Rating: Gen -- but please see authors notes for relevant warnings.

Feedback: jessriley80@yahoo.com.au

PICKING UP THE PIECES



Jess Riley





Joel Taggert watched his wife with concern as she stood nervously by the front door. It had been over two weeks since the sanctity of their home had been violated and Blair had been taken, and two weeks of watching his wife slowly fall apart had finally taken its toll on him. He'd stood helplessly by, unable to help as her weight plummeted, her appetite suppressed by the gnawing guilt that she carried around; a guilt that he shared equally. If only I had the power to turn back time, he thought. I should have installed the security screen on the back door like Jessie asked. If only I had been more cautious. Given the nature of the custody arrangement, I should have known better. Hindsight was a wonderful teacher. Unfortunately for the Taggert's, it was a lesson learned the hard way.

Coming to stand behind his wife, he wrapped his large arms around her slight frame and placed a kiss on the back of her head. "Sweetheart, Blair's okay. He's safe and well, and he's coming home and Jim said that physically he's fine. He's a strong little guy and it won't take him long to bounce back."

Jessie grabbed her husband's arms. Joel was her rock, her tower. He was the foundation that had kept their marriage solid. "I know, I know," she whispered. "I just can't help thinking that if only I had done something more, this would never have happened. Joel, how will Jim ever trust me again with Blair?"

Joel released his grip on his wife and turned her around. He looked into the eyes of the woman he had loved for more than thirty years. "Jess, I want you to stop this nonsense! Jim does not blame you. He never has and if he didn't trust you with Blair, why would he be bringing him here now? What happened was not your fault. There's only one person to blame for all of this, and that's his mother." Joel drew his wife in and hugged her tightly. "Now dry your eyes. That little boy deserves to come home to a happy greeting."

Jim Ellison gazed out of the truck window, the passing scenery a blur as it whirled past without even really registering. So much had happened to change his life over the course of the past few months that he still couldn't quite come to terms with the enormity of it. The sheer responsibility of being a parent at times was overwhelming, but it was one that he would not give up for the world. And it was one that he hadn't realised how much he cherished until it was nearly taken away from him. He drew his attention away from the window and to the passenger safely buckled in the back seat. Greeted by a pair of sleepy eyes, he smiled warmly at his son. "Hey, Munchkin. Did you have a good nap? Are you thirsty?"

A simultaneous nod and a yawn were his answer, as the little boy remained in a dazed state, not asleep, but not yet quite awake. Punching a straw through the foil top of the juice container, Jim leaned over to the back seat, bringing the straw to Blair's lips. The youngster sucked thirstily before pushing the juice away. "That 'nough."

"Jim, we're here." Simon pulled the truck into the Taggert's driveway and Blair lifted his head in an effort to peer out the window. "We at Jessie's," he announced, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Simon turned around, giving his full attention to Blair. Sweaty curls were plastered to the side of his head and he had one bright red, rosy cheek from where it had rested on the side of the car seat. Simon's face broke into a broad grin. "That's right, Squirt. Jessie has missed you. She couldn't wait to see you."

Unfolding his tired body out of the cab, Jim unlocked the back door and unbuckled Blair's seatbelt. He brushed the sweaty curls back off his son's face and lifted him into his arms. "I know someone who's very anxious to see you." He planted a soft kiss in the middle of the red mark on Blair's cheek. "Come on, let's go and see Jessie."

Jessie Taggert's heart leapt to her throat the minute she saw the car pull into the driveway. Standing unseen behind the screen door, she picked up the stuffed toy that had kept a vigil on the stool by the front door, ever since the little boy's disappearance. Nervously, she clutched it to her chest. For Blair's sake, she had to pull herself together. He was back and he was safe and it wouldn't do anybody any good if she broke down into a blubbering mess. Taking a deep breath, she reined in her emotions and forced a smile to her lips. Drawing the strength she needed from her husband, she grasped his hand and pushed open the door.

Jim lowered Blair to the concrete path that led to the front porch and let go of his hand. He gave the three-year-old a quick swat on the backside and watched as his son took off, up the path and into the open arms of Jessie.

With legs too unsteady to hold their combined weight, Jessie sank down onto the top step, and as if somehow sensing her distress, Blair let her hold him tight for as long as she needed.

With her emotions still in turmoil, Jessie eventually pushed Blair back in an effort to reassure herself that the little boy she held was real. She brushed a gentle hand over the bruise on his cheek. "Oh, honey," she whispered.

"I okay, Jessie." Blair's eyes mirrored Jessie's concern until his attention was drawn away from her and to the toy, which had fallen from her hands. "Big Bird," he squealed with glee, bending down to pick it up. "You finded Big Bird!" Turning around to face his father, he smiled with excitement shining from his eyes. "Look Daddy. Jessie finded Big Bird. I thought he was losted, but he's not. I going to take him to my room. I gotta tell him 'bout my 'venture." In one swift action, Big Bird was secured under his arm and, standing on his toes, Blair reached up and gave Jessie a quick kiss on the cheek. Manoeuvring completely out of her arms, he gave Joel's leg a quick hug before running to the screen door. Being too short to reach the handle, he took hold of the intricate lace metalwork decorating the door and flung it open. In a flash, he was inside the house, his footsteps echoing on the floorboards as he ran down the hallway.

Knowing now that she had no choice but to face her demons, Jessie struggled to look Jim in the eye. "Jim, I don't even know where to begin to say how sorry I am."

"Joel, Jessie," Ellison interrupted, putting a halt to an apology that was only his to give. "I'm the one that doesn't know how to apologise. I put you in a position that I should never have put you in. I knew that there was a chance Naomi would try and take Blair and I should have taken measures to make sure that it never happened. Jessie, I put your life in danger, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for that and I will understand completely if you're unable to mind Blair anymore."

Jessie Taggert couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Jim didn't blame her for not protecting Blair, he blamed himself, and when the ramifications of his last sentence sunk in, she held out her hand, indicating for Joel to help her up. Her determined nature resurfaced in an instant. "You stop right there, Jim Ellison," she demanded. Her position on the top stair gave her a height advantage over the detective and she intended to use it for all it was worth. "Don't you dare apologise to me for what that woman did to this family. She is the only person to blame for what happened to Blair, not me, not Joel, and certainly not you. Don't you think for one minute that I will let her actions ruin my relationship with that child. I love that boy like he was my own grandson, and he is always welcome in this house." She folded her arm across her chest in determination. "But I do intend to learn from this experience and I can tell you that if she tries anything like this again, she will get more than she bargained for." Straightening out her dress, Jessie moved onto the porch. "Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I am going inside to make Blair some lunch. I swear that boy's all skin and bone." She turned around on her heels and pulled open the screen door, leaving three stunned men in her wake.

A smile broke out across Joel's face. "She's back," he chuckled. "Boy, how I've missed that feisty old girl." He held out his hand in a greeting to Jim, "And if you know what's good for you, Jim, I'd let the subject drop. It's dangerous to mess with a mother hen."

"Don't I know that," Simon mumbled, pushing past Jim and walking up the front steps. "You think you could spare a cup of coffee, Joel?" With the news I'm about to break to Jim, I think we're all going to need it.

Ellison's reaction to the news of his father's stroke surprised Simon. He knew that Jim and his family weren't close, but Jim's indifferent attitude made Simon a little curious about the detective's past. "Jim, if nothing else, you've got to at least return your brother's phone call. He made it pretty clear that the doctors think your father might not live through the night."

Jim placed the coffee cup he was holding back on the table, annoyed at Simon's intrusion into his relationship with his family. "Look Simon, just because someone calls himself a father, doesn't necessarily make him one."

"Jim, the man's dying, and whatever issues you have with him, he's still your father."

"And I'm sure that he won't miss my presence at his bedside." Ellison scrubbed his hand roughly through his hair. "Look, Simon, he has two sons, and I'm more than certain he would prefer to have the one that wasn't the major disappointment of his life with him."

"Steven said he was asking for you," Simon added gently. He knew that he had no right to become involved in something that didn't concern him, but he also knew that if Jim's dad had been asking for him, there must have been a good reason. "Jim, I don't know what went on between you and your father, and I'm not asking you to tell me. But this may be the last time you'll get to see the man alive. Don't you think you should at least give him an opportunity to see his eldest son before he dies?"

Jim rubbed his hand over his tired face and gave Simon's question some thought. If he had to, he probably wouldn't be able to pinpoint any one single event that had caused him to become estranged from his father. The wall that separated them had taken a lot of time and effort to build. With every rejection, every failure, every disappointment, another stone was added and it was now so high that he knew it would be nearly impossible to break down. "Did Steven leave a number?" he finally asked.

The tone in Ellison's voice and the slumped posture of his shoulders told Simon that Jim obviously had a lot of demons to battle.

Both Joel and Simon glanced up from the kitchen table as Jim walked back into the room. Joel stood and gave Jim's shoulder a light pat. "I'll get you some fresh coffee."

"How'd it go?" Simon asked, casting a worried eye over his detective.

"Not good. I guess I'll be making a trip to the hospital this afternoon, after all."

"Jim, why don't you leave Blair here with us." Joel unconsciously patted the gun, which was still holstered under his jacket. "A hospital is no place for the boy. Especially not under these circumstances."

Jim rubbed at the top of his broken arm. It wasn't the only injury that was beginning to ache and dragging Blair along to the hospital, and potentially into the mess that was his childhood, just might open up too many raw wounds for the both of them. "Let me talk to him first," Ellison answered. Leaving Blair alone so soon after everything they'd both been through was not an idea he wanted to face alone.

Just as Jim was about to get to his feet, the subject of their conversation came barrelling into the room, with a very cheeky smile plastered over his face. "Jessie said I can have some chocolate cake, but I had to ask you first. Can I, Daddy?" Blair clambered up, onto Jim's lap. "It's not near dinner time, so I should be allowed, 'cause it won't spoil my dinner and I promise I will be hungry later."

Jim smiled down at Blair as the little boy tried to persuade him to say 'yes'. He had never realised how truly vacant his life was until Blair had arrived on his doorstep. The love he felt for the youngster on his lap scared him sometimes. How was it possible to love somebody so much that you would give up everything in an instant just to make sure they were happy and safe? His thoughts drifted to the relationship he'd shared with his father, and he realised it was nothing like the relationship he shared with Blair. If love was meant to be unconditional, why had his father always put a price on affection? Why did it always have to be earned? Why couldn't he have ever just simply said 'I love you, son'?

"Dad," Blair whined, bringing Jim from his thoughts. "My tummy is growling."

Jim laid his hand on Blair's stomach and wiggled his fingers. "Hmmm, that's funny. This tummy feels full to me. Are you sure there will be enough room in there for chocolate cake?"

Blair removed Jim's hand and lifted up his shirt. "Ah ha," he stated firmly. He replaced the large hand over his belly button. "There a lot of room right here. This part is empty."

"Maybe if I tickle it, it won't be empty anymore," Jim smiled, dusting his fingers over his son's smooth skin.

Blair gave a little squeal as he tried to escape the impending tickle. "No, Daddy, a tickle will make it more hungry. The only thing that will make it better is chocolate cake."

Jim pulled Blair close and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "Well, I suppose you better tell Jessie that I said yes."

"Way cool," Blair exclaimed, scrambling off his father's knee.

Before the little boy could escape completely, Jim trapped him between his knees. "Not so fast, Chief. I need to talk to you first." He tweaked one of Blair's curls to get his attention. "Simon had a call from my brother, who told him that my father is very sick in the hospital. I promised that I would go and see him, but because my dad is so sick, I'm going to have to leave you with Joel and Jessie. Is that okay with you?"

Blair, who had been swinging between his father's knees, stopped immediately and planted his feet on the floor. "You have a daddy?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes, Chief, I have a daddy. I just haven't seen him for a long time."

"Didn't your daddy ever finded you when you were a little boy?"

"I don't think he ever looked, Munchkin," Jim said, sadly. He swung Blair up onto his lap. "Now, you still haven't answered my question. Will you be alright with Joel and Jessie?"

Blair grabbed Jim's arm and looked at his watch. "What time will you come back?"

Jim thought for a few minutes before answering the question. If he left now, there was no reason he wouldn't be back by four. "I'll be back by four o'clock."

Blair placed his fingers on the watch. "That mean you will be back when the big hand is here and the little hand is here. I will look at Jessie's big clock to make sure you not be late."

Jim was amazed at how easily Blair seemed to pick up new concepts. Not long ago they had been reading a book about clocks, and ever since then, the little boy's enthusiasm for learning the time had soared. He had managed to master telling time on the hour, but not content with that, he had started to question Jim about what the other numbers were for.

"Four o'clock on the big dot," Blair said.

