
                              Deja Vu

Danae

Disclaimer:  Not mine, no money, no harm, no infringement.  Just
fun.  

Thanks to Laura and to Wendy for the beta reading! Eternal
gratitude!  

Eternal gratitude also to Michelle.  This one's for you, girl.  

Last but not least, thanks to all of you who wrote with
encouragement and feedback about the "S" trilogy and Home.  You
are much appreciated.

Deja Vu

________

Blair looked up at the black clouds rolling over his head as he
and Jim exited the building at 852 Prospect Place and made their
way to Jim's truck.  They looked like he felt.  Dark.  That was
the best word for it.  He did not have a clue what brought it on
but he just had this nagging feeling that he was about to have a
good run of very bad luck.  And given the way his ordinary, run-
of-the-mill luck ran, he was very, very worried.  He could very
well end up in a full body cast with the measles and develop male
pattern baldness if his luck got any worse.  A stab of guilt hit
him then as he took note of Jim's receding hairline.  Well, maybe
baldness was not the *worst* thing that could happen.  A renewed
sense of foreboding chased the guilt away as Blair began to
wonder what would be the worst thing that could happen.  He
sighed just as Jim settled beside him in the cab of the old blue
and white pickup.

"Something wrong, Chief?"

Blair shrugged and scrunched his face a little.  "Nothing I can
put my finger on.  I just got a feeling that it's gonna be a bad
day."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Sandburg.  If there's a curse on your day, what
does that mean for me?"

Blair grinned at his friend.  "Blessed Protector Overtime."

Jim shook his finger at him but the smile was spreading across
the older man's face even as he did.

________________________________________________
 
"Hey, Chief, did you see what I did with the Flaky file?"


"Bakey, Jim.  The man's name is Bakey.  One day, you are going to
screw up and called that man Flaky to his face and he's gonna
explode and take us both with him." Blair scolded.

"Chief, I can't help it if the guy is flaky and his name is
Bakey.  That is just too funny, Blair, you gotta admit.  Flaky
Bakey."  Jim grinned at his uncharacteristically serious partner.
He watched as his grin proved to be contagious and Blair was
smiling back at him, even laughing at little.  "That's better,"
he announced firmly.

"What has gotten into you today, Jim?  This is like role reversal
or something."

"I was wondering what had gotten into you, Chief."

"I told you, Jim.  I just have a bad feeling about today."

"Relax, Blair.  It's pretty slow around here today and the worst
thing we have to deal with is wrapping up the paperwork on the
Flaky Bakey case."

"Will you stop that!  Jim, that guy is on the verge of becoming
unhinged and going postal on the whole world.  All it's going to
take is for him to hear you call him Flaky Bakey. I just know
it." Blair handed him the file.

Jim laughed at his paranoid partner.  "I think his paranoia is
rubbing off on you.  Yeah!  That's it.  You've been around Flaky
Bakey too long.  That's why the doomsayer routine, Chief. 
Relax."  Jim looked down at the file and flipped through the
contents, while listening to Blair mutter that he was not
paranoid and that maybe they should check the squad room for
strange gases as Jim was obviously high on something.  Jim was
laughing to himself when he realized that Blair's litany had
ended abruptly in the mid-sentence.  He looked up at his partner
in time to see the blood drain from Blair's face.  "Blair?"  He
did not get a chance to pursue any questions though, as a woman's
voice drew his attention.

"Blair?  Blair Sandburg!"  Then she was there, shoving her way
past Jim.

Blair stood and seemed to be trying to get away but he backed
into another desk and was trapped.  The woman threw her arms
around him.  "M--Melinda," his partner said, in a voice devoid of
any inflection.  Jim was instantly on alert, his protective
hackles raised as Blair looked like he could pass out at any
moment.

"It has been a long time, Blair.  You've changed some but those
eyes give you away.  That is what I loved about you, those
gorgeous blue eyes."  She released him and Jim stepped closer to
them both, subtly moving between them.

"Detective Jim Ellison."  He held out his hand to her.

"Melinda Rothman," she said absently, ignoring Jim's hand.
"Blair, I guess I should apologize for, well, for everything. 
I've worked all that out, you know.  I hope that you can find it
in your heart to forgive me."

"What-- I mean, um--What are doing here?"

"Somebody stole my damn car.  I had just bought it, too.  You
know, Daddy died last year.  Well, maybe you don't.  I mean, why
would you?  Daddy hated you and I doubt you had any desire to
keep up with what was happening in my family.  Anyway, he died. 
Steve and I run his business now.  You remember Steve, don't you? 
After all, he was the one who helped you when things got out of
hand."  

Blair was trembling ever so slightly and Jim wondered what had
gotten out of hand.  He put his hand on Blair's shoulder and
squeezed a little in reassurance.  Blair glanced at him briefly
then turned his eyes back to the brunette in front of him.  "I
remember."

"I'm making you nervous, aren't I?  Look, Blair, I am sorry and
everything is fine now."

"Sure. Okay."  Blair did not sound convinced to Jim.  Apparently
not to Melinda Rothman either.  Jim saw the dark look descend
over the woman's face.

"What is wrong with you?  I said I was sorry.  God, what is it
with you?  Damn, you were always such an idiot!  You haven't
changed a bit, you know that?" the woman snapped and Blair
cringed.

"Now, just wait a damn minute here, Ms. Rothman--"  Jim started
but the woman cut him off.

"Oh, does he fight your battles for you now, Blair?  First you
get my brother to take care of you and now this guy.  Poor little
Blair?  God, you are still pathetic!  No wonder my father hated
you.  He warned me about falling for the bastard son of a Jewish
whore."

"That's quite enough!"  Jim shouted, moving fully in front of
Blair, blocking his partner from the woman's sight.  "I think you
had better leave, Ms. Rothman, before I find something to arrest
you on."

Simon approached, concern written clearly on his face.  "What's
going on here, Ellison?"

"Ms. Rothman was just leaving, sir."

"Ms. Rothman, do you need an escort to see you out?" Simon asked
politely.

"Of course not.  Besides, with my luck, your escort wouldn't be
any more useful than that worthless--"

"Leave, Ms. Rothman." Simon was not quite as polite.  The woman
spun on her heel and stormed out of the squad room. When she was
gone, Simon turned back to Jim.  "Would someone like to explain
all this to me?"

Blair sighed and reached for the nearest chair in which to
collapse.  Jim stooped down beside him.  "Chief?"

"I can't believe they let her out, man.  I just can't believe
it," he muttered.

"Let's take this into my office, gentlemen."  Simon gestured in
the direction of said office .  Jim helped his partner stand and
held onto his elbow as they made their way.

A few minutes later, Jim and Simon waited patiently as Blair
seemed to collect his wits.  Blair was sitting in a chair in
front of Simon's desk and Jim, still unconsciously standing
guard, stood behind him, one hand protectively on his partner's
shoulder.  "Take your time, Blair," Jim whispered.

"I'm okay, man.  I just can't believe that they let her out."

"You've already said that, Sandburg.  Who let her out of where?" 
Simon inquired calmly.

"The hospital.  The psychiatric hospital.  Melinda's nuts, man. 
Really nuts."

"Start from the beginning, Chief.  What the hell happened?" Jim
urged.

"Okay, you guys know that I started college early, right?  Well,
I didn't have too many friends and then I met Melinda.  She
didn't care that I was younger than her and we started seeing
each other.  Everything was fine for a while."  He stopped,
taking a deep breath.  "Okay," he mumbled and Jim knew he was
trying to reassure himself that indeed it was okay.  "So anyway,
things started to get a little weird and I tried to break it
off."

"What do you mean, weird, Blair?" Jim prompted.

"She got real possessive.  She beat up this girl who was my lab
partner in Biology because she said the girl was *looking* at me. 
What few friends I did have, she managed to isolate me
from.  It got to the point where I hated to see her coming, you
know.  She was so clingy and so hateful to any one who was nice
to me.  I told her that I wanted to break it off and she went
ballistic.  She threatened to kill me then herself and I
backed down.  I didn't want to stay but I was afraid that she
would actually hurt herself.  I hung around for a little while
longer trying to figure out a way out of the whole mess.  Then
she hit me.  God, man, what could I do?  I couldn't hit a girl so
I just tried to protect myself as much as possible and took it. 
That was it, though.  I told her it was over that day.  She made
all kind of threats and she started following me around.  Every
time I turned around, there she was.  There was this one guy. 
His name was Mike Phillips.  He was cool to me, you know, even
though I was a kid, and I asked him to start going places with me
and stuff because she was really freaking me out.  She got into
my dorm room and trashed it.  I reported her to campus security
and to the dean but that was before stalker laws.  Besides, they
thought I was being a wimp.  The dean actually told me to stand
up to her and she'd go away.  I was stupid enough to listen to
him and next thing I knew, she had a knife to my throat in my
dorm room and was holding off campus security.  They called her
brother Steve and he came and talked her into letting me go. 
They took her away.  In exchange for me not pressing charges, her
family put her in a nice private hospital and swore to me that
she'd never get near me again.  Now, here she is, out and in my
face.  Man, you have no idea.  Major deja vu out there, guys. 
I'm really sorry I fell apart, Jim.  She just unnerves me.  Heard
the phrase nutty as a fruitcake?  That's her.  I knew my day was
gonna be bad when I got up this morning."

"Chief, how do you get into this kind of stuff?  Well, they had
to let her out eventually, you know.  That's been over ten years
ago.  Of course, they let her out.  Probably a long time ago,
Blair."

"You're right, of course.  I just hoped I would never have to see
her again, Jim.  Her family said that they would send her away."

"Do you think that she's a threat to your safety, Sandburg?"
Simon asked the observer.

"I don't know, Simon.  Surely not.  It was all years ago.  I'd
like to think that they let her out because she was better."

"That's not what I saw, Blair.  She was certainly verbally
abusive and wasn't the slightest bit worried about witnesses. 
And in the middle of a police station.  I think she's going to be
a problem."

"Gee, thanks, Jim.  You are like *so* reassuring, man."

"Just putting in that Blessed Protector overtime, Sandburg."

Simon shook his head at that exchange.  "Just let me know if
there are any problems.  You can always get a restraining order,
Sandburg, if she starts coming around and there are stalker laws
now."

"Oh man, another deja vu!  Freeman!"

"Sandburg, I'd appreciate it greatly if you didn't mention that
nut's name around me," Jim groaned.

"At least, Sandburg's calmer than you were, Ellison," Simon
remarked.  "Now, where is the paperwork for the Bakey case?"

"Ah, one Flaky Bakey coming up," Jim joked, trying to recapture
his good mood.

Blair rolled his eyes and Simon moaned.  "Jim, please don't ever
let that crazy little man hear you say that."

"No problem, sir." 

___ ______________________________________________


"I'm sorry, Jim. What?"

"I said, let's get some lunch.  Are you in there?"  Jim rapped
his knuckles lightly on Blair's forehead.  "I've been talking to
you for the past ten minutes.  Have you heard any of it?"

"Of course, I have!" Blair snapped.  "Do you think I'm stupid or
something?"

"Whoa!  Hold on there, Darwin.  I only meant that you seemed a
thousand miles away."

Blair closed his eyes and put his hands out in front of him,
palms down, took a deep breath and released it slowly.  When he
opened his eyes again, Jim was waiting, an understanding
expression on his face.  "Sorry, Jim."

"You're having a real bad day, huh, Chief?"

"Yeah, bad memories.  And to tell the truth, Jim, I did not hear
one damn word you said."

"Never mind.  Let's get something to eat.  When we get back,
maybe Simon will have something for us to do that'll take your
mind off of you-know-who."  Blair grabbed his jacket and followed
Jim out of the squad room. 
______________________________________________

 
Blair loosened up at lunch, much to Jim's relief.  By the time
the two of them headed back to the station, Blair seemed more
like himself than he had all day.  They finished their day with
Blair helping Jim catch up on paperwork since Simon had not found
anything else for them to do.  Jim knew that he should not
complain about quiet days.  They should feel like good news, a
welcome change.  Instead, they always left him drained of energy
and looking forward to the next calamity.  It was his turn to
cook so he talked Blair into Chinese.  Blair laughed at him,
saying that it seemed that lately all they ever ate was Chinese. 
At least, every time it was Jim's turn to cook, anyway.  The
evening was pleasant enough to allow Jim to fool himself into
believing that everything was fine with his friend.  It was not. 
Jim went to bed before Blair, leaving the young man working on
his laptop.  He promised not to stay up much later, but when Jim
woke up at two a.m., he could still hear the ticky-tap of the
keys.  

"Blair!  Go to bed!" he shouted.

The sound stopped immediately.  "Jim?  Sorry I woke you," the
young man called back.

"You didn't wake me.  Just go to bed, Chief.  You need to sleep."
Jim listened as the laptop was put away.  He listened to the
sounds of his friend getting ready for bed.  Satisfied, he rolled
over and went back to sleep.  At four a.m., he woke again.  He
automatically scanned the loft with his senses.  He frowned.  No
ticky-tapping but in its place he heard the scratch of pen to
paper.  He got up and threw on his robe.  He padded down stairs
and to the doors of Blair's room which were partially open.  He
stuck his head in.  Blair was sitting cross legged in the middle
of the bed, furiously writing in a notebook he held on one knee. 
His head was bent so that his hair almost completely hid his face
from view.  One hand came up to push the wireframe glasses that
were slipping down his nose back into proper position.  Jim shook
his head.  He cleared his throat and stood transfixed, horrified
by the response the sound elicited from his roommate.

Blair yelped and in the blink of Jim's eye was standing on the
bed, backed up against the wall.  The notebook hit the closet
door.  Blair's heart rate was through the roof and his breathing
harsh and shallow.  "Dammit, Jim!  Are you trying to give me a
heart attack!?"

Jim held up one hand in apology.  "Blair, Chief, I'm sorry.  I
didn't mean to scare you.  I was just checking on you.  Are you
okay?"

"You mean, besides the fact that I can feel my heart in my throat
and suddenly feel very dizzy?  Well, other than those things, I
can't sleep."

"Dizzy?  Then get the hell down from there."  Jim crossed the
room and held out an arm to Blair but he batted it away.

"I can do it myself," he grumbled as he sat down heavily on the
bed.  "I'm sorry if I'm keeping you awake."

"I don't think it's you directly.  At least, not any noise you're
making.  I think your worrying is rubbing off on me.  I know
you're uptight, so I'm uptight."

"Great, now my insomnia is contagious."

"Want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?  I told you what happened this
afternoon.  She's nuts.  I'm a wimp.  End of story."

"You are not a wimp, Sandburg.  If you were, you'd have run like
hell the first day you met me and never looked back.  I recall
slamming a long-haired witch doctor punk up against a wall.  Then 
I remember having him save my sorry Neanderthal ass when I
stopped to examine some pretty colors out in the middle of the
street with a garbage truck barreling down same said street."

"Neo-hippie."

"What?"

"Neo-hippie witch doctor punk were your exact words."

Jim winced.  "Well, that's something I'd like us both to forget."

"You brought it up."

"So I did.  My point is, though, that you have stuck with me
through a lot of things that would have sent a wimp screaming
into the danger filled world of certified public accounting never
to return."

Blair burst into laughter at Jim's joke.  "Your sense of humor
is improving."

