Rewards of Virtue

 

Danae

 

Disclaimer: Not mine.  No money being made here…. Just having fun! 

 

Warnings/Notes:  Spoilers for S2 and TsbyBS.  Sequel to Wages of Sin.  This will make no sense at all if you don’t read that one first.  Crossover with my original characters.   Rated somewhere between PG-13 and R for violence and language. 

 

Thanks to my wonderful betas, Susn, Lorri, Catherin, and Debbie.  And to everyone who reads my stories and encourages me to keep writing!

 

Rewards of Virtue

 

 

Jesse Riviera stared at the wall across from him.  He hated waiting.  Mainly because waiting gave a person too much time to think.  He listened to the intercom system page yet another doctor to the ER and thought about everything that had happened.  Kit had left him behind when he took Blair to see Jim Ellison and Jess still wanted to strangle him for it.  Blair had been so angry when he—when he what?  He did not even know what to call it, but Blair had been in a catatonic state since they had rescued him from the military compound where he and Jim Ellison had been held.  Then he was just "back" and pissed off.  Jesse had had to get a damn cab, and by the time he got there, it was all over.  Not that he would have wanted to witness what Kit had described to him.  He would have just liked to have been there to support his friend.  He had gotten there just in time to see Blair come out of 852 Prospect and collapse on the sidewalk.  Pete and Kit were right behind him, and it was decided that maybe Blair needed to get checked out by a doctor.  Blair had a different opinion, but Pete overruled him.  They had come to a compromise when Blair said that he would see his doctor and no one else.  So now, they waited.  Kit was pacing, and Pete was on the pay phone.  Jess had no idea who he was talking to, but his boss looked concerned.

 

 

Dr. Orenda Milap frowned as she examined her patient.  "Well," she said finally, "you're malnourished and suffering from exhaustion.  You look like you've been through a meat grinder, but your x-rays are fine, and I don't see any sign of internal injury.  There are several drugs in your system, one of which I can't identify, which are probably adding to the feelings of fatigue you're experiencing.  When they get out of your system, you should feel a little better."  She shook her head.  "What am I going to do with you, Blair?  Sweetpea, you need to find a less dangerous line of work."

 

Blair gave her a sad smile then lowered his eyes to the floor once more. 

 

"Want to tell me why Jim's not with you and who those people are out there in the waiting room?"

 

"Not really, Orenda.  They're friends, though.  I don't feel like talking about it."

 

Orenda sighed.  "Okay.  Well, you're going to be sore from the bruises.  I want you go home and—"  She did not miss the wince at the word home.  "And sleep, a lot.  And eat.  You've lost a lot of weight.  You were thin to start with.  Now you look like one of those starving girls we see in magazines and on fashion runways.  Look at me."  He did not raise his head.  "Blair Sandburg, look at me."  He did.  "I don't know what's happened because you won't tell me, but I do know that it had to be pretty traumatic.  That man out there, the slick one, he gives me some pathetic story about line of duty, and I saw the press conference, but I know a smoke screen when I see one.  The fact that Jim is not here and you don't want him here worries me."

 

"I'm okay, Orenda.  Thanks for coming in to check on me.  Sorry I called you at home."

 

She rolled her eyes.  "Trying to change the subject?  Okay, I'll leave it alone.  But I need to see you in a week."

 

"I won't be here in a week, Orenda."

 

"And just where will you be?"  Orenda placed her hands on her hips and gave him her best withering gaze.

 

"Probably D.C.  I've taken a new job with the guy out there, the one you called the slick one."  There was almost a smile on Blair's face.

 

"Oh dear."

 

"I'll be okay."

 

"You'd better be.  I think I need to have a talk with that young man before you leave here with him."

 

Her young patient did smile then.  "I promise to be careful."

 

"Yes, you always do promise to be careful and then you end up right back here mere weeks later.  Blair, who is that man?"

 

"He's a friend, Orenda, I swear."

 

"You wait here," she ordered.  She stalked out of the exam room, and she could hear him calling her name, but she ignored him.  She walked out to the waiting room and headed straight for the men that had come in with Blair.  They all stood. 

 

"How's Blair?" one of them asked.

 

"He'll be all right with a lot of rest and some good food.  Now, I have a few questions.  Who are you?"

 

The slick one smiled at her and offered his hand.  "I'm Peter Devereaux.  This is Kit Chase and Jesse Riviera."  He indicated the two men with him in turn.  Orenda did not accept his hand.  He simply raised it to his short dark hair and ruffled it, blushing a little as he did. 

 

"Orenda is an Indian name, right?"

 

Orenda turned to glower at Kit Chase.  "Yes.  It is."

 

He smiled at her and she gave him the same look that she gave Blair whenever he tried a little misdirection to placate her.  He had the grace to look properly scolded.  "Thought so."

 

"Look, Blair is a favorite patient of mine.  I understand that he is leaving town with you.  Just what is this new job he's taking with you?"

 

"We're a private investigation and security consultation firm in D.C.  Blair is going to be our new—" the man paused, "researcher."

 

"Right."  She narrowed her eyes at him.  She was not as stupid as he obviously thought she was.  Not by a long shot.

 

"I can give you one of our cards."  He started digging in his coat pocket.

 

"No, that's quite all right."  She turned back to Kit Chase.  "You take care of him."

 

He blinked, but then nodded.  "Yes, ma'am."

 

"Fine.  I'll go sign his release."  She was still not happy, but it was out of her hands. 

 

 

"What was that about?" Pete asked Kit when the tiny doctor was gone. 

 

"She's a medicine woman."

 

"Kinda got that, Kit.  Doctor being the title in front of her name and all."

 

"Stop being dense, Pete.  You know what I'm talking about."

 

"Great, you're getting weird again." 

 

Kit only laughed at him. 

 

Fifteen minutes later, they were leaving the hospital.  Blair was silent as they drove to the airport.  Pete tried several times to engage him in conversation, but he would only nod or shake his head.  Finally, after a signal from Kit to give up, he stopped and concentrated on his driving.  Once at the airport, Pete turned in the rental car and picked up the tickets he had purchased while waiting for Blair at the hospital.  Now, they only had to relax in one of the airport's many little restaurants and wait for their boarding call.  They sat down and a waitress came over.  Kit ordered vegetable plates for himself and Blair, who did not seem inclined to talk to anyone.  Jesse ordered a cheeseburger and Pete ordered a double vodka straight up.  Kit gave him a sharp look, which he promptly ignored.  He needed that vodka.  He had a lot of thinking to do. 

 

He did not regret offering Blair a job.  He had no doubt that the man would be an asset to his company once he had some time to recover physically and emotionally from everything that had happened to him, but he wondered if Blair would be happy in his new job.  He took in the sad, sullen man across the table from him and sighed. 

 

Then there was the problem of Jim Ellison.  Jim was a mess.  Pete felt partially responsible.  After all, Jim's best friend was leaving town with him rather than trying to salvage their friendship.  Yet, he still did not regret the job offer.  Okay, that one was going in circles.   Moving on to his next problem.

 

Last but certainly not least, the more Pete thought about everything that had happened, the more convinced he was that their problems were not over.  Ron MacNamara was not the suicidal type.  The man had been afraid.  He had told Pete that he was not at the top of the ladder.  Ron had said that someone else was calling the shots and Pete had seen fear in his eyes.  He had ignored that fear at the time.  Ron was a coward in his best moments after all.  But looking back, Pete had to wonder if he had dismissed it too quickly.  Thing was, he now knew that the Pentagon and the CIA were unaware of some key points of the whole mess.  All of that added up to a third party involved, which meant anyone from a foreign government to any number of terrorist groups.  He had called Banks while they waited in the hospital and told the man of his suspicions.  Banks assured him he would pass the information on to Jim.  In the meantime, they were all in danger and they had no idea from who or where.  Yes, he needed that vodka.  In fact, he might need the whole bottle.

 

 

There were too many people, way too many people and not enough air.  He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.  Someone touched him and something hit the table in front of him.  He jumped and his eyes flew open.  The waitress had already moved away.  He looked down at the vegetable plate she had plopped in front of him and suddenly felt very ill.

 

"Bathroom," he choked out before he stumbled away from the table.  There were too many people in his way!  He shoved his way through them despite the fact that they seemed to try to keep him from his destination.  He slid as he rounded the corner, slamming into the door of the men's room and nearly falling through it.  He barely made it to the stall before the gagging started.  Unfortunately, there was not much on his stomach to vomit and he spent several agonizing minutes gagging and choking on the dry heaves.  He fell back onto the cold tile and a wet towel appeared in front of his face.  He looked up to see the shaman standing over him.  Kit was his name, he had learned.  Blair tried to smile, but he knew his attempt was not very successful.  Kit knelt beside him and grasped his shoulder.  "Sorry," Blair whispered.

 

Kit shook his head.  "No reason to be.  Okay now?"

 

"I think so." 

 

The man stood and offered Blair a hand.  He accepted it and let Kit do most of the work to pull him up.  It was then that he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors.  He let go of Kit's hand and moved toward his reflection.  One hand rose of its own accord to touch what was left of his hair.  It was stupid.  He had known that the hair was gone.  He could tell, after all.  This was the first time he had really had to look at it though.  His chest hurt as he grasped one short curl and pulled it out straight to look at the length.  The man in the mirror looked as if he was about to cry, but Blair ordered him not to; it was only hair.  Do not be so stupid, he ordered.  It does not matter, he told the stranger reflected back at him through the glass.  He almost had his reflection convinced when Kit spoke.

 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop them."

 

He was shaking suddenly and his knees felt weak.  "Damn it!  Just hair, damn it!  It doesn't matter!"  But his face was wet.  "It's not important!  It's over!  All over!  Get over it!" he screamed at the man in the mirror.  But the man in the mirror was not listening.  He had to make him listen.  He would make him listen.  Then there was glass everywhere and he was on the floor with Kit practically wrapped around him. 

 

"Let it go," the man whispered.  "I know it hurts, but you have to let it go, Blair.  You can't move on until you do.  You've faced it.  Now, you have to let it go."

 

"Everything okay?"  Pete was in the doorway and Blair tried to turn his head away.  His new boss was going to fire him for being nuts if he did not manage to pull himself together.  Then where would he go? 

 

Kit answered for him.  "He's okay.  Mirror's seen better days, but Blair will be just fine."

 

"Then I'll just find somebody and pay for the mirror."  Pete disappeared.

 

"Great.  I'm sorry.  Bet he's rethinking that job offer."

 

Kit laughed.  "Nah, it's okay.  He's used to it.  Hell, he's made a few messes of his own from time to time."

 

"What is wrong with me?!"  Now he was whining, and he hated that.

 

"You're just having a run of really bad days.  It'll get better."

 

"It's over with Jim.  God, that hurts, just to say it, you know?  He was my best friend!  The best friend I ever had.  Man, what does that say about my life?"

 

Kit finally let him go.  "You can't dwell on that."  Once again, Kit helped him up.

 

"I miss him already.  Is that crazy?"

 

"No."

 

"But I can't go back.  I can't.  Not now."

 

"Maybe later?"

 

"No.  How could I ever trust him again?"

 

"That's a question only you can answer."

 

"I know."

 

"Can you eat something now?"

 

Blair shrugged.  "Maybe."  Kit motioned for him to lead the way out of the bathroom.  He was nearly knocked down by a frantic man as he opened the door, however.

 

"Sir!  Are you all right?  I am so sorry about the state of the bathroom.  I can assure you that we do try to maintain a safe environment.  I can not apologize enough for your accident."

 

Blair was confused.  He looked back at Kit who was barely containing his laughter, then looked past the strange man to see Pete put a finger to his lips as a sign for him to go along with the story.  Blair glared at him.  Oddly enough, Peter Devereaux managed to look both pleased with himself and sheepishly guilty at the same time.

 

"I'm fine, sir.  Don't worry about it."

 

"Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you?  An ice pack?  Do you need to see a doctor?"

"I'm fine, really.  Accidents happen," Blair told him. 

 

"If you're sure?"

 

"Absolutely."

 

The man looked visibly relieved.  "Again, sir, I'm very sorry.  I will have someone in here immediately to clean this room."  He hurried away then.

 

"Let me guess.  You didn't have to pay for that mirror," Kit accused.

 

"Hey, I offered!"

 

"Yes, I'm sure you did." Kit shook his head.

 

"That was so wrong."  Blair frowned.

 

"Great, I've hired myself yet another conscience," Pete moaned as he gently pulled Blair out of the bathroom by his jacket.  "Let's go, Dudley Do-Right.  Let's eat and get the hell out of Dodge."

 

"Just how many drinks did you have while we were gone, Pete?" Kit asked as they made their way back to the table.

 

"A few, Mom."

 

Blair almost smiled but just as the corners of his mouth started to give in to the impulse, a stray thought chased it away.  He had walked away from his sentinel.  What would Jim do now?

 

 

"Dr. Rose, I must say that I am sorely disappointed in your lack of progress."  Robert listened to the man on the other end of the phone line.

 

"Mr. Baker, I assure you that I am doing my best for your organization here, but I am without a true guide for Alex."

 

"And the Jew is your only choice?  Surely, you can come up with someone else."

 

"I hate to tell you this, but Blair Sandburg is the only true, natural guide that I am aware of.  We have covered this before.  I realize where your organization stands regarding minorities, but if you want a fully functional sentinel then we need Sandburg.  At least until we are able to identify other guides."

 

"Then go find him.  I don't care how, but you get Barnes operational.  Or get me Ellison.  At least he's not some wild nutcase."

 

"I would still need Sandburg."  Robert rubbed his forehead.  Why had he gotten involved with this man and his militant organization?  Oh yes, money, a lot of money.  Still, it hardly seemed worth the risk and aggravation now as he tried to make the man look past his prejudices to accept what was necessary.

 

"Then do it, man, before I decide that you've become a liability and find someone who can get me results.  Need I remind you what happened to our friend, Ron?"

 

"No, sir."  One step forward, two steps back, Rose thought to himself.  He had finally gotten through to the man, on one hand.  On the other hand, the man was threatening to kill him.  Or rather have him killed.  He would never do his own dirty work.

 

"How is the other part of our venture going?"

 

"I can report some progress there, Mr. Baker."  For all the good it would do in the short run.  Right now, he needed a guide.

 

"Good.  If this works, Rose, the Freedom Coalition will have the means to secure a better future for all real Americans.  You have to do whatever is necessary to make sure it works."

 

"Yes, sir, I understand.  I just have to find Blair Sandburg.  He has apparently left Cascade." 

 

"Find Ellison.  Take him and Sandburg will come to you, right?  They are friends, are they not?"

 

"They were, Mr. Baker, but in our attempt to separate Sandburg from Ellison, we may have destroyed that."

 

"You are giving me excuses, Rose.  I hate excuses."  The man hung up on him.

 

Robert sighed.  "Fanatic," he muttered.  He did not happen to share the views of the Freedom Coalition, but Baker had been willing to fund his research.  All of his research.  The discovery of Alex Barnes had changed everything, as far as Robert was concerned.  They could have more than one sentinel to study.  With two sentinels, one male and one female, there was the potential to breed more sentinels.  With all that Blair Sandburg had learned, they could find or create more guides.  Holloway had been Max's idea, the old man still believing that the Army would be the sole benefactor of their work, but that had played right into Robert's hands.  Sandburg would be needed to salvage Barnes. 

 

Yet, when he presented his ideas, his government had been less than receptive.  They refused to sanction Robert's acquisition of Barnes and had wanted to pull the plug on the entire operation, but MacNamara had made arrangements for him to continue his work.  Robert was thankful for those select few that had things they had to hide and yet strings that they could pull.  He should have asked why MacNamara was so willing to help, but at the time, he had not cared.  Ron then brought in the Freedom Coalition and Baker's money to fund what the government would not.  Still, he had not cared.  Senile Max Adler and the very soldiers that guarded Robert's research were none the wiser to the real work that was going on.  He had free reign and all the money he could want.  At one time, that had been enough.  Now, he was not so sure.  After all, he could make more money if he could manage to get rid of the Freedom Coalition and go freelance with Alex once Sandburg got her functioning again.  That had been one of his original desires.  Problem was, he was firmly in the grasp of Baker and the Coalition, and Baker would kill him before he would let Robert walk away.  He rubbed his aching temples and sighed.  It would be complicated, but he would find a way.

 

 

One week later

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"  Pete asked his newest employee. 

 

Blair Sandburg did not look at his face.  Instead, his focus was on the files that Pete held in his hands.  "I'm sure.  I want to know everything.  I need to know, Pete."

 

Pete nodded.  "Can I show you something else first?"

 

Blair rolled his eyes at him.  "Do you have to?"

 

"I'd like to."

 

"Fine."  It was more a sigh than a word.  "What is it?"

 

"Okay, I've been waiting to tell you this until I thought you could deal with it.  Now, I suppose since you're ready to deal with this stuff."  He indicated the files he held.  "Maybe you're ready for what I have to say."  He took a deep breath.  "All right, here goes.  Before MacNamara died, I cut a deal with him for my silence.  He gave me a substantial sum of money to keep my mouth shut about his part in your abduction."

 

"What?"  Blair looked appalled, and Pete started wishing he had waited for Kit to get back into the office before he started this.  Kit had a knack for smoothing ruffled feathers, and Pete had a feeling he was about to ruffle lots and lots of Blair's feathers.

 

He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the bankbook.  He handed it to Blair.  "It was when we thought you might need at least semi-permanent care.  I took it for you, Blair.  Then when Senator Adams heard what had happened—"

 

"Your version, you mean?"

 

"Yes, my version.  He felt you deserved some compensation for your ordeal." 

 

Blair was staring at the book, but he had not opened it.  He shook his head suddenly and held the book out to Pete.  "I can't take it.  It's not right."

 

"The hell it's not!" Pete exclaimed.  "You listen to me, Blair Sandburg.  You deserve every dime of that money and more after what they did to you."

 

"It's blood money, sort of.  You know what I'm saying?"  He threw the book on the table when Pete did not take it.

 

"Yeah, and it was your blood, so it's your money!  Take it, Blair.  Pay off your student loans.  Use it to get your doctorate.  Blow it on fast women and good wine.  Who cares!  Just take it.  And there is one other thing.  I spoke to Senator Adams and he is more than willing to write you a recommendation to Georgetown University.  Think about it.  You could get your doctorate from Georgetown.  Wouldn't that just tweak the nose of the good Chancellor Edwards of Rainier?  Blair, I know that you say you want to work here, but why?"

 

"What do you mean why?"

 

"Why do you want to work here?  You want my theory?"

 

"Not really."

 

"Tough.  I'm the boss.  I get to spew my theories any time I want.  I think that you're here because you don't know where else to be.  Blair, this job is not that different from being a cop and I don't think that would have been your first choice of careers either.  In fact, our work is even more violent.  You'll still have to carry a gun and know how to use it.  You don't want that.  I've let this slide for a while because you've been learning the office and the computer systems, but it's time to move on from that.  I'm trying to give you options, Blair.  You can have your doctorate.  You can be an anthropologist again.  Or you can be a man of leisure.  Trust me, there's enough there to relax on for quite some time.  Or you can learn the trade here and work for me.  I just want the choice to be yours, freely, without reservation."

 

Blair sighed then gave him a half-smile.  He reached for the book and opened it hesitantly.  "Holy shit!"

 

Pete laughed.  "Dinner's on you tonight, right?"

 

"Funny.  I can’t believe you did this."

 

"Well, somebody had to do something.  So, are you pissed?"

 

"Not exactly.  Georgetown?"

 

"Yep, Georgetown.  I even think that I can speed things up for you—"

 

"No, thanks, but that's fine.  You've done enough already."

 

"How come you, Kit and Alex can all make that sound like an insult rather than a compliment?" Pete grinned at him.

 

"It's a gift.  Now, give me the files."

 

"Don't mince words, do you?"

 

"What would be the purpose of that?  Hand them over, Pete.  I'm not going to give up on this."

 

Pete placed the files down on the table in front of Blair.  "It's ugly.  I hope you're prepared for it.  I'll leave you alone for a while.  If you need me, I'll be in my office." 

 

Blair nodded, never taking his eyes off the folders.

 

Pete sighed and left him to it.

 

Three hours later, Blair closed the file that Alex Morrow had stolen from MacNamara's office and sat back in the chair.  He was not sure whether he wanted to cry, scream or laugh.  He scooped both folders up from the table and headed across the office lobby to Pete's door.  He knocked lightly then opened the door.  He peeked in.

 

"Come on in, Blair," Pete said, a thoughtful look on his face.

 

"I'm finished with these." He told him as he entered the office and walked over to Pete's desk to place them on one corner. 

 

"And?  Are you okay?"

 

"I don’t know.  I'm not sure.  It's all so confusing.  You know, Rose said I was handpicked.  They had a profile and all that.  At least that what he told me, but Pete, there is no profile.  Not really.  There's nothing in there that wouldn't apply to hundreds, thousands of people.  They wanted someone in the fields of Social Science, so he could understand the research.  They wanted someone young, so the person could be trained rather than retrained.  They wanted someone of above average to genius level intelligence.  The only reason it ended up being me was because I read Burton's research and was interested in the concept, and I just happened to live in the same town as Jim, which is pretty coincidental when you think about it.  Why would he want me to believe that I was handpicked from some 'special' profile?  It hardly seems important at all.  Wait, yes it does.  It was important that we believed that I was the one, possibly the only one, that fit.  It would obligate me.  It would obligate Jim. It would make me believe that I had to help because no one else could, and it would make Jim feel responsible for me."

 

Pete was nodding.  "Smart."

 

"Evil.  That's what it is.  But Adler hated me and didn't want me.  Guess Rose didn't plan on that.  Or hell, maybe he did.  Maybe once he found out about Alex, he intended for me to work with her and that other guy to work with Jim."

 

"I don't think Rose cared what happened to Jim, Blair.  He said that Adler and the Army could have Jim.  He was more interested in getting Barnes ready for MacNamara and whoever was backing him," Pete explained.

 

Blair frowned.  "And my grants and scholarships, over half of them came from Rose apparently.  That really sucks."

 

"Sorry."

 

So was Blair, but that was not what had hurt the most.  "Did you know Jim was planning on leaving?  There's a plane ticket in there."  He pointed to the folder.

 

"It's not what it looks like.  Jim had two safety deposit boxes, one for him and one for you.  They found his.  They didn't find yours.  He had separate ones in case they got to him before they got to you.  You could still get away."

 

"Then he didn't—he wasn't going to leave me behind?  Oh god, I was blaming him for it all.  But he didn't know about me, did he?  The file isn't clear on that, but he really didn't know."  Blair was stunned.  He had thought that Jim knew about the whole thing, that when his repressed memories came back, he had known that Blair had been chosen to be his guide. 

 

"No, Blair, he didn't."

 

"But he knew they were coming at some point, and he didn't tell me.  He should have told me!"  He knew he was practically shouting.

 

"I agree."

 

Blair held up his hands and took a deep breath.  "I'm not going to get into that now.  I'm putting that to the side right now."

 

"Okay."  There was a slight chuckle in Pete's voice.  Blair glared at him.  "Sorry," Pete said hurriedly.  "It's just that you sounded like Kit just then."

 

Blair forgave him and shrugged before continuing.  "And MacNamara.  That file is even worse!  A sentinel breeding program!  The guy was a monster."

 

"Blair, Rose was working for MacNamara.  They were in this together.  It's just that Rose's file is the cleaned-up for Adler's and the company's use version.  I have no doubt in my mind that Rose is going to use Alex Barnes to make him some little sentinels if he figures out a way.  I also know that if he manages to fix her senses and tighten the loose screws in her head, he'll use her skills on the black market."

 

"That's sick."

 

"Well, that's the lay of the land, my friend."

 

"We have to stop him."

 

"Yeah, I think we do.  I have some folks poking around for information on Rose but so far, no luck.  I'll let you know when I have something."

 

"Wait, you said something else.  You said, Adler's and the company's use version.  I thought the CIA was responsible."

 

"To a point.  But Blair, even the CIA would think twice before setting up a human breeding camp.  Senator Adams told me that they seemed a little too stunned when he confronted them with that file.  The old man is annoying as hell, but one reason he is so annoying is because he's a good judge of character.  He says the CIA higher-ups were unaware of that particular part of Ron's little scheme at least.  They knew about Jim and the project and ended up admitting to its questionable legality, but not the breeding thing.  They even seemed to think that you came along willingly.  They didn't seem to know that you were taken against your will.  And the Pentagon was even more unaware of what was going on.  Adler was crazy, a loose cannon.  He'd lost it and Rose took advantage of it.  I think Rose and MacNamara were working for somebody else.  It's the only thing that makes sense.  Ron was free and clear with me.  I wasn't going to hand him over to Adams because he agreed to help me.  So, the way I figure it, he was either too scared of his employers to give them a shot at him and offed himself or they offed him for caving to me and made it look like suicide.  Ron thought a little too highly of himself to commit suicide just because I kicked his ass at his own game.  No, Ron would have come after me and got his revenge or at least tried to.  We are not out of the woods yet, Blair."

 

Blair gathered up the files again and got up.

 

"Where are you going?" Pete asked him.

 

"To go through these one more time.  There's got to be something in here that will give them away.  Some little detail not hidden just right or something.  My first time through these, I was too busy being mad and—well, hurt to be objective.  This time, I'm going to find what they were hiding and then we are going to nail Rose's ass to the wall."  He turned and left then, vaguely aware of Pete's incredulous eyes and slack jaw as the man stared at him.

 

 

Simon Banks stood at his window, the one that looked out over the bullpen, and watched Jim Ellison.  Jim had returned to work that morning.  Simon had tried to dissuade him, but he was determined.  So far, he had shifted papers and files from one corner of his desk to the other several times, stared at his computer, taken a few calls and just generally looked lost.  Simon sighed.  He looked down at the file in his hand.  While it was true that he had wanted Jim to take a little more time for himself before he returned to work, he had finally determined that Jim needed something to do if he was going to be on duty.  It would, at least, occupy his mind.  Slapping the file against his leg, he made up his mind.  He strode out of his office, motioning to Joel Taggert as he made his way to Jim's desk.  "Jim, I have case for you.  Joel will be riding with you on this.  There's been a series of robberies, all high tech stuff.  A security officer was killed during the last one so it was kicked to us this morning.  I need you to head over to Watson Technology and see what you can find out." 

 

"Sure, Captain." He stood and reached for the file.

 

"Jim, are you sure you're ready?" Simon touched his arm.

 

"Yeah.  I need to do something, sir."

 

Simon nodded and relinquished the folder in his hand.  Joel was waiting quietly near the door to Simon's right.  Simon nodded to him and Joel returned the nod with a small smile.  Jim grabbed his coat and followed Joel out of the door of the bullpen, leaving his captain and friend to wonder if he was doing the right thing.  In the meantime, there was something he wanted to do.  Something that he had wanted to do for a week.  He turned and walked back into his office and picked up the phone.  He dialed the number and waited for someone at The Devereaux Agency to answer the phone.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he hung up the phone and sat back in his desk chair. Despite Devereaux's news that he was certain that there was a dangerous third party still out there to be dealt with, he had been somewhat encouraged by Devereaux's other news.  Blair was doing well, and he was thinking.  Devereaux had told him that Blair had gone through both Rose's and MacNamara's files and realized that Jim had not set him up.  Simon could only hope that this was the first step toward Blair forgiving Jim and coming home.  Yes, Jim had made a mistake or two, but, much to Simon's relief, he had not intentionally hurt Sandburg. 

 

Perhaps Blair only needed a little push.  Simon's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in thought.  Perhaps if Blair could be reminded that he had other friends in Cascade willing to help him, he would come on home and try to work things out with Jim.  He picked up the phone once again.  This time, when he hung up, he had reservations on a flight to Washington, D.C. in the morning, if one could call 4:40am morning.  He had stayed out of this quite long enough.  Blair was his friend and so was Jim.  Neither of them could be happy with the way things had ended.  Jim felt as if he did not have the right to search out Blair, so be it.  Simon, however, figured that he had every right.  After all, he cared for the kid, and he wanted his friend back.  That was right enough for Simon.  

 

 

Alex Morrow yawned as he walked into the office.  It was getting quite late and he had spent the entire day trying to hunt down information on Ron MacNamara's activities over the last several months.  He ran one hand through his dark hair.  Perhaps it was time for a haircut.  He had been wearing it a bit long lately but it was nearly touching his shoulders now.  That was a bit much.  Soon, he would look like Jesse and Kit.  Well, not like Kit.  The man wore his hair almost all the way down his back.  Alex shook his head and smiled to himself. 

 

He was just about to knock on his boss's door when he noticed Blair Sandburg in one of the other rooms.  Sandburg seemed completely engrossed in what he was reading.  Alex had met the younger man when he had picked up his co-workers and boss at the airport.  Alex saw in Blair Sandburg the same sadness and confusion that he had seen in Jim Ellison when he was here.  Yet, Sandburg was not content to sit back and let others deal with the problems.  He was like a man obsessed.  He had learned the computer system in less than a day.  He had absorbed every word that Pete had said, learned every aspect of the mundane operations of the agency in only a few days.  Then something strange happened. 

