Dead Ringer

Jim trudged wearily toward his truck. All of the sudden it felt as if he was crossing some expansive wasteland. The Expedition seemed too far away in the half empty underground lot of the Cascade Police Department. He sighed, willing his tired limbs to move.

Head too weighty for his shoulders, it drooped forward as he plodded along. Despair and concern dragged at him like an anchor and he was tired of treading water. It had been an extremely long and stressful week, culminating in a car chase through downtown Cascade at eleven the previous evening.

Jim had spent all day tying up loose ends and finishing up the paperwork associated with the case. The tediousness of the activity only served to remind him of the lack of companionship he'd grown accustomed to and treasured like a fond teddy bear of childhood. He missed not having Blair at the station to help him. The younger man always managed to brighten a dull day just by the sheer force of his personality and his infectious enthusiasm. Thinking of what he had been missing all day, left Jim aching for the comforts of home.

Finally reaching his truck, Jim eased himself into the driver's seat. Instead of turning the ignition right away, he sat in contemplation. This last case kept playing in his head frame by frame like an old home movie. Jim was helpless to turn it off. Over and over, he saw the case take its toll on Blair, feeling the helplessness again. Unable to stop himself, Jim tuned into the memories and fell back into the past.

**********

Jim woke up with a start. Glancing at the clock, he realized that despite the fact that his alarm hadn't gone off, it was time to get up. Swinging himself out of bed, he mumbled something about the "Monday morning blues", wishing he hadn't stayed at Simon's for that last hand at poker. Not only did he lose his winnings, but sleep came later than expected.

Sighing, he was reaching for his blue jeans on the way toward the bathroom when the tingling started. At first, only a mild awareness, it started at his fingertips before working its way up his arms. The sensation reached his chest and he felt his muscles tighten in apprehension.

Uncertain as to what it meant, Jim took deep, even breaths in the calm way Blair had shown him. The apprehensive feeling subsided and Jim dressed for work. Dismissing his momentary unease as a product of lack of sleep, he made his way downstairs.

Seeing his roommate, the feeling Jim had experienced came crashing through him, singing ever receptor in his body. It overloaded his senses and he nearly zoned. Bringing himself back from the edge of darkness, Jim knew. The clarity of the thought sent him closer to the man who usually clung to him like a second shadow.

Blair was sitting at the kitchen table, totally absorbed in the essay he was reading. Absently, he toyed with his teacup. Unaware that Jim stood a few feet from him, frozen in shock, the anthropologist scribbled a note in the margin of the paper he was grading.

When Jim spoke quietly in the silence, it had the effect of a firecracker. "Don't go to the university today, Blair."

The younger man jerked his head up in surprise, sending waves of curls dancing in all directions. The tea in his cup sloshed over the edge. Licking the wetness from his fingers, he was thankful that the liquid had cooled since he had heated it almost twenty minutes ago. Scalding yourself was not a great way to start a Monday morning, or *any* morning for that matter.

Grabbing a towel to wipe up the spilled beverage from the table, he turned deep blue eyes on his partner. "Geez, man, you scared me. I didn't even see you there."

"You're not going to the university," Jim repeated, unaware that his simple statement had turned into a command that would be obeyed.

Blair's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Huh? Not go to the university?" He shook his head. "I have to, man. I've got office hours and then I'm giving a lecture this afternoon."

Jim grabbed the younger man's arm as Blair turned to deposit his cup in the sink. "You're with me today, Chief. You can just forget about the university." The detective didn't care that he was practically growling nor did he care that he sounded like a militant dictator. Deep in his gut he knew that Blair needed to stay with him that day and he intended to follow his instinct.

"Excuse me?!" Blair tried to shake free from the implacable grip on his arm. *What* has gotten into you?"

The detective didn't loosen his hold. "Call the university. Tell them you won't be coming in today. You're ill, there was an emergency. Something like that. Emergency is good. Not that far from the truth."

Blair couldn't contain his incredulity any longer. "What are you talking about, Jim? What emergency?"

The intensity of Jim's gaze pierced through Blair and he gulped. Something was definitely going here. Finally the older man spoke, "Blair, I can't allow you to go to the university. Not today. You need to stay with me. Close."

Very much aware of the hand that still gripped his arm, Blair nevertheless had to disagree. "Sorry, Jim, you know I can't hang out with you all day. Especially on Mondays. I've got a ton of stuff to do at the university. Come on, man, it's not like you've ever had to face a Monday alone. You've done it since the beginning of the semester."

"Blair--"

"I'll compromise, Jim," Blair interrupted. "I'll finish as soon as I can and meet you at the station. Deal?"

Instead of calmly accepting this plan, Jim's other hand grabbed Blair's other arm. The younger man was trapped in an unyielding grip. "You're not listening, Chief. You are *not*--repeat, *not*--going anywhere near the university. You're not leaving my side. Now, go. Call them and explain."

Blair backed up as Jim released his arms, his own temper flaring. "Explain what, exactly? You're not helping me out here, Jim. I can't just shirk my responsibilities just because you say so."

Jim took a deep, shuddering breath and wanted to grab Blair again--shake some sense into him. "Look," he said in a quiet voice, "I know I'm not making any sense, but it's really important that you don't go there today, Chief."

In the face of Jim's anguish, Blair's anger vanished. Concerned he asked, "What is it, Jim? Explain it to me."

The detective rubbed the lower half of his face, trying to find the best way to start. Leveling a gaze at his partner, he said simply, "I have a bad feeling, that's all."

Blair's brows knitted in concentration. "A feeling? What kind of feeling, Jim?"

The older man shrugged helplessly as he thought of Blair hurt or worse. "I can't explain it, Chief. It's--I just woke up with this nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know it has something to do with you. Don't ask me how, I just do."

Blair nodded, unaware of the thoughts traveling through Jim's mind. "Okay, so

maybe we're dealing with a sixth sense. Your first five are enhanced, why not that one?" He was in full teacher mode, examining all the angles, trying to get to the heart of the meaning of Jim's feeling.

"I don't know what we're dealing with. I just know that I have to listen to my gut on this, Chief. You cannot go to the university today." Jim walked into the living room.

Blair followed him, his eyes alight with excitement. This was new territory and he couldn't wait to explore. "Did you have a vision? Could you see into the future? Was I hurt? What?"

Jim spun to face him and Blair backed up slightly. "Listen, Blair, it was just a feeling. Call it a detective's instinct if you want to, but no, I did not have a vision. As for you being hurt, I don't know." More than likely it had to do with his friend's well-being. He couldn't shake the pain that had clutched at his heart earlier that morning. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Please, Chief, for once just do as I tell you. Trust me."

Blair's elation at a new scientific breakthrough in his research faded as he realized the depth of emotion emanating from Jim. The detective was worried to the point of physical distress. He couldn't stand to see his Sentinel in any pain, especially if he was the cause of it. He reached forward and laid a gentle hand on Jim's arm, his eyes full of understanding and shared sentiment. Blair cared for Jim, too. "I trust you, big guy." The soft-spoken words were full of conviction. "I always have and I always will. If you have a feeling that I shouldn't go to the university then I won't."

Jim stared at him for a moment before smiling slightly. The uneasy feeling abated to a dull prickling. He'd still have to look out for his partner. "Thanks, Chief. Means a lot to me that you trust me."

"I do, man, I do." Blair moved away. "Let me grab my backpack and call George, my office assistant. He can cancel my office hours and my lecture."

Jim nodded and Blair left him standing in the living room.

They drove to the station in silence. Each puzzling over this new sense. If, indeed, that was what it was. Blair normally would have chalked it up to a hunch. Jim had those every once in a while, every detective did. He'd had a few himself. It was just the intensity of the feeling and surety of Jim's conviction that had made this different--had thrown him for a loop really. Blair knew better than anybody about Jim's protective streak. The anthropologist had even given him a name--Blessed Protector. But, this...this was beyond that. It just wasn't a matter of pulling him out of the way of a speeding car. This was just a *feeling*. He shook his head, knowing that they would have to discuss this some more. The scientist in him wondered what kind of experiments could be used to measure such an occurrence.

Jim navigated through traffic very much aware of what was going through his companion's mind. He didn't need a sixth sense or Mind Reading 101 to determine that. Blair was just so easy to read and, even when he was not, Jim had picked up clues over the course of their partnership to at least make an educated guess. However, knowing what Blair was thinking, didn't help Jim in any way. He figured the younger man would eventually want to talk about it, but what could he say. It was hard for him to articulate his feelings under the best of circumstances, preferring to communicate without words. He sighed, when it came to the discussion, he was sure Blair would help him through it. Blair always did.

As for possible experiments, Jim refused to even think about that.

**********

Jim and Blair spent the whole afternoon at the station. It was a relatively quiet, crime-free day in Cascade and Jim was taking the opportunity to clear out his In box. Blair sat beside him, munching on a carrot and studying a textbook. No amount of coaxing, bribing, or threatening could get the younger man to help with paperwork. Blair argued that he should be at the university working on university things. Since he couldn't be there, he could still at least do the work. Jim, reminded of his earlier feeling, was grateful that Blair was here, safe. He let the argument go.

The peaceful day shattered like fine china around four o'clock that afternoon.

Simon threw open the door and called, "Ellison, in my office. And bring Sandburg with you."

After exchanging a look, the two entered the captain's office and sat down. "What is it, Simon?" Jim asked.

Simon glanced at Blair before speaking. "Seems there's been some trouble. I'll need for you to check it out."

Jim frowned. "Why? It isn't our turn on the duty roster, is it?"

"No, but you're uniquely qualified for this case."

"What's happened? How can my senses be of--"

Simon shook his head. "Not those qualifications, Jim. I'm talking about Sandburg."

Blair's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he grinned. "You want my help? This is great. I finally get to be a part of the team."

Simon looked grim. "Don't get too excited, Sandburg. This case isn't going to be easy, believe me."

Blair looked puzzled and Jim's uneasy feeling that had simmered deep within him surfaced with a vengeance.

"Tell us about the case." The detective looked at his captain.

Sighing, the man in charge of Major Crimes spoke, "There's been a murder at the university."

Blair's eyes widened. "Oh, my god! The university." Blair looked at his Sentinel, remembering the feeling that had prompted his all day stay with Jim in the bullpen.

Jim returned the look, knowing that his friend was thinking the same thing. This was part of the sixth sense. It was too much of a coincidence not to be.

The captain moved around his desk and Jim was surprised to see him lay a hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "Blair," he said softly. "The body was found in your office. He's been tentatively identified as George Caulder."

He watched the conflicting emotions battle across Blair's face--shock, anger, grief and sadness all vied for attention.

Finally settling on numbness, Blair mumbled, "I...knew him. He was a friend."

Simon nodded. "We thought as much. What was he doing there today?"

Blair's voice trembled when he spoke, "George is my office assistant. He was in my office to cancel my office hours and lecture. He also used it to study when it got to loud in the dorms." He paused. "I can't believe he's dead."

Jim reached out and squeezed the wrist closest to him. 'Don't worry, Buddy, we'll get through this. I'm here for you."

Blair accepted the reassuring squeeze, a tremulous smile on his face. "Thanks, Jim," he said, softly. "I've known George for a couple of years now. He is--was--a fellow anthropologist and we traveled together from time to time. George was just about to start on his doctorate next year. And...and he was going to get married at Christmas." It seemed so unfair to the younger man. George had had a great future ahead of him and in one afternoon, it had been snuffed like a candle.

Simon pulled him out of his reverie. "Let's get going. There are already a few homicide detectives on the scene. Seems they have a suspect." The captain walked toward the door.

Jim through Blair a questioning look. "Simon? You're going?" The partners rose and followed the tall man into the bullpen.

