Fortunately, Rainier University wasn't as big as Brian had feared. Of course, it wasn't as small as he would've liked either. He'd gone to the registrar's office to ask for assistance in tracking down Blair. They'd looked at him like he was crazy, then stated they couldn't release that information because it was confidential.

So Brian had been reduced to stopping students on the campus and asking if any of them knew a student named Blair. He'd chased down quite a few Blairs already, but none of them knew a man called Jake Edwards.

It was after four when Brian's stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten anything since a bagel at seven that morning. He found the student union deli and bought a carton of milk and a sub sandwich. Sitting down at one of the numerous empty tables, Brian inhaled his food then leaned back and closed his eyes. He'd flown out of Colorado Springs Sunday morning and arrived in Cascade before noon. After renting a car with his nearly maxed-out credit card, Brian had driven to the college, but everything had been shut down. So he'd found a cheap motel and spent the rest of the day exploring the town and wondering if Jake Edwards belonged here. And if so, where? And how had he ended up in Colorado?

Shaking himself out of his lethargy, Brian reminded himself that he had to do this for Jake. No matter how hopeless it seemed, he had to try every avenue. If he had to, he would break into the registrar's office and get the name of every Blair at Rainier University. Brian refused to consider Jake was wrong or that the mysterious Blair was no longer enrolled.

Or that he was dead, drowned as Jake had described in one of his recollections.

"Keep the faith," he murmured to himself as he stood.

After dumping his tray, he approached the first student he saw, a pretty blonde.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for a student named Blair," he said.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"

"A friend of a friend. He asked me to find this Blair but he couldn't remember his last name." It was the truth, but he knew it wasn't very trust-engendering.

She studied him for a moment, then glanced at the wall clock. "I'm going to be late for an appointment."

"Do you know any Blairs?" Brian pressed.

"There's Blair Sandburg," she finally said reluctantly. "But he's a grad student."

"Where can I find him?"

She studied him for a moment. "Hargrove Hall, a basement office."

Hargrove Hall. Brian had seen the building earlier that day. Five minutes later he paused on the science building's steps and took a moment to admire the fountain in the circular drive. Then he entered Hargrove Hall and checked the building's directory. No Blair Sandburg. But then, Brian was familiar enough with the academic world to know graduate students were often forgotten in the hallowed halls. The girl had said his office was in the basement.

Because it was so late, the building was quiet and Brian's footsteps echoed on the tile as he wandered through the basement eyeing each door. A man came out of a room up ahead and walked toward him. His dark hair was long and curly, and he was about Brian's size. He walked slowly, a thick stack of papers clutched in his hands. As they passed one another, he looked up at Brian and appeared startled that he wasn't alone. He gave Brian a slight smile, but there was a pinched look about his features.

"Excuse me, are you Blair Sandburg?" Brian asked.

The man stumbled to a stop and examined Brian a little closer. "Do I know you?"

Brian smiled slightly. "No, but we might have a mutual friend, a Jake Edwards."

Blair Sandburg thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry. I've never heard of him." In spite of his apparent exhaustion, Sandburg smiled. "But you might want to check with the secretary upstairs. She knows everybody."

"Thanks. I'll do that."

Brian shook aside his disappointment. He'd been so certain. Jake had described his friend and that description fit Sandburg. Maybe Sandburg was lying. After all, Jake had been thrown away like a piece of garbage, with nobody caring enough to even visit him. Maybe Sandburg was the rotten bastard who'd betrayed his friend and had him committed.

He grabbed Sandburg's arm, halting him, and making him drop the sheaf of papers. "Jake isn't crazy, and if you're the one who threw him in that hospital and forgot about him, you're going to regret it."

The long haired man's dark blue eyes widened, first with startled fear, then anger. "Look, mister, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I don't know any Jake Edwards." He glanced down at the mess of papers on the floor, then glared at Brian. "Thanks a lot."

Something in Sandburg's haunted eyes made Brian believe him and he released him. He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sandburg. It's just that I promised Jake I'd find his friend Blair and I'm not having a whole lot of luck."

Sandburg squatted down to gather his papers and Brian joined him to help.

"He doesn't know his friend's last name?" Sandburg asked after a few moments.

Brian shook his head. "No. He's been in this hospital for a while and doesn't have any memory of his life before."

"How'd you meet him?"

"I admitted myself to get some help. Only they didn't help me." Brian smiled wryly. "It was Jake who saved my life, gave me back my soul. He's a special man."

Sandburg's eyes clouded suspiciously. "He sounds like it."

"Anyway, I promised him I'd help him get his life back, too."

"Where is this hospital?"

"Colorado."

"But this man says his friend is here in Cascade?"

Brian nodded. "Specifically, a student at Rainier University. The only problem is I don't know how long ago that was. Jake was so certain, though."

"There are other Blairs on campus."

"And I've talked to a dozen of them, including you. Nobody recognizes his name." Brian glanced down at the papers in his hand and noticed the phrase 'highly developed senses.' "What is this?"

"My dissertation," Sandburg replied. "I was just going to hand it in to my advisor." He sighed. "Looks like I'll have to go back to my office and put it back together in order." Sandburg pushed himself to his feet and took the papers from Brian.

Brian narrowed his eyes. It was an awfully odd coincidence that this Blair was writing about enhanced senses and Jake possessed them.

"Did you get a list of Blairs from the registrar's office?" Sandburg asked.

Still puzzling about the dissertation, Brian shook his head absently. "They wouldn't give me one. Said it was a violation of privacy rights."

"Why don't you come to my office? I might be able to get you that list."

Startled, Brian pinned Sandburg with wary eyes. "Why would you do that?"

"I feel sorry for this guy and want to help," he replied simply.

Brian shrugged and followed Sandburg to his office, an artifact closet with Blair Sandburg's name written on a piece of paper and taped to the door.

"Have a seat." Blair motioned to the one chair not overflowing with books and notes.

Brian lowered himself to the chair while Sandburg turned on his computer.

"So what's this dissertation about?" Brian asked curiously.

"Sentinels. People with enhanced senses. According to Richard Burton, the anthropologist--"

"Not the actor," Brian interjected absently, though his mind was awhirl.

Sandburg grinned and reached for an oversized book behind him. "This talks about his belief that there were individuals born with enhanced senses who had been genetically programmed to be watchmen for their tribe." He opened the book and a picture slipped out.

Brian's gaze fell to the photograph and his heart stumbled. He grabbed the picture of Sandburg and Jake holding a fish.

"What the hell kind of game are you playing, Sandburg?" Brian demanded angrily. "What did you do, run tests on him for your valuable dissertation, then when he went over the edge, you had him committed? He'd served his purpose." His voice ended with an ugly sneer.

"What are you talking about?" Sandburg's confusion was either the best acting job Brian had seen in a long time or he didn't have a clue as to what Brian was talking about.

Brian turned the picture toward him and pointed at the tall blue-eyed man. "That's Jake Edwards."

The earth tipped beneath Blair, and the air was suddenly too thick, too viscous to breathe.

"What kind of sick joke is this?" he managed to ask over the bile rising in his throat. He'd believed the man's story and had only wanted to help. Instead, the stranger turned out to be a wacko. He snatched the picture back. "That's my friend Jim Ellison. He was killed in a car accident six months ago."

The man leaned over the desk, his eyes wide, his nostrils flared. "That's Jake Edwards, though Jake isn't in as good a shape anymore. He's probably lost twenty-five, thirty pounds since that picture was taken, but those eyes. Those are definitely Jake's eyes. Don't you care that your friend is in a nut house? How can you sleep at night?"

All the months of pain and grief boiled up in Blair and he threw himself across the desk, sending himself and the stranger to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Blair straddled his torso, his fists aching to strike the man's lying face. Instead, his fingers twisted the man's shirtfront in tight fists.

"Jim Ellison was my best friend. I would've gone to hell to search for him if I'd believed there was a chance he was still alive. But the dental records identified his corpse." Unchecked tears spilled down Blair's cheeks to drip onto the man's shirt. "Then some fucking bastard shows up with a sick story that he's in an asylum under a different name." Blair paused to take a deep breath and despair replaced anger. "What the hell did I ever do to you?" he asked, his voice nearly breaking.

Slowly, the man's eyes softened and he nodded gently. "I'm sorry, Blair. I should've known." He paused as if gathering his own thoughts. "Jake, or Jim, didn't remember a thing about his life before he was sentenced to that hospital. It's only been in the past couple of months that he started having flashes of memories. The main one was of a man, long curly dark hair and blue eyes. His name was Blair and he was a student at Rainier University. That's all he can remember."

The man swallowed and Blair watched the movement of his Adam's apple. "He begged me to find you, to find the man he knew he could trust to help him," the stranger continued. "Even with amnesia, he remembered you and knew you would help him."

A bullet in the stomach would've hurt less than the ache in Blair's gut. He released the man and dragged himself to his feet slowly. Was it true? Was Jim still alive? He sagged against his desk, his backside resting on the desktop. Breathing was difficult and his pulse thundered in his ears. He was vaguely aware of the stranger standing in front of him.

"There's another thing," the man said quietly. "He can hear and see things normal people can't."

Blair's breath hitched in his chest and a sob bubbled up. It had to be Jim. Or an elaborate hoax.

Please God, don't do this to me. Don't give me hope only to have it ripped away.

