The characters from The Sentinel don't belong to me. If they did, I'd have them out more often then the people who do own them.

I know squat about amnesia, police procedure or computers. So, if any of this stuff is off, it's because I'm blissfully ignorant and I ask that you forgive me.

Spoilers for Cypher, Switchman and another episode which I won't mention until the end because it'll give away the identification of the bad guy too soon.

THE KEY

Java Head

The young man ran through the snow covered woods. He was free! He had escaped. But they were after him. He had to get away! He couldn't let them capture him again.

He ran through the snow in his bare feet, wearing only sweat pants. He could hear footsteps running behind him. He was weak with hunger and pain. He kept stumbling over fallen branches. He could no longer feel his damaged feet, cut by running over stones and sharp branches.

When he thought he could run no further, he saw the road in the forest clearing. His breathing was loud and his heart beat was pounding in his ears so that he could hear nothing else. He was sure he was sobbing.

"Please. Please!" He begged himself to make it to the clearing. He ran out of the woods and onto the paved highway, but in his terror, he didn't see the car that braked frantically right before it hit him.

The nurse stood in the doorway of the hospital room and looked at the young man sleeping in the bed. She felt a flash of pity at the sight of his injuries. His face was as assortment of old and new bruises and scrapes, and his left wrist was broken. It wasn't his injuries, however, that prompted her sympathy. Surely, she had seen much worse. When he had woke up a few hours after being brought in the night before, he'd had no memory of who he was.

The hospital was a small one, in a suburb of Chicago, with little funding for John Doe's and none for specialized cases. The doctors knew of the work her church did with the homeless, and had asked her to work with this new patient. Many homeless people suffered from amnesia and she had dealt with them some and had read a lot. She was the closest thing to an expert that the hospital had.

The nurse stepped into the room and lifted the cold, limp hand to take his vitals. She felt a small movement and looked to see calm, blue eyes watching her.

"Hello," she said. She couldn't dredge up any smiles for the young man, but her eyes were warm.

"Hello," he croaked, then swallowed.

"Would you like a drink?"

He nodded.

She held a cup of water while he sipped from the straw. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks," he said softly.

"I'm Kay Gossell, your nurse."

"Do you know my name?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, no. The Doctor asked me to talk to you. Do you feel like visiting a little?"

"Yeah, sure." He liked this woman. She didn't give him fake, forced smiles the way the doctors and other nurses did. Yet he felt at ease with her here. She was a little older than he was, he felt, but she felt 'motherly'.

"Do you have kids?" he asked her suddenly.

This time she smiled, showing dimples. "Yes. I have three children. Why do you ask?"

"You seem to want to take care of people. The way a mom would."

Her smile widened. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

She sat in the chair beside his bed. "Now, before we continue, we have to think of something to call you. Do you remember any name at all? Nicknames? Anything?"

He slowly shook his head. "No."

"Does the name 'Jim' mean anything to you?"

He looked up, startled. "Jim." He thought a moment. "Wow. Weird."

"What?" she asked. "Do you remember something?"

"No-" he said slowly. "-not really. It just...feels...right...familiar..." his voice trailed off. He shrugged. "...safe," he finished. He looked at her. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know. You say that name when you're asleep. You keep calling him. I think he must be someone you're very close to -- a friend or brother maybe. Someone who's so close that even your trauma can't completely block him out.

"Anyway," she continued, "like I said, I have to call you something. So I think we'll come up with a name that has a close association with the name 'Jim'. Maybe a TV character."

For the first time, she saw a hint of a smile appear on the young man's face. Smile lines appeared at the corners of his mouth. This was a man who smiled a lot.

"You're not gonna call me 'Spock' or 'Bones'," he said.

Kay burst out laughing. "Actually, I was thinking of 'Jim West'. What do you thing of 'Artemis Gordon'? 'Artie' for short?"

He chuckled. Kay could swear it made his eyes a brighter blue. "'Artemis Gordon'. Yeah. He's cool. A scientist. I like it. 'Artie' it is!"

Kay stood up and held out her right hand. "Good to meet you, Artie," she said with a smile. He liked her smile. Mom with dimples. He shook her hand.

She noticed how cold his skin was. "You're so cold! I'm sorry. Let me get you another blanket." Kay opened the closet door and got a blanket from the top shelf. Then she spread it over him and tucked it around his chin and shoulders. When she looked at him, she saw a pained look on his face, like he was trying to hold back strong emotions. "What is it, Artie?"

"Just a feeling, mostly. Of someone else putting a blanket over me when I was...cold." He swallowed.

"Maybe Jim," she suggested, quietly.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking." His eyelids were heavy. He looked tired.

"You need to rest. I'll come back in a couple hours. Okay?" She touched his hair.

"Thanks...Mom."

He watched her leave the room. He was overwhelmed with fatigue and emotion. He had a name to hang on to. 'Jim'. Someone who was close. Maybe his brother. Someone who protected him and took care of him. Those feelings were strong. Weird that he didn't know who or where he was or anything else about himself, but he had such powerful feelings about this 'Jim'. He fell asleep.

When Kay returned to Artie's room a couple hours later, she found him sitting up in bed. He was writing, a look of intense concentration on his face. He looked up when she walked in and gave her a smile. "Hey."

She returned the smile. "Where'd you get the pen and paper?"

"Oh, that pretty redheaded nurse got it for me."

"Sally. Careful, she's a heartbreaker. What are you writing?" She tilted her head to see better. He was making a detailed list. He held it so she could read it. He had written:

Jim

-friend-brother-big-older-protector-work partner

Me

-late 20's early 30's-scientist-teacher-writer

Missing

4-6days

Enemies

There the list ended.

Artie looked up at Kay. "I think I'm a well educated person. Not, like a genius or anything, but the scientist side of Artemis Gordon appealed to me and I think I like research. I was flipping through TV channels and I seem to like the documentaries -- you know -- nature and history stuff," he explained excitedly.

"I've written down a few things that I've figured out about myself. Like my impressions of Jim. Also, I think I'm in my late twenties or early thirties. I've searched my general knowledge of recent history -- like world leaders, popular music, clothing styles, things like that. I'm more -- uh -- familiar with stuff from the past 25 or 30 years." Now he has waving his hands around excitedly, making his long hair swing slightly.

Kay pointed to the top of the paper. "What's this other stuff about Jim?"

"Well, I mostly get a feeling that he's big -- not 'fat' big. Like, tall. Powerful. And I think he's older than I am. And we're together a lot -- more than usual -- like almost 24-7. Maybe we live together or work together. He takes care of me." He paused then looked up at her again. "Pretty cool, huh? About Jim, I mean."

She smiled. "Very cool, Artie."

Kay laid her hand on his arm. "Listen, Artie. Dr. Moore wanted me to talk to you. You're being discharged tomorrow."

Fear flickered in his eyes. "Discharged?"

"Well, you are a John Doe. And the hospital has very limited funds. The reason the Doctor sent me in here is because my church has a shelter ministry to the homeless in the city. And right now you are definitely homeless."

"Homeless..."

"Artie, I want you to go home with me."

He looked up. "With you! Why?"

"You're injured. Pretty badly. And your amnesia makes you very defenseless. I don't want you going to a shelter."

"What about your family?"

"I'm widowed. And I have good kids. They're used to visitors. And they respect other peoples' privacy." She looked at him seriously. "Please, Artie."

"What if I'm an ax murderer?"

"Not with those eyes."

"Hey, can I see a mirror?"

"Sure." Kay left the room. She was back in a couple of minutes with a hand mirror. She handed it to Artie.

Slowly he lifted it, as though afraid of what (or who) he would see. Mostly he saw cuts and bruises. He looked harder, past the evidence of his recent ordeal. He saw bright blue eyes. Fair skin. High forehead. Full lips. Long, brown, curly hair. Younger looking than his guess at 25 to 30 years old. "I look like a kid."

"Another reason I don't want you out on the street."

Artie lowered the mirror. "Kay, tell me what happened to me."

"Yesterday, very early, you ran out in front of a man driving on a rural blacktop road about five miles from the city limits. It was snowing so he had been driving carefully and slower than usual. He saw you in time to brake and the slush on the road made him swerve sideways before the car hit you. You were bruised from the impact, but you landed on your side so your head received no injury. All your other injuries occurred before that.

"The area you were found in has been searched. There's nothing but caves. They're a little distance from the road but that seems to be the only place you could have come from. The police are still searching the area. Of course, the snow obliterated any footprints that would normally aid an investigation.

"You noticed the bruises and cuts on your face. You were badly beaten with fists. The bruising on your face and around your mouth are probably from being tightly gagged. You have two broken ribs and a lot of bruising there, too. Your left wrist is fractured. Under the bandages on your wrists are bruises and cuts from being bound with rope--"

"--Twine," he said quietly, looking at his hands resting in his lap.

"Twine?" Kay asked.

Artie closed his eyes. His hands were trembling. He squeezed them into fists and breathed deeply, straining for control. "I can see my hands. Tied in front of me. They're tied... with twine... the kind that's used for baling straw. It's tight and it's digging into my wrists... there's blood clotted all around the twine..."

Kay put one hand on his arm. "Artie, that's enough for now." He nodded gratefully, bringing his breathing back to normal.

"Who am I that someone would do this to me? What did I do?"

"I don't know, Artie. I don't think you did anything. The police think someone was trying to get some kind of information from you. Maybe you saw something you weren't supposed to."

There was a knock on the door. They looked up as a man stepped in. He was older, around fifty. He had light graying hair. Brown eyes looked out from a strong face with a look of perpetual good natured cynicism.

Kay waved him over with a smile. "Tony. Come on in." He stepped over to the bedside.

"Artie, this is Detective Anthony Davis. Tony, meet Artemis Gordon."

The Detective raised one eyebrow at Kay. "Artemis Gordon, Kay?"

She waved her hand in dismissal. "Oh, 'John Doe' is so common, so lacking in imagination."

Davis smiled at Artie as he leaned forward and took the young man's hand in a warm, solid grip. "Pleased to meetcha, Artie."

Artie nodded his head hesitantly. "Detective."

"Artie," Kay spoke. "Detective Davis is investigating your case. He needs to take your statement." She turned to Davis. "Tony, can I see you for a moment, first?" She turned to leave the room. "I'll see you later, Artie."

Davis followed her into the hallway. "Something new, Kay?"

"This may unfold faster than we thought, Tony. He's remembering stuff. A lot faster that I would've expected. He's very sharp and intelligent. He's figured out a lot just by reasoning it out. This guy's no transient. He belongs somewhere. And he seems willing to push past his fear and trauma to find his answers."

"This kid bringing out the mommy in you, Kay?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Don't they all, Tony?"

Kay stuck her head in Artie's room about an hour later. She heard Tony's voice.

"...the chicken said, 'That's what the pink dots are for!'" Both men burst into laughter. Tony was a pretty good ice breaker. Still chuckling, the men looked up at her as she entered the room.

"Glad to see you guys having so much fun." She smiled at the light in Artie's eyes. Tony's influence had put the younger man more at ease. "Be careful where you repeat Tony's jokes, Artie. People have been sued for less. You should hear the stuff he tells my kids."

"Hey, it is not my fault the Paul got detention last week. He didn't hear that story from me. You know that stuff kids hear at school!"

Kay rolled her eyes. "School -- Uncle Tony -- what's the difference? He sounds like you did when you were a kid."

"Good genetic material."

She smacked him in the forehead with her open palm.

"Ow!"

Artie was watching them quietly. There was something familiar about the friendly bantering between the two. "Hey, wait. You mean you guys are..."

"Siblings," Tony said. He grinned. "Katherine is my baby brat sister -- ow!" he said as she smacked him again -- in the back of the head this time.

