Well, real life tried to keep me down and take me away from doing what I love to do -- write. But I persevered despite everything it tried to throw at me, with my job and my personal life.

For those of you who have been looking forward to another story in my Sentinel/Shaman series, I apologize. This plot bunny has been bouncing at my brain for quite some time and demanded to be written. It is an AU, so those of you who don't like them can stop right now. You should recognize characters outside of the MC gang and other things from different episodes of the series, though they are too numerous for me to list.

Mega thanks to Cindy Combs for straightening me out with my ideas of what causes the Chaos. Her professional background as a weather-weanie... ahem... I mean meteorologist helped me, but not as much as her encouragement and guidance.

Heaping, mega thanks to Deborah, otherwise know to the BPP world as DebbieLD, for taking on the daunting task of beta'ing this monster for me. She did a fantastic job of finding all the things I did wrong. Acrylic nails do change the way you type. *grin* You're the greatest, Deborah!

Give this a PG-13, maybe leaning towards an R rating for some language, violence and death of a bad guy here and there. Nobody you'd miss. *grin* I hope you enjoy.

SURVIVING THE CHAOS

Shallan

It was the year of our Lord 2011, at least for those who still used the standard calendars. For others, it was the tenth year after The Chaos. What was that? Some called it World War III, since it involved bombs, missiles and a nuclear device or two. Others called it a fulfillment of the prophecy within the final chapter of the Bible, Revelations: "When he opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, 'Come!' And out came another horse, bright red; its rider was permitted to take peace from the earth so that men should slay one another..."

And slay one another is what they did, in the region formerly known as the Middle East. Tensions had always been high since the end of Desert Storm in 1991, but many believed the threat of annihilation would prevent anyone from using nuclear weapons. They were wrong. What had prevented the Soviet Union from launching a strike against China or the United States didn't stop a new radical group claiming to be the new voice of Allah. They gained access to a few nuclear warheads and sent one toward Israel on December 25, 2001. The Israelis weren't happy about the event and, despite massive amounts of diplomatic pleading, retaliated. It was a short war, with that part of the world becoming uninhabitable for the next couple of centuries. The rapid number of events over the next two years is what prompted many to dub the time as The Chaos.

Access to the oil fields of the region was cut off. That in itself caused a lot of panic. Prices skyrocketed to a level that only the very rich could afford the luxury of owning a car until it was decided to begin rationing the precious commodity. Almost all of the airlines and shipping companies went out of business. Only those that had a powerful financial base survived. Independent truckers disappeared from the highways. The world didn't revert back to the dark ages, but it came close.

In 2002, China decided that it needed to expand and tried to push outward into the countries around it. The resulting action didn't evolve into a full-scale war, but it caused a lot of fighting with, thankfully, mostly conventional weapons. One special bomb, with an electromagnetic pulse warhead, was accidentally fired at Europe. It had taken years before the area recovered to a semblance of normalcy.

In the United States, a few terrorist groups rose up in several cities, creating havoc and lots of damage. They started with the major cities on the East Coast, practically destroying New York, Washington D.C. and Philadelphia. With a ripple effect, they went across the country, making it as far as Kansas City before most of the factions were stopped. There were a few minor incidents in the Western states, but the National Guard was activated in every state and eventually order was restored.

Nature also seemed to become more active during that time and continued to cause problems for about three years. Earthquakes increased in several countries simultaneously, causing enormous amounts of damage and reducing some cities to rubble in a matter of minutes. Volcanoes thought to be safely dormant erupted violently without any warning and mountains that had never shown activity in anyone's memory came alive. History recorded that the loss of human lives due to the forces of nature rivaled the total number of people killed in every war ever recorded.

The United States also suffered its share of natural disasters. It was an active hurricane season in the fall of 2002. Many of the cities along the Gulf and southeastern coast were flooded, forcing the surviving residents to move inland. The San Madras Fault running through Missouri and Illinois, predicted to become active back in the 90's, finally shifted that same year. Unprepared, the city of St. Louis was destroyed and cities as far as 75 miles away were shaken. The Mississippi flowed northward for almost five minutes, causing flood damage to several cities on its banks. Along the West Coast, several faults shifted and flexed, destroying most of California and affecting nearby states.

In Washington State, the minor earthquake in early 2001 was only a prelude to the future. There were a few more earthquakes in 2002 and the spring of the next year. However, without warning in the summer of 2002, the previously unknown fault that had been discovered after the first quake had a major shift. The resulting quake rippled up along the coast, spreading damage in its wake. Water flooded through the streets of Tacoma and Seattle. The city of Bremerton disappeared as the land it sat upon sunk. The Space Needle swayed dangerously before settling down, though it was damaged beyond repair and eventually had to be torn down. In Cascade, streets buckled, bridges cracked and a few buildings collapsed. All in all, the damage was moderate compared to what happened to other cities, but it was still enough to scare many of the residents into fleeing eastward.

Unfortunately, it was shortly after the earthquake that St. Helens came back alive, although the damage it caused was minor compared to what happened when Mount Rainier exploded. It erupted nearly a week after St. Helens and, blessedly, only caused minor additional damage to Tacoma, Seattle and Cascade. Yakima and other cities to the east weren't so lucky. When Rainier blew, it was the eastern side of the cone that crumbled, sending ash, debris and melted snow toward the town. By the time the mountain quieted, Yakima was no more and other cities and towns were severely damaged.

Now, ten years after the start of The Chaos, people had learned to cope without the many luxuries they used to have. Many stayed in the countryside where they originally fled and created communities where they raised their own food, taught their children and mainly stayed among themselves. Transportation in those areas was by foot, bicycle, horseback, or somehow animal powered. Due to the loss of the major oil fields, fuel was strictly rationed and the only people who had any type of motor vehicles were police, medical and emergency agencies. Planes and helicopters were almost non-existent, mainly used for medical transportation and the military.

Scientists radically increased the development of clean energy created by wind and solar devices so homes and businesses still inhabited within the cities could be heated and lighted. Electricity was used to power buses, trams and trains; people in the cities needed some way to get around. The isolated communities did without and they seemed to have no problem accepting the loss.

One such community had set up a few miles east of Cascade in a nice valley in the Mt. Baker - Snoqualmie National Forest that had a good water supply. It allowed for bountiful harvests and the area didn't experience the severe winters that had plagued many parts of the state since The Chaos. The community had originally been inhabited only by older couples whose families were grown and gone. Recently they had begun to attract younger singles and some couples with small children. They called the place Bounty and declared an area of approximately 20 square miles as their own. It was far enough away from civilization to give the inhabitants a feeling that they were on their own and would not be influenced by what they'd left behind. Unfortunately, it also meant they were too far away from any support or protection from police or the military.

A small number within the community worried about this, but were disregarded by those in charge. It had been decided, when the group had found the place, that they would forgo weapons and other instruments of death many felt had caused the downfall of the world. Old-fashioned snares and traps were used to supplement the diets of those who did not want to become vegetarians and also protect the community from any predatory animals. They had been able to survive and thrive for almost five years in their new home. Unfortunately, the deadliest of the predatory animals, man, proved they were able to find and avoid the animal traps. One spring day during their sixth year in the valley, the community of Bounty disappeared.

The attack came during the pre-dawn hours of a cloudy morning. Because of the clouds, it was dark and provided the attackers more cover. The air had a heavy feel to it, like the clouds were going to open and release their liquid contents at any time. Only a few members of the community were awake and moving, preparing to do the daily chores or off to perform their morning meditation. They were totally unaware that danger was near.

The raiders approached stealthily from the west, bypassing the pens holding the livestock and the sheds storing the crops from the previous year's harvest, heading directly for the buildings used for housing. They were set on the high ground of the area and separated according to age and status. The older members, who were too old to work the fields and mainly had the duties of taking care of the few children of the community, had a building that was divided into little housing units. Couples with children had built small cabins and young people, not married but too old to continue to live with their parents, lived in dorms. It was the latter two areas the raiders concentrated on first.

The smoke and fire used created a lot of confusion, forcing the people out of their buildings and into the open. The aged, handicapped and very young were killed instantly, mercifully, with poison darts. All the others were herded to the open square in the center of the community and shackled together, males in one group and females into another. One raider was struggling with a woman who had flowing red locks, her willowy figure belying the strength she used to resist, when he was tackled by a young man who had run out of the treeline.

The youth had been in the woods meditating when he'd felt something was wrong and had started back toward Bounty. As he neared his home, he saw the smoke and fire and started running. When he burst from the trees, he saw the woman fighting with the strange man and recognized his mother. He felt a flood of anger crash over his mind, blinding him to only one thought: protect. With a scream of rage, he threw himself at the pair and knocked them apart.

"Run!" he screamed at the woman. When he saw that she was not moving, he scrambled off the man he'd tackled, ignoring the painful grunt the prone man gave. Reaching the woman, he yanked her to her feet and pushed her towards the trees. "Naomi, GO!" She took off in a shambling run.

When he turned back around to face the man he'd knocked down, the last thing he saw was the stock end of a rifle coming toward his face. Then a bright flash of pain crashed through his head and a throbbing black veil fell over his eyes; a woman's scream echoed in the background.

The raider looked up from the still body of the young man and watched the redhead disappear into the trees. With a curse, he kicked the body then swung his weapon around. He was ready to pull the trigger when a commanding voice called out, preventing him from firing the killing dart.

"What are you doing?" the new man asked, stepping up to the pair. His attention was focused on the unconscious youth.

"This bastard's going to be trouble, Lee," the other raider grumbled, rubbing his chest. The young man had stepped on him trying to get to the woman he helped escape. "He's not worth the hassle of taking back."

The newcomer knelt down and held his hand, palm down, just above the young man's forehead. Releasing a small sigh, Lee Brackett brought his hand down and felt around the neck. Finding a chain, he tugged on it until a small medallion was exposed. On one side of it was the outline of a howling wolf's head with a foreign symbol underneath it. Etched on the backside of the medal was the head of a snarling jaguar.

Standing up, Brackett swung his arm and backhanded the other, knocking him back to the ground. "You're an ass, Dawson. This 'bastard', as you call him, is worth more than all of the others put together. Go get the stretcher and find someone to help you. I want him handled very carefully until we get back into town. Make sure Doc knows that we need to keep this guy out until we're ready to transport."

Giving Quinn a firm look, Brackett turned and headed back toward the main part of community. This had been a very successful operation and the capture of the young man was something he hadn't expected to happen. Brackett had a small mental ability that allowed him to find others who were 'special'. The boy they had just captured was very gifted with some type of power Brackett couldn't understand. He could tell that the youth was also an empath and a pretty decent one at that. He couldn't be very old, early twenties at the most. The fact that he was so young and out here in a wilderness community meant the kid probably hadn't connected with anyone yet. Brackett knew of a buyer who was looking for one similar to the youth and she was willing to pay.

Cascade Harbor Warehouses, After Midnight

Under the cover of darkness, a mixed group of men and women moved through the shadows toward a large warehouse sitting next to the harbor. The windows of the building were dark and there wasn't any movement around it to suggest anyone was there. But the people creeping near didn't trust the visual signs. If the information they had received was correct, tonight's operation would stop a horrendous smuggling ring.

Organ donors had never been in abundance before The Chaos, but now it was almost impossible to find healthy people willing to become donors. Five years earlier, a radical group had obtained a database containing names, addresses and all the pertinent medical data of people who had signed documents to donate their organs upon their deaths. The group had used the database to hunt down would-be donors and harvest their organs before their natural deaths. Since then, no one wanted to be listed on any database for anything.

Recently, rumors had been flying around that the harvesting of organs from unwilling donors had started up again. Only this time, the people targeted were not on any type of database. No one really knew how many people had disappeared into the wilderness areas of America. It was only when information was leaked by new members of the smugglers or a disgruntled customer talked that the authorities were able to learn of any new incidents. The current operation was a result of a tip from someone who had escaped the clutches of a new group in the northeast region.

Captain Simon Banks held his hand up to signal the people near him. Everyone in the vicinity crouched down and hid behind the nearest piece of cover. After seeing all of his people obey, Banks turned to the large man next to him and whispered, "Which way did Ellison go?"

Lieutenant Joel Taggart leaned around the box he was hiding behind, muttered a curse then leaned back. "He's up near the door to the left of the building. How he got up there that fast, I'll never know. But it looks like he's frozen."

"Damn it! I told him to stay with the group. Stay here and watch my back. I'll go get him." Reaching for the microphone button on his headset, Banks whispered, "Everyone hold until I check the building." Releasing the button, the Captain shifted around until he could see where his detective was, then took off in a crouched run.

As he neared the warehouse, Simon could see that Joel had been right in his observation. Jim was standing near some crates in front of the warehouse. Luckily for the detective, it was a cloudy evening and the building didn't have any lamps lit in the front. Anyone looking out of the building probably would not be able to see the man standing woodenly in the dark.

"Jim!" Simon hissed when he felt he was close enough for the other to hear him.

At first there wasn't any movement. Then, Ellison turned slightly and looked directly at the location where Banks was hiding. Stepping close to the crate that hid him, Jim motioned for Simon to approach.

"Do you even know how to obey an order anymore, Ellison?" Fury filled Banks' voice.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but... I had to get closer. There's something..." Ellison turned back to the building and tilted his head.

The gesture wasn't lost on Banks. He knew his man was trying to listen for any sounds in the building, though how the other could hear things that no others could, Banks didn't understand. But the ability, along with others Ellison displayed, had been a blessing in other situations despite their unpredictability. The detective claimed that he could sometimes see things at great distances, but became blinded by the smallest flash of light. Ellison had recently started having moments when he would freeze and become like a statue. His eyes would be open, but it was like there wasn't a man in there. Banks didn't even want to think about the other problems Ellison had been having with his senses over the past six months that almost made it impossible to be a functioning policeman. No doctor had been able to diagnose what was causing the problems, either.

"What do you hear, Jim?" Banks asked, moving up beside his man.

"Machinery, hissing sounds like you would hear in a hospital. I can also hear a generator, but I think it's underground. That must be how they're getting power to the building without anything showing on the city's power grid." Ellison continued to stare at the building. "I can also hear people in there, Simon."

"Don't know how you are doing it, but I can't hear a damn thing," Banks mumbled.

Ellison shook his head and turned around until he was leaning against the crate hiding the two men. "I don't know how I'm able to hear the stuff that I can. Sometimes I think it's all just my imagination and I'm cracking up." Ellison stiffened and inhaled deeply. "I smell blood, Simon. There's something going on in there and I can--"

Jim gagged as his nose was assailed by the strong odor of blood and antiseptic that only he could smell and bent over, covering his nose and mouth. Suddenly, more odors from the area assailed his sensitive nose and he almost couldn't take a breath without wanting to be ill. He felt a hand grasp his arm and concentrated on it and the tobacco odor coming from the man next to him until he felt he was once again in control.

"Jim. Jim!" Banks grabbed his subordinate's arm and gave it a shake. "What's going on?"

As quickly as it had gone haywire, Ellison found his sense of smell back to normal. Pulling his arm free from Banks' hold, he turned back around toward the warehouse and drew his revolver. "We have to move in now, Captain. They're killing people in there."

Trusting his detective, Banks keyed his radio. "Everyone move in. The building is occupied and the operation is in progress. I don't want anyone getting away."

Like hornets swarming, detectives and uniformed officers ran toward the warehouse from every direction. Battering rams were hammered against doors with deadbolts and bolt cutters used on those with chains. Yelling voices echoed throughout the building, creating confusion, and gunfire suddenly erupted from the back and right side.

The sight that greeted Simon Banks was almost enough to make him lose his earlier dinner. On one side of the building sat cages that held a small number of people he hoped were only drugged and unconscious. In the center of the building, the area looked like a small operating room with bright lights pointing toward the center. A cage of plastic surrounded the area; the people standing in it wore stunned expressions on their faces. The two gurneys in the mini surgery area were occupied, though the people on them were past caring. Ice chests sat on the floor near each gurney, waiting to be filled.

Ellison moved through the building like a man on a mission. His eyes were focused on an office on the right side, but he was still conscious of what was happening around him. With an uncanny sense of ease, he swung his pistol to the right and shot the man pointing a rifle at him. The man flew back against a large cylinder against the wall then slid to the ground with a moan and clutching at his shoulder.

Dismissing the man, Jim again moved in the direction of the office, dodging around crates and barrels. He was interrupted again when, hearing a familiar click, he had to dive toward the floor. Rolling under the bullet that had been fired toward him, he came up in a kneeling position and shot at the man off to his left. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to the office or to whatever was calling him there. Calling him. Yes, that's what it felt like. It was a pulling at his soul toward something he never knew had been missing until now.

Unknown to Ellison, he had two shadows flanking his movements. Detectives Henri Brown and J. E. Rafe had received orders from Captain Banks earlier in the evening to stay with Ellison no matter what. That was easier said than done. The larger man had gotten away from them outside of the building, but they were determined to stay with him now. They could see where their friend was heading, but couldn't understand why.

"Yo, Jimbo! The action's this way, man," Brown called to the other, pointing back in the direction of the pseudo surgery.

Rafe moved closer to the larger detective. "What the hell's the matter with you, Ellison?"

Either Jim didn't hear the two or he wasn't listening. With determined steps, he continued toward the office. Reaching the door, he tested the knob. It was locked, like he expected. Rearing back, Jim kicked hard, easily breaking the lock and slamming the door back until it hung barely on its hinges.

The inner area was dark, but it seemed to be bright as day to Jim. With unerring steps, he walked through the office toward the coffin sitting in the corner. The lid was up. Jim couldn't understand why, but he easily heard low steady breathing emanating from the box, like someone in a deep sleep. There was another sound underlying the breathing, also slow and steady; a muted thumping. Hearing it made Jim relax slightly, the intense feeling of longing becoming satisfied. This is what... who had been calling to him.

Stopping beside the casket, he leaned over to see the still form of a young man. He looked as though he was in a natural sleep, but Jim knew better. The breathing was too slow as well as the heart rate. Looking closer, he saw a yellow and purple bruise along the left side of the kid's face running into the long, curly hair that framed it. It was faded, as if the damage had been done a week or more ago. Reaching hesitantly down into the casket, though he didn't need to, Jim placed his fingers against the exposed neck to feel the warm, throbbing pulse.

Ellison had almost expected the young man to awaken at his touch, but knew that was impossible because of the two plastic bags hanging from the lid. The setup looked like a standard I.V. one would find in a hospital. The large bag was half full of a clear solution and the tube leading from it went to the needle inserted in the youth's left arm. The smaller bag held a discolored liquid and looked new. The tube coming from it was attached to a shunt in the other. Angry, Jim grabbed the I.V. and disconnected the line of the smaller bag from the tubing.

"Dear God. Is he alive?"

Turning toward the voice, Ellison saw Brown peering around him and into the coffin. Rafe was over at the desk going through the different folders sitting in neat piles. "He's alive. For some reason, they're keeping this kid separated from the rest and heavily sedated. Probably going to transport him in the coffin."

"Transport?"

Turning back around, Jim pointed down at the padded straps currently around the young man's wrists and ankles and the loose ones that would be used around his torso and head. He began undoing the ones that were buckled around the slim arms. Henri quickly moved forward to take care of the ones around the legs. Just as they were finishing, Jim heard a quick inhale and a muffled curse from behind.

Rafe had found the files that referred to the operation going on in the warehouse and had been sickened by the invoices concerning the purchase of viable human organs. But there had been one file separated from the rest. It concerned the transfer of a large amount of money for the safe and successful capture and shipment of one male: young, healthy and certified as being gifted.

When he felt his fellow detectives behind him, Rafe pointed to the papers on the desk and held up the folder he'd been reading. "We've got addresses, but most of them are out of country. They were going to use contacts within the crews that handle the medical flights to get their... merchandise to the buyers. And this," Rafe waved the file concerning the single transaction, "reads like the sale and shipment of a prized animal. Why... How can anyone... God, I feel ill."

Ellison understood how the younger detective felt, but refused to let the feelings rise in him. He rarely displayed any emotions; his time in the U.S. Army as a member of a Special Forces unit had taught him how to protect himself from the danger of allowing his feelings any free rein. It especially hit home with the death of his last partner four years ago. Since then, Ellison was considered the lone wolf of the force. His attitude and temper kept many others at bay and no other section even considered offering him a position. He fought being paired with any detective and only the other members of the Major Crime unit could stand being around him.

"Let's go finish up the operation, Rafe. We've been able to stop these bastards and they won't hurt any others." Giving the smaller man a hesitant pat on the shoulder, Ellison glanced back toward the coffin. Something was telling him to stay, to protect the unconscious youth, but his duty as a police officer won out and he followed the other two out of the office.

The three had only moved a few feet back into the warehouse when a hail of bullets erupted from an area off to their right. They dived down and sought the nearest shelter from the deadly projectiles. Brown and Rafe made it safely behind a group of barrels, but Ellison wasn't so lucky. He hadn't been prepared for the loud, echoing noise the gunfire made, especially since he had been unconsciously concentrating on hearing the sounds of life from the kid left in the office. The sounds that were telling him that the other, as impossible as it seemed, was waking up.

Clutching his hands to his ears, Ellison staggered toward a large crate. Suddenly, something blazed across his right arm and spun him around. His legs gave out when a burning pain exploded in the arm, burning through the limb and into the rest of his body. Barely conscious, Jim rolled until he was out of the line of gunfire. He became lost in the waves of agony that racked his body.

The black blanket that covered his consciousness was forced slowly back from Blair Sandburg's mind and a sense of urgency pushed at him to float painfully back awake. When his eyelids finally lifted, the sight that appeared in his bleary eyes was not comforting and more than a little frightening. The last place he had expected to wake up and find himself was in some padded box in a darkened room.

Blair's breathing increased and tremors of terror ran through his body when his eyesight cleared and he realized exactly where he was lying. Grasping at the top edges of the box, he levered himself up into a sitting position and promptly grabbed his head. A wave of dizziness, along with a painful hammering throughout his head, threatened to send him back to the land of nod. Breathing deeply and using the small shred of concentration he could muster, Blair forced the pain to reduce down until he was able to think again.

Dropping his hands from his head, Blair felt a pinch of pain and a pulling from his left arm. Holding it up, he saw the I.V. shunt. Following the plastic line up, he saw it led to a bag attached to the lid of his bed. There was a second, smaller bag hanging with it, but the tubing had been detached from the line in his arm. Grasping the part that impaled him, Blair ignored the pain and yanked it out. He paid no attention to the blood that welled up and started streaming from the place the needle had been inserted.

The sound of gunfire outside of his room jerked Blair's attention away from his arm. He heard voices yelling, someone shouting something that sounded like 'Ellison' then a lot more shooting. Blair froze in terror, his heart leaping into his throat, the adrenaline flowing through his body clearing the rest of the haze from his head. One part of his brain was telling him to climb out of the box, hide or just get the hell out of there. But another part he hadn't known existed came awake and started talking to him, calming his fear down to a manageable level. It told him he had to get to someone outside of the room. Someone needed him and an echo of pain throbbed in his right arm. Blair knew it wasn't really a part of him.

