Number Six

I'm standing on a bridge
I'm waiting in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound

Isn't anyone trying to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damp cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm with you
I'm with you

~o0o~

Blair stormed into the loft, pulling off his jacket and tossing it haphazardly at a coat hook. He started his tirade the moment Jim stepped through the doorway. "For God's sake, Jim, when are you gonna stop pulling that 'Stay in the truck, Sandburg' crap?"

Jim eyed his partner for a moment then sighed and bent to retrieve Blair's jacket, hanging it on the hook in its rightful place. "I don't tell you to stay in the truck all the time, Chief. Only when I think the situation merits it."

"Like tonight?"

Jim brushed past his partner and headed for the refrigerator. Opening the door, he pulled two beers from within and held one out toward Blair. His offer was rejected with a sharp jerk of Blair's head. "Look," he said, twisting off the cap of his own bottle and taking a swig, "there are times when it's just not safe to have a civilian following me into a situation that could easily turn deadly. Tonight was one of those times. There were four men inside that warehouse, Sandburg, all of them armed to the teeth, and it didn't bother them in the slightest to gun down a cop."

Blair's eyes flickered with remorse at the mention of the young uniformed officer who'd been killed when they'd shown up to investigate a report of unusual activity.

Jim sighed. "You know damn well I'm more than happy to have you with me when I need to use my senses and we're in a controlled or reasonably safe situation. This was neither. You're not -"

"A cop. I know." Blair rolled his eyes. "If I had a dollar for every time you or Simon throw that up at me, I'd be rich. As a paid consultant, I'm still a member of the PD."

"Who doesn't carry a gun," Jim shot back. "That was the deal we brokered with the Commissioner, remember?"

Blair's eyes closed and he took a slow, deep breath. Jim wished he could take the words back. They were too painful a reminder of the nightmare that had been Blair's press conference and the mess that had followed.

"It never stopped me from backing you up before. It never stopped you from asking me to go undercover a time or two—"

Jim's patience frittered away. "That was different, Sandburg, and you know it. Those were times when I needed you, when I didn't have a dozen of Cascade's finest backing me up!"

Blair's lips thinned. Jim could see the nerve jumping in his jaw. He nodded. "Right. Sorry. I forgot that little thing. Blair `when it's convenient' Sandburg."

"No!" Jim countered. "When I knew… thought I could watch your back, keep you safe." He turned away, pulling his car keys from his pocket and tossing them into the basket by the door, then looked back at Blair, needing to face that demon, because they had before, hadn't they? Had conquered it and moved on. "Not that I always did such a great job of that."

"Jim." Blair took a few steps around the counter, a gesture of reconciliation, Jim hoped. "You needed me in there with you. I could have helped you figure out their locations, watched your back -"

"I didn't need you to do that," Jim said in exasperation, suddenly sick of the whole conversation. "I had back up."

"I thought I was your guide," Blair muttered, and Jim knew the argument was far from over.

Jim reached out and grasped Blair's shoulders, pulling him closer so he could look into his eyes. "You are - the best but I'm also your Blessed Protector, remember?" He smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Work with me here, Sandburg. We're both stressed and exhausted. Let's just can it and get some rest.

Blair shook his head and pulled back. "So you're just trying to protect me. No one understands the sentinel stuff like I do, Jim. If you'd zoned -"

"I didn't."

"If you did," Blair said firmly. "I can bring you out." He frowned. "Or is it because you don't trust me? Don't think I can handle myself in a situation like this? You think I might screw up again, like I did at the church with Lash? Or god knows how many other times? How do you think it looks to everyone at the PD? Do you know how often I get asked why they even gave me a paid job after everything that happened?"

Jim frowned. "Someone giving you a hard time?"

Blair sighed. "Hell, yes, but I can handle it. What I can't handle is you not trusting me to do my job. Why am I here if I can't be your partner? I thought that was what the job offer was about."

Jim sighed and scrubbed at his eyes. One beer was definitely not going to be enough tonight. "Keeping you out of dangerous situations has nothing to do with you being my partner. If something were to happen to you -" He left the rest unsaid, unwilling to revisit the far too many times that had almost happened. "As for you screwing up with Lash, I told you it wasn't a problem, Sandburg. You were new to all of this cop stuff back then. You made a few mistakes. It's forgotten."