They were walking side by side toward the elevator before Simon answered. "Yeah. I'm in on this one. It affects one of my people. I wanna be there."

Blair's heart lifted a little. He was one of Simon's people. Reaching out to lightly tap the captain on the arm, he spoke, "Thanks."

Simon's face softened a little as they took the elevator to the garage. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Blair. It really is a homicide case, but because of your involvement, it belongs to Major Crimes now."

Jim was quiet during the exchange, believing that Blair had to hear that Simon and Major Crimes considered him one of their own. For Jim, it had never been a question, but he knew that his partner still wondered about his acceptance in the department. Hopefully, that fear was laid to rest. "Simon, you said they had a suspect?"

"Yeah. I don't know all the details, but Detective Burkhardt said that whoever attacked Caulder wasn't very quiet about it. We'll know more when we get there."

"Do they have him custody?" Jim unlocked the truck.

Simon paused and looked at him. "No, Jim. He took off." The captain noted the grim set of his detective's face before moving off to his own car. "See you at the university."

Blair and Jim climbed into the Expedition and were soon on their way. Neither spoke for a long time. Finally Blair couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Jim, if-if you hadn't stopped me from going to the university, I could have been--"

"I know, Chief, I know." Thinking about it made Jim's heart feel heavy. Talking about it would choke home. "You're safe, that's all that matters."

"But, Jim--"

"Listen, Sandburg, I don't want to talk about this just now." Jim growled. Seeing the hurt look on his partner's face made him regret sounding so angry, but he couldn't help it. A feeling, a damned *feeling* had saved Blair's life. It was just too close. "Sorry, Blair. Just a little tense is all. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Blair nodded. 'This manifestation of Jim's sixth sense must be driving him crazy,' he thought. Once again, the detective wasn't in control, didn't know how to handle this new thing. And Blair knew what Jim would never admit, that it scared him. 'It's okay, big guy,' he promised to himself. 'I'll help you to control it. Like you said, we'll get through this together.'

There wasn't anymore time for thought as they pulled up in front of the anthropology building. Simon was already there and together they made their way to Blair's office. The area was swarming with police, uniformed and otherwise. The anthropologist swallowed. The scene was all too real and he was reminded of what had been lost here.

Jim laid a hand on his shoulder, providing silent support while steering him forward. They followed Simon through the throng of blue to a young man who seemed to be the center of the maelstrom.

"Detective Burkhardt, this is Detective Jim Ellison and his partner, Blair Sandburg." Simon was introducing them. "Guys, this is Detective EmilBurkhardt."

"Nice to meet you," Jim spoke and Blair nodded as Simon excused himself to go talk to the medical examiner.

Burkhardt ran a hand through his wavy red hair. "Likewise, detective. Mr. Sandburg." He indicated the office behind him. "Your office, right? Man, I'm really sorry this happened. You're not going to be able to go in there for a while. Too much blood."

The anthropologist blanched. He hadn't realized it could get any worse. "Wh-what happened?"

Burkhardt's green eyes flashed from one man to the other two. "The victim suffered multiple stab wounds. Suspect left the bloody knife with prints next to the body. It's at the lab now and we're waiting on confirmation of the suspect through his fingerprints."

Jim nodded. "Who did this, detective?"

The other man consulted his notebook. "We're looking for a Manuel Hearne."

Jim looked at Blair who shrugged helplessly. He didn't know any Hearne. The detective turned to Burkhardt. "Okay. What do you know?"

Burkhardt looked at his notebook again and began to explain. "According to the secretary in the Anthropology office, Hearne came in asking for Professor Sandburg. She says that he was highly upset. She directed him to Sandburg's office."

Jim listened with rapt attention. He didn't like the sound of this at all. "Anything else?"

"Oh yeah. Hearne was overheard arguing with the deceased by a student and two faculty members."

"What was the argument about?"

Burkhardt flipped through his notebook. "Hearne accused Sandburg of stealing his girlfriend. Someone by the name of Yadira Larson. Does that ring any bells, Mr. Sandburg?"

Blair swallowed. "Yeah, I know Yadira. She was a student of mine last semester. Yadira had a crush on me, but it never went any farther than that. I don't date students. It's unethical."

Burkhardt raised an eyebrow. "Some would disagree with you."

The anthropologist shrugged. "I don't really care. It's something I won't do."

The detective nodded, satisfied. "The witnesses also heard Caulder deny that he was you which only seemed to infuriate Hearne even more. It's a little hazy after that, but we suspect that Hearne killed Caulder soon after."

"Did anyone see or hear anything else?" Jim asked, finally getting a clear picture.

Burkhardt shook his head. "No. No one actually witnessed the murder. The body wasn't discovered until an hour ago. The M.E. says that he's been dead at least four. Sorry, Detective Ellison. After that, the trail goes cold. We have an A.P.B. out now on Hearne. We'll let you know what turns up."

"I'd appreciate at that. Anything more I should know?"

The other detective hesitated. "It's just a hunch, but based on the secretary's description we think that Hearne was on some kind of drug. She said he was unkept, shaky, and his eyes were bright."

"Thanks, Burkhardt. I appreciate all the info. I'd like to take a look if you don't mind." Jim moved forward, but stopped. A touch of unease drifted across his shoulder blades and he turned to Blair.

The younger man was looking at Burkhardt, horror etched in his face. "Detective, do you mean that I--" He couldn't finish the sentence. After quietly listening to Burkhardt explain what had happened, Blair's insides began to quiver.

The homicide detective nodded. "Caulder wasn't the intended victim. You were, Mr. Sandburg."

Jim didn't say anything. He had come to that realization long ago and now he was worried about his partner. The Sentinel's sixth sense had saved him, but how would Blair feel about all this? Jim didn't have long to wait to find out.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Blair stumbled backwards; too bright blue eyes in stark contrast to his pasty white face. The younger man's lower lip trembled and he was shaking slightly. It had finally hit him.

"Blair?" Jim called softly and took a step toward his partner.

Wild eyes refused to focus on the detective and Blair stumbled back another step. No," he whispered. 'Oh my god!' He thought to himself. 'Jim saved my life. Again. If I had been here...' the thought trailed off. 'If I had been here, I'd be dead and George would still be alive.' The knowledge slammed into him like a physical blow and the guilt sent him to his knees. The agony that his life had been spared through a sacrifice of another's was enough to distract him from the strong, comforting arm which encircled his torso.

"Blair? Buddy, take it easy." Jim whispered against the curls tickling his nose.

Blair's low moaning reached his ears and he tightened his grip on the younger man, pulling him closer to his chest.

Unconsciously, Blair clutched at the detective's arm as he hung over it. His body was rebelling as his guilt warred with relief, threatening to overwhelm him. Jim had saved him...saved him...*saved* him. The thought ran through his head like a runaway freight train. Underneath and just as powerful was the other, more painful realization. Someone had died because of him. Blair's eyes clenched shut, trying to block out the images that tormented him.

Jim looked down in alarm as his partner's shallow, rapid pants signaled distress. Blair had all the symptoms of a panic attack. The Sentinel knew immediately what his friend must be thinking. Guilt was a terrific driving force. With Blair, it was out of control with no one behind the wheel.

"It's okay, Chief. It's okay." Jim's tone was calm, soothing like gently flowing water. He began to rock his partner back and forth, oblivious to the concerned glances from various police personnel. He was also unaware of Simon coming to stand beside him.

Blair clutched at Jim's arm tighter, clasping it to his body as if to absorb the Sentinel's strength. He couldn't breathe. Every time he forced air into his lungs, shivers of pain went through him. It was just too much to bear. The responsibility of another's death...Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew he was not responsible, but he refused to listen, refused to surrender the guilt.

"I've got you, Blair. Everything's going to be all right. I've got you." Jim rubbed Blair's back, soothingly. "Breathe, partner, breathe. Nice slow, even breaths. Come on, Chief, for me."

Jim's deep voice finally penetrated the miasma of relief, guilt, and grief. Without realizing it, Blair began to respond. Inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale.

The Sentinel moved his hand and began to gently knead the tense muscles of Blair's shoulder. "That's it. Focus on me, Chief. I'm here and I won't let anything happen to you. Just breathe. Almost there..."

Warm, moist air blew gently into Blair's ear as Jim spoke. The observer could feel the hard chest behind him providing support, the arm in front of him lending strength, and all the while the murmuring voice of his friend giving him the anchor he so desperately needed.

Finally, Blair opened his eyes, noting briefly that Jim was on one knee as he held Blair.

"Welcome back, buddy," Jim said softly, brushing away the curls that were clinging to his partner's sweaty face.

Blair sighed and leaned back against Jim. He was suddenly very tired, but he managed a weak smile. "Thanks, big guy."

The Sentinel smiled down at him as Simon spoke, startling them both. "You okay, Blair?"

"I-I think so." Blair shivered and closed his eyes briefly.

Simon's voice was gruff. "That's enough for today, guys. We've done everything that can be done. You two go on home and no arguments."

Jim briefly entertained the idea of arguing anyway, but one look at Blair's face changed his mind. His friend needed to get away from this place, needed to rest. "You got it, Simon. Let me know as soon as you know anything."

"Will do, Jim. Now, go on. And Jim?" Simon continued as the two rose from the floor. "Take care of him."

"Will do, Captain." Jim took Blair by the arm. "Come on, Chief. Let's go home."

Simon watched the two leave the building and wondered not for the first time, about the bond between them. Was it a Sentinel thing? A friendship thing? Both? No matter. It worked and that was all that counted.

**********

'Silence is golden,' thought Jim, but at this point it wasn't all that precious to him. He would rather hear Blair's voice then sit one more minute in the cab of the truck with only his thoughts for company.

They were on their way home and not a single word had been exchanged between them--no word, no look, nothing. In fact, Jim couldn't even see Blair's face, obscured by a curtain of hair as it was. The younger man was staring out his window unseeing, his thoughts trained inward. Whether he meant to or not, he was shutting Jim out.

"Chief?" Jim whispered, softly. The only acknowledgment he received was that Blair shifted further away from him. The pain of that action rendered Jim speechless for a few moments. He continued doggedly. "Blair, you can't blame yourself."

"I don't want to talk about it," came the deadened voice.

Jim sighed and pulled into his parking space. Putting the truck into park, he didn't immediately shut the engine. Instead, he unsnapped his seatbelt and scooted closer to Blair. Laying a hand on Blair's arm, he spoke, "Chief, look at me." He tugged at the resisting body in front of him.

"No, Jim. I said I don't want to talk about it. Any of it!" The last was a shout as Blair jerked away from the comforting hand on his arm and wrenched the door open.

Jim sighed in disgust as he watched his friend run away from him and disappear up to the loft. "You handled that really well, Ellison." He shut the engine and followed Blair.

Jim entered the loft and hung up his coat. Scanning the darkened living room, he immediately noticed that the door leading to Blair's room was closed. He quietly made his way over and knocked softly. "Blair? Buddy, you okay?"

At first there was no answer. Then, "'Course I'm okay, Jim. I'm not the one who's dead."

Jim winced at the bitterness of the tone. His worst fear was realized. Not only did the younger man blame himself for Caulder's death, but now he was feeling guilty for being alive. Jim couldn't let Blair go on believing that. He laid his forehead against the door. "Blair--"

"I'm sorry, Jim. I--Please, leave me alone. Just leave me alone."

Blair's plaintive voice tore at Jim's heart and he sighed, wishing he could do something--anything--for his friend. The Sentinel reached out and gently caressed the door. 'Oh, Blair. I'm sorry. So sorry you have to go through this. But I'm glad you're still with me, Chief. If that makes me a bad person, well, I'm sorry for that, too. But it wouldn't change how I feel.' Aloud, he said, "Okay, I'll leave you alone. Just remember, I'm here for you." Jim again caressed the door, hoping to transmit his feelings through it. With another sigh, he moved away and went upstairs to his room.