"Yeah?  Well, I wish your faith in yourself was, Chief.  Melinda
Rothman may be a problem but she's a problem you can handle. 
After all, now you've hit a woman.  You can do it again if that's
your only recourse."

"I most certainly have not!  Oh wait, the Switchman case.  I
guess I did."  Blair looked stricken by the knowledge and Jim
couldn't help but chuckle at him.

"Besides, now you have your Blessed Protector."

"Jim, I hate to tell you this, but that's part of the problem. 
You heard what she said.  Her brother saved my ass the first time
around and now you'll probably do it this time around."

"Blair, I know you aren't really gonna allow a certified loony
tune dictate your self-image, right?  Come on, Buddy."

Blair shrugged.  "I don't know, man.  I just don't know what I
feel right now, besides feeling like I should not have to deal
with her again.  This has got to be some cosmic practical joke
and somebody is going to show up anytime now to tell me she's
really not here.  Or it's some really bad dream and I'm going to
wake up any minute and feel really stupid for thinking it's real. 
The only thing is, it's not April 1st and Candid Camera went off
the air and I haven't been to sleep to be dreaming.  I have not
done anything that I can think of to cause my karma to be this
bad, Jim!"

"Look, we don't even know for sure if she going to be a problem. 
Let's both of us try to relax.  At least until such time that we
have reason to believe that the bitch from hell is going to be a
problem.  Otherwise, we've lost a lot of sleep and given
ourselves a few headaches for nothing."

"My head knows that you're making sense, Jim, but my heart is
still freaking out."

"Well, how about getting your head to have a talk with your heart
and get this straightened out so we can both sleep?"

Blair made a face at him.  Jim reached up and ruffled the unruly
curls and Blair swatted at his hand.  "Jim!" he protested.  "You
make me feel about ten years old when you do that."

"Sorry, Chief.  Anyway, I'm going to head back to bed now and I
want these lights out and you under those covers with your eyes
closed in five minutes or else."  

"Make that eight." Blair mumbled.

"What?"

"Now I feel eight." he snapped.

"We'll go for six if I have to come back down here because if I
do, I'm personally tucking you in."

"That would be a definite four, Jim."  Blair frowned.

Jim chose to ignore that and make his exit then.  "Good night,
Chief."

"Good morning, Jim."

"Whatever," he called back absently as he started up the stairs.

______________________________________________


Blair sat in the back of the noisy cafeteria trying to go over
his lecture notes before class.  He rubbed his tired eyes then
repositioned his glasses and tried to concentrate.  He would much
rather do this in his office but the fact of the matter was that
he did not want to be alone with Melinda Rothman running around
town.  He hated that she actually frightened him but she did.  He
would never admit it to Jim, though.  Tough guy, Jim Ellison
would never be afraid of a woman.  No way was Blair going to tell
his ex-military, cop roommate that he did not want to work alone
in his office because an old, crazy girlfriend was in town. 
Maybe she was better.  He truly hoped so, but he wasn't taking
any chances.  He shook his head and tried again to shift his
thoughts to what he was supposed to be doing--getting ready for
class.

"I really like those glasses on you."

Blair was on his feet instantly.  "Melinda, what are
you doing here?"

"That seems to be your favorite question, Blair."  She was
smiling pleasantly.  "I came to apologize, yet again.  For some
reason, I tend to have to do that a lot with you.  I always did. 
And you always deserved it.  The apologies, I mean."

"Apology accepted."

"Good.  In that case, I don't see any food here.  I'd like to buy
you lunch."

"No thanks, Melinda.  I don't want anything and I don't have
time.  I have a class in an hour and I have to go over my notes
before I go in to lecture."

"Blair, I know you.  You have all that knowledge stored in that
pretty head of yours.  You don't need to review your notes.  All
you have to do is hear it once and you remember it forever.  I
used to envy that ability so much.  Come on, just a quick lunch. 
I'll even settle for a cafeteria meal here so that you back to
work as soon as you're done.  Please, Blair.  There's so much I
need to say to you, so much to make up for.  A half an hour of
your time, please?"

Blair swallowed hard and tried to control the wild beating of his
heart.  She was not going to take no for an answer.  Just like so
many times before.   At least they weren't alone in the
cafeteria.   There were plenty of people to act as witnesses. 
*What could happen?* he asked himself as he sat back down in his
chair. "Okay, but I'm really not hungry.  I'll just get something
to drink and I'll buy it."

Her smile got brighter and for one moment, Blair was reminded why
he had been attracted to her in the first place.  "Wonderful! 
I'll be right back.  Coffee okay?"


"Tea, actually."

She smiled and went off before he could give her the money for
the tea.  He sighed and considered making a run for it while she
was gone.  It was very tempting but after looking at his
scattered books and notebooks, he realized that he would never
get it all together and get out of the building before she got
back.  He reassured himself that she would not kill him in front
of all the witnesses in the cafeteria.  Minutes later, she
returned and sat across from him at the otherwise deserted table. 
Blair stared at the tray in front of him which held more than a
glass of tea.  Blair wondered if the ham sandwich was her idea of
a joke or if she had forgotten for the moment that he was Jewish. 
It really did not matter.  He was too nervous to eat anyway with
his worst nightmare sitting across from him.  He sat waiting for
her to say whatever it was that she had to say.  Still, he
actually jumped a little when she started speaking.

"I stayed in Havenwood for a year and a half after what happened. 
They tried to tell me that I didn't love you.  That I was
obsessed with you instead.  You know, until I saw you yesterday,
I believed them.  But the truth is, Blair, I did love you. 
Anyway, after I got out, my dad sent me off to Europe to finish
school.  I got a degree in business.  Of course you probably
figured that out for yourself.  I am my father's daughter, after
all and I always anticipated helping Steve run the family
business when Daddy died.  I see that you pursued your dream as
well.  An Anthropologist.  I never understood the fascination you
had with it but we are very different people."

"Yes, we are," Blair said softly.  

She smiled then continued, "Well, that's not necessarily a bad
thing, is it?  So, after that I came back to the States and Daddy
made me go back into therapy.  Otherwise, he was going to cut me
out of the will.  Can you imagine?  He knew I would not allow
that to happen.  I was angry but not stupid.  So I dealt with the
shrink as long as it took to make Daddy happy.  He gave Steve and
I both jobs in the company and made us work our way up.  Can you
believe that he made us start in the mail room?  Okay, so we
moved up and further than all the regular employees but it was a
little degrading nonetheless.  When Daddy died, Steve tried to
pretend he was all upset but I know the truth.  Daddy left Steve
the majority of the company.  He has the controlling shares and
he was ecstatic.  Can't say that I was broken hearted either."

Blair looked at the creature on the other side of the table with
a look of stunned disgust on his face.  She noticed.

"Oh, come on, Blair.  Money and power, that's what Daddy was good
for.  With him gone, Steve and I have that money and power. 
Steve has more than me right now but that might not always be the
case and I'm a patient person.  Well , in some instances."

"Melinda, do you hear what you're saying?  You--, he--he was your
father.  Steve is your brother."

"And what would you know about any of it?" she laughed, a cold
and hard sound. "You're a bastard, Blair.  You don't even have a
father.  You barely had a mother.  And I don't suppose you have
any siblings out there but who knows?  Do you?"

Blair felt the battle inside him between anger and shame and was
relieved when anger won.  He stood abruptly.  "I don't have to
listen to this, Melinda.  You have no right to talk to me this
way.  I thought maybe you had actually changed, that maybe those
doctors helped you but I was wrong.  Have a nice life, Melinda
and stay the hell out of mine."  He picked up the tray and walked
away from the table.

"Where do you think you're going?  What's wrong, Blair?  Can't
stand hearing the truth?  I'm not through with you, Blair
Sandburg!" she screamed behind him.

"Well, I'm through with you," he threw back over his shoulder.

"We'll just see about that, won't we?" she snapped.

Blair kept walking, trying to ignore all the eyes on him as
everyone in the cafeteria stopped to watch the exchange.  He put
the tray down on the conveyor belt that would take it into the
kitchen and headed for the door.  He was reaching for the metal
door handle when he heard the warning shout.

"Look out, Professor Sandburg!"

He did not get a chance to react to it, however, as his long
curls were snatched.  His neck was snapped back painfully and he
almost fell.  He had only just gotten his balance when his hair
was released and a stinging slap fell across the right side of
his face.  Blair heard her start screaming then and saw that she
was being restrained by a campus security officer.  He could not
seem to move from the spot on the floor where he stood.  Rachel,
a teaching assistant in the Anthropology department, appeared
next to him and he vaguely heard her ask if he was all right.  He
nodded dumbly as he watched the officer struggle to hold onto 
the screaming wild woman.  Another officer came to help and the
two pulled Melinda Rothman out of the cafeteria.  Blair could not
take his eyes off the woman until she was out of sight.  He
blinked then, shook his head and sighed.  

When he was composed, he took stock of himself and his
surroundings which at the moment were crowded as Rachel had been
joined by several of his students and several other friends among
the TA's.  He reached up with one hand and began to rub his neck
as he was bombarded by concerns.  "I'm fine, I'm fine.  I'll be
okay," he assured, even as Rachel pulled him to the nearest chair
and pulled his hand away from his neck.  She took over the
massage.  "Really," he insisted but the crowd did not thin until
one of the security officers returned.  The man shooed many of
them away.  A few die-hards would not be removed, Rachel among
them, who continued rubbing Blair's aching neck.

"Professor Sandburg, we've called the police.  The woman who
attacked you, is she a student here?"

"No."

"Well, we can't get her to calm down.  We've got her in back of
the car and she's still screaming and kicking.  We had no choice
but to call the Cascade PD."

"Oh, man, that's fine by me.  Thanks for pulling her off of me,
by the way.  She's nuts, man."

"I need for you to tell me what happened for my report.  Can you
do that?"

"Sure."  

Blair ended up explaining the events not once, not twice, but
three times.  Blair explained first to the campus security
officer, then to the Cascade PD uniformed officer, and then to
Jim, who the uniformed officer called upon learning his call
involved Ellison's partner.  Of course, Jim promptly freaked out. 
He also missed class.   Several of his students had seen what
had taken place so Blair was sure no one was surprised to get his
message that he would not be there.  Jim loaded Blair into the
truck and took him to the emergency room, despite Blair's
protestations that he was fine.  Mild whiplash was the doctor's
diagnosis.  Blair declined the funny collar and accepted the
prescription slip he had no intention of filling with a smile and
went out to meet his partner in the waiting room.

"Hi, Jim, ready to go."  

Jim was already standing with his jacket in one hand and Blair's
jacket in the other.  "I called the station.  Her brother is
there waiting for us, Chief.  Are you up to it?  If not, I can
call back and tell him we'll call him if you want to talk.  I
also arranged for a restraining order against Melinda Rothman."

"Is she out on bail?"

"Not yet.  I'm pretty sure the judge will set bail, though."

"What's her brother want?"

"To talk to you, Simon said.  If you don't want to, you don't
have to, Chief."

"No, it's okay.  Believe it or not, Steve is a really nice guy. 
Or he was back then.  I hope he still is.  He was nothing like
his father or his sister.  Besides, I want to talk to him."

"Are you in pain?  Where's the prescription the doctor gave you?"

"You were listening!  Forget it, Jim.  I don't need the medicine. 
Rachel's massage was working wonders until you made me get up so
you could drag me here.  I wonder if I have her number?"

"I'm sure you do, Romeo.  She's female and she's cute so you got
it somewhere."

____________________________________________

Simon greeted his best team as they entered his office.  Steven
Rothman stood and extended his hand to Blair, an easy and
seemingly sincere smile on his face.  "It's good to see you,
Blair.  I hate that these are the circumstances, though."

Blair shook his hand and returned his smile.  "I hear that, man."

Simon interrupted.  "Mr. Rothman, this is Detective Jim Ellison."

Jim extended his hand and Rothman accepted it, with a nod.  "Nice
to meet you, Detective.  Again, I wish the circumstances were
better."  The man sat back down again when the handshake ended.

Jim and Blair took seats as well.  "What can we do for you, Mr.
Rothman?" Jim asked, his suspicion of Rothman's motives for the
meeting sneaking into his tone.

"I really wanted to apologize to Blair.  We thought that she was
better, we honestly did.  We hadn't had an incident in a long
time."

"Are you saying that Blair is not the only *incident*?"  Jim
stared at the man in disbelief.

"Detective Ellison, what can I say?  She does okay when she takes
her medicine.  She's a little rude sometimes but other than that
she's, well, functional."

"You didn't answer the question, Mr. Rothman."  Jim pointed out.

"No, Blair isn't the only one.  He was just the first.  When Dad
sent her to Europe, he had to transfer her out of Oxford over to
Paris because of similar problems there.  Then when she got back
home, we put her in therapy with this one psychiatrist, Dr.
Toller, until we found out that they were sleeping together.  Dad
changed her doctor and got the guy's license revoked.  Now she
sees a female doctor every other week.  Dr. Harden was convinced
that she was doing okay and so was I."

"She told me that she was not seeing anybody anymore."  Blair
spoke up.

Steve shrugged.  "She doesn't like to admit it.  Anyway, the
reason I came was to make sure you were all right, Blair.  I hate
that this happened.  Also, I wanted to ask you not to press
charges.  I know, I know that you agreed to that before thinking
you'd never have to deal with her again, but Blair, I promise you
that she'll go back in the hospital and then somewhere far away
if and when they let her out.  This is incredibly selfish of me
to ask, I realize, but with my father's recent death, the company
is a little shaky right now.  My father never instilled in his
people much confidence in me and they all know Melinda's history. 
I'm worried that the company won't withstand this kind of blow to
our reputation."

"Mr. Rothman, I really couldn't care less about your company's
reputation.  My partner was attacked and I just got back from
taking him to the hospital--"

"Jim, Jim, chill out, man.  Steve, how can you guarantee she
would go into the hospital?  How can you be sure that she would
stay away?"

"As far as the hospital, Dad arranged for me to retain legal
rights to have her hospitalized if this kind of thing happened
again.  As far as staying away, Blair, I'll send her to Japan if
I have to.  I'll find her something to do in our Japan office. 
If it has to do with the business, she'll stay.  She sort of has
delusions of grandeur in that regard.  She thinks she has a lot
more power than she does in the business.  I've sort of used that
to my advantage to keep her under control.  Damn, Blair, I wish
she had never seen you.  I really do.  I figured you'd be gone
from Cascade by now."

"Well, he's not." Jim snapped.

"Jim." Blair scolded.  "Look, Steve, there's something you should
know.  She said some things today that made me a little scared
for you, man."

"I know all about it, Blair.  She says those things to anybody
who'll listen.  How she should be running the business, how she
would do a better job than me, how one day she will run it.  Am I
close?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about me.  I haven't hired a food taster yet but I'm
careful around her."

"That doesn't seem like the best way to have to live, Steve." 
Blair observed.

The man shrugged, "What can I do?  She's my sister and Dad left
the responsibility of her to me."

"You'll get her back in the hospital?" Blair asked.

"Today, Blair."

"Okay, no charges."

"Chief!"

"No charges, Jim."

Simon sighed as Jim looked to him for help.  Simon thought he
could actually see the steam coming out of Jim's ears.  Steve
Rothman stood and extended his hand to Blair again.