"Tony's the 'problem child'," she said with a proud smile. "So, you guys come up with anything else?" she said, directing the conversation back to the situation at hand.

"I'd like to run Artie's prints through the FBI files. A lot of jobs require fingerprinting these days: teachers, anybody employed by the government, such as postal carriers, etc. Maybe tomorrow, Artie, after you're discharged?"

"Sure." Artie nodded.

Tony continued. "I'm going out to the accident site later. Thought I'd have another look at those woods and caves."

"Be careful, Tony. The caves are dangerous," Kay said worriedly.

"Kay, I've been crawling around in those caves since I was eight. Tom Sawyer's got nothing on me.

"There is one thing, Artie," he said, turning to the young man.

"What's that, Tony?"

"You might have a position in law enforcement. You know way too much about police procedure."

Kay brought clothes for Artie the next morning.

"Kay, you didn't buy me clothes did you?" he asked.

"Don't worry, Artie. The shelter has donated clothing. I got most of it from there. This corduroy jacket, too." She held it up for him to see.

He held up the jeans and blue flannel shirt she had given him. "I think these are the right size. How'd you guess my waist size?"

"I've been taking care of naked men for fifteen years. I've gotten pretty good at guessing." She was rewarded with a blush. She tossed a few packages to him. "New undershirts. New socks. New undies -- you look like a boxer man to me." Artie neatly caught each parcel as it came his way. "Oh, and new tennies." These she handed to him.

"Nikes!" he said. "Kay, this is too much."

"The undies were no big deal. And Tony bought the shoes. Said the shape your feet were in, you needed something decent to walk in. He traced around your feet yesterday while you were sleeping. Hope he got the size right."

"Kay, this is too much. You shouldn't..."

"Artie, second hand shoes are hard on your feet. And I'm not even gonna talk about used underwear! Can you manage?"

He smiled up at her with only a hint of a blush. "Thanks. I think I can handle it."

"Tony's taking his lunch break to help me get you home. Holler if you need a hand." She left the room.

Tony was waiting downstairs to help Artie get from the wheelchair into his car. They chose the car over Kay's mini van because it would be easier for Artie to get into. Tony helped him recline his seat a little.

"I'm gonna take you on over to the department to run your prints," he explained, as he drove. "It won't take long. Kay'll be waiting at her place when we get back there."

"Tony, thanks for the Nike's."

Tony's eyes lit up. "They fit okay?"

"They're perfect, man. Feel great. Thanks."

Tony's eyes darkened. "The shape your feet are in, you needed good shoes. I'm glad to do it."

The men were silent a moment. Artie shifted in the seat. Tony caught a fleeting look of pain in Artie's face as he hugged his ribs.

"Ribs hurt?"

"Meds are wearing off. Sure miss my I.V. We were on a first name basis. I get the feeling I spend a lot of time in hospitals."

"Waiting room or E.R.?"

Artie shrugged his shoulders. "Both maybe."

Tony swung the car into a McDonald's drive-through.

"Taking a detour?" Artie asked.

"Coffee for me. Water for you so you can take your painkillers."

"Can I have coffee, too?" Artie asked hopefully.

"Decaf only. For about twenty-four more hours."

Artie groaned.

"Sorry, kid. I feel your pain." Tony patted him on the shoulder.

Artie was exhausted after the fingerprinting and fell asleep about two minutes after they got back on the road.

Tony looked at Artie out of the corner of his eye. The kid was reclined, with his head leaning against the door. He was snuggled deep in his coat. His long, brown curls half covered his face. The bruising on his face were coloring from black to purple. Tony had lent Artie his sunglasses at the station so people wouldn't stare as much.

It wouldn't take long to run the prints, but the young man was too wiped out recuperating from his injuries and with the medication kicking in. Tony figured that he'd drop the kid off at Kay's then head back and find some answers.

What he'd found at the caves that morning was disturbing. He hadn't gone too far in. He'd been alone at the time with no back up. And the caves were dangerous, as Kay had said. But he'd gone far enough in to find signs of recent habitation and of hurried exodus. Footprints, mostly. An old kitchen chair. And what he suspected was Artie's bloody twine. He'd turned it in for evidence and was waiting to see if the blood on the twine was a match for the kid's blood type.

The young man was an enigmatic combination of characteristics. He was possibly thirty years old, but had an aura of youth and innocence, along with maturity. Cautious, yet trusting. He talked like an intellectual, but knew a disturbing amount of P.D. procedure. Either he was involved in police enforcement or he was a career criminal. And Tony didn't get a 'perp' feeling from him. The long, loose hair and long sideburns probably caused a lot of people to stereotype him -- cops especially. But Tony had seen many good, honest men with long hair and too many clean cut criminals. Artie's being in law enforcement could possibly put him in a position as a hostage target.

Tony knew that Artie was potentially still at risk. He had escaped, apparently. Which meant that his captors were still out there and looking for him.

He didn't think the kidnappers could find Artie this soon, but it paid to be prepared. "Me and the Boy Scouts," he thought.

Tony woke Artie up when they pulled up in front of Kay's apartment.

Artie hated for these people to be going through so much trouble for him. But in his vulnerable state, he had to accept their help. He had absolutely nothing. No home, no money, no friends, family... not even his mind.

Tony walked around to help Artie out of the car. Most of the young man's pain had been dulled with codeine, but stiffness had set in and he was still very shaky from his torture and forced starvation. The doctors figured he'd been about three days without food.

Artie let the older man half lift him out of the car. He was able to walk on his own but Tony walked beside him, a strong hand supporting his elbow. He looked up at the apartment building in front of them. Decent place. Comfortable. Nice, lower middle class.

"Kay lives on the second floor," Tony told him. "But don't worry. The building has an elevator. I don't think you can handle those stairs today."

"Man, you got that right."

By the time they reached Kay's apartment, the bottoms of Artie's feet hurt. He was thankful for the elevator and the Nike's.

Kay was waiting and opened the door for them. "Hiya, guys. Wow, Artie. You look like you're going to fall over."

Tony reached out and grabbed him as he started to sway. He walked Artie to the sofa and eased him down on it. The young man sank into the cushions in obvious relief. His head was starting to hurt and the bottoms of his feet hurt. And he was only two hours into his pain killers. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Kay leaned over the back of the sofa and roused him with a gentle shake of his shoulder. "Artie?" She spoke softly. "Let's get some soup into you then you can rest. Okay?" He nodded.

Tony filled Kay in on the morning's activities while she prepared Artie's soup.

Kay woke Artie from his catnap and carefully handed him the tray. It held warm chicken noodle soup, soda crackers and apple juice.

"Nothing hot, spicy or acidic today, Artie. I know you're tired, but try to get it all down."

"Thanks," he said, halfheartedly. He really was thankful. But he was exhausted and all his negative thoughts and emotions were too near the surface.

Kay sat in a rocker across from Artie and Tony sat on the sofa beside him while he ate. The soup was warming and the juice soothing to his throat.

"Tony," Kay spoke, "did anything new come up today?"

"I went out to the caves." He spoke seriously. "I just had a quick glance around because I was alone. I'm going back out this afternoon with another team."

Artie glanced up. "You found something?"

"Yeah. Lots of footprints. A campfire. Paper, cigarette butts." He looked hesitantly at Artie. "And I found twine. With blood on it..."

Suddenly, Artie jerked, dropping the tray. He jumped up. "Oh, man! Kay, I'm sorry! I don't..." Tony grabbed his arm to steady him while Kay bent down to clean up the spilled soup and crackers.

"It's okay, kid," Tony said. He looked down at Kay. "We're going in the back bedroom, Kay. I'll be back in a bit." She waved them away as Tony led Artie to the bedroom.

Tony sat the young man down on the edge of the bed. Artie noticed that the blankets were already turned down. Tony helped him remove his coat and carefully pulled his shoes off. Artie winced in pain as the Nike's came off. Oh man, he was really gonna lose it.

"What happened to my feet, Tony?"

Tony sat down beside Artie and ran his hand through his hair. "Didn't anyone discuss your injuries with you?"

"Kay started to, but then I remembered about the... twine on my wrists..." He took a deep, shaky breath and continued. "Then you walked in." He shrugged.

"What did she tell you?"

"How I got the bruising on my face, my broken ribs and my wrists."

Tony sighed. "Does your back hurt?"

"My back. Yeah, it's... sore."

"It's covered with welts. No real damage, but it'll hurt for awhile. And your feet are all torn up from running barefoot through the woods. The caves are about a mile from the highway. You must have run all that way."

"Barefoot..." Artie whispered.

Tony said gruffly, "You were wearing only sweat pants, Artie. It's a wonder you didn't freeze to death.

Artie cried then. He'd pushed down his emotions for two days and couldn't hold back the crushing wave of horror and fear any longer. Tony wrapped his arms around Artie and held him close. The younger man had no strength or resistence left, so he leaned weakly into the detective and sobbed on his shoulder. "That's it, kid. Don't hold back. We're gonna get you through this."

Artie pressed his face into Tony's shoulder and clenched his fists, his struggle to gain control of himself making him gasp and cry all the harder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry..."

"No!" Tony said sternly. "Don't be sorry! This is not your fault! You didn't ask for this."

"I feel like... I'm falling apart! I... I can't hold... on."

Tony voice was soft but firm. "Believe it or not, kid, this is a good sign. It's a normal reaction. It means your mind is working right." He rubbed Artie's back, hurting for him. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to help this man get his life back. But first he had to keep him safe.

Tony stepped out of the bedroom awhile later. Kay turned when he walked into the kitchen where she was busy doing laundry.

"Is he okay?" she asked, concerned.

"He will be." He leaned against the wall next to her. "He's sleeping right now. You need to make sure to wake him when it's time for his medication. He's pretty beat up and will be in a lot of pain. Feed him, too."

She glowered at him. "Who's the nurse here, Tony?" He patted her cheek affectionately. "I know, Sis. I know."

"Tony, will you call me if you find out anything later?"

"Actually, I want to stay here tonight." He stepped in front of her to look her in the eyes. "Whoever had him could still be looking for him. They may not be smart, but they were brutal. Vicious. Full of hate. And even the dumbest crooks know to check hospitals for missing people. I've given orders at the hospital not to disclose Artie's whereabouts, but loose lips abound. Is your gun loaded?"

"Unfortunately."

"Keep it handy. Let Artie know about it. I think he's a cop, Kay. And if that's so, then his files should come right up."

"I hope so, Tony. And the kids'll be so glad you're staying."

"Well, I wish you could find someplace else for them to go tonight."

"Yeah, I can do that. But let's all have supper together. Okay?" She smiled at him. "The kids will be pleased and I'm making burritos," she teased.

"Homemade tortillas?"

She laughed. "Of course."

"Deal. Now, I gotta go. Be sure to tell Artie everything. I'll bring dessert." He kissed her on the cheek then hurried out the door.

He was warm. Someplace soft and safe. Back home. He was laying on Jim's sofa. But Jim wasn't home yet. He was alone at the loft and Lash was after him. He was running, trying to get away from him, fighting him. "Let me go! You can't be me! Jim! Help! Jim!"

He bolted upward from his pillow, a scream caught in his throat. Drenched in sweat, his hands fisted in the sheets.

He sat, forcing his breathing to slow down. He put his hand up to his face and felt tears there. Oh man. What a dream! What was it? Who... Somebody had been after him. He was... home. Home! Someplace big. Airy. High up. But comfortable. And safe. He was calling for... who? Jim. Yes! Jim.

He drew his knees up and laid his head on top of them. He closed his eyes. Allowing the bad parts of the dream to dissipate, he held on firmly to the good, warm parts. He let his mind dwell on Jim and home. Jim.