Blair sat with his back against his door, knees drawn up, feet spread apart. He was the very picture of despair as he listened to his friend walk away. Knowing that he had hurt Jim only added to his guilt.

Sighing, he propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. What was he going to do? There was so much to think about. Jim had saved his life using a sense that they had never encountered. That in itself was enough to get his mind going. But to think that someone had died in his place....That was something he couldn't deal with, not now. And if he knew his partner, Jim *would* want it out in the open.

Blair could hear him in his head. 'Chief,' Jim would say. 'It's not your fault. You've got to stop blaming yourself. You're alive, don't feel bad about that.'

To which he would reply, 'How can you say it's not my fault? George was mistaken for me, Jim, for *me*. He's dead and I'm alive...'

The two of them would come to an impasse. Nothing else would or could be said.

Blair sighed again and stood up. The conversation he was having in his head, causing him to think, only made the pounding in his temples worse. An unfortunate side effect of that afternoon's panic attack had been a killer headache. He knew he should get some aspirin, but he was too tired to go outside and maybe have to face Jim. Instead, he settled on his bed, a pillow tucked under his head. The sun had barely gone down, but Blair felt as if he'd been awake for days. He closed his eyes.

**********

Jim's eyes snapped open and he glanced at the clock. It was a quarter passed three in the morning. Movement from downstairs had awakened him. He heard the refrigerator door open followed by a cabinet. Blair. The younger man was in the kitchen. The detective debated whether or not he should go down there and talk to his friend. He was halfway out of bed, when he changed his mind. Now wasn't the time to talk to Blair. He'd respect his roommate's wishes and leave him alone. Nevertheless, it was one of the hardest things for Ellison to do when he laid back down. The Blessed Protector had to fight not to go downstairs and comfort the younger man, ease his pain away. With a sigh, Jim drew the blanket up over himself and waited.

Downstairs, Blair moved quietly, trying not to wake his sleeping friend. Reaching into the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of water. His headache had intensified and he needed some aspirin. He took the bottle from the cabinet and swallowed two pills before going to sit in the darkness of the living room. Blair sat there, staring at nothing. Just like he'd been doing in his room for most of the night. Sleep wouldn't come. It stayed just out of his reach. He was afraid that it would be a long time before he'd be able to sleep well again.

Draining his water, he laid down on the couch. Maybe just maybe, if he closed his eyes....Immediately, they snapped open. The anthropologist never saw the inside of his office after George had been killed, but his imagination was filling in all the details. He couldn't quite keep the images at bay. 'Damn it!' he thought, rubbing at the grittiness in his eyes. He was so tired. Rising from the couch, he moved to the VCR and put an old Marx Brothers movie in. Quickly muting the sound, he threw an apologetic glance upward to the bedroom. Jim would still probably be able to detect that the television was on. Blair just hoped he'd be forgiven. Pushing play, he settled in to watch the silent antics of the brothers. It would be the first of many movies he'd watch that night.

Jim listened to the soft whine of electricity and Groucho's extremely low voice emanating from the television. Sighing, he closed his eyes. 'Hang in there, buddy. We'll get through this.' Blair was his last thought as he finally drifted to sleep.

**********

Jim came downstairs the next morning and saw Gene Kelly singing in the rain. Moving his gaze to the couch, his eyes settled on his sleeping partner.

Blair was curled up on the sofa, his hands tucked under his head in a makeshift pillow. Even in sleep, a frown marred his forehead.

Kneeling next to the couch, Jim reached out and laid a hand on the troubled brow. With light fingertips, he gently rubbed Blair's forehead in attempt to ease the young man. He was rewarded with a soft, sleepy sigh as the frown unwrinkled. Satisfied, the detective stood and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and tucked it around Blair.

Glancing once more at his sleeping friend, Jim went to call Simon. He was anxious to know if there were any leads. The sooner they caught Hearne the sooner Blair could get on with his life.

The detective was still talking on the phone when Blair stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Like a zombie, he moved to pour himself a cup a coffee from the pot Jim had made earlier.

"Gotta go, Simon. Talk to you later." Jim's eyes were on his partner as he hung up the phone.

"They caught him yet?" Blair's voice was dull.

Jim shook his head. "He was seen at a convenience store about midnight, but they lost him. Don't worry, Chief. We'll find him."

Blair didn't reply as he sat down at the table.

"Chief?" Jim sat across from his partner. Blair stared at an invisible spot just passed the Sentinel's right ear. "Blair, we have to--"

The younger man suddenly shifted focus. Eyes alert, he stared at Jim. "How come they didn't do anything?"

Jim frowned. "We're doing everything we can. It just takes time."

"Uh-uh. Why didn't they *do* anything? The witnesses, Jim. Why didn't they help George. They heard the argument, right? Yet, no one helped him. Why?"

"Chief," How could he explain this? "Some people don't like to get involved. They feel that it's none of their business."

"That sucks, man!" Blair jumped from his chair and poured most of his coffee down the drain. He was no longer thirsty and food was beyond the realm of thought. "They coulda saved him, Jim. He might still be alive..."

Jim stood up and moved closer to his partner. "Blair, playing the 'what if' game isn't going to help you. Things happen that we have no control over and you just have to accept it."

Blair threw up his hands in a gesture of disbelief. "*I* have to accept it?! Remember who you're talking to, Jim. Fate, destiny--I talk about that stuff all the time. But it doesn't help me out here. George's death could have been prevented if only someone had stepped in. I can't believe your casual attitude about this, man."

"I don't mean to come off sounding like I don't care, Chief. It's just that if I want to survive with my sanity intact, I *have* to check my feelings at the door. Otherwise, I'd end up self-destructing because of the madness of it all." Jim took a step forward, closing the distance between him and his friend. "We've talked about this before," he finished softly, not really wanting to reopen the memories of Lash.

Blair slumped forward slightly. "I know, Jim. It-it's just that this whole thing was senseless. George didn't have to die. He wasn't supposed to die. I was."

Jim reached out and grasped Blair's chin in his hand. Firmly, he raised it so that he could look into Blair's eyes. "Chief, it's not your fault. You have to believe that. You have to stop blaming--"

The younger man jerked away from Jim. "I know, Jim. We've already had this conversation. Don't bother. Nothing's going to get solved."

Jim looked puzzled. "I don't under--"

Blair sighed. "I had this conversation in my head last night, Jim. I know what you're going to say."

"Are you sure about that, Sandburg?" Jim moved and gripped Blair's arms in his hands. "I'm really sorry that your friend died. You *know* that." The grip tightened as he stared at Blair. "But if you think for one minute that I would have felt better knowing that it was your body lying in there, your blood I smelled, think again. I'm glad your alive, Chief. I'm glad you're safe here with me."

Blair swallowed. He hadn't thought what this was doing to Jim. Feeling ashamed, he spoke, "I know I'm alive, Jim. I'm alive because of you. I'm sorry if I don't sound grateful--"

Jim shook him. "You should be grateful, dammit! Your life is precious to me, Blair. And if somehow I could go back in time and erase that damned feeling I had just so you could die and save yourself the guilt, I wouldn't. You hear me? So stop this guilt trip right now. I will not have you wishing you were dead in your friend's place." With that outburst, Jim pushed Blair away and stormed up to his bedroom.

The younger man clutched at the kitchen table for support, staring stupidly up at the loft. What had just happened?

**********

Jim jerked open his dresser drawers only to ram them shut. What he really wanted to do was march back downstairs and slam Blair up against the wall, knock some sense into his young partner. Where was Blair's instinct to live?

Giving up on the sport of drawer slamming, Jim threw himself onto his bed and leaned back, arms folded behind his head. He still couldn't believe it. Blair had stood in the kitchen, practically wishing it *had* been him instead of Caulder. Jim could understand the younger man's guilt, but that had been going too far.

He sighed in frustration. Maybe he had reacted badly, but he sure wasn't going to take back what he had said. Blair was too important to him. And if his sixth sense saved Blair's life once again, the Sentinel would gladly follow his instinct despite the obvious headache it would be to acknowledge the new sense let alone control it.

The immediate problem wasn't his sixth sense, though. It was Blair. Guilt could do serious things to a person's psyche. It had even been known to cause a person to act out of character. Jim was worried about Blair. He vowed to keep an eye on his partner to make sure the guilt didn't overwhelm him. The moment it threatened the well-being of his friend, he would step in and take care of Blair. Jim wouldn't allow any harm to come to him.

**********

Downstairs, Blair was aware of the violent thwack of drawers being slammed followed by silence. He must have really pissed Jim off.

When had he lost track of the conversation? Blair felt like Daffy Duck in that old Robin Hood cartoon. Thrust...parry..smack in the face. Dazedly, Blair reached up and touched his nose, half expecting to feel a beak bent upward. Impatiently, he banished the Warner Brothers character from his mind. Recounting the conversation in his head, Blair began to get angry. What right did Jim have telling him all that stuff? His life was his own and no concern to anyone else. He was free-spirited and independent. Nothing would change that.

With a guilty start, Blair realized that wasn't true. He was being a selfish jerk. He could no longer say that every decision he made affected him alone. There was Jim to consider as well. The detective did have a right to be concerned about him. It was about friendship after all.

A friendship that not only he'd been neglecting, but also taking for granted. Blair had never once considered Jim and how he might feel. It could have been him, lying dead in his office and Jim would have had to deal with that. Blair knew that if the tables had been reversed, he would have been devastated at the loss of his friend. He had no desire for the Sentinel to feel pain that intense. The anthropologist had seen it once, when Danny Chou had been killed. Jim's response to *that* anguish had been the loss of control of his senses, terrifying Blair in the process.

Blair sighed. He should be grateful that he was breathing, but it wouldn't be that easy to get over his guilt. It really should have been him. If it hadn't been for Jim's sixth sense...A guilt of a different kind washed over him. He'd been neglecting his role as a partner on top of everything else. The younger man had practically ignored this new development, pretty much forsaking Jim in the process. 'I'm sorry, big guy,' Blair said to himself. 'I haven't been making this easy for you at all.'

Before he even realized it, he was halfway up the stairs to Jim's bedroom. Pausing, one foot poised upon the next step, Blair thought about what he was about to do. Maybe Jim wouldn't want to talk to him. Entering his partner's domain may not be a wise idea. 'Of course,' Blair speculated, 'I'm already in his territory.'

He didn't have time to consider it any longer.

"Blair," Jim's weary voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you just going to stand there? You might as well come all the way up."

"Um, sure, Jim." Blair walked up the rest of the way not without some trepidation.

He entered his friend's room and stood uncertainly.

Jim looked up at him, waiting for the other man to speak first. He watched as Blair tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, eyes downcast. "Blair?"

"Um...I...can we talk?"

"What's on your mind, Chief?" Jim replied, guardingly.

Blair looked at his reclining friend briefly before shifting his gaze away. Jim no longer looked angry, but the stoic mask was in place. The younger man chewed at his lower lip indecisively.

"Blair," Jim said, patiently. He waited for the younger to look at him before continuing. "Sit down. Talk to me."

Blair hesitated a brief moment before sitting on the edge of the bed next to his friend. Head hung, hands clasped loosely between his knees, he spoke, "I--Jim--uh...oh, god! I don't even know where to start or even what to say."

"Take it easy, Chief." Jim laid a calming and on his partner's arm. He could feel the fine tremors racing through the other's body. Blair's emotions were swinging like a pendulum. 'And no wonder,' Jim thought, 'after what he's been through.' He gave the arm a gentle squeeze. "It's all right. Take your time."