"I can't thank you enough, Blair.  It was good to see you again. 
Maybe we can get together for lunch sometime.  I'd love to hear
about some of your adventures."

"Sure thing, man."

Rothman left and Simon silently counted down to the explosion. 
He got to three.

"Damn it, Blair!  I can't believe you are going do this!  The
woman is obviously dangerous and you're going to let her walk!" 
Jim screamed.

"Jim, Steve said he'll take care of it and I believe him."

"Yeah, he did so great before." Jim remarked.

"That wasn't Steve.  That was his dad.  I trust Steve a lot more
that I trusted William Rothman, that's for certain.  The man was
a bigot.  His biggest concern was that no one know that his
daughter had been dating a Jew.  Steve's different."

"You're sure about that?" 

"Look, Steve was always nice to me.  He saved my ass that day in
my dorm room.  He's a good guy, Jim.

"Sure, he is, Chief.  A good guy who is more concerned about his
business than your safety."

"Jim, I just don't want to see anybody get hurt.  Melinda's sick. 
She needs help.  Steve is going to see that she gets it.  Steve
is on shaky ground with his business right now and doesn't need
the publicity.  He helped me once and now I want to help him."

"I don't want to see you get hurt, Chief.  You're the only one
I'm worried about and I say the woman is bad news.  You are too
soft-hearted."

"If I wasn't, Jim, I wouldn't be me." Blair turned and left the
office, leaving Jim with his mouth open and a hand held out in
entreaty.

Simon cleared his throat.  "It's his decision, Jim." the captain
said quietly.

"I know that, Simon.  God, he can be so naive!  What am I going
to do with him?"

"You're asking the wrong man.  I have no idea and I don't want to
find out."

__________________________________________________________

"I'm here to pick up Melinda Rothman.  I'm her psychiatrist." the
dark haired man told the officer behind the desk.

"I was told that her brother would be picking her up."

"Yes, well, Mr. Rothman got called away unexpectedly.  He asked
me to pick Melinda up."

"Sign here then, sir."  The officer pushed some papers at the man
who signed then quickly.

__________________________________________________________

"Hi, I'm Steven Rothman.  I'm here to pick up my sister, Melinda
Rothman."

The officer stared at the man in front of him, a look of total
confusion on his face.  "Mr. Rothman?"

"Yes, is something wrong?"

"Your sister's psychiatrist picked her up just fifteen minutes
ago."

"Dr. Harden was here?  She was supposed to meet us at Havenwood."

"Not Dr. Harden.  That's not the name.  And it wasn't a she.  It
was a guy.  Signed his name as Dr. Terrence," the officer told
him as he showed Steve the signature on the paperwork.  "Your
sister confirmed that he was her doctor."

"Oh my god," Rothman put his head in his hands. "What'd he look
like?"  The officer described the man.  "His name is Terrence
Toller.  He's not Melinda's doctor anymore.  Officer, I think you
better get on the phone to Captain Simon Banks in Major Crimes
and tell him that my sister is out."

____________________________________________________________

"Ahhh, dammit!"  Jim exclaimed.  "Thanks, Simon."  He hung up the
phone and turned to see Blair's questioning gaze.  "She's out,
Chief.  A guy showed up claiming to be her therapist.  She
confirmed that he was and they released her to him."

Blair sighed disgustedly and plopped down on the couch. 
"Perfect."

"Her brother showed up just minutes after she left.  Of all the
idiotic things that could happen, this one just takes the cake. 
Just hand the woman over to a stranger.  Her brother thinks it
was the former therapist, the one that she was having the affair
with, that picked her up.  I got to hand it to them both.  It
took guts to even try to pull that off.  And I'll be damned if it
didn't work."  Jim joined Blair on the couch.

"Well, maybe, if she's with that guy, she'll leave me alone."

Jim gave his partner a look that clearly said that he was being
naive.  "I think we need to talk to her doctor, all her doctors. 
And I'm going to put in some inquiries and try to find out what,
if anything, happened while she was at Oxford and in Paris.  In
the meantime, me and you are like glue, buddy, until we find this
woman."

"Jim, I have a job that I have to go to and so do you and they
are not always in the same place."

"Then I'll arrange some kind of protection for you when we
absolutely have to be in two different places.  When we don't,
hope you don't mind a new student in your classes."

Blair groaned and leaned his head back onto the couch.  "Great,
now daddy's going to school with me."

"Smartass."

"Yeah, well, the rest of me ain't exactly dumb either."

Jim shook his head and went to get a beer.  "One day, Darwin,
that mouth of yours is going to get you in big trouble."

"You keep saying that."

"And it's still true."

___________________________________________________________

Melinda Rothman stared up at the third story window and watched
the shadows move inside the loft apartment.  So Blair is living
with that cop, she thought.  Rage burned through her head.  That
just simply would not do.  Blair belonged to her.  The cop would
have to go.  She would get Terrence to do it.  She smiled at the
thought of the man who would do anything for her.  Such an idiot. 
He thought that she actually gave a damn about him.  She needed
to get a gun.  She started the car and pulled away from the curb. 
Getting a gun should not be too difficult.  She was a Rothman. 
Even with the tougher gun laws, she knew that money talked if you
just found the right person to listen and money was not a
problem.

It took longer than she anticipated to find the right listener
but two days later, she held a gun in her hand for the first
time.  She pointed it at the street punk who sold it to her and
fired.  With a startled yelp, he went down.  She stared at the
metal in her hand.  Too impersonal, she decided.  She preferred
knives.  More hands-on.  She walked casually out of the alleyway
and got into the blue Honda she had borrowed from Terrence.

"Not much longer," she promised herself aloud.  She adjusted the
long blonde wig before driving off.  She smiled into the rear
view mirror.  Blair and his cop had apparently not noticed her as
she trailed them, learning Blair's routine as best she could. 
Sometimes, it was easier than others.  When the big cop was
around, she sometimes thought that he could sense her near.  He
would stop and scan the area, cock his head to the side like he
was listening.  Once, she even saw him sniff the air.  When he
was gone, though, and someone else was in his place, Melinda
could tell, neither Blair or the stand-in cop had a clue that she
was there.  She hoped that she was right in her assumption that
Thursday's afternoon class schedule would be the same as
Tuesday's.  Usually, it was if she remembered her own college
days correctly.  In less than twenty-four hours, Blair would be
hers again.  That is, if Terrence cooperated.  If he knew what
was good for him, he would.

______________________________________________________

"Jim, we haven't seen or heard from her in days.  I think she's
gone, man.  I'll be okay."  Blair paced behind Jim as the big man
sat cleaning his gun at the table.  Jim shook his head.  

"Blair, I know how much you hate this but until that crazy woman
is back in custody, you are stuck with either me or Henderson. 
Give it up."

"Jim!  Henderson is like the biggest stick in the mud I have ever
had the displeasure to know!  And Dr. Markham actually thought
that I was under arrest the other day.  He asked me what I had
done!"

"Sorry, Chief."

"Damn it!  I said I'm fine.  I don't think she's coming back."

"Really?  Is that why you don't want to go get the mail?  Is that
why you're having nightmares?  Who are you trying to convince
here, Chief?  Me or yourself?  You are looking over your shoulder
every few minutes, Blair."

Blair dragged both hands through his chestnut colored curls and
flopped down on the couch.  "Okay, so I'm a little nervous."

"With good reason.  Look, Chief, I didn't want to tell you this
because I know how spooked this has you already, but I don't
think that she's gone."

"What?  Have you seen her?"

"More like smelled her.  I think."

"Oh man!  That means that she's been pretty damn close!  Why
didn't you see her?"

"Maybe she was disguised but she wears a pretty distinctive
perfume.  It could also be another woman entirely who also wears
that perfume.  I can't ever get enough of a whiff of it to
distinguish the more personal scent behind it."

"You should have told me, Jim!  I could have helped you focus and
maybe picked her out.  When are you going to learn that I'm your
guide and I have a job to do and that job is to help you when
things like this happen!"

"Blair, I didn't want to worry you when I wasn't sure.  I didn't
see her, I didn't hear her voice.  I just caught a whiff of
perfume.  Perfume that probably hundreds of women have on their
dressers and vanities.  I looked for her, Blair and I didn't find
her.  I'm sorry.  Maybe I should have told you but I did not want
to upset you.  You have to admit, you have been jumping at
shadows lately."

Jim watched as his guide took a deep breath and released it
slowly.  "Okay, I get it.  I understand and you're right.  I
probably would have freaked totally.  But right now, I'm calm. 
Get over here and sit down and let's see if we can sort this
out."

Jim smirked at him and moved to sit in the chair near Blair's
position on the couch.  "Okay, Chief.  Do your worst."

"Gee thanks, Jim.  Now, relax.  Close your eyes and focus on the
memory of that perfume.  Go back to the first time you smelled
it."

"At the station."

"Okay, good.  Now, add to the perfume her scent.  Got it?"  

Jim nodded.

"Great, now, move to the second time."

"On you after she attacked you."

"Okay, push that one away.  Next one."

"Tuesday just after I relieved Henderson at the university.  It
was her, Chief."  Jim opened his eyes just as his guide closed
his.  "Damn, Blair, I'm sorry.  That's not really what you wanted
to hear, was it?"

"No, it wasn't."  Blair got up and walked into his room without
another word.  Jim watched him go, all the while kicking himself
mentally for not recognizing the woman and getting her off the
streets and out of his partner's life.  

________________________________________________________

"Melinda, I am still trying to understand why this guy is so
important.  You have me now, baby.  Why do you need him?" 
Terrence Toller sat in a run down hotel room with the woman he
loved.

"I don't need him!  I don't need anybody!  I want him!  He's
supposed to be mine.  Nobody tells me no.  Nobody turns me down. 
Not even you!  You will help me do this, Terry, or I'll make you
so sorry.  Don't forget who I am.  I am a Rothman!  That means
that people owe me respect, damn it!  I want Blair Sandburg and
if I can't have him, nobody will.  That cop is not going to stand
in my way.  He can't have Blair.  Blair is mine.  Do you
understand me, Terry?" She paced before him, obviously agitated,
flinging around a handtowel from the bathroom.

"Melinda, this is the cops we are talking about here.  His
roommate's a *cop*.  You are talking about shooting a cop and
kidnapping a police consultant or whatever they call him.  We do
this and get caught, there won't be any going back to the
hospital.  We'll be in prison or dead."

"What are you saying, Terry?  That you won't help me?  If that's
the case, Terry, then you can just kiss your ass goodbye.  If you
think what I have planned for Blair is bad then you are going to
love what I'm going to do to you if you walk away from me."

"Melinda, I love you, honey.  I always have, but you are scaring
the hell out of me.  Let's just leave the country for a while. 
We'll let things die down then I'll call your brother and tell
him that you're fine and that I'm taking care of you, like I
promised, remember?  We'll just forget that this Blair guy ever
existed."

"You just don't get it, do you?  You are a poor second to Blair. 
I don't love you.  So you're good in bed.  Big deal.  Dime a
dozen, Terry.  I love Blair.  I went against my father for Blair
and Blair turned away from me.  He left me and, to add insult to
injury, he arranged to have me put away.  And I still love him. 
I want him and I will have him."

"You're insane."

"I am not crazy!" she screamed, hurling the towel at him.  It
struck his cheek.  "Don't you say that again!  I'll kill you if
you say that again!"

"Okay, okay, baby.  I'm sorry.  It's just that none of this makes
any sense to me."

"It doesn't have to make sense to you, Terry.  This isn't about
you.  It's about me and Blair."  She walked over to the bed and
got a gun from one of the bags there.  "Now, you take this gun
and you go out there and you shoot that cop and bring Blair back
here to me.  Do you understand?"

Toller looked at the proffered gun and nodded.  He reached out
and took the pistol from her hand.  "Okay.  I'll go get him."

"And?"

"I'll shoot the cop."

"Very good, Terry.  When you get back, I'll give you a reward. 
How's that sound?"

"Okay, Melinda."

"Very good boy," she purred, running her fingers though his hair. 
"I'll be waiting when you get back."  She sauntered off into the
bathroom, leaving him staring at the gun in his hand.

________________________________________________________

"Jim, you're not really going to class with me, are you?  I mean,
how am I supposed to explain you?  I can see it now. 'Yes Dr.
Markham?  Well, you see, this is my personal bodyguard.  Just
pretend he isn't here.'  At least Henderson was in uniform and
he stayed outside.  It would be different if I was teaching
the class and not a student in it, Jim.  I just don't think that
Dr. Markham is going to be to thrilled about visitors."

"He'll get over it, Chief.  I'm going," Jim told his partner as
the two of them walked across one of the university's many
parking lots on their way to Blair's class.

Jim watched as Blair rolled his eyes.  "Could you just wait
outside the class then instead of going in?"

Jim laughed at the slight whine in his friend's voice.  "No, I'm
not waiting outside.   I told you, Blair, glue, me and you."  Jim
gestured between himself and Blair.

"Jim, this is going to be so embarrassing."  The whine was more
pronounced.

"Deal with it, Junior."  

___________________________________________________

Former psychiatrist Terrence Toller watched the two men hurry
along the sidewalk that led to one of Rainier University's large
buildings.  He frowned.  He could not hear the discussion they
were having from his position in his car, but he could see the
animated gesturing.  He scowled at the young man.  He did not
understand what Melinda saw in the little hippie.  Yet, the man
would soon displace him if Melinda got her way.  And she usually
did.  Melinda wanted the cop dead.  He was the hippie's
protection.  Melinda even speculated that the two were lovers and
that was why Sandburg had left her.  To her mind, the only way he
would leave her was if he was gay.  That is not what Terry saw,
however.  He saw two men, friends personally and partners
professionally.  Nevertheless, the cop was an obstacle to what
Melinda wanted.  She wanted Sandburg.  Some scrawny, short,
little twerp instead of Terry and the more he thought about that,
the angrier he got.  

A plan crystallized in his angry brain.  Why kill the cop?  Why
not kill Sandburg?  Or just kill them both?  He was not a sharp
shooter.  He could go back and tell Melinda that he missed and,
oops! Shot Sandburg by mistake.  An unfortunate accident.  She
would be angry but Terry could handle that.  She had been angry
before and he was able to handle her.  That was the answer to his
dilemma.  Okay, so Melinda was a little unstable but he did love
her and he wanted her for himself.  The cop may be in Melinda's
way but it was Sandburg who was in Terry's way.  And Terry was
the one with the gun.  

The pair had disappeared into the building by the time Terry made
his decision.  He sat back to wait and to plan.  He was going to
shoot Sandburg.  That much was decided.  Should he shoot the cop
at all?  What would he tell Melinda exactly?  He gave up wracking
his brain for concrete answers after about half an hour of
weighing options and formulating plans that ended up discarded
when a possibility would pop up that he did not like.  After all,
like he had already acknowledged, he was no sharp shooter.  He
was likely to hit the cop anyway without trying.  He figured that
he had just better start firing and hoped that he hit either of
them at all.  He would most definitely be aiming at Sandburg,
however.  As far as Melinda, he would figure that out when he got
back to her and gaged her mood.

_____________________________________________________

"I think I made Dr. Markham nervous, Chief."  Jim waved one last
time at the good doctor as he and Blair left the room.  Markham
had spent the entire hour long class glancing nervously over and
over at Jim.  At first, Jim was worried that maybe his fly was
open.  He checked it though and all seemed in its proper place. 
That was when he decided to wave at the man every time his eyes
strayed to Jim.