"On the dot, Chief," Jim promised. If luck went his way, he'd be well and truly out of the hospital and back at Joel's long before his promised time.

"This shouldn't take more than an hour." Jim tapped the door of the truck, before hesitantly shutting it. He would have preferred to go alone, but Simon had insisted, and somehow his broken arm became an excuse for Simon to accompany him.

"I'll be waiting," Simon replied, shutting down the engine.

"Yeah," Jim muttered absently. He was finding it difficult to get his head around his feelings and put a lid on the fear that was rising in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't physically afraid of his father. During his childhood, William Ellison had never laid a hand on either of his sons. His fear was emotional. The emotional abuse that his father bestowed on them was a thousand times worse than being laid into by a pair of fists, and there had been many occasions where he would have loved for his father to simply come out and give him a beating. But no, William's methods were far more subtle than that. A constant slamming of his self-worth and his ability to do anything right plagued his earliest of memories.

No matter how hard he tried to please the old man, his efforts were never quite good enough.

Ellison made his way across the crowded hospital foyer. He needed fresh air and needed it badly. The noises and smells associated with the hospital were bearing down on him and making him feel physically ill. Rushing out of the main entrance door, he drew in a deep breath. "Get a hold of yourself," he demanded quietly. You are not going to fall apart now and you are not going to give in to this sentinel stuff He sat down on one of many benches that lined the perimeter of the quadrangle and concentrated all his efforts on remaining in touch with this world.

"Jim?" Steven Ellison took a seat next to his older brother. "Are you okay? You kinda rushed out of dad's room in a hurry. I was worried."

Jim glanced over at Steven and studied the brother he had thought he would never see again. The years had been kind to him. I'm sure the trappings of wealth have helped, he thought, snidely. "Can you tell me exactly what that visit just achieved?" he asked.

"It let a dying man know that he has been forgiven," Steven replied, gently. "Jim, I know that the issues you have with dad run deep, and what you just did must have been a hard thing to do, but whether or not you really have forgiven him is not important. The important thing is that at least dad thinks you have. He can now go with a clear conscience." Steven got to his feet. "Look, I better get back to him." He reached out and lightly touched Jim's shoulder. "I hope this won't be the last time you'll see him."

Jim watched in silence as his brother walked away. "I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do that again," he whispered.

Jessie rocked Blair on her knee as she read him his favourite book. She knew that the youngster wasn't paying attention, because he let her skip over words and sentences -- something he would never normally do. Blair's concentration was firmly fixed on the old grandfather clock that stood on the other side of the room. She gave Joel a worried glance.

"Who would like an afternoon snack?" Joel pushed himself out of the lounge chair and got to his feet. "I was thinking that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich might just hit the spot right about now. How about you Blair? Would you like a sandwich?"

"How long will it take for that hand to reach to top?" Blair asked, not bothering to answer Joel's question.

Jessie rubbed Blair leg. "Darling, daddy will be back soon. He promised you he would be back by four o'clock and that means he still has thirty minutes to go."

"How long will thirty minutes take?" Blair asked, wiggling off her knee.

How do I answer that question? Jessie thought, stumped on how to answer. "Thirty minutes," she finally said, "is how long it will take for Joel to make two sandwiches and for you both to eat them."

"Can you make them now?" Blair asked, urgently grabbing Joel's hand. "Daddy won't come back until they made." His blue eyes started to fill with tears. The anxiety and stress of the past week was finally beginning to catch up with him. "What happens if my daddy forget to come back?" he asked, his tears spilling down his cheeks. "I sorry I went with mama, Joel," he cried, looking up at the big man. "Tell daddy I sorry, Joel. Please tell him I sorry and not to be mad." The tears continued to flow as Blair finally reached his breaking point.

Joel picked up the little boy he loved as his own and hugged him tightly. "Daddy hasn't forgotten you, Blair, and he's not mad at you. He loves you very much, and always will. He just had to go to the hospital to visit his father." Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he thought. Perhaps it would have been better if we had gone to the hospital with Jim and sat with Blair in the waiting room.

"I want my daddy," Blair blurted out, his breath hitching with every word.

Jessie peered out the window and her heart filled with relief. "Thank goodness," she muttered. Jim and Simon were back. She rubbed Blair's back in an effort to comfort him. "Darling, daddy's back now. He's just pulled up in the driveway."

Jim got out of the car, feeling a strangling sense of urgency. He bolted up the front stairs and into the house and the first sounds to hit his ears were Blair's sorrowful cries and Joel and Jessie's fruitless efforts as they tried to console him.

"Hey, Munchkin," Jim soothed, taking his son from Joel's arms. "Why the tears?"

Blair was still sobbing hysterically as he wrapped his arms tightly around his father's neck. He buried his face deeply in Jim's shirt. There was nothing more anyone could do. Words couldn't soothe or distract the distraught child. Blair just needed to be hugged by his father until the fear of being left had calmed.

I shouldn't have gone. Jim's thoughts and feelings went from guilt to anger as he irrationally blamed his father for his son's condition. Blair was the most important person in his life and he shouldn't have left him -- not for the likes of his father. Never again, he promised. Never again will I put you in second place.

Blair pulled back the covers and climbed out of bed, his bare feet hitting the mat with a small thud. He had been awakened from his sleep by a noise coming from the bedroom upstairs. It wasn't a loud noise, but it was constant and persistent. Dragging Big Bird by one leg, he tiptoed out into the living room. Reminding the stuffed toy to be very quiet, he silently climbed the staircase to his father's room. The full moon shone through the skylight above the large bed, giving him enough light to see his daddy tossing restlessly back and forth beneath the sheets. Moving closer, he watched as his father's brow creased and listened as a babble of incoherent words were muttered.

Caught up in the memories of his childhood, Jim was taken deeper and deeper into dreams that brought back vivid recollections of the past, buried memories that had resurfaced since his visit to his father's bedside this afternoon.

A twelve-year old boy stood nervously in his father's den as the man in front of him studied his report card.

"I must say, Jimmy, I'm a little disappointed by this. I thought that you were going to try harder this term."

"I did try, Dad. I tried my best. Mrs McKenzie said I should be very proud of myself. I brought my math grade up from a C to a B+."

"B+ isn't an A, Jimmy. If you want to make something of yourself in this world, your marks are going to have to be better than this. Now, I do realise that most parents would consider this report card acceptable, but we're not most people, Jimmy. We are Ellison's, and Ellison's accept nothing less than perfection. It is obvious to me that you are going to need extra tutoring if you are to bring your math grade up to an A standard. So, in light of this, I have decided to enroll you in summer school."

"But Dad, what about our trip? You promised that if I did better this term we could both go with you."

"Yes, Jimmy. I did make that promise, but unfortunately you didn't live up to your end of the deal and since it would be unfair of me to punish Steven for your shortcomings, he will be allowed to accompany me to Hawaii. I will have to enroll you as a border at the school, as Sally will be away visiting friends."

"But dad, I wanna go with you. You promised."

"That's enough, James. You will attend summer school, and that is my final word. The subject is closed. You may go to your room."

Blair began to worry as his father's chest heaved heavily. Clambering up onto the bed, he placed his hand on his daddy's arm and rubbed gently. "Dad... Daddy," he whispered. "I think you habbing a bad dream. It okay though, 'cause I will stay with you and keep you safe." He pulled back the sheets and snuggled under the covers, close to his father's side.

The sentinel turned over and unconsciously gathered his guide in a protective embrace. His heartbeat slowed and his movements stilled as his memories of the past faded. With the sweet, fresh scent of his young guide filling his senses, visions of happier times now surfaced and chased away the nightmares of the past. His father's disapproving face was replaced by the face of the one person who would never disapprove of him -- his son's face was now the only face to fill his dreams.

As the first rays of the new day filtered down onto the bed, Jim cracked open his eyes. "Hey baby," he murmured at the little body that was plastered up against him. "How did you manage to sneak up here without me hearing you? Did you have a bad dream, Munchkin?" he asked, placing a gentle kiss on his son's forehead. As Blair remained asleep, he closed his eyes and whispered. "It's okay, Chief, daddy's here. I'll keep you safe."

Little did the sentinel know that his guide had made the same promise.

The day of William Ellison's funeral was bleak and cold. Much like the man himself, Jim thought as he pulled up to the cemetery. He had visited his father several times in the days leading up to his death. William had stupefied doctors, stubbornly holding onto life longer than expected. Several more minor strokes had left him totally paralysed and incapable of communication and on his last visit, Jim had vowed that it would be his last. Although saddened by the fact that his father was dying, his presence at the man's bedside was serving no benefit. William gave no indication that he knew he was even there. He had let his father make his peace and clear his conscience during his first visit, and there was no more that was required of him. Steven had kept a constant vigil, but that was his chosen role. He had made his decision long ago to be the son that William wanted, he had not. His forgiveness of William was nothing more than pretence, nothing more than a show for the sake of the dying. To carry on this pretence, when William was nothing more than an empty shell, was hypocritical. He wouldn't celebrate his father's passing, but neither would he mourn. The death of William Ellison would be just another day in the detective's life.

Ignoring the stares as he took his place alongside Steven and his family, he embraced Sally in a warm hug. "How you are you coping?" he asked.

Sally returned Jim's embrace. "Oh Jim, I'm so sorry about the way things turned out," she said. "You father was a proud man, and a little too stubborn for his own good. I wish things could have been different."

Jim let go of Sally and shook his brother's hand. Tugging slightly on the tie that was digging into his neck, he politely greeted Steven's wife, Rachael, and their two children, a niece and a nephew whom he had never met.

"Blair's not with you?" Steven asked.

"No, he's with friends. He doesn't need to see this."

Steven unconsciously drew his young daughter close. "We thought it would be best if the children got to say goodbye to their grandfather. Closure, I guess," he added. "They loved him very much. He was a wonderful granddad. It's a pity he didn't get the chance to know your son."

Jim concentrated on the polished wood coffin that was perched above the freshly dug grave. "Yeah. I'm sure he would have loved to express his disappointment at the fact that I screwed up again. I mean, the story of how I fathered a child and it took me three years to find out about him would have given him lecture material for years."

"Jim, dad did mellow over the years," Steven assured. "and he would have loved to have known that he had another grandchild. Look, Jim, I know he regretted the way he treated us." Jim's glare made Steven instantly regret his words. "I mean, I know you went through a lot more than I did and I'm sorry. But I hope that now we've made contact again, you'll give me the chance to make it up to you?"

"You don't have to make up for anything, Steven. As far as I'm concerned, what happened in the past is history. It's time to move on."

"Good. I'm glad you feel that way, because I was hoping that you would be there for the reading of dad's will. It's after the service, at dad's house. He specifically requested that you be there."

"Steven, dad's house is the last place I want to be right now. Besides, I have to get home to Blair."

"I thought that might be the case, so I have also made alternate arrangements. Would you feel more comfortable if it took place at my house? It would give us a chance to meet Blair, and also give my kids the chance to get to know their uncle and cousin. What do you say? Time for a fresh start?"

Jim thought about Steven's proposal before answering. He was reluctant to agree, but then, maybe it was time for new beginnings -- at time to make that fresh start. "I'll come by tomorrow afternoon, and I'll bring Blair with me," he finally relented. "But I can't guarantee that I'll attend the reading. I didn't need anything from dad when he was alive, and I sure as hell don't need anything from him now that he's dead."

The two brothers fell silent as the service began. One mourned his father's death with a heavy heart. The other felt nothing at all except an overwhelming urge to run and to never look back.

Jim held Blair's hand tightly as he tentatively approached the front door to his brother's house.

Sensing his father's reluctance, Blair squeezed Jim's hand a little tighter.

Feeling the increased pressure on his palm, Jim stopped in his tracks and knelt down so he was eye level with his son. Okay, time to get a hold of yourself. His apprehension was obviously having an effect on Blair. "You're not nervous, are you, Chief?"

Blair moved closer to his father and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck. "I not nervous. Are you scared, Daddy?" he asked.

"No buddy, not scared, but I guess I am a little nervous. I haven't spent time with my brother for a long time."

"I will stay with you and hold your hand until the butterflies flied away," Blair stated. "After they gone, you will be brave."

Jim smiled. "Come on, then, Tough Stuff." He ruffled Blair's mop of curls. "Let's go meet your uncle."

The door was flung open before Jim even had a chance to ring the front doorbell. "Matthew, you're gonna be in big trouble," berated a six-year-old girl who came running up behind her brother. She grabbed hold of her brother's arm and pulled him away from the entrance. "What has mom told you about opening the front door?"

Ignoring his sister, Matthew wriggled out of her grasp and continued on his intended mission. "You wanna come play in my room?" he asked, enthusiastically, reaching out to grab the three-year-old.