Rolling out of the coffin, his brain finally registering the identity of his bed, Blair swayed on his feet for a few seconds. Then the newly awakened part of his brain was telling him to get moving before it was too late. Too late for what? Before he could even start to ponder on that question, the sense of urgency escalated and Blair staggered to the door.

The wooden portal was slightly ajar and barely hanging on its hinges. Peeking through the opening, Blair's eyes widened at the sight before his eyes. He was in a warehouse and there were people shooting at each other. Something smashed into the doorframe over his head, but he didn't pull back. Blair's eyes zeroed in on a man lying on the floor not too far from the door; his eyes clenched shut and a bloody hand holding an arm.

~Him! That's the one. You have to help him.~ The voice in Blair's mind all but screamed at him. And he saw why. A man who was obviously not a friend to the one on the ground had worked his way around until he was near the downed man. He held what looked like a surgical scalpel in his hand, blood very visible on the blade and the man's hand.

Looking around for a weapon, something he could use, Blair saw a piece of wood from the broken doorframe. Unmindful of the ragged edges, he grasped the wood and yanked it completely away from the frame. Clutching his 'weapon', he stumbled out of the office, ignoring the commotion going on around him. The man with the knife had reached the fallen man and, after pulling him onto his back, had raised his weapon to strike.

"NO!" Blair screamed and swung his weapon down onto the attacker's head. The wood shattered on impact, but it did the job it was intended to do. The man crashed to the floor unconscious, his knife flying away. Dropping the remains of his weapon, Blair moved closer, crouched down and laid a shaking hand on the shoulder of the man he'd just rescued.

"Hey, man. It's all right. Relax and take a deep breath," Blair said soothingly, taking his other hand and lightly touching the man's face.

To Ellison, it felt like the whole right side of his body was on fire, with the center of the pain focused in his arm. The intense noise that had dropped him in the first place had died down, but his head still ached with the aftereffects. He had felt his body being rolled so that he rested on his back, then that touch disappeared and was replaced by something more gentle and radiating a comfortable warmth. He heard a voice talking softly to him, the words sounding comforting and safe, telling him to relax and breathe. Then there was another hand carefully stroking his face.

Obeying the voice, Jim inhaled deeply and forced his hand to release the tight grip he had on his arm. Turning his head slightly, he leaned into the hand resting against his cheek. He normally didn't like anyone touching him, but somehow Jim knew this hand wouldn't hurt him. Ever.

"That's it. Slow deep breaths. You can control the pain in your arm, make it fade until it feels like its no more than a scratch." Blair kept his voice at a low, calm timbre, though it cracked from lack of use. He could tell that the man was listening to him and doing as he asked.

When he had the pain in his arm down to a level he could manage, Jim opened his eyes to see who was helping him. He was surprised to see the kid from the office leaning over him, his deep blue eyes filled with concern, long, curly brown hair streaming around his face. Like a puzzle piece being fitted into its proper place, Jim felt something within him click firmly into place. A shy smile flashed across the young face and he answered it with one of his own. "Thanks," Jim whispered, and the smile on the kid's face broadened.

"Put your hands up and move away from him," a baritone voice ordered.

Startled, Blair looked up and saw a large black man standing about ten feet away pointing a gun at him. Tremors began rattling through his body, causing his hands to shake. Blair didn't know if this was one of the good guys or one of the people who had brought him here in the first place. Scared, he swallowed hard and carefully began to raise his arms until he felt a hand latch firmly onto one wrist. Looking down, he saw it belonged to the man he had been helping.

"Captain, wait," Ellison croaked, turning his head to look at his superior. "He's one of the victims. We found him in the office."

Banks stared at his detective for several seconds before turning his attention back to the young man who was crouched over him. The kid's eyes were wide with fright and he looked like he was going to shake apart. "Are you hurt bad, Jim?" he asked, keeping his weapon pointed at the youth.

Releasing the kid's wrist, Jim looked at his own bloodied arm and pulled at the sleeve. "Caught one in the arm, but I don't think it's too bad. This guy was just helping me handle the pain." He gave his boss a grim smile then latched onto the kid again to get his attention back. When the scared eyes locked back onto his, he gently asked, "What's your name, Chief? I'm Jim Ellison."

Sandburg glanced back over at the man Ellison had called 'Captain' then returned his attention. "Blair Sandburg. Um, where am I? What's going on?"

Trying not to pull too hard on Sandburg, Ellison levied himself up until he was sitting. He released his hold on the other and took a better look at his arm. There was a deep furrow that ran along the outside of the muscle and it was still bleeding, yet he didn't feel the pain it should have been causing. Shaking his head in disbelief, Jim looked up to see that Blair had shifted a short distance away and was again staring at the Captain. Jim saw that the kid looked lost. He also saw the blood trailing down the younger man's arm. He had to get him to a doctor.

"Explanations will have to wait until after we get you and the rest of the people here medical treatment. Help me up." Without hesitation, Sandburg jumped to the larger man's side and assisted him to his feet.

Jim could feel the exhaustion the other was struggling against. Hell, the kid shouldn't have awakened from the drugs his captors had been feeding him for hours, maybe even days. Once he was on his feet, Jim took Blair by the shoulders and shifted him around until he could push the smaller man down onto a nearby crate. Mumbling a 'stay here', he searched around until he saw where his revolver lay and went to retrieve it. Tucking the piece into its holster at his back, Jim walked back toward the center of the warehouse and surveyed the scene. He didn't realize he was being followed by a quiet and unsteady shadow.

Reaching the area that had been partitioned off with plastic, Ellison saw a couple of paramedics checking over the bodies that had been abandoned. One was already covered with a sheet. The medics bending over the other looked like they were trying to save the woman, until one holding a stethoscope stood up straight and murmured that they were too late. Dropping his head momentarily in sadness, Jim turned and started to walk over toward the cages he'd seen when he'd first entered the warehouse. He froze then swung around sharply when he heard a gasp.

"Oh, God. Antonia," Blair choked out, staring into the face of the woman laying on the gurney in the plastic arena. Raising a hand to his mouth, he struggled to keep control of his stomach. He knew the woman, remembered the vitality that had once shown in her now lifeless eyes. Turning, he saw Ellison standing between him and a pair of cages where others were swarming over more still bodies. The larger man was looking at him with an expression that was sad and compassionate. Then movement out of the corner of his eyes made Blair turn to see a man he knew being led away in handcuffs.

He hadn't been kept unconscious the whole time he had been a prisoner. At times, Blair had been allowed to awaken briefly to be led to a bathroom, be cleaned and shaved and occasionally fed solid food. However, he had still been drugged enough to not be able to fight his captors or escape. The man, who had introduced himself as his owner, had spent time telling Blair how much he was worth and that several buyers were bidding for him. He never understood why, though.

"You BASTARD!" Blair screamed in rage and launched himself toward the man, wanting only to punch the face that had always stared down at him so smugly. He barely registered the pair of arms that caught him and struggled to contain his savage movements.

Lee Brackett stopped, shook off the hand of the officer holding him and took a step toward his former captive. His eyes held no remorse over what he'd done, only contempt. "You're worth a fortune, kid. Such a waste," Brackett growled. Then the officer with him caught back hold of an arm and forced him to continue toward the exit.

"We're human beings, you sonovabitch. Not cattle for slaughter!" Blair struggled to escape the arms that held him, but they only tightened, pulling him closer to a warm, solid body. His breathing was becoming ragged.

Soft, comforting words finally made it through the burning rage. "Whoa there, Chief. It's all right and you're safe. We've stopped him and his whole operation. They'll never hurt anyone ever again." Ellison had grabbed the young man when he started to charge past. Sandburg didn't have enough strength to break the hold on him, but Ellison still had to fight to keep the kid from hurting himself as he struggled

Blair's rage died down as quickly as it had risen and he sagged in the arms that held him. He was safe with the man who held him; he knew that in his heart. As the strength in his legs gave out, he sank to the ground. The man holding him followed him down, cradling his quivering body in a gentler grip. With a deep sob, Blair twisted in the arms and buried his face against the man's chest.

"That's it, Chief. Let it go. I've got you here," Jim murmured, laying his cheek against the curly head pressing into his chest. Before today, he never would have been involved in such an emotional scene. Hysterical victims were handed off to the officers who were trained to help traumatized people. Yet here he was, cradling this kid he'd only just met and feeling like he was doing the right thing. The anguished voice and sob broke through the wall he'd built around his heart and Jim knew he would do anything to keep the younger man safe. He couldn't hear any sounds of crying, but he could feel the wetness of tears soaking his shirt. "You're safe, Blair. Just let go and I'll take care of you."

Slowly, the near silent sorrow subsided and the body in his arms relaxed. Listening, Ellison could tell that Sandburg had either fallen asleep or passed out. He held onto the young man for several long minutes, stroking the curly hair in what he hoped was a comforting manner, until he noticed several sets of legs standing around him. Looking up, he saw Banks, Taggart and a couple of paramedics, all of them staring down with expressions of compassion.

"You need to let the medics look at the kid, Jim," Simon said, then looked over his detective with a critical eye. "You probably need them to look you over, too."

Ellison nodded and reluctantly allowed the limp body to be eased out of his arms, but only after he gave the two paramedics a hard glare. One of the pair paled at the look and nodded at the unspoken order in the detective's hard, blue eyes: cause the young man any more pain and they would answer to him.

Ellison refused treatment until the paramedics had finished with Sandburg and loaded him onto a gurney. Then he allowed one of them to touch him, but only to wrap a bandage round his wounded arm. Jim stayed by the young man, touching him comfortingly when he had awakened briefly. Then he followed the group out, telling the paramedics they could treat him in the ambulance.

Banks watched Ellison follow the gurney holding the kid, surprised at the way he was acting. Ellison had never been a touchy-feely kind of guy in all the years he'd known him. The man was good for getting information out of suspects, his steely gaze frightening the hardest of criminals. But he never seemed to let down his stoic wall of indifference... until now.

Shaking his head and vowing to keep a watch on his best detective, Banks reached into his coat and pulled out a cigar. It was one of his few vices since The Chaos, but worth the expense in situations like this. Clenching the tube of tobacco comfortably between his teeth, Banks headed for the door and out of the building to catch a ride to the hospital. It was now time for forensics and the Coroner to handle the scene and he wanted to be with Ellison when he talked to the kid.

Cascade General Hospital, Pre-dawn

"Thanks for the advice, Doctor, but no thanks," Ellison said tiredly, pulling his shirt carefully over his bandaged arm. "It was a clean shot with minimal damage. You sewed it up, gave me the necessary shots and the prescriptions for pain and antibiotics are waiting for me at the front desk. I have no intention of staying the night as a patient."

The tired doctor rubbed a hand wearily across his face. This wasn't the first time he'd come up against Detective Jim Ellison as a patient and knew the man had won the battle when he was able to climb off his gurney. "Fine, Detective. I'll have the necessary release forms waiting for you with your prescriptions. Please, just make sure you sign the AMA document so I can prove to my superiors it was your decision to leave." With that, the doctor left the emergency room.

Ellison smiled, enjoying the victory. He hated doctors and hospitals and never would have come to one this time if it hadn't been for Sandburg. At the thought of the young man who'd saved his life, Jim's smile faded. Who was Blair Sandburg and why did Jim feel the need to take care of this kid and keep him safe? He didn't remember ever feeling this way about his ex-wife when they'd been married. In fact, the last person he could remember being this close to was his brother.

Jim closed his eyes briefly at the painful memory. His only sibling, Steven, had been in China on a business trip with their father right before The Chaos. He'd tried to find out any information concerning their possible survival, but had been unsuccessful. It was one more disappointment that molded him into the man he was today.

Concerned about the location and condition of Sandburg, Ellison tilted his head and concentrated his hearing around the area. There was no way he could use his nose; the hospital odors were overwhelming him now. He focused his hearing on the adjacent hallways around his room. Despite the police operation tonight, the emergency room was strangely quiet and Jim was easily able to pick Sandburg's voice.

"Shit. Why'd they have to use so much tape? Ouch!"

Jim winced, hearing the ripping noise of tape being pulled from skin. It sounded like the kid was removing whatever had been taped to his body, which meant Blair was probably going to find a way to sneak out of the hospital. Jim couldn't allow that, since the young man was a material witness, but he also didn't want to lose contact with him.

Buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants, Ellison grabbed his jacket and followed the little noises he could hear Sandburg making. They led him to a small area at the back of the emergency room, an area Jim knew the hospital used for those patients who didn't have insurance or any means to pay for treatment. That in itself made his anger against the hospital go up a notch. The kid was the victim of a horrible crime and also the prime witness to put all those involved with the whole operation away for the rest of their lives. He deserved better treatment than this. Taking a breath to calm himself, Jim tapped on the door and entered.

Jim had heard correctly. Blair was sitting on the side of his gurney carefully peeling the tape away from the I.V. in his arm. The hospital gown he must have been wearing was pooled on the arm with the I.V. and there were a couple of patches of hair missing on his chest from the removal of the heart monitor leads. But Jim didn't need a machine to tell him the kid's heart was beating a little fast; he could easily hear it.

A leather thong hung around the tanned neck, the pewter medallion catching Jim's attention. His eyes focused sharply on the symbol under the wolf head etching. A long-buried memory flashed into Jim's mind of deeply tanned hands drawing the symbol in the dirt near a fire. As quickly as the image appeared, it vanished; Jim's gaze shifted up to Blair's face.

Sandburg had looked up at Ellison's entrance in fear then blushed slightly at being caught, eyes searching the face of the man staring down at him. He opened his mouth to give some excuse for his actions, but the words wouldn't come out. He couldn't lie to this man even if he wanted to. Ellison's eyes looked like they could peer right down into his soul.

"The doctors at this hospital don't take it too kindly when you try to leave before they've completed their treatment and released you," Jim finally said to break the silence and ease the tension. "I should know. I've done it enough times myself to have a permanent warning attached to my medical records."

"I, uh... I had to, uh, go to the bathroom." Blair stumbled over the lie that tried to spill out of his mouth. The bright blue eyes staring down at him were daring him to try another one.

"Uh, huh. So, where are you going?"

Sandburg dropped his eyes and went back to worrying at the tape on the I.V. "I don't know," he finally mumbled. "Some place where I can process what's happened and get my mind straightened out." Finally, the tape came loose and he was able to peel it off. He was about to grab the needle when a larger hand covered his, stopping his actions. Looking up, he saw it was Ellison. The larger man had moved silently forward until he was standing by the gurney, his expression one of concern.

"Let me. I received medical training when I was in the Army. If you don't take it out right, you can rip a vein. Like you did in the warehouse." Ellison silently cursed himself right after he said the last part. Sandburg paled at the mention of the place he'd been held captive. It was still too fresh in his mind, especially the memory of seeing the bodies of the people who'd die.

Being as gentle as possible, Jim pulled the I.V. needle out then grabbed a cotton ball from a nearby suture tray and pressed it against the area. "Hold this," he ordered and reached for a roll of tape. Once Blair's hand replaced his, Jim cut a couple of strips of tape and secured the cotton ball down. "Just need to keep this on long enough to make sure it clots."

Blair glanced up quickly, then dropped his eyes back to his arm and fingered the patch for a few seconds. "Uh, thanks. Guess I owe you for another thing. But don't worry, man. I always pay my debts." Sliding slowly off the gurney, Blair searched around for a shirt. He saw a familiar piece of cloth lying on the floor in the corner and walked over to retrieve it. But when he bent over to pick it up, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he grabbed at the wall to keep from falling over.

Once again, a strong set of hands caught him and helped him sit down. When the darkness that threatened to blanket his mind receded, Blair found a concerned face staring into his own. The eyes were searching his face, relaxing when they saw coherency. Blair shrugged, giving what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, man. Have to remember not to move around too fast. Thanks."

"Jim Ellison."

The calm voice surprised Blair. "What?"

"My name is Jim Ellison. I don't know if you remember it from... before."

"Sorry, Mr. Ellison." Blair dipped his head. "The way I talk, it's a speech pattern I'd gotten used to from working with college kids. I remember you giving me your name. I remember everything." The last was almost a whisper.

Jim could hear Blair's heart rate increase though he couldn't understand why he could hear the sound. He rubbed at his ear before saying, "Actually, it's Detective, but you can call me Jim. You already gave me your name, Blair Sandburg."

"Right. What's going to happen to me now, Detective? Am I being held for anything? I'd like to see... um, if I can, see anyone that was -- is still alive from my home." Tears formed in the expressive blue eyes.

Ellison placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "There weren't too many that were still alive from what I could tell. I'm sorry, Sandburg. If anything, the survivors are probably up in ICU and under protection. I'll make sure you get to see them when the doctors allow it. I promise."

Blair nodded, for some reason trusting the man to keep his word. Straightening up in his chair and quickly wiping his eyes, he looked up and locked his eyes onto Jim's. "So, I ask again, what about me? I don't have insurance or any money to pay for my medical treatment, so I know they won't be keeping me here too long."

"Right now, you're the prime witness to a criminal operation. So, your medical bills will be paid by the state. We could set you up in a special safe house until the trial comes up, but something tells me you'll be running to the mountains the first chance you--" Ellison jumped and turned sharply at what he thought to be a loud crashing noise behind him. Nothing was there. Turning back, he saw Sandburg watching him closely.

"Are you okay?"

Ellison rubbed at his ear again. "It was nothing. It just sounded like it was right behind me."

Blair looked at the door, then back up at the man hovering over him. Raising an eyebrow, he stood up carefully and made his way over to the door. Opening it, he glanced down the hallway to see a nurse helping an orderly cleaning up an overturned cart. Blair looked back over at Jim. "That has to be at least 20 feet away. You thought it was behind you?"

Ellison looked away from the inquisitive face. He couldn't let his 'problems' get away from him now. Sandburg was scared, he could tell, and the last thing Ellison needed to have happen was for him to fall apart in front of the kid. A gentle hand on his arm brought his attention back.

"You were having a problem in the warehouse with the pain in your arm, right? It was really hurting for a while there until you could get a handle on it. Right? Anything else?" Blair asked, moving around until he was standing in front of Jim. That voice in his head was talking to him again. This man had a special problem and he was probably the only one who could help him with it.

Ellison rubbed his face and stared up at the ceiling for several long seconds. The only other person he'd ever discuss this situation with was Simon Banks, his boss, and only to keep from losing his job. But something inside told him the kid could be trusted.

Finally, he looked down into the face staring intently at him. "Sometimes... I've been hearing things that no one else hears. I--I was able to hear your heartbeat back at the warehouse and again here. I was able to find you here because I heard you mumbling about the amount of tape the hospital used. Then there are the problems with my eyesight."

"You're able to see distances that require others to use binoculars, but can be blinded by a flash of light. Right?" At Jim's nod, he continued. "What about your sense of smell? Are there times when you get overwhelmed by some odors?"

Again, Jim nodded. "Last night. Outside the warehouse." Jim didn't explain anymore. He didn't want to remind Blair again about the horrors of his experience. "I--I don't know what to do about all this. Half the time I think I'm imagining it all, especially when I think I can taste every little spice in my food. Frankly, I think I'm going to go crazy." Jim closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Even as he was talking about his senses, the antiseptic odors in the room started to get stronger and the overhead lights were hurting his eyes. A pair of warm hands clasping his arms caused his eyes to fly back open.

Blair could tell the larger man had been and was still experiencing something that was scaring him and Jim Ellison didn't seem to be someone that liked being scared. The man was acting like someone who was having sensory spikes and didn't know how to control them. A smile appeared on Blair's face and an idea grew in his mind. First, he had to help Jim get control. He gently rubbed his hands lightly on the other's arms, hoping the tactile feeling would bring the man back. It worked. Ellison opened his eyes and stared down at Sandburg.

Restraining his excitement, Blair concentrated on dropping the tone of his voice down and saying calmly, "Detective, I want you to pay attention to my voice. I can help you if you just do everything I say. Okay?"

Ellison nodded, swallowing convulsively. The minute Sandburg had touched him, he felt calmer. The kid's voice was comforting and he couldn't not listen to it. "Wha... what do you want me to do."

Blair could hear the nervousness in the larger man's voice and gave what he hoped was a confident smile. "It's okay. I won't ask you to do anything crazy. The thing with your senses is perfectly natural, if you are what I think you are. Before the world went crazy, I was going to Rainier University and my field of study involved people like you. Well, actually, my field of study was anthropology, but my Master program concerned studying aboriginal tribes and their legends of sentinels."

"Sentinels? What in the hell are they?"

"Who, actually. According to tribal lore, many tribes would have a warrior who had special enhanced senses. These would allow him to provide special protection to the tribe by being able to see approaching danger, detect changes in the weather, stuff like that. It sounds like you might be the embodiment of what I was writing my Ph.D. dissertation on. There hasn't been a record written about a living sentinel in decades, man."

A scowl appeared on Ellison's face, his eyes hardening. "Are you saying that I'm like some ancient freak that lived in the jungle?"

Blair could feel the anger building in the man in front of him as well as hear it. "Whoa, wait a minute. Sentinels are not freaks. They were very special men of their tribes, honored the same and sometimes more than the tribal shaman. As human as anyone, but blessed with enhanced senses. They were vital to the health and welfare of their people. And with all that has happened in the world lately, I'm not surprised with something like this showing up."

As quickly as the anger had blossomed, it faded. "So what can I do to shut my senses down. I can't function with them this way."

"First of all, I have no idea how to shut them down. Second, you shouldn't want that 'cause they can help you with your job as a cop. When everyone else is running around trying to take samples for testing, you'd be your own organic crime lab. What I can do is help you get control of your senses right now so you won't be so overwhelmed. First, I want you to sit down here and close your eyes." Blair helped Jim sit down in the chair then knelt down by his knees. The larger man already had his eyes closed though it was more to block out the painful glare of the light than follow Blair's instructions. "That's good. That's good. Now, you need to get calmer. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly... Good. Do it again."

After a couple of minutes, Blair could see Jim was finally relaxed and receptive to him. All he had done was get the man to do a simple relaxation exercise, but then sometimes it's the simple things that work best. "Okay, we're at the easy part now. I want you to picture a control board in your mind. On this board are several little dials and each one has a label for one of your senses. Can you see the dials?" At Jim's nod, Blair smiled and continued. "That's great. Now, each dial has numbers around them, one through ten. Reach out to the one labeled 'smell' and put your hand on the dial. You are the one that is in control of that dial and where it is set. Right now it's probably sitting at a pretty high number, isn't it?"

"Yeah, about an eight."

"That high? Wow, you must be miserable. Okay. Like I said, you're controlling the dial. Start moving it until it's on the number four. How is it?"

"Still a little strong. Burns my nose a bit." Jim scrunched his nose in distaste.

"Then bring it down another notch or two. You don't want to turn it off completely or you'll affect your sense of taste. How about now?"

Ellison looked calmer and nodded. He had a small smile on his face at the relief he felt. Feeling more confident, Sandburg verbally walked the larger man through the same routine until all of his senses were under control. The confident smile the detective displayed when he opened his eyes told everything.

Standing back up and shifting until he was able to lean against the gurney, Blair sagged in exhaustion. All he had been doing was talking, but it felt like he'd been doing physical labor. Closing his eyes, he rubbed at his face then pushed his hair back. The big question in his mind now was what was he supposed to do next? No money, no place to stay and, since this hospital was obviously in some city, he was probably a long way from home. Jim's voice jarred him from his thoughts. The man was standing beside him, holding out his shirt.