"If you believed your friend to be dead, this must be a terrible shock. But I swear to you, I'm telling you the truth. The man with you in that picture is alive and condemned to an asylum for the rest of his life unless somebody saves him. He thinks you're the someone who can do it."

Blair stared at the man through moisture-laden eyes and recognized his sincerity. He took a deep, unsteady breath. "All right. I'll go with you to this hospital. But if this Jake Edwards isn't Jim..." Blair drew his sleeve across his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Brian Halloran." He stuck out his hand and Blair grasped it after a moment's hesitation.

"Where are you staying?" Blair asked.

"At the Seaside Motel."

Blair frowned. "That's a dive."

"It's all I could afford. I'm a student, trying to get into medical school."

Blair wanted to believe him, but he was so scared to allow himself to hope again, to think about Jim and the possibility that he might be alive. But what also troubled Blair was the fact that if this Jake Edwards was Jim, Blair had abandoned him. "I swear, if I had thought there was a chance he was still alive, I would've never given up looking for him."

Brian nodded somberly. "I believe you, Blair. Now, instead of blaming yourself, maybe you should be thanking whatever deity you believe in that your Jim didn't give up on you."

Brian's soft words told Blair that he was telling him the truth. Brian believed Jake Edwards was Jim Ellison.

Blair fairly bounced around the loft. He knew Brian was watching him with something akin to amusement, but Blair couldn't help it. They were flying out at six in the morning for Colorado Springs. He'd tried to find an earlier flight, but they were all booked, so Blair had to burn off his excess energy by pacing around the apartment.

By tomorrow at this time, he and Jim would be reunited. Doubts crept into Blair's mind, warning him this could all be a dream and when he awakened, Jim would still be dead. But the signs had been there for Blair to read: his inability to accept Jim's death, Jim's voice saying his name, and the jaguar dream of the night before. If only he'd listened a little closer.

The doorbell rang and Blair answered it. He paid the delivery man for the Chinese food, then closed the door and carried the bag to the table. "Hungry?"

Brian joined him. "Starved."

They opened the white boxes and piled fried rice, sesame chicken, and broccoli and beef on plates Blair had retrieved from the cupboards.

"Thanks for letting me spend the night here. Money's getting a little tight," Brian said sheepishly.

"No problem. There's lots of couch space. Or if you want, you can sleep in my room," Blair said.

"What about that room?" Brian pointed up the stairs.

Blair's cheeks heated with self-consciousness. "It's Jim's, but he probably wouldn't mind. I haven't been able to go up there to take care of things."

Brian's gaze traveled across the kitchen, moving to the living room and the doors leading to the balcony. "Jake remembered this place -- the high ceiling and the sunshine lighting it up."

Blair laid his chopsticks down and wiped a paper towel across his mouth. "How is he, Brian? I mean, really, how is he?"

Brian dragged his attention back to him. "I won't lie to you, Blair. When I first met him, he was sitting on the floor in his hospital gown and robe, his arms wrapped around his knees and staring at the wall in some kind of trance."

"A zone-out," Blair said softly to himself, imagining his sentinel as Brian described him. It was almost impossible. His throat tightened in anguish. He glanced at Brian to see him looking at him questioningly. "It was a zone-out. It's when he concentrates so hard on one sense that everything else shuts down. He'd reached a point where he was controlling those, though."

"Zone-out," Brian repeated, nodding thoughtfully. "That's a good term for it. Anyway, Jake was more child than man, unable to remember anything but his life in the hospital. And even that was a little fuzzy. For some reason, we hit it off. He called me Chief."

The lump in Blair's throat expanded, threatening to choke him. "That's what he always called me."

Surprise flickered across Brian's face. "After a while, he started talking and acting more like his real age, probably his real self. We tested his senses and found out he could hear and see things that were completely amazing."

Blair couldn't help but smile. "Jim Ellison, Sentinel Extraordinaire."

Brian laughed. "I suppose, but to me he'll always be Jake Edwards. A little over a week ago, I checked myself out of the hospital. When I went back to visit Jake on Saturday, he told me what he remembered about you so I jumped the next available flight and here I am."

Blair noticed a hesitation in Brian's voice and a shifting of his eyes. Unease exploded within him. "What aren't you telling me?"

Brian used his fork to make circles then squares with the refried rice. The longer he remained silent, the more the fear expanded in Blair's chest.

"When I went to see him on Saturday, he was lying on his bed in one of those zone-outs. He'd been there for hours," Brian began, his eyes glistening suspiciously. He drew his arm across them impatiently. "He had lost control of his bowels and bladder, and had been lying in the mess for God knows how long."

The sesame chicken rebelled in Blair's stomach, but he managed to force it back down. The loft suddenly seemed too close, too suffocating and he jumped to his feet. He slid open the balcony door and charged outside. He leaned over the concrete ledge and hung his head, feeling the familiar burn of moisture in his eyes, but he was sick to death of the tears. Jim was alive. He had to focus on that. They could take care of the bastards who did this to him later, after Jim was back home and safe. All that mattered was Jim.

A few minutes later he sensed Brian behind him and he straightened, but kept his gaze aimed at the lights of the city. "Some friend I am, huh? Can't take a little hard reality."

"Don't apologize, Blair. You've just shown me why Jake thinks the world of you."

Blair raked his fingers through his hair, then turned to face Brian as he leaned back against the concrete. "I was an only child with a mother who's what you would call a little eccentric." He smiled fondly. "You could say Jim adopted me, took me in as his roommate and let me into his life. I love him like a brother, Brian. When I finally accepted his death a few months ago, it was like a big part of me died with him."

"Why would anyone do this to him? What could he have done that would make somebody hurt him so badly?" Brian demanded.

"He's a cop, or he was a cop. A detective in the Cascade Police Department. I rode with him as an observer."

"An observer?"

Blair smiled sheepishly and explained the unique history between himself and Jim. "Only Simon Banks his boss and I knew about his senses. Now you do, too." His expression faltered. "If Jake is Jim."

"He is," Brian said with so much conviction Blair almost believed him. His gaze turned intense. "Somebody went through a lot of trouble to put him in there. I have a feeling it's related to his policework."

Blair dragged his hair back from his face. "When he... died, I went through every single case he'd been involved in. I couldn't believe he was dead." He laughed, a soft, heartrending sound. "I thought somebody had maybe kidnapped him. God, Brian, the things I used to imagine he was going through -- torture, pain." Blair fixed his gaze on the younger man. "I never once thought of an asylum. I mean, this isn't like the nineteenth century where someone could be committed to one of those places for having the wrong thought."

"No, it's not, which means the person behind this elaborate plan had a serious grudge against Jak-Jim, and had the brains and computer know-how to make it happen." Brian paused. "Are you going to call his boss and let him know?"

Blair shook his head. "No, I've decided to wait until I'm sure. Simon already thinks I've gone over the deep end with Jim's death. If I tell him about this, he'll try to talk some sense into me." He chuckled. "Poor Simon. He should know me better than that by now."

"Not many people would understand, or even believe," Brian said quietly. "Jake told me something once. 'Family isn't always related by blood.' When he told me that, in some part of his Swiss cheese memory, he was thinking of you."

Blair took a deep, steadying breath, afraid to think, to hope too much. If Jake wasn't Jim, he wasn't sure if he could go through the whole process again. No, he couldn't. He'd rather...

He shook his head. Think only good thoughts... positive vibes... and a little extra karma might help, too.

"I'm going to bed." He smiled weakly. "I might even get some sleep."

"You'll see, Blair. Tomorrow morning, you and your friend will be back together."

"I hope so." Blair spoke the phrase as a benediction.

Jake managed to play his role as meek patient for the next two days and his incident with the phone seemed to be forgotten. He did catch Nurse Ratched eyeing him a few times, probably wondering when he was going to flip out again. But Jake was determined to wait for Brian and Blair. He knew Brian would bring Blair with a certainty that he'd never felt before.

By Tuesday morning, his confidence started to waver. It had been nearly seventy-two hours since Brian had promised to return with Blair and Jake was getting worried. Hadn't he been able to find him?

Or maybe the man lying facedown in the water in his patchwork memory had been Blair? Was he dead? That possibility nearly sent Jake into a blackout. He focused on his breathing, hearing a voice telling him to breathe slowly... in... out... in... out. It was Blair's voice. He wasn't sure how he knew that, only that he was as certain of that as finding the next breath of air.

Suddenly, cramps wrapped themselves around Jake's gut and he pressed his arms against his middle. Had breakfast been that bad? It had been the usual, and Jake had eaten only a mouthful of everything in spite of Nurse Ratched's admonishments for him to clean off his plate. Fortunately, Roger started hollering and her attention was diverted, allowing Jake to get rid of the majority of food, which even with his enhanced senses, was tasteless.

Another grab at his intestines and Jake sucked in a breath of air as he closed his eyes tightly. What the hell was twisting him up inside? He stumbled to his feet in the community room and wasn't surprised that nobody noticed his less-than-graceful departure. Pausing in the hallway, he leaned against the wall to hold himself upright. Did food poisoning hit this fast?

Or was it just poison?

Jake had no idea where that thought sprang from. Waves of agony shimmied through his body, causing him to double up. A groan escaped his lips.

"Are you all right, Jake?"

