Well people, I wasn't sure if I was going to continue on in the vein of my first three, but this one invaded my thoughts and wouldn't stop until I surrendered and put it down into the computer. It has also given me an idea to continue on with another story but just moving to a locale that I have a little more knowledge.

There are references to my previous stories, so a suggestion is to at least read The Bond and Power Trip to understand them. I also have references to several TS episodes, too many to really list, so be warned.

A massive amount of thanks to Cindy Combs, Wolfpup and Beth Manz for the help and encouragement received to keep writing and put down what I think should be done. Cindy helps keep my feet on the ground by reminding me that not everyone will like or understand what I'm writing but do it if it feels right. She's also been great as a beta and for showing me stuff that I forgot to include. I also received good beta help from Beth, catching my many forgotten and misused commas. As for Wolfpup, she wheedles, begs, cajoles, and cracks the whip pretty good to get me to write. Thanks for giving me a home, Tonya.

The recognizable characters in the story are not mine but belong to Pet Fly Productions. No monetary benefits are received from this story. Just the gratification of being able to post it.

Rated PG-13 for a little language and some small violence.

DUTY, HONOR, COUNTRY

Shallan

"Duty, honor, country: Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn. The code which those words perpetuate embraces the highest moral law and will stand the test of any ethics or philosophies ever promulgated for the uplift of mankind. It's requirements are for the things that are right and its restraints are from the things that are wrong. The soldier, above all other men, is required to practice the greatest act of religious training sacrifice. In battle, and in the face of danger and death, he discloses those divine attributes which his Maker gave when He created man in His own image. No physical courage and no greater strength can take the place of the divine help which alone can sustain him. However hard the incidents of war may be, the soldier who is called upon to offer and give his life for his country is the noblest development of mankind."
Gen. Douglas MacArthur

Monday Morning, Cascade P.D.

"Alright, people. Give me your attention," Captain Simon Banks called out, his voice rising easily above the conversations in the meeting room of the Cascade Police Department. "I know it's just after lunch but I want your full attention for just about 15 minutes. The government is starting a new program..."

A few rude noises emanated from the back of the room, causing the assembled group of detectives and uniformed police officers to start laughing. Trying to maintain his composure by not joining the laughter, the black captain glared at the area that the sounds had come. The room quieted down quickly.

"As I was saying, the government has started a new program, called Rapid Assessment, Initial Detection, that uses the National Guard as its main force to handle situations involving terrorist groups. State and federal agencies are being informed of the program and their involvement. Here to brief us is Major James McLin from the Colorado Army National Guard. Major?" Simon turned towards the military officer who had been standing quietly at the back of the room. The soldier unconsciously straightened his overcoat when his name had been spoken and then walked smartly to the front of the room.

McLin's appearance shouted to any onlooker that he was a career military soldier. His uniform was tailored to his body with sharp creases in the pants, his boots had high gloss shine on the boots, and his hair was cut in the severe military style. As he strode to the front of the room, his back was ramrod straight and the pride in who and what he was glowed from his face. He executed a sharp turn to face the group assembled before him. With his hands clasped comfortably behind his back, he spoke in a tone of voice that soon had his audience mesmerized.

"Thank you, sir. Good afternoon detectives, officers and police personnel. As Captain Banks stated, my name is Major Jim McLin and I'm currently assigned to the 19th Special Forces Group, Denver, as the commander of the new R.A.I.D. team. We are..."

Banks jerked forward and shifted away from the door he was leaning against when he felt the movement of the doorknob. Sliding through the door with no noise was Detective Jim Ellison, a contrite smile on his face to impart an apology to his captain.

"Sorry I'm late, sir. Traffic," he whispered and moved to an empty seat in the rear of the room. Looking up at the individual speaking, he froze. At the same time, the Army major noticed the new arrival to the room. A look of surprise appeared briefly on McLin's face, but quickly reverted back to one of a professional presenter wrapping up his pitch.

"I will be around for the next couple of days and speaking with many of you who have been identified as having skills that will be conducive to the operation in the event that we are activated. Also, if you have any questions, I'll be happy to meet with you. Thank you for your time."

Both Ellison and McLin stood staring at each other as the other people in the room, with the exception of Banks, exited. The two men's expressions were solemn, no hint of emotion betraying how each might be feeling or thinking. Nervously, Banks looked back and forth between the two men and then followed cautiously behind Ellison when he finally moved towards McLin.

"McLin," Ellison growled at the other after stopping to stand in front of him. He was taller than the other man, but not by much.

"Ellison," the Major answered back, his voice low and menacing. Both men stood like statues, eyes locked together for several breaths.

Banks was ready to step between the two men when they both broke into large smiles and grabbed each other in a brotherly hug, loud laughter filling the room.

"Mac, you old war dog!" Jim practically shouted, stepping back from the other. "How the hell are ya!"

"My God, J.J.! So, this is where you've been hiding since deserting the Army. You're a flat foot now?"

"That's detective, you grunt, and I didn't desert. Just took the opportunity to use my skills where they would be better appreciated. I do see that the Army has a sense of humor if you got promoted to major. How many butts did you have to kiss for that?"

"They know a quality soldier when they see one. Besides, getting promoted in the Guard is a little easier, and it'll be lieutenant colonel as soon as the promotion list gets signed by the Prez. You're looking good there, J.J."

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted the conversation and both men turned to face the maker of the noise. Banks stood there with his arms crossed over on his chest, an eyebrow raised at his detective. "I thought I was going to have to step in between you two and that had me worried for a moment. I take it that you're old friends?"

"Yes, sir," Ellison answered, placing his hand on the major's shoulder. "Mac and I met at OCS. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, I probably wouldn't have made it through to be commissioned. He gave me an...uh, attitude adjustment about the fairness of life."

"Someone actually gave 'you' an attitude adjustment? That's a story I'd like to hear as much as to why he's calling you J.J." The surprise was evident in the black captain's voice.

"It wasn't much really, Captain," McLin spoke up. The triumphant glint in his eyes belied the humble tone in his voice. "But they're both stories too long to tell without some, ~ahem~ liquid refreshment to keep the vocal cords lubricated."

"Well, I think I know of an appropriate place to continue this conversation. Jim, think your partner might want to join us?" Banks asked with a sly grin.

"Partner? Whoa, wait a minute. The great lone wolf Ellison has a partner?"

Ellison cleared his throat and looked straight into his captain's eyes to convey a warning. After several silent seconds, he turned back to McLin. "Yeah, he's an observer attached to the department and has been partnered with me for over three years now. People can and do change over the years, Mac."

"Well, you sure must have if you've had the same partner for that long. I'd like to meet this guy that can put up with you, J.J."

"He's supposed to be here this afternoon after he completed some meetings at his university. If you can't wait around, you can meet him tonight. I'll pick you up from your hotel and we can stop by my place for me to change. He should be there. Then, we can meet Simon at...what's the name of that pub you're frequenting now, sir?"

"The Brew Haus. Has some of the best micro brew beer that I've tasted in a long time. I'll meet you two there around 7 p.m." Glancing out the window of the conference room, Banks noticed his secretary standing near the door of his office talking to a woman in a business suit. "A captain's work is never done." With a sigh and quick smile, Banks turned and walked out the door.

"It has been a long time, J.J. When I heard about what had happened with the Peru mission...was that what changed your mind from being a career man?" McLin asked quietly.

Rubbing his forehead, Jim took a few seconds to answer. "It was...one of the reasons, Mac. Then there was the stuff I found out about the screwed up logistics for it and Colonel Oliver's involvement. But we can talk about that later along with why you're in the National Guard now. How long are you going to be in town?"

"For a few days, at least. I've got a couple of people from my team in Tacoma and Seattle doing some briefings. I told them that we would join back up in Seattle by Saturday and then fly home. So, that means you can play tour guide. That is if you can spare the time... ~cough~... for an old...~cough~... Army buddy." Turning away, McLin broke down into a violent coughing fit. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to cover his mouth.

"Mac? You okay?" The worry was evident in Ellison's voice. His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear how deep the cough sounded in McLin's chest. He reached out a hand to help his friend, but the other just backed away and held out his hand to stop him.

"There's nothing...~cough~... wrong. It's just your damned weather around here. How can you handle it being wet all the time?"

"I grew up here. And I had 18 months living in a place that was worse. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I just need to get back to my hotel and get some stuff down me that I picked up at the drug store. Since when did you turn into Florence Nightingale, J.J.?" McLin asked gruffly and walked around the detective for his briefcase that was setting by the door. "Must be from all the soft living you've been doing. I'm staying at the Radisson just a couple of blocks over. So, pick me up there when you get off. Room 342, okay?"

Walking swiftly, McLin reached the elevator just as the doors opened and walked on to it. He raised the hand holding the handkerchief in a wave. Before the doors shut, Ellison saw what looked to be reddish in color spotting the cloth. The doors closed completely before he could move towards them or zoom his sight onto the area. Dismissing any bad thoughts, Jim turned and moved towards his desk.