 

Pete started stalling.  Sandburg should have been turned over to one of the field operatives for training.  He had even volunteered to take Sandburg on.  Pete had looked horrified.  Alex would have been insulted had he not known that Sandburg had a phobia of guns.  He realized that Pete was worried that maybe Alex's brand of training would have been a little overwhelming.  But that did not explain why Pete was still dancing around the subject.  Both Jesse and Kit had offered to train him as well.  Jesse would probably be perfect in Alex's opinion.  Sandburg seemed to pick up the computer system so fast, after all.  At any rate, Sandburg was still puttering around the office most of the day, offering to do this or that for whomever was present, only to have Pete give him some trivial task. 

 

Now though, Sandburg seemed very intense and focused on what he was looking at, and Alex could not help but wonder what had him so enthralled.  He redirected his steps to the small conference room where the younger man sat.  "Hello," he greeted as he entered.

 

Sandburg jumped a little and jerked his eyes up to Alex's.  "Oh, hi Alex."

 

"I didn't mean to startle you."

 

"That's okay.  I wasn't paying attention."

 

"I could see that.  What are you looking at so hard?"

 

"The files about—well, Jim and me.  And Alex Barnes, too.  I'm trying to find some clue to where Rose might have gone and who might have been backing him besides the CIA and the Pentagon.  I mean, we have already determined that the vast majority of the Pentagon was oblivious, right?"

 

"Right."

 

"And we now know that the CIA was not aware of the breeding program."

 

"So they say."

 

"You think otherwise?"

 

Alex shrugged as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from Sandburg.  "I don't know.  I don’t put anything past governments anymore."  He leaned forward and reached for one of the files. "May I?"

 

"Sure, I could use all the help I could get.  Anyway, Pete thinks that they didn't know so he thinks that there's a third player and that that third player may be sheltering Rose and Barnes now."

 

"Okay, then let's see what we can find."

 

Two hours later, Sandburg shoved the open file away and put his head down on the table.  "There's nothing.  How can there be nothing?"

 

Alex sighed and closed the file in front of him.  "Maybe we aren't looking in the right places.  We've poured over every piece of paper in here."

 

"I guess I should have realized that they wouldn't have been careless enough to leave clues in here.  I mean, even MacNamara never mentions a name and this was his personal file!" Blair sat up and Alex saw anguish in the blue eyes that begged him silently to find some answer somewhere.

 

"Well, Pete thinks he was pretty scared of his employer.  He wouldn't finger them even on the threat of taking the fall himself when Pete confronted him.  He would make sure that his written records wouldn't give them away either.   Okay, perhaps we were asking too much to expect a name or blatant reference.  What if the reference is there but not in a form we can see?  We need Jesse."  Alex reached for the phone.

 

Sandburg stopped him before he could lift the receiver.  "Alex, it's after midnight.  Even Pete's gone home.  I guess it can wait until morning.  Let's go home.  Kit is probably getting worried about me by now."

 

"I doubt it.  Kit's probably not home himself yet.  Pete sent him to Baltimore to check out Rose's last employer.  He didn't tell you?"

 

"I didn't get to see him today.  Who was Rose's last employer?"

 

"Well, I use employer for lack of a better word.  Let's just say that he was getting quite a bit of money from these people for what his income tax records called contracted independent research.  Someplace called Millennium Research Foundation.  And if it didn't seem fishy enough, we are having a hell of a time trying to track down the actual owner.  Even Jesse couldn't find a clear trail, so Pete sent Kit to snoop around.  And Jess is still trying to get into their computer system.  It's closed up tight, though."

 

"Millennium Research?  Where have I heard that before?  Wait!"  He grabbed the discarded file and began to frantically search through it.  He snatched up one sheet of paper and waved it at Alex.  "Here it is!  I got a grant from them, two actually.  This may be it, Alex.  It's gotta be it!  Millennium Research."

 

"Good.  Then maybe Kit will bring us something back."

 

"Yeah, maybe."  Sandburg seemed to deflate then.

 

"You're tired.  I'll drive you to Kit's."

 

"Thanks." 

 

"No problem, it's on the way."

 

"I thought you lived out in the woods somewhere."

 

"I do when I can.  When I'm working, I have an apartment here in the city.  It's not as secure as I'd like. It's a locked building and has alarms, but I'd rather trust my own kind of security.  Of course, the other tenants wouldn't appreciate my idea of security very much."

 

Sandburg quirked an eyebrow at him but did not ask.  He just slipped his jacket on and followed Alex out of the office.  They were in the elevator heading down to the garage when Sandburg finally spoke again. 

 

"Would you teach me to handle a gun?  I'm not completely without experience.  I have fired a gun, you know.  I just need to get comfortable with it."

 

Alex smiled and met his eyes frankly.  "I can't teach you comfort.  What I can teach you is skill.  Perhaps with skill will come comfort.  Are you sure you're ready?"

 

"Gotta do it sometime.  Besides, maybe if I take the initiative, Pete will stop hovering over me like a mother hen."  There was almost a real smile on his face.

 

Alex laughed.  "Pete is a mother hen.  He does that to us all from time to time."

 

"Well, he's as bad as J—never mind."

 

"I met your Jim, you know?"

 

"He's not my Jim," Sandburg muttered bitterly.

 

"You know what I mean.  Anyway, he seemed like a fairly decent fellow.  A little slow on the uptake but not a bad sort."

 

"No, he's not a bad sort."

 

"You know, one of the drawbacks to being human is our enormous capacity for making mistakes.  Devastating mistakes, sometimes.  But one of our human virtues is that most of us have the capacity for forgiveness.  Some of us have more of a capacity than others.  Me?  I'm still working on mine.  What about you?"

 

Sandburg stared at him for a long moment before closing his eyes and swallowing hard.  When he opened his eyes again, he shrugged a little and said, "I guess I'm working on mine too."

 

"Good.  As long as we are working on it, we are making progress in our humanity, eh?"

 

"Yeah."  The rest of the trip was made in silence.

 

 

Kit checked the hallway for security guards.  Finding it empty, he rounded the corner and crept silently down the hallway of the Millennium Research Foundation.  It had been ridiculously easy to find and disable their security system.  Simply snipping a few wires disabled the alarms and the security cameras were scrambled.  The guards were reduced to patrolling the building while they tried to figure out what had happened to their video feed.  It would take them about fifteen minutes to figure out that it was not a simple outage.  It would take them another ten to fifteen minutes to actually get enough manpower together to launch a thorough search, so Kit figured he had about twenty to twenty five minutes to find something that might incriminate or vindicate the Foundation in Rose's activities. 

 

Even as he was stalking the halls, Jess was back in Washington trying to hack into the Foundation's computer system.  So far, he had had no luck.  It was very unusual for Jess to have a hard time getting into a computer system.  Apparently, the Foundation had spent more on computer security than on building security.  He picked a lock and slipped into an office, pulling out a small flashlight from his back pocket and flipping it on as he closed the door.  There was a desktop computer on the desk before him.  Maybe he could help Jesse out.  If he could find some sort of password then Jesse could do the rest.  He quickly searched the desk and the unlocked files cabinets behind it.  Nothing.  There were other locked cabinets by the window.  He picked the lock on one of them and searched through it.  Just as he was about to give up, he found a post-it note on the bottom of the last drawer.  "Thank God for forgetful people," he whispered.  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jesse's number.  He then grabbed a file and started flipping through it.  "Jesse, got a password.  Can't promise it'll get you far but all you need is a window, right?"  He frowned at the file he held in his hand.  "Cool.  The word is 'violets.'  Hey, Jess, I have this file in my hand about some study dealing with the effects of ecstasy on the senses of human subjects.  I think we may be on the right track here.  Study's not here though.  It's in San Francisco.  Means they have installations in other places.  I'll look for more here while you try to get in.  Good luck."  He hung up.  He grabbed a few more files, holding his flashlight in his mouth as he thumbed through them. 

 

He glanced at his watch.  About ten minutes left.  There did not seem to be anything in the files about Rose.  There was nothing else about research on human senses either.  He put the files back and had just decided to try to get into another office when his pager went off, vibrating against his side to let him know he had a call.  He grabbed it and shined his light on the display.  It was Jesse and there was a 911 attached to the message.  He clipped it back to his jeans and reached once again for the phone.  He called Jesse.  "What?" he asked when Jess answered.  His best friend sounded frantic.  He had to get out, right then.  Forget it all, just get out.  "Jesse, calm down.  I have a few minutes left.  Okay!  Okay, I'm going!  You have some explaining to do though."

 

He sighed and tucked the phone away then swiftly made his way out of the office and out of the building.  When he was off the grounds, he was calling Jesse back.  Obviously, Jess had gotten into the computer system and found something bad.  He wanted to know what.

 

 

The phone was ringing.  The fact snuck into his sleep-fogged brain.  Pete rolled over and grabbed the phone.  "Yeah?"

 

"Pete, we're fucked.  They traced me.  I don't even know how it happened but they know it was me." Jesse's announcement cleared his mind instantly.

 

"Do you know who they are?"

 

"Yeah and it's bad.  It's real bad."

 

"Tell me."

 

"The Freedom Coalition."

 

"Fuck!  Get out of there!  Where's Kit?  Is he out?"  Pete practically fell out of bed.  The Freedom Coalition was a paramilitary organization led by a very wealthy and very ruthless businessman named George Baker.  Pete had had a run-in with Baker before.  Baker had wanted to hire the agency until he saw Kit.  The resulting confrontation ended with Pete throwing the man out of his office and Kit threatening to kill the man if he ever saw him again.  The last thing he needed was for Kit to come face to face with Baker.  As it was, Baker's organization would be coming for them.  They needed to be elsewhere.

 

"Yeah.  I just got off the phone with him.  I didn't exactly tell him the truth, just that I had been traced and that it was big trouble.  He's on his way to Alex's cabin.  I suggest we join him.  All of us."

 

"Read my mind.  I'll call Maggie.  She's wanted to go to Paris.  Now would be a good time.  I'll call Alex and Blair, too.  Oh, shit!  And Jim.  Why did it have to be Baker!?  Tell me you're out of your apartment."

 

"Of course!  You think I'm stupid?"

 

"No! Sorry.  Meet you at Alex's cabin."

 

Pete hung up the phone.  Jesse was right.  It was bad.  Pete's worst fear had come to pass.  Baker's group was strong.  What was more, they had Baker's money and his contacts with several different governments and terrorist groups backing them.  Baker had clout. 

   

Pete grabbed the packed suitcase he kept for just this kind of situation out of the closet and threw it on the bed.  He grabbed up the phone again and called Maggie even as he tossed his clothes on.  As he listened to Maggie's phone ring, he let reality sink in.  They would have to take Baker down.  They had to find not just Rose and Barnes, but Baker as well.  First they had to regroup, however.  They could do that at Alex's.  The remote cabin was the safest option they had.

 

 

Jim staggered into the loft.  It was nearly five in the morning.  He just wanted to collapse into bed.  The stakeout, his first since returning to duty, had been long and boring.  By the end of it, he was questioning why he had volunteered for the thing in the first place.  Two steps into the loft and he remembered why.  The emptiness of the place seemed to try to swallow him up and make him just as empty.  He hated being here.  He sighed.  A shower or bed, he asked himself.  The shower would feel good, but his tired body convinced him that bed would feel better.  He started for the stairs, but as he passed the phone table, he noticed that the light was blinking on the answering machine.  Damn inconvenient things, answering machines, but he pushed the button anyway. 

 

"Jim, it's Pete.  Watch your back.  We found out who was really backing Rose.  It's the Freedom Coalition.  Sure you have heard of 'em.  Bad news.  Thing is, they traced us when Jess hacked into their computer system.  We're going underground for a bit.  Don't worry about Blair.  I'll take care of him.  You just take care of you.  We'll be in touch."  The call disconnected and Jim found that he was sitting on the bottom step leading to his bedroom.  The Freedom Coalition.  Yes, he had heard of them.  At one time, there was a rumor that their leader, George Baker, had tried to move in and absorb Kincaid's Sunrise Patriots when Kincaid went down the second time, but the Patriots resisted.  Several of them, the upper echelon of the organization, went missing in Seattle shortly thereafter.  No trace was ever found. 

 

Jim's first impulse was to go pack his bags and head to D.C., but he knew that Pete and the others, including Blair, would be long gone before he got there.  It took several minutes, but he finally squelched the impulse and resigned himself to waiting for Pete's next call.  In the meantime, he had to trust Pete Devereaux to take care of Blair.  That was not a good feeling.  He got up and headed up the stairs, though he doubted he would be getting any sleep now.

 

 

It was after five in the afternoon when Simon finally arrived in D.C.  Time zones really sucked sometimes.  He hailed a cab and gave the man the address of The Devereaux Agency.  Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled to a stop.  Up ahead, Simon could see fire trucks and police.  "Is there a way around this?"

 

"But sir, this is where you wanted to go.  That is the Markham building."

 

"The one that's on fire?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Well, that just damn figures."  He pulled a twenty and a five from his wallet and gave it to the man.  He got out of the cab and headed for the first person that seemed to have some authority.  He had come this far.  He was not going home empty handed.

 

 

Kit was staring at him again.  Pete had managed to avoid him since Kit had arrived at the cabin just after dawn.  He feigned sleep for a while and then took an extra long shower.  By then, Kit had fallen asleep, having traveled all night.  But now he was awake and sitting in Alex's living room, glaring at him.  Kit was pissed.  That was the only word that appropriately described the man.  He had not taken the news that Baker and the Freedom Coalition was behind this whole conspiracy well.  Pete almost chuckled, but stifled it in time to keep his head on his shoulders.  Kit would no doubt take it off for him if he thought Pete found anything at all amusing right now.  Not taken it well was the understatement of the year, however, so Pete was amused at his own gentle phrasing.  Pete glanced over his shoulder at the two men in the kitchen making lunch.  Alex would protect him, he hoped; Blair was a good peacemaker.  Well, it was time to brave the wrath of Kit Chase.

 

"I know you're angry with me," he said calmly.

 

"Angry with you?  Is that what you think?  Angry with you?  You have a gift for understatement."

 

Pete did not quite stop the chuckle that time, and he instantly regretted it.  Kit was on his feet and screaming before Pete managed to straighten his face.

 

"What the hell is so damn funny, Pete?!  You think this is funny?"

 

"No!" Pete held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "This situation is not funny.  It's just that I was just thinking about my gift for understatement and then you said--- well, never mind.  Kit, I'm sorry."

 

"You should be.  I was there.  I could have found the bastard if you hadn't pulled the plug."

 

"I didn't pull the plug, exactly."

 

"You didn't?"

 

"No, Jess did.  They had tracked him.  He freaked.  He called me afterward."

 

"And this is your solution?  Hide in the woods?"

 

"Just to regroup.  Besides, you have been wanting to get Blair out of the city for whatever it is that you plan to teach him so here we are, out of the city."

 

"I want George Baker, Pete.  I want to take that bastard down."

 

"I know.  We will.  We don't have a choice, really.  It's him or us.  And it's gonna be him."

 

"I could have found him!" Kit spun and hit the wall behind him.

 

Pete grimaced.

 

"Hey!  I like that wall without holes, thank you!" Alex scolded from the kitchen.

 

"No, Kit, you could have gotten caught.  Then where would we be?  Jess said you only had a few minutes left before they would have started tracking you down.  Be patient.  We will finish this."

 

Pete watched as Kit closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.  When he opened his eyes again, he gave Pete an apologetic smile and shrugged.  "I hate that guy."

 

"I think the feeling's mutual, if that makes you feel better."  Pete laughed when his comment got a real smile out of his friend.

 

"Yeah, it does actually."

 

Jesse came storming into the cabin then.  "Damn it, Alex, why do you have to live out here in the boonies?  Pete, we aren't gonna get a signal out here.  The cell phones are useless.  I keep getting no service messages, no matter how I try to boost the power."

 

"Now you know why I never bother to bring my cell phone, don't you?"  Alex handed him a sandwich.

 

"Okay, that's not good."  Pete frowned then shook it off.  "But here's what we'll do.  Let's take a few days here.  Regroup, get some plans together, rest up, let Baker think he's got us on the run and then do whatever it is that we come up with—to do."

 

"You don't have a clue, do you?" Blair asked as he passed Pete a plate of sandwiches.

 

"No!  I have a clue.  I just don't have a plan.  But I will."  Pete took a sandwich and passed the plate to Kit.  "I will," he repeated softly, more to convince himself than the others.   

 

 

Okay, so he was wrong.  He was leaving empty-handed.  Simon had spent the rest of the day and well into the night trying to track down Peter Devereaux or anyone associated with the Devereaux Agency.  They were just simply gone.  He was not even able to find a home address for any of the men he had met.  The only good news he had gotten out of the trip was that the firemen did not find any human remains in the burned out office.  But that did not mean that Blair was not in trouble.  In fact, it meant that Blair was definitely in trouble, but what kind Simon did not know.  He had left his card with the D.C. police department and the investigator for the fire department with the request that they notify him if they found out anything. 

 

He did not relish the thought of having to tell Jim what he had found.  He boarded yet another red-eye flight that would take him back to Cascade with a heavy heart.  Jim was already an emotional wreck.  Now, he had to tell the man that his estranged best friend was missing and evidently, according to the investigator, there was foul play involved. 

 

Simon sighed as he folded himself, rather uncomfortably, into the coach class seat.  Of course, he was not obtuse enough to deny his own feelings of fear and loss.  Simon had long ago admitted to himself that he cared for Blair Sandburg.  He admired the young man, too.  No matter what life threw at Blair, he always seemed to land on his feet and managed to help a few others along the way.  Simon could only hope that Blair was going to land on his feet this time too.

 

The flight attendant was going over the emergency procedures, and though he had heard the words many, many times before, he focused his troubled mind on what she was saying so that maybe, just maybe, he could escape the feelings of doom building up in his chest.

 

 

He had lasted until lunch before he started searching for answers.  He figured that for him that was probably a record.  Unfortunately, at nine o'clock, Jim was still in the dark.  He had started with Pete's cell phone.  The recording informed him that the person he was trying to reach was not available.  He had left a message on the voicemail, but he had not gotten or really expected a response.  That would have been too easy.  Then he had tracked down Chad Ryan, but the FBI agent had not been able to tell him anything.  Well, that was not true.  He had told Jim about the fire that had destroyed the offices of The Devereaux Agency.  The news nearly sent Jim into a blind panic, but Ryan assured him that no one had died in the fire.  He had tried to get Pete's home number out of the agent, but Ryan had laughed at him and asked if he really thought Pete was at home waiting by the phone.  Jim shook his head.  It had been a stupid idea. 

 

After some thought, Jim had finally come to the conclusion that they had probably headed for the hills quite literally.  Morrow's cabin.  He remembered that Morrow had a remote cabin in the mountains that supposedly was hard to find and even harder to get to.  There was just one problem.  No one had ever mentioned what mountains the damn place was in.

 

Resigning himself to the fact that he was not going to find Blair right now, he decided to do some research on Baker and the Freedom Coalition.  He spent several hours going through not only Baker's own website, but also the information about Baker on other sites, both pro-Baker and anti-Baker.  He found out little that was new.  It seemed that if one knew one hate group, one pretty much knew them all.  The rhetoric was the same.  However, there was something on the League of Human Rights website that linked Baker with several prominent citizens, including a Republican Representative and several powerful CEO's.  Jim shook his head.  He made some notes and sent an email to Chad Ryan with the URL of the website.  He would have sent it to Pete, but he did not know when Pete would get it and besides, knowing Pete, he probably already knew.  He shut down the computer and sat back in his chair.

 

He glanced in the direction of his captain's office.  Simon had been a no-show, and Jim was a bit puzzled about that.  No one seemed to know where he was.  He wanted to talk to somebody, and with Simon gone, and Blair gone, there was no one for Jim to talk to.  Jim ran one hand over his face.  Of course, it would probably come as a shock to those who knew him best that he was actually willing to talk about his worries.  There was a time in his life when he would not have even entertained the thought of talking about his emotions with anyone.  It was Blair's fault that he was entertaining the thought now.  He felt a brief moment of anger at that.  How dare Blair make him open up his heart and then leave him without a friend to open it to.  But he squashed that anger.  It was his own fault.  He had driven his friend away. 

 

He had sat there long enough.  He was not accomplishing anything.  It was time to go home.  Sitting there, sifting through his head was just depressing him.  Then again, the empty loft was going to be just as depressing.  Maybe he would go out for a drink.  Or two.  Maybe he would just get sloppy drunk.  That was an idea.  He would drown those dark thoughts if it took him all night.  He grabbed his jacket and exited the bullpen.  O'Malley's Bar would be the best place.  O'Malley did not water his drinks.

 

It was three in the morning when he finally stepped out of O'Malley's to wait for the cab he had called.  Or rather, that the bartender had called for him.  Jim was drunk.  Seriously, completely, undeniably drunk.  He had not gotten this drunk since his early days in the military when he was still dumb enough to think it was cool.  Well, it was not cool now, but it was comfortable.  It was numbing.  His troubles seemed a world away now.  Blair would be furious though if he knew that Jim had gotten this drunk without someone there to help him with his senses if they got out of whack.  Wait, he thought.  He had forgotten for a moment.  There were no sentinel senses to get out of whack.  And no Blair to find out that he was drunk.  Okay, maybe Jim was not as numb as he thought.  There was some pain, right in the middle of his chest.

 

Suddenly, there was someone standing next to him.  He turned and looked into a familiar face.  It took him a minute to place it, and by the time he did, it was too late.  A new pain blossomed in his head, and he was falling.

 

 

The sunrise was awe-inspiring from the front porch of Alex's remote cabin.  Blair had been to the Smoky Mountains before when he was a teenager.  He had actually fallen in love with a beautiful Cherokee girl named Cecilia Lone Tree.  He shook his head.  That romance had not turned out the way he wanted.  He turned his thoughts back to the morning.  In no time, he stood mesmerized by the pastel rainbow horizon before him.  The air was crisp and scented with the clean smells of pine and morning dew.  His eyes drifted closed and he listened to the songs of the birds and the gentle rustling of leaves on the cool breeze.  It would be so easy to just let go and let the grandness of nature take him away from his troubles, if only for a while, but Kit would be out any minute now.  He had told Blair that they had work to do this morning.  He opened his eyes again, and the sky was already more blue and less rainbowed than it had been just moments before.  The blue had seeped into the pinks and yellows, completing the transformation from night to day.

 

"'So dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay,'" he whispered solemnly.

 

"That's Frost." Kit's voice startled him.

 

"Yeah," he said, turning to look at his new friend.

 

"I like that one."

 

"Not sure if I like it that much."  Blair shrugged.  "I just remember it.  It's about the loss of innocence, you know?"

 

"Yeah.  I guess that's a sore subject right now."

 

"What?"

 

"Loss of innocence."

 

Blair was aware of the bitterness that slipped into his laugh.  "I'm hardly innocent.  Naïve maybe.  Not innocent."

 

"Still.  It's a reminder."

 

"I guess."  He shrugged again.  "Anyway I like The Road Not Taken much better."

 

"It fits you."  Kit smiled at him.

 

He smiled back.  "I think it fits all of you better."

 

Kit laughed then.  "Maybe so.  Well, are you ready?"

 

"I think so."

 

"Good, come on."  Kit led the way down the steps.  "We're going to head out into the woods.  Watch me carefully.  We're going to have to get past Alex's little surprises again."

 

Blair nodded and followed him.  For several minutes, neither of them spoke.  Kit pointed out Alex's traps as they came upon them, but no words passed between them.  Finally, the silence was too much for Blair.  He had questions, and he had to ask them before he exploded.  "Where are we going exactly, and what are we going to do once we get there?"

 

"We are going to get in touch with Mother Earth, and then you are going to listen to what she has to tell you."

 

"Oooo-kay."

 

Kit grinned at his skepticism.  "You'll see.  I'm pretty sure you have done this before.  Probably all your life as a matter of fact, but you didn't know you were doing it and didn't understand the messages."

 

"You really do think that I'm a shaman?"  Blair shook his head.  "I don't think so.  I mean, Incacha said he passed the way of the shaman to me, but I don't feel it.  And Jim's the one with the visions.  I've had all of one vision, and I had to die to have it."

 

Kit was chuckling softly.  Blair was not amused, but he did not say anything.  He waited to a response.

 

"Blair, I know you're a shaman.  And nobody had to pass it to you.  You were born this way.  Okay, granted, some people can learn to touch the spiritual, but there has to be something inside that makes them receptive to it first.  And you are much more than just receptive to it, Blair.  There's power in you.  I can feel it.  I imagine this Incacha could too.  Let me guess, native guy, red face paint?"  Kit stopped walking and turned to face him.

 

"How'd you know that?"

 

"I saw him.  Led me to you.  Anyway, my granddad has a theory about all this.  He says that people born with the gift never fully let go of the spirit world when they are born into this one.  So they always walk a line between the physical world and the spirit paths, only having to step to one side or the other to walk in either.  You are one of those people.  Some people live their whole lives not understanding their natures and therefore never experience their own power.  Some people recognize it and learn to use it.  And some people use their power instinctively without ever learning to direct it or even having knowledge of it.  That's you, I think.  I was born with it, but I had to learn to use it.  I think you're going to have a much easier time of it than I did.  Truth be told, I didn't want it, and I resisted it for years.  Now you, well, given the fact that you have walked in the spirit world, all you have to do is understand and accept."

 

"You mean, dying, right?  When I died at the fountain?"

 

"Yeah, you walked in the spirit world and came back.  At some point, we all go through a rebirth.  For some of us, it's ritual, spiritual, whatever.  For you, it was an actual physical death and rebirth.  That's powerful, Blair."

 

"Understand and accept, huh?  Why do I have a feeling that that's going to be easier said than done?"  Blair frowned.

 

"That's up to you.  If you resist, it'll be hard.  If you let go, it'll happen before you know it.  This looks like a good spot."  He gestured around them at the small clearing that Blair only noticed with the gesture.

 

"What now?"

 

"Lie down."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Lie down.  Contact with the Earth will help."

 

"On the ground?"

 

"Uh, unless you can levitate, I think the ground is your only option and levitation would sort of defeat the purpose too."

 

Blair glared at him, but Kit only smirked in return.  Finally, after determining that he was not going to get out of it, he sat down and lay back.  The ground was cold, and it quickly sapped the warmth from his body.

 

"Close your eyes," Kit ordered.  Blair complied.  "Now, shut out everything but my voice and the wind.  Just listen to me and the wind."

 

"What about the birds?"

 

"No, shut them out.  Make them fade away."

 

"You sound like me talking to…"  The smile faded to a frown and Blair could not finish the sentence.

 

Kit ignored him and went on.  "In a minute, I'm going to stop talking.  When I do, you can slowly add the birds and any other sounds you can hear, acknowledge them as life, as living, then slowly turn your focus inward and hear your own body as it works, feel the life there.  Then focus down, below you, into the Earth.  Feel her, hear her and you'll understand."

 

Kit said nothing more so Blair stopped listening for him and tried to do what he said.  As he attempted to accomplish his task, he began to understand why it was so hard for Jim to control his senses.  He could not seem to get his ears to cooperate.  At first, everything was too loud and nearly broke his concentration.  Then when he tried to lower the volume, he lost too much.  He was getting frustrated.  He meditated all the time, for heaven's sake.  Why was it so hard all of a sudden?  Finally, he thought he had just right, everything in the right proportion.  It was not that different than what he had done on Alex's porch after all.

 

"Stop thinking.  Just feel and hear." Kit's voice nearly scared him into a heart attack.

 

He was right though.  Blair's mind was working too hard.  It was distracting him.  That was why it had been so difficult to achieve the meditative state he needed.  He was still doing it, too!  He sighed.  He tossed out the distracting thoughts and finally sank down into the meditation.

 

 

Kit watched the lines on his student's forehead smooth out and smiled to himself.  Now, he was getting somewhere.  Several minutes passed as Blair's breathing slowed and his body lost all its tension, slowing molding to the ground beneath it.  Kit wondered if Blair would have the same reaction he did when he had finally gotten this right.  Kit had nearly jumped out of his skin, and his grandfather had laughed his ass off at him.  He had been a little pissed at the old man at first, but later it was funny.  And it would be funny now if Blair reacted that way.  He ordered himself not to laugh, however.  He did not want to make Blair angry with him.  After all, they didn't have the bond of family to make forgiveness easy.  Or rather, easier.

 

He sat down a few feet away and waited for Blair to either fail or succeed.  He hoped he would succeed, but Kit himself had had to try this several times before he finally got it.  In fact, by the time he manage to complete this one simple exercise, he was ready to tell his grandfather that he was nuts.

 

He was so deep in thought that he jumped when Blair did.

 

"Holy shit!" Blair was on his feet suddenly and staring down at the ground with a look of horrified incredulousness on his face.  "Ah, man!"  His whole body shivered.

 

All Kit's good intentions went right out the window, and he burst into laughter.

 

Blair spun around to glare at him.  "Not funny, man!  So not funny!  You could have warned me."

 

Kit tried to straighten his face, but it was a lost cause.  "I couldn't tell you what to expect.  If you're expecting it, you'll convince yourself that you feel it when you don't."  He was still chuckling.

 

"I am so glad that I could provide you with your morning entertainment, man!"

 

Kit got up.  "Blair, I'm sorry."  He walked over and took Blair by the shoulders.  "Don't worry about it.  I did the same thing."

 

Blair sighed in exasperation and tried to pull away, but Kit would not let him.

