Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's note:

This isn't a slash story...That said, it's a prequel to a slash story. I'd been meaning to post this first but little problems like oh...solving the case made it impossible. So I posted Crow on the Cradle first. This was supposed to be the Prequel to that. So here it is, it fills in some points that I didn't mention in Crow or All through the Night. And it does the really important job of introducing two characters: Andy and Tim that are important to the sequel to All through the Night that I'm writing. So I'm going to post it. (There are a few slashy references which I might play up some if anyone can give me any ideas on how to do that. HINT.) Anyway, enough blatherings from the author.

This story is dedicated to Ann Teitelbaum because she wanted to know what happened when Blair crawled into the heating duct to find Christi. And because she reads and enjoys my stuff. Support is a wonderful thing. Thanks Ann.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel and all related characters, concepts and situations are not owned by me. They are owned by Pet Fly, UPN and other very powerful people. Who I hope are nice and do not sue me for this. It's just in fun and I am broke.

The song lyrics are from Crow on the Cradle, a welsh lullaby by Sydney Carter, off of Celi's Muse's CD The Dark Lady, Loose Goose Productions. Corbie is the old gaelic word for Crow/Raven/Blackbird "Bear and Squirel get the honey" and "Puma, Rabbit, and Toad" are traditional tales from the Washo and Tepoztlan cultures respectively.

No sex, some violence, it could probably be an episode...

Corbie's Song

by Kaelleigh

Your mother and father, they'll scrape and they'll save
To buy you a coffin and dig you a grave
Crow on the cradle, then what should I do?
This is a choice that I leave up to you
Sang the crow on the cradle
Sang the crow on the cradle

Blair took another sip of the still too hot latte, and glowered at the notebook on the table. *How do I let myself get talked into these things? Can't you please take this lecture for me Blair? Dr. Naylor promised to be back by the new quarter but he got hung up in New Guinea...I'm swamped right now...It's a lecture on tribal warfare in New Guinea, I know you can cover it...* He could remember Connie's pleading voice. *So what do I do...? Sure Connie no problem...Idiot...* He admonished himself again and tried to think of some way to keep the attention of the sophomore class he was going to have to lecture to. The light in the small coffee shop was as always, dismal, although at least at this time of day the cigarette smoke wasn't bad. *Last time I came home from here I thought Jim was going to make me sleep outside...I can not have smelled worse than Simon's cigars...*

"Well well...You actually beat me here for once...Hello lover." The words came from directly behind him and were accompanied by a completely unexpected and *very* erotic caress down his chest. None of the surprise was lessened by the fact that the person who'd spoken had a distinctly base/baritone voice, and was undoubtedly male.

"Excuse me?" Blair managed to get out as he pushed the man's hand away. He turned to look into very startled green eyes as the man backed up.

"Damn...shit...sorry...I..."

"I think, he thought you were me." Another unknown voice said.

Blair glanced over and then just stared at the second person who'd spoken. "Not...that I blame him...Hi..."

The man's hair was a little longer than his, and darker, but the same style and with the same curls. Blair had to smile, it was like one of those fun house mirrors. Not quite his double and yet...Same height, same build...The doppelganger smiled back.

"I'm Andy Michaels...I'm getting my doctorate in English..."

"Blair...Blair Sandburg...Anthropology...This is really wild..."

"I really am sorry..." The man who'd originally interrupted his studying said sheepishly. Blair shrugged it off.

"No harm done. You just surprised the hell out of me..."

"Well I suppose I could be offended...I thought we knew each other a little better than that, Tim...Sheesh..."

"Andy..." The taller man mumbled. The taller part didn't surprise Blair any, Andy was the same size he was, and Tim wasn't quite as tall as Jim. Short blond hair, and a build again only slightly less imposing than the Sentinel's completed the almost military image. Blair shook his head, and snatched the latte off the table to take a drink. "I'm Tim Reece. And I really am sorry."

"No problem." Blair smiled trying to downplay the embarrassment a little. "You have got to be new here...I'm sure someone would have mentioned me having a twin on campus."

"Yeah, this is my first term. I got my masters from Washington State. Blair Sandburg...I'll remember that so I know to turn around when people are yelling at me across campus."

"Just hope we don't get any of the same students..." Blair shook his head again, imagining the resulting confusion.

"There's a really frightening thought. So what area of Anthropology are you studying...?" Andy asked, in a very polite way of intruding on Blair's lecture preparation. With a mental shrug and a decision that he could probably wing it he invited the two men to sit. Finally, with a promise to drop the English department later that week he excused himself and headed over for the class, hoping he wasn't going to be late. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one late for the first day of classes and managed to have his notes arranged by the time the students got settled. The lecture actually went rather well and it made a few notes to himself about things he wanted to ask Jim when he got home.

Jim tossed his key's into the basket on the table as he walked inside. He could hear Blair muttering to himself as he dug around in his room, and there was the distinct smell of coffee and food from the kitchen. A moment of concentration narrowed the food down to Italian: tomato, basil, oregano, thyme, garlic, olive oil, parmesan cheese...He shook himself a little, and hung up his jacket. *Well what do you know, he actually remembered to make dinner.*

"Hey Blair." He walked over to Blair's room and knocked on the doorframe. Blair was sitting cross-legged on the floor digging through a stack of books. He glanced up at Jim, surprising lighting his blue eyes.

"Jim...sorry man I didn't hear you come in...I can't find my copy of Weiss' Dani book anywhere...I got snagged to do a lecture today and I really didn't know the answers to some of the students questions...Lecture today...Hey have I got a story to tell you...."

Sometimes, Jim wondered to himself just where Sandburg got so much energy...Maybe there was something in those fancy coffees he drank. He shook his head and smiled. "Alright. What's for dinner?"

Blair had gone back to digging through his books. "Pasta Primevera and bread. There's this really cool bakery that opened up by campus that makes unbelievable Fuccacio. Ah hah!" He pulled one of the books out of the stack and tossed it onto his bed, which was already covered in other books and papers. Jim managed not to sigh. "I bought a loaf of Tomato and Herb bread and that gave me the idea for dinner," Blair added, apparently back to his earlier comments about the bakery.

"Don't you think you ought to check it? Before it becomes charcoal?" Jim suggested, when Blair continued to sit there

"Right...Did I miss anything interesting today?" Blair got up, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Boring," Jim lied, trying very hard not to think about the day's cases, and turned toward the front room. Blair headed into the kitchen. "So what's this story you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh yeah..." Blair glanced up from where he was stirring one of the pots on the stove. "Come try this and see if there's too much marjoram in it," he added just as Jim was about to sit down.

"Marjoram?" Jim tried to place the herb and went over to the kitchen. The sauce, although a little too hot, was actually very good. "No, I don't think so. Maybe a little too much garlic actually."

"Keeps the vampires away," Blair said with a straight face.

Jim smiled and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Your story, Chief?" He leaned against the counter as Blair checked the other pot on the stove. Pasta, Jim identified it without bothering to look.

"What...oh yeah...There's this guy on campus. His name's Andy. I met him at Starry Nights. It's the coffee shop across from the English building. He's working on his doctorate in English, Old English to be exact...Anyway, I was at Starry Nights and this guy..." To Jim's surprise his friend stopped in mid-ramble and blushed. "Well anyway...Tim thought I was Andy and..."

