"You did good, Chuckie baby," purred Andrea, grinning at the man seated in the back of Trevor's car. "Those cops will be crawling around that house in Peller's Gap for a good long time before they figure this one out."

Trevor, driving carefully in the rainy weather, saw the cabin before them and his smile disappeared. "Uh, I wouldn't be popping that champagne cork so soon, hon."

"Why...?" Andrea trailed off when she saw the truck she recognized as belonging to Jim and the shot up Volvo she knew belonged to Blair. "Oh, crap..." she whispered. Then, before Trevor had pulled their car to a complete stop, Andrea flung open the door and leaped out.

"Andrea!" Trevor shouted after her.

Andrea ignored him and ran into the cabin, mindless of the fact that Jim or Blair might be waiting for her. Trevor and Chuck followed right behind her. She ran into the room where they had kept Jenna.

"She's gone!" she cried.

"What?" Trevor said incredulously.

Chuck quickly checked out the rest of the cabin. "Edward's gone too."

Trevor muttered a curse under his breath, pulled out his gun and checked the clip. "This is great, Andrea, just great!"

"Shut up, Trevor and help me figure out what to do." She began swiftly pacing the cabin. "Their cars are here, so they didn't drive away unless... fuck!"

"What?" Chuck ventured, not at all happy at the sudden turn of events.

"They wouldn't need their cars if they drove off in police cars."

"Andrea, calm the hell down," Trevor warned. "There's no other tire marks in the driveway, I would have noticed them. They have to be somewhere in the woods. All we need to do is look for footprints in the mud and follow them."

"Why wouldn't they take the truck and drive away?" Chuck asked.

"Blair probably got here first, sprung the kid and took off. Then the cop showed up and followed them. We can take them," he insisted, brandishing his gun. "Let's just go get them."

"Where's Edward?"

"I have no idea. If he ran into the cop, he's dead meat, though."

"Fuck," Chuck replied eloquently.

"I don't see why we have to go traipsing through the woods," Andrea whined, eager to turn the conversation away from their contemplation of Edward's fate. "Why don't we get back in the car and just drive down the road. They would probably head back towards town, anyway, and the road is the quickest way there."

"Fine, let's just go already," Trevor insisted. "The longer we wait here, the better chance they have of getting the kid out of these woods and ruining everything. We can still get her back and collect our money. We'll all laugh about this when we're in Mexico."

Chuck checked the ammunition in his own weapon and they headed back outside. Trevor paused to feel the hood of Jim's truck.

"It's still warm. They can't be too far ahead of us. If we get to the fork in the road, we'll get out and start searching back through the woods. We'll get them, you'll see," he added for the still glowering Andrea.

"I distinctly remember telling you three fucking times to stop and fill the goddamned tank," Andrea shouted at the two men who were fiddling unsuccessfully under the hood of the car.

"The wires are just wet. It'll start. Just shut your mouth and get out of my face, Andrea," Trevor replied.

"Umm, the wires look fine Trev. Andrea's right. We're out of gas, buddy," Chuck said quietly.

In reply, Trevor violently slammed the hood down and smashed his fist onto the wet metal, denting it.

"What do you want to do now, Miss Know-It-All?"

"We split up and search the woods, just like we would have done if we made it to the fork. We haven't seen any signs of them yet, so they're probably in front of us. Chuck, you head back to the cabin. Fix the flat on my car and find us." She glanced up at the darkening sky. "We're not crawling with cops, so they haven't contacted anyone. I'll bet my share of the money that they'll hole up in a cabin with the brat for the night. We just need to find out which one they're in and pay them a little visit."

It was the angry muttering that clued Jim in to the fact that he was not alone in this stretch of woods. Just about anyone, Sentinel or not, could have heard the man crashing through the trees, cursing loudly as he stomped out his obvious frustration.

"Fucking Andrea, fucking Trevor, and god-damned fucking Edward! Stupid asses, all of them. How the fuck am I supposed to get the frigging car and find them somewhere in the fucking forest. Good going, Andrea, I'll just tool around until your little sports number runs out of gas, too. Fucking candy-ass car, fucking whore bitch. Right, like they're going to even look for the kid. They're probably screwing each others' brains out under a fucking tree right now, rain be damned. Fucking rain!"

Jim almost hated to ruin the man's angry ruminations, as they had provided him with a better understanding of what he was up against. Andrea had one man with her -- Trevor -- and they were not aware yet of Edward's situation. Jim was pretty sure that was the man who lay cuffed back near Andrea's cabin. Once he took care of this clown, he only had two people to deal with, and if this poor soul was right, they would likely give him the night to find his partner and Jenna. And he would find them. The darkness was no more a hindrance to him than the rain that continued to pour down. Buoyed by the thought that this would soon be over, he stepped into the man's path, holding his shield for the man to see, and training his gun on the man's chest.

"Freeze, Cascade P.D. Put your hands where I can see them, now!" Jim quickly tucked his shield back into his pocket as he watched the man's face change. His angry expression transformed from one of shock to reckless determination. He swung his arm around and pointed his gun, already in his hand, toward the detective.

Jim did not hesitate, and Chuck never got a chance to pull the trigger before Jim's bullet found its target.

Stooping to check for a pulse he knew he would not find, Jim took Chuck's gun and added its clip to that belonging to Edward. He left the body where it lay. Forensics would take care of everything once he found Blair and Jenna and got them to a place where his damned cell phone would work. Besides, if Andrea and Trevor were anywhere nearby, they would surely have heard the gunshot. If they weren't aware of his presence in the woods before this, they would be now -- as soon as they found this man's corpse. He briefly considered hiding the body, but instead chose to try and find Blair and Jenna first, and worry about Andrea and Trevor later.

Rising to his feet, he moved back to where he had last seen evidence of his partner's escape through the trees. Concentrating on the tiny drops of blood interspersed through the fading footprints and wet leaves, he continued south. He had been travelling slowly for nearly twenty minutes when he stumbled on a slippery patch of leaves and landed hard on his hands and knees. He looked at the cuts on his palms, and wondered fleetingly why they didn't hurt at all. He brushed the blood and dirt onto his pants legs and kept walking, his eyes and nose telling him -- to the exclusion of all else -- that he was on the right trail.

One minute, he was focusing closely on another tiny drop of his Guide's precious blood, the next a blinding pain shot through the back of his skull. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Fucking cop," Trevor spat out, tossing aside the branch he had used to strike the detective and pulled out his gun, aiming at the Sentinel's head.

"No way Trevor," Andrea said quickly, pushing the gun up and away from the prone man. "We don't kill anyone, especially not a police officer. That's what we agreed when we started this."

Trevor met her gaze and held it, his eyes telling her what he thought of her rules. With a final glare, he stuffed his gun into his waistband and crouched down beside Jim. He picked up the service revolver which lay beside the unconscious man's hand, tucked that next to his own and stood.

"I told you I heard a gun shot, Andrea."

"No you didn't, Trevor, that was thunder. You and Chuck are such fucking sissies. He probably wet his pants on the way back to get the car." Andrea looked up at the sky and then back down to the unconscious detective lying in the leaves, ignoring the glare that Trevor was sending her way.

"Let's get out of this fucking rain."

Blair wiped his sodden hair back from his eyes to better appraise the cabin in front of them and gave Jenna's hand a squeeze.

"I bet we'll get into this one," he said lightly, hoping his words were true. He was beginning to find the thought of simply collapsing under a tree appealing. The three cabins they had already passed had all been soundly locked and shuttered. He would have broken a window pane in a heartbeat had one been exposed, and his attempts to pick the locks had proved futile. Meanwhile, the rain had grown steadily harder as daylight waned.

Jenna was just as wet as he was, but had maintained her steady pace throughout their cold and increasingly dark hike. She nodded at his words and smiled up at him.

"I sure hope so. I'm getting cold."

On their trek through the woods, Blair had carefully explained to Jenna that Andrea and her friends would probably be very angry at them for leaving the cabin, and that if they appeared, she was to stay behind Blair and let him talk to them. He didn't want her afraid, just cautious. Thankfully, they had seen no sign of any pursuit.

Breaking into the cabin was easier than he thought it would be. Easy as pie in fact, since the back door was unlocked. He discovered the reason for that almost immediately. A large portion of the roof over the bedroom had collapsed, and it appeared that this rainfall wasn't the first the king-sized bed had seen this season, judging from the smell of mildew. Why lock an unusable cabin?

The living area was a little better. An old couch dominated the small room. It sagged badly on one side, but was dry and smelled much better than the bed. A small table with two old wooden chairs was pushed to one side of the room. A season's worth of wood had been stacked against the far wall, along with a few months of old newspapers. Blair ignored the fiery pain in his back as he knelt shakily to start a fire. Jenna watched him from the place she had taken on the sagging side of the couch. He might have laughed to see her, muddied sneakers sticking up almost higher than her face, except that her face was filled with fear.

