Part V: Amidst the Ruins

Blair had spent a good portion of the day, totally miserable. He had finally got out of bed completely wiped out, as though he hadn't slept at all. The time was somewhere just before noon. He fixed himself an egg and toast, but as he sat there eating by himself he began to think of all he had ruined...his life, his future, his friendship with Jim...and he began to retch. He ended up throwing most of his breakfast away.

He took another painkiller pill and went outside to sit on the deck. The warm sun helped him relax and the soft wind bending the trees this way and that way soon lulled his chaotic mind into a numbing void. He must have dozed off, because he awoke to a sun lower on the skyline and a cool, crispness in the air. He noticed some squirrels sitting on the railing eyeing him speculatively. He went inside to get the jar of nuts and cautiously lined up pecans, walnuts, cashews, and peanuts on and around the railing overlooking the ravine.

When Jim Ellison came close to the location of the cabin that Professor Deel had given him, he parked the truck off in the woods. He didn't want to scare Blair off, or warn anyone of his approach. He came up the side of the mountain and focused his hearing on the radius around the cabin.

He heard some campers setting up their tents at the base of the mountain, he could hear some fishermen casting their lines and complaining about their 9-5 jobs about 2 miles to the east, and straight up the climbing slope he could hear one voice laughing...it was Blair's.

"Hey, you guys are really going to get spoiled. Take it easy, man, you're pigging out here."

He focused in closer and could hear only one heartbeat, Blair's. Then he heard the tiny little chuffing sounds of animals. He zoned his vision in and could make out the cabin and the deck as it overlooked the side of the ravine. He saw Blair laughing and carrying on a serious conversation with 2 squirrels that sat there nibbling on their generous treats.

"Boy, you guys got it made. I wish my life were so simple and easy." He closed the lid on the jar of nuts, "That's enough, guys, these nuts are my dessert and they have to last me. Perhaps tomorrow night, same time, same place we'll meet for cocktails on the loggia" Blair simulated a high class, cultured voice and Jim heard him laugh again. God, it sounded good to Jim's ears to hear his friend laugh.

He quietly approached the cabin and situated himself outside on the edge of the trees. He could see the side of the deck and the entrance to the cabin from his station. He focused again on his senses and was relieved to find they were alone.

On the drive up, he had gone over in his mind how to handle Blair. Should he just charge in, grab the kid by the shoulders, flatly tell him he was coming home? He was bigger than Blair and he could certainly handle any objections, but once he got the kid home he couldn't chain him in the loft. He decided to keep an eye on the cabin and focus his senses inside. Perhaps Blair himself would give him some clues. He at least knew Sandburg was safe now and his Blessed Protector was going to keep him that way.

When Blair went back inside he fixed himself a cheese sandwich. He went outside and got himself some wood for the fireplace and winced as he bent to pick up the logs. Jim looked closely at Blair's face and saw the bruising and the pained expression. His jaw tightened and he had to mentally hold himself from going to Blair right then and there.

Blair started the fire, fixed himself a cup of tea and took his sandwich to the fireplace to eat while watching the flames. His thoughts again turned dark and miserable, and he started to cry...the sandwich barely touched. He heaved great sobs and said, "Oh, God, Jim, what have I done, man? I want another chance please please please God, let Jim give me another chance, I'm so sorry," and on that he started to retch and heave again and rushed into the bathroom.

When Jim heard Blair's utter desperation and misery, he slammed his fist into the earth. He made up his mind then and there how he was going to help Blair come back home.

When Blair woke in the morning, his ribs were really hurting him from all the throwing up he was doing. His head hurt and he was just so damned tired of thinking. He was still clutching his little security blanket, the old cigar box, and was wrapped warmly in Jim's old navy blue sweater. He tried to focus his eyes, but he still didn't feel fully rested and he actually felt like the bearer of a doozy of a hangover.

He went to the bathroom, didn't bother to brush his teeth, didn't want to shower because of the stitches on his head and the bandages wrapping his ribs. He was really going to be ripe today, but what the hell did he care. He just didn't have the ambition or the energy or the damned inclination to worry about personal hygiene. He slowly dragged his feet out to the kitchen to heat the kettle of water, his stockinged feet sluffing on the hardwood floor. He had to stop to roll the sleeves of the sweater up several times during his ministrations. He was just going to settle for the tea, he didn't think he could hold breakfast down.

He took his cup to the table and sat down slowly, like an old man. He wrapped his hand around the hot mug and sipped glancing up across the room for the first time and blue eyes locked on blue eyes and Blair jumped as he spilled hot tea over his hands as he quickly set the mug down.

"Jim, my God, man, you scared the hell out of me."

Jim saw the weary soul before him. He wanted to offer comfort and tell Sandburg that everything was going to be all right, but he knew that in Sandburg's best interests that was not the route to go right now. He saw the large bruise that was now black and shades of blue along the side of his face, he saw how thin and drawn his face was and knew the kid had not been eating and was witness last night to the terrible retching. There were circles under his eyes and it was obvious he hadn't bothered with personal hygiene in some time.

"Mr. Sandburg," Jim began crisply and authoritatively, "you are under police protection. Due to an incident at the University late Thursday night, Captain Banks and the Cascade P.D. have reason to believe your life is in danger. I am following Captain Banks' orders and placing you under my protection and in my custody. I would appreciate your cooperation, sir, but I'm willing to use any means necessary to ensure your safety."

"Jim, man, what's with the Joe Friday dialogue?" Blair asked, both confused and scared by Jim's detachment.

"First off, sir, we're going into town. I need to call my Captain and report that you've been located. You also need to be examined by a doctor and I think some additional supplies might be needed here. I think this will be a good location for a safe house until this hit on you has been neutralized." Jim went on in what Blair considered a totally freaky military mode.

"Why am I in danger, Jim, I don't remember anything about Thursday night, just some foggy images. Hey, man, cut me some slack here, you can't just barge in here and strong arm me because you feel I'm in danger, I've got rights, Jim." Blair tried a counterattack by taking the offensive.

Jim rose from the couch he had been sitting on, and slowly walked to the table to face Blair. He put both hands on the table, leaned forward to come face to face with Blair, and simply stared into the frightened blue eyes. Blair tried to stare him down, but eventually looked down, feeling his face redden. Then Jim ground out in no uncertain terms, "You've put me and the Cascade Police Department in a state of panic; your irresponsible, childish behavior has put your life in jeopardy; you have been hostile, petulant, immature, and self-destructive. You just give me one reason, Mr. Sandburg, and I will use force to keep your sorry little ass in line. Got it, Mister?"

Blair's embarrassment and discomfiture were clearly written on his face as he slowly raised his eyes to the cold ones just inches from his own. He swallowed hard and gave his head a slight nod, then quickly dropped his eyes. He couldn't bear to look in Jim's eyes and see the total disgust he read there. God, Sandburg, he really does hate you. He probably didn't even want to come out here and collect you; Simon probably made him and it's only because you're in danger and he has to because of his oath to protect and serve. If it were up to the two of them, they would probably let the hit man take you out and send him a thank you card after the fact.

Last night, Jim had driven his truck closer to the cabin when he knew that Sandburg had gone into a deep sleep. He had then quietly entered the cabin and peeked in on the recumbent figure. He noted the cigar box clutched in his arms and he was surprised to see the old, navy blue sweater he was sure he had tossed months ago. It touched his heart to realize Blair wanted to wear something old of his and he felt encouraged to realize his Guide really didn't want to leave him. During the night as he dozed in and out on the sofa, he could hear Blair mumbling in his sleep. At one point he distinctly heard, "Please don't hurt me anymore, Kenny."

They drove into town in silence. First off, he took Blair to see the doctor at the 24-hour clinic. The doctor reprimanded Blair in front of Jim for not taking his pain pills, not eating properly, and not bathing. Jim explained that he was a former medic and the doctor entrusted extra bandages, the new bottle of pills, and some instructions for cleaning the head wound to Jim's ministrations. Blair was rewarded with a vice-like grip on his arm as he was ushered out of the doctor's office and down the street to the small grocery and all purpose store.

Jim gave Blair a list of grocery items he had prepared while Blair was being examined and told him to remain in his sight at all times. Jim went to place a call to Simon at the phone located in the back of the store.