"Back up here a minute, Chief," Jim smiled, curious now. Blair almost never blushed. It was an oddly innocent expression on his young friend. One Jim decided he liked. "You were at the coffee shop and this guy came up...and?" he prompted.

Blair stirred the sauce pot, not looking up at Jim this time. "Yeah, Tim...See it's the weirdest thing...Andy and me, I mean we could be twins...well not exactly...but almost...brothers anyway...Except I don't have any...unless of course his dad and my dad are the same person...Wouldn't that be wild...? I hadn't really thought about that..." Suddenly Blair's voice was soft. "Shit..."

"Blair?" Jim asked, a little worried by the sudden change in attitude. Blair could be like that, almost mercurial in his mood shifts. "Chief? You starting to zone out too or something?"

"What...no..." Blair shook his head. "Where was I?"

"You met this guy Andy who looks like your brother, except that you don't have one," Jim supplied, letting go of the idea of teasing him about whatever had made him blush, for the moment.

"Yeah...It was really weird...Do you know what a Doppelganger is?"

Jim went over to the cabinet and pulled down two plates. "Yes." Sometimes he wondered if Blair remembered that he wasn't the only one who'd gone to college.

"Well that's really what this was like..." Blair began putting the dinner together and setting it out on the table. "I've never known anyone who looked like me before...Even Naomi doesn't look as much like me as Andy does."

"How about Timothy Leary?" Jim couldn't help but tease.

"Maybe I should ask Andy..." The seriousness was back now.

It really didn't take too much for Jim to put the pieces together. "About who his father is?"

Blair nodded once, and set the pasta down on the table. He didn't say anything else for a long few minutes.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked finally.

"Yeah...This is just really weird..." Blair seemed to shake himself and then started eating. "So, boring day huh? No zone outs or anything while I was gone?"

"No, Chief. I didn't even get out of the building today." Jim took a long swallow of coffee to wash down the pasta he suddenly couldn't swallow. *I will never get used to seeing dead children... God help me if I do....* He'd been very glad earlier that Sandburg hadn't been along today. Blair had managed to deal with the dead bodies that were part of Jim's work, although he often preferred not to look. But today had been different. *Seven years old...* Kidnapping almost never ended well, and this one had been without a ransom call, which had made the odds even worse. But actually finding the girl's body. He pushed the plate away and went over to the refrigerator to pull out a beer.

Blair watched his friend in silence. He'd seen the look in Jim's eyes, before the man had turned away. Whatever he wasn't saying was definitely bad. He briefly debated trying to press Jim to tell him what was going on, but he knew him well enough by now to realize that wasn't an option. *Maybe something to take his mind off of things...and mine...I don't even know if I want to have a father....Or a brother or whatever....* "Do you think you can free up some time this weekend Jim...? There's a couple of ideas I've been tossing around."

"No cough medicine," Jim growled.

"No...no...nothing like that..." Blair held up both hands with a smile. "This is actually something you might find useful, a bit more of the "piggy-backing" idea we used before. But I think maybe getting out of the city would be a good idea...Less distractions to start off with." He'd really wanted to suggest an actual lab experiment, but getting Jim to agree to those was almost impossible.

"Maybe...if I can free up some time. There's a lot going on down at..." Jim stopped suddenly.

*Yeah...you just contradicted yourself. If there's a lot going on...how come today was boring....?* Surprising himself a little Blair let that go. Maybe he was getting better at reading his friend after all.

"Hey even Simon has to let you off once in a while..."

To his surprise Jim smiled a little. "Alright, Chief. I'll try."

Jim growled and reached for the phone as it startled him
awake. "Ellison."

"We found Ellen Morris." Simon's voice was cold.

Jim closed his eyes for a moment, letting the statistics play through his mind. Ellen Morris was eight years old. She'd disappeared from the playground at Hulen Elementary at 10:15 recess yesterday. Red hair, green eyes, about three and a half feet tall, last seen wearing jeans, pink high top tennis shoes, and a black t- shirt with a glow in the dark alien face on it. "Where?" He kept his voice neutral.

"Jackson and 12th, by Old City Park..." A pause from Simon, who could deal with almost anything, even at three in the morning. "In a dumpster."

"I'll be there in 15." He hung up the phone, and got dressed in under two minutes.

"So where are we going?" Blair asked, as he slipped on his jacket.

Jim just glared at him for a moment. "Stay here."

"No way, man. You didn't even hear me the first three times I called for you. You are seriously out there...Suppose you run into another garbage truck."

"I'm just half asleep." He knew the rationalization wouldn't help. "You don't want to come on this one, Chief."

"So I'll stay out of the way," Blair offered.

"Fine," he growled. *You'll stay in the truck....* he thought to himself. The drive took almost no time, with no traffic on the roads and the siren going. Blair was mercifully quiet for the fifteen minutes it did take to get there. "Stay here." Jim got out of the truck and headed over to where Simon was standing.

"Right," he heard Blair mutter, but then his attention was on the men by the dumpster. He saw the flash of the M.E. team's cameras, heard Carol telling them to watch where they stepped, and found himself, against his will, listening, desperately, for a heartbeat that wasn't going to be there.

"JIM!" Blair's voice shook him out of the daze. "What's with you?"

"Back off, Sandburg," He headed over to Simon.

"Jim," Simon nodded once to Blair by way of acknowledgement. Jim glared at the younger man, who had said he'd stay by the truck. "The forensics team's just about done..." Simon put in before Jim could say anything to Blair.

"Good." Jim walked over to where Carol was standing, leaving Sandburg and his Captain behind. "Anything?"

"99% certain she was strangled, from the bruises I could see." She replied in the same sort of detached tone he'd found himself using. "Just like the Howards girl."

"Same psycho?"

"Can't tell yet. I'll know more once I do an autopsy."

He nodded and walked over to the dumpster as the two forensic photographers moved away. "This been dusted?" he asked.

"For all the good it will do, we've got hundreds of prints on that thing," Malo said as he walked off. Jim didn't reply. One of the forensics team, a large man with curly orange hair and blue eyes, who Jim didn't know, came back with a body bag and used the ladder the M.E.'s department had put against the dumpster to climb back in. Jim took a deep breath, ignoring the way the smells in the alley made him nauseous, and looked inside. Ellen Morris lay tangled with the black trash bags, yesterday's newspaper's front page covering part of her legs; her red hair shone brightly against the cardboard box. *Sentinel...* he thought bitterly to himself. *What good is it...? What good is having all of these damned senses...It didn't help her...it didn't help Jennifer Howards...Damn it...* The corner's assistant carefully placed Ellen into the body bag, almost tenderly, and Jim could see the glint of tears as the man straightened.

"Could you help me with her, detective...? I don't want to sling her around like..."

"Sure." Jim nodded. Children weren't trash...even in black plastic bags...The man lifted the body bag carefully, almost as if he was afraid of disturbing her, and handed her to Jim.

"Here Jim..." Carol said quietly as he turned. She pointed at the gurney beside her. Jim didn't say anything, he just laid the black bag down on the stretcher. He headed back out of the alley, needing to clear his head, then maybe he could concentrate enough to be useful.