 

"I'm serious!" Kit assured him.  "And what's more you did it a hell of lot faster than I did!  I had to try four times before I succeeded."

 

"Really?"

"Yes, really.  Now, tell me, what was it like?"  Kit let him go and stepped back to watch and listen.

 

"It was wild.  Fantastic, but scary as hell too."

 

"Go ahead," he coaxed.

 

"The ground wasn't cold anymore.  It was warm, and it felt like it was holding me.  Not me lying on it, but like being held gently like a baby with its mother."

 

"Yeah, just like that." Kit remembered the feeling.

 

"And it breathed and I could hear—it's crazy."

 

"You could hear a heartbeat."  It was not a question.  Kit knew; he remembered that too.

 

"Yeah.  The wolf was there and then he was me or I was him.  Both maybe.  I let him in and I felt so safe.  Loved."

 

"Then you understand.  We are all children of the Earth, but you have a connection to the Mother that most people don't have.  You have always had it but didn't feel it consciously.  Unconsciously, I think you did.  Now you're conscious of it, aren't you?  You can feel it."

 

"I do.  I really do."

 

"What do you feel?"

 

"A need to help, to heal, to teach.  I do feel somehow connected to something bigger."

 

"Exactly.  And, like I said, you've always had it.  You're just acknowledging it now."

 

"I want to learn more."  Blair was wide-eyed and looking almost feverish.

 

Kit laughed.  "I think you had better assimilate this first.  Come on, let's go find Alex.  Work with him for a while and when you don't look shell-shocked anymore, we'll try something else."

 

"Kit, shell-shocked probably wasn't the best phrasing there."

 

"Good point.  Sorry.  Just remember.  Relax.  You get all tense and jittery, you'll shoot your own foot or something, and Alex will laugh the whole time he's kicking your ass for it."

 

"Gee, that's comforting."

 

Kit threw an arm over Blair's shoulder.  "I speak from experience, my friend.  Only I shot him."

 

"You're kidding!"

 

Kit released him and started walking.  Blair followed. 

 

"Nope, just barely grazed his arm.  You should have seen the look on his face!  Of course, at the time, I imagine my own face was much worse.  I was horrified.  I was trying to apologize, beg forgiveness, and get the hell out of Dodge, and he was stalking me like some pissed off badger.  Then he just pounced on me.  He knocked me down and kicked me in the ass, flipped me over and then just burst out laughing.  I think I must have been yelling, but I couldn't tell you what I might have said.  Anyway, Pete ran up and checked on Alex who was shooing him off, saying that he was fine.  So then, Alex helped me up and even brushed me off.  I was still babbling about how sorry I was and Alex just looked at me with those eyes—you've seen those eyes, right?—And said, 'Get back over there, you little bastard.  And this time try hitting the fucking target, not your fucking teacher.'  And that was it.  Pete slapped a bandage on him and we continued.  To this day, he looks at me sometimes and says, 'you little bastard.'  We laugh and go on."

 

"You're all crazy."

 

Kit could not help but agree with that assessment.  "I know," he admitted.  "Welcome to the funny farm." 

 

 

Pete frowned as he pulled his rental car into the convenience store parking lot.  He had to get moving on some sort of plan, and he could not do that if he was completely cut off from civilization.  He pulled out his cell and turned it on.  The "no service" message blinked at him.  He turned it off.  It was worth a try.  He got out of the car and made his way over to the pay phone on the corner of little brick building.  He dug his calling card out of his pocket then thought better of it.  Chad would just have to deal with the collect call until Pete got this mess straightened out and could pay him back.  Jim would have to deal with it too.

 

He dialed Chad's number first, said his name at the appropriate time and waited.  But it was a machine that answered Chad's phone.  He swore and hung up.  He tried Chad's office next.  Voicemail.  He had to hang up again.  Jim was next.  He wanted to let the man know that Blair was safe.  He dialed and jumped through the hoops, but when the machine at Jim's place picked up, it was not Jim's voice he heard.  He struggled to listen over the recording that was announcing his call and realized that he was hearing Robert Rose's voice.  He could not make out what the man was saying.  "Fuck!"  He slammed the phone down and dug out the calling card again.  It was a risk, but apparently they were in trouble already.  Rose had Jim.  He dialed again, this time charging his card.

 

"Mr. Sandburg," the voice on the machine said, the tone patronizing, "if you are interested in seeing Jim Ellison ever again, you'll need to make arrangements to meet me.  The details of how to reach me are here in Jim's home.  I do hope to hear from you soon."

 

"Son of a bitch!"  He dropped the receiver and ran both hands over his face and through his hair.  "Okay, he never left the general area.  Couldn't have.  Okay.  Okay."  Pete's mind was racing.  He hung up the phone and paced before it.  "What now?  Send Kit and Jesse.  Yeah.  DON'T tell Blair.  Won't matter.  It's not that he'll let Jim go if Blair shows.  No, then he'll have them both back, just the way he wants.  Can't tell Blair.  See if Kit can find Jim and get him out of there.  Maybe send Alex, too.  Tell him kill 'em all and let Lucifer sort 'em out. Arrgh!"  A woman came out of the store then and stared at him.  "My life sucks," he told her.  "Be very glad you aren't me."  The woman hurried to her car.  "Wonderful, Peter, frighten the locals.  Smart."  He sighed.  "So much for clever planning."  He needed to call Simon Banks.  If the man did not know already, he needed to be told. 

 

 

Simon stared at Jim's empty desk.  Jim was late.  It was not that Simon was exactly in a hurry to share his information with Jim.  He was dreading it in fact, but it was not like Jim to be late either.  At least, not without calling.  Reluctantly, he picked up the phone and called the loft.  He heard the click of the answering machine and was about to hang up when he realized that the voice reaching his ear did not belong to Jim or Blair.  He listened to the message and hung up the phone slowly.  He sat there in shock for a split second before his training and his temper kicked in.  "Joel!" he yelled as he stood, flinging his chair back from the desk to smack the wall behind it.  "You're with me!  Henri, put out an APB on Jim.  Rafe, call Forensics, tell them to meet me at Jim's!"

 

He heard the chorus of exclamations but did not stop to address them.  They would figure it out.  Joel was behind him as he exited the bullpen. 

 

An hour later, Forensics had nothing, and Simon was staring at the phone number he found inside an envelope addressed to Blair.  He reached for his cell phone only to have it ring just as he touched it.  "Banks," he snapped.

 

"Captain Banks.  Thank God.  Do you know how long it took me to track you down?  I've been standing here freezing my ass off for over an hour."

 

"Devereaux?  That you?"

 

"Yes.  Listen, are you aware that Jim—"

 

"Has been kidnapped?  Yeah, I'm standing in his loft right now.  Where are you?  Where is Blair?  What the hell is going on?  Did you know your office blew up?"

 

"My office blew up?  Great.  Peachy.  I'm not surprised really.  We're all fine.  I know who's behind all this.  Did Jim tell you?"

 

"I haven't talked to Jim.  What is going on, damn it!?"

 

"The Freedom Coalition.  George Baker."

 

"Oh, Lord!  Baker is a sociopath!"

 

"Yeah, I know.  Listen, I'm going to send Kit and Jesse out there to help you."

 

"What?"

 

"I don't think Rose ever left the area.  I'm thinking he might have crossed the border into Canada or headed down the coast, but he has to be pretty close, right?"

 

"Makes sense, I suppose."

 

"I'm going to see if Jesse can come up with some possible locations and he and Kit may be able to go in and get Jim out.  What do you think?"

 

"I think you're nuts!"

 

"Well, I'm not handing Blair over to him, and I'm not letting Blair hand himself over, so that's my next best idea."

 

"No, you listen to me, Devereaux.  I can go along with Jesse giving us some possible locations, but then it becomes a police matter."

 

"Right.  And the police have so successful so far dealing with Baker.  Captain Banks, we are going to have to kill this guy to get him off our backs."

 

"Devereaux, let the law handle it."

 

"I don't think I can do that."  The line disconnected.

 

"Damn it!" Simon hung up his own phone.  He looked at the number in his hand again.  He would call from the station where they could set up to trace the call.  He doubted it would work.  Rose would be expecting that and would take precautions, but it was worth a try.  It was his only option at the moment.  What he would say to Rose, he did not know.  He could not give the man Blair and would not if he could.  He was with Devereaux on that at least.

 

      

Alex shook his head.  "Blair, it's not going to bite you."

 

A grimace was the only response.  Alex reached out to his pupil.  "Here, give it to me."  The gun was shoved at him.  "Watch," he ordered.  He tossed the weapon from one hand to the other, spun it on one finger, even pointed it at his own chest.  "The gun itself is harmless.  The safety is on; no bullet is chambered. You are safe.  I am safe.  The gun is not a danger to either of us right now.  Now take it."  Blair hesitated then reached out.  Alex still had it pointed toward himself, and he saw the fear in Blair's eyes.  "Stop," he said before the other man could touch the gun.  "It's not a snake.  It's a pen.  It's a book you want to read.  It's an artifact that you want to examine.  It's your girlfriend's—well, maybe we don't need to go there.  Get the idea?" 

 

Blair nodded.

 

"Now, take it."

 

This time the hesitation was nearly imperceptible, but the grip on the gun was still tentative.  Alex smiled indulgently.  "Better, but not quite there yet."

 

"I'm trying."

 

"I know.  That wasn't criticism.  Give it back.  Let me show you something else."  He had not finished the sentence before he had the gun back.  "Problem number two.  You have no control.  Know why?"

 

Blair shook his head.

 

"Because you aren't holding the gun.  Rather you are letting it lay in your hand.  You have to hold it.  You are its control.  Not vice-versa.  Take control or you will do what you most dread.  You'll hurt or kill someone with it for lack of control."  He gripped the gun in his hand, turned quickly, flicking off the safety and chambering a round as he did, and fired at the target.  The bullet hit dead center.

 

The astonished look on Blair's face was laughable.  "I think you may be better than Jim."

 

"Thank you.  Point is, I have control of the gun.  I'm not going to fire wild.  I'm not going to let it fire before I'm ready and I'm not going to drop it."

 

"Then you have one up on Jim already!" Blair laughed.  "I swear, the man can not seem to hold on to his gun!  How he survived the Rangers, covert-ops, and all these years as a cop is beyond me."  Suddenly, he seemed to realize what he was saying.  His smile died, and he lowered his eyes.

 

Alex touched his shoulder.  "It's okay to remember that he was your friend, you know?"

 

"Yeah."

 

He said nothing else, so Alex continued.  "Anyway, take the gun and let me show you how to hold the thing properly so that even if Jim drops his gun, you can back him up."

 

"I'm not going back there."  The statement was quick and sharp.

 

"Okay, so even if Kit drops—no, wait, I taught him.  He'd better not drop his damn gun.  Okay, if Jesse drops his gun, you can back him up.  Pete taught Jess, so it's a possibility."  Alex grinned.

 

Blair smiled as he took the gun from Alex's hand.  Alex carefully positioned his hand around the gun.  "Now, grip it tight."  He physically turned Blair to face the target.  "Use your other arm to steady it right now.  You're not ready for one arm shooting yet.  Focus on the target."  He gave the younger man time to do as he asked.  "Fire."

 

Blair's eyes closed; the gun fired.  Blair jumped and the bullet hit the dirt several yards in front of the target.

 

"Well, that won't do, will it?"  Alex tried to keep a straight face.

 

Blair frowned.  "Sorry."

 

"Problem number one—"

 

"We're on three."

 

"Okay, problem number three, you can't close your eyes, you can't jump, you can't lower your arm."

 

"That's three, four, and five."

 

"Not really.  They are all related actually.  When you can't see, your hearing gets bumped up a notch, making the sound of the gun seem louder and you jump.  The jump affects your aim.  You have a tendency to drop or raise your arm.  See?  All related.  Oh, and by the way, I tricked you.  You took the gun with the safety off and a round chambered, and yet we are both still alive.  Now, if I have to, I'll get some toothpicks and prop your eyelids open, but that will be very painful.  Also, get used to the noise.  Accept that it's going to be loud.  Expect it, and accept it, and it won't be nearly as scary.  Hold the gun steady.  Remember, you move and the gun moves.  Got it?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Try again."

 

Blair sighed, and Alex felt like a tyrant.  Blair Sandburg was hating every minute of this.  Of course, that was as much good as bad.  Kit had been too cocky to begin with, until his little mishap, the scar from which still graced Alex's shoulder.  Caution was good.  Fear was not.  Blair was still afraid.  If Alex could get him beyond fear, he could teach him the skill.  If not, Blair would never belong in the agency.

 

"Eyes open," Alex reminded.  "It's going to be loud.  Tell yourself that and get ready to hear it.  When you're ready, fire."

 

Alex watched him swallow and heard him mutter, "Eyes open, gonna be loud."  He fired.  He still missed, the shot going wide to the right and striking a nearby tree.  "Now what'd I do wrong?" 

 

"Turned your head away, and the gun went with your head."

 

"Damn it!"

 

"Let's try again."

 

"It won't work!  I've been trying for a month at the Academy.  I never got it right there, and I won't get it right now."

 

"Not with that attitude.  Besides, your Academy teacher was not me.  Are you insulting my abilities?"

 

"No!"  It was the response Alex wanted.

 

"All right then.  Let's try again."

 

Blair turned back to face the target and raised the weapon again.  "Eyes open, gonna be loud, don't turn your stupid head," he mumbled this time, and Alex smiled at the determination on his face.  But a little help might not be a bad idea.

 

Alex discreetly moved behind him and placed his hands gently on either side of Blair's head.  "Now fire."

 

He did.  Center, just an inch above the hole left by Alex's shot.

 

"I did it."  The tone was a mixture of fear and happiness.  Still more fear than happiness, however, and Alex figured he had had enough for the day.

 

"Yes, you did.  Safety on."

 

Blair quickly complied.

 

"Hand it over.  That's it for today."

 

"That's all?" Blair relinquished the gun rather than throwing it into Alex's hands.  More progress.

 

"Yes.  Let this sink in.  Your mind will work on it, and we can try again tomorrow."

 

"Pretty bad, huh?"

 

"Oh, I don't know."  Alex removed the clip from the gun and ejected the bullet from the chamber.  "You didn't shoot yourself.  You didn't shoot me.  You hit the target once.  You did better than Kit."

 

To Alex's surprise, Blair burst into laughter.  "Well, from what he told me, I couldn't have done much worse!"

 

"Told you, did he?  The little bastard."  Alex laughed.  "Lucky for him, I don’t hold grudges.  Well, not very often anyway."

 

"Still working on forgiveness," Blair said absently.

 

"Yeah.  Sometimes, it's easy.  Sometimes, it's hard.  And sometimes, just sometimes, it's impossible.  Kit was easy.  Where does Jim fall?"

 

"I don't know yet."

 

"Well, as Jesse says, been there, done that."  Alex put his arm around Blair's shoulders even as he hoped that Blair would not ask for the explanation that he was not sure he was ready to give.  But Blair did not ask.  He wanted to, Alex could see that, but he did not and Alex was grateful.  "Let's get back to the cabin.  Pete should be back soon."

 

 

Pete was already back when Alex and Blair got back to the cabin.  As they entered the cabin, all conversation stopped, and Blair was instantly suspicious.  "What's going on?" he demanded from the three men sitting in the living room.

 

"Nothing."  Pete smiled.  It was a fake smile, the one that Blair already knew was Pete's "I'm up to something but I'm not going to tell you what under pain of death" smile.  "I'm going to be sending Kit and Jesse to do some research.  Gotta get us a plan together, you know."  Pete glanced at Alex and silent messages were sent.  It was all Blair could do not to scream at all of them.

 

"Look, I'm not stupid," he said calmly.  "What is it?"

 

"I'm just trying to find out where Rose could be.  That's all.  Jesse and Kit are going to be doing some reconnaissance.  When we have something concrete, Blair, you'll be the first to know.  I swear."

 

"I know you're lying to me."

 

"No, we're not." Kit assured him.

 

"Then I'm not getting the whole truth.  Don't tell me that I am."

 

"Blair, please, try to trust me for a little longer here."  Pete held out one hand in entreaty.

 

Kit and Jesse got up and left the room.  Blair looked at Pete for a moment longer and then followed them.  He entered the bedroom that the two had been sharing and found them packing.  "Kit, I just have one question."

 

"What?" His friend did not look at him.  He just continued to pack.

 

"Can I find the truth on the spirit paths?"

 

Kit sighed.  "You'll always find truth on the spirit paths, Blair."

 

"Then how do I get there?"

 

Kit looked at him then and gave him a sad smile.  "You already know how, Blair.  You've been there before.  You can go again.  You just have to be open and believe that you can.  And remember how to listen."

 

"That easy?"

 

"Oh yeah.  For you, yeah.  You're strong, Blair."

 

"Hey, Blair, don't worry about anything.  We'll take care of it.  Everything's going to be fine," Jesse spoke up.

 

"It would help if I knew what you were going to take care of."

 

"We're going to take care of Baker and Rose and Barnes," Kit told him.  He shouldered his bag.

 

"Well, don't forget to take of yourselves while you're at it."

 

"Sure, Buddy!  That's a given."  Jesse grinned at him as he closed up his gym bag.  The two men passed by him and Blair let them go.

 

 

"I told them to just find the bastards.  Not to go after Jim until you and I get there.  Though I did tell Kit if they found a location to go in if necessary to make sure Jim was there," Pete told Alex when they were left alone in the living room.

 

Alex nodded, reaching up to take his antique pistol off the mantel over the fireplace.

 

"We have to take them out.  That's all there is to it, because Baker will keep coming, and he's got the connections to fuck us."  Pete shook his head.

 

"It won't work," Alex said without looking up from his inspection of the pistol.  It needed cleaning.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Pete, you kill this Baker and someone in his organization will just take his place.  We can't kill them all.  We'll probably never even find the vast majority of them.  No, think about this.  Men like Baker have people behind them just waiting for the opportunity to step into his shoes.  He might have even designated someone.  That person will have all Baker's money and connections at his disposal, and we will right back where we started."

 

"Jesus, you're right." Pete sighed and leaned back into the comfortable couch.

 

"However, I think I have a solution which will be satisfactory and maybe even get us paid."  Alex grinned at him.

 

"We have to work with the cops.  Right?"

 

"If Baker goes down, his money and assets will be frozen and confiscated.  His connections will run for cover.  His organization may survive, but not unscathed and much weakened.  And if you think about it, the Pentagon and the CIA are not really very happy about being screwed over by Rose, am I correct?"

 

"Yes, you are.  I see where you're going.  Man, you gotta love outsourcing!  We offer to represent their interests in capturing Rose and Baker, and they pay us to rid ourselves of this thorn.  Oh, that's devious.  Why didn't I think of that?"

 

"Emotional involvement.  I don't know what happened with Baker and Kit, but you are as pissed about it as he is."

 

"It was just bigotry, Alex.  I don't know.  I've worked for that man before and before Kit came along, I figured it was not my problem if Baker was a jackass.  His money spent.  But he was so hateful to Kit."  Alex saw shame in his boss's face.  "Mostly, I guess I'm pissed at myself for ever taking the bastard's money when I knew what his agenda was.  And Kit, let's just say I have never seen him so mad.  It's funny.  I've seen him ignore so much shit, but he was not willing to let Baker slide."

 

"Perhaps because Baker is more than just a few insults.  Words don't hurt, but when someone has the sticks and stones and, in this case, the organization to go beyond words, he can no longer be ignored.  Or it could be the fact that he was in your office.  It would have pissed me off to find someone who hated me for no good reason cozying up to you in your office.  Probably a little of both of those."

 

"Good points.  Okay.  I'm going to go down to civilization and put this plan of yours into motion.  Even if we can't get the Pentagon or the CIA to pay us, we can get Chad and his office on board.  I'll call Banks, too and let him know that we're going to play this legal.  Or mostly legal.  He'll be happy.  You stay here with Blair.  See if you can calm him down or at least let him take out his frustrations on a target or something."

 

Alex saluted him.  "Be careful going out," he warned.

 

"Of course.  Do I look stupid to you?"

 

Alex opened his mouth to answer that.

 

"Don't!" Pete shook a finger at him.

 

Alex laughed as Pete walked out the door.   "Now, to find Blair," he muttered as the front door of the cabin closed.

 

 

Jim glared at Robert Rose as the man paced the small confines of Jim's prison.  Jim sat on his bunk and waited.

 

"So, Jim, how have you been?"

 

"Lousy, thanks to you.  How about you?"

 

"Lousy, thanks to you and Sandburg and your interfering friends.  See, Jim, I have a problem.  I can't seem to get through to Alex Barnes.  I have a feeling that only Blair could, but I don't have Blair.  Given that, my employer decided that I should acquire you, in the hopes that Blair would offer himself to save you.  But you and I both know that that is unlikely.  He left, and he's not been back in touch.  He probably won't even know that you're gone.  Unless Banks can find him.  Still, in the meantime, my employer wants a sentinel and if Barnes can't be that sentinel, then we will then look to you to fill that want."

 

"Your employer?  What?  You don't want me to know who your employer is?  That why you won't just say it?  Well, I already know.  George Baker is well known to me.  I'm a cop after all."

 

"I see.  Very well.  No more tiptoeing around this then.  You know Baker, and you know what he's capable of.  You and I could be in serious jeopardy if you don't cooperate.  I know you don't care what happens to me, but I'm betting that you'd like to live a little longer."

 

"You're right about that, but there's just one flaw in your logic.  Rose, I told you, I can't do it anymore.  I'm not a sentinel anymore.  The senses are gone."

 

Rose lowered his head for a moment then looked at him again.  "Well then, you'll probably die soon.  But not before you provide the bait and the motivation for Blair."

 

"You said it yourself, he probably won't even know that I'm gone.  Besides, he won't come for me.  Not after what I did.  And I suppose the extra bed here is for him."  He pointed up to the top bunk above him.  "You do get him and put him in here with me, he's liable to strangle me in my sleep."

 

"That may well be, but nonetheless, we'll find him, eventually.  And I think you're wrong.  He would come for you.  Then I doubt he could watch you die, anymore than he could kill you himself.  Once we have him, he won't let you die in front of him.  He's too compassionate for that.  He'll help us in exchange for your life."

 

There was too much truth in Rose's words.  It was all too likely a possibility.  Blair might hate him, but his compassion would not allow Jim's death.  "Shit," he muttered.

 

"Yes, well, we are in it, aren't we, Jim?"

 

"You're scared, aren't you?"

 

"Mr. Baker doesn't like failure.  Thus far, I have had little success.  If you could see your way clear to work with me, I might be able to keep you alive."

 

"And you?  You're trying to keep yourself alive too, Rose.  I can see it in your eyes."

 

Rose did not respond verbally, but he did not have to.

 

"I wish I could help you out, but I can't.  I know you think I'm lying, but I'm not.  No more Sentinel here."

 

Rose nodded and walked out of the room, locking the door after himself, leaving Jim alone and, amazingly, more miserable than before.  He leaned back on the lower bunk bed and punched the mattress and springs above him. 

 

 

They were armed with just a phone number and Jesse's laptop, but Kit knew that Jess had pulled off miracles with less.  Their first order of business was to get to somewhere actually in the 21st century enough to have a cyber café.  If they were traced, it would make no difference.  They would be long gone before anyone could get to them.  From there, Jess would find the origin of that call.  If anybody could, Jesse could.

 

In the meantime, Kit worried.  He could not lie to Blair, but he could not tell him the truth either. So instead, when Blair asked the right question, Kit had given him all he needed to find what they were hiding from him.  He would know about Ellison and soon.  Alex and Pete could probably handle the fallout.  Still, it was an uncomfortable situation.  Pete, never a believer, would not buy that Blair had found the answers for himself.  He would think Kit told against his orders.  Maybe technically, he had.  He could not dwell on it, however.  He had to focus now on finding Ellison.  He personally did not care for the man, but Pete did and so did Blair, though he was not ready to admit that yet.  As much as he thought it was a bad idea, Kit found himself willing to orchestrate a reunion between Ellison and Blair.  For Blair.  Never for Ellison.  But for Blair, shaman to shaman, Kit would do what he had to do.  

 

 

Alex folded his lanky body to the ground not far from his new friend.  Blair was deep in meditation and Alex, used to the sight from working with Kit, did not want to interfere.  He would stay close though, just in case Blair wanted to talk when he was finished.  Alex sighed.  What a mess.  Pete did not want Blair to know that Ellison had been taken.  At least not yet, but if he asked, Alex would have to tell him the truth.  He had always been honest with those he considered friends, and he liked the young man before him quite a bit. 

 

He even liked Jim Ellison, despite the man's reaction to him.  He could understand the reaction after all.  Once he had been like Ellison.  All black and white and two-dimensional.  It was a dangerous way to see the world, but it was not all bad either.  In fact, it tended to be surprisingly more pleasant than seeing the whole picture.  Made things easy, cut and dried, all or nothing, right or wrong.  The gray shadows were scary and confusing sometimes.  Forewarned was forearmed, however, and Alex grew to appreciate the shadows and shades.  Nothing surprised him anymore.  He liked it that way.  He wondered if Jim Ellison would ever grow to accept the things he did not want to see.  Alex had read his jacket.  He knew Ellison could see the shadows if he wanted to.  The man could not have survived some of the shit he had found himself in if he had not learned to see past the glossy surface of life.  For some reason, Ellison chose not to see.  Self-preservation probably.  Alex could imagine that with his odd abilities marking him as different, Ellison would try to hold on with both hands to normalcy in other aspects of his life.  Otherwise, it would be easy to lose one's sanity.  Alex could attest to that.  But he could also attest to that fact that ignoring reality only brought more trouble.  Acceptance and adaptation was better.  It certainly would have helped both Blair and Ellison avoid this situation.

 

Alex sighed and shook his head.  And Ellison was not the only one in that partnership with avoidance issues.  Blair had his own.  Blair's very presence here was avoidance.  The young man would eventually have to deal with his demons where Ellison was concerned or he would self-destruct.

 

 

Blair followed the wolf to the temple.  He stood on the bottom step and looked up into the doorway.  Instead of the fear and anger he felt the last time he was here, he felt safe but somehow restless.  The wolf paced and whined, and the feeling of restlessness grew in the pit of Blair's stomach.  The wolf tugged at his hand, and he turned to face it.  Gold eyes pleaded with him, and then the wolf bounded off.  Blair had to run to keep up with it.  When it stopped suddenly, Blair nearly ran past it.  The wolf whined again and walked slowly out into a clearing.  Blair followed again and nearly fell to his knees at the scene before him.  A black jaguar was trapped in a cage trap.  The animal paced frantically.  Blair reached out to it but brought his hand back quickly as a large snake struck at him from the grass.  Movement in the trees beyond the clearing, behind the cage, drew Blair's attention.  He could not see the animals there, but he could hear them, growling and snarling.

 

"Jim!"  His own voice brought him spiraling out of the self-induced trance.  Alex was sitting in front of him about ten yards away.  "They have Jim.  That's what Pete wouldn't tell me!  Son of a bitch!"

 

"I don’t know how you know that exactly, but I've known Kit long enough to know that I'm not meant to understand certain things.  Yes, Rose has Ellison.  Pete sent Kit and Jesse to try to find out where they're holding him, and he went to see if we can get some help from the other people who have an interest in seeing Rose brought down.  Pete was worried that you'd do something stupid like running off and putting yourself in the line of fire, so to speak.  But you aren't going to do that, right?  You're going to let us figure out a way to get Jim back and take these bastards down for good with minimal damage to everyone concerned, right?"

 

"Alex—"

 

"Right?"

 

Blair took a deep breath and bit his lip.  "Yeah, right."

 

"Good.  You won't do Jim any good if you aren't thinking."

 

Blair was thinking though.  He was thinking that he should not even care.  He was thinking that Jim brought this whole thing on himself, and that he was crazy for even feeling responsible.  But then he was thinking about Jim finding him when Lash was going to kill him.  And he thought about Jim taking care of him when the Iceman shot him.  And cooking his breakfast and carrying his backpack for him when he was on crutches after Quinn shot him.  Then there was the fountain.  Jim had brought him back from the other side.  Okay, so things had not been so great since, but after talking with Pete, Blair knew that a lot of that was Jim's way of trying to keep Blair out of Rose's radar.  Jim did not know that Blair was in Rose's sights all along.  Fear-based responses, he had written it himself.  Jim might be an idiot, but even an idiot did not deserve what Rose planned to do.  Perhaps idiot was too strong a word, now that he thought about it.  Jim was not stupid; he just did not think clearly when it came to certain things.  It was infuriating, but Blair knew that he had his own blind spots and could be just as infuriating, he supposed.  What the hell was he doing?  Was he actually talking himself out of being angry with Jim?  No, he was still angry and he had every right to be, but could he, in all good conscience, turn his back on Jim when he was in trouble.  The answer to that question was a definite no. 

 

Alex had been regarding him silently while he worked that out in his head.  "We will get him out of this.  Okay?"

 

"Okay."  Blair smiled tentatively.  "Thanks, Alex."

 

"Quite welcome."

 

"Can we practice a little?"

 

"So you can imagine Pete's face on the target?"

 

"I think it would help tremendously, don't you?"

 

"Oh yes, been there, done that."  Alex grinned at him.