There was a soft rap on the door and Kay poked her head in. "Artie! You're awake already. You ready for your medication?" She stepped in with a glass of water and a prescription bottle in her hands.

"Medicine..." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, drugs would be good right now." He gave a small smile as he reached for it.

He took his pill, then handed her the glass. As he started to get up, he waved his hand in emphasis. "Sorry about all this..."

"Artie, it's okay. Please stop apologizing. With everything we know that has happened to you, on top of the amnesia... well, you're entitled to crumble a little now and then."

He nodded. "Crumble. Yeah, I guess that's what I did."

"Tony's coming back later and the kids will be home soon. Would you like to take a shower before everyone gets here?"

"Yeah. That would be great." He got up and followed her to the bathroom next door. She showed him where everything was and handed him a bag filled with the clothes she had collected for him. She noticed he was still a little shaky.

"Hold on a minute, Artie." She left the room a moment then returned with an odd-looking stool in her hand. It was about 18 inches high with metal legs. The seat was off-white rectangle-shaped plastic with holes in it. She squeezed past him and set it in the tub.

"This is an ambulatory stool. I inherited it after Grandma died. You sit on it when you bathe or shower. Beats falling on your face and having to have someone fish you out of the tub."

He grinned appreciatively. "Thanks, Kay. Think I can take it from here." She left, closing the door behind her.

He locked the door, needing the assurance of privacy, and started to undress. Standing before the mirror, he saw that his bruises were starting to fade to yellow and a greenish-purple. Interesting color combination. He unwrapped the bandages from around his ribs. He guessed he'd need Kay to re-wrap them. His ribs and abdomen were covered with bruises. He turned around and, looking over his shoulder, he could see the welts covering his back. Ouch He wondered what had been used on him. Didn't matter. He clenched his jaw. Rage filled him. He'd been violated. His body beaten and his mind stolen.

The young man turned back around and studied his face in the mirror. The bruises more pronounced in the stark light of the bathroom. He felt his cheekbone and tilted his head to the left as he inspected the injuries along his jaw. He noticed something about his ear. Brushing his hair behind his ear, he saw two holes in his left lobe. His ear was pierced. What had happened to the earrings? He was relieved that they hadn't been yanked out. Maybe he'd anticipated that and had removed them himself.

He was wearing jeans and a dark green sweater. He still had his shoes on. He'd been beaten a couple times already. His captor was getting mad and frustrated and he figured he'd get creative soon. Lying in a heap, he surreptitiously removed the two tiny hoops and dropped them in the dirt.

Leaning his forehead against the mirror, he closed his eyes and let the image pass.

Knowing he couldn't stay in here all day, Artie started his shower and stepped into the tub. Standing under the force of the water, he leaned his hands against the wall and let the hot spray run over his head and battered body. He let the water wash over his face and mix with his tears as the memories washed through his mind.

Standing in a hot shower in another bathroom. A good natured pounding on the door.

"Chief! Hurry up in there! You're not the only one who needs the shower!"

"Come on, Jim! Gimme a break! I haven't been in here that long, man!"

"Seriously, Blair. Simon wants us at work on time today!"

He raised his face to the roof, eyes closed. Jim, find me, man. Please. Because I may not know who you are, but I don't think I can go on without you. Who are you that you mean so much to me?

He sat down on the stool. Crap, his feet hurt. He was so sick and tired of cracking up and bawling. He would've slammed his fist into the wall, but he didn't want to scare Kay. She'd think he'd fallen and come running in to haul him out of the tub. He'd rather not have that happen.

He finished his shower and dried off. Kay's huge, soft towel felt like heaven. He looked through the bag of clothes and brought out clean underwear and a clean shirt. Blue chambray. He liked Kay's selections. Respectable, yet practical and comfortable. He put on the jeans he had on earlier. He then looked at the bottoms of his feet. They were covered with scrapes and gashes. Barefoot in the snow. A mile from the highway. Quit! That's enough! I've done enough crying today. He put on the new soft, white socks and Nikes. His feet practically sighed in relief.

He started to put the dirty clothes in the bag when he saw something else. He reached in and pulled out a new toothbrush, toothpaste, a package of razors, can of shaving cream and a new hairbrush. He grinned. Yep, professional Mom. She'd thought of everything!

Clean shaven and revived, his meds finally kicking in, he emerged from the bathroom, feeling almost human. He heard Kay talking in the kitchen.

Hearing him come out, she called, "Artie! Come in here."

He walked to the kitchen doorway. A young teenage girl was kneading a dough mixture in a large bowl. Flour covered the counter top and was smudged on her shirt and face. She was a little taller than Kay with jaw length blonde hair that bounced when she moved. She had Kay's blue eyes.

"Artie, this is my daughter, Phoebe. Phoebe, this is Artie."

"...uh, it's Blair. My name's Blair."

"You remembered your name?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Just my first name. I remembered Jim calling me." He turned to Phoebe. "Hi, Phoebe."

"Hi, Blair. Sorry I can't shake your hand. You like burritos? Mom says my tortillas are a lot better then hers. Besides, she just plain hates to make them."

"Phoeb. Give it a rest, willya," Kay said. "Ar... Blair, you know, that T-shirt that says 'help, I'm talking and I can't shut up?' Well, they designed that for Phoebe."

"Mom!" Phoebe rolled her eyes.

Blair laughed. "I love burritos. Can I help? I think I'm a pretty good cook."

"That would be super."

Phoebe brushed off her hands and grabbed an elastic band off a doorknob and handed it to Blair. "Here. You can use this to pull your hair back. Tortilla dough is gross if you get it in your hair."

He took it from her and put his long hair in a ponytail. "Thanks."

"Mom," Phoebe looked at Kay. "How many tortillas should I make?"

"Do a double batch, Phoebe. Uncle Tony is coming over tonight."

"Uncle Tony! Cool!"

They were interrupted by the loud voices of two younger kids arguing.

"Mom! Lydia promised she'd play with me and now she won't! Tell her to stop lying to me!"

"Paul threw his Hot Wheel at me and hit me on the head. And he called me 'Poop Bear'!"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and Blair snickered.

Kay had to yell to be heard. "Knock it off!" She had their attention. "Paul and Lydia. This is Blair. Pretend you have manners and say hello."

Paul, a boy of about 12, was short for his age and slender. He had light brown hair and large blue eyes, a straight nose and full lips. He lifted his hand in shy wave. "Hi," he said with a big smile.

Lydia was the size of an 8-year old, but was about 10. She was very slender with Kay's blue eyes and the same large smile as Paul. Her face was framed by straight brown hair. She lifted her hand also, but didn't say anything.

Blair said, "Hello, Paul. Hello, Lydia."

Kay spoke, "Since you two have so much energy, you can help fix supper. Lydia, you chop the lettuce and Paul, you can grate the cheese."

Blair asked, "May I cook the meat? I remember a real good recipe."

"That would be great! Help yourself!"

Phoebe whispered conspiratorially, "She hates to cook."

"I heard that."

"Well, it's true!"

The doorbell rang. "Get that, somebody! It's probably Tony!"

Paul and Lydia dropped their chores and scrambled to the door. Phoebe was last because she had to drop her tortillas, but she was right behind the other kids. Paul looked through the peephole and yelped because all he saw was Tony's eye looking back at him. Lydia yanked the door open, nearly knocking Paul to the floor. .

"Uncle Tony!" they all yelled and tackled him as he walked through the door. He dropped the bag he was holding and grabbed the two younger kids in a bear hug.

"Aaaaaaaagh! Help! Monsters! Get 'em off! Get 'em off!," he yelled laughing. Just as he untangled them from his waist, Phoebe tackled him with her flour and dough covered hands, smearing the goo on his face and hair. "Hey! Hey! Not the hair! Not the hair! Yuck! What is that?"

"That's your supper, Uncle Tony!" she yelled, giggling.

"Alright! This means war!" Tony grabbed her waist and pulled her to the floor. Then, he sat on her back and started to tickle her. She screamed and laughed, kicking the floor, trying to reach behind her to grab him.

"Stop! Stop! Noooo! I give up! I'm gonna puke! Heeelllp!"

"Say Uncle!"

"Help!"

"Say Uncle!"

"I'm gonna puke!"

"Say Uncle!"

"Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!"

He tickled her another five seconds for good measure, then let her up.

Blair watched in delight from the kitchen. "I'd say he likes kids."

"That's because he never grew up," Kay said laughingly, as Tony stumbled through the door with the kids trailing behind him.

"Chasing bad guys all day is easier than wrestling with these kids, Kay!" Tony said.

"They learned everything they know from you, Tony."

Tony sniffed the air appreciatively, as he took several items from his bag and stuffed them in the freezer. "Mmm. Kay! That smells great! New recipe?"

"Blair did it. Maybe he's a chef instead of a cop?"

"Blair? Did we pick a new name?"

Blair said, "I remembered my first name." He told them about his memory in the shower.

"Tony, I didn't get a chance to tell Blair the stuff you wanted me to. Why don't you two go talk in the living room while the kids and I finish supper?" Kay said

The two men moved to the other room to talk. Blair was on the sofa and Tony once again in the chair across from him.

Blair told Tony about the things he'd remembered. He contemplated telling him about his dream, but he couldn't think of anything relevant in it. Besides, he felt funny about it. He just didn't want to talk about it. It was too personal.

When he told Tony about his discovery of his pierced ear and of remembering about the earrings, Tony pulled a small, plastic bag out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Blair.

"I took a team back to the caves this afternoon. We found this." The sealed bag contained a small, silver hoop earring. Blair's hand unconsciously went to his earlobe.

"Is this yours?"

"Yeah. I had two of them."

"That's the only one we found."

"I get bugged a lot about them."

"You remember that?"

Blair nodded. "Some. Voices mostly. Some feelings. People don't like the earrings. Or the hair."

"People hate a nonconformist."

Blair handed the bag back. "I suppose you need to keep this for evidence." Tony nodded and tucked it back in his pocket.

Then Tony told Blair all that he'd told Kay earlier.

"Supper's ready!" Came the call from the kitchen.

They went into the dining room. All three kids were already seated. Blair found himself seated beside Lydia and across from Phoebe, who sat beside Paul. Tony and Kay each sat at the ends of the table.

Paul prayed for the meal. The 'Amen' said, the reaching and talking began at once.

Kay said, "The secret to building the perfect burrito is to not put too much stuff in it."

"Mom used to work at Taco Bell before she married Dad," Phoebe volunteered. "Not her top career choice."

"Hey, I was just doing what all college kids do -- trying to make a living."

"I thought college was fun."

"College was great. But you still have to pay bills."

Paul said, "I'm not going to college. I'm going to be a missionary."

"I thought you wanted to drive a silver Stingray Corvette, like Lee Stetson. You can't have a car like that if you're a missionary," said Phoebe.

"Why not?"

"It costs a lot to be a missionary because you can't have a regular job. Besides, you can't preach to poor people if you're driving an expensive sports car."

"And you should still go to college," Tony said.

Lydia spoke, "Uncle Tony, you didn't go to college."

"I went to the Police Academy. And I've taken classes here and there to help me be a better detective."

"I'm going to be a Private Investigator," said Phoebe. "I've even found schools on the Internet."

Blair asked, "What do you want to do, Lydia, when you grow up?'

"I'm going to write stories. Mom says I have a great imagination. Maybe I'll make cartoons like 'Scooby Doo' and 'The Rugrats'."

Tony ruffled her hair. "You are a rugrat."

"Mom won't let her watch Rugrats anymore because she was starting to act like Angelica," Paul said. "Angelica's a brat," he explained to Blair.

"Well, Paul thinks he's the Mutant Hamster on 'Courage the Cowardly Dog'," Lydia said.

