Brotherhood

Danae

Disclaimer: Alas, they are not mine.  I hope Pet Fly doesn't mind sharing though.  No harm or infringement is intended and nobody's paying me so... unspoken plea here.  It's all in the spirit of fun and a touch of reverence for the folks that do own them.  

Thanks to Missy and Nickerbits, my fabulous betareaders. And to Michelle who inspires me with her amazing writing and understanding of the human soul.  And to everyone else who has written to me with feedback.  I hope you know just how important you are to me.

Season four?  What season four?  This thing was started even before S2!  Now, you know where we are....

Brotherhood

_____________

For once, it was not raining and Blair Sandburg reveled in the sunshine as he tracked across the Rainier University campus to the Student Union.  The new Anthropology 101 textbooks had come in and the bookstore was holding one for him.  Of course, it would not be a teacher's edition.  Those went to the folks with those three little letters that Blair was still searching for after their names.  Then again, Blair did not need a teacher's edition.  He could teach the 101 class in his sleep, while typing Jim's paperwork, and with one hand tied behind his back.  *Well, maybe not the hand tied thing.*  Blair had to have his hands to talk.  If he could not move his hands, then how would he get his point across?  And if one was busy typing, he would need the other.  Blair smiled at the strange thoughts racing through his head and at the sunbeams warming him.  It was a good day, he decided.  He had two classes to teach, one to attend, a partner with a thankfully light caseload waiting for him at the station, and a dinner date with a very pretty TA from the History department that night.  Yes, a very good day indeed.

Maybe that was why what he discovered in the hedges outside the Student Union hit him so hard.

________________________________________________________

Jim Ellison pushed aside the by-standers and not a few other cops to get to his partner.  He found the younger man sitting on the steps of the Student Union.  Jim registered the blood covering his guide and then dismissed it.  It was someone else's.  He moved on to observe the tremors that shook Blair's body with incredible force.  "Blair?" 

Deep blue eyes were raised to meet his and Jim could see the pain and the anger in them.  "Did you see?  Did you see what some monster did to that girl?" Blair pointed in the direction where the paramedics frantically worked to save a young girl's life.

"I'm on my way over there now, Chief.  Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah."

"Has anyone taken your statement?"

"No, I couldn't-- I, Jim, I just--" Jim laid a hand on his partner's shoulder.

"I understand.  Wait for me here, okay?  I'll get your statement after I talk to the other officers and examine the scene."

"I should go with you to do that.  You may need me."

"No, just stay here for right now.  I won't do anything too strenuous.  You can come back with me later if we need to.  At the moment, Chief, you are in no shape for this.  Okay?"

Blair simply nodded and wrapped his arms around his body once again.  Jim squeezed the shoulder that his hand rested on once before turning to the crime scene.  The sentinel part of his soul appeased that his guide was safe, the cop emerged to take precedence.  He had a brutal assault to investigate.  He quickly located Brown near the site where the paramedics were lifting the girl's bloody body onto a gurney.  He made his way there.  What he saw brought instant understanding of Blair's anger.  The victim was a tiny Oriental girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old.  She was still alive but just barely.  Thankfully, she was unconscious.  Her arms and legs were covered in cuts of varying depth, and Jim caught sight of the word "Chink" carved into her abdomen as the paramedic raised the bandage to check the wound once more before transport.  Jim's senses told him that she had been raped as well.  His stomach flipped, and he swallowed hard against the bile that rose into his throat.  Jim turned to Brown. 

"Was she found out here in the open?"

"No, Sandburg found her in the hedges, over here.  He carried her out here, we think, so that he could try to save her.  I tried to ask him some questions but he wasn't talking."  Brown led the way over to a spot where the hedge was not quite so perfect anymore.

"He spoke to me.  I'm going to get his statement when we get through here."  Jim carefully moved the branches of the thick bushes aside and stepped through.  The first thing that registered in his senses was blood.  It was a wonder that she was not dead from blood loss.  Underneath the blood, he could smell her perfume, semen, and a variety of men's colognes.  There was more than one assailant.  He filed that for future use.  Blair could help him isolate each fragrance when he was recovered from the shock.  With that thought, Jim glanced at the young man.  Blair was rocking slightly, his arms still tight against his body.  The heart rate was better but still faster than normal.   He pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.  He did a visual scan of the area.  There were tattered bits of the young woman's clothing which Jim and Brown gathered carefully and placed into evidence bags.  The girl's purse lay under a particularly full, fat shrub.  It, too, was collected and carefully sealed as evidence.  Finally, Jim plucked an earring from the blood soaked ground and dropped it into a bag that Brown was holding.  He removed the rubber gloves from his hands, careful to turn them inside out as he did, then slapped Brown on the shoulder.  He climbed out of the hedge and threw the gloves into an evidence bag and handed it off to one of the forensics techs. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the spot where his partner sat.  He sat down beside Blair and clasped a hand on a shaking knee.

"Can you talk to me, Chief?"

"Yeah.  I'm okay, Jim.  Just a little shook up."

"I can certainly understand that.  Tell me what happened."

"I was walking to the Student Union to go to the bookstore.  I was passing the hedges and I saw a shoe under one of the bushes.  I almost kept walking, but then I saw red on the shoe and I realized that it was blood.  I looked through the hedge and saw her, man.  It was horrible.  She was all cut up, and there was so much blood.  I yelled for someone to call an ambulance and the police.  There were some students standing around, and I suppose one of them did call.  I went in there where she was and checked for a pulse.  She was alive, Jim, and she was still bleeding.  I didn't have enough room back there so I picked her up and brought her out where I could see her injuries and try to stop the bleeding.  Maybe I shouldn't have done that but I couldn't help her back there, Jim.  I had to do it."

"It's okay, buddy.  Go on."