"Of course, you made him nervous, Jim.  Think about it.  Think of
all the teachers in this country who deal with the possibility
every day of a student bringing a gun to class and blowing them
away.  And now, there you were in his class, your gun on proud
display for the entire room to see.  When you took your jacket
off, and he saw that gun, I thought the poor man was going to
have a heart attack."

"Damn, Chief, I didn't even think about that!"  

Blair rolled his eyes at his friend.  "I figured as much."  Blair
opened the front door of the building and held it open for Jim to
follow him out of the building.

"Chief, I should open doors and be the first out of them," Jim
scolded.

"Then move faster, old man," Blair teased, grinning
mischievously.

"I'll show you an old man, Junior.  When we get home, I'm going
to teach you a little respect for your elders across my knee."

"I'm four again, Jim," Blair remarked sarcastically.

"Hey, you started this one, Buddy.  I'm just going to finish it." 
Jim reached out and cuffed Blair on the side of the head
upsetting the soft chestnut curls and gaining him a sharp sound
of protest from the anthropologist.  He laughed at the glare he
was getting from his partner as he passed him to start down the
steps of the building.  He felt the heat of Blair's gaze for
another moment or two before the younger man returned to his
side.  "Are you okay, Chief?" Jim asked.  

"Yeah.  Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little out of sorts.  You have since the other
morning when Melinda Rothman showed up.  I've teased you before
about things like tucking you in.  I've messed up your hair and
such as that before and it's never seemed to bother you until
now.  I don't mean to make you feel like a kid, Blair."

Blair shook his head and gave Jim a rueful smile.  "It's just me,
Jim.  Melinda showing up again has kinda threw me for a loop and
I'm taking it out on you.  I'm overly sensitive right now to
anything that might suggest to me that I can't take care of
myself or that I'm stupid, you know, stuff like that."

"Because of what she said the other day in the squad room?"

"Yeah.  It's stupid, I know, but there it is."

"It's not stupid and you're not stupid, Sandburg.  You know
that."

"Thanks, Jim.  That means a lot to me coming from you."

"You are quite wel--"  Jim never finished his statement as gun
shots cracked the air around them.  "Get down!" he screamed,
moving swiftly to throw his partner to ground only to find that
Blair was falling already.  Jim's mind and sentinel sight
registered that the younger man had been shot.  He watched
helplessly, unable suddenly to move at all, as another bullet
struck his friend as he fell. The world, time itself, was
grinding to a halt around him.  He no longer heard the shots and
he did not feel the bullet that entered his own shoulder.   Only
his eyes seemed to retain their functioning, giving him a close
up view of the blood stain spreading across the back of Blair's
shirt as he lay on the sidewalk face down.  Then even his eyes
threatened to cease operation and darkness seeped into the
corners of his vision.  

The squealing tires were Jim's salvation from the zone out. 
Somehow the sound cut through and Jim's head snapped up.  The
distraction gave Jim's instincts an opportunity to take over the
functioning of his wounded body.  His gun was in his hand and his
feet began to move.  He aimed the gun at the retreating car and
fired several shots.  The back glass shattered but the car kept
going.  He chased the vehicle out into the street.  He might have
kept going had his ears not picked up the sounds of screams and
one person's voice calling out for someone to call an ambulance. 
For one foggy moment, Jim wondered who had been hurt.  Then the
cold hand of terror reached into his heart and struck a chord
there that sent him running blindly back to the fallen body of
his guide.  He flung the assembled people aside like paper dolls
and dropped to his knees beside the savior of his sanity.  A
anguished cry torn from his throat as he lifted the bleeding form
from the cold concrete.  Sentinel ears searched for the beloved
heart beat but there was too much noise and he could not filter
it out.  Voices and traffic and the busy sounds of life drowned
out the sound of the one life that was important to him.

"Shut up!" he screamed at it all.  The voices around him did
stop, the spectators probably afraid to enrage the already
deranged and angry man before them.  He tried again to find the
thump, thump of the precious heart.  Tears streamed down his face
as he still could not find it amid the noise of a world that
apparently did not care if Jim Ellison was losing his best
friend, guide, and brother.  "Blair!"  

_____________________________________________________

Terry gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. 
He could feel little pieces of broken glass across the back of
his neck and slipping down inside the collar of his shirt.  He
had waited patiently for them to come out of the building.  Even
let them move a little way away from everyone else before he had
started the car and dropped in behind them.  He had fired four
shots.  At least two had hit Sandburg.  One had hit the cop.  At
first, the cop had seemed too horrified to move.  He had just
stood there.  When he had moved, though, he moved fast.  Terry
had thought he was a goner when the back glass had shattered.  He
had felt something hit his neck and, for a split second, thought
that he had been hit.  But he had not.  He was on his way back to
Melinda, safe for the moment from the cop, from the threat that
Sandburg posed to his happiness, but not, he knew, entirely safe
from Melinda herself.  He heard the sirens and saw the ambulance
speed past him, headed the opposite direction, and smiled.  He
then worked on his story.

_____________________________________________________

Rachel moved in cautiously and knelt beside Blair's roommate. 
Blair had told her once how close they were and she was seeing
the truth of that firsthand.  Ever so carefully, she placed a
hand on the man's shoulder as he frantically performed CPR. 
"Detective Ellison?  I know CPR, detective.  Let me help you."

The man did not respond to her.  Instead, he shrugged off her
hand and moved from the compressions to mouth-to-mouth.  Blood
from his hand smeared across Blair's face and turned a wayward
curl red, marring the illusion that Blair was simply asleep.  It
seemed to upset Ellison to see the blood there and he hesitated.  
He tried to wipe it away, only to deposit more.  It was heart
breaking to watch.

"Detective!  Please!  I can help you save him.  I don't think
he's breathing, detective.  Please!  You can't stop!"  She shook
the man by both shoulders, only then noticing that he was
injured.  

The man turned his icy blue eyes to her then and she did not know
whether to be glad that she had penetrated the clouds around his
mind or frightened of the look in those eyes.  It was insane,
homicidal.  "Help me.  Help him," he said succinctly.  He started
the compressions on Blair's chest again while Rachel moved into
position for mouth-to-mouth.  "I hear the sirens," he commented
absently.

Rachel blew a breath into Blair's mouth and watched the man's
chest rise.  She sat up and listened.  "I don't hear anything."

"They're coming."  He remarked as though she should just believe
him.  He compressed Blair's chest several times and nodded to
her. 
 
As she sat up the next time, she could hear the sirens faintly in
the distance.  They grew louder with every passing second. 
Ellison finished his compressions and she blew another breath
into the blue-tinged mouth and sat back again.  "I don't think
it's going to work," she said, tears in her eyes and voice.

Her shoulders were grabbed roughly.  "Don't stop!" he ordered,
then immediately went back to his compressions.  

She would be unsure later just how long she and Ellison kept up
the CPR before the EMT's pushed her out of the way.  Ellison
fought them, screaming that he had to keep going.  It was not
until a large black man grabbed him around the chest and pulled
him away that he stopped.  

"Jim!  Jim, let them do their jobs!  Ellison, do you hear me?!" 
the man yelled into Ellison's face.  Rachel watched as Ellison
swayed on his feet then collapsed into the man's arms.  The big
man looked stunned as he lowered Ellison to the ground.  Rachel
approached him.

"He got shot, too," she explained to him.

"Damn!  I thought that was Blair's blood," he said as he examined
Ellison's shoulder.  "Captain Simon Banks, Major Crimes.  Did you
see anything?"

"Rachel Singer.  Just the car and Blair falling."

"What car?  Describe it."  He took his wool scarf from around the
collar of his coat and pressed it onto the wound on Ellison's
shoulder.

"A blue Honda Accord, about a '94 model, I think.  It doesn't
have any back glass now.  I got part of the license plate.  I
think it's one of those personalized ones.  TTO but I couldn't
make out the rest of the letters but they were all letters I
think.  No numbers."

"Thank you," he told her before turning his attention to the
EMT's.  "Can one of you come over here?  This man is hurt as
well."

One of the men came over and glanced over Ellison's wound.  "Keep
pressure on it.  I'll get the other gurney."  He raced away to
the ambulance.

A moan brought Rachel's attention back to the man on the ground. 
"He's waking up."

Captain Banks nodded. "Jim?  Can you hear me?  You've been shot. 
Just lie still."

Ellison's eyes fluttered open.  Rachel smiled at him when they
cleared.  "They're taking care of Blair," she assured.

"Blair!" he exclaimed and tried to get up but Banks held him
down.

"Settle down, Jim!  The EMT's have Blair."

"Check on Blair!"  Ellison pleaded with Rachel.

"Okay."  She moved back to the still form surrounded by white
uniforms that were not quite so white anymore.  She closed her
eyes tight when they shocked his heart, unable to watch his body
jerk.  Still, the sound from the little monitor was unbroken and
shrill.  Again, they shocked him and Rachel felt hot tears roll
down her cheeks.  The monitor beeped.  It was a small beep and
the one after it was slow in coming but it came.

"Let's get him on a back board and transport."   Carefully, they
maneuvered Blair's bloody body onto a wooden board and secured
him to it then lifted him onto the rolling gurney.  One of the
EMT's held onto the bag over Blair's face and rhythmically
squeezed it to force air into his lungs.

She went back to the other man, who was being hoisted onto a
gurney himself.  "He's going to be fine," she lied.

Ellison smiled pitifully.  "Thanks for trying, anyway," he
whispered.

Rachel looked at the captain, her confusion clearly written on 
her face.  The big man just sighed and touched her shoulder
gently.

"He knows you're lying," he explained, before following the
gurney to the back of the ambulance.

Sobs shook her shoulders as the ambulance drove away and Captain
Banks hurriedly got into his car to follow.  The crowd began to
disperse and a light rain began to fall but still she stood,
tears mixing with the raindrops, wondering if she would ever see
the sweet soul she knew as Blair Sandburg again.

_________________________________________________

Simon Banks cursed the rain.  He cursed the traffic.  He cursed
the ugly soul that shot his friends and he cursed the god that
let it happen.  Then he took the last curse back.  He needed that
god.  Jim Ellison needed that god.  And that god knew that Blair
Sandburg needed him.  He passed the ambulance, taking the lead in
the hopes of helping the big vehicle cut through the lunch time
traffic more quickly.  Simon swiped his blood covered hand down
his shirt and swore vehemently, remembering the sight of Jim
Ellison trying so desperately to hold onto a life Simon was sure
was forfeit.  He clenched his fists on the steering wheel of his
car and tried to block out the sight of all the blood that
stained the sidewalk under Blair's body.  The kid was going to
die this time.  Simon felt it.  He wanted it not to be true but
his head told him that it was bad this time, too bad, and Blair
was going to die.  

And what would happen to James Ellison when he did?  Simon
shuddered at the thought.  The kid had wormed his way into
Ellison's heart like no one else Simon had ever seen.  Until
Sandburg, Jim was distant, hard, and cool.  He kept everyone at
arm's length.  Hurricane Blair blew in and shook up the order of
Ellison's soul, gave it the lived-in look, as Simon's mother
would have said.  A slight smile tugged at Simon's lips in spite
of the dire thoughts.  Ellison was human because of Blair.  The
military machine, honed in covert ops, was cracked and out of it
emerged a heart of gold.  That heart was about to break.  What
would happen then was anybody's guess and Simon's worst
nightmare.

_____________________________________________________

Joel Taggert handed him a cup of coffee and Simon accepted it
with thanks.  Taggert crossed the small waiting room to the door. 
Simon noticed that he was simply staring down the hallway to the
double doors that both Blair and Jim had disappeared through a
few hours earlier.  He was about to tell the man to sit down,
that staring at the door would not make it open.

"A doctor is coming out," Taggert announced, stopping Simon's
statement before it started.  

Instantly, Simon was on his feet and Brown and Rafe were at his
side.  Taggert stepped aside for the doctor to enter.  

"You guys here for Jim Ellison?" the young man asked.

"Yes.  How is he?"

"Mr. Ellison will be fine.  He lost a good bit of blood but the
damage was minimal really.  The biggest problem was keeping him
out on the table and calm.  He's going to be a little weak and
his shoulder is going to be very sore for a while.  He's quite
lucky.  This could have been a lot worse."  The doctor smiled
then and turned to leave.

"Thanks, doc," Taggert spoke for them all while Simon
contemplated the irony of the doctor's last statement.

"I don't know that I would say Jim's very lucky," Rafe muttered,
vocalizing Simon's thoughts.

They all sat back down to wait on word about their other friend,
none of them really expecting it to be good news.  They had still
not gotten any word on Blair when a nurse came to get Simon.  Jim
was awake and asking for Simon, and about Blair.  Simon followed
the woman back to an area of cubicles where surgery patients
waited to be transferred.  She stopped before one of them and
gestured for Simon to go inside then walked away.  Simon stood
outside for a moment, staring in at the man on the bed through
the plate glass.  He took a deep breath and went inside. 

"Jim?" he whispered softly.

Pale blue eyes opened to meet his and a weak voice inquired,
"Blair?"

"No word yet, Jim.  I'm sorry."

"I would check to see if you're lying but I don't think I can
right now.  Please, Simon, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"I swear to you, Jim, I'd tell you."  Simon said, glad that Jim's
lie detector abilities were off-line because that part was a lie. 

Jim nodded weakly.  "It's taking too long, isn't it?  That means
it's real bad."

"Not necessarily--" A very stern look from clouded blue eyes
stopped that lie.  "Jim," Simon sighed, "okay, you know it's bad. 
But Blair's a tough kid.  He'll--"  Simon himself stopped that
one.  He did not believe it and he could not bring himself to say
it.  Sandburg was going to die.  Nobody could live through that.

"Simon, without him, my career is over.  You know that.  Jesus, I
may as well..."

"Oh no, you don't, Ellison!  You don't even say that to me."

"I can't do it without him, Simon.  I'll lose control and they'll
put me away.  Or I'll zone and get myself or somebody else
killed.  Myself, okay, fine, I'm better off.  But somebody else,
I don't want to be responsible for that."

"Dear God!" Simon put his head in his hands.  It was worse than
he had even dared to imagine.  He had naively thought that Jim
would just revert back into what he had been.  He had never even
considered that the man before him would ever give up on life
altogether.  

"Incacha's gone and now I've lost Blair."

"Damn it, Jim!  He's not dead yet!  Nobody said he was dead yet. 
You have got to hang on here!  At least give me a chance to--"

"To what, Simon?  Replace him?  It can't be done.  Who else knows
what he knows?  Who else is what he is?  Who else is *who* he
is?"

"He's not dead yet!"

"That's what you were going to say though, wasn't it?"

"God, Jim, I don't know what I was going to say.  I know that
Blair's one of a kind.  Thank God!  I don't think the world could
handle two.  I know my world couldn't!  Jesus, this sucks!"

A strangled laugh came from the man on the bed.  "You sound like
Blair.  That's just what--"  The rest was lost in the struggle to
stop tears.  Jim's breath caught and the tears won, silently
falling from pain-filled blue pools like a trickling waterfall. 
"He wasn't breathing, Simon.  I couldn't hear his heartbeat and
all the blood."  The man looked down at his hands.  "I can still
see the blood."