"Hey, Lydia can do Muriel on Courage!" Paul announced. He looked at his sister. "Do it, Lydia, come on!" He coaxed. "Do the one where Muriel was turned into a baby."

The tiny ten-year-old spoke in a perfect Scottish accent that had Tony howling with laughter and pounding the table with his open palm. Blair was nearly choking on his burrito.

When everybody had recovered, Tony stood up and went to the freezer and opened the door. "Your favorite Uncle has brought, not one," ~thump~ he put one container on the table, "not two," ~thump~ "but three flavors of Baskin & Robbins Ice Cream!" ~Thump!~

Kay and Tony busied themselves with spooning ice cream into bowls and passing them around the table.

"Uncle Tony. Are you staying tonight?" Paul asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

"Yes I am, buy I'm afraid you kids are staying somewhere else tonight."

"Oh no!"

"Mom!"

"No, Uncle Tony!"

Kay silenced the protests. "You guys are going to stay with Janet from Church. I'm sorry, but Uncle Tony and I are working on a project and we'll be very busy tonight."

Paul was distressed. "Uncle Tony, I wanted to show you the new stuff I got for my snake!"

"Well, come on! You can show me while you pack!"

Blair's interest was piqued. "You have a snake?"

Paul waved his hand reassuringly. "It's okay. He's in a pet carrier. Wanna see?"

Blair smiled. "Sure!" And he followed Paul and Tony to the boy's room.

Blair loved Paul's room. It was a tribute to a healthy, active young mind. It had the basic messiness of a normal twelve-year old boy's room, but with a certain order to it. A million collections that boiled down to three main themes: cars, nature and Darth Maul. A string of white Christmas lights was strung in a strange web around the walls. The top of his bunk bed was loaded with trunks and boxes. A gun rack was holding fishing poles and hand made light sabers.

"Hey, Paul. You make these sabers?" Blair asked.

Paul smiled and nodded 'yes'. Blair returned his grin. "Way cool."

He knelt on the floor with Paul and Tony to look at the snake. It was about 18 inches long, about the thickness of a pencil. It was yellow with mottled black spots. Paul lifted a brick off the lid, then lifted the lid and reached inside to carefully pick up the snake. It slowly, carefully wrapped itself around his hand, entwining itself around Paul's fingers.

"When I first got him, it scared me that he was so jittery. I thought he was mad or something. But the Pet Shop guy said that Banana King Snakes are hyper when they're happy. That's what kind he is. A Banana King. See how he's getting hyper now?" The snake was moving faster now, winding itself in and out of the fingers that held him, bumping its head against Paul's hand. "That means he likes me." He held it out to Blair. "Wanna hold him? He's gentle."

"Yeah. Cool." Blair touched Paul's fingers to his own and the snake slid to Blair's fingers.

Tony watched the boy and the young man, observing the easy interaction between the two. "Say, Paul. Why don't you two play while I pack for you?"

Paul smirked at Blair. "Uncle Tony doesn't like snakes."

"Hey, I like 'em fine as long as they stay on their side of the room and I stay on mine."

Kay took the kids to Janet's while Tony cleaned the supper mess. Blair wanted to help but Tony could tell he was wiped out and in pain.

"Time for medicine, Blair. Why don't you just sit and keep me company while I work?" He gave Blair his medication and a cup of hot tea.

"Tomorrow you can have coffee," he promised.

"'S okay. I like tea. Thanks, Tony." Blair sat at the kitchen table, facing the detective.

Tony put a C.D. in a small stereo on the kitchen counter and turned it on. Blair heard the sounds of classic 70's rock drift from the speakers. Tony turned the volume down to the level of background noise and started filling the sink with dish water.

"Any other memories?" Tony asked Blair.

"Nothing new. Sorry."

"What do most of your memories consist of?"

"Jim."

"Last name?"

"Not yet."

"Tell me what you know about him."

"We live together. We work together. Our boss's name is Simon. Jim calls me 'Chief'."

"Is he a cop?"

"Dunno."

"Do you remember Simon?"

"No." Blair gave a frustrated sigh.

"Okay. Now tell me what you feel about Jim."

Blair thought a moment. "He's my brother. Protects me. Takes care of me. He's older than I am. Big guy. Strong. Intimidating."

"To you?"

Blair paused. He saw an image of himself being held by the front of his shirt up against a wall. "...hippie, witch...punk...shakedown..." Desperate anger in the face before him. Blair gasped.

"What!?"

"I remember his face! Jim's face! When we first met, I think." He laughed softly. "Don't think he liked me much. He was really stressed."

"What does he look like?"

"Short, dark hair. Military short. Blue eyes. Lighter than mine. Icy blue. Chiseled features. Chin and jaws like Bruce Wayne."

"Could you do a composite on him?"

"Yes."

"He's probably not your brother. Not if your first meeting was as adults."

Blair shrugged. "I don't think it matters."

"What do you mean?"

"The feelings. The closeness between us. As strong as brothers." He suddenly put his head down to rest in his open palms. "I'm sorry. I think I need to quit for awhile."

Tony hooked his hand under Blair's arm. "C'mon, let's get you into the living room."

Blair talked as Tony steered him to the sofa. "Man, this really sucks. Ow. Everything hurts. Walking hurts, breathing hurts." He looked sideways at Tony. "Sorry, man. I don't mean to complain. I really appreciate everything you and Kay are doing to help me. All the trouble. The time. Money. Clothes. Shoes." He sank to the sofa. "Crap. Ow. Thanks, Tony." He breathed deep and slow. His right arm on the sofa's arm rest, he again rested his head in his hand, not daring to look up at Tony.

The older man knew he was struggling to contain the emotions that were constantly close to the surface. "It's okay, Blair. Like I said before, it's reaction. PTSD stuff. I'll be right back." He left the room.

Blair knew that Tony was giving him time and privacy to pull himself together and he appreciated it.

Blair heard the phone ring and Tony pick up on the cordless phone. "Hello? Hey, Ray. Any news? What? You're kidding." Tony's voice faded as he walked into the kitchen.

Blair's fatigue, full stomach, Tony' low voice muted by distance and the back ground sound of the CD worked together to lull the young man into the soft darkness of oblivion. He slept.

Blair looked around the room he was in and realized he was back home. The walls around him were colorful with warm earth tones. Green, with blue, yellow and red. He was lying on the cream colored sofa when Jim walked through the front door and tossed his keys, wallet and badge in the basket beside the door.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said with a smile. "Good to see you." He sat on the other end of the sofa.

Blair sat up and grabbed Jim's arms. "Jim! Oh man, I missed you! Where've you been?"

"Hey. Hey. It's okay, Blair. I missed you, too," he said, patting Blair's shoulder.

Then someone Blair couldn't see grabbed him, pulling him away from Jim. Blair tightened him grip on Jim's arms. "No! Jim, help me! Don't let go, Jim! Don't let me go!" He screamed, reaching and desperately grabbing for Jim, feeling himself being pulled farther and farther away into cold blackness.

Blair was in a cave. He was bound with shackles, sitting helpless in a dentist chair. A blond man was standing over him. Then the man's face changed. Blair looked at his hands and saw that the rust covered shackles were now blood covered twine, biting raw wounds into the skin of his wrists. He was now sitting in an old kitchen chair. He looked backup at the face before him.

The first face had been paler, fuller. His blond hair had been longer and his eyes insane. These eyes were mean, spiteful, vicious, but definitely sane. This face was darker, angular. The strong fingers were digging into Blair's face, adding deep bruises to those already made by the tight gag.

Speaking through tightly clenched teeth, the face, just inches from his own snarled, "You ruined my life. Just couldn't leave keep your nose out of my business. Well, now you're going to pay."

Blair was pulled from his nightmare by Tony's strong hand on his arm. He lay, gasping, trying to slow his violently beating heart. He was still on the sofa, but was lying down. His head was on a feather pillow and he was covered with a comforter and a quilt. His shoes had been removed.

Tony was sitting on the floor beside the sofa, his hand still on Blair's arm. "Take it easy, kid. Nice and slow."

"...Tony..." he swallowed.

"Bad dream?"

Blair nodded and sat up. Tony moved to sit beside him. The detective spoke quietly. "Tell me about it." Blair looked at him, his eyes hesitant, fearful. "It might be important," Tony said. He laid his hand on the young man's shoulder in a gesture of support.

Taking a shaky breath, Blair spoke, his voice little more than a whisper. "I saw him. I saw who... had me."

"You remember his face?" Blair nodded. "Tell me everything," Tony said grimly.

Blair told about being home. About Jim. Jim's badge.

"A badge?" Tony asked.

"Detective's badge."

Then Blair told him about being dragged away from Jim.

"You remember who it was?"

"I remember his face." He described the cave, the face, the shackles and chair. He told about the transformation of the face. He described the second face, the rage in his voice. "That's when you woke me up." Blair was silent for a moment. "I dreamed about the first man this afternoon. I... uh... didn't tell you because it was... I didn't want..."

"It was too private and you didn't think it mattered."

"Yes," Blair breathed, relieved.

"And now it matters."

"I dreamed about him twice, now. It must mean something. Maybe it was a pivotal point in my life. A vital clue to who I am."

"Was there anything in the first dream that wasn't in the second?"

"I said something strange."

"Strange?"

"Yeah. I told him, 'You can't be me'."

Tony thought a moment. "The second man. Was he the one who had you in the cave?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure of it."

"Do you know if he's good with computers?"

"Computers?"

Tony looked at him. "The phone call I got earlier was from the station. Nothing came up on your prints."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing came up because they didn't go through. The search was interrupted. Blocked. Other prints were run through to make sure it wasn't a computer glitch. All the others went through and were identified. Yours were blocked. He's looking for you, Blair. And he's good enough to block FBI computer files. He's probably guessed you've been found. And it's only a matter of time before he finds you again.

"In the morning, we'll go back to the station and put together composites of the men in your dreams and of Jim. And I think that it'll be best if we stay at my place tomorrow night. We've been checking missing persons reports for you, but if he's blocking print files, he's probably blocking those, too."

"So, it's up to me. My memory."

"Yes. Your memory is coming back quickly. I hope it's quick enough."

Knowing there was little chance of Blair getting back to sleep, Tony decided he might as well try to get more information out of him. And it might prove therapeutic, as well. "But first," he said aloud, "It's medicine time." He retrieved the prescription bottles and water and gave Blair's pills to him. Then Tony returned to his place beside the young man.

"Blair, tell me about your home."

Blair closed his eyes, trying to see it in his mind. "We call it the loft. Because it's high up. Spacious. Dark green walls. Like in a forest. Brick trim. Tall windows. And there's a balcony. It overlooks the city. At night, the city lights stretch out like stars in the sky." He was still for a moment. "I can smell the ocean from the balcony." He was quiet, remembering.

Tony watched Blair, knowing that in his mind, right now, the younger man was home, standing on the balcony with Jim. He saw peace on Blair's face. That it was without pain and worry for the first time since he saw him two days ago. Gently, he touched Blair's shoulder. Blair blinked his eyes and looked up at the older man, awareness slowly returning to his eyes. "I was there. I was home. I could see and hear and smell it all."

Quietly, Tony asked, "You live in the city? Somewhere on the coast?"

"Yes."

"The first man in your dreams. Did he abduct you at home?"

The pain returned to Blair's face. "Yes."

"Do you know his name?"

"No."

"Tell me what you know about him."

Blair looked away. "He was a serial killer. I was his last intended victim."

"What happened to stop him?"

Blair clenched his hands. "Jim shot him."

"Is he dead?"

"Jim emptied his gun into his chest. Five shots."

"Are you sure he's dead?"

"Yes!" Blair raised his voice. Then, remembering it was the middle of the night, quickly hushed himself. He continued in a quiet, but still slightly hysterical voice. "He won't stay dead in my dreams. Keeps coming back." He rubbed his face as though to rub away the memory. "But I know he's dead."