 

 

Blair was getting impatient.  Pete had the blessing and financial backing of the Pentagon and the CIA, and Jesse had managed to trace the phone number to a cell phone owned by Millennium Research's San Francisco facility.  Jess had gotten into the computer system there briefly before the security breach was discovered but found no records indicating Jim was there.  He admitted, though, that he had not had enough time to go through everything.  San Francisco was their best bet still.  But all that had taken nearly a week to accomplish, and Blair had been plagued with nightmares about the trapped jaguar every night. 

 

At any rate, Pete had sent Jess and Kit to San Francisco to check out the research facility.  They were supposed to assess the security system and watch for Rose or Baker. 

 

Meanwhile, Blair was going slowly insane.  Actually, he had gotten quite good with a gun.  He found that imagining Rose's face on the target made it very easy indeed to pull the trigger.  He had joked about picturing Pete's face on the target, but it was just that, a joke.  He liked the man, and Pete was doing all he could to get Jim back safely.  Not to mention all he had done for Blair.  Orenda was right; Pete was slick, but he had a good heart down deep.  Way down deep sometimes, especially when money was concerned, but it seemed that Pete surrounded himself with others that would bring him back from the edge when he went too far.  Pete's joke about hiring himself another conscience might not have been a joke after all.  Still, Pete's determination to keep Blair safely tucked away and out of the loop was frustrating.  He meant well, much like Jim when he told Blair to stay in the truck, but Blair was getting very tired of all the well-meaning idiots in his life trying to shelter him from harm. 

 

Pete was gone again, and he was left to watch Alex moved serenely around the kitchen making dinner.  How could he be so calm?  "How can you be so calm?" he finally asked aloud.

 

"Anxiety is a waste of energy.  It won't make things move faster, and it's not good for the body or the mind.  You should try your meditation."

 

"No thanks.  Don't like what I've been finding there lately."

 

"Maybe you shouldn't think of it as seeing Ellison trapped, but as seeing him alive."

 

Blair was stunned for a second.  "Yeah.  You're right.  It does mean he's still alive, doesn't it?"  He was almost happy for a moment before something occurred to him.  "What if I don't see him alive?  That's always a possibility."

 

"I don't know what to tell you there.  All I can say is that I'd rather know for sure than have to wonder, and you have a way to know for sure."

 

"Yeah."

 

"After dinner though.  It's almost done."  Alex turned and grabbed a paper plate. He shoved it into Blair's hands. 

 

Blair flipped the plate over and over, mulling over Alex's words.  Maybe he could even communicate with Jim through the vision, let him know that they were not going to leave him there.  He would try.

 

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jesse asked again as they reached the outer perimeter fence surrounding the Millennium Research Center. 

 

Kit threw down the rope he was carrying.  "Well, it's either go in there or go back practically empty-handed.  We could be here days, even weeks, before we get any clue about what's going on in there.  Pete said to go in if I had to, just not to take anybody on.  I'm going in, and I'm coming out.  They'll never know I was there.  Don't worry, this is what I do, remember?  Just get this damn electric fence turned off and those laser sensors confused for me for a few minutes, and I'll find something to let us know if we are barking up the right tree."

 

"And if you don't?" Jesse set up his laptop and his cell phone on the ground.

 

"Then we're screwed.  Truthfully, I think he's in there.  It makes sense.  This is the closest facility to Cascade and the phone call came from here.  What we really want to know is if Baker is here and how hard this place will be to take." Kit pulled his gloves on.  "Ready?"

 

"Almost."

 

"Good.  Let me know."

 

"Whoops."

 

"What?"

 

"'Violets' isn't working this time.  Think they figured out how I was getting in."

 

"Damn it!"

 

"Hold on, got an idea."

 

"What?"

 

"Well, 'violets' is a very strange choice for a password, don't you think?  Unless it has a meaning.  Like part of something.  What's the good doc's name?"

 

"Rose.  Roses, violets.  Roses are red, violets are blue?  So, what?"

 

"I'm trying other words in the rhyme.  Blue, nope.  Roses, bingo!  Holy shit.  I got Rose's personal files here!"

 

"Try to download 'em, but get me in there first."

 

"I can do both.  Got it.  Go!"

 

Kit quickly started up the fence, trusting his friend when he said the electricity was off.  He was crawling over the top when he heard Jesse swear.

 

"Kit!"

 

That was all Jess was able to say before a current of electricity coursed through Kit's body causing him to let go and topple over the fence.  He tried to land straight up, but he was off balance and stunned.  He felt his ankle give way, heard the bones break.  His head impacted with the ground seconds later.  He was only partially aware of the alarms going off as his body tripped the laser sensors.  He could hear Jesse yelling at him, but he sounded miles away.  Kit managed to turn his head at look at his frantic partner.  "Go."  He had meant to yell, but it did not come out that way.  But apparently Jess had heard him anyway.

 

"No way.  I'm not leaving you.  I can get back in and you can climb back over before somebody comes.  I'm almost there."  Jesse's fingers were flying over his keyboard.

 

"No.  You need to go.  I can't climb over, Jess.  I broke something.  Get out of here.  Get Pete."

 

"I'm not leaving you!"

 

"You have to!"  That came out louder.  "Go!  Damn it, Jess!  Please!"

 

Jesse looked beyond him, and Kit knew that someone was coming.

 

"Kit!"

 

"Jesse, please."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Then Jesse was gone, and Kit let darkness take him.

 

 

"Alex!  They got Kit!  Oh man!  They got Kit!"

 

Alex grabbed Blair as the younger man came rushing out of the bedroom.  "Wait.  Slow down.  Rose caught Kit?  Nobody catches Kit.  You saw this?"

 

Blair nodded.  "He's hurt.  I saw him as the mountain lion and his foot was caught in a trap.  What are we going to do?"

 

The front door of the cabin flew open and Pete stormed in.  "We have problems!"

 

"Kit's hurt and Rose has got him," Alex announced.

 

"How did you know that?"

 

Alex pointed at Blair.

 

"You're going weird on me like Kit, right?" Pete asked.

 

"I saw it," Blair told him.

 

"Whatever.  Alex, I want the place leveled."

 

"We'll still have to work with the law on this, Pete."

 

"I know, I know.  I don't like it, but I know.  Chad's working on getting us some help out there.  He's going to try to come himself too."

 

"Okay.  I'll need more information and a few days."

 

"Jess is sending us the info and how many is a few?"

 

"I'll know when I get the information.  I'd say at least three or four."

 

"Make it three."

 

"Pete, calm down."  Alex knew he was wasting his breath but he had to try.

 

"Alex, George Baker has Kit.  George 'all mud people must die' Baker has Kit.  He could be dead already."  Pete slumped down on the couch.

 

"He's alive," Blair spoke up.

 

"Even if I bought into this vision stuff and believed that, things can change pretty damn quick."

 

"Maybe Ellison can help him," Alex offered.

 

Pete laughed bitterly.  "They hate each other, Alex."

 

"Jim would still help, if he could.  But he's not in the best position himself."  Blair's voice trailed off as he reached the end of his sentence.

 

"Let's just get moving here, okay?"  Pete was up again and pacing.

 

"Where is Jess?" Alex asked.

 

"On his way to his folks' in L.A.  He'll be safe until we get there."

 

"Good.  Blair, help me get some things out of the basement?"

 

"Sure."

 

"Peter."  Alex waited for a response.  "Peter!"  Pete turned to look at him that time.  "Pull yourself together."

 

Pete nodded, and Alex led Blair out of the room.  He would need the explosives he had stored at the back of the property, but that would have to wait until morning.  In the meantime, he could get started on the timers.  That equipment was in the basement.  He wondered briefly how Blair would react to the crash course he was about to get on explosives construction but dismissed the vague worry.  If Blair were going to stay, he would have to be trained on it eventually anyway.  And right now, it would be something to occupy both their minds. 

 

 

"Looks like you got a new roomie, Ellison."  Jim squinted at the bright light pouring in from his open door of his prison.  A dark figure filled the doorway and tossed something on the floor.  Jim sat up and fumbled for the light switch.  He found it just in time before the door slammed shut again.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, and he spent that moment hoping that he would not see Blair on the floor when he could see properly.  Finally, he could open and focus his eyes without pain, and he turned.  It was not Blair.  He was shocked by who it was, though.  "Chase," he whispered.  He knelt by the younger man and felt for a pulse.  He was relieved to find one.  There was blood in the long black hair, and Jim had no trouble finding the source.  He had either hit his head or been hit in the head very hard.  Jim gently picked him up from the floor and put him in the lower bunk.  He moved then to the sink and wet a cloth to clean the wound. 

 

A few minutes later, Jim had cleaned him up as well as he could and put a makeshift bandage on the wound.  He then moved on to look for other problems.  He grimaced as he found that the left ankle was broken.  He looked around for something to make a split.  There was nothing short of taking apart their beds, and he had no tools to do that anyway.  He sighed and sat down on the floor beside the bunk. 

 

"Of all people, it had to be you," he grumbled.

 

The door opened then, and Jim jumped to his feet.  He recognized the man that entered with Rose from his picture on his website.  George Baker had finally made his entrance.

 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my good buddy, Kit Chase.  Take him out and kill him."

 

"You can't!"  Jim protested quickly.  He might not like the guy, but he could not just let them kill him either.  Besides, they wanted a sentinel, and now they had one if Jim's suspicions were correct.

 

"And why can't I?" Baker grinned at him.

 

"Rose, he's a sentinel."

 

"What?"  Rose was interested, but Baker simply scoffed.

 

"Why do you think he was so focused on Blair?  He needed a guide.  Think about it."

 

"Would explain how they found the explosives I put in their room.  And perhaps his reactions to both Sandburg and Barnes.  You're sure about this?"

 

"Pretty sure."

 

"Doesn't matter." Baker stepped forward.  "He's a filthy Indian.  I don't need a sentinel that bad.  I want him dead."

 

"George!  Think this through.  If nothing else, we could use his DNA to try and isolate the gene for enhanced senses."

 

"You can do that from blood and tissue samples.  Or so you told me."

 

"Please, George, let's discuss this.  He is of more use to us alive.  I need a live sentinel!"

 

"You have Ellison!"

 

Rose looked at Jim then back at Baker.  Here it was.  Rose was about to tell the truth he had been hiding, and Jim wondered if he had ended his own life in his attempt save someone else's.

 

"Ellison has been having some difficulty with his senses without Sandburg."

 

"Well, where's his guide?" Baker pointed at Chase.

 

"If Ellison is correct, he was either functioning without a guide until he met Sandburg, or our other imposter could have been his guide.  Somehow I doubt that, however.  I think he didn't have a guide until he met Sandburg."

 

"So we would still need the Jew.  Why is it just not possible to get away from that little kike?  I cannot ask the ranks of my organization to continue to accept this mixing of the races.  Not even for a good cause.  And if he's not working, why do we need him?" Baker pointed at Jim.

 

"Ellison has been a functioning sentinel the longest period of time.  If for no other reason, genetically, we can still use him."

 

Jim listened to all this with a sense of horror like he had never felt before.  Genetically, they could use him.  Chase was probably condemned to being a human guinea pig and Jim would be a stud.  But they would be alive, he supposed.  Pete would come for Chase, for both of them actually.  Peter Devereaux had done some bad things in his life, but the man had changed, and he would never leave Jim in Rose's hands.  That was why Chase was here now.  He simply had to hope that Pete would come soon.

 

 

 

 

A groan from the bottom bunk dragged Jim from his dire thoughts and back into his dire reality.  He rolled off the top bunk, landing on his feet, before pulling over a chair and sitting down.

 

Chase's eyelids fluttered twice then slowly opened.  Another groan and his eyes closed again.  "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

 

"Feeling's mutual," Jim said.

 

Chase was startled.  "What the…?"  His eyes focused on Jim.  "Great.  No private rooms available, huh?"

 

"Sorry, thought you meant me with that little epithet."

 

"Well, it applies but no.  Didn't see you."  He struggled to sit up but Jim pushed him back down.

 

"Your ankle's broken, and I'm pretty sure you have a concussion.  Don't move around."

 

"How long was I out?"

 

"A few hours, actually.  I was getting worried."

 

"Worried?  About me?"  He laughed bitterly.  "Yeah, right, tell me another one."

 

Jim frowned.  "What the hell did I ever do to you?  Tell me that, please, because I do not understand why you hate me so much.  You have Blair now; I'm not a sentinel anymore, so why this complete and total hatred?"

 

"Whoa, wait.  What you mean I have Blair?  What are you talking about?"

 

Jim shook his head.  "He's your guide now.  I'm not a threat to you."

 

"Why the fuck do I need to a guide?"  He tried to sit up again, but this time his own pain and weakness stopped him and he, more or less, fell back onto the mattress. "Damn it.  I cannot believe I managed to fuck up this badly."

 

Jim was confused.  "You're a sentinel, right?  A sentinel needs a guide to watch his back…"

 

"Stop, stop, stop.  Right there, you can stop.  I am not a sentinel.  Where the hell did you get that stupid idea?"

 

"Then why the interest in Blair?  Look, I've done this before, you know.  Barnes tried to take Blair as her guide. I figure a sentinel without a guide is drawn to–"

 

"You can stop again," Chase interrupted.  "First of all, I say again, I am not a sentinel.  Secondly, I don't want to take Blair anywhere for anything.  I don't have Blair.  Blair has himself.  He's free, and that was my only concern."

 

"So you did all this out of the goodness of your heart?"  Jim put all his powers of sarcasm into the question.

 

Chase looked at him like he had grown a second head.  "Fuck you, Ellison.  You don't know shit."

 

"Then enlighten me."  Jim sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

 

"Okay, fucker, here's some enlightenment for you.  Pete is my boss.  He said we had a job to do.  I take my work very seriously, so I was going to do the job, regardless.  Now, it just so happens that I also got this message telling me I had to help, because one shaman is obligated to help another.  Get it now?  Believe me, I could have done without the complications of the spirit plane sending a dead guy I had never seen before to tell me to get off my ass and help my brother."

 

Jim was dumbfounded.  He sat up in his chair, his arms unfolding.  "You mean –"

 

"We're brothers, me and Blair, spirit brothers, man.  Shamans.  I was summoned, I guess is the best word for it, by some guy that Blair calls In –"

 

"Incacha."

 

"Yeah."

 

Jim ran one hand over his face.  "Damn."

 

"Yeah."

 

"We're in trouble," he stated flatly.

 

"This is just now occurring to you?  Where have you been, man?"

 

Jim waved his hand to dismiss Chase's remarks.  "You don't understand.  I thought you were a sentinel."

 

"Thought wrong."

 

"Yeah, yeah, but I told Baker and Rose that you were."

 

"What?!"  Chase shot up, only to gasp in pain and sway dangerously near the edge of the bed.

 

Jim caught him and tried to put him down again, but Chase pushed his hands away.

 

"Are you nuts?!  Why would you do that?!"

 

"Baker was going to kill you.  I had to do something."

 

Chase opened his mouth several times as if he was trying to find words, but could find none to adequately express the myriad of emotions and thoughts Jim could see plainly on his face.  Finally, he settled on, "Holy shit."

 

Jim almost smiled.  "Yeah, no kidding."

 

"Well, I guess I did wonder why I was still alive.  Baker hates me."

 

"I gathered that."

 

"But I'm dead anyway, now.  I'm not a sentinel and I can't fake that I am."

 

Jim had already thought of that and dismissed it, but they were not out of options yet.  "That's true, but you can do something that they want.  Maybe that will be enough to save you."

 

"What?"

 

"You can guide."

 

Chase sputtered then glared at him.  "What makes you think that?"

 

"You're a shaman.  Incacha was my first guide; he was a shaman.  Blair was my second; he was a shaman.  Holloway was not a shaman, and he was useless as a guide.  I'm thinking that it stands to reason that shamans can guide.  Maybe you don't have to be a shaman to be a guide or a guide to be a shaman, but maybe it makes it easier.  Even if you aren't actually a guide, you can fake that, at least for a while.  Right?"

 

Chase was shaking his head.  "You really are incredibly thick, aren't you?"

 

Jim sighed and sat back again.  "What? Explain it to me then."

 

"Being a shaman is a calling.  Sometimes even a birth rite.  Being a guide is a choice."

 

"So make the damn choice!" Jim snapped.  "It's the only way to keep your sorry ass breathing!"

 

"No!  I will not make that choice!  God!  You have no idea, do you?"  He paused, wincing and reaching for his broken ankle.  He stopped short, however, thinking better of it, Jim supposed.  Frowning, he tried to gingerly rearrange himself on the bank so that he could face Jim.  "Maybe I should rephrase myself.  Being a guide is a commitment.  You have no idea what Blair's done, do you?"

 

"I know what he's done for me.  I will never forget it, and I can never repay it.  Don't lecture me on Blair.  You can't say anything I haven't said to myself thousands of times."

 

"Shut up, Ellison, and listen.  You said Incacha was your first guide, but that's not true.  He may have guided you, but he was never 'your' guide.  He was 'a' guide.  More than likely, he once had a sentinel and that sentinel probably died.  His commitment was to someone else.  He knew how to guide and he may have helped you out of responsibility, decency, whatever, but he would never be your guide.  In fact, it was probably hard for him to act as your guide."

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"According to legends in my culture, sentinels were called guardians and guides were called protectors.  The guardians guarded the tribe and the protectors protected the guardian and thus the tribe.  The protector was always a shaman, you got that part right, but this shaman was different.  This shaman made a commitment to the guardian.  He tied his soul to the soul of the guardian.  Pledged his life to the guardian.  That bond could not be broken, even in death.  If one died, the other could live on, but inside something would always be missing, like a part of his soul was gone.  A protector could guide another, but it would be a constant reminder of that missing piece.  Another could guide the guardian, but the bond was never made so the partnership was not as successful.  That's the legend.  Incacha was not your guide.  Blair is your guide.  He's tied to your soul.  He's made the commitment."

 

"How would you know?"

 

"I'm a shaman.  I know.  Somewhere down the line, he was given a choice.  He chose you, though I have no idea why."

 

Jim ignored the cheap shot at the end of the sentence, instead focusing on the meaning of what Chase had said.  "The fountain."

 

"Pardon?"

 

"He came back.  The jaguar and the wolf merged in the vision."

 

"Exactly, there you go.  He made the choice.  A choice I will not make.  No way, no how.  I will not tie my soul to anybody.  My luck, I'd end up with a jackass like Blair did."

 

"Dear God," Jim breathed.

 

Chase frowned at him.  "Do you get it now?  Do you understand what you really did?  The sad part is that the bond is not broken.  Blair is torn up over this.  Scared to stay, scared to leave.  Hurt down to the soul with no way to heal.  I would love it if he never came back to you, if he never looked back, but that's gonna hurt like hell every day of his life.  You don't deserve him, but he doesn't deserve to feel that empty space inside either.  So I'm torn myself.  He listens to me, you see?  Do I convince him to stay with us, make a new life, however painful that may be?  Or do I send him back to you so you can fuck up his life again?  Catch 22.  Damned one way or the other.  For a while, I thought the more abstract pain would be better, but I watched him and already he was struggling.  I realized something that I should have just known.  You can't live without your soul, even a little piece.  I doubt those ancient sentinels and guides had much of a life if they lost their partners.  So anyway, here I am, trying to keep your sorry ass breathing, to use your own words.  Even though I know you'll just hurt him again and again.  I know you wonder why I care.  I can see it on your face.  I barely know either of you.  But I know enough.  What you did was, to my mind, unforgivable.  I'd have shot you if I were Blair.  Lucky for you, I'm not.  And as for Blair, like I said, brothers.  Fuck with one shaman, fuck with us all."

 

"I didn't know.  I didn't mean to."

 

"Well, I don't even understand how you could.  You must be one really cold, repressed son of a bitch to not feel that hurt in him.  If he's tied to your soul, you're tied to his.  Don't you feel anything?"

 

"Of course, I do!"  Jim shouted, coming out of his chair and shoving it hard so that it smacked the wall of their small cell.  "I just…"  He paced.   He did not know how to explain.  "I just don't, can't.  Ahh!" he screamed in frustration.  "I have a job to do!  I can't let emotions get in the way!  I—"

 

"Check 'em at the door?  Heard Pete say that before.  Usually right before he screws something up big time.  You ignored his feelings.  Hell, you ignore your own, so no big deal.  But it is a big deal.  Look where you are now.  Look where we are, thank you, since I seem to have been picked up for the trip.  You took a wrong turn, buddy.  You're lost.  You're clueless.  You're a fool."

 

"Well, you know what, Chase?  Fuck you too."

 

Chase laughed.  "You already have, Ellison.  Look at me.  How's that old song go?  'Stuck in the middle with you.'"

 

"Well, smart ass, I suggest that you learn to fake being a guide PDQ or you won't be stuck here in the middle with me for very long, now will you?  I didn't ask you to come after me.  I didn't want your help, but you're here now, so perhaps you'd like to put aside your hatred for me long enough for us to stay alive and work together to get out of here."

 

"I don't hate you, Ellison.  I just dislike you.  Very intensely.  As for the rest, Jess was with me.  I'm guessing he got away.  He'll be back with Pete and Alex and possibly lots of folks.  They won't leave us here to die.  I can't fake being a guide, but they don't really know what being a guide entails, so they won't know that, huh?  Thing is, you aren't a sentinel anymore, so you say.  So who am I supposed to guide?"

 

"Alex Barnes."

 

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

 

"It's that or let Baker's goons take you out and shoot you."

 

"Gee, what a choice."

 

 

Rose had come and taken Chase away a few hours later.  Jim had helped the man into the wheelchair as the two of them told the "good" doctor that he did not, in fact, have another sentinel, but a guide.  Rose was in the space of one breath both disappointed and elated.  Suddenly, Jim could see that Chase was going to be treated with kid gloves, at least by Rose.  Jim had worried that Chase's broken ankle would half-heartedly treated until that moment.  Rose had what he needed most, or so he thought, and he needed Chase unimpaired.

 

As Jim sat mulling over the events of the night, he could not help but think, rather uncharitably, that if Chase was forced to be Barnes' guide, at least Blair would be safe from Rose.  He had one sentinel, however insane she was, and he would have one guide.  Sort of.  Maybe, just maybe, they would lose interest in Blair altogether.  After all, Baker was obviously not too keen on Blair anyway. 

 

His thoughts turned entirely to Blair then.  If what Chase had told him was true, not true just to Chase, but the real truth of sentinels and guides, what did that mean for Blair?  What did that mean for him, for that matter?  One selfish part of him screamed that Blair would have to come home, that he would have to forgive Jim.  The more selfless part though whispered that he did not want to cause Blair any more pain, and one way or another, he should just hope that Blair was happy and healthy.  Funny how a whisper could be so much louder than a scream.  "Whatever happens, Chief, please be safe.  Just be happy."

 

Chase said that the one left behind would feel like a piece of himself was missing.  That was how Jim felt.  Had felt for a long time.  It had started as soon as he got the reactivation call.  The realization hit, and he nearly cried.  He had tried to break the bond.  He had been the one to try to walk away.  Blair may have been the one to physically leave him behind, but Jim had already turned his heart away from Blair.  "My fault, Chief.  All my fault."

 

He did not deserve Blair.  Incacha had said it.  Chase had said it.  They were right.  But right did not stop him from begging, pleading with whatever powers steered the universe to give him back his guide.  More than that.  His best friend.  His brother. 

 

Now, he did cry.  No wonder men went insane in solitary, he thought crazily.  Too many truths waiting to be discovered.  Too much time to dig them all up and examine them, to lament bad decisions and wrongdoings, to see yourself as others see you.

 

Chase had held up a very unflattering mirror.  Jim had looked at it and seen a cold, unfeeling man reflected back at him.  His father, came the comparison, unwanted but painfully true.  Lock out your emotions and lock out that which makes you human.  That was what Chase was saying.  But he could not let his emotions rule him.  That was wrong, too.  He had ignored Blair's feelings many, many times.  The Ventriss case, for sure.  His solitary fishing trip that nearly ended in disaster.  He should have learned something then and there.  Reading the dissertation, big mistake.  Yet not as big as jumping to conclusions about it afterward.  Ruthlessly shoving Blair out of his life over and over since that call, deep down knowing what that was doing to his partner, but not willing to find another way.  He could try to call it duty or loyalty to his oath, but it was not.  It was fear.  Afraid to hold on, afraid to let go.  Hurt down to his soul with no way to heal, Chase had said about Blair.  But it was not just about Blair, was it?  No, the bond went both ways.

 

"Goddamn you, Chase.  Why did you have to make me see?"  One hand moved to his chest without any conscious thought on his part, seemingly trying to cover the gaping hole Jim finally allowed himself to feel.

 

 

Alex stared at his new friend and student.  The demolitions lesson had gone well.  Blair had not been too shocked by Alex's arsenal.  Add that to the fact that he was finally able to keep his eyes open while shooting and was hitting the target much of the time, and Alex was able to believe for the first time that Blair just might make it with the agency.  He was not ready for fieldwork, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was learning.  Of course, the improvement could be attributed to Blair's absolute determination to help Ellison despite everything they had done to each other.  Kit might be determined to blame it all on Ellison, but even Blair admitted that they had both made serious mistakes and was carrying around quite a bit of guilt.  At the moment, however, Blair simply stared off into the woods, one hand clutched to his chest.

 

"Are you hurting?" Alex asked finally.

 

"What?" Blair turned his head to face him.

 

Alex gestured at the hand still on Blair's chest.

 

"Oh!" He moved his hand quickly, his face showing his surprise at finding it there in the first place.  "No, I—uh, I don't know why I was doing that."

 

Alex moved from the doorway of the cabin to the rocking chair on the other side of Blair's.  He sat down and gently rocked back and forth.  Blair's eyes drifted back to focus on the woods again, or perhaps focus was the wrong word.  Alex wondered if he saw the trees at all.  "Pete won't be back until morning.  He won't come back here at night.  Too dangerous," he told his guest.  That was what the younger man was looking for out there, he surmised.

 

"We should have gone with him."

 

"And do what?  Wring our hands and fret while he talks incessantly on that cell phone?  That's all we could do, you know."

 

"Still."

 

"Still, we can wring our hands and fret here, which is exactly what you are doing.  Right?"

 

"You are so damn calm."

 

"I am so damn practical.  Not calm.  Not really.  I am worried.  I am angry.  I am very tired of waiting, but I can't let those things make me careless."

 

"You remind me of Jim."

 

"How's that?"

 

"'Check your emotions at the door, Blair.  You can't get personally involved,'" he mimicked Ellison's so-serious tone so well.

 

Alex chuckled.  "All black and white with him, isn't it?"

 

Blair looked at him, an odd expression on his face.

 

"Been there, done that," Alex continued.  "Actually, I assure you, I am feeling.  My emotions are in play; they simply don't call all the moves."

 

"Chess analogies?  Black and white, moves in play?"

 

"Leave it to me."  Alex smiled.  "Anyway, it's a balance.  I can be personally involved and still be practical and get the job done.  There was a time that wasn't true.  I have run the gamut, but I finally found some balance.  Kit helped me with that.  Though I will never admit that to him and don't you say a word.  I'll deny everything.  He's good though, that one.  Makes you see yourself, all the things you are, all the things you aren't, and all the things you'd like to be, good, bad or indifferent.  Sort of like looking at yourself through a prism.  You are still just one person, but there are a multitude of little faces reflected back at you, not all pretty and nice, but all parts of you.  If he weren't such a smart ass while doing it, you might even be inclined to thank him someday, but alas, he is a smart ass.  Little bastard."

 

It was Blair's turn to chuckle.  "He is sort of a smart ass sometimes."

 

"Sometimes?" Alex raised an eyebrow.  "And a chameleon.  I think his own prism must have thousands of faces.  You would think that he would stick out like a sore thumb in certain circumstances, most even.  He's quite striking, all that hair and such.  But he always seems to fit in seamlessly.  Like you, I think.  Had I not been told I would never have pictured you with Ellison or as part of a police department.  He finds ways to fit in, changes to suit his environment without changing the essentials that make him Kit.  I think you have that talent too.  Maybe it's part of the shaman thing.  Kit says that you are like him, so maybe that's part of the talent of it."

 

"I thought it was the anthropologist in me."

 

"Ah, but why Anthropology?  Did you choose it or did it choose you?"

 

That gave Blair something else to focus on, which had been Alex's goal all along.  Hours later, when Blair's eyes were struggling to remain open and Alex talked him into going to bed, Alex had learned more about human culture and its development than he ever knew existed.  Alex had thought he was well versed on world cultures.  He had been wrong, apparently.  As he turned off the last of the lights, he said a short prayer for Kit's safety.  And Ellison's too.  He sighed and started up the stairs to his bedroom.  A soft inquiry stopped him.

 

"Alex, what if I was supposed to balance Jim?  Like Kit did for you?  What if that was my job?"
 

Alex turned to see Blair moving to the steps.  "You can't take responsibility for someone else's problems, Blair."

 

"But I was his guide.  His shaman.  I should have been able to help him."

 

"First, he had to want help.  He had to accept help.  You can lead a jackass to water, but you can't make him drink."

 

"Horse, Alex.  It's—it's a horse."

 

"Oh?  I thought we were talking about Ellison."  Alex grinned.

 

In the moonlight, he saw Blair's smile.  "Harsh, man, very harsh."