"Jim?" Blair's voice was soft.

"I think he's left handed," Jim said without thinking. Sandburg was the expert on these senses, maybe he could verify what Jim had thought he'd seen. "The bruises on the left side of her neck were darker and deeper than those on the right...."

"What?" Simon walked over, the cigar butt he'd been smoking replaced by a freshly lit one.

"I think the killer's left handed," Jim repeated, glancing once at Blair for confirmation.

"That would make sense," Blair agreed. "If he's left handed, stands to reason his left hand would be stronger than his right."

"Anything else?" Simon asked, his voice sharper than normal, or maybe that was just Jim's hearing. Behind him he could hear Carol's team loading the gurney with Ellen Morris on it into the Corner's wagon. One of the team, he thought it was Tracy without bothering to look, was crying.

Jim shook his head.

"Alright. We'll see what Carol can come up with. Do me a favor and check over the area again. I do not want to have to make another one of these visits to another set of parents. Two is too many."

"One is too many," Jim agreed. "Come on, Chief."

"You sure it's alright?" Blair asked, quietly. "I will stay with the truck."

The remark surprised Jim a little. "What?"

"You told me earlier to stay by the truck. I didn't want to argue...You looked about ready to chain me to it."

"No...It's alright, the forensics team is done. You're the one who's always telling me I don't need a forensics lab...So let's see what I can find."

"Alright," Blair agreed.

Blair pushed the unread monograph aside, closing his eyes. He glanced at the clock, 2:22 a.m. He sighed. He couldn't sleep, but he couldn't concentrate, either. Actually, he was pretty sure he could sleep, he just didn't want to. He hadn't really slept since Jim had gotten the call about the little girl in the alley three nights ago. He wrapped his arms around himself and took a deep breath. Jim had been over the alley repeatedly, but they hadn't found much. Forensics had determined that the murderer's blood type was O positive. Blair had noticed that neither Jim nor Simon had said how forensics had come up with that piece of information. Blair didn't need to be told, he knew. He'd pieced together, mostly from what people at the station *hadn't* said what had happened to Ellen Morris and Heather Burrows. Blair shuddered. He didn't want to think about that. There was a lot he didn't want to think about right now. Least of all now, at night, alone...He swallowed, pushing back the fear, and picked up his book again. He tried not to think about where he wanted to be that night; about fifteen feet above where he was sitting. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad if he had someone to share it with. *Yeah...right.* When it was dawn, maybe he could doze for a while.

"So all we know is that we're looking for a white, blond man. Type O positive, who's left handed." Simon glanced at his officers.

"I found traces of machine oil on Heather Burrows," Carol pointed out. "There wasn't any in the area where she was found...so it either came from where she was killed, or from whatever means he used to transport her to where we found her."

"Any on the other girl?"

"No sir."

"Damn. I've got two kidnapped children who we find dead the next night. It's been eight days since Heather Burrows first disappeared and we've got nothing."

"Captain?" Tomlinson stuck his head in the door.

"What?" He tried to keep control of the impatience in his voice.

"We've got another missing girl."

Simon closed his eyes for a second. "Damn."

Jim hadn't been asleep when the phone rang. He hadn't slept much in the last week. Blair had been up late, working on some paper, but Jim couldn't blame the grad student for his lack of sleep. He just kept seeing those dead girls, and now he had another face to add to his nightmares. Jennifer Wilcox had been found about thirty minutes ago, dead. He pulled on his clothes and headed downstairs.

Blair was standing in the doorway of his room. "What's wrong?"

"I've got to go to work."

"Is it...?" The question stopped.

"Yeah." No point in lying about it.

"Can I come along?"

*Can I come along...?* Despite the situation the tone in Blair's voice struck Jim as odd. Come to think of it a lot of Sandburg's behavior lately had been odd. Breakfast and dinner had both been cooked without comment. The apartment was spotless. Even Blair's room was neat, for Blair's room. And now this request... when last time he hadn't even taken Jim's no as an order. "You sure you want to do this, Chief?"

"Maybe I can help you notice something," Blair offered.

"Alright." Jim wasn't in the mood to argue. And though he'd never admit it, he wanted the company.

The drive was silent, and took not quite twenty minutes. Four blocks from Old City park, about a third of the way around the park from where they'd found Ellen Morris, and about opposite the area where Heather Burrows had been found. He pulled the truck to a stop and walked over to where Simon was. Blair followed behind him.

"Anything, Simon?" he asked.

"Not that I know of."

"Alright...Stay here, Blair."

"Sure."

Jim walked over to where the forensic team was, concentrating on that, and not on what he couldn't hear. One less heartbeat than should have been there. No matter how much he wished he could hear her. No matter how good his hearing was. He shook himself a little. "Carol, what kind of oil did you say you found on the first girl?"

"Machine oil, like you'd get from heavy equipment..."

He nodded, and then focused on the area of the dumpster, slowly working his way out from that. "Like this maybe?" He walked over to a half-smudged footprint not far from where the coroner's wagon was parked.

Carol came over and knelt down, shinning her flashlight on the spot. "Could be...might just be automobile oil...but it's worth a shot...How'd you find it?"

"I'm a detective, remember?" He got up before she could say anything else and walked over to the dumpster. He didn't want to look in, but didn't really think he had a choice. Jennifer Wilcox had been seven years old. Her strawberry blond hair was tangled, and stained in places by a dark brown liquid. The bruises he'd noticed on Ellen Morris were present this time, too. One of Carol's team came over as the photographers finished and put a blanket over the girl's body. Jim didn't object. He wished he could close off the pictures his mind kept replaying as easily. Three dead little girls...And somewhere out there was a monster who killed them.

Being as large as he was, and as strong as he was, Jim had learned early to be careful around people who weren't. The few times he had used his strength to bully people, suspects aside, were not moments he liked to dwell on. It was too easy to lose control of his strength. The idea of anyone purposefully using being bigger and stronger than three defenseless children made him sick. The bruises on Jennifer Wilcox's neck and arms, the matching ones on Ellen Morris and Heather Burrows, made him angry. He'd have to watch himself when they found this animal...or he'd be very tempted to show the man what it was like to be on the receiving end of the blows. He looked around the alley some more, trying to decide where the best place to park a vehicle would have been to drop off the body. Right next to the dumpster was too narrow to get into, right in front of it maybe, that's where the garbage truck would come from.

"Anything?" Simon asked, coming over.

"More of that machine oil, I think." He indicated where one of the forensics team was taking a picture of the shoe print and a sample of the substance. "If he parked here..." he walked a couple of steps away, "he'd be blocking anyone's view of the alley...If it was a car, he could have backed in...assuming she was in the trunk. If it was a van, he could have pulled in sideways." He walked around a bit more, trying to pick up anything that didn't belong. The forensic team was finishing up and someone had put Jennifer Wilcox into the coroner's wagon. Jim tried not to think about how Ellen Morris had felt in his arms. With the girl's body gone, most of the coroner's team left, which quieted the alley some. It made it easier to concentrate.

"How the hell do I look for something when I don't know what it is I'm looking for?" he muttered to himself.

"Come on, Jim. You're trained to look for clues. What sort of things would it help to find?" Blair asked.

"I thought you said you'd stay there," Jim muttered.