Simon placed his hand on Jim's uninjured shoulder as a tear made
its way down his own face.

"Captain Banks?" came a soft inquiry from the opening of the
cubicle.  Simon turned to face the sweet-faced nurse.  "Mr.
Sandburg's doctor is waiting for you outside."

Simon glanced at Jim then back to the nurse.  "I'll be right
out," he told her.  "Jim, I'll let you know."  Ellison just
nodded and Simon rushed out of the room and nearly ran over the
tiny female doctor waiting for him before he realized that she
was there.

"Captain Banks, I presume?"

"Doctor?"  He did not mean to sound surprised.  He was surprised,
however, and the surprise was loud and clear in his voice.  She
was barely five foot tall.  She was a round woman with a kind
face and a big salt and pepper bun on her head.  All combined,
her features gave the impression of an old child.

"Yes, I'm Doctor Milap.  And yes, I do have to have a step stool
to reach the operating table," she said with a kind smile.  "I
have good news and bad news.  The good news is that Mr. Sandburg
made it through surgery."

Simon was surprised again and it showed.

"Pretty amazing, huh?  We did lose him on the table twice but got
him back.  He's a fighter apparently.  That's good news, too. 
He's going to have to fight.  Now for the bad news and there is
more of it than good.  Mr. Sandburg was shot twice in the back. 
Before you panic, neither bullet severed the spinal cord. 
However, swelling around the spinal cord and spine itself could
be a problem.  If he were to awaken now, for example, he would
not have feeling or movement below his chest."

"If he were to awaken?"

"That's more bad news.  He's in a coma.  Blood loss, trauma, and
lack of oxygen to the brain are the causes of that.  Which brings
me to more bad news.  One bullet entered the back on the left
side and struck the heart and his lung.  The lung was punctured
and the heart was struck but not punctured.  In other words, we
could say that his heart was bruised but not broken."  She tried
to make her words light, a small joke to soften the hard reality. 
"Now, given the injuries, the times that we lost him on the table
here, and the fact that he was not breathing at the scene, we
have to prepare ourselves for there to be some permanent damage."

"What kind of damage?" Simon knew but for some reason needed to
hear it.

"Brain damage, Captain Banks.  Now, at this point, it's all
speculation.  It may not occur or it may be so minute that it is
never noticed or easily compensated for.  On the other hand, it
may mean memory loss, loss of coordination, loss of skills and
ability.  We have to hope for the best, but expect the worst, in
cases like these.  And there are a few other possibilities as
well, even more unpleasant.  He is not out of the woods yet.  We
could still lose him.  In addition,  he might not ever come out
of the coma.  If brain activity starts decreasing or, heaven
forbid, ceases all together, you may be called upon to let him
go."

"I can't make that decision."

"Then you need to find the person who can."

"Dr. Milap, the person who can is in there in another of your
beds and I doubt very seriously he's going to be willing to let
go."  Simon pointed back toward Jim's cubicle.

"Then you and I will have to persuade him, Captain.  No one
should have to linger on like that.  Quantity of life is not the
same as quality of life.  Our machines can make him breathe but
they can't give him a life."  She reached out and squeezed his
arm as best her tiny hand could.  "If you'll excuse me, I need to
get back to my patient.  I don't like to leave someone who is in
Mr. Sandburg's condition for long.  Too many things can happen in
too short a time."  She left him standing in the hallway,
wondering what he would tell Jim.

______________________________________________________

"My fault, Simon.  I was supposed to be protecting him and he was
shot walking right next to me.  Why didn't I hear something?"

"I don't know, Jim, but blaming yourself won't help Blair."  

"I need to see him, Simon."

"Jim, you're hurt.  You're weak.  You don't need to do anything
right now but stay in that bed and think positive thoughts."

"Think positive thoughts!  Simon, you have got to be kidding me! 
Positive thoughts!  Like that's going to help Blair!  Jesus
Christ, you sound like Naomi!  Oh my God!  Naomi!  Simon, you
have to find Naomi.  She's got to be here.  If he di--"  He could
not get the word out.  He tried again.  "If Blair dies, and Naomi
doesn't get to see him, dear God.  Please, Simon, find Naomi."

"I'll try, Jim.  I promise."

"I still have to see him, Simon.  Get me a wheelchair if that's
the only way but get me to him.  He can't die alone.  I can't let
that happen.  Simon, please."

"I'll see what I can do."

______________________________________________________

Jim shifted a little in the wheelchair as Simon wheeled him to
the ICU just a few hours later.  As they entered the cubicle, Jim
gasped at sight of his friend.  Blair was propped mostly on his
right side by pillows to relieve pressure on the wounds in his 
back.  He was pale and still.  If not for the many machines and
tubes and wires attached to him, Jim could have believed his
guide already dead.  However, the machines were beeping, tubes
were pumping, the wires were doing whatever it was that they were
supposed to do, and his guide was still alive.  For the first
time since he collapsed in Simon's arms at the university, Jim
began to have hope that Blair would indeed survive.  He knew
Simon did not share that hope by the sad, pity-filled look in his
captain's eyes.  "He's going to make it," Jim said firmly. 
"Aren't you, Blair?"  He lifted his uninjured arm and stroked
Blair's hand as it lay lax on the bed.  "You'll show'em all, kid. 
Just like you showed us cops that you were tough enough to hang
out with us.  You'll show'em, I know you will."

"That's the right attitude to have with him."  Jim turned to see
a very small, chubby woman enter the room.  "I'm Dr. Milap, Mr.
Ellison.  I'm Blair's doctor.  May I call you Jim?"

"Yes.  How is he?"

"Hanging in there.  He seems to be just as tough as you suggest."

"Simon told me how bad it was.  Any change?"

"No real change except that with every hour that he manages to
survive, his chances get better."

"Okay, okay.  I can deal with that."

"Jim, did Captain Banks talk with you about what might happen if
Blair did not wake up and his brain activity decreased or
stopped?"

"Blair's brain never stops, Dr. Milap."  Jim smiled at his joke
but the smile held more pain than humor.

She returned his smile.  She bent down a little then to put her
eyes on the same level as Jim's.  "Jim, look at me.  I have found
that you are indeed listed as having power of attorney for Blair. 
It will be you that will have the say so if Blair should move
beyond our ability to help him."

"You put that very carefully and tactfully, doctor," Jim
observed, his voice sounding tired and strained.

"Jim, when the brain stops, the soul is ready to move on.  To
prevent that from happening is cruel.  That is my belief anyway."

"I'll think about what you've said, doctor, but I don't think
that's going to happen.  He's not going to die."

Jim saw her motion to Simon to come with her.  The two left Jim
sitting alone with his guide, which was where he wanted to be.

___________________________________________________

Dr. Orenda Milap sighed and turned to face the big captain behind
her.  His face reflected her concern back to her threefold. 
"How's his emotional state?"

"Not good.  Blair could still die, couldn't he?"

"Yes.  What I said was true.  Every hour he manages to survive
improves his chances."

"I sense a but in there, Dr. Milap."

"Yes, you do.  But that's only true to a point.  After that
point, we may be looking at severe brain damage and the
possibility that he will never wake up."

"Damn," the big man whispered, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Now, we are nowhere near that point yet so don't panic.  It may
come, however.  You need to try to prepare Mr. Ellison for it."

"Okay," he responded flatly.  "I'm going to go back in there with
them for a while, if you don't mind."

"Go right ahead.  I know that this is hard, Captain Banks. I'm
sorry."

"Thank you."

She watched the man visibly brace himself before going back
inside the cubicle.  She sighed again.  "Some days I hate my
job." 

____________________________________________________

It had been an energy draining chore to get Jim to go back to his
own room.  Ellison did not want to leave Sandburg and was
determined to check himself out against medical advice in order
to stand vigil over his fallen friend.  Simon had finally
convinced the man to at least stay one night in the hospital. 
The only way that he was able to accomplish that feat was to
promise to sit with Blair himself and come and get Jim
immediately if there was any change.  

He had also managed to convince the rest of Major Crimes'
detectives to leave the hospital.  That was accomplished by
simply pointing out to them that while they sat in the waiting
room the person who had shot Jim and Blair was out there in
Cascade somewhere free.  So after quick visits to Jim's room to
make promises of justice, they filed out of the hospital.  Within
an hour, they had an ID.  Simon was not surprised.  Former
psychiatrist Terrence Toller, the man who had helped Melinda
Rothman escape after her attack on Blair, had a blue Honda
Accord, 93 model, with a personalized license plate reading
TTOLLER.  The man was incredibly stupid apparently.  He used his
own car to gun down a police officer and his partner in broad
daylight.  An APB was out.  

Simon was worried, however.  So it was about Blair, not Jim.  And
Melinda Rothman was behind it.  The woman was dangerous,
unpredictable, and crazy.  Guards were set up outside Blair's ICU
cubicle and Jim's room door.  Questions still gnawed at Simon,
however.  Why did Toller do it?  Melinda Rothman seemed like a
hands-on kind of woman.  If she wanted Blair dead, Simon believed
that she would have done it herself.  Simon saw the profile that
her former doctors at Havenwood had done.  From what he saw, the
woman was just crazy enough to believe that she could get away
with it.  But Toller had pulled the trigger from what witnesses
said.  It was definitely a man in the car, a man that pulled the
trigger.  And it was Toller's picture they identified.  *Maybe
he's as crazy as she is,* he thought to himself.  That had to be
it.  

Simon watched the sun come up from the ICU waiting room.  He was
stiff and sore from trying to sleep on the sofa there.  The staff
would not let him to actually stay in the room with Blair.  He
was allowed in the cubicle for ten minutes of each hour.  In
between, he slept, setting the alarm on his watch to wake him. 
He wondered idly what would happen when Jim got there and
politely told these nice people to get screwed, he was staying
with his partner.  It was going to happen as sure as the sun that
Simon watched was going to continue to rise into the sky over
Cascade.

A small smile touched his lips at the thought.  It got larger
with the realization that the sunrise meant that Blair had made
it through the night.  He was starting to feel a little hope rise
with that sun.

____________________________________________________

Three days later, that hope was fading.  Simon stood outside the
cubicle that had become Jim's world.  Simon had been right.  The
confrontation between Ellison and the hospital staff was not
pretty and was about to escalate into an all out war when Dr.
Milap stepped in.  She agreed to give special permission for Jim
to be there and Simon removed the guard since Jim would always be
with Blair.  No better guard than a sentinel, after all.  Dr.
Milap had a reclining chair brought in for Jim and ordered him to
sleep in it and then ordered him to leave once a day to shower
and change.  He did so only after Simon assured him that he would
take Jim's place at Blair's side for those short periods of time. 
Other than that once a day trip to the loft, Jim sat in the
recliner, sometimes talking to Blair, sometimes silent, but never
stepping away from the still figure on the bed for more than a
moment.

Simon shifted his gaze to that figure, still and silent. 
Monitors beeped and the respirator bag expanded and compressed,
the only signs of life from the usually energetic, enthusiastic,
somewhat annoying, but always faithful young anthropologist. 
Simon swallowed the lump in his throat.  He had been unsuccessful
in locating Blair's mother.  He left messages in all the places
that Jim had told him about but nothing came from them.  Blair
was not coming out of the coma yet and Simon dreaded the day when
Dr. Milap would come to him and tell him to persuade Jim to let
go.

Then there was the problem of Terrence Toller and Melinda
Rothman.  Toller's car had been found but he was not in it nor
was the gun.  Both Toller and Rothman seemed to have disappeared. 
Surprisingly enough, Steve Rothman had been most helpful.  The
young corporate president abandoned his attempt to hide his
sister's attack on Blair and had given them as much information
as he could about places she might go.  Unfortunately, none of
them panned out.  

Steve Rothman had also visited Blair and sent balloons with his
get well wishes.  None of that kept Ellison from glaring at the
younger man as though he would like to be able to burn holes in
him with icy hot laser blue eyes.  Rothman, apparently blessed
with fortitude, had not let that stop him.  He had come back each
day since the shooting and endured the Ellison stare for his
allotted ten minutes, always pausing to apologize before he left. 
His apology was not acknowledged.

Simon steeled himself for the argument he was about to have and
entered Blair's cubicle.  "Jim?"

Jim glanced at his captain and friend for only a moment before
turning back to Blair. "Hey Simon."

"It's time for you to go home, Jim.  I'll sit with Blair while
you're gone."

"Okay."  He got up mechanically.

"Jim, this time stay at home.  Get some real sleep and some real
food."

"I can't do that, Simon.  I have to be here when he wakes up."

"Jim, you look like hell and you have to feel like hell.  Now, do
as I say and get some rest.  You're no good to Blair if you
collapse from exhaustion."

"I'm not much good to Blair anyway."  A humorless laugh came from
the man.  "I can't make him wake up.  Hell, I couldn't keep him
from being shot.  But I can't let him wake up alone, Simon.  I
can't let him down in that too."

"He won't be alone.  I'll be here. You know Dr. Milap and the
staff let me stay in your place while you're gone."

"No.  I'll go home and shower and change and be right back."

"Jim,--"

"No!  I agreed to this going home business as long as I could
come right back but that's it!  I can sleep in that chair, here,
where I can hear his heartbeat.  So I'll know, Simon.  So I'll
know.  Do you understand?"

He had lost the fight.  He nodded.  "Okay, I understand."

"Thank you.  I'll be back soon."

"You shouldn't drive.  Joel is waiting to taking you home.  Tell
him to stay and bring you back."

"Okay."

Simon sat in the chair that Jim had vacated.  Jim stroked Blair's
hair softly then turned to leave the room.  Simon felt tears in
his eyes, watching the tender gesture.  He cast his eyes down
into his lap and began a thorough examination of his own hands. 
"He'll be here when you get back."

"Is that a promise, Simon?  No, don't say anything.  That was
unfair.  Just take care of him, okay?"

"I will, Jim."

Simon waited for a long while until he thought Sentinel ears were
out of range before he got up and touched soft curls himself. 
"Please, kid, you have to wake up.  You have to live.  It'll kill
him if you don't.  And this old heart wouldn't be the same
either."

__________________________________________________________

Simon was watching Jim pick at a Wonderburger when his cell phone
rang.  "Banks."  He listened to Rafe's voice on the other end. 
"On my way," he announced.  He closed the little folding phone
and met Jim's inquiring eyes.  "We found Toller."

A spark of hate ignited a fire in the blue eyes in front of him,
returning life to them in a terrifying way.  "Where?"

"Settle down, Jim.  He's dead.  Manager of a motel on Maple had
some complaints about a smell from one of his rooms and went to
investigate.  Toller has been dead for days apparently.  Multiple
stab wounds in the neck and chest.  No sign of Melinda Rothman. 
Sort of supports a theory I've had.  I don't think that Toller
was supposed to kill Blair.  I think he was supposed to kill you. 
I've been thinking about it.  Rothman wants Blair, right?  I
would say, preferably alive.  She pegged you as an obstacle that
day in the bullpen.  She would want you dead so that she could
have Blair.  Toller, on the other hand, from what Steve Rothman
says, has the hots for Melinda Rothman.  He doesn't want to be
replaced so he tries to take out Blair and gets very dead for
making little Melinda unhappy.  What do you think?"

"Sounds reasonable.  But where is she?  I don't like the idea of
her running around loose, Simon.  It's been four days."