He opened his eyes to see Lydia. At five feet tall, she had to tilt her head back to look at him even though he was bent over. "Can you help me to my room?" he asked in between gasps.

Lydia turned slightly. "Well, what do you think, Frederick? Can we?" She tilted her head, then nodded and looked at Jake. "Frederick says we can. Come on now."

Though the woman was tiny, she had more strength than Jake would have given her credit for. He tried not to lean on her too much, but her support was welcome. Finally they arrived in his room and he tumbled into his bed headfirst, curling his knees into his chest. Agony clawed at his gut now, coiling like a cheap spring.

"Thanks, Lydia," he said, then remembered to add, "and you, t-too, Frederick."

The bird-like lady smiled and leaned close to Jake. "That's all right. Frederick isn't real, you know."

Jake's chuckle turned into a grimace, but he managed a smile for her. "I know."

She patted his arm and gazed at him, worry in her surprisingly lucid eyes. "Should I get the doctor?"

"No," he replied quickly. He remembered all too well the last time the doctor had taken care of him. "I just need to rest a little."

Lydia straightened and the familiar curtain of dementia returned. "Come along, Frederick. Jake needs some peace and quiet."

He watched her leave, shaking his head sadly. Did he look as crazy as her and the others?

Another spasm attacked him and he curled into a tighter ball, gritting his teeth so hard the cords of his neck hurt. Either he was dying or he was going to wish he was dead real soon.

Come on, Blair, where are you?

The hospital looked as forbidding on the inside as its solid weathered walls looked on the outside. Barred windows with closed shutters reminded Blair of the hotel in Psycho. All it needed was Anthony Perkins with a bloody knife in his hand to greet them.

The antiseptic smell couldn't quite cover the underlying odors of body waste and sweat. Blair's heart drummed against his ribs and he tried to imagine staying here for any length of time, like Brian had. And maybe Jim.

"Excuse me, we'd like to visit Jake Edwards," Brian said to the burly attendant at the station.

"He can't have visitors," the man stated in a bored voice.

Blair's head came up sharply. He hadn't come all this way to be turned away. He had no intention of going back to Cascade without his friend, if indeed Jake Edwards was Jim.

Brian held up his hand to Blair, obviously knowing Blair was going to object.

"That's all right. We actually came to see Lydia Jones. We promised her we'd stop by to visit Frederick." Brian leaned over the desk and whispered conspiratorially. "I know he's not real, but Aunt Lydia thinks he is, so I play along to keep her happy." He winked. "I think the old girl has some money and I'm hoping I get a part of it."

The orderly grinned, revealing a broken front tooth. "All right." He glanced past Brian to Blair. "What about him?"

"He's a friend from college. Never been in one of these places before. Thought I'd give him an education."

The man laughed, like it was a big joke. He handed Brian two passes and motioned to the clipboard. "Sign in. When you leave, remember to stop back here and drop off your visitor badges and sign out."

"We will," Brian assured.

Blair took a pass from Brian and watched him write their names on the list. The burly man opened the door with a flick of a switch and Brian and Blair hurried through.

"What was that about?" Blair whispered hoarsely when he caught up to Brian.

"Some of the people who work here have the compassion of an ant, and the brains to match. You gotta be able to tap dance around them if they throw you a curve," Brian replied.

Blair laughed lightly. "I call that obfuscation."

"That'll work, too."

The two men took the elevator to the second floor and emerged warily. Jim was here someplace. Blair could feel his presence. His palms began to sweat and his chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. Black dots danced in his vision and he had to pause a moment to pull himself together.

"You all right?" Brian asked.

Blair nodded, swallowing the dryness. "Yeah, I just need a minute, man. If Jake is really Jim, I-I just--"

Brian smiled in understanding. "Hey, I'll hold you up so you don't embarrass yourself by fainting or something. C'mon, your friend's waiting for you." He took Blair's arm and guided him down the hallway to a room.

Blair could hardly hear over the heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He was trembling so much he figured he'd puddle to the floor like the wicked witch of the west. I'm melting... melting.

Come on, Sandburg, pull yourself together.If this is Jim, he's going to need every bit of your strength.

Brian tugged Blair into the room where they stopped. There was only an old man lying on one of the beds.

"He must be in the rec room," Brian said.

Blair followed Brian mutely. His mind was chattering too much to try to hold a conversation with anyone. Brian led him into a large room with a console TV that had an advertisement for a home gym blaring. Men and women dressed in thin faded robes and gowns with half slippers sat and walked around. A few of them were mimicking the muscled man from the ad, pretending they were lifting weights. Some of those who sat appeared to be completely out of touch with their surroundings. Those who scuffed about weren't much better, though they did manage to go around obstacles in their path.

He tried to imagine Jim among these people, living as one of them these past six months. He couldn't do it. The Jim he remembered was strong and vital and brimming with self-confidence. But Jake Edwards was a man with no recollection of his past. Jim Ellison with his memory wiped clean. Blair's heart tripped into his throat. It was an image he didn't want to see, but knew he would. Soon.

Blair searched the faces for the one he hadn't seen in six months. Unless Jim had changed completely, he wasn't there. He glanced at Brian questioningly.

Brian threw his hands in the air helplessly. "I don't know. Unless they took him someplace," he paused and added quietly, "or something happened to him. Let's go back to his room. Maybe we just missed him."

As they walked down the hallway, a disturbance at the other end made them turn. A man in a gown was hunched over, struggling against a behemoth nurse. She appeared to be trying to drag him, but he was resisting.

"There's Jake," Brian exclaimed.

His heart thundering, Blair followed on the heels of Brian as they raced down the corridor. The nurse glanced up in surprise, but the patient's neck was bowed, as was his body. Blair didn't do more than give the nurse a cursory look. His entire being was centered on the man.

"Admitted yourself again, Halloran?" the nurse demanded caustically.

Brian shook his head. "We came to see Jake."

Her fingers tightened on the older man's arm. "He can't have visitors. Doctor's orders."

Blair took a step closer to the hunched figure and his breath rasped in his throat. His heart drummed against his ribs. If this man was Jim, he'd definitely lost at least thirty pounds from his once fit frame. Blair's stomach curled into itself with horror and outrage.

"Jim?" he said softly.

The man's body froze, then slowly, he raised his head. Confusion and pain swirled in blue eyes almost as familiar to Blair as his own.

Nearly petrified with shock and disbelief, Blair's world winked in and out of focus. His breath hitched in his suddenly tight throat, then he reached out toward Jim with a trembling hand. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Jim. I--" his voice broke and his eyes burned. "I thought you were dead."

Jim stared at him, a myriad of emotions panning across his face. "Blair... Chief?"

At the sound of the nickname only Jim called him, Blair could only nod. He took another step toward the man he'd mourned for, his arms outstretched. Keeping his voice low, he spoke soothingly. "I'm here for you now, Jim. I won't leave you again. I promise."

Weariness and relief filled Jim's angular and much too thin face. "I knew... you'd come."

Overjoyed at finding Jim, but appalled by the condition he found him in, Blair managed a shaky smile. "Always, buddy."

Suddenly Jim grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut and his jaw muscle jumped. He pressed his arms against his stomach and a groan escaped his colorless lips.

Fear spiked in Blair's chest and he crossed the remaining distance between them, wrapping his arms around Jim, who collapsed within them. Unable to keep him upright, Blair dropped to his knees, easing Jim down with him. He cradled his friend in his arms as Jim's head rested in the curve of Blair's neck and shoulder. Jim's body, curled into a tight ball between Blair's legs, shuddered, and his warm breath cascaded across Blair's neck.

Blair glared up at the nurse, whose nametag read Simpson. "What the hell did you do to him?"

She met his glare without flinching. "Nothing. Jake's sick, so I was trying to get him into a room where the doctor could examine him."

Blair felt Jim move against him and he glanced down. "What is it, Jim?" he asked quietly.

"She's... l-lying. Made m-me sick. Breakfast," he stammered in a husky voice.

Fury like he'd never known pulsed through Blair. He was torn between striking the nurse and holding his friend. Blair tightened his grip on Jim. Now that Blair found him, he wasn't going to risk losing him again.

"Brian, we have to get him out of here," Blair said, knowing he sounded desperate and not giving a damn.

"You can't check him out," the nurse said. "Only the person who committed him can have him released."

"Listen, lady, this man is not Jake Edwards," Blair stated. "His name is Jim Ellison and I'm the only person who can sign any type of medical papers for him."

"I only have your word that he's Jim Ellison and that isn't worth anything."

Blair's stomach churned and he could barely speak. Air seemed difficult to find and even more difficult to draw into his lungs. "I'll prove it to you. I just need to make a phone call."

"Go make your phone call," the nurse said, waving a hand. "Meanwhile, I'll get the doctor to see Jake."

"Don't let her take him, Blair," Brian said, his face an angry mask as he stared at the nurse. "You don't know what she'll do."

Fingertips bit into Blair's arm. "D-Don't leave me, Chief," Jim said hoarsely.

Blair leaned close to Jim and his expression softened. "I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly.

The nurse stepped toward him and Jim whimpered. Blair's heart leapt into his throat at the plaintive and uncharacteristic sound. He'd never seen Jim so frightened, so helpless, and Blair's protective instincts for his sentinel told him not to let Jim out of his sight, no matter what.

"If you care about him, you'll let the doctor check him out," the nurse said.

Jim clutched Blair's arm almost painfully and the panic in his eyes made Blair's gut ache. "He hurt me... strapped m-me down in b-bed."

Unable to bear the anguish and fear in Jim's eyes, Blair laid his cheek against the older man's short hair. "I won't let them hurt you ever again." His voice trembled.

Blair struggled with his overwhelming emotions. He'd accepted Jim's death more or less and to find him alive was almost too much for his mind to grasp. He gained control of his careening thoughts and raised his head to spear the nurse with a piercing gaze. "You're not taking him," he stated firmly. He glanced up at Brian who was eyeing the nurse like she was an ogress. "Brian, I need your help to get Jim to his room."

"Jake's delusional. He needs--" the nurse began.

"No!" Blair cut her off sharply. Rage pulsed through him. "Get the hell away from him. You're not going to hurt him anymore."

She narrowed her eyes, but took a step back. "If he dies, it'll be on your conscience."

Blair's heart stumbled in his chest. His gaze flickered down to his friend and his breath caught in his throat. What if Jim really did need a doctor?

"D-Don't let her scare you, Chief," Jim said, his voice so quiet only Blair could hear him. He clung to Blair's arm, which was wrapped around the older man's chest. "I trust you."

The soft-spoken words brought a lump to Blair's throat. He didn't deserve Jim's unquestioning faith. He had given up on him, even when he'd felt that Jim was still alive. He'd fought it for weeks, but the physical evidence had overcome his gut feeling. If only he'd kept searching, maybe Jim wouldn't be merely a shadow of the man Blair remembered. He swallowed. Hard. "Come on, Brian, let's get him to his room."

Working together, Blair and Brian got Jim to a standing position. The bigger man leaned heavily on Blair, but Blair welcomed his burden. It was proof that Jim was real, not a figment of his imagination. As they moved down the hall, Jim seemed to gain more strength and was shuffling his feet by the time they got to his room. They eased Jim down on the bed and he lay down, curling his knees to his belly, but he kept one hand fastened to Blair's arm. It was as if Jim needed that physical connection, and Blair wasn't about to argue -- he needed it just as badly.

"You have to make a call, Brian," Blair said.

"All right, but don't let Ja-Jim out of your sight. I trust Nurse Ratched as far as I can throw her."

Blair smiled at the nickname Brian had given Nurse Simpson, but sobered quickly. He believed the same thing. "Don't worry. I'm staying right beside him. I want you to call Simon Banks at the Cascade Police Department." Blair gave Brian the number. "Tell him Jim Ellison is alive and that he needs to come down here as quickly as possible. Tell him to bring proof of Jim's identity."

"Okay." Brian jogged out of the room and down the hallway.

Blair turned to gaze down at his friend's pale, sweat-coated face and worry twisted his stomach into a knot.

"Stay here?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand covering Jim's. He managed a smile. "You've got yourself another shadow."

Jim's lips curved upward and his blue eyes shown gratitude.

"Hang in there, buddy. We got the cavalry coming," Blair said.

"John Wayne?" A shadow of the familiar twinkle lit Jim's eyes and Blair's own vision blurred.

"Simon Banks," Blair said. "Do you remember Simon?"

Jim's brow furrowed, then he wrinkled his nose. "Smelly cigars."

Blair laughed and a tear slid down his cheek, but this time it was from joy, not sorrow. He wiped it away before Jim could see it. "He's going to be so glad to see you."

The pain that lined Jim's face began to ease. He stared at Blair, as if memorizing his features.

"What is it?" Blair asked softly.

"I couldn't remember you, Chief." His lips thinned. "I couldn't remember anyone, not even who I was." He paused. "I'm Jim Ellison, not Jake Edwards."

It wasn't a question, but Blair nodded. "That's right. You disappeared about six months ago." The despair that filled those months crushed down upon Blair and he glanced away to hide his remembered agony. "We all thought you were dead."

"I was," Jim whispered. "I-I didn't know anything about my past. When I finally started to remember, it was you I saw."

Blair's heart tripped and he shifted his attention back to Jim, then gave his hand a squeeze. "It's all right now. I found you and everything's going to be fine."

A man in a white coat entered, followed by the ogress.

"What's the problem here?" the doctor demanded.

Blair stood, but didn't relinquish his hold on Jim. "We don't need you."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jim's partner."

"Jim? This man's name is Jake Edwards."

Blair shook his head vehemently. "His name is Jim Ellison and he's a detective in Cascade, Washington. How he got here is what I plan to find out." He scowled at the nurse.

"Easy, Chief," Jim soothed in a low voice. "Both their heart rates shot up."

Panic slid through Blair, but it was replaced by cold determination. "You should leave now, before you get in this any deeper."

Fear flickered in the doctor's eyes, but Nurse Simpson merely glowered at him.

At that moment, Blair wished he had Jim's abilities to read their bodies' reactions. What were they going to do?

"I have other patients to attend," the doctor murmured and slipped away.

The nurse remained for a few moments longer, then she also retreated.

Blair sighed, but his relief was short-lived. Jim groaned as another spasm ripped through him. He pressed his arms into his stomach, releasing his hold on Blair.

"Breathe through it, Jim. Turn down the dials, you can do it," Blair intoned in a low voice as he grasped his friend's shoulder, giving his sentinel a physical connection to his guide.

Slowly, Jim's body began to relax and uncoil. He opened his eyes and Blair saw fondness in their blue depths. "Thanks, Chief."

"You're welcome," Blair said affectionately.

Brian returned to the room, halted in the doorway and stared at them a moment. "I told you things would work out." He smiled warmly. "For both of you." He moved farther into the room. "I got a hold of Captain Banks."

"What'd he say?" Blair asked, returning to his perch on the bed beside Jim.

Brian shrugged. "At first he thought I was crazy, then he said to tell you both he'd be on the next plane here." He frowned. "He also said to tell you he felt like he was back in the Sandburg zone."

Blair laughed and gazed at Jim whose puzzled features told Blair his memory still had some missing pieces. "I'll explain later."

"Something tells me I may not want to know." Jim's accompanying half smile was so Jim-like that Blair couldn't draw his gaze away from the familiar sight.

"You okay?" Jim suddenly asked in concern.

Blair knew without asking that Jim had detected his increased heart rate. He smiled widely. "Couldn't be better, Jim."

Brian cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. "I hate to do this, but I checked my messages. I've got an interview in two hours and with the snow coming down..."

Blair turned his gaze to the window and saw huge snowflakes swirling outside. "When did that start?"

"Just a few minutes ago." Brian shrugged. "Springtime in the Rockies. I don't want to leave you both here, but if I don't make it to this interview, I might blow my shot at medical school."

"Go on, Brian," Jim said gently. "Mark would want you to."

Brian's eyes shimmered suspiciously. "Yeah, he would."

"We'll go over to your place after I get Jim outta here," Blair assured.

"If you're not there when I get home, I'll come back and check on you." The worry in Brian's tone touched Blair.

"Thanks, man. I don't know how to thank you for... everything." Blair glanced down at his friend. "Without you, Jim would..." He licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed. He turned to Brian again. "Thank you."

"Seeing Jake back where he belongs is all the thanks I need." Brian shook hands with Blair, then Jim. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck with the interview," Jim said.

Brian nodded and left.

"God, Jim, if it hadn't been for Brian, you'd..." Blair choked on the words. "And I'd still think you were dead."

Jim reached out to give Blair's arm a squeeze. "Don't think about it, Chief. Now that you're here, everything'll be fine."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Blair glanced up to see Nurse Simpson holding a gun and flanked by a burly orderly. It looked like Jim may have spoken too soon. Blair instinctively placed himself between the gun and Jim. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Somebody doesn't want Jake to ever leave the hospital, unless it's in a body bag," the nurse said. "Too bad you didn't eat all your breakfast."

Red hazed Blair's vision. "You did poison him!" He took a step toward her, but Jim's grasp halted his motion.

"Easy, Chief," Jim's low voice cut through Blair's rage. "I don't think she'd have a problem shooting you."

Blair evened out his breathing, forcing his tense muscles to relax. He wouldn't be able to help Jim if he was dead. He looked at the orderly beside the nurse. "If she kills Jim and I, you're going to be an accessory even if you didn't squeeze the trigger."

The man laughed. "I doubt it. Besides, your bodies'll never be found."

Blair trembled with the certainty in his voice, then he felt Jim sit up behind him, and the presence of his partner gave him strength. "Not everybody. We have friends who won't give up."

"Just like you didn't give up on Jake?" the nurse taunted.

Blair flinched as if he'd been sucker punched. He felt a hand rest on his back.

"You never gave up on me, Chief. Never," Jim said with unwavering faith. "I always knew you'd find me."

Blair suddenly felt sick to his stomach. How could he tell Jim he had given up?

"Come on, let's go." The nurse motioned toward the door with her revolver.

Blair turned and helped Jim from the bed. Although Jim could navigate on his own after Blair had helped him turn down the dials, he kept an arm around his shoulders, comforted by his friend's real and solid presence. It would also give their captors the mistaken impression he was still helpless.

As they moved down the hallway, Jim kept part of his attention on Blair's heartbeat. He had to force himself not to zone on the sound. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until this very moment. It seemed a lifetime ago that he and Sandburg had been together like this... and maybe it had. God knew Jim felt like he'd been dead and had been brought back to life again.

Large chunks of his memory were still missing, but he remembered enough to know that he and Blair were supposed to be together as sentinel and guide... as brothers. The past months skimmed through his mind like a bad movie. And the writer of the script was damn well going to pay for what he'd done.

He glanced at Blair and caught his concerned dark blue eyes. Blair had thought he was dead. Jim's gut clenched for his partner. The circles beneath Blair's eyes and the hollowed cheeks told Jim he'd had a tough time. If their roles had been reversed, Jim had no doubt he would've been consumed with sorrow. Would he have been able to survive without his guide -- without his friend?

Jim could smell the fear emanating from Blair. But he also knew his friend was doing his damndest to hide it from him and that thought warmed him more than anything else in the past months.

"We're not out of this yet," Jim said softly.

Blair brought his head up sharply to look at Jim, and after a few moments, the lines in his brow eased and an achingly familiar twinkle returned to his eyes. "Damned right we're not."

Jim's arm tightened instinctively around Blair's shoulders and the two of them shuffled down the corridor. The nurse used her key to open a back stairwell door and they were prodded down the stairs, past the first floor and down even further. Another key turn and they were in the basement. Dusty lightbulbs cast dim shadows down the seemingly endless hallway, and the stale odor of mold permeated the air. Closed doors with peeling paint and small, square dirty windows told Jim this area hadn't been used in a long time.

The bulky nurse unlocked one of the nondescript doors and Jim's eyes widened. A cell complete with mildewed padded walls. The muscled man gave Blair a violent shove, making him tumble against the far wall.

Jim's temper erupted at Blair's rough treatment. He grabbed the bully's arm, belatedly remembering how much strength he'd lost. The man shook him off as if Jim were a pesky fly, then wrapped his meaty fingers around the back of Jim's neck and pushed him into the room. Jim crashed into Blair who was trying to rise and the two of them ended up in an inelegant heap on the fetid pad on the floor.

The overpowering stench imbedded in the years-old padding filled Jim's lungs and his stomach roiled in response. He struggled to find the dials he had known so well six months ago. Blair's worried voice broke though his agony. The soothing tone and the solid body he rested on did more to ease Jim's stomach than any medicine.

"Hey, Jim, c'mon man, you back with me?" Blair asked.

The odor faded to the background and the pain in his gut became a dull ache that he could ignore. He opened his eyes and found Blair's apprehensive expression set in a pale oval beneath him. Tuning up his vision, he could make out the fear in his eyes. He smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, Chief. I got it back under control."

Blair's relief was almost tangible. "You took a helluva time to fall back into Blessed Protector mode."

Jim searched his memory for the meaning to Blair's words, but came up blank. "Blessed Protector?"

"Long story. Someday I'll get you a t-shirt with the short version," Blair said with a grin. "Now, you gonna get off me so I can breathe, big guy?"

Smiling slightly, Jim shifted so Blair could escape. He began to push himself up the rest of the way and Blair helped him to a sitting position, his back against a fetid wall.

Jim looked around their prison and noticed the door was closed. "They're gone?"

Blair nodded. "All the nurse said was we'd be having a special visitor later."

Jim ground his teeth. "The bastard who put me in here."

Blair's jaw tightened. "I'd like a crack at him myself."

"Get in line, Chief." Jim paused. "Think they forgot to lock the door?"

"Doesn't hurt to check." Blair stood and Jim saw him extend a hand as he made his way through the murky darkness to the door. The rattle of a doorknob answered his question. "No such luck." Jim watched his friend as he examined the door and frame with his hands. Blair sighed in frustration. "Nothing."

Blair stumbled back toward him and Jim grabbed his hand when he got close enough, guiding him down beside him. For a long moment, they were silent.

"At least Brian got away," Blair said softly.

"Yeah." Jim turned to his friend. "He was the one who triggered my memory into starting to remember. At first, I thought he was you. I thought you'd cut your hair." He smiled fondly. "But I'm glad to see you didn't."

"And here I thought you wanted me to get a brush cut like yours."

Jim chuckled, but a stomach spasm cut it short. He crossed his arms, resting them against his belly and leaned his head back. "Naw, just about eight inches off the bottom."

Blair snorted, but Jim could hear the hammering of his heart and the higher respiratory rate. "I didn't know if I could do it," Blair suddenly said.

His friend switched gears faster than Jim could keep up. "What?"

Blair shrugged. "Keep going with everything -- school, teaching, the doctorate... my life."

Jim's heart missed a beat, but before he could speak, Blair pressed onward. "Nearly half my life I searched for a sentinel, then I strike the silver lode. I find you and all I can think of is that I finally have my subject for my doctorate, only you stopped being just a subject a few hours after I met the real James Ellison. My life revolved around you, Jim. I never realized -- the research, the partnership, the friendship -- I took it all for granted. But when I thought you were dead, everywhere I turned, you were there. When I was in my office, I pictured that first day when you showed up there and all the times later on when you'd have a cup of coffee, waiting patiently--" he grinned "--and sometimes not so patiently, for me to finish whatever I was working so you could give me a ride home. Every time I passed a Wonderburger, I thought of you. I couldn't go to the station without getting physically sick from all the memories. But the loft, that was the toughest. When I'd get home, I'd look in the basket, but your keys were never--"

"Blair," Jim interrupted as he clasped his arm. He spoke quietly, but his voice was charged with emotion. "I'm here now, buddy. Right beside you."

He felt Blair take a deep, shuddering breath. The younger man scrubbed his face in his palms, then raked his fingers through his curly hair. He looked at Jim, and the anguish in Blair's eyes pierced him.

"I have to keep checking, man, to make sure, y'know?" Blair said hoarsely.

A gentle smile tilted Jim's lips upward. "I know, Chief. I know."

Blair shifted closer to Jim, until their shoulders pressed against one another. "The dental records matched, and your badge and gun were found with the body," Blair began in a low, angst-laden voice. "Everyone believed it was you. Except me. I couldn't." He took a deep shuddering breath. "I guess I went a little crazy for a while. Simon finally pulled my pass and I didn't have access to your files anymore."

The pain in his friend's voice cut so deeply, Jim didn't know what to say.

"I think everyone thought I'd gone off the deep end, and they were probably right. It's just that I figured I'd know if you were dead." He smiled weakly. "And I was right."

The cool air penetrated Jim's thin gown and robe, and a shiver passed through him.

"You okay?" Blair asked in concern.

"Just a little cold, Chief. What I wouldn't do for a pair of jeans and a sweater." He paused thoughtfully. "All I've worn in this place is this get-up."

Jim heard Blair's heartbeat increase. "I'm sorry."

The guilt wrapped around those two words pierced Jim. "Hey, don't worry about it, Chief." He forced a laugh. "It wasn't like I had a lot of social engagements."

Blair's head came up sharply. "That's so not funny."

Jim knew the anger in Blair's face and voice weren't directed at him. There were a lot of holes in Jim's memory, but Blair Sandburg wasn't one of them. Not anymore. His friend -- his guide -- blamed himself for believing Jim was dead and not finding him earlier.

The link between sentinel and guide had been strong enough to allow Jim to remember Blair. Jim would bet that the bond had also teased Blair with doubts about Jim's death, but eventually Blair had gone with the odds. It was that surrender that fed Blair's guilty conscience. Once they were back home, Jim and Blair would have to sit down and work out that misplaced guilt.

Jim's breath caught at the image of his loft apartment that he shared with Blair. He wanted his old life -- his past -- back. All of it. And he'd be damned if Nurse Ratched, Manny the muscle man, and the person behind the entire scheme would succeed where they'd failed once already.

With Blair's warm body pressed to his, Jim felt exhaustion tugging at him.

"Don't fight it," Blair said softly. "You need the rest."

Jim shook his head, dispelling the cobwebs in his mind. "Can't afford to until we're out of this mess."

"We can't do anything now."

"I'm not going to let them do to you what they did to me," Jim said savagely.

"You're not going to be able to do anything in the shape you're in now."

Jim's pride wanted him to argue, but common sense intervened. "All right, but if anything happens, you wake me." He held up a finger. "Anything."

In spite of their situation, Blair's eyes twinkled. "Right back to giving me orders, huh?"

"Right back to arguing with me, huh?"

Jim and Blair grinned at one another, their past camaraderie returning like they'd been separated only a few days, rather than months.

"Come here." Blair raised his arm, allowing Jim to huddle closer for warmth.

Jim let the familiar smell and touch of his guide ease the tension that knotted the muscles at the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. With Brian's help, Blair had been found, and now Jim had to save his energy to protect him. Blair's life was in jeopardy now because of Jim.

With Blair's arm around his shoulders and his heartbeat a soothing rhythm, Jim closed his eyes. Everything would be all right. Blair had found him.

Brian heaved a sigh of relief as he entered his small apartment. He'd made the interview with only seconds to spare and he had a good feeling about it. They promised to give him their decision some time in the next few days. If they accepted him, he'd be starting medical school in two short weeks. Pride filled him and he felt the presence of his brother Mark, approving and supportive.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave -- half past three. Frowning, he crossed the small living room to his answering machine, but there was no message from Blair and Jake. It had been over five hours since he'd left them at the hospital. A chill swept through him and he knew with certainty that something had happened to them.

"Damn," he swore aloud. He shouldn't have left them with Nurse Ratched.