It had taken a careful balancing act to get everything into the building housing the Cascade P.D. The bag of bakery goods were in one hand, the paper tray holding two Starbuck coffees in the other, backpack was over the right shoulder and several odd sized books were held between the left arm and his chest to balance Blair Sandburg. He fully intended to make only one trip from his car to the front doors this morning. The way that the cold wind had cut through him when he had stopped at the bakery and coffee shop earlier convinced him that he was not going to spend any more time outside than he had to.

Luckily, a person had been leaving the building when he reached the door and Blair was able to hook his foot around the edge and swing it back open. His luck held when someone at the inner door held it open after exiting for him to enter. But the luck ended when he rounded the corner to the corridor that led to the elevators...and straight into the Army officer coming from the opposite direction.

The books dropped to the floor and the bag flew from the hand attached to the arm that was slammed into by the larger man in the uniform. With a quick grab, the coffee cups were prevented from following the other items and causing any damage to the parties involved.

"Ah, man. I'm sorry, mister," Blair apologized, glancing quickly at the uniform to see if he had caused any damage. "Are you alright? I didn't get anything on you, did I?"

After brushing his jacket as he checked it over carefully, the military officer gave the long-haired man in front of him a scowl. "You better not have," he mumbled darkly.

Blair froze at the look in the eyes that glared at him. There was anger, yes, but he also saw something else. It looked like a shadow or sickly darkness that seemed to hover in those eyes. Before he could say anything more, the major turned and walked out of the building. Blair rubbed his eyes quickly and watched the back of the man walking away from him. There seemed to be this 'shadow' following him.

I've got to get some rest. Starting to see things now, Blair thought to himself, squatting down to gather the stuff dropped.

"Hey, Sandburg. These belong to you?"

Looking up, Blair saw Detective Rafe holding his bag from the bakery. "Yeah, thanks Rafe. Jim would make me go back out to get more if I forgot his mid-afternoon doughnuts."

"I thought you broke Ellison from eating these things. Or are you paying some type of penance?" Rafe laughed as he helped the younger man gather the books and stand back up.

"Never bet against Jim Ellison with any type of sporting event. I think he has some type of psychic ability when it comes to picking winners."

"Which event?"

"Guess."

"The Superbowl?" Rafe exclaimed incredulously. Blair just grinned. Both men walked towards the elevator. "You bet against the Broncos? Why?"

"Stupidity, plain and simple. After that win against Minnesota, I thought for sure the Falcons could pull it off. Oh well, at least it was a good game. So, as payment, I'm not allowed to pick on Jim's eating habits for two weeks and supply these fat pills when he asks for them."

Pressing the button for the elevator, Rafe laughed out loud. "Sounds like you got off easy. Hey, I was wondering if you can help me with something."

"Sure man, anything as long as it doesn't involve me doing something that would piss my partner off."

"Heaven forbid!" Rafe gave a mock shocked look, causing Blair to chuckle, then straightened his face and lowered his voice to a more private tone. "No, I want to go back to the university starting this summer to work on a second degree and I was wondering if you could spend some time helping me work out the best program. I can meet you at your office later this week."

"Sure, man, but why at my office? We can do it here."

"Uh, no. I'd rather not," Rafe said nervously. Just then, the elevator doors opened allowing an elderly couple to exit. Looking around, the detective took hold of the grad student's arm and hurried him onto the now empty elevator. "Don't take this wrong, but I've always been interested in archeology and have wanted to go back and study it after I made detective. But..."

"But you're worried if the guys find out what you're taking, they'll start comparing you to me. Right?" Blair tried to keep a straight face but the discomfort and embarrassment on the others face was just too much. He started laughing, which caused Rafe to look more uncomfortable. "It's okay, man. I understand and it's not a problem. Would it be easier for you in the morning or afternoon?"

"How about Thursday afternoon?" The relief was evident in the detective's voice. Just then, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

"I won't tell a soul," Blair whispered in a conspiratory tone and then laughed again as Rafe looked around the area outside the elevator for anyone listening before stepping out.

Handing back the bakery bag and carefully positioning the books he had been carrying into the others arms, Rafe patted Blair carefully on the shoulder. "Thanks, Blair. I really appreciate this. I owe you one." Then he walked down the hall towards the restroom.

Blair watched the detective for a few seconds and then continued forward through the doors leading into the squad room of the Major Crimes division of the Cascade P.D. Seeing his partner sitting in front of the computer at his desk, Blair made a beeline towards it.

"Two buttermilk doughnuts and one Columbian blend coffee." Blair announced to the man sitting at the desk in front of him. Carefully setting down the tray of coffees and then setting the books beside them, he reached into the bag and removed his two bagels. After setting them down onto the books, he rolled the bag back closed and set it next to the coffee tray.

"What happened to you, Chief? You have to bake these things yourself or what?" Ellison said with a smile and reached for the doughnut bag with one hand and one of the cups of coffee with the other.

"Sorry, Jim. I promised fresh and had to wait until the bakery pulled these out. And then I had a minor collision downstairs with this 'majorly' rude dude." Blair chortled at his pun but quickly straightened his face when Jim looked at him impatiently. "~ahem~ Now, since I've completed my task for today, I'm going over to my little chair in my corner and sit very quiet so I don't disturb your work." The mischievous twinkle in the younger man's eyes belied the humbleness of his words. Gathering up the books and bagels, Blair picked up the other cup of coffee and walked over to the desk he was allowed to call his.

"Knock it off, Sandburg. Humility doesn't become you," Ellison said and then took a large bite of the sugary confection he had pulled from the bag. Closing his eyes, he savored the flavors that seemed to explode in his mouth. Sometimes it really paid to have enhanced senses.

"You doing anything tonight, Chief?" Jim asked after he had taken a sip of the coffee the other had brought. Before Blair could answer, the telephone rang and Jim picked up the receiver. "Ellison. Detective Walton, thanks for returning my call."

Blair settled back into his chair with one of his books and a writing pad. It looked like his partner was probably going to on the phone for a while, if the large case file open in front of him meant anything. There might be enough time to get the outline of his next paper completed before he was asked to play 'gopher' for Jim again.

As it happened, Jim was never able to get back to Blair for an answer to his question. After hanging up the phone, he had to go down to forensics and then to a few other departments that took the rest of the day. By the time he got back to his desk, Blair was gone and had left a note explaining that he was going to pick up groceries before heading to the loft.

Checking his watch, Jim grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and headed for the elevator. He had plenty of time to pick up McLin and change at the loft before they would meet with Simon later. Jim had some misgiving about not being able to inform Blair that he was bringing McLin by, though the younger man had proven that he could hold his own with most confrontations. His friend from the Army would get quite a surprise when he met Ellison's partner and roommate. It was going to be interesting to watch the meeting.

852 Prospect, Early Evening

Jim Ellison was upstairs in his bedroom changing clothes when he heard, his hearing set at a normal level, the door knob rattle in the loft's front door. Earlier, he had been listening with his hearing turned up when Blair had pulled into the parking area of their building. He had almost laughed out loud when his friend starting talking to him from the lot as if he were by the car.

"I know you heard me drive up and can hear me now, Ellison. If it wouldn't trouble you too much, I could use a little help with the bags." When Blair didn't see any movement from the building's exterior door after a minute had passed, he started pulling the paper bags out of the trunk and loaded his arms. "If I find out you're not in the bathroom, taking a shower or on the phone with some seriously important person, Jim, you're going to have one very pissed off roommate this evening and I'm going to take great pleasure in devising a set of tests concerning your hearing."

Jim knew it would have looked very strange to his guest waiting in the living room if he had rushed down the stairs and out the door. So he continued to change his clothes, knowing that all would be explained to his partner as soon as he walked through the loft door.

After struggling to turn the doorknob without dropping the bags he carried, Blair pushed open the door with his foot. Carefully stepping through the doorway, he kicked the door shut and then staggered into the kitchen and placed the bags onto the counter.

"You know, Jim, you could have--" Blair started to say turning towards the living room, then he noticed the figure standing at the windows. "Oh, hello." The evening light streaming through the pane outlined the person's body, preventing Blair from seeing his face until the guy walked back towards the couch. It was the same guy he had bumped into at police headquarters, minus the uniform, but still maintaining the aura of a soldier. And the guy was looking at him like he was a green recruit on his first day in Army.

Unable to keep the surprise from showing on his face, Blair took a hesitant step backwards and glanced up towards his friend's room. When he saw Jim calmly walking down the stairs, tucking in his shirt, some of the apprehension disappeared and he relaxed slightly.

"Mac, meet my partner and roommate, Blair Sandburg." Jim paused and then smiled at the sharp look his old Army buddy gave him. "Chief, this is Jim McLin. We were in the Army together and he's now a major in the Colorado Army National Guard."

"We've met, sort of. He's the one I collided with that delayed your doughnuts earlier today. Again, I'm sorry about this afternoon." Blair reached his hand out towards the other man, a tremulous smile on his face.

For several long seconds, McLin stared at the long-haired, young man in front of him, his face impassive. Then, giving a smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes, he reached forward and took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake before releasing it. "J.J.'s partner, eh? Narcotics or vice?"

Blair fidgeted slightly and looked at his partner, who normally took over the conversation at this time. It never failed that people he was introduced to thought he was on the force and in one of those particular departments. Jim didn't look like he was too upset by the remark, so Blair decided to do the explaining.

