This was started as a story starter by Orion for the first page or so. Jim and Blair owies and angst. Blair has shamanic visions. Spoilers for 'Love Kills'. Say R rated for words and violence.

Beta'd by Sealie Scott -- but all errors are mine.

THE CHRYSALIS



crowswork





"jim?"

Blair's voice sounded odd, even to his own ears. Scratchy and quavering in fact -- very much like he felt right now. His head was swimming with dizziness and his stomach joined the ride every time he moved and the pain in his upper chest flared to another unexpected height. Carefully, he raised his right hand an inch to look at the grisly hole still oozing blood. It didn't look good and looking at it only made his stomach churn. Closing his eyes again to fight the vertigo, he leaned back into the wall.

"J-jim?"

Only silence answered his call, not helping at all to diminish his worries about what might have happened to his roommate. Opening his eyes again, he'd squinted through the half-opened door of his room into the loft's living area, trying to gage the distance. Doable. Not easy, not pleasant, very probably painful, but doable. Swallowing, Blair extended his bloody right hand until he reached the corner of his dresser and started the excruciating task of pulling himself to his feet.

He faltered once, the pain in his chest rising to a crescendo and sour bile burning in his throat. Moaning, he breathed a few deep breaths through his nose, willing his body to calm and co-operate. Finally, he was erect, leaning heavily into the wall for support. Glancing down onto his blood-soaked shirt, Blair knew he wouldn't have much time until he'd lack the strength to move. So he started moving.

His progress was painful and small, sliding along the wall inch by inch. His body was covered in cold sweat by the time he reached his door. Clinging onto the jamb with trembling fingers, he edged out of his room, trying to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. But whoever had attacked them was gone now.

"You there, Jim?"

Nothing. Not a single sound indicating that Jim was there. Or that Jim was still alive? A sob wrenched his way out of Blair's throat, the coppery taste of blood following in its wake. He closed his eyes again, wavering in his spot, trying to summon all the strength he could find in his rapidly weakening body.

He had to get to the coffee table. Where the phone lay. He had to get help.

Extending his right hand to clamp onto the nearest thing that could support him, he staggered forward. His left arm had grown numb a long time ago, but he didn't worry about that. He didn't worry about much right now, except Jim. He had to call Simon. Reaching the kitchen island, he stopped for a moment, his legs nearly giving out under him.

Come on, Blair. You can do it. Just five more steps.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The soft cloth of the couch had never felt better on his hand and Blair had to force down a hysterical giggle that tingled the back of his throat. Slowly, he leaned forward until his right hand touched the phone. Feeling his strength giving out, he sank into the cushions, gasping as his shoulder was jostled.

The phone now in hand, Blair pressed the 4 for Simon's number, which luckily was on the speed dial. Pressing the phone to his ear, he listened to the dial tone, trying to hold the beckoning darkness at bay until he'd delivered his message.

"Banks." Silence, accentuated by harsh breathing answered. Simon looked onto the phone display, recognising Jim's home number at once. "Jim, is that you? Anything wrong?"

More breathing and then, almost too silent for normal hearing: "Got sh-shot."

"Blair? Jesus, what's going on?"

"N-no time.... took Jim.... help." A soft thud accompanied by a pained moan was all that followed.

"Sandburg? Sandburg?? Oh, god!"

Simon made it to the loft right behind the paramedics and the uniformed officers. The neighbours milling around in the hall had heard nothing -- seen nothing.

"This door's pretty heavy and it's not damaged, sir." The young officer was stationed outside the loft, blocking his way, and Simon had to fight the urge to shove him aside. Besides, he needed to know the facts so he let the rookie continue. "The lock looked undisturbed and the door was ajar when we arrived."

While he listened, Simon stepped around the man and used his height to see where the medics were working on an unconscious Blair. "Was he awake when you got here?"

"Just for a second..." The inexperienced cop was speaking rapidly, betraying his tension. "He asked for 'Jim'. Detective Ellison was evidently home at the time of the attack... then he... the victim passed out. When the paramedics took over, we searched the residence for the detective. There's no sign of a struggle and the blood seems to have all come from Bla... the victim."

"Get forensics over here." Simon was appalled at the path of bloody handprints and footprints leading from Blair's room to the couch.

"Already notified, sir." Officer Forrest -- Simon vaguely remembered seeing Blair talking to him -- was also looking at the grim scene. "Captain Banks, sir... What the heck... I mean do you have any idea...? Sorry Sir."

Without taking his eyes off the still form on the stretcher, Simon patted the tense shoulder. "You know Ellison and Sandburg?"

"Blair... I mean Professor Sandburg helped me with some classes I'm taking."

The medics had finished and were ready to load their patient so Forrest and his partner began to herd the concerned neighbours away from the hall and elevator. Simon ordered the loft sealed until the forensic unit could go over it and followed the medics grimly, telling himself that he was staying with Sandburg in case he woke up and could be questioned.

Simon followed the ambulance, not wanting to crowd the crew inside the vehicle. Unbidden, the memory flashed of Jim stepping inside an ambulance to ride with Blair to the hospital. The captain was always amazed how someone a big as Ellison, could -- by remaining still and quiet -- go unnoticed in the closest of quarters. Must be some of that black ops, ninja bullshit the military taught him.