"Come on, Chief. It's pretty obvious you're dead on your feet and probably hungry enough to bankrupt a smorgasbord. I know where you can get a good meal and a comfortable night's sleep. It's the least I can do to pay you back for what you just did."

Sandburg opened his mouth to argue, but the grumbling of his stomach made him close it back up. He allowed Ellison to help him dress and even accepted the larger man's coat around his shoulders. He then followed the other out of the small room and up to the nurse's station. Ellison argued with the two women behind the counter for a few minutes, then pulled out a wallet and flashed his badge. They quickly gave him some papers to sign and handed over two small slips of paper.

Smiling a false smile at the two medical personnel, Jim turned to the smaller man and said, "Let's go. If I know my Captain, he'll be hanging around somewhere down the hall waiting to talk to us."

Jim wasn't wrong. Simon was leaning against a wall nearest to the entrance of the emergency room, a cell phone to his ear. When the Captain noticed the two men approaching, he quickly ended his conversation and tucked the device into the pocket of his overcoat. Pushing away from the wall, he waited until the two were close enough, a pleased expression on his face.

"Well, the Mayor is pretty happy with the results of the raid. Apparently this is not the first time this group has set up operation, but it's definitely the last. Arrests have been made at the airport and there are a couple of hospitals back east and overseas that have some questions to answer." Banks glanced at the smaller man standing next to Ellison, noting the pale and pained appearance.

"That's good to hear, sir." Ellison noted his superior's gaze. "Oh, this is Blair Sandburg. Since it's too early for any restaurants to be open, I was just going to take him to my place. Figured we could go to the station later this afternoon and have him fill out a statement then. I promised to bring him back here later when any of the others are able to have visitors." He stared into Banks' eyes and hoped the other would understand and accept what he proposed. A light touch on his arm pulled his attention to his companion

"I'm going to..." Blair pointed toward the restrooms.

Jim nodded. "I'll wait here for you, Chief."

"You're taking the kid to your place?" Banks asked incredulously after the door to the lavatory closed.

"My instincts are telling me that if we don't keep him within arms reach, we'll have lost a witness, which will weaken the case." And I'll have lost something special, Jim thought to himself.

"Where would he go? He's probably from one of those communities in the mountains and that's a long walk."

"I know, sir. That means he doesn't have anyplace around here to stay and we'll need time to make arrangements." Jim stepped closer to his boss, dropping his voice. "Come on, Simon. He's just a kid and he's been through a hell of a lot. Some normalcy will be good for him."

"Normalcy? Around you?" Banks snorted. "Okay Jim, we'll drop you two off at your place. But I'll have a car back there around 3:00 to give you two a lift to the office--" He paused when he saw Ellison turn his head, tilting it in the direction of the restrooms, an expression of sorrow appearing. "What?"

"It's Sandburg. He's ill."

Simon looked at the closed door of the men's room then back at Jim. He reached out and grabbed his detective's arm to stop him from heading in that direction. "How do you know that?"

"I can hear him, Simon. As easily as I hear you now, I can hear him in there." At Banks' confused expression, Ellison sighed. "Sandburg says I have enhanced senses."

"What? You mean you're some kind of superman?"

"No, sir. I--I can't really explain it. Blair knows more about it than me. He was able to help me back in the warehouse and even more just a little while ago. He said I'm like these ancient tribal warriors called sentinels and--"

Banks held out his hands, palms outward. "Whoa, time out. It's late, I'm tired and I don't think I'm ready to hear any tall tales. We'll talk about it later."

"Yes, sir. I can understand how you feel. I don't know if I want to believe any of it either."

"Go get the kid, Jim. I'll be at the car." Shaking his head as he turned and started walking out the exit, Simon pulled a chewed cigar from an inner pocket and placed it in his mouth.

Turning quickly, Ellison strode to the door of the men's room and pushed it open. There wasn't anyone visible, but the door to a far stall was closed and he could easily hear someone in there, breathing heavily.

"Sandburg? Are you okay?"

There was a quick inhale, then the toilet was flushed. "Yeah, ~ahem~ I'm fine, man. Be right out." After several long seconds, the stall door finally opened and Blair walked out. He moved with exaggerated care toward the sink and bent over to splash water over his face. When he glanced up into the mirror, he froze, staring at his own image. Finally he asked in a quiet voice, "Why was I separated from the rest of them?"

"I don't know, Chief."

"He said... he said I was worth a fortune. Kept telling me he was going to get a lot of money for me. Why?"

Ellison walked up to stand behind the smaller man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll make sure we get some answers to all of it. Promise."

When Blair nodded, Jim patted his shoulder and moved toward the door. "Our ride is waiting. Don't take too long."

"Be right there." Blair watched through the mirror as the larger man left then turned to pull on the towel dispenser until a swath of clean cloth appeared and wiped his face. When he felt he could face others, Blair left the bathroom to catch up with Jim at the exit to the hospital.

Placing a hand on Blair's back, Jim guided him out of the building and over to where a police car sat. The officer standing at the driver's door stared suspiciously at the long-haired young man beside the detective until Jim calmly explained that his companion was under his protection. The officer shrugged and climbed behind the wheel of the car. Simon was already in the front passenger side seat, so Jim and Blair climbed into the back.

The trip didn't take that long, but Blair still savored his first ride in a motor vehicle in years. When the police cruiser stopped in front of a three-story brick building, Blair exited the vehicle on shaky limbs once the door was opened for him. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing here, but that strange part of his brain was talking to him again, telling him that he was right where he needed to be. Whatever that meant.

"Thanks, Captain. See you later," Jim said, leaning back into the car. Then he shut the door. "Come on, Chief. There's nothing to worry about. This is where I live and this building is one of the safest places in the city." Ellison walked over to the entrance of the building and, after inputting his code into the security lock, pulled the door open. When he saw that Sandburg wasn't behind him, he turned to see the young man still at the curb. Ellison could see the fear in Sandburg's eyes and could almost hear the kid asking himself what was he doing here. "What's the matter, Sandburg?"

Blair looked up at the three-story building then carefully at the man standing at the door. He knew Jim was a cop and had saved his life a few hours ago, but he didn't know what to think about the man bringing him to his home. "Uh, Detective..."

Ellison smiled. "You don't have to worry about your virtue, Chief. First, I prefer redheads and second, although your hair is the appropriate length, you don't have the right type of equipment. I'm just offering you a good meal, hot shower and a comfortable place to sleep. Nothing else, okay?"

Blair smiled sheepishly, blushing, and followed after the larger man into the building. "Sorry, man. Guess I'm not used to this type of hospitality. Even in a community like Bounty, people were very private and kept to themselves."

"Well, in this building, we're all pretty tight. Either members of the police force or firefighters occupy the apartments. We went together and put solar panels on the roof when the price of natural gas when through the roof and we tend to keep an eye on each other's places. If anyone wants to sell, the rest of us are allowed to approve the new tenants. Here we go, Chief. Home sweet home." Ellison stopped in front of a door with the numbers 307 on it.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Ellison nodded absently at the question, pulling his keys out of a pocket.

"Why do you keep calling me 'Chief'? I've had nicknames before, but I can't even figure out how you came up with that one."

Jim had the door open and reached in to turn on a light, but froze before stepping in at the question. He turned around and looked down at Blair. Finally he said, "I don't know. It just seems to fit. Does it bother you?"

"No, not really. I just like to know things. Naomi used to say I asked too many questions." A wave of pain flashed across Blair's face. He quickly dropped his head and brushed past Jim to enter the apartment. "Nice place. You pick it up after The Chaos?"

Ellison followed behind the smaller man, first making sure to secure all the locks he had on the door. "No, right before. I'd just gotten out of the Army, needed a place to live and this was in my price range. It was one of the few that survived the earthquake and after Rainier blew. What would you like for breakfast?"

Jim's quick switch of the subject caught Blair by surprise. "Uh, whatever's easiest for you to make. I'm not all that hungry."

"I can scramble some eggs and toss some bread in the toaster. It's light and you probably haven't been fed a solid meal in a while. The milk isn't that old and would probably do you some good."

Jim pulled open the refrigerator and started pulling things out. He acted like he was completely occupied with preparing the meal, but his attention was on the person wandering around his living room. Blair was at the bookcase, reverently touching the spines of the books as he read their titles. Then he walked over to the windows leading to the balcony and stood staring at the semi-dark skyline, wrapping his arms around his chest.

"Who's Naomi? A gal you knew at that community you were staying?" Ellison asked, bringing dishes to the table to lay out. He saw the other flinch and tighten his arms before dropping his head.

"No. She was... is my mother. She's always been in this 60's type attitude and when I was old enough to really think coherently, she asked me to call her by her name. She used to always tell me that calling her 'Mom' was so passe and calling her Naomi put us on an equal level. Who was I to say no? It's a habit now."

"Was she at that community with you?"

Blair turned around and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Guess it's about time you hear the whole story. Got a tape recorder handy? I'm not sure how many times I'm going to be able to repeat this without falling apart."

Jim pulled out another chair and sat across from the smaller man. He could see the pain beginning to fill Blair's eyes and gave what he hoped was a comforting smile. "I've got a pretty good memory. But you don't have to talk about this now."

"Thanks, but I think it would be better if I did this now. More relaxed setting might help me get more of the details." At Ellison's confused look, Sandburg added, "I've a minor in psychology."

"How many degrees do you have? You look too young to have even graduated college."

That brought a genuine laugh out of Blair. "I'm 29 years old and had already finished my Master Degree when the world fell apart. Started college young and was able to complete my Bachelor Degree early."

"I would have guessed you to be no older than 25."

"You thought I was just a child, eh, old man?" Blair's eyes twinkled at the jab.

"Being 39 is not old, kid," Ellison retorted immediately. "Wait, didn't you say you were working on a Ph. D. dissertation?"

"Rainier was another place that survived the first few earthquakes. It shut down for a year, but started back up in a reduced capacity. I found a couple of professors that took me on special and allowed me to start working on the doctorate. A couple of years ago, it closed back down. Lack of students and the government needed the dorms. It had a fantastic library... ~sigh~ So, about that time Naomi showed up and convinced me to go with her to Bounty. I had already been awarded my Master degree but was never able to finish the dissertation."

Trying to be as calm and nonchalant as possible, Jim stood up and took the skillet from the burner. As he scooped the eggs onto the plates, he asked, "So what happened at Bounty?" There was silence until he took the pan back to the stove and brought over a plate with several pieces of toast.

Blair picked up the fork next to his plate and fiddled with it. "No guns were allowed in the community. We could have knives and were allowed to fashion stuff like bows for hunting and spears for fishing. So, we were pretty defenseless when the attack occurred. It was early, before dawn, and I was, um, out in the woods behind the cabin we used to share. I felt something was wrong and was running back when I saw this guy fighting with Naomi."

"How far away were you?"

"I don't know, maybe a half mile or more. I'd found this great little glade that had a flat boulder just big enough for me to sit comfortably and meditate. I'd been going there pretty frequently for about the last six months, needing to meditate and calm a restlessness I'd been feeling. Even built myself this nice little shelter that I could get away to whenever the feeling arose. Anyway, I was trying to decide whether it was time to come back to Cascade. What?" Blair asked, seeing a look of surprise appear on the other's face.

"Nothing, really. I think it was about six months ago when I started to have problems with my senses. It was right after finishing a really bad case I'd been working. Go on, Chief. What happened next?"

"Not much more to tell. I tackled the guy, made him let Naomi go, saw her run into the woods. When I turned back around, I saw a rifle butt heading for my face. I don't remember anything else until the warehouse." Blair reached forward and grabbed a piece of toast. He focused his attention on eating his meal while silence filled the air.

Jim could see that the other was struggling to keep his composure and let the conversation die. If anything, Bounty didn't exist anymore. From what he'd learned about the group they had captured earlier, anyone not useful was killed and the place was burned down. That would erase evidence of the attack and any survivors would not have a place to return. Reports indicated there hadn't been any survivors from the group's last two attacks. The possibility of Sandburg's mother still being alive was slim, but Ellison didn't want to voice that information.

Remembering, Jim stood up and went back into the kitchen, pouring two glasses of milk. As he placed one in front of Blair, he asked, "You said you remembered that one guy talking to you a couple of times at the warehouse."

Blair took a long drink from the glass. "Yeah. I don't know how long we... I was there, but I did wake up a couple of times. They'd let me wash up, give me a shave and force some food down me. I didn't have the energy to fight them when they did. After the guy hooked my I.V. back up, but before he'd start the drugs, he'd sit by me and smile after holding his hand on my forehead. I remember him saying once that I was the mother lode and he was going to be set for life."

"Maybe you're the long lost relative of someone who's rich or important," Jim offered.

"Doubtful. I've met most if not all of Naomi's family. The only one that might have any type of money probably lost it after The Chaos. He had a trucking firm and unless you were wealthy or had a government contract, you didn't survive. Switching to the electric engines was expensive. Besides, the last time I saw my uncle, he was ready to retire. Hope he was able to."

"What about your father's side?"

Blair laughed, but their wasn't any humor in it. "Don't know who my father is; Naomi never told me. She was a free spirit and really didn't stay with a guy for more than a couple of months. She once told me there were a couple of good candidates..."

"I'm sorry," Jim voiced honestly.

"Don't be. Can't miss what you've never had." Suddenly, Blair yawned mightily. "Sorry, I guess it's starting to catch up with me."

Ellison jumped up and started moving the dishes from the table. He noticed that Sandburg had barely eaten half of the eggs. "No, I'm sorry. You've been through hell tonight and I'm playing twenty questions. The bathroom is over there." Jim pointed to the closed door across from the kitchen. "Why don't you go grab a shower and I'll get you some things to wear while I toss your clothes into the wash. They might be a bit big, but they'll be clean and I can also set up the futon in the other room."

Blair didn't argue. He felt like his head was muffled in cotton and the food in his stomach was not sitting too well.

While he was in the shower, Jim had knocked on the door and set the promised clothes and some towels just inside the room. Blair had jumped at the knock, but became strangely calm after hearing the other's voice, which was good since he really didn't want to end the shower too soon. For the past four years, he had to either heat water for a bath or wash up in the nearby stream. He kept clean, but nothing could compare to the luxury of having properly heated water beating down on his head and body. When the water started to cool, he turned it off and got out.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Blair felt like a child wearing his big brother's hand-me-down clothes. The sweatpants were definitely too large, and he had to roll the legs up, but the sweatshirt wasn't that bad. It didn't matter, though. They were clean and dry, just like he was. It had taken a little time for him to get the tangles out of his hair with his fingers. It wouldn't have been right to use the other's comb.

"Detective? Uh, Jim?" he called out when he didn't see or hear the larger man.

Jim's voice floated out of the room to his left with the French doors. "In here."

Shuffling to the entrance, Blair peered around one of the doors. He saw Jim smoothing a blanket onto a small mattress then turning to pick up the pillow he'd placed on top of the nearby desk. The room was slightly cluttered, camping equipment sitting in a corner and boxes stacked here and there. It was obvious Jim had shifted a few things to be able to extend the futon down.

"All ready, Chief. Come on and lay down," Ellison ordered gently after he finished making the bed. He stepped away to give Sandburg the space he needed to approach, but stood ready to help if needed. He could see that the young man was asleep on his feet, but didn't want the kid to think he was hovering. "Do you need anything? Aspirins? Something to drink?"

"No, but thanks, man. You've done more for me than I could ever repay you for."

Jim watched Blair almost collapse onto the bed and crawl under the covers, his eyes already closed. "You don't owe me anything, Blair. You've more than paid for anything I do for you when you helped me at the hospital. Goodnight." He turned off the light but stayed at the doorway for several minutes. He listened until he heard the young man's breathing slow down and deepened into sleep before heading into the kitchen. After doing a quick clean up, leaving the dishes to soak in the sink, Jim headed up the stairs to his own bed.

Ellison opened his eyes and sat up abruptly. Instead of seeing his bedroom, he was lying in a jungle glade. Everything was muted in color and he could feel the familiar oppressive heat he remembered from so many years ago. He knew this place; the memory bubbled to the surface of his mind. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing the same clothes associated with that memory, camouflage pants with a matching shirt that had the sleeves cut off. The cloth covering his head had come from the remnants of the sleeves. Other than the knife on his belt, he was weaponless.

Jim stood and spun in a slow circle until he saw a path leading off into the trees. He knew there was someone waiting for him down that path, so he started down it in a comfortable trot. His pace was one that he knew he could keep up for hours, but knew he wouldn't be traveling too far. Before long, the path opened to another clearing with a stone platform at the far end. Waiting there was a Peruvian native, one he was very familiar with.

"Incacha," Jim breathed the name reverently, stopping before the platform.

The native smiled. "Enqueri. It has been many seasons since we last spoke. You are doing well." The last was a statement.

Jim returned the smile. He hadn't spoken the other's language since he'd left the Army, but he understood the words as clearly as if they were spoken in English. "Yes, my teacher and friend. It has been many seasons since I had to leave you. Forgive me for not remembering you or trying to send you word."

"The ways of the White Man's world can cloud any mind. It pleases me to know that you are well in the Great City. And now that you have found your true Guide, that pleases me more."

A frown appeared on Jim's face. "Guide? What do you mean?"

"The young one I foretold would one day take my place at your side." Incacha stepped to the side and pointed to the alcove in the wall behind him. Curled on his side and sleeping peacefully lay Blair. Jim immediately stepped onto the platform and reached his hand toward the young man. It was stopped by a brown one. "Though you see him, Enqueri, he is not really in this place. He had not yet completed his training as a shaman to be able to walk safely here."

Suddenly, long forgotten memories flooded Jim's brain. When he had been in the Army, his helicopter had been shot down over Peru and he had been the only survivor. Incacha had found him wandering through the jungle in a daze, took him back to his village and nursed him back to health. Jim had stayed there in the village until he had been rescued almost two years later.

What he remembered the most about his time with Incacha was the man always being by his side while he patrolled for the village. He also remembered the conversations by the fire, of Incacha telling him that one day he would not be alone, the symbols he'd drawn in the dirt. "You helped me with my senses," Jim voiced softly.

"A sentinel needs a guide at his side so that he does not get lost in his mind. I was only there because your true guide was not and you needed to learn to be a sentinel. Now that you have found him, you have become the Sentinel of the Great City."

"So everything he told me is true," Ellison murmured. "And all these feelings I've been having about wanting to keep him safe--"

Incacha finished his sentence. "Because there is much danger around him. His connection to you is new and there are others who want to take him, to use his abilities against you and any other that fights evil. Guard him well, Sentinel, and he will do the same for you."

"Connection? What are you talking about?"

A low growl took Ellison's attention away from Incacha and the slumbering Sandburg. He turned to watch a large black jaguar stalk out of the foliage into the center of the glade. The animal stopped and stared into his eyes for almost a minute before circling a couple of times and lying down. Before Jim could say anything, the cat let out a loud roar. The call was answered by a silver wolf bounding out from under a bush. The lupine stopped behind the cat and, after sniffing the feline's head, stepped around to sit by its side.

"Neither is greater than the other, each knowing the time when they should lead or follow."

Jim broke his gaze away from the animals to look at his former teacher, only to see the man fade into the nearby brush. "Incacha!"

The low growling of the large cat stopped Ellison from following after his former mentor. Spinning back around to the animals, he watched the jaguar pull itself to its feet then nudge the wolf with its head.

Giving his companion a quick swipe with his tongue, the wolf bounded toward the platform, just avoiding the swipe of a black paw. Without hesitation, it trotted past Ellison and disappeared into the niche that held Sandburg. The young man's form also disappeared.

Turning back to look at the remaining animal, Jim and the jaguar stared at each other for a long minute. Suddenly, Jim heard a low sound and he turned his head in its direction.

Something forced its way into Ellison's subconscious and his eyes snapped open. The remnants of the 'dream' he'd just had dimmed but did not vanish from his memory as most did. Quietly reaching up to the holster hanging from his bedpost, he pulled out his revolver and lay listening for whatever had awakened him. A few minutes later he heard a low moan coming from downstairs and immediately knew it was coming from Sandburg.

Throwing back his covers, Jim climbed from his bed and glided quietly down the stairs. He scanned his senses around the loft as a precaution, but already knew there wasn't anyone else there besides Blair and himself. Clicking the safety back on his weapon, Jim lowered it to his side and headed to Blair's room. Blair's room? Where did that come from?

Another moan came from the room and Jim opened the doors without knocking. Focusing his sight on the figure thrashing on the bed, the room became as bright as day and Jim could clearly see Blair and the nightmare he was experiencing. The young man's arms seemed to be locked down to his side, his hands clenching and releasing. His head whipped back and forth, hair plastered against his sweat-covered face. Not wanting to frighten the young man, Jim opened the door wide before entering, allowing the light from the outer room to brighten the area.

"Sandburg," Jim called softly, sitting at the side of the bed and setting his gun on the floor. He was afraid of scaring the younger man and refrained from touching him. Yet the sight of Blair struggling in terror pulled at Jim. He raised his voice. "Wake up, Chief."

Blair continued to fight against some unseen force. "No," he moaned. "She's alive!"

Realizing that the other couldn't hear him, Ellison placed his hands onto Sandburg's shoulders and brushed them down until he was holding onto the arms just below the shoulders. When there wasn't any reaction, he shook the body and called louder. "Sandburg!"

Blair sat up abruptly and screamed.

Jim engulfed Blair with his arms and pulled him into his chest. The young man's body was rigid in fear, his chest heaving, his heart thundering. "Come on, kid. You're safe. Wake up!"

Suddenly Blair sagged in the arms that held him and buried his face into the other's neck. He gasped for breath, tremors rattling through his body. The nightmare had been so real. He had been back in the warehouse, only this time he'd been strapped down on a table in the operating area. He lay helpless and watched as Antonia was cut into, her still-beating heart removed while she looked at him and silently screamed.

"Oh, God," he moaned, wrapping his arms around the body that held him. He knew it was Jim, just as he knew where he was and that he was safe. But the memory of the nightmare was still vividly in his mind. "I was there... I was watching..."

"It's okay, kid. You know where you are now, right?" Jim asked gently, rubbing Blair's trembling back. He felt the head on his chest nod and the arms wrapped around him relaxed. "It was only a dream. You're safe."

Blair took a deep breath and slowly leaned back, bringing his hands up to wipe his damp hair back away from his face. "I'm all right." He tried to sound calm, but his voice still trembled.

Ellison chuckled and shifted back to give Sandburg more room. "Not really, but I think you will be. Hell, after all you've been through, I'm surprised you could sleep at all."

Drawing his legs up to his chest, Blair encircled them with his arms and rested his forehead on his knees. "Sorry I woke you up," he mumbled. "You can go back to bed, Jim. It won't happen again."

Ellison smiled. This was the first time Sandburg had used his first name without any hesitation. "I'm fine right here, Chief. If my being here helps you battle whatever demons are haunting you, I don't mind losing a couple hours of sleep. Besides, it's almost time for me to get up anyway."

Blair looked up sharply at the other's words. The light coming from the outer room allowed him to easily see the older man's face. The expression displayed showed he was sincere. Blair gave him a small smile. "I'll be all right. Honest."