"I used my shirt to try to stop the bleeding and waited for someone to come.  God, Jim! Why would somebody do that to someone else?  She was tortured, and I think she was raped, Jim.  This guy is sick, Jim."

"It's not just one person, Chief.  I picked up several different men's colognes over there."

"Ah, man!"  Blair buried his head in his hands and Jim moved his own hand from Blair's knee to his guide's neck.  

"We'll find them, Chief."

Blair nodded without raising his head.

Jim sighed.

___________________________________________________________

Several hours later, Jim heard a familiar heartbeat and, without even raising his eyes, closed the file on his desk.  Blair plopped down beside him seconds later, his backpack hitting the floor beside Jim's feet.  "So, what's on the agenda?"

"You out of class?"  Jim inquired, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah.  Just had the two today."

Jim bit his lip.  He hated to do this.  "I need to go see Yoko Timura.  The hospital called just a few minutes ago to let us know she was awake."

Blair's smile faltered and his complexion lost all color.  "I see."

"If you don't want to go, Chief, I understand.  You can work on paperwork."

Blair touched the file on Jim's desk and Jim snatched it away quickly.  Blair raised his hand and ran it through his hair.  "Top secret?"  He pointed at the file.

Jim grimaced.  "You just don't want to see it."

Blair nodded, a frown on his face.  "Gotcha.  No, Jim, I'll go with you.  Just let me go to men's room and I'll be ready."

Jim let his partner get out of the room before he tossed the offending folder back on the desk and swore under his breath.

"What's up, Jim?" his captain, Simon Banks, asked as he approached.

"Sandburg's not handling the Timura case very well."

Simon nodded in sympathy.  "I can understand that.  Poor kid."

"Yeah."

"He's tough, though.  He'll be all right."  Simon slapped him on the shoulder and sauntered away.

"As soon as he's done throwing up his lunch," Jim whispered to himself.

_________________________________________________

Blair rinsed his mouth and stared at his pale reflection in the mirror.  "Get a damn grip, will you?" he scolded.  "She's alive.  Just keep that in mind.  She's still alive.  She could have died but she didn't.  Now get your ass out there and help Jim catch these monsters."  He swallowed hard and pushed himself away from the sink.  He shook himself and drew his shoulders up.  Nodding at himself once for reinforcement and plastering a smile on his face, he left the men's room. 

Jim was waiting for him in the hall.  "Ready, Chief?"

"Yeah.  Let's go." 

Jim grasped his shoulder briefly then turned to the elevator.  Silence fell between them and reigned supreme until they got into the truck.  Blair had used the time to mull over the few facts they had in the case.  It occurred to him just as he settled in the truck and snapped on his seatbelt that Yoko Timura was a Japanese name.  He shook his head. 

"What is it, Chief?"

"Just proof positive how stupid bigots really are."

"What do you mean?"

"Yoko Timura is Japanese."

"Yeah?"

"Jim, they carved 'Chink' on her.  She's not Chinese.  She's Japanese."

"Well, I'll be damned.  You're right.  I hadn't thought that.  So we know our assailants are as stupid as they are brutal.  Good, they might be easier to catch.  I just hope this is an isolated incident.  That maybe she pissed somebody off or something.  I really don't want to even think about what could happen if some crazed hate group is on the rampage in Cascade."

"I'm going to talk to the Dean about sponsoring some cultural sensitivity seminars.  They've done that kind of thing before and it can't hurt."

"Sounds good to me," Jim commented as he backed the truck out of the parking space. 

The rest of the conversation on the trip to the hospital was on much more pleasant matters.  Blair realized that Jim was doing his best to keep Blair's mind occupied and it made him feel warm.  Jim was in full Big Brother mode again.  Finally, after Jim brought up the possibility of getting tickets to the next Jags game for them for the third time, Blair reached out and touched his shoulder.  "Jim, really, I'm okay.  Chill out, man."

Jim made a face at him.  "I'll believe that when you manage to talk about this case and keep your lunch down."

Blair rolled his eyes.  "I can't believe that you heard me.  That you *listened*!"

"Blair, I know you.  I didn't have to listen," Jim said softly.

Blair closed his eyes.  "Guess not.  Especially since I just told on myself, huh?"

Jim chuckled.  "Not too bright, Darwin.  You're slipping.  What happened to obfuscation?"

"Been hanging around you too long and I'm losing my technique," Blair quipped.

______________________________________________________

Yoko Timura did not get a look at her attackers.  They all wore masks.  There were five of them, though.  Blair had held her hand while she told Jim what she remembered about the attack.  Jim had listened and asked questions, having to forcibly unclench his jaw to get out the words.  As bad as dealing with Yoko Timura's trauma and tears was, worse than that by far was listening to his partner's erratic heartbeat and watching him fight for control of his own emotions.  Jim had wrapped up as quickly as possible and thanked the young woman.  He had promised her to do all he could to find her attackers.  Blair had nearly flown out of the room. 

They were in the truck before either of them spoke again.  "I'm really sorry about that, Jim."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Chief.  How about a late lunch?"

"I ate earlier, Jim."

"Yeah, and the toilet in the men's room got most of that, didn't it?"

Blair frowned at him.  "What are you, my mother?"

"No, your Blessed Protector.  Or did you forget that?"

The frown disappeared, replaced by a sardonic smirk.  "If I had known that you would hold on to that comment like you have and use it to hover over me, I would never have said that."

"Too late.  Besides, I haven't eaten and I'm hungry."  Jim started the truck.  "And I don't hover."

"Right.  And my name's Dr. McKay."

"McCoy."

"No, no, it's the Gaelic pronunciation, remember?" Blair had a true smile on his face finally.

"Oh yeah." Jim cuffed him on the head gently and then backed out of the parking space.  "You're still eating something."

Blair shook his head and rolled his eyes but he did not disagree.  That was enough. 

Or so Jim thought.  When they sat down to eat at the China Express, Blair picked at the food on his plate.  Jim's sentinel sight registered that very little if any of it made it to his mouth.  He was about to comment on that fact when his cell phone rang. Frowning, he took the offending object from his pocket and answered it.  "Ellison."

He listened to Simon's voice on the other end while examining Blair's inquiring eyes.  "Yes, sir.  On the way," he finally said and hung up.

"What's up?" Blair asked the question that Jim did not want to answer.

"There's been another incident at the University."

Blair paled and a shudder ran through his body.  The fork poised in his hand dropped to the still full plate.  "How bad?"

"Pretty bad from what Simon was told.  Are you okay, Chief?  Maybe you should sit this one out, huh?"

The young man across from him took a deep breath and straightened his back, squaring his shoulders. "I'll be fine, Jim."

Jim started to argue the point but decided that it would probably be useless and time consuming.  He nodded and threw his napkin in his plate. 

_______________________________________________________

Rafe approached them as they got out of the truck near the English building.  "Hi, guys."

Blair waved his hello as Jim spoke. "What have we got?"

"Victim is a male this time.  His name is Hassan Jambar.  He's an African exchange student."

Blair could not control the gasp that escaped him.

"You know him, Chief?"

"Yeah," he answered, "he's a nice guy.  He's an artist."

"He may not be after this," Rafe said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Jim asked.

"His hands have been crushed."

"Ah, damn." Blair doubled over, placing his hands on his knees.  He felt Jim's touch on his back.  "I'm okay," he whispered. 

"That's not all.  There's a rope burn around his neck and he has a--"

Blair stood and gaped at the young detective.

"A what?" Jim asked.

"A racial epithet written in permanent marker, we think, on his forehead."

Fury filled Blair's vision with a red haze and he clenched his fists. 

"Chief, are you all right?" Jim squeezed his shoulder. "You can wait for me in the truck if you'd rather."

"I'm fine.  Is he conscious?" Blair inquired.

"Yeah."

"Then I'm going with you to talk to him.  He knows me.  It may help him to have a familiar face, you know?"

"Yeah, I know.  Come on."

Blair let Jim take the lead as the two of them made their way over to the ambulance where Hassan Jambar lay on a stretcher.  Though Jim stepped into the ambulance ahead of him, Blair spoke to the young man first.  "Hassan, it's Blair."  He laid a gentle hand on his student's arm as he moved into Hassan's line of sight.

The young man opened his eyes and gave Blair a small, trembling smile.  "Hello, sir," came a softly accented reply.

"Hassan, this is my partner, Jim Ellison.  He's a police officer.  He needs to ask you some questions, okay?"

Hassan nodded and Blair stepped back to allow Jim to move closer.  Blair did not hear most of Jim's questions.  His eyes focused on the ruined hands and the mark of the rope on his student's neck and lastly on the ugly, hateful word scrawled across the forehead.  Jim's hand on his arm snapped him out of the mini-zone he had entered while tracing the letters and branding them into his memory.  Handwriting was as unique as fingerprints.  He wanted to remember the shape, curve, and point of each of those letters.  Just in case he saw it again.  Jim got out of the ambulance and Blair paused one moment more to give Hassan what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  Impulsively, he reached out and placed the palm of his hand on the young man's forehead, covering at least that bit of the cruelty inflicted.  Hassan sighed heavily. 

"Thank you, Mr. Sandburg," he whispered.

"If you need anything, call.  Okay?"

"Yes." He smiled wearily.

Blair removed his hand and stepped out of the ambulance.  The paramedics climbed in and pulled the door shut after them.  Moments later, the vehicle pulled away, leaving Blair watching it go with a very heavy heart.  When it disappeared around a corner, he turned to Jim.  "Um, did he see anything?"

"No.  Masks, same as the Timura girl."  Jim looked at him with a puzzled expression.  "What'd you do, Chief?  Zone out on me?  You were there."

"I kinda wasn't listening."  Blair swallowed hard and stared at his feet.

"I know.  I understand." Jim clasped a big hand on his shoulder and led him back to the spot where Hassan Jambar had been dumped like so much garbage.  They had witnesses to question and a crime scene to go over.

_________________________________________________

Simon tossed his glasses on his desk and rubbed his tired eyes.  "So nobody saw anything?  He was snatched up outside his dorm this morning, in broad daylight, and nobody noticed?  Taken to an unknown location, beaten, nearly hung and nobody heard or saw?  And then dumped, again, in broad daylight, out of a moving car, onto the lawn in front of the English department of Rainier University and nobody even saw the car?"

"That's what we were told, sir," Jim answered as he sat on the table in Simon's office.  He was absently flipping pages in the Jambar file, while keeping one ear trained on his captain's voice and one on the heartbeat of the slumped figure of his guide at his desk.  "Witnesses said that they saw nothing out of the ordinary until Hassan Jambar stumbled up the steps of the English building and collapsed in front of the door.  There are a lot of hedges there, Simon and the truth of it is, those kids saw plenty of cars go by but their view was blocked.  They saw the car but have no idea which car it was that Jambar was thrown from and they can't remember them all."

"Damn.  How's Sandburg handling this?  This kid was one of his students, right?"

"Yeah.  He's pissed off and depressed as hell at the same time."

Simon shook his head sadly. 

"He'll be okay, Simon." 

"Yeah, I know.  In the meantime, I know a local psychologist that has done some work on hate groups.  I think I'll call her in and see what she can tell us."

"Who's this?"

"Dr. Jadyn Thomas.  I met her through Daryl, actually.  She was invited to speak at his school last year.  She was good.  Even impressed Daryl, and you and I both know how hard that is."

Jim chuckled, remembering Simon's headstrong son's last visit to the station and the argument that ensued and spilled forth from Simon's office.  "Yes, sir, I do.  Is he still talking about going to back packing through Europe after graduation?"  Not an idea Simon had liked at all, Jim thought, while trying not to smirk.

"It's not funny, Ellison and yes, he is.  Your partner certainly didn't help matters much, you know?"

Jim shrugged.  "What can I do?  My partner is as stubborn as your son." Jim grinned at him and headed for the door.

"I know that's right," Simon muttered. 

He almost laughed but just then Blair looked up and suddenly, Jim did not feel like laughing any more.  Blair did not look like Blair should look.  It was a stranger's eyes that met Jim's, for Blair's eyes had never looked so empty.  Jim felt his heart flip in his chest.  He made his way to his desk.  "Why don't you call it a day, Chief?  You look exhausted."

"It's only 3:45, Jim.  If you don't mind, I just thought I'd stay here until about 4:30 and work on some paperwork then head over to the University library for a little while.  You could probably use some help with the paperwork, right?"

"Actually, I don't really have any paperwork to do, Chief.  See, I got this great partner that gets it all done before I even get a chance to let it pile up."  Jim smiled at him.  "Besides, don't you have a date tonight?  Why don't we both head home a few minutes early and you can get all spiffied up for what's-her-name while I run out for a Wonderburger."

"*Spiffied*, Jim?  What kind of word is spiffied?  Her name is Savannah and I postponed the date.  I just don't feel like going out."

Jim sighed.  "Blair, I know this case sucks but you can't let it get to you like this."

"I can't check this at the door, Jim!  I just can't!  You're a white Anglo-Saxon male, Jim.  You don't know how it feels."

Realization slapped Jim in the face and he blinked.  "Damn."

"Yeah, that and a few other choice words."

"You could be a target," Jim muttered as he rubbed his temples with one hand.  "I hadn't even realized--"

"I figured as much.  It's okay, Jim.  You don't see me as a Jew.  Hell, I'm so fallen away that I don't see myself as a Jew until somebody throws it in my face.  Mom never was much on organized religion and me, well, I had a bar mitzvah but that was my grandmother's idea and I try to remember all the holidays but..." he shrugged. 

"Ellison, Sandburg, get in here." Simon's order drew the partners' attention.  Apologetic smiles were exchanged in lieu of words as they moved to comply.  "Sit down, you two.  Jade is on her way over with some information that you may want to see."

"Jade?" Blair asked.

"Dr. Jadyn Thomas, local psychologist, specializes in hate groups, Sandburg."

"I know her."

"Tell me you didn't date her, Sandburg."

Blair almost laughed.  "No, I didn't date her, Simon.  I haven't dated every woman I know."

"That's a miracle," Simon grumbled.

Jim grinned.  "So, how do you know her, Chief?"

"I met her at a seminar I went to on serial killers."

"You went to a seminar on serial killers?  What for?" Jim questioned.

"Well, it was after Lash and I wanted to be better prepared for the next one, you know?  Anyway, we talked.  She's a real nice woman.  I liked her but she was seeing someone else."

Jim noticed the slight scowl on Simon's face as Blair mentioned his interest in the woman.  He would have to remember to tell Blair later that perhaps Dr. Thomas was still off-limits.  The three of them spent the next several minutes discussing the Jags and possible plans for a fishing trip as they waited for the good doctor to arrive.  When she did, Jim's speculations were proven to be truth as the rather small woman blew into the office and was immediately embraced by their captain.  Jim had to reach over and close Blair's mouth with a quick pop on the younger man's chin.  Blair glared at him and Jim had to stifle a chuckle.

_______________________________________________________

The introductions and re-introductions were over and Jade, as she preferred to be called, opened her briefcase. "Okay, here is a list of all the known hate groups that operate in this area of the country."  Jade placed a surprisingly hefty stack of paper in front of them on the table.  Blair was taken aback.  The apparent volume of material she had collected was disturbing and a bit overwhelming. 

"You're kidding?" he asked.

"Afraid not.  There are lots of them out there.  However, rest assured that while the total number is large, some of them are very selective about who they hate so we can eliminate some right away.  Like these folks," she pointed to a name on the first page, "they only hate criminals." 

"Excuse me?"  Jim looked as puzzled as Blair felt.

"They have been accused of tracking down released cons and harassing and even killing them.  No proof yet, no arrests or anything but they have spoken very loudly regarding allowing scum on the streets.  Who knows?  Maybe they did, maybe they didn't but let's face facts. Sorry guys, but cops don't really push cases where the victim is a convicted rapist, murderer, child molester, etc.  Oh, and here's this group.  They don't like writers."

"Writers?" Blair laughed a little.

"Well, a select group.  Occult fiction writers, mainly.  They get a little ticked off when their religion gets misrepresented and such.  Death threats, harassment, an assault or two is their MO.  Anyway, remember, we included anyone who has ever expressed a desire to see any other person or group harmed in any way.  There are anti-abortion groups on this list because some of them have said that abortion doctors should be shot for what they do.  The fact of the matter is, right now, the majority of these folks are harmless, but that may not always be the case.  Tomorrow, one of these groups that we ignore may get a new leader, a charismatic one, that leads them in a not so harmless direction."  She smoothed her short cinnamon-red hair back away from her face and sat down.

"I never knew there were so many," Blair remarked as he flipped through some of the pages.

"Most people don't realize, and that is what is really dangerous about them.  They operate undetected most of the time."

"Well, let's get to it.  So, Jade, what are we looking for?  General bigots?" Jim inquired.

"Pretty much.  Racists, in particular. You've had two victims, one Oriental, one black.  So they don't stick to one race.  Could be the obvious.  The Ku Klux Klan, although I actually doubt that.  They tend to be more subtle.  The White Aryan Resistance, the Chosen Sons, they're new, by the way.  The Neo-Nazis, the list goes on and on."

"Just a few days ago, I spoke with a friend who specifically studies the movement and growth of hate groups in this area.  I have good news and bad news.  He says there aren't any new groups moving in.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that the groups that are here are alive and well.  Primarily, we are looking at a few Neo-Nazi groups, one which actively recruits on Rainier campus, and the White Aryan Resistance which is actually not what you'd call separate from the Neo-Nazi's, just more sophisticated.  They like to use the young guys in the Neo-Nazi groups as foot soldiers, in other words, fall guys, for their dirtiest deeds."

"Perfect.  Just what we need." Jim sighed.  Blair bit his lip and prayed to wake up.  But the nightmare persisted and he was forced to acknowledge it as reality.  Reality really sucked sometimes.

___________________________________________________________ 

One hour later, Jim had a healthy list of suspects and a splitting headache.  He thanked Jade and headed for the truck, his obviously troubled partner slightly behind him.  He climbed into the driver's seat and waited for Blair who had stopped to talk to Rhonda.  A worried frown took over Jim's face.  He had really had no idea that Cascade was infested with these hatemongers. Sure, there had been that one case where those black churches had been bombed but that turned out to the work of a one guy.  This, however, was not one unbalanced person.  Then there was Kincaid, but he and his cronies were hopefully gone for good and Jim had been ready to write that off as an aberration.  Apparently, he had been mistaken and naive.  Jade's list had included all of the Pacific Northwest, true, but she kept pointing out which groups had supporters right in Cascade, and Jim was alarmed.  Jim could not help the sense of disgust and dread building up in his chest.   There were active Neo-Nazis in Cascade.  That probably alarmed him the most, if the truth be told.  Sandburg.  *Enough said,* Jim's worried mind whispered.  And these people were on the Rainier campus.  Jim sighed and rubbed his temples while his imagination took that fact and ran with it.  Blair and skinheads on a collision course.  The scenario just did not, could not have a satisfactory outcome for Jim.  So deep in thought was he that when Blair opened the passenger door, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin.

Blair looked shocked.  "You didn't hear me coming, did you?"

"I have a headache." Jim hoped that Blair would leave it alone.  Wasted energy on that hope.  He had known that, though.

"Where were you, Jim?"

"Right here."

"Yeah, right.  You were a million miles away.  Otherwise, your supersonic ears would have known exactly where *I* was long before I got to the truck.  What were you thinking about?"

"Just the case, Chief."

Blair nodded sagely.  "I'll give you a shoulder rub and make you some willow bark tea when we get home.  Maybe they'll help with your headache."

"Thanks, Chief."

"Not a problem." 

"I'll take you by the university to get your car then I'm going to go pick up the first guy on the suspect list.  Meet me back here?"

"Gotcha."

Jim cranked the truck and pulled out into traffic.  The cab of the truck was silent for several minutes before Blair spoke again.

"You know what I was thinking about, Jim?"

"No, what's that?"

"I was thinking about the fact that there are Neo-Nazis on campus and I was trying to picture my classes and trying to determine if any of them were in those classes.  I don't like thinking about it, Jim, but I can't help it.  There are people on campus who would hate me because of my name."

"I know you're worried, Blair.  I could arrange some protection until we catch these guys."

"Who's gonna protect the rest of the students?  Can you arrange protection for every minority student on campus?  Besides, this goes beyond the people responsible for the assaults.  I've always known that in certain places with certain people, I could be a target, Jim.  That is never far from my mind.  I just never realized that one of those places could be Rainier, or my classroom and that some of those people could be my students or my classmates.  Somehow, I thought in a place of learning, that kind of ignorance would be dispelled, non-existent.  Call me naive but I really wanted to believe that this was somebody outside the University.  Now, I know that it could very well be someone inside the University.  Hell, Jim, it could be someone inside one of my classes.  I hate that."

"I know, Blair.  I'm sorry."  Jim reached over and grasped his young guide's shoulder.  "You wanted to know what I was thinking about when you got in the truck?  The very same thing, Chief, the very same thing.  I want you to have protection.  I'm worried about you."

"You don't know how tempted I am to take you up on that but no, Jim.  I can't let this scare me into jumping at shadows and dragging around a bodyguard.  I'll be careful."

"Sandburg--"

"Jim, please, I've made up my mind about this.  Rainier is my ground and I'm gonna stand on it, okay?"

Jim swore silently.  "I have conditions, Chief."

Blair gave him a rueful smile.  "Let's hear 'em, Jim."

"No more late nights.  Bring your stuff back to the loft.  If you see that you going to be late when you're supposed to meet me, then you call.  As a matter of fact, call anyway so I'll know when to expect you and where you are.  And park that piece of junk you call a car closer to the building, and if you absolutely have to be there at night, under a damn streetlight.  I don't think that's too unreasonable."

"Piece of junk?"  Blair smirked as he glanced around the cab of the truck.  "Look who's talking.  You know, you picked on me about my 'classic' and then you go out and buy this.  Why is my car a piece of junk and your truck is a 'classic?'"

"Because mine runs, Chief." Jim grinned at him.  "So do we have a deal or do you get a shadow?"

Blair rolled his eyes.  "We have a deal."

"Good.  Now, don't roll your eyes at me again, Junior, or else."

"Yeah, yeah, tough guy.  I'm shaking."  The smirk was back on his partner's face and Jim just had to cuff him on the side of the head.

"Smartass."

"And cute too."

"Excuse me?"

"My ass.  Savannah says it's cute."

"I truly wouldn't know, Chief."

"Damn, Jim, I hope not."

Jim shook his finger at his guide.  "Watch it, Ace."

"Kinda hard to do without a mirror," the young man quipped as he turned to look over his shoulder.

"That's it.  This discussion is over.  I'm not even going there."

"I win!" Blair exulted and Jim chuckled.  His guide was happy again and that was good enough.

______________________________________________________

"Come on, Derrick.  We know that you're the head honcho on Rainier campus.  We know that all your skinhead buddies take orders from you.  Question is, did you give the orders or do you have a few rogues in your organization?  Which is it?"  Blair watched from the observation room with Simon as Jim circled the young man seated at the table in the interrogation room.  He had gotten back from the university just in time to see Jim bring the man in for questioning.  Blair shook his head.  The kid had gotten belligerent when Jim had tried to talk to him at his dorm, Simon had explained.  So Jim had brought him in.

"I didn't give any orders for any of my boys to attack anybody, and none of my people have gone rogue on me.  We don't have a thing to do with those attacks."  Blair examined Derrick Baker as he spoke.  He was pretty stereotypical as skinheads went.  Shaved head, combat boots, jeans, t-shirt, a few tattoos but nothing overtly racist. 

"And not a single double negative in there.  You know, Derrick, you seem like a smart, educated guy.  For a bigot."

"You've got nothing on me, cop."

"Baker, I believe you." Jim told him.  Baker looked incredulous.   "No, really, I do," Jim assured.  "I believe that you didn't give the orders but I don't know if I'm sure that you don't have a few guys who are out doing what bigots seem to like to do.  Maybe you know about it or maybe you don't. Maybe they aren't telling you.  Which is it? Do you know about it, Derrick?  Or are you in the dark?  Is it your people?  I don't think you're sure.  Are you sure, Derrick?"

Blair could see Baker swallow hard.  "No," he whispered.

"What was that?" Jim asked and Blair smiled, knowing Jim heard the young man loud and clear.

"No.  I'm not sure."

"I see."

"But I'll find out."

"And then what, Derrick?"

"I'll put a stop to it."

"Why?  I thought this kind of thing is what you were all about."

"It's the wrong time and place.  Wrong methods as well.  We'll be ready one day, cop.  Then you can either join us or join them.  If I were you, I'd go with the winner."

"I intend to, Baker.  I intend to." Jim looked straight at the two-way mirror then and gave his partner a slight smile before turning back to Baker.  "Now, I'm going to tell you what you are going to do, Derrick.  You see, you're going to do more than put a stop to it.  If you find out any of your people are involved, you're going to tell me who they are."

Baker was shaking his head even before Jim stopped speaking.  "Dream on, cop."

Jim smiled and Blair could not help but think that an iceberg would have held more warmth.  "Suit yourself, Baker.  Just remember, if I find out that your people were involved and that you knew, you're going down with 'em.  It'll be really hard to take part in your glorious revolution from a jail cell. See you 'round."  Jim left the room and quickly appeared in the doorway of the observation room.  "He doesn't know who is it but when I mentioned rogues in his group being responsible, his heart rate shot up.  I think we'd better watch these guys, Simon."

"I'll put together a few surveillance teams."  Simon frowned and chewed on the end of his cigar a little as he left the room.

"Sorry I had to keep you out of there, Chief."

"I understand that, Jim." Blair assured the Sentinel as he turned to look at the man in the other room again.

"Have you taught him?" Jim inquired.

Blair shook his head.  "Maybe he took one look at my name on the class schedules and steered clear of the anthrop. department."

"No great loss there, I think," Jim remarked.

Blair shook his head again.  "You're wrong there, Jim.  Every soul we lose to these hatemongers is a loss.  And who knows what he might have been if he hadn't been taught or indoctrinated into this hatred? Any loss is great."

________________________________________________________

Walayla Meadowbrook gripped the strap of her backpack as she made her way across the parking lot toward her car.  It was getting dark and she needed to get home before her father got worried.  She tried to dig in her purse with one hand to find her keys but just could not seem to find them in all the junk that tended to accumulate in the big bag.  She stopped and dropped the backpack on the ground.  Holding the bag open with one hand, she dug with the other.  Her hand had just closed on the elusive keys when the van pulled along beside her.  She glanced up just in time to see two masked men pour out of the side door.  She only had time for a short scream before she was dragged inside the vehicle and was gone, her backpack still sitting in the nearly deserted parking lot.

_________________________________________________________

"Morning, Chief." Jim watched as his roommate rubbed his eyes and yawned as he made his way out of his bedroom and into the bath.

"Morning," the young man mumbled.

Jim chuckled.  The only time Blair was in low gear was before his shower in the morning.  He would go into the bathroom, shuffling his feet and half-asleep and come out like someone had lit a fire beneath him.  He would not slow down again until he collapsed into his bed, usually some time long after midnight.  It was not often that Jim got to watch this revival as Blair was usually up before him and making breakfast while Jim was in the shower, but this morning Jim had awoke early and decided to go and get breakfast.  He wondered if it had even occurred to his nearly incoherent partner that the morning's routine had been altered.  It would probably dawn on him about the time that water hit him in the face.  Jim settled at the table and flipped absent- mindedly though the paper.  Minutes later, the bathroom door opened and a revved-up whirlwind of anthropologist blew into the kitchen.

"Sorry, Jim.  I'll have breakfast done in a few.  Did I oversleep?"

"Hey!  Chill out, Junior.  I got up early and I bought breakfast.  Sit down.  You have a blueberry bagel with blueberry cream cheese waiting on you over here."  Jim waved his partner over to the table. 

"Blueberry cream cheese?" Blair picked up the bagel.

"It's something new the deli down the street is trying out.  It smelled pretty good and I know you like the blueberry bagel with the plain cheese so I took a chance."

Jim almost laughed as Sandburg examined the bagel with a critical eye.  "Looks good," he finally commented before biting into it.  "Mmm, tastes good, too"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Jim scolded with a smile.

Blair made a face at him and sat down.  "I guess this means that you had the 'dreaded donuts of death' for breakfast."

"Oh, please, cut the melodrama.  'Dreaded donuts of death,'" Jim chuckled.  "I had my favorite, yes, I did.  And they aren't the 'dreaded donuts of death.' They're buttermilk donuts."

"Jim, do you know why there's a hole in the middle of a donut?"

"I'm sure you're about to enlighten me."

"Because that was where the nutritional value was.  Couldn't leave that in there.  Sugar, fat, and cholesterol, that's what you ate for breakfast."

"And it sure was delicious, Chief. Now, if that is so though, explain the hole in your bagel."

"That's where they cut out the sugar, fat, and cholesterol that they used to make your donuts."

Jim rolled his eyes and gave up.  "Eat.  We have to get to the station."

Blair saluted him and Jim reached over with the newspaper and batted his guide on the head with it.  "Hey!  What was that for?"

"That salute was sloppy, soldier.  Better practice.  And get a haircut."  Jim got up and headed for the bathroom but his sentinel ears heard the smart remark mumbled around blueberry bagel about Jim having Army flashbacks.  He smiled as he turned off the light Blair had left on. 

A few minutes later, the two men climbed into the truck.  They were halfway to the station when Simon's call came in.  Jim hung up the cell phone and turned to face his partner.  He knew that his expression would tell his guide all he needed to know.  He was apparently right as Blair bit his lip and closed his eyes, hanging his head.  Jim touched him on the shoulder then turned the truck in the direction of the university.

"This is getting so old, so fast, man."

"I know, Chief."

_________________________________________________________________

"Three victims in two days.  The press is having a field day and we have no leads at all.  I am not a happy man, gentlemen, and if I have to be unhappy, so do you.  Walayla Meadowbrook is still in surgery.  The doctors are not sure she's going to make it. She was scalped, for god's sake!  I want these guys." Simon paced the conference room where his detectives and his anthropologist sat going through any and all information they had.  A knock on the door interrupted his lecture.  "Come!" he barked.

"Good morning, Simon," Jade Thomas smirked at him as she entered the room.  Simon smiled apologetically and she turned her attention to the rest of the room.  "Good morning, gentlemen."  She sat down in the empty chair beside Sandburg.  "Sorry, I'm late.  I was running a computer search on similar crimes on college campuses around the country and found a few things.  What did I miss?"

"Not a whole lot.  We don't have a whole lot to go on.  We do have a third victim." Jim explained, passing the folder down to her.

"Oh yes, I heard.  The media is all in a frenzy over this.  It was all I could find on the TV and the radio this morning." She opened the folder and Simon was amazed as she managed to keep her calm demeanor despite the sudden lack of color in her face.  "Prairie nigger," she read the spray painted message on the girl's back from one of the pictures.  She looked up at Simon and for a moment Simon was certain that he saw the fury of all hell in her green eyes then it was gone.  Just a flash then nothing as she nodded and took a deep breath.  She closed the folder.  "Any news on her condition?"

"Still in surgery," Blair answered.  "It doesn't look good."

"The surveillance teams have nothing?" she directed the question at Brown and Rafe who were seated across the table from her.

"Not a thing.  If it's the skinheads on campus then they are doing it without leaving their dorms and apartments," Brown answered.

"Derrick Baker called a meeting of his group last night.  They met, he read them the riot act, told them that they better hope that they weren't involved.  The meeting broke up and they all went straight home.  Taggert and Preston are watching Baker now and the other surveillance teams are still in place but I don't see how it could be them," Rafe explained.

She nodded and drew several computer printouts out of her briefcase and threw them on the table.  "These are reports of similar hate crimes on college campuses around the country.  Most of them have been traced back to various hate groups and the people responsible are in jail but a few are unsolved.  The crimes went on for a little while but then stopped."

"What are you suggesting? A traveling hate group?" Simon asked incredulously.

"I have no idea, Simon, I mean, Captain Banks.  But I no longer think that we are dealing with one of the run-of-the-mill groups we have information about.  Something is bugging the hell out of me about this and I can't put my finger on it."

"You think we're staring at a clue and not seeing it?  Like what?" Jim prompted.

"I don't know.  Maybe it's just me.  I'd love to get input from all of you.  Otherwise, I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out."

Simon watched as Blair gathered the papers on the table and began to sift through them.  Conversations went on around him but Sandburg was carefully examining the papers and Simon wanted to see what he would find.  One glance at Jim confirmed that he too was watching his partner, silent and patient.  Both men had come to expect new perspectives and insights from the young man and they waited for some of those insights as the pages were turned and the brow furrowed in thought.  Sandburg looked up then, not at any one person but past all of them, the ideas nearly visible in his blue eyes. 

Simon almost jumped at the sound of Jim's question, breaking his concentration on Blair. "Do you have something, Blair?"

"It's not one group.  They aren't traveling.  All of these have happened during the same time of each semester, sometimes simultaneously.  So it can't be the same people.  Jim, we need to be looking at fraternities."

"Fraternities?" Simon leaned over the table to get closer.  "Why?"

"All of these unsolved crimes have taken place during the period of time when most of the Greek organizations on campuses are having Rush Week and initiation.  I think we may be looking at a new form of hazing." The rest of the room was suddenly silent.

"Sandburg, are you saying that you think a fraternity may be using hate crimes as a initiation rite?" Jim asked, sitting up in his chair.

Blair only nodded.

"That's it!" Jade exclaimed.  "That's what I was missing.  I knew the timing had to be important but I couldn't figure out why."

"Yes!  A lead, finally!" Simon slapped the table and stood up.

"Don't get happy yet, Simon," Blair spoke.  "Never has there been a more exclusive and closed society as the college fraternity.  There won't be any inside information, no undercover agents, no turncoats turning state's evidence.  If this is being perpetrated by a fraternity, this is going to be a hard case to crack.  There is a perfectly good reason why these cases are unsolved if there is a fraternity involved."

"He's right.  Brotherhood is a powerful thing, gentlemen.  We are going to have our work cut out for us," Jade told them.

"And we don't have much time. The attacks go on for about two weeks and then stop all together," Blair announced.

"That's not the only time restraint we are working under," Simon said, rubbing his eyes.  Every head turned to him.  "The Feds are coming.  Hate crime is a federal offense.  They will take this investigation from us.  We have 24 hours before they take over."

Jim swore and made certain assumptions around the conceptions of federal agents before turning to stare out of the window.  Simon agreed with Jim's unkind theories.

_____________________________________________________________

Blair walked into his Anthrop. 101 class in a bad mood.  He had stayed up most of the night, alternately working on the case, grading one set of tests, and making out another test.  The ones he had graded were so bad that he wondered why he even bothered to come to this class.  Not to mention that the revelations from the morning meeting in Simon's office had not exactly improved his disposition.  He pulled the graded tests out of his bag and began to pass them out. "I'm getting the feeling that some of you thought, mistakenly, of course, that this course was going to be an easy 'A.’. Perhaps if you aren't willing to put forth a little more effort, you should stop by the registrar's office on the way out today and drop this class now before you ruin your grade point average.  I'm sorry but I am just not going to accept half-hearted, half-thought out answers.  I expect you to think.  If I wanted a mindless regurgitation of facts, I would have given a multiple-choice test.  I don't give multiple-choice tests.  To say I was disappointed would be like such an understatement.  Now, where did we leave off?" Blair got out his notes and formally began the class.  Fifty minutes later, his students filed out of the classroom, one by one.

"Mr. Sandburg, could I talk to you about my grade?"

Blair looked up from his paper shuffling to meet the eyes of Kevin Harris.  "Sure, Kevin.  What's the problem?"

"Sir, I think I had this one pegged. What was I missing?"  He was pointing at essay number three.  Blair took the paper from his hand.  Kevin had made the best grade in the class, still a "C" but the best one of the bunch just the same.  "I listed all of the characteristics of the Mayan religion that were listed in the book."

"Well, see, that's the problem.  I listed several more in class and none of them are here, Kevin.  I'm sorry.  I did give you credit for what you had but I couldn't give you full credit because you only half answered the question."

"I see.  Look, Mr. Sandburg, I need to maintain a 'B' to keep my scholarship.  I can't afford too many 'C's'.  You can understand that, can't you?"

"Of course, I can.  I went to school on scholarships and grants and loans too.  Kevin, it's one test.  You'll have lots more before the end of the semester.  Just try to come to class more often, okay?  That way, you don't miss the lectures.  I say a lot of stuff that you just aren't going to find in that book."

Kevin Harris smiled a smile that held no warmth.  Blair held out his paper to him, but the student only glanced at it with a sneer and walked out.  Blair frowned and shrugged.  He dropped the paper into his bag and headed back to his office.

_________________________________________________________________

"Mark, he failed you, man!  The little kike failed you.  You're in the same boat as me.  We have to keep our grades up to keep our scholarships."  Mark Coley listened as his best friend complained about their Anthropology professor.  Mark frowned.  He had made the lowest grade in the class apparently.  At least Kevin had passed.  He decided to point that out.

"What the hell are you complaining about?  You passed, man!  I should have never let you talk me into partying with the frat the night before the test.  I'm not like you, Kev, I have to study!"

"You do want to be in the fraternity, don't you?  Man, we have been friends for a long time.  Now we have the chance to be brothers.  You just got to get past your last test."

"Which is?"

Kevin smiled but only anger was in his eyes.  "Teach the Teach a lesson."

"What are you going on about?" Mark asked, fearing that he already knew, bits and pieces of hushed conversation at the frat party falling into place to form a frightening and gruesome picture.

"Sandburg.  I think he needs to understand that there are people he needs to show a little respect to, you know?"

"Oh, man! Tell me I'm wrong!  Did that black guy and that Indian girl need to learn respect, too, Kev?  Are you involved in that?  And Yoko?  Man, I liked her."

"That had nothing to do with liking or disliking people.  It has to do with loyalty!  With
brotherhood! But now, Sandburg, I think I can't honestly say that him I don't like."

 "Kevin, man, this is not right!  What did you do?"

"The African dude was mine.  They picked him out and helped me grab him.  I got to decide what to do with him and do most of it myself.  Man, what a rush!  And I was there when they grabbed that Indian girl."

"Kevin, this is sick!  They say that girl may die!  Forget it, dude.  I want no part of any of this, and besides, I like Mr. Sandburg.  So I failed one test.  I deserved to fail that test, man, letting you talk me into partying all damn night before it.  This fraternity stuff is you, Kev.  It's not really me and I'll be damned before I let your delusions of brotherhood get me involved in this sick game."  Mark Coley turned to walk away.

"Mark?"  He stopped.  "Don't you run your mouth to anybody about this, Mark.  We're friends and it would be a damn shame if something were to happen to you.  You get my drift?"

"Yeah, Kevin.  I get your drift."  Mark continued on his way.

______________________________________________________________

Blair pulled his book out of his pack and along with it came Kevin Harris's discarded test paper.  He picked it up and stared at it.  He had had students like Harris before.  They seemed to think that they were owed good grades.  He shook his head and was about to put the paper down when something caught his eye.  A chill ran down his spine as he examined the scrawled handwriting on the paper.  The "n" in Kevin was particularly of interest to him with its point just there and a curve just so.  A shaky hand fumbled for his cell phone.  He had to call Jim.  A knock on the door nearly caused Blair to have a heart attack.  "Come in," he said absently as he pressed the speed dial on the phone before raising his eyes to see who had entered.  *Ski masks?*  The momentary confusion quickly gave way to stark terror as he placed the importance of ski masks.  He dropped the phone and immediately began to plan his defense.  As he counted off five intruders, he maneuvered a chair between himself and the attackers and a letter opener provided something of a weapon.  It was not good enough.

_________________________________________________________________