That was one of the questions that tortured Simon as he drove. Ellison frequently had to control himself in hand to hand situations, as the department frowned on suspects getting their necks twisted like chickens. Ironically, battling someone who was fighting all out, when he had to try not to kill them with his bare hands, made him vulnerable. But, if someone was threatening him in his own home or worse threatening Sandburg -- Jim wouldn't hesitate to use lethal force.

So, how did they take Ellison out of the loft? What did they do to him? Why would they shoot Sandburg? Good questions Captain. Now how about coming up with some answers.

He left his car in one of the slots marked for official vehicles and raced into the ER. Sandburg would survive and he would wake up, and when he did Simon intended on being there to hear what had happened to his friends.

"Simon... Simon?"

"Yeah, Kid?" Simon watched as Blair fought to open his eyes. At least, he'd been brought to a regular room from recovery. The doctors reported that the surgery had gone well and he was out of danger. He was also out of his head on whatever painkillers the doctors had given him.

"J'a know on the TB... when the guy gets shot imb the shol'er."

"You got hit in the shoulder, but you'll be okay."

"Makes Shim nuts... he says shol'er is a baaad place t' git shot."

"It is, Kid." Simon sighed and patted the younger man's right hand.

"Shol'er got arteries and bones and nerves... is full'a stuff."

"Your collar bone is pretty messed up, but it deflected the bullet."

"When's Jim get here?" Although his mind seemed to be clearing a bit, Blair's voice was weak and thready.

Simon ducked his head to hide his expression. Damn it! "Sandburg... Blair, Jim is... not here right now. Do you remember what happened this morning at the loft?"

"Sleepy."

"I know you're sleepy, Kid." Simon tied to keep his tone low and gentle. "But I need to know what happened at the loft?"

"I mean I was sleepy..." Blair squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a feeble shake as if to clear it. "Stakeout... all night."

"Yeah. At Rockwell's."

"Yeah. Jim was taking a shower. I flopped down 'my bed... just res' my eyes."

"And?"

"Then I saw you..." Blair frowned and looked around the room. "Where's Jim?"

Simon felt like someone kicked him in the belly. "Aww, Kid."

"Jim's shot!" Blair fought the effects of the narcotics and struggled to sit up. "Is he here? Is he dead? Tell me!"

Blair had been in a pleasant haze -- like being wrapped in layers of cotton. Simon was sitting beside him looking grim. He had a vague memory of pushing 4, Simon's number on the speed-dial and now Simon was here. That was quick.

He was shot. Shot in the shoulder, he'd heard them talking in the recovery room. Jim said that sucked... told him about it when the Captain got shot... not like on the TV. Blair realised he was talking but he couldn't get his mouth and ears to work on the same team.

Simon was here. Where was Jim?

Simon was asking about last night and Blair had to force himself to pay attention. He'd been sleepy when he and Jim had returned from the stakeout. Jim had gone in to take a shower and Blair had gone to his room with the intention of... he forgot why exactly... but he had laid down and thought to rest his eyes until he could take his shower.

And then he was coming out of a fog and people were talking about getting shot in the shoulder.

Oh God! Where was Jim?

His whole upper body spasmed as he tried to sit up. "Is he here? Is he dead? Tell me!"

Simon was trying to be gentle and hold him down at the same time. "Jim isn't dead, he's missing. You called me from the loft..." One of the monitors sounded as Blair felt some of the wires stuck to him tear away.

"...I called... I don't remember... Jim! I have to find Jim!"

"Please, kid." Simon was hustled away by a nurse and doctor. They must have put something in the IV because the room started to get dark around the edges. Simon's voice came from a great distance. "We'll find him, Sandburg. I swear we'll find..."

Blair tumbled through the dark and felt like howling out his frustration. Fighting the drugs, he kept repeating the name over and over in his mind. Jim... Jim...

"You called for me, Shaman?" Blue light suffused Blair's consciousness, as the darkness became a jungle temple. On the bottom step lay a huge panther. As it stood, it morphed into a man -- into Jim-but-not-Jim -- a haunted looking man in army green. The figure's resonate voice was oddly unemotional. "What brings you here?"

Blair knew that this was the place Jim visited in his visions. He'd visited here briefly, but he'd been too busy deciding whether to live or die at the time to look around. He was pretty sure he wasn't dying this time, so it must be a sentinel thing. "My friend is missing. My sentinel is missing."

"You search for him in the spirit plane."

"No! He's not dead. Can you tell me where he is?" Blair looked at the eerily radiant figure as it stalked up the stone steps, then paused and turned.

"Look to the past to see the future. Your sentinel is in grave peril."

"Don't talk in riddles, damn it."

"There is darkness everywhere. His love brings only pain and his light is no more. The sentinel no longer wishes to continue." The warrior looked away and bent in a graceful motion as he morphed into the panther again and used powerful legs to vault over the tumbled stones and into the jungle.

"Come back! Damn it, now I know what Jim meant about this place!"