"Simon told me to come help you." Blair shrugged a little.

"Alright, footprints, tiretracks, something to identify where she was brought from..." He sighed.

"Okay...like that oil, so, let's try it sense by sense. How about sight? Start here and look around the alley, let your mind ignore everything that belongs here. The other cops, the trash cans..." Blair's voice was almost hypnotic. Jim positioned himself where he thought the automobile would have been and looked toward the dumpster.

"How much can you lift, Sandburg?"

"What?"

"How much can you lift? Ellen Morris weighed about 50 pounds. Could you carry fifty pounds of weight from here to there without thinking about it?"

"Yeah...but I'd probably want to carry it...her...over my shoulder..." The words were a mumble.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Not too subtle. So maybe our guy is a bit taller than you."

"So's most of Cascade," Blair pointed out.

"It's something..." Jim walked toward the dumpster. "If he stepped there," he indicated the shoe print he'd seen, "then he could have carried her over here."

"Um, Jim?"

The tone was almost- sad. "Yeah, Blair?"

"Um...was she...I mean...what did he...You can't just carry around a dead little girl...can you? I mean did he have her in something...?"

"No." Jim shook his head, trying not to picture her lying in the dumpster. "Nothing at all."

He saw the understanding steal the color from Blair's face. Saw the horror in the dark blue eyes before Blair looked down. "Aw...hell..."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. Then he stopped as his vision caught on something. He focused again, trying to figure out what it was. Caught on the edge of the dumpster were just a few strands of something white. He focused harder-- fabric fibers...only not exactly fabric, more like plastic. He walked over and then carefully pulled the small piece of stuff from the snag in the dumpster's rim.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

"Fabric...more like plastic from the feel of it."

"A synthetic? Like polyester or something?" Blair suggested.

"No...more like...the stuff they make duffle bags out of...or tents."

"Ripstop nylon," Blair supplied.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "Like a tarp. Maybe he did have her... wrapped in something...at least to get her from the vehicle to the dumpster."

"Here." Simon brought over an evidence bag. "At this point I'm willing to take anything we can get."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. He walked back over to his starting point.

"Sound isn't going to do us any good..." Blair walked over beside him. "How about smell?"

"Here?" Jim shook his head. "I don't think so, Chief," He paused, as the image of Jennifer Wilcox lying in the dumpster only a few feet away flashed into his mind. He closed his eyes. "I can try."

"Okay...same as before, what smells belong here aren't important. Ignore them..."

Jim kept his eyes closed and tried to do just that. Alley's always smelled like wet trash, wet paper, old or rotted food, bits of wood, leaves, dirt, the smell of the trees and grasses from the park so close by... He let it go, walking closer to the dumpster itself. Almost...there was something..."Wet...not like rain though...like sea water...fish...sand...seaweed..." He shook his head, and then suddenly he picked up another smell that shouldn't have been there. He tried to push it away but it was too late. He opened his eyes, digging both hands into the metal dumpster in front of him. He wanted to gag, the bile rising in his throat. It was one thing to know...intellectually what the monster had done to these children, it was another to sense it himself. "God..."

"Jim?"

"Nothing. Nothing that'll help." He forced the words out. "Just...death, Chief..." It was a lie but he didn't want to voice the truth.

Blair was silent, for which Jim was thankful. Then finally, softly, almost too softly for Jim to hear. "Death would have been easier..."

Jim didn't reply.

"Definitely machine oil. Heavy machinery, like loading equipment or something." Carol indicated the oil she'd found on Jennifer Wilcox and Heather Burrows, and the shoe print Jim had found, which had turned out to be a workboot, from the bit of tread they could get off the print. "The fibers you found were nylon, heavy industrial grade stuff, like tarps for shipping, maybe."

"Construction sites, loading docks, shipping companies all might have that sort of stuff," Detective Hendersen put in.

"Anything else?" Simon asked.

"The cording he used to tie them up with was nylon too. Heavy weight stuff, probably about 15 millimeters in diameter; it would go along with the industrial tarp idea. Probably used to lash the tarps down." Carol looked through her reports again. "He doesn't leave us anything to get a clue from..."

Simon nodded, dismissing the meeting. "Nothing we can work from."

"I went back over the other two dumpsters, Simon...I even went down to the morgue..." Jim ran his hand over his face. "And I didn't find anything that the M.E. team didn't already know."

"No one's been able to come up with anything, Jim," Simon reminded him.

"I should be able to find...something..."

"I know you want to, Jim. But maybe Carol's right, maybe he just hasn't left us anything to find."

"Except dead children," Jim muttered as he got up and walked out.

"We're finally getting the reports back on the prints we
lifted from the first dumpster. Narrowing it down to a white male
at least 5'8" helped." Mike Jenkins pulled out a set of folders.
"We've got five possibles on what we can identify. These are the
three likelies."

Jim picked up one of the folders, looking through the photos of the suspects. Men with records, or recorded psychiatric hospitalization.

"What makes these three likely?" Simon asked.

"One's a previous offender, got six years for child abuse ten years ago. One of the others has a history of violent behavior, nothing like this but he's been in and out of institutions. The other one we ran checks on. His last employer was Dunworth shipping, which tied into the heavy machinery, tarps, and cording; they went out of business in August."

"Let's concentrate on..." Simon's voice broke off as the door opened.

"Brookfield elementary just called. One of the kids didn't come back from recess."

Jim could see the pain that settled into Simon's eyes. "What's her name?"

"Christi Ingram, she's seven years old, three feet 4" tall, 48 pounds. She has blue eyes, and strawberry blond hair..." Chavez said quietly.

"Just like the others...God."

Jim looked down at the photos of the three men. "Can we cover all three?"

"We don't have an address on one of them."

"Where's Dunworth shipping located at?" Jim asked quietly, still staring at the picture of Harry Rindell.

"The old High Street docks area," Mike answered, flipping a few pages. "Why?"

"It's the best option we've got," Simon decided, saving Jim from explaining the smell of the sea. "Let's go."

The warehouse was huge, surrounded by a fence, except for those areas that faced the loading docks, which were all sealed, probably locked from the inside. Jim stopped the truck, searching the grounds again.

"Anything?" Blair asked.

"No."

"I thought I told you to stay behind," Jim heard Simon growl at Blair as they got out of the truck.

"I asked him to come along," Jim put in, before Blair could say anything. "Now talk me through this again, Sandburg."

Simon glanced at him, but gave in.

"Okay, just like before...let your hearing go first...focus on that...see if you can locate anyone inside."

Jim did, blocking out the other police who had arrived, fortunately running silent. The warehouse was close to being empty, but it was large, full of different sections, rooms. "The power's on."

"What?" Simon asked.

"I can hear the heating system." Jim replied. "Wait..." He concentrated harder. "Damn...Have one of the patrol cars that's farthest out run it's sirens for a minute Simon...as if it was going to head this way, and then turn off."

"Why?"

"I need him to move." Jim growled. "Maybe it'll be enough to get something...it's too far for me to pick up breathing or a heartbeat."

"Alright," Simon agreed, going back over to his car to radio it in.

"Relax, Jim...It'll come easier if you do," Blair said from beside him.

"I can't."