Before Jim could respond on Blair's behalf, the startled little boy ducked behind his father's leg, while all the time keeping his daddy's hand within his own.

Steven appeared and quickly rounded up his children, restoring order at the front door. "Hey guys, why don't we at least let our guests inside before we ambush them? Matthew, I think your mother would like to have a word with you. She's in the kitchen."

"See, I told ya you were gonna get it," piped up Maggie, who had now recaptured her brother and was dragging him toward the kitchen.

Steven turned his attention away from his children. "Sorry about that. Matthew's been excited all day. He couldn't wait to meet his new cousin. Please, come on in." he apologised, realising that Jim was still standing on the front door step. "Welcome to our home." He briefly studied his brother, before focusing his attention on Blair, who was now clutching Jim's leg tightly. He bent down and held out his hand. "And you must be Blair." Jim ran his hand through his son's hair, as the young boy tried to hide from the stranger in front of him. It wasn't like Blair to be overly shy toward people, but taking into account the past few weeks and the fact that the youngster knew Jim was nervous, his reaction to his uncle was not to be unexpected. Jim scooped Blair up and settled him against his chest. "He's just a little shy," he said by way of explanation. He had no intention of divulging any information about Blair at this point.

"Perfectly understandable. If I had just received a greeting like that, I'd be shy too. Matthew tends to be a little on the over-exuberant side. Sorry."

"No need to apologise," Jim replied, feeling a little awkward. "Kids are kids. What time did you say dad's lawyer would be here?"

"He should be here soon. Can I get you a drink?"

"Beer, if you've got one."

Jim followed Steven down the hall and into the family room. "Take a seat Jim, while I go grab us those beers."

Settling Blair on his knee, Jim looked around the comfortably furnished room. Steven's house was not at all what he had expected. Although it was obvious that the furnishings and decorations were not cheap, the place still managed to carry a homey ambience about it. An alcove off the main room sported an overstuffed toy box and large activity table with four small chairs surrounding it. In the corner of the room was a large, flat-screen TV with an assortment of videos stacked neatly in the cabinet. Looking out the large, sliding door, which led to a paved courtyard, Jim could see an elaborate array of climbing and play equipment, including what looked like a custom-built playhouse. The children of Steven Ellison and his wife obviously didn't want for much. Thinking back to the sterile house that he had lived in while growing up, he was pleased that at least Steven had created an atmosphere that was child-friendly. Feelings of guilt slowly rose, as he realised the obvious lack of toys that his own son possessed in comparison to his cousins. His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet female voice. "Matthew, Maggie, why don't you take the snacks over to your table?"

"Would Blair like some juice?" Steven asked, popping his head into the room.

"Would you like juice, Chief?" Jim nudged Blair gently.

"Ah, ha," Blair answered quietly.

"That's a funny name," Matthew commented. He was now climbing up onto the couch in order to get as close to his new cousin as possible. "I thought his name was Blair?"

"It is." Jim smiled at the inquisitive four-year-old sitting next to him. "I just call him that sometimes. It's our special nickname, isn't it, Chief?" he said, wiggling his son slightly to try and bring him out of his shell.

Rachael took a seat on the chair opposite the couch. "Well, I think it's a wonderful nickname." She looked up at Jim. "It's good to see you again." Her smile was warm and welcoming.

Matthew, who was now starting to get bored, shook Blair's leg "Hey, you wanna watch some TV? We got the Disney channel."

"What do you say, Chief?" Jim inconspicuously removed Matthew's hand from Blair's leg. "Would you like to watch some television? I'll be right here, where you can see me."

Blair looked at the juice and snacks that were now on the little table. Maggie had already switched on the TV, and Jungle Babies blared out, a little too loudly.

"Okay," Blair said, a little nervously. "You promise you not go anywhere else?" he asked, looking at his father for reassurance.

"I promise, Munchkin." Jim lifted him from his knee and gave him a little swat on the backside. "Go on," he encouraged.

"You can sit next to me." Matthew said, now leading Blair by the arm. "You don't wanna sit next to Maggie. She's a girl and she's got cooties."

"Mom, Matthew called me a girl again," Maggie whined, without ever taking her eyes off the TV.

"Matthew," Rachael warned. "Play nice or you'll be playing by yourself."

Jim let out a small chuckle. "Looks like you've got your hands full," he said, accepting the beer from Steven.

Steven fondly rubbed his wife's expanding belly. "Think we might have to move out when the next one comes along."

"You'd last about two seconds without them," Rachael replied, giving his arm a gentle slap.

"You're not wrong there," Steven smiled warmly.

The next half hour progressed with light conversation between the adults and lots of laughter between the kids. Jim thought how tactful both Steven and Rachael were being, as they avoided questions on the whereabouts of Blair's mother, or how he managed to have a son he never knew about until recently. A feeling of uncertainty and dread descended upon him, as he heard a car pull into the driveway. He was still not sure why he had agreed to come to the reading of the will. His father had nothing he wanted. True, he was not as well-off as Steven, but his income and investments would certainly be enough to allow him to bring up his son in a comfortable manner.

"I thought we might do this in the study." Steven got to his feet as the doorbell rang.

At Jim's reluctant look, Rachael turned toward the children's play area. "How would you kids like to play outside for a while? Matthew, why don't you go and get your soccer ball?" She quickly squeezed Jim's arm. "Don't worry, I'll keep a good eye on Blair."

"Daddy, can I go outside?" The youngster had now settled down and seemed to be enjoying the company of his new cousins.

"I've got to go and meet a man in Steven's study Chief, so if you go outside you won't be able to see me," Jim knelt down in front of his son. "But just remember," he said quietly. "I can always hear you, so if you need me, all you need to do is say so."

"I know," Blair replied just as quietly. His daddy's secret was one he knew very well how to keep safe.

"You can keep his house and the money," Jim stated firmly.

"Mr. Ellison," began William's lawyer, patiently. "Over the past few years I got to know your father very well. I know what type of man he was, and also the type of man he became. We all have things in our past that we regret and losing contact with you was one of his."

"Yeah, well it's a little late to worry about that now."

"Mr Ellison, please. Before you make your decision about what to do with your inheritance, I will ask one thing of you." William's lawyer handed Jim a sealed envelope with his name neatly printed on the front. "Your father left instructions to give this to you after his death." Sensing Jim's reluctance to accept the envelope, he stood and placed the letter on the table in front of Jim. "Mr. Ellison, give the man the chance to say his peace. If nothing else comes from this, perhaps he can still take comfort in the knowledge that his son was willing to give him one last chance." William's lawyer closed his briefcase. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen, and I am truly sorry for your loss." He squeezed Steven's shoulder on the way past. "I'll let myself out."

Jim stared at the envelope before getting to his feet and walking over to the window. The study overlooked the backyard, and as if sensing his father's eyes on him, Blair looked toward the window and waved. "Look Dad, I can play soccer," he said quietly. Jim smiled at the little person who had recently become the centre of his universe. How would I feel if I pushed you away and you never gave me the chance to say I'm sorry? he thought. With one last look at his son, Jim turned back to the table, and slipped the letter into his pocket.

Steven let out an audible sigh of relief. It was as if their future as brothers was hinged on this one action. Rising from his chair, he moved to the window and looked out at their children. "Well, the boys seemed to have hit it off," he said. "I hope they get the opportunity to get to really know each other. Matthew could certainly use a playmate. He's a little outnumbered in this neighbourhood." Steven kept staring straight ahead. "And I also hope that I get the opportunity to get to know my big brother again."

Jim focus turned back to the children. "I think your brother would like that," he said quietly.

Jim shifted Blair to rest gingerly against his broken arm as he fumbled with the front door key. Finally getting the door open, he threw the keys in the basket and carried the sleeping child to his bedroom.

Blair lifted his head up from his father's shoulder and looked around in a sleepy daze. "We home," he mumbled, settling his head back down.

"We sure are, and it's well past your bedtime, Junior." He seated Blair on the low set bed and pulled off his sneakers. He was in need of a bath, but it would have to wait until morning. Slipping the youngster's arms out of his jacket, he pulled off his t-shirt and struggled to get Blair's pajama top on. Once that was achieved, he repeated the process with the lower part of his son's body. "Okay, Chief, time to use the bathroom, and then bed," he said, picking Blair up and carrying him into the bathroom.

Blair mumbled a garbled sentence, as Jim placed him on the little stool in front of the toilet and waited.

"I finished," the youngster yawned, his eyes drooping little by little.

"Okay, buddy, teeth next and then bed." Jim pulled up Blair's pants and carried him to the sink. The teeth were a bit of a struggle, as Blair was now getting grumpy and uncooperative. Only giving it a half-hearted effort, Jim wiped the toothpaste foam from Blair's mouth and carried him back into his bedroom. He tucked him snugly into bed and the exhausted little boy was sound asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Ellison sipped at his coffee and studied the envelope that lay on the kitchen table. No time like the present, he thought. Tentatively he broke the seal on the back and began to read.

Jim folded the letter and placed it neatly back into the envelope. "I would have forgiven you, dad," he whispered, sadly.

"Are you looking forward to going back to school, Chief?" Jim asked, placing a glass of milk in front of Blair.

"Ah ha," was the only answer from the three year old before he took a big gulp of his drink, leaving a milk moustache that Wild Bill himself would have been proud of.

Jim pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. "Chief, do you like living here?"

Blair immediately put down the glass and gave his father a worried look. Unable to contain his uncertainty, he blurted out. "You not want me anymore?"

"Oh god," Jim muttered. I thought we'd gotten past this. He plucked Blair off the chair and settled him firmly on his knee. "Munchkin, don't you ever think that! I love you more than you could possibly imagine and I always want you with me."

Now even more confused, Blair gave his father a quizzical look. "Don't you like living here, Daddy?"

"Yes I do, but I was just wondering if you would rather live in a house that had more room. One that had a backyard for you to run around and play in."

"You mean like Matthew's house?" Blair bounced on his knee. "I could get a soccer ball and we could kick it around and I could help you build a big tree-house, like the one in my book. We would have to grow a big tree first," he added. His blue eyes lit up with excitement, as he continued to bounce up and down on his father's knee. "Daddy, Daddy. If we had a new house we could have one that had a special room for Lucas. I told him he could share my room, but I think he too big to fit in my bed. It would be too squishy." Changing subjects like the wind, Blair was now more interested in Lucas than a new house. "When can we visit Lucas, Dad? I think he be sad, because he not see me for days and days. Can we go today, Daddy? Can we?"

Damn! Jim thought. Blair had not mentioned the kid since their return, and he'd been hoping that it would remain that way. "You have to go to school today and I have to go back to work," Jim said, a little too abruptly. "Besides, I'm not sure what hospital Lucas is in."

Blair scrambled down off Jim's knee. "I call Uncle Simon. He will know."

"Hey, Chief. I have a better idea," Jim said, heading Blair off at the pass. "Why don't I ask Uncle Simon when I see him at work?"

"You promise?"

Ellison looked at the expectation in his son's face. He had promised that Blair could visit Lucas when he was transferred to Cascade and breaking that promise would not only shatter the youngster, but also shatter their trust. "I promise," he reluctantly replied.

Blair took hold of his father's hand and turned it over. He first spat on his own hand before repeat the same to Jim's. Then, holding their hands together, he squished them as tightly as he could. "We make a spit promise, Dad. They the best kind. Lucas sayed so."

"Wonderful," Jim muttered, wiping his hand on the kitchen towel. "I wonder what other lovely habits the punk has taught you?"

"Hey, Simon." Ellison poked his head through the office door. "What do you want me to start on? H said that he and Rafe wrapped up the MacDonald case. Anything new come in?"

"I have just the job for you, Detective Ellison," Banks replied, giving Jim a wicked smile. "Your assignments are on your desk.

Ellison glanced over to his desk and spotted a large pile of folders in his in tray. "Not paperwork," he groaned. "You've got to be joking. It'll take me a week to get through all that."

"Exactly my plan. And when you're done there, I have the next few weeks planned out for you as well. The girls in records are doing a complete overhaul of the files and I've kindly offered them your expertise."

"Simon, I'm a detective, not a secretary," he complained. The sudden noise behind him made Jim turn his attention toward Rhonda. He gave her a sheepish look as she roughly dropped another pile of files on his desk. "No offence, Rhonda," he muttered.

"Detective or not, my friend, a broken arm is a broken arm, and in this line of work, it's also a liability." Simon's faced turned serious. "And if you think I'm going to tell that boy of yours that he no longer has a father because I sent him out on the street with a handicap, you've got another think coming."

"Point taken," Jim grumbled. "I suppose I should make a start."

"Good, and Jim, while you're making that start, I'd like you to start on this file first. It's the most pressing."