 

"But very true.  Don't believe me?  Ask Ellison.  I think he would agree."

 

Blair lowered his head for a long moment.  "He is sorry, you know.  I could tell.  I was just so mad."

 

"With every right to be so," Alex pointed out.

 

"He meant well."

 

"The road to hell."

 

"Damn it!  Make up your mind!  Do you want me to forgive him or not?"

 

Alex walked back down the stairs and placed his hands on Blair's shoulders.  "Blair, I want you to do what's right for you.  But I want you to really know what that is before you do anything.  This is one of those times when you have to use that balance we were talking about.  You can't make this decision with just your head, or just your heart.  And you can't let me or anyone else tell you what you should do.  I think I've learned a little from Kit.  I'm trying to—"

 

"Hold up a prism?"

 

"Yeah, of a sort."  He dropped his hands.

 

"Playing devil's advocate?"

 

"That's it, precisely."  Alex smiled and pointed a finger at him.

 

"So whatever I lean toward, you'll push me the other way?"

 

"No, whatever you feel, I'm going to try to make you think about.  And whatever you think about, I'm going to try to make you feel."

 

"That sucks."

 

"Well, it's what Kit would be doing if he were more objective.  He's already decided he hates Ellison, so I don't think he can help with this."

 

"He really does hate him.  Wonder why."

"If you ask me, I'd say an overdeveloped sense of morality and the absolute conviction that he is always right," Alex said, not quite serious and not quite joking.  "I think it goes back to Kit's understanding of what this sentinel business is all about.  There are legends in Kit's culture about them and because of them, he expected better from Ellison.  Ellison failed to live up to the standards of those legends in Kit's mind and thus must be condemned."

 

"But he's only human."

 

"Ah, is he?"

 

"What are you saying?"

 

"I'm not saying anything.  I'm asking."

 

Blair sat on the steps.  "You're asking if I'm under some delusion that he's somehow more than human?"

 

"Are you?"

 

"No, he disabused me of that notion a long time ago."  Blair laughed, but it had a sad sound to Alex's ears.

 

Alex sat beside him.  "Well, to Kit, he was the living embodiment of a revered legend who fell woefully short of Kit's ideal.  Thus the animosity.  And despite your words, I think there were still times when you looked at him and saw an 'S' across his chest."

 

Blair grinned.  "Yeah, that's true, I guess.  He's larger than life sometimes.  Or he was, anyway."

 

"And that adds to the hurt, doesn't it?"

 

"You're a smart guy."

 

"Smart?"  Alex shrugged, though secretly pleased at the compliment.  "I'm just good at psycho-babble.  Had to hear it for 30 days of my life.  Did me no good at all, but to learn to do it others."

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing.  Bad time in my life and a very long story.  Rather not go into it if you don't mind.  Besides, we need to sleep.  Tomorrow, Pete will have more news, and hopefully, a workable plan."

 

Blair nodded a little.  "I do understand, and I hope you're right.  About the plan, I mean.  Good night, Alex."  He stood.

 

"Good night, Blair.  Again."

 

"Last time, I swear." Blair laughed as he headed down the hall. 

 

Alex watched him go then looked out of the nearest window at the silvery moonlight.  "Good night, Eliza," he whispered.

 



Pete sat cross-legged in the middle of his hotel bed.  He frowned as he studied the layout of the grounds of the Millennium Research Center's San Francisco facility, the blueprints of the building itself, and some aerial photos the SFPD had taken and graciously given to Chad Ryan.  Frontal assault would be dangerous, and Jim and Kit would be dead before they even got through the gate.  The FBI wanted that frontal assault, but Pete had nixed that right away.  Ryan's people were not coming in until Jim and Kit were safely out of Rose and Baker's custody.  That meant getting in quietly first.  Jesse had explained that the security system at the facility had a backup system.  That was how Kit had gotten caught.  Cut the power, reroute the power, or dispute the power in any way and the backup switch was thrown automatically, resulting in a window of about one minute.  Enough for Kit to get to the top of that stupid electric fence.  Not enough for an assault group to get in, that was sure. 

 

What was worse, Kit's success getting into the Baltimore facility might have even been the reason for the new security measures.  He had practically waltzed in back in Baltimore.  Maybe San Francisco was better guarded all along.  Who knew, but Jesse felt incredibly guilty for not catching the problem in time to keep Kit from being captured.  At any rate, sneaking in was not an option.

 

They also were not going to bluff their way in this time.  They were expected.  He picked up one of the aerial shots.  The picture was of the front gate.  There was a delivery truck at the gate.  He could not see what was written on it.  He put the photo back on the bed and tapped it with one finger.  That was their way in.  He was not sure how Simon Banks and his crew were going to feel about hijacking a truck, not to mention how the FBI would react, but it was easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission.  Besides, Chad knew him well enough to know that he would go to any extreme, up to and including blowing the whole place to kingdom come, to retrieve one of his men.  As long as Pete got the evidence that the FBI wanted to get Baker, Ryan would cover his ass for anything Pete did.  And he did have tentative blessings from the Pentagon and the CIA.

 

He just needed the name of the company on that truck.  Not a problem with Jesse around.  He would take the picture to Jesse, and in less time than it took Pete to talk Mrs. Riviera into making him a batch of cookies, they would be in business.  Pete grinned.  Jesse's mom made the best damn cookies he had ever eaten and all it took was a smile, a wink, and a please and he would have those cookies.  His mouth actually watered at the thought.

 

The next thought wiped the smile off his face.  He did have just one little problem.  Not that little, about five foot eight worth of problem actually.  Blair Sandburg.  What to do with Blair, Pete did not have a clue.  His newest employee would not appreciate being left out of this operation, but he was not ready to go into the field.  Leaving him behind was not exactly an ideal situation either.  Pete did not have a man available to protect him.  He would be safe at Alex's though, if he stayed there.  But he would not stay without a guard.  "Wait, the traps.  Alex's traps.  He can't leave with all those traps.  Ah-ha."  He grinned.  "If they can keep people out, they can keep one anthropologist in.  Hopefully."  He absently chewed on his bottom lip.  Of course, Blair would be furious at being left behind, but Jim would be furious if Pete brought Blair along.  Leaving Blair behind was best. 

 

They had plenty of help.  Banks had four of his people coming with him to help with the assault.  How he had managed to wrangle the simultaneous time off for his entire core group, Pete would never know.  It probably took hours of meetings with multitudes of bureaucrats.  The thought was just too unsavory to contemplate.  The fact that they were going to retrieve Cascade's Cop of the Year, two years running, probably helped.  Also, Pete knew that Ryan had had a word or two with the Police Commissioner.  With the Major Crimes group, Alex, Jesse and him, he had a good-sized assault team.  Ryan's team would only have to come in and roundup the bad guys and sweep away the debris. 

 

He picked up his cell again.  He had to arrange a meeting place with Banks.  L.A. was the best choice.  Baker's people would stake out San Francisco, after all.  And Jesse and his mom's cookies were in L.A.  He smiled again. 

 

Then he had a twinge of guilt.  Kit was in trouble, possibly dead, and he was thinking about cookies.  He thought back to Jess's frantic call.  Jesse had been near tears.  He had been forced to leave Kit behind.  Pete knew how that felt.  It was not a good feeling.  "Fuck," he whispered, running his free hand over his short hair, leaving it standing on end.  But the state of his hair was the very least of his worries.  He stared at the cell phone still in his other hand.  He thumbed the power button and dialed up Cascade.  Time to get the show on the road.

 

 

"So you knew Pete before, huh?" Kit asked the man on the top bunk.  He had to take his mind off of the cast on his left leg.  It was itching already.  It was psychosomatic, he realized, but that did not stop the itch.

 

"Yeah," his unwilling roommate answered flatly.

 

A moment of silence told Kit that nothing more was forthcoming.  "What was Pete like when he was young and impetuous?"

 

"Young and impetuous."

 

"Jackass," Kit muttered, but not without humor.  That was just the sort of answer he would have given, after all.

 

"Look, I don't like you, and you don't like me.  I think that makes it acceptable for us to completely ignore one another.  Let's try that, shall we?"

 

"No, you look!"  Kit rolled off the bunk, wincing as he accidentally put weight on his ankle.  Impatiently, he shoved his long, tangled hair out of his face.  "I came after you.  I was here to help you, so I think a little courtesy wouldn't kill you!  Besides, wasn't it you who said that we needed to work together to get out of here?"

 

Ellison's blue eyes regarded him in the gloom of their cell.  For a moment, Kit was worried that the man might attack him.  He was in no shape to defend himself.  His head was pounding, and his ankle was throbbing.  He hopped back a little to get ready for it, though, just in case.  But the eyes softened a little and Ellison sighed.  He sat up on his bunk.  "Sorry," he mumbled, through the hands that ran over his face.  "I just—I'm not at my best right now."

 

"Gee, I hope not."  Kit instantly regretted the smart remark.  "Sorry, sorry.  You tend to bring out my bad side."

 

"More like your brutally honest side."

 

Kit raised one eyebrow.  "Say again?"

 

Ellison jumped down from the top bunk and grabbed Kit's arm.  Kit started to pull away, but before he could, he realized that Ellison was only steering him gently to a chair.  Once Kit was seated, the man pulled the chair over to Kit's bunk and propped Kit's ankle on the mattress.  "You should keep that elevated," he explained before sitting on the bunk himself.

 

"Who are you?" Kit asked sarcastically.

 

"Jim Ellison, nice to meet you."  He offered his hand.

 

Kit looked at him, then his hand, then back at him.  Tentatively, he held out his own hand.  Ellison took it in a firm grasp.  "Kit Chase, still deciding if it's nice to meet you or not."

 

"Understandable.  You know, I was really pissed at you."

 

"Was?"  Kit almost smiled.

 

"Maybe still am a little.  But I have been thinking about what you said.  You made some good points."

 

"I try."

 

"Do you ever stop being such a smart ass?"

 

"Can't help it.  The rest of me ain't dumb either."  This time, Kit did smile while Ellison shook his head.  "Alex says I'm annoying."

 

"He's right.  You are."

 

Kit laughed.  "Part of my job, though.  My grandfather says that a shaman must think with both his head and his heart, but there's just one problem.  Most men think with something considerably lower than either of those things."  Ellison almost smiled.  Kit went on.  "He actually attributes that last part of the lesson to my grandmother, however.  At any rate, you weren't using your head or your heart.  You were thinking with your pride, and there's nothing more dangerous or hurtful than that."

 

"You're right."

 

"But I was also wrong."

 

"Meaning?"

 

"I forgot something.  You're still human.  Humans make mistakes.  In fact, we are entitled to make them.  How else would we learn?  So I was expecting the great legend, the Guardian of the tribe.  I got Jim Ellison, the man, the human.  It pissed me off.  I did some thinking too.  Didn't have much else to do, and it was useful to drown out Rose's inane theories about what you are and what I am.  Alex tried to tell me all of this, you know.  But I wasn't listening.  I should have known better but—"

 

"You're human.  You're entitled to your mistakes."

 

"He can be taught!" Kit smiled to soften the sarcasm.  "Blair made mistakes too.  Mostly from not being aware of what he is and what he can do.  I'm trying to fix that, by the way."

 

"Good."

 

"He does miss you."

 

"I miss him, but I don't want him here."

 

"Then we agree on something then."

 

"If we both want Blair safe and healthy, then yes, we have common ground."  Ellison offered his hand again and Kit did not hesitate to take it.

 

"I still think you're a jackass."  He could not help the impulse to say it.

 

Ellison chuckled.  "Yeah, and you're still an annoying smart ass."

 

"Fair enough," he said as Ellison helped him back onto his bunk.

 

"Good night, Chase."

 

"Good night, Ellison."  Kit waited until the other man was on his bunk, then added, "I still want to know the dirt on Pete."

 

"Well, there's plenty of it.  Another night though.  All of this emotional soul-searching is exhausting."

 

"I suppose that'll be okay.  Gotta take it easy on my elders."

 

"Chase?"

 

"What?"

 

"Don't make me kick your ass."

 

"I'm an injured man.  You wouldn't."

 

"Don't count on that."

 

"You can't fool me, Ellison.  For all your faults, you are still a decent man."

 

There was a silence so long that Kit began to believe that his fellow prisoner had fallen asleep, but he had not.  "Thanks.  I needed to hear that right now."

 

"You're welcome," Kit answered honestly.  He shifted on the bunk, trying to get comfortable with the heavy cast.  He sighed.  It was impossible.  He would never get to sleep. 

 

He was wrong.

 

 

Jim listened to his cellmate's even breathing.  He had known the moment that Chase drifted off to sleep.  He was telling the truth; he was exhausted.  However, his mind stubbornly refused to cooperate with him and shut down.  Chase said that he was a decent man.  Why couldn't the mercenary continue to hate him?  Now, he felt all the more guilt over the direction his earlier thoughts had taken.  Guilt or no, however, he could not help his feelings.  Better Chase than Blair.  He hoped Pete had the good sense to keep Blair far from here.  Of course, he was once again assuming that Blair would care what happened to him.  Chase said that Blair missed him, but he did not say Blair forgave him.  Huge difference there.

 

There was no reason for Blair to come back anyway.  Jim's senses were gone.  He did not need a guide.  He had lost even that to bring Blair back to him.  Blair had a chance to get his doctorate now and go on with his life.  Traveling the world, learning everything he could, that was Blair's real joy in life.  As long as Blair was learning something, he was happy.  His second joy was teaching what he had learned.  Jim had nearly destroyed his chances to do those things.  No, Blair was better off without Jim.  There was just one problem.  Jim was not better off without Blair.

 

It was the same result every time he took that round trip in his head.  He needed Blair.  Blair did not need him.  He wanted Blair to come home, but had no right to expect it or even ask it.

 

Georgetown.  Blair had a chance to go to Georgetown.  No one deserved it more.  He should go.  He should get his doctorate.  And yet, what would his thesis be?  It could not be the sentinel thesis.  Jim had not been exposed as a sentinel.  The world thought Jim simply had experienced a few isolated instances of heightened hearing, if he remembered the final version of the story right.  He could not publish on Barnes, not with Baker and Rose out there.  If Pete took them down, maybe then he could.  But that thought made Jim nervous.  Even after all that they had been through, the idea that Blair might make heightened senses public knowledge made his heart pound in his chest.  Once the world knew, how long before his secret was exposed, regardless of who the dissertation named? 

 

Which brought him to the old argument.  Why the hell had Blair put his name in the damn paper to begin with?  They had talked about it, and argued about it until both of them were blue in the face.  Blair saying that it was just the rough draft and that the final would not have named him, pointing out that the introductory chapter had long since been turned in and properly cleansed of Jim's name.  Then Jim arguing that it was still careless of him to have his name in it at all and for him to leave it sitting around for just anybody to see.  Which had started the argument about Naomi.  Absent and absent-minded Naomi.  Jim was still angry with her.  She had taken off pretty quickly after turning their lives upside down and left Blair wounded by her last words.  Yes, she had been all smiles in the bullpen, pretending to be the supportive mother while everyone was looking, but once she got Blair alone, it was a whole new ballgame.  She had made it clear that she could not accept her son becoming a cop.  She had even told Blair that if he went through with the Academy she would not be around for him anymore.  As if she ever had been. 

 

Another argument had ensued between he and Blair as Blair waffled between being Jim's partner and his mother's son.  Jim could admit now that he had browbeaten Blair into the Academy.  Blair would never have been happy as a cop.  He hated acknowledging that, because, in a way, it made Naomi right.  He frowned.  He had to stop thinking now.  Whenever he came to the conclusion that Naomi was right, it was a bad sign for his sanity.  A zone would be nice, he decided.  But instead of a zone, he finally succumbed to sleep.

 

 

"If you try to leave me here, I'll follow you."

 

Pete observed the stubborn face of Blair Sandburg, but he had no intention of giving in.  "You can't.  You'll just hurt yourself.  Alex has traps all over these woods.  Don't even try it, because we are not coming back for you.  We don't have the time.  You'll be stuck here and injured."

 

"No, I won't.  Kit pointed out all of Alex's traps.  I have them mapped out in my head.  Unless he's changed them in the last week, I know where each and every one of them is located."  Arms crossed over his chest, Blair gave Pete a smug grin.

 

Pete looked to Alex who half-shrugged at him.

 

"So then, it's settled.  I'll go get my things."  Blair left them standing in the living room of the cabin.

 

"Is he bluffing?" Pete finally asked aloud.

 

"Don't know.  Maybe, maybe not.  Kit does know where my traps are, and I haven't changed them since we've been here."

 

"Fuck!"

 

"Sorry, Pete."

 

Pete sighed.  "Fine.  Better not take the chance."

 

"As much as I know he's not ready, I'd rather him be with us than trailing behind us, unprotected.  He is getting pretty good with a gun."

 

"He did hold his own in El Salvador that time.  Damn it!  It's too soon after—well, you know."  He gestured.

 

"His breakdown?  I seem to recall I wasn't long back from my little trip to Looneyville when you hired me."

 

Pete turned sharply to look at his friend, thinking that perhaps he had managed to insult Alex.  But he was smiling so Pete just tried to qualify his doubts.  "That was different."

 

"Yes, I suppose so, but to tell you the truth, if anything, Blair is more stable that I was.  He'll be fine."

 

Pete grimaced and flung his hands up in surrender.  "I can not believe that Kit showed him all those traps!"

 

"He needed to.  They were planning to be in the woods quite a bit, you know."

 

"Well, what's done is done.  Let's just go get him."

 

"So you can kill him yourself?"  Alex chuckled.

 

"Thought did cross my mind.  The little—"

 

"Bastard," Alex finished, laughing.

 

"Why is my life so complicated?"  Pete whined.

 

"Karma," came the answer from a blue flannelled, curly-headed blur that passed by him on its way to the door.  "Let's go.  Time's wasting."  Blair opened the door and gestured for them to precede him.

 

"Blair, where's your gun?"  Alex was surprisingly nonchalant about the question.

 

"In my backpack."

 

"Where you can't get to it," Alex calmly pointed out.

 

"Oh, there is that."  The idea was obviously just striking the anthropologist.

 

Pete was not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.  "Karma," he muttered as he walked out of the door.

 

 

"Good morning, Mr. Chase.  If you would, please, come with me."

 

Kit glanced at Ellison.  The man was focused on Rose, however.  He regarded the man with blank eyes, but Kit knew better.  He knew that Ellison would have his own unpleasantness to face once Kit was gone and that he was trying to be stoic.  "See you later." 

 

Ellison gave him a half-nod and went back to his breakfast.

 

Kit grabbed his crutches and hobbled out the door.  Rose placed one hand on the small of Kit's back as they made their way down the hall.  The hand made Kit's skin crawl.  "Where are we going?"

 

"To meet your new sentinel."

 

"Lovely."

 

"Yes, actually, she is.  You remember her, don't you?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Mr. Chase, do I have to tell you what will happen to you if you don't succeed with Ms. Barnes?"

 

"No."

 

"Good, good.  That's wonderful.  Ready?"

 

"Not really."

 

Rose laughed as he came to a stop outside a door.

 

"She's crazy, you know.  No one may be able to help her."

 

"Mr. Chase, Kit.  May I call you Kit?"

 

"No, I would really prefer that you didn't."

 

Rose laughed again.  "Mr. Chase, then.  You had better help her or you die."  He turned to the door behind him.  He slid his passkey through the sensor and the door opened.  "After you."

 

"How do I know you'll follow me?"

 

"I have no intention of following.  I'll be in the observation room."  Rose ever so gently but firmly pulled Kit toward the door then pushed him through it.  The door closed and Kit stood, balanced on his good leg and the crutches, inside a padded room.

When he did not immediately see Alex Barnes, the back of his head started tingling. Slowly, he turned.  Before he could face her, however, she slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.  His crutches clattered to the on the tiled floor, and she released him and grabbed her head.  She whimpered and crawled away.  He lay there for a moment, trying to regain his breath.  Pain lanced up his leg, and his head was suddenly pounding once again.  When he could breath again, he sat up.  His vision was slightly out of focus, but he located her quickly.  She was huddled in the far corner of the room.  He opened his mind to her and gasped at what he saw.  There before him was the spotted jaguar, but that was not the shock.  The shock came when he caught sight of the tiny cub she was curled around.  He shifted his sight, drawing him consciousness out of the spirit plane.  Looking now at the blond woman he could see the slight protrusion of her abdomen.  She was pregnant.

 

Rage rolled through him, making him hot and nauseated.  He cursed Rose not quite under his breath, and she whimpered again, obviously frightened by his anger.  He glared at the mirror where he knew Rose was watching.  He did not expect a response from the man, and he did not get one.  Sighing and cursing again, he crawled slowly over to her.  Even as he did, the battle raged.

 

This woman was a criminal.  She had tried to kill Blair Sandburg and almost succeeded.   She had killed others.  She was a thief.  But she was hurting and scared.  And carrying another life inside her.  That life was innocent of her crimes.  He was torn, but her pain called out to him, and he continued to move toward her, not away.  He could not help himself. 

 

Rose was a monster.  How could a man do such a horrible thing?  Barnes was no angel, true, but in her present state, she was helpless to defend herself.  She had probably been drugged into submission.  Kit felt sick and he fought down the bile that threatened in the back of his throat.  Did she even understand what had happened, what was happening?  His vision showed her spirit self protecting he cub, but that did not mean that Alex Barnes knew or understood that she was pregnant.  Why would Rose do this?  Actually, he had not, Kit realized.  White-hot truth set his veins on fire.  Not Rose.  Not exactly anyway.  Ellison.  Ellison was the father of that child.  Portions of the file they had found flashed through Kit's head like pictures on a screen.  Rose wanted to start a breeding program and he had.  The medical report on Ellison had listed a sperm count, meaning they had taken samples.  Rose had impregnated Alex Barnes with Ellison's sperm.  It was the only explanation, as Kit could not see Ellison willingly having sex with her.  He repressed the urge to curse again as he settled himself in front of Barnes.  He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.  Ever so cautiously, he lifted one hand to show her that it was empty.  She eyed him warily, but did not move.  Gently, he smoothed her hair away from her face and tried to smile at her.  She reached out to him, her hand mimicking his, touching his hair softly.  She smiled, almost shyly.

 

Then the world shifted out of focus again as she snatched him into her world.  The spotted jaguar circled him as he shifted to his animal shape.  The jag stepped back from the cougar and sniffed the air.  Then she circled again.  He only watched her.  Then she nudged him and seemed to wait for a response.   When he did not respond, she roared at him.  Still, he did not move.  She lay down, confusion showing on the feline face.

 

Kit exerted his will once again and regained his human form.  He held out a hand to her, hoping that she would shift as well, but she did not.  Finally, he understood.  She was stuck in this form, thus the feral behavior she exhibited.  He pulled them both from the spirit plane, only to find Rose standing over them.

 

"What—"

 

Rose never got to finish his question as Kit surged up, disregarding the pain in his leg and punched the man in the face.  Rose stumbled back and hit the floor.  In seconds, Barnes was on him, clawing him mercilessly.

 

"Shit."  Kit tried to pull her off.  Then the room was flooded with men.  Kit was dragged away and pinned to the wall as Alex was torn away from her prey.  It took four men to accomplish just that.

 

"Let me go!"  Kit struggled against his captors.  "I can help, damn it!"  But they did not let go.  Instead, Rose pulled himself up as she was dragged down to the floor.  His face and neck bleeding, he half-stumbled over to her and plunged a needle into her hip.

 

"You son of a bitch!" Kit screamed at him.  "You could hurt the baby, you bastard!"

 

On the floor, Alex stopped struggling and succumbed to the sedative.

 

"It was unavoidable," Rose said blandly.  "Get me something for this," he told one of the men as he gestured to his face.

 

"Unavoidable, my ass.  This whole thing is your fault.  You did this to her!  Your fault!"

 

Rose simply turned and picked up Kit's crutches.  He seemed calm as he walked over to Kit, but when he held out the crutches, Kit could see his hands trembling.  "Let him go."

 

When he was free, Kit grabbed the crutches.  "You are such a fucking snake, Rose.  I hope she kills you.  I hope I'm there to see it."

 

"What happened in here?"  Rose ignored his statements.  "The two of you seemed to connect.  Did you communicate with her at all?"

 

"Fuck you.  I'm not telling you anything."

 

"Do you have a death wish, Mr. Chase?"

 

"Yeah, yours."

 

Rose grabbed the gauze pads from the man who rushed to his side and dabbed at his face with them.  "If you don't cooperate, you will die."

 

"Oh, I'm going to help her.  I have to.  You made sure of that, didn't you?  And when she's put back together and that baby is born, I'm going to help her come after you, you fucker.  I swear it.  We will kill you!"  Rose blinked and swallowed hard and Kit smirked at him.

 

Rose cleared his throat.  "Take him back to his cell."  His voice shook just a bit.

 

Kit tilted his head then and gave Rose a thoughtful look.  "Then again, when I tell Ellison what you've done, he may just kill you before I can get Alex ready for you."  Rose's men started pulling him away.  "Hey, wanna come by the old cell later?  Jim'll be glad to see you!  You are dead, Rose!  One way or another, you're a corpse!"  He snatched his arms out of his captors' grasps.  He nearly lost his balance, but he used his crutches to stay upright.  "I don't need your help.  Don't fucking touch me."

 

They followed him down the hallway as he tried to slow his breathing.  His head felt like an over-ripe melon now.  His heart pounded against his ribs, the sound of it so loud in his ears that he could barely hear anything else.  Had he lost his mind?  Could he really help her?  Did he really want to?  His words, skirting the edges of a life-long commitment to a mad woman, pulsed through his mind to the rhythm of his heart.  He could help.  That much he knew.  But should he?  He had told Ellison that he would not ever make that choice.  Nothing less than a bond to a guide would ever be able to save her, though.  He could get her out of her spirit form without a bond, but repairing her shattered mind and soul would require a bond, a permanent connection to a guide, if it could be done at all.  But she was still a thief and a killer.  He could not tie himself to that.  But the baby.  Two sentinels would produce a sentinel child.  Perhaps he could control her, direct her abilities to something good.  She would not be the only member of The Devereaux Agency with a criminal past.  No.  He could not, would not be a guide.  He had his own life to lead; he had a calling.  What about the baby, his conscience demanded.  He could not let Baker and Rose ruin the child's life.  Dear God, he had to tell Jim Ellison, too.

 

"God, it's too much.  All too much," he muttered his prayer.  His escorts ignored him.  He was breathing hard and trying to force his eyes to focus by the time one of the men behind him grabbed his shoulder to stop him.  He turned to face the door to his prison.  His chest was hurting now and his head was tingling as he was pushed through the door.  Ellison sat up on the top bunk and looked at him.

 

"Chase?  You all right?"  Ellison's face looked concerned and Kit vaguely wondered why.

 

Then again, maybe he knew why, he thought as the edges of the world started to get fuzzy and gray.  "Help me?"  Had he said that?

 

"Oh, shit."  Ellison jumped down and Kit thought it quite strange that the other man could walk on the wall like that.  Then the world faded to black.

 

 

Jim tried to catch Chase before he hit the floor, but he was too late.  The door slammed shut as Jim knelt beside the younger man.  He felt for a pulse.  It was fast, but strong.  He scooped Chase up and deposited him on his own bunk.  He stepped into the small bathroom and wet down one of the washcloths there.  He squeezed the excess water from it and moved back to the bed to place the cloth on Chase's forehead.  He pulled up the chair and sat down.

 

He looked the other man over critically.  He did not appear to be hurt any more than he had been before, though, and Jim wondered what had happened to cause his collapse.  Perhaps just too much activity too soon.  Maybe he hyperventilated.  He was breathing normally now, however.  With the absence of any evidence of new injury, Jim would simply have to wait until he came around to ask him what happened.

 

That annoyed him. He wanted to know what was going on with Barnes.  Was she catatonic like the last time he had seen her?  Rose had said once that she was feral.  That was his word.  To Jim, that meant violent.  Had she attacked Chase and aggravated his concussion?  Or had Chase been able to reach her?  The thought gave him a jolt of something very like jealousy, and he ruthlessly crushed the feeling, even as he wondered why he had felt it at all.  Rose had also said that she still had her sentinel senses.  That hardly seemed fair.  She had done many things much worse than he and he did not have his senses anymore.  She had tried to kill a guide, for crying out loud.  But Blair had not been her guide.  No, that was not the explanation.  Technically, Blair had not been his guide at the time either, if he believed Chase's version of the legend.  Blair had made his choice after… after what?  His death, Jim admitted.  He had come back to be Jim's guide.  Their spirits had merged and then Blair had been his guide.  Before, Blair had been a shaman who was able to guide.  But just when their bond should have gotten stronger, Jim had pulled away.  Just when Blair made his commitment, a commitment that he proved once and for all when he threw away his future to save Jim's ass, Jim had deserted him.  Jim knew the pain of abandonment intimately.  The thought of the pain Blair must have felt brought tears to Jim's eyes.  How could he have bore that kind of pain?  How could Jim have inflicted that kind of pain on someone, knowing how it felt?  His face burned with shame.

 

Before he could slip into a full-blown guilt trip, a moan drew his attention once more to the man in the bottom bunk.

 

"Chase?  You back with me?"  Jim leaned over him and tapped his face lightly.

 

"What?"  Chase blinked at him.  "Whoa man, back up a little."  Chase pushed his hands away.