Once the flames had taken hold of the seasoned wood, he pulled Jenna closer to the fire's warmth and moved to the bathroom. He turned the tap and let the water run until the brownish traces were gone. After plugging the drain, he let the tub fill with hot water.

Rifling around in the dry portions of the bedroom produced two sets of clothes that, while not perfect fits, would be far better than the mud-encrusted, water-logged clothes they currently wore. He found clean towels, as well as an armload of blankets in a closet, and brought them out to the living area, where Jenna remained huddled by the fire.

"Jen, we need to get you warmed up. I know you're practically grown up, but I think a bath would be a good idea right now. Okay?"

"My mom still gives me baths," she whispered.

"Good. Why don't you hop in there, and I'll leave you to it. I found you some clothes to wear while we wait for yours to dry. They'll probably be a little big, but they're warm." He led her into the bathroom, pausing long enough to see her begin to untie her sneakers before closing the door. A few minutes later, he heard gentle splashes.

Moving to the kitchen, he repeated the routine with the water from the sink to clear the brown residue and filled the basin with scalding water. After gingerly removing his coat and flannel shirt, he tugged at the back of his t-shirt to pry the cloth away from the drying blood covering the wound in his back. Despite his tightly clenched teeth and deep breaths, a strangled moan escaped him as he tried to pull the garment off. Lowering his head to the edge of the sink, he waited for the sudden dizziness and nausea to pass. After several minutes, he tried again, this time succeeding in removing his shirt before again leaning over and pressing his face into a towel to keep from crying out in pain.

Breathe, Sandburg, breathe.

The surge of adrenaline that had seen him through his and Jenna's ordeal in the woods and into the cabin was long gone. With this realization came the certainty that unless he contacted Jim or Simon -- hell, anyone -- soon, not only was Jenna in danger of being recaptured by Andrea and her flunkies, he was a dead man.

Breathe, dammit. Calm yourself down and breathe!

The cabin didn't have a phone. His cell phone was in his backpack, which was still on the passenger seat of his Volvo.

The Volvo which that goon shot to hell before pumping a bullet into me, a bullet probably meant for Jenna, which might have missed her then, but which won't miss from point-blank range when they come crashing into this cabin once they find it, and of course they're gonna find it, I mean, I found it and I have a fucking bullet in my back and a scared little girl depending on me and no phone and no gun and no Blessed Protector and dammit, Jim, you can show up any time now, before those guys show up and shoot me and shoot Jenna and we both die and...

BREATHE!

Too late, Blair realized that he was breathing. Only way too fast. Shit. Panic attack. Big time panic attack!

He sank to his knees on the floor of the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his bare torso and lowering his head to his chest. His frenzied breathing continued. Rocking back and forth, he willed himself to relax.

"I can't see a thing in this rain, Andrea. Why don't we stop for the night?" They were standing a few yards away from a well-secured cabin. There were no signs of anyone having been nearby, but the heavy rain would have washed any footprints away within minutes.

Andrea ran her hands through her wet hair and sighed loudly.

"They probably stopped somewhere, huh?"

"Yeah, of course they did. We'll have plenty of time to track them down in the morning, now that cop's out of the way. Look, we're cold and wet, and I have a sure fire way of getting us warmed up nice and quick, if you know what I mean." He winked at her and ran his hands possessively over her body.

"Think you can get us into a cabin?" she asked, pulling his hips to meet hers.

"Watch me baby," he replied and kissed her, hard.

He pulled her hand into his and led her to the front door of the cabin. Within minutes, he had shot through the lock and pulled his lusty partner through the door, closing the door behind them with a kick.

Blair felt small, cool hands making soothing circles on his shoulders and a voice murmuring soft words when he had calmed down. It was Jenna, fresh from her bath. He kept his eyes shut and allowed the comfort to continue for a few minutes, needing the compassion Jenna was showing him to banish his earlier panic. After a final deep breath, he raised himself up from his crouched position and turned to face her.

What would have been skin-tight stretchy pants and a cut-off sweatshirt on an adult woman were oversized on the six year old. Jenna had stuffed the too-long pants into too-big socks so they formed a bulge around her ankles. The sweatshirt didn't seem to be that bad of a fit, though, and only needed a little cuffing around her wrists. Her long hair was damp, but she had combed it back away from her face. It would dry quickly by the fire. Her face was still flushed from her bath, and held a look of concern.

"Are you okay now, Blair?" she asked gravely.

Blair felt another rush of emotions. He marveled at how bravely this little girl had acted under such adverse conditions, and silently thanked her parents for raising such a great kid. Not for the first time that night, he took strength from his little companion. I WILL keep you safe, Jenna, I swear it, he vowed.

"I'll be fine, sweetie, thanks."

"Your back's all bloody."

Damn. I didn't want her to see that. "Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up in no time. Why don't you go sit by the fire and let your hair dry?"

"Do you need some help?"

Blair hesitated for a split second, all the time it took him to remind himself that she was only six years old, and had been through enough without having to help treat a gunshot wound on top of it all.

"No, I can handle it. You go sit by the fire and I'll be out there soon."

"Okay." He watched her walk to the couch and resume her place on the deeply sagging cushion before turning his attention back to his own care. Bolstered by the desire to remain calm in front of Jenna, he clenched his jaw and made himself breathe as evenly as possible as he swiped the clean cloth across his bloodied lower back. He was encouraged by the fact that he was still functioning, and that he could manage the pain -- hopefully this meant his wound was not too serious. After tearing up a flat sheet for bandages, he called Jenna in to help him wrap the cloth tightly around his torso.

He then spent several painful minutes in the bathroom trying to change into the clean clothes he had found for himself. He discovered that attempting to pull off his jeans without re-opening the wound was next to impossible, so he simply pulled on the clean shirt. His jeans were nearly dry now, anyway.

As he buttoned the oversized oxford, he let his mind wander over the likely scenarios for how this dilemma would work itself out. He trusted Jim to find him and Jenna, but could Jim get here before Andrea and the other two men did? Unlikely. The distance from downtown Cascade played against them. Not to mention the fact that Jim had no idea where 'here' was.

There was no way he and Jenna could go any farther in the woods tonight. They were both exhausted and unless his body learned to spontaneously heal itself overnight, he was pretty much out of commission as far as feats of strength and endurance were concerned -- so much for finding another cabin with a phone in it. They simply had to stay put in this cabin and hold on as long as they could. Food was a problem, but there was plenty of water and firewood. The heavy rain and darkness would probably keep their pursuers away until morning, but it was anything goes after that.

Sighing deeply, Blair exited the bathroom and walked into the living room... the empty living room. Frowning, he moved into the kitchen, and found it was empty, too. Pushing down his panic, he strode to the bedroom, only to find it, too, was vacant. All the windows in the bedroom were closed, locked and unbroken. The door was shut and the heavy, rusted lock was in place. There was no way Jenna could have opened the door herself, unless...

Feeling his stomach drop to his toes, Blair walked back into the living room with his hands held in front of him. Better safe than sorry, he figured. He made it to the center of the room without hearing a thing. No guns cocking, no demands shouted, no maniacal laughter. Nothing.

He lowered his hands, now feeling intensely paranoid. He checked the front door and found that it, too, was locked securely. None of the windows had been breached, either. It was possible that someone had managed to climb in through the damaged roof, but surely he would have heard something. For one hysterical second, Blair contemplated looking up the chimney to see if Jenna had flown away like a bird. He shook his head firmly and turned back to the room.

"Jen?" he called quietly. There was no answer. His fear was being replaced by outright terror when he noticed that the previously sagging end of the old couch was decidedly more firm than when he had entered the bathroom. Squinting, he walked over to the couch and pressed down on the cushion with his hands. Relief flooded through him as the couch emitted a delighted squeal and began shifting.

From underneath the couch, Jenna emerged, a brilliant smile on her face. "Oh, Blair, I found the best hiding place!"

"Jenna, you scared the hell out of me!" Blair cried before he could stop himself. He watched the smile fade from Jenna's face, and big tears form in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just wanted to see if I could fool you. I didn't mean to scare you, please don't be mad at me."

Blair crouched down to her level and pulled her into a fierce hug, ignoring the flaring pain in his back. "Oh, sweetie, I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry, Jen. But you really did scare me. I thought Andrea found us, and I didn't know what I was going to do."

"That's why I wanted to find a good place to hide. Now all we have to do is find a place for you and we can wait until my Dad finds us." Her face, shining with tears, was hopeful. Blair grinned at her and tousled her hair.