Jim silently impelled his partner to accept his reassurance. Blair wouldn't be able to shake the guilt easily. He was simply much too compassionate, too caring. It left him open for the pain and heartache that the world carried. Sometimes, it was his deepest wish that Blair not care so much. Jim would immediately clamp down on the betraying thought. The Sentinel wouldn't change his friend for anything. For all the distress he could receive, he could also feel joy and happiness. More importantly, Blair could share it.

Breathing deeply, Blair covered Jim's hand on his arm with his own. "Thanks, Jim."

The detective looked puzzled. "What did I do, Chief?"

Looking up at him and smiling briefly, Blair replied, "You've been here for me. I've been really selfish, but you haven't left me."

Astonished, Jim replied, "Blair, you're my friend. If truth be told, my best friend. I'd never leave you especially when you need me." He turned his hand in Blair's, clasping it. "But, Chief, I'm the one who's being selfish. I had no right to lose my temper this morning--"

"No, Jim. You had every right." Blair unclasped their hands and stood. He began pacing as he spoke. "I...I wasn't thinking about how this was affecting you. I even, uh, even forgot..." He looked helplessly at Jim.

"Forgot what?"

"Jim, I am so sorry, man," Blair blurted out. He was tired of feeling like a rock tumbling down a mountainside, gathering speed, losing control, knowing the only way to stop was to crash. "I forgot about the new sense, the sixth one."

"Whoa, Chief. Slow down." Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. "First of all, you haven't been selfish. You've had a terrible shock and it's bound to take its toll. I had no reason to take my frustration out on you." He held up a hand to forestall the protest forming on his friend's lips. "As for the sense, we don't know if it's new."

That stopped Blair. Momentarily startled out of his misery, he turned curious eyes on the Sentinel. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Jim sighed. "Well, I think we all have a sixth sense. You know, hunches, instinct."

"Yeah, but Jim, this feeling you had was way too intense to be ordinary." Blair argued.

Jim nodded. "That's true. And you're probably right, it is a Sentinel thing. All my other senses are heightened, why not that one? It's just not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?! Jim, I don't know how to even begin to figure out how help you control your sixth sense. It's hard enough for you controlling the other five." Blair's preoccupation with this new twist temporarily freed him of his pathos.

"Chief," Jim said softly. "I don't think I'd want to control it even if I could. You aren't meant to. Like I said, it's instinct. So quit wasting energy worrying about it. Besides, I don't think this is the first time this has happened."

"What?!" Blair's voice rose. "This has happened before and you didn't tell me about it? Jim, I'm your partner, your--"

"Calm down," Jim interrupted. "The first time it happened was when you were in that elevator. As soon as the call came in, I just knew--*knew*--you were in trouble."

"The elevator? Man, that was months ago."

"Yeah, I know. But, Chief, you have to understand--" Jim moved closer to Blair. "You have to know that when it comes to you, there's some force, some other power at work. You're such an integral part of this Sentinel thing--hell, a part of *me*. Your well-being has become an instinctual thing. I don't question it. That's just the way it is."

Blair stared at him dumfounded. What was he supposed to say to that? Jim was telling him in a roundabout way that he cared. It touched him so much, goose bumps rose all along his flesh. "Jim, I-I don't know what to say."

The other man smiled. "You don't have to say anything, Blair. Just don't go beating yourself up because you decided to put yourself first. You're always putting my needs ahead of your own and while I appreciate it, it isn't always right."

"But Jim, I don't want to let you down." Blair said.

"Sandburg, you could never let me down. You're my partner, right?"

His gaze never wavering from Jim's, Blair replied. "Yeah."

"Good. I'm glad we agree." The detective lightly smacked Blair's cheeks. "Let's go. We've got to get to work."

"Uh, sure, Jim." Blair swallowed and made his way to the staircase. He chastised himself for forgetting about George and the case. So caught up with what he and Jim were discussing, yesterday's events had slipped his mind.

"Blair?" Jim moved up behind him.

"Yeah?" Blair looked at him over his shoulder.

"It's okay if you didn't think about it for a while." Jim's voice was soft. "He wouldn't think any less of you."

"I know." Blair turned away and walked downstairs.

**********

"Any leads, Simon?" Jim asked as he and Blair seated themselves in the captain's office.

"We got the lab reports in." Simon glanced at Blair. The observer seemed to be together, but the captain could detect weariness and pain lurking in the inky blue depths of Blair's eyes. It looked like the kid hadn't got much sleep either. "It's been confirmed. Hearne's prints were all over the weapon."

"Wow, the lab sure turned over quick." Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Simon looked at Blair again. "I felt this case required it and they put a rush on it."

Blair hadn't heard a single word exchanged between Jim and Simon. His thoughts were miles away. Despite the talk he and Jim had had this morning, the guilt was still eating at him. It wasn't a surprise. He understood Jim's feelings, but he just couldn't turn his own on and off like a faucet. There must be something he could do, something that would help him over this. Any more brooding and his remorse would topple him like a one-legged chair.

"Blair? Hey, buddy, you still with us?" Jim shook his shoulder and the younger man reluctantly returned his attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, Jim. Sorry. Guess I tuned out for a while."

Simon and Jim exchanged glances. "No problem, Chief." Jim said, easily. "Ready for some detective work?"

Blair nodded. "What are we gonna do?"

"We're going to see if we can track down Yadira Larson. She may know where Hearne might have gone to."

"Good luck, you two." Simon nodded at them as the two headed for the door.

"Thanks, captain." Jim led the way to the parking garage. "You have any idea where we could find this woman, Chief?"

Blair pursed his lips in thought as they both climbed into the truck. "Hmm...she's an artist, Jim. We may want to check the art department and university gallery on campus."

"Sounds like a good a place as any. Let's go." Jim swung the Expedition around and headed for the university.

**********

Hours later, an exhausted Sentinel and partner walked into the loft. The search for Yadira Larson had proved fruitless. Not only had they searched the university, checked out her apartment, and Hearne's apartment; they had also looked at the two major art museums in Cascade on the off chance Yadira may have gone there. Both were fresh out of ideas and energy.

"Hungry, Jim?" Blair walked into the kitchen. "I could fix something. Sandwiches, salad, you name it."

The detective secretly surveyed his friend as he'd been doing all day. Jim was still worried about him, but Blair had held up like a trooper. Now, he looked even more tired than Jim felt. "Naw, Sandburg. Why don't we just order something."

Blair pulled out two beers from the refrigerator. Handing one to Jim, he nodded. "Sounds good, man. Nothing too heavy, though. It's been a long day."

They moved to the couch and sat down. "All right. How about Chinese? You could get the noodle combo and I could get some egg foo young."

"I can deal with that." Blair sipped his beer.

Jim reached for the phone and called in the order.

The food arrived shortly thereafter and they settled down to eat. Neither of them talked much and Jim finally turned on the television. They were just in time to catch the last half of the Orcas game.

"How do you think they're going to do this year, Jim?" Blair asked, pushing his plate away.

Jim shrugged, picking Blair's plate from the table. "Don't know, Chief. MacAllister is on the injured list and Milewski's been banned from the next two games, pending the drug test. They're two of the best players. How this year's going to turn out is anyone's guess."

"Yeah, you're right." Blair followed him into the kitchen. "But that rookie, Fennelman, looks like he may be able to do some serious damage. I think they have a chance to go all the way this year."

They were seated back on the couch before Jim replied. "Fennelman still needs a lot of work. He plays as an individual not as a member of a team. Once he figures out the difference, then the Orcas will have a chance. Until then, I don't know."

"Guess we'll see, then." Blair settled back to watch the game.

The Orcas ended the last period of the game tied. It looked like there would be overtime. "Sudden death," Blair muttered. He hoped the goalie for the Orcas would do a good job deflecting the puck. It only took one goal to win the game. 'Let's hope the Orcas get the point first.'

Yawning, Jim rose. "I'm gonna hit the hay, Chief. I'm beat."

"Night, Jim."

When Blair didn't move from his seat, Jim asked, "Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Uh-huh. In a few. I just wanna know the score." Blair rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

"Chief, we can find out the score tomorrow. You need to get some rest." Jim came to stand over his partner.

Blair looked up at him, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Just a few more minutes, dad. Then I'll go to bed. Okay?"

Jim gazed at him for a long moment, not quite believing him. "Sure, Blair. Goodnight." He moved away and was soon treading the stairs.

"Night." Blair called, watching the retreating figure in relief. Jim hovering over him only made him nervous, especially when he felt like he was lying. Sure he was tired, but he didn't think he was going to get much sleep. George's murder still weighed on him like an anvil. Even under the pretense of normalcy when they were discussing the Orcas, his guilt hadn't been far away. He couldn't believe that he'd managed to have such a sane conversation with Jim.

Blair stood and stretched as the game ended. The Orcas had won by the skin of their teeth. Muting the sound of the television, he stepped out onto the balcony and gazed out over the city. The young man had had plenty of time to think as they had searched all over for Yadira Larson. The idea had come to him while they were at the Cascade Museum of Art. Their last stop.

"I know I can't help you now, George," Blair spoke softly, letting the wind carry his words away. "But maybe I can help find your murderer. Make sure he's put away for life. It's the least I can do for you. I know it isn't much. But Hearne will pay. I won't let him get away with this." Blair clenched his fist. "There is just one thing I have to do first."

First thing tomorrow, he'd have to convince Jim to let him visit George's fiancé, Angela Wainwright. Blair had known Angela far longer than he'd known George. In fact, he was the one who had introduced the two almost eighteen months ago. He would have to go see her. It was only right. Jim had told him earlier, during their drive around Cascade, that the police had already paid her a visit, but it wasn't the same. He would go see her and apologize. Then, he would find Hearne.

He walked back into the living room and cocked his head toward the upper bedroom, listening. No movement could be heard, but that didn't mean that Jim wasn't awake.

Blair shrugged. 'Guess it really doesn't matter,' he thought. Jim was going to know that he was still up.

With a quiet sigh, Blair popped the first of the Star Wars trilogy into the VCR and settled down to watch Luke Skywalker battle the Darkside of the Force.

**********

Jim gave up on trying to sleep as the low sounds from the television drifted to his ears. "Those damn Ewoks," he grumbled. Clad only in his boxers, he walked down the stairs. Glancing at the television as he entered the living room, Jim noticed that the battle between good and evil had just begun on the planet Endor.

"What you are you doing up, Jim?" Blair asked quietly as his friend moved to sit down next to him on the couch.

"I could ask you the same thing, Chief."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, you could." He turned the t.v. off. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Nothing to be sorry about." Jim leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I was hoping that after the talk we had this morning, you'd be able to sleep."

Blair shook his head. "No, Jim. I can't get rid of it that easily. It's a constant weight and I'm just going to have to carry it until I'm ready."

Jim nodded in the moonlit darkness, content to wait until Blair was ready to talk about this. It might not be tonight or tomorrow night, but Jim wanted his friend to know that he was going to be there when he was ready.

Neither of them spoke for a while. It wasn't an uneasy silence or a strained one. Their friendship no longer required many words and the quiet suited them both.

Finally Blair shifted on the couch and turned to Jim. "I don't know what to do, Jim. I can't stop thinking about it and when I close my eyes..." He shuddered.

Jim reached forward and put a hand on Blair's knee, squeezing gently. "When you close your eyes..." He prompted.

"When I close my eyes, I see George lying in his own blood." Blair swallowed. "And I see..." Shaky pause. "I see myself standing over him. Holding a knife."

Jim closed his eyes as Blair's anguish engulfed him. Refocusing on his friend, he rubbed gently at the knee under his hand. "Chief, there's no salve, no medicine to give you to make the guilt go away. This tragedy hit pretty close to home and the circumstances surrounding it make it even worse. But you have to realize, to believe that this was *not* your fault."