 

"What happened?"

 

Chase looked at him blankly for a minute.  Then there was a flash of something in his eyes.  It disappeared before Jim could name it.  "Yeah, um, can we talk about it later?  It was kind of intense.  I need to—I need some time here to sort out what—you know, later."

 

Jim stared at him.  "You want to process?  That it?"

 

"Yeah, process.  Okay?"

 

He was hiding something.  Jim could feel it, but he decided not to push at the moment.  Chase did look tired and more than a little freaked out.  "Are you okay, at least?  Did she hurt you?"

 

"I think I just kinda lost it.  It was me, not her."

 

"Anxiety attack?"

 

"Maybe, something like that.  I think I hyperventilated or something."

 

Jim nodded.  That had been one of his theories.  "I don't think you should sleep though.  Try to stay awake for a while, just in case."

 

"Whatever, man.  Can you maybe disappear?"

 

"It's a small room, Chase."

 

"Just go up there."  He pointed to Jim's bunk.

 

Jim sighed but climbed up into his bunk.  He heard Chase muttering to himself, but he did not try to listen.  He frowned.  He wanted some damn information.  He rubbed one hand down his face and tried to keep from screaming in frustration.

 

 

Simon Banks waved Pete off and left him talking to himself when he saw Blair step out onto the porch of the Riviera home.  Blair seemed almost shy as he approached his old friends from Major Crimes.  The Major Crimes people were not so timid.  Henri Brown, whom Pete remembered briefly meeting before, swept Blair up and spun him around.  Inspector Connor seemed to check him over to see if his time with Pete and the agency had injured him in any way.  Pete had to laugh at the serious examination as he reassured her that her friend was indeed in one piece.  Banks hung back as the others slapped Blair on the back, shook his hand, and generally made a fuss over him.  Only when they were done did Banks step forward.  For a long moment, the two men just looked at each other and for a moment, Pete thought that maybe Banks was angry with Blair.  The man's face was so stern.  Apparently, Blair was a little worried too.  He looked down at his feet.

 

"Uh, hi Simon," he said finally.  Banks reached out and cupped one big hand around Blair's short curls.  The bear hug that followed made Pete's ribs ache in sympathy.

 

When the joyful and somewhat tearful reunion was over, Rosa Riviera hustled them all into her kitchen where she had made the cookies Pete so dearly loved.  The whole group gathered around her table.  Blair was wrangled in between Banks and Connor.  Taggart was beside Banks.  Jesse sat backwards in the chair next to Pete.  Brown and the other man who was introduced as Brian Rafe sat side by side on the other side of Connor. One person was not at the table, however.  Pete knew that Alex had positioned himself in the doorway behind him, physically guarding his back even among friends.  It was a very "Alex" thing to do. 

 

A plate came over Pete's head and he snagged a cookie off of it before Rosa could even put it down.  She laughed at him and he looked up at her, attempting to look innocent.  Problem was, Pete's innocent look was guiltier than most people's guilty look.  It was not news to him.  He was well aware that innocence was not his strong suit.  But Rosa liked him anyway, which was a tribute to what a kind lady she really was.  He sunk his teeth into the soft, warm cookie and closed his eyes to savor the wonderful taste.  The cookie just melted in his mouth, and for just one moment, he held on to the simple pleasure before facing complex reality.  Banks cleared his throat and drew Pete's attention back to the matter at hand.  He opened his eyes, smiled and shrugged a little in apology.  Jesse picked up a cookie himself, but he only held it in his hand.  His youngest operative was hurting over this mess.  He frowned.

 

"Let's get started, shall we?"  Pete reached back and Alex placed the rolled up aerial shots and blueprints of the facility in his hand.  As he unrolled the paper, he took in the people around him.  Brown and Rafe were partners apparently, and as oddly matched as Jim and Blair.  Or he and Jesse, for that matter.  He had already seen the level of comfort in the partnership, however.  They might not have looked much alike, but they would work well together.  That was what mattered.  The Major Crimes unit was accustomed to one another.  His people were accustomed to one another, too.  What remained to be seen was whether the two groups could work together.  Of course, both groups had a life at stake and that was a great motivator.  He took a deep breath and began outlining his plan.  "We'll go in through the loading dock, here."

 

"How do we get to the loading dock?" Banks asked.  "Wouldn't it be simpler to go in here?"  He pointed to a point on the other side of the building where the fence was closest to the structure.

 

"The security system has proven to be a problem.  We aren't getting through that fence without them knowing that we're there."  Pete glanced at Jess who frowned deeply and shifted lower in his seat.  "Jess?"

 

"I'm okay."

 

"'kay, anyway, trust me, I have a plan."

 

"Why does it make me so nervous when you say that?" Blair asked.

 

"You hung around Kit too long.  Nothing to worry about.  Now be quiet and listen."

 

 

"Ever thought about having kids, Ellison?"

 

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin as Chase's voice plucked him from the edge of sleep.  "About time you decided to join the real world again."  It had been quite some time since Chase had returned from his visit with Barnes.  For a while, he had just mumbled to himself, and then he had fallen asleep, despite Jim's advice not to do so.

 

"Just answer the question."  Chase sounded impatient.

 

"Yeah, I suppose I have thought about it.  But most of those thoughts have been reasons not to have kids.  Why?"  Jim turned on his side on the bunk.

 

"What reasons did you come up with?"

 

"Why are we talking about this?"  Jim was the one getting impatient now.

 

"Are you—I mean, do you know, um, what Rose has planned?"

 

"You mean, stud service?"  Jim allowed his tone to convey his disgust.

 

"Yeah.  So you do know?"

 

"Okay, get to the point."  Jim stuck his head over the edge of his bunk and glared at his irritating cellmate.  This was not a comfortable subject, damn it.  He did not want to talk about it.  Especially with Kit Chase.

 

"I'm going to help her, I think."

 

"Excuse me?"  Jim snapped.

 

"I'm going to guide her.  I have to."

 

"Holy shit!"  Jim rolled off the bunk.  "Have you lost your mind?"

 

"Probably."

 

"Goddamn it!  She is a criminal.  What the fuck are you thinking?  She will probably kill you.  Remember what she did to Sandburg?  You'll be next, Chase!"

 

Chase turned away from him.  "I don't have a choice."

 

"The hell you don't!  You said yourself, being a guide is a choice.  You said you would never make that choice.  Now you're going to guide Alex Barnes?  I think you hit your damn head again!"

 

Chase sighed and sat up.  "Listen to me, Ellison.  Think I'm happy about this?  Think again.  But things are more complicated than you can imagine.  You—I don't, you don't understand."

 

"Is that what you were doing earlier?  Talking yourself into it?  What?"

 

"I was praying."

 

"Praying?  Praying for some sense, I hope!"

 

"No!  Praying for you.  And for her.  And for your child."

 

"For—what?"

 

"It's started, Ellison.  You gave Rose a sperm sample, right?  Well, he used it."

 

Jim flinched and his knees nearly buckled on him.  "Oh God."  He staggered back to the chair and fell into it.

 

"Now you understand?  I have to help her, because she's carrying your baby.  If I don't do this, Baker and Rose get your child and they teach it to hate.  I'm a shaman.  I can't let that happen.  No matter what she's done, the child is innocent.  I can't let them corrupt that innocence."

 

Jim was shaking.  The air in the room seemed thin, stale.  He could not breathe.  He looked down at his hands.  He had never noticed that callous.  He wondered how it got there.  He focused on it.  Then someone was shaking him.  He blinked and looked up into Kit Chase's dark brown eyes.  But they were not just brown.  There were actually spots of true black in the other man's irises.  Lemon, he could smell lemon.  And sweat.   And fear.  Chase's hands were too hot and his voice too loud.  He pushed the man away.  He scrambled for the dials Blair had taught him to use.  Before he could find them, the room turned green, the walls sprouting leaves and the climate controlled air dissipating as a warm tropical heat swept over him. 

"Incacha?"

 

The man materialized from the foliage as if summoned by his name.  "You understand the bond?"

 

"Yes.  I'm sorry.  I didn't realize."

 

"You must choose again."

 

"What about the child?  Will my child be a sentinel?  Can Chase save her?  Can he save my child?"

 

"He is strong, but the sentinel will choose her own fate."

 

"Incacha, tell me what to do!"

 

"Choose.  Will you fulfill your destiny?  Will you accept your responsibility?  Will you protect your guide as he protects you?"

 

"Blair?  I can still—he'll come home?"

 

"Choose."

 

"I choose to be a sentinel."

 

"And you deserve to be.  Be well, Enquiri."

 

"Incacha!  The baby?"

 

The man shook his head.  "I know not what fate holds for the child."  He was gone then and so was the jungle. 

 

Chase sat on the floor looking up at him.  "Welcome back."

 

"Sorry."

 

"You have your senses back, don't you?" Chase asked.

 

"Yeah," Jim answered almost absently as he tried the dials to reassure himself.

 

Chase chuckled a little.  "Cool."

 

"Why now?  Why not when I could help Blair with them?"

 

"Don't know.  Maybe someone decided that you had learned your lesson.  Maybe because you may need them to save your child."

 

"A reward?"

 

"Why not?"

 

"For what?  For not getting Blair killed in this mess?  Not actually having sex with Barnes on the beach after she tried to kill my best friend?  For only screwing up a few lives as opposed to lots of lives?"

 

"For being decent.  Not perfect.  But decent.  You have some good points, you know."

 

Jim snorted in disbelief.

 

"Besides, don't look a gift horse in the mouth.  Take it and move on.  Maybe that's one of the things you were supposed to learn.  Don't blow it now by obsessing over the past."

 

Jim nodded.  "Point taken.  He wouldn't tell me about the baby."

 

"The future isn't written yet, Jim.  He couldn't know for sure."

 

"It's a mistake for you to become her guide, Chase.  He seemed pretty sure than she wouldn't change, regardless of not knowing the future for sure."

 

"He said that?"

 

"He said she would decide her own fate."

 

"That's not the same thing as saying she wouldn't change!  I have to try."

 

"No, there's other ways.  Don't do this.  It's a mistake.  I just know it is."

 

Chase looked down at the floor.  "I'll think about that."

 

"You called me Jim a minute ago."

 

"So?  That's your name."

 

Jim smiled a little.  "Thank you for everything."

 

Chase blinked.  "You're welcome."

 

 

Sleep eluded Jim.  Chase's revelations and the return of his senses had shaken him to his very core.  Alex Barnes was pregnant with his child.  He swallowed, trying to force his dinner back down as it threatened a reappearance.  After his behavior in Sierra Verde, what would Blair say?  He was already so angry.  No, he was not giving Blair enough credit.  Blair would know this was not his choice.  Not the child's fault either.  If they
managed to get out of this, perhaps he could raise his child.  Blair would help him.  That would be perfect.  Blair would have to come home if Jim's child was a sentinel.

Then he wanted to kick himself.  That was not fair, not right.  Besides, he did not want Blair to come back only out of a sense of obligation.  He wanted Blair to come home because he wanted to come home.

Still, that little voice whispered in the back of his head.  He was a sentinel again and a sentinel needed a guide.  What if Blair never came back?  What would happen to him? It would no less than he deserved if he ended up in a mental hospital.  He had sent Blair off to one, after all.  He repressed the urge to scream.  It would bring the guards running and probably scare the hell out of Chase.

Speaking of his cellmate, he was awake as well. Jim knew the younger man was torn.  He only hoped that he had talked Chase out of being Barnes's guide.  That would be a huge mistake.  Chase was under the delusion that he could change the woman.  Jim was under no such illusion.  The beach had taught him that if nothing else.  Even as she wrapped herself around Jim, she was still prepared to kill Blair.  All Blair had ever done was try to help her.  It was Blair's nature.  It was Chase's nature too, Jim supposed.  Compassion could be a heavy burden to bear sometimes.

The military had taught Jim that.  Then taught him to squash his compassion under duty.  Though he often claimed to be able to do just that, he was not as successful as he let others believe.  Blair included.  And he was even less successful once he let Blair into his life and heart.

It was if Blair felt so much so strongly that he projected those feelings onto those around him.  Jim, being in the closest proximity, caught the brunt of that.  Now it sounded like he was complaining.  He was not, however.  Blair had put him back in touch with his compassion.  Made him acknowledge it, rather than stifle it.  Actually, it was a relief in many ways.  It was hard to deal with in the moment, but afterward he was left feeling somehow cleaner, freer, as opposed to the sick feeling he had sometimes felt for days after a particularly bad case.  Thinking back, Jim could now see that almost from
day one, Blair had been a shaman.  His shaman.  Doing what needed to be done; giving Jim the support he needed.  And the shoves that he may have needed but definitely did not want.  He sighed.  No matter what happened with Barnes, the child, Rose, Baker, or this whole damn mess, the one thing Jim knew he must do was reconcile with Blair.  Even if he had to crawl after his shaman on his knees through hell, he would not rest until Blair no longer hated him.

 


Pete hung up the phone.  Chad's people were ready.  He turned to the men waiting anxiously behind him.  "It's on.  We go tomorrow.  We take the delivery truck at 1:45.  By 2:00, we are in the facility.  We have until 2:30 to find Jim and Kit.  Alex, are you ready?"

Alex only nodded at him.

"Good.  Remember, Captain Banks, all of you, this is not a police operation.  This is dirty pool, gentlemen.  And lady.  Anyone with a gun is a target whether they are pointing it at you or whether it's holstered.  They have just two options, disarm and drop or get shot.  I will not haggle.  Neither will you.  I say again; if that's a problem, stay here.  Mrs. Riviera is a wonderful hostess.  We will make every effort to make sure those unarmed go unscathed, but they must be controlled.  Any questions?"

"None," Banks answered.  The others shook their heads.

"Fine then.  You might all want to try to get some sleep.  I need you sharp tomorrow."  He left the room then.  He made his way out to the front porch and sat down in the old green glider-rocker there.  He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.  Then Peter Devereaux prayed.  He had lost men before.  They led dangerous lives.  But the thought of losing Kit Chase was just too much to contemplate.  The younger man had only been with the agency for less than two years and yet, his loss would be devastating to the agency.  To Pete personally as well.  There were men that worked for Pete that he thought of as friends, some that he barely knew, and some that he personally did not even like.  Then there were those that had become almost family.  Jesse was first.  Alex was next.  Then Kit.  He was odd, infuriating, and sometimes completely unpredictable, but he was also honest, compassionate, and a stabling force.  Such a paradox.  And he was a true friend.  In Pete's line of work, he did not have many of those.  He had people who owed him favors, people he owed favors, and lots of acquaintances, but few friends.  Kit had to be alive.  He simply had to be.

The opening of the front door brought him out of his thoughts.  He turned to see Inspector Connor standing there, staring at him as though she could see right into his soul.

"Inspector," he said in greeting.

"Mr. Devereaux."

"What can I do for you?"

She took a breath and shook her head.  "Nothing.  Just thought you might like some company."

He smiled and scooted over to make room for her to sit.  "Maybe I could."

They sat, just gently rocking, until she broke the silence.  "You're worried."

"Yes.  Not about Jim.  Actually, they need Jim.  They won't hurt him."

"But your man.  Kit?"

He nodded.  "He's had a little run-in with Baker before.  Baker would like nothing better than to kill him.  I'm not even sure he'll be alive when we get there.  He might be dead.  Might have been long dead."  He nearly strangled on the words. "If he's dead, Baker will die.  But he'll suffer first. I probably shouldn't be saying this to a cop." He laughed bitterly.  "It may not happen tomorrow, but it will happen."

She only nodded and turned to look up at the sky.  His eyes followed hers and silence reigned again.

 


"Mr. Baker, I don't think you understand!"  Rose swore under his breath.  Baker had finally deemed him worthy enough to call back, and now the man would not listen.  "Chase is a guide. He made some progress with Alex today."

"What kind of progress?"

"Well, for one thing, she didn't try to kill him.  That's a definite sign there.  Before unless she was drugged or restrained, she attacked anyone who came into the room, including me.  They somehow connected in a way that I have been unable to achieve with anyone else.  I think he can work with her.   I think he can guide her.  We will have a functioning sentinel.  And if nothing else, when the child is born, he can work with the child.  Mr. Baker, I realize that you are unhappy about his ethnic background—"


"That's a gentle euphemism for a fucking half-breed."

"Sir, this does mean, however, that we will not need Blair Sandburg."

"Great.  I get rid of the Jewish bastard and have to take the half-breed instead.  Now, you listen to me, Rose.  Find me a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant guide, damn it!  You can keep your prairie nigger pet for a while longer, but he will be put down.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir.  I understand."  Robert hung up the phone without another word.  Baker was a lunatic.  When Chase had Alex at least under control, the three of them were getting out of this hellhole and away from Baker and his militia.  He thought about the numerous guards Baker had here watching his every move.  It would be tricky, but he had other friends willing to help.  Robert had shopped around while Baker's back was turned.  The Chinese were interested.  So were several other private organizations not quite as
restrictive as Baker.  With Alex's experience as a thief and Chase's experience as a mercenary, they could make a fortune.  Baker thought he had Robert under his thumb.  That might be true while Alex was so out of  control, but perhaps that was about to change.  Then it would simply be a matter of controlling Chase.  He could leave that to Alex. The boy could see, after all.  From what he knew of Alex before her unfortunate breakdown, she was a charming and sensuous woman.  And if that did not work, there was the child.  Robert had noticed Chase's concern over Alex's unborn child.  That concern could and would be used against him.  Still annoyed but oddly satisfied that things were going to get better, he closed his notes file and shut down his computer.

 


Jesse stared at his laptop screen, not really seeing it.  "Fuck," he whispered to himself.  Ever since he had had to leave his best friend on the other side of that electric fence, he had felt sick to his stomach.  His mother was fussing over him, and his dad had tried to reassure him that there was nothing he could have done.  But Jess knew better.  He had been sidetracked when he had found Rose's personal files and was not paying enough attention to what he was supposed to be doing.  Pete had tried to relieve him of the responsibility, too.  He shook his head sadly.  Kit could be dead, and it was his fault.

Suddenly, he had company.  He looked up at Henri Brown and Brian Rafe.  "Hi, what's up?"

"Um—"  Rafe looked at his partner and then back at Jesse.  "We were wondering, um, how do your parents feel about, you know, what you do for a living?"

Jesse shrugged, a reluctant smile pulling at his lips.  "They weren't thrilled at first, but they got used to it.  I didn't tell 'em for years.  I'd been working for the agency for about three years before I came clean and told them the truth.  I had to.  Got into a bad situation, kind of like this one, and had to hide out.  Mom pried the truth out of me.  She was furious, but then Pete came and charmed her and we've been fine since."

"Amazing," Henri said.

"I'm lucky, I guess.  Rico, that's one of the other guys, his family thinks he's a restaurant manager.  Frank's family thinks he's an accountant.  You have to see Frank to understand how ludicrous that is.  The man is like a mountain.  David's family thinks he's a computer programmer.  That was my cover, too.  Still is with the IRS.  Very few of us have told our families what we do.  Few of us are married and the few who are, their wives generally know but no one else.  Kinda sticky, you know."

"Yeah, I suppose it would be. So, what exactly do you do?"

"Lots of things.  My specialty is computers, electronics, communication, that kind of thing.  Like, I broke into Millennium's computer system.  I missed the backup alarm system because I had inadvertently gotten into Rose's personal files."

"Cool.  What did you find?"

Jess stared at Brown for several moments, unable to answer.  Because he had no answer.  He had not really looked at the files he downloaded.  He was so upset over Kit that the files had just sat there.  Pete had not even asked to see them either.  That was unusual and an indication of how upset Pete was as well.  He finally managed, "I haven't looked at them."

"Well, open 'em up, kid!  Let's find out what's there!"

Jesse nodded as he turned back to his computer screen.

 

"Who's Eliza?" Blair whispered, just loud enough for the other man to hear him.

 

Alex spun around and glared at him.  "Eavesdropping, were you?"

 

"Not intentionally.  I just heard you say goodnight to her, you know, the other night, and I wondered."  Blair sat down at the kitchen table.  For long moments, Alex remained at the window, and Blair thought that not only was he not going to get answer, he had damaged the still new friendship with the obviously personal question.  Then Alex sighed and moved to the table.  He pulled out a chair and slowly sat down.  He stared at the flowered tablecloth.  "Never mind…"

 

"No, no.  It's all right."  Alex tried to smile but pain was the prominent emotion on his face.  "She was my wife.  We were both in her majesty's service.  She had told a little white lie to be able to meet me on assignment and give me some news and the situation went bad.  To make things worse, when the smoke cleared, I found out that she was killed by 'friendly fire.'"

 

"What was the news?"


"She was pregnant."

 

Blair's heart leapt in his chest.  "Oh man.  I am so sorry.  I shouldn't have—"

 

"Blair.  It's okay.  But it is just between you and I.  Pete knows, and Kit knows, but no one else does."

 

"Why did you tell me?"

 

"Because you asked.  And because I have been preaching at you for a bit, and you deserved to know where I was coming from.  I was devastated and more than a little damaged.  Perhaps I still am, but I'm coping, I think.  Sometimes, that's all we can hope for, the ability to cope."

 

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

 

 

"Simon?"

 

"Yeah, Joel?"  Simon moved out of the shadow of the big oak tree and into the light. 

 

Joel came down the steps and walked to greet him.  "Are you okay with this plan of Devereaux's?"

 

"Joel, I'll be honest.  I don't think that I will ever be quite comfortable with any plan of Peter Devereaux's.  But, I will also say this.  I think his way is the only way in this case.  The FBI's way, Jim and Chase would be dead before we got through the gate.  He's also right about the delivery truck.  We can't take the chance that the company is sympathetic to Baker.  We have to take it en route.  And we do have to consider everyone inside that building a threat."

 

"I think the others handled the news about Jim pretty calmly."

 

"Well, it's like Brown said, they are detectives.  They had put two and two together minutes after the news hit and never had believed Blair's retraction for a second.  The evidence was clear.  Jim was lousy at hiding his senses anyway."

 

"True.  Of course, I did buy his cover story for a while."

 

Simon chuckled.  "He should have realized that he wouldn't get away with that crap forever though."

 

Joel snickered.  "Remember the time with the carrots?  Somebody asked Jim how he could see something.  I forget what.  And Blair's explanation was—"

 

"He eats a lot of carrots."  Simon laughed.  "Yeah, I remember."   He shook his head, a fond smile still on his face.  "Well, now everyone who needs to know knows.  Jim will no doubt be pissed off, but that's life."

 

"I don't know, Simon.  After all this, I'd like to think that he has some perspective on things now.  Maybe he'll just be happy to have a life after this.  Don't you think?"

 

"God, Joel, I hope so.  I really hope so."

 

"Banks!"  Simon and Joel turned to face Devereaux.  "We have a problem."  The man turned and went back into the house without an explanation. 

 

"What now?"  Simon hesitated, trying to steel himself for the news, then hurried into the house with Joel hot on his heels.  Everyone was gathered around Riviera and his laptop in the living room.  "What's going on?" Simon looked into the stricken face of Blair Sandburg and knew he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

 

"She's pregnant."  Blair swallowed, as though he was fighting the urge to vomit; something Simon understood completely.  After all, he did not have to ask to whom Blair was referring.  He knew.  He closed his eyes and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

 

"Rose did it.  He used—you know, and he—"

 

"I get it, Blair."  Simon held up one hand to stop the uncomfortable and unnecessary explanation.

 

"God, Simon, what are we going to do?"

 

Simon looked over Blair's head to Peter Devereaux.  Devereaux only shrugged.  Simon put his hand on Blair's shoulder.  "We get Jim out of there and figure the rest out later.  Not much of an answer, I know.  But it's the only one I have this time."

 

 

It had been a sleepless night after the revelation of Alex Barnes's pregnancy.  Pete had tossed and turned, never really getting his mind to shut down long enough for sleep to take hold of him.  Now, he stood in the parking lot of a run-down paint and body shop waiting for Jesse.  Jess had been right about his cousins.  Pete had wanted an old clunker and Jess said they had plenty.  They had picked him one that ran, but just barely.  He looked at the old brown LTD and sighed.  He hoped it would get them out to the lonely road that led to their target.    Pete thanked Baker silently, sarcastically for the paranoia that drove him to put his facility way off the beaten path.  Even so close to San Francisco, the road was deserted most days with the exception of the traffic in and out of Millennium.  The truck hijacking would be the easiest thing they would do today, however.  As he walked slowly around the car, he ran through the plan in his head again.  If they could control the loading docks and Alex succeeded in blocking all the other exits, it should work.  Rose would bring Jim and Kit to them.  Easy stuff.  If Rose did not cooperate, at least the majority of the people would be out of their way.  At best, though, it would be a barely controlled chaos.

 

Jesse slapped him on the back, startling him out of his thoughts.  "Let's go, man.  The others will be waiting."

 

"This thing is going to get us there, right?" he asked again.

 

"It will get us there, Pete.  Not comfortably, but it will get us there.  If you'll ever get in, that is."

 

"They do know that they might not get this back, right?  And even if they do, it won't be running."

 

"Yes, yes, get in the car."

 

Pete smiled and waved at the two Hispanic men who stood in the doorway of the shop before opening the passenger door.  Jess was already in the driver's seat.  He cranked the car, which sputtered and backfired.  Pete cringed and wiped his now dusty hands on his jeans.  "Well, our truck driver won't have any trouble believing our car broke down, now will he?"

 

Jess only grinned at him and put the car in gear.  The old heap lurched forward twice, giving Pete's head a good snatch backward.  "Whiplash.  I don't suppose I can sue," he grumbled.

 

"Nope.  Free car, man."

 

"Just as well.  I wouldn't want anyone to find out I was in this car in the first place."

 

Jesse laughed at him.  "Pete, you are such a snob sometimes."

 

Pete sighed in disgust as he spotted the grease stain on his jeans.  Where had that come from?  He hoped it was not all over his ass.  It was going to be a long trip to San Francisco.

 

 

"Is being a guide hereditary?" Rose asked, not even looking up from the file.

 

Kit sat with his elbows on the table and his head propped in his head.  "Not exactly."

 

Rose sat up in his chair.  "Explain, not exactly."

 

Kit looked up at him.  "I don't know how to explain!"  Rose had dragged him out of bed and into this lab at the crack of dawn.  He had already drawn blood, which a guy in a lab coat had whisked away.  Then the questions had started.  When did he know he was a guide?  Did contact with a sentinel prompt his abilities?  What made him a guide?  How could he explain any of that to a man who would be unable and unwilling to understand?  It would be a waste of time.  It was a waste of time.  He could be helping Alex Barnes, but instead he was here, looking at Rose's ugly, pinched face.

 

"Well, I suppose that's a step up from Blair Sandburg's answers."

 

"Blair couldn't tell you anything.  He didn't understand it all himself.  He was still trying to learn when you started fucking with him."

 

"You aren't telling me much more, Mr. Chase.  Yet, you sound as though you are more knowledgeable and experienced."

 

"Not more experienced.  Maybe more knowledge.  Anyway, you ask stupid questions.  Is a person born with the ability to be a guide?  Maybe.  Can a person learn to be a guide?  Depends on the person.  This is not something set in stone, man.  It's not science.  It's… I don't know, spirituality, understanding, emotion, compassion.  All the things that you don't have.  Sentinels are born sentinels.  There must be something genetic there, but a guide?  Who the fuck knows?  It's not the same.  All I can tell you is that it's a life-long commitment that most people would never be willing to make.  If it weren't for that baby, I'd never do it.  Blair did it for Ellison, but I don't understand why."

 

"But Ellison says he's lost his senses.  Where does that leave Sandburg?  And if it's genetic, is it possible for Ellison to lose his senses?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Wonderful.  Back to Blair's answer.  All right.  Is Sandburg functional?"

 

"He's a fucking person, Dr. Frankenstein!  People aren't functional.  Can we just get to the point, so I can try to help that woman and her baby?"

 

"We're going to do some tests."

 

"What kind of tests?"

 

"I'd like to get a CAT scan, so I can compare it to Sandburg's, to start with."

 

"Great.  Fine, let's go."

 

Rose smiled.  "I appreciate your cooperation."

 

"Yeah, fuck you."

 

 

Jim pushed the bland lunch around on the plate, too worried to eat.  Rose had taken Chase out hours ago and he had not come back since.  Jim could only hope that he had gotten through to the younger man.  Chase could not possibly understand just how dangerous Barnes was.  Sure, he knew the story, but he had not lived it.  No one who had not been there would ever be able to understand just how close she had come to killing thousands of people.  How close she had come to taking Blair away from him forever.

 

Chase wanting to help the baby, he could understand, but doing that did not have to entail tying himself to a criminal.  If they got out of this mess, they could just wait until the baby was born, leave Barnes to her madness, and raise the child.  But could Chase guide Jim's child?  He would be so much older.  If they did not get out of this mess, what would happen to them all?

 

Jim shoved the tray away.  Before Chase arrived, Jim had contemplated escape a few times.  He would probably not have succeeded, but he could hold onto the hope just the same.  Now, things had changed.  Chase would not be able to keep up and Jim had a baby on the way, so to speak, that he could not leave behind.  He was back to depending Pete and Simon to do something.  He knew they would come for him, but the waiting and wondering were driving him insane.  He was so tired of mentally chasing his own tail.  If they did not get him out soon, he would be as crazy as Barnes.