"Did I ever tell you that you're the smartest little girl I know?" Jenna sniffled and hugged Blair gently, keeping her arms around his shoulders. Blair pulled away from her and stood up, gasping with the effort. He stumbled over to the edge of the couch and sat on the arm.

"So, how do we make sure nobody sits on you and wrecks this hiding place?"

"I didn't think of that, yet," she answered with a frown. "But I can squeeze in between the wooden slats on the bottom of the couch, so even if someone lifts it up, they won't see me."

"That's great, Jen. What do you say we put my wet shirt and towel on the cushion? It'll make it too damp to sit on, but they aren't wet enough to soak down and get you wet."

Jenna grinned up at Blair, her dimples showing clearly. "Did I ever tell you that you're the smartest grown-up I know?"

At Blair's incredulous look, she quickly amended, "except for my Mom and Dad, of course." They both grinned widely at each other.

"Of course. And thanks for the vote of confidence. Now, I think it's time for us to get some rest."

"But we need to find a hiding place for you, Blair."

"I'll think about it when we're resting," he told her. He was desperate to lie down. He was starting to feel light-headed and nauseous again.

Jenna laid out the blankets in front of the hearth and salvaged one not-too-mildewy pillow from the bedroom while Blair built up the fire. Sweating from the exertion and from fighting against the growing pain in his back, Blair eased himself down onto the hard floor and did his best to get comfortable on his side. Jenna slid under the blankets in front of him and moved back until she was nestled against his chest, her head under his chin. He tucked his arm over her small body and did his best not to groan in pain at the loss of support to his injury.

"Is your back really sore?" Jenna asked him after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah," he answered. Please, Jim. Please hurry up and find us.

"Once, when I was playing in the park with my Mom and Dad, I cut my foot on some glass. While my Dad went to get the car, my Mom stroked my hand to keep my mind off how much it hurt." As she spoke, Jenna's small hand began a soft caress on his forearm. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on the soothing movements. He breathed in and out, emptying his mind of everything except the small strokes.

When he opened his eyes again, the morning sun was streaming into his eyes.

Closer to Andrea's cabin, the morning sun nearly blinded Jim Ellison as he opened his eyes.

His head was pounding a merciless beat as he rolled over and tried to recall how he had ended up lying on the ground in the middle of the woods. He tested his senses one at a time, saving his vision for last -- none of them seemed to be working very well. When the pale dawn light failed to cause blinding agony as it had when he first woke, he raised himself up to a seated position and took stock of his physical condition.

A huge lump, sticky with blood, stood out from the back of his head, attesting to the fact that he had fallen, or been struck. His muscles were stiff from lying on the damp ground in an awkward position all night. His gun was missing from his shoulder holster, but a quick check at his ankle revealed his backup revolver, still in place. Still confused, he looked around him for his partner. He rarely spent time away from Blair these days, so assumed that he would be nearby.

The memories of the past seventy-two hours came crashing on him at once. The unconscious man, the dead man he had left in the woods and Blair's decimated car were foremost in his mind. Those, and the fact that he still had two perps running around in the forest somewhere -- one of whom had nearly ventilated his skull -- drove him to his feet, cursing.

He managed two steps before he crashed back down, face-first, to the forest floor.

Resting his aching head on his forearms, he scanned around him with his hearing for any signs that he wasn't alone. Aside from animals and birds, he heard nothing. He was aware that his efforts resulted in only slightly better than normal hearing, and he once again concentrated on controlling the throbbing in his head.

The chill of the damp leaves was seeping into his wet clothes as he lay, desperately battling for control of his body so he could continue his search for Blair and Jenna. Calling on the discipline drilled into him by the Army, he rose to his feet and started walking. His pace was not swift, but it moved him where he needed to be. Towards his partner.

After a short distance, he found himself leaning against a tree, sliding to sit in the dirt before he could stop himself. Another string of curses crossed his lips, weaker now, and before he could tell his traitorous body to stop, darkness took him again.

"Jenna, wake up, honey." Blair shook the little girl gently, pleased when she stirred immediately.

"It's morning, Jen, time to wake up." The little girl sighed and rolled over to look up at him with sleepy eyes. A huge yawn split her face as she nodded. Pulling away from him, she stretched her arms above her head, giggling when she noticed the sweatshirt had lost its cuffs in the night and her hands were hidden, despite the stretch. Blair returned her grin for a moment before the gravity of their situation hit him full force.

Taking a deep breath, he rolled onto his stomach and painfully raised himself up onto his hands and knees. He crept to the couch and used the sturdy arm to lever his aching body up off the floor. By now, Jenna had finished cuffing her sleeves, and followed him as he shuffled into the kitchen. Dizzy from those small efforts, he leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to manage the pain in his back.

Without a word, Jenna walked to the sink and turned on the tap. After the water had run for a minute, she filled two glasses and held one out to Blair, who smiled his thanks. He sipped gratefully at the cold liquid, watching as Jenna did the same. Once finished, he placed the glass in the sink and moved to the living room windows.

His watch had stopped sometime last night, but judging by the light, it was a few hours past dawn -- much later than he had intended to sleep -- and the rain had stopped. He hoped their trail had been washed away in the storm from the night before, but even without obvious clues, it would not be long before the cabin was found. The room was cold, but the smoke from a fire would quickly give away their location.

They had nothing to do but wait.

Jenna crept up beside him, and he put his arm over her shoulder, squeezing it.

"I wish we had some breakfast, Blair."

"Me too, sweetie, me too." They stood together, silently watching the woods for movement. Blair knew he should broach the subject of what might happen if... no, when Andrea and her friends found the cabin, but he didn't want to scare Jenna any more than he had to. Almost as if she read his thoughts, she brought up the subject herself.

"We didn't find a hiding place for you yet, Blair. Do you want to look for one now?" Her trusting face was raised to his.

"Umm, Jen, I don't think there's anyplace for me to hide here. I was thinking of trying to talk to them when they got here."

"Then why did we run away from Edward?"

"Edward was too angry to talk to yesterday, so I had to hit him with that rock before he could hurt you."

"He hurt you, Blair."

"I know," he replied softly. His whole body was reminding him of how badly that bastard had hurt him. He felt the beginnings of a fever coursing through his body, heating his skin. He squeezed the small shoulder again and returned his gaze to the woods. A flash of color and movement caught his eye. For a moment, he imagined it might be Jim, but Jim didn't own a red parka. Andrea did, though, and she wasn't alone. Suppressing a gasp, he steered the girl away from the window and back into the living area.

"Jenna, it's time for you to climb into the couch." Jenna's face reddened and he watched her lower lip begin to tremble. Pulling her into an embrace, he rubbed her back gently as he spoke.

"I want you to stay under there, no matter what happens, okay? There's a chance that Andrea will be just as mad as Edward was. I'm hoping she won't be, but just in case she is, you might hear some pretty rotten things." He tightened his hold.

"But whatever happens, Jenna, stay there. Please, stay there. Don't make a sound, and whatever you do, don't come out. Okay?" He tilted her head up until her eyes met his.

"Okay."

"Thank you, Jen." He gave her shoulder a final squeeze and released her. She moved to the couch and paused before she crawled under, looking back at him uncertainly.

Blair smiled and made a shooing motion with his hands, then watched as she disappeared. A moment later, the sodden clothes on the sagging cushion moved up to become flush with the rest of the couch.

After painfully resuming his position on the blankets on the floor, he watched with slitted eyes as Andrea and a man he didn't know peered into the living room windows. He quickly shut his eyes and concentrated on evening out his breathing, feigning sleep. Fear churned in his gut as he heard them circle around the cabin and shoot the lock off the back door. Well, no use pretending I'm asleep now, he thought as they entered the room.

He rolled slowly onto his back and looked up into the barrel of a gun. Jim's gun. Oh God, no.

"Hello, Blair," Andrea said sweetly, an evil smile on her face.

"I swear I haven't seen her since she left your cabin, man. We got separated in the woods. How many times do I have to tell you?" Blair knew he'd get another hard slap for his surliness, but he was getting really tired of this and really scared that they would proceed to Stage Two of prisoner interrogation, one that surely involved more serious bodily harm. He dully realized that his smart-ass mouth was probably hastening said Stage Two, but was beyond caring.

After hauling him to his feet, Andrea had removed the makeshift bandages from his torso and clicked her tongue at the blood-soaked cloth. It had not taken too much effort on their parts to get him tied to one of the rickety wooden chairs in the center of the room, his energy having long been spent. He wondered why they bothered to tie his hands at all. Didn't they see how weak he was? He wasn't sure he could even stand, let alone overpower them and sprint for help through the trees.

They've been watching too many old movies, he decided with a mental shrug. A real shrug would have been painful. Hell, breathing was painful right now. Maybe he would pass out soon, and they would leave him alone.