"Please Simon. I want to go home." Blair was out of bed and walking gingerly around his room. "It's been over two days since Jim vanished and I've got to help somehow."

"You're safe here, Sandburg."

"The doctor said I could leave." Blair's arm was strapped to his chest in an elaborate brace and his gait was a little tilted to the left. "I can't just sit around here. Let me go back to the loft."

"By yourself?" Simon growled as he paced around the room. "We don't know who shot you. They could still come back after you."

"Are you sure there wasn't any trace at the loft?"

"The only fingerprints were yours and Jim's, the only blood was yours and the bullet was too distorted to ID."

"There has to be something... a hair or something? Maybe I could see something forensics missed." Blair made himself stand a little straighter and walked toward Simon looking up at him beseechingly. "Please, Simon."

"Oh no you don't. I'm not Ellison. You can't make me dance to your tune."

"Fifteen minutes, Sandburg." Simon unlocked the loft's door and held up the police tape so Blair could duck under. "You can look around for fifteen minutes, then we'll go to my house and I'll get you into bed."

"You aren't my type, Simon." Blair said absently as he looked around the loft intently.

"I'll give you 'type'." Simon muttered, knowing that the young man wasn't listening to a word he said. "I'll have you arrested and put into protective custody, see how you like that?... I'll wait 'till you get better, then shoot you myself."

"Did they find the clothes Jim was wearing in the bathroom hamper? Khakis and that green cotton sweater?"

"Yeah, and some underwear and a wet towel. They took them to the lab, just in case." Simon was checking his notes on the case. "Jim keeps a bathrobe in the bathroom, right."

"Yeah."

"It's missing."

Blair started upstairs; faltering slightly until Simon caught his good arm. The captain started to speak, then just sighed and supported the smaller man as he climbed.

Pointing to a dresser drawer with a sock hanging out of it, Blair opened it. "Look Simon. I'd just brought these socks up from the dryer. Jim said to hurry up and just put them in the drawer cause we had the stakeout. I just dumped them cause Jim likes to roll his socks 'just so' -- you know, army like."

Simon looked at the tumble of white socks covering neat, perfectly folded shorts and tee shirts. "So Ellison didn't get dressed to go out."

"He never came upstairs." Blair looked at the bed as if he'd like to sit down. "He would never have left those socks like that. His slippers are by the bed."

"So Jim is out there somewhere in his bare feet and bathrobe?"

Blair let Simon help him back down the stairs. "It means that Jim got out of the shower and opened the door. He wouldn't just go with someone... not without a struggle."

"From the angle of the bullet, you were shot while you were lying down." Simon gently urged the exhausted young man toward the door. "I can't see Jim letting that happen without going berserk. There would have been some sign of a fight."

"So whoever he let in, hit him or drugged him, shot me and then kidnapped him."

"Jim has a lot of enemies." Simon watched as the young man stood in the middle of the loft and looked around helplessly.

"Jim wouldn't let an enemy come in while he was unarmed." Blair looked around once more, then walked to the door. "Jim wouldn't let an enemy come in period."

"Come on kid." Simon gently ushered the pale and weary man to the elevator.

"I guess you figured it too, huh?" Blair gave the captain a searching look. "The killer might be someone Jim trusted. Someone he knew."

"James Ellison. Tell us the location of The Chrysalis." The voice came through the cheap speaker mounted over the door.

"Go to hell." Metal shackles around Jim's ankles kept his feet on the concrete floor. His hands were cuffed in front of him and padlocked to a chain that hung from the ceiling. His bathrobe offered scant protection from the chill concrete floor he was setting on.

He had no idea how long he'd been here. He remembered coming home with Sandburg, after an all night stakeout. The Kid had been dragging and Jim had been exhausted too but he couldn't visualise sleeping until he'd showered off the stench of the alley they'd been parked in. Blair had gone into his room mumbling something about resting his eyes. He was snoring by the time Jim got undressed and into the shower.

The water ran tepid and then instead of warming up it began to run ice cold. Jim quickly scrubbed his soapy cloth over his body then did the fastest rinse possible just as the water trickled to a complete stop. Turning down his touch dial, he tugged on his bathrobe and headed for the phone. Before he could reach it, there was a knock on the door. Two men were standing outside, their coveralls bearing the logo of Kruptke's Plumbing. It was the company that handled all the building's water and heating.

"Mr. Ellison?" The first man asked as Jim cracked the door. "Are you having any..."

"...problems with my hot water? Yes I am." Jim opened the door and waved them inside, then gestured to the French doors that were slightly ajar. "Keep it down if you can. My roommate is sleeping in there."

"Oh, right." The older man in front held out a clipboard, grinned and said quietly. "We got reports that the water wasn't coming up past the first floor. You want to check this work order and initial it -- it's a new rule they got."

"Sure," Jim nodded then stepped forward to take the pen. The man's heart was beating fast and he wondered if they'd carried those toolboxes up all three flights of stairs. The elevator was working for once and... The tall thickset man stopped smiling and punched the ink pen into the back of Jim's hand. There was an instant of disbelief as he wondered why anyone would jab him with a pen and then the realisation that this was a trap.