"For you, maybe," Blair groused. "Every time you or Simon tell me I can't be involved in a bust or an investigation, I wonder if it's because you think I'm going to screw up again. Look what happened when I didn't tell you about Alex -"

"I almost got you killed, Sandburg!" Jim roared, his guilt rising up to choke him. "That was my mistake! I was the one who screwed up big time there." He made a monumental effort to calm himself, and when he spoke again, his voice was shaky. "That's not something I ever want to go through again. First Lash, then the Golden… then that - bitch." He reached out a shaky hand and lifted his beer bottle, finishing off his drink in one long gulp.

"I'm sorry," Blair whispered, looking crestfallen. "I didn't think -" He shook his head and headed toward his bedroom. "I'm going to hit the sack, man."

"Blair…"

Blair turned and Jim smiled, though it was strained and none too convincing, he knew. "I'm sorry too. I'll try to back off the Blessed Protector a little, okay? You're a great partner and there's no one I'd rather have watching my back."

Blair nodded. "Thanks - and I promise I'll try to obey your orders next time."

Jim nodded, grateful the storm had passed. "I'd appreciate that."

Blair's eyes crinkled then with familiar mirth. "I said I'd try, Jim." With a small chuckle, he gave a wave and disappeared into his bedroom.

~o0o~

Blair had already left by the time Jim got up the next day, leaving a note reminding Jim that he was heading over to the university to talk to one of his professors there to get some further insight on a case they'd been working. He added that he hadn't forgotten that it was his turn to cook dinner.

He never came home.

Jim's senses tingled with unease, even in the earliest hours of Sandburg's disappearance, when Simon was trying to reassure him that Sandburg had probably forgotten his promise when some shapely co-ed had flashed her pretty eyes at him. Jim remained unconvinced.

"Something's happened to him, Simon. I know it."

Jim had begun by calling the university when Blair didn't arrive home by seven that evening. The Anthropology department secretary told him that Blair had made it to his meeting at six and left a half-hour later, appearing to be in a hurry. Jim tried Blair's cell phone several times, frustrated when it continued to divert to his message center. By 10 PM, he'd phoned the traffic division to be told that Blair had not been involved in any car accidents as far as they knew. At eleven, despite Simon's reassurances, Jim grabbed his jacket and car keys and headed out toward the university, the place where Blair had last been seen.

Blair's car sat abandoned in the parking lot near Hargrove Hall, its presence fueling Jim's certainty that something untoward had happened to his partner. Doing a careful sensory sweep of the area, his concerns increased when he discovered Blair's backpack on the driver's side seat of the car, and the door unlocked.

There was a faint odor in the air, something familiar and Jim dialed up his sense of smell in an effort to recognize it. A tazer, he was fairly certain. Crouching down next to Blair's car, he spotted a tiny splash of blood. It was dry to the touch, indicating that it had been spilled at least a few hours before. Though he had no way of ascertaining it, Jim had no doubt it was Blair's blood. There was nothing else. No clues to Blair's whereabouts or to whom might have taken him.

Worry churned Jim's gut as he pulled out his cell phone and called Simon and the crime lab to the scene.

~o0o~

Waking was slow and painful. Blair's arms and legs were gripped with agonizing cramps and his head ached ferociously. When he was finally able to open his heavy eyelids, he discovered he was lying on a bed, his spasming hands and feet cuffed to the ends. Looking down, he realized he had been stripped naked, a fact that gave him more fear than just the idea that he was restrained, unable to fight or flee. A gag was pushed into his mouth and the dryness of it against his tongue caused his stomach to roil.

Looking around, he saw that the room was nondescript, the walls painted white, with just one door at the other end. There were no windows or any other furniture in the room, save for the bed on which he lay and a table positioned beside it. He couldn't lift his head to see what was on the table and wasn't sure he wanted to know. His exposed and restrained state was enough to cause him sheer terror.

His heart hammered in his chest when the door opened and a man dressed in white coveralls entered the room. He was tall and well built with short-cropped gray hair. A plastic shield that sat above a blue surgical mask protected his eyes.

Blair shied away as best he could when the man reached out with a gloved hand to touch him.

"Remain still!" the man admonished him.

Blair shuddered as the man's hand ran down the length of his body. The man nodded, apparently satisfied and turned toward the table. Blair tried to scream, despite the gag and the man rounded on him once more.

"Quiet! You speak only when given permission! Perhaps we need to start your retraining now so you understand the rules."

Blair flinched as something cold touched his temple. Then his thoughts dissolved into agony as fire seemed to consume him from the inside out. He felt his muscles contract, his hands and feet slamming against the cuffs repeatedly as his body convulsed. Time had no meaning. His body continued to shudder for a long moment after the electrical current was switched off. Darkness took him at the same time he registered the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and a voice followed him into oblivion. "Rest well, Guide, you're mine now."