Of course, once he was unconscious, Andrea and Trevor would probably search the cabin more thoroughly and find Jenna. She stood a much better chance of remaining a secret if he could keep these two occupied until Jim could find them. If Jim could find them...

Dammit, he had to stop thinking like that! Of course Jim would find them. He wouldn't let a pesky thing like being bludgeoned in the woods and having his gun stolen keep him from rescuing his partner, would he? Andrea had confessed earlier to him that she and Trevor had come upon his partner in the woods and taken him out with a tree branch, so any help Blair expected to get from him would not be coming. She hinted casually that Trevor had a hell of a swing, and hoped that killing a cop wouldn't be added to the long list of his crimes.

He pushed his despair that Jim might be dead as far down as he could and concentrated on the reason for his being here. Shaking his head to clear away the lingering ringing in his ears from Andrea's rough slap, Blair calmly faced her again.

"Look, Blair, I know you're lying. You wouldn't just drop in here for a nap without knowing that the little brat is somewhere safe. So this means you know where she is. So let's try this again. Where is Jenna Rowlings?"

"I told you, Andrea, I don't..."

This time she hit him with her fist. He tasted blood in his mouth, and worked his jaw hesitantly, unsure if she was strong enough to break it.

"This is getting us nowhere, Andrea, why don't you let me try?" The man he now knew as Trevor cracked his knuckles and grinned as he approached Blair.

Shit. Here comes Stage Two.

Pausing to lean against a tree, Jim stopped moving long enough for the forest to stop spinning. He could clearly make out two fresh sets of footprints -- Andrea's and Trevor's -- and cursed again his stupidity for letting them get the drop on him last night. Once the spinning ceased and the nausea had abated, he pushed himself away from the tree and shambled on through the woods.

Thankfully, he had only been unconscious for about an hour, and once he had awakened, he was determined to continue until he found Blair.

His hearing was cutting in and out. He had heard raised voices -- one of which he recognized as Andrea's -- when he had focused a few minutes ago. His vision was more reliable, though, and his destination was clear. A smallish cabin lay only a few hundred yards from where he was. He approached it as stealthily as he could, knowing they probably wouldn't be expecting him, but not willing to endanger Blair and Jenna if they were keeping watch. When he could get a clear view into the windows at the front of the structure, what he saw brought him to a halt.

White hot anger tore through his body, and he let it. The flames of rage met their peak as he watched Andrea step aside and the man approach his bound partner.

Jim Ellison smiled ferally when felt the rage turn, as he knew it would, into ice. His head still throbbed and his senses were less than 100%, but the frozen calm which filled him was what he needed to get him through what needed to be done.

One deep breath later, he was circling to the back of the cabin, sliding the ruined door open and creeping into the bedroom, the hunter stalking his prey.

"Tell me... where the... stupid... girl is... you... God... damned... hippie!" Each word uttered was punctuated by a glancing blow to his midsection. Blair gasped at the searing pain, hard-pressed to do more than moan as his tormentor continued to assault him.

Trevor grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked Blair's face up to meet his eyes. "Are you listening to me, you stupid asshole? Where the fuck is she?" Another backhand. More blood to be spit out. A few precious breaths of air before his hair was pulled again. Harder, this time.

"Look here, pal, Andrea found her sneakers under the sink in the bathroom. We know she was here. Are you gonna tell us where the kid is now, or are you gonna deny you know anything? We'll find her either way -- it's either gonna be really easy on you or really painful. Whaddaya say?"

Blair's eyes, clenched tightly against the agony burning through his body, opened slowly. Gathering as large a breath as he dared, he spit into Trevor's face.

An animalistic howl of rage tore from the taller man, and before Andrea could stop him, he brought his fist up hard into Blair's chin. Blair felt the chair begin to topple, felt himself falling towards the floor, but before the jolt of his body meeting hard wood could register, he was unconscious.

"What the fuck did you do that for, you stupid shit?" Jim recognized Andrea's voice.

"I was trying to scare him into talking. You know, the 'make the pain stop please, I'll tell you anything' kind of scared."

Jim moved closer to the living room door, cursing the dizziness that still assailed him. His head injury was starting to feel worse.

"Well, you scared him right out of conscious thought, Einstein. You were just supposed to slap him around, like I was doing, not bash him in two. He was already hurt, we just had to wait him out."

"Didn't you ever see Rocky II? Mickey yells 'the body, Rock, the body!' That's what hurts the most, Andrea. He would've caved in a few more minutes."

Andrea snorted in disgust and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"You are one pathetic sack of shit, Trevor. I haven't got the slightest clue right now why I thought you'd be of any use whatsoever here. You're a hothead and a fool. And I can't believe you just quoted a fucking Sylvester Stallone movie to me! How the fuck do you propose we get information out of a dead man?"

No, he's not dead. If he was, you would be too right now, you bitch. Jim crept ever closer to the doorway into the living area.

Just give me a few more minutes to get these damned dials working and I'll take them out, partner. Hang in there.

"We don't even need him to find her. She has no shoes on, and she's six. Why we didn't just waste this hippie and go after her in the woods I'll never know."

"There's no way he'd let a six year old shoeless girl go running into the woods, you idiot. He knows where she is, I could see it in his eyes. Before you knocked him out, that is. We'll talk to him again when he wakes up. Right now, you and I are going to sit tight until Chuck gets here with transportation. The lazy shit is probably still sleeping."

Oops, sorry, Andrea, Chuck's sleeping all right, but won't be waking up -- ever. You just sit here and wait, though.

"What are you doing, Andrea?"

"I'm untying him. He's not going anywhere."

"Leave him be. This way, I'll know he's not going anywhere."

"Since when are you in charge, Trevor? This is my game... has been from the start. If you don't like the way I'm doing things, then take a hike. Literally."

"No way, babe. I've invested too much in this to get out now. That little kid can ID me, and so can your boyfriend here. I'm not leaving until this is done."

"Get out, Trevor."

"Sorry, Andrea, you're stuck with me."

"Get your hands off me! Get the fuck away from me!"

They're fighting, good. Jim heard a cracking slap and the sound of a body hitting the floor. He chanced a glance around the doorway to see Trevor standing over Andrea's prone form.

"Now who's in charge? Huh? I'll get to the bottom of this, you'll see." Trevor strode to where Blair was lying amid the ruined chair and untied ropes. He roughly pulled him upright and leaned him against the couch.

"Wake up, hippie." Blair's head lolled forward, and Trevor caught his hair, pulling his head back to face him. "I said wake the fuck up!" Jim heard a slap, then another. He heard Blair's respiration and heart rate increase, and knew he was coming around. He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. The dizziness and nausea were at manageable levels. Time to end this crap.

"Freeze! Cascade PD!" He entered the room with his gun pointed squarely at Trevor's chest. The man released Blair and rose from his crouched position. His hands were at his hips.

"Put your hands over your head. Now!"

Andrea had been right. Trevor was a hothead and a fool. He managed to clasp his hand around the gun in the back of his waistband, pull it free and point it at the detective before Jim's bullet tore through his heart and ended his hot-headed, foolish life. After taking quick stock of Blair's vitals, Jim pulled the dead man into the bedroom and covered him with what he thought was the man's own coat. Dragging the unconscious Andrea into the bedroom as well, he propped her up next to the damp, mildewy bed and cuffed her to it, threading the metal links through the heavy wooden frame. He spent another few seconds securing a gag to Andrea's mouth. If she woke up before help arrived, he didn't want her to disturb Blair or Jenna with her screeching.

Moving back into the living room, Jim knelt beside Blair on the floor. He eased him down to lie on the blankets and ran sensitive hands over him to check his injuries.

"Jim." His name emerged slurred through Blair's bruised jaw and bloodied mouth, but the detective sighed with relief at Blair's recognition.

"You came," the younger man whispered.

"I'm here, partner. I'm here."

Jim ran his fingers across Blair's ribs, detecting small fractures beneath the badly bruised skin and muscle of his left side. He wished for a moment that Trevor was still alive so he could thoroughly beat the crap out of the man before pumping a few dozen bullets into his miserable body. Pushing that thought away, he focused his attention back on his friend's battered frame. His mouth was cut up and still bleeding slightly. Bruises darkened most of the left side of his face, swelling his eye shut. His nose was swollen and bloody, but didn't feel broken.

Blair moaned and arched his back as Jim eased a torn piece of his shirt across the blood streaks on his face.

"Relax, Chief. Be still so I can clean you up a little."

As Jim slid the cloth across Blair's cheekbone, the younger man arched up again, and tried to roll onto his side. Jim froze for a moment, remembering the blood trail he had alternately thanked and cursed as he raced through the woods. Tossing the bloodied rag aside, he gently eased Blair onto his uninjured right side, pulling the ripped shirt away from his back.