"Tell me about the second man."

Blair stood up and walked to the picture window. Keeping his back to Tony, he continued answering his questions. "I don't know. I see his face, hear his voice, but I don't know who he is."

"Do you know why he abducted you?"

"No. Apparently, I ruined his life somehow."

"Did he abduct you at home?"

"No." He thought a moment. "On my way to the parking lot."

"What parking lot?"

"At the... at the U." He turned around excitedly. "The University!"

"What University?"

Blair lifted his hand in frustration and shook his head. He walked back to the sofa and dropped down on it.

"Tell me about being abducted from the University," Tony said.

Blair pulled his knees up to his chest. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he rested his chin on top of his knees. "It was at night. The parking lot had a few lights, but was still pretty dark. It must have been late because there was no one else around. I was getting my keys out of my pack when I heard footsteps running up behind me. I turned around and saw at least two figures rushing at me. I was ambushed. Didn't see anything. Couldn't even see their faces. Knocked me out cold. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital with a monster headache."

"When you stopped to get your keys out, do you remember what kind of car you were next to?"

Blair shook his head.

"How big were your attackers?"

Blair shrugged. "Bigger 'n me. That's not saying much."

"I'd say your captor has a personal vendetta against you. Your injuries served no purpose except to inflict pain and fear. He knew you from before. Are you a student? A teacher?" Blair shrugged and closed his eyes tiredly. Tony put his hand on Blair's back. "That's enough for now, Blair. Go back to sleep."

Nodding gratefully, Blair lay back down on the sofa and allowed Tony to pull the blankets back over him. He noticed Tony lying down on the floor beside the sofa. He looked over the edge of the sofa and, for the first time saw a pallet on the floor. "Have you been here all night?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you sleep in one of the bedrooms?"

"We didn't want to have to move you after you fell asleep and I wanted to be close to the front door. Besides, I figured you'd be having nightmares. Thought you'd need someone around."

"Sorry you ended up on the floor, man."

Tony waved it off. "It's good for my back."

"Thanks, Tony."

"Go to sleep, Kid."

The two men slept the rest of the night in peace.

Blair woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of the shower running. He looked down at the floor to see Tony still asleep. Careful not to tread on the older man or make any noise to wake him, Blair got up and walked into the kitchen.

The coffee smelled wonderful. He figured Kay must be showering. Going against what he felt was deeply ingrained training to not impose upon people, he located the coffee mugs and, choosing one for himself, poured it full of coffee.

Moving too quickly, the pain in his ribs reminded him to take his medication. That done, Blair picked up the mug and walked back into the living room. Choosing a rocking chair beside the picture window, he sat down and let the beauty of the early morning darkness outside flow over him.

Below him, he could see the fuzzy glow of street lamps easing the darkness like a row of night lights. It had started to snow in the night. The new snow covered everything, making the ground and trees look soft and clean. Big, fat snowflakes were still falling from the sky. It was the kind of snow that insulated everything, muffling sound and creating a feeling of safe isolation from everything around you. The young man watched patterns of flakes swirling in the light of the street lamps. He was caught up in the perfect, fairytale effect of it.

Blair didn't notice that Tony had awakened and was silently watching him. As Blair was caught up in the beauty of the snowfall, Tony was caught up in the peaceful joy of Blair's face. It was the same look as when he'd been remembering his home earlier that morning. The detective quietly got up and stood behind Blair, his hand on the back of the chair.

"Enjoying the view?" He asked, his voice soft and low.

"It takes me away."

"Does it snow at home?"

"Yes."

"Does Jim like snow?"

"Yeah. He likes winter. We keep the loft cool. Helps him think better." He was silent a moment. "I wish I could remember more about him."

"You remember more about him every time I talk to you. You're remembering more about everything, but most of it centers around Jim. I think Jim is the key to your memory. The key to your life."

Showers taken, bandages changed, Tony, Kay and Blair were eating breakfast. Blair was enjoying a second cup of coffee.

"Kay, you make wonderful coffee! You could work for Starbuck's."

Tony laughed. "Folgers has erected a monument to Kay. She loves her coffee."

Kay smiled. "When the weather service predicts a snowstorm, the first thing I do is make sure I have plenty of coffee on hand."

"So, what's the plan for today?" asked Blair.

"We go to the station and do those composites. The other two probably have arrest records. But I think it's vital that we find Jim. Then, if you're up to it, we'll take a walk through the cave." Blair nodded slowly.

Tony liked this kid ('man', he corrected himself ) . Even knowing Blair was around thirty, it was hard to keep from thinking of him as a 'kid'. There was something about him. Not just his size or the long hair. He had an air of innocence and trust. An interest in the world around him. It was something that was hard to put his finger on. He didn't shirk from facing things. Even when he was scared, he didn't back down or look away. The kid (whoops-'man') had guts.

"Kay," Tony spoke. "Can you and the kids stay at Janet's again tonight?"

"I imagine so."

"Make arrangements for them to go there directly after school." She nodded. Tony continued. "I think we should stay at my place tonight."

"Why?" Kay asked.

Tony's eyes flicked to Blair. "This guy's got something personal in for Blair. He's dangerous. He's smart. I think it's safer at my house."

"Alright, Tony. But call me tonight." She stood up. "I'd better get things ready." She left the room.

Tony and Blair were in Tony's car headed for the station. Kay had called her friend, making arrangements for the night, then packed for the kids and herself, before going to work.

Some of Blair's soreness and stiffness was easing up, but Tony still insisted on taking the elevator. That Blair fell asleep two minutes after leaving Kay's gave testament to his still fragile condition. Tony let him sleep. With nightmares and the soon-to-be expected insomnia, he figured the kid (he'd given up trying not to call him 'kid') needed all the sleep he could get.

Tony told Kay he'd call her that evening, but told her not to be calling him. He gave instructions not to tell even the hospital where she was staying. He took every precaution to lessen the chances of Blair being found. This nut who was after Blair would eventually track him to Kay and then to Tony.

It made Tony mad that a person couldn't offer help to someone without taking a risk to their lives anymore. He knew Blair was probably feeling a lot of guilt about all this. He planned to have a talk with him about it soon.

That evening at Tony's house, an exhausted Blair was sacked out in a recliner, well covered with several afghan's. Tony reclined beside him, watching T.V. and waiting. Blair had tried to stay awake with him, but it had been a long and difficult day, full of emotional upheaval, which had left the young man physically and mentally wiped out.

At the station, he and Blair had put together the composites of Jim and Blair's two adversaries. Whatever clever forces had blocked access to Blair's print I.D. was also blocking any information to Jim and to Blair's most recent captor.

However, they had identified the former. The serial killer. The one who had abducted Blair from his own home. His name was David Lash.

It was a good thing Blair had been sitting down when the file downloaded onto the computer. First the name, then the face. Tony looked quickly at the man beside him. Blair's face turned gray and he broke out in a sweat. Tony was afraid he was going to pass out and he clapped a hand on the kid's shoulder to steady him.

There was nothing in the file about any of the victims. It was a closed file to protect the privacy of the victims and their families. That was probably why Tony was able to access it. Because Blair's identity had been withheld.

Tony got cold chills reading the file about the killer's M.O. and history. Lash had been killed during the rescue of his intended fifth victim. The rescue had been led by Detective James Ellison of Cascade P.D. in Cascade, Washington. The kid was a heck of a long way from home.

A crash brought Tony back to the present. Blair had passed out cold.

When Blair came to in the infirmary, he remembered everything about Lash's attack. But he still remembered nothing else about Jim Ellison or his own life.

Tony thought Ellison was still the key to unlocking Blair's mind. And who was Blair's enemy who was so smart or whatever, that he could block police computer files?

They had tried to call Ellison. But they couldn't get through to Cascade. The beautiful snowfall of the night before had been the edge of a blizzard in the state of Washington, causing downed power lines and black out conditions. Until power and communication was restored, all Tony could do was to protect Blair until they found Ellison.

After a quick phone call to Kay, he had bundled a shaky Blair into his car and took him home. Now that they'd found out about Ellison, Tony figured the cave could wait. He didn't think the kid was quite up to it.

They drove in silence. Tony lived on the edge of town, about 30 minutes away. Tony always enjoyed the drive to and from the P.D. It helped clear the cobwebs. Blair's brain was clogged with cobwebs, but Tony could see by the look on the young man's face that the cobwebs weren't clearing. If anything, they were getting worse.

"You okay there, Blair?" He asked carefully.

"I don't know," he said quietly, looking out the window. He closed his eyes, as if to shut out the world. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

Blair shrugged angrily. "What? I dunno. Of never knowing. Of finding out and not liking what I find out. Of hoping too much then only to lose it. Or maybe after I learn everything, I still won't remember it!" He looked at Tony. "Like Jim. I see his face! I have memories of conversations with him, of him saving me from David Lash. I saw his name. I read that he's a Cascade P.D. Detective! I thought knowing all that would make me remember, but I don't! I still don't remember him! I feel him, but I don't remember him! I don't remember me! But I remember Lash, of all people!"

Blair suddenly cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists. "Lash's memory won't go away. He keeps coming back. He wanted to be me. To assume my life. Well, he couldn't be me, but in a way, he did take my life. My life is out of my reach and Lash is all I remember!" His trembling hands brushed angrily at the tears that trickled down his face.

Tony listened to his harsh, ragged breathing. He realized that Blair was on the verge of a panic attack. He put his hand on Blair's arm to ground him and pull him back to the here and now. "Take slow, deep breaths, Blair. In. Out. Smooth rhythm." Blair struggled to breathe, but it wasn't working.

"Stop... stop the... car... Tony... please!" He gasped. "I can't... I can't..."

Tony pulled off the road and stopped as quickly as possible. Blair threw the door open, jerked his seat belt off and stumbled out of the car. Tony jumped out and, running around the front of the car, reached Blair in time to catch the young man as he sank to his knees in the grass.

Clutching Blair's arms, Tony supported him as he fought to catch his breath. "Easy, Blair. Easy. I know everything's crashing in on you here, but you've got to breathe." Tony was thankful that they were on a remotely traveled road. Tony continued to hold Blair tightly, talking in a low, soothing voice. "Give it up, Blair. It's gonna be alright. We're gonna get through this. Okay? It'll be okay. You're not alone. I won't leave you alone."

Finally, after many long minutes, the fear and despair momentarilydissipated, Blair had his control back and was able to breath again. Weak and in pain from his emotional breakdown, he accepted Tony's help getting to his feet and back into the car.

Blair jerked awake, his eyes flicking back and forth, his breathing fast and shallow. He tried to grasp the lingering dream that had awakened him.

Three or four large men jumped out of a car to attack him, knocking him to the ground. He saw one of them coming at him with a baseball bat. The guy swung it back to take aim at Blair when suddenly Jim was there. Jim.

Blair was tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of crying. Tired of having memories with no connections, no answers.

He sat up and looked around him. Ow. Ribs. He remembered arriving at Tony's after totally shattering on the side of the road. What must the cop think of him? But Blair knew that Tony thought no less of him. 'It's normal, Blair. Just reaction.' he'd said. Normal. Whatever that means.

He remembered Tony practically carrying him into the house and, after making him take his medication, putting him to bed. He couldn't believe his breakdown on the way here had weakened him so much. He had been totally wiped out.

He slowly pushed himself out of the bed and, feeling like an old man, walked slowly from the room to find Tony.

The Detective lived in a typical bachelor's house. However, Blair observed residual touches of feminine detail. Perhaps the older man had been married and divorced or widowed. The furniture was practical and comfortable. It reminded him a little of the loft. There were a few pictures of fishing trips and such. Photos of Kay's kids, etc. A small table in the hallway held a sports trophy. Blair assumed it was baseball since a ball cap with a 'White Sox' emblem hung on the wall above it. There was also a wooden baseball bat on the floor, leaning against the table.