"Son of a..." Jim took two steps forward as the numbness spread through his body. Whatever it was they shot him with was potent, he thought. 'Sandburg'? -- the name was on his lips but no sound came out as his knees buckled. The older man caught him and lowered him to the floor as the other man went toward Blair's room. Jim tried to force himself to move when he saw the silenced automatic. He actually got his hands to push him off the floor and he clutched at the sofa arm. The second man, who was average height and very thin, used the gun to nudge the door open. The small room was dark and Jim could hear the snuffling and inarticulate sounds that heralded Sandburg's waking up process.

The automatic spat as Jim dragged himself to his knees. 'NO!' His lips didn't move and no sound came as he tried to scream.

"Sheesh." The first man saw Jim trying to stand and slammed his knee up under Jim's jaw. "Is the kid dead?"

"Yeah, Jock. Let's get the hell out of here." The thin man came over and grabbed Jim's arm as the other man lifted him.

The last thing Jim knew as they dragged him out of the loft was darkness and the overwhelming scent of blood. Blair's blood.

"Tell us the location of The Chrysalis."

The voice came again and Jim wished they'd just kill him and get it over with. He didn't really care.

"Tell us the location of The Chrysalis." A motor hummed as the chain grew taut and lifted him to his feet. When his arms were straight above his head the door opened. Jock, who really did resemble an old football player, stepped inside, still wearing his coveralls. "Don't make this any harder."

"Screw you."

The skinny man, who Jim dubbed Bone, came in pushing a cart. Jim's belly dropped as he saw the car battery and cables. It was going to get harder after all. The man took a pail out from under the cart and dumped the contents over the helpless man as the other fastened a dripping natural sponge to one end of the cables. He pulled on a pair of heavy black rubber gauntlets.

Jim shivered and shook off the icy water they'd thrown over him and tried to ignore the fact that his robe had gaped open. He hated the feeling of being so vulnerable and helpless, but he wasn't afraid. They thought they could hurt him worse than they already had. Blair was gone and without him Jim couldn't imagine much point in surviving. Jock grinned and ran the wet sponge up and down Jim's belly and chest. "Tell us the location of The Chrysalis."

Then he attached the other end of the cable to the battery and did it again. Jim's body bucked and tried to escape the electricity as it danced up and down his torso. A harsh scream was caught in his throat like a straggled roar. Again an again he touched Jim's bare flesh with the burning wetness, always ending by brushing the exposed genitalia.

"Jim!"

The voice intruded even over the screaming.

"Blair?"

"Feel the current. Ride it and let it pass through you. Come to me until they are through."

Jim used the last of his strength to turn up his sense of touch. At the first touch of the current, his eyes closed and he went limp in the chains.

"Hey, Jim?"

He was in the deep blue of the jungle, but could not see Sandburg or the temple. He looked around but his senses seemed not to be working. Picking a path at random, Jim started walking, enjoying the warmth he found in the dense rainforest.

"Hey Jim?"

Blair's voice was louder and this time a silvery coloured wolf trotted onto the path in front of him. It lowered its head to the ground between its front paws while its rump and tail wagged rambunctiously. Then it sprang up and leaped into the air, seemingly too happy for its feet to touch the ground. Jim knelt and held out his hand. "Here." -- he wondered what to call the animal -- "Chief."

That was all it took, as the powerful animal pounced on him and bowled him off his feet. Jim suffered being slurped and snuffled as he held handfuls of the soft, heavy fur. Finally, the wolf seemed to tire and dropped its head heavily onto Jim's chest as it lay down with a huge doggy sigh.

Jim waited and watched, but Blair was nowhere in sight. Maybe it was because he was dead. Because Blair was dead, he could only appear as the spirit animal.

"Where are you, Jim?" The deep voice seemed to come from the jungle around him.

"Here with you, Chief."

"Where are you, Jim?" The voice was more impatient.

"In a cellar somewhere... they want me to talk about something called 'The Chrysalis'. Funny thing is, I never heard of it."

"Who has you?"

"One guy's big, mid-forties, athletic, named Jock, the other is real thin with a face like a skull, black stringy hair, pale skin. They pretended to be plumbers." Jim stroked the thick ruff of fur under his hand. "It doesn't matter anymore, Chief. No one can help me now."

"Hold on."

"Can't I stay here?" Jim hated the pitiful tone in his voice.

"Sleep."

"Good, Chief." Jim let himself drift off, drawing warmth and strength from the stalwart animal spirit beside him. "I'm so sorry I let them kill you."

"SANDBURG!"

Blair jumped as Simon's voice boomed above him in the darkened bedroom. He was disoriented for a few seconds before he remembered. He was in Daryl Banks bedroom instead of his own. His shoulder screamed in pain as he tried to set up. "Simon... what the hell?"

Simon placed a large hand behind Blair's back and lifted him to a sitting position. "Easy, kid. You were having a hell of a nightmare and I couldn't get you to wake up."

"Jim... they have him in a cellar. A guy named Jock and another man. Black hair... looks like a skull... they were dressed as plumbers."

"Sandburg! How do you know this?"

"Simon, they were torturing him..." Blair continued breathlessly as if he didn't hear the captain's booming voice. "He's dying and they are hurting him so much... They want to know where something called 'The Chrysalis' is."

"What?"

"Jim doesn't know what it is, either." Blair grabbed the front of Simon's robe in his fists. "Simon, they're hurting him and he doesn't know what they want."

"Are you sure this wasn't just a dream, Sandburg?"

"I swear. It's a sentinel thing... I know you hate that..."

Simon stood up and picked up the basketball telephone that graced the desk in Daryl's room. "Banks." Simon listened for a long moment then barked out. "Go get Ryan down in forensics. You and Charles go with him to Ellison's loft. I want all the pipes from the basement up examined for tampering and prints. The kidnappers were dressed as plumbers -- they did something to the water in Ellison's apartment." Simon listened again, then hung up and turned to Blair. "This better not be a wild goose chase."

"It's all we've got." Blair tried to stand up, letting Simon help him to his feet.

"Chrysalis?" Simon looked pained and handed the young man his glasses.

Blair settled them on his nose as he sat down at the desk where his laptop rested. "Let me get on the net... see if I can find anything."

It was three AM, but Simon just shrugged and headed for the kitchen. "I might as well make some breakfast." There would be no more sleep tonight.

By the time Simon returned with scrambled eggs, toast and coffee, Blair had found a couple of possible answers. "Look at this Simon. There was a secret government program called Chrysalis -- it had to do with missile defence -- that caused a scandal about five years ago. Something about cost over-runs. Jim was out of the army by then, though."

"Is that all?" Simon frowned at the computer screen.

Blair punched a few keys and a newspaper page came up. "A national treasure was stolen in Beijing, China four years ago. It was called The Chrysalis." Blair started to read from the page. "...Two fifteen caret pink diamonds form the body of the golden butterfly. Priceless rubies and emeralds and diamonds make up the wings of the five inch wide insect as it rises from a chrysalis, exquisitely carved from a single piece of white jade. The whole creation rests in a nest of golden twigs and green jade leaves. The ancient sculpture is estimated to be worth at least ten million dollars."

"Why would anyone think Jim would know about that?"

"The Chrysalis was suspected to be in the possession of a crime boss in Hong Kong." Blair pointed at the last of the article. "That's the crime family Lila worked for."

"You think she had it?"

"She wanted out." Blair started to shrug then thought better of it. "Maybe she got killed before she could tell Jim about having it."

"Well, hell!"

"My thoughts exactly." Blair stood and looked at Simon. "Can we go to the loft right now? Please? I have a feeling..."

"Let's go." Simon interrupted as he studied the rumpled figure in front of him. You can wear the sweats you have on." The tall captain strode toward his own room and Blair could hear him muttering to himself the whole way. "...too much trouble to dress him up again... better find Ellison soon cause I'm gonna start talking to myself if this goes on much longer..."

The two detectives Simon had dispatched were still in the loft when he and Blair arrived.

"Find anything?" he asked Detective Kimberly Stewart and Officer Sid Charles.

Kim spoke up first. "We talked to the building manager -- he wasn't thrilled about us waking him up -- and he said there were no reports of a plumbing problem." The petite African American woman flipped open her notebook. "He told us they always use Kruptke's Plumbing and Heating. The boss at Kruptke's said they had a truck stolen two days ago but it was found that afternoon down on the docks."

Lou Ryan, the junior member of the forensics team came in and seemed surprised to find the captain here before dawn. "Captain Banks, sir." The fair-haired young man spoke too fast as he continued. "I found a good set of prints on the back of the pipe leading to Detective Ellison's hot water heater. The water heater is up here but the pipe was turned off down in the basement. The valve was still partially closed and..."

"That all you found?"

"Yes sir, but the prints were clear and..."

"Take them down and run them through the NCIC, Ryan."

"Yes, sir!" Ryan bolted out of the loft.

"I better go too." Sid Charles's chubby features creased into a wry grin. "We drove him here and knowing Lou he'll start running back to headquarters."

Simon sighed and called after his detective. "When he's done have him go down and print every inch of that stolen plumbing truck."

"Yes, sir!" the shout echoed from the hall.

"Jeez, Simon." Blair smiled as he slipped off the jacket Simon had draped over his shoulders. "You really inspire fear and respect in your subordinates."

"That's Captain Banks to you, Sandburg!" Simon answered gruffly as he sat down. "What now?"

"Kim, I need you and Simon to help me search the loft -- I mean really search it."

"Where do we start?" Simon knew better than to argue.

"Upstairs." Blair's brow furrowed as he tried to remember. "I came home and she was getting dressed upstairs. She seemed to be in a hurry to get out of here."

"She?"

"Lila. I was out all night and as I came in she was rushing out -- still buttoning her blouse. I'm willing to bet that when she showed up here the night before, the action moved to the bedroom pretty fast."

"Too much information, Sandburg." Simon glanced at Kim Stewart who was trying not to listen.

"Let's go." Blair started to trot up the steps and made it up about three before he faltered.

Simon put a hand at the small of his back and hastened him the rest of the way up. "Sit down and let us look."