~o0o~

Professor Clive Hoskins adjusted the tie of his robe and shook his head. "I don't know what else I can tell you, Detective. Blair arrived promptly at six for his meeting with me - a surprise that. He always seemed to be running late when he was a student here - we discussed his case, I was able to offer some theories on the meanings of the symbols painted on the victims and he left a half-hour later. He mentioned something about cooking dinner to get back on the right side of his roommate." The professor gave a smile that quickly disappeared. "You have no idea where Blair might be, who kidnapped him?"

Jim shook his head, his shoulders slumping. "I'm checking with campus security, but do you know if there have been any incidents recently at the university? Any attacks on students, reports of strangers hanging around, that kind of thing?"

"Not to my knowledge but campus security would be better equipped to provide that information." The professor stood and held out his hand, shaking Jim's. "I'm terribly sorry I can't be of more help, Detective. Please, let me know when you hear anything. I'm very fond of Blair…" He walked with Jim to the front door. "We miss him. It was a great loss to the university when he left." He shook his head. "Absolute rubbish, that entire press conference, if you ask me." He raised an eyebrow but Jim was too focused on Blair to give his unspoken question consideration.

"Thank you." Jim pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to the professor. "If you hear anything -"

"I'll call immediately."

~o0o~

Forensics had been unable to discover any clues in the parking lot. It was as though Blair had vanished from the face of the earth. Brown and Rafe canvassed the university for witnesses and came up empty. Suzanne Tomaki, the head of campus security, had received no reports of unusual activity or attacks. They were at a dead end.

Jim finally tracked Naomi down. She arrived the following day, storming into the loft, as her son had done just a few nights before, her blue eyes blazing.

"Naomi -" Jim extended a hand to offer support but Naomi shook her head.

"Don't! Don't start with the platitudes, Jim. I warned him. I told him it was too dangerous doing this, working with a cop." Her lower lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I only relented because you promised to keep him safe."

He pushed down the hurt he felt at her accusation, the memory of Blair telling his Blessed Protector to back off too painful. "We don't know that this has anything to do with me or the PD," he said.

"Why else would someone take him? He had no enemies. Everyone loved him."

"I'll find him, Naomi."

She shook her head and turned away, walking slowly over to Blair's room, peering in from the doorway. "Where is he?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Where's Blair?"

Jim didn't hesitate. He moved over to stand behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. Naomi turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest, sobbing brokenly.

Jim repeated his vow, his own tears pricking his eyes. "I'll find him, Naomi," he whispered. "I'll bring him home."

~o0o~

Three months later:

Number Six stood shivering in the minimal shelter of the bridge support beam, huddled against the chilly night air. It didn't really help though. The wind was blowing the rain around so much that it seemed to find him, no matter what. It also didn't help that he was wearing nothing but a thin pair of green hospital scrubs and his feet were bare.

He was cold, wet and miserable.

But he wouldn't move from this spot. He couldn't move from this spot. The White Coated Men at the Facility had always punished him if he didn't do as he was told. So when he had been tossed into a van and driven here to this bridge, he hadn't even blinked. He had been told to wait, that someone would come for him, and he obeyed without question. He had learned the hard way what happened when he disobeyed or questioned his instructions. The punishment was always swift and severe.

But he had been left here hours ago, it seemed, and there was still no one here. There hadn't even been any cars, not at this time of the night. Not in weather like this. Number Six couldn't feel his toes and his teeth were chattering. He hoped it wouldn't be much longer.

Just then, a set of headlights appeared at one end of the bridge and headed towards him.

Could this be the person he had been told to wait for? Would they take him some place warm? He hoped so. He waited, fiddling absently with the blue plastic band on his wrist.

The car came to a stop and two large men got out. One was white, wearing a baseball cap, and one was dark-skinned.

Number Six remained huddled against the support beam and waited. It was for them to speak. It was for them to acknowledge him. He was to be seen and not heard. That was what The White Coated Men always said.

The two men approached slowly, eyes widening in astonishment.

"Oh my God," the black man whispered.

"Chief?" the white man said at the same time.

Chief. That was the signal word according to those who had left him here. When the man in the baseball cap called him Chief, he knew that these were the correct people.

Chief. It was a nice name. So much better than Number Six. He hoped he would get to keep it. But that was up to the man in the baseball cap.

Number Six stepped forward tentatively and was promptly crushed in a massive hug against the man's chest.

He stiffened.

No one at the Facility had ever hugged him and he wasn't sure how to respond. The touches at The Facility had always been clinical, impersonal or hurtful. Should he hug the big man back? Uncertain and anxious about what to do, Number Six's heart pounded, his chest tightening as he gasped for breath.