Feeling as if he were on a carnival ride gone bad, Brian jerked his door open, intent on braving the spring blizzard to find his new friends.

A tall dark man stood framed in the doorway, his eyes wide behind gold-rimmed glasses and his shoulders covered with snow.

"Brian Halloran?" the man asked, the authority in his voice unmistakable.

"Yes," Brian replied warily, remembering his concerns about Jake and the person who'd had him committed.

"I'm Captain Simon Banks, Cascade PD." He held up a police shield.

Brian closed his eyes momentarily and sighed in relief. "Come in," he said, motioning for Banks to enter.

The tall man strode across the threshold and Brian was aware of his astute gaze cataloguing the small apartment.

"I just came from Mountainside. They said Jake Edwards was released this morning," Banks said without preamble.

Panic flared in Brian. "Damnit! They got both of them."

"Who? What are you talking about?" Banks demanded in frustration.

Brian took a moment to compose his chaotic thoughts. His wall clock ticked loudly in the reigning silence and a neighbor sneezed, the sound clearly audible through the thin apartment walls. "Ja--Jim was sick when Blair and I got there this morning. Jim said that somebody did it to him, but the nurse denied it. Blair and I got him to his room and Blair told me to call you. I did." He faltered, guilt burdening him. "I had to leave for an entrance interview for medical school. I shouldn't have left them!"

"So they were in, uh, Jim's room when you left?" Banks stumbled over Jim's name, as if still not believing that he was alive.

"Yes." A sense of urgency galvanized Brian. "We have to get back there. Either Blair and Jim are still there or somebody must've seen them leave. Their lives are at stake, Captain." Banks appeared torn, but the fear in his eyes told Brian he cared deeply for the two men. "Please. It's their only chance."

Suddenly Banks nodded curtly. "I'll call the local police and have them meet us there." His dark face grew stern, but in his eyes Brian saw confusion and concern. "But if you've fabricated this entire story..."

"I haven't," Brian said impatiently. "Let's go. It's going to take us a while to get across town in this snow."

With the intimidating police captain beside him, Brian left the apartment. As Banks maneuvered across the weather-slicked roads in a rented car, Brian couldn't help wondering if he'd helped Jake find his identity, only to have him lose his life.

Again.

With his arm around his friend, Blair couldn't see his watch but he figured they'd been sitting in the rank cell for a few hours. He had dozed off and on, but now his buttocks were numb and his legs and arms stiff, but he didn't want to shift his position and risk waking Jim.

He glanced about their tiny padded cell, imagining the deranged souls who'd been condemned to this hell on earth. Blair could almost hear the echoes of their screams long past. If Jim with his sentinel senses had been born fifty years earlier, he could have been one of those lost souls deposited here. His sanity would've been leached away in this place until his world was so filled with sensory overload that insanity would've been a welcome release.

Blair's heart leapt into his throat. He'd glimpsed a piece of that scenario when he'd found Jim miraculously alive. What if he hadn't found him? What if Brian had never come into 'Jake Edwards' life? Blair would've continued his hollow life back in Cascade, never truly coming to terms with Jim's supposed death. Blair, too, would have had his sanity slowly leached away.

Jim moved against Blair. "Chief?"

"Right here," Blair said, his voice husky.

"You all right? Your heart's doing double flips."

"I was just thinking about how things could've turned out." A tremor passed through Blair.

He could feel Jim's scrutiny, the power of his clear blue gaze upon him. "That's part of the past now, Chief," Jim finally said. "Let it go."

Though Blair wasn't certain he could do that, he would try for Jim's sake. "How did you sleep?"

Jim eased himself up, away from Blair who lifted his cramped arm carefully off his friend's shoulders. Jim drew a hand across his face. "All right, but I had these dreams. Full of people I should know, but didn't."

His frustration didn't surprise Blair. "It'll all come back to you. Just be patient, Jim."

Blair could almost feel his struggle to press his impatience back. The old Jim Ellison was returning in leaps and bounds.

"How does your stomach feel?" Blair asked.

"Better. It's a good thing I wasn't very hungry this morning." Jim shuddered.

"So why didn't they just kill you before?" Blair blurted out, then realized how that sounded and his face grew warm. "Not that I mind--"

"I know what you mean, Chief. I've been wondering the same thing. I had one visitor the whole time I was here -- a man, blond, maybe a few years older than you. He said me being in the hospital was worse than being killed. It almost sounded like he knew what it was like to be in one of these places." He closed his eyes tightly as he rubbed his temples. "I think I know him, but I just can't remember...."

"I have a feeling we'll find out soon enough who was behind this whole thing," Blair said as a chill swept through him.

"Brian said Simon was on his way. If we can just hold on until he gets here."

"And when he doesn't find us, what then?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know, but even with my less-than-perfect memory, I don't think Simon will be so quick to leave it at that."

Blair smiled. "He'll probably tear the hospital apart to find me just so he can chew my butt out." His smile faded, remembering how Simon had helped him these past months. He wouldn't have thought it possible that the hard-assed police captain could be so solicitous. "Simon took your death pretty hard. After they identified what they thought was your body, he got totally wasted. Taggart and I had to take him home that night."

"God, Chief, this whole thing sounds like a bad soap opera. Only it wasn't and good people were hurt."

"You were hurt, Jim," Blair exploded. "I can't even imagine what you went through, living in an asylum when you weren't crazy."

"But I was," Jim said quietly. "For a long time, before Brian showed up, I was a lot like everybody else. I didn't know anything different." Agony shimmered in his eyes. "They must've given me some kind of drug to completely screw up my head."

Blair nodded. "But with your sentinel senses, you were able to overcome it, and start to remember."

They were silent a moment, then Jim spoke. "You said my body was identified?"

Blair recognized where Jim was going with this. "If it wasn't you, who was it?"

"Probably somebody who wouldn't be missed."

The banked anger in Jim's voice brought an answering indignation in Blair. "The bastard killed some innocent person to make everyone think you were dead, then got you put here under a different name where no one would find you."

"He went through a lot of trouble to turn my life into a living hell." Jim glanced at Blair, his expression softening. "Yours, too."

Blair didn't want to think about it. Instead, he put his mind to the problem at hand and stood to pace back and forth in the small cell. "So someone who has a helluva grudge against you planned this entire thing. It had to be somebody who knows computers. He would've had to alter your dental records, come up with a new identity for you, get you into this hospital with fictionalized papers." The enormity of the plot boggled Blair's mind. "He must've had a lot of time to plan this. Maybe someone who was in prison and just got out, but then he'd have to have connections on the outside to get this set up. But I didn't find anyone like that when I went through your files."

Jim held up a hand. "Whoa, slow down, Chief. You went through my--" he paused, his brow furrowing, "--arrest records?"

Blair hunkered down in front of Jim. "You do remember you were a cop, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I kept having these visions of blood and guns and dead people." His face appeared pale even in the dim light. "I thought I was a murderer."

Blair laid a hand on Jim's knee. "No way, man. You're one of the good guys -- the best good guy I know. It's in you to protect and help people, not hurt them."

Jim smiled and Blair saw his relief. He hadn't believed it until Blair had reassured him. The extent of Jim's faith in him frightened the hell out of him.

"So you didn't come up with anything?" Jim prompted.

"There were four people you'd arrested who were released in the two months before you disappeared. None of them had the brains for this elaborate of set-up."

Jim pushed himself upright and took Blair's place, pacing back and forth in front of the younger man. Blair watched him, his gut twisting at the physical changes in his friend -- the loss of weight from his tall frame and the harsh angles in his thin face. Jim had always seemed invincible, but now he looked... vulnerable. Yet the familiar fire was back in his eyes and his fingers kept clenching and unclenching at his sides. The old Jim was reasserting himself more and more with each passing minute.

"You have to help me here, Chief. I still have holes in my memory," Jim said. "How did I 'die'?"

Blair's breath caught, but he managed to keep a lid on the horrible memories. "Your truck went over an embankment, fell about a hundred feet and exploded. There wasn't much left." Blair's heart skipped a beat. "Just blackened bones."

Jim stopped in front of Blair. "I know this is tough, Chief, but I have to figure it out. I have to remember."

Blair gazed into his friend's anguished blue eyes. How would he feel if he'd had his life ripped away? He nodded and continued. "The remains of your badge and gun were found, too. Since it was your truck, they checked your dental records and found they matched. Nobody even considered they may have been tampered with. Everything pointed to you as the victim -- even the body's general size."

Jim frowned and brushed a hand across his nose. "You're right. Someone sure as hell has it in for me." He tipped his head to the side. "I hear voices."

Blair jumped to his feet. "Who is it?"

"One of them is Nurse Ratched. The other--" He frowned. "--familiar, but I can't place it."

A key turned in the lock and the door swung open, revealing a man in an expensive suit and a cold smile. Blair's eyes widened.

"I should've known you wouldn't give up," Frank Rachins said, eyeing Blair like a snake eyeing a mouse. "Ellison didn't give up on you in that elevator."

Blair found his voice. "You're supposed to be in a hospital."

Rachins shrugged. "I escaped. Not very difficult once I figured out the routine and had access to a computer. Amazing what a person can do." He brushed his palm across the front of his jacket. "By the time I got out, I had everything I needed. Except revenge."

Jim took a step closer to Rachins, eyeing him intently. "Galileo?"