"Jesus, Blair. Oh, Christ."

Blair whimpered and tried ineffectually to pull away from the hand that now pressed a second piece of cloth against the much more serious, still bleeding wound.

"Oh, buddy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Hurts..."

"I know, kid, I know. Just relax now, Blair, let me help you." Jim pulled the shirt off his partner's shoulders and tore it up as quickly as he could. Wadding up a portion of it, he used the rest to tie the cloth around Blair's torso, hoping to keep the bleeding to a minimum while he found something to bandage it more thoroughly. Reaching over to the couch, he grabbed one of the pillows and placed it under his partner's head.

He raced through the cabin, finding some sheets, and brought them into the kitchen. He ran the hot water until even his turned-down senses flinched at the heat. Bringing the linens and a pan of water to his friend's side, he knelt and after removing the temporary bandage, began to clean the reddened skin surrounding the bullet wound.

Blair arched his back and flailed violently away from the Sentinel's touch. He cried out incoherently and tried to pull himself across the floor. Jim held him still with his arms and legs until he cleaned away the worst of the blood and grime. Blair still struggled, but his body was too weak to break free from his friend's hold. Jim bandaged the area as best he could and then pushed the bloodied water away. The cuts to his face needed attention too, but Jim was loathe to cause the younger man further pain. He wrapped one of the cleaner blankets around Blair, pulled his partner into his arms and simply held him close, rocking him, murmuring soothing words and rubbing his back, avoiding the bandaged area as he stroked the fevered skin. Blair's gasping cries soon lessened, and his motions slowed.

"It's okay now, Blair, it's okay. I'm all done, buddy. You can rest now."

Jim continued to rock his partner as he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed Simon's number, almost whooping with joy when the call went through. His captain had been frantic with worry. The Peller's Gap lead had been a ruse, and after returning to the station, all Simon's attempts to contact or locate Jim and Blair had been unsuccessful. He had been readying the men and women of Major Crimes for a sweep of the woods at that moment.

After relaying their location and stressing the need for an ambulance, he gave Simon a very brief description of their situation. His captain said he would try to get help there as soon as he could, but given the remoteness of the cabin, his team would probably get there before any other emergency personnel. Jim thanked Simon and ended the call.

Jim thought of building a pallet and dragging Blair closer to the road and the coming ambulance. But he knew that even if he wasn't still dizzy from the blow to his head, rain was still threatening, and Blair wasn't the only person he had to watch over.

Throughout his ministrations, Jim had listened to the heartbeat emanating from beneath the battered sofa. When Blair was crying out in pain, he heard soft answering sobs from Jenna. He thought about coaxing her out of her hiding place, but his hearing told him she was unhurt, only scared, and seeing Blair's condition might just frighten her more. He decided to let her emerge on her own, hopefully when her father arrived with Simon.

"Jenna, it's Jim Ellison, Blair's friend. I met you at the mall when you were camping out with Blair. Remember?" He spoke softly, and heard her heartbeat slow as she registered his words. "I called my boss, who's with your Dad, and they're on their way here. You don't have to come out until your Dad gets here, but I wanted to tell you that everything is going to be okay now." Jim hugged Blair closer to him as he spoke, willing his words to be the truth.

His own head still throbbed. He could feel the uncomfortable residue of dried blood on his scalp, and considered pulling the pan of water over to clean it up. But Blair was still restless, and Jim wanted to hold him and keep him from hurting himself further. Besides, he counted the irritation a small price to pay for having been so foolish as to allow Trevor to sneak up on him.

The realization of how much he needed his partner and Guide was driven home yet again. He had been concentrating far too keenly on tracking the blood drops when the man was able to strike him. Hell, a lightning bolt could have struck not two feet from him and he wouldn't have noticed it -- he was that close to a total zone out when Andrea and Trevor had found him. His senses were more of a liability to him without Blair helping him use them to their fullest and watching his back. If Blair wasn't around to help him, he didn't know what he would do.

Chiding himself for his train of thought, he eased himself over to lean against the edge of the couch, closed his eyes and focussed in on Blair's heartbeat.

"Stay there... don't come out... no..."

Jim woke from his doze as Blair moved restlessly in his arms, speaking slurredly as he writhed.

"Jenna..."

"She's here, Blair. Everything's okay now. Simon is coming and everything is okay." He held his hand on Blair's forehead, guessing his temperature to be well over 100 degrees. Brushing a hand through his partner's hair in a soothing motion, he held on tightly to the anthropologist, hoping to keep him from re-opening the bullet wound in his back.

Blair's ramblings did not lessen, even as Jim sought to calm the younger man. He pushed at the arms which held him and cried out incoherently now. A glance at his watch told the Sentinel that help was still at least an hour away. He had decided to try and get Blair into a cold bath when he noticed movement from under the couch. Jenna.

She sat blinking in the bright morning light for a moment, regarding Jim and surveying the scene in front of her. Jim noted her ill-fitting clothes and disheveled hair, and might have smiled at the sight at any other time. He opened his mouth to offer her words of comfort, but the calm yet determined look on her face stopped anything he might have said.

She crawled over to sit next to Blair, wriggling under Jim's arm as she did so. She curled her legs under her and laid her cheek on Jim's chest. Reaching over Jim's arm which still held his restless friend, she began a slow stroking movement on Blair's forearm while speaking softly to him.

Jim looked on in wonder as the tender ministrations of the child calmed his partner's movements and sighed aloud when Blair slipped into quiet unconsciousness. Jenna quieted her words and clung to the detective now, although her hand still moved along Blair's arm. Jim took up the task of speaking softly to both of them now, letting two steady heartbeats soothe his own frantic heart.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Simon, Senator Rowlings and a host of Major Crimes personnel finally arrived at the cabin.

The waiting room was hot. Simon knew that hospitals were kept warmer than most other buildings, but this was ridiculous. He could feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck and trickling down his shirt as he sat and waited for the doctors to come back with some news on Sandburg's condition. Jim seemed unaffected. Well, unaffected by the heat anyway. His rigid posture and fierce countenance were testament to the fact that he was very upset by the happenings of the past few days, and handling them in trademark Ellison style. The man turned into a virtual stone when his emotions were at their highest, and nobody but Blair ever seemed willing to approach the Sentinel when he presented this face to the world... nobody but Blair. Sighing softly, Simon turned his attention away from his detective and rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tightly bunched muscles there.

Simon removed his glasses, stuffed them into a shirt pocket and lowered his head into his hands. As he felt the tension in his neck ease, he rubbed his fingers over and over his eyes, vainly attempting to banish the lost sleep of the night before.

He had spent most of the night at the decoy stakeout -- a decoy Andrea and Trevor had concocted with the help of their friend Chuck, who had apparently placed the fake call from Peller's Gap. That Trevor and Chuck were now dead and the other two in custody was a little satisfaction in an otherwise unsatisfactory case. That bitch and her flunkies had played the whole team from Major Crime for fools. He didn't care how mentally unbalanced she was, he wanted to see her stand trial and pay for her crimes. If it wasn't for Blair and Jim, this case might have ended tragically. While he and most of his men were busy in the tiny town, Simon's favorite observer/anthropologist had been out acting the hero.

Acting? Hell, he was a hero! Simon thought fiercely as he massaged his temples. Blair had stumbled into a situation for which he had never been trained, but had handled it as well as could be expected. He had gotten Jenna away from her kidnappers, even managing to take one of them out in the process. He had taken care of Jenna, comforting her and keeping her safe, while distracting her abductors and waiting for the cavalry -- namely Jim -- to arrive. That he had distracted them by suffering at their hands did not sit well with the police captain at all.

At times like this, all the dictates about closed societies and official statuses meant absolutely nothing. Blair Sandburg was one of his own, and Simon was going to stay in this waiting room until he knew that the young man was going to be okay, or until it was time to pick up the shattered pieces of Jim Ellison if the news was anything but that.

He wouldn't forget for a very long time the image of Jim Ellison he saw as he entered the cabin. Jim had still been dazed from his encounter with the tree branch, but was protectively cradling his unconscious partner in his arms and murmuring soothing words to him. That Jenna Rowlings was also in his embrace seemed an afterthought. All of the Sentinel's attentions were on Blair, where they remained while the paramedics treated the younger man and until he was lifted into the ambulance. Simon had felt momentary panic when the EMT told Jim there was no room in the ambulance for him, but his detective had simply nodded and then shot Simon a look so desperate, it had the captain digging for his car keys and quickly turning over the crime scene to one of his senior men.