Jim took the file that Simon handed him and glanced at it briefly. "This file has nothing to do with me," he said, realising what he held in his hand. "And nothing to do with this department either," he clarified. "Last time I looked, it said Major Crime on the door, not Child Protection Agency."

Banks had had just about enough of Ellison's attitude. "Last time I looked, detective, kidnapping was a major crime, and last time I looked, I still wore the bigger pants." Simon handed the file back. "And because it's my prerogative, I've assigned this case to you." Banks studied the look on Jim's face, knowing he could only push so far until Ellison completely baulked. Changing tact, he lowered his voice. "Please, Jim, this really is important. Once you've read the boy's file, you'll understand why he did what he did." Simon got to his feet and pulled his overcoat from the stand by the door. He squeezed Jim's shoulder as he passed. "I've got a meeting downtown, so you can use my office."

Jim's demeanour became stiff and uncooperative. "Are you making this an order, sir?" he asked tersely.

"If it has to be that way, then yes, I guess I am." Banks pulled on his coat. "Rhonda, hold all of Detective Ellison's calls. I'll be back in a few hours."

Jim had paled visibly by the time he'd finished reading the file on Lucas Wilder. "My god," he whispered. "How could a father do that to his sons?" How could he have sold his own sons into a life of prostitution, just to support his drug habit? He dusted his fingers over the picture of the battered body of the six-year-old boy before flipping back over to the coroner's report. Scott Wilder had basically bled out due to injuries caused by a vicious rape. The coroner reported that his hysterical nine-year-old brother had dragged his lifeless body into the emergency room, begging for them to make his brother breathe again. Lucas Wilder was covered in blood himself, and his arm was severely broken. Police sent to the crime scene had found the unconscious body of Max Wilder on the kitchen floor and an arrest was made. To make a long story short, Max Wilder was sent to prison for child abuse, but not for murder. The semen found in Scott's body was not his and his remaining son had refused to tell police who attacked his brother. Lucas was placed in foster care, but ran away a short time later, and his whereabouts had been unknown up until now. The rape and murder of the six-year-old child was never solved.

Jim closed the file, picked up the phone and waited as the line connected. "This is Detective Ellison of the Cascade PD. I'd like to speak to someone in relation to the transfer of a suspect from Bowen County Hospital. Yes, that's right, Lucas Wilder... today, at noon. Good, I'll come by to organise the security arrangements. Thank you."

"Detective Ellison, I'm Dr. Bradshaw. You're here to oversee the security arrangements for Lucas Wilder, I believe?"

Jim shook the hand being offered and gave a slight nod. "How's he doing?"

"I'm afraid that I can't release medical information on my patients, detective. Unless, of course, you have a court order?"

"I'm not asking for a complete medical history, doctor. I know about the injuries he sustained. I just wanted to know how he's doing."

"He's had some setbacks in the last few days, but he appears to be a strong-willed young man. I'm optimistic about a full recovery."

"Can I see him?"

"He's really in no condition to be questioned at the moment."

"I don't want to question him. I just want to see him."

Bradshaw looked at Ellison as if she was assessing whether or not he was a threat to her patient. "All right," she said eventually, "But five minutes is all I can give you. The trip up here has been pretty rough on him."

Ellison quietly pushed open the door to Lucas' room. He stood in the doorway and studied the young man in the bed. Focusing his senses on the teenager's vitals, he listened to the boy's congested lungs as they drew in difficult, raspy breaths. Lucas' eyes were closed and his upper body was supported by several pillows and covered in a zigzag of wires. Edging closer, he removed the medical chart hanging on the end of the bed, and quickly scanned through the pages. The medical training he had received in the army gave him enough basic knowledge to decipher what he was reading. Along with his other injuries, Lucas had developed pneumonia.

"You here to make an arrest?" Lucas wheezed out, his eyes now half open.

"Not at this stage," Ellison replied, replacing the chart. "I haven't actually made a decision as to what I'm going to do yet, although, if I do decide to press charges, you'd likely go away for a long time. I'm sure you know that kidnapping is a very serious offence."

"Yeah, well, so is child abuse."

Jim pushed down the anger he could feel building. He had no intention of giving the kid an opportunity to bait him. "I'd watch that tongue of yours, kid. It's always wise to play nice with the person who holds your future in his hands."

"If you're not here to arrest me, then why are you here?"

"To satisfy myself that you are not going to be a danger to my son. He wants to come and see you."

Jim heard Lucas' heartbeat increase at the mention of Blair's name and was surprised that his senses had actually been proven accurate by the machine next to the bed.

"Blair, how is he? Is he okay?" Lucas asked.

"He's doing alright, considering. Although I suspect that the full ramifications of his abduction might not have surfaced yet."

Lucas turned his head away from Jim and stared out the window. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I thought I was doing the right thing. He reminded me of someone I once knew and I didn't want him to end up the same way."

For a moment, Jim's heart went out to the young man as he was struck with the realisation that if Blair had not been left on his doorstep, then there was every chance that this could be his son lying here in the hospital... that is, if he even lived to be a teenager. Something deep inside made his conscience struggle with the idea that Lucas needed to be given a chance. The chance to live a life, free from the physical and sexual abuse he had suffered in the past. The chance to go to school and get the education he deserved and had a right to, and the chance to simply be a normal teenager, with no more difficult decision ahead of him than whether or not he should date the blonde or the redhead. The question was, however, was it up to him to offer this boy the chance? Why should it be his responsibility to provide these things to a child he didn't even know? Why should he give a second chance to a boy whose actions very nearly destroyed his life? Could he ever trust a boy like Lucas Wilder?

A round of lung-rattling coughs interrupted his thoughts. He approached the bed to offer some help, but his actions were halted when Lucas held up his hand. "mm... okay. I don't need your help."

A nurse on her rounds pushed her way into the room, her look signalling her displeasure at her patient's current condition. She checked the oxygen line under Lucas' nose before comforting him quietly.

"I think that's enough for today, Detective." Patricia Bradshaw was not far behind the nurse, and her displeasure was measured equally.

Standing aside from the door, she indicated for Jim to leave.

"I'll bring Blair by in a few days, when you're feeling a little better," Jim said, ignoring the harsh stares from both the women in the room.

As he made his way down the hallway, he knew what he had to do, but whether or not he could actually bring himself to do it was an entirely different matter.

Ellison stormed into the bullpen, his mood dark and sullen, causing his associates to stay well out of his line of fire. Since leaving the hospital, he'd been bundled up in a tight knot of emotions and thoughts. Plucking Lucas' file from his desk, he headed for his intended target. Not bothering to knock, he barged into the office and flung the file down on Simon's desk.

Simon didn't look up. He just stated calmly, "Jim, nice to see you. I noticed you weren't at your desk when I got back. Everything okay?"

Suddenly, as if running out of steam, Jim deflated and sank wearily down into the office chair. "Simon, what am I gonna do? I can't take responsibility for that kid. I have my own son to worry about, and besides that, who knows what kind of psychological problems he could be suffering from? I can't put Blair in that kind of risk. I won't put Blair in that kind of risk."

Simon reached back and grabbed a coffee cup from the table behind his desk. Filling it to the brim, he placed it in front of Jim. "Ellison, think about what you just said for a moment. That kid nearly died to save your son. In your heart, do you really feel that Lucas would pose a threat to Blair?" He took a sip of his own coffee before continuing. "The situation, as it stands, is that when Lucas is physically able, he will be transferred to a juvenile facility. Given the nature of the offence he committed, it is highly unlikely that he will be placed in foster care." Simon paused for a moment to make sure he had Jim's full attention. "That is, of course, unless someone is willing to assume guardianship of the boy. Even then, it would still be a long shot. The judge would need to take into account Lucas' crime and his past history to determine how much of a threat to the community he is. It would go in his favour if, say, the father of the child he kidnapped was willing to support him and take responsibility for him. If this were to happen, I would say the likelihood of him being kept out of jail would be much higher."

Ellison didn't utter a word.

"Jim, look," Simon stated sympathetically, knowing he now at least had Ellison's full attention. "I realise that this is a lot to ask, but considering this is probably the last chance the kid will get at having any decent kind of a life, I think it's something worth considering. Don't you?"

Jim scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh of frustration. He knew all too well what would happen to Lucas if he were to be incarcerated. He might be able to handle himself while in a juvenile facility, but if he were sent to an adult facility in the future, he wouldn't last long. The boy was a good-looking kid, and good-looking young boys were easy prey in jail. "What do I have to do to become his guardian?" he finally asked.

"Well, as it so happens, the wheels are already in motion. The court date is set for the day after tomorrow."

Jim looked at his captain with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude. "How did you know I'd say yes?"

Simon put down his coffee and leaned back in his chair. "Because, my friend, you are a good man."

"Wow!" Blair exclaimed, looking up at the huge oak tree in wonderment. "We could build a really cool tree-house in this one, Dad. I really, really like this house."

"Why don't we take a look at the inside first, Chief, before we make up our minds." The judge had given Jim temporary guardianship of Lucas, based on a trial period of three months. During that time, Jim needed to prove that he was capable of providing a safe and stable environment for the teenager to live. Lucas would be placed on more or less at home detention for this period; the only exception being his daily attendance at school. Any other outing would need to be in the company of Jim or another police officer. After the trial period, this condition would be assessed and, if all went well, Jim would be granted full guardianship. With Lucas moving in, even if only temporarily, he had decided to use his father's inheritance to buy a house. They would be seriously pushed for space at the loft, and once the seed of having a big back yard to play in was planted in Blair's head, the little boy had not let the idea slide. It would be unfair to deny his son this opportunity just because he was too stubborn to take this gift from his father. He had enough money available now from the cash his father had left and his own investments to afford a good-sized house in a good suburb. He decided to put his childhood home up for sale and place the proceeds in trust for Blair. Raising his son in his father's home wasn't an option. There were simply too many bad memories.

"Well, what do you think?" asked the realtor.

"I better go and have a word with the boss first," Jim replied.

Locating Blair on the second floor, he tracked him down to the last bedroom on the right. "Hey Munchkin, what'cha doing?"

"This can be Lucas' room, Daddy. He would like to live here." Blair grabbed his father by the hand and dragged him out of the room and down the hallway. "And this can be my room," he announced, going into a smaller room next to his father's.

"It looks a little small to me, Chief. Wouldn't you prefer the room next to Lucas'? It's a lot bigger."

"No," Blair replied quietly. "I like this one and it's right next to your room... for in case you need me."

Or if you need me, Jim thought. He bent down and lifted Blair into his arms. "I think this is the perfect room for you, Chief. Shall we go tell the lady that we'll take it?"

"Ah ha." Blair squeezed Jim's neck tightly. "Can we go see Lucas?"

"Not today, Chief. He's still not feeling very well. The doctor said that by the end of the week he could probably have visitors." Looking at the dejected expression on Blair's face, he jiggled the youngster in his arms. "Hey kiddo, look on the bright side. By the time Lucas is ready to leave the hospital, we'll have a new home to move into."

"Dr. Bradshaw." Jim gave the doctor's door a light tap. "I was wondering if you have a few minutes?"

"Detective, certainly. Come on in." Her attitude toward Jim had changed considerably over the past few weeks, since finding out the lengths he was prepared to go to for her patient. "And who do we have here?" she asked, smiling at Blair.

"This is my son, Blair."

"Hi, Blair, nice to meet you. What have you got there?" she asked.

"It a picture of my family. See." Blair unrolled the drawing he held in his hand. "This is my daddy, this is me, and this is Lucas. He going to be my new brother."

Jim spotted a box of toys and books in the corner of the doctor's office. "Hey, Junior, why don't you go and see what there is to play with? I just wanna have a quick word with the doctor."

Once Blair was busy digging through the box, Jim began. "I want to thank you for your help with Lucas' guardianship case. Your testimony was a great help."

"I was only doing my job. Being placed in a juvenile facility is not in my patient's best interest."

"How's he doing, today?" Jim asked. "Do you think he's up to a visit from Blair?"

"He's doing a little better today. The antibiotics have the pneumonia under control, and the healing of his other injuries is progressing as expected."

"What about the rape?" Jim asked quietly, so as not to attract Blair's attention.

"Physically, he's on the mend. He was torn quite badly, and he carries a lot of scar tissue from previous penetrations. I gather you've read his file, so you know what I'm talking about. As to his psychological progress, that, I'm afraid, has reached a stalemate. He refuses to talk to our resident psychologist. He won't discuss his past, his brother, his father, or this recent event and I'm afraid that if Lucas doesn't come to terms with these events, perhaps one day he might snap."

"What do you mean 'snap'? Do think he's a danger?" Jim asked, wondering if he had made the right decision.