"Now, we know how Jim cleans so whatever it is has to be somewhere he hasn't looked in four years." Blair frowned and studied the immaculate room.

"Sandburg, are you sure there's something here?"

"I just know. Don't ask how."

Simon kneeled down and started looking under the bed, checking for any nook or cranny where something... anything could be hidden. Kim started taking out dresser drawers, looking under them and setting them aside.

Blair looked around the somewhat spartan room and tried to think. Where would I hide something in here? Jim would have left her alone for a few minutes at most. Simon lifted the empty dressers so Kim could look at the bottoms and backs. Kim checked all the moulding and set about unscrewing the wall plates.

Blair reached over and turned on the little lamp that sat on the bedside table as Simon bent and looked underneath the stand. "Sorry, kid." Simon winced as he stood up and stretched. "We can go downstairs and look?"

Kim was carefully taking everything out of the drawers and looking under the paper lining the bottom. Blair was wondering if he was wrong after all. His hand curled around the narrow neck of the reading lamp as he pondered the possibilities. They'd looked everywhere in the bedroom. Everywhere... Blair lifted the lamp, popped off the shade and turned it over and held it between his knees. Made of heavy brass, its hollow bottom was covered with a pad of felt.

"Simon?" He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice as his fingernail found a loose corner. It took a bit of tugging but the pad came loose. A roll of paper dropped into his lap when he turned the lamp upright. "Simon!"

The Captain took the scrap and opened it, holding up a plastic tipped key. "This is a key from Marty's Mailboxes. And the paper is the receipt for a jumbo mailbox."

"You think it will still be there?" Blair strained to see the paper.

"It says here, 'Lila Ellison' paid four hundred dollars in advance." Simon helped Blair stand up and start down the steps. "Kim, you better come with us."

"Where is The Chrysalis?"

"No!" Jim groaned as the voice woke him. "I don't... no... Blair. Need Blair." He curled in a foetal position on the wet concrete and returned to the warm blue world of his vision.

The Chrysalis reflected what watery light Cascade could provide as it graced Simon's desk. It had been in the mailbox where it had rested for the four years since Lila's death. The lacquered box that held it was a work of art in its own right, but the sculpture was masterpiece. Any other time Blair would have been thrilled by the discovery. Now it was just a means to an end.

Simon came in and sat down at his desk, laying some photographs in front of Blair. "The prints belong to a Rupert 'Jock' Roderick. One of his known associates is a man called Patrick Fayvor." Blair picked up the photos of a burly middle-aged man with florid features and a pale, thin man with black hair straggling into his eyes.

"It's them! Just like Jim described them." Blair leaned forward and flinched as his shoulder moved awkwardly. "Where are they?"

"We don't know, kid." Simon grimaced and took back the photos. "The last we heard they were enforcers for Chilly Novas."

"The guy who owns the Super Nova." Blair had been to the disco once or twice.

"It's his legit business." Simon stood up, looked out into the bullpen and scowled. As the morning had progressed, Simon had as many officers as he could spare running down leads. Stewart and Charles had stayed after their shift and even young officer Forrest came by and offered to handle some of the phone traffic. The search of the plumber's truck came up with a partial print from Jim. Everyone in Major Crime was leaning on their informants or staking out Novas' properties in hopes of finding their lost comrade. "We'll find him, Blair."

Blair nodded and watched as the Captain left the office. He had faith that the police would track down the kidnappers eventually. But as he waited, the feeling of dread grew stronger. He stood as carefully as the cumbersome shoulder brace would allow and went to the leather sofa. Sitting down, he drew his legs up into a lotus position and took a deep cleansing breath. His weariness threatened to turn the meditation into sleep as he tried to reach out to Jim.

"No! I don't... No... Blair. Need Blair. Blair?"

"Oh, man. Jim are you okay?" Blair tried to see through the darkness of the dense forest. "Jim!"

"I think I'm dead too, Blair."

"What do you mean too? I'm still alive, out here looking for you."

"You're alive?"

Blair felt weird enough, standing in a midnight blue void of a jungle and 'thinking' a conversation at Jim. Now he was standing there feeling a blinding wave of rapture strike him in the middle of his chest as Jim heard him. "Yes!"

"Jim?"

"I'm so cold, Chief."

Blair visualised the wolf in his mind, went into its body and raced to find the panther. The big animal was curled tight with its eyes half open. Shallow breaths barely stirred the broad chest where the wolf laid its head.

"The wolf will stay with you, and keep you warm."

"I'm not dead?"

"NO! You hold on, Jim. You hear me."

"I'll stay here. The cellar hurts too much."

"That's right. You stay here. Don't come back until I call you." Blair hoped he wasn't sentencing Jim to death. He had no idea how long Jim could remain in the spirit realm before it became permanent. He had no ideas at all when it came to this place. He just knew that he couldn't let those bastards hurt his friend anymore.

Simon paced around the bullpen, checking things he'd already checked twice and bugging his detectives. Annoyed with himself, he returned to his office and stalked inside. Blair Sandburg sat cross-legged on his sofa with his head resting on the back. His eyes and mouth were open and he looked dead. "Oh, sweet Jesus! Sandburg!"