 

The door opened then and Jim got up and stepped back from the tray.  The guard ignored it, however, and motioned for Jim to come with him.  More, tests, Jim realized.  Rose was not giving up.  He wondered what it would be this time.  Hearing?  Sight?  It did not matter.  He would simply dial everything down to normal.  Yes, he had his senses back, but he would never let Rose know that.  In fact, maybe, he would just dial down below normal and really piss the man off.

 

 

"It's about damn time!"  Simon stormed out of the thick bush as Devereaux and Riviera finally made an appearance.  They parked the old LTD right in the middle of the road and got out.  "Your father left us here nearly an hour ago.  What took you so long?"

 

Riviera shrugged.  "You got to ride in Dad's new SUV.  We had to ride in this.  You figure it out."  The young man was smirking at him.  Simon hated that.

 

Devereaux, in the meantime, seemed to be trying, without much success, to check out his own ass.

 

"What the hell are you doing?"

 

"Do I have grease all over me?"

 

"Jesus, Devereaux!  What does it matter?  Your car is supposedly broken down.  You should have grease on you."

 

Devereaux rolled his eyes.  "Are we ready?"

 

"Yeah, everyone's in place."

 

"Everyone but you."  Then Devereaux had the audacity to shoo him back toward the side of the road.  "Go, go.  It's almost time for the truck.  Jess, pop the hood of that wreck."

 

Simon watched as Riviera followed the instruction then reached in and snatched the distributor wires.  He stuffed the wires in a bag and tossed the bag to Devereaux.

 

"Now, 'Truck Boy' can't follow us."  Devereaux's grin was positively demonic.  The man could be damned scary when he wanted to be.  Simon shook his head and backed into the cover off the road.  He got into position next to Joel and waited.

 

"Shouldn't be long now," Joel said quietly.

 

Simon nodded.  Time to pray, he thought, but said nothing.

 

 

The temperature change was the oddest thing.  The room was cool, almost cold, but the jungle was hot.  One part of Kit's brain registered the oddity, even while the rest of his mind focused on his task here.  She was there, straight ahead, on the steps of a temple.  The scene was familiar.  He had met Blair Sandburg on these same steps, but Blair had retained his human shape, not allowing his spirit guide to possess him.  Alex Barnes was the spotted jaguar.  She could not be anything else.  To her mind, she was only the jaguar.  Did she even remember being human at all?  He would have to remind her.  To do that, he would have to touch her.  He allowed his own animal spirit to change him and approached her on padded paws.  Slowly, he ascended the steps.  She growled, warning him away, as she wrapped her tail around her sleeping cub.  He did not stop, however.  He took the last step to her, ducking his golden head to her spotted one.  The touch was electric, and before she could pull away and attack, he grasped her head with now human hands and pulled her with him.  A shove nearly sent him down the stairs.

 

"What have you done?" she demanded.

 

He looked up into her blue eyes.  "Hello, Alex."

 

"Who are you?  Where are we?"

 

Kit looked down at her feet.  The cub was gone, no a part of the woman before him.  "You know where we are."

 

"The temple.  Where's Ellison?"

 

"Not here."

 

"What happened to me?"

 

"A lot.  I can help you though.  If you'll let me."

 

"Like Sandburg helped?  No thanks.  Nobody's going to control me."

 

"It's not control.  It's a partnership."

 

She laughed.  "Every partner I have ever had has either tried to screw me or kill me.  I rather work alone.  Leave here.  Leave now."

 

"I've helped you already.  It's been over a year since you were at the temple.  You've been trapped here.  I can help you find your way back."

 

"You're lying!"

 

"No, I'm not.  Let me help.  Take my hand."

 

She reached out to him, whether to take his hand or try to kill him, he would never know, as something grabbed him and he spiraled into darkness.

 

The cold floor registered first, then the shadow looming over him.  Rose, he knew instinctively.  He opened his eyes.  "You idiot!  You just had to interfere!"

 

"What happened?  What were you doing?  Sitting and staring at her isn't going to accomplish anything," Rose complained.

 

Kit shoved the man.  Rose hit the floor hard.  "You are a jackass!  You don't understand and you won't understand.  I can't do this if you won't stay the hell out of my way!" Kit screamed at him.  "Fuck!"  He moved over to Barnes once again.  She was no longer the feral creature she had been.  Now, she appeared catatonic.  She was still at the temple on the spirit plane, stuck there as surely as Blair had been.  He would simply have to try again.  But first, he had to get Rose to go away.  He looked at the annoying bastard.  It was not going to be easy.

 

 

Jim fidgeted.  Not something he was prone to do.  It was more of a Sandburg thing, but he had been left in this office for at least an hour, he was sure.  He did not have a watch, but it must have been an hour.  Maybe two.  Damn.  He tried to relax.  He could not.  This could not be a good thing.  He got up and nearly tried the door again.  He stopped himself.  It would still be locked.

 

He ran one hand over his head.  His hair was getting too long.  He needed a haircut.  Pretty soon he would look like—he stopped the thought.  They had cut Blair's hair.  His heart skipped a beat.  His fault.  His brilliant idea.  Lock Blair away and then he would only have to deal with what he had done on visiting days.  Although he doubted that he would ever get to visit at the time. 

 

But Blair had not stayed locked away.  Neither in his own mind or in the mental hospital.  He was out there somewhere, learning to be a mercenary.  The man who did not really want to be a cop was now learning to be a merc.  Was irony the right word to use?

 

Jim paced the room.  It was a nice office, complete with plush gray carpet, oak desk, and leather chairs.  This was not Rose's office.  The knowledge only added to Jim's anxiety.  This was no doubt Baker's office.  Why would he be brought here?  One last chance to be useful perhaps before he was killed?  No, that could not be it.  He was their prize stud now.

 

"Jesus, can we just get this over with?"

 

As if the powers that be had answered his wish, the door opened, and Jim was almost relieved.  Almost.  George Baker entered the room with two other men.  "Have a seat, Ellison."

 

"What is this about, Baker?"

 

"Sit.  I have a proposition for you."  Baker moved to the leather chair behind his desk and sat down.

 

"I'm not interested."

 

"I have invited you to sit and you're still standing.  Do I have to have my men assist you?"

 

Jim glanced at the guards then walked back to the chair.  He slowly lowered himself into the seat.

 

"Thank you.  Now then, let me lay this out for you, Jim.  I realize that you have lost your sentinel abilities so I'm not expecting you to perform in that capacity.  Rose assures me that Ms. Barnes will be functioning soon now that she has a guide.  Much to my chagrin, that guide is Kit Chase.  We'll have to find another guide at some point, but for now, I'll leave Rose with his toys.  He also thinks that you will one day recover your abilities, but in the meantime, it seems a shame to have you sitting around idle in your cell.  A man with your training would be an asset to my organization even without heightened senses."

 

"Even the prize bull has to pull the plough sometimes.  That it?"

 

"Exactly, Jim.  You don't want to spend the rest of your life in a cell, only getting out to 'perform' in the lab."

 

Perform.  The word made Jim's stomach flip.  He looked over at the nearly empty bookshelf to his right.

 

"I'm offering you a chance to serve your country again."

 

"My country?  You must be joking."

 

"Not at all.  This country is going to hell, Jim, and the white race is being overrun.  This is our country.  It's time to start taking it back.  I'm giving you a chance to be part of the revolution."

 

"I think Chase would take exception to part of your argument there, Baker.  Well, gee, let me think about that 'offer' for a while.  Um, no."

 

"Then perhaps I should rephrase it.  Let's try it this way.  As long as you cooperate and do what you are told, Kit Chase lives.  And Blair Sandburg lives.  Refuse and Chase dies first.  Then we hunt down Sandburg and he dies.  That change your mind?"

 

Jim closed his eyes and nodded once.  What could he say?  What could he do?  Besides hold onto the hope of rescue before he actually had to do anything for Baker.  Any time now, Pete, he thought.

 

"Good!  Tomorrow morning you'll begin training with my men.  It means a change of scenery for you.  You'll be picked up this evening and taken to the training camp.  That will give you time to say goodbye to your little friend.  Be sure and tell him that you've saved his life.  Oh, and tell him that his cooperation will ensure your continued health as well."  Baker looked past Jim to the guards.  "Take him back to his cell."

 

This was it.  If Baker got him off at some training camp, Pete and the others would never find him.  Escape would be impossible.  Oh, he could escape.  Easily, more than likely, but Chase would be dead.  Maybe Blair would be dead too.  Chase was not his best friend.  He respected the man, but he did not really even like him.  Still, he could not be responsible for his death.  And he had already been responsible for too much pain in Blair's life.  Hell, he had been responsible for Blair's death.  He just got lucky that Blair was willing and able to come back when Jim called.  He could not risk Blair again.  I did this, he thought miserably as Baker's men hauled him up from the chair by his arms.  I could always get myself killed on my first 'assignment.'  That would be best for everyone concerned.  Except him, of course.

 

 

"Here's our boy," Pete said over the wire he wore.  "Get ready, people."

 

He and Jesse took up their positions in the road, making it impossible for the truck to pass them without leaving the road.  The truck came to a stop and Pete approached the driver's side.  "Thanks for stopping," he said as he stepped up on the runner by the driver's door.

 

"Got car trouble?" the driver asked as he slid his door open.  "I can radio for a tow truck for you."

 

"That won't be necessary."  Pete showed the man his gun.  "We'll just borrow your truck, if you don't mind."

 

Banks opened the passenger door while Jess, Alex, and the others opened the rear doors and climbed in the back.  Blair quickly closed the doors behind them.

 

"What is this, man?  All I have is uniforms!"

 

"We need uniforms, dude.  Go figure."  Jesse grinned as he crouched by the driver.

 

"Oh, god, don't shoot me.  Take the truck."

 

"Thank you.  We will.  Now, come on, out you go."

 

The driver stumbled out and Pete stepped up into his vacated seat.  Banks got into the passenger's seat.

 

"That car really doesn't run, but if you wait here, you may be able to find out how to get your truck back.  But whatever you do, do not come to Millennium.  Show up and we will just have to assume that you're one of the bad guys we're after.  Understand?" Pete told the man.

 

"Yeah.  Who are you?"

 

"Believe it or not, we're the good guys."  Pete smiled.  "The FBI will be through here shortly.  It you are one of the bad guys, you'd better disappear."  He slammed the door closed, put the truck in gear and drove around the LTD.  "Okay, gentlemen and lady, that was the easy part.  Next, we take the gate."

 

The truck was quiet, only the sound of the engine and the tires on the road filled Pete's ears.  This was it.  All or nothing time.  If this worked, cool.  If it did not, they could all be dead before the FBI even got there.  Behind him, the others began to pull on some of the uniforms.  He took a deep breath and rolled his head on his shoulders.  It would work.

 

Moments later, he pulled the truck up to the front gate of Millennium Research.  The guard walked over to the truck.  Pete slid the door open and grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him inside before the other man could even react.  "Hello, come on in."  He literally tossed the man into the back where Brown and Rafe promptly tied his hand and feet with hard plastic ties.  Connor gagged him just as quickly.  So far so good.

 

Taggert, who had found a guard uniform among the white coats and scrubs, hopped out of the back.  Alex threw him a box.  As soon as Pete pulled the truck forward, Taggert started setting the explosive charges.  Anyone trying to leave the compound would get a rude awakening.  Pete moved on, slowing as the truck reached the eastern wing of the building.  Alex jumped out, taking with him another box of explosives.  There were three exits besides the loading bays at the north end.  It was Alex's job to take out the few outside guards they had seen and then blow those exits, forcing the occupants to exit through the docks.  Now, all that remained was to take control of those loading docks and wait for the fireworks.  Pete prayed that they would find the bays mostly deserted.  It was later than he wanted for this operation, but the truck had been their best way in and it did not run until after lunch.  Besides, Ryan's people could not get in place in time to hit any earlier.  He hoped that these people opted for late lunches.  He had actually expected more outside guards than the three he had seen so far.  Either way, Alex would take care of them; that he trusted.  He pulled up to the first loading bay, backing in just as a regular delivery would.

 

"How many do you see?" he whispered.

 

"I got three on my side," Banks answered.

 

"Six."  Jesse was at the rear doors, peeking out of the window.  "And one in an office off your side, Pete."

 

"Ten, not bad.  We can do this.  How many armed?"

 

"About half, I'd say."  That was Brown.

 

"We've got them outgunned for the moment.  Don't expect that to last.  Get ready.  Here comes our first target."

 

A man approached Pete's door.  "Hey, Mike.  You're a little late."

 

"And I'm not Mike."  Pete got out, gun leveled at the man who raised his arms in surrender.  "Come here."  Pete motioned with his gun.  He took the man by the front of his shirt and spun him, wrapping an arm around his throat to use him as a shield.  He banged on the side of the truck, the signal to the others.

 

The next few minutes passed in the blink of an eye as Pete's assault group poured out of the vehicle and subdued the guards in the bay.  After Pete disabled the phones and the radios, civilians and gunmen alike were rounded up and locked in the office.  Then the first explosion, the one closest to them, hit.  The noise of it nearly deafened them so that the succeeding two explosions sounded more like champagne corks popping than the loud booms that they were.  Fire alarms screamed and the sprinkler system came on.  Jess climbed back into the truck and opened his laptop.  A few keystrokes and the alarms and the sprinklers were off.  Pete waited for the mass exodus to begin, hoping that Alex had blocked the other exits sufficiently to force everyone out this way, or at the very least, Taggert or Alex would let them know if the plan had failed.

 

He was so distracted that when the doors suddenly flew open, he jumped.  People spilled into the loading bays.  Most of them ran right past and out of the building, never even noticing the men with guns.  Until one of the Baker's armed men noticed them and the firefight began.  Pete shoved a woman down to the floor and fired at the man taking aim at him.  The man fell and Pete moved to take cover, still firing at anyone with a gun.  He winced as he saw a civilian go down.  The man was alive, however.

 

"Stay down!"

 

The man froze and Pete turned his attention back to the guards.  "So much for controlled chaos!"

 

 

Jim was almost back to his cell with his guards when the explosions rocked the building.  A moment's hesitation on the part of his jailers was all Jim needed.  He slammed a fist into the jaw of the man on his right, snatching the man's gun away even as he slumped to the floor.  Jim spun and shot the other man.  He turned back to the first guard to find him unconscious.  He left him alive.

 

This had to be the rescue attempt he had been waiting for.  If it wasn't, he had just killed Kit Chase.  Right now, though, he was free.  People were pouring out into the hallways and Jim wound his way through them.  He had to find Chase.  He slowly opened his senses, trying to filter out as he did.  It was no use, however.  There were too many people, too much noise.  If he had been looking for Blair, maybe he could have done it.  But he did not know Chase with his senses the way he did Blair.  He dialed back down to normal.  Around him, people screamed and shoved to get out of the building.  He could have told them that the building was not burning.  That was not the point.  He needed them out of his way though.  He pushed his way upstream.  He had to find Chase the old-fashioned way.

 

 

Jesse took aim from the back of the truck and fired.  Another armed man down, lots more to go though, and still no sign of Kit or Ellison.  He glanced at Blair.  He seemed to be holding his own, firing at the guards just as diligently as the rest of them.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex run into the loading bay.  Four gunmen went down as the man unerringly picked them off as he took up position next to Pete.  "Damn," he whispered.  Alex was scary sometimes.  Jess flinched as a bullet came dangerously close to his head, striking the truck just inches from him.  "Damn it."  Alex shot the man before Jesse had even recovered his position.

 

Most of the first wave of civilians were out of the way now.  They would be coming in waves, however, as each wing of the building found their exit blocked and had to backtrack to the loading docks.  The next wave should be arriving at any time.  It was going to be a bloodbath.  Jess's Catholic upbringing kicked in and he whispered to himself, "Hail Mary, full of grace…." He hated killing; yet he fired again.

 

 

Rose was panicked.  He had locked the door and refused to leave.  The guard in the room with them was upset.  He wanted out.  Kit watched the two of them argue from his position on the floor next to Alex Barnes. 

 

"I have to get out there!  That's gunfire.  We are under attack!"

 

"We have to protect the sentinel and guide.  We're safe here and here we are staying."

 

"Then you stay!  I'm going!"  He tried to shove his way past Rose.

 

"Okay, Alex, it's time to get out of here," Kit whispered to the catatonic woman.  He rose, using the wall as support.  When he was upright, he propelled himself into the guard, taking him down.  He slammed the man's head into the hard tile floor and came up with the M-16.  The guard was out. Kit turned to Rose, who stood against the door, a stunned look on his face."

 

"Open the door."

 

"Mr. Chase, it's a madhouse out there.  You could be killed.  Listen to reason here.  We should just stay here until it's over."

 

"No way.  Baker is not going to let me live.  I am leaving here, and you are going to help me."

 

"Why would I do that?"

 

"Because I have a big gun and absolutely no reason not to shoot you and go out that door without you.  It'll be more difficult, but I can do it.  Done harder shit, after all.  Now, unlock that door, then go get Barnes over here.  She's going too."

 

Rose hesitated and Kit shook his head.  "Okay, fine then.  Good night, fucker."

 

"Wait!  All right!"  Rose turned and ran his card key through the slot.  The door opened and Rose hurried over to Barnes.  He pulled her up from the floor.

 

"After you."  Kit motioned with the gun.  He left his crutches behind and limped out after Rose and his burden.  Now, if he could just find Ellison or Pete.  Ellison and Pete would be even better, but he would settle for one or the other at the moment.

 

 

The second wave of civilians brought with them a second wave of gunmen.  It was expected, but definitely not welcome.  Simon swore out loud as Rafe took a bullet in his shoulder.  It was his left, though, and Simon could not help the pride he felt as Rafe got up still firing.

 

He made a quick check of the rest of his people, his eyes resting on Sandburg just a split second longer than the others.  Blair was silent, his face a blank mask as he fired on their adversaries.  He would never have believed it if he had not seen it for himself.  Sandburg was not firing over their heads or at their feet.  He was shooting at them and hitting them.  Somehow, it made him sad.  He shook his head.  He needed to pay attention or he would manage to get himself killed. 

 

He was getting worried, however.  There was still no sign of either Jim or Kit.  Simon began to worry that the men had been moved.  It was entirely possible, for that matter, that they had never been there at all.  But he could not dwell on that, though, as the third wave of people spilled into the loading bays.  They were early, damn it.  The terrified people realized quickly that they would be safer in the building than in the bays, however.  They reversed their course.  Unfortunately, the armed guards were not so easily deterred.  They joined their compatriots in the firefight.  Too bad for them that they were out in the open, Simon thought, as he picked off another one from the relative safety of his cover.  Despite the lousy odds, the good guys, as Devereaux had proclaimed them, were going to win this one.  Now, if Jim would only show up.

 

 

Jim moved swiftly through the now deserted halls, trying doors as he went.  So far, he had found nothing and no one.  He swore.  Rose might have hustled Chase and Barnes out of the building and taken off with them by now, for all he knew.  He wanted desperately to call out, but he knew it was not as safe as it seemed.  Baker was in the building.  A few small explosions and a fire alarm would not fool him.  He would not let go that easily.  He would fight.  Jim extended his hearing cautiously.  The sounds of several pairs of boots were headed his way.  He ducked into an office and waited, listening. 

 

"Find them!  And get me some more help searching this building."

 

"Sir, most of the others are in the loading bay, holding off the intruders."

 

"Surely, not all of them need to be there!  I want Ellison, Chase and Barnes found.  Now, soldier!"

 

"Yes sir, Mr. Baker."  The footsteps dispersed in different directions.  The man Baker had been speaking to called on his radio as he passed the office where Jim hid.  "We need some help in here.  The prisoners are loose."

 

//"We need help out here!  We're being slaughtered.  They're entrenched and we're in the open!  Get your asses out here!"// came the reply.

 

Jim almost laughed.  As the man turned the next corner, Jim slipped back out into the hallway.  So Chase and Barnes were free too.  If he were Chase, where would he be?  On the way to the loading docks maybe.  No, Barnes was a problem.  He could not walk into a firefight with a feral Alex Barnes in tow.  Chase would know that.  Jim moved away from the loading docks.  Chase would be trying to find another way out somewhere.

 

 

Jim was not coming out.  Neither was Kit.  Blair sat down on the floor and thought about his options.  While they were stuck in the loading bay, Rose or Baker could be sneaking off with Jim and Kit.  And Alex Barnes and Jim's baby, he reminded himself.  No, that was not acceptable.  He had to get in that building and find them.  He just had to.  If he could slip around the boxes on the left, he could possibly circle around the guards and slip through the door before anyone knew he was gone.  Pete would kill him.  If Simon did not beat him to it.  But he could not wait any longer.  He tucked the 9mm in his belt and with one more glance to make sure that no one was looking, began inching his way over to the left side of the room and the boxes that would hopefully shield him from sight.

 

 

It had not occurred to Pete that Blair Sandburg had been much too quiet, much too invisible for far too long until he caught sight of him moving silently around the perimeter of the docks.  He was trying to get around the gunmen and get to the door to the rest of the building.

 

"Damn it!  Banks!"  When the other man looked at him, he pointed with his gun.

 

"God damn it!"

 

Pete switched on his mic.  "Blair, what are you doing?"  The calm, nonchalant tone was an effort.

 

"They're not coming out.  I'm going to look for them."

 

"I've got him, Pete."  Alex suddenly disappeared from his side.

 

"Will you people just wait, damn it, and we'll all go look for them!"  That was Banks.

 

"Screw this.  This is stupid.  One grenade, Pete, and we can clear this place!"  Jesse's patience had reached its end.  He shot another guard. 

 

"Yes, and clear it of us, too, Jess.  Too close."

 

"Not if we get around to that door and throw it back in with them."

 

"That might work."  Connor, that time.

 

"It's a fucking mutiny!"  Pete dropped back onto his ass and thought about it for a second.  They were cutting down the guards, but the bastards kept coming.  Baker had been more prepared than Pete had thought.  The lack of outside guards was no doubt an attempt to fool them into overconfidence.  But if they blew the bays, how would they get out?  The damn thing could collapse on them and they would be trapped.  The windows were bulletproof so it would be hard as hell to get out that way.  "The truck."

 

"What about the truck?" Banks asked.

 

"We could blow the truck.  It's outside the bay, but it'll still make them run for cover, giving us a chance to get by them.  Jess—"

 

"On it."

 

"On three, then.  Ready, people?  One, two, three!"  Pete left cover just as Jess threw the grenade into the back of the truck.  It was a hell of a risk.  They headed for the door at a flat run.  For a moment, the Millennium gunmen seemed confused then one of them yelled, "Grenade!"

 

Instantly, they dived for cover, allowing Pete and the others to run right past them.  "Go, go, go!"  Banks shoved his people ahead of him.  "Sandburg, I'm going to kick your ass when this is over!"

 

Blair did not even acknowledge the threat as he passed through the door, Alex right behind him.  Pete counted off…Jesse, Connor, Brown helping his partner, Rafe, then Banks.  Finally, he made it through the door, just as the blast hit, basically throwing him into the wall.  Banks slammed the door.

 

"If this were the army, you'd all be on report.  You know this, right?"  Pete groaned as he starting pulling himself up from the floor.

 

"Don't look at me, Devereaux.  I was with you."  Banks grabbed his arm and helped him into a full standing position.

 

"Oh no, don't give me that.  I heard you say we'd all go look for them in a minute, or something to that effect.  Help me find something to block this door.  Let's keep them out there now.  Good idea, yes?  And remember, we ran some of the civilians back into the building, so be on the lookout for them.  A fucking mutiny.  I can't believe it."  Alex only grinned at him.  It was infuriating.  Brown brought him a large office chair, and they wedged it between the door and wall.  It would hold for a little while.  Then he heard them.  Sirens and choppers.  He glanced at his watch.  "Damn FBI.  They are never on time."

 

 

"I can make you a very wealthy man, Chase."

 

"Shut up and keep moving."

 

"I have people willing to pay for the services of a sentinel and guide.  If you can get her functioning, we all could be very rich."

 

Kit grabbed the man by his thinning hair, snatched his head back, and growled in his face, "Let's get some things clear here.  One, she is a person, not a machine.  Two, if I'm the guide and she's the sentinel, what the fuck do we need you for?  Three, I'm just not interested.  Four, you get me out of this building now and do it quietly, or I will shoot you and leave your miserable carcass bleeding in this hallway.  I am not in a good mood.  Do you understand me?"  He released the man, shoving him forward, almost causing Alex to fall.  He grabbed her and she turned to look at him.  They ended up steadying each other.

 

"It's working," Kit heard Rose whisper.

 

Kit glared at him.  "I said, keep moving.  And you had better not be lying about that other exit."

 

Alex Barnes pulled Kit's arm over her shoulders.  Kit was as amazed as Rose seemed to be, but he let her help him.

 

"The elevator to the basement is this way.  The tunnel leads to a small storage building at the rear of the property.  We can get out that way."

 

"I'm sorry.  Did I fucking ask for an explanation?  No, no, I don't think I did.  I said, quietly!  I hate the sound of your voice, man.  Get it?"

 

"Yes, of course."  Rose moved a little faster.  Now that Alex was supporting him, he could move faster as well.  He had to get out of the building.

 

The sound of an explosion startled him.  "That came from the north."

 

"Yes, I think—"

 

"I said, shut up!  That wasn't a question!  Jesus, you don't understand English, do you?"  Kit shook his head.  That had been the direction of the gunfire.  He hoped that Pete had set off the explosion rather than being caught in it. 

 

 

Jim ducked into an office and cocked his head to one side.  There were sirens, helicopters, and closer to him, voices coming down the hall.  He pressed his ear to the door.

 

"Chase."  Yes, finally.  He opened the door just a crack.  Rose passed by first.  Then Jim saw her.  She was supporting Chase.  He thought that when he saw her again, he might feel some of the same feelings as before, either the stifling territorialism or the overwhelming lust, but he felt neither.  She turned as he opened the door and their eyes met.  Something was different about her.

 

"Damn it, Ellison, I nearly shot you!"  Chase broke him out of the near zone.

 

"Sorry."

 

"Rose says that Baker has an emergency exit out of here."

 

"Let's move then."  Jim stepped fully into the hall.  Barnes was still looking at him.  Then one hand fluttered down to her abdomen.  Jim opened his mouth to say something, but found that he did not really know what to say to her.

 

She said nothing, just transferred the hand back to Chase and continued to help him as they started moving again.

 

"He's awfully quiet," Jim whispered, nodding toward Rose.

 

"I told him I'd shoot him if he didn't shut up.  Maybe he finally got the message."

 

Rose only glanced back, giving them both a dirty look, before turning away.

 

A familiar feeling swept over Jim then.  He stopped Chase.  "Wait.  What the hell is that?"

 

"What's what?"

 

Then it clicked.  "Blair.  Blair's here.  He's in the building.  I can feel him close by.  What the—"

 

Chase slapped him in the head.  "You always could, idiot, if you had let yourself.  Where is he?"

 

"Heading this way, I think.  Feels like he's getting closer anyway."

 

"Use your senses.  Is he alone, or is he bringing the cavalry?"

 

"But he lost—"

 

"Shut up!" both of them snapped.

 

Jim smiled.  "The cavalry.  There are helicopters and cars outside too."

 

"Yeah, heard them.  Anybody hurt?  Can you tell?"

 

"I can smell blood."  Jim nodded.  "It's not Blair.  I can tell that much.  That's all."

 

"Move, Rose."  Chase shoved the man with the M-16.

 

"Baker is here, you know."

 

"Yeah, he said so."  Chase indicated Rose.

 

Jim looked at Barnes who was still eerily silent.  Her complete attention was on Chase.  "Did you do it?"

 

"Not yet.  Came really close but dumbass there got in the way."  He motioned to Rose with the gun.  "Look, I'm as surprised as you about her.  She was completely catatonic until just a few minutes ago."

 

"Well, I think she's made her choice."

 

"Really?"  Chase stopped and looked him in the face.

 

"Yeah, really."

 

An almost smile ghosted across Chase's face, then was gone.  "We have to get out of here.  Then I can deal with this."  He started moving again.

 

Jim followed, his heart in his throat and mixed emotions rumbling through his brain like a herd of buffalo.  As they came to the center of the building, however, time seemed to stop as Jim caught sight of his guide.

 

"Jim!" Simon shouted.

 

But Jim could not look away from Blair.  Around him, greetings were shouted.  Pete and Riviera went to take Chase from Barnes, only to have her growl at them.  Still, Jim stared at Blair, who seemed just as transfixed.  Volumes were spoken without words.  There was so much still between them; some of it pulling them together, but some of it still pushing them apart.  Simon was talking to him.  Someone slapped him on the back.  He blinked and the connection was broken, causing a flash of real pain to sear through his body.

 

"There's another exit?  Damn it!  That means Baker could be long gone!"  Pete grabbed Rose and shook him.  "Where?"

 

"Down the elevator to the basement.  It's a tunnel to the storage building."

 

"What fucking elevator?  The plans didn't mention a fucking elevator!  Never mind.  Son of a bitch!  Let's move, people.  Baker absolutely must not get away from us.  Kit, you okay with her?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Good.  Rose, that elevator, now."

 

Jim looked back to where Blair had been, but he was not there anymore.  He quickly sought him out again.  He was with Alex Morrow.  At least he would be safe with him.  Jim decided to deal with something easier.  "Rafe, you okay?"