"A danger to others, no, but a danger to himself, yes. I wouldn't class him as suicidal, but I do fear that any additional trauma might just push him over the edge." She took a sip of water before continuing. "That's why I recommended he not be put into a juvenile facility. He needs to be somewhere he feels safe and secure. Someplace where there is no chance of anything like that ever happening to him again. Now don't get me wrong," she said, noticing the concerned look on Jim's face. "He's a strong boy. He's had to be, or he wouldn't have made it this far. All I'm saying is there is only so much a person can take. Especially when that person is all alone in the world."

"Daddy," Blair interrupted. "When can we see Lucas?"

Jim got to his feet and held out his hand. "Thank you for your time, doctor."

"You're welcome," she said, shaking Jim's hand. "And Detective. Don't feel like you have to treat him like he is made of china. If this situation is going to work, he needs to know who's the head of the household. Although you wouldn't think so sometimes, Lucas is still a teenager. And like all teenagers, he will push the boundaries."

"Thanks again," Ellison said before gathering up Blair and heading down the hall. If there was one thing the doctor didn't have to worry about, it was him treating the kid like he was made of glass. Lucas would, right from the onset, know who was the boss of the house.

Any attempt at entering Lucas's room quietly was futile. As soon as the door was pushed open, Blair bolted through, racing across the room like a tumbleweed in the wind. "Lucas, Lucas, Lucas!" he shouted with glee.

The young man was startled awake by the commotion and it took him a few seconds to realise what was going on. "Hey, Sport," he finally said, reaching out his hand. "I've been wondering when I might see you again."

Blair pulled the chair over to the bed and climbed up on it, but he didn't stop there. In a flash he was attempting to clamber up onto the bed. Jim reacted quickly and grabbed the excited three-year-old. "Slow up a minute there, Chief. Lucas isn't well enough for you to go climbing all over him. Why don't you just sit quietly on the side of the bed?"

"I sorry," Blair said anxiously. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, Sport, I'm fine. It's good to see you." Lucas gave Jim a quick look before turning his attention back to Blair. "Are you okay?" he mumbled, lowering his voice so Jim wouldn't hear. "Everything all right at home?"

"Ah ha," Blair whispered back. "But we don't have to talk quiet, Lucas. My daddy will still hear you." Blair bounced with excitement. "We got a new home, Lucas. Me and dad went and looked at lots and lots of houses, and we finded one that is way cool. It got a big backyard and a big tree and it got a swimming pool for when it get hot. I can't swim yet, but I going to have lessons."

Lucas grabbed his sore stomach muscles before turning his head to cough. Blair rubbed his leg through the blanket until the bout ended. "That does sound cool," he finally wheezed out, turning his attention back to the three-year-old.

"It is. It really, really big and it got a room for all of us, and rooms for people to come and visit. I already picked out your room. Daddy said he was sure you would like it."

"My room?" The teenager immediately eyed Jim with suspicion.

Jim decided it was about time he entered the conversation. He hadn't yet discussed the arrangements with Lucas. He was waiting until the young man was a bit stronger. "The judge has awarded me temporary guardianship over you for a trial period. When you're well enough to leave the hospital, you'll be staying with us."

Lucas's eyes flashed with anger. "What, just like that? No consultation? No asking me what I wanted? You just decided what was best for me without even considering that I might not want to live in your damn house?"

"This conversation can wait for another time, don't you think?" Jim said roughly, reminding Lucas of the fact that Blair was in the room.

A guilty expression appeared on Lucas's face. "Hey, I'm sorry, Sport, I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't you want to come live with me?" Blair asked.

"Of course I do. It was just a surprise, that's all."

"Good, cause I drewed you a picture for your bedroom wall. It a picture of our new family."

The visit continued without any further conversation between Jim and Lucas. The only communication he received from the boy was a few well timed, and well aimed, angry stares. Well, this is going to be fun, Jim thought. I can't wait to play happy families. With Lucas tiring, Jim removed Blair from the bed. "Come on, Chief, time for us to leave. We can come back another day."

"Bye, Lucas," Blair latched on to the teenager's hand. "I hope you get better quick."

"I'll be up and around in no time, Sport. I promise."

Jim ushered Blair out the door, turning around to face Lucas before he left. He decided the only way to be with the boy was straight forward. The kid had been around the block too many times to buy any bullshit. "I'm sorry if you're not happy with the living arrangements, but it's either that or a nice comfy room in a boy's home. It's a good crowd in there, or so I hear, so you'd probably make a few nice friends, if you get my drift." He looked into Lucas's eyes and knew the boy understood exactly what he was trying to say. "Besides, at least this way you get to keep an eye on Blair. I've got a feeling that you still don't believe that he's safe with me."

Lucas didn't answer; he just turned his head away and closed his eyes. You're damn straight I don't. He didn't like Jim Ellison, nor did he trust him, but the man did have a point. At the first sign of Blair in any kind of danger, he would take him and hightail it out of there. He had disappeared before; he could do it again. Jim Ellison better prove himself to be the exemplary father that Blair said he was, or he would lose his child for good.

"Welcome to your new home," Steven toasted, as he topped up everyone's champagne glass. Jim and Blair's new house had closed and the loft had been rented out to a corporate couple whose lives revolved around money and advancement and not children. The gang, including Steven and his family, had helped Jim and Blair move into their new abode. After an exhausting day of moving the furniture from the loft to the new place, it was time to relax and wind down. Blair and Matthew had fallen asleep in a beanbag chair in front of the television, while Maggie, who was desperately trying to be a grownup, struggled to stay awake in her mother's lap. "Have you decided what school to send Lucas to?" Rachael asked, gently rocking her daughter.

"I haven't really looked into it yet," Jim replied, swiping another piece of pizza.

Jessie gave Jim a stern look. Being an ex-teacher, education was paramount on her agenda. "Joel told me that he was being released from the hospital tomorrow. Is that still the case?"

"Yep, I'm still picking him up tomorrow. Although I'm not entirely sure he's too thrilled about the idea," Jim added. "His doctor said that it'll be a least another month before he's capable of attending school, though. The pneumonia apparently has really knocked him around and he's lost a lot of weight."

"Jim, would you like me to look into enrolling him at my school?" Rachael was a specialist teacher at a small private school. She was on extended leave due to some difficulties she was experiencing with her third pregnancy. "Given the nature of Lucas' past, maybe putting him in a smaller school would be better for him?"

"I think it's going to be hard enough to get him used to the idea of going to any school at this stage, and I doubt very much if he would agree to me paying fees to send him to a private school. You also have to remember, Rachael, that he hasn't had any formal education since he was nine. I think that mainstream schooling would be the best thing for him. At least for the moment."

"Jim," said Jessie, who had been listening to the conversation, and felt it time she made her point known. "If the boy hasn't been at school since he was nine, it is my opinion that he is going to need some extensive tutoring before you throw him to the wolves, so to speak. I'd like to offer my services. I could come by and do daily lessons with him until Blair is ready to be picked up from school. At least this way, it would give him some sort of idea of what he's in for."

Jim looked at Jessie in total surprise. After what Lucas had done to her, he hadn't been quite sure how she would react to him joining their family.

"Don't you look at me like that, Jim Ellison," she scolded. Grabbing Jim's hand, she lowered her voice. "I've read his file. I know what he's been through. No child should have to suffer like he has. Good lord, you need a license to keep a dog in this state, but you can do whatever you like to your children. He needs our help and support and I'm willing to offer that to him."

"I'd like to help, too," Rachael offered, lightly squeezing Jim's other hand. "Being at home all day is kind of driving me crazy and my specialty is teaching both gifted and struggling children. I think I could be of some help to him."

Jim looked at both women in amazement. First, Jessie was willing to forgive the young man who had rendered her unconscious and put her through weeks of hell, and now Rachael was willing to help a boy she had never even met.

"Thank you," he simply said.

Jim dumped Lucas's bag onto the bedroom floor. The kid didn't have many possessions, so Jim had ended up going to the department store to stock the wardrobe with clothes for the teenager. Daryl and Simon had come along, with Daryl giving some expert advice on what was 'in' and what was 'not'. Sizing wasn't a great problem. If it fit Jim, it would fit Lucas. At sixteen, Lucas stood only a couple of inches shorter than Jim and, although the kid had lost weight, he was still well-built. Studying the teenager, who was now eyeing him angrily, Jim decided to get the ball rolling. "I know you're not thrilled about being here," he said, feeling a little pissed off at Lucas' attitude toward him. "But considering your options, I think a little gratitude wouldn't go astray."

Lucas didn't answer, just tracked his every move.

"Now," Jim continued. "While you're living under my roof, I think it's important that we establish a few house rules. Number one, under no circumstances is there to be drugs or alcohol brought into this house. If I do find them, you'll be out of here quicker than you can blink. Second, since one of the conditions of your custody states that you are basically under house arrest, other than school, you are not to leave the house unless in the company of either myself or another member of the Major Crime squad. Third, I have enrolled you in school as of the end of the month, and until that time, some very special people have kindly agreed to give up their time to tutor you. Fourth, and probably the most important, you are not to abscond from the premises. If you intend to do so, I will track you down and I will find you and I will drag your sorry ass back here." He turned his best Ellison glare on Lucas. And believe me, if you do take off, I will find you." Walking over toward the door, he turned a wry smile on the boy. "And lastly, welcome home!"

With his lecture complete, Jim left the room. He knew that his speech would be hard on the boy, and it was a little less than welcoming, but Lucas needed to be shown right from the start who was the boss, because he had no intention of taking any crap from the teenager.

Lucas lay back on the double bed in his new room. He closed his eyes and angrily wiped away the tears that trickled down his cheeks. He felt like utter crap. His lungs burned, his back stilled throbbed and he could still feel the dull ache from where he had been torn apart. Although he had pretty much healed in this area, he could still feel it. He could still feel Gideon as he pushed his way into his body and could still feel the pain as his muscles tore apart and bled. But worst of all, he could still feel Gideon's hot breath on his ear and the haunting sound of his voice. It is through our blood, sweat and tears that we are reborn, my son.

Blair entered Lucas' room quietly, without knocking. His daddy told him that it would be best to leave Lucas alone for a while. That Lucas had a lot to think about. But he didn't agree. He would just go in and see if Lucas was okay. He would even help him think, if Lucas wanted him to. Tiptoeing over to the bed, he whispered loudly. "Lucas, you alright? Do you want me to help you think?"

Lucas wiped away his tears before turning around to face the youngster. "Think about what, Sport?" he asked, trying to sound normal.

Blair climbed up on the bed. "I not sure. What you thinking about?"

"Nothing much."

Blair put Big Bird down on the pillow between them. "Do you like your room?" he asked. "I picked it for you." He laid his hand on the teenager's arm. "Don't be sad, Lucas. You will like living here. We can be brothers."

Lucas couldn't answer the little boy, because he couldn't guarantee that his voice wouldn't crack.

On hearing Jim's voice at the bottom of the stairs, Blair climbed off the bed. "I leave Big Bird here so you not get lonely." Before scooting out the door, he turned and said, "He a good listener, Lucas. You can tell him anything."

Jim carried the tray up the stairs toward Lucas' room. The teenager had made no attempt to leave his bedroom since arriving at his temporary new home. He was overdue for his antibiotics, and Jim had been listening to the quiet, pain-filled groans for the past thirty minutes. He knocked on the door and when he didn't receive an answer, he turned the door handle. "Lucas, it's Jim. You missed dinner and you need to take your pills. I've brought you a sandwich and some juice. I hope you like turkey?"

Lucas tried to sit up when Ellison entered the room, but a painful spasm ripped through his lower back, forcing him to remain flat on the bed.

"Hey, take it easy." Jim put the tray down on the bedside table. "Where's the pain?"

Lucas's stubborn nature would normally have had him rejecting Jim's help, but the pain was too intense. The void in his back where his kidney once was had been giving him hell. The knife that Gideon had plunged into his back had not only irreparably damaged the organ, but had sliced through and damaged muscles as well. The doctors told him he would heal, in time, but warned him that it was possible he might experience 'phantom' pain. He grimaced as another spasm hit. There's nothing phantom about this pain, he screamed to himself. "My back," he finally cried out.

Jim lifted the boy's head off the pillow and popped two pills into his mouth. Bringing the glass to Lucas's lips, he encouraged him to swallow. "It'll help take the edge off," he stated. Satisfied that his request had been followed, he lowered Lucas' head back down to the pillow. His hand lingered on the boy's neck for a brief moment, checking for any sign of a temperature. "Just lay still. I'm going downstairs to get you a heating pad."

Jim prepared the pad in the microwave and made his way back to Lucas' room. By this time, the teenager had some colour returning to his cheeks and seemed to be handling the pain a little better. Jim sat down on the edge of the bed and went to lift the boy's shirt.

"No," Lucas gritted through clenched teeth. He grabbed Jim's hand to prevent him from touching him.

"Lucas, I'm just going to put the pad on your back. Nothing else. I promise." With Lucas still gripping his hand, Jim lifted the shirt and placed the pad on the boy's back. "It should ease up soon," he said. Feeling as it was best not to linger, he pulled the blanket that was on the bottom of the bed up over the boy. "Try and eat something when you feel up to it. You shouldn't really be taking those pills on an empty stomach." Knowing that his presence in the room was doing more harm than good, he left, leaving the door slightly ajar.

By the time the Ellison was ready for bed, Lucas' door had been shut and the lock securely snicked into place.

The next few days in the Ellison household progressed slowly. For the most part, Lucas had remained sullen around Jim, but Blair, however, was excited and enthusiastic about having a new brother in the house and spent many hours chatting away with Lucas. Jim had, at first, put surveillance on their conversation, but finally decided to give them some privacy. If he were ever going to expect Lucas to trust him, he was going to have to take the first steps and start trusting the teenager. Looking up from the kitchen sink as Lucas came ambling into the room, Jim asked, "How's the back today?"

"Not too bad," Lucas replied almost civilly, as he took a seat at the table. "You need any help?"

Well, this is a change, Jim thought, in surprise. "Sure, how about you peel the vegetables? It'll take me twice as long with my arm."

"When do you get that off?" Lucas pushed back the chair and went over to the sink.

"Next Monday. And it's about time. It's driving me nuts." Jim handed over the peeler. "Hey, I was talking to Jessie today, and since you seem to be on the mend, she'd like to come by and start tutoring you."

Lucas's reaction wasn't at all what Jim had been expecting. "Jessie?" he said in surprise. "You mean the old lady that I knocked out and left on the kitchen floor? You can't be serious. Why would she want to help me after what I did to her?"

"Because, she's a good person and she wants to help. She's read your file and she knows what you've been through. Oh, and a word of advice. If you want to live to be seventeen, I wouldn't refer to her as old."

"What, you're kidding me!" exclaimed Lucas angrily, throwing the carrot onto the chopping board. "How many other people have you shown it to?" Before waiting for an answer, he turned angrily on Jim. "Hey, I've got a great idea. Why don't you stick the fuckin' thing on the fridge, right next to Blair's painting? That way everyone who comes to visit will know that I'm fucked -- literally." Storming out of the kitchen, Lucas bounded up the stairs, and slammed his bedroom door.

"Okay," Jim said, calmly turning back to the potatoes in the sink. "Deep breath and count to ten. One, two, three..."

Blair came into the kitchen from the backyard. He looked at his father curiously before asking, "Daddy, what'cha doin'?"

"Counting to ten," Jim replied patiently.

"What number you up to?"

Jim put down the peeler and looked at his son. "Five."

Blair thought for a moment. "Then you still have five more numbers to go." With that, he turned around and wandered into the living room to watch Sesame Street.

"Wow," breathed Jim in astonishment, his anger forgotten. "I have one smart kid."

After some persuasion by Jim, Lucas finally agreed to accept Jessie and Rachael's help and was progressing well in his studies. Although severely behind for his age level, he was bright and cooperative and was picking up on the subject matter quickly. His attitude toward Jim was finally beginning to progress from hostile to almost civil and Jim was trying his hardest to be patient and understanding. Several lectures from Simon about the hazards of bringing up teenagers helped him to maintain control over his temper, but Lucas still had the skill to rub him the wrong way when he wanted to.

Looking in on Blair before he hit the sack, Jim wandered down the hall to Lucas' room. The light was still on, and by the sound of the boy's heartbeat, he was still awake. He knocked before entering the room. "You going to bed soon? You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm just finishing off this chapter that Jessie said I should read."

"How you doing with that?" Jim asked, peering over the teenager's shoulder.

"Good, I think. I know I'm not going to be up to everybody else's standard, but I'm sure I can wing it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you can," Jim replied, feeling slightly proud at the boy's tenacity. "I'm off to bed. I'll see you in the morning." As Jim closed the door behind him, Lucas snicked the lock and the hope he had felt that they were actually moving forward, faded. I suppose it's to be expected, he surmised. I'm sure he's had more nocturnal visits than he would care to remember.

"No, Tom!" Blair screamed out in a terrified panic, startling Jim awake. "Take it out, it hurts."

Jim bolted out of bed, and in no time flat was in the small bedroom next to his own. He flicked on the light, only to find Blair huddled in the corner, caught up in a terrifying nightmare. His attention was taken briefly away from his son when Lucas came rushing into the room.

"What are you doing to him?" Lucas accused, before even taking the time to assess the situation. He rushed forward, only to be stopped by Jim, who slammed him into the wall. "Don't touch him," Ellison hissed, a little too harshly.

Lucas was about to retaliate, but his sleep-fogged brain beat him to it. He suddenly realised Jim was nowhere near the boy. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"He's having a nightmare." Jim released his grip. "It happens sometimes. Just stay back and let me deal with this."

Lucas watched in silence as Jim carefully approached the frightened child. "Hey, baby, it's okay, daddy's here," he cooed. "Tom's gone, remember? He's never coming back."

Blair's sobs grew more frantic and out of control. "Daddy, he's here. Tom is here. I don't wanna have a bath, daddy. I don't wanna!" he cried. "Make him stop, Daddy. Lucas, make him stop."

Lucas moved forward at the mention of his name and stood beside Jim. "Hey, Sport, I'm here, too. He's gone now, it's okay."

Both of the soothing voices seemed to finally get through to Blair and he lunged forward into his father's arms. Jim immediately gathered him close and held on tight. "Shhh, sweetheart, daddy's here, daddy's always here."

Not knowing what else to do, Lucas reached out and rubbed Blair's back. "Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine. He'll be fine," Jim repeated, reassuring himself, as well as Lucas.

It took close to half an hour before Blair fell into a deep sleep in his father's arms. Jim's heightened sense of touch kicked in, allowing him to feel a warm wetness touching his skin, through the waterproof pants Blair had on. Gently, he laid Blair on the bed and began to remove his pyjama bottoms.

Lucas, who had moved back to the door, suddenly surged forward. "What are you doing?" he challenged.

Jim bit back his temper. It was the middle of the night, and he was tired and he was just about over Lucas's interference. He was about to let fly with a mouth full when he realised he couldn't reprimand someone for looking out for Blair's well-being? "I'm changing his pants," he said, calmly. "He wets the bed when he has night terrors. If you want to be of some help, you can grab me a clean pair of Dry Nights from his top drawer." Jim proceeded to quickly and efficiently remove Blair's urine-soaked underpants and wipe him clean with baby wipes. Taking the dry pants from Lucas, he slipped them on and replaced Blair's pyjama bottoms. Blair was now deeply asleep, his nightmare completely forgotten. Tucking the covers under his son's chin, he kissed him gently on the forehead. "Night, Chief," he whispered. "I love you." Before he left the room, he said to Lucas. "I'd appreciate it if you don't mention to him anything about wetting the bed. He'd be mortified if he knew you knew about the Dry Nights. I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I won't say a word," Lucas promised. "Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine. Probably won't even remember it by morning. Now, I'm going to bed and I suggest you do the same. We all have an early start in the morning."

Lucas took one last look at Blair before leaving the room. He was beginning to wonder if his judgment of Jim was misguided. Maybe the guy wasn't that bad after all.

Lucas felt his gut tighten as Jim pulled the truck into the parking space out front of the local school. "You want me to come in with you?"

The teenager took a deep breath and unfastened his seatbelt. "No, thanks. I'll be fine. I think I can manage to find my way to the administration block."

"Yeah, well, just make sure you don't get lost on the way." Jim regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth.

"You still don't trust me, do you? You still think I'm gonna take off."

"I'm sorry, you're right, that was uncalled for. I do trust you, Lucas. I guess, like everything else, trust is something that has to be earned."

"So when are you going to trust me around Blair?"

"What do you mean by that? I do trust you around him."

"Yeah, well then, how come every time you need to go out, you either take him with you or arrange for someone else to look after him? There's been a few times when I could have looked after him, but you still drop him off at either Jessie's or your brother's house."

Jim knew exactly what times Lucas was referring to. There had been a couple of occasions where he had been called back to work, but instead of asking Lucas to sit with Blair for a few hours, he had bundled him up and driven him either across town to Steven's or to Joel and Jessie's house. It would have been a hell of a lot more convenient to let Lucas look after Blair, but for some reason he had always hesitated about asking the teenager. "I guess I wasn't sure how you'd do. Three-year-olds are not necessarily always easy to handle. It does require some experience."

"I've done my fair share of babysitting," Lucas replied quietly.

Yeah, I bet you have, Jim thought. He looked at his watch. It was getting late and he needed to get to the station. "Here," he said, withdrawing a twenty-dollar bill and handing it to Lucas.

"I don't need your money," Lucas pushed it away, refusing to take the bill.

"You need lunch money," Jim insisted, "and this should last you for the week. Think of it as a payment for your first babysitting job."

"What?" Lucas asked.

"I'm gonna have to work late on Friday, and if you're available, I was hoping that you could look after Blair for me?"

For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile appeared on the boy's face. He accepted the money. "Thanks, Jim," he said. "And I'm sure I'll be available. After all, it's not like I have a lot of places to go." The comment was not made in anger, but rather in jest.

Jim smiled back at the boy. "I guess you're right on that point. Hey, look, I gotta go. I'll swing by later and pick you up. Have a good day." As Jim pulled away from the curb, he felt that he was finally making progress. Not only did he get a smile out of the kid, it was the first time Lucas had used his name. Lucas had finally called him Jim.

Adam Jenkins warily eyed Lucas as he put his books in his locker. "Hey, you seen the new kid?" he asked his friends as they rounded the corner. "Reckon he'll try out for the football team?"

The five boys, all members of the school football team, were all well built and were all very popular and it was this popularity with both the girls and certain teachers alike that gave them an air of arrogance as they cruised the school halls. Kids that did not meet up to their standards often fell prey to their bullying and scare tactics. They never really hurt anyone, they were just out to have a good time and usually at the expense and humiliation of other students.

"Hey." Adam leaned against the locker as Lucas put his books away. "You new?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Lucas eyed the boy, taking an instant dislike.

"You play football?"

"Nope." The truth be known, Lucas didn't know how to play any team sports. He had never had the opportunity. He'd often sat and watched kids down at the local park play baseball and football, but he'd never had the opportunity to join in. Up until he ran away, most of Lucas's time was spent in the company and service of his father.

Annoyed by Lucas's disinterested attitude, Adam thought he'd test the new kid out, just to see what he was made of. "How come?" he asked. "You're not a fag, are you? 'Cause if you are, then you can't be on the football team. No fags allowed in the locker room. It's a team rule." His comment brought a round of laughs and sniggers from the other members of the team, as well as a few students who had stopped to watch.

Before Adam had a chance to enjoy the attention of the gathering crowd, Lucas slammed him hard against the locker door, applying just enough pressure to the kid's windpipe to make him gasp. "Listen, prick, if you know what's good for you, I suggest you stay outta my way. I'm not here to take your shit or anyone else's." He eyed the rest of the team members. "You got that?"

Not receiving an answer, Lucas applied a little more pressure. Jenkin's clawed at Lucas' bicep. "I got it," he gasped out.

Lucas released his grip. Picking up his books, he turned to the rest of the team. "I don't want any trouble, but if you come looking for it, I won't back down."

By this stage, Adam had turned red with embarrassment, as a group of girls giggled. "Wow, did you see that guy? Who is he? He sure made Adam looked like an idiot." Their conversation continued as they made their way down the hallway.

Adam Jenkins rubbed his throat and stared at Lucas as he disappeared around the corner. A dangerous flicker in his eye told his team mates that Lucas Wilder had just brought himself a shit load of trouble."

"Okay, here is my number at the station, my cell phone number, Joel and Jessie's place and Steven's house. Of course, you know 911, so there's no need for me to leave that," Jim said in all seriousness. The three were seated around the breakfast table, as Lucas was receiving his babysitting instructions for the evening.

Reaching over the table, Lucas grabbed the piece of paper from Jim's grasp. "Hey Jim, I think you've missed a number."

Jim snatched the paper back. "Whose?" he asked, studying the list.

"NASA. I mean who am I gonna call if a spaceship lands in the front yard?"

Jim got to his feet and gave Lucas a playful smack across the head. "Don't be a smart ass," he reprimanded. Blair giggled at the interaction between his dad and Lucas and Jim rounded the table and grabbed the youngster, giving him a tickle and swinging him into the air, "And don't you encourage him, Junior."

"Lucas, Lucas, help me!" Blair squealed. "Save me, save me!"