"Yes you can. Take a deep breath, you know this part by now...For Christi, alright...? Focus."

Jim tried.

"Picture yourself...standing on the balcony, watching the sea, that's it...now listen...Ignore the siren, just listen for someone inside to move."

"Yes," Jim agreed, and then opened his eyes. "Got him."

"Now, let your sight follow your hearing...go with it...Through the window..."

Blair's voice grew distant as he focused; inside, there was something between him and his target, but he could hear movement, and see shadows play against a window. "Second story...towards the back." He listened again, harder, and heard the gun cock. "Armed." He knew Blair had said something, but he couldn't let it pull him back. "He's pacing...and if she's there...she isn't in the room..."

"Can you see him?" Blair's voice came to him.

"No...there's a wall...He's stopped moving...Now he's..."

"No one's going to take you away from me...you hear me...?! No one will ever find us here."

"Jim?!"

He flinched as Blair shook him. "Damnit, Sandburg."

"You were gone. You haven't zoned out like that in ages." Blair sounded worried.

"He was yelling...at her...But she isn't in the room. We've got to take him out, Simon. Let me try."

"You said you couldn't see him, there's no way you're going to get a shot at him."

"Simon..."

"No," Simon disagreed. "We do this as a unit. You said he didn't have her in the room, right?"

"Right."

"Then we move in, quietly, from this side."

"Yes, sir," Jim agreed. "Stay here, Blair."

"Definitely."

Jim put the mike headset on, and drew his gun.

Simon motioned for the other officers and they moved forward. Jim did too, heading for the door near one of the large truck loading areas. Simon came over to stand on the other side of the door. "On three?" he asked.

Jim nodded and reached over for the handle. Simon counted off quietly and Jim tried the door on three. Locked. *Damn* It wasn't one that they could easily break down, either. That left shooting the lock off or finding another way in. He looked over at his Captain and shook his head.

"Damn."

"We don't have a quiet way in here, Captain."

"This one's locked too," Banes put in from somewhere else.

"Then bring the rams in."

Breaking down the doors went easily. Jim could hear the man yell inside and head toward the front of the building. "Damnit..." He headed that way himself.

"Freeze!" Henderson's voice came over the headset.

"Drop it," Mike added.

Jim ran, and then the shots rang out. First one, then a momentary pause and then four more. He stopped, listening to the bullets tear into flesh, heard one man gasp, and then fall.

"Suspect is down, sir," Mike said, tension obvious in his voice.

Jim listened, focused, and heard his heart stop.

"Is everyone alright?" Simon asked.

"We're fine, Captain. He missed," Mike replied.

Blair took an involuntary step closer to Jim as they walked over to where the man lay dead. Two of the uniformed cops still had their guns out, pointed at the body. Jim was a little more relaxed, but his pistol was still in his hand. Blair could see the muscles tensed along Jim's jaw that indicated he was far less calm than he appeared. He knew he wasn't supposed to be with Jim at the moment, was supposed to be by the police cars, but he wasn't. Something inside him wanted to see this man dead. Positively dead, like those little girls in the dumpsters. Jim kicked the man's gun away, and then leaned down to roll him over. Dead. Eyes staring at nothing. Blood leaking from his mouth and from several holes in his chest. Dead. Blair blinked, because for a moment, just a moment, he recognized the man lying there, and then the image was gone. And the body that lay there was a stranger. A small part of Blair really wanted it to be someone else. *I want him dead too...I do...* But at least this man wasn't going to be hurting any more children. Not ever again. Thank God.

"Damn," Jim muttered and then turned away. "We've got a little girl to find," he reminded several of the officers.

Blair followed Jim as the cops began to search through the warehouse, amongst the loading equipment that was sitting around. "Jim." He caught his friend's arm as they split off from the rest of the officers.

"I told you to stay by the truck."

"I know. Listen, she's seven years old, right?"

"Yeah? What're you thinking?"

The lack of anger and sudden interest surprised Blair. Maybe Jim was starting to believe he knew something about how the Sentinel senses worked. "Her heart rate's faster than ours...and she's got to be scared, which makes it even faster...Try listening for that. A heartbeat, not as strong as the other cops, and faster."

"There's a hell of a lot of people here, Blair."

"Try," he half-pleaded, thinking of that little girl, crying somewhere, in the dark, waiting, knowing that madman was going to come back. He shook off the memories, letting the Guide take over, needing to focus on that as much as Jim needed to focus on his hearing. "Close your eyes...just listen...Listen to the heartbeats, strong, steady, sure. And block them out. Focus. Hear the one that's not as strong...beating faster..."

"Yes..." Jim said suddenly. Then he opened his eyes and headed down the hall. "Finally."

"Finally what?" Blair asked.

"One I can hear," was Jim's unhelpful reply. He stopped at one of the walls. "She's through here..."

"Jim?" Simon came over. "Anything?"

"Yeah. She's behind here...there's got to be another room back there." Jim indicated the wall. "I can't exactly locate her...but I can hear her..." He paused. "She was crying. But she's not now."

Blair closed his eyes for a moment.

The search for the little girl led them finally to an air duct vent that had been partially loosened from the wall. There wasn't any room or other entrance that could possibly lead to where Jim could hear Christi's heartbeat and shallow breathing. Jim and Simon had pulled the vent cover the rest of the way off but the space was too small to get into and flashlight beams shone down it hadn't revealed anything but silver walls and a sharp right turn ahead.

They'd tried calling to her, but to no avail. Jim heard her heart rate speed up, but no movement. "We can't just try cutting through the wall...She might move and get hurt, or crawl somewhere else..." Jim's voice was strained. "I can hear her, Simon."

"I had the heating system shut down. I don't want her wandering into a fan or something. Can you get an exact location on her...? Maybe we could get one of the rescue units in here, to cut a hole not far from where she is...?"

"I think I can fit through there," Blair offered.

"What?" Jim turned to look at him.

"I think, I can squeeze in there. Look, neither of you are going to fit. You can't risk cutting into the system, maybe shorting something out and electrocuting her. That whole system's metal...Let me try."

"No, you're a civilian, Sandburg. We'll get a rescue unit in here."

"What if she's hurt?" Blair asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "We've wasted almost half an hour...How long before we find her? It's what...fifty degrees in here now? And you turned the heating off. How long is she going to last...What was she wearing when she got grabbed?" He swallowed hard, not wanting to think about the fact that the other three girls hadn't been wearing anything when they'd been found. He could see that thought register on both Jim's and Simon's faces.

"You really think you can fit in there, Chief?"

"I can try," Blair nodded.

"Hell...if you get stuck and we have to get you out too you're history, Sandburg," Simon muttered, then turned to one of the two uniformed officers. "Get me another headset."

Blair waited the few minutes it took for the man to come back with the headset. He took it, fitting it on, took the flashlight Jim handed him, and knelt down to look into the duct. "Which way?" he asked Jim.

"Left from here," Jim suggested.

"Alright." Blair took a deep breath and crawled into the duct. At first it wasn't so bad. But after he made the first turn the light faded behind him. The system was complicated, with sharp right angle turns, and a couple of drops that he barely managed to avoid slipping into. Sections went left, right, up, and down, like some modern version of the labyrinth at Knosos or something. "I'm about thirty feet in here Jim...ow...Too many rivets...I ripped my best jeans...Which way now?" He kept up the chatter, because it kept him from thinking.