"Simon, I've got him. He's worse for wear, but I'm going to take care of that matter as soon as possible. Did you get anything on the gunman or the kid?"

"Jim, we're still going through the student records. We've pulled about fifty matches to your description. No go yet on an I.D. I also put a guard on Professor Deel. Since he's the only one other than you and me who knows where Blair is, I thought it might be wise." Simon sounded relieved that Blair was safe.

Jim pulled the phone away from his mouth as he noticed Blair turn down an aisle out of his vision. "Mr. Sandburg, please stay where I can see you."

"What's with the Mr. Sandburg, Jim?" Simon chuckled, bewildered.

"I've got everything under control, sir. I'm handling it as professionally as I can."

"I hope that includes your temper, too, Jim. You must be driving the kid nuts with that kind of formality."

"I'm betting on it, Captain. I'm going to keep Blair up here for a few days. Maybe you can weed out the kid by then. Last night, sir, I heard Blair cry out in his sleep asking Kenny not to hurt him anymore. Add that name to the fifty I.D.'s your matching. That may be our lead. Sandburg may have seen the guy and recognized him as a former student and just forgot after the blow to the head."

"Right, Jim. Sam's got the FBI database working overtime on the Detroit gunman. I get the feeling he has a personal interest in this one, too. Did you guys by any chance talk while on that airport stakeout?"

"Simon, I'll explain everything to you when I bring our Blair Sandburg back home. Right now, sir, I've got my work cut out for me. Sam and Blair go back a ways, and I think maybe Sam can fill you in on some of the details. That's purely up to him, though, sir. He has a certain loyalty to our mutual friend." Jim tried to placate the Captain without giving away any confidences.

"All right, Jim, go back to the Sandburg Zone, God knows you're the only one comfortable there. This whole thing is getting complicated. Take care and call me in a few days. I hope I'll have some good news for you," Simon said as he hung up the phone.

Jim checked the groceries Blair had put in the basket and added a few additional items as a last minute thought: cocoa, marshmallows miniature and large, soap, shampoo Johnson's baby and 2 fishing rods who knows, he thought, maybe we will get some fishing in, and a case of beer. He knew Blair had packed some personal items from the bathroom, but he didn't notice any soap or shampoo in the cabin before they left. He paid for the items and carried them out to the truck while Blair trudged along behind him. Jim was hungry and thought about grabbing a bite to eat since he had missed lunch. He had picked up a sandwich at a truck stop on the way up and had eaten it late last night. He had grabbed a slice of cheese and bread this morning before Blair woke up, but that was hardly enough to satiate him. He knew that Blair would probably only pick at his food, and the safety of the cabin was his first priority right now.

When they got back to the cabin, Jim put the groceries in the kitchen and reached in the bag for the soap and shampoo. It was already 5 p.m. He placed the items on the kitchen table and looked at Blair. "Mr. Sandburg, since you and I will be sharing close quarters for the next few days, I'm going to have to insist, sir, that you bathe."

Blair was just too tired to argue, he was hurt by Jim's objective stance. His head was killing him, and he really wanted to take a shower. He knew if he gave Jim any hassle, he'd be hauled in the shower, fully clothed, kicking and struggling, until he acquiesced. He was too sore to risk that kind of treatment.

He grabbed the items like a petulant child and trudged off to the bathroom.

"Let me take those bandages off. I'll re-wrap you when you've showered. The same goes for the head. Be careful around those stitches." Jim shouted to him as he disappeared into the bedroom.

When he came out in his boxers, Jim met him at the door to the bathroom with scissors and carefully cut the bandages holding his ribs. Jim grimaced at the ugly bruises along his ribcage.

"I'll have dinner ready when you come out. Put clean sweats and socks on, you'll be hitting the sack early tonight, Mr. Sandburg."

"Jim, please stop with the Mr. Sandburg," Blair pleaded in a tired voice, turned and went into the bathroom.

"Don't lock the door."

Jim fixed some pasta with an Alfredo sauce that he knew Blair loved. He toasted the garlic bread in the broiler. When Blair finished his shower, dressed in his socks and sweatpants, he came out and stood in the center of the room like a lost child. Jim wiped his hands on a towel and reached for the bandages the doctor had given him. He told Blair to sit on the arm of the couch and to raise his arms; he carefully re-wrapped the tender ribs. Blair winced several times, but seemed to be lost in some distant land of regrets and wishes.

Jim helped him pull the sweatshirt over his head, took him by the arm and ushered him to a chair by the table. Jim returned to the kitchen to finish draining the noodles. Blair got up and trudged to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer and twisted the cap. He took it to his chair and raised the bottle to his lips just as a huge hand intercepted the bottle and Jim placed it to his own lips. "Not on medication."

Blair made a disgusted face and mimicked Jim's "Not on medication," then placed his head on his hands and said, "How long are you going to treat me like this, Jim. Don't you think you've been pissed long enough. Come on, man, aren't you the one who's always telling me to move on."

"Mr. Sandburg, it seems to me you're the one who made the choices here. Now you've decided you don't like the outcome. You're the one who threw your I.D. passes on Simon's desk, you're the one who tossed his loft key in the basket on his way out the door, and, correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe it was you who ran away without telling anyone where you were going...as in 'Leave me alone'." Jim put a plate in front of Blair and a glass of milk. He put another plate in front of the other chair and placed the bread in the center of the table as he took the seat across from Blair. He took another sip of his beer and motioned for Blair to eat.

"I want that whole plate clean, Mr. Sandburg, or you're not leaving the table."

"Goddamm it, Jim, STOP TREATING ME LIKE A CHILD," Blair shouted and rose from his chair.

"THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!" Jim bellowed back and merely pointed to the chair in an unspoken gesture of "SIT."

Blair slumped back into the chair. He picked up his fork and started to eat. At first he was too upset to hold anything down. He thought for sure he was going to eruct all over the table. Would serve Jim right. But after a while he realized how hungry he really was, and it certainly tasted good. The hot shower, the freshly washed hair, the clean clothes, the warm food, and just having Jim there...true, an angry, hostile, dangerous Jim....but his Jim none-the-less. He certainly felt safe and he realized part of the security was in Jim keeping him safe from himself. Jim took charge and Blair didn't have to think right now. Just do as he was told.

When the meal was over, Jim sat back to finish his beer. He eyed Blair as he still ate his meal between bouts of playing with and tossing it around. He was obviously hungry but he wanted to show Jim how stubborn he could still be. Jim hid a smile from behind his bottle, the kid was so predictable in the little things.

"What?" Blair asked as he saw Jim studying him.

Jim just shook his head indicating nothing.

Blair dropped his fork and pushed his plate away. "Jim I can't take this anymore, please talk to me, man, I'm so sorry. Can't you forgive me?"

Jim remained stoic and started to stare at a point beyond Blair's head. His jaw remaining firm and tight.

"Jim, please, please man I'm begging you. I want us to be friends again."

"O.K. Mr. Sandburg," Jim said still keeping his voice strong, firm, and formal. "You have to answer me one question, and one question only: Do you want to be my Guide?" But he raised his hand to keep Blair from answering. "Before you answer you have to understand what it means: trust, commitment, loyalty, friendship, obedience..to a certain degree....I'd prefer absolute, but I'm a practical man...." he smiled. "Yes or No?"

Blair immediately lightened up realizing there was a window of hope for him yet. His eyes widened and he seemed confused for a few minutes. Just what was Jim asking of him, though.

Jim continued stoically, "You answer one word 'yes' or 'no.' If you answer 'no' I'll understand; you'll still have my police protection and I'll risk my life to get you safely out of this mess. Then you go your way and I go mine." Blair's face drained of color at the finality of that statement. He definitely did not like that avenue.

"You say 'yes' it's all out of your hands. For the next 2 weeks you do what I say, when I say, and how I say to do it; you say what I say, when I say to say it and how I say to say it; you obey me implicitly just this once following my orders to the letter. Got it?"

"Jim what does that mean?" Blair asked in an unsure voice.

"No negotiations here, Mr. Sandburg, 'yes' or 'no.' 'No' leaves you in control; 'yes' puts me in control."

"Aw man, this isn't fair and what's so different about this and our relationship before," Blair pouted like a small boy arguing over bedtime.