"Neither, actually. I'm a graduate student at Rainier University doing my doctoral thesis on, uh, police as a closed society. I've been allowed to be partnered with Jim as an observer," Blair explained calmly.

McLin shifted back a step and clasped his hands behind his back. He gave a shaky laugh and looked at Ellison. "I see. Well, J.J., you finally got me this time."

"I wasn't trying, Mac. I told you that people change." Ellison looked calmly into McLin's face. When the other didn't answer, he turned to his roommate. "We're meeting Simon at The Brew Haus, Chief. You want to come along?"

"As much as I'd like to, I can't. Got a tutoring session tonight. Take a raincheck?" Blair answered, moving back towards the kitchen and starting to unpack the sacks.

"One of 'those' tutoring sessions?" Ellison raised an eyebrow in suggestion when he saw a bottle of wine pulled out of one sack and placed on the counter.

Blair held both of his hands up in a halting motion with a short laugh. "Not with this one, man. Her fianc‚ has black belts in about three different areas of the martial arts. I have no desire to experience what it would feel like to be a human punching bag. It's strictly school business so don't worry about making any noise when you come in."

"Never do, Chief. Let's get moving, Mac. We can't let Simon start without us." Grabbing his jacket off the hook beside the door, Ellison ushered the silent McLin out the door. As he walked down the hallway to the stairwell, he turned his hearing back towards the loft. There was the continued rustling of the paper sacks but he was able to hear Sandburg's voice clearly.

"Sometimes I wonder if it'll ever get to the point where we won't have to tap dance around our partnership, Jim. I know you've gotta be getting as tired as I am with the looks and remarks. ~sigh~ One track minds are such a drag."

You and me both, Chief, Ellison silently agreed with his friend.

The Brew Haus, Evening

Simon hadn't arrived yet, so Jim led the way to the back of the bar where he found an empty booth in the corner. As soon as they had settled, a waitress appeared with a basket of popcorn and took their order for a German beer that was on tap.

"Go ahead and ask, Mac. I've been hearing that thing you call a brain spinning wildly ever since we left my place." Jim held up a hand when Mac opened his mouth. "But first let me say a few things. No, I've not 'come out of the closet' cause I never was in one. Sandburg moved in with me after his place was blown up during a case. We found out that it worked better for both of us for him to just stay there and rent from me. Second, he's saved my butt more times than I want to count and I wouldn't trade him for any cop on the force. Lastly, I don't take too kindly to anyone who hassles him because of his appearance. I think you once told me that it was the man within that counted and not what he looked like to the world."

McLin looked carefully at the man sitting across from him. Ellison's face was passive but his eyes held a spark that seemed to shout 'don't go there.' "You always did seem to love to throw my words back into my face, J.J. But it's not how your 'partner' looks that threw me for a loop. Hell, you should see what we've been going after for recruits. They'd make Sandburg look like a prep school candidate. It's the fact that you actually have a partner and he's lasted how long?"

"Going on four years now. What do you mean 'lasted?'" Jim asked, but he knew what Mac meant. He just didn't want to think of all the times over the last four years that Blair had been in danger, hurt or nearly killed because he was Jim's partner. And he especially didn't want to think about last May.

"I mean lasted around you. Your record for keeping partners safe is pretty low. How about Barker at OCS, Hodges at the Ranger school at Benning, or Fuente over in Korea to name three? I think I'm the only one who didn't meet with some type of accident or get into some type of trouble around you." McLin picked up the beer that the waitress put in front of him and took a long drink.

"Now wait a minute. I'll accept Hodges and Fuente, but not Barker. He broke his ankle on the obstacle course. I had nothing "

"He broke his ankle after taking an obstacle that you warned him not to take. Though how you knew it wasn't safe is still a mystery."

"It wasn't secured and I did warn him about it. He chose to ignore me. It collapsed under his weight," Jim mumbled.

"Then Hodges ended up in the hospital after your jeep crashed during a joy ride. I think you set a record with the Benning MPs on that one."

"I told him that I could get it past its top speed. Just didn't expect the tire to blow." Jim grinned sheepishly at the memory. He had been wearing a seatbelt, but Hodges hadn't. When Jim had lost control of the jeep and it went into a ditch, he stayed securely in his seat. Hodges flew about 50 feet before he landed in a pile of brush. Unfortunately, the brush was full of poison sumac and Hodges had a bad reaction from the contact.

McLin laughed at the embarrassed look on Ellison's face. "We presented him with a set of wings for his flight. Remember? And I'll have to admit, Fuente got himself into that fight at that Korean bar. Just because the girl he was trying to defend wanted you and not him after it was all over, was not your fault. Those baby blues of yours could sure entice the women."

Jim laughed, relaxing over these memories of his past. The beer was flowing really smooth down his throat and he ordered two more when he noticed that both his and Mac's glasses were down to only a third full. After the waitress left, he saw Simon standing at the entrance and waved to catch his attention.

"I see I've fallen behind," Banks said, taking off his coat and catching the attention of the waitress. "Okay, what stories have I missed and are they worth repeating?"

"Oh, nothing too damaging to the 'detective's' ego, Captain. Yet," Mac jumped in, laughing at the contrite look on Jim's face. "I was just wondering how he's been able to keep a partner for over three years. I always thought that J.J. was some type of Jonah, bad luck charm."

"More than you know," Simon mumbled loud enough for only Jim to hear. More times than not, Sandburg always seemed to attract some type of trouble with the cases Ellison handled. At his detective's sharp look, he decided to change the subject. "What I'm curious about is why you call Jim 'J.J.'? As long as I've known him, Ellison has been able to shun any type of nickname."

"Do you want to tell your version or can I tell the truth?" Mac asked Jim.

"Go ahead, Mac. If I did, you'd be interrupting me every five minutes with some inane detail," Ellison answered and drained the last of his beer from the glass.

"Well you see now, sir, Officer Candidate School was one of those places that J.J. thought would be a walk through the park. He came in the first day with this monstrous chip on his shoulder and the attitude that he was going to be the distinguished graduate of the class."

"And I was, too," Jim broke in but quickly closed his mouth when Mac threw him a dirty look. Simon raised his eyebrow at the confident statement, but Jim just shook his head.

"Yeah, he was. He scored marksman on the firing range, had the fastest time on the obstacle course, and made it through the survival training with barely a scratch. Although I have to admit, it did take a lot of work on his part. Anyway, on the first day, the cadre of our class decided that there couldn't be two Jim's in their group. So, one of us had to be a Junior and Jimmy there decided it wasn't going to be him. I convinced him otherwise in the workout room." McLin looked at Jim and smirked.

"Yeah, he kicked my ass." Jim sighed and then laughed. "But that was the only battle you won. I was able to change Junior to J.J. Mac taught me a valuable lesson that day; don't ever give up the battle until it's proven to be lost. Kept me going more times than not."

"Especially in Peru?" Mac asked quietly. The smile left Jim's face and he stared into his drink. "When I heard about the crash, I used every marker I had to find out what happened. Even volunteered to be a part of the team to go in after you. But I was told there were no survivors and to quit askin' questions. Sorry about the loss of your team. Then, you pulled a Lazarus. I tried to contact you after they brought you back out of the area, but was told you were 'unavailable.' Not too long afterwards, you resigned your commission and disappeared."

"There's not much I can say. Most of the mission is still considered classified." Ellison took a large gulp of his beer, the blanks in his memory of the 18 months he had been 'lost' still bothered him. "I survived the crash but my team didn't. The locals had found me, patched me up, and accepted my help in securing their territory. After I was picked up, the debriefing wasn't pretty. Luckily, what had happened put me in the limelight. When I questioned the faulty logistics that had caused my team to get caught in the trouble there, enough people listened to me and did something about the ones involved. Afterwards, I guess I had had enough of being someone else's puppet. So I left...and became Simon's puppet."

Banks choked on the beer he was sipping. "Oh, funny, Jim. You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm actually the one in charge by the way you've acted with some of your cases."

Jim gave his superior a slap on the back and a friendly smile. "Do you really want to know? But enough about me, Mac, I thought you had plans to be a career man. You had your sights set on wearing eagles on your shoulders before they booted your butt out of the service. How'd you end up in the Army Guard?"

McLin drained his glass and motioned for the waitress that had just looked their way. "I need something a little stronger than this. How 'bout you guys? Feel like doing battle with Mr. Cuervo?" Simon shook his head. He had a few fuzzy memories about previous times of drinking shots of Jose Cuervo Tequila and had no desire to lose another evening to a drunken haze. Jim, however, had a sparkle in his eye that said he wanted the challenge.

"I'll take your keys, Ellison," Banks said holding his hand out to his detective. "There's no way I'm letting you keep them if you two are going to do shooters."

With a scowl on his face, Ellison pulled his keys out of his pants pocket and handed them to his boss. "I can handle my alcohol, Simon, and you know it. But if you insist--"

"We'll see when the end of the evening arrives. But for now, I'd rather stay on the side of prudence," Simon answered and pocketed the keys. McLin cleared his throat to get the other's attention back.