"Then help me find her."

Jim shook his head emphatically.  "I can't leave Blair right now,
Simon.  You know that.  I'm all he's got since we can't find
Naomi.  He'd be scared to death if he woke up alone right now. 
Dr. Milap says the swelling around his spine is going down but
it's not gone so he still can't move.  She also told me that the
pain is going to be excruciating when feeling does come back." 
He glanced at the bed where the object of their discussion lay. 
"There's fluid in his injured lung and she's worried about
pneumonia.  She's upped his antibiotic dosage.  The only good
news is that his brain functioning hasn't decreased.  Of course,
it hasn't increased either but--"  He paused.  "I wanted the
bastard to be alive, Simon, because I wanted to kill him.  I
wanted to kill him slowly and painfully."

"Jim, what have I told you about saying stuff to me that I may be
called to testify to?"

"Doesn't count, Simon.  He's already dead.  There won't be a
trial this time to worry about."

"Guess you're right but just watch who--"  Simon stopped abruptly
as Jim's hand raised and his head snapped toward the bed.  "What
is it?"

The remains of Jim's Wonderburger hit the floor as the man was
instantly by his friend's side. "Blair?"

Simon joined him in time to hear a tiny whimper.  "He's waking
up?"

"Yeah, get the doctor, Simon. I saw her out there a few minutes
ago."  Ellison stroked the young man's hair.

Another whimper and a little expression of pain on Blair's face
broke the spell that had transfixed Simon beside the bed and he
all but ran from the cubicle calling Dr. Milap's name.  

Minutes later he and Jim stood outside the cubicle as the doctor
examined her patient and removed the respirator.  The equipment
was rolled past the two men.  Dr. Milap was not far behind.  "He
is out of the coma but not out of the woods.  He's breathing on
his own.  That's a major improvement.  He is not really awake and
coherent, mind you.  That only happens in the movies and on TV. 
He is just sleeping now instead of unconscious.  He'll sleep a
lot and have brief and scattered moments of wakefulness.  During
which time you can talk to him but don't expect too much back. 
One, his throat is going to be very sore from the respirator tube
and two, coherency is a little too much to ask of him right now. 
Got it, gentlemen?"

Simon nodded as Jim spoke.  "What about his back?  Is he in pain? 
I think he's in pain."

"I gave him something for the pain, Jim."  She smiled a sincere
and sympathetic little smile.  "Jim, we are going to take good
care of him, okay?  Trust me a little."

"Yeah, okay, sorry."

"Good.  Now, when he is awake, you can give him some ice chips at
first.  Later, we'll try to move to little sips of water.  For
the time being, however, he'll still get his nourishment and
fluids from the IV."

"And his lungs?  The pneumonia?"

She grimaced.  "He does have a touch of pneumonia.  We are trying
hard to head it off at the pass as they say, but at the moment,
he has it.  It's not so unusual, Jim.  We can beat this."

"We aren't the ones in that bed, doc.  Blair is."

Simon grimaced himself then in sympathy for the lady doctor who
was taking the brunt of Ellison's moods with incredible grace. 
Jim walked away from them and back into Blair's little corner of
ICU.  "Sorry about that."

"It's quite all right.  He loves him very much.  I don't think I
have ever seen anything like it outside of families."

"They are family, Dr. Milap.  The blood might not be the same but
they're family.  Brothers at times, father and son sometimes, but
family always."

"Blair is a very lucky young man then."

"Yes, ma'am, he is.  And Jim is pretty lucky too."

_______________________________________________________

Melinda Rothman was angry.  Still.  She wanted Terry to come back
to life so that she could kill him again.  She stared at her
reflection in the mirror of the run-down motel bathroom in
Seattle and tried to plan her next move.  Terry had really
screwed up her plans.  "Little twit!" she exclaimed aloud,
slamming her hand down on the edge of the sink.  "An accident, my
ass.  Nobody, not even you, Terry, could screw up that bad."  The
cop was still alive, barely wounded apparently, and Blair lay at
death's door or so she had heard around Rainier's campus before
she left Cascade.  She wanted to call the hospital and check on
him but she could not remember his mother's name and she
certainly was not going to give her own.  She had to remember the
woman's name.  Saying that she was the unmarried hippie Jewish
slut that gave birth to him was not going to get her any
information at all.  Still, she had to know how he was.  

If he died, then she had let Terry off too easily.  She grinned. 
At least it had been easy for her.  He had actually thought that
she had bought his stupid story about accidently missing Ellison
and hitting Blair.  They had gone to bed that night, Terry
believing himself forgiven.  He woke up screaming into a pillow
as she plunged a knife into his chest over and over and then his
life was over.  Too easy, so stupid.  He paid for his betrayal
and his stupidity.  

Perhaps she would simply have to go back to Cascade to find out
how Blair was.  She had to go back at some point anyway if Blair
did survive.  She was not giving up on him.  Maybe, once he found
out all that she had gone through to be with him, he would
realize that she loved him and he would love her back.  He just
had to.  Or he would join Terry.

______________________________________________________

Jim noticed the change in Blair's breathing pattern and put down
the magazine he was reading to take his partner's hand.  "Hey
there, Chief."

Clouded blue eyes opened and searched for him.  Pain and
questions were shining from them and Jim squeezed his hand in
reassurance.

"You're gonna be okay, Chief.  Are you in pain?  Want some ice
chips?"

A look of confusion answered his questions.

"I'm sorry.  One at a time.  Are you in pain?"  A little nod. 
"Okay, I'll call the doctor and see about getting you something
for the pain.  Want some ice chips?"  

"Water?"  The request was Sentinel quiet.

Jim shook his head in apology.  "Sorry, Blair.  Dr. Milap said
ice chips.  Okay?"  Another small nod.  "Okay, be right back." 
He tried to move away but found that his hand was caught in
Blair's by a surprisingly strong grip.  "Blair, I've got to get
the ice.  Oh, never mind.  I'll get one of the nurses to get it." 
He reached back and snagged his chair with one foot, dragging it
closer to the bed then pressed the call button with his free
hand.  He sat down.  A nurse's voice came over the little
intercom and Jim asked her to call Dr. Milap and for some ice
chips.  

"Jim?  Move?"

"It's okay, Chief.  There's some swelling around the spine. 
That's why you can't move but everything is going to be all
right.  The swelling is going down and you'll be fine when it
does.  Do you remember what happened?"

"No."

"You got shot, Blair.  Twice in the back.  That's why they sort
of have you propped on your side.  Your lung was punctured and
your heart was bruised.  I almost lost you, Buddy.  If it hadn't
been for that TA Rachel, you might have died."

"Who?"

"Rachel, the teaching assistant.  You know her, Chief."

"No, who?"

Jim realized what he was asking then.  "Terrence Toller."

"'linda?"

"We don't know where she is, Blair.  She killed Toller, though,
we are pretty sure.  Simon thinks that Toller was supposed to be
aiming at me and it pissed her off when he shot you."

The nurse entered the cubicle with Blair's ice chips.  "Would you
like me to give them to him or would you prefer to do it?"

"I think I'll do it.  He doesn't want me to move away.  If he'll
let go of my other hand, I can do it."  His teasing tone brought
a sad little smile to Blair's lips but he let go of Jim's hand. 

The mousy little nurse smiled.  "Dr. Milap wants to talk to him a
little before he gets his pain meds.  She's on her way."

"Great.  Thanks."

"You're welcome."  She disappeared.

Jim turned back to Blair.  He lifted the plastic spoon from the
cup and held the spoon to Blair's lips.  It was tricky but Jim
managed to get a few chips into Blair's mouth.  He repeated the
action twice before Blair shook his head to indicate that he did
not want anymore.  

"Look terrible."

"Pot calling kettle, Chief."  Jim laughed and pushed a limp curl
away from Blair's face.

"How long?"

"Five days."

Blair made a little sound of protest.  "Classes."

"Taken care of, Chief.  Damn near the entire campus witnessed you
getting shot.  Nobody can say you're playing sick, right?"

Blair frowned.  "Tired."

"I know, Chief.  Just hold out to talk to the doctor for a
minute, okay."

As if he had summoned her, Dr. Milap entered. "Jim, could I get
you to wait outside?"

Jim stood to honor the request.

"Mmmm, no!" Blair struggled to reach out and grab his hand.

Jim took hold of the reaching hand and looked at the doctor,
pleading with his eyes.

"All right, he can stay."

"Thank you," Jim told her.

She nodded.

____________________________________________________

At the end of her exam, she administered the pain shot herself
and waited for Blair to drop off to sleep before tugging on Jim's
sleeve.  He followed her out of the cubicle.  "How is he?" Jim
asked anxiously.

"Better than I had hoped, actually.  It's really amazing.  The
only thing is that I'm afraid that he is going to be in some
serious pain soon.  When the feeling comes back into his legs, he
is going to feel like somebody is sticking him with red hot
needles.  Add that to the pain from his wounds and just imagine."

Jim flinched.

"Exactly.  I'm going to hook him up with a morphine pump that he
can administer himself.  It's perfectly safe.  It only allows the
preset dosage at preset intervals.  He can't overdose himself. 
Now, if the pain gets too bad and the preset dosage isn't enough,
have somebody call me. I'm going to start the pump at a fairly
low level because at the moment that's all he needs but that will
change.  Got all that?"

"Yeah, got it.  What about the pneumonia?"

"I'm changing his antibiotic.  He's not worse.  He's just not
better."

Jim nodded.  

"And you are not getting enough sleep.  Why don't you get your
captain or some of his other friends to sit with him for a while
and you go home?"

"Not yet.  I will but just not yet.  He needs me."

"You're right, he does.  But he needs you whole and competent. 
The way you are going, you will be neither and very soon.  Keep
that in mind.  Jim, I think he's going to be fine.  I would have
never thought it possible but there it is.  Barring any
unforeseen disasters, Blair Sandburg is going to live."

"That's just it, Doc.  With Blair, there are always unforeseen
disasters."

_____________________________________________________

"Jim?" came the soft question.

"He's not here, Blair.  He went home to shower and change."

"Simon?"  Soft blue eyes opened and found the big captain in the
chair next to his bed.

"Yeah, kid.  Do you need something?"

"Water."

"Okay, comin' up."  Simon got up and poured the water from the
pitcher into the plastic cup then slipped a straw in it.  "Here
you go.  Is the TV bothering you?  I know Jim listens to it
really low so it doesn't wake you.  I can't do that like he
does."

Blair sipped at the straw Simon held to his lips then weakly
pushed Simon's hand away.  He smiled and shook his head.

"No more water or the TV is not bothering you?"

"Both."  

Simon gave the young man's arm a little squeeze then settled back
into the chair, placing the cup down as he did.  He watched as
Blair's eyes drifted closed again before turning his attention
back to the news.

The news was going off when he felt more than saw Blair's eyes on
him.  "What is it, Blair?  Do you need something else?"

A negative shake of the head was his answer. 

"You sure?"

"Don't have to stay."

"I want to stay.  Besides, Jim will kill me if I leave you alone. 
I got some living yet to do.  You don't want to deprive me of it,
do you?"

The pale face frowned.  "No.  Simon, push the button, please."

"Which button, Blair?"  Simon stood and moved closer to the bed. 
That was when he noticed the lines of pain drawn across
Sandburg's face.  "Blair, are you okay?  Did you use your pump?"

"No and yes.  Not working.  S'thing wrong."

"What's wrong, Blair?" he asked even as he pressed the intercom
button.

"Legs hurt, back, too."  He drew a shuddering breath and began to
cough.  His face blanched pure white when he did and he gasped in
pain.  "Simon, need Jim."

"Jesus Christ!  Hold on, kid."  He pressed the intercom button
again.  He felt a hand close over his arm and squeeze.  He
turned and grabbed it, enclosing the hand in his much larger one. 
"Damn it, answer the call!" he yelled at the intercom speaker. 
It did not respond.  "Blair, just hold on!  I'm going to find a
nurse.  Hold on!"  He extricated his hand and arm and ran out of
the room.  He could hear Blair's strangled attempts to call him
back and he flinched as the attempts brought on more coughs.
"Nurse!"  He ran through the ICU, heedless of the noise he was
making.  He turned a corner and found himself face-to-face with
Jim.  "He's in pain," he explained.

"I know." Jim pushed Simon away from him and hurried to Blair's
cubicle.  

The nurse finally appeared and Simon dragged her along behind
him.  "Do something!" he ordered, pointing to Blair.  Jim was by
the anthropologist's side, whispering words that Simon could not
make out and stroking the tangled curls with one hand while the
other was caught in both of Blair's. 

"I'll call his doctor."  She pulled away from the big man and
headed for the nurse's station.

Simon approached the bed.  "How's he doing?"

Jim only shook his head.  Tears streamed down the young man's
face and shudders ran through his entire body.

"Make it stop, Jim!  Please, make it stop."  

Simon grimaced in sympathy at the soft pleas.  He saw Jim close
his eyes, the man clearly trying to stop tears of his own.  

"Simon, take his hands. Don't let him try to move."  Jim stepped
back from the bed, pulling his hand away from Blair.

"No, Jim, don't leave. I'm sorry.  I'll stop crying, I promise."

Simon's heart broke and he knew Jim's did as well as the man
doubled over, pain as clear on his face as it was on Blair's. 
Simon took Blair's hands.  "It's okay, Blair.  He's coming back. 
He's not leaving you."

"I'm just going to find the doctor, Blair.  I'm coming right
back."  A tear won the battle of wills and rolled down Jim's
worried face.  He left the room, running and Simon did not need
Sentinel hearing to hear what followed.

_________________________________________________

"Where is Dr. Milap?!  Where is she?!  Give him something for the
pain!  Do you hear me?"  Jim demanded, pounding his fist on the
nurse's station.  

The tall blonde nurse held up her hand to him.  "Sir, just calm
down!  I called but Dr. Milap is with a patient.  I left a
message for her to call.  Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down. lady!  I'll calm down when somebody
does something about the pain my partner is in!  Do something,
damn it!  Can't you hear him?  Dear God, do something!  Don't
just stand there!"

"Sir, I can't administer pain medication without a doctor's
signature."

"Ah, son of a bitch!  Call another doctor!  Get me somebody here
that can do something or I swear to God, I'll tear this place
apart until I find something to give him and I'll give it
myself!"

A hand fell on his shoulder and he turned to see his captain. 
"Jim, settle down!"

"You left him alone, Simon!  How could you leave him alone?"  Jim
spun and ran back to Blair's cubicle.  He grabbed the hands
reaching out to him and squeezed them tight, leaning over and
whispering reassurances to the trembling form of his friend.  He
heard Simon enter.  "You shouldn't have left him, sir," he said
flatly.

"I'm sorry, Jim.  I just wanted to try to calm you down before
that nurse had you thrown out of the hospital.  Besides, Blair
sent me to get you.  I think he was afraid of the same thing."

"Why won't they do something?" 

Simon did not get a chance to answer as a tiny whirlwind entered
the room.  It took Jim a moment to realize that the whirlwind was
Dr. Milap.  

"Okay, Jim.  I'm here.  I'm going to do something.  Blair, can
you hear me, sweetheart?"

A sharp nod and another gasp was her answer and Jim's hand
automatically went to the mass of curls on Blair's head.

"Where is the pain?"