The ride to the hospital was silent. Simon drove as close to the ambulance as he dared, knowing full well the other occupant of the car was focusing every one of his senses on the vehicle in front of them. Simon knew Jim was tempting a zone out by remaining so open to outside stimulus -- he had learned that much from Blair over the years -- but there was nothing that would prevent Jim's actions, so Simon simply kept watch over Jim, usurping Blair's position only until the observer could take back his rightful place.

Upon arrival, they were allowed to wait outside the ER room where Blair was being evaluated, and got a brief glimpse of him when they wheeled his gurney towards the elevators. Blair needed surgery to remove the bullet lodged in his back and repair the damage it had caused.

Although the nurses were sympathetic to Jim and Simon's pleas for information, none of them would know anything concrete until the surgery was over. There was nothing they could do but wait -- and pray.

Jim settled himself in the chair at Blair's bedside, having just convinced Simon to leave him where he was and to stop pestering him to go back to the loft and rest. One of these days, Simon would find out that it was next to impossible for Jim to sleep in the loft when Blair was not there. The Sentinel received enough ribbing from his captain about his unlikely roommate as it was -- if he knew that little tidbit of information, Jim's life would become hell. Policemen were notorious pranksters, and captains the worst of the lot.

After spending time in the recovery room after the successful surgery on his back, Blair had been moved into a private room. Time in ICU had not been necessary, to Jim's relief. He was thankful he didn't have to spend 50 minutes of every hour concentrating through the glass doors to monitor his friend's condition, it would have resulted in a larger headache than the one he already had. The lingering effects of the blow to his head were dissipating, but only because he kept the use of his senses to a minimum.

Stretching his arm out to lay against Blair's, he closed his eyes and dozed while waiting for his friend to wake.

Blair stirred restlessly, troubled by dreams even in his medicated state. Jim tried gently stroking his hair and shoulders, to no avail. The detective had slept for about six hours, and full night now blanketed the city of Cascade. His partner had not awakened yet, and something was troubling him. Blair arms reached out -- away from Jim -- seeking something in his sleep. Something that wasn't there.

An inspiration struck the Sentinel. Jim brushed his hand across his partner's forehead a final time and left the room, heading for the lobby. He completed his transaction as quickly as possible and headed back upstairs within ten minutes. Blair was still murmuring in his sleep, still reaching out. Jim glanced at his impulsive purchase and smiled. The teddy bear -- well dog, actually -- was about two feet high, covered in soft white fur, and the only thing the gift shop had slightly resembling a six year old girl. Jim placed the stuffed animal in Blair's arms, pushing it until it rested softly against his chest and stomach.

Blair stilled his movements and wrapped his arms around the dog, pulling it tighter against his chest. He slowly curved one knee, then the other up until they rested against the furry feet of his charge, his healing body providing a sheltering cave for the little girl whose safety was still in his unconscious thoughts. The dog's soft head fit neatly under his chin, and Jim couldn't hold back his smile as Blair rubbed his cheek against the softness, breathing in deeply as he did so. With an audible sigh, his sleep became more peaceful, his heart rate and respiration lowering as he drifted deeper into healing slumber.

Jim made sure the IV linked to his hand was unhindered by his partner's embrace and settled again into the chair. A few minutes later, a nurse came to check on Blair and smiled as she noticed his bedmate. Jim blushed furiously and tried to think a reasonable explanation for why a grown man was clutching a stuffed dog in his sleep. The nurse took in his agitated face and spoke softly to him.

"If I thought it would help Mr. Sandburg rest, I would crawl into bed with him myself," she said with a grin. She took no notice of the wicked smile on the detective's face as she finished checking his partner's vitals. Blair's night nurse had to be nearly sixty years old. His partner would be pleased to know that his appeal to the opposite sex did not waver -- despite the fact that he was post-op, hooked up to multiple medical devices and wrapped around a stuffed toy like a four year old.

Jim murmured a "thank you" as she left the room, pleased that this kind woman had buoyed his spirits. For the first time since this case began, he felt himself starting to truly relax. A glance at Blair told him that his partner would sleep for some time.

"Good dog," he said softly, reaching over to stroke the animal's soft fur. Resting his hand on Blair's arm, he let himself drift into a half-sleep, staying alert to any changes that might occur in his sleeping Guide, but welcoming the rest he knew his body needed.

"Hey partner, welcome back."

Blair raised his eyes to the man at his bedside. He had been slow to open his eyes, but had been conscious long enough for his memory to provide him with the reason he was in the hospital and to discover that he didn't feel at all bad. Medicated to the gills, perhaps, but in no pain whatsoever. He had a thousand questions for his partner, most revolving around Jenna. Where was she? Was she okay? Did he dream Jim's arrival at the cabin? Were Andrea and the others in custody or still at large? Was anyone else hurt? And why was he hugging a stuffed animal?

When his eyes focused clearly on Jim's face, relief flooded through him. He knew that smile on Jim's face.

It was a very special smile, brought out only on very rare occasions. He had witnessed it each time he awakened during his hospital stays and once when he had surprised Jim with extremely hard to come by Jags playoff tickets for his birthday. The most memorable time that smile had been directed at the anthropologist, though, was when Blair had told Jim he turned down the expedition to Borneo, and formally declared his friendship for the first time. As it had on that day, and the others, Jim's smile warmed his partner to his toes.

Oh, Jim smiled all the time, but there always seemed to be the hint of a smirk on his face when he did. This smile, however, not only lit up his eyes, but his whole body to the point where he practically glowed. And Blair had never been so happy to see that look on his partner's face. It meant that everything was okay. Any questions he had could wait until later. He tried to clasp the hand which held his, but knew he didn't manage much of a squeeze. Jim felt his effort though, and the smile grew impossibly brighter. A dopey half-smile in return to Jim's blinding one was all he could manage before keeping his eyes open proved too much of a burden.

He heard Jim assure him again that all was well, Jenna was safe and Andrea and the others were no longer a threat. Right, Jim, like you'd be grinning like that if there was anything wrong, he thought, too tired to open his eyes again, but not yet asleep. To his surprise, Jim continued to speak to him.

"Ahh, Chief, what am I going to do with you? Huh?" Blair heard Jim settle a bit in the chair and gently unclasp his hand from the anthropologist's. He thought Jim ran his hands over his face -- his sigh sounded slightly muffled. Blair kept still and silent as Jim continued to speak.

"You're the best damn partner a man could ask for, but every time you put yourself in danger because of me, it kills me a little inside. Sometimes I don't know why it is you stay with me but, Jesus, Blair, if you left I don't know what I would do. You're my friend, my Guide, my partner. You trusted me and I let you down. I'm supposed to protect you from danger, and here we are again, with you in the hospital bed and me having to watch you pay for my mistake."

Blair felt Jim's hand clasp his own again, and covered his startlement by lightly moaning and shifting in bed, ostensibly in sleep. The anthropologist figured Jim must not be using any of his senses to monitor him, or he would surely know his partner was awake, and able to hear his bedside confession. Jim was quiet for a few more minutes, then spoke softly.

"I'm proud of you, buddy. You were brave and resourceful out there in those woods. Even hurt, you kept Jenna safe. Simon and all the guys are still talking about how well you did. Jenna is home sleeping in her own bed tonight because of you. I only wish you could be back at the loft with me." Another sigh. If Blair thought he could stay awake long enough to reassure his obviously distressed partner, he might have opened his eyes and tried to do so, but any conversation that important would have to wait until he could do more than yawn in Jim's face.

"You just sleep now, Blair. Sleep and get well. I'll be here when you wake up."

And he was. When Blair awakened the next morning, feeling a little stronger and a lot less bleary, Jim and that radiant smile were waiting for him.

"It's good to see you back, kid. It's high time you woke up and got Jim back in line." Simon Banks had arrived at lunch time, bringing a sandwich and some soup for Jim, and a huge arrangement of fresh flowers for Blair from the members of Major Crimes.

Blair looked closely but saw no sign of derision on the captain's face, just genuine affection with a trace of concern.

Blair wasn't sure when he would stop expecting Simon to yell "joke" after saying something nice to him. He had been on the outside of things, so to speak, for so long that being fully accepted as part of Simon's team still hadn't registered fully in his brain. Blair smiled back at the captain as widely as his damaged mouth would allow.

"Thanks, Simon." Deciding that he would ride the captain's good mood as far as he could, he ventured to tease him a bit. "Good thing I woke up, too. I can see you failed to get Jim out of here for any length of time, judging by the look of him. I thought you had control over your detectives..."

Instead of a glare, a sigh, or even a roll of the eyes, Simon gifted Blair with a booming laugh.

"You have got to be kidding me, Sandburg. That man practically chains himself to your bedside anytime you're admitted, you know that." Simon continued to chuckle, pointedly ignoring Jim's glare in his direction.