Ellison stood up and walked to the doors. He turned and said, "Okay, kid. If you say so. But if you need to talk, I'll be near."

"Thanks," Sandburg replied, shifting to lie back down in the bed. "G 'nite."

"Goodnight, Chief." Jim closed one of the doors and left the other one slightly ajar. Thinking he would never be able to get back to sleep up in his bedroom, he moved on silent feet to the couch, lay down and pulled the afghan down over his body. He listened toward the back bedroom until he was sure Blair was once again asleep, then closed his eyes and joined him.

~Awaken, Shaman! Your Sentinel needs you.~

Blair jerked awake at the voice he heard and sat up abruptly, fear squeezing his heart when he didn't recognize his surroundings. Looking around the strange room, he didn't find anyone. Then he remembered he was in Detective Ellison's home and the reason he was there. Squeezing his eyes closed, Blair allowed the pain and sorrow from his memory to wash over him until the voice spoke again.

~Cry later, Shaman. Your sentinel needs you. MOVE!~

The intensity of the voice snapped Blair back alert and he almost fell out of the bed obeying. Stumbling out of the room, he pulled the oversized, sagging sweatpants higher on his hips to keep from tripping. The coldness of the floor had him curling his toes as he searched around the loft for his benefactor. A chilly breeze brushed past his face, drawing his attention toward the balcony. Sandburg spied one of the doors slightly ajar and, through the clear pane, saw the object of his search. Ellison stood on the far side, facing away from the loft.

Stepping over to the door, Blair wrapped his arms around his body and stuck his head through the opening. "Detective?" When there wasn't any reaction from the still man, Blair groaned and started out the door. He paused when he heard knocking on the front door of the loft then continued out. Something was wrong; he could feel it.

"Hey there, Jim. You okay, man?" Blair pitched his voice down to what he felt was a soothing level that wouldn't startle the other and slowly stepped up to the larger man's side. When he was able to see Jim's face, his heart leaped. "Damn! You zoned, didn't you? How long have you been standing here, man? ~snort~ As if he can answer you, stupid. Okay, okay, let's try something."

Jim was standing near the wall, but not so close that Blair couldn't get in front of him. Glancing timidly over the wall, Blair swallowed heavily and shuddered slightly. It had been so long since he'd been up this high that he'd forgotten about his fear of heights. But he couldn't let that bother him right now. He had to take care of Jim. First, he carefully pried the half-full mug of cold coffee from Jim's hands and set it on the wall. Blair flinched at the coldness of the other's skin and silently cursed himself for sleeping so soundly. The weather had performed its standard flip- flop, changing from a pre-summer warmth to an early spring chill.

Blair could hear loud pounding and yelling coming from inside the loft, but ignored them and concentrated on the man in front of him. Gently, he laid his hands on Jim's and folded them over until his thumbs rested on the pulse points of each wrist, pressing until he could feel the slow but steady pulse. "I don't know what you were focusing on, but you need to let go of it. Come on, Jim. You can hear my voice, I know it. Just concentrate and follow it. Let it bring you back here. That's it, man. Take a deep breath and keep listening to me. Find your way back here."

An increase in the rhythmic thumping under his thumbs told Blair he was getting through to Jim. He was about to speak again with a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Let go of him!"

A burst of anger flashed through Blair along with a strong urge to protect the one in front of him. Rolling his shoulder, he dislodged the hand then, releasing one of Jim's hands, swung his arm across his body and slammed his palm into the large body next to him. "Back off!" Blair growled. He caught the other below the ribs, causing the man to stumble backward clutching his stomach. Blair thought he recognized the man as Jim's boss, but it didn't matter and he returned his attention, and his hands, to the one in front.

"Okay, Jim. You've been gone long enough. It's time to come back and I want you to do it now." Releasing one hand, Blair reached up and patted the larger man's face. Jim flinched at the action, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Blair grinned broadly. He was pulling his arm back when a large black hand clamped on his wrist and jerked him around into the nearby wall. He grunted as he folded over the top, his arm pinned behind his back.

Banks was furious. First he had stood outside Ellison's place for several minutes making a fool of himself while he pounded and yelled at the door. Figuring something was wrong, he used the spare key Ellison had given him to unlock the door. Entering the loft and thinking the worst, he drew his revolver and carefully scanned the area... only to find his detective and the supposed victim rescued the night before out on the balcony. Concerned, he hurried to the two men and saw something wrong with Ellison and the kid with his hands all over him. After receiving a punch in the stomach from the later, Banks decided enough was enough and took action to subdue the kid. He was just pulling out his handcuffs when his own arm was grabbed in a grip that threatened to crush the bones in his wrist.

"Let him go," Jim growled, twisting the arm he held. The last thing he'd remembered was watching a sea eagle floating on the afternoon breeze, the whiteness of the feathers almost glowing against the deep blue sky. Then he was floating in this dark swirling mist until he heard a voice calling to him and warm, comforting hands on his own. He'd latched onto the gentle words and allowed them to slowly pull him back into awareness. When the voice stopped abruptly and the touch disappeared, Jim forced himself the rest of the way out of where ever he'd been only to see Sandburg being manhandled. It was reflex that had him grabbing at his captain.

"I said, let him go!" Ellison ordered. He increased the pressure on the appendage, feeling the slight grinding of the bones under his hand.

"Ow! Cut it out, Jim." Simon was surprised at the strength of the man holding him, but he was also a little frightened of Jim's expression. It was as if the other didn't even recognize him. Releasing his hold on Sandburg, he tried to pry the crushing grip off his arm. Then he felt himself being pulled to the side until Ellison was standing in a protective posture in front of the kid. Banks was surprised a second time as Sandburg shifted around his protector, gesturing at the captain to stay calm and gently laying a hand onto Ellison's arm.

"Whoa, Jim. I'm okay, man. Let go of his arm before you break it," Blair murmured. With ease, he was able to loosen Jim's fingers and pull the man's hand back. He then moved the rest of the way around until he was once again standing in front of the detective. "How about it, man. You back with us, yet?"

Ellison blinked a few times and shook his head to clear it. He looked down to see Sandburg's concerned face staring up at him. "Uh, yeah. I guess so. Captain? When did you get here?" What's going on?" Jim asked when he saw Simon standing a few feet away, clutching his arm to his chest.

"That's what I want to know. When you didn't answer the door, I thought something might have happened since you brought..." Banks gestured at Sandburg. "So I used the key you gave me to let myself in and found you doing your statue routine with the kid feeling you up and--"

"I was not feeling him up," Blair interrupted in protest. Swinging around, he folded his arms across his chest, partially in indignation and partially in defense of the cold. "He was obviously in a zone out. When he didn't respond to my voice, I figured it would take some type of tactile sensation to bring him b-back."

Jim heard the smaller man stutter and easily saw him shivering. Rubbing a hand across his face he suggested, "Let's take this inside, guys. It's too cold out here to discuss this and I think I'm going to need some strong coffee down me." Taking hold of Blair by the shoulders, Jim steered him around Simon and back into the loft, not waiting to see if the latter followed. The body under his hands was trembling, but Jim didn't think it was only from the cold.

Pushing Sandburg down into a chair at the kitchen table, Ellison walked over to the counter and started to make a new pot of coffee. Since the brew light wasn't on, he figured he must have been out of it for at least an hour or two. The machine had the safety feature of automatically shutting off after two hours. Jim heard the balcony door close and the heavy tread of Simon walking through the living room to the kitchen. Not wanting to think about what had happened, he concentrated on the routine of setting up the coffeemaker.

In the back of his mind, Jim wondered when the headache was going to start up and how bad it was going to be this time, especially with the length of time he'd been 'out'. It seemed that every time he came out of his little fugue states, he'd have a headache and each time they were steadily worse. Yet, this time he couldn't feel any of the signs that one was coming. Strange.

After Jim pushed the button to start the coffee brewing, he turned around to see Simon standing back from Blair with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern expression on his face. Blair was still seated at the table, small tremors rattling his body. His eyes slightly glazed over as he stared down at the surface. "I'm sorry, sir. It looked like it was going to be a nice day, so I stepped outside just for a few minutes to watch the sunrise. This bird flew past and then..." Jim waved his hands, but didn't complete his sentence. Silence filled the room for several long seconds.

"You were in a zoneout," Blair finally spoke up.

"What in the hell are you talking about, kid? I've seen Jim do that a few times during the last six months and he's always come out of it on his own. He's never needed anyone groping him to wake him up." Banks' harsh tone, and the implied accusation, caused the smaller man to jump and blush slightly.

Feeling the need to intercede, Jim asked, "What's a zoneout, Chief?"

Blair glanced back at Simon before returning his attention back to Jim. Leaning forward onto the table and clasping his hands together, he easily slipped his voice into a teaching tone. "According to the explorer Richard Burton, when a sentinel concentrates too strongly on one of his senses, he blocks out all of the others and falls into a fugue state. I call it a zoneout. He loses contact with the conscious world and is unable to protect himself from any danger. Burton stated that a sentinel often had a companion at his side when he needed to use his senses, someone to guide him back if he did zone."

"I'll repeat myself. Jim has always been able to wake up on his own."

"Maybe in the beginning!" Blair whirled and snapped at the man behind him. "But his senses were probably still coming on line. They're obviously stronger now and giving him a lot more trouble." He turned back to Jim, his eyes pleading. "Your skin was cold to the touch and you were turning blue around your mouth. All I could think about was getting you awake and back inside to warm you up. I wasn't... I'm not... I mean, I'd never... Ah, hell."

Ellison smiled at the smaller man's frustration and obvious embarrassment. "I know. He did the right thing, Simon. It was like I was lost in this black fog and cold. I couldn't find my way out until I heard his voice and felt his hands. They pulled me back."

"And the Conan routine?" Banks asked, rubbing at his bruising wrist.

Now Ellison looked embarrassed. His memory of the dream with Incacha and Sandburg was still strong and the fact that he had practically accosted his boss bothered him. "Sorry about that, sir. I don't know why I did that except I had to stop you from hurting him."

Banks grunted quietly then switched his attention to the man in the chair in front of him. "Since you seem to be the expert on this stuff, can you explain it, uh, Sandburg?"

Blair felt that Jim did know why he'd done what he did, but obviously wasn't willing to share it with his superior. At least not at this time. So, he shrugged at the question and replied, "Your guess is as good as mine. I'm still working on me staying here and not being locked up somewhere. Is that coffee ready yet? I could really use a good jolt of caffeine right now."

"Juice first, since you ate hardly anything this morning. You can have some coffee with your lunch. You eat yet, Simon?"

"Yeah, but I could use some coffee. Then we need to get down to the station to get Sandburg's statement and fill out the rest of the paperwork. I've been allowed to take one of the precinct's vehicles, but I know the powers-that-be will throw a fit if I try to keep it too long."

"No problem, sir." Ellison turned back to the kitchen and started pulling out dishes. "The sooner we get firm charges against the people picked up last night, the less chance of them getting out on bail."

Jim didn't see the blood drain from the young man's face at the last statement. Blair had forgotten about the legal system still in use, after spending so many years living under a community's laws. The thought of anyone involved with the destruction of Bounty getting a chance to escape was enough to make him ill. Standing quickly, he started back toward the room he'd slept in the previous night. He needed to think. But first, he needed to find his clothes.

"Your stuff is folded up and in the bathroom, Chief," Jim spoke up. He heard where the younger man was heading and intuitively knew what he wanted. "Why don't you go ahead and get cleaned up before you eat. It'll save time."

"Yeah, sure. Um, thanks... for everything." Changing directions, Blair walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Resting his head against the portal, he sighed. Something told him it was going to be a very long day.

After the bathroom door closed, Banks stared at it for several seconds before stating, "The kid looks like he's doing okay, Jim."

"When he's awake," Jim sighed as he set the table.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm no psychologist, but he's a walking time bomb just waiting for a switch to be thrown. It took a nightmare for him to mourn his friends' deaths, at least a little bit, then he shut down again."

Simon lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes before adjusting the frames back on his face. "Then I expect you to keep track of him and make sure that 'switch' doesn't have an opportunity to be thrown."

Jim turned to stare at the closed bathroom door. "I intend to, sir."

"Hey, isn't this the old...." Blair scooted forward until he could lean onto the middle of the front seat of the sedan.

"Montgomery Wards department store," Jim finished the observation. "We moved into it after the big quake of 2002."

"I still miss the views from our floor in the old building," Simon commented, slowing the car down to turn into the parking lot. He was heading for the police garage, which had previously been the automotive department of the store. "It was before you joined us, Jim. Major Crime had been on the seventh floor and our windows faced the bay."

"Oh, yeah. Vice was located at a building further downtown. It was on the first floor and didn't have any windows."

Blair dropped his chin down to rest it on his arms folded across the seat. "I remember the store before it closed down. They used to make the most fantastic caramel corn I'd ever tasted. Used to use some of the money I got for tutoring to treat myself with a bag once a month."

"I remember that stuff. My son would hound me for some every time we'd go shopping."

"I haven't seen Daryl in a while. How is he doing, sir?" Ellison asked.

Banks smiled smugly. "He just accepted his first command and his unit is going through conversion. He told me he wouldn't be able to take any leave for about 6 months."

Ellison chuckled. "And you were so against him going into the military."

"He wanted to join the Army before he completed his degree. I just wanted my son to be more than an Infantryman. He's got too many brains."

"So instead, he joined the Air Guard, they helped him complete his advanced degree in computer science and now he's the commander of what type of unit?"

"Combat Communications Squadron." The pride was evident in the man's voice.

"From a long line of Army veterans, your son joins the Air Guard. Who'd a thunk it."

Blair observed the two men in the front seat laughing together and slid back in his seat feeling a little left out. He could tell the two were more than just supervisor and subordinate, that they had a history together. He suppressed a sigh that wanted to slip out and schooled his face into a neutral expression when the car pulled into a parking space in the garage. He waited until Ellison climbed out of the car to open his own door and step out.

"This way, Sandburg," Ellison called out when he noticed the other still standing by the car and gazing around the garage. There was a lot of activity going on, though Ellison was so used to it he rarely paid any attention.

"Sorry, man," Sandburg apologized as he trotted over to the larger man. Banks was already moving through the doorway that led out of the garage. "The routines the officers go through during a shift change shows a different methodology for each of the organizations. I couldn't help but stop and observe them. Old habits are hard to break," he finished with a shy smile and shrugged one shoulder.

"Old habits?"

"I'm an anthropologist. It's my nature to study a setting and figure it out. Only the settings I normally study are usually a couple hundred years old."

Jim just shook has head and started toward the exit door. "When we get inside, you'll have to stay with me until I can get you a visitor's badge. Anyone caught wandering around without a badge, even to the bathroom, is arrested and held in the lockup until their escort is found."

"Wow, that's pretty tight security, what with all the cameras I've seen around here. What happened? Somebody try to rob you guys or something?"

The smile quickly dropped from Jim's face. "No, they tried to take us over to get a few of their people released from prison. A militia group we thought we'd broken up a few months earlier. Ten good officers and six civilians died that day. If I had been in more control of these senses then..." His voice faded as the memory of the day the Sunrise Patriots invaded and tried to hold the station hostage filled Jim's mind. It had been a year earlier, when he'd been having flashes with the enhanced senses. He'd walked right by the car that had the dying body of his ex-wife in the trunk. Ellison knew he would have easily smelled the blood and heard Carolyn's whispered cries for help if only his senses were as strong then as they were now. A warm hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to his surroundings.

"Are you okay? I--I'm sorry I brought something up that was painful. You probably didn't realize you had enhanced senses and-- "

Ellison shrugged the hand away. "Forget it, Chief. Hindsight is always 20-20. Let's get inside so you can make your statement." Ignoring the hurt expression that appeared on the smaller man's face, Ellison led the way through the door that led to the section of the building belonging to the Cascade Police Department.

After filling out the necessary paperwork, Blair was handed a visitor's badge after receiving a 10-minute lecture on the need to keep the badge visible at all times and the requirement of returning to the security desk at the end of his visitation. He was then led through a maze of desks and cubicles to a pair of doors with the words MAJOR CRIME boldly printed on the glass portion.

Jim pushed through the doors and led the way to a pair of desks sitting at the back wall. "Take a seat, Chief. I'll see if there is a room and an officer available to take your statement."

"You aren't going to do it?"

There was a hint of fear in the young man's voice that caused Ellison to stop, turn and face him. Seeing the large deep blue eyes staring up at him full of apprehension, he smiled. "I can't be the one to take your statement, since I was in on the bust. But I can be with you in the room, if you like."

The fear disappeared and a smile blossomed, transforming Blair's face back into its youthful appearance. "Thanks, Jim. I'd really appreciate it."

"No problem. Let's go see who's available."

It was late before Ellison was done with giving his own statement and able to get back to his desk. He almost groaned at the pile of case files sitting in the box on the corner and the mail sitting in the middle of his desk.

"Hey, Ellison. Finished with your inquisition?"

Looking over at the voice, he saw the smiling face of Henri Brown. The black detective was propped on the edge of his partner's desk and stirring something in his mug. Rafe was talking on the telephone, though it looked like he was trying to end the conversation.

"It was a sanctified operation, H. I just had to explain when and how we found Sandburg."

"You mean how you found him. Rafe and I were just following along to make sure you didn't do too much damage and mess up the evidence. Man, you were like a bloodhound on the scent and the person we know as Jim Ellison just wasn't there anymore."

"H, I've got to get you away from that partner of yours. Has he been reading those psych books while you've been on stakeouts again?" Picking up his mail, Jim started to rifle through it in a nonchalant way. He'd really been careful with his explanation to Internal Affairs, making sure he'd made no mention of the compulsion that had led him to the young man. A small group within the precinct knew he had an agenda with the operation the night before, but they made sure to keep it within the group.

"By the way, where is the kid? Isn't he under our protection, or are the Feds going to try and take this one away?"

"Good question, Jim. Where is Sandburg?"

Turning to look at the new voice, Jim saw his boss standing in the door of his office. H quickly shifted off Rafe's desk, mumbled that he had an appointment and walked away. Jim chuckled at his fellow detective's exit and made his way over to Simon.

"I was with him while he gave his statement and it shook him up a little. So when I had to meet with IA, I pointed the way to the breakroom."

"Is he still there?"

Tilting his head, Jim extended his hearing until he found Blair's exuberant voice. "He's still in the breakroom, talking with... I think its Kathy from forensics." A confused expression clouded his face for several seconds then Jim broke into a smile. "He's talking about some mating practice performed by this tribe down in Central America." Ellison chuckled and looked back to his captain, but his cheerfulness disappeared when he saw the other's expression.

"Go get him, Jim." The tone of Banks' voice brooked no disobedience and indicated he wouldn't answer any questions until the order was obeyed.

When Ellison returned with Sandburg, Banks motioned the two into his office and closed the door behind them. He walked purposefully around his desk to the coffeemaker sitting on the credenza behind it and gestured. When the two on the other side shook their heads negatively, he poured himself a cup then sat down.

Simon couldn't keep the disgust from his voice as he said, "There's no other way to put this. Lee Brackett was released on bail about an hour before we even arrived at the station."

Ellison exploded up from his chair, muttered curses flowing from his mouth. Sandburg was just the opposite. He paled and seemed to shrink down into himself.

"Jim, settle down. Raging around my office isn't going to change the facts," Simon ordered loudly.

"How could this happen, Simon? We just arrested him last night. How could bail have been set so quickly?" Ellison continued to pace around the office.

"He was given his phone call after being booked and I guess he called someone with lots of influence. Whoever it was got in contact with Judge Rafferty, and she set the bail at $100,000. The bond was paid within a half an hour and he was released."

"Son of a BITCH! You know we'll never be able to find that bastard again. Hell, he's probably in Canada by now," Ellison raged, finally stopping at the window to the bullpen and staring out at nothing in particular.

"I guess this means you won't need me to testify." Blair's soft voice brought the attention of the two angry men to him. "Would it be possible to get a ride back out to Bounty?"

"What are you talking about, Sandburg?" Banks asked sharply.

Blair jumped slightly at the tone, but he didn't back down. "If you're expecting Brackett to jump bail, then I'm not going to be needed. Right? So, I'd like to get back to Bounty and see if there is the possibility of finding any survivors."

Jim knew where the young man was taking the conversation. "It's not that easy. We have to first wait and see if Brackett doesn't show up for the arraignment and finally for the court case. If that happens, then he's in contempt of court and--"

"I know the legal process, Detective," Blair interrupted surly. Knowing that Brackett was free scared the hell out of Blair. The memory of the man leering down at him while he lay helpless was still very clear in his mind. He knew showing fear would allow the others to take control of his life and he had been on his own for too long to give up that freedom.

"Blair, as much as we want to hope for the best, there's very little chance that your mother is still around the community," Jim voiced softly and sat back in his chair next to the smaller man. Light blue eyes stared intently into the stormy ones gazing back at him. "But if Brackett does jump bail and doesn't show up for the arraignment, I'll take you there personally and we'll both search for her. Okay?"

Blair searched Jim's face. His instinct was telling him not to trust the cop; he'd be better off just disappearing into the countryside. But his heart spoke louder, telling him he could trust Jim with his life and maybe he did need help searching for his mother. Finally, he said, "Okay. I guess I can hang around for a little while. So, how long do we have to wait?"

"The Cascade courts always insure that arraignments are within 72 hours of the arrest. The trial date will probably be months away, but we can go check out the community in between." Ellison glanced over at Banks to see him gesture slightly with his head. "I've... got to finish a couple of things then we can go have some dinner. How about it?"

"Okay. I've got to go use the bathroom first." Standing, Blair waited until Jim opened the door then walked quietly out of the office.

Banks waited until the door was closed before saying, "Jim, we have to consider the possibility of Brackett wanting to get rid of the kid. No witness means the case gets reduced down to something that might mean only minor jail time."

Ellison nodded in agreement. "But there's also the possibility that whoever was going to pay Brackett a very large amount of money for Sandburg's delivery might expect him to complete the contract, or hire another to do it. So, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not stuff him in some safe house. I think he'd be just as safe or safer staying with me."

"What's with all this, Jim? You just met the kid last night and, out of the blue, let him stay at your place. Okay, it was late and it would have taken time for us to set up a place, so I can understand the offer. Now you're offering to have him stay with you until the trial, which could be months before it happens. Did you find out he's a long lost relative or something?"

Jim rubbed his hand over his face. "I can't explain it, Simon. You know how I am about the idea of having a partner."

"Huh, I'll say. The last one requested a change of assignment the day he learned he was being paired with you. Threatened to quit the force if it wasn't granted," Banks replied with a snort.

Ellison grimaced, but continued. "Yeah, well it just feels... I don't know, like he's supposed to be here and us working together is supposed to happen. And to top it all off, he knows all about my senses, how to help me with them. I--I can't really explain more without sounding like some type of crackpot."

"Okay, okay. This is one of those 'feelings' you get every now and then and I've learned to trust you when they happen. But if you need extra help, don't hesitate to ask. MY senses are telling me we haven't seen the last of Lee Brackett. Now, get out of my office so that one of us can try to get some work done." After making a shooing motion with his hands, Banks leaned over and grabbed a large folder sitting in his tray.