The stranger seemed to sense his apprehension and rushed to reassure him. "You're safe now, Chief. It'll be okay." He finally loosened his embrace. He held Number Six at arms' length and cupped his upturned face in his large, warm hands. A huge grin upturned his mouth, making his features even more handsome.

"God, Chief. I can't believe you're here. I thought I'd lost you."

Lost? Number Six thought, confused. He hadn't realized he was lost. He had been at the Facility, right where he was supposed to be. And he had never seen either of these men before. At least he didn't think so. Sometimes he wasn't so sure about his memories, which consisted of nothing but his time at the Facility. When he thought about before, it was a complete blank.

But he knew he hadn't been born there. All of his memories were of him as an adult. As he was now. So, where had he come from? How had he gotten to the Facility? Did the man in the baseball cap know him from before?

"Chief?" the man asked. "You with me?"

Number Six/Chief nodded happily, smiling up at him. It didn't matter about before. He was away from the Facility and the White Coated Men who hurt him when he couldn't do things the way he was supposed to, and soon, hopefully, he'd be warm and dry.

Oh yes, he thought. I'm with you. He felt something warm and heavy slipped over his shoulders from behind.

He turned and looked up into the warm brown eyes of the dark-skinned man. He had given Chief his overcoat. Chief sighed contentedly, smiling in gratitude. The coat was warm and he had been so cold. So very cold.

"Jim, we should get him to a hospital," the dark man said. "He's not dressed for this weather and he's pretty disoriented. I'll call out a forensics team to take a look around. See if they can come up with something."

The man in the baseball cap - Jim - nodded as he began shepherding Chief toward the car. "I don't think they'll find anything but it won't hurt to look. God knows what's been done to him. I mean, look at him. He's nothing but skin and bones."

~o0o~

The three men climbed into the vehicle and drove away.

After they left, a shadow separated itself from another support beam, a little further down the bridge. The man smiled as he switched off the white noise generator he had been holding and slipped away.

~o0o~

Simon Banks glanced in the rear view mirror as he pulled away from the curb and headed toward the city. Blair sat in the back seat of the sedan next to Jim, his eyes wide open but frighteningly vacant, the earlier violent trembling beginning to calm as the heater warmed the interior, but his posture stiff and tense. His lank, wet hair framed his pale, thin face, water dribbling down his forehead and cheeks, dripping onto his lap.

Jim sat with one arm protectively around his partner, the other hand clasping both of Blair's, rubbing gently as though to instill warmth. Simon looked away, bringing his attention back to the road ahead, hot tears stinging his eyes.

God, three months! Three endless months of searching, of finally believing that Blair was dead, now this. Jim had never given up, Simon knew. Long after the search had been scaled down then eventually called off, Jim had spent countless hours, traipsing sidewalks in the bitter cold and darkness, showing Blair's photo to everyone he met. Still, there had been nothing and Simon had begun to truly worry for Jim's sanity. His senses had become erratic, down to nothing at times, almost overloading him at others. Simon had become concerned enough to put his best detective on desk duty.

Then this. Simon had taken Chinese take-out to Jim's along with a few beers, suggesting they share a meal and watch the Jags game on TV. Jim had acquiesced easily enough then had pushed the food around on his plate, barely tasting a mouthful. His beer sat untouched on the coffee table. "I might head out for a while later," he'd said. "There's a couple of places I hadn't thought to check out before now."

Once the game had come on, Jim had eschewed it in favor of standing by the rain-lashed balcony windows, staring out at the lightning lit sky. "He's out there somewhere," he finally said, quietly. "He hates being cold."

Simon had sighed. "Jim—"

Jim shook his head before the captain could continue, though he didn't turn around. "He's alive, Simon. He's out there - somewhere."

Simon muted the television and stood, crossing to his friend's side. "There's been nothing for three months," he said. "No ransom demand, no sightings—"

"No body," Jim added. He turned his head then and stared at Simon, his glacier blue gaze unwavering and certain. "If he was dead, I'd know, and before you ask, no, it's not a sentinel thing. At least, I don't think it is." He reached up and rubbed his brow. "I don't really know what it is, I just know he's alive."

"Were you and Sandburg—" Simon cleared his throat and tried again. "I know you got pretty attached to the kid—"

"We weren't lovers, if that's what you're asking," Jim cut in. "Not that we didn't discuss it. We got close, Simon, real close. Thing was, I wasn't sure if I could commit myself totally to Blair, and he wouldn't settle for anything less."

Simon gