthropologist 
said wistfully, "Too bad we used all the hot water last night. A long, hot soak 
would feel great ... Oh, hello, sir," Blair finally noticed Simon standing in 
the doorway. "How'd you get here?" There was none of his normal bubbling 
enthusiasm in the query.

"Since you guys missed checking in and we couldn't get through all last night, 
we took the first boat out this morning when the storm broke."

"Great," Blair said as he shuffled past moving like an old man of eighty or 
ninety. "That's just great." He continued down the hall to his own bathroom, 
using the wall to support himself, and slammed the door closed behind him.

Simon's eyes had widened in shock as he got a good look at Sandburg's face in 
passing. Long, straggling, sleep mussed hair couldn't hide the deep lines of 
pain and exhaustion etched around the younger man's mouth or the hint of self-
loathing in his eyes. "Oh boy," Simon winced as the slamming door reverberated 
through the house. "He's really hurting, isn't he? And not just physically."

Before Ellison could reply, the back door swung open to admit Carolyn, Kramer, 
and Woo. "God, Jimmy," Carolyn said with a touch of admiration in her voice, 
"the kid really did a number on Brackett."

Jim's jaw muscles jumped. "Don't remind me," he grimaced. "And for god's sake 
don't say anything to Blair about it."

"He's not taking it very well," Simon explained at her shocked look, "and he's 
up and about. Can you three move the corpse into the van and away from here as 
quickly as possible? I'll bring Ellison and Sandburg to the dock in my truck and 
hustle them straight to Cascade General when we hit the mainland."

"Yes, sir," Kramer acknowledged. "See you on the boat, sir."

Jim glanced at the closed door of Blair's bathroom. "I'd better go pack our 
stuff so we can leave as soon as he's up to it. Why don't you make yourself some 
coffee. This could take a while."

Simon nodded and started rummaging through the unfamiliar cupboards.



The bathroom door was still closed when Jim came in from carrying the bags out 
to Simon's 4 x 4. He shrugged at his Captain and padded quietly to the door. 
"Sandburg?" he called softly, "you need any help in there?" No response. Jim 
opened his hearing and caught the sound of muffled sniffles through the door. At 
a loss for what to do, he turned to rejoin Simon in the kitchen until his ears 
picked up the soft click of the lock mechanism being turned. An invitation? A 
barrier? One way to find out. The knob turned easily and he opened the door 
slowly.

Blair was standing in front of the mirror - razor in one hand, shaving soap in 
the other - looking like he couldn't remember what he'd been doing. He was 
shaking from head to foot. Tears were clinging to his lashes and his breath was 
coming in hiccups as he fought for control. He turned deep blue shockingly 
vulnerable eyes to Jim and more tears fell as he said, "What the hell is *wrong* 
with me, man?"

Closing the door for privacy, Jim crossed the room in two steps. He took the 
shaving gear, set it on the counter, and pushed Blair to sit on the closed lid 
of the toilet. "Deep breath, Chief," Ellison knelt down. "Relax and tell me what 
brought this on."

"I don't know." Blair ran a shaking hand through his hair and swallowed a few 
times to clear his throat. "I just wanted to shave - clean myself up a little - 
you know, make myself a little more presentable since Simon was here. I looked 
in the mirror and it was like I didn't recognize the person I saw there. A 
stranger's eyes were looking back at me." Blair's throat was getting tight again 
as he spoke and Jim knew what he was going to say next. "I *killed* someone, 
Jim! I fired a gun and blew him away! One minute he was standing there breathing 
and talking and the next? Pffft! Gone. Nothing. What kind of a monster does that 
make me?" he all but yelled.

Jim was horrified at the self-vilification pouring out of his friend. He had no 
idea that Sandburg felt so strongly about what he had been provoked into doing. 
What he'd seen Jim do. But Blair seemed to understand that. Couldn't he see it 
was the same thing? Almost dreading the answer he might get, he looked Blair in 
the eyes and quietly asked, "Is that what you think of me too, Chief? That I'm 
some kind of monster?"

Blair recoiled as he realized what he was being asked. "You are not a monster, 
Jim," he stated unequivocally. "You go after the scum of the earth. It's your 
job. A lot of times they don't give you a choice."

"Okay. So what makes what you did any different? Was Lee Brackett going to give 
you a choice?"

"But it's *your job*! You're trained in how to do things like that. How to deal 
with the aftermath when it's all over." Blair was calming down as he spoke; 
Jim's questions prompting him to think rationally.

Jim put a hand on Blair's knee and offered an embarrassed smile, "If I tell you 
a story you gotta promise me it won't go beyond this room."

"Scout's honor," Blair promised giving a passable imitation of the time worn 
salute.

"You were a scout?" Jim chuckled.

"Well, no .... But it sounded good," the corners of Blair's mouth lifted in a 
smile. He grabbed a Kleenex, wiped his eyes, blew his nose, and waited 
expectantly for Jim's story.

Ellison made himself more comfortable, sitting on the edge of the tub, but he 
kept his hand on Blair's leg offering comfort and support. "My first commanding 
officer out of basic training was a real hard line bastard. Nothing and no one 
ever came up to his expectations and he was so spit and polish that he made the 
recruiting posters look drab.

"The day our unit got caught in it's first real fire fight overseas I had the 
misfortune to be partnered with him. I made my first kill that day and as soon 
as I realized what I'd done I turned around and threw up all over his shoes."

"What?!" Blair sputtered.

"Yup. This man was not a happy camper."

"I can imagine."