Making his way back to his desk, Jim found Blair sitting in his chair using a pencil to mark on a report he'd been working on a few days earlier. He opened his mouth to ask what the other was doing when Blair chuckled, drew a line through a sentence and started writing.

"How long has it been since you took a composition class, man? I can't believe they allow you to hand in reports that look like this. Massive grammar errors, fragmented sentences and your use of punctuation is almost non-existent. If any of my students tried to hand something like this in, I'd be turning it back for an immediate rewrite."

"Think you could do any better, professor?" Jim sneered.

Blair finished what he was writing and handed the pages up to Jim. "With a blindfold and during a major drunk. How does this look?"

Jim glared at the smaller man then looked down at the report. His frown slowly disappeared and he was nodding his head by the time he finished reading the corrections. Finally he said, "You're in big trouble, Chief."

"How's that? All I did was fix something damaged by your poor writing skills."

"I think I've just found a way to keep you occupied for the next 72 hours. Thanks for volunteering your services." Jim couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face as the grin disappeared from Blair's. Grabbing the smaller man by the arm, Jim pulled him to his feet and led him toward the exit. "But that can wait until after we get some dinner. What do you feel like?"

"I don't know. I haven't had any fast food for almost four years. What's still around?"

"Sounds like you're severely deficient in one of the four major food groups."

"Hey, I made sure I ate pretty healthy while I was at the community. What are you talking about?"

Leading the smaller man out the door to the garage, Ellison smiled cryptically until they were seated in the vehicle they'd arrived in and he'd turned over the engine.

"Come on, man," Blair whined, buckling the seatbelt around him.

"The four food groups I'm talking about are sugar, chocolate, caffeine and grease. It's obvious, Chief, that you're lacking grease. So, we're going to this great pizza place I know to replenish your body." Ellison laughed at the groan his companion gave and drove out of the garage.

As the sedan pulled out into the street, the occupants didn't notice the pair sitting in the new SUV watching them leave. "I swear to you, he's just a cop who was a part of the raid. I think he was one of the ones who found the kid," Brackett explained quickly. His companion's glare made him fear for his life.

"You better be right. I don't allow failures," the woman threatened then returned her gaze to the departing vehicle. Once the sedan turned the corner, the SUV pulled away from the curb and started following at a distance.

Federal Courthouse, Three Days Later

"You knew this was going to happen!" Blair raged as he pushed open the door leading out of the building and stomped his way out. The portal banged against the stopper, rattling violently by the force used to open it.

Jim was following close behind. "I didn't know it was going to happen this way. After the last survivor from your community died, I suspected the arraignment would be different. But I thought, with you being the sole survivor of the attack, it would make the case stronger and Brackett's bail would be revoked." Jim stumbled back slightly on the steps when Blair suddenly stopped and whirled around.

"Oh yeah, right! That judge took one look at me and I could see she immediately had formed an opinion about who and what I am. She didn't need Brackett's lawyer to confirm it. And you said if he didn't show up, it would be contempt of court and a warrant would be issued. So, where is it?" Blair threw out his arms with palms facing up and searched around the area.

"Calm down, Chief." Jim tried to grab the smaller man's shoulders, but Blair dodged the hands, swung around and continued down the stairs.

"I can't calm down. Not here. I need..."

Sandburg stopped at the bottom of the steps, half turned toward the building. Ellison, though he didn't understand how, could hear the other's heart pounding, his breathe in small gasps. With trembling hands, Blair rubbed his face then ran his fingers through his hair to brush it back. He held onto his head for several seconds with his eyes shut, trying to calm his breathing. Finally, he looked up toward Jim.

Ellison held onto Sandburg's eyes before nodding in understanding. Blair nodded back, took a deep breath as he dropped his arms and turned toward the street. A small park sat across from the federal building and Blair needed to spend time leaning against a tree with grass under his feet.

"Where's the kid going, Jim?"

Turning around, Ellison saw his captain standing in the doorway. He looked back to see Sandburg standing in the street, waiting for a car to pass, before returning his attention to Banks. "Not far. He was upset with the arraignment and I can't blame him. How could someone like Brackett afford a lawyer like Joseph Barstock? Hell, you can't even shake his hand and say hello without having a check for $500 ready."

Banks stepped the rest of the way out of the building and leaned against a nearby pillar. "The man hires out to the highest bidder. Apparently he's on the payroll of someone who wanted his client to get back to work. The question is who?"

"A bigger question is whether this... 'employer' was involved with the operation that took out Sandburg's community."

Banks looked sharply at his detective. "If so, then you better keep a close eye on the kid. I'm going to ask that an officer be assigned with you."

Ellison turned his gaze to the park and easily found Sandburg's slight form seated against a tree, his back toward the road. "I'd rather have someone I know, Captain. Someone who understands this thing I have with my senses."

"And won't freak out when the kid's helping you get control." Banks gave his detective a knowing grin. "I'll see if Taggart wants to do it. I've seen him spending time talking to Sandburg, especially when his computer is giving him fits."

"Blair does know his way around computers, even if he was communing with nature for four years."

"And he knows how to write your reports in a way that they make sense."

The two men chuckled quietly; then both looked toward the park. "Guess I better go round him up," Ellison finally said and started down the steps.

Banks pushed away from the pillar and turned to go back into the building. "I'll go get the car and meet you both across the street."

Jim was just starting across the street when something yellow and blue flashed at the edge of his eyesight, capturing his attention. It was a plastic kite stuck in the branches of a tree. A child was below it, yanking on a string to bring his toy down. The movement was also causing the kite to flash its bright colors in the defused sunlight. Unconsciously, Jim focused his eyes on the colors and was soon lost in a zone.

The rough feel of the bark on the shade tree, along with the comforting odors of the grass and the nearby flowerbed, had helped calm the turmoil in Blair's mind. Standing in the courtroom, having the judge looking down at him while Brackett's lawyer, minus his client, convinced the black-gowned woman of Brackett's need to stay free until the trial had made him upset and ill. Hell, he knew he hadn't been dressed right for such a proceeding, but he was clean and had pulled his hair back to present a neat appearance. Ellison had offered to lend him money for a suit, but his pride stepped forward and he refused.

The judge had granted a continuance of the bail and excused Brackett's absence. She also gave the defense lawyer additional time to prepare his case, so the trial date was set six months away. Blair sighed at the thought. Another six months before he'd be allowed to put the whole thing behind him and get on with his life.

Get on with his life. What life? His last four years had been at Bounty and his life there had basically been helping with the crops during the growing seasons and some teaching during the winter months. He'd been able to do some research with the computers at the precinct and learned about several communities on the West Coast that had been attacked, if not by Brackett's gang then by others and destroyed completely. That meant he couldn't go back to Bounty, except to see if there was anything left to scavenge and any sign that his mother had been there. It had been really nice staying at Ellison's loft, but he knew he wasn't going to be allowed to stay there forever. Which all came back around to how he was going to support himself. What was he going to do?

The questions swirled around Blair's mind, keeping him from relaxing completely. He was about to try lying flat on the grass and attempt another form of meditation when 'something' within told him to find the sentinel. To punctuate the urging, Blair heard a low growling. Looking up, he saw the form of a large, silver Husky, or so he thought, standing near him. Its attention was focused on something behind him. The animal turned its head and locked its gaze onto his for several long seconds. The bright yellow eyes stared at him in a way no canine ever would before turning away. Then, it faded out and disappeared.

Blair's jaw dropped. It had been a spirit animal, a wolf. He'd just had a visitation from something that he'd only read about. But why? He got his answer when he swiveled around to see what the animal had been looking at. Like he had been three days ago, Jim Ellison was completely out of it, standing in the middle of the street and staring up at a tree.

"Shit!" Blair swore, jumping up and trotting toward the detective. As he neared the street, he heard the sound of an engine revving and looked down the road to see a large vehicle bearing down on Jim, with no indication it was going to stop. Without thinking, Blair charged into the street. He leaped forward, slamming into Jim and taking them both across the road. The vehicle continued past, accelerating more after it had passed the two men.

The last thing Ellison remembered was being distracted while he was walking across the street. Now he found himself lying painfully on his back at the curb on top of something lumpy. Rolling forward, the lump underneath him moaned and Jim realized what or who he was lying on. "What in the hell... Sandburg?"

Blair had his eyes shut and was bringing a scraped hand up to his head. A small trickle of blood had started snaking out of the curly hair and down the side of his face. Shifting completely off the smaller man, Jim caught the moving hand and pulled it back down. "Don't touch, Chief. Let me have a look first."

"Ow, what happened?" Blair asked, prying open his eyes.

Jim looked into the blue orbs and, satisfied with how the pupils looked, grasped Blair's head and turned it so he could see where the blood was coming from. "You tell me. I was walking across the street to get you and the next thing I knew we're here."

Blair opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when a car screeched to a halt. He jerked back and moaned at the pain that throbbed through his head at the movement.

"Jim! Are you two all right?"

Ellison glanced briefly at his captain then returned his attention to Sandburg. He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and pressed it to the smaller man's head. "We're fine, sir. A little banged up, but it looks like Blair took the brunt of the fall. How about it, Chief? Think you could tell us what happened here?"

Blair raised a hand, which Jim automatically grabbed, and pulled himself up into a seated position. He took control of the cloth against his head. "You zoned out on something. I was coming over to help when I saw this big van or something, heading straight for you. It wasn't going to stop, man!"

Banks knelt down next to the two men. "Did you get a look at the license, Sandburg? There's not too many people driving any type of large vehicle these days."

Blair shook his head then moaned softly at the movement. "Ah, license? No, I wasn't paying attention to that. The only thing I could think of was getting you out of the way, Jim. Man, it was like hitting a brick wall." Blair flashed a grim smile at the larger man. "It looked like one of those 4-wheel drive things people used to take into the mountains. Burnished silver, I think."

"Had to be a new one with the electric engine, Simon. I can't smell any exhaust. Ready to stand up, Chief?" Moving around until he was behind Blair, Jim put his hands under the smaller man's arms and, after getting a nod from the curly head, pulled upward. "Let's get you over to the emergency room and have a doctor look you over."

Blair swayed slightly then shook the hands off and took a step away. "No, no hospital. I'm not hurt that bad, just a little road rash and a bump on the head. It's not serious enough for the hospital." Limping slightly, Blair went over to the car and climbed into the back seat. After shutting the door, he rested his head on the back of the seat with the rag pressed to the wound and closed his eyes.

"Stubborn little bastard," Jim sighed.

"Takes one to know one."

Jim turned and gazed sharply at Simon. The larger man had his arms crossed across his chest and had a knowing expression on his face. Jim dropped his head in chagrin and started brushing off his pants.

"Yeah, well..."

"What did you freeze on?" Banks finally asked to change the subject.

"Stupid kite in the tree over there." Ellison waved his hand in the direction of the park.

"Do you think someone was trying to run you over?"

"Possibly. Though, I'm not sure who I pissed off lately." Ellison suddenly looked over at the car and Sandburg resting in it. "It could have been someone who wants me out of the way to get at him. Brackett or his boss. I don't know. Maybe I'm just grasping at straws."

"Well, let's get you two back to your place so you can both get cleaned up. Take the rest of the day, too. You can make your report tomorrow. I'll go start the process of locating your attempted hit-and-run."

After locking the door to the loft, Ellison guided the still wobbly Sandburg to a chair at the kitchen table then headed directly for the bathroom. He kept a full first aid kit there in a cabinet, though he hadn't ever had a reason to use it.

"Why don't you take off your shirt, Chief? It looks like you've got some scrapes on your arms." Returning to the kitchen, Jim opened the kit and laid it on the table.

Looking at both of his arms, Blair found the tear on the left sleeve and the scraped skin underneath it. "Damn! Now what am I going to do for a shirt," he murmured low, slumping in the chair.

Jim could hear the despondency in the other's voice. Wetting a cotton ball with peroxide solution, he tilted Blair's head and began cleaning the scalp wound. Jim remembered that he was still hanging onto some clothes that had belonged to his brother. Steven had been smaller than him, though still larger than Blair. "I should have something near your size around here. You can wear it until we can get you another."

Blair flinched and tried to pull away, but Jim held his head firm. "Thanks, but no thanks. I already owe you way too much."

"Hold still," Ellison ordered. "I don't think this needs stitches, but it has to be cleaned." Finishing with the head wound, he pulled out a tube of Neosporin and gently spread the cream onto the area. Grabbing the bottle of peroxide and more cotton, Jim waited until Blair removed his shirt then started on the scrape areas.

"You know, Chief, you really don't owe me anything," Jim voiced softly as he dabbed Blair's arm. "What with all the help you've been giving me at the station, I should be paying you."

Blair pulled his arm away and turned in the chair until he was facing Jim. "Come on, Jim. I know what I've been doing down there is nothing more than busy work just so that you can keep an eye on me. You've given me a place to stay, have fed me three times a day and allowed me to do laundry daily. A Holiday Inn would charge $60 or $70 a night, and that's without providing food. I've never had to take charity in the past and staying here is just..." Frustrated that he couldn't find the words, Blair waved his hands around for a few seconds then dropped them to his lap

Ellison frowned and let out a sigh of exasperation. Pride was definitely an issue here, but he could understand. He'd be the same way if the roles were reversed. It would take some definite negotiating to get this resolved.

"Tell me something. You do any tutoring when you were at the college?" Jim asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down directly in front of Blair.

"Sure, all the TA's did. It was part of our contract. Why?" Perplexed, Blair self-consciously ran his hand through his hair to push it back from his face.

"How much did you charge an hour for your services?"

"Come on, Jim. I know where you're going with this. You don't owe me anything."

"Just answer the question, Sandburg. How much?"

Blair sighed, preparing for the argument. He was not going to give in on this. "It depended on the student and their situation. I didn't just tutor anyone."

"I figured you and I were similar with something like that. Okay, so over the last few days, how many hours have you spent with me trying to help me with my senses?"

"That's different, Jim."

"How so? You've been spending time at the precinct with me, helping research my cases and practically writing the reports. You're pretty good, by the way, picking out things the rest of us don't see. Then you've come home and spent at least 2-3 hours for the last three nights helping me with and my senses. Seems pretty similar to me. In fact, I probably owe you."

"No, damn it! It's not the same. You have no choice with being a sentinel because, from everything I've learned, it's genetic. Your senses have always been a part of you and it's just chance that I happen to know how to help. One day you'll have control and I won't be..." Clamping his mouth shut, Blair stood up, pushing the chair back violently, and stalked over toward the balcony window. Standing and facing the glass, Blair crossed his arms over his chest and struggled with his emotions. He was not going to lose control, not this time. He had to keep Jim's attitude up with accepting who he was until he had enough control to continue on his own and not have dependency on anyone.

Blair's words played over and over in his mind. Jim's abilities were genetic, something he always had, and Blair felt his being here was just dumb luck. That he wouldn't be needed in the future. But why? In his dream, Incacha had said the two of them were supposed to be together. Jim felt the need to keep the kid close and listen to him from the very first. Didn't Blair feel the same things?

Screwing the lid back onto the peroxide, Jim gathered the used materials into a pile then followed Blair to the windows. He stopped when he was even with the young man, leaning sideways against the glass so that he was facing him. Jim's eyes lit upon the medallion around his neck that Blair fingered and flipped between his fingers. "The etchings on that medallion are interesting, especially the symbol under the animal head. May I see it?" Jim asked, not moving.

Blair clutched the piece of medal briefly before nodding. Stepping forward, Jim gently held the piece and looked at each side carefully before allowing it to drop back onto Blair's chest. "Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift... um, the shaman of this South American tribe told me I was gifted and had a destiny. He said that one day I would understand what I was, where I belonged, that I would give up my life for another better one. I thought he'd been imbibing too much on his potions."

"When was this?"

"It was my first expedition, when I was 17. You know how most teenagers are, invincible, rebellious and ready to take on the world. There's so much to see and learn in the world, I doubt if I'll ever be ready to just stay in one place. But Naomi had raised me right and it would have been rude to laugh in his face. So I thanked the man, accepted the gift and put it on. Half the time, I forget it's there. On one side there's the head of a large cat. I can't tell if it's a cougar or a jaguar. But the other side has... a..." Blair froze, remembering the vision in the park.

"What's the matter, Chief?"

"Huh? Oh, it's just something I thought I'd seen in the park. There was this large growling... well, I thought it was a dog. Now, I'm not sure. It could have been a wolf. Anyway, it caught my attention before I saw you standing in the street."

Uh, huh, Ellison thought. Your heart rate jumped and you're starting to sweat, Sandburg. Tell me another one. "The word under each figure looks familiar."

"You know the language? Where did you learn it?" Blair asked, surprised.

"Spent about 18 months down in Peru when I was in the Army. Don't ask. It was a classified mission and I'm still not authorized to talk about it. I lived with the Chopec people and couldn't help but to pick up some of the language. Could I look at it again?" Jim held out his hand.

Blair moved this time, stepping closer to let Jim reach the medallion. "I didn't get the chance to learn the language, except for a few words, and the shaman wouldn't tell me what was on each side. The interpreter couldn't get any more out of the guy except that I had to find out on my own. Tried to research it--"

"It's not a written language," Jim interrupted as he flipped the medal from one side to the other. "I think the words are... guide is under the wolf and guardian is under the cat. I think."

"Really?" Blair took the medallion from Jim, stepped back and peered down at it. "That is SO cool. Guardian is a word that has sometimes been used in place of sentinel."

"And guide?"

Blair continued to stare at the medal, rubbing his thumb over the etching of the wolf. Finally, in a low voice, he said, "Burton indicated, in one of his books, that every sentinel needed a partner. Someone to watch his back when he was concentrating with one or more of his senses to prevent him from falling into zone outs." Dropping the medal, Blair shook his head turned and walked back into the kitchen. Trying to sound nonchalant, like he didn't believe the idea, he finally said, "Pretty crazy, huh?" He sat down, grabbed the tube of Neosporin and started spreading it onto his arm. He knew in his heart that the title of 'guide' belonged to him as much as 'sentinel' belonged to Jim. But the thought of forcing himself onto his benefactor was unacceptable. Jim was a police detective and he needed a police partner who would be able to back him up and protect him in dangerous situations. Blair didn't like guns and wasn't sure he could harm another even to protect himself.

Ellison didn't answer. He followed Sandburg back to the kitchen and waited until the young man was finished with the arm before taking his hand and cleaning the scrapes on it. When Jim finished, he repacked the First Aid kit and returned it to the bathroom.

"So, what do you want to do now that it'll be a while before the trial?" Jim asked, going into the kitchen. Stopping at the refrigerator, he pulled out two beers and handed one to Blair when he returned to the table.

Blair stared at Jim before finally saying, "I -- really don't know. I thought Brackett would bolt and I'd be let go. Probably should start looking for a job now so that I can get out of your hair."

Jim fiddled with the label on his bottle. "I did promise to take you out to Bounty after the arraignment. The offer is still open."

"You would? Really?" Hope filled Sandburg's face, bringing a pleased smile to Ellison's.

"I tend to save up my gas rations until I can take a trip into the mountains once or twice a year. I haven't been able to go for a while, but I'm sure Simon will give me time to take you."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said sincerely.

"I know you need some closure. Who knows, maybe we can find some sign of what happened to your mother. Though we'll probably have to have some company." At Blair's confused expression, Jim continued, "Simon wants to put someone on both of us due to what happened this afternoon."

Blair nodded. "How many times have you had someone trying to kill you?"

Jim choked on the mouthful of beer he had and was barely able to swallow it down before going into a coughing fit. "What?!?"

"Sorry. It just felt like you and the captain were so calm about someone trying to run you down." Picking up his damaged shirt, Blair fingered the rip in the sleeve.

"No, I'm not used to having someone try to run me down. If anything, we've been expecting someone to make a run at you so that today wouldn't have been necessary." Ellison silently cursed himself. He definitely didn't want Sandburg to think he was in danger, even if he was. But the young man wasn't stupid and being aware of what could happen was important. Wisely, he decided to change the subject back to the one they were having earlier. "Listen, Chief, I know you don't like the idea, but I've got some shirts that I'm sure will fit. It will strictly be a loan. You can pay for cleaning them when you get your life going again. Deal?"

Finally folding the shirt over his arm, Blair looked up and smiled. "Okay, deal. And thanks, Jim."

Ellison just smiled, toasted his beer toward the younger man then walked back toward the balcony. It was mid afternoon and the sun was being covered by a group of clouds that had formed over the ocean and were now flowing inland. They, along with a drop in the barometric pressure he could feel, promised a good storm before evening, something that Jim wasn't looking forward to. Even now, his enhanced eyesight was able to pick out the lightning flashing far out to sea. He felt the presence of Sandburg at his side.

"Bad one coming in?" Blair asked when he saw Jim flinch slightly.

"Think so. I can see the lightning from here."

Without thinking, Blair placed a hand on the larger man's shoulder and felt the muscles start to relax. "Okay, then we have some time. We'll get cleaned up then work on getting your senses turned down so that you won't feel it so much. Okay?"

Jim nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Chief."

Next Morning, Early

"I'll just be a couple of hours," Jim voiced loudly as he trotted down the stairs from his bedroom. "I told Brown I'd pick him up at the station since he had to finish up some stuff before he could leave."

Blair stepped out of his bedroom buttoning a shirt that was slightly larger than what he normally wore. "We're not taking him away from anything important, are we?"

"Nah, though his partner would disagree. They're on escort duty for some visiting dignitaries, but the captain said someone else could take over to let them come with us. H jumped at the chance to go."

"So why isn't his partner, uh..."

"Rafe? The GQ kid voluntarily travel to the woods without any luxuries? You've got to be kidding. His idea of roughing it is working a stakeout and not getting Krispy Kreme donuts with his cappuccino in the mornings."

Blair chuckled. "Food like that can kill you, man. I thought cops eating donuts on stakeouts was an urban legend."

"They're easy to transport, don't spoil quickly and can give you the short term energy needed to chase after the bad guys who always seem to be so mobile in the mornings."

"And then you keel over having a heart attack because your veins are stopped up and the bad guy gets away. A bagel will give you as much energy and won't clog your arteries."

Ellison held up his hands in surrender. "I know, Chief. I've heard this sermon before. You're not the only one trying to convert me from the evils of sugar and grease. So why don't you hold your speech until I can get you a captive audience in the truck, okay?"

Blair just shook his head and moved toward the coffeepot to pour himself a cup. "It's your heart, man. I just hope I can remember my CPR training. So, how much of that camping stuff in my room do you want me to get ready?"

After gulping down the rest of his own coffee, Ellison headed for the front door and grabbed his coat. "That's just the sleeping bags and some fishing equipment. I've got a three-person tent down in my storage closet and a backpack frame. Here's the key," he unhooked a side ring from his key chain and tossed it to Blair, "to the room. It has the loft number on the door. Make sure you pack for a couple of days. I'm not sure how far we'll be able to drive into the area and it may take a couple of days of hiking."

"Three days."

Ellison hesitated at the open door. "What?"

Blair studied the key for a few seconds before answering. "Bounty was a three-day hike to a forest road. I was a part of the group that took stuff to trade at some of the open air markets. Get me to the area and I'll be able to lead you in."

