Rated: probably PG - R
Warnings: Blair angst galore, AU-land, this sure isn't Kansas (or Washington) anymore.

A hard rap on the door saved the day and Blair's blood pressure increased when Rafe stuck his head in, calling, "Detective Taggart, he has to come now! Capt. Ellison's respiration and pulse have significantly lowered in the last few minutes--Mrs. Sandburg says you can't delay--"

Joel quickly turned, but Blair was already leaning his butt against the counter, wresling with the soft folds of the pants.

"Let me help you son." And with no embarassment, Joel stooped down on his knees to untangle cloth and lift Blair's feet into respective holes. Blair pulled up the loose waistband and quickly drew the tee shirt his chest, feeling every twinge while bending his arms. He scooted paper-thin slippers over his feet, and cloaked himself with that warm robe.

He was led down the corridor, Rafe and Joel on either side, holding on to both elbows. At the end of the hall, he saw Henri Brown, well, not Henri, this H, guarding a closed door. Detective Brown wore a goatee and a huge animal head signet ring on his pinky.

Before Joel could open the door, Henri jerked it open. "Stay here, Rafe," commanded their superior officer, as he propelled Blair through the doorway.

Inside Blair came to an abrupt halt.

Maya. Maya Carrasco.

She was wrapping her arms around the shoulders of a 10 or 11-year old girl. A black-haired girl. A black-haired girl with a head full of springy, curly waves and deep blue eyes. Big blue eyes and high Sandburg cheekbones, like Naomi's.

"You mother-fuckin' son of a whorin' bitch. You bastard!" And before he knew what was happening, Alicia had gotten in his face. She drew her shapely hand up and--her arm was caught.

Naomi Sandburg towered over the young sentinel. How strong was his moth...? She had jerked Alicia's arm back, her wrist a pressure vise upon that slender arm. Blair was so glad he hadn't blinked and missed this. His mom...his...Mrs. Sandburg had just slapped the shit out of Miss Ellison. Alicia's nose trickled with blood from contact with a fang from Naomi's snakehead.

"How dare you speak that way in my presence. Where is your Guide? I thought Miss Welles might have calmed you down and taught you better manners after I bonded you two. She's certainly not improved your filthy vocabulary. I'll have to consult with her, personally."

Alicia struggled out of her grasp, purposely ignoring the lethal glint in Naomi's eyes. She began wiggling around, scanning the room with sentinel vision for a weapon. This Impostor wasn't even Daddy's real Guide, what did the Queen Hag of Guides care if she bruised him a tiny bit?

"Don't you dare try it! I can wipe the floor with you, bitch, and you know it."

"My Mother is going to have your head on a--" screamed Alicia.

"I'm here, Brat."