"I can't concentrate with you talking constantly," Jim growled, and Blair was quiet for a bit, the darkness around him growing silent. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing calm.

*Say something damnit...Don't leave me alone here, Jim...I can't do this...not now...not by myself...gods...Don't panic now, Blair...Not now.*

"Try to find a way right from where you are...maybe another ten or fifteen feet...She moved a bit ago."

"At least she's still moving."

"Her breathing's getting shallower and her teeth were chattering," Jim informed him.

"Damn..." He crawled ahead some more. He found the duct that led right, cursing silently to himself. It was even smaller than the one he was in. He took a deep breath and wiggled into it, having to pull himself with his arms now; he couldn't really crawl anymore. Then he heard it. A small sound, just a whisper. "Christi?" he called, keeping his voice calm.

Silence.

"Anything?" He heard Simon ask over the headset.

"Christi?" Blair tried again.

"Her heart rate's picked up. She can hear you," Jim informed him. He didn't respond to that, either.

He crawled forward a bit more, heard something move ahead of him in the darkness and stopped. "Jim?" It was a whisper, as soft as he could make it.

"Yeah Chief...she moved again. A little more to your left." Jim's voice was soft over the com. Something to concentrate on. "Can you see her?"

"No..." He forced down another deep breath. *Think, damnit, Blair...She's scared...hurt...hiding...cold...* He tried not to think too much about that. Concentrated on how she'd looked in the school photo her parents had given the police for identification. Smiling, a little bored actually, wearing a blue dress with a white lace collar. "It's alright now, Christi. Didn't you hear us? The police are here now...The bad man isn't here anymore...He can't hurt you now..."

Silence.

Blair took a deep breath. "My name's Blair," he tried. "I can show you the way out of here...Your mommy and daddy really want you to come home."

A small sound, like a gasp, but wet with tears. Blair swallowed hard.

"Alright...Maybe we can just talk for a while...I'll stay here...Would you like me to roll my flashlight to you? It's awfully dark in here." He prayed she'd say yes, and hoped she wouldn't. He wasn't sure he could stand the dark himself.

Silence.

"How about I just roll it ahead a little and you can decide to come get it if you want." He let the light roll ahead of him, but at least he could still see it.

Silence. But she hadn't moved away.

"So...what should we talk about...? Your mommy says your cat misses you. She's been curled on your bed waiting for you to get home. Sounds like a nice cat. What's her name?"

A sniffle.

"I had a cat once, when I was little. He liked to crawl into places too...I called him Rabbit." More silence. "Cats and rabbits..." He stopped as the whole situation brought to mind a story he knew. "Do you like stories? I know one about cats and rabbits...well not house cats. Pumas...They're kind of like really big alley cats. Rabbit was very worried because his best friend Toad was missing...And Rabbit and Toad were supposed to be meeting to go down to the river to take their baths but Toad hadn't showed up. And toads are never late. So Rabbit went looking for Toad. He looked in all of Toad's favorite places, in the pond, in the trees, in the hollow log where Toad liked to nap. At the warm rock where Toad liked to catch flies to eat...I don't know if I'd want to eat a fly...sounds kinda icky to me...but I guess if I was a toad it might be alright...But nowhere Rabbit looked could he find Toad. So finally, Rabbit went to find Puma because Puma was the best tracker in the whole land and he knew if anyone could find Toad it was Puma. Rabbit was really frightened of Puma because Puma was so much bigger than Rabbit...But Rabbit really wanted to make sure his friend was alright...So he went to Puma who was sitting up on the rocks looking down on the valley, watching everything that went on below." He smiled a little at the analogy. *Maybe I should make it Panther and Rabbit and Toad...Nah...Jim would never forgive me... I guess I'm Rabbit...and you're Toad, Christi...and Jim can be Puma...Watching over the whole tribe...standing sentry...* He took a deep breath, finding the tableau to be a little calming. His friend wasn't really that far away. And Jim could find him, even in the dark.

"Puma watched Rabbit come slowly up the path. `What brings you all the way up here, Rabbit?' `I am looking for Toad. We were supposed to meet to go down to the river but he hasn't come by. I thought maybe you had seen him?' Rabbit asked, trying to be quiet so as not to make Puma angry. Puma wasn't angry at all. `Toad is never late,' Puma said. `I haven't seen him since this morning when he was chasing a grasshopper for breakfast.' Would you want to eat grasshoppers for breakfast, Christi? Yuck...grasshoppers sound like something you need to work up to...But I guess if I were a toad it wouldn't be so bad." He paused. Silence. "`We will go look for Toad,' Puma decided. Rabbit was relieved...but scared too, because Puma was so much bigger than Rabbit, and Puma was a much better hunter than Rabbit who only knew where to find good carrots to eat and sweet potatoes and squash but not Toad. But Toad was Rabbit's friend so he followed Puma back down to the valley. Puma went to where he had seen Toad chase the grasshopper and followed the scent of Toad until he came to a hole in the ground. Now Puma knew that Toad had fallen down that hole but Puma was too big to fit inside. He reached one paw inside but could not find Toad. `Toad' he called down the hole. No response. `Toad' Rabbit called this time. And from very far away Puma heard Toad call back. `I'm lost.'`You will have to go and get him, Rabbit,' Puma decided. `He has gotten himself lost down there. You can see in the dark much better than Toad. And this hole is just like the tunnels you dig to sleep in.' `But how will I know where to find Toad in the dark?' Rabbit asked. `This isn't my burrow...I don't know where to go' You see Christi Rabbit was afraid of getting lost too. It's kinda scary being lost in the dark isn't it?"

Another sniffle. "Your flashlight's bright."

Blair let out a long sigh, biting back tears at the whisper. "That's better than the dark, huh?"

Silence.

"Where was I?" he tried another tactic.

Silence. "Toad was lost."

"Yes..." He heard Jim mutter over the headset, only then remembering that he was wearing it.

*Oh well...I suppose they can listen to the story too...* He took deep breath. "So Rabbit decided that since Toad was his friend even though he was worried about getting lost in the dark he would go and look for Toad. So he headed down into the hole. It was like his burrow and he scampered along until he came to an area where the floor of the burrow had dropped away. `Toad' he called. No answer. And then from behind him he heard Puma from back outside the hole. `Toad says he is very lost and it is getting cold. Go further.' So Rabbit carefully worked his way down the hole. `Toad' he tried again. `Rabbit is that you?' He heard Toad call from up ahead. `I was chasing a grasshopper and he jumped down this hole...and I tried to follow him but he got away, and now I'm lost. Where are you? I want to go lay on my nice warm rock and catch flies...I really don't want to eat a grasshopper anymore.' I don't blame him, I really don't want to eat a grasshopper either." Blair smiled, and then very carefully worked his way a little closer. `I'll find you,' Rabbit promised and followed Toad's voice. Toad was down a very steep shaft that Rabbit couldn't climb down. `You will have to jump up Toad. I am right above you.' Toad tried to jump but he was too cold and too tired. So, finally, Rabbit jumped down to where Toad was. Rabbit had warm fur to keep from getting cold...and strong back legs to jump back out of the hole. So Toad climbed onto Rabbit's back, warming himself with Rabbit's fur and Rabbit jumped as hard as he could and managed to catch the rim of the shaft. And Toad jumped off Rabbit's back onto the level part of the hole so Rabbit could climb out of the shaft. Then Toad followed Rabbit back. Rabbit had been trying so hard to find Toad that Rabbit wasn't sure he could find his way out of the hole either. But then he heard Puma calling to him. Rabbit had very big ears like all rabbits do so he could hear better than Toad, but not as well as Puma. Toad was shivering so hard he could barely hop after Rabbit so Rabbit let Toad climb back on his back and get warm and carried him out to the sun so he could lie on his rock and get warm and catch flies." Blair finished, not bothering with the moral of the story, which he recalled being that everyone had things they could do and things they couldn't and everyone needed to look out for everyone else in the tribe. "I feel kind of like Toad myself. It's cold in here huh?"