"That'll be great, Chief." Jim favored the smaller man with a warm smile. Blair offered the information without any physical reaction. Maybe he was handling things better than Jim thought. "I'll see you in a few. Okay?"

"I'll be ready."

When Ellison stepped out of the building and started walking toward an older model blue and white Ford truck, a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck made the hair there stand on end. It felt like he was being watched and whoever it was wasn't a friendly. He also thought he was hearing the low, angry growl of a large feline. Stopping at the door of his truck, he slowly looked around the area, allowing his enhanced eyesight to scan farther than normal. At the edge of his eyesight, he thought he saw something large, dark and feline disappearing behind a building.

At one end of the street, five or six blocks away, he saw the morning tram moving in his direction. It was the transportation he normally took into the station. The people waiting for the vehicle looked to be the ones Jim saw each morning.

Swinging his gaze around in the other direction, a police cruiser was slowly traveling in his direction. Once it was at the end of the block housing the loft, it pulled to the curb. Ellison knew his captain was going to have some protection in the area since he wasn't taking Sandburg into the precinct. Nodding at the officers in the vehicle, he continued his scan. When there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, Jim climbed into the truck, started it up and drove off. He mentally noted to call Blair once he got to the office.

"What the hell was that all about? He looked like he knew we were watching."

Brackett glanced over at his companion and frowned before he returned his eyes to the binoculars in his hands. The two men were in an empty apartment of a building currently going through a remodeling, which had a perfect view of the loft housing their quarry. "He's a cop. It's part of their nature to be suspicious. But his actions did seem familiar." The last he mumbled to himself, remembering the similar way their employer acted sometimes.

"Well, his suspicious nature made him bring in some watchdogs." Quinn gestured at the police cruiser.

"Are you saying they'll be a problem for you?"

"That's up to you. If I'm to go through them, it's gonna cost extra. You know I'd rather handle jobs outside of the city limits. Frankly, I thought we were through a week ago, especially after your operation got busted."

Brackett gave his companion a hard glare. "You got a problem taking this job? Let me know now and I'll sever the contract."

Quinn's head snapped around at the implied 'permanently', his eyes widening slightly in fear. "No, no problem. We go in, grab the kid and take him to the buyer. Piece of cake."

"We'll wait about a half hour and make sure Ellison doesn't come back. Then, I'll take care of the cops and meet you up in the apartment. And remember, the lady isn't paying us for a body. She wants the kid alive and healthy." Dismissing his companion, Brackett pulled a cell phone out. "Yeah, it'll be today. He just left and the kid wasn't with him... That's not necessary. We can... ~sigh~ Whatever you say, Ms. Barnes. Good-bye."

Closing the phone with a snap, Brackett turned his attention back to the street. "Go get the van ready. I want this to be a smooth 'in and out' operation." The only reply he received was the closing of door behind him.

With more excitement than he'd felt in days, Blair checked over the shirts Jim had provided. He still felt hesitant about using the clothes. There wasn't any way he could have worn the pants. Whoever they had belonged to was definitely taller than he, but with the shirts, the sleeves could be rolled up. He'd just finished packing the last one in the backpack from the storage room when the sound of the front door lock being worked brought his head up.

"Hey, Jim. That didn't take very long," Blair called out, walking out of his room and toward the portal. "It's only been about an hour." He froze in mid step when the door swung open and the person standing there was someone he vaguely remembered, though the memory was hazy.

The stranger was taller with long, stringy hair and a maniacal gleam in his dark eyes. He smiled evilly and stepped into the loft. "Hello, kid. Long time no see."

Blair took a step back. "Who are you? What do you want?" His eyes flickered briefly to the door opening behind the man, but dismissed any escape that way. He took another step backwards and bumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Aw, you don't remember me? And I thought I made such a good impression with the rifle butt to your face." Quinn's smile broadened as he read the fear growing on the smaller man's face. He held up a pair of handcuffs and dangled them in front of his body. "Let's go, kid. You've an appointment with someone who's very anxious to meet with you."

The memory of padded leather cuffs being fastened over his wrists as he lay helpless flashed across Blair's eyes, but he shook it off. "I don't know what's going on, but the guy that owns this place is a cop and he'll be back any moment."

Quinn laughed and he started forward, swinging the door to the loft closed. "Nice try. We know he's heading into work and probably won't be back for a while. Now, are you going to make this easy, or are you going to give me some fun."

Panic taking control of his body, Blair scrambled around the table and raced for the back door. He'd just made it there and had flipped the dead bolt when he was slammed into the wood by a body hitting his own. Hands grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him around until he was smashed against the wall, knocking the breath out of him.

"I'm so glad you want to play," Quinn breathed into his captive's face, leaning his body in. "This'll make up for that red-headed beauty you cost me back at your little community."

With a shout of anger, Blair jerked his knee upward. He didn't catch Quinn directly in the groin, but the blow was close enough to cause the man to gasp in pain and lurch back. Taking advantage, Blair pushed the other back further and took off for the front door. The only thing on his mind was to escape, run as fast as possible and try to find Jim.

He'd just made it around the table when he was tackled from behind, this time being smashed to the floor. When he hit, his chin smacked the hard wood, causing an explosion of stars to flash in his eyes. He barely felt his body rolled over or the weight on his chest trapping his arms.

"That was not nice, you little bastard," Quinn growled, pulling back a fist and striking. He grinned when he saw the blood dribble out of the mouth he'd just hit. Leaning down he taunted, "Ready to go?"

Blair struggled briefly, but knew there wasn't anyway he could escape. Taking a deep breath, he spit into the face leering down at him in an act of defiance. "Go to hell! HELP ME!" Blair started screaming.

"Why you..." Quinn struck Sandburg again then placed his hands around his prisoner's throat. He stopped the shouting by tightening his fingers. "I have to keep you alive, but a little damage won't bring down your price."

Blair gasped, but he could barely get any oxygen down his throat. He panicked and started bucking his body, anything to make the hands let go. He couldn't call for help with his mouth, but his mind yelled for the one person he felt could possibly save him. JIM!

The fingers tightened and all the air was cut off. Blair's body weakened then collapsed and darkness started to fill his eyes. When the pressure disappeared and the weight fell away from his body, he gave a mighty gasp, rolled over onto his side and started coughing in choking gasps.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!" Brackett yelled at the cringing Quinn. He'd taken care of the two officers parked outside of the building and was walking up the last set of stairs when he heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the apartment. Opening the door to find Quinn throttling the kid made him see red. Stomping into the loft, he kicked Quinn in the ribs, knocking him away from Sandburg.

"That's what I'd like to know, Lee," a feminine voice spoke up.

Swinging around, Brackett reached into his jacket for his weapon then stopped when he recognized the woman. "Al -- uh Ms. Barnes. I didn't hear you come up."

"No kidding," the tall blond woman drawled. She stood in the doorway looking like she'd just stepped out of a boardroom meeting, her hair pulled back in a formal chignon and her clothes screaming of money. She focused her icy blue eyes at Brackett for several seconds then turned toward the two men on the floor. "What's going on here?"

"The severing of a business relationship. What did I tell you, Quinn?"

Quinn clutched at the place on his ribs where Brackett had kicked. Flipping his hair back from his face with a jerk of his head, he sneered, "The little prick tried to rack me. Then, instead of accepting the situation, he spits on me and starts screaming. I was only trying to keep him quiet."

"By choking him to death? You've made your last mistake. Your services are no longer needed." Reaching into his pocket, Brackett started to pull out an envelope when a whispery cough sounded from behind him. A red splotch appeared on Quinn's forehead. With a surprised look on his face, he collapsed.

Opening his eyes at the voices speaking around him, Blair saw Quinn hit the floor in front of him. A trickle of blood flowed from the hole in the middle of his forehead and his vacant eyes stared at Blair. His heart leaping into his throat, Blair pushed up from the floor and scrambled back on his butt until he was stopped by the leg of the kitchen table. Clutching at his throat, he stared in shock at the dead man.

"That wasn't necessary," Brackett commented calmly, pushing the envelope back into his pocket.

"I don't reward failures, Lee. I also don't leave loose ends like him floating around. His type have the tendency of showing back up at the wrong moments. And, if he was ever caught by the police, he would spill his guts to save his own skin. I've met his type before." Barnes slowly unscrewed the silencer from her weapon then tucked both into her purse.

Giving the woman a quick glance, Brackett strode over to Sandburg and pulled him unresistingly to his feet. "Let's go, kid. It's time to leave. Oh, and meet your new partner." Grabbing the smaller man by the shoulders, Lee swung Blair around until he was facing Alex.

Even as he was pulled to his feet, Blair continued to stare at the body on the floor. That is, until he felt a strong hand grasp his chin and turn his head. Focusing his eyes, he saw a beautiful blond woman staring at him with a sly, cat-like smile on her face. She was gazing at him like he was a plump mouse and casually used her thumb to wipe at the blood on his chin. Looking into her eyes, he saw as much as felt the evil in the blue orbs staring back.

"No," he whispered in a raspy voice and jerked his head away from the hand holding it. Blair could feel anger, pain and death radiate from the woman.

"Oh yes, sweetheart. And you're all mine," Alex purred. "I've been looking for someone like you for a long time. You're going to help me gain control and become stronger." She took a step forward, which caused Blair to jerk back.

"No. God, no!" Blair tried to scream, but his damaged throat wouldn't let out anything more than a grating rasp. He started to struggle in the hands holding him.

One of Brackett's arms was wrapped around Blair's body, holding one arm against Blair's side and trapping the other along with his body back and against the man's chest. "Stop it," Brackett hissed, but Blair was beyond hearing, so caught up in his fear. Finally, Brackett slid his free hand up and over Blair's shoulder until it reached the juncture with his neck. Pressing hard, the body in his arms froze then slowly relaxed into unconsciousness.

"What did you do?" Barnes demanded, raising the limp head to look at the lax face then allowing it to fall back down.

Shifting the unconscious man around, Lee pulled Blair up and over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. "Just something I learned from my days with the Agency. Place pressure on a specific bundle of nerves located at the base of the neck along the shoulder and you can cause the person to black out. Safer than hitting him, since you don't want any head trauma. Right? We better get out of here before all the commotion draws attention. What should we do about Quinn?"

Leading the way out of the loft, Alex said derisively, "Leave him for the cop to find. He'll be an example to those who try to keep me from what I want."

Shifting the limp body until it sat more comfortably on his shoulders, Brackett followed the woman.

"Okay, Jim. I'm ready to go off into the wilds with you. Where's Hairboy hiding?" Brown asked, plopping a gym bag down onto Ellison's desk. The dark-skinned detective looked like he was dressed to take a stroll in a flower garden, not hike into the mountains. He was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, a pair of cream corduroy pants and a hat that had fishing lures attached to it. The only things on his body that looked like they might survive the trip were the hiker boots on his feet.

Ellison looked his fellow detective up and down before he started laughing. "Oh H, I thought Rafe was the comedian of your partnership."

Brown looked down at himself then looked back up and asked, "What?"

That made Jim laugh harder. "When was the last time you went up into the mountains?"

"Hey, I've been hiking before."

"In the mountains? I mean really into one of the national forests."

Pulling his hat off, Brown rubbed over his hairless pate. "Well, it has been a few years." At Ellison's raised eyebrow, Brown slumped down into a chair. "Okay, not since I was in the Boy Scouts. But it couldn't have changed that much."

Jim chuckled again. "It has. If you got any heavier shirts in that bag, I suggest you change into one of... them... before... we..."

Brown sat up and stared at the senior detective. "Jim? You okay, man?"

Ellison sat frozen in his desk for several seconds before he jerked backwards like he'd been hit. "Blair," he whispered. His eyes were vacant, like he was elsewhere, though he held a hand to his throat.

"Rafe!" Brown called to his partner, standing up and moving closer to Ellison. "Go get the Captain."

Instantly deducing something was wrong, the young detective didn't ask any questions, but jumped up and ran to Banks' office and banged on the door. Without waiting for the man inside to answer, Rafe opened the door and leaned in. "Sir, its Ellison." Then he was racing back.

One minute, Jim felt relaxed and comfortable, joking with his fellow worker. The next, a surge of panic ran through his mind and he instantly knew who it was from. Then there was the mental scream, his name being called by a familiar voice. He heard it as clearly as if it had been in the same room and it jolted him back in his chair. When he felt fingers pressing against his throat, Jim felt helpless. The bullpen faded from his vision and he was back in a jungle clearing, but he wasn't alone this time.

A hyena was mauling the wolf Jim remembered seeing in his dream. The wolf was down and the hyena had its jaws around the other's throat. Then a wolverine entered the battle, knocking the hyena away, and a leopard charged forward. The feline swiped one clawed paw at the hyena, killing it, then turned and left the clearing. The wolverine gave the dead hyena a quick sniff to make sure it was dead, then went to the stunned wolf and clamped its jaws into the neck scruff. With strange ease, the wolverine dragged the wolf off into the brush, following the leopard.

From the other side of the clearing came the black jaguar. It turned its head, drilling golden eyes into Jim's. Do you allow your guide to be taken from you?

Anger flared deep within Jim and blazed through his soul. "NO!" he yelled and held his arms out wide. With an answering scream, the large cat charged at the human and leaped. Man and beast joined in a blinding flash of light and...

Jim jerked in his chair again, his eyes once again seeing the surroundings. On either side of him stood Brown and Rafe, holding onto his shoulders as if to prevent him from falling from his chair. In front, Banks stood stooped over, one hand raised and poised to strike.

"Jim! Can you hear me? Are you all right?" Simon asked, lowering his hand when he saw Jim's eyes come back to life.

Ellison shook off the hands holding him and stood. He swayed slightly but waved off Banks' silent offer of assistance. "It's Sandburg. Someone's taken him." Brushing through the men, he pulled open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small .38 caliber pistol in a sheath. Propping his leg up on the edge of the desk, he pulled up his pant leg and started attaching the weapon.

"What are you talking about, Jim? How do you know this?" Banks asked, shifting around until he was again facing his detective.

Jim paused in his actions then leaned closer to his captain and said in a low voice, "I just know, Simon. It's like it was at the warehouse. I knew he was in there and knew exactly where he was. Don't ask me how or why, but I know Blair and I have some type of connection with each other. Right now, I know he's in trouble."

Banks stared at Ellison for several seconds as the man resumed positioning the revolver on his leg then turned to the other two standing near. "Rafe. Get hold of dispatch and have them raise the two uniforms that are supposed to be at Ellison's loft. Brown, go down to the garage and get a vehicle checked out." The two detectives didn't ask any questions, jumping up and moving at their captain's orders.

"Tell me what you saw, Jim," Banks finally asked after the other two left.

Finishing and pulling his pant leg down, Jim straightened up, pulled his other revolver from the shoulder holster and started checking it. "It was all in some strange imagery, but there were three of them. The first one was hurting Blair, must have hit him a couple of times. Then I could feel a strangling sensation on my throat. All of the sudden, this second person shows up and stops him. A third person came onto the scene, killed the first guy, then left. The second grabbed Blair and took him away, following the third."

Banks stared at his detective. "Why do I feel like you're not telling me the whole story?"

Ellison returned the gaze and challenged, "Do you really want to know exactly what I saw and why I saw it?"

The two men were interrupted in their staring contest by Rafe calling from his desk, telephone receiver still at his ear. "Captain? Dispatch says they can't raise the car."

"Okay, tell them to send another unit over to Ellison's ASAP, possible kidnapping in progress. Then meet us down at the garage." Banks turned and started walking over to his office. "Let me get my stuff, Jim, and we'll all go over to your place."

"They're already gone, Captain," Jim growled.

"They might have left some clues as to where they're going. We do this by the book, Detective."

Frustrated, Ellison waited until Banks returned pulling on his jacket and tucking his own revolver in the holster behind his back. Then the captain and his two detectives moved quickly to the garage.

Ellison saw the flashing red and white lights of the police cars long before he and the others neared his residence. And when their car stopped in front of the building, he could tell that Sandburg was not in the building, though he didn't really understand how he knew, or even cared.

Leading the way up the stairs to the third floor, another feeling began to override the emptiness Jim felt emanating from the loft. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he thought he could hear a low menacing growl.

"I thought you'd once said your building is occupied by police and firemen. Why didn't any of them hear anything?" Rafe asked Ellison.

It was Brown who answered, seeing how focused Ellison was. "Didn't you hear about the fire on the East Side? It was called in before dawn, at least a three-alarm blaze. Reports coming in think it was arson. They had to call in extra police to handle the security."

"What's the situation?" Banks asked the officer standing at the door. Stepping into the loft, he saw the body lying half way between the kitchen and living room. Ellison, Brown and Rafe were close behind.

The officer followed the three men in. There was suppressed anger in his voice as he reported, "We arrived first and found Officers Cohen and Wang dead in their vehicle. Looks like the killer just stepped up to their door and shot them both. That's when we called for backup. When the second squad showed up, my partner and I proceeded up here."

"The door was ajar and we found the D.B. like you see it," the second officer added, coming around the counter of the kitchen. "The rest of the place is empty and it doesn't look like there was forcible entry."

"The lock was picked," Ellison announced, looking carefully at his door and pointing at the device. "Fresh scratch marks." Walking further into his home, Jim automatically reached out with his senses. He knew there wouldn't be any comforting heartbeat coming from anywhere in the loft, though his ears did search for the sound. He could easily smell that a gun had been fired as well as the blood and other odors from the dead man, but there were a few other scents that were different. One was a man's cologne; it was astringent and something Jim had smelled before. But the other was subtle, exotic and definitely feminine. A woman's perfume, if he didn't know better, but something that was probably pretty expensive.

Banks noticed his detective lifting his head, taking careful sniffs of the air, and asked softly, "What is it, Jim?"

"Another man and a woman were here with this guy, I can smell them." Jim replied in a quiet tone so that the others wouldn't hear. The odor of the men's cologne was so familiar and his mind struggled to identify it. When Banks' cell phone started ringing, Ellison walked over to the body and knelt down. "Does he have any I.D.?" he asked the officer standing nearby as he pulled a pair of plastic gloves out of a pocket in his jacket and started pulling them on.

"We haven't had time to check him, sir. But we did find these over by the back bedroom." The officer held up a pair of handcuffs using a handkerchief. Jim just nodded and returned his attention to the body.

The man's eyes were still open and the expression on his face appeared to be one of shock and disbelief. Hello, Mr. Hyena. Guess you didn't expect your partners to turn on you, did you? Jim mentally asked the dead man. Moving carefully so as to not disturb the position it had fallen, Jim checked the body over and found a gun tucked in the man's waistband at his back. It was the only fruit of his search.

Simon was just closing his phone up and tucking it back into his pocket when Jim stood up. "That was the DMV. Seems there are only three new model, silver SUV vehicles in the city that could have been used in your attempted hit and run. One belongs to the Mayor's office--"

"Which automatically knocks her out of the running, unless she's reported it stolen in the last week," Ellison interrupted.

"And she hasn't. We would have been the first to know. The second is at Roger's Motors on Hill Crest. And yes, it's still there."

"And the third?"

"Recently purchased for an import and export business located down at the harbor."

"Let me guess, the corporate office is someplace back east and there isn't any clear record of who the actual owner is."

"You got it. Any idea who he is? Or was?" Banks asked, pulling a cigar out of his jacket.

"No, he was clean and I don't remember him from the warehouse. We'll have to run his fingerprints." Suddenly a shadow caught the edge of Jim's vision and he turned his head to watch a large black cat pad down the stairs from his bedroom. It paused on the landing and gave him a forceful roar before stalking over to the balcony and flowing through the glass to the outdoors.

"Jim?" Simon called out when Jim turned away and started walking toward the balcony door. "Ellison!"

Jim didn't hear Simon, his whole attention on the animal now standing at the far wall of the balcony. Opening the door, he stepped through and continued forward until he was next to the jaguar. It was standing on its hind legs, the front paws resting on the top of the wall. Following the animal's gaze, Jim's view was of Cascade harbor. Closing his eyes, he extended himself in that direction. Similar to what he had experienced at the warehouse not that many nights ago, Jim felt the calling to his soul. Blair was in that direction. Jim could tell that he wasn't hurt, with the exception of pain along the jaw and in the throat area, but the younger man was terrified.

"They've got him at the harbor," Jim said when he felt Simon's presence at his side. "She'll probably wait until dark before trying to get him out of the country."

"She? And you know this how? Another one of those 'feelings'?" Banks asked sarcastically.

Ellison swung around sharply, his eyes blazing. "Yes, damn it! It's one of those feelings. The same one that told me Blair was in that office in the warehouse, and helped me locate him in the hospital and the precinct and every other time I've searched for him over the last week. I don't know what it is, Simon, but he and I are connected. He's become a part of my life and his ability to help me with my senses has saved my sanity. With your help or without it, I'm going after him. He's depending on me and I won't let her take him. Are you with me?"

It didn't take Banks long to answer. The unholy light that seemed to glow from Ellison's eyes more than convinced him. "We'll take Brown and Rafe and leave the uniforms here to control the scene. Anyone else?"

Jim shook his head and led the way back into the loft and toward the front door. "No time to wait for any others. We've got to move now."

"Brown! Grab your partner and let's go," Banks ordered, breaking into a trot to keep up with Ellison. "We'll still call for backup and just hope they show up in time."

The four exited the building, climbed into their car and sped off in the direction of Cascade Harbor.

Blair slowly swam back to consciousness, his head throbbing with an intense headache. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was lying on his side on a cot behind a desk. Confused, he shifted his body so that he could lie on his back. Bringing his arms up, he saw that his hands were manacled with broad cuffs, a long chain connecting them. His mind cleared instantly. He remembered being attacked in the loft by the same guy who'd taken him at Bounty. The guy was strangling him then he was lying dead with a hole in his head. Brackett showed up with some woman who scared the hell out of him and now he was here.

With a groan, Blair rolled back onto his side and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He had a dull ache throbbing at the base of his neck and remembered Brackett grabbing him there before he blacked out. Rubbing at the spot, Blair slowly stood up then froze. Sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk was the woman from the loft. She was leaning back in the piece of furniture with an air of total confidence.

"Hello, darling," she said in a husky voice. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up. How are you feeling?"

Blair eyed her warily. "I'm fine," he rasped out, wincing at the pain talking caused. He brought his hands up to hold his tender throat.

"That's good. If Lee had done anything to damage you further, he would have met the same fate as that idiot he hired. How is your throat, dear?"

Blair shuffled to the side, trying to add a little more distance from the other. He could almost feel the evil that seemed to surround the woman. "Hurts." The word came out almost as a whisper. Swallowing hard with a grimace, he asked. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The woman laughed, the sound sending a cold shiver down Blair's spine. Then she stood and moved closer to the desk. "My name is Alex Barnes, your new companion and partner." She leaned in and inhaled, taking in the scent of the man, her nostrils flaring.

Blair suddenly realized how often he'd seen Jim do the same thing, though it didn't seem a deliberate action as this woman was doing. Blair stumbled back until a wall halted his movement. His heart had begun pounding in his chest when the woman called him her partner and companion "Wh... ~ahem~ what are you talking about?"