"I know that, Jim." Blair tapped his temple. "I know that in here, but I just can't make my heart believe it. Do you know what I mean?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, Chief. As a matter of fact I do. Every time something I do puts you in danger, I get the same feeling."

Blair's eyes widened. "You do? But why?"

"You don't think I feel guilty every time your life is threatened just because you're a friend of mine? Because you work with me? My head knows that it's not my fault, but convincing my heart of that is something else again."

Blair flushed. "I had no idea. I'm sorry, man."

"Oh, no, Sandburg." Jim admonished gently. "No way you're going to take the blame for that as well. That guilt belongs to me."

"Jim," Blair leaned forward. "I'm with you because I want to be. I'm your partner and your friend. Any scrapes I get into are because of the bad guys. Hell, man, each time I've been in danger, you've saved my life. None of it is your fault."

"Take your own advice, Chief." Jim patted Blair's knee. "It won't happen over night, but it will get easier."

Blair nodded. "Just let me work through it at my own pace, okay?"

"Okay. Just remember, I'll be here."

Blair realized not for the first time how lucky he was to be able to call Jim a friend. He had always known that a true friend was as precious as any diamond. People spent all of their lives looking for that one special person. Some never did. Blair was one of the lucky ones. He had found that rare gift known as true friendship in Jim Ellison. "Thanks, big guy," he said softly. Awkwardly, he leaned into Jim and gave the older man a hug.

Jim patted his friend's back before he moved away. "No problem, Chief." He picked up the remote. "What do you say we watch the Millennium Falcon kick some butt."

Blair grinned. "May the force be with you, man!"

The Sentinel grinned back, glad to see that Blair didn't sound as melancholic as he had earlier. They would get through this. It would just take time.

He turned on the television.

**********

The sun's gentle rays caressed Jim's face, tapping at his eyelids, prodding him awake. With a yawn, he brought his head up from where he'd been leaning it against the ouch. The first thing he noticed was that the television was still on and the videotape was poking out of the VCR. 'Must have fallen asleep before the movie was over and it rewound itself,' he mused silently.

Something tickled his bare knee and he looked down to see Blair's head pillowed on his thigh. They younger man shifted again, scattering ringlets in all directions. Curled up against Jim, he was sound asleep.

Jim moved his hand from where it rested on Blair's shoulder. Reaching along the back of the couch, he grabbed the blanket and covered the younger man. It was a little chilly in the loft and Blair was sensitive to the cold. Jim was feeling it too, despite his higher tolerance. Blair sleeping along side him was his only source of warmth. Doubtless his leg would be stiff later, but he wasn't going to move. Not when his friend was finally relaxed enough to sleep. Jim wondered how many more nights would be spent on the couch.

Absently, Jim brushed some of the tangled mass from his friend's face. One night on the couch or twenty, it didn't matter. If Blair needed to watch television late into the night to help him exorcize his demons, Jim would be right there next to him. That's what friends were for and Blair was the closest one he had. He squeezed Blair's shoulder lightly, reassuring himself of the warm and treasured presence at his side. 'We're in this together, buddy. You and me. Like Butch and Sundance.'

Jim leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. Maybe he could catch another hour of sleep before they needed to get up and go to the station.

Blair sighed and snuggled deeper into the cushions, pressing his head into his pillow. He frowned half asleep. It was a comfortable pillow, but not soft and pliant like his own. Fuzzily, he opened his eyes. Shifting a little, he noticed his sleeping Sentinel above him. Embarrassment flooded him as he realized that he was half lying in Jim's lap. Blair moved to get up, but the hand on his shoulder tightened.

"Morning, Chief." Eyes still closed, Jim spoke. "Sleep okay?"

Blair nodded.

"Hey, stop that. It tickles." There was a smile in Jim's voice as he opened his eyes and gazed down at his friend.

"Sorry, Jim," Blair answered meekly. He moved from his partner's light embrace and sat up.

"No problem, Chief. Just glad you slept well."

"Hey, Jim, I'm sorry I fell asleep. I didn't mean to use...well, you know." Blair shrugged helplessly.

Jim stood up gingerly. He had been right. Most of the feeling in his right leg was gone. Slowly, he exercised it. It wasn't long before the tingling began as his blood circulation returned to normal. "It's okay, Blair. You needed some rest and if I helped, I'm glad."

"Sorry about your leg." 'God,' he thought miserably, 'if guilt were a stock option, I'd be rich.'

"Quit apologizing, Sandburg." Jim moved to the kitchen. "If it bothered me, I would have woken you and moved. Got that?"

Blair got up and followed him. "I know and I'm sor--" he caught himself. "It's just that I feel like such a wimp. You're always there picking me up when I fall."

"Chief," Jim filled the coffee pot and turned it on. "You're not a wimp. There's nothing wrong with needing a little help from your friends. And that's me."

Blair smiled slightly as his affection for the older man blossomed inside him. "Thanks, Jim. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I don't know," Jim ruffled his hair as he moved passed him. "Probably be living like a slob."

"Funny, big guy." Blair grimaced and then smiled. His roommate was a special person.

"I'm gonna hit the shower first and let *you* freeze. Start breakfast?"

"Sure." Blair paused. "Jim?"

The detective stopped at the open door of the bathroom. "Yeah?"

"Love ya, man," he said quietly.

Jim's face crinkled in a smile and his blue eyes turned bluer. "Back at you, Chief."

In a heartbeat, a silent message passed between them. Friendship, strong and pure bound them together.

Jim moved away first. "Now, go fix us some eggs."

Blair shook his head fondly. "I'm on it."

**********

They were on the way to the station when Blair broke the easy atmosphere that had been with them since this morning. "Jim?" He turned to the driver. "There's something I have to do. Can I borrow the truck for a couple of hours while you're at the station?"

Jim glanced quickly at him before returning his eyes to the road. "What do you need to do?"

Blair sighed and shifted to look out the window. "It's kind of important. It won't take more than two hours. I'll be back by lunch."

Jim stopped the truck at the red light and looked at his partner. He was turned away and Jim began to feel uneasy. "You still haven't answered my question."

Blair closed his eyes briefly. He wasn't sure how his answer would be received, but he had a feeling Jim wasn't going to like it. "I-I need to visit George's fiancé."

Jim frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea, Blair. No, you can't borrow the truck." The light turned green and Jim continued to the station.

Blair's head snapped around, surprise and anger making his blue eyes dark. "You're actually saying no?! Fine. I'll call a taxi."

"Yeah, Chief, I'm saying no. And forget about the taxi, too. You're not going anywhere." Jim's hands clenched the steering wheel.

Tired of the sick and helpless feeling that had dogged him for days, Blair embraced his anger. "You can't forbid me to go, Jim. This is something I need to do. Don't you get it? Angela's future husband is dead because of me. The least I can do is go see her."

Jim's jaw tightened and the muscle began to jump. Always a sign of true Ellison temper. "Are we back to that again, Sandburg? Stop feeling sorry for yourself--"

"Feeling sorry for myself?" Blair interrupted, furiously. "How do you figure that? I'm the one who's still moving around down here, still breathing, still alive--"

It was Jim's turn to interrupt. "And that's why you're feeling sorry for yourself because you're around and he isn't. You said it yourself, Chief. It should have been you."

Blair blanched. "Thanks, Jim. Thanks for reminding me. It's my fault Angela won't be marrying the man she loves next month."

Jim sighed in exasperation. "We've been over this. *You* did not stab George. You got that! Some crazed idiot walked into your office and killed him. You had nothing to do with it."

"I had everything to do with it! Hearne thought it was *me* he was killing." Blair's voice broke slightly. "For that, I've gotta go see Angela. I've gotta talk to her, let her know how sorry I am..." Blair looked away.

Jim sighed, his anger ebbing. "Look, Blair, believe it or not I understand, but you still can't go--"

"Come on, Jim!" Blair burst in angrily, turning to look at his partner. "You say you understand, but you still say no. I thought you said you'd be there for me, that you were my friend."

Jim pulled into the Cascade P.D. parking garage and turned off the engine. Softly he said, "I am your friend, Chief. If you'd just let me finish, all I was going to say was that you couldn't go alone. Hearne's still out there and I'm sure he's realized by now that it wasn't you he killed. You're life's still in danger, partner. Until we catch this guy, we're like glue. Understood?"

Blair hung his head ashamed. "I'm sorry, Jim," he mumbled. "I sort of forgot about that. I understand."

Jim reached over and tilted Blair's chin up so that he could look into eyes as blue as his own. "Listen, Chief. I'm just worried about you. You've been in a funk for days, saying it should have been you. Please promise me that you won't ever think that your life means nothing and you want to throw it away." There was a desperate quality to Jim's voice.

Blair's eyes widened as Jim's secret fear was spoken aloud. He grabbed Jim's hand and held it tightly with both of his. "Oh, man. I'd never do that. Not in a million years. It's never gotten so bad that I'd contemplate..." His voice trailed off, unable to complete the thought. "Besides, even if it got really bad, I have you and that's all I need. My Blessed Protector would take care of everything."

Jim smiled, feeling relieved. He knew it was an irrational fear, but Blair's feelings had been a series of peaks and valleys, running the gamut between anger and despair to calm and understanding. Lack of sleep just made him more vulnerable to the rioting emotions.

It scared Jim, scared him to think that he might fail his friend by not being able to help him. He couldn't stand the thought of losing Blair. At first, he thought that Blair was starting to get over his regret, or at least that he was coming to terms with it. Last night's companionship and this morning's camaraderie had lulled Jim into thinking that everything was returning to normal. He should have known better. Blair was the master of the well-crafted fascade held in place by obfuscations.

'I hope we can sort this all out,' Jim thought. He hated to see his friend hurting. 'Maybe if we catch Hearne, Blair will be able to move passed this.' What the younger man needed was closure. Once that goal was achieved, Jim knew that the healing process could begin.

"Jim? You zoning, man?"

The Sentinel smiled. "No, Chief. I'm okay. Let's go check in with Simon then we can go talk to your friend. Do you know where she lives?"

Blair nodded as he and Jim exited the truck. "Yeah, Angie and I have been friends for a very long time. I've been to her house, even cooked in her kitchen."

"All right, then. We'll be back on the road soon enough." Jim said as they made their way up to Major Crimes.

"Thanks, Jim."

"You're welcome, buddy."

**********

"You sure you wanna do this, Chief?" Jim asked as he parked the truck in front of the duplex.

Taking a deep breath, Blair nodded. "I've got to, Jim. I owe Angela that much." He opened the door and got out.

"All right. I'll wait for you here." Jim seemed to know that his roommate wanted to do this alone. "You need me, just holler."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said, softly. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Angela lives in 1B. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take your time, Chief." Jim murmured as Blair went up the front steps and rang the doorbell. He watched the door open to reveal a petite brunette. Blair followed her inside and the door closed.

Blair entered Angela's apartment. Nervously, he shifted from one foot to the other. Having come upstairs empty-handed, he wished for his backpack so he could occupy his twitching hands. Abruptly, he was given something to do when Angela flung herself in his arms for fierce hug.

Surprised and still a little uncertain, Blair wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay, Angela. I've got you." He could feel the tears against his neck and his guilt stabbed at him again.

Finally, Angela pulled away, her brown eyes luminescent. "I'm sorry, Blair. I just needed that."

"It's okay." Blair soothed. "Come on, let's sit down." He led the way to the couch and they sat facing each other.

She sniffed and Blair grabbed some tissues from a dispenser from the nearby coffee table.