"Legs...back...chest, too.  Coughing...hurts." came the answer
broken by gasps and sobs.

"I imagine it does.  We'll take care of that.  Gentlemen, can you
wait outside?"

"No!"  Blair gripped Jim's hand harder.  

"I'm sorry, Blair.  That was silly of me.  Jim can stay."  Dr.
Milap told him as she prepared a syringe and administered the
drug into Blair's IV.  She turned then and took the chart from
the nurse's hands.  She scribbled something on it and handed it
back and moved to adjuster the morphine pump.  "I'm increasing
his dosage and he can use it every two hours for the rest of
today and tonight.  By tomorrow the pain in his legs should
subside and we can go back to his regular intervals.  I'm also
adding something for cough and changing his antibiotic again."

Jim nodded.  He felt the grip on his hand grow weaker and then
the hands went completely lax.  Looking down, he saw Blair's eyes
were closed and he was breathing deeply.  "He's asleep."

"Yes, I put him out for a while."

"The pneumonia isn't better?"

"It's worse.  This antibiotic may make him a little nauseated if
he doesn't have something on his stomach so I'm going to order
some soft foods for him as well.  Jello, broths, that sort of
thing.  Also, we are going to have to sit him up.  The cough will
be better if he's sitting up and holding a pillow to his chest."

"That won't hurt his back?"

"Recovery?  No.  It will cause him some pain but it's a trade-
off.  Coughing definitely causes him pain.  I'm sorry, by the
way.  You should never have had to wait that way.  I thought that
I had made it clear to everyone that I was to be notified
immediately if anything happened with Blair but apparently
someone wasn't paying attention.  I never make my ICU patients
wait while I do a final exam on someone going home."  Scorn was
evident in her voice and the blonde nurse blushed.

"Thank you, Dr. Milap. I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

She smiled sympathetically.  "Just try to remember that your
temper tantrums are bound to upset Blair.  Try to stay calm for
his sake."

It was Jim's turn to blush. "Yes, ma'am."

____________________________________________________________

Simon sat at his desk, staring at the nothingness on it that
indicated that they had no leads at all in the search for Melinda
Rothman.  A knock on his door broke into his frustrated thoughts
and he welcomed the intrusion.  "Come."

Steve Rothman appeared in his doorway.  "Captain Banks?  Hi." 
The man entered quietly and as if he was unsure if he were going
to be invited in or physically thrown out.

"Come in, Mr. Rothman.  What can I do for you?"  Simon drew both
hands over his face.

"I hope I can help you, sir."

"How's that?  Did you think of somewhere else your sister might
go?"  Simon sat straight in his chair, the possibility of a new
lead reviving his spirits.

"Not exactly but I think I have something you might could use."

"Well, sit, man.  Let's hear it."

Rothman sat, smiling, obviously relieved.  Simon could hardly
blame the man.  Rothman had finally given up going to see Blair
at the hospital.  Ellison's hostility grew to be too much to
bear.  The poor guy probably thought Simon was going to try to
burn holes in him with his eyes, too.  

"My secretary got a call today from the long distance telephone
company that handles the corporation's long distance calls.  When
all this happened, I cut off Melinda's calling card and told the
company to notify me if anyone tried to use her pin number. 
Someone did, sir."  He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it
to Simon.  "The call originated in Seattle.  The person--Melinda
was trying to reach the hospital here in Cascade.  When the call
didn't go through with her pin number, she used mine.  The phone
company wasn't prepared for that.  Hell, I wasn't prepared for
that.  I didn't know that she knew my pin number.  Anyway, the
call was put through."

"Well, that's not a problem.  The hospital is under strict orders
not to release any information on Blair to anyone.  Any callers
are given my office number.  Naturally, she is not going to call
me.  Several of his friends have called, but none today so far. 
This happened today, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"It would have been helpful if you had told us about this before. 
We have a trace on her credit cards and ATM card but nobody
mentioned a company calling card."

"I'm sorry, sir.  I should have let you know but I didn't think
about it.  I didn't really think that she would try to use it. 
God, Captain Banks, she's lost it completely.  Getting Toller to
shoot Blair and Mr. Ellison, killing Toller, what's next?  Dad
did this to her, you know?  Telling her that she was better than
everybody else.  Telling her that some people were expendable. 
Telling her to take what she wanted, who she wanted, when she
wanted.  That everybody owed her respect.  My father was a rich,
bigoted snob and Melinda took everything he said to heart.  He
ruined her."

"Mr. Rothman, didn't you hear the same thing growing up?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"But nothing.  Your sister is unstable.  Granted, your father's
attitudes certainly did not help the situation but your sister is
not well.  Perhaps she never was.  You aren't out there shooting
people or having them shot, stalking people who turn away your
affections, or killing people in their beds."

"You know, I worry sometimes that it's hereditary.  That I just
don't have it yet or I have it and don't know it.  Funny, huh?"

"Not funny, Mr. Rothman.  Just sad."

"I swear, Captain Banks, I had no idea that she was that far
gone.  I never meant for anyone to get hurt.  Especially Blair. 
I always liked him.  He tells such great stories and he has such
a great spirit.  Please try to tell Mr. Ellison that."

"I will.  You should go back to see Blair."

Rothman shook his head.  "Mr. Ellison looks at me like he would
like for me to die right where I'm standing.  I thought I was
strong enough to take it but maybe not."

"Blair's awake and can talk to you now."

"Really?  Does that mean he's going to be okay?"

"We think so.  More importantly, the doctor thinks so.  He's
still in a lot of pain and he has pneumonia but Blair's a
fighter."

"Yeah, he's pretty tough.  Always was.  I mean, he had to be to
deal with Melinda.  I tried to get him to leave her.  I think he
thought that he could figure out a way to help her or something.  
I don't think anybody can help her."

Simon read a lifetime of sadness and shame in the young man's
eyes.  "Your sister's actions are not your fault."

Rothman half-smiled and half-grimaced.  "That's not what my
father told me.  He said that I was responsible for her.  I've
not done a very good job, huh?"

Simon was unsure what he could say so he wisely said nothing. 
Steve Rothman got up.  "Thank you for your time, sir.  I hope it
doesn't sound cold of me to say this but I hope you catch her and
put her under the jail so she can't hurt anyone else."

Simon felt a pang of empathy run through him.  "Thank you, Mr.
Rothman.  And I understand."

__________________________________________________________

Jim shifted in his reclining chair, hoping to find a more
comfortable position.  Blair had had a bad night but was sleeping
soundly as the sun came up, giving Jim an opportunity to try to
sleep himself.  It was almost lunch time and Jim could not say
that he had gotten a full hour's sleep since he lay down. 
Blair's lunch would come soon.  Jim wondered what glorious
gourmet delight he was going to have to force feed his partner. 
Breakfast had been a bust, Blair refusing to open his eyes, let
alone his mouth for the orange jello.  Dinner the night before
was, in Jim's humble sentinel opinion, disgusting.  *Lukewarm
turkey broth, yum,* he thought.  He knew it had to taste even
worse coming back up, which it had less than half an hour later. 
And Blair had cried and apologized.  

Jim's heart did a somersault and he blinked away tears at the
memory and the earlier memory of Blair apologizing for crying
when he was in pain.  To Jim's mind, Naomi had a lot to answer
for.  Why did Blair feel that he had to apologize for being sick? 
For being in pain?  For crying when it all got to be too much? 
*And where the hell is she when Blair needs her?*  Jim scowled.  

He stared at the peaceful face of his friend and guide.  It was
still awfully pale but no evidence of the pain was there at the
moment.  Jim himself had taken to administering the morphine pump
so that Blair would not even have to wake up in pain in order to
use it.  Dr. Milap was going to reduce his dosage in a few hours
and Jim dreaded it.  He hoped that she was right about the pain
in Blair's legs going away.  If not, he would have to watch his
partner suffer again.  Another somersault in his chest told him
what his heart thought of repeating that experience.  

Blair's bed was positioned so that he was mostly sitting up. 
Jim's reclining chair reclined farther than the bed.  He lay
still mostly on his side, pillows supporting him in that position
and one pillow clutched to his chest.  Jim rose and pushed a
tangled and limp curl from Blair's face.  At the touch, Blair's
soulful blue eyes fluttered then opened.  "Hey there, Buddy." 
Jim smiled.

His smile was returned, if not strongly, at least wholeheartedly,
as Jim could see the light of it reach Blair's eyes even if the
smile itself trembled.  "Mornin'."

"Almost afternoon, Chief."

"Lunch time!"  A cheerful call from the doorway made Blair jump a
little.

"It's okay."  Jim soothed automatically.  Turning his attention
to the guy entering with a tray, he growled, "Think you could
keep it down a little?  You almost scared him to death."

"Sorry, dude.  Hey, little buddy!" his voice raised again in
greeting to Blair.  "Didn't mean to scare ya.  Got your lunch
here.  Dude, you have got to get in better with the chef around
here."

Jim rolled his eyes but Blair was smiling so he left the overly
cheerful orderly alone.

"I can put in a good word for you down there in the cafeteria if
ya like and maybe get you some real food.  Well, at least as real
as it gets around here anyway." 

Jim tuned the man out, his attention being drawn to the smell of
cigars.  Simon was there.  He held up his hand to signal Blair
that he would be right outside and ducked out, almost running
into Simon.  "What is it?"

"We've got a line on Melinda Rothman.  Her brother cancelled her
company calling card and told the phone company to notify him if
anyone tried to use it.  She did.  The company traced it for us
to a motel in Seattle.  I called Seattle and asked them to stake
it out and wait for us."

"Us."  Jim shook his head.  "I don't know, Simon.  Believe me, I
want nothing in this world more than to put that nutty bitch away
but leaving Blair alone is something that I just can't do right
now."

"I understand.  I just thought I'd give you the opportunity if
you wanted it so you wouldn't yell at me later.  Joel is waiting
downstairs for me.  Rafe and Brown are going too.  I'll call you
as soon as I know something.  Take care of yourself and him,
that's an order." Simon strode to the elevators.

"Thanks, Simon," Jim called after him and received a wave in
return.

"Hey, bud, I tried to feed him but he said he'd wait for you." 
The irritating little orderly told Jim as he appeared at Jim's
side.

Jim rolled his eyes.  "Thanks.  I'll handle it."

"Cool!  I'll pick up the tray in a bit."  He all but skipped
away.

Jim stifled a giggle at the man's antics.  A hysterical giggle,
he realized.  He was too tired and it was beginning to wear away
at his brain's ability to function properly.  He had to sleep. 
He ambled back into the cubicle where Blair lay with a shaky but
happy grin on his face.  At least the lunch clown had managed to
cheer Blair up a little.  Jim decided he could tolerate the man
if this was his effect on Blair.  

Jim took the lid off Blair's lunch and found green jello and a
cup of chicken broth.  At least, the broth was hot and the jello
cold.  Jim was almost certain that the breakfast jello had been
warmer than the dinner turkey broth.  "Looks better than last
night's fare.  You ready to try it, Chief?"

Blair gave a little shrug.

"Well, let's try it anyway, shall we?"

"Okay, you go ahead,"  Blair joked.

Shaking the spoon at his partner, Jim felt a wave of pleasure and
relief wash over him.  Blair was going to be okay.

______________________________________________________

"Damn, damn, damn!"  Simon hit the roof of his car with his fist
to emphasize each curse.  The motel in Seattle was empty.  The
manager identified Melinda Rothman but was unsure of when she had
left.  They were back to square one with no leads and nowhere to
turn to get any.

"What now, Simon?"  Joel asked softly.

"I just don't know.  Well, I've got to call Jim and tell him the
bad news.  Damn it!  She has no friends to turn to.  She can't go
to her brother and he's her only family.  How do you find a crazy
woman in Washington state?  At the rate we're going, we could
just take out an ad.  Wanted: one crazy bitch with a Blair
Sandburg fixation and a penchant for knives.  Get us the same
results as what we've been doing.  Let's get back to Cascade." 
He snatched the car door open and got in.  He looked at the cell
phone in the front seat.  Sighing, he picked it up.

_________________________________________________________

"Blair, may I borrow Jim for a few moments?" Dr. Milap asked as
she finished up Blair's exam.

"Sure."

"I'll be right outside, Chief.  Not far away.  You call, I'll
come."

"Okay."

Jim followed the little woman out of the cubicle and over to the
nurse's station.  "Is he okay?"

"Oh, he's fine, from what I can see.  Tell me what you see."

"I'm sorry.  I don't understand," Jim told her.

"Jim, I did not know Blair before he was shot so I may miss
things that you perceive as different."

"You mean brain damage?"

"Exactly."

"He's not talking a whole lot.  He doesn't remember getting
shot."

"The talking thing could still be his throat and fatigue.  It's
exhausting to almost die."  She smiled at her little joke and Jim
chuckled.  "So he's a talker, is he?"

"Is he ever!  You know, before this, when I was in one of my
*moods* as my ex-wife called them, sometimes I would think, if I
could just get him to shut up for just a few minutes.  He would
just drive me crazy trying to make me talk about what was
bothering me.  And then this."  Jim motioned toward Blair's
cubicle.  "I sat there while he was in a coma, praying to hear
just one sound.  It didn't even have to be a word, just a sound. 
And then he made a sound.  Then I wanted a word.  I got my word. 
Then I wanted a sentence.  I got my sentence earlier today and it
was a little joke.  Don't get me wrong here.  I'm happy about
that little joke but I still want more.  I want the non-stop
chatter.  Is that crazy?"

"No, it's not crazy."  She touched his arm.  "I have every reason
to believe that you will get your non-stop chatter, Jim."

"Yeah?  Knowing me, I'll want him to shut up again pretty soon." 
Jim laughed.

She laughed a little with him.  "About his memory of the
shooting, he may never get that back.  Severe trauma can do that. 
It's not necessarily a bad thing or a bad sign.  It doesn't mean
brain damage or that he'll forget other things.  It just means
that the brain has decided not to process its knowledge of the
trauma that brought it and its owner here in this time and place. 
It may, pardon the horrible pun, change its mind later.  In which
case, he may need to talk about the experience with someone.  You
need to watch for signs of nervousness, panic, withdrawal from
people, temper tantrums, etc.  Hell, you know him better than me. 
You'll know if anything is off-kilter."

"So you don't think he has any brain damage?"

"I'm going to order a scan to see what kind of activity is taking
place up there but I don't see any outward signs.  Again, I'm
depending on you to notice things that I may miss."

"What kinds of things should I be looking for?"

"Coordination and motor skills loss, trouble verbalizing,
forgetfulness beyond normal things, memory loss beyond the
shooting, that sort of thing.  Oh, and speaking of motor skills,
the reflexes in his legs are fine.  The crisis has passed.  He
has full feeling and I believe full function back in his legs."

"Pain's gone?"

"Yes.  He's not ready to go dancing yet.  He's not even ready to
walk yet but that's his back injuries not his legs.  We'll get
him up out of bed in a few days.  I have a physical therapist on
call for when he's ready."

"Does he need that?"

She nodded.  "For several reasons.  His back is weak because of
his injuries and make no mistake about it, this will be painful. 
Also, I want to insure that he doesn't hurt himself and yet makes
a speedy recovery.  Left alone, he may push too hard or not hard
enough.  The therapist will say slow down and that's enough when
he's too gung-ho and get off your lazy tail when he's afraid of
the pain and tired."