"I pulled latrine duty for a week *and* had to clean his boots." The smile on 
Blair's face was well worth the embarrassing memory. Regaining his feet in one 
smooth motion, Jim sobered for a moment. "Do you understand what I'm trying to 
tell you, Blair? It doesn't matter what kind of training and preparation you 
get, you just don't know how you're going to react. The important thing is that 
you don't bottle it up - don't let it eat away at you until it destroys who you 
really are. It's not worth it. And in this case, *Brackett* is not worth it."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said huskily, his eyes tearing up again. "Oh hell," he 
chuckled and moved into Jim's arms for a hug.

Ellison blinked rapidly to clear his own eyes and said, "Do you still want to 
shave and clean up? Simon's out there waiting to take us back to Cascade."

Shaking his head, Blair grabbed a washcloth and used it to dry his face, "I can 
wait. It'll be great to go home."

Jim packed Blair's toiletries and pulled the limp looking sling from the hanger 
on the back of the door. "The rest of the wraps are still damp but let's at 
least get your shoulder supported until we get to the hospital for a quick check 
up." Blair had a haunted look on his face. "Something wrong, Chief?"

He shrugged. "I just had this feeling like everyone is gonna be able to look at 
me and know what I've done. It's stupid."

"No. It's not. Just remember everyone has the capacity to do what you did 
depending on the circumstances."

"Yeah, I guess," Sandburg sounded anything but convinced.

Jim sighed. He knew he was going to have to deal with Sandburg's mood swings for 
a while, he just wanted to get some rest himself beforehand. "Listen, Blair, 
Simon is gonna want a statement from you to close the file on Brackett. Are you 
gonna be able to handle it?"

"I dunno. I'll do my best not to freak."

"That's all he'll expect but we'll make it as easy on you as we can. If you 
prefer, I'll have him come by the loft so you can do it in a more informal 
setting."

"When do we have to do this?"

"Soon as possible before the details get hazy."

"No chance of that, man," Blair shuddered. "I think it's permanently burned into 
my cortex."

"Well, I'll ask him for a few days to let us rest up and get settled."

Blair nodded, "Thanks, Jim."

"And he's got something to tell you, too, when you're ready."

"I don't know if I'll *ever* be ready for *that*."

Ellison chuckled and opened the door. "Probably not," he muttered under his 
breath and ushered his partner out the door.



#####



"Don't forget. I expect to see you two bright and early in my office next Monday 
morning," Simon stated authoritatively as he picked his tape recorder up from 
the living room table. He'd come to the loft at Jim's request to tape both of 
their statements.

"We'll be there, Simon, don't worry," Jim replied and handed him his coat.

"Glad to hear it." Simon shrugged the overcoat on and beckoned Ellison out into 
the hallway with him.

Jim tracked his gaze to Blair sitting huddled quietly on the sofa and followed 
without saying anything. Once outside, however, he pulled the door shut and 
said, "I'm worried about him, too, sir."

"Is he going to come back with you?"

"I wish I knew. He's been doing a lot of thinking since we got home and so far 
he hasn't shared any of what's been going on in that unpredictable brain of 
his."

"Do you think he'll at least go and see the department shrinks?"

"I hope so. I'd really hate to lose him over some slime bag like Lee Brackett."

"Well, you've got all weekend to talk some sense into him if you can. Take it 
easy, Jim."

"Will do, sir." Jim re-entered the loft to see Blair staring at the door, 
obviously waiting for him. "Simon's worried about you, Chief."

"Yeah? What about?" Blair pushed his bangs away from his face.

"We're both sort of wondering whether or not you will be going in with me on 
Monday morning," Jim decided just to come straight out with it.

"I can see where you might be concerned about that," Blair admitted. "I'll be 
fine, Jim. Really."

"I don't know, Blair. I've never seen you like this before. I've got to admit 
that after Lash and the first time Brackett entered the picture I had the same 
doubts about you continuing to work with me but you bounced right back then. 
This time you're scaring me."

"I'm scaring *you*? Hell, man, I'm terrifying myself! Giving that statement ... 
reliving that whole awful experience ... God! It seemed so real!"

//Real enough that you put yourself into a light trance to get through the whole 
thing without losing it in front of the Captain,// Jim thought. "You did good, 
Chief. I'm proud of you. Simon is proud of you. I think the only person who 
still has doubts that you did a good job is you. I told you it's only natural 
for you to feel what you're feeling. It *will* go away. Trust me." Jim didn't 
know what else to say to help his friend but he tried one last time, "Listen, if 
you don't want to go back to the station with me on Monday, no one is going to 
think any less of you. You're still pretty banged up and won't be able to do 
much field work for a while anyway. Why don't you take a week or so off? Go 
fishing or just hang out around here and rest up. I promise I'll let you know if 
I need help with the senses, okay?"

"No, Jim, it's *not* okay!" Blair said emphatically. "I want to go back to the 
precinct with you but you're making it sound like you don't want me to."

"I didn't mean for you to feel like that," Jim back pedaled. "I want you with 
me, watching my back. But what I don't need is someone who's gonna be jumping at 
every shadow."

Blair nodded. "I hear what you're saying and I understand your concerns. Tell 
you what. I'll go in with you on Monday and while you talk to Simon I'll go see 
the department psychiatrist Simon recommended. Talk with him for a bit. Maybe 
set up some additional counseling sessions if he feels like I need them. Okay?"

"Sounds good to me. I just want my partner back." There was no mistaking the 
warmth in Ellison's eyes.

"I'm a natural survivor, Jim. It may take a little extra time but I will bounce 
back." Blair limped to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers from the 
refrigerator. "You'll see; I'll be fine." He twisted the caps off the beer and 
held a bottle out to Jim.

Jim clinked the necks of the bottles together in a toast. "You know what? I 
believe you, Chief," he smiled.

~~~Finis~~~