The Sentinel knew his countenance wasn't going to silence his captain's laughter anytime soon -- it was hard to look intimidating when you were blushing. Besides, Simon was right. He glanced sheepishly at Blair, only to see a smile filled with pleasure and understanding on his partner's face. He reached out for the younger man's hand and squeezed it, assuring his partner that he knew that if their places were reversed, Blair would have done the same thing. They stayed that way, hands clasped, grinning sappily at each other, until Simon interrupted them.

"Heaven help me, but you two deserve one another." The sigh that Blair had half-expected earlier was brought out in full force now, as well as the patented Simon Banks Eye Roll.

"Do you have any new information to share with us about the case, captain?" Jim asked, and it was Blair's turn to sigh. He had hoped that they would keep the conversation light. He really wasn't in the mood to hear anything about Andrea, Trevor, or even Jenna right then.

"Both Andrea and Edward were denied bail at the arraignment this morning and are being held, pending the trial. The FBI stepped in to take over the prosecution, since it should have been their show all along, being a kidnapping. They aren't too angry with us, given the circumstances, but aside from giving statements and testifying when the trial takes place, we are off the case."

"Are their any holes in the case?" Blair asked anxiously.

"Not a one -- those two are going to jail for a long time. With the evidence we have stacked against them, the trial will practically be a formality. You can expect a visit from the prosecutor some time in the next few days for your statement, Blair. Your testimony will be critical."

Blair nodded gravely at Simon, dreading the thought of reliving his and Jenna's ordeal, but determined to see justice done.

"Andrea Reynolds is undergoing a psychological evaluation at Conover right now," Simon continued.

"She is one cold bitch, but she's not insane, captain" Jim insisted.

"You've got that right, Jim. The lawyers for the prosecution think the defense is grasping at straws." Simon pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Andrea keeps asking to speak with the senator, but he has refused. There's gotta be a story there, but no one knows what it is, since she won't speak to anyone else, and he won't go near her."

"I don't blame him. I'd be happy if I never saw her again," Blair said quietly. Finally catching on to the anthropologist's somber mood, Simon glanced at Jim with eyebrows raised. Jim nodded towards the door.

"Well, it's time for me to get back to work. Blair, you take care of yourself and get better soon. You're already missed in the bullpen." He gripped Blair's shoulder, squeezing lightly as he continued.

"Call me if you need anything. *Especially* if you want me to come in and run Jim out of the hospital." He leaned closer to Blair and stage-whispered, "I know how the man can hover." Blair stifled the laughter that would hurt his injured ribs and nodded vigorously at Simon, his eyes dancing with mirth. Jim just shook his head and snorted.

"Ellison, I won't waste my breath and tell you to go home and rest, but at least have the nurses lend you a razor. You look like hell with all that stubble."

"Will do, captain," Jim replied, stroking his jaw to feel the growth for himself. He turned to see what Blair would add to Simon's teasing, but caught his partner in a deep yawn. Shooing the captain out of the room, Jim helped settle Blair in for a nap.

After eating a surprisingly edible dinner, Blair was pleased to see Jenna Rowlings and her parents enter his room. They had called earlier and asked if he was up for a visit. Although his medication still made him tired, the nap and his first real meal in days had energized him, and he happily agreed. Upon their arrival, Jim blocked the door for a few minutes and laid down some ground rules for the visitors -- no tight hugging, no making him laugh, no giving him any food, no playing with the medical equipment, and some other things that Blair didn't hear. Those had been drowned out by Jenna's laughter as he made outrageous faces at Jim behind his back. He quickly plastered an innocent expression on his face when Jim turned towards him, making the elder Rowlings break into chuckles, as well.

"Jim's way into rules," Blair explained as Jim finally waved them in. The Sentinel opened his mouth to protest, but closed it upon seeing the gleam in his roommate's eyes. He knew that look. He had seen it before each and every argument he had lost with the younger man. He simply shrugged, and sat in the corner to supervise while Jenna chatted happily with Blair.

The little girl was delighted with Blair's stuffed dog. After finding him behind the chair in the corner of the room -- where Jim had hidden him from Simon, saving himself and Blair from vicious teasing -- she happily reunited the dog with Blair, who asked Jenna to help pick a name for him. Magic was brought out of Jenna's backpack to share in the discussion, and after several suggestions were considered and discounted, they named him Lucky.

Jim had the misfortune to comment aloud at the inappropriate choice for the dog's name, as Blair was anything but lucky. Within moments, he found his face full of a ticked off little girl who was doing her damnedest to lecture him into an apology. He looked to Blair to help him, but his partner was giggling at the detective's chagrin at being bullied by a six year old girl. He was made to apologize three times, once each to Blair, Magic and of course to Lucky, before she stopped her tirade and rejoined Blair on the bed.

Exasperated, Jim looked at her parents and saw commiseration in their gazes. Apparently, the Rowlings' experienced this sort of thing often.

Before long, Jenna had the adults fighting back laughter as she spoke seriously to Lucky about the anthropologist's care. Jim didn't know what was more amusing: listening to the six year old; or watching Blair try to keep from laughing and hurting his ribs. Just as he decided to take pity on his partner and call a nurse in to up his pain meds, Senator Rowlings came over and stood before him.

"Can I speak to you in the hallway, detective?" Jim nodded, still smiling at Jenna's antics, and followed Richard into the hallway. They settled into two chairs which allowed them a view into the room. After pausing for a moment, the senator began to talk, keeping his eyes glued to the floor tiles as he spoke.

"I feel I owe you an explanation about why Andrea Reynolds was involved in the kidnapping. I'm afraid you're not going to like what I have to say."

"Go on," Jim replied cautiously, turning his attention away from Blair and towards the man shifting uncomfortably at his side.

"About three years ago, things were strained between Katherine and me. I don't even remember now what caused it all, but life was tough for a while. We eventually worked things out, moved past our issues, but when things were at their lowest, I had a brief affair... with Andrea Reynolds." Jim's gasp of incredulity was met with a quick nod from the senator. A thousand words of accusation and disdain waiting to spring from Jim's mouth were stopped only by his inability to keep any of them civil. He would not have a fight -- verbal or otherwise -- with the senator while the man's family and Blair were watching. Jim clenched his jaw and tried not to think of how good punching this man would feel.

Oblivious to the mental battle taking place beside him, Richard continued.

"Andrea wanted to be what Katherine is to me. Unfortunately, the appeal of being a governor's wife -- this was before I decided to run for the senate -- was stronger than anything she felt for me personally, and I knew that. I broke it off rather quickly. For me it had just been an escape from the problems in my marriage, just sex, but Andrea didn't let it go so easily.

"She harassed me for a few months after that, calling at odd hours, leaving me notes, showing up at my office, things like that. I considered a restraining order, but that would mean I would have to tell someone about the affair. I had successfully kept this from my wife, and wasn't willing to risk our marriage yet."

Coward, Jim thought fiercely.

"After those few months, Andrea dropped out of sight. I thought she had moved on, found somebody new, forgotten about me. I began to relax again, and started to plan my run for the senate.

"I stopped thinking about her at all after I got to D.C. I foolishly thought she was gone for good. It was then that I found out Katherine had hired her as her personal assistant. In the first few weeks, I never had a chance to talk to her without Katherine around. She never hinted that she knew me, never acted in anything but a completely professional manner. But she was just there -- handling things, making Katherine happy, scaring the life out of me every time I saw the two of them talking. When we did get a chance to speak alone, she acted as though she was over the whole affair, as though she hadn't made my life hell after it ended. She said she earnestly wanted to start her life over, and wasn't bothered by the fact that she was working for my wife, so why should I be?"

Jim rolled his eyes, glad the man beside him wasn't looking.

"God help me, but I fell for it. I was foolish to think that it would be that easy. Andrea is an obsessive woman, always has been. I should have known better. I just thought, if I played along, Katherine would never find out and my life might eventually go back to normal.

"You know, there was a time when I first discovered that Katherine had hired her when I thought I could tell my wife about the affair -- that I could end the charade -- but I couldn't do it. I still haven't told her. I was weak when I needed to be strong. I was so very stupid. And now my little girl and your partner are paying for my stupidity..."

The senator bowed his head into his hands and fought to control his emotions. Jim looked on, processing what the man had told him, but not attempting to offer any comfort. All he could think of was that if Richard Rowlings had confessed his affair to the detectives when they had questioned him, maybe his partner wouldn't be lying in the hospital room in front of them now.