Taking the offered tissue, she wiped at her eyes and took a shaky breath. "I-I'm so glad you came by, Blair. This must be so awful for you."

He pulled back in amazement. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, that wasn't one of them. "Awful for me?" Blair repeated.

"Oh, Blair." Angela touched his cheek, compassion shining through her tears. "We've been friends for a long time. I know you, sweetie. You're blaming yourself."

Blair looked away. "You do know me," he mumbled.

"You've got to stop beating yourself up over this. There was nothing you could have done. Honey, it isn't your fault." Angela spoke softly.

"How can you say that, Angie? How-how can you still even want to talk to me? George died because of me. If I had been there--"

She laid a hand on his arm. "If you had been there, you both would have been killed. *You* didn't stab George. Some lovesick drug addict did. You have got to get off this ride, Blair. No more guilt trips."

Blair turned and gave her a brief hug. Pulling away, he said, "I know, Angie, I'm trying. Believe me, I hate feeling this way. But it's so hard not to feel responsible. George was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn't deserve to die."

"You're right. He didn't. But you don't deserve the blame either."

"I know. I know." Blair ran a hand through his hair and rose to his feet. Agitation rolling off him in waves, he began to pace. "I'm trying. Okay? I'm trying to get over this, but it's just so hard."

She watched him with painfilled eyes. "It is hard." He barely heard the whispered words. "But you just can't give up. Me, neither. George wouldn't want either of us to suffer like that."

He nodded. "I'll get passed this. It may take time, but I will. I have friends who will see me through." He thought of the one sitting in the truck waiting for him. Yes, he'd overcome this guilt. "You do too, Angie."

"I know. I just wish--" she broke off, eyes tearing again. "I just wish I still had my best friend."

Blair stopped and dropped to his knees in front of her. "I wish that, too. I'm so sorry, Angie. So sorry he's gone." The sincerity was hard to miss in the sad voice.

She began to weep. "I miss him so much, Blair."

Blair squeezed her knees, his own eyes watering in the face of her misery. He didn't know what to say.

"I want him back. God, I want him to walk through that door and hug me." Fresh tears slid down her cheeks as Blair's arms enfolded her.

"Shh, Angie, shh." Blair patted her back soothingly, trying to force his own ache away. Seeing her like this tore at his heart.

"They have to get him. They have to get the man who did this. They just do.." Her voice sounded muffled through his shirt. She raised her tear-stained face and Blair saw the steely resolve in her eyes. "The cops just have to find him, find him and send him to jail."

He wiped gently at the drying tears on her face. "I'll do everything in my power to bring Hearne to justice."

She looked up at him. "I know you will, Blair. You work with the cops, don't you? They'll get him, right?"

He smiled briefly. "Yeah, I help the cops out. And we will find Hearne. Trust me, Angie. His days of freedom are numbered."

She hugged him again. "Thank you, Blair. Thanks for coming over."

"Everything's going to be all right. You'll see." Blair kissed her cheek and stood up to leave. "I've got to go now. You know where to reach me if you need anything."

"Yeah, I've got your home number." Angie walked with him to the door. "Bye, Blair. Take care of yourself."

"You too, Angie." The door closed behind him and he moved toward the waiting truck.

Jim watched his young partner settle himself in the passenger seat. Looking closely, he could see watery eyes and he swallowed a sigh. Out of respect for Blair, Jim hadn't used his sentinel hearing to listen to the conversation. It really wasn't necessary. He knew his friend. Seeing Blair's tired and drawn face only served to confirm what Jim already knew. Blair's guilt hadn't abated.

"Hey, man. Are we just gonna sit here in front of Angie's house or what?"

With a start, Jim realized that it had been a few minutes since Blair had joined him in the truck. "Sorry, Chief. I was a million miles away." He indicated the duplex. "Everything go all right?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah. We got a chance to talk. She told me to stop blaming myself."

Jim smiled slightly as he pulled the truck away from the curb. "Smart lady. You should take her advice."

Blair gave a little sigh of annoyance. "Please, Jim, give it a rest. I'm trying my best here."

"Sorry. I just think she's right. You should listen to her."

"It's all right, big guy." Blair gave him a look. "I know you do it because you care."

Jim smiled in reply.

"So," Blair changed the subject. "Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd go see Sneaks. Maybe he could get us some names of a few drug dealers. We can arrest a few and see if any of them know Hearne. We're still not sure if he's an actual user, but we've gotta check every clue. If he is an addict, he may need to restock his supply. We find his dealer, then maybe we can catch him."

"Okay, Jim. We gonna meet Sneaks at that coffee shop like last time?"

The detective nodded as he deftly maneuvered through the early afternoon traffic. "Yeah, same place."

"Sounds good, man. Just don't expect me to part with my shoes."

In amusement, Jim cast his eyes quickly at his friend's feet. "No chance of that, Sandburg. You're wearing boots."

"Hope you're right, Jim." Blair looked dubious.

Jim just smiled, glad that his partner was beginning to sound like his old self.

**********

About an hour later, Blair and Jim returned to the loft so that Blair could pick up some shoes. "'Don't worry, Blair. He only wants tennis shoes.'" The younger man mimicked as he went into his room. "That's the last time I ever listen to you, Jim. The Cascade P.D. better buy me a new pair. Those were Eastlands, man. *Not* cheap." He didn't even bother to raise his voice, knowing the Sentinel could hear him.

"Quit your grumbling, Chief. You'll get a new pair. Probably better than the ones you had." Jim watched his partner throw himself into the cushions of the sofa, a pair of tennis shoes in his hand.

Blair rolled his eyes. "I had just broken those in, man. They were in perfect shape."

"No doubt that's why he wanted them." Jim couldn't help but laugh as he moved into the kitchen and grabbed two sodas from the refrigerator. Coming back into the living area, he handed one to his partner who was favoring him with an injured expression.

"The things I do for you, Jim." Blair gave a long suffering sigh.

"Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic?" Jim sat next to him. The bantering between them did much to reassure the detective. It had been a long time since they had played this particular game and he missed it. He hoped that it was a good sign of things to come. Maybe Blair would actually be able to sleep tonight. "Besides," he continued. "We found out what we wanted to know, right?"

Blair nodded, grudgingly. "Yeah, we did. Guess I'd better put my shoes on so we can go look for these people. I really hope they can give us some leads." He bent forward, hair swinging, to put his shoes on.

Jim sipped his cola. "So hurry up already, junior. We've got things to do, places to go, people to see."

Blair double tied both his shoes before lifting his head to throw Jim a dirty look. "Give me a minute. I haven't even had any of my soda." He indicated the cold can in front of him.

"You can drink it on the way." Jim finished his drink and rose to throw it in the trash. He moved to the door. "You coming or what?" He turned and met Blair's look of astonishment.

"*You're* going to let me drink in the truck?!" Blair made his way toward Jim.

Jim held the door open. "Yeah, I am. It's not like I haven't let you before."

"I know," Blair muttered. "But that was the *old* truck."

"Don't sweat it, pal." Jim climbed into the Expedition and Blair sat next to him. "It's no big deal. Anyway, on to more important matters. Simon has sent Ryf and Brown to pick up some of the major dealers on the list. He'll be sending out uniforms for the others. There are simply too many of them for us to interrogate. Provided we can find any of them. Once the word's on the street, they'll all go into hiding."

"That's pretty sad, Jim." Blair spoke quietly. Sometimes the reality of Jim's job got to him, but at least he was helping the detective make a difference.

"Yeah, it is, Chief," Jim said grimly as he sped through the rundown streets of Cascade's seedier side of town. "We'll talk to Big Jack first. I ran into him a few times when I was in Vice. Then we'll try Mel. Both of them are 'retired', but they still know what's going on. Hopefully, they can help us."

"Yeah, but will they want to?"

The hands on the steering wheel clenched briefly. "They won't have a choice."

**********

Jim slammed the phone down, angrily. Another lead a bust. He glanced at his partner who sat dejectedly in his usual chair beside Jim's desk. The anthropologist's shoulders drooped and his head hung forward. With each passing hour since their return from the streets empty-handed, Blair had withdrawn into himself and had barely talked.

Now, the younger man raised his head and stared into his friend's stormy blue eyes. He half indicated the phone, not having the energy for a full gesture. "I take it there are still no leads."

Jim laid hand on the shoulder and squeezed gently. "No, Chief. Cascade's a pretty big city. It's going to take awhile. We also have to accept the possibility that none of this will pan out."

Blair jerked away from Jim and stood. "Jim, we've been at this all day and still nothing. When are we going to get a break? That maniac's out there and he could hurt someone else. Why can't we find him? We have to find him."

Jim sighed at the desperation in his partner's voice. "Chief, investigations take time. You've been around me long enough to know that. We'll find Hearne. Just give it--"

Blair shook his head violently, stopping Jim from finishing his sentence. "No, Jim. You don't understand. This has got to end. It just has to. I can't take much more of this. I really can't. I want it to be over." The last words were whispered and Jim took a step closer to him.

"I know, Chief. Believe me, I want it to end, too." Jim stared deeply into his partner's eyes, willing him to understand that he wasn't alone.

"I'm just so tired, Jim. So tired..." The weariness in Blair's voice was emphasized by slump of his body. He sat down heavily on Jim's desk.

Jim reached forward to grip Blair's shoulders. "It's going to be all right, Chief. I promise you. You're going to be okay. I'll make sure of that."

Blair grinned weakly. "My Blessed Protector to the rescue, huh?"

Jim returned the smile. "Lifetime contract, Sandburg. I signed on the dotted line a long time ago." He paused. "Let's go home. It's been a long day and some rest will do you good."

"Yeah," Blair stood. "I'd like that. Let's go home."

Releasing Blair's shoulders, Jim handed Blair his coat before taking his own. With a nod at some of their friends in the bullpen, they left Major Crimes and went home.

**********

"Tea's ready, Blair. You ready for a cup?" Jim asked as he pulled his favorite mug from the shelf, a present his old partner, Jack, had given him.

Blair was lying on the sofa, staring blankly at sitcom on television. He raised his head a little and looked over the couch at his friend in the kitchen. "Sounds good, man. Can't believe you're having a cup, though."

Jim shrugged as he fixed the hot beverage. "Just thought I'd take your advice. I'm a bit wound up and I need something to relax."

Blair nodded and sat up as Jim came toward him with two mugs. The younger man took one and sipped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in appreciation. The fragrance of the Manzanilla enveloped him. With a pleasant, easy feeling he opened his eyes and turned to Jim who had sat down beside him. "This is good, Jim. Just what I needed."

Jim sipped his own tea. "I'm glad." He nodded toward Blair's bedroom. "You going to try and get some sleep tonight? Or are we going to stay up watching movies?"

Blair crossed his legs Indian-style and took another sip of his tea before answering. "I'm going to go to bed tonight. I'm really tired so I should be able to manage."

"It's been a long couple of days," Jim murmured.

Blair gazed at his companion over the rim of his mug. Jim had been staying up with him for the passed few nights, taking care of him. It had been a long time since anyone had done that and it gave him in inner warmth to know someone cared. He hoped to repay the kindness tonight by actually letting Jim have a good night's sleep. The detective needed it and Blair wasn't going to begrudge him any longer.

He finished off his tea and set it on the table as Jim changed the channel on the television.

"What channel is UPN on?" The detective continued to surf. "There's this buddy cop show on Wednesday nights I want to see. It looks good."

"Um, channel 7, I think." Blair answered absently. Finally, he laid a hand on Jim's, stilling the changing pictures on the television screen. "Jim?"

The detective turned to him, concern clearly written on his face.

"Thank you, big guy. Thanks for everything."

Jim smiled. "Anything for you, Chief. All you have to do is ask."