"Okay, switching to the National Guard. Well, J.J., I sorta acquired the same attitude that chased you out of the regulars but it had taken me a little longer. Since I was past the 10 year mark, I decided that I wanted to get my military retirement but have a little more control over where I lived and on what deployments I had to take. The Guard doesn't make you change your home address every two to three years and your commander-in-chief is the governor of your state unless activated for war." McLin stopped talking long enough to go through the ritual one did when drinking a shot of Tequila: lick salt sprinkled onto an area on the back of the hand, drink down the shot, then suck on a slice of lime. Ellison mimicked the procedure.

Watching the actions of the two men, Simon realized it was going to be a long evening and he was probably going to be the only one left coherent in the end. With a hearty chuckle, he waved down the waitress and made sure that his next and future drinks would be diet cola.

852 Prospect, After Midnight Tuesday Morning

Blair had been so engrossed with the paper that he was finally typing into his laptop that he didn't hear the off-key singing until it was right outside the door of the loft. He could tell that one voice belonged to Jim, having heard his roommate the rare times when he sang in the shower. The other voice was pitched higher and had an Irish lilt to it. Glancing at his watch, he was shocked that it read almost 2:00 a.m.

A fist banging on the door broke him out of his idleness and he moved quickly to answer the continuous hammering. When he unlocked and opened the door, he was met with the sight of his almost incoherent partner being propped up against the door jam by a less inebriated McLin.

"Jim?" was all he could say before the two men stumbled into the loft. Blair took a quick look down the hall to see if anyone else had been disturbed by the commotion and then quickly closed and locked the door.

"Blair, buddy!" Jim spoke in a loud but slurred voice, stumbling back towards his friend with his arms opened wide. "Yer, my bes' fren."

"My God! You're drunk!" Blair exclaimed with a startled laugh. Jim never got drunk. Then he was engulfed in a clumsy hug that almost knocked him over. "Jim, JIM! Easy, man. You're too heavy for me to carry."

"So-orry, Chief. I'm jus' so glad yer here. I tole Mac tha' yer the bes' par'ner I ever had." Ellison let go of the hug but kept his right arm around his shorter friend and swung them both around to face the couch where McLin was leaning. "Din I, Mac?"

"Thanks, Jim and you're my best friend, too. But I think we'd better get you up to your room before you decide to pass out. I can't carry you up there if you do and the floor isn't too comfortable to sleep on. Major, why don't you kick off your shoes and get comfortable on the couch. There's no reason to call a taxi," Blair said to the other man.

"Take your time, kid. I'm in better shape than J.J. Need a hand?" Mac asked, attempting to stand up straight but fell back against the couch.

"No, no, I can handle him. If you need to use it, the bathroom is back that way down the hall. Aspirins are located in the mirror cabinet." Blair pointed quickly down the hall and then caught hold of Jim to maneuver the larger man towards the stairs. "You reek, man. What'd you drink?"

"Shooters...an I can't smell a ting." Jim allowed himself to be manhandled to the stairs by his friend. When they reached the first step, he leaned down close to Blair's ear and spoke in a loud whisper. "Got th' dial turn'd down. All th' way. Jus' like you taught me, buddy."

Glancing nervously towards the visitor still in the living room, Blair quietly shooshed the larger man and took a firmer hold around his waist. "Okay, big guy, one step at a time and lean forward. That's it...left foot...and...right foot."

When finally he got his friend all the way up the stairs, after one scary moment when Jim tried to straighten up and almost leaned too far backwards, Blair manhandled him over to the bed and allowed him to flop across it sideways. Heaving a large sigh, and brushing his hair back away from his face, Blair looked at his friend.

"Man, you're really gonna be hurting tomorrow," he said softly and then moved closer to start preparing Jim for bed. He removed the older man's shoes and socks first and then pulled him back up into a sitting position, helping him take off his jacket and shirt. "Come on, Jim. Work with me here, man. Get yourself undressed the rest of the way and I'll go get you some aspirins." Blair waited until he saw Jim fumbling with his belt buckle and then moved back towards the stairs.

When he reached the bottom step, Blair didn't see McLin anywhere in the room. Looking down the hallway, he saw that the bathroom door was shut. Figuring that was where the other had headed, he shifted towards the kitchen knowing that Jim kept a spare bottle of aspirin there. Shaking two out of the bottle and filling up a glass of water, Blair paused when he thought he heard retching from the bathroom.

"You okay in there, Major McLin?" he called out. There wasn't any answer. Then the toilet flushed and the sink faucet was turned on. Shrugging his shoulders, Blair continued back up the stairs towards his drunken friend.

"Okay, big guy," Blair said kneeling down in front of Jim. The older man was slumped forward, elbows resting on his legs with his head hanging low and eyes shut. He had unbuckled his pants but apparently didn't try to stand and take them off. "Wake up and take these, Jim. They should help with the headache you'll be getting tomorrow."

"Already go' one," Jim mumbled and looked up at his friend with bleary eyes. Reaching forward, he took the offered pills and tossed them into his mouth. He grabbed the glass Blair was holding, gulped down all of the water, and then collapsed backwards across the bed.

"Ah, man," Blair sighed. Though it wasn't easy, he was able to shift the larger man around to lie properly on the bed and pulled his pants off. Then, finding the sleeping mask on the floor between the nightstand and the bed, Blair fit it carefully on Jim's head. Lastly, he grabbed one side of the coverlet Jim was laying on and folded it over the unconscious man's body. "I'll try to help you in the morning. Good night."

Going back down the stairs, Blair found McLin moving around the living room. He was looking at some of the his artifacts that Jim put back up when he moved Blair back in to the loft after his near death experience. Coming home from the hospital, Blair had been shocked to see everything back in place and the other members of Major Crimes waiting inside for him. It was a memorable homecoming that helped with the healing between him and Jim.

"I'll get you a pillow and some blankets, Major. The couch is actually pretty comfortable," Blair said and moved towards the bathroom and the linen closet.

When he came back, McLin hadn't moved except to turn around, lean against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and watch the smaller man come back into the room. The intense look the man was giving him made Blair stop abruptly by the couch. "Is there something else you need?"

"I just don't understand how you two hooked up. J.J. told me that you're an observer, and his partner, but that you refuse to carry a weapon." Blair shifted nervously, holding the bedding in front of him like a shield. "You look like someone who's been living in a commune most of your life and yet your Captain spent part of the night bragging on how you've been a major contributor with solving many of J.J.'s cases."

"Is there somewhere that you're going with this? It's getting late and I'd like to get some sleep." As McLin had been speaking, Blair lost his nervousness and started getting angry at where he thought the other was going.

McLin stepped forward until he was standing in front of Blair, his voice becoming low and quiet. "When I met Jim Ellison that first day in OCS, I had seen a potential for greatness. If he stayed in the military, he would have easily made General in a minimum amount of time. But now he's changed his career direction, gone into police work and acting happy just being a detective. He doesn't seem to have any desire to make Lieutenant or Captain or Commissioner, in which he has the potential. I'm just wondering what's happening in his life to hamper the potential that is there."

Blair stared into the eyes of the man in front of him and didn't waiver at the intensity of the gaze staring back at him. The shadow he had thought he had seen in the man's eyes at the precinct was still there. "You know something? I've been accused of a lot of things in my life, but you're the first person who has ever brought up the idea that I'm doing something to keep Jim from doing what he wants to do. The fact is that you couldn't be more wrong. I suggest you talk to Jim first before you start making decisions on what he should be doing with himself. But watch out for the fallout. Here, make up the couch any way you want. I'm going to bed before I really take offense at what you're implying. Good night." Dropping the bedding on the couch, Blair moved around the major and walked stiffly to the door to shut off the lights and then head for his room.

His head throbbed like it was three sizes too big and his mouth felt like something old and hairy had died a violent death on his tongue. Rolling over onto his side, Ellison groaned. The cover over him felt like it was tearing at his skin, he could smell the overpowering odor of stale beer and tequila and the ticking of the clock in the living room sounded like a base drum in his ears. God, why did he try to drink the bar dry last night?

"Hey, Jim," Blair whispered from the doorway. As quiet as he was, Jim still flinched at the voice.

"Please, just shoot me and put me out of my misery," Jim groaned, rolling back flat and folding his arms over his head. A soft chuckle crashed past his ears.

"Can't do that, big guy. Too much paperwork and I'm finally on Simon's good side. Just listen to my voice, start your breathing and concentrate on the dials. I know it hurts, but you can do it."

By the increase in the volume of the voice, Jim could tell that Blair had moved further into the room and was by the bed now. Knowing his friend was trying to help him, Jim took a couple of deep breaths and struggled to bring down the sensitivity of his senses. It was working on smell, touch and hearing, and he couldn't taste the hairy carcass on his tongue anymore, but the throbbing in his head continued.

"Can't make the headache go away." The intensity of the pain could be heard in his voice.

"Okay, lets see if I can help you." Blair folded himself down onto the bed beside his friend and pulled the man's right arm towards him. When Jim tried to jerk it back, Blair held it firmly and started a gentle massage of his hand. "Relax, man. It's just a little reflexology, so let go and keep breathing. Follow mine, okay?"