Alex continued to move forward, her glittering eyes boring into Blair's. When she stood directly in front of him, she reached forward with a slender hand to his neck. Again she took a deep breath and smiled. Blair tried to press back further and flinched when the cool fingers slid down into his shirt to pull on the cord around his neck.

Removing the medallion from the shirt, Alex brushed her thumb across the etching of the wolf then flipped it over to the side with the feline. "We are meant to be together, Blair. You are the wolf, the guide. I am the cat, the warrior; the one you will help. I've been searching for you for some time."

"No," Blair whispered, slowing shaking his head. At the word and the movement, Alex clutched at the medallion, raised an eyebrow and waited. "You are not the one. There's another."

The sly grin faded from Alex's face and her eyes narrowed in anger. "Who? The cop?"

Sandburg didn't answer. He tried to school his expression into one of neutrality and just stared at Barnes with a firm resolve in his mind. Bringing his hands up, he yanked the medallion out of the woman's hand.

With an angered cry, Alex backhanded Blair, knocking him onto the ground. "NO! There wasn't time for you to make any connection with him." Drawing a leg back, she kicked out, her booted foot catching Blair in the stomach. He tried to roll away, but she struck several more times, her foot landing again and again on his ribs and his back.

Finally, her anger spent, Alex stared down at the cowering Blair. "It doesn't make any difference. The connection can't be very strong. Since you'll never see him again, it will disappear. Hell, after our ride arrives tonight, I'll make it disappear and you'll know where you belong." Then she turned and strode out of the office, slamming the door after her. The metallic sound of a lock being engaged followed shortly after.

Rolling back over with a heavy groan that ended in a short sob, Blair struggled to breathe through his swollen throat and ride out the burning pain that radiated throughout his back and chest. He knew he had to get control of his emotions, especially the fear that wanted to control his mind, and force his body to move. He had to be ready, prepared to move when Jim came for him. And he knew Jim was coming for him.

Ellison grunted in pain, wrapped his arms around his chest and bent over slightly. His action caused Banks to slow the car down and pull over to the curb.

"Jim, you okay? What's the matter?"

Jim took a deep breath, shaking his head as he sat back up. "It's nothing. Probably something I ate." He gave his captain a meaningful look before glancing at the two detectives sitting in the back seat. "We need to go right, sir. It's more in that direction." He jerked his chin to the right.

Barely suppressing the sigh that wanted to escape, Banks shifted the car back into gear and started moving again. At the first corner he came to, he took a right turn and accelerated. "Anything else we need to know?"

"I don't know how much backup she'll have. If she's still waiting for transportation, it might just be her and whoever helped her."

"And if her transportation is here, we could be up to our asses in alligators and in a full-blown battle. So we go in slow and careful. Our first objective will be to get the kid. Agreed?" When he didn't get an answer, Simon raised his voice and repeated, "Agreed?"

Ellison swung his attention to Banks, his eyes almost glowing again. "Blair is my responsibility. I'll get him out. But I also want the woman, Simon. If we don't get her this time, she'll be after him again."

Banks peeled his eyes away from the burning gaze and returned them back to the road. "When this is over, we're going to sit down and have a long conversation about you, Sandburg and the whole business surrounding you two," he said in a low voice, knowing the other would be able to hear him. Ellison just turned his gaze back to the scenery out his window.

When the sedan neared the harbor and Jim could see the sign for the Alexandria Import and Export business without extending his vision, Simon pulled the vehicle into an alley and turned it off. Swiveling in his seat to face the two in the back, he ordered, "You two swing around and come in from the rear. I'd like this to go down without any gunfire, but we've no idea how determined these people are or when our backup is going to arrive. Do what is necessary and be careful. Understand?"

Brown nodded. As the senior detective of the pair, he knew it was up to him to control his younger, more impetuous partner. But Banks also just gave them permission to use deadly force. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to. "Let's go, partner," he said, opening his car door and stepping out. Rafe followed, giving Ellison a pat on the shoulder as he exited.

"How do you want to do this, Jim?" Banks asked, watching Brown and Rafe disappear down the alley. "Jim?"

Ellison was already out of the car and moving stealthily around it until he was at the mouth of the alley. When he felt Banks' presence at his side, he spoke in a low voice. "We can't wait for dark this time. She's already hurt him."

"You sure it's the woman?"

"I remembered the man's cologne from the loft. It's Brackett and he wouldn't damage Blair if it meant it would lessen the amount he'd get. The woman is probably his mysterious benefactor who pulled the strings to get him bailed out before we could file the charges."

"And she's probably the one who's putting up the big bucks, especially if this business belongs to her. But why?"

"Because she's like me and she needs Sandburg to help her."

"Like he's been able to help you? Give you control and help you use your senses with your police work."

Surprised at the statement, Jim turned to his boss. "Exactly, though I don't think she's going to use her abilities the same way. What I'm feeling from in there is just... I don't know. Evil." With that, Jim returned his attention to the warehouse and grew still.

He felt the pull at his soul, only there was something trying to block him out and that was making him angry. Instead of suppressing the anger as he'd usually done, Ellison allowed it to grow and take control. The man known as Jim Ellison relinquished control over the body and allowed another to step forward. Jim knew He had been waiting for his chance to surface, but nothing had ever been serious enough to allow it. The Sentinel knew that now was the moment, His time.

Banks felt more than saw the man next to him change. The body did relax slightly, but it was the very air around the man that heralded the change. It became charged with an energy that caused the hair on Simon's arm to stand up. He started to reach a hand forward toward the other but stopped when the man easily avoided the touch with a smooth shifting of his body. He turned to look and Simon took a step back, his eyes widening at the expression on Jim's face. It was almost feral. The Sentinel stared at his companion, as if measuring his worth. When he was satisfied, he nodded and slunk around the corner. Banks would have sworn he was watching one of the great cats stalking his prey. Releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding, Banks pulled his weapon from inside his coat and followed after his detective.

Blair knew it was time to move. He had to get out of his 'cage' and join his sentinel. There was going to be a battle and he had to be out there. If anything, he could make enough noise with his escape to draw the attention of whoever was in the warehouse and help Jim make his entrance undiscovered.

Taking careful breaths to control the throbbing pain around his ribs, he searched the office for a weapon, something he could use to break out. He'd already tried the door but it was securely locked. The only way he figured he was going to get out was through the small window at the front of the office. He'd checked the glass a couple of times during the course of his prowling around the room and figured it would take something either big and/or heavy to break through it. He'd tried to lift the chair Alex Barnes had been sitting in, but his sore ribs protested loudly.

Earlier, when he'd been digging through the desk to find something to use on the manacles, he'd come across a paperweight that might be perfect. It was round, painted to look like the earth, and weighed at least 5 lbs. Figuring it was his best option, Blair pulled it out of the drawer he'd found it in and stepped over to the window and paused. There was the problem of where the office was located. It was situated high off the warehouse floor and the flooring around it extended almost halfway over the lower level. Being this high up wouldn't bother him if he stayed away from the edge, but he could also be trapped up here. Stairs led up to it from both sides and, when he broke the window, it would be noisy enough to draw attention to him. He would have to move fast to get to the ground floor and prevent being caught again.

Closing his eyes, Blair relaxed. A small smile appeared on his face as he felt Jim's closeness. "I know you're looking for me and can hear me, Jim. I'm going to make some noise, so you better turn your hearing down," he whispered, opening his eyes. Hefting the paperweight a couple of times as he stepped back slightly, Blair murmured "showtime," reared back and threw with all his might. He quickly whipped around to cover his head with his arms as the window shattered with a loud crash, shards of glass flying everywhere.

When the last piece of glass had fallen, Blair hopped back over to the window, brushed away the debris with his sleeved-covered arm and climbed out. Without thinking, he started running to the stairway to his left. He knew Jim was in that direction, and the only thing on his mind was getting to him.

Banks watched as Ellison took down the man guarding the door with the speed and precision of an assassin. One minute the man was turned sideways to light a cigarette, the next he was lying unconscious on the ground. Silently, Ellison had slid up behind the guard, covered his mouth to prevent any noise, and slammed the butt of his revolver into the man's head. The only sound heard was a small grunt from the man and his body slapping the ground. Then Ellison slid through the door and disappeared into the warehouse.

Simon followed after checking the fallen man's pulse. The last thing he wanted to have to explain after all this was over was a bunch of dead bodies. When he entered the warehouse, he couldn't see his detective. He knew he couldn't call out to the man to find him, so Simon crouched down at the door and waited, hoping to hear or at least get a glimpse of his man.

He didn't have long to wait. Once his eyesight had grown accustomed to the dimness of the area, Simon saw a dark shape slinking up a set of stairs to the right. For a moment he thought the moving shadow shifted into a large animal with a long tail swishing into view. Then, in the next second, the outline was once again man-shaped. With a shake of his head and a sigh, Simon started in that direction. At least he could cover Jim's back in his hunt for Blair, whether he needed it or not. When he heard a loud crash of glass from above, Simon jumped then started to run toward the stairs.

The Sentinel froze near the top of the steps, tilting his head slightly to listen to the whispered words only he could hear. The voice was rough as it struggled to get the warning out to him. He knew the voice, though it didn't sound right. Following the instructions, the Sentinel crouched on the stairs, bringing his hearing down to what others would call a normal level. The last thing he needed right now was to be incapacitated by noise.

The resounding crash of glass brought a sly smile to the Sentinel's face. His Guide was thinking, working at getting free and back to him. Before the last piece of glass fell, he was moving silently upward. Through the dim light he easily saw his Guide climb out the window of the room he'd been held. He met the smaller man before he reached the stairs, startling him when he appeared seemingly out of thin air.

"Jim!" Blair squeaked, stumbling back at the other's sudden appearance. He'd been expecting the man to show up, but not materialize out of nowhere in front of him. A pair of strong arms clasped his shoulders, preventing him from falling. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, easily calming his breathing since his friend was now there and obviously willing to take control of the situation, to get them out of there.

"Are you all right?" the Sentinel asked. His voice was a low rumble, a hard edge could be heard within the words. Taking a hand, he tilted Blair's head back and eyed the bruised and slightly swollen area around his mouth. Frowning at the injury, Jim lowered his gaze to Blair's throat. With a gentle touch, he felt along the bruised area. He could easily see the finger-shaped bruises along both sides of the pale throat. His own fingers felt the heat from the marks and how swollen the whole area was. The Sentinel let out a low growl of anger, the muscle in his jaw flexing tautly with anger. He felt tremors in the taut frame he held and, thinking the young man cold, took off his jacket and draped it across Blair's shoulders.

"I'm fi... fine," Blair answered, enjoying the warmth of the coat. He attempted to clear his throat so that he could speak better, wincing hard and carefully swallowing. His hand automatically reached up to hold the area, but it was stopped and pushed gently back down to his side.

"Let's get you ou--" The sound of a hammer being cocked back caught the Sentinel's attention, making him immediately react by throwing his arms over his Guide and bringing both of them down to the floor. A scant second later the corner of a nearby crate was shattered by the force of the bullet striking it. There was a second shot, but it didn't seem to be aimed in their direction.

Keeping the smaller man covered with his arms, the Sentinel moved in a crouching run until the two were hidden by another crate. A grunt and barely suppressed hiss drew his attention away from the warehouse and back to the man he held. He saw the grimace of pain etched across his Guide's face and reached out to rest a hand on the trembling man's shoulder.

Blair glanced up at the touch and shook his head before he dropped it back down and concentrated on relaxing, making the pain recede. At the low growl he heard coming from beside him and the gentle hand reaching under the coat and brushing his back, Blair brought his head back up to see the intense and feral expression on Jim's face as the man carefully ran a hand along the area Alex had kicked. The growling was coming from Jim!

The intense gaze scared Blair. This wasn't the face of the calm, intelligent detective he'd spent the last week with, not by a long shot. The one before him more resembled the primitive, aboriginal sentinel he'd studied in college so many years ago. Could Jim's personality have receded to allow this one in control because of what happened to him?

Blair forced his mind back to the situation at hand, but filed the idea for a future time. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His larynx had finally given out and it was definitely not the time for it to do that. Jim wasn't acting very sane and Blair needed to talk him, bring him back into control. To get his attention and keep him from leaving as he appeared to be about to do, Blair laid one hand on Jim's shoulder and used the other to grasp the larger man's chin and bring his attention around.

The Sentinel wasn't happy. There was heat radiating from his Guide's back and ribs, evidence The Other had abused him. He couldn't feel any breaks, but that didn't matter. She had already forfeited any mercy from him by trying to take his Guide in the first place. His growl deepening, the Sentinel started to turn, to go after The Other, when a touch halted his movement and another brought his face up to gaze into deep, expressive blue eyes.

'Jim,' Blair tried to say, but all that would come out was an almost soundless whisper. Frustrated at his inability to speak, Blair poured his emotions into his heart and into his eyes and pleaded with Jim. Called to the man he knew was submerged to bring him back to the conscious level, called with his mind and his soul... and was rewarded when intelligence flooded back into Jim's eyes and the primitive expression changed into one of concern.

"Blair?" Jim asked several questions with that one word, all the while searching his face and checking out the visible injuries.

Sandburg mouthed 'I'm okay' then clasped a hand to his throat at the pain the effort caused.

Ellison gently pulled the hand away from his throat and again checked the area with his hyper- sensitive fingers. In a low voice, he said, "The swelling is right around the larynx and that's what's preventing you from speaking. Can you breathe okay?" At Sandburg's emphatic nod, he relaxed slightly. "Good. I know it'll be the hardest thing you'll ever do, but you need to try and not speak to prevent any further damage."

Blair rolled his eyes at the lame attempt at humor and punched his fist on Jim's chest. He wanted to warn Jim of the other sentinel, of Brackett and the others that would be coming, if they weren't already here, of the obvious danger they were both in. When the smile disappeared from Jim's face, he started to use his hands to try to explain what he couldn't say.

Ellison grabbed the hands, halting their frantic movement and the clinking sound the chains attached to the manacles made. "Blair, calm down. I know there's another here like me. I can almost feel where she's at in here." As if to demonstrate, Jim swung his head around and looked unerringly toward the far side of the warehouse. Hearing a noise he hadn't expected, he swung the rest of his body around to face the stairs and pulled at Blair until the smaller man was completely behind him, his revolver extended. Then he sniffed at the air and slowly dropped his weapon back down. A large shape, though crouched, appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Simon!" Jim whispered loudly, causing the shape to jerk and drop lower. Then it moved swiftly in their direction.

Banks nodded at his detective then turned his attention to the object of the whole operation. "You okay, Sandburg?" He could see the fear in the younger man's eyes, the way he clung to Ellison. Receiving a nod, Banks returned his attention to Ellison.

"I was able to scare off the one firing up here, but I'm not sure how many more there are."

Banks watched Ellison look away and tilt his head in a way he was becoming very familiar. He then saw Sandburg move closer and place a hand onto his detective's shoulder. He saw that the action caused the larger man to relax his shoulders and tilt his head at a sharper anger.

"There's one at the far side of the warehouse. It's her and she's heading in this direction. There's three others, two moving towards the stairs and the third is moving towards the woman." Ellison swiveled his head and smiled slightly. "Our guys are coming in the back way; I just heard Brown tell Rafe not to get his ass shot off. And I'm hearing a large engine getting closer from the backside. Big ship from the sound of it. Could be her transportation. There's also some sirens, but they're still a ways off."

Blair patted Jim's shoulder to get his attention, which also drew Simon's. "Barnes," he forced out. "Alex Barnes." The effort left Blair panting and struggling to swallow.

"Alex Barnes? The woman who owns this company and about half a dozen more?" At Sandburg's nod, Banks sighed. "That explains the money and the operation. From what I've read, her companies were the fastest to recover after The Chaos and she made a fortune taking over others unable to cope. Something like kidnapping and trying to flee out of country with you could destroy her. Are you that special, kid?"

Blair looked surprised at the question asked, then looked at Jim. He saw the other was again concentrating his senses on him. When their eyes met, it was several long seconds before Jim looked away and answered for Blair.

"He is. Even without being able to speak, he brought me back into control. I'd hate to think what she'd use her abilities for, especially if she had Blair at her side. I want her, Simon. We can't let her escape."

"Okay, then we do it this way. Sandburg, you stay up here and out of trouble. We'll worry about getting those things off after this is all over." Banks nodded at the manacles on Sandburg's wrists. "I'll work at herding the two coming for us toward Brown and Rafe. Jim, you can go after Barnes. Just remember that we're here to arrest her. You got that?"

Ellison felt the smaller man beside him freeze then begin shaking. He heard a hitch in Sandburg's breathing and his heartbeat sped up frighteningly fast. "No, Simon." Jim placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'm not letting him out of my sight until this is all over. We stay together." Jim stared at his boss for several long seconds before the other finally sighed and dropped his head.

"Okay. I don't like it, but I know better than to argue with you about this. You take the right side and I'll go back down the left. We'll try to trap them in between us." Banks nodded at the two and stood up in a guarded crouch to move off. "Now if I can keep my ass from being shot."

"Let's go." Feeling Sandburg's presence following close behind him as he started off to the right, Ellison directed his attention to the one he knew was heading towards them. She wasn't trying to move with any stealth despite the whispered cautions he could hear coming from her companion. When she paused at the bottom of the stairs and the one with her trotted away, Jim paused and turned to his companion.

"She's coming, Chief. I want you to stay back and let me handle her. Okay?"

With a nod, Blair stepped backwards until he was standing near some crates stacked near the wall. He could just barely see the railing leading down the stairs, but he had a full view of his protector. The way Jim was standing reminded Blair of some old westerns he'd once watched, body poised with legs spread shoulder width, waiting for the arrival of his competitor with his revolver held relaxed at his side. Blair closed his eyes and concentrated on sending good thoughts, strength, anything he could think of that might aid his friend.

Jim felt pressure growing within him as the woman came closer. She was slowly gliding up the stairs with an almost seductive air about her. The sentinel within him was trying to come forward, wanting to take over for the meeting with The Other, but Jim fought him. He had to keep control of the situation and make sure Barnes was caught legally. Jim wanted her to go down hard, to lose everything she had. So concentrated on tracking the woman's progress toward him, Jim didn't hear the one coming up behind him.

Blair didn't hear anything, either. He still had his eyes closed, concentrating on keeping himself calm so that he didn't take Jim's attention away from the situation, when a voice startled him back alert. What brought his attention to the situation was that strange voice in his head again.

Shaman! Attend!

His eyes flying open, Blair's gaze immediately locked onto Jim and saw that the larger man was still focused on the stairs. Then, from the corner of his eyes, Blair caught sight of a man moving stealthily through the scattered crates towards Jim. It was Brackett and he had a gun out, but he seemed to be searching around. It suddenly hit Blair that the man wasn't there to take Jim out; he could have done that with one shot from the other stairwell.

Anger filled Blair's mind. He knew Brackett had been involved with his kidnapping, the destruction of Bounty and the death of many of his friends. The man had also kidnapped him this last time from Jim's loft and Blair knew he was the one Brackett was looking for now. He also knew that the man would kill Jim to get him. Determined to not be the helpless victim for a third time, Blair shrugged Jim's coat off and quietly gathered up the chains hanging from his manacles to prevent them from making any noise. Silently, he charged forward.

Brackett saw Sandburg charging at him and turned his body so that the smaller man barreled into his chest. Despite being prepared, the impact knocked him over and the two tumbled to the floor with Blair landing on top. With a swing of his fisted hands, Blair knocked the gun from Lee's hand, sending it flying over the edge and down onto the first floor of the warehouse. He swung his hands one more time, landing a blow on the other's face, but that was the only one Blair was able to get. Using his larger size, Lee fought back.

The two men struggled, rolling around on the floor and moving closer to the edge. Blair thought he'd heard Jim call out his name, but he was too focused on fighting and hurting the one who'd changed his life so drastically. Not realizing how close to the edge they were, and Brackett on top trying to capture his arms, Blair gave an anguished scream and heaved with his body. Unprepared, Lee toppled over and off the edge of the floor. In fear, he clutched at the nearest thing at hand. Blair.

"Sandburg!" Ellison yelled when he heard the commotion behind him and turned to see the younger man fighting with Brackett. He hesitated for only a few moments, but that was too long to help. Just as he started toward the two men, Ellison saw Brackett go flying off the floor with a surprised look on his face. He also saw that the man had his hands tangled in Sandburg's shirt, pulling the smaller man with him. He scrambled over to the edge, hearing the crash of the bodies before he was able to look over. "Blair!"

Gunfire erupted from the far side of the warehouse, but Jim ignored it. He concentrated on the two men lying motionless on the crushed boxes below, straining to hear any evidence of life. Something within told Jim that Blair was alive, but that wasn't enough. He had to hear the proof. Focusing his hearing, he sagged in relief when the sweet sounds of a now familiar heartbeat along with strained breathing filled his ears. When he saw the younger man shift where he lay, Jim jumped up and raced for the stairs.

Blair gasped, his eyes springing open when consciousness returned completely. He'd never been so scared in his life as when Brackett pulled him over the edge and they both plummeted toward the ground. He thought he was dead until he felt the pain throughout his body after they landed on the boxes. He blacked out for several seconds before his injured body woke him back up. Rolling off the crushed cardboard, Blair staggered to his feet and gazed at what had saved his fall. He smiled slightly as his mind registered the word 'Towels' printed boldly on the damaged boxes. If they'd fallen a little further to the left, they would have landed on cement and he might have really been hurt or killed. As it was, his back hurt and he couldn't use his left arm, the pain throbbing there told him there might be something seriously wrong. Oh, and his head hurt, but that was to be expected after such a fall. All in all, Blair thought he got off pretty good. Though his relief was short lived.

"There you are. Time to go, Blair."

Blair swung sharply around at the woman's voice, clutching at his injured shoulder. Alex Barnes was pointing a gun at him with one hand and gesturing with the other. When he didn't move, she stopped forward and grabbed his shirt. She started dragging him toward the back of the warehouse.

"Our ride is here. Keep fighting me and I'll shoot you some place painful," Alex threatened when she had to yank the reluctant young man forward. She had a headache from all the noise that was throbbing hard enough to drive her crazy. Her senses were spiking all over the place and she knew she had to get her prize away. The nearby presence of the cop was also bothering her in a way she couldn't understand.

"Freeze, Barnes!"

Alex obeyed the order, but only momentarily. Then she turned, wrapping an arm around Blair's neck and holding him as a shield with her gun pressed against his throat. She calmly stared at the man standing with the gun pointed at her.

"Let him go," Jim ordered. He glanced momentarily at Blair, taking in the younger man's pale and frightened face, the way he held his body, then returned his attention to the woman. Jim could see the lines of pain around Alex's eyes and that she was struggling for control. Strangely enough, Jim wasn't having any problems.

"We can't both have him, Detective, but I have a greater need than you. Possession is nine- tenths of the law and, since he's in my possession, I guess that means he's mine." Alex wrapped her arm tighter around Blair's neck and gave him a soft kiss on the side of his face. Blair tried to shift away from the touch then grunted in pain when the arm around his throat tightened and pressed against already bruised tissue.

"He's a human being, Barnes. Not an object to be owned."

"I know exactly what he is... and you do, too. Don't you? Yes. You've already been making use of his abilities, finding a way to tie him to you. How's your arm?" Alex nodded at the white bandage barely showing past the bottom edge of Jim's shirt sleeve.