"Don't worry, Sport, I'm coming." Lucas grabbed a cushion from the couch in the living room and blocked Jim's path. "Put the kid down, sir," he said in a stern voice. "I'm armed and I'm dangerous."

"Oh you are, are you?" Jim immediately took up the challenge. He put Blair down and grabbed a cushion for himself. "Okay, tough guy, let's see what you've got!"

Blair ran over to the sofa and got a cushion for himself. "What I gonna do with this?" he asked seriously, suddenly realising he didn't know why they were all holding cushions. His comment brought a round of laughter from both Jim and Lucas and Jim bent down and gently hit his son with the cushion. "That's what," he said.

Lucas grabbed Blair from behind. "Come on buddy, let's get him." Holding Blair in one arm and the cushion in the other, Lucas attacked. Blair joined in the game, hitting Jim with the cushion as well.

"Hey, that's not fair. Two against one." Jim was careful not to hit Blair too hard, but managed to get a few well-aimed hits in at Lucas. Finally he fell back on the couch. "Okay, enough, enough, I surrender."

Blair lunged out of Lucas's arms and onto his father's lap, still laughing. "That was fun," he giggled. "Can we play it again?"

"Not right now, Munchkin. You two have to get to school and I have to get to work. Now, why don't you run upstairs and find your other shoe. It's gotta be somewhere in that mess you call a bedroom."

Blair gave Jim a sloppy kiss before running up the stairs. "My room not messy," he shouted from halfway to the top floor.

"You don't have to worry, Jim. I won't let anything happen to him tonight," Lucas stated, retreating back into the kitchen to finish his breakfast.

Jim followed the teenager. "I know, it's just I get a little protective of him sometimes -- father's prerogative," he added. "Look I'm sure you'll both be fine and I should be home around nine, anyway. Just do me a favour and keep all the doors locked and if you need me for anything, promise me you'll call."

"What, 911 or the NASA hotline?" Lucas quipped.

"Just call," Jim groused as he left the room.

The stakeout had lasted longer than Jim had anticipated and it was well after eleven before he finally got home. He had called home during the evening, just to satisfy his concern that everything was okay, and Lucas appeared to be managing fine.

Dropping his keys in the basket by the door, Jim attempted to dial up his hearing, pleased when he located two slow, regular heartbeats on the second floor. His control over his senses was becoming more reliable and he was even able to tell that the heartbeats were coming from the same room. Bounding up the stairs and heading straight for Blair's room, Jim stopped at Lucas's half-opened door. The heartbeats were coming from the teenager's bedroom. Peering into the room, he took in the sight before him. The bed was covered in a mass of books, and sprawled over the sleeping teenager was Blair, who, by the looks of things, was content, warm and fast asleep. Walking over to the bed, Jim smiled down at the pair. "Hey, Lucas," he said, gently shaking the teenager's shoulder.

Lucas came awake with a start. Immediately aware of the intruder in his room, he sat upright, while still clutching Blair to his chest.

"Hey, it's okay, it's just me." Jim reached out to steady the pair. Blair mumbled a few words, but remained asleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. What's Blair doing in here?"

Lucas tightened his grip on Blair as if Jim was going to suddenly snatch him away. "He couldn't sleep, so I read him some books."

"Looks like you've gone through his whole library." Jim carefully pried Blair out of Lucas' arms. "You know, you don't have to let him run riot over you. He knows the rules about bedtime."

"Don't get mad at him," Lucas quickly got to his feet. "It was my fault. I said he could stay up."

"Lucas, I'm not going to get mad at him. All I'm saying is that you have rights in this household too. You don't have to let Blair be the boss of every situation. At the moment, he's got you wrapped around his little finger and he seems to be enjoying every minute of it. Whatever he wants, you go along with. If he wants to play, you go out and play with him. If he wants to change the television station, even when you're in the middle of watching something, you let him change it. You can't let him keep getting away with it. He needs to know his limits and needs to have some discipline."

"You're not going to punish him are you?" Lucas's body language made Jim feel that the teenager was about to jump to Blair's defence.

"You asked me earlier in the week when I was going to start trusting you around Blair? Well, I think it's time I asked you the same question. When are you going to start trusting me around him? You've been living with us now for what, two months?"

"Yeah, about that."

"Well, during that whole time have you ever seen me raise a finger to him? Have I ever given him an unreasonable punishment or done anything that could possibly make you think that I was abusing him? I've heard you sneak down the hallway into his room at night, just to check to see if I'm in there."

Lucas suddenly felt ridiculously stupid.

"Lucas, I'm not trying to accuse you of doing anything wrong," Jim said, picking up on the kid's discomfort. "I know why you do it and I understand that with everything you've been through, it must be hard for you to trust people. But you've gotta start trusting people sometime. Not all fathers are like yours."

"How come you didn't take him away from Naomi earlier?" Lucas asked bluntly. "You must have known that Tom was abusing him."

"No... no, I didn't." Jim still hadn't come to terms with the fact he hadn't known about Blair and that guilt still burned deep inside of him.

"You're a cop. Surely you must have worked it out. You didn't buy her story about Blair falling down a flight of stairs, did you?"

"The reason I didn't take him away is because I didn't even know I had a son. The first I knew about him was when Naomi dropped him off at my doorstep." He looked at Lucas's expression. "Blair's conception was the result of a one-night stand." Blair stirred in his arms, and Jim gently patted his back. "But," he clarified "just because he wasn't planned, doesn't mean that he's not wanted. I love this little guy with all my heart and soul and I would never do anything to hurt him."

Lucas sank wearily down onto the bed. "I know and I'm sorry. I know you love him. It's just that when I was his age, my dad told me he loved me, too." For the very first time since they'd met, Lucas was finally opening up to Jim. "But when my dad came into my bedroom at night, it wasn't just to kiss me goodnight."

Jim came closer to the bed, adjusting Blair's head, which was now slipping off his shoulder. "Listen, kid. What your father gave to you was not love. He might have convinced you it was, but it wasn't, and you know that. He used you and he hurt you and you have every right to feel angry and confused." Jim held his son a little tighter to his chest. "I just want you to know that as long as you're living in this house, I can guarantee you that nobody will ever come into your room unless you give your permission." He reached out and brushed Lucas' shoulder. "If you ever want to talk about your father, or what happened, I'm here to listen." His hand lingered briefly and he gave the teenager's shoulder a light squeeze. "Now, I better get this little guy into his own bed."

Just before he left the room, Jim turned around. "How much has Blair told you about Tom?" he asked.

Lucas shrugged. "He's told me enough to work out that the guy was a bastard."

Curiosity got the better of Jim. Blair had told him a few details about what Tom had done to him, but generally he avoided talking about it. "I know from the doctor's reports that Blair had been interfered with. Do you know whether or not Tom..." he stuttered briefly, choking on the word he was trying to say.

"Did Tom rape him?" Lucas finished for him. "In the true sense of the word, no, he didn't. But he did penetrate Blair... just not with his dick. Used his fingers mostly." Lucas watched Jim's reaction closely. He wanted to see if the picture he painted would excite Jim. If Jim was playing around with Blair, then he knew he would be able to see it in the man's eyes. He'd seen that look far too many times to ever forget it. Lucas studied Jim's reaction intently, but he saw nothing but sorrow and grief and in that one moment, he knew that he didn't have to protect Blair from his father. Jim's love for his son was pure and innocent. The way love should be.

Getting up and walking over to the door as Jim left the room, Lucas tapped the door frame. "Jim, I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear."

"It's not what any parent wants to hear Lucas, but I had to know."

As Jim settled Blair into his bed, he heard Lucas settle into his own. If anything good was to come out of this evening, it was the fact that he was one step closer to gaining the boy's trust -- Lucas had left his door unlocked.

Ellison poured his second cup of coffee. It was five-thirty on Saturday morning, but he couldn't sleep. His night had been interrupted by one troublesome thought. Why won't Blair tell me what happened? Why can he tell Lucas, but not me? Staring out the kitchen window, watching two starlings fighting for the right to claim the lawn grub as their own, he didn't even notice the little boy that had snuck up behind him.

Blair placed Big Bird on the kitchen table and rested his head on the stuffed toy. He watched his father as he stared out the window. "Daddy, what wrong?" he asked.

Jim turned around in surprise. "Hey, Chief, what are you doing up so early? I didn't hear you come down the stairs."

"Are you sad, Daddy?" Blair asked with a big yawn.

Jim placed his coffee on the bench and walked over to the table. "Would you mind if I asked you a question, Munchkin?"

Blair shook his head in reply.

"How come you won't tell me about Tom? About what he did to you? I know you've told Lucas, so why can't you tell me? Are you afraid?"

Blair grabbed his father's hand and pulled Jim down to his eye level. "I not afraid."

"Then what is it, baby, why can't you tell me?"

The three-year-old's answer was simple and honest. "'Cause it will make you sad."

Jim cupped his son's cheek in surprise and amazement. The child's answer was exactly right. "How did you become so wise, Chief?" he asked. "Are you sure you're only three years old?"

"Ah ha." Blair gave his father one of the smiles that only he could give.

Jim smiled warmly back. "Are you certain you're not a forty-year-old midget dressed up to be a kid?" he teased.

Blair put his arm around his father's neck. "Nope," he whispered. "Are you gonna make pancakes, Daddy?"

Jim drew his son close to his body. "God I love you," he said, squeezing Blair hard.

"'Cause you love me, does that mean you gonna make chocolate pancakes?"

"Don't push your luck, short stuff," Jim chuckled.

Jim and Lucas had finally worked out a suitable arrangement concerning Lucas' keep. Not comfortable with the fact that Jim was providing for him financially, Lucas had been pushing to get a part time job, an idea that Jim had negated while Lucas still wasn't one hundred percent fit. So, to help pay his way, even if it was only a token gesture, Lucas had insisted on doing jobs around the house and the first job started was building a tree house for Blair. Blair had designed it himself and, with a few modifications, the project was well under way.

"Anyone hungry?" Jim asked, driving the last nail into the railing.

"I are," replied the youngster. "Great 'venturers always get hungry."

Jim smiled at his son. He had a vivid imagination, and his latest kick was that he was a great archaeologist, roaming the world for forgotten treasure. "Come on then, Indy," Jim laughed, grabbing Blair and jumping the short distance to the ground. "You can help make lunch." He looked up at Lucas, who was higher up in the tree. "You coming?"

"I'll just finish off the roof. I'll be there in a minute."

Fixing the roof to the frame took Lucas longer than anticipated. Wondering why Jim hadn't yet called him for lunch, he swung down from the tree. He washed his hands in the tub and went in search of Jim, Blair and the missing food. "Blair!" he shouted, spotting Jim's prone body in the floor. "What happened?" His first thought was to call for help. "Don't worry, Sport. I'll call an ambulance. I'm sure you're dad will be fine."

Blair left his father's side and intercepted Lucas as he picked the phone up. He tugged on the teenager's sleeve. "He not sick, Lucas, he just sleeping. He wake up soon."

"What?" Lucas put the phone down. Blair seemed very insistent that Jim was okay and epilepsy was the first thought that ran through his mind. "Blair, has this happened before?"

"Ah, ha. Sometimes daddy thinks about things too hard and he falls down and goes to sleep. He always wakes up, though. Incacha says I just got to keep talking to him and pat him... just like this."

Lucas noticed that Blair had unbuttoned Jim's shirt and his hand was now rubbing gently up and down Jim's chest.

"Incacha? Isn't he the dude who told you to go into the woods?" Lucas moved to kneel by Jim. "Blair, I don't think he's real. Remember, we talked about it. He's just in your imagination." Lucas looked at Jim again and reached down to feel his pulse. "I better call the ambulance."

"No, Lucas, you can't. Beside Bagheera won't let you have the phone."

"Bagheera?" Lucas glanced in the direction of the phone. "Christ!" he shouted, jumping back in panic. He grabbed Blair and shoved him roughly behind him. "Blair, I want you to slowly go over to the stairs and when you get there, I want you to run up to your room and lock the door. Don't come out till I say so." Lucas had now grabbed hold of the fire iron. He had no idea what was happening but wouldn't leave Jim unconscious and unprotected.

Blair pushed his way past the teenager. "I not going to my room. I going to stay with my dad. Bagheera won't eat you, Lucas. He always comes when daddy falls down. He comes so I not be alone." Blair sat down by his father and continued his quiet ministrations, leaving Lucas dumbfounded and holding a weapon he now had no idea how to use.

Jim woke up with a start and with a thumping headache. He hadn't had an episode like this in months, and he wasn't even sure what had set him off. "Hey, guys," he said, squinting up at the two worried faces.

"Hi, Daddy," Blair smiled.