The rubbing of his hand was hypnotic and Jim could hear the steady pattern of Blair's breathing. Matching it, he felt his body relaxing and the throbbing in his head fading. Floating along, Jim felt something like a trickle of electricity begin to flow into him. The sluggish, heavy feeling he normally got after a night on the town, which he definitely had been feeling this morning, was disappearing. Taking his free hand, Jim reached up and removed the sleeping mask from his eyes. Instead of experiencing the expected sharp pain from the light, he felt like he just woke up after a good sleep.

"What are you doing, Chief?" Jim asked quietly, realizing that the trickle of 'power' was coming from his friend. Looking over at Sandburg, Ellison could see that the other was deep into a meditative state and hadn't heard the question asked.

"Sandburg?" No response. The younger man continued to massage the hand he was holding, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and deep. Careful not to startle his friend, Jim sat up in his bed, slowly pulled his hand out of Blair's grasp and gently caught the other's hands before they fell into his lap. Blair still did not awaken, but Jim continued to feel the energy flowing into him.

Jesus, Sandburg. What the hell are you doing? Jim thought, looking carefully at his friend. Releasing the hands, Jim reached up and cupped Blair's face. "I'm not sure what you're doing but you can stop now, Chief. Come on...Turn it off and wake up...Blair!" Raising his voice slightly as he called the name, Jim also lightly patted Blair's cheek with one hand.

A shudder went through the younger man's frame as his breathing increased and his eyes fluttered open. First looking at his empty hands, Blair raised dazed, blue eyes to the man in front of him and gave him a shaky smile. His face pale in the morning light. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, now. What do you think you were doing?" Jim tried to keep the sharpness out of his voice, but this had scared him.

"Um, I...uh, remember last year up at the burial site?" Blair started, unfolding his legs and moving off the bed. Stumbling slightly, he reached for the nightstand to steady himself. "Whoa, head rush. I didn't realize that..."

Grasping the arm Blair was holding out to steady himself, Jim pulled him back onto the bed. "Sit down before you fall down. Yes, I remember the burial site. That's not something that would be very easy to forget. Why?"

"I've been wanting to see if I could control it or if it had been some fluke. You know, when you said that you had felt that surge of power that cleared your mind? Well, I knew how bad you'd be hurting this morning and all. You know, you don't make a very pretty drunk, man. So, I just imagined the energy as this liquid in my hands and made it sorta flow into you. I guess I got so wrapped up in what I was doing that I forgot to stop. It worked?"

Jim gave his friend an exasperated sigh and rubbed a hand across his face. Blair had an expression on his face like he had just given his friend a special Christmas present. He hated having to jump on his case. "Yeah, Chief, it worked. But at what cost? You look like you've gone through one of those study marathons after spending the night before on stakeout with me."

"No, no, no, I'm fine." Blair waved off the concern and moved to stand up again. This time he was more successful, only swaying slightly. "Probably just need to get something to eat. You know, replenish my reserves. I'm still learning to be your Shaman, Jim, so you have to expect me to try stuff like this. I'll head down and grab some juice. You feel up to breakfast?" Moving carefully, he went over to the stairs and started down, holding tightly to the handrail.

"I'll take care of it," Jim offered and climbed out of his bed. Reaching for his bathrobe, he heard Blair mutter a soft 'oh, shit' and then there was a thump. When he rushed to the top of the stairs, Jim's eyes were met with the crumpled form of his friend at the bottom.

"Damn it, Chief!" Jim exclaimed and ran down the stairs. First checking to see that nothing was broken, Jim scooped the unconscious man into his arms and moved him over to the couch. There was a folded up blanket and pillow sitting at one end, attesting to the fact that McLin had spent the night in the loft but had already left.

After checking Blair's pulse, finding it slow but strong, Jim went into the kitchen and poured a half cup of coffee from the pot that had apparently been brewed earlier. After cooling it with water from the tap, he took a jar of honey that was kept in the fridge and poured a large dollop into the cup, stirring the mixture as he walked back to the couch. Blair was starting to wake up.

"Here. Drink this, Chief," Jim said, kneeling down by the couch and helping the other lift his head. He held the cup to Blair's lips and helped him drink.

Scrunching his face in a scowl, Blair sat up and tried to turn away from the cup. "Ugh...too sweet."

Jim moved the cup to follow the head. "It has to be. You fainted going down the stairs and need the energy. Now, either you drink it or I'll pour it down your throat. You scared the hell out of me, Chief."

Blair started to protest but stopped when he saw the determination in his partner's face. Taking control of the cup, he started to sip the sweetened coffee on his own.

"When did McLin leave?" Jim asked, moving to sit in the chair so he could keep watch on the other. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to see that it was after 9 a.m.

"Early. I heard him get up and call for a taxi at about 6 a.m. Before I could get dressed, he was out the door." The flat tone of Blair's voice caused Jim to look sharply at his partner. But the other kept his eyes focused on the cup in his hands, his closed expression indicating that now was not the right time to talk about what was wrong.

With a sigh, Ellison stood up and walked into the kitchen. "Eggs, toast and juice okay for you, Chief? You can make your algae shake after you get something solid into your stomach."

"Sure, man. Thanks. And I'm sorry I scared you, Jim. But I--"

"I know, I know. You had to try. Just...let's not try that again until we can do it in a controlled situation. Okay? I think that preventing me from suffering with a hangover doesn't outweigh your safety. Besides, a good hangover is nature's way of reminding me that I can't do stupid things like I did last night anymore."

"Were you really doing shooters? What possessed you?" Swinging around on the couch to look at his roommate, Blair saw the older man shake his head and grimace.

"Telling stories with an old Army buddy and trying to prove to Simon that I could handle my liquor. He started drinking diet cola when we switched to the shots." Jim winced at the thought of having to get his keys back from his boss. Oh, well, the ribbing would be another reminder that he couldn't drink like a kid anymore. "Uh, did I get sick last night? I don't remember if I did or didn't."

"No, but you should have. It was the major. Why?"

"Just a lingering odor I'm picking up. Oh, I'm going to need a ride into work, Chief. Can you drop me off on the way to the University?"

"Yeah, no problem. You're lucky this is Tuesday. I don't have a class until noon and then it's office time. Can I try to get up, now? I'm feeling much better. Honest." Blair held up his right hand and used the cup to cross over his heart. At the stern look directed at him, Blair set the cup down on the coffee table and carefully stood up. He stayed near the couch until he was sure that there wasn't any residual dizziness and then, picking the cup back up, walked to the kitchen and sat at the table. "Ta da," he said with a smile.

Ellison just gave him a stare and turned his attention back to the stove.

Cascade P.D., Afternoon, Tuesday

With a cup of coffee in hand, Jim Ellison entered the spare office that had been set aside for Major McLin and his interviews with members of the police. Jim had seen his name on a schedule that Banks had passed around and noticed that it was the last one of the day despite the fact that it was set for 3 p.m.

"Hey, Mac," Jim said when he stepped into the room, his face displaying a look of polite innocence. "I'm sure I don't have any talents that your team could utilize. So, instead of wasting your 'valuable' time, I'll just leave and say we talked. Okay?"

That elicited a gruff laugh from the man in front of him. "Just sit your tail into the chair, Ellison. You're one of the few that I really don't need to talk to today. You're here just to satisfy the requirements that say I have to at least meet with you. How's your head doin?" The sly grin on Mac's face confirmed the suspicion that had been floating in his head.

"My head's fine. But I seem to remember seeing more shot glasses sitting in front of me last night than there were in front of you. If I didn't know better, I would say that you tried your damnedest to sandbag me. You wouldn't have done that to an old Army buddy, now would you?"

"Who me? Perish the thought. I think you're just getting too old to handle the night life."

"The day I get too old is the day that they stick me six feet under. But I know that you didn't come away from the night unscathed. Never knew you to puck your guts after a night out." Jim laughed at the look the other man gave him. "Why did you take off so early this morning? Sandburg said you were up and gone around dawn."

"I thought I had been quiet enough to not wake anyone. The kid heard me? He doesn't seem like the 'up before the crack of dawn' type." McLin sat back in his chair and looked at his friend carefully.

"Who, Sandburg? More times than not he's up before me and in his office before I'm able to pull myself outta bed. Then he meets me here or after hours to work a stakeout. Lord, I wish I had half the stamina that he has."

"I have a hard time believing that you haven't done a half day's work before the sun has risen. What happened to you, J.J.? I remember a guy who was sharp as a tack, too intelligent for his own good and on the fast track towards the Pentagon."

Ellison shrugged his shoulders and gave the other a lop-sided grin. "I found where I'm supposed to be and doing what I really enjoy doing. At times, I really feel like we're...I'm making a difference."

McLin caught the slip. "You and 'that kid' are making a difference. You're doing what you enjoy as just a detective? What about going for Captain or even higher"

"Leave it alone, Mac. I've made my choices and accepted what I'm supposed to be. You don't understand the situation." Jim's voice lowered and his face became still.

"What's there to understand? You're sitting stagnant and going nowhere when you have the ability to be someone that makes policy instead of just follows it." McLin didn't pay attention to the muscles in Ellison's jaw tighten, or the coldness that flowed over the blue eyes that glared at him. "You've hooked up with some new-age hippie who's probably been filling your head with that 'accepting who you are' crap instead of seeing that he's probably the one preventing you from advancing. God! I'm sure your old man is just having a great horse laugh with all this. You've become what you said he thought you would."