"It's nice to have a friend like you. I'm pretty lucky." Blair leveled a glance at his roommate.

Jim's eyes lit from within. "Thanks, Chief. I feel the same way."

Blair took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. "Guess I'm going to turn in. I'm really tired."

"Sounds like a good idea. I think I will, too. That show must come on earlier in the evening because it's not on." Jim turned off the t.v. "Goodnight, Chief. Just call if you need anything."

Blair rose and headed for his room. "I will. G'night."

Jim turned off all the lights as Blair went into his room and closed the door. He could hear the younger man getting ready for bed as he made his way upstairs.

Soon, all was still and quiet.

**********

"Help me, Blair. Why won't you help me?"

The voice floated out of the darkness and Blair turned around and around, searching frantically.

"George, is that you?" Blair couldn't see. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here, Blair. Trapped. Help me..."

"I want to help you, but I cant find you." Blair called back, his anxiety level starting to climb. The inky blackness was hot and oppressive and Blair thought he was going to suffocate.

"Help me, Blair. Only you can free me from this purgatory. Find my slayer and set me free. Please, Blair..." The pitiful wail reached Blair's ears and he tried to move forward.

The anthropologist was stuck, legs twisted in chains that clanged everytime he tried to move. He couldn't move forward, couldn't go back. Helplessly, he realized that there was no direction for him to go. "George! I can't move. How can I help you?" Blair was getting desperate.

"Help me...help me..." The voice faded, leaving Blair alone.

"No!" The denial shot from Blair's lips and he began to struggle against his bonds in earnest. With each movement, the chains seemed to get heavier and heavier, the clanging louder and louder...

Blair sat up abruptly, clawing his way from under the pile of blankets. The musical tones of metal clashing upon metal still rang in his ears until he recognized that it was his phone ringing.

He groaned, still trying to shake the remnants of his dream. Glancing at the clock, he noticed it was four in the morning. With a muttered curse, he untangled himself from his sheets and stumbled to his phone. Blair snatched it up in mid-ring, praying fervently that the noise hadn't disturbed Jim's much needed rest.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Sandburg? Blair, is that you?"

Blair frowned. The female voice sounded familiar...and scared. "This is Blair. Who is this?"

"Um..." There was a choked sob. "It's me, Yadira. Yadira Larson?"

Blair's eyes widened. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"I-I know, but Manuel...well, he's looking for me, too. I couldn't let him find me."

Blair could hear the tears emanating across the wires. "It's okay. I'm glad you called. The police will be able to help you, Yadira."

"No! No, cops. I-I'm too scared. He-he's a killer."

"Yadira, the cops will take care of you. Believe me. Just come in and talk to us, okay?" He thought of his own Blessed Protector not too far away and he knew that if Yadira would only meet them she'd be safe.

"Uh-uh." Yadira sniffed. "Can I meet you? Please, it's awfully important."

"Sure," Blair answered quickly. "Why don't you come down to the police station in the morning? I have a friend who can help you."

"No, Mr. Sandburg. I-I want to talk to you alone. Can you meet me right now?"

Blair frowned. "Um, I don't know if that's such a good idea..." In fact, he knew it wasn't. Jim wouldn't want him traipsing around Cascade alone in the middle of the night.

"Please, Blair. I-I need to see you. You're the only one I trust."

Blair closed his eyes briefly and sighed. This wasn't a good idea, but what choice did he have? "Okay, Yadira. Where do you want me to meet you?" He pulled on his jeans even as he asked the question.

"Meet me at Cascade Park by the swing set." She paused. "Thanks, Blair."

"Cascade Park." He repeated. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Just hang tight, okay?" He took a flannel shirt from his closet.

"Okay, I will. And, please, no one else."

Blair could hear the threat of tears behind the soft plea. "No one else. I promise." He hung up the phone and pulled on the shirt. Reaching for his shoes, he wondered how he was going to get passed his Sentinel. He had to hope that between Jim's need for sleep and his respect for Blair's privacy that the detective wouldn't know what was happening until after Blair had gone.

Creeping toward the door, shoes in hand, he was startled by the semi-alert voice coming from Jim's bedroom. 'I should have known better.'

"Blair? Who was that on the phone at this hour?"

He took a few even breaths, willing his voice to sound normal. "No one important, Jim."

"Are you sure, Chief? I thought I heard you mention Cascade Park. There isn't something you need to tell me, is there?"

"No, not really. Why don't you go back to sleep?" Blair counted to ten slowly, hoping to regain his equilibrium. He hated lying to Jim, but he'd promised Yadira. Now to see if the older man would buy it.

Jim, meanwhile, got out of his bed. Bliar's heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, a sure sign that something was wrong. Frowning, Jim wondered if Blair's guilt had once again resurfaced. He was also curious about the phone call. His roommate had been too evasive.

The Sentinel cast his mind back to when the phone had first rung. He wasn't in the habit of eavesdropping on his friend, but sometimes even when he tuned out conversations, he could still recall them. It was a trick Blair had taught him.

His eyes narrowed as the whole conversation came into focus. He reached for his jeans and slid into them. Thrusting his feet into a pair of sneakers, he called, "Blair? Was that Yadira--" He stopped abruptly as he heard the front door close.

Swearing loudly, Jim decided to forego a shirt and raced downstairs. He yanked his jacket from the hook and put it on as he flew out of the loft. No wonder Blair's heart had been going so fast. He'd been lying.

"Partner," he muttered, "you better have a good explanation when I catch up with you." He threw the truck into gear and roared off to Cascade Park where he knew Blair was meeting Yadira Larson.

**********

Blair made his way passed trees, park benches, and playground equipment toward the lonely figure sitting on one of the swings. He needed to squint to even make out the shadowy profile. It was still dark and the sun wasn't expected to make an appearance for another hour.

"Yadira?" He called softly as he approached the hunched form. Blair sat in the empty swing next to her.

"Blair? I'm so glad you came." Yadira turned toward him. "I'm so sorry. It's my fault you're in this mess."

Blair reached out and touched her shoulder. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he was comforting a woman. "Don't say that, Yadira. It isn't your fault."

"But it is," she wailed, moving away from his touch. "If I hadn't fallen in love with you, none of this would have ever happened. If I'd only stayed with Manuel, that man wouldn't have died." Yadira kicked the dirt under her feet.

"Look, Yadira, Manuel needs help. He takes drugs, doesn't he?" At her nod, Blair continued. "Sooner or later, Manuel would have done something. You have no control over that." It finally occurred to Blair that what he was saying to Yadira was true of himself. He had no control over Manuel Hearne. It was just a moment in time that had gone horribly wrong. Realizing that, Blair began to heal.

"I know." Yadira started to weep. She fumbled with the tissue in her hand. "It's just that--I feel like I could have prevented all of this."

"You couldn't have, Yadira." Blair said with conviction. "What we have to do now is concentrate on finding him. Is there anything you could tell me that would help?"

She looked at him and nodded. "I'll try to help. I really will."

"I know you will." He patted her arm. "We'll find him and get him the help he needs."

"Manuel is...taking drugs. He just started about a month ago. It's really why I broke up with him. I tried to get him to stop, I swear I did, but he wouldn't listen."

"Take it easy," Blair soothed. "You tried and it didn't work. You did the right thing."

Yadira hung her head. "Manuel stole my truck. He-he came by my house and demanded the keys."

"Why didn't you report it, Yadira?" Blair thought of all the time wasted. They might have caught Manuel by now if they'd had that information.

"Because he said he knew he'd made a mistake. That he'd killed the wrong man. Then Manuel promised me he wouldn't be so dumb a second time. He'd kill you if I told anyone."

"I'm sorry he put you through that, but I'm really glad you decided to call me when you did, Yadira. Maybe we can find him now."

"I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something, but I wasn't sure who to turn to." Yadira looked at him appealingly. "Did I do the right thing? Will you help me?"

"You know I will, Yadira. You really did the right thing. I'll get this information to the proper authorities and we'll find Manuel." Blair tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "You aren't safe. You have to go with me to the police station. They'll take care of you."

"N-no." Yadira shook her head violently. "I can't. He'll find me and kill me. I've already talked to you and I shouldn't have."

"Yadira--"

A yelp of pain interrupted him and he swiftly got to his feet as Yadira toppled backward. Before he could utter a word, Blair was tackled from behind. He fell forward, striking his head on the swing set pole. By the time he landed in the soft earth, he was already unconscious.

Jim felt his partner's body collapse under him. Focusing briefly, he was relieved to hear his friend's heartbeat--strong and steady. His relief turned to consternation as his sensitive hearing heard the distant click of a gun. The discharge of a bullet passing through a silencer moved the detective to action. Swiftly, he turned his head to the girl a few feet away who was struggling to her feet. "Get down!" Jim commanded even as he threw himself over his partner, using his body as a human shield.

The bullet flew harmlessly over their heads. Tracking its movement, Jim heard it embed itself in a tree. He chanced to look up, having already determined from which the shot had come. With his sensitive sight, he was able to discern the lone figure of a man. 'Hearne,' he thought, 'matches the photos we have of him.' Cursing, he wondered where the hell his backup was. He had called for it on the way to the park.

His body still covering Blair's, Jim reached for his gun and aimed toward the clump of trees that Hearne was using as a hiding place. The killer hadn't managed to hide himself that well in the dense green foliage. At least he hadn't been able to hide from a Sentinel.

"Freeze! Police!" Jim shouted.

It did no good. In answer, Hearne jumped up from his hiding place and sprinted for a nearby Nissan pickup truck.

Jim fired off a warning shot, but the suspect ignored it and jumped into the vehicle.

Carefully taking aim, the detective was about to let a bullet fly when the thunderous roar of a truck engine assaulted his sensitive hearing and he dropped his gun to clutch at his ears. Wincing, Jim was still able to see the truck with Hearne in it, speed away. "Damn it!" He muttered and reached for his fallen gun.

Suddenly, his nostrils flared. The metallic smell of blood threatened to overwhelm him and he quickly looked down at the still body that was partially tucked under him. Terror flooded Jim's system as he moved to his knees next to Blair and gently turned him over. The Sentinel moved frantic hands along his friend's chest, arms, and legs, looking for bloody wounds. Jim knew that the younger man hadn't been hit the first time. Ever since tackling Blair to the ground, he had been monitoring his vital signs, making sure he was okay even as the bullets started to fly.

Jim sighed in relief as his frenzied examination of Blair confirmed that no stray bullets had hit his partner. That, however, didn't explain the strong coppery smell of blood. If it wasn't Blair, then who was it? Jim turned suddenly to Yadira Larson who lay still, her hands over her head.

"Yadira?" He called softly.

Slowly, she looked up, the fear in her eyes illuminated by tears. "Is-is it over? Can I get up now?"

Jim nodded, quickly scanning her body for injuries. "Let me see what happened to your arm."

Yadira sniffed. "I'm all right. The bullet just, you know, touched my arm." She looked doubtfully at her right arm as she held it up for inspection.

Without the burgeoning light of day, Ellison would have still been able to see that Yadira's wound was superficial. The bullet had only creased her arm. He knew it hurt, though, having gone through a similar experience not too long ago.

"Take it easy, Yadira. The police are on their way. Can you hear them?" At her nod, he continued. "They'll get you an ambulance and take you to the hospital to get that looked at. I know it hurts, but just hang on."

She nodded. Already flashing blue and red lights were signaling the arrival of the police.

Jim turned from her and sighed. He knew he should be more worried about Yadira, but at that moment the only person he cared about was Blair. Looking down at his friend, he noticed the sooty eyelashes in sharp contrast to the pale face. The Sentinel frowned at the bloodied cut marring Blair's forehead. Withdrawing a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, Jim wet the tip of it with his tongue. As he applied the moistened cloth to the cut, Jim heard Simon approach and kneel down next to him.