Rachins frowned. "I was assured you'd never remember your name, much less anything from your past." The computer genius sighed. "Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. The great James Ellison reduced to a mere shadow of the man he was." He turned to Blair. "And his loyal cohort consumed with grief."

"You son-of-a-bitch," Jim erupted and charged at Rachins.

Two burly men stepped forward and caught Jim's arms before he could a land a punch. Blair surged to Jim's side, determined to help, but the nurse leveled her gun at him.

"Don't try it," she warned.

Blair halted, but he frantically darted glances from Jim to Rachins. Fear for Jim filled him, making him sick to his stomach. "Let him go. Haven't you done enough?"

Rachins chuckled evilly. "Not nearly enough, but I'm afraid it's come to an end. A pity. I was enjoying the thought of Ellison in a place like this." His expression hardened and madness entered his eyes. "I wanted him to know how I felt, have him suffer like I did."

"You're crazy," Blair shouted, then realized how accurate his words were. Frank Rachins had been found innocent by reason of insanity to his extortion attempt. Blair had never understood how the court could allow him to get off that easily, but Jim had insisted he'd be in the hospital for the criminally insane for a lot of years.

But the system had failed again. And why hadn't the department received notice when Rachins had escaped?

"Bring them along," Rachins ordered.

He started walking down the dim, empty corridor. His muscle men gave Jim a shove down the hall, making him stumble to his knees. Blair hurried to his side and helped him up. Jim clung to Blair's arm, but Blair suspected it was more for comfort than assistance.

"He's going to kill us, isn't he?" Jim asked between clenched teeth.

"Good guess."

"We're going to have to make a break for it."

"How? They've got the guns and muscle."

"But we got the brains." Jim managed a grin and wink at Blair. "Keep your eyes and ears open, and be ready to move."

Blair nodded even as his heart pounded in his chest. Less than a day back together and already they were in deep trouble. Simon was right -- back to the Sandburg zone. He stifled a smile. Some things never change. He glanced at Jim's profile, noting the high forehead, aquiline nose, and lips pressed firmly together. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, Blair breathed a prayerful thank you to whatever fates had brought he and Jim back together.

They climbed the concrete stairs and the nurse unlocked an exit door. A burst of frigid air and swirling snow struck Blair and he shivered uncontrollably. Damn, he hated being cold. Jim caught his eyes and nodded in understanding.

They were shoved out into the snow. At least Blair had on shoes and real clothing; Jim had only his thin gown and robe with thin half slippers that offered no protection against the elements. He noticed Jim shiver.

"Turn down the dial, Jim," Blair said in a low voice. "That way you won't feel so cold."

Jim nodded. He and Blair stumbled through the snow blanketing the back parking lot. Rachins stopped at a van and opened the sliding door.

"Get in, gentlemen," Rachins ordered.

Stubbornness brought sharp relief to Jim's face and Blair tensed. His friend was going to make his move.

"Now," Jim shouted.

Blair brought an elbow back into the nurse's belly and she stumbled, dropping the revolver. He dived for it, but missed when Rachins kicked his arm. Pain exploded then tingles shot up to his shoulder, numbing that arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jim was being overpowered by the muscled men and rage coursed through his veins. Rachins forgotten, he launched himself at one of them and managed to get a good punch to the man's jaw. Jim twisted out of the other man's grasp and kicked him in the crotch, sending him to the ground.

Blair grabbed Jim's arm. "C'mon!"

Blair and Jim dashed for the nearest cover, an equipment shed. Just as they reached it, two shots rang out and Blair was punched forward to the snow-covered ground.

Panic sliced through Jim when Blair dropped. A red stain was already obliterating the pristine whiteness of the freshly-fallen snow. He leaned over and grabbed Blair's arms, then dragged him back behind the shed, out of the line of fire, and left behind a trail of blood. Falling to his knees beside his friend, Jim fought the hysteria that crowded his mind.

"Blair, Chief, c'mon, talk to me," Jim said, framing Blair's cold-reddened face between his palms. Ignoring the snow's cold against his bare legs, he concentrated on Blair's heartbeat. "Damnit, don't you die on me!"

Blair's long dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks and his eyes opened. "J-Jim, what-?"

"Take it easy, Chief. You were shot."

Blair laughed weakly. "Situation normal."

Jim didn't see the humor and glowered. "Can you move?"

Blair tried to sit up, but a low groan escaped him and he fell back in the snow. "Sorry, Jim, but I think... I'm d-down for the count." He raised a hand and gripped Jim's arm. "Go, get away before they get you, too."

Jim shook his head vehemently. "No way, Chief. I'm not leaving you."

"Damnit, Jim."

Blair coughed and Jim lifted his upper body into his arms, cradling him against his chest. He tried to ignore the blood seeping from his friend's shoulder. The snow continued to fall, sprinkling white flakes in Blair's dark hair and dotting his face and clothing. Jim gently brushed the snow from the younger man's pain-etched face. "Forget it, Blair, I'm not going."

Blair closed his eyes. "Stubborn..."

Jim smiled sadly. "A lot like a certain anthropologist I know."

"Isn't this touching?"

Jim glanced up to see Rachins and his hired help. He'd been concentrating solely on Blair and hadn't even heard them approach.

"You won't get away with this," Jim growled.

"Don't be so sure about that. Do you know how easy it is to create a new identity?" Rachins laughed. "Look at you -- Jake Edwards."

"James Ellison," Jim stated, then smiled ferally. "That's twice you've failed now, Rachins. Strike three and you're out."

Rachins' humor fled, replaced by anger. "It's you and your buddy who are on your way out."

Jim felt Blair's muscles tense, then heard a hiss of pain. Helpless anger coursed through him. He could handle his own death, but Blair's...

"Leave Blair alone. It's me you want," Jim argued.

Blair's fingers tightened around Jim's wrist. "No, don't want to be alone. I c-can't do that again... thinking you were d-dead."

Rachins shook his head. "No loose ends. Kill them both," he ordered his cronies.

The two men raised their weapons. Jim turned his gaze to Blair and found his calm dark blue eyes centered on him. The strength of their bond flowed between them and Jim squeezed Blair's hand gently. "Together."

"Together," Blair echoed faintly, and he tightened his hold on Jim.

"Police! Freeze!"

Startled, Jim raised his head sharply to see a dark man and four uniformed policemen approaching with guns leveled at Rachins and company.

"Simon," Blair said, his voice faint.

Jim blinked and more memories flooded back -- flyfishing with Simon, searching for him in the jungles of Peru, saving him at that hotel during his class reunion. And his stinky cigars.

Rachins gave in without a fight and his followers took his lead. As they were handcuffed by the uniforms, Simon hurried over to Jim and Blair. He hunkered down beside them and laid a hand on Jim's shoulder, as if assuring himself he was real.

"I never expected to see you again, Jim," Simon said, his voice strained.

"It's good to see you, too, Simon," Jim said warmly, but his attention was drawn back to Blair. "Sandburg needs an ambulance."

"We got one coming and I expect to see both you get into it." Simon pulled his hand across his eyes, then looked down at Blair. "You were right all along," he said gently.

Blair could only smile as his eyes closed.

Brian appeared beside them, his expression fearful as he gazed at Blair. "Is he--?"

Jim shook his head. "He'll be all right." Gratitude and fondness filled him as he looked at the man who'd given him back his life. "Thanks to you, Brian, everything will be all right now."

Brian's face flushed with embarrassment, but Jim could tell he was pleased.

Simon removed his long coat and draped it over Jim's shoulders. "It's good to have you back, Jim." The captain's voice trembled and nearly broke.

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat, but found he couldn't speak. Emotions were coming too fast to handle; and even on his best days, he wasn't very good at dealing with them. Maybe later, after they were back home...

An ambulance entered the parking lot and Brian stood to direct it over to them.

"Hang in there, Chief," Jim said, his voice husky. "We got a lot of catching up to do."

Jim was grateful Simon had gotten the hospital personnel to put him and Blair in the same room. If they hadn't, Jim would've ended up spending all his time in a chair beside Blair's bed instead of resting in his own. Now all he had to do was turn his head to see Blair, but more often than not, he merely closed his eyes and concentrated on his guide's breathing and heartbeat. The familiar rhythms soothed him, reassuring him that the six month nightmare was finally over.

Of course, he knew Blair was just as grateful to share a room. In the three days they'd been there, he often caught the younger man merely watching him and Jim could only guess at the memories that continued to haunt his friend. They hadn't talked much, and had merely enjoyed the comfortable silence and camaraderie that each had missed.

Blair jerked and Jim's heightened senses heard his quick intake of breath.

"You okay, Chief?" he asked.

Blair turned his head to gaze at him, the last vestiges of a nightmare fading from his sleep-tousled features. He smiled, relief flowing across his face. "Yeah, I'm fine, Jim. Just fine."

Jim detected familiar footsteps and knew it was Brian before the young man appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Brian," Blair greeted.

"Hey yourself, Blair," Brian replied. "How're you feeling?"

Blair glanced at his slinged arm and grimaced. "It hurts like hell."

"John Wayne never let a little shoulder wound bother him," Jim said with a straight face.

"And I don't have toilet paper with my name all over it either," Blair shot back.

Brian laughed, then turned to Jim. "Guess what?"

Jim grinned as a feeling of contentment flowed through him. "You were accepted."