Jim's fist slammed down onto the table and his chair was knocked over when he stood up abruptly. But the voice that followed was calm, cold and deadly. "That's enough! I'm not that arrogant, hot-headed recruit you tried to mold to your image of what a soldier should be. Nor am I that 'rising star' you tried to catch a ride on to the big leagues. Hell, I know how hard you tried to get assigned to my group before the mission to Peru.

"And that mission wasn't a complete bust. It taught me a great deal about myself, my ability to survive and to go on instead of giving up and joining my men. But the main thing it taught me was that I didn't want to become one of those high ranking, desk-bound paper pushers who makes plans and issue orders without thinking how it effected the people involved. It's the people who are important and they need to be protected.

"As for Sandburg, keep your mouth shut about him 'cause I don't want to hear it. Four years ago, I wasn't a nice person to be around. Then I met this 'new-age hippie' who wasn't intimidated by my attitude and helped me become human again. As my unpaid partner, he's been kidnapped, shot, beaten more times than he'd like to remember and still stays by my side helping me do my job even after almost dying last year. He's always been the first to tell me not to give up just because I think I can't do something and he's as close to being a brother as my own. Furthermore, my father knows and understands what I'm doing. I know where my life is going now, Mac. Can you say the same?" With that, Jim walked to the door, opened it and stepped through without looking back.

Hargrove Hall, Late Morning, Wednesday

With his last student gone, Blair was finally able to close his office door and head for lunch. This morning had been strictly meetings with students from the class he was teaching this semester and they had gone well. It felt good to talk to people that were more concerned about the knowledge he had to give and the help he could provide than how he looked.

Just let it go. I should be used to people like McLin by now. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Blair stood for a moment outside the door to his building, closed his eyes and raised his face to the sunshine that had briefly appeared. It wasn't going to last long, the rain clouds building to the west were promising a wet afternoon. When the rays faded away, he opened his eyes and continued down the steps and towards the parking lot. If he hurried, he would be able to beat Jim to the China House Restaurant.

Reaching his car, he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings and didn't notice the individual watching from across the lot. Climbing into the Volvo after tossing his backpack into the back seat, he inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine tried to turn over but failed. He tried a couple more times, but the results were the same. With a heavy sigh, Blair pulled the hood release and climbed back out to check the engine. "You would have to do this to me today, wouldn't you?" he said to the machine in front of him.

"Some people say that talking to inanimate objects is crazy," a familiar voice said behind him. Startled, Blair swung around and unconsciously took a defensive stance. It was McLin, dressed in civilian clothes.

"Don't do that, man. You almost gave me a heart attack," Blair said, relaxing his stance. Turning back around to the car, he released the hood and raised it up to check the engine. His hand shook slightly as he removed the lid to the air filter compartment. It wasn't that the man scared him, but Blair didn't want another scene like Monday night. As if I was able to hold Jim back from anything. Yeah, right. "Jim's not here."

"I know. He's at the station. I was wanting to talk to you, if you don't mind." McLin stepped forward and leaned over the engine. Reaching in, he pushed on each of the spark plug caps and adjusted the distributor cap that appeared to be loose. Taking a pen out of his pocket, he tapped on the butterfly of the carburetor until it broke loose and opened. "These babies can be a little cranky if everything's not tightened down, can't they? They'll also get sticky if they're not kept clean." Taking the lid from Blair, he motioned him towards the driver side. "Try it now."

Moving back around to the door and sitting down, Blair turned the key again and the engine turned over immediately. Switching it off, he stood back up and closed the door. "Thanks. Engine repair hasn't been high on my list of things to learn. Though I really should with this thing."

Bringing the hood down and slamming it shut, McLin turned with a friendly expression on his face. "Been tinkering with cars since I was big enough to lean into them without standing on a box. Got real lucky in finding that sweetheart." He pointed to an older model car across the parking lot and started walking towards it.

"Oh, my God!" Blair exclaimed following after the man. "Where in the world did you find a '69 GTO in such great condition?" The midnight blue automobile looked in mint condition, the chrome hood scoop and wire rim wheels gleamed brightly even without any sun.

Running his hand along the rear fender and up the car's body until he reached the driver side door, McLin's eyes took on a dreamy look. "Always wanted a car like this. My older brother had one, but he wrecked it before he went into the Air Force. I got lucky and found this sweet lady in that used car lot up the road. Wanna take a short ride?"

Attempting to be polite, Blair stepped back away from the car with a smile that he wasn't really feeling. "Thanks, but I don't have time. I'm meeting Jim for lunch." He started to turn and walk back to his car when McLin reached a hand out.

"Wait, please. I want to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything with J.J. Guess the alcohol gave me a bad case of stupid mouth. But I really would like to talk with you. From what I've learned, you know more about J.J. than anyone and I'd like some background of what's happened to him over the years so I don't ask about anything that might upset him again. One thing that hasn't changed over the years is his temper." The man sounded sincere.

"Yeah, I've been on the receiving end a time or two. And don't worry about Monday night. I was tired."

Laying a hand on the door handle of the car, McLin looked at Blair with an expectant look. "Ride while we talk?"

Grinning broadly, Blair trotted around to the passenger side, climbed in to the vehicle and looked around the interior as he snapped on the seatbelt. "Roll bar, too? How's the engine?"

Turning the key in the ignition, the car roared to life then continued to rumble comfortably. "Any more questions?" McLin asked, a toothy grin flashed on his face. When his passenger shook his head 'no,' he shifted the car into gear and tore out of the parking lot, back tires smoking from the acceleration. Blair grabbed the door handle tightly, feeling no small amount of fear after hearing the sharp 'yee haa' that McLin shouted.

If the man could do anything, it was handle the classic auto like a stock car racer. Turns were taken tight, but controlled, the weaving in and out of traffic was smooth and professional and, before Blair knew it, they were on the highway and flying at a high rate of speed.

"If you're trying to show me that you can drive, man, you've succeeded. Wanna bring it back down outta warp?" Talking loud, Blair tried to make his tone light but the ride was making him nervous.

McLin shifted the car down to take a turn onto a little used frontage road then accelerated back up. "J.J. really tore into me yesterday about you, kid. Said that you've saved his butt several times since becoming his partner and also put yourself into danger just to watch his back." McLin didn't acknowledge that he had heard the younger man's request. "He also said something about you nearly dying. What happened? I saw a lot of pain in his face when he told me that."

"Why don't you ask Jim?"

"Come on, Sandburg. He acts like it was his fault. I have a lot of bad habits, but I'm not mean enough to dredge up old memories that might hurt him more."

Looking at the driver carefully, Blair decided that it wouldn't hurt to give the man just the bare bones. Besides, it helped him each time he was able to tell the story and not go into a panic. Taking a deep breath to center himself and, staring out windshield, Blair focused on the scenery ahead of them. "There was this bad case last year. A couple of vials of nerve gas were stolen by a thief that intended to sell them to the highest bidder, and Jim was starting to close in on her. So, to throw him off her trail, she drowned me in the fountain at the university. He was able to revive me and we stopped her."

McLin looked at his passenger sharply and then concentrated back onto the road. "She what?"

"Drowned me. I was dead, at least for a couple of minutes." There, that didn't hurt too much.

"Do you remember...I mean, did you see anything? What happened while you were dead?"

Blair's gaze became unfocused. He remembered the jungle, what it looked like, how hot it felt, how he had felt. He had made his choice then, one that changed his whole life. It was something that could never be explained to anyone other than Jim or Simon. "It wasn't what I had expected. Definitely not like the stories you hear about near death experiences, but I'm willing to wait another 50 or 60 years before I experience it again. Can we change the subject? I really don't like talking about it."

The vague answer seemed to anger McLin. Grasping the steering wheel tightly with his left hand, McLin shifted the car into another gear with his right and stomped on the gas pedal. The rear end of the vehicle fish-tailed enough to make Blair's stomach drop sharply and his heart to pound faster. Just as he opened his mouth to ask the other to slow down again, a loud bang came from the back of the car.

"Hang on!" McLin grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and tried to turn the car into the direction that it was skidding, but to no avail. Sliding off the edge of the road, the vehicle hit a bump, becoming airborne. The car rolled over once... twice...three full revolutions before landing back on the ground. It rolled once more before coming to stop, wobbling back and forth on its tires. A cloud of dust surrounded the car.

"Hhhuuuuuaaaahh!" McLin shouted the tradition Army battle cry, an exalted expression on his face. "Hell of a ride, eh kid?" Turning to his passenger, his smile faded. Blair was slumped in the seat, held up by his seatbelt, unconscious and leaning against the passenger side window.

Leaning over, McLin took hold of the younger man's head, leaned it back and turned it towards him. Blood flowed from a cut that stretched from the hairline on the right side of Blair's face, across his temple and up to his eyebrow. "Sandburg? Come on, kid. Wake up!"

With a low moan, Blair slowly opened his eyes and looked first at McLin and then around the car. "Oh, man. What happened?" He reached up to the area on his head where he felt a massive, throbbing. Before he could touch it, a piece of cloth was pressed onto the area.