Senator Rowlings had committed the biggest sin in Jim 's book. He had hurt Blair. Jim could have forgiven the man his pride and foolishness if his partner hadn't been the one to pay the price. But not so now. He was slightly comforted by the fact that Katherine would hear about her husband's actions when the reports were made public -- if not sooner -- and didn't envy Richard the hell she would make for him. That would certainly be worse than any physical pain Jim could inflict on him. He only hoped that Jenna would be spared the details of her father's behavior. Richard Rowlings would have to live with the fact that his daughter had been traumatized as well. Jim liked Katherine Rowlings a lot, and knew she would take care of her cherished little girl, despite her less than sensible husband.

The senator seemed to have gotten control of his emotions, and they both turned to where the most important people in their respective lives were. Jenna was still perched on the bed next to Blair, chatting away happily. Katherine sat in the chair beside the bed, smiling at her daughter. Jim noted the fatigue in Blair's eyes, and spoke to Richard.

"It's time for Blair to get some sleep," Jim said curtly.

"I think you're right." Before they could move into the room, though, Senator Rowlings caught Jim's arm. He held it for a moment as he took a deep breath. His face held embarrassment as he met Jim's eyes.

"Thank you, detective. For everything. And I'm sorry." After seeing Jim nod, he released the detective's arm, strode into the room and began the difficult process of luring Jenna away from Blair's side.

Jim mulled over what he had learned for a few moments before entering the room. He would have to tell Blair about the senator's revelation, but would wait until the younger man was feeling stronger. The physical and emotional toll of this case was high enough already for his partner, he saw no need to add to it tonight. He almost wished he could make Richard Rowlings face Blair and tell the tale himself. Knowing that Blair would probably downplay the senator's guilt and attempt to reassure the distraught father made up the detective's mind. Let the senator stew over Jim's silence. He deserved it, and Blair deserved to be told by a friend, not a jerk like Rowlings.

Fixing a glare to his face, Jim entered the room. Within minutes, the elder Rowlings' caught the detective's mood and hurried their little girl through her lengthy good-byes to Blair. Before departing, Jenna insisted on Jim crouching down so she could bestow a hug and kiss to him, as well, and it was that sweet gesture that finally cracked his granite expression. He hugged the tiny body back, and assured her that he would make sure Blair got better real soon, and yes, he would make sure Blair visited her soon, and no, he wouldn't let the stuffed dog talk too much and disturb Blair's sleep, and no, he didn't think there would be a problem if she wanted to visit Blair at his house, and of course, he knew how to make a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and no, he didn't know they were Blair's favorites...

Jim didn't envy the Rowlings' this bundle of energy. He kept smiling and answering Jenna's seemingly endless questions. His grin got wider as he made a sudden parallel to his own bundle of energy, now lying peacefully in the hospital bed and chuckling at Jim's attempts to remove Jenna's arms from his neck and steer her towards the door. Blair laughed out loud -- followed quickly by a groan of pain -- at Jim's shocked expression when Jenna placed a loud, sloppy kiss onto the Sentinel's forehead then held the sides of his face in her tiny hands.

"Take care of my friend, now, okay?" she asked him, deadly serious. Jim didn't have to force the equally serious expression onto his face.

"I will, Jenna, I promise." Just let anyone try and stop me.

"Good. Bye, Jim. Bye, Blair." At that, she strode from the room, her parents echoing her good-byes and following quickly. Jim rose up from his crouch and then fell heavily into the chair at Blair's bedside, wiping his forehead in a broad gesture and sighing dramatically.

"What I wouldn't give to introduce that kid to Simon at my next review. I bet she'd finally get me that raise I've been asking for."

Blair's peal of laughter was like balm on his soul.

A nurse entered the room shortly after the Rowlings had departed and gave Blair his final exam of the evening and administered to him a much-needed pain pill. Jim waited in the hall until she finished, and came back in as Blair was shifting on the bed, settling himself for the night. A flash of white fur under the sheets caught Jim's eye as he rounded the bed to assist his partner.

"You sleeping with the dog again?" Jim adjusted the pillow under his roommate's head as he spoke, secretly pleased his gift had been so well received.

"His name is Lucky, and yeah, he keeps me from rolling onto my stomach and hurting my ribs." Jim's answering smirk was ignored. "Besides, he's cool, Jim."

"Cool?"

"Lucky is one majorly cool dog." Grinning, he gave the white head a loving pat.

"I see, so, sleeping with stuffed dogs is going to be the next craze sweeping today's youth, huh?"

"You bet, man, I am riding the crest of that wave." Jim smiled as his partner cuddled the dog closer to his chest, making himself more comfortable. "Don't worry, once my ribs heal, I'll retire him from nurse duty, maybe get him a stuffed poodle for company." Jim laughed out loud at that, and smoothed the covers around the two figures in the bed.

"Why don't you try to get some rest, now, Blair. Jenna definitely wore you out."

"Mmm, I'll try. Stay and talk to me for a while?"

"Sure." Jim settled himself into the chair by the bed, scooting it closer so he could rest an elbow on the mattress. They remained like that for a while, each finding comfort in the other's presence, content in the silence between them. It was Blair who spoke first.

"I heard what you said last night, you know." Jim startled a bit at that. He had assumed Blair was asleep while he was baring his soul to the younger man.

"You're wrong, you know," Blair continued.

"Wrong about what?"

"You're not responsible for what happens to me. Well, you are in a way, being a cop and all, but this whole mess was not your fault, and you shouldn't blame yourself every time something bad happens to me." Before Jim could open his mouth to speak, Blair raised his hand in a stopping gesture.

"Hear me out, Jim. You and I never really talked about this, so I'm not surprised you don't know how I feel." Jim closed his mouth, uncomfortable with the subject, but grudgingly respecting Blair's need to talk about it.

"When Incacha passed on to me the Way of the Shaman, I took it very seriously. It was like a sacred trust, given to me. Now, I know that it's your job as the Sentinel to guard the tribe, and mine as your partner to guard your back. But part of the understanding that I got from my experience with Incacha is that it's my tribe, too. You may be my primary responsibility most of the time, but I need to help where I can. In this case, it was Jenna who needed me, and I needed to be there for her, to live up to my part of the Sentinel bargain, so to speak."

"Blair, I know what you're saying, but I can't help but feel I let you down."

"You never let me down, Jim. Andrea fooled us both this time. Shit happens, man."

"Are those your words of wisdom for the day, Oh Great One?" Jim asked lightly, uncomfortable with Blair's easy dismissal of his failure.

"Yes, my son," Blair replied in a deep voice, making his friend smile. "Seriously, though, don't beat yourself up about this one, it got away from all of us, Simon included." They shared a groan at the guilt their captain must be feeling, guilt they would deal with later, together. "You'll just have to try harder to protect me next time the shit hits the fan, okay?"

"I should protect you from yourself, Romeo. You and any woman that gets within twenty paces of you and your grand notions of heroism." He moved his hand to cuff his partner on the side of the head, but instead found himself smoothing the hair back from Blair's forehead. "What would I do without you around, huh, Chief?" Jim's voice was thick with emotion.

"I intend for you to never have to figure that one out. I told you I'm not going anywhere, Jim."

"Good," Jim answered abruptly. "I can't do this Sentinel stuff without my Guide, you know." Blair let out a small sigh at that and closed his eyes briefly.

"You might try like hell to push me away sometimes, but like I just said, you're stuck with me." Blair reached out and took Jim's hand, squeezing it lightly. Jim hung on when Blair might have let go.

"Do you remember how scared I was when we first met? Every now and then I remember that fear, how lonely it felt to be the only person who could see and hear and feel the things that I did. There were times in the beginning when I thought I would always be alone with these Sentinel abilities. I know you don't have my heightened senses, Blair, but you do understand what I'm going through. You put your own life on hold to help save mine, and I don't think I ever told you how grateful I am for that. You saved me from my fear, from my loneliness. Now, with what happened with you and Incacha, I can't help but think we're tied together somehow, a Sentinel bond or something. When you put yourself in danger like you did, it's more than just yourself that you risk, it's me, too."

Blair met his best friend's gaze with understanding and regret. "I'm sorry, Jim," he whispered.

"It's okay now, Blair," Jim sighed, hearing the truth in his own words. "Everything's okay now."

"Yeah, it is." A small smile. "You do know that we're in this together, Jim. I can't promise I won't get into more scrapes, but you have my word that we are a team for the long haul. Get it, partner?" His emphasis on the last word was not lost on the detective, nor was the yawn that Blair tried to suppress.

"I do now, Chief, I do now." He smiled at his obviously sleepy friend. "Just let me take on the bad guys next time, huh?"

A sleepy mumble that vaguely sounded affirmative was his answer, along with a slight squeeze of the hand he realized was still held in his own.

Jim let out a deep sigh and repositioned himself in the chair. He fell asleep with his hand holding onto his future and a smile on his face.

The End.

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