"Am I to take that as a 'no?'" Jim asked.

"Oh, God, Jim, don't do this to me, man."

"Yes or no?"

"Why do you always have to be in control. I don't get it, man, don't you like me?"

Jim was angered that Sandburg really thought he didn't like him. Where was the kid digging up all this shit. His damned insecurities had him going off half-cocked every time Jim looked at him the wrong way. Jim was a man who often commanded strong military types with just the set of his jaw or the strength of his glare. He wasn't capable of any namby-pamby expressions to cushion this kid's sensibilities. The kid was in for some hard lessons.

"The window on that second chance is closing fast, Mr. Sandburg, sir." Jim finally stuck the knife in as deeply as he could, and was relieved to see the total capitulation that spread across Sandburg's tired brow. He just needed to twist it a little."If you can't make up your mind, then this Sentinel/Guide thing was never that important to you in the first place. Well, then Mr. Sandburg, I guess it's over."

Blair could not believe what he had just heard Jim say. He didn't want it to be over, he couldn't live if it was over, he did everything wrong...handling this whole thing recklessly and totally out of control...but he didn't want it to be over. He stormed out of Simon's office throwing down the I.D. to make a point of his independence; he left the loft key to show Jim he really didn't need him and let Jim worry about him coming home; he ran up here without telling anyone, because he secretly knew Jim would try to find him. God, what have I done? He had been backed into a corner and he wanted everyone to leave him alone...well be careful what you wish for...now Jim was definitely going to leave him alone and wash his hands of him for good.

"YES! Oh God, man, YES. I don't care anymore, Jim, I just can't take it. Beat me if you want, I don't care, I deserve it and if it makes you feel any better, but please, Jim, I'll do anything to be your Guide again!"

"If you really think that, maybe I will."

The leaves fall in autumn and turn to compost back into the earth to enrich and nourish for the rebirth of the spring. After all that is ruined there is salvage of some sort. The rebuilding may be new, but plans and ideas use learned knowledge from the devastation.

Part VI: Clearing Away the Rubble

Jim told Blair to stay seated at the table. He went outside the cabin and focused every sense around the circumference of the cabin. He could hear the fishermen packing up, bitching about going back to work tomorrow; the campers were fixing dinner and singing songs around the campfire. There were no other sounds save for the animals and the forest live.

He came back into the cabin and went out to the deck. He carefully checked the railing around the deck making sure it was sturdy and in good repair. He moved the deck furniture, the table with the two chairs off to the right. He took the lounge chair and rolled it closer to the doorwall. He took the patio cushions off the lounger and began to lay them in the left corner of the deck overlooking the ravine. He came back inside and took the rest of the patio cushions outside along with some blankets and pillows from the second bedroom closet. He fashioned a cozy little nest in the corner of the deck.

He came back inside and looked at Blair, who was surreptitiously watching him while still picking at the remainder of his dinner.

"Come here," Jim said.

At first Blair just sat there, contemplating obstinance, but the totally expressionless visage sent shudders down his body. Jim was definitely not in the mood for any kind of games.

He let out a deep sigh and outwardly winced at the pain of such an action. He walked slowly towards Jim.

"Did you remember to take your pill?"

"No, Jim, I forgot."

"Damn it!" Jim said, as he walked to the bathroom and came back with a pill and water glass.

Blair mumbled, forgetting for a time about Jim's senses, "You're in control, then it was you who forgot."

The look in Jim's eyes when he handed Blair the water and pill made Blair's face pale.

Good work, Sandburg, give the guy complete control over you, then methodically piss him off ....are we having fun here yet or what?

"Do you want to use the bathroom, we're going to be tied up for a while?" Jim, said, and then tried to suppress his lips from turning up at the pun he unintentially made.

"No, I'm fine."

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Blair couldn't believe what Jim had just said. Emotionally and physically he succumbed to complete despair. His face fell in total disbelief and he felt his body turning around and he felt his hands going behind his back, but he wasn't doing it; he was watching someone else. When he felt the handcuffs close around his wrists, his body started shuddering and his eyes filled with tears, yet inside he felt nothing. He couldn't breathe, and he started weaving, and then the shuddering became more severe. Jim was going to beat him with his hands cuffed behind his back. Jim wasn't checking to see if they were alone and safe from a gunman, he was checking to see if there would be any witnesses to Blair's assault.

He felt strong arms turning him around, a large hand grabbed his jaw and turned his face upward, he heard a voice in the distance "Blair, look at me, damn it." So since he had no control over his eyes, he felt them looking up into some intense, angry orbs of blue..."I am not going to hurt you."

He was then led towards the glass doors by Jim's strong hands...one on each shoulder. Out onto the deck he was guided towards the nest of pillows and cushions and gently lowered into the corner. "Put your feet out in front of you, Chief." So he did. Pillows were pushed around him and a blanket was tucked over his outstretched legs and another around his shoulders under his chin. The wind had started whipping up and Blair's hair was all over his face. He felt his face lifted up again, his hair pushed back off his face, and a baseball cap was placed bill forward, but straight upon his head.

When Jim saw the look on Sandburg's face, he was going to shelve the whole plan. It broke his heart to see the young man so frightened and lost...he was giving up. But Jim knew that in the giving up he was also giving Jim control. The control Jim felt Blair so desperately needed, because he had gotten himself so out of control these past few months. The next few hours were going to be tough on the kid...hell, they were going to be tough on Jim...but he needed to do this for his young friend.

When he saw the tired body start to shudder, he wanted to grab him and hold him in a brace of comfort, but it was not time for comfort yet. Did Blair really think he was going to hurt him to punish him. There was definitely some emotional groundwork that needed to be re-established here. So he gently guided the poor, lost soul out to the deck and settled him in the cozy little nest he had fashioned. The evening was still light, but a determined wind had picked up and there was definitely a chill in the air. He felt that Blair would feel less trapped outside among the trees and the night sky. He only hoped his plan worked for Blair's sake and his.

"O.K. Chief, let's talk. You start." Jim said after he settled himself on one of the table chairs that he had brought to face directly in front of Blair. For all the world the kid looked liked a benched little leaguer.

"Chief, I know you're in there. We can work this out together, but I need your help. Why don't I get you started, tell me about Sam Weatherman and why you're so ashamed to face him?"

When Blair realized he was safe from physical harm he relaxed enough to start breathing normally again. He jerked his head up at Jim's question. "I don't know what you mean, Jim? I don't know what you want from me, man?"

"I want the truth, I want you to clear that conscience that's been driving you crazy these last few days. We're going to do it, Chief. We've got all night, but I really think you'd be more comfortable in bed."

Blair just sat there, but Jim noticed the blank look of total despair had been replaced by a hard set face of stubbornness. Moments ago the kid was in terror of him, almost to the point of catatonic, now he was determined to show defiance. Talk about labile, he was going to have to be quick on his toes to keep a few steps ahead of Blair on this one.

"O.K., Chief," Jim rose. "I'm going inside, have a nice hot mug of cocoa, some of those tiny little marshmallows on top, cozy up in front of the fire. I'll probably hit the hay after that. I hope it doesn't get too cold out here, but those blankets should keep you warm." There was no way he was going to leave the kid outside by himself all night, handcuffed, with a gunman on the loose and a ravine a railing away, but what Sandburg didn't know could help him.

Just as Jim reached for the sliding glass doors, he heard the small voice only a Sentinel could hear, "I'll talk."

Jim came back and sat down slowly, "Then talk,", Jim said coldly. He was not going to show any signs of lightening up. If Blair so much as saw a crack in Jim's armor, he would pry through the facade and Jim would lose this battle for sure.

"Jim, you're going to hate me, man. I know you do already because of the way I've been acting, but you're not going to want anything to do with me," he pronounced, measuring Jim's reaction to his opening statement. "I'm a pariah, Jim, I did something really terrible when I was a kid. I told you about stealing the microscope, and that was bad karma, man, but I did something worse than that because I deliberately hurt someone I cared about."

He paused, hoping Jim would reveal some response, maybe give him some support or encouragement to continue. The face of Jim Ellison reflected the stoney hardness Blair could never mimic....a face so totally devoid of emotional signals that Blair wondered sometime if Jim just didn't up and leave his body completely.