"Uh huh." Christi's voice was a whisper.

"I've got a jacket...You could borrow it," Blair offered.

"Really?"

"Sure..." He squirmed a little closer to the light.

"No!" Christi whimpered, and he heard her move away.

"It's okay, Christi...I'll stay here if you want...I just thought you wanted to borrow my jacket."

Silence. "`Kay..."

"Do you want me to stay here or come and give you the jacket?" Blair asked softly.

"You don't sound like him." The words were soft, but he could hear her teeth chattering as she spoke.

*Thank God...* Blair hadn't even thought of that. "That's cause I'm not. I'm with the police."

Silence. "Can I really borrow your jacket?"

"Sure." Blair kept his voice as calm as he could and then risked another few inches forward. "Why don't you come over to the light too, Christi, so you can see where I leave it?"

Silence. "Kay..." It was a whisper. He heard her move, and finally saw a shadow move into the range of the flashlight, not where he could really see, but closer.

"Okay...here..." Blair had to pretty much back out of his jacket, scraping more skin off his hands and knees to do so. Then he pushed it forward into the light. A tiny hand reached out to take the jacket and Blair moved forward a bit more.

"No!" Christi backed away.

"Okay...okay...I won't come any closer...I was just worried about you...It's awfully dark down here...I scraped my hand up pretty bad crawling in here...I thought maybe you'd scraped yourself up too..." *Are you hurt...? Did he hurt you...? God please let her be alright...I don't want to know...but I don't want her to be really hurt...Could Jim smell the blood...? I should have thought to ask him to try...*

"I scraped my knee...on one of the pokey bits...Like when I fell off my bike..." she whispered. "It stopped bleeding."

Blair swallowed hard. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Silence.

"Christi?" He tried again. *Please God...please...let her be alright...* He pushed back the memories again, so close in the dark, of hands where hands shouldn't be...of...

"He tied my wrists...but I got loose...my wrists hurt but they don't now..."

Blair let out a sigh. "No other hurts?"

"Uh uh...Can I really borrow your jacket?"

"Yes." He laid his head against the cold metal, heard Jim's sigh of relief over the headset and Simon's whispered, "Thank God." Blair agreed, desperately, thanking any and every deity he could think of. Christi's hand reached back out and took the jacket. Blair tried not to shiver himself at the cold.

"He's been in there almost twenty minutes Jim." Simon shook
his head. "This isn't working."

"He got her close enough to take his jacket, Simon. And she said she wasn't hurt...not badly anyway." Jim had taken off his mike to keep from distracting Blair who was telling Christi another story. This one about a bear that wanted honey but kept getting stung by bees. And a squirrel who wanted to be a bear so that he wouldn't be afraid of getting eaten by wolves. So the squirrel had agreed to climb up the tree and knock the hive down so the bees would leave the honey if the bear would teach the squirrel how to do the magic that would transform him into a bear.

"I wish I was a bear." Christi's voice came to him clearly, without realizing he was listening for it. He made a quick gesture, cutting Simon off and putting his headset back on.

"I don't know...no matter how big and strong Bear was he still couldn't get to the honey. Squirrel wasn't very big. But he was a lot smarter than Bear." Blair's voice trembled slightly with the cold. Blair always seemed more sensitive to the cold than Jim was. It was all too easy to picture Blair, trying to be calm, talking to the little girl he couldn't exactly see in the darkness. Jim wished he had been able to fit in there. There was almost no darkness he couldn't see something in. "It's like Rabbit. If Rabbit had been really big he couldn't have gone and rescued Toad. He would have been stuck outside like Puma."

*Yeah...I caught that analogy myself...I guess I get to be Puma huh? Watching everything down in the valley...standing sentry...Now you've got me seeing the parallels in these damned stories of yours, Chief....*

"You know. I feel kind of like Bear...I'd really like something to eat about now...Aren't you hungry, Christi?" Blair asked softly.

"I didn't get to go to lunch..." Christi whispered. "I didn't even get to have milk after recess...He..." She stopped and then sniffled.

"He's gone now, Christi." Blair's voice was gentle. "He really can't hurt you anymore."

"I heard the other men say that...Are you really the police?"

"Yeah."

*Come on kiddo...trust him...Just let him get you out here to us...*

"Did you really see my mommy and daddy? And Carols."

"Carols...?" Blair repeated. "Oh...is that your cat's name?"

"Uh huh. I got her for Christmas."

"She misses you. So do your mommy and daddy. Your mommy says she's a Siamese cat."

"Uh huh...Did mommy really tell you that?"

"Yes." Jim could hear Blair's teeth chatter on that last word.

"Mommy and daddy are going to be mad at me."

"What? No they won't, Christi," Blair promised.

"Daddy told me to never get in the car with a stranger...and I didn't listen..."

"It's alright, Christi, honest. They just want you to come home."

"He...um...he said...I was...a bad girl...like the others."

"He lied." There was a vehemence to Blair's words that surprised Jim.

Christi sniffled again, and Jim could hear her swallow, hear her crying. "Is he really gone?"

"Cross my heart," Blair promised.

"I thought...maybe you were him...trying to come get me."

"No...Didn't you say I didn't sound like him?"

"Yeah...you don't...he had an icky voice...." She stopped with a sob.

Jim heard Blair catch his breath. "Why don't you pick up the flashlight and shine it back at me so you can see I'm not him?"

"You won't touch?" Christi whispered.

"No Christi. I won't touch. I promise." Jim could hear the suppressed tears in Blair's voice. He felt the same. When she said she wasn't hurt...he'd hoped... "Did he...hurt you Christi?" Blair asked softly, and then held his breath.

Jim took a deep breath himself. *Please...God...*

"He said he was gonna...but he left to go...get things...and I hid..."

"Oh thank God." Blair's voice was rough. Jim couldn't help but agree. Then he heard Christi move and heard Blair hold his breath again. "Ow...that's bright."

"Sorry."

"That's okay, Christi."

"You don't look like the police."

Jim smiled just a little, relief making him a bit lightheaded.

"That's what everybody tells me," Blair agreed. "Even my partner."

"You don't," Jim said into the mike. He could imagine Blair's smile.

"You really did hurt your hand," Christi said suddenly.

"Yeah, I caught it on one of those pokey pieces you mentioned. I'm not nearly as small as you."