Blair was slowly making his way through the living room when Tony stepped out of the kitchen. "Hey, Blair. Come on in." Something on the stove was simmering.

Blair sniffed the air as he sat down at the table. "Smells good. Like potato soup."

"Actually, it's creamy potato and cauliflower. With about a pound of Velveeta in it."

"Sounds great. I'm starving."

"Blair, I have good news."

"Did you get hold of Jim?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes. He's taking a flight out of Cascade tonight. He's coming to get you." He watched Blair carefully. "To take you home."

Tony thought of the phone call he'd made while Blair had been asleep.

"Cascade P.D." A pleasant female voice answered the phone.

"Detective James Ellison, please."

A line picked up. "Ellison." The no-nonsense voice sounded tense, on edge. Tony figured the guy had to be frantic.

"Detective James Ellison?"

"That's what I said," he snapped.

"My name is Detective Tony Davis from Chicago P.D."

"What can I do for you, Detective?" Impatience barely held back.

"Do you know a young man named Blair?"

"Sandburg?!"

"He doesn't know his last name. I'm afraid he has amnesia."

"Amnesia? You know where he is?"

"Actually, he's here. At my house."

"He's there in Chicago? How in the world did he end up... is he okay? Let me talk to him!"

"I'm sorry, Detective. He's asleep. He had a pretty hard day and I don't want to wake him."

On his end, Jim closed his eyes and leaned his head on his hand. "Detective. Maybe you'd better tell me everything."

So, Tony told him. About Blair's barefoot run through the snow-covered woods and being hit by a car. About waking up in the hospital, not knowing who he was, but dreaming about Jim. He told him about Kay's kindness and how she got him involved in the mystery. Tony told Jim about Blair's injuries, and all of Blair's memories and dreams. When Tony told of the dream of Blair's abduction from the loft, Jim cut in on his words.

"Lash! David Lash." He said tiredly.

"Yeah, we found the files on him."

"Of all the bad stuff that has happened to him, he would remember that one." Voice straining with emotion, he continued. "I almost didn't make it in time. It's his worst recurring nightmare."

"You're sure he's dead?"

"Emptied my gun into his chest. Trust me, he's dead. For everyone except Blair."

"Do you know who his abductor was this time?" Tony then told Ellison about Blair's dreams and memories of the cave. He also told him about the computer blocks on Blair's prints and the composites. He explained his theory of the perp being a computer whiz and someone from Blair's past with a personal grudge.

"Blair remembers his face?"

"Yes." Tony described the face in Blair's nightmare.

Jim sighed. "Yeah. I think I know who it is. Brad Ventriss. Spoiled rich kid from Sandburg's Anthropology class. He was stealing corporate secrets from his dad's business clients. Ventriss accidentally killed a guy during a job."

"Class? Blair's a student?"

"Teacher."

"Teacher? I figured he was a cop. Knows the ropes too well."

"Well, he's sort of my partner... it's a long story."

"I'll bet." Tony said, dryly. "Why does Ventriss have a personal beef with Blair?"

"Blair wouldn't let Ventriss' dad's money intimidate him. He gave Ventriss a failing grade for trying to pass a bought paper. Blair also pursued a rape accusation against Ventriss. He nearly got fired from his teaching position for refusing to 'compromise'. If Blair hadn't brought Ventriss' actions out in the open, it may all have been swept under the rug. Sandburg's stubborn as a mule. Never would back down from a fight if he knew he was right. Even if it would kill him."

Yep, Tony definitely liked this kid.

Jim continued. "Anyway, we caught Ventriss and his girlfriend trying to leave the country. High priced lawyers and an idiot jury let him go scotfree. Apparently, he was ruined enough to want revenge." Jim tried not to think about what the vicious, spiteful brat may have done to Blair.

"Is he okay?" Jim asked. "I mean relatively?"

"Yeah, Detective. He's okay. We're taking care of him. He's pretty stressed. I think he'd really like to see you."

"I thought he couldn't remember anything."

"There's one constant in his life right now. One memory that keeps coming out and that is you, Ellison. You are the center of every dream and memory he's had since he woke up in the hospital three days ago. You're the key to his memory and I'll bet to his life. Come get your partner, Ellison. Take him home."

"Take me home? Do I really belong there? Does he really want..."

"Listen, Blair. The man I spoke to over the phone was so tightly wound before I told him about you that I thought he was gonna snap. Then, after I told him, he sounded so relieved he could barely talk. As soon as he can get a flight, he'll be here. He said to tell you not to worry. He'll rent a car to drive back home. Apparently, you have a 'thing' about heights."

Blair laughed nervously. "This is stupid. Tony, I'm scared."

Tony clasped his hand on Blair's shoulder as he set a bowl of soup before him. "Normal reaction, Blair. Eat your soup."

Blair ate slowly. "What did he tell you about me?"

"Your name is Blair Sandburg. You teach Anthropology at Rainier University in Cascade. You're also an 'observer' at Cascade P.D., but Ellison called you his partner. I'll give myself a headache trying to figure that one out," he said, looking pointedly at Blair. "Any of this coming back to you?" Tony raised his eyebrows at the young man.

Blair shrugged. "Feels right. But that's all." He sipped strong, sweet tea. "Does he know who abducted me?"

"He thinks it's a rich brat named Brad Ventriss." Tony filled him in on what Jim had told him. "Any of this clicking?"

"No," Blair said, shaking his head. "Not sure I want it to."

"Unfortunately, it probably will in time. All of it."

"So Ventriss blames me."

"Apparently so. We have to assume he's still after you. He's smart, Blair. And people talk. We have to expect that he'll eventually track you down here. That's why I had Kay and the kids leave their house."

"Not that I don't appreciate being here, Tony, but shouldn't I be in a safe house or something?"

"To be perfectly arrogant, Blair, I can keep you safer here, in my own house, than a couple of suits in a safe house can. I'm the best the P.D. has. Maybe the best in the city."

Blair smiled. "Really?"

"Really." Tony nodded at Blair's empty bowl. "Want a refill?"

"No, thanks. It's really good, but I'm full. Did Jim know when he'd arrive?"

"No. He hadn't even made any arrangements at all when we spoke. He had to clear his schedule for the next several days. He also had to find an empty seat on the earliest flight possible. He said he'd call as soon as he could tell us something. Meanwhile, can you shoot a gun?"

Blair looked surprised. "I think so. I'd rather not, though."

"I'd rather you didn't either, but just in case, I want to know you can if you have to. Ventriss doesn't sound like someone who can be reasoned with."

Tony let Blair help with the clean up this time. He noticed Blair holding his ribs and treading carefully on his sore feet. "Medicine time, Kid." He grabbed the prescription bottles from the top if the refrigerator and handed them and a glass of water to the young man.

Clean up finished, they went into the living room. Tony gestured for Blair to sit in the recliner.

"Man, this sucks. I hate being sick," Blair complained as he eased himself carefully onto the cushions.

"You cold?" Tony asked.

"No, I'm alright."

Tony dropped a couple of afghans over him.

The warmth of the heavy fabric felt good. "Thanks, Tony."

Tony flipped on the TV and handed Blair the remote control. "I'll be right back." He left the room.

Blair flipped through the channels. "Cool. 'Starsky and Hutch'." He watched TV for a few minutes. When Tony returned to the room, Blair saw that the Detective was holding a gun. He also noticed that Tony was wearing a shoulder holster with another gun in it. He gave a half smile. "Be prepared, man."

Tony returned the smile, then was serious. He held out the extra gun. "This is for you to use if we need it. I'm guessing you don't like guns. I'm also guessing that you know how to use one anyway, since you're Ellison's partner. I'm laying it beside you on the table just in case."

"Thanks, man."

Tony turned to the TV. "Cool. 'Starsky and Hutch'". He sat on the sofa beside Blair and they watched TV for awhile. Then Tony got up to make coffee. He brought two cups in and handed one to Blair.

"Decaf?" Blair asked.

"Regular. I figured you deserve a treat." Blair took a careful sip and closed his eyes in pleasure as he savored the warmth and full flavor of the beverage. Tony watched him and grinned. "I know what to get you for Christmas."

"Beverage of the gods," Blair gushed.

Tony looked back at the TV. "Hey look. Baretta's on."

The men settled back to enjoy another hour of entertainment. Forty-five minutes later, in spite of the coffee, Blair was sound asleep. An injured body needed a lot of sleep to heal and Blair was going to be a long time recovering.

Tony got up quietly and checked the house. Doors, windows, locks, air vents, leaving no crack uncovered. Unable to relax, he stood beside the window and watched the night. The TV little more than background noise, he had his hearing tuned in to the sounds of the house and outside. Just a regular stakeout.

The cell phone rang, making him jump. He hurried into the kitchen so as not to wake Blair.

"Davis," he said into the phone.

"Davis, this is Jim Ellison."

"When does your flight leave, Ellison?"

"Actually, I'm already in Chicago. I was able to get a seat on a flight at the last minute due to a cancellation, and I didn't have time to call before departure."

"My house is on the other side of town. Depending on traffic, it'll take forty to sixty minutes to get here. Let me give you directions."

After listening to Tony's instructions, Jim asked, "How's Blair? Can I talk to him?"

"He's better than he was earlier. He's asleep again."

"Don't wake him. He doesn't sleep well as it is when things are bad. We'll talk later." Jim took a deep breath. "Davis, I just wanted to thank you folks for everything you've done for Blair - -- for us."

"All part of the job, Ellison."

"No. This goes beyond the job, Detective. And please call me Jim."

"Only if you call me Tony. Now, get your tail out here. The kid's waiting for you."

"See you soon." The line disconnected.

Tony walked back into the living room just as the cell phone rang again. Quickly, he ducked back into the kitchen. "Davis."

It was Kay. "Tony! I just got a call from the P.D. They had called the hospital looking for me. My apartment's been broken into!"

"Where are you?"

"I'm still at Janet's. Nothing much has been touched. Looks like someone crashed the door open, walked through, then left. Nothing's been stolen."

"Chances are, he knows our friend is with us and he's on his way here now. I gotta go. Don't you leave Janet's. Call the P.D. back and tell them everything. I'm gonna call for backup."

Tony hung up and made the call to C.P.D. Gun in hand, he hurried back to the living room. He turned off the TV and nudged Blair awake.

"Tony," Blair said sleepily. "Is 'Baretta' over?"

"Wake up, Blair. Things are happening." The Detective turned off the living room lights and moved to the window, peering through the closed blinds.

"Come sit beside me, Blair." He indicated a straight-backed chair against the wall. Carrying the gun Tony had given him, the young man complied. After a few minutes, Tony looked down at Blair. "How you doing down there?"

"I'm wishing I hadn't had that cup of coffee," he said lightly. "It was great, but coffee goes right through me, man."

"Now's as good a time as any. Just stay low and in the shadows. Can you do the job in less than two minutes?"

"I'll do it in one! I can wash my hands later."

"Good boy."

Blair left and was back in just over a minute. "How'd I do?"

"67 seconds."

"You timed me?"

Tony laughed. "I'm a professional."

"See anything?" Blair asked.

"Saw some shadows moving."

"Do you think it's Ventriss?"

"If it's him, he has friends."

"What can I do?"

"Stay alert and don't be afraid to shoot."

Suddenly, the window next to Tony exploded. He and Blair dropped to the floor simultaneously. Tony lifted his head just enough to look at Blair. "You okay?"

"Peachy! As soon as I get my heart rate back to normal."

"This would be a good time for back up to arrive. Follow me," Tony commanded.