So Blair continued, "Sam Weatherman and Naomi dated one summer when I was 10. I really became fond of him. For the first time in my life I started dreaming about having a father. I wanted it so badly that summer I could taste it. I hated feeling that way...wanting something so much I would have done anything to have it." Blair started to cry and he took a few minutes to compose himself. Jim just sat and waited.

"Naomi and I argued repeatedly. I was being pretty much the brat that summer. But it was the best summer I've ever remembered having. When Naomi told me we were pulling up roots again, I became enraged with Sam, I broke into his house and trashed the place big time; I hate to think of what Sam would have done to me if he had caught me. But that still wasn't the worst thing I did. I stole his Dad's pocket watch. Geez, Jim, the guy's dad had just died....I stole the one thing he wanted his son to have." Tears started falling in a steady stream down Blair's cheeks.

"I even fantasized about it. I would take the watch out at night and tell myself Sam was my dad and he had given me the watch because he wanted me to have it. God, Jim, I'm so fucked up, I bet you didn't think your Guide was this fucking crazy." he said in a high-pitched, hysterical voice. "I knew he wasn't my dad, but I wanted it so very badly."

Blair turned sideways and brought his knees in under him and turned his head trying to hide his face in the blankets and cushions that were supporting him against the railing.

"Blair did it ever occur to you that maybe Sam knew you took the watch, understood the reasoning behind it, and that maybe he not only forgave you, but wanted you to have it."

"Never, Jim, Sam was more straight-laced than you could ever be. You screwed up with Sam and he held you accountable," Blair mumbled still partially buried in the cushions, miserably trying to hide himself.

"Sam told me the whole story when he saw that confrontation in Simon's office. He was suspicious that his arrival had something to do with your erratic behavior. He's proud of you, Blair. He wants nothing more than to sit down and talk things over with you. I, personally, think you owe him that much."

"Did he really say that, Jim?" Blair looked a little hopeful for once. partially peeking out from his sanctuary.

"Yep, he told me everything. If you respected Sam so much as a child, don't you have any memory of maybe the kind of man he was to earn your respect and love?"

Blair looked up, his face puffy and streaked from crying. "Oh, Jim, I've screwed everything up. All because I thought Sam was going to call me a thief in front of you and Simon and that you wouldn't want me for your Guide, because if I would steal a man's dead father's watch what kind of man am I?"

"Chief, you were a mixed up, lonely kid. You are also my Guide. Did you really think I was going to let you just up and walk away from that commitment? Did you think you could pull a repeat performance with me? Maybe you didn't physically wreck the loft, but you set out to ruin our relationship of trust and friendship, you deliberately tried to ruin your relationship with Simon. Don't you see a pattern here? Don't you think you're a little too old to be running from something you did as a child?"

"A crime is a crime, Jim."

"What about statute of limitations?"

"I wasn't worried about being arrested. I was worried about Sam hating me and you judging me. Running away seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Running away is always your best idea, isn't it, Chief?"

"I guess so."

"We'll work on it. Why did you use the white noise generator? You knew I'd be angry about that one."

"I didn't think you'd ever find out."

"Bullshit, Sandburg, I think you left it in your backpack deliberately...I think subconsciously you wanted me to find out."

"No way, man, I didn't want you to know," Blair hated Jim being able to analyze him so easily.

"Yeah, Chief, you were so uncomfortable with pulling that stunt that you wanted me to call you on it."

"No, Jim, I was just upset about Sam, I never wanted you to know, I knew you'd go ballistic on me."

"Yeah, Chief, I see it all so clearly now, you left it in your backpack turned on so I would certainly find it; maybe it was all subconsciously, Chief, but it was a Sandburg cry for help. Isn't that right, Blair, you needed me to find out, didn't you?"

"No, Jim, NO!"

Jim got up and came to stand over Blair, looking down at him in a threatening fashion. Blair pulled his legs in closer under him and buried himself deeper into the soft corner of cushions. Jim heard his heartrate increase. He knelt down in front of Blair and gently grabbed his shoulders pulling him out of the corner and turning him to face him. "Well, I'm calling you on it, Chief...Look at me, Blair...he waited until Blair raised his tear-stained face Don't...ever....do it again. There'll be no second chances. Got it?"

"Got it." Blair said in a gravelly voice unsure of Jim's intentions.

"Sit straight," Jim instructed, harshly, as he pulled Blair's legs straight out in front of him again and repositioned the cushions for back support; he straightened the cap that had gone askew during Blair's attempts at emotional and physical withdrawal. He didn't want Blair hurting his ribs by leaning on them.

Jim returned to his chair and he heard a soft sigh escape from Blair's lips.

"The DMV and video equipment...the equipment...that's no big deal, Chief; but you have to remember to return it."

"I know, Jim, I just got busy."

"The DMV, well, Chief, although I admire your ingenuity and circumvention of proper channels, you should have discussed that one with me. If my name goes on it, I'm responsible, and if it's work related and helps with the job, Chief, I'll back you one hundred percent. But you should have had more sense on this."

"I know, Jim, and I'm really sorry. I just heard one of the traffic cops bragging and I thought well why not?....now I know it was a really dumb idea and I know my actions reflect on you. I promise I won't ever do anything that stupid again."

"You may not be a cop, Blair, but do you think the rules don't apply to you? Your attitude with Simon was uncalled for and it won't be tolerated. When Simon chews your ass out you stand there and keep your mouth shut...it goes with the territory. If you ever talk to Simon like that again, you and I go to the police gym, Chief, and we both put on gloves."

"Jim, you'd beat the crap out of me. I'm no match for you."

"That's a very good possibility, Chief. Then it might be in your best interests to show Simon more respect."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Jim. I'd like to apologize to Simon. Do you think he'll give me my access privileges back?"

"Simon's a reasonable man. But don't be surprised if you're called on the carpet again. Simon went easy on you before, but this time he's going to want your hide, and I don't blame him."

Blair merely nodded...accepting the inevitable, however unpleasant it might be.

"Chief, where did that 'goons who can't even open a book' come from? You've never been one before to flaunt your education or look down on others."

"Jim, I was just so angry with being pushed around and Simon always being angry with me. I wanted to lash out and hurt...I didn't really mean it. I was feeling guilty over the white noise generator, and..."

"You did your counter-attack maneuver," Jim finished for him.

"Sandburg, there are some very educated men in Major Crimes and on the force. Simon is one of them, plus they have a hell of a lot more life experience than you. You might want to work on an apology for that line too."

"I know, Jim, I will."

"Is there anything else you need to get off your chest, Blair?"

"No Jim...I'm sorry...I just want things to go back to the way they were between us. Please, Jim, I'm so sorry." Blair's heartbeat was starting to race again, and Jim realized he was becoming agitated again.

"Calm down, Chief, I have only one other problem. Why did you run away without telling anyone where you were? Didn't you think I'd be worried?"

"Jim, I just panicked. I wanted to get everyone off my back...I felt so trapped...I know it wasn't very responsible, but it was the only thing I could think to do." Blair paused feeling his hope of reconciliation slipping again. "Please, Jim. Man, I'm so sorry."

"Let's get something straight here, Chief. I am your Sentinel; you are my Guide. It's really a very simple equation for you to get straight in that thick skull of yours. I protect; you instruct and guide. You have a problem you bring it to me. You run from trouble, but you run to me. You seek shelter, you seek it with me. I may not be able to always give you understanding, emotional support or any other psychological crap that society says is needed nowadays, but that's only because I'm not used to that bullshit. Give me some time and maybe I'll learn some softer touches. You are my friend and I have strong proprietary feelings where you're concerned. I'm always going to try my best to be there for you, Chief, but you've got to meet me half way. Does any of this register with you, Blair?"

Blair just stared up at him and nodded his head slowly, stunned by Jim's strong affirmations.

"All right, Chief, stay put...sit here awhile and consider your actions. A little discomfort is a little less punishment than you deserve. Start working on your apologies to Simon and Sam. Remember, don't move. I'll be listening."

Jim approached Blair and told him to sit straight again. The kid had a hard time sitting still, and Jim found it to be impossible to keep him comfortably positioned. He repositioned the blankets around him and made sure the pillows gave him back support. Jim stopped before entering the cabin and listened to make sure they were still alone. He then entered the cabin. He wanted to give Blair some time to reflect on everything they had talked about. He also wanted him to feel like he was being punished. Blair had so much deep seated guilt, he wouldn't assuage his conscience unless he felt he had paid the penalty.

Blair watched Jim go into the cabin. He wasn't sure what Jim intended for him. Is he going to leave me out here all night? Maybe he's going to keep me cuffed the whole time we stay up here. Blair was beginning to really worry now. No, not Jim. He's pissed at me, man, pissed royally, but he'd never torture me and that's what he'd be doing. He knows my ribs are killing me and he knows I hate the cold. But that's what you deserve, Sandburg, you caused Jim and the Cascade, P.D. a lot of trouble; Jim has a right to be angry.

Blair said out loud in a tone only a Sentinel could hear. "Jim, I'm your Guide. I screwed up, man, but I'm your Guide. I'm new to this friendship business, too. You need to protect me, but I need you to forgive me...please." Then Blair sat there and waited.

Jim heard Blair's plea; that's exactly what he wanted to hear. He wanted that assurance that Blair was still focused on their relationship; that he still knew his place in the general scheme of things. He'd give him another half hour of uncertainty and solitude. Then Sentinel and Guide would once again become synergistic.

Later, Jim came out and collected his contrite Guide; he helped him stand up and undid the cuffs. He instructed Blair to go sit by the fire and warm up. He brought in the blankets, pillows, and cushions. He locked the glass doors and pulled the drapes. He knew there was still a gunman out there looking for Blair.

He had the cocoa made and he put the small white marshmallows on top. He took a hot, steaming mug to Blair and watched as he wrapped his hands around the object to warm himself. He pulled the baseball cap off of Sandburg's head and looked at the bruise.

"How's the head, Chief?"

"Fine, Jim, I just have a headache from all the soul-searching," and he smiled up at Jim, still unsure of his position in Jim's good graces. After the unburdening of his soul and the punishment he endured the last few hours, he felt drained and spent, but surprisingly peaceful and content.

Jim noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the Herculean effort to keep his eyes open and focused. The warm fire and cocoa were already having their tranquilizing effect. Blair never looked more so like a child then he did at that moment. The protective instincts Jim felt rise up in his soul were almost overwhelming.

"After the cocoa, Chief, painkiller and bed...in that order." Jim dictated.

"Yes, sir," Blair said and didn't even notice the respect he was according Jim.

Well, Ellison, you'd better enjoy it, you know this kind of subservience isn't going to last.

The Sentinel slept lightly that night, still protecting what he held so dearly. His Guide was in a deep and peaceful sleep for the first time in months, and he found his own rest in the steady, peaceful rhythm of the other's heart.

We often try so hard to please those we love. We construct our self-image in the light by which they see us. It is hard to understand who we are when their light diminishes or is no longer within our sphere. We look into the mirror and see shadows and stickmen, and in our loneliness we are left to fill out the form and recreate ourselves. But if we have one friend who will not be banished, one friend who knows so surely who and what we are, by that small candle glow masterpieces are born.

Part VII - Rebuilding

Blair woke up well-rested and snug in his bed. This was the first deep, undisturbed sleep he had in over three months. He reflected back on last night's events. He never wanted to go through that again. He never wanted to see that look of disgust and anger in Jim's eyes directed at him for as long as he lived. He considered how relieved he felt, relinquishing control to Jim. He remembered reading studies of convicts, who having been released upon society longed desperately to return to prison life. They were so used to the security and routine of someone else being in control of their daily lives, that they couldn't function on their own. They were used to being told when to wake, sleep, go to the bathroom, work, and exercise, that when control was handed back to them, they were totally lost.

Jim came to stand in the doorway. "Good morning, Chief. How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, Jim," Blair said still a little unsure of his position.

"Breakfast in 10, Chief, get a move. Let me cut those bandages and I'll rewrap you after you shower. I think you're going to like my plans for today, Sleeping Beauty." Jim said as he approached the bed and pulled down the covers. He helped Blair sit up on the side of the bed. He helped pull the sweatshirt up and over his head.

Blair raised his hands over his head and rested them on top. Jim cut the bandages off. He then grabbed Blair's chin and brushed the hair away from the stitches as he examined the head wound. "Seems to be healing nicely. Anymore headaches?"

"No, sir." Blair said.

Jim was getting worried here. Too much respect from Sandburg was getting to feel a little too weird. "Look, Chief, I dropped the 'Mr. Sandburg' why don't you drop the 'sir.' Save it for Simon, he'll be impressed." Jim got up and lightly cuffed Blair on the back of the head to soften the admonishment. "Get a move on it, the day's half over."

When he finished showering he dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Jim made him sit on the couch arm again and lift his t-shirt as he bandaged the healing ribs.

Jim fixed a breakfast of scrambled eggs and french toast. "Well, Chief, how about we try out those new fishing poles. I heard a fresh water stream about 2 miles to the east of us. Do you think you're up to it?"

"Yeah, sure, Jim, that's great," Blair perked up. Jim saw the look of joy in his face. That's really all the kid wanted Jim to do with him these two weeks. After all the pain and suffering he had endured last night, Jim wanted him to have some fun.

Blair started talking about fresh water fishing and how some of the tribesmen used various techniques, including catching them with their hands. He stabbed at his french toast like he was practicing spearfishing and there was a certain animation that had returned to his body like kinetic energy being restrained. The old Blair was in there trying to come out.

After Jim washed the dishes, it was already 1 p.m. They grabbed the new fishing gear and headed for the stream. The day was beautiful. The sun was warm, but the breeze was cool and gentle. An all-around perfect day for communing with nature and for bonding Sentinel and Guide.

The stream was about 2 miles from the cabin. Jim chose an area where the stream curved through some rocks, and narrowed on both sides, giving access to the banks top priority. He didn't want Blair out in the open if someone did happen upon them. He wanted to have the capability of easily getting Blair to cover should the need arise.

Blair seemed to be totally impervious to police logistics and military strategy, he was too absorbed with the beauty of the location and the excitement of finally doing something fun. Jim recognized it as classic chatharsis. After the intensity of last nights revelations and emotional outpourings, Sandburg needed to have some lighter moments. He was diving into the beauty of the day and the thrill of fishing; he was savoring the joy like a man who had been starving.

They took off their shoes and rolled up their pant legs. Jim took the pole and explained to Blair how to cast. Several times, Jim saw him wince when he threw his line out, but the kid was enjoying himself too much for Jim to make an issue out of it. The kid was going to be in pain, anyway, he might as well have some fun. Jim felt himself softening in a way he never imagined. He genuinely cared for this free spirit with the long hair, motorized mouth, and mixed up notions. This insecure bundle of anthropological wisdom had wedged himself somewhere at the base of James Ellison's heart. If the kid smiled, somewhere inside Jim smiled.

"Look, Jim," Blair shouted as he caught a huge fish. "Oh, man, I can't believe this. It's huge."

Jim helped him secure the fish and store it in the cool stream between some rocks.

"I know this really great recipe for fish cooked in leaves with pine nuts, Jim. It's to die for. I'm cooking tonight, o.k.? " Blair asked, and suddenly his face fell as he remembered his submission to Jim's control for the next two weeks. He was in no position to dictate to Jim.

Jim quickly fell into step, not giving Blair a chance to ruminate on this too long and lose the joy of the day. "You better believe it. You catch it, you cook it. I doubt I'll catch anything that big. That's quite a prize you hooked yourself, Sandburg."

Blair's thoughts were immediately siderailed and he smiled proudly. "I think I'll try my spearfishing now, Jim. I've mastered casting, now I'll return to a simpler, more time-proven method."

Jim watched him climb the nearby bank, set down his rod and reel and go off among the trees looking for a stick to fashion for a spear.

"Sandburg!" Jim yelled out a little more harshly than he intended. "Stay where I can see you."

"Jim, chill man, we're alone up here. Besides, you could hear anyone coming for miles," but even as he said this he was walking fast out of Jim's vision, disappearing among the shadows of the thick forest that parrelled the stream.

"Goddamn it, Sandburg," Jim swore under his breath. He was really pissed at the kid, he was obstinately disobeying Jim's orders. The seesaw Sandburg rode never stayed in any one position too long. Just minutes ago he was cautious in his attitude with Jim, now the devil be damned. What had they just spent last night discussing. If he went after him now, read him the riot act, and drummed into his head the simple fact that there was a price on his skinny ass, it would ruin what had been to the point an easy, fun-filled day. He really didn't want to do that. But right now the kid was putting his life in danger, and Jim was one of the threats.

Jim focused first his hearing. He heard the stream lapping and swirling around the rocks, he heard the birds flapping high in the bending bows of the pines and trees, he could hear one heartbeat not too far into the forest...one steady heartbeat that he recognized as Blair's. Next he zoomed his vision and cleared the shadows with his special ability to focus. He saw Blair picking up a branch and examining it carefully, as though it were the purchase of a lifetime. He saw him smile with approval and start walking back to the bank.

Jim let out a sigh of relief. He made a mental note to convince Blair of the stupidity of his actions, but he would not allow it to ruin the day. He looked threateningly at him as he appoached, "We'll discuss this later, Chief, count on it."

Blair merely shrugged, took out his pocket knife and began whittling the branch, fashioning a spear any tribesman would have been proud of. He jumped back into the stream and spent the next hour trying to increase their larder. He had no luck, but from the giggles and expletives, Jim knew he was having too damn good a time to care about success.

Jim was able to catch a fish about half the size of Blair's. They would have more than enough food for their feast that night. Jim was determined that Blair would enjoy the day to the fullest. It was damn time the kid relaxed and just enjoyed himself.

"Jim, I saw some pine nuts not too far from the cabin on our way down here. I'm going to go and collect them along with the leaves to cook the fish in.."

"NO," this time Jim shouted it with force and authority. "Not without me."

Blair winced at the sharpness in his voice, and seemed for the first time to realize he was under police protection, and that Jim was deadly serious on this subject. "O.K., man, sure thing."

As they headed back up the side of the mountain towards the cabin, Jim noticed Blair struggling to keep up. He reminded himself that Blair was still weak from the beating he took, the inadequate diet and the pain medication. He checked his stride and stopped a moment to sit upon some rocks for the apparent reason of enjoying the scenery. "Chief, let's just sit here a moment. This view is too beautiful to pass by."

Blair sat himself on a much larger rock just to Jim's left. Blair had to jump up several times before he was able to position his butt safely on the boulder. Jim heard his gasps of pain at the effort and was ready to admonish him or lift him up there like a child, when he finally saw his friend reach the pinnacle of success. He just shook his head and hid the smile that had crossed his face.

"Jim," Blair could never sit in silence and just enjoy the moment. "Which do you feel more at home in: the jungle or the mountains?"

"What kind of question is that, Chief? I was raised in Cascade."

"No, Jim, I mean your senses heightened when you were stationed in Peru, but they would have made there appearance in any solitary environment taking you away from civilization where your senses would have been necessary for survival. So what I'm saying, man, is that you don't necessarily owe the jungle anything and it's not the birthplace of your Sentinel abilities." Blair started kicking his legs against the rock in a mild display of anxiety; he wasn't asking this question the right way.

"What I mean, Jim, is that I've lived in many places with Naomi. We've lived by the ocean, on the beach, in the mountains, and in the city, and I've travelled extensively to the jungles and third world countries. There's always one place you feel most yourself, most at home. Like you were genetically made for that one particular environ. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, Chief, I do. I guess I'd have to say the mountains. The jungles have always been a little too hot for me; I'm afraid of deep water, as you know, after that episode on the oil rig. The mountains have always been a place of peace and contentment for me. I see the mountains, Sandburg, as sentries, because they stand tall and guard their own, because in there very height and rugged terrain they protect the life forms that call them home....yeah, Chief, very definitely the mountains." Jim stared off at the tall shapes in the distance and glanced up at his friend.

"And you, where does your soul call home?"

"I saw the Kalahari once, just a quick visit...man, awesome...The desert, it's so lonely, so barren and simple. It's so stark a contrast to all the other places of the world. The first time I saw it, it took my breath away...like man, I understand this place...I know how alone, alone can really be."

Jim looked up at Blair and saw a sadness crossing his face. Jim saw briefly the scared and lonely kid Blair Sandburg must have been. He looked down and saw Jim looking at him and quickly smiled and turned away, trying to hide his embarrassment at the revelation.

"Aren't you waxing poetic there, Chief?" Jim asked to help get Blair over the awkwardness of the moment.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"People change though, Blair. When I was a kid I loved the water, surfing, fishing, and swimming. But when you see water from a military chopper in the dead of night, with nothing below you but the blackness, your perspective changes. I hope your perspective changes, too."

"Now it's old terra firma, ha Jim?"

"Blair, I love the mountains, but I've always loved nature and being out of doors, but there's only one place I feel at home, Chief, and that's where you are. Let's go. I'm getting hungry," and Jim stood up and slapped Blair playfully on the leg, picked up their gear and started walking at a much slower pace.

Blair sat there stunned by what Jim had just said. He felt a lump in his throat and tears stung his eyes. Thank God Jim didn't look back at him. He got his emotions under control and slid off the rock. He had no trouble catching up to Jim, because the larger man had slowed his pace considerably, and Blair's step had become more energetic and lighter, like his heart.

When they reached the copse where Blair had said he saw the necessary pine nuts, he ran off shedding his shirt to make a basket in which to put the nuts.

Jim yelled to him. "Sandburg, I'm not going to tell you again, stay in my vision. You have ten minutes to collect those nuts, I'm too damn hungry right now to care how those fish are cooked."

"You'll regret those words, Jim, the minute you taste dinner tonight. Man, I'm drooling just thinking about this dish. Jim, maybe we can make a campfire outside tonight and cook dinner outdoors. I noticed a small campsite just up north of the cabin by the ravine where the profs must have their weenie roasts with the kiddies. Just like if we'd gotten off camping..." Blair kept babbling.

Jim, closed his chattering friend out for a few minutes and once again focused sight and sound. All was secure, but he was beginning to get a nagging feeling at the base of his skull. Like there was something he maybe overlooked. He shook his head and set his sights once again on his custodial charge..."of course, not as much fun as that lecture Simon wanted us to attend, but we can always read the book."

When they got back to the cabin, Blair made a big production of packing supplies and cooking utensils in a large box he had found. Jim lifted the box and told Blair to get a sweater, nightfall was coming quickly and it was going to get cold. Blair protested, "No, Jim, I'll be fine."

Jim realized he had only brought the one blue sweater and didn't want Jim to see him wearing it. He obviously forgot I saw him sleeping in the damn thing. Jim dropped the box on the table and went into the room Blair was using and came back with the sweater and plopped it on top of the box. He lifted it again and said "Let's go Sandburg."

Blair blushed and sheepishly followed Jim out the door.

Blair busied himself preparing his fish with the nuts and wrapping them in the wet leaves he had soaked in a bowl. Jim got the campfire going and filled the pot of water for coffee. When dinner was finished, Jim had to admit that the fish tasted delicious.

"Well, Chief, I must say you've outdone yourself. We might make a new House Rule. You cook every meal."

"Oh, no, Jim, no more rules. I don't think I can remember half of them as it is. What's with you and rules, man. Weren't you ever a little lax in cleaning your room when you were a kid?"

"Sandburg, I'm not the one who can't put his boxers in a hamper not more than a foot away; I'm not the one who opens the milk carton from both ends, because I'm too lazy to turn it around and see if the other end is open, a messy bed and some posters on a wall don't constitute chaos. But you, Chief, you and order are diametrically squared off, and congratulations, you're winning."

Blair pulled out the bag of large marshmallows that Jim had added to their cart in the market. He cut two small twigs and used his Swiss army knife to make the tips pointed. He handed one to Jim and put two marshmallows on his own stick. They both leaned back on logs that were already positioned around the campfire, and watched their desserts being toasted.

"Chief, I wanted to say something to you, but I just had more important things on my mind."

"Yeah, Jim, I know, like scaring the shit out of me."

"You deserved it." Jim took a mock swipe at his head with his baseball cap.

"I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you stopping that rape. It took a lot of guts to rush in there unarmed...not a whole lot of brains, but guts. I don't ever want you to do anything that stupid again, Chief, do you hear me?"

"What was I supposed to do, Jim, let her get raped while I waited for security to show? It's just not in my makeup. I had to do something."