"I scraped my knee...see? It ripped my jeans."

Blair's breath caught and then he let it out in a sigh. *Thank God...* Jim closed his eyes, and forced his mind to readjust the mental picture of Christi Ingram. He'd been picturing her like Heather, or Jennifer, or Ellen, bruises obvious on pale skin, in the forensics team's light. `Jeans,' she'd said. She'd been wearing jeans and a red sweatshirt when she'd gone to school that morning. Apparently she still was. *Thank God...* He repeated to himself.

"You're hair's longer than in your picture." Blair's voice was a little shaky.

"What picture?"

"The one from school. Your mommy and daddy gave it to us so we could recognize you."

"Oh." She didn't sound happy with that. "I look ugly."

"No..." Blair stopped and then sighed. "Everybody looks dorky in school photos. You should have seen mine."

"Oh..." Christi sighed, and then to Jim's surprise, yawned. "I'm cold, Blair."

"Me too," Blair admitted. "Maybe we could find a warm rock and catch flies."

The most wonderful sound carried to where Jim was standing. Christi gave a small laugh. "Yuck."

"Well okay...maybe hotdogs instead?"

"'Kay..."

"Why don't you keep a hold of the flashlight and follow me?" Blair asked, relief obvious in his voice.

"'Kay."

Jim heard them move for a bit and then stop. "Be careful here Christi, there's a big hole...don't fall down it, okay?"

*Hole...? Shit...Part of the system goes down from here...? God...what if she'd fallen...what if you'd fallen...? We'd never get you out...*

"I nearly fell," Christi agreed.

"Maybe...I could hold your hand, and help you across...? If that's okay?" Blair asked softly.

Silence.

"If not...just be careful."

"I don't want to fall...You...promise...not too hold to tight?"

"I promise."

"Cross your heart."

"Cross my heart," Blair agreed. Then he sighed. "That's it, Christi...there we go...Okay...now...Uh...Jim...which way's back?" The last was a mumble.

"What?" Christi asked.

"I was just trying to remember which way was out," Blair answered.

"You need Puma's ears."

"That would be nice for a change," Blair agreed.

"You'd go deaf the first time you listened to your radio," Jim informed him. "Take the next left."

There was silence for a bit. "Now take another left...and that should bring you back to the section leading out," Jim suggested.

"Almost there, Christi."

"I wanna go home, Blair."

"Me too," Blair agreed. Jim didn't say anything, but he agreed as well.

"Hey...there's the light." He could hear Blair's smile in the words. Then Blair came backing out of the duct. "Why don't you guys give us some room, huh?"

"Here." One of the uniformed female officers Jim barely recognized came over with a blanket and a stuffed teddy bear. "It's an idea I got while working in Boston. There every police car has one," she shrugged. "Just for cases like this."

"Christi...this is officer..." He focused on her name tag. *Lambert.*

"Heather," the woman supplied, kneeling down beside the duct as Blair pushed himself out onto the floor with a sigh. "Hi, Christi..."

"Oh...you really are the police."

"I promised, didn't I?" Blair smiled, and then held out one hand. Jim could see the scrapes he'd mentioned. A small hand reached out of the vent and took his and then the little girl just seemed to fall into his arms and hold on for dear life. "Oh...there...it's alright now..."

"Here Christi..." Heather wrapped the blanket around the little girl in Blair's arms. Jim took off his jacket and draped it around his friend's shoulders.

"The medics are here, Blair," Jim said quietly, backing a few steps away, not wanting to frighten Christi any more.

"Come on Christi...we'll get you home..." Blair promised.

"It's okay now, Christi...the nurse here just needs to check you out," Heather Lambert said softly.

"My knee's not bleeding any more," Christi whispered.

"Can I see?" The paramedic came over and knelt on the other side of Blair.

*Who thought to get female medics...? God...we don't need them...we really don't...*

"The nurse here can take you to the hospital and your parents can meet us there," Heather Lambert offered.

"Here now..." The paramedic wrapped yet another blanket around the little girl and lifted her out of Blair's arms.

"Blair?" Christi whimpered, wrapping both arms around Blair's neck and not letting go. Blair sighed, tears in the sound and gently loosened the girls arms, holding her hands between his and squeezing lightly.

"It's okay now, Christi," Blair smiled, standing up as the medic lifted Christi. He let go of her hands after a moment, tucking them into the blanket. And then pulled Jim's jacket closer around his shoulders. "You just snuggle into the blankets and get warm."

"Here...maybe you'd like to hold onto this." Lambert held out the teddy bear. One arm came out of the blankets and pulled the bear close.

"I wanna be Bear..." Christi whispered, the words a mumble as the warmth and exhaustion began to catch up with her.

"I know. Me too sometimes," Blair agreed. "But for now, you can be Toad and go get warm."

"'Kay," Christi nodded, as the paramedic carried her outside. Jim listened to her heartbeat slow as the shivering stopped. It was a sound he'd never forget. This one...this little girl was going home safe. Alive. He reached over and squeezed Blair's shoulder.

"You okay, Chief?"

"Um...yeah...just cold..." Blair muttered.

"Here." Another uniformed officer Jim didn't know handed him a blanket. "Nice job."

Blair seemed a little surprised by the comment but smiled and took the blanket. "Can we go now, Jim?"

Jim looked over at Simon who was just staring at Blair in something like surprise. Then his Captain nodded. "Take the rest of the day off."

"Is it alright if we go do the paperwork now?" Blair asked, surprising both Jim and Simon. "Once I go to sleep...I'm not gonna want to get up and do it in the morning. And right now I am so wired it's like double turkish espresso."

Jim couldn't place exactly what was odd in Blair's voice. Maybe it was just too much adrenaline...too much stress and now relief. Jim could relate to that.

"If you don't mind, I mean." Blair looked over at him. The only description Jim could think of for the look in his friend's eyes was old. Way too old for Blair...like some of the lifetimers he'd seen in covert ops. He shook off the feeling.

"Sure, Chief," he agreed. "Puma and Rabbit and Toad?"

Blair shrugged and then smiled a little, taking some of Jim's worry with the expression. "It's an old Indian story," Blair explained.

"Really?" Jim teased a bit as they headed for the truck. Thinking to himself that he'd never been prouder of his friend, he let himself keep one hand on Blair's shoulder.

"Yeah. If I'd made it up I wouldn't have made her a toad."

"Good point."

"Hmmm...Sparrow, Rabbit and Puma maybe." A slightly bigger smile. "How about Sparrow, Rabbit and Panther?"

"Don't start, Chief," Jim grumbled, but it was good natured and Blair smiled.

"You want to be a Puma, that's fine. There's a fun one about Puma and Alligator."

"Didn't you tell enough stories for one day, Sandburg?"

"I'm wired, Jim. I could tell stories all night." But he didn't start on one.

Jim shook his head and walked out into the warmer sunshine. "Sure you don't want to find a rock somewhere and catch hotdogs?"

Blair smiled and just climbed into the truck. Jim did the same and even turned the heater on. Blair deserved to be as comfortable as he could be right now. He looked over at his partner, and then headed to the station. The hard part was over, leaving just the routine of reports to make it official. *I'm going to sleep all day tomorrow.* It sounded like a good plan for a Saturday.

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