Not removing his attention from the woman, Ellison 'felt' at the area on his arm and was surprised at the lack of any sensation to indicate he'd ever been injured. He furrowed his brow and checked out the rest of his body. He'd been stiff and bruised after Sandburg had tackled him yesterday, but he couldn't feel anything today. It was like the incident had never happened.

"That's what is really so special about him, Detective. He has a healing gift that can and will come in very handy. But you know that all ready. That's why you're here. Right?"

"After saving him, I gave him my protection and my friendship. No strings attached. Once you and your cohorts are convicted and put away for the rest of your lives, Blair can do whatever he wants. Stay or l-leave." Jim stumbled over the last word. A stab of fear flashed through his body at the thought of the younger man leaving, but he believed what he said. It had to be Blair's choice.

Barnes chuckled at the stumbled word. "Yeah, right. You'd allow him to go free, knowing there were others out there like us looking for someone like him? That's right, Detective. There are others who'd easily kill you to get to him, no matter if you are a cop. They'd do it just like this." In a flash, Alex shifted her gun from Blair's head towards Jim and pulled the trigger.

Ellison had anticipated the move, but knew he wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get out of the way of the bullet and still be able to make his own shot. Accepting that fact, he shifted just enough to the left to have a clear shot at Barnes and fired his own weapon before feeling the hot burning of metal plowing through his right shoulder just below the collar bone. Jim was able to watch the bullet leave his gun, travel unerringly toward Alex's head and disappear into her flesh. Alex's head snapped back from its impact before his body registered the volcano of pain erupting from his wound. He fell backwards, landing heavily with his weapon flying out of his hand. His vision was graying out, but the burning in his shoulder prevented him from falling into unconsciousness.

Blair had cringed, slamming his eyes shut and turning his head away when Alex moved the gun away from it. While the sound of the firing gun almost deafened him, he clearly heard the whistle of a bullet streaking past his ear, felt its hot breath just missing his head. It was like the whole moment was in slow motion. Then he heard the sound of the bullet striking flesh and bone. It was something he'd never forget, the wet thump that caused the arm around his throat to tighten momentarily before going limp and falling away from his neck. Blair then felt Alex falling away from him, and he dropped down to his knees, gasping. He felt several points of pain around his body, but a new one was demanding attention and he couldn't remember getting hurt in that area. Reaching up, Blair carefully felt along the upper part of the right side of his chest searching for the injury. But he couldn't feel any tears in his shirt, find any wet area that would indicate he was bleeding, couldn't even locate the exact place that was hurt. A deep groan from in front of him finally clued him into what was wrong. Jim was shot.

Scrambling forward as best as he could with one useless arm, Blair knelt down beside Jim and pulled at the larger man's body until he was laying flat. Jim's eyes were clenched shut, his teeth grinding together, and agony was the expression on his face. Blair pulled at the hand pressed against the damaged shoulder and saw the blood flowing freely out of the ravaged hole. Knowing he had to stop the bleeding, Blair pulled at Jim's shirt and pressed the bunched up cloth with his good hand hard against the wound. Jim jerked and cried out at the pain the pressure caused and tried to shift away.

Blair made a shushing sound and continued to press down on the makeshift bandage. He cursed his inability to speak, make any semblance of noise that might give the injured man comfort. Ignoring his own pain, he forced his left arm to move, to bring his hand up and lay it on Jim's forehead and give the man what he hoped was comforting strokes. In his mind, he begged, Don't die. Please be all right. I'm sorry. Oh, God, please don't die.

Simon Banks fired off another shot at the man he had cowering behind some barrels. He'd seen the man sneaking toward where he knew Brown and Rafe were positioned, but hadn't had a clear enough shot to take him out. So he settled for forcing him into cover and keeping him trapped until the sirens he could now hear reached the building.

"You don't have anywhere to go!" Banks yelled. "Throw down your weapon and come out with your hands up."

The reply was another shot fired in his direction, making Simon crouch lower behind his cover. Grunting in anger, he bounced up, returned fire then ducked back down. A foot scraping on the cement behind him caused him to whirl around with his revolver poised to fire. Then he saw the bald head of Henri Brown lean out from the side of some crates. The black detective froze when he saw his captain's gun pointed at him.

"Damn it, Brown. You want to get shot or something? Where's your partner?" Banks whispered harshly, returning his attention back to his quarry.

"With the other, sir. After he winged him in the leg, Rafe told me to go give you some help. We figured you'd need it. Do you need help, sir?" H gave Simon a cheeky grin.

"I'm holding my own, thank you," Banks replied sarcastically. He started to say more when he heard two almost simultaneous gunshots coming from the direction where he knew Ellison and Sandburg were. "Go check that out. See if Ellison needs help. I haven't seen anything of Barnes or Brackett."

With a quick nod, Brown scooted around and started moving at a crouching run in the direction of the gunshots. When he rounded a stack of crushed boxes, the sight that met his eyes made him stop short. To the left was the body of Alex Barnes. Her sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling and the neat red hole in the middle of her forehead stood out against her pale skin. Brown knew the woman was dead without even going to check the body.

A strangled sob brought his attention to the two men to his right. Ellison was on his back, writhing in obvious pain while Sandburg was leaning over him pressing a bloody piece of cloth against his chest. Tucking his weapon into its holster at his shoulder, H quickly trotted over to the pair.

"Sandburg," Brown called to the young man when he knelt down on the other side of Ellison's body. He tried to move the bloodied hand to get a look at the wound, but Blair just shook his head and pressed harder. "Sandburg! Let me take a look. Okay?"

Seeing his words weren't having any affect, H was about to get physical when he heard the sound of running feet. Shifting back, he pulled his revolver back out and trained in the direction of the approaching people. Relief flooded through his body when he saw the large body of Joel Taggart leading several uniformed officers.

Brown pointed across the warehouse. "Captain Banks is over near the wall. He's got one guy pinned down who doesn't want to surrender. Rafe is near the back door with another that's wounded."

"Carson, take two men with you and go help the captain. Chin, take your partner and go help Detective Rafe. And find out where the paramedics are." Taggart ordered the men behind him. Not waiting to see if he was obeyed, he turned to Brown and asked, "What's going on here?"

"Ellison's hit and I can't get through to Sandburg to let me look."

Understanding, Joel knelt down and grasped Blair's chin, pulling his head around until his attention was on the captain. "Blair, we're here to help. You need to move back and let us look at Jim. I promise, we'll take care of him, okay?"

Blair stared into the dark eyes of the man holding his face, seeing the compassion and concern that filled them. Then the gentle words made it through to his consciousness and Blair sat back, allowing the others access to Jim.

"Come on, son. Let's move you back so I can take a look at you," Joel continued to say in a soothing tone. "Henri has had some medical training and assistance should be here any moment." He helped the smaller man to his feet and walked him a few steps away. Joel knew better than to move too far away, making sure Blair could see H working on Jim.

Blair quietly allowed his body to be maneuvered up and away from Jim. The adrenaline that had been providing him so much energy just moments before seemed to have deserted him. He knew he wouldn't have been able to put up too much of a fight even if he wanted. He heard Joel asking him questions, but all he could do was place a hand at his throat and shake his head. The larger man obviously understood because he quit with the questions.

Movement at the corner of his eyesight made Blair look to his right to see Brackett moving stealthily around several crates near the front of the building. The man must have felt someone watching him because he suddenly stopped and turned to stare at Blair. A cocky smile appeared on Lee's face and he lifted a hand and gave Blair a mock salute before moving off again.

Surprised and slightly panicked, Blair grabbed Joel's arm and shook it to get the Lieutenant's attention. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to force words out, but no sound would come forth. He finally pulled on the larger man's arm and turned him in the direction he'd seen Brackett heading, raising his good arm and pointing.

Taggart looked in the direction Sandburg was gesturing, but he didn't see anyone or anything that warranted his attention. "What? I don't see anything there but some shelving and barrels, Blair." Joel could tell the young man was getting upset at something he thought he'd seen, so he grabbed Blair by the shoulders to force him back around so he could try to calm him.

Blair's body seized up in agony when the hand clamped down on his damaged shoulder and a gargled cry was able to escape his mouth. Instantly, the pressure was released, but the damage was already done and Blair's legs gave out on him. He collapsed down into a heap, his good hand holding his left arm tightly against his body. A black wave rolled over his mind and Blair gratefully sank into the darkness.

Ellison's eyes popped open and he gasped out "Blair" before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he followed his friend into unconsciousness.

Cascade General Hospital, Three days later

An irritating, insistent beeping was the first thing Ellison started registering as he swam back up into consciousness. Then his nose was assailed by harsh scents of antiseptic and other noxious odors he associated with hospitals and knew exactly where he was. He forced his eyelids up then immediately clamped them back closed when the brightness of the room stabbed into his brain. With a sigh, he shifted slightly on the bed then groaned as the movement rubbed the harsh cloth surrounding him into his skin. His right shoulder decided to wake up and began to tell him it was the reason he was suffering with the rest of the stuff. Fumbling his left hand out from under the covers, he felt around for the call button he knew would be attached somewhere to the side of his bed. A cool, gentle hand caught his and instantly the sounds, smells and other sensations causing him discomfort dropped back to normal.

With a sigh of relief, Jim turned his head and looked toward the one he knew was standing by his bed. "Sandburg," he murmured, opening his eyes.

Blair was standing by his bed, holding onto his hand and smiling broadly. He didn't look too much worse for wear, though he had his left arm in a sling and Jim could see that he was holding his body a little stiffly. The bruises on Blair's throat didn't seem as bright as he remembered, which had Jim thinking he'd been out for a while.

"Hey," Jim said in a scratchy voice, giving the smaller man a lopsided grin.

Blair's smile became bigger and he almost glowed with happiness. Reluctantly, he released Jim's hand and carefully turned to pick up a cup with a straw sticking out of the top. He held it up in question, then moved it forward at Jim's nod, positioning the straw into his mouth.

The water immediately quenched his dry tongue and relieved his whole mouth and throat. Jim sucked down several gulps before he allowed Blair to remove the straw. For some reason he now felt tired, as if the small action of getting a drink completely wore him out. Forcing the feeling away, Jim focused his attention on the other.

"Are you okay? What happened to your arm? How's your throat?"

Blair patted Jim's good shoulder and shook his head. "I'm okay," he whispered. "How are you? Are you able to handle your senses in here?"

"They weren't doing too good when I first woke up, but they're okay now. Thanks."

"For what?"

Jim opened his mouth to explain, but stopped when he heard footsteps stop outside the door and turned his attention to it. The scent of cigars told him who it was.

The door opened and Simon Banks walked into the room, smiling when he saw his detective was conscious. "Well, look who decided to wake up. How are you feeling, Jim?"

"Not too bad, sir. Some stiffness and a little residual pain, but it's to be expected." Ellison shifted on the bed then reached his left hand up to feel the bandages on his shoulder. Before he could touch, Sandburg leaned forward, grabbed the roaming appendage and laid it back down beside his body. Jim frowned at the action, but Blair wasn't fazed by the glare. "How long has it been?"

"Since the warehouse or since you were operated on? You were operated on yesterday morning and it's now after 6 p.m. The doctors had one hell of a time getting you stable enough to do the surgery then they had to fight to keep you out during the operation. I'm surprised you slept this long, but I guess they finally found the right stuff to keep you out."

"I don't know what to tell you, sir. I can't remember the last time I had to have any type of surgery so I don't know if it's just me or what."

"It's because of your senses, Jim," Blair interrupted in a loud whisper.

"What do you mean, Chief?"

Before Blair could speak, Simon held up a hand. "Hold it, kid. You know what the doctor said." Turning away from the frustrated man, Simon explained, "He's not supposed to give any long-winded speeches for at least a week. Besides dislocating his shoulder and having a mild concussion, along with some impressive bruising on his back and ribs, he has a severely bruised larynx and esophagus."

Ellison raised an eyebrow as he looked at Sandburg. "You're okay, huh?"

"Compared to you, yeah," Blair retorted.

"I haven't been able to pry him from your bedside since they released him, and he's got the nurses around here waiting on him hand and foot."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." You came after me and risked your life for me. Blair wanted to voice what his mind was thinking, but wasn't sure how it would be received.

Jim smiled. "Now you know. I'm fine and you should go home and get some sleep. I'll probably be released from here in a day or two and we can take that trip to Bounty. If you still want to, that is."

Home. What a wonderful word. Unfortunately, I don't have one. "Yeah, man. I -- I still want to go."

"Fine. Then it's all settled. I'll take Sandburg back to the loft tonight and we'll come back tomorrow to pick you up after you let us know when you're going to be released. Ready to go?" Banks asked, walking over to the door and holding it open.

Blair searched the face of the man lying in the bed, as if he was memorizing it. Then he rested his hand onto Jim's arm, gave it a squeeze and turned to follow Simon out of the room.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Chief," Ellison called out to the departing men. He watched Blair turn, wave at him with a sad smile then walk out the door.

Next Day, Late Afternoon

"What do you mean he's not at the loft?" Jim asked, anger filling his voice. Simon cringed at the tone. The doctor had been surprised by the speed at which Jim was healing and consented to let him go home if he agreed to stay off work for a least a week and have light duty at work after that for the next two.

"Just what I said. He's not there. I dropped him off last night and it looks like he didn't spend the night there. There's no sign of a struggle, no note of explanation; in fact it looks like he cleaned the place up before leaving. You can't tell... I mean can you feel if he's..."

Jim paused in his dressing to stare at Simon. He hadn't even thought about 'feeling' for Blair. He knew they had some type of connection, but thought that his knowing something had happened to Blair was due another sentinel being involved. "I didn't even think about that, Simon."

"Well, try it now, man. We didn't find Brackett in the warehouse and if he finds another buyer, you know he'll go after the kid."

Closing his eyes, Jim felt within himself for the connection he knew he had with Blair and found it easily. He could almost see it as a silver tether leading off to the east, but it didn't have any feeling like it was being restrained. Wrapping his senses around the connection, Jim opened himself to Blair.

He could tell Blair was being bothered by a headache and he'd been suffering with it for a while. The left shoulder throbbed and there was some residual aching along his ribs and back. All this told Jim that Blair wasn't taking any medication, willing to suffer with everything that'd happened to him. And the sadness that seemed to flood through the young man was almost enough to bring Jim to tears.

"He's okay, just traveling east. Probably started out sometime last night. Damn it, Simon! Why would he take off now?"

"I don't know, Jim. Maybe because there won't be any trial he thinks it's not necessary to stay around anymore. Maybe it's because he's used to being a nomad and figured it was time to hit the road again. How in the hell should I know? You're the one he's been living with. You tell me. How did he act when he stayed with you?"

"A little unsure of himself. Scared about the trial and definitely upset by what all had happened to him."

"That's understandable. If he hadn't been that way, I'd be really worried. Anything else?"

Jim paused with his packing and sat on the side of the bed. "He was adamant about not being a burden or taking any charity from anyone; never had to do it before and he wasn't going to start now. Maybe now that there isn't a reason for him to stay in Cascade, he feels he has to go out and find a way to earn a living. Damned stupid pride!"

"Sounds like a pretty honorable thing he's doing. I was really worried when you moved him into your place that first night, Jim. Thought that once the kid had settled in he'd be worse than a tick on a dog. Guess I was wrong."

"Damn right you were wrong."

Banks didn't flinch at the intensity of the statement. He just reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, holding them up by two fingers and waving them. "So what are you waiting for? I've got a car signed out and I expect you can pick up his trail today as easily as you did a few days ago. Ready?"

A broad grin spread across Jim's face. Grabbing up his overnight pack and coat, he followed his captain out of the hospital room.

Blair shifted the worn backpack more comfortably on his right shoulder then buried his hands deeper into the pockets of the military field jacket he wore. He'd found a Catholic Charities soup kitchen on his way out of Cascade and was able to trade some time working there for the jacket, pack and some foodstuff. They'd offered him a bed for the night, but he knew he really didn't have the time and declined. He knew he had to get some distance between himself and Cascade, though his heart told him he should have stuck around and at least said goodbye. But this way was better. Sever the connection quickly and get back out into the wilderness where no one knew him and maybe things could go back to the way they were.

Yeah, right. Nothing will ever be the same. God, I only hope Jim will be okay. Maybe now that Captain Banks understands about what Jim has, he can help him cope.

He'd finally gotten off the last paved road and was now following the forestry road he knew went toward the area where Bounty had been set up. Thank goodness the kindness of truckers hadn't disappeared after The Chaos, otherwise he'd still be traveling through the city. He'd found a ride with a produce carrier who was traveling out Highway 2 and was willing to take him to the road he'd just left. It had been a couple of hours since he'd seen any car and probably wouldn't from now on. Lord, he'd forgotten how lonely it was out here.

The sun was starting to go down and Blair decided he'd better search out a place to sleep for the night. It hadn't rained where he was even though it had in the city. He was still a little damp and knew he'd have to find someplace where he could build a fire. Otherwise he was risking getting sick and couldn't afford that to happen.

Moving off the road, he was searching for dry timber when he heard the sound of a car coming toward him. He saw headlights through the trees and decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Very few peopled owned cars these days and he now knew what some of those people who did were like. Dropping what he'd collected, Blair took off for the trees. He shoved away the little voice in his head that was telling him to wait and see.

"He's not that far ahead, Simon. You might want to slow down so that we don't run over him when we round the corner."

"How could he have gotten this far, Jim? It took us a couple of hours just to drive it."

"Probably was able to hitch a ride. He can look innocent and pretty harmless when he wants to. Wait! Stop here." Jim had his seatbelt off and the door of the sedan open before the vehicle stopped.

Moving away from the car, he lifted his head and tested the air. There. He could smell the shampoo and soap Blair had used while he stayed at the loft. It was special stuff, gentle to the skin and the nose of a sentinel and still unique enough to be picked out of a crowd, or in the middle of the woods, with little or no problem. Jim returned to the car with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Wait here, sir. I'll be back with Blair in a few minutes." With that, Jim started trotting for the treeline following the familiar odors. Extending his hearing, he could hear the smaller man moving through the forest. His heart rate was elevated and he was panting, either from the exertion or in fear of who might be following him.

"Sandburg!" Jim yelled and increased his speed. He heard the other pause in his flight, so Jim yelled again. "Blair! Wait up!"

Traveling another couple hundred yards, Jim finally saw Blair sitting with his back against a tree, his legs drawn up and his head resting on his knees. Jim brought his pace down to a walk then stopped when he was about 10 feet away. He stayed silent, waiting until Blair decided to speak.

Blair finally lifted his head, his eyes slightly reddened and glassy. "Why did you follow me, Jim?"

"Why wouldn't I? I promised you that we'd come up here together. Did you think I wasn't going to heal fast enough?"

"There wasn't any reason for you to come, man. I'm no longer a witness and you don't have to protect me anymore. I figured it was time for both of us to get on with our lives."

"You couldn't hang around long enough to say goodbye? I was pretty upset when Simon told me you took off yesterday."

Blair sighed and sniffed to clear his sinuses then wiped his eyes. "I don't do goodbye very well, man. Actually, I've never had much experience with saying it. Naomi and I didn't stay very long in too many places to build up attachments. So I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and decided that it was time for me to leave."

Ellison moved closer and sat down in front of the younger man. "Then you admit we have some type of attachment." When there wasn't any reply from Blair, Jim continued, "We do have one, you know."

Blair nodded. "That's what had almost gotten you killed, Jim. And it'll probably happen again. Didn't you hear Alex? There are more sentinels out there. God, I should have figured this would happen after The Chaos. You and others like you are needed more than ever. And if she's right, if I stay around you, someone else will try to kill you to get to me. I couldn't handle being the cause of your death, Jim. You're too important."

"And you're not? What about our connection, Chief? I knew you were in that warehouse before we even started that raid and I had to get to you. What happened during that raid? Didn't you save my life by stopping the guy who was going to stab me? And outside of the courthouse, when you pushed me out of the way of the van. You saved my life twice. Can't you feel how right it is for us to be together?"

Blair dropped his head back down onto his knees but nodded in answer to the question. When he'd awakened in the loft that first time so many days ago, he'd felt like he might actually belong somewhere. He'd been able to help Jim get his senses under control and maybe saved his life when he zoned on the balcony. Then Alex had to mention the others and he realized he might be a danger to Jim.

"Blair," Jim said softly, drawing Blair's attention back up. "I know I told Barnes that it was your choice to stay or go after it was all over, but I'd really like for you to stay, and not just because of you being able to help me with my senses. You've been the best partner I've ever had and I'd like to think that we've become pretty good friends."

Blair stared into Jim's eyes and saw that the man was baring his soul here. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't take charity, Jim. If I stay with you, I pay rent."

"Agreed. We'll decide on a fair amount."

"I'd like to continue my research about sentinels. The more I learn about you and others like you, the more I'd be able to help you."

And there's some things I'd like to learn about you. Like how you helped me heal faster than normal, but not being able to do it yourself. Jim turned his head and stared off into the surrounding trees before saying, "Rainier University is up and running again. I don't know if all the academic programs are going, but who knows."

Blair smiled to himself at the way Jim answered every one of his arguments. Maybe, just maybe, this is the way things are supposed to be. "Okay, okay, you've got me convinced. Now I have to figure out what I'll do for work."

"That's a simple thing to take care of, Chief," Jim said, standing up and reaching a hand down to Blair and pulling him to his feet. Throwing an arm around the shorter man and taking care not to put any pressure on the damaged shoulder, Jim started leading Blair back through the trees. "There's a position at the precinct we've not been able to fill for quite some time. We haven't been able to find the right person with the right academic credentials."

"Really? Is Cascade only filled with uneducated people?" Blair asked, a smile starting to appear on his face. He could tell where the conversation was going.

"Not really, just not the right combination of credentials. Also, the individual would be partnered with one of the biggest pains in the precinct. A real hard ass who hasn't been able to keep a partner."

"Hm, sounds like this cop might have a problem with being slightly anal retentive. He's probably just needs to learn how to let go and live a little."

"Anal retentive?"

"So, does this position require any type of academy training? I'm not cutting my hair and I have a real problem about carrying guns."

"This position doesn't require attending the academy, but it does require going through weapons training. Police work is a dangerous job and backing up one's partner is important."

Blair dipped his head and chewed on his lower lip as he considered what was being asked. "Getting the training doesn't mean that a gun is the only answer to every situation. I'd back my partner up, but I don't believe that a gun is the first option."

"Acceptable."

"So, how would one go about applying for this position and what type of interview process is there?"

As the two stepped out of the woods, they saw Simon Banks leaning against the hood of the sedan with his arms crossed on his chest. "We just need to talk to that man there and it's a done deal. Captain, I think I found someone to take that profiling position we've never been able to fill. He's also willing to partner with that pain-in-the ass detective you've been having problems with over the last six months."

Banks smiled. "I've been having problems with that detective ever since he transferred into my department from Vice." When the two men stopped in front of the captain, Banks looked the smaller one in the eye and asked, "You ready to go home, Sandburg?"

"Home. That's a great word. Yeah, Captain. I'm ready to go home."

The three men climbed into the sedan and, after carefully turning the vehicle around, started back to Cascade.

The End

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