"I know, Blair, I'm just saying think next time. Think of your own safety and use a little discretion."

"Man, sometimes there isn't any time for discretion. I wish I could remember more about what happened. You never did tell me why there's this supposed hit out on me."

"Do you know anyone named Kenny?" Jim watched Blair's face to see if there was any reaction.

"No, I mean, yeah I know lots of students named Kenny, but I don't know any personally. Why?"

"I heard you mumble that name in your sleep the first night I found you. You were asking him not to hurt you anymore. Does it ring a bell?"

"No, I just vaguely remember being hit with something hard and the next thing I remember is Davis helping to get me to the clinic. I'm glad I don't remember, Jim." Blair looked up and watched for Jim's reaction to his reluctance. Jim just continued to stare at the fire.

Gee, he thinks I'm a real wuss. Well, let him. I did what I had to, but I just want it to be behind me now.

"Well, whoever tried to rape that girl feels that you can and will identify him in time. He's obviously got money and has hired a professional from Detroit. It makes my job, Simon's and the Cascade P.D.'s just that much harder." Jim made the statement casually, but Blair knew he was being reprimanded for not wanting to cooperate.

"Why don't you just let him shoot me, Jim, I mean if it's too much work?" Blair snapped.

"Can the attitude, Chief, I don't have the patience for it right now. And since you're showing your stubborn streak again, I wasn't particularly happy to see you ignore my orders at the stream. You're lucky you're not wearing the cuffs again tonight." Jim barked back. Then he ran a tired hand across his face. He didn't want to ruin the day.

"Look, Blair, I'm just trying to keep you alive, can you help me out a bit here?"

Blair blushed at the mention of the cuffs and he must have decided he didn't want to push Jim on that issue. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm not being obstinate, I just don't remember. The guy bashed my head and I just saw darkness. My head is still foggy. Maybe the girl remembers, she probably got a better look at him than me." Blair offered, although he already knew the girl had been questioned, and he didn't want her to be put through this anymore than he wanted it for himself.

Blair popped the hot, gooey confections into his mouth and cautiously chewed. "Ow, hot!" he said.

"Why don't you wait till they cool? Or are you into pain now, Sandburg?"

"No, Jim, I am definitely not into pain, man."

They spent another hour toasting marshmallows and drinking coffee. Discussing the stars overhead and previous camping trips they had shared alone and with Simon and Darryl. When the darkness became thick and damp, Jim knew it was up to him to put the day and his guide to rest.

"Well, Chief, I think we'd both better turn in. I want to go into town again tomorrow and check in with Simon. Maybe they've come up with some leads. You can't hide out for the rest of your life. You just may have to shave your head, Sandburg, and grow a beard."

"No way, I might as well just shoot myself." Blair jokingly retorted.

Blair was up before Jim the next morning. He was slowly feeling like his old, energetic self. He was just starting breakfast when Jim came out of the other bedroom.

"Good morning, Jim," he said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Chief, I take it you slept well," Jim said noting Blair's cheerfulness.

"Yeah, you?"

"Fine, this is beginning to feel like a vacation." Jim closed the bathroom door and started the shower.

Blair started cracking eggs in a bowl, he put the toast in the toaster oven, and when he closed the door the handle came half off. He realized it was only a loose screw. He automatically reached for his ubiquitous Swiss army knife. It wasn't in the pocket where he normally kept it, so he checked the other pockets of his jeans. As he thought back, he realized he had last used it to whittle the sticks for the marshmallows up at the campsite.

Without further thought, he raced out the door and up the hill to the campsite 50 yards up alongside the ravine.

Jim was just rinsing himself off when he heard the door close, "Sandburg," he yelled.

"Goddamn it." He quickly stepped out of the shower, dried himself off, put on his pants, shirt and shoes; then he grabbed his gun and stuck it in the wasteband of his slacks. He was out the door just in time to see Blair disappear into the shadows up the hill.

"SANDBURG!" he shouted. "I'm going to kill him," more quietly.

Just as Jim came up to the campsite he heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. He raced forward towards Blair who had just turned with fright and shock registering on his face.

Jim barrelled into him and they both hit the ground behind the logs just as a gunshot scraped the earth behind them.

When Blair topped the rise by the campsite, he heard Jim yell his name, but he could already see his knife on the ground by the blackened embers. It must have fallen out when he reached over for some more marshmallows.

After retrieving it, he turned to see an enraged Jim running full tilt toward him. God, he's going to beat the shit out of me, and before he could react he felt himself being slammed into the earth with Jim's hard body holding him down.

Jim raised himself off Blair slowly, "Are you all right?" Blair could barely catch his breath and his ribs were the worst for it, but he nodded.

He saw Jim wince as he rolled next to Blair to seek the cover of the huge logs. Blair saw the blood seeping through the right arm of Jim's shirt.

"Jim, you're shot."

"It's just a graze, I'm fine." Jim reassured him seeing the horror on Blair's face. He didn't need the kid freaking out on him.

"Stay down," Jim ordered and pushed Blair's head beneath the protective line of the log. Another shot came close to Blair's legs and he pulled them under himself, making as small a target of his body as possible.

"Jim, he's got us pinned down here, man."

"We're fine, Blair." Jim tried to sound positive. "I don't want to waste my bullets...sooner or later I'll get a clear shot."

"What if he waits us out, man?"

"Just do as I tell you, Chief."

Blair didn't think they were going to be fine at all, and it was all his fault. His fault Jim was shot, his fault they were trapped with so little cover...just because of his damned precious bar mitzvah gift.

Maybe he could redeem himself, yet. Jim just needs something to draw the guy out from cover. With his vision, once in range, Jim could pick him off easily. This guy was from Detroit. He had one objective and one objective only...Blair Sandburg.

Jim was never going to get a clear shot forced behind these logs the way they were.

One more shot hit close to Jim's head and that's when Blair made up his mind and went into action, discretion as usual was damned.

He made a run for some thick trees off and up to the right, just off the edge of the ravine. He heard Jim's desperate voice, "Blair, no!"

As soon as he made it behind the first tree a bullet ricocheted off the bark just inches from his head. "Hey, Detroit, I'm Blair Sandburg. I'm the one you want," then he feigned a move to the left and when the shot rang out, he ran right and back towards the trees closest to the ravine. If he got himself trapped, he could always jump into the ravine...the fall would definitely kill him...he found that thought comforting at the moment.

He had no time to see if Jim was o.k. or what he was up to. His full concentration was on the arcade game he was playing...where he was the little metal duck.

"Over here...it's me Blair Sandburg." Once again he feigned right, then left, then right, and moved upward towards the cluster of pines.

The shots were now coming faster and wilder. The gunman was obviously tired of this little game. He may be a professional, Blair thought, but he's a city boy--mountain trekking is probably as foreign to him as money is to Blair's wallet.

"Oh, can't you do better than that City Boy?" Blair taunted. He dodged farther up the side of the mountain trying to lure the hit man as far from Jim as possible.

Just as he wedged himself between a thin corridor of rocks near the edge of the ravine, he felt himself being pulled roughly from behind and pushed down into the earth once again.

"FBI, stay down," was all he heard. Then gun fire seemed to be everywhere. He heard it from several directions, including just above his head. He cautiously raised his head and saw Sam Weatherman dressed in flannel, jeans and a jacket with FBI in white letters across the back returning gunfire with the would-be assassin. He heard Simon's voice identifying himself as a police officer and he strained to hear Jim's. God, pleasepleaseplease let him be o.k.

The next time he looked up Sam was smiling down at him. "It's over Blair, I sure like your style, kid," and he reached a hand out to help Blair to his feet. Sam helped him from out between the rocks; he still kept a protective arm around Blair, noticing how carefully he was moving after all the manhandling he had suffered.

Simon was coming towards them from the general area where the gunman was. "He's dead," he said to Sam.

"Sandburg, are you all right?"

"Yeah, Simon. Thanks. Where's Jim? He was shot."

"I'm fine, Captain." Jim said as he came up the mountain holding his right shoulder. He was moving purposefully towards Blair with a look of absolute fury on his face.

Who's going to protect me from my Blessed Protector Blair thought as he held his ground next to Sam.