"Damn, you're good," Brian said as he came to stand between the two hospital beds. "I start a week from Monday."

"Congratulations," Blair said sincerely, his eyes shining.

"Thanks," Brian said almost shyly.

Jim extended his hand and Brian shook it firmly. "Good luck, though I have a feeling you won't need it."

"I'm not sure about that. It'll be tough, but I'll get through it." Brian smiled self-consciously. "This may sound funny, but I have a feeling Mark will be right beside me the whole way."

Jim shook his head. "It doesn't sound funny at all." His gaze sought his guide's and Blair met it squarely, understanding in their dark blue depths. "Not at all," he reiterated quietly.

Awkward silence filled the room, broken by the arrival of Simon.

"I'd better get going. I'm meeting my dad for lunch," Brian said.

"That's great, Brian," Jim said.

The younger man shrugged. "It's a first step. We'll see what happens."

"It'll work out," Jim assured. "But if it doesn't, it's not the end of the world. Call me if you want or need someone to talk to, no matter what time it is."

"I will." Brian brushed a hand across his eyes. "So long, Kemo Sabe."

"Thanks for giving me my life back," Jim said quietly.

"You're welcome." Brian glanced at Blair. "Take good care of this guy, okay?"

"You got it," Blair promised.

Brian nodded, then hurried out, giving Simon only a quick nod as he passed him.

Simon came to take Brian's previous place, standing between the two men. "The doctor's releasing both of you tomorrow morning," he said. "I've already made reservations on the eleven a.m. flight out of the Springs. By tomorrow at this time, you'll be home." Simon smiled gently. "Both of you."

Jim closed his eyes, picturing the loft clearly. Opening his eyes, he found Blair's gaze upon him. "I hope you kept it clean."

Blair glanced away guiltily. "Well, it might need a little..."

Simon shook his head. "It's clean and the refrigerator is restocked, courtesy of your friends in Major Crimes."

Blair's eyes widened. "Thanks, Simon, I've been wondering how I was going to get out of this one."

Jim sent a mock glare at his friend. "Maybe it's time we went over the rules again."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't you know it? He forgot everything but the rules."

Simon's grin grew. "Nice to see you two are back to your sweet selves." His smile faded as he gazed at Jim. "Rachins escaped from the hospital seven months ago. Through some paperwork snafu, we didn't get notice of it. I guess he bribed a guard to let him use a computer in the evenings after everyone else was gone." Simon sighed heavily. "We tracked down the dental records switch and the creation of your new identity to that computer. The man killed in your place had been living on the street and had the bad fortune to have your basic body build. Rachins won't see the light of day for a long time."

Jim rubbed his brow. "What did he use on me, to make me forget?"

"An experimental drug and deep hypnosis. I guess he didn't count on your sentinel abilities to shake off the supposed permanent effects." Simon shuddered visibly. "I can't believe how well he succeeded. Sandburg was the only one who didn't believe you were dead."

"Not in the beginning," Blair said, then added quietly, "But I accepted it later." Jim heard him swallow nervously. "I gave up on you, Jim. I know you said I didn't, but I did. I even wrote my dissertation. I thought it would be a memorial to your life. If Brian hadn't shown up when he did, I would've handed it in, too. I'll understand if you can't forgive me."

Jim smiled gently. "Forgive you for what? For writing your dissertation as a memorial to me? Geezus, Chief, you did everything you could. Simon told me how you spent days going through my files, trying to figure out what had happened. He said you even dropped out of school." Jim sent him a scolding look. "We'll talk about that later."

Blair shifted like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "You told him everything, Simon?"

The captain shrugged, but his eyes twinkled. "How would you define 'everything'?"

Jim laughed, then Simon joined in. Blair finally gave in, and his laughter joined his friends'.

"What about Rachins' accomplices?" Blair asked a few moments later.

"Simpson, the nurse, was paid to keep an eye on Jim, to let Rachins know if anything happened. Manny Brewster didn't know the whole story, only that Jim was a special patient. They're already working out a deal with the DA," Simon replied, then shook his head. "Rachins may have had the computer know-how, but the only loyalty he had was how much he could buy."

"I guess nobody ever told him that true loyalty can't be bought," Jim said softly, his gaze encompassing his friends.

Blair fumbled with his keys and Jim took them from him, though his fingers trembled. After a few moments, the door was unlocked and Jim stood frozen, his thirsty gaze drinking in the sight of the loft -- his home. His and Blair's.

He mentally shook himself and ushered Blair in with a light hand against his back. After closing the door behind them, he helped Blair take off his jacket, then hung it up. "Go and sit down, Chief. I'll put your bag in your room."

Blair smiled and did as he said.

Jim removed his new coat and hung it on a hook next to Blair's. Simon had picked up some clothes for him while he and Blair had been in the hospital. The blue jeans and flannel shirt had at first felt strange against his skin after months of only wearing a light gown and robe. He removed his Denver Nuggets cap, stared at it a moment. He smiled as he thought of Brian, then hung the cap beside his coat.

He turned up his senses as he carried Blair's backpack into his room. Blair's scent was the most powerful, but beneath it were layers of other familiar scents -- disinfectant and cleaning solutions, musty books, Blair's favorite tea, lasagna. He tuned his hearing to Blair's steady heartbeat, smiled, then turned to the other sounds -- a water drop dripping from the kitchen faucet, the refrigerator's purring motor, the rasp of the old furnace in the basement, a bird chirping on the balcony. He walked across the hall to the bathroom, noting the shiny sink and mirror with no long dark strands of hair littering the floor, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. Of course, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

He wandered into the kitchen, running his fingers along the table and countertops. A note on the refrigerator read, 'Welcome home, Jim and Sandy! There's lasagna in the fridge. All you have to do is heat it up. Megan.' Jim pictured the auburn-haired Aussie detective and smiled to himself. His memory was coming back to him slowly. The doctors assured him he would probably remember everything given a little time.

Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out the pan of lasagna and turned on the oven. The simple task brought a lump to his throat. A month ago he never would have believed he'd find his real life. Yet here he was in his home that was both sweetly familiar and achingly foreign. A dichotomy that would work itself out, though now it only gave Jim an odd, unbalanced feeling.

As he returned to the living room, the sun shone through the large windows, settling on his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he lifted his face to the rays and warmth spread through him, dispelling the chill left over from his months in the sterile, cold asylum.

Aware of Blair's gaze upon him, Jim opened his eyes to meet Blair's. "How're you feeling, Chief?"

"Sore."

Jim frowned. "We should've stayed in Colorado a couple more days, until you felt better."

Blair smiled and shook his head. "Seeing you back here where you belong makes me feel better -- a whole lot better than a hospital and pills could."

Jim took a deep cleansing breath and joined Blair on the sofa. "It feels so strange, Chief. Like I'm home, but I'm not."

"It'll take a little while, Jim. Don't try to force it. You have a lot of things to get used to again. This place, your job. Hell, your whole life."

"I know, but I feel like I'm not quite in step with the rest of the world." He drew his palms across his face, then turned to face Blair. "The only thing that feels right is you."

Blair glanced down at the sling that his left arm rested in. He lifted his gaze to Jim. "As long as you want me, I'll be right beside you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah. It's the one thing I do know for certain. I can trust you."

Shadows darkened Blair's features. "I let you down. I gave up on you even when a part of me knew you couldn't be dead. How can you still trust me after I did that?"

Jim smiled gently. "You may think you gave up, but you never did."

"How can you be so damned certain of that when I'm not even sure?" Blair demanded.

Jim studied the helpless frustration in his young friend's expression. As smart as Blair was, sometimes he could be pretty dense. "Answer me this, Chief. When Brian told you I was still alive, why didn't you have him arrested? Why did you fly all the way to Colorado if you believed I was dead?" he asked.

"Because I--" Blair broke off and his dark blue eyes lit with stunned astonishment. "Because I never gave up."

Jim nodded and smiled a little smugly. "Bingo."

Suddenly Blair laughed. "Damn, you're good, Jim."

"It's about time you admitted it."

Blair settled back against the cushion, his uninjured shoulder resting against Jim's. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"It's real, isn't it?" Jim asked quietly.

"What?"

"The bond between sentinel and guide."

Blair nodded. "We both experienced it to different degrees." He grinned. "That'll be something else to put in my dissertation."

"I thought you had it done."

"Just the first draft." He turned to meet Jim's gaze. "I have a feeling we've just scratched the surface of the sentinel and guide relationship. I'm going to have to observe you a little longer."

"How much longer?" Jim asked.

Blair's eyes sparkled with mischief. "At least twenty, thirty years. Think you can put up with me for that long?"

Jim groaned even as he choked back his laughter. "I suppose sacrifices have to be made for the sake of science."

Blair shook his head, his expression sobering. "No, not science. It's all for the sake of friendship."

Contentment flowed through Jim as his eyes stung. Blair had risked everything for him, including his life. Yet Jim knew he would willingly do the same for Blair. In this day and age, a friendship like theirs was a rarity, too precious to risk losing. "In that case, yeah, I think I can put up with you for a while longer. Maybe even a lifetime."

Blair's eyes glistened. "A lifetime -- I like the sound of that, Jim."

Jim gave Blair's cheek a light tap and smiled at his guide -- his best friend. "Me, too, Chief. Me, too."

~finis~

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