"We blew a tire. How're you feeling there? Here, hold this on your head. Facial cuts always bleed heavy." McLin's voice was flooded with concern. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turned further in his seat and started checking the injured man over. "Anything broken? How's your vision? I'll call for an ambulance. Sit tight."

Taking hold of McLin's hand, Blair stopped him as he reached for the cell phone in his pocket. "No, don't. Nothing's broke, I'm seeing fine but I have a headache that would drop a charging elephant. I really don't want to go to a hospital." Not again.

"No arguments. I've had...~cough~...enough training...~cough, cough~...to," McLin choked and then struggled to get the coughing fit under control.

Blair looked at him with dazed eyes, but would have sworn the man had wiped blood from his mouth after the coughing ended. "You're ill." A pained look flashed across McLin's face, but he didn't answer. Hearing a siren getting closer, he turned and looked out his window.

A police car pulled up near the damaged GTO and both officers jumped out and ran over. "Are you two all right?" the female officer asked, leaning into the car. Then she noticed who the passenger was. "Sandburg?"

Blair squinted at the woman. "Charlene? Hey, how are you doing? This is your area?"

"Excuse me, officer. He's got a pretty good cut on the side of his head. Can you give us a ride to the hospital? I don't think we should wait for an ambulance." McLin interrupted, taking charge of the situation. With a nod, Charlene's partner moved around to the passenger side and, after a few jerks, was able to get the door open.

Blair had already removed his seatbelt and swung his legs out to stand as soon as the door was opened. "Hey, no, I'm okay. Really. Can you just give me a ride home?" Then he stood up and tried to walk a couple of steps, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Because of his head injury, he was already feeling unbalanced. The loss of blood only added to the situation. When his vision started to gray, his knees gave out almost immediately and he would have crashed to the ground if the officer hadn't caught him.

"Give me a hand here, Char. We'll put him in the back and call Ellison and then Cascade General on the way in." Before Charlene could move, McLin was already around the car and helping her partner walk Blair to the squad car.

"Ellison's gonna be really pissed, kid," McLin mumbled. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting at the hospital. After helping Blair into the back seat, he climbed in behind and pulled the door closed. The squad car pulled quickly away, lights flashing and siren wailing.

McLin was wrong. Jim wasn't pissed, he was ballistic. When he slid his truck to a halt on the wet pavement near the doors to the emergency room, he paused a minute and tried to calm himself before going in. He knew that Blair was not that seriously injured by feeling along the bond they shared. Head wound, yes, and something wrong along the right shoulder area and ribcage. His friend was also calmer now, but that could be due to whatever painkillers had probably been administered.

Earlier, Jim hadn't really 'felt' anything was wrong until there had been the surge of fear, panic and then pain before it was cut off. He had been talking with Megan in the breakroom. Well, actually he had been arguing with her. The Australian inspector, on loan to the department, always seemed able to push his buttons over the most minor thing. She was leaving that afternoon for a week and Jim had just been ready to tell her to go find someone else to argue with because he was going to lunch. It was then that he had received the first indication that something was wrong with Blair. A twinge of fear. However, his irritation with the inspector distracted him and he didn't pay attention to it.

The second upsurge was much stronger and took him by surprise. Jim had been walking past Henri Brown's desk when it hit him. He jerked to a halt as the wave of fear and panic rushed through the bond. Brown had looked up and heard Ellison mumble what sounded like 'Sandburg.' Thinking he was ill, the black detective stood up and reached for the other's arm. At the touch, Ellison shook himself out of his 'trance'. Brown had asked him what was wrong, but he just shook his head and went over to his phone.

Jim tried calling the university first, but there wasn't any answer at Blair's office. Glancing at his watch, Jim realized that his partner had probably been on his way to meet him for lunch. The next number he dialed was Blair's cell phone. It rang at least 10 times before he hung up. What could he be doing to cause these feelings? What am I thinking? With Sandburg, he can be anywhere and have something happen. Closing his eyes, Ellison felt along the bond. It led off to the north of the university, not in the direction of the restaurant. Grabbing his coat, Ellison strode quickly out of the office.

He had been half way across town when the call had come to him over the radio. There had been an accident and Sandburg and McLin were being taking to the hospital. No other information was given but it wasn't needed. Ellison could tell that his friend was hurt but doing okay. Then, the anger at who he had been with him when the accident had happened started to build.

Despite trying to calm himself down in the truck, Jim could not stop from striding angrily into the emergency area. The place wasn't very busy, which was strange, but the lack of commotion also meant the scarcity of personnel to help him. Extending his hearing, he was able to find Blair's voice inside Treatment Room 3 trying to talk his way out of having to be admitted.

"I don't feel that bad and I'm not seeing double or anything. Come on, Doc. Cut me some slack here." Blair was saying with his most sincere voice.

"Mr. Sandburg. Standard procedure is that you stay over night when you've been unconscious from a head injury. Now, unless you can show me that you are married or have someone..." she started.

"No, I've never been married but that doesn't mean I don't want to one day," he interrupted. For a reply, Ellison just heard the doctor sigh. Relieved that his friend sounded okay, Jim decided to help the doctor out.

"You're still trying that tactic, Chief? I'm Detective Jim Ellison, doctor. His partner." Jim identified himself quickly when the nice looking but very business-like doctor became startled at his entrance. Moving towards the gurney where his partner sat, he took a quick visual assessment of Blair's condition. A white bandage covered the injury on the right side of his head but there was bruising that could be seen around the edges. Blair was also sitting with his left hand held protectively over his rib area on the right side underneath the sling that cradled his right arm.

"How is he, Doctor...?" Jim asked turning his attention to the doctor.

Blair rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the physician. "Sherri Somers. Mr. Sandburg has a laceration on the right temple area that required a couple of stitches. I'm told he was unconscious for about a minute after the accident. There is also significant bruising behind the right deltoid muscle and hairline fractures in two ribs. All in all, being in a car that rolled several times, I'd say he's gotten off pretty lucky. I'd like to admit him for observation, but he's fighting me."

Ellison wanted to chuckle at the look of exasperation she gave his friend but that would only create problems. Instead, he just tried to give her a look of understanding. "He doesn't like hospitals very much, Doctor Somers. If you were to look at his record, you would understand. However, I was a medic in the Army and can keep watch over him if he has a concussion."

"Then, I wish you luck if you're going to take him with you, detective. I'll go finish up his chart and order the medications he'll need to take for pain and a muscle relaxant. He's already been given something that should have him pretty comfortable for the night. Please make sure he takes all of the medication." Giving Blair a stern look, she turned and walked out the door.

"Jim, I'm okay," were the first words out of Blair's mouth. He knew how his partner was going to react and could feel the anger the other was holding in. The Sentinel part of his friend was in full activation, checking him out with his senses even as he stepped closer and tilted Blair's head for a better look. "Do I pass inspection?"

Before Ellison could answer, McLin pushed the door open and stepped into the room. "Hey, kid. What'd th--" he started to say but was stopped when two hands grabbed the front of his shirt and took him back against the wall of the room with significant force. When he was able to look up at the owner of the hands, McLin understood what it was like to look into cold, deadly fury. The eyes that had him pinned blazed a shade of blue he had never seen before...nor did he ever want to see again.

"Why, Mac? What in the HELL do you think you're doing? I told you to leave him out of it."

"Jim, wait." Blair hopped off the bed and hurried over to grab the larger man's arm, trying to get his attention. "Jim...JIM! I'm all right. It was an accident, man."

McLin brought his hands up and grabbed Ellison's arms at a pressure point, making him release the shirt. Pushing back, he knocked Jim into Blair, who stumbled backwards into the bed and then fell to the floor. The sharp grunt and painful moan the action elicited from the injured man had the effect his words had been unable to do. Jim broke his attention from Mac and immediately went to help his friend.

McLin watched as the man who could kill him in fifteen different, painful ways, knelt down next to his partner, carefully gathered him into his arms and then helped him move to a nearby chair. Jim asked Blair if he had hurt anything else and then chuckled at the reply, which had been too low for McLin to hear. He also saw nothing sexual in the behavior, of which he had had a suspicion. It was different, more like something he had seen over in the Orient: concern by one who was charged with the guarding and protection of another of great importance. Was there something more between them?

"It's God's own truth, J.J. I went to see him and just talk. Get to know him. So, I asked him to take a ride in this classic car I had found. Yeah, we were going a pretty good clip down the road when the rear tire blew. Before I could stop it, we went off the edge of the road and flipped a few times. I swear I wasn't trying to hurt him. It was an accident." Mac took a step towards the pair but stop when Jim looked up at him, his expression unreadable. There was still some fire blazing in the eyes but Sandburg was whispering something that only Ellison could hear and the flames were slowly dying. The two men stared at each other for several long seconds.

"If you two are finished with the testosterone battle, I'd really like to go home now." Blair broke the silent conversation and placed a shaky hand on his friend's arm. "You gonna help me find my clothes or do I get to waltz outta here with my backside on display?"

"If you thought it would get you more sympathy or dates, I'm sure it would be your first choice of dress, Chief. I'll go check with the nurses. You gonna be okay here?" Jim asked, moving to the door. His attention was focused on McLin.