"Hey, guys? You've got to be kidding!" Lucas exclaimed. "I come in here to find you flat out on your back with this big black, monster thing about to eat your son and all you can say is 'hey guys'!" Lucas knew he was babbling and he knew what he'd been seeing couldn't be real, but still, the cat had been so life like.

Jim worked his way into a sitting position. "I think you're being a little over dramatic, don't you?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "And what are you talking about, big black monsters?"

"Bagheera was here, Daddy."

"Bagheera!" Jim turned his attention immediately toward Lucas. "You could see him?"

"Yes, I could see him. I've been seeing him ever since Gideon was..." Lucas quickly glanced at Blair and lowered his voice. "Well, you know what I mean." Lucas put the fire poker down and fell back onto the couch. "I thought I was going crazy, but now I realise that either the two of you are just as crazy as me, or otherwise there is a big, black cat and a wolf pup living in your house."

Jim got to his feet. If Lucas could see the animal spirits, there must be a reason for it. Maybe everything that had happened over the past few months was part of some larger, 'Incacha' plan. "Come on," he said, tentatively, "I think it's about time we filled you in on a few things about this family."

"What things?" Lucas asked, following Jim numbly.

Ellison slung his arms around Lucas' shoulder. "You, my boy, are about to get a lesson in how to live with a sentinel, a guide and various, assorted animal spirits."

"Hey, here he comes. You ready?" The football team was practicing for the final game of the season in the middle of the oval, while the athletics team ran laps around the outside of the field. While Lucas hadn't yet tried out for the squad, he had decided to start working on his own fitness, and had joined in on the training season.

"Okay, ready?" Adam, acknowledged as leader of the group, shouted his intention, and the other boys followed his lead. He threw the ball in Lucas's direction as one of the larger boys intercepted, running back and purposely crashing, full pelt into Lucas. As Lucas stumbled off the track, three more heavily-built bodies came crashing down on him, sliding him across the gravel which lay on the outside of the track. The boys hesitated briefly before they finally clambered off Lucas, their football spikes digging into his unprotected flesh.

"Oh hey, we're really sorry about that," Adam apologised, running over to join the group. "Are you okay?" he asked, sarcastically.

The football coach, who had seen the incident, came sliding to a halt beside the boys. "What the hell were you boys doing?" he chided. "How many times have I told you to keep the play inside the boundary? We're not the only ones who use this oval."

"We're sorry, coach. We didn't see him," sniggered one of the boys.

The coach squatted down to check Lucas's injuries. His shirt had been torn, and he was bleeding in several places. "Are you okay, son?" he asked. "You think you can stand?" He took hold of Lucas' elbow to help him to his feet, before turning back to the team "You boys go and hit the showers. We'll talk about this later."

"Hey man, sorry about the accident," Adam winked, picking up the ball. "We'll try and be more careful in the future."

Lucas pulled his arm from the coach's grasp and staggered to his feet under his own power. He would have liked nothing better right at this moment than to rip Jenkins apart, limb by limb, but he knew he couldn't. For Blair's sake and his own, he knew he had to back down. Any misdemeanour would certainly see him taken away from Jim, and he was just getting settled and finally feeling like he just might belong.

"Son, you need to see the nurse," the coach instructed as Lucas began to limp away from the scene.

Lucas just waved his hand in the air, not bothering to turn around. "I'm fine," he muttered.

The boys jostled each other on the way to the locker room. "Boy, did you see the look on his face?"

"Yeah, I thought for a minute he was gonna explode."

"Tell ya what, Adam. I hope he never corners you alone, cause I reckon you'd be rat shit, man," one of the boy's piped up, slapping Jenkins hard on the shoulder.

A flash of worry crossed Jenkins face. "Hey, is Mandy still working in the administration office during lunch break?"

"Yeah, she's still on her 'community help' kick," a team mate by the name of Chris Niles answered. "I gotta tell you, though, it's wearing pretty thin. I ain't had a decent lunchtime blow-job in ages."

Adam ignored the comment and the round of laughter that ensued. His mind was elsewhere. "Come on, guys. I got a plan."

Jim wandered into the break room, not really concentrating on anything around him. He'd been working on the Donaldson embezzlement case all morning, and was in desperate need of a cup of coffee. Pouring the freshly-made brew into his favourite cup, he suddenly sensed that he was not alone. "Jesus Christ," he hissed, as the large cat jumped up onto the chair next to him. The coffee he was holding spilled over the rim and splashed onto his hand, burning his skin. "Way to go, cat. You just took twenty years off my life." He glared down at the large cat. "Shouldn't you be off harassing Naomi?" A random thought hit him out of the blue and Jim dropped his cup. "Oh my god, Blair!" Making a mad dash toward the door, he was stopped short before he could make it out into the hall. The cat tripped him up and jumped onto his chest, placing its paw over his heart. It gave a low purr and nudged his chin, before disappearing completely.

A sense of calm descended over the sentinel and a natural instinct told him that his guide was fine -- that his little boy was in no danger.

"You alright down there, Jim?" H asked, casually stepping over Ellison. "I know this is the break room, babe, but I don't think this is what they had in mind when they put the sign on the door."

"Yeah, yeah," Jim grumbled, getting to his feet and brushing himself down. "Why the hell were you here?" he muttered.

"I'm just getting a cup of coffee," Henri retaliated.

"Not you," Ellison said, snatching his cup back. "And how many times do I have to tell you to keep your mitts off my cup?"

Forgetting about his coffee, Ellison left the break room, still trying in vane to figure out what the appearance of the animal spirit meant. "Mumbo jumbo rubbish," he finally conceded. "Why can't things just go back to how they were!"

Blair and Lucas were both home from school and Jim still hadn't worked out why the cat had paid him a visit today. He studied his son, who didn't seem any worse for wear, but as he gave Lucas the once over, he noticed the boy give a slight wince as he cleared the dinner plates from the table. Concentrating hard, he was now certain he even faintly smelled the coppery odour of blood emanating from the kid. "Alright, what's up?" he asked.

"Nothing's up," Lucas replied, stacking the dishes in the sink.

"So, you're just walking like you're a hundred years old because...?"

"I had a fall in training this afternoon. No big deal."

"When I smell blood, it's a big deal, Lucas."

"Jim, I'm fine, honest."

"March," Jim said, rounding Lucas up and pushing him toward the living room.

"Did you get something broken?" Blair asked, following along.

"No, Sport, I haven't broken anything. Like I'm trying to tell your dad, I'm fine."

"Lift up your shirt," Jim ordered.

Lucas was about to protest, but the dogged expression on Jim's face made him reconsider. "All right, all right," he muttered. He wasn't in the mood for an argument with Jim tonight. He never won them anyway.

"Wow, that must have stung." Jim carefully probed the gravel rash that covered most of Lucas's side and disappeared beneath his jeans. "By the looks of things, you've still got half the road embedded in your skin. How did you say this happened again?"

Lucas let his shirt drop down. "Just a little football game that strayed off the field."

Jim gave the boy a sceptical glance. "Why don't you go and soak in the tub for a while? It will make it easier for me to clean the dirt out."

He patted Lucas on the shoulder. "Yell when you're done."

As Jim watched Lucas slowly climb the stairs, he was once again knocked off balance by the large cat. He heard Blair giggle, and turned around to find the wolf pup licking his son's hand. "Why are you two here?" he muttered again. This time the penny dropped all the way to the bottom "Hey, Lucas," he called out after the teenager. "If you were having any problems, or anybody was hassling you, you'd tell me, right?"

Lucas stopped at the top of the stairs, careful to mask his expression. "Jim, I'm not being hassled and even if I was, I am more than capable of handling the problem myself."

"I know, I know. But just remember, you don't have to handle things by yourself any longer."

"I better go run that bath," Lucas mumbled, his emotions rising to the surface. It had been a long time since he'd had someone care about him. It was a nice feeling and one he was sure he could get used to.

"Ellison," Jim barked into the receiver. The Donaldson case was still providing him with a challenge and so was the phone, which hadn't stopped ringing all morning.

"Detective Jim Ellison?" inquired the voice on the other end.

"Yeah, that's me. How can I help?"

"There's been an incident at school this afternoon involving Lucas Wilder. According to my records, you are the young man's guardian?"

"What's wrong?" Jim asked anxiously "Is he alright?"

"There has been an altercation involving Lucas and several other boys. I am in the process of contacting the parents of all those involved and I would appreciate it if you could come down to the school as soon as possible."

Jim didn't hesitate in grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. "I'm on my way," he said.

Ellison hot footed it quickly down the hall toward the principal's office. By the shouting that was coming from behind the door, he gathered that the other parents had already arrived. He walked into the outer office and immediately located Lucas. The teenager was sitting along the wall in the far corner, alone, while five other boys were situated on the opposite side of the office. By the looks of the bloodstained shirts on a couple of the boys, he would have sworn that he had just walked into the emergency room of Cascade General on a Saturday night. Dismissing the other kids momentarily, he moved forward to check on Lucas.

Lucas's eyes were downcast, refusing contact, so Ellison knelt down in front of the teenager and took hold of his chin. He lifted Lucas' head and inspected the damage. The kid had a nasty cut over one eye that would definitely need stitches. His knuckles were also grazed and bleeding, and by the way he was guarding his ribs, Jim suspected that, at the very least, they were bruised. "You okay?" he asked.

Lucas looked at him briefly, before once again turning his attention to the floor. "I guess I've blown it, huh?"

"We'll talk about that when we get home. You wanna fill me in on what happened first?"

"What happened," shouted one of the fathers, who had turned on Jim the moment he'd stormed out from the principal's office, "is that your son beat the crap out of ours. My son has a broken nose; Doug's son very likely has a broken wrist; and the worst part is none of them will be fit enough to play in the final game on Saturday. You know our chances of winning the championship now... zip. Absolutely, fucking zip!"

Ellison stood protectively in front of Lucas. "Sir, if you would just calm down for a minute, maybe we can get to the bottom of this."

"Don't you tell me to calm down," the irate father spat savagely. "I'm calling the cops, that's what I'm gonna do! I know people and I'll have that little prick of yours in a cell by nightfall."

"Sir," Jim endeavoured to calm the man with all the patience he could muster, "For your information, I am the police, and until I get all the facts, nobody will be going anywhere." He dismissed the ranting father and turned his questioning toward the principal. "Can you shed any light on what happened here?"

The tension lines that creased Principal Dowdy's face made him look far older than his actual age. "From the information I've been able to extract so far," he began, "A few of the boys managed to get their hands on Lucas' personal records."

"And how, exactly, did they manage that?" Jim asked, struggling to remain professional.

"One of the boy's girlfriend has been helping out in the office during her lunch break and she gave them a copy of his file."

Jim turned immediately toward the boys. He zoned in on Adam Jenkins, whose body language made him suspect that the kid was the ringleader. "Would you care to tell me what you were planning to do with this information?" he questioned.

Adam just pressed the towel closer to his nose, hoping that it would provide some protection from the detective.

"Anybody!" Jim barked, making them all jump.

"Um... um, we were just going to stir him up at bit. We didn't mean anything by it," one of the boys finally answered.

"Go on," Jim said, crossing his arms and levelling his glare.

Christopher Niles, worried about what his parents would say when they finally arrived, came forth with the information. "We all kinda ganged up on him in the locker room."

"Shut up," Adam hissed.

"Not another word," Jim warned. "Continue," he ordered.

"We locked the door and forced him into the showers. We weren't gonna do nothing, just have some harmless fun. Anyway, Adam started calling Wilder a 'rent boy' and offered him twenty bucks to suck him off. Adam dropped his pants and pulled out his... um, you know," the kid stuttered. "It was all just a big joke. Just a laugh. Anyway, all of a sudden Wilder just exploded. He swung at Adam and hit him right in the nose. I swear I heard it break. The rest of us didn't know what to do. We thought he was gonna kill Adam, so we started hitting him to make him stop, but he just kept on going. It was like he went psycho. He even broke Nathan's wrist!" Chris exclaimed. "Anyway, the coach must have heard the commotion, 'cause the next thing I know, he'd broken down the door and was pulling Wilder off of us."

Jim looked in utter disbelief at the boys. The five of them were in no way delicate little creatures. They were all heavy-set boys, and with their combined weight and strength, they should have pulverized Lucas.

Tony Jenkins stepped forward to confront his son and Jim could have sworn he saw a puff of smoke billow out from the man's ears. "Are you trying to tell me that between five of you, you still couldn't manage to bring him down?" he spat. He waved them all away angrily. "I'm disgusted with the lot of you," he said before venting his entire anger and disdain on his own son. "I never thought a son of mine would be such a weak ass pussy."

Jim turned away from the scene. He could have easily torn Tony Jenkins a new one, but it would have been to no avail. Leopards didn't change their spots and neither did overbearing, violent fathers. Giving his full attention back to L