 

"Making it, Jim.  Thanks."  The younger detective smiled through the pain.

 

The elevator was not far.  Rose led them around the reception area to a hidden area behind it.  There was the elevator.  They would have missed it entirely.  Pete tossed Rose into the car and they all followed him in.  Once in the basement, they hurried into the tunnel.  At the end of it was a ladder.  Pete started up it, but Jim grabbed his pants leg.  He put a finger to his lips to stop the question.

 

"They're up there," he told him.

 

"Baker?"

 

"And several guards.  They're trying to figure out how to get past the feds."

"How close are they to the door?"

 

The fact that Blair had spoken to him shocked him for a split second, and he could not seem to answer.  "They're not near our door, Chief."  The nickname, slipped out and he waited for the rebuke.  It did not come.  Instead, he asked another question.

 

"If we surprise them, can we take 'em?"

 

"Maybe.  I'd say there are at least six guards and Baker."

 

"We have them outnumbered."

 

He turned to Pete.  "We have two injured and one that is still not quite in this reality.  That sort of negates out number advantage."

 

"We have to do something.  If Baker gets out of here, he will come after us with everything he's got.  If we live through it, you may find yourself right back in a cell.  That what you want?  We cannot take the chance that he'll escape.  I like Chad Ryan.  He's a friend, but the vast majority of the feds I've met, I wouldn't trust to help me across an empty street in Backwater, U.S.A. without getting me run down by the one and only working motor vehicle in town!"

 

Jim put his hand over Pete's mouth.  "I get the point."

 

Pete pulled his hand away.  "Where exactly are they?"

 

Jim listened for a moment.  "To the left of us, maybe 500 feet max."

 

"That close? Oh well.  Rafe, you stay here.  Kit, same for you."

 

"No.  I can still shoot, Pete.  My ankle doesn't affect my aim."

 

"Oh, and the ladder is certainly no obstacle.  You gonna fly up there?  Stay here, Kit.  That's an order.  I'm up first."

 

"I'm right behind you."  Jim checked his weapon then turned to look at Blair again.  "Will you stay here?"

 

"No."  It was a simple, firm answer, and Jim realized that he had no right to push. 

 

"Be careful."

 

Blair nodded.

 

"Alex?"  Chase's voice made both of them turn.

 

"What?" Alex Morrow glared at him.

 

"Not you.  Alex?"  Barnes was moving toward Blair.  Jim's hands itched to pull him away, but he could not seem to breathe, much less move.

 

She raised one hand to Blair's face.  Blair flinched and tried to lean away from her, but she managed to touch his jaw.  Chase limped over to them.  She turned away and took Chase in her arms again.  Jim realized that she was, in her own way, apologizing.

 

The tense moment was over and once again, Pete started up the ladder.

 

"They're getting ready to leave," Jim told him.  "They're going to try to get to Baker's car and go through the fence."

 

Pete nodded and lifted the door above his head just a bit and peeked through the crack.  He closed it.  "They're facing away.  Now or never.  We ready?"

 

"Go."  Simon assured him.

 

Very slowly, Pete lifted the door again.  Below him on the ladder, Jim prayed that the hinges would not squeak.  They did not and Pete silently rolled into the room.  Jim followed.  Pete had gone left and was hidden behind some boxes.  Jim went right.  Simon was next.  One by one, they took up positions behind Baker and his men.

 

Later, Jim would scold himself for not considering Rose a threat any longer.  The man shouted a warning to Baker just as Brown cleared the hole in the floor.  Below, he heard Chase's stolen M-16 fire.  Robert Rose would never bother any of them again.  But Jim had bigger problems at the moment as Baker and the guards turned on them.

 

 

Kit heard the firefight break out over his head as he kicked Rose's dead body.  He had warned the man.  Alex was rubbing off on him.  He glanced behind him to locate the other Alex, the woman he was going to guide, but she was not where he had left her.

 

"Fuck!"  He looked up.  There, on the ladder.  "Alex, no!"  He tried to pull her down, but he missed the hem of her scrubs as she continued to climb.  He looked at Rafe.  The man was getting weak from blood loss.  He would be no help.  Swearing, he threw the strap of the M-16 over his head and started up the ladder himself.

 

"Wait," Rafe called.

 

"Can't.  She's gonna get killed!"  It was hard with a cast, but he struggled up the ladder.  He had to protect her.

 

 

Baker was still trying to get away, he and his men making it out of the building, forcing Pete to follow.  He did not have to look back to know that he was not alone as he made his way out.  There were a few trees and a couple of small trailers to take cover behind.  He got off a shot just as one of the men left his cover.  He went down.  Jim got another one.  Two down, five to go.  Four, as Banks got another.  Pete could see a couple of the feds racing to help them.  Baker was caught between the two groups.  This was almost over.  Pete saw the knowledge in Baker's eyes as the man stepped out of his cover.  Was he surrendering?  But Baker looked away from Pete and Pete followed his gaze.

 

"No!"  Pete could see his target.  "Kit!  Get down!"  Why the hell had he not stayed below?  Then he saw why.  Alex Barnes was a few feet to Kit's left.  He was trying to catch up to her.  Pete saw Baker raise the gun. "Oh god."  Pete took aim, but Baker dived for cover just as his gun went off.  Pete's bullet hit the tree Baker ducked behind.  Pete forced himself to turn and look, fearing that his friend was dead.  But he was not dead.  Kit was pulling himself from under the prone figure of Alex Barnes.

 

"Kit!"  Pete stumbled to them, feeling the heat of a bullet pass by his head even as he reached them.  He grabbed them both and dragged them back into the storage building.  To Pete's amazement, Kit pulled the woman into his arms and rocked her gently.

 

"Why?" he asked her.

 

"My guide," she whispered as one blood red hand reached up to touch his long black hair.  "Had to protect my guide."  Her hand dropped.

 

Pete had never seen Kit Chase cry before.  He looked down at the woman's wound, somehow the sight of it less disturbing than the sight of tears on Kit's face.  She was gone.

 

"If only I'd found her years ago, Pete."

 

Pete put one hand on Kit's shoulder.  Kit looked at him, his face and hair streaked with blood and tears.  "Stay here. Okay?"

 

Kit nodded and Pete left him there, grieving a murderess he had hardly known.

 

 

Why would they not just give up?  Blair could not understand it.  They were pinned down, surrounded on all sides now and still they fought.  Fanaticism, that was the only explanation.  He watched as another of Baker's men went down.  He was not sure who fired the shot, but he did know it did not come from him.  He had stopped firing.  Somehow, it did not seem right to fire on people who were so hopelessly outnumbered and apparently too stupid to just surrender.

 

To make matters worse, he had seen Alex Barnes get shot.  He had watched her throw herself in front of Kit to save him.  One part of his mind was fascinated by the sacrifice.  Why would a woman who had killed, had been willing to kill so many more, suddenly put herself in the path of a bullet for a stranger.  Another part of his mind rejoiced for her redemption, while still another protested that she could not be redeemed after the things she had done.  And what about the baby?  Jim's baby.  He wiped impatiently at the tears that welled up in his eyes.

 

He hazarded a glance to Jim's last location.  There he was, sentinel and cop, one in determination to end this threat once and for all.  He should be at Jim's side.  A sentinel needed a guide to watch his back.  Could he still be Jim's guide?  After all they had done to each other, could they fix what they had broken?  Blair stared at the gun battle going on around him for a moment.  Another man went down.  The last remaining guard dropped his gun and held up his hands.  But where was Baker?

 

"Give it up, Baker!"  That was Pete's voice.  Blair could see him crouched next to one of the trailers.  "There's no way you're getting out of here!"

 

Blair sighed in relief as a gun came flying out from behind a tree.  It was over.  He stood and moved toward Jim.  He had to find out if their friendship could be salvaged.  He saw Baker step out and the feds began rushing forward to take him.  But just as he was about to turn his attention back to Jim, he caught a glimpse of sunlight on metal.  "Gun!"

 

 

Jim saw Blair coming toward him.  He turned to smile at his guide.  Now, they could really talk.  But then Blair yelled about a gun.  Jim spun, ready to face the threat, but the world seemed to slow down.

 

Baker screamed something about sentinels and raised his weapon, leveling it at Jim.  Then he could no longer see Baker as someone stepped in front of him.

 

"Blair!" The gunshot echoed in Jim's head as Blair's body jerked with the impact of the bullet.  Jim caught him and they fell together.  Then the world clicked back into real time.  Jim watched as Alex Morrow emptied his 9mm into Baker's body.  Pete called to Morrow frantically, but the man did not seem to hear.  As Baker's body hit the dirt, Morrow looked at Jim, his face tight and cold.

 

Jim sent the man silent thanks and held Blair closer.

 

"Jim?"

 

His name, his first name spoken by the most important person in his life, was bittersweet music.  "Chief, why did you do that?"

 

"Had to.  Jim, I'm tired of fighting.  It hurts too much.  Can we fix it?  I just want to come home."

 

"Then you come home, buddy.  Come home, Blair."

 

Blair's eyes closed, but Jim could see that he was just tired and in pain.  He was going to be okay.  He looked around them at the destruction.  Everyone stood as if shell-shocked.  No one quite knew what to do, it seemed.

 

"We have an ambulance on the premises."

 

"Get it back here then."  Jim did not even bother to look at Chad Ryan as he spoke.

 

Jesse Riviera ran past him, back into the building.  He was checking on Chase.  Then it hit him.  Alex Barnes.  Pete was standing over him.  He looked up.  "Barnes?"

 

"Sorry, Jim."

 

Jim nodded.  Maybe it would matter later.  Right now, the only person who mattered was in his arms.

 

"How is he?" Pete asked.

 

"He'll be okay.  Caught him high since Baker was aiming at me."

 

Pete grinned.  "Might be the first time in his life he'll be thankful that he's short."

 

Morrow picked up a gun from the ground a few feet away and Jim realized that it must have been Blair's.  Morrow shook his head and Jim sighed.

 

 

Kit tapped his unbroken foot impatiently.  He was fine, but Pete had insisted that his ankle get x-rayed again to make sure it was set right.  He had sent Jess to get him a Dr. Pepper and he was beginning to believe the guy got lost.  The exam room door opened.

 

"About time."

 

"Didn't know I was expected.  I'd have come sooner."

 

Kit jerked his head up.  He chuckled a little.  "You weren't expected, Ellison.  You don't happen to have my Dr. Pepper, do you?"

 

"Nope, sorry.  How're you doing?"

 

"I'm fine, damn it!  I tried to tell Pete that, but he's stubborn as hell!"

 

"Birds of a feather, Chase."

 

"Screw you," he remarked, but he was smiling.  Ellison was right.  He and Pete deserved one another.  "How's Blair?"

 

"In surgery, but he'll be fine.  Bullet tore up some muscle and bruised his lung, but didn't go in.  Rafe's going to be okay too.  That bullet went all the way through.  They're fixing him up, giving him some blood."

 

"That's good."

 

There was a long moment of silence which both of them tried to break at the some time.  Kit deferred to Ellison.

 

"I'm sorry about Barnes."

 

Kit's heart flipped.  "I'm sorry about your baby."

 

"Well, I'm not sure how I feel about that right now.  Don't think I'm ready to deal with that one."

 

"When you are, let somebody help, okay?"

 

"Yeah, okay.  What about you?  You were ready to be her guide.  How are you—"

 

Kit held up one hand to stop him.  "You know, it's funny.  I was so sure I'd never want to be a guide, but there was this need that I could fill, and I couldn't help but want to fill it.  I'd like to say it was just the baby, but it wasn't.  And she wanted me.  She called me her guide before she died.  Now, god, Ellison, I'm so glad I didn't do it.  She's gone.  She's dead.  Do you realize what that would have meant for me if I had gone through with it?  I would have done it too.  I was so close.  If Rose hadn't interrupted…  No offense, man, but I hope I never come into contact with another sentinel.  Fucks with my head too much."  Something occurred to him.  "Oh, man, Alex.  Has anybody talked to Alex?"

 

"Pete's with the feds.  Jesse's been with you.  I don't think so."

 

"Find him.  Is he here?  Did he know about Barnes and the baby?"

 

"Yeah, apparently they all knew."

 

"Find him now."

 

"Why?"

 

"I really shouldn't tell you this, but his wife died in a firefight."

 

"Pete told me.  What's the problem?"

 

"Did Pete tell you his wife was pregnant?  I might be overreacting, but he doesn't handle things like this very well sometimes.  Find him for me please?"

 

"Jesus, okay.  I'm not good at emotional stuff."

 

Kit glared at the man.  "You're better at it than you think.  Just go."

 

Ellison went to the door then turned to look at him again.  "I'm still not sure I like you, Chase, but you've earned my respect.  Thanks for everything."

 

"Back at cha, exactly, man.  Go."  He waved him out.

 

 

Jim found Alex Morrow outside the hospital, leaning against the wall near the ER entrance.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi yourself."  Morrow just stared through him.

 

"Chase is worried about you."

 

"Is he now?  Tell you, did he?"

 

"I already knew some of it."

 

"I'm okay with Barnes actually.  She was a victim and she died.  It's horrible and it's sad, but she was not Eliza.  No confusion there."

 

"Then what?  Something's up."  Jim leaned on the wall near him.

 

"This is up."  Morrow pulled a 9mm from the back of his belt and held it out to Jim.  "This is the gun I gave Blair."

 

Jim took it.  "Yeah. I know."

 

"Do you?  Do you know?  At first, I thought he would be okay.  He was there with us, but then at the end, he—he dropped this gun.  He could have shot Baker and ended it, but he didn't.  It was not his first instinct.  Taking the bullet was his instinct.  Damn it!  Gun in his hand, an open shot any novice could make, and he drops the gun and takes the fucking bullet!  Do you know what that means, Ellison?  Do you really?"  Jim closed his eyes as Morrow's voice grew louder and louder, more and more agitated, his fists beating the wall behind him.  "He is not a merc, Ellison!  He will never be a merc!  You have to be able to pull that fucking trigger.  You have to shoot first, ask questions if they live!  As a matter of fact, fuck the questions if it means you live!  He doesn't belong in the agency, Ellison!  He won't survive!"

 

"I know."

 

"Good!"  Morrow pushed off the wall and moved to stand in front of Jim.  "The gun will always be his last resort if he even considers it an option in the first place.  Blair is a good man.  I have no doubt that he would watch my back in a fight.  But I want an extra weapon at my back, not a shield!  He'd protect me, or you, or anyone for that matter, but with his life, not with a gun, and that is unacceptable to me.  Oddly enough, and this may sound strange, but his instincts would make him a damn fine cop.  One that would die young, but a good one nonetheless.  But he shouldn't have to be a cop.  He should do what he was meant to do.  He's so like Kit in so many ways.  The only major differences being that Kit does have a much stronger survival instinct and the will to kill if he has to.  But the heart is the same.  It will be up to you to protect him if he stays in your life.  Can you?  Will you?"

 

"I will certainly try."

 

"It won't be easy, you know.  He'll make it damn hard because he doesn't think he needs protecting."

 

"I know."  Jim looked up at the blue sky.  "Not to be an ass, but why do you care?"

 

Morrow raised an eyebrow at him.  "I told you, I was you once.  So sure I didn't need anyone.  Until I didn't have anyone.  It was a hard lesson.  I told you, I didn't have the chance to get back what I lost, but you did.  And here it is.  Are you going to take it?"

 

"He said he wants to come home."

 

"Well, just don't expect him tomorrow.  It may be what he wants, but he's not ready yet.  I know.  He's torn between what he wants and the fear that if he gives in to what he wants he'll be a doormat under your feet.  You're going to have to prove yourself, Ellison.  You're going to have to change and you're going to have to work to win his trust."

 

"I figured as much."

 

"But he will be back, Jim.  If you let him know that he is wanted and appreciated.  And trusted."

 

Jim nodded.

 

"Don't fuck this up, Ellison."

 

"I won't.  Not this time."

 

"You'd better not."  Morrow walked away from him.

 

Jim watched the white fluffy clouds move across the blue field of the sky above him.  He was not sure how long he had been there, sifting through his emotions and thoughts, before Simon joined him.

 

"The feds are happy, despite Baker's demise.  They've rounded up the whole lot of people and all the files from Millennium and frozen all of the Coalition's assets.  They'll have to sort out the guilty from the innocent for a while.  I don't envy them that task.  Devereaux seems to think the Freedom Coalition won't recover from this bust.  So much for the bad guys.  As for the good guys, Rafe's all sewn up and floating on happy juice.  Brown and Taggert went for food.  I told them to get you something greasy and bad for you.  Connor is actually flirting with that fed, Ryan.  And Devereaux seems quite put out by that."

 

"Did Chase get his Dr. Pepper?"

 

Simon grinned.  "Yes, he finally did.  Riviera had met some cute little nurse at the vending machines.  So, how are you holding up?"

 

"I'll live."

 

"Good, glad to hear it."

 

"You told the others?"

 

"About your senses?  Yeah.  They deserved to know the truth, Jim.  Fact is they were not all that shocked."

 

"Guess they didn't make detective for nothing, huh?"

 

"Guess not."

 

"Thanks for coming for me, Simon."

 

"Had to.  Your paperwork's not done."

 

Jim chuckled.  "You're all heart."

 

Simon's face got serious again.  "So what happens now?"

 

"I don't know.  That's up to Blair."

 

"Well, you obviously got your senses back."

 

"Yeah."

 

"So you need Sandburg back."

 

"Like I said, it's up to Blair.  We have a lot to work out, and we'll do it his way, at his pace."

 

"You've come a long way, Jim."

 

"I'll figure out if that's an insult or a compliment when I'm not so damned tired, Simon."

 

 

Blair's pace was very slow indeed.  He had not come home from D.C. right away, just as Morrow had warned.  He was not working at the Devereaux Agency either though, so Jim was able to sleep most nights.  Blair was at Georgetown, finishing his dissertation.  A much-changed dissertation, Jim thought with a smile.  He still was not quite comfortable, but he had finally realized that his comfort level was irrelevant.  This was Blair's life after all.  And for the most part, Jim was as proud of the new dissertation as Blair was.  Mainly because Blair was finally acknowledging the importance of the guide, something that Burton had overlooked.  Using Barnes and Chase, as well as old case studies of people with a few heightened senses, Blair had put together a dissertation that was receiving great praise from his Georgetown advisors.  Jim was there in the pages of it, almost anonymously, as a case study.   If anyone knew them, they would be able to identify Jim.  Otherwise, he was just subject number two. 

 

But the road from Millennium to Georgetown's acceptance of the dissertation had taken a long, hard eight months.  Jim had continued to work, just as a normal detective though.  Using the senses was too dangerous even with his co-workers trying to help.  Jim had also spent a lot of time and money on phone calls and airplane tickets, as he and Blair tried to repair their partnership, and more importantly, their friendship.  The first couple of visits had been tense, but as usual, Blair had dispelled the tension.  It was a simple statement that opened the floodgates.  It was their third visit.  Jim had been toying with his fork at dinner until Blair had reached out and stilled his hand.

 

"I don't hate you.  I could never hate you, Jim."

 

After that, it was all downhill.  That was not to say that everything had gone smoothly after that.  Not by any means.  It did start the real work, however.  Blair was still angry and Jim knew that eventually he would have to face that anger.  In the end, he had had to force the issue.  He remembered the fight word for word, blow for blow. 

 

//"You have to be angry, Chief."

 

"I'm not angry anymore."

 

"You have to be.  I would be.  I lied to you.  I accused you of betrayal and—"

 

"Jim, shut up about it.  I'm not angry."

 

"I ruined your life."

 

"You are not going to leave it alone, are you?"

 

"Chief—Blair, we can't just act like it never happened."

 

"Why not?  I thought that was one of your specialties." 

 

Sarcasm, now he was getting somewhere.  Blair's fuse should be pretty short.  One more remark should do it.  "You seem pretty good at it too."

 

Blair's fist hit the table even as he stood.  "Okay!  Okay, you want me to be angry.  I'm angry!  There.  Happy?"

 

"I should have told you everything from the beginning, from the moment I knew."

 

"You're damn right you should have told me!  I had a fucking right to know, Jim!  And that's just one thing you fucked up!"

 

Kit Chase appeared in the doorway of his kitchen then discreetly backed away.  He was going to give them privacy and Jim was grateful.  "I know."

 

"Oh, and that fixes everything, huh?  You sit there and say, 'I know,' and 'you have to be angry, Blair," and that fixes everything!  What about 'Sorry, Blair,' or 'it will not happen again, Chief?'  Because it had better not happen again, Jim.  I can't keep taking the hits and getting back up.  I can't.  I'm not even sure I should even try.  Damn it!  Why do you have to be so fucking infuriating!? We are fucked up, Jim.  You know, you told me once my love life was a train wreck.  I've thought about it and I've decided that compared to our fucked up friendship, my love life looks like a tricycle accident!"

 

"I am sorry.  And I told you that."

 

"I know!  I know.  You just keep pushing me, damn it!  I'm trying to get past this, okay?  It's hard.  I can't—fuck!  I can't trust you, Jim.  I know you're sorry, but I don't trust this friendship anymore.  I just keep seeing you standing in that cell and telling me you had another guide!  Telling me to do what I was told!  I was sitting there thinking, 'gee, he throws me out, moves me back in, leaves me in the hospital, accuses me of selling him out, never even says thanks when I toss my future away, harasses me into the Academy, then hangs me out to dry here.  What else could go wrong?'  Then Rose shows me Alex Barnes.  And I'm supposed to what?  Forgive and forget?  Not sure I can, Jim.  I am trying.  I swear, but I am scared to death of trusting you ever again."//

 

That had hurt.  Even months later just remembering the words sent waves of pain through Jim's chest.  He could not blame Blair for feeling the way he did.  In his place, Jim figured he would have walked away and never looked back.  But Blair had looked back, and he was willing to try to repair their friendship.  They were almost there.  They just had one more little bump in the road.  Blair had never said that he forgave Jim.  He said that he understood, but that was part of the problem.  Blair always understood, and it made it so much easier to screw someone over when he kept giving you permission.  That was what Jim had done.  He had used Blair's own acceptance of his mistakes and trespasses as excuses to do make the same mistakes and trespasses again and again.  He knew that now.  He was the one who had attained understanding now.  In the meantime, Blair had been learning to call him on his idiocy and demand the truth, all of the truth.  In the end, though, he would still say he understood.  It was just his way.  But thus far, in all their hours of heart-wrenching soul-searching discussion, the word forgive had only entered the conversation that once when Blair had said that he was not sure he could forgive.

 

Now, as Jim sat in the audience watching Blair ascend the steps to the stage to receive his degree, his doctorate, a somewhat strained smile stretched his face as Simon pounded him on the back.  He and Simon were the only ones to make this trip.  The rest of Major Crimes was back in Cascade preparing for a "Welcome Home" party that Jim could only hope they could actually give.  He put aside the depressing thoughts and tried to let the mood of those around him sweep him along. He sighed then smiled for real as Blair walked across the stage and was handed his degree.

 

He stood, applauding and whooping in a way much too undignified for the occasion, as Blair shook hands with the chancellor of Georgetown.  But he was not the only one.  He glanced around himself then at Blair's friends here in D.C.  They were good friends.  Morrow had become a steadfast watchdog, Pete had told him.  Jess seemed determined to give Morrow something to do, dragging Blair off for one adventure after another when he was not busy with his dissertation or working with Chase.  Kit Chase was still a pain in Jim's ass, but he had been teaching Blair everything he knew, filling in the blanks that before Blair just had to reason out on his own.  Then there was Pete, the man who once left Jim for dead who now would go into hell for someone he barely knew.  The world was a strange place sometimes, but this time, it had been kind to Jim.

 

The rest of the ceremony was dull and far too long.  Jim felt like whooping again when it was finally over.  He waded through the crowds, looking for one curly-haired—long curly hairs, he might add—anthropologist.  Oddly enough, it was Blair who found him.

 

"Jim."  Blair hugged him without so much as a warning, but Jim did not mind.  He returned the hug wholeheartedly.

 

"Congratulations, Chief."

"Thanks, man.  I'm glad you came."

 

"Of course, I came.  I nearly cost you this.  I owed it to you to be here."

 

A shadow crossed Blair's face and Jim wondered if he had said the wrong thing.  Yes, he probably had.  "Besides," he added, "I just wanted to be here."  It was the truth, all of it.  Blair deserved the truth.

 

Blair almost smiled.  "Jim, um—"

 

"So, now what, Doc?  Hey, maybe that'll be your new nickname."  He wanted desperately to lighten the mood.

 

Now Blair really smiled.  "No thanks.  I have enough of them already.  Let's see, Chief, Darwin, Einstein, Junior and those are just the ones you've called me.  Sandy, that one's Megan's.  White Boy!  Kit is calling me White Boy! Can you believe it?" 

 

Jim laughed.  He could not help himself.  But his laughter ended with Blair's next statement.  "Actually, I have accepted a job.  Two actually."

 

"Really?"  Jim's voice shook just a bit and his heartbeat tripled in speed and volume. 

 

"Yeah, um, Senator Adams, remember him?  He sponsored this grant program where police departments could get a grant to hire social scientists, besides psychologists, that is, as consultants to see if their expertise could be helpful in investigative work.  One of the departments that applied for the grant and got it called me.  So I called the local university there and they were looking for a part-time anthropology professor so I interviewed with the department and the school and got both jobs."

 

Jim had been biting his tongue through the speech.  "Where, Chief?"  Did that sound snappy?  The idea of Blair working with some other department with some other detective was making his blood boil.

 

"Well, that's what I need to talk to you about.  See, I don't know if the guy they're going to partner me with really wants me around.  He wants a partner he can trust."

 

Jim's knees tried to give way, and Blair grabbed his arms before he could fall.

 

"Jim!  Are you okay?"  Concern was etched on Blair's face.

 

"Please, just say it, Blair.  Please, don't do this to me."

 

"Jim, I'm sorry.  I just didn't know if I was welcome."

 

"After all this time, Chief, everything we've talked about, everything I've done, tried to do, please tell me you know how much you mean to me."

 

"As much as you mean to me, I hope.  Maybe.  Do you really forgive me?"

 

Jim wrapped his arms around his dense best friend.  "There was nothing to forgive you for, Chief.  It was all me."

 

"No, no, it wasn't.  We both screwed up.  There were signs I should have seen.  I should have fought harder, and then I shouldn't have walked away," Blair argued into his shoulder.

 

"No, you shouldn't have had to fight for us, Chief.  I should have told you everything.  You were right to leave.  I wouldn't have learned my lesson otherwise."

 

"Since you put it that way, okay."  There was a smile in the voice that made Jim shake his head as he released Blair from his bear hug. 

 

"But do you forgive me?  I am so sorry, Blair.  I screwed up so badly.  I never meant—"

 

"I forgive you, Jim."

 

Again, such a simple statement, so important.  "I do trust you, Blair.  I hope you can trust me.  I have missed you.  Come home, Blair."

 

"I'm still learning to trust you again, but I've missed you, too.  Thank you, Jim."

 

"No, thank you."  Jim hugged him again.  "Simon knew all about this, huh?"

 

"Uh, yeah, he sort of wrote the grant application.  It wasn't a really difficult interview either."

 

"That bastard.  I can't believe he didn't say anything to me."  Jim released his guide but kept his hands on Blair's shoulders.

 

"We didn't know if the proposal would go through, and then that the application would be accepted.  We didn't want to say anything until we knew.  We just found out a few days ago.  Then I asked him to let me talk to you about it."

 

"Okay, so maybe I'll let him live.  We have other folks waiting for us outside, you know.  We better get going."

 

"Yeah, I guess so.  Pete swears he's got a slamming party waiting."

 

"Slamming?  Pete's been around Riviera for too long.  Just one more question," Jim said as they started walking to the door.  "You really going to work for Edwards?"

 

"Oh, didn't I tell you?  She got fired for what she did to me.  I have a formal apology from the school, back pay, the whole nine yards.  Dr. Meeks is the interim chancellor, and he may get the job permanently.  Needless to say, that interview wasn't hard to get through either.  And old Sid is out of a job too.  I tell you, Pete is a bulldog, man.  The way he went after Sid was scary.  We settled out of court for an undisclosed amount."

 

"I knew about the apology but not the rest.  So disclose, Chief, disclose!"

 

"Let's just say between the money that they paid me and the money that Pete managed to hustle for me from that CIA guy, I will never owe you back rent again, Jim."

 

"Does this mean you'll support us in our old age?"

 

"Think I'd rather take Pete's advice and spend it all on fast women and good wine."

 

Jim laughed.  "Damn, I've missed you!"

 

Blair smiled.  "Well, I'm back now.  We can do this, Jim.  We can make this work."

 

"And we will, Chief.  I promise you, we will."

 

"Sentinel and guide."

 

"Yeah, but more than that.  Brothers."

 

"I can deal with that." 

 

They walked out of the auditorium together, and for the first time in over a year, Jim was truly happy.  Happiness was a fragile thing, he knew, but there were things that he understood now, lessons he had learned that would make happiness a little easier to hold onto.  The sentinel had finally learned to see the colors, learned to hear the whispers of the heart, learned to feel and accept his own emotions.  The education was painful, but the rewards were many.

 

The end…