"Sure, man. I'll wait here with the Major. Just make sure you find my clothes instead of making time with the nurses." The statement was rewarded with an easy smile and Jim left.

The silence in the room was palatable. Blair sat in the chair and looked at the man in front of him, who was trying to look anywhere but at Blair. "What's going on with you?" The words were asked quietly. McLin looked sharply at the young man in front of him. "I've seen... something. It's in your eyes. You're not well, are you?"

The wisdom in the deep blue eyes belied the youth in the face. McLin knew he couldn't lie and get away with it. "My personal doctor found a malignant area in my lungs last year. Since then, it has spread like wildfire. The prognosis is that my remaining time will be short and painful, leading to a nasty death. It runs in my family. My next physical for the Guard is at the end of this month and they'll find out then. That'll cause them to give me an immediate medical retirement so that I can live my 'remaining time' as comfortable as possible."

"That's why the question about what had happened to me last year. You're wanting to know if there's something after death."

McLin nodded, his gazed locked onto a spot on the wall behind Blair. "When you make the choice to join the Army or Marines or whatever service, you know that you may be asked to lay your life on the line for your country. As a soldier, I've expected to die in some battle, though I've fought like hell not to have that happen too soon. And dying that way, it would have some meaning. But this isn't how I thought my life would end. I never expected it would be because of some fucking disease that runs in my family."

"So, you take chances whenever possible. Push the envelope. Hoping..."

McLin nodded, finally allowed the emotion he was feeling to show in his eyes. Blair could see that it was fear. "If I'm going to die, I want my death to have a purpose. Know that the sacrifice saved others or made a difference. I don't want to end up in some hospital choking on every breath I try to take. I watched an uncle do that for three years. He had been ready to die two years earlier. I don't want to go through that. I shouldn't have to." The last words were whispered. Squaring his shoulders, McLin turned to leave. "Don't tell J.J. I couldn't handle pity from him." With that, he walked out the door.

"Major? Wait!" Blair called to the retreating back. "Damn."

852 Prospect, Same Day, Evening

"Come on, Jim. I can walk on my own." The door to the loft was unlocked and pushed opened to admit the two men.

"Oh, really? You've just made it a habit to ricochet off the walls as you walk down a hallway now." The larger man of the pair had ahold of the smaller man's shoulders, guiding him through the door way and into the living room area.

A tired sigh emanated from the smaller man as he allowed himself to be guided to the couch and settled onto it. "Okay, so I'm a little woozy from the drugs they gave me. I can still function on my own."

"Whatever you say, Chief. Want a cup of tea?" Ellison walked into the kitchen area and started to assemble the items needed to brew a couple of cups. On the drive home, he had watched the affects of the pain medication change his friend from his usual, hyperactive frenzy to a quiet, subdued calm and that had been unsettling. A cup of green tea and something light to eat would help the younger man sleep better.

"That'd be great. Help shake off some of this fog in my head," Blair answered, kicking his shoes off so that he could swing his legs up and stretch out. Heaven help him if he tried to put his feet up with his shoes on.

When Jim returned to the couch, he had two steaming cups held through the handles with one hand and a box with the other. "Thought we'd try those new Girl Scout cookies you got conned into buying. The box says they're low fat, so I don't know how they'll taste."

"Ah, perfect, man. I've already had a few and they're good. Don't sneer at something just because it's supposed to be good for you," Blair said with a smile, knowing Jim only groused about the cookies to get a reaction from him. "Besides, I've seen the boxes you were 'conned' into buying in the freezer."

The two men sat for a few silent minutes, sipping at the hot drink and munching the cinnamon sugar treats. The quiet wasn't uncomfortable, but both were hesitant to bring up the subject that needed to be discussed. As usual, Blair was the first to breach the topic. "It 'was' an accident, Jim. I know he wasn't trying to scare me, hurt me or anything."

"I know, Chief. It was just Mac's way of doing things. He was always...innovative when it came to things about me," was the quiet reply. Blair knew Jim was going to say more so he just continued to sip at his cup of tea. He didn't have too long to wait.

Ellison put down his cup, stood up and moved to the windows before he began speaking. "You know how I was raised, what I went through with my father." Sandburg remained silent, knowing it was a rhetorical statement. "He had taught me to succeed at whatever I do, always be the best and never accept help with things I could do myself. That's how I entered OCS, Officer Candidate School, knowing that I was going to graduate at the top of the class and have my pick of whatever field I wanted to enter afterwards. Everyone in the class had accepted that that was the way it was going to be... except for McLin."

Officer Candidate School, Workout Room

"So, you're the puppy that thinks he can rule the kennel, eh Ellison?" McLin circled his opponent warily. The object of his attention had a couple of inches on him but he knew that it wasn't size that mattered. "Attitude isn't what makes a leader. It's having the strength and ability to knock down anyone that challenges you for that position, the knowledge on how to make them enjoy it when you do and still be willing to thank you afterwards."

McLin feinted to the left then grabbed Ellison's right arm that had swung towards him. He executed a sharp move that ended up with Jim on the mat and Mac on top trying to pin him.

"Is this the tactic you intend to use to win, McLin? Talk me to death? Come on, let's get this over with so I can get back and get my area set up for inspection. I don't feel like getting demerits just because you want to beat your chest." Jim shifted his body, bringing his knees up and catching Mac in the shoulder and head. It knocked the other off balance. Both rolled away and stood up quickly to once again face each other.

There were a couple more tosses by each man, but the other was able to prevent being trapped on the mat. "You've got potential, kid, but you need to learn to bury your pride, attitude and emotions. I can read your face like it was an open book and so will every person you try to command." McLin's face was passive. No emotion or intention could be read by his opponent. That prevented Jim from anticipating the spinning sidekick that caught him at the knees and knocked his legs out from underneath him. He landed on his back with the breath knocked out of him and McLin on top in firm control of the situation.

"It's no longer about you, Junior. What you were before you raised your right hand and became another cog in this military machine is gone. It all comes down to three words now: duty, honor and country. Accept it!" Jim tried several counter moves to break Mac's hold but nothing was working. Mac locked his gaze onto the face he held beneath him and waited until he had his full attention.

"Listen to me, Junior, and I'll make sure you get through this course with flying colors. You've got a massive chip on your shoulder that will blind you from seeing the opportunities that will stream before you. But listen to me and there'll be no place that you won't be able to go and I'll be right behind you." McLin easily held the struggling body down, allowing him to tire.

Finally realizing that he couldn't escape, Jim stopped struggling and looked back at the face above him. No promise, no threat, no nothing looked through the eyes staring at him. "One condition and it's all I'll ever ask."

"What's that, Junior?"

Relaxing his muscles, Jim gave his conqueror a shrewd smile. "That I can go by J.J. I won't accept Junior no matter how many times you beat me into this mat."

Releasing him, McLin quickly stood up and offered his hand to help Ellison up. "You've just learned your first lesson, J.J."

"Mac was right. It had nothing to do with me or how I felt about my father and Stephen. They faded in my memory and I never regretted it because the Army became my life and the soldiers I led became my family." Jim moved away from the window and came back over to the chair near his friend.

"And Mac?" Blair asked.

"Just like he said. Helped me see every opportunity that rose before me to move up the ranks and earn the accolades I needed to keep my career moving. At least until Peru. Then we got separated." Jim sighed and leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. He remembered how he felt when Mac had shown up at his office with transfer papers. Jim had been working on the logistics for the Peru mission when Mac had entered quietly and collapsed in a chair near him. His face showed the shock that he felt and that was one of the few times Jim had ever seen his friend that way. When asked what was the matter, Mac just replied that he was being transferred.

"And Mac was sent to Germany. Our commander felt that our careers had been tied too close together and in order for us to become more well-rounded officers, we needed to stand on our own. Mac fought the transfer, appealed it up as far as he could but nothing worked. When my team for Peru was formed, he wasn't on it."

"He should be glad for that." Blair didn't complete the thought. It was all history now.

"Yeah, but I don't think you could convince him of that even now." Jim gave his friend a wry grin.

"So, what's going on with you two now?" Blair tried to stifle the yawn that was forcing its way out.

As Jim began relating the 'conversation' he and McLin had back at the precinct, Blair understood the Army major's attitude towards him in the loft the other night. Not knowing that Blair was now the one with the job of guiding Jim on his chosen path, Mac had thought the Observer was blocking him. But how could he know?

"You need to talk to him, Jim," Blair said with a yawn after Jim had finished talking. "It's not what you think."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you, man. He asked me not to at the hospital. It's something that you two have to discuss and work out." Another yawn escaped past his lips and Blair gave up. "Now, if you'll give me a hand up, I think I better get to bed before I fall asleep out here." Jim obliged, taking the hand offered and carefully pulled the smaller man to his feet. Blair shuffled off towards his room, swaying slightly but making it on his own.

Jim sat in the chair for a few hours more. He knew that he was going to have to speak to McLin in the morning and he wanted to be sure that his mind was straight with what he would say. It was midnight before he finally went up to bed. Listening from the bottom of the stair, Jim made sure that Blair was resting comfortably. Reassured by the slow, steady heartbeat coming from the back room, he continued up the stairs.

Part Two