Simon saw the look on Jim's face and walked quickly between him and his intended target. He placed both hands on Jim's chest and said, "Take it easy, Jim. Cool down. You're hurt, you've lost a lot of blood...you'll give yourself a stroke or heart attack."

"Sam, please take Blair to the cabin and see that he stays there...cuff him if he gives you the slightest problem," Simon said as he glared at Blair looking almost hopeful that that would prove to be the case.

Blair pulled away from Sam's reach. "Jim, I'm sorry, man. I want to go with you to the hospital. You might need me." The look on Blair's face was like a stun gun to Jim's building fury. The kid was scared; his face was drawn and blanched; he looked like Atlas bearing the weight of the world, too heavy, yet not knowing where to set it down.

"Go wait in the cabin, Chief, I'll be right there," he said firmly, but calmly. "Sam, please go with him."

"Sure, Jim. Come on kid," and this time he was able to trap Blair's arm.

When they were out of earshot, Jim turned to Simon. "I've got to talk to him now. First of all, I'm mad as hell. Did you happen to witness his little performance?"

"Yeah, Jim, the kid was drawing the fire away from you. You were hurt. Seems to me he's true to Sandburg form. Didn't you just tell me that his heart is always in the right place...isn't that what makes Sandburg, Sandburg?"

"Yeah, Simon, but he could've been killed." Jim reasoned as he remembered the fear and terror that surged through him watching Sandburg play at target practice.

"Seems to me he can dance pretty fast when there are bullets coming out of the audience. I'm not saying he did the right thing, but if Sam and I hadn't shown up you would have been pinned there until he took one of you out."

"How did you and Sam happen to be so close on his tail?"

"Someone trashed Deel's office last night. We talked to Deel and he remembered he had to fill out a form for the co-op on who was at the cabin. Blair's name was on the form, the location of the cabin, and the date of occupancy; and he left it in his out basket for his secretary to process. Sam and I started right up and a good thing, too."

"Jim, how are you going to handle the kid?"

"I don't know, yet, Simon, but I want to handle it now before he thinks too much about it and runs off again. It's beginning to be a habit of his, and I'm damned sure going to break him of it."

"Well, handle it quickly...you're bleeding and I want both your butts in a hospital."

"Yes, sir."

Jim came through the door stoney faced and determined. Sam reached for his gun automatically and Blair jumped up and moved against the fireplace.

"Sam, can I have a moment with Blair."

"Sure, Jim," then Sam turned to Blair, "Good luck, kid," and he left the cabin.

The minute the door closed Jim walked forcefully towards Blair who instinctually backed up against the fireplace bricks. Jim grabbed a handful of Blair's hair at the knape of his neck with his left hand and pulled Blair's face within inches of his own.

"What the hell were you thinking of?" he ground out. He added a slight shake to punctuate his question. He noticed that Blair kept his hands limply at his side. The kid made no attempt to protect himself or to fight back.

"You." Blair barely mumbled the words. He was being shut out again, and he was again falling into the abyss of his despair.

Jim pulled his face into his shirt and wrapped his left arm around him holding him against his chest. "I don't want to loose you, Chief.....I can't. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

He held Blair firmly until he heard him start to cry and he felt Blair's arms go gently around his waist cognizant of his injury; he held him that way for some time knowing that all either of them needed or wanted was right there.

Friendship is rare. Let no one tell you differently. There are acquaintances and associates and passing ships in the night, there are dealers and wheelers and users and controllers. There are buddy types and companion freaks and people who just hate to be alone. When the world darkens around you and the sun no longer shines upon your fair head, if you turn and see a shadow in the gloom of all despair, know in your heart of hearts a friend is near.

EPILOGUE

"Man, this sucks."

"If you don't quit your bitching and moaning, Chief, you'll wear the cuffs for the rest of the day and I'll gag you if necessary."

Jim sat on the sofa in the living room trying to read the paper. It was Saturday afternoon. Blair's punishment was to not leave the loft the whole weekend before the new semester started. It was the last 2 days of his vacation and he was forced to clean the loft from top to bottom.

Jim was glad to see him groaning. He had been terribly contrite, sullen, and totally focused on Jim since the shooting. The bullet had merely passed through Jim's arm not causing any damage, but every time Blair looked at Jim his face would look ashen and pathetic.

Blair's ribs had been sore after being thrown to the dirt so many times. They had stayed the night up at the cabin and driven back with Sam the next day. Simon had returned to Cascade to get the paperwork started, after settling everything with the Sheriff's department in the small town.

Blair and Sam had spent some time talking and Jim knew that Blair had finally opened the old cigar box and returned Sam's pocket watch. They had parted friends and Sam was planning on coming back in a few weeks to finally give the workshop and seminar that never came to fruition. He and Blair planned to have dinner out together, just the two of them. The friendship was strong and time and misunderstandings did little to damage any links.

Simon's treatment of Blair had been much like before, friendly and conciliatory. When Blair had asked if he could apologize and get his access privileges back, Simon had refused to talk about it outside of the police station. Blair had a 5 p.m. appointment on Monday in Simon's office, and Jim was already warned to not even be in the vicinity of the police headquarters. Jim already knew Blair was in for one strong lecture...Simon always scheduled his reprimands when the bullpen was practically empty. He knew Simon would be fair and Blair would be re-instated. The free and untethered young man who had been loved his whole life with detachment now had two strong authoritarians willing and ready to discipline him.

"You'd better be thorough...I'll do a check when you're through."

"Oh, man!" Just then Jim heard something drop.

"You break it, you replace it, Chief, or I'll take it out of your hide with interest."

Kenny Blake had been turned in by one of his friends, a friend who had listened to Kenny's bragging about his sexual conquests, but drew the line when he heard Kenny was into murder.

After settling matters in Cascade, Simon had given Jim a week off. So he and Blair returned to the cabin the following Monday. Simon and Darryl joined them on Wednesday. Blair wanted to stay until Sunday, but Jim was adamant that Blair earn his loft keys back and thus the "grounding and cleaning detail."

He knew his friend was back to normal, whatever Sandburg's world considered normal. He knew Blair might be playing the martyr right now, but he knew his Guide was secure in the knowledge that Jim meant to keep him in line. For once in his independent, unfettered existence, Blair Sandburg had someone who cared enough to make him face up to his guilt, accept the penalty, and forgive himself...life was so much simpler. While up at the cabin he had heard Darryl and Blair talking when they went for a short hike up the mountain.

"You're grounded, man? That really sucks, you're an adult."

"No, Darryl, I did something really stupid and I feel kind of relieved to pay the penalty and be done with it. Guilt can be the hardest thing to live with sometimes. I just hope if you ever screw up, you'll go to your dad or Jim or me. You may get your ass chewed, but you know your dad loves you, and Jim and I'll do anything to help."

"Tell me about it, my dad yells, then asks questions; it's like he doesn't even care what the answers are?" Darryl pouted as only a 14-year-old can with absolute bewilderment at adult behavior.

"Your dad loves you...he may yell and scream and seem unreasonable but it's because he's afraid, too, Darryl. He's afraid he might not be able to protect you. You and I need to cut your dad and Jim a little more slack in the future. I might not always be there to help you, but I hope you can learn from my mistakes, man."

"Sure, Blair...I trust you." And Jim could hear them slapping palms.

"Jim, I'm done." Blair said hoping Jim would be satisfied. Jim was such a stickler for neatness and cleanliness, he was scared he'd have to start over.

Jim checked around the tables, the counters, the railing, he inspected the bathroom and both bedrooms. He checked the floor and the corners and the windows, and made a huge show of checking the bookcase and lifting objects and inspecting them for dust. Blair merely watched with growing anxiety and trepidation...nobody was neat enough to meet with Jim Ellison's approval.

"Chief, good job. I'm proud of you. I think you've earned a short parole. There's this new Thai restaurant downtown, how about I treat you to dinner?"

"Great, Jim. Thanks, man," a wide grin of relief breaking his face into a portal for warm sunshine.

"Oh, Chief, one other thing. I do believe this is yours." Jim said as he placed the object on the counter. It was the white noise generator. Blair looked down in astonishment. The Sentinel trusted his Guide again.

Jim smiled at him and tossed him his jacket, "Let's go, Capone, it's time for you to breathe some free air." leaving a surprisingly speechless Blair to catch up.

THE END

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