He bent and slapped the slack jaw as gently as he could before snatching up the limp right arm and feeling for a pulse. "Sandburg?" Simon frantically pushed the long hair back and felt for the carotid.

"Simon?" The young man blinked and sat up straight. "Wasamatter?"

"Damn it, Sandburg! You didn't have a pulse that I could find and you were barely breathing."

"Wow!"

"All you have to say is wow?" Simon used the tone that was known to make rookies wet themselves.

Blair peered at him coolly, then blinked again. "I was with Jim."

"What?"

"I can talk to him sort of," Blair said matter-of-factly as he unfolded his legs. "He's still alive. That's why I said wow. Because it means it must have really happened. I didn't imagine it."

"Any new clues or anything?" Simon looked askance at the fervent expression on Blair's face.

"Not this time."

"Why don't you lay down and rest for a while, Sandburg." The captain backed toward the door. "And don't do that spirit stuff in my office anymore."

"Right, sir." Blair quirked his lips as Simon made good his escape. The poor man really did hate the supernatural stuff. Scrambling off the sofa, Blair opened his laptop and got on line. He was glad he'd insisted on bringing it with them. In a matter of seconds he found the site for Super Nova and clicked on the e-mail link.

Blair glanced at Simon through the partially closed blinds. He knew that Simon and his officers would find the men who had Jim. He was just afraid it would be too late. "Sorry, Simon," he whispered as he hit 'send'.

"I know. I know. You're going to kick me so hard my kid's will say ouch." Blair grumbled impatiently as the Captain simmered and got ready to explode. "But it's going to have to wait!" He'd received the call at six p.m. on his cell phone, telling him where to bring The Chrysalis, and then explained the situation to Simon.

"You are in no shape to be meeting anyone." In fact, Blair had spent the afternoon dozing on the sofa under the watchful eyes of Simon and Megan.

"It had to be me." Blair's expression got very grim. "They wouldn't buy anyone else having the thing."

"They want to make the trade in a little over two hours," Simon growled impatiently. "It doesn't give us much time."

"Jim's running out of time, too."

"I don't have time to argue with you. Let me call in the squad and you can tell us all about it."

The cell phone's ringing made Blair jump, even though he was expecting it. He switched it on and left it on the seat beside him.

"Mr. Sandburg?" The man's electrically altered voice crackled over the headset Rafe had brought him. Are you parked in front of the club? Are you alone in the vehicle?

"Yes, I'm here. I have the damn sculpture, and as your security cameras have surely told you, I'm alone."

"I really don't know what you are talking about. Now start your motor and drive east on Montayne."

"Okay, but remember I only have one arm here, and I'm not up to a lot of tricks."

"I like that. It makes me feel very certain that you'll refrain from foolish heroics."

"I just want Jim." Blair looked bleak as he drove toward the mountains, steering expertly through the traffic with one hand.

"Go right and stay on 308 until I tell you to stop."

Blair didn't answer or hesitate, but turned onto the comparatively unpopulated two-lane. The old road wove through the foothills, dipping and curving as it led deeper into the mountains. He looked into his rear-view mirror and could see no other cars. If Simon put a tail on him, he'd lost it somehow.

The houses got fewer and the road rougher as the drizzle turned to a hard rain. Just past the foothills the voice crackled again. "There is a side road to your left. Turn onto it."

Blair had to brake and turn the wheel hard to make the turn without running off the road. "A little more warning would be nice. One arm, remember."

"Keep driving."

The road ran across the face of the mountains and was too curvy and badly paved to attract anyone who didn't live there. Unfortunately, Blair thought, it branched out onto several other roads at the other end.

"You'll see lights up ahead. Stop a few car lengths in front of us and open your passenger door."

Headlights blinked up ahead. Pumping the brake once or twice, Blair eased to a stop, but left the motor running. With a hiss of pain he leaned over and opened the passenger door.

Rupert 'Jock' Roderick had a ski mask on, but Blair knew it was he who had Jim under the arms, dragging him in front of the headlights. He dumped his burden on the edge of the road and nodded. A thin black clad wraith came up out of the trees and scuttled to the open door. His arm snaked in and grabbed the lacquered box before he raced toward the other car.

Blair sat motionless while every instinct screamed at him to help his friend. Fayvor looked into the box, then gestured to Roderick, who kicked the prone and helpless man hard in the side. Jim rolled over the edge of the road as Blair scrambled out of the car, all his own pain forgotten. "Jim!" he shouted as he ran across the slick wet tarmac and started down the hill.

Behind him several things happened at once.

Fayvor and Roderick started to get into their car, just as the trunk of the ancient Volvo popped open. Kim Stewart and Megan Connor -- the two smallest able-bodied people in the bullpen when the plan was formed -- sprang out with their guns at the ready. Megan shot out the front tire of the getaway car and a fierce gun battle ensued as sirens sounded in the distance.

Meanwhile, Blair spotted Jim or at least a patch of something light that could be Jim. Skidding down the soft muddy slope, he reached the still form where it rested against some saplings and a fallen log. "Jim?" Blair turned him over and tried to pull the tattered robe around him. "Jim, I can't do much for you but help is on the way." The gunfire from above stopped and the sirens grew near.

"All clear up here, Sandy," Megan called from above. "What the hell do you think you're doing down there?"

"I need something to cover Jim. My coat is on my backseat."

"Be down in a sec." Megan shouted.

"You're safe now. You can come back." Blair caught Jim's cold hand against his chest and rubbed it with one hand. "Megan's bringing something warm. You might end up wearing her pink dingo fur if you don't wake up." Blair stretched out beside his friend and tried to share his warmth. "Please, Jim. You have to come back, now. If they take you in an ambulance it might be a while till I can see you. They might think you're in a coma."

"Heads up, Sandy." Megan slid down the hill on the seat of her pants. "I've got your jacket and all the clothes that Kim and I could spare." She spread the leather jacket over Jim's upper body and the other assorted sweaters and jackets over his legs.

"Megan, I've got to get him to come out of it. He's in some kind of zone and I'm scared he'll slip away."

"I'll elevate his legs." Megan lifted the bare feet and rubbed Jim's lower legs to warm them. "Cripes, I hope we aren't making something worse."

"If I can't bring him back it won't matter." Blair put his right hand on Jim's forehead and tried to focus all his strength and faith on his sentinel. Warmth began to spread through him and flow into his hand as he leaned closer.

"Jim!"

"mmm."

"Time to wake up. I'm with you, now."

Blair almost smiled as Jim's nostrils flared and he sniffed the wet curls that brushed his face. "It's really me, Jim."

"Hey, Chief." Jim opened his eyes and blinked away the raindrops. "You shot?"

"They hit me in the shoulder."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I can now testify that getting shot in the shoulder sucks." Blair was almost giddy with relief.

Jim looked closely at him and frowned in confusion. "You should have a coat on. You'll get sick."

Blair could hear voices from the road above. Megan stood up and was shouting that they needed two stretchers and more blankets. "See, Jim. We'll be up the hill and warm and dry in a few minutes."

"Connor's in her underwear." Jim whispered and gave him a sideways look. For the first time, Blair realised that Megan was wearing only jeans and a very wet silk chemise.

Before he could answer, the paramedics descended on them along with Simon, Rafe and Henri. Jim was strapped to a backboard and checked out before they both were bundled into the yellow sled style stretchers. Blair closed his eyes and let other people take over. He had fulfilled his promise and he was weary beyond words.

Jim Ellison turned slightly in his bed, stifling a groan as a hundred different aches made themselves known. He could have had stronger painkillers, but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake and enjoy the warm, clean bed. Mostly, though, he wanted to stay awake and listen to Blair as he slept in the next bed. He was studying all the colors of Sandburg at rest. The steady heartbeat and the light snores that each ended with a puff of air from the parted lips. The unconscious, occasional moan when he moved his injured shoulder.

The doctors really pitched a fit about that. When Blair was released from the hospital he was told to spend the next week flat on his back -- not running around Cascade, driving a car over bumpy mountain roads and body surfing down muddy, wooded slopes. By some miracle he hadn't undone the orthopaedic surgeon's repair of his collarbone and only needed a few sutures replaced. Still, it would probably be a couple days before the doctors trusted him enough to let him out again.

Jim had bruising and some lacerations on his wrists, exposure, hypothermia and dehydration. The electric shocks had left all his muscles strained with occasional spasms, temporarily screwed up blood chemistry and left first-degree burns in some humiliating places. He was hooked up to a heart monitor as a precaution, but he was in fair shape, considering.

When it came to inflicting a lot of pain without doing permanent damage, Roderick knew his stuff. Knew, as in the past tense, because Megan put a bullet between his eyes. Jim shifted and flinched again as he whispered silently, "Good ol' Megan." He'd have to buy her some flowers or a new speed-loader for her pistol. He'd have paid real money to see her and Kim stuffed into the Volvo's trunk and wondered if they'd do a reenactment.

Simon had stopped by and filled him in on the end results of the case. Fayvor was in custody and already offering to roll over on Chilly Novas as the mastermind. The Captain had also brought the box with The Chrysalis in it and showed Jim what all the fuss was about. By now, it was probably in the hands of the State Department. They said there was a good chance that Sandburg -- being a non-cop -- could claim the $5000 reward that the Chinese government offered. It was a pretty piss poor reward considering the value of the thing, but the kid could use it, anyway.

Jim remembered looking into the box and marveling. So this was The Chrysalis. So this was the cause of all his agony -- of Blair getting shot. A stinking butterfly?

Hell!

Blair started in his sleep and muttered, "Stay with the wolf, Jim."

"Always." Jim whispered. "Thanks for rescuing me... twice." Banks had filled Jim in on the kid's little trips into the spirit world and the toll they took on him. Apparently, Sandburg had discovered that he too could enter the blue jungle, but only at great risk. Jim wished Incacha was alive so he could ask him why. "Just don't do it again, even if I call you."

"nahhnahhnahh." Blair snuggled down under the covers and started snoring again.

"Good night, my friend. Sleep safe."

The End.

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