Sticking close to the wall and in the shadows, the two men crawled into the hallway. They stopped next to a small table and sat up with their backs against the wall. Tony listened to Blair's labored breathing. "How are your ribs?"

"Fine," he answered in a strained voice.

"Yeah, right," Tony said dryly. "You don't have to be so brave, kid."

"I'm not brave. I'm practical. Pain is impractical right now. I'm fine."

They heard a sharp crack and the window in the room at the right end of the hallway shattered.

"Jackasses!" Tony said through clenched teeth. "Windows cost a fortune to replace."

"I'm glad I already went to the bathroom. Or else I'd be really embarrassed right about now!" Blair joked.

Tony looked incredulously at the man next to him. "You always deal this well with pressure? You know, 'laugh in the face of danger'?"

"It sure beats the alternative."

"What's the alternative?"

"Crying, screaming, peeing my pants," Blair suggested .

Tony snickered. Then another shot split the air as a window on the other side of the house erupted. Tony cursed. "We're surrounded! Backup response time sucks. If I survive tonight, I'm gonna turn in a complaint."

They heard noises at the broken windows. Tony grabbed Blair's arm and pulled him up. With their backs to the wall, they both pulled off shots toward the opposite ends of the house.

Tony yelled in surprise as the force of a bullet threw him against the wall.

"Tony! Where are you hit?"

"Keep shooting! Keep shooting!" He commanded through his agony, never ceasing his own firing.

Then the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed against Blair's left temple at the same time that he heard the gun being cocked. "Stop. Right. There. Sandburg." Said the voice of Blair's nightmares.

Blair swallowed, but kept his voice steady. "Brad Ventriss." He glanced at Tony. The cop was slumped against the wall, holding his shoulder. The blood was already soaking his shirt.

Ventriss followed Blair's gaze to Tony, never moving the gun from Blair's head. "Give me your gun, Detective."

Tony glared at Ventriss, but didn't move. Brad pushed his gun harder into Blair's head. "Now," he growled through gritted teeth.

Slowly, Tony handed his gun to Ventriss. Brad snickered as he took the weapon and threw it across the floor. "Good boy," he said, gleefully. "Now yours, Sandburg." Blair threw his gun in the same direction. He watched longingly as it slid across the floor, coming to rest about a foot short of where Tony's lay.

"Where are your 'friends', Ventriss?" Tony asked.

Ventriss laughed. "Hey, you know, you guys are pretty good. You took them both down! That's why I stayed out of the way until the very last."

"What do you want, Brad?" Blair asked.

Keeping the gun pressed against the shorter man's head, Ventriss grabbed Blair's arm and pulled him further away from Tony. Shoving his back against the wall, Brad grabbed Blair's face, digging his fingers deep into the bruised skin. "I want you, Sandburg! You're unfinished business. I'm really sorry we were interrupted in the caves. You're quite a runner! I'd rather pick up where we left off, but I guess I'm just gonna have to kill you now!"

"Why?" Blair asked angrily. "Why are you doing this? You were set free!"

"My dad disowned me after the trial! Nobody will hire me now. If you'd just kept your nose out of my business..."

Blair knew he wouldn't be able to talk his way of this. And Ventriss would kill Tony, too. As he listened to Brad running his big mouth, Blair's hand brushed against the baseball bat leaning against the table and he had a plan. He was going to get Ventriss so P.O.'d, he wouldn't be able to think straight. Just like Lash.

"Ventriss, you screwed up your life all by yourself."

"Everything was fine before you..."

"Wrong! The cops were on to you even before you cheated in my class."

"They wouldn't have pursued me if it hadn't been for..."

"You'd have screwed up sooner or later, Brad. Your whole life was one big mistake after another!"

Tony was watching, knowing what Blair was up to. He tensed, waiting for the right time to move.

"Shut up!" Ventriss screamed. "Just shut up! It's all your fault! I'll make you pay!" In his rage, he pulled the gun away from Blair's head to hit him with it. Just then, Blair's arm swung up with the bat and connected solidly with Brad's shoulder, knocking him away from Blair. Brad fired his gun wildly.

When Tony saw Blair swing the bat, he grabbed the opportunity and scrambled across the floor to get Blair's gun, but was stopped when Ventriss' next bullet caught him in the leg. His vision was filled with red agony, his lungs nearly bursting with the effort to keep from screaming in pain and helplessness.

Ventriss backed up, keeping them both in his sight. Blair didn't dare move with Tony as Brad's new target. "Back off, both of you! Don't either of you move. I don't care which of you I kill first." He smiled evilly and pointed the gun at Blair. "I choose you, of course. Not that I wouldn't love to see your face when I kill your buddy here. But I don't want to take any more chances of you getting away. A man's gotta have priorities."

Blair's tired, pain-filled brain was trying desperately to think. He heard the gun cock again. "Brad..." Blair jumped when he heard a deep voice from the shadows behind Ventriss.

"Drop the gun."

Blair knew that voice! The voice of his memories. He stood still, hope swelling to fill his chest so that he couldn't breathe. Blair heard another gun cock and knew that in the shadows Jim had his own gun aimed at Brad Ventriss' back.

Brad's smile faltered for a moment. The smile returned and deepened, just as Blair saw Ventriss' finger tighten on the trigger. Blair heard the explosion from Jim's gun and dropped to the floor as he saw Brad's body slam forward and crumble to the floor.

Crawling quickly to Tony's side, Blair saw a figure step from the darkness and bend down to check on Ventriss. In the midst of the chaos, Blair suddenly noticed the sirens and flashing lights of the back up forces.

"Tony! Tony, are you okay?" Blair started to press his hand on the shoulder wound to slow the bleeding.

"It's okay, Blair. The paramedics are here. Better let them take care of me." Then they were surrounded by cops and EMT's. Blair stood up and backed away, not wanting to be in the way.

"Chief."

Blair caught his breath. No. It couldn't be. He was paralyzed. Couldn't turn around. He was trembling. Oh, Jim. Help.

A large, gentle hand was on his arm, turning him around. "Blair."

He looked up into blue eyes. They were the blue of a clear winter sky. "Jim," he whispered.

Jim's eyes were agony. Full of desperate loneliness and longing. Blair knew the eyes reflected his own. Blair searched the eyes, the face, looking for the familiar.

It came suddenly, hitting Blair with the force of a violent storm. He fell to his knees. "Jim," he begged weakly, pressing his hands to his head. It felt like it was going to explode. "Jim!"

Jim was beside Blair, his arms holding onto the young man, grounding him.

Faces and places flashed through Blair's mind with the furious speed of a strobe light. He could do nothing but hold onto Jim and let Jim hold onto him. Everything around them faded until there was nothing left but Jim and himself. "Jim, it hurts! Help me," he sobbed, pulling himself closer to his partner.

"It's okay, Chief. It's okay. We're okay now. I won't let you go. Won't let you go."

The last few hours had been torture for Jim. Worse, even, than the last week. Knowing where Blair was with so much distance between them. Racing desperately to reach him. Knowing he'd been badly hurt and was still in danger.

As soon as he had arrived in Chicago, he stretched out his hearing, hoping to find Blair's heartbeat. He didn't pick it up until about five miles from Davis' house. And it wasn't good. Blair's heartbeat was rapid and irregular. As Jim got closer, he picked up on Blair's scared, pain-filled breathing. Ventriss was there and Davis was down. When Jim got out of the rental and ran through the yard, he could see that Ventriss' accomplices had been shot dead. Somebody was a good shot. But that little weasel, Ventriss, had survived and now had his gun pressed against his Guide's head. Jim tried not to look too closely at Blair's face, covered with bruises as it was, but he was filled with overwhelming relief to find his friend alive and whole.

Hidden in the shadows, Jim silently crawled through the front room window. Tracking the shards of glass on the floor with his Sentinel sight, he avoided stepping on them and stopped just a few feet from Ventriss. When he ordered the little psychopath to put down the gun, he really couldn't believe Ventriss had started to squeeze the trigger. If the Sentinel hadn't had his hearing turned up so far to monitor Blair's heartbeat and breathing, he wouldn't have heard the spring tightening on the trigger. Too close, Chief. Another nightmare to keep us awake at night, afraid of the dark.

But he had Blair back and Blair had his mind back. The world would be a desolate place without the mind of Blair Sandburg. And as long as they were together, they could conquer any dragons. "Never let you go,Chief," he whispered.

Tony had been taken to the hospital. The Detective had assured them he was "just peachy" and had endured much worse. Jim didn't doubt it. Ventriss was still alive but critical. Both his accomplices were dead. Lab reports would show that one was dead from Davis' gun, the other from Blair's.

The paramedics had wanted to put Blair back in the hospital, but Blair would have none of it. Besides, Jim wasn't sure he wanted to try to break the iron grip that Blair had on his arm. The Sentinel convinced the paramedics to give Blair a check up and release him into his care. Other than being totally wacko from overexertion and exhaustion, Sandburg was fine.

After giving their statements, the Sentinel and Guide headed for a nearby hotel.

Grabbing Blair's stuff, Jim wrapped his arm around the young man's shoulder. "Come on, Chief. Let's get out of here."

"Are we going home?"

"Home's pretty far away, Buddy. I don't think we're quite up to it tonight." Blair was silent. Jim continued. "We'll grab a hotel room for now. We'll go home tomorrow. How's that sound?" Blair nodded.

Jim had noticed Blair limping. On both feet. He wanted to know about it, but figured this wasn't the time to ask.

Blair winced and held his ribs when Jim helped him into the rental. Jim pulled Blair's meds out of his pocket. Davis had made sure he got them. He shook one out into his palm and held it out to Blair. "Here. I guess it's time for one of these." Blair silently took it and dry swallowed it. Jim stood looking at him for a moment, worried about the uncharacteristic silence. Shock. PTSD. Pick a symptom.

The Sentinel leaned down and put his hands on the sides of his Guide's face, his thumbs lightly brushing bruised cheeks. Tired eyes looked up at him. "Blair, let it go for now," he said softly. "I'm not gonna leave your side for awhile. Okay?" Jim held Blair's eyes a moment, then patted the young man's back and shut the door. He walked around the car to get in on the driver's side.

At the hotel, Blair wanted to take a hot shower. While he was waiting, Jim ordered Chinese take out.

When Blair came out of the bathroom, he was wearing a T-shirt and sweats. "I guess you need to rewrap my ribs, Jim," he said hesitantly. Jim thought he knew why Blair was so reluctant to have him do this. It was the moment of truth. Jim would have to see the physical evidence of what had happened to his partner during the time that they had been apart from each other.

Blair carefully pulled off his T-shirt and sat down on the edge of the nearest bed. He closed his eyes and lifted his arms, resting his hands on top of his head.

To his credit, Jim's shock and grief at the sight of Blair's abused body caused him to hesitate for only a fraction of a second. Nobody except his Guide would have noticed.

Jim carefully wrapped the battered ribs, fighting back tears. He knew he was causing his friend more pain, in spite of his efforts to be gentle. When the wrapping was completed, Blair's face was white and Jim's Sentinel touch detected a tremor in his body. Blair let out a shuddering breath and let his arms down, but kept his eyes closed. His head was down and his long hair hid most of his face. Jim waited a moment for the pain to subside.

Blair looked up when he felt Jim's hand on his upper arm. Blue eyes looked into blue eyes. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then each man's eyes mirrored the other's soul. Love, grief, relief and trust. All of these emotions shone out of the eyes of these men who were so undeniably liked to each other's souls.

Jim moved his hand up to cover the side of Blair's face, his thumb gently stroking the cuts and bruises on the young man's cheek and jaw. Blair gripped the hand that rested on his face. His face crumpled with emotion and he squeezed his eyes shut as tears ran slowly down his cheeks. "Jim..." he choked, unable to say more.

Jim pulled Blair's head to his shoulder and put his arms around him. "S'okay, Chief. I know. I know."

Blair pulled slowly away from Jim. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm so tired. I... I don't..."

"Don't Blair. Don't apologize. You're going to be okay. Everything is hurting and your body's working hard to heal. Your brain has had a huge overload, and your emotions are raw and exposed. It'll all pass, with time."

"How much time, Jim?"

Jim shrugged. "Can't really say. But I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. We'll do this together."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Expecting company, Jim?"

"Food, Sandburg. A guy's gotta eat."

"I'm not sure I can handle pizza right now, Jim."

Jim opened the door. "How about Won Ton Soup, Chief?" Taking the containers from the deliveryman, Jim paid him and shut the door. He moved to the table, setting the food down and sat in one of the chairs. Stepping carefully, Blair moved to the other chair.

As they began to eat, Jim asked, "You want to tell me what's wrong with your feet?"

Blair paused a moment, then spoke. "When I escaped from Ventriss, I was barefoot. I ran through the woods for a mile before I reached the road."

"In the snow?"

"In the snow." Blair resumed eating.

So many touchy areas, Chief. What happened to your feet? Where are your earrings? What's wrong with your wrists? Save the rest for later, Ellison. 'Nuff for now.

After eating, Blair fell asleep in the bed nearest to the bathroom. Jim sat beside him, watching T.V., his hand resting on his partner's shoulder. Occasionally, he would give the shoulder a light squeeze,assuring himself that the young man really was here. And safe. He worried that his touch would wake Blair, but it seemed to comfort him.

Jim had finally remembered to call Simon earlier, right after Blair had fallen asleep.

"How's Blair?" Simon cut right to the chase. He only called the observer 'Blair' when he was worried about him.

"Alive. Injured, but he has his memory back."

"Thank you, God. How about that slime ball, Ventriss?"

"Not doing very well. I was forced to shoot him at close range."

"Forced, huh?"

"Honest, Sir. I really had no choice. Sandburg and Davis were witnesses."

"Probably just what he deserves. When are you two coming home?"

"You miss us, Dad?" Jim teased with a grin.

"No. But your paperwork is piling up!" Simon snapped.

"I expect we can start tomorrow. The drive'll take us a couple of days."

"Drive?"

"Sandburg needs a little extra time to pull himself back together. The drive will do us both good."

Simon sighed heavily. "Alright. I'll pull together some more vacation time and sick leave for you. Just be careful and call me every day."

"Sure thing, Dad." Jim hung up smiling.

When Jim got tired, he carefully got up from Blair's bed and crawled into his own. Focusing his Sentinel hearing on his Guide, he quickly went to sleep.

"Jim! Jim don't! Don't let go! Help!"

Jim jerked awake to Blair's screams. He jumped out of his bed and was instantly at his friend's side. He grasped the thrashing young man by the shoulders and shook him. "Chief... Blair! Wake up!" Blair awoke in mid scream, sitting straight up in bed. Concerned, Jim kept hold of his arms as he waited for the Guide's vital signs to return to normal.

"...Jim..." Blair whispered hoarsely.

"Right here, Chief."

Blair swallowed. "Bad dream..." His voice was a little stronger.

"No kidding." They were silent a moment. "Wanna talk about it?"

Blair nodded. Jim leaned over to turn the lamp on. "Sorry I didn't wake you sooner, Chief. I thought I'd detect the change in your heart beat before the nightmare really got started."

"It was so fast, Jim. We were in the loft, sitting on the sofa watching TV or something. Everything was fine. Then -- so fast -- I was being pulled away from you... away from home..." Blair took a deep breath. "I keep having the same dream. It always starts out at home then I'm pulled away. Then I'm in that dentist's chair, but it's in the cave. L...Lash is standing over m...me. Then he turns into Ventriss. And I'm in a straight-backed chair. Instead of shackles, I'm tied with twine..."

Gently, Jim touched the bandages covering Blair's wrists. "That what happened to your wrists?"

Blair nodded. "I dreamed mostly about Lash, but I dreamed every time about you, Jim."

"Davis mentioned that."

Blair chuckled weakly. "I missed you so much, man. I didn't know who you were, but you were always in my dreams and I kept remembering your voice. If it hadn't been for Kay and Tony, I may never have found you. I probably would've gone nuts. It was like having a ghost in my head."

"I'm glad that didn't happen, Buddy. We're both nuts enough as it is."

Blair gave Jim a crooked smile. The Sentinel noticed the young man's eyes getting heavy."You think you can sleep now?"

Blair nodded and slid back down under the blankets. Jim turned off the lamp and patted his partner reassuringly on the shoulder before returning to his own bed. "Night, Chief."

"Night, Jim," Blair said. Then he whispered. "Thanks, man."

The next morning, Jim woke very early. He decided to let his partner sleep as long as he could. Restful sleep was the best medicine he could have.

The Sentinel showered, keeping his hearing tuned in to Blair's breathing. The Anthropologist was still sleeping when Jim was showered and dressed. Not wanting to leave his friend alone, he called room service. The knock on the door thirty minutes later woke Blair.

"Was' up, Jim?" he asked blearily.

Jim smiled. "Morning, sleepy head! Want some breakfast?"

Blair looked worried as Jim indicated the breakfast trays sitting on the table. "Room service! That's kinda pricey, man."

"Let's just say we're celebrating, Chief. How about some coffee?"

"Coffee!" Interest replaced the worry in Blair's eyes. Momentarily forgetting his injuries, he crawled out of bed and sat down at the table.

The two friends busied themselves fixing their coffee and eating. Between mouthfuls of egg and sausage links, Blair said, "Jim, this is so cool. Room service. Naomi used to order room service once in awhile. For special occasions. Such frivolous luxuries have been beyond my reach since I've been on my own." He grinned at Jim.

Smiling back, the Sentinel said, "I'm glad you're enjoying all that cholesterol, Chief. I won't repeat what they said to me when I asked about algae shakes."

Blair laughed. "After being Brad's guest for three days, I can handle a little cholesterol."

"This is full of protein, buddy. And look! Wheat toast."

"With strawberry preserves, Jim. Fruit is good for you."

"Well, what about that danish, Chief?"

"Made from wheat flour, Jim. And that frosting has milk in it. One hundred percent natural. But the most important thing is the caffeine!"

"From Brazilian coffee beans, Blair. All natural!"

Blair lifted his mug toward his partner. "Here's to breakfast with my best friend. Thanks, Jim."

"Hear, hear." They clinked their mugs together and drank, reveling in the joy of each other's company.

After the Sentinel and his Guide left the hotel, they went to the hospital to see Davis. As they walked down the corridor, they could hear the Detective raise his voice.

"I'm fine! This is just a scratch! You've stuck enough needles in me to satisfy an acupuncturist! Drawn enough blood to feed all of Transylvania! Pumped me so full of antibiotics, I'll never get infection! I'm fine! I wanna go home!"

Jim said, "That's the voice of a man who's been in the E.R. too many times."

Blair snickered. "Yeah, Jim. Sounds like you."

"Well Chief, at least I don't get injured just so I can hook dates from the nurses."

"Hey, man. I don't have to go to the hospital to get dates."

Just then a pretty, red headed nurse intercepted the men. "Artie!" She flashed a smile at Blair. "You look so much better. You want to get together later after my shift?"

Blair glanced at Jim out of the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat. "Sally, this is my friend, Jim. Uh... Jim, this is Sally." Blair noticed Sally sizing up his partner with a practiced eye. "I'm sorry, Sally. We're leaving town today."

Sally pouted. "Gee, that's too bad." She perked up. "See me before you leave and I'll give you my phone number. You never know." She walked happily away, flipping her hair and swinging her hips. The two men stood side by side watching her leave.

"Jim, don't say a word." Blair snuck a look at his friend. Jim was looking down at him, grinning from ear to ear. Blair tried to keep his face serious, but he couldn't help himself. Not when Jim threw that Ellison smile at him. Blair burst out laughing and Jim joined in. They walked laughing into Tony's room.

The cop was flanked by a doctor and a nurse. He looked up as Jim and Blair entered. "Well, I'm glad somebody is happy today." Then he looked at the Doctor. "My sister's on her way to pick me up. I'm going home. So you might as well get the paper work ready. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have company." Then he looked at the nurse. "Pam, I want my clothes. Now." Dismissed, they exited the room.

Blair grinned. "Wow, Jim. He's even better than you."

"That's because he doesn't have an overprotective Captain looking over his shoulder."

"Yes, I do." Tony said. "But he's out of town today. Besides, having a sister who's an R.N. helps a lot."

Blair bounced a little on his toes. "Yeah, Jim used to be an Army medic. That gets me out of the hospital early most of the time."

Tony looked at Jim and gestured toward Blair. "Is he always this perky?"

Jim laughed. "Most of the time. It was pretty quiet at home all week."

"It's good to see he's got his bounce back."

Blair interrupted. "Will you guys quit talking about me like I'm not here?"

Tony grinned. "Sorry, Kid. So, you guys going home today?"

Jim answered. "Yeah. Pretty soon. We just wanted to stop and tell you thanks once again."

Blair added. "Yeah. Thanks, Tony. I don't want to think what would've happened to me if it hadn't been for you and Kay."

Just then, Kay walked in carrying a bundle of clothes. "Tony, I hear you're giving the staff your usual hard time." She gave Blair a warm smile. "Blair. You look much better. Are you okay after last night's fiasco?" She put her hand on the young man's face, checking his bruises.

"I'm fine, Kay." He smiled at her. "A lot better, now that Jim's here."

She looked up at the Sentinel. "So, you're Jim." She smiled appreciatively, raising one eyebrow at him. "I hope you realize how special you are to your friend."

"I hope half as special as he is to me." He held out his hand to her. "Thank you, ma'am, for all you've done for us."

Kay took his hand in hers. Her smile deepened. "Oh, please call me Kay. I'm just thankful we were able to help."

Tony grumbled. "Kay, this is all nice and sweet, but will you quit making eyes at the man and give me my clothes?

"Sorry, Tony." She handed the bundle to him. "I assume you're coming to my house?"

"Yeah. It was the only way the doctor would release me."

"Well, you can't dominate the T.V. with sports."

"I'm not gonna watch soap operas!"

"You know good and well I don't watch soaps! We'll have to work out a fair schedule between us and the kids."

"As long as I don't have to watch 'Rugrats'."

"You forget. 'Rugrats' is off limits."

"Okay. Great then. Now, can I please dress in privacy? I really want to get out of here!"

Goodbyes said, Jim and Blair drove the rental to the airport.

"Chief, what do you think about driving back home instead of flying?"

"Drive? Why?"

"Oh, I thought it'd be nice to be by ourselves for a couple of days. Just take our time, enjoying the scenery..." He didn't know if he could tell Blair that he just wanted his Guide to himself. That he wasn't ready to share him with the rest of the world just yet.

Blair studied Jim for a moment. The Sentinel knew he was under scrutiny. He never could hide things from his Guide very well.

Blair suddenly smiled. "That would be super, Jim. But why are we headed back to the airport? To renew the rental on the car, I suppose?"

Jim said, almost nonchalantly, "Thought I'd see what they had in the way of pickups."

Blair knew that Jim was trying to make things as familiar as possible. He shook his head and grinned. "Man, Ellison. You are too much. Pickups." He laughed. "I love you, man! You are too cool!"

The End

Well, that's it. I thought I'd never get it done! The other spoiler was Murder 101. I also 'borrowed' a character from my other favorite T.V. show. Did you find him? E-mail me. I've done this a few times now, so I think I can handle constructive criticism now. Waddya think? Java Head

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