"How's he doing?" The captain asked, brushing some of the moist earth which clung to Blair's cheeks.

"His heartbeat is strong, but he still hasn't come to, Simon." Jim propped the younger man on his crossed legs. He shrugged helplessly. "I don't understand it. He should have snapped out of it already."

Simon patted the detective's shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll be all right. I've already had an ambulance called and it'll be here soon."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, Simon." He looked over at the girl who was being attended by a couple of detectives. "Make sure she gets looked after. She's had a bad scare."

"No problem, Jim. We're already taking care of it. In fact, Ms. Larson's already given us some info concerning her stolen car. We've got people looking for Hearne as we speak."

"Good," Jim murmured. "Why won't he wake up, Simon? What's taking so long?"

"I don't know, Jim. The medics will be here soon. Just hold on."

Ignoring his captain, Jim concentrated on his friend. "Chief? Con on now. Wake up."

"He'll be okay, Jim. Looks like he banged his head is all." The captain's voice was gruff. "The EMTs are here."

"About time," muttered Jim. "That has got to be the slowest response time ever."

Blair felt himself being shifted and he was cradled in a warm embrace. He could hear the underlying fear in Jim's tone and wished desperately that he could respond. His body, however, had other ideas. Blair seemed to be hovering at the edges of consciousness; his body suspended of action, his mind wide awake.

Strong yet tender hands patted his cheeks gently. 'I'm awake, Jim,' Blair thought. 'Just having trouble opening my eyes.' He felt warm breath caress his forehead as Jim leaned closer to him.

"Come on, Blair. I know you can do it. Open your eyes. Tell me you're okay. Come on, I need to hear you tell me you're okay." Jim coaxed as he again patted Blair's cheeks.

"Sir?" A medic hunkered down next to Jim. "We can take care of him. I have smelling salts. Maybe you should put him down."

Jim nodded, but didn't move. He couldn't seem to force himself to let go of Blair. Irrationally, he thought if he handed Blair over to someone else for safekeeping, Jim wouldn't get him back. He clutched briefly at the body propped against his crossed legs.

"Sir?" The other medic had knelt on the other side of Blair. "You don't need to let him go. We can just work around you."

Jim nodded his thanks.

"Okay, sir," the medic reached into his kit and pulled out the smelling salts. "Let's see if we can rouse him." He broke the seal.

"Hold it!" Jim commanded.

The medic looked at him in confusion.

"I thought he was coming around on his own." Jim gave a small shrug as his captain looked at him quizzically.

There had been no movement from Blair, but Jim's sensitive nose could already smell the strong ammonia from the smelling salts before it was even fully opened. He had to have a chance to desensitize his nasal passages. Otherwise, the wicked odor would overpower him. When he felt he was ready, Jim spoke, "Go ahead."

The medic gave him a funny look and waved the smelling salts under Blair's nose.

Jim grimaced as it wafted toward him. The smell was still pretty strong, but at least it was manageable. He waited to see the effect on Blair.

The younger man's response was almost instantaneous. His head jerked back against Jim and his arms flailed at the air in an attempt to remove the offending odor from his face.

Large, warm hands grabbed his. "Easy, easy, Chief. It's okay."

The voice calmed him and he opened his eyes with a low moan. His head was pounding. "Jim?" Blair managed to croak out.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm right here." Jim looked down at him, relief in his eyes. "How're you doing?"

"My head hurts." Blair's voice was small. He closed his eyes as the early morning sun began to peak out from behind the trees.

Jim placed his fingers at Blair's temples. Rubbing in soft, circular motions, he tried to ease the pain he knew his friend to be suffering.

Blair moaned and allowed himself to completely relax against Jim. "Mmm...feels good," he mumbled.

"I think we should take him into the hospital and make sure he doesn't have concussion," the medic announced as Jim continued his massage.

Blair's eyes snapped open and his protest was immediate. He struggled to sit up, but Jim's hands, now on his shoulders, held him in place. "Chief, take it easy. Relax."

"Let me up, Jim. I don't wanna go to the hospital." Blair tried to move out from under Jim's hands, but they remained firm.

"Settle down, Blair. You're just making your head hurt worse." He looked down at his partner his expression stern.

Blair slumped, the fight going out of him. He simply didn't have the strength to battle against the force of Jim's determination. The worse part was that Jim as right. His head ached terribly. His lower lip trembled as he looked up at Jim with pain-filled eyes. "I don't wanna go to the hospital. Please..."

As Blair once again relaxed against him, Jim moved one hand to place on his partner's forehead. "I think it would be a good idea, Chief. It won't take long and we'll be home before you know it."

"You're not gonna let me weasel out of this, are you?" Jim just smiled at him "Okay. Help me up then."

Jim eased his partner into a sitting position as Simon extended his hand out to Blair. The younger man took hold of the captain's hand as Jim got up behind him. Between the two of them, the captain and the detective helped Blair to his feet.

Blair swayed as the full impact of his headache threatened the stability of his stomach. He moaned and closed his eyes briefly.

A strong arm came up underneath his elbow and offered support. "You'll be fine, partner. Just hang in there for a little while longer." Jim spoke as he guided his friend to his truck.

"I don't have to go in the ambulance?" Blair asked as he eased into the passenger seat. He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. He was so exhausted.

"No," Jim started the engine. "They're going to use it to take Yadira to County General."

Blair's head came up so suddenly that the world spun dizzily for a few moments. He threw his hands forward to clutch the dashboard for support.

Jim stopped the truck from making a full reverse and eyed his partner with concern. "Blair?"

"I'm okay, Jim." Blair's voice was shaky with pain. He closed his eyes against the dancing spots flashing before him and took a few shallow breaths in attempt to calm his rolling stomach.

Jim gently pushed his friend back against the seat. "Take it easy, Blair. Just lean back and relax."

Leaving his eyes closed, Blair said, "I can't believe I forgot about Yadira. What happened?"

Jim finally pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the hospital. "She's okay, Chief. It was just a flesh wound and it won't take much to clean up. She's a bit shocky, is all." The detective pulled into the hospital parking lot and parked. Laying a hand on his friend's arm, he continued, "You were being shot at and she got hit."

"Oh my god! I feel like such an idiot. She gets shot and I don't even care enough to ask about her," Blair said, disgusted.

"Chief, the bullet creased her arm. She'll be fine." Jim paused, forcing Blair to wonder at the sudden silence. Opening his eyes, he looked at Jim who continued. "If anyone's an idiot, it's me."

"Huh? Did I miss something?" Blair stared at him in confusion.

"I'm the one responsible for your head injury. I knocked you cold." Jim looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, man!" Blair's tone was full of exasperation. "If it weren't for you, I might have had to worry about something worse than a headache. You saved my life, big guy. Don't feel guilty about that."

"Yeah, well, I just wish you hadn't gotten hurt."

"You and me both." Blair agreed.

Jim sighed. "Time we went inside, Chief."

Blair nodded and the two made their way to the emergency room.

**********

"A slight concussion? I can't believe it, man." Blair moaned as they entered the loft.

"I'm sure you're head is telling you differently, Sandburg." Jim put his keys on the table and removed his jacket.

Blair's eyes widened. "You're not wearing a shirt?!"

Jim frowned. "Yeah, well *somebody* didn't give me enought time to get dressed." He walked into the kitchen. "You know, Chief, something's been bothering me." He pulled a glass from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with water. "Sit down."

Looking puzzled, Blair sat. "What's wrong, Jim?"

The older man set the glass in front of Blair along with two pills the doctor had prescribed for Blair's headache. "Drink up."

Blair made a face. "I don't want--"

Jim's expression grew stern and he interrupted. "This is not an option. I know you still have a headache so take them. You'll be going to bed in a minute."

Blair sighed. His head really did ache and sitting in the emergency room for nearly an hour had only made it worse. Sighing again, he swallowed the pills with a gulp of water.

"That's a good boy," Jim said and picked up the empty glass. Turning, he washed and rinsed it in the sink.

"So," Blair prodded. "What's bothering you, big guy?"

The older man turned and Blair was astonished to see real anger flickering in the icy blue depths. "I would like to know what you thought you were doing, sneaking out of here like some thief."

Blair recoiled slightly at the intensity of Jim's tone. The detective was really angry. "Look, Jim. I had to go alone. Yadira wouldn't meet me otherwise. I was trying to do the right thing."

Jim came forward to tower over him and Blair was forced to look up. "Doing the right thing almost got you killed, Chief."

Blair swallowed. "That's never stopped *you*, Jim."

"That's different. I'm trained for this sort of thing." The detective looked his partner in the eyes. "Besides, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you."

"All right," Blair leaned back in his chair. The pounding in his head was growing worse. "We *are* talking about me. But you know if I had to do it all over again, I would."

Jim crossed his arms. "I know. And that's what scares me. You should never have gone, Blair. Don't you remember the discussion we had a couple of days ago? You knew you were still in danger yet you ignored that and went anyway. Chief, you could've gotten killed!" Jim's last sentence was punctuated with a slam of is fist on the table.

Blair winced, not entirely sure he had enough wits about him to be having this conversation. "Yeah, Jim, I know. But it was worth the risk." He said quietly.

"Nothing is worth your life, Sandburg. Nothing."

Blair raised pain-filled eyes to the detective. "I don't believe that, Jim. And neither do you or you wouldn't risk your life to protect the people of Cascade."

"Blair," Jim sighed. "Look, this conversation isn't going the way it's suppose to. Let's shelve it for now. I know you're in pain so why don't you go lie down."

Blair shook his head. "No, Jim. I think we should get this out in the open or it'll only get worse. You may not want to talk about it later."

Jim rubbed his temples tiredly. This week was already a year too long. His anger ebbing, he sat across from his friend. In a quiet voice, he said, "Chief, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump down your throat. It's just that I don't want to see anything happen to you. What kind of Blessed Protector would I be if I just let you go off and get killed."

Blair smiled. "You're gonna have to disengage the Blessed Protector mode once in awhile, big guy. You'll go crazy if you don't."

"No can do, Chief." Jim looked at him. "You really don't help matters when you pull stunts like this. You were lucky I was there."

"Yeah, I was lucky." Blair wrinkled his brow. "You were good, Jim. I thought I was quiet."

"Not quiet enough, Chief. Besides, that sixth sense or whatever you wanna call it has been on a low buzz since this thing started."

Blair nodded, not surprised. "Look, I don't mean to deliberately go out of my way to make your life more difficult. There are just some things a man's gotta do, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know." Jim rose from the table. "Just be careful, Chief. That's all I ask."

"Same goes for you." Blair was rewarded with a smile.

"Right, Chief." Jim jerked a thumb in the direction of Blair's bedroom. "Now, go get some sleep. I'll wake you every hour per doctor's orders."

"Sounds good, man." Blair got to his feet and headed for his room. "I'm about ready to drop."

"Rest easy, buddy, rest easy," Jim murmured as the younger man disappeared into his room.

The detective reached for the phone. It was time to call Simon and get to work.

**********

Blair woke up and stretched. His headache had abated to a dull throb. Despite the wake up call every hour, he had managed to sleep the whole day and it was now evening. Getting out of bed, he pulled on the jeans he had discarded earlier and headed for the bathroom. After washing up, he joined Jim in the kitchen where the other man was setting steaming bowls of soup on the table. A plate piled high with ham sandwiches already sat on the table alongside a bowl of freshly cut cantaloupe.

"Wow!" Blair whistled. "Looks good."

"Figured you would be hungry, Chief. And it was time for you to get up, anyway." Jim sat down and Blair followed suit.

"Any news?" Blair asked as they began t