"I see.  Okay."  Jim's mind was screaming in defiance to the idea
that Blair would be in pain and somebody would be pushing him
toward more pain.

His thoughts must have shown on his face because a tiny hand
reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes down to meet
the strong brown eyes of Blair's doctor.  "And I will bar you
from being there if you cause a scene.  The very last thing I or
Blair needs is you beating up his physical therapist or
terrorizing the poor thing into doing things your way.  Am I
clear on this issue?"

"Yes ma'am, crystal clear."

"Good."

"Detective Ellison, there's a call for you.  It's your captain,"
a nurse told him as she handed him the phone receiver.  

"Ellison."  

_________________________________________________________

If she was ever going to have a chance, it was when Ellison
answered that phone.  He turned his back to Blair's doorway. 
Through the small window in the door she could see him talking to
someone on the phone.  She adjusted her blonde wig and smoothed
her stolen surgical scrubs.  She fingered the stolen scalpel in
her right hand and slipped into the ICU ward.  She walked
casually, hoping not to draw attention to herself.  She even
walked past Blair's doorway at first to see if anyone would
challenge her.  She stepped into the empty cubicle next to
Blair's then back out again.  No one seemed to notice her at all. 
She smiled.  So easy, so stupid.  She slipped into the cubicle
and pulled the curtain on the plate glass window closed.

His lovely blue eyes were closed and his face was pale.  She
sighed.  He was still beautiful.  He just had to want her.  He
had to love her.  He was meant for her.  He belonged to her.  He
always had.  Ellison could not have him.  She would kill him
herself before she let Ellison have him.  She did not realize
that she had moved until she was standing over him.  "Blair," she
whispered softly, raising her left hand to touch a curl and twirl
it around her fingers.

_______________________________________________________

A whiff of familiar perfume was the first thing that registered
in Jim's brain.  He almost did not place it for a split second
but when he heard a familiar voice to place with the smell,
reality hit full force.  One word was spoken, his partner's name. 
"Son of a bitch!"  He flung the phone receiver away, ignoring
Simon's frantic demands for an explanation, and ran to Blair's
doorway.  His gun was out and levelled instantly at the woman
standing by Blair's bed.  

She looked at him, cold hatred radiating from her green eyes. 
"Hello, Detective Ellison.  I wouldn't come any closer if I were
you."  She raised her right hand to show him the scalpel.  "I'll
cut his throat if you do and even if you shoot me, I'll still
stab him before I die.  I'll take him with me, I promise."

Jim saw Blair stir on the bed, the activity bringing him out of
sleep and straight into a nightmare.  "Blair, buddy, just try to
stay calm."

A gasp told Jim that Blair had opened his eyes and realized his
predicament.  Jim could only watch as the woman lowered the
protective railing on Blair's bed and sat down next to him.  Jim
could see Blair's eyes as she did.  They were wide with terror. 
The woman shifted Blair so that he was leaning on her instead of
the bed.  Jim flinched as he saw the pain that movement caused 
his friend.  Melinda Rothman seemed oblivious to Blair's
shuddering breaths as he tried to breathe through the pain of the
movement.  The scalpel moved to Blair's throat.  "Melinda, don't
do this," Blair whispered.

"You gave me no choice, Blair.  What a deja vu, huh, baby?  I
seem to recall a similar scene some years ago.  There's just one
problem.  This time Steve is not going to be able to save you. 
If my dear brother were to show up right now, I think I'd kill
him.  Yeah, that sounds like a plan.  I'll kill Steve and I'm
going to kill your cop buddy over there and if you make me, I'll
kill you.  If you make me, Blair.  I don't want to kill you,
baby.  I love you.  You just have to love me back."

Jim took a step.  He was aware of others behind him, Dr. Milap
among them but he did not turn.  He kept his eyes on the insane
woman who held his guide.

"Uh-uh, Ellison."  The scalpel touched Blair's neck and a thin
line of red appeared.  "I have him or nobody has him.  Your
choice here.  I mean, what the hell is it with you and him,
Blair?  Have you turned gay on me or something?"

"No.  I just don't love you, Melinda.  Please, leave me alone."

"I'll leave you alone all right!  Right after I slit your damn
throat!"

"Ms. Rothman, put down the scalpel," Jim ordered, finally finding
his voice again.

"I think that you should put down your gun, Ellison.  Just think,
I have a very, very sharp instrument at Blair's throat.  You have
a gun.  You shoot me and the impact of the bullet causes me to
jerk or something and goodbye Blair.  I think that you should
just leave the room.  That's what I think.  I would like to have
a private conversation with Blair."

"I don't think so."

"Now!"  

Blair gasped as the scalpel bit into his neck again.  Jim jumped
at her scream and at the tiny river of blood making its way down
Blair's throat to his hospital gown.  Jim stepped back and saw
the instant panic in Blair's bright blue eyes.  "I'll be right
outside, Blair.  Right outside."

"Coming up with a plan?" came a sentinel-soft whisper.

Jim gave a quick nod and stepped back into the hallway.

________________________________________________________

When Jim was gone, the scalpel moved only fractionally, still
hovering within striking distance but not cutting into his skin. 
"Why me, Melinda?  Why not some other guy?"

"Because you are the one I want.  Terry couldn't handle that.  He
was okay, but he wasn't you.  My Baby Blair.  Remember I used to
call you that?"

"I remember.  That was before you started telling how stupid and
useless I was.  Before you started hitting me."  Blair took a
deep breath.  Talking was exhausting.  

"I told you that I was sorry about that!" she snapped.  "God, you
never listen!"

Blair tensed waiting for the scalpel to cut or a blow to fall. 
Neither happened.  Instead, she began stroking his hair softly in
a mocking parody of Jim's soothing touch.  

"I didn't mean to yell. You know that I don't mean it when I yell
at you, right?"

"Right, okay."

"I've missed you so much, Blair.  I didn't even realize it until
I saw you that day in the station.  Terry was not supposed to
hurt you.  You believe me, don't you? I killed him for you.  I
killed him because he hurt you.  Doesn't that prove that I love
you?  I did it for you."

"Whatever you say, Melinda.  Just don't hurt anybody else, okay? 
Put down the scalpel and give yourself up and I'll help you."

"Help me?"  She laughed, the sound of it making Blair's blood run
cold and he shivered in the chill.  "You can't even help
yourself, baby.  Thanks to Terry.  Not that you were that great
at it before Terry shot you.  Besides, I put this knife down and
your detective will shoot me.  He wants to keep you for himself,
Blair.  He would never let us have a life together and that's why
I have to kill him."  

Blair shook his head frantically.  "No, Melinda, no.  Leave Jim
out of this.  Please."

"I can't, Blair.  He'll take you away from me.  I haven't figured
out just how I'm going to manage to kill him yet.  Hell, it
should have already been done but stupid Terry decided to go
commando on me and shoot you instead.  Idiot!  You know that he
tried to tell me that it was an accident?  He did.  Like I would
believe that.  He was stupid and annoying but not blind.  He knew
damn well who he was aiming at.  I'm sorry about that, too.  I
should have never trusted him to take care of things for me.  He
was jealous of you but I never believed that he'd have the balls
to cross me."

"Melinda, I am begging you to leave Jim out of this."

"Nice!  I like it when you beg.  But nope, there's no way around
it, Blair.  It'll have to be later though.  Right now, we have to
get out of here.  Do you really need all this stuff?"  She waved
the scalpel around in the air to indicate the IV's and monitors.  
"No, I think we can do without them.  But we will need a
wheelchair.  I know that you won't be able to walk out of here."

"You're insane," Blair sighed.  "You're going to kill me if you
take me out of here."

"I am not crazy!" she screamed loud enough for Blair to feel a
moment of sympathy for Jim's ringing ears for he knew Jim was
listening.  "Don't you say that again!  Do you hear me?  Don't
you ever say that again!"  She shoved him away from her.

He stifled a cry of pain.  "I will say it!  Because it's true,
damn it!  You are insane!" he cried, defiantly, his sore throat
causing his voice to crack.

_________________________________________________________

"Dear God, Chief, what the hell are you doing?"  Jim headed for
the open doorway.  

"Jim!  What the hell is going on!"  Simon Banks stormed into the
ICU ward.

"Simon?  How did you get here so fast?"  Jim was incredulous. 
his captain had still been in Seattle when he talked to him less
than thirty minutes before.

"Helicopter.  Landed on the roof.  Seattle PD was very helpful. 
Now what is going on?"

"She's in there with him, Simon.  She's got a scalpel and she's
already cut him.  And I swear, I think he's trying to provoke
her."

"Jesus!"

"I need to get in there, sir."

"Wait, Jim."  The hand on his arm belonged to Dr. Milap.  "Let me
try.  Woman to woman.  She'll hurt Blair if you go back in
there."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Doc.  This woman is a
murderer."  Jim would have continued but the empty cubicle next
to Blair's caught his eye.  "Dr. Milap, the cubicle walls are
movable partitions, aren't they?"

"Yes, why?"

"Where are the latches?"

"In the far corner.  What are you planning?"

"A rescue."

________________________________________________________

"You don't even know what love is, Melinda!  You have to own
someone.  That's not love.  That's obsession.  Hell, it's
slavery.  And I won't be owned, Melinda, I won't.  You can't have
me.  Even if you were to kill everyone I care about, I still
wouldn't love you and you still couldn't have me.  I would run
from you.  No!  I'd kill myself to escape you!"

"Shut up!  Shut up!  Shut up!  You have to love me!  I'll kill
you if you don't!"

"Then you'll be doing me a favor!  You're a hateful, twisted
person, Melinda.  You have to hurt people to be happy."  Blair
paused to catch his breath.  It was hard to breathe and his chest
and back hurt.  At least she was not sitting next to him anymore. 
She was pacing the tiny room with her hands over her ears.

"My father was right about you!" she screamed.  "You are
worthless!  Useless!  You will learn your place, Blair!  If I
have to beat it into you!"  She came at him then with her fist
pulled back and Blair waited for it, closing his eyes and
flinching back just a little.

"Ms. Rothman."  The voice startled him.  He opened his eyes.
Apparently, it startled Melinda as well.  She dropped her fist
and spun to face the intruder.   Blair shook his head at his tiny
doctor, trying to get her to leave but she ignored him.

"What do you want?  Who are you?"

"I'm Blair's doctor, Orenda Milap.  I'm afraid I'm going to have
to ask you to leave and come back later.  Blair needs his rest
right now.  He's had enough excitement for one day."

Blair saw his own incredulity mirrored on Melinda's face.  He
stifled the grin that threatened to break out on his face.

"What?" Melinda snapped indignantly.

"ICU patients are only allowed visitors for ten minutes out of
each hour.  You have been here much too long."

Blair heard it and tried not to glance behind him as the latch on
the temporary wall was released in the middle of Dr. Milap's
visitation speech.  He tensed and was rewarded by a sliver of
pain shooting up and down his back.  He bit his lip against it
and waited for whatever Jim had planned next.

It happened fast.  One minute, Dr. Milap was calmly talking to
Melinda, the next she was gone and the temporary wall behind
Blair's bed had a door in it.  Jim was through it, his gun drawn
and levelled at the furious woman who rushed back to Blair's side
and raised the scalpel up over his head.  Blair was trying to
disappear into the mattress when he heard the shot.  He saw with
sickening clarity Melinda's body as it was thrown back away from
him by the impact of the bullet.  He saw Simon appear in the
doorway, Joel behind him.  He saw the red stain on the curtain as
Melinda slid down the curtained plate glass.  Dr. Milap was back,
checking her pulse and ordering people to remove her from his
room and get her into another so they could try to save her life. 
He did not even realize that he was crying until Jim's arms
enfolded him as best they could and a sob rose up from his aching
chest.

"You're shaking like a leaf, Buddy.  Everything's gonna be okay
now, Blair.  It's over." 

_______________________________________________________

Jim held his best friend gently, careful not to squeeze too hard,
as the younger man cried.  He met the eyes of his captain who
sighed and leaned in the doorway of the little cubicle.  Joel
Taggert stood just beyond Simon, his affection for Blair written
all over his kind face.  Jim tried to smooth tangled curls for a
moment then gave up.  "I have got to remember to pick up your
hairbrush the next time I go home."

A little chuckle escaped through the tears.  "Thanks, Jim," Blair
whispered.

"Just putting in that Blessed Protector overtime, Chief."

Blair swatted half-heartedly at Jim's stomach.  "Jim, I'm
serious."

Jim smiled.  "So am I.  Don't have a choice in the matter
anymore.  Can't imagine my life without you in it.  Don't get me
wrong.  You're trouble and you're work, but you're worth it,
buddy.  You're damn well worth it."

______________________________________________________

Epilogue

It had been damned hard.  Blair was in the hospital another two
weeks before Dr. Milap let him go home.  Even then, he was only
allowed to be on his feet a few hours of the day.  Physical
therapy was heart-wrenching.  Jim was amazed at his own self-
control.  However, he was more amazed at Blair's fortitude. 
There were days that Jim believed that he suffered more from
watching his partner in pain than his partner did with the pain. 
It paid off, though, and sooner than Jim expected.  Only two
months and three weeks after that fateful day when Jim's world
almost came crashing in on his head, he was waiting for Blair to
finish packing for their camping trip.  The wheelchair gave way
to crutches, the crutches to a cane, and the cane had disappeared
just three days before.  Jim had expected Dr. Milap to balk at
camping so soon but the little woman had lit up at the mention of
it.  It was just what Blair needed, she had declared.  So they
were going.  If Blair ever got packed.

"Come on, Chief!  The fish are waiting!"

"I'm coming!"  

At least Melinda Rothman was gone.  Dr. Milap had been
unsuccessful in her attempts to save the woman and Jim couldn't
bring himself to feel too sorry for that.  He had been cleared in
the shooting and Blair was safe once again.  Steve Rothman had
paid all of Blair's medical bills and Jim begrudgingly forgave
him.  And Blair had a date coming up the next week with Rachel,
the angel that had probably saved both their lives.  

Jim smiled, listening to the noises coming from his guide's
bedroom.  Something was stuffed in a bag then removed with a
mumbled, "Not that one."  He heard whatever it was hit the wall
and shook his head.

"Ouch!"

Jim made it off the couch and to the French doors in record time. 
"You okay?"

"Damn, Jim, trying to set a new land speed record or something?" 
Blair grinned at him.

Jim gave him a stern look.

"I just stubbed my toe, Jim."

Tension drained out of Jim's body and he sagged on the door
frame.  "Be careful, Chief."

"Like that overtime, don't cha?  Well, I hope you aren't
expecting time and a half for it,"  Blair teased.

"Buddy, you already give me double time for it and don't ever
think that I don't know it."

Blair blushed deep red and Jim saw tears illuminate his already
bright blue eyes.  A shy smile graced his lips.  "Damn, Jim," he
whispered.

"And double the aggravation, too," Jim added, getting in a little
teasing of his own.  He ducked as a flannel shirt was launched at
him.  Laughing, he closed the door, saying, "Five minutes, Chief,
then me and the fish are partying without you."

"Yeah, right.  It ain't a party without me!"  Blair exclaimed.

"You got that right, Chief.  You sure got that right."  Jim
mumbled to himself and sent up a silent prayer that he would
never have to do without Blair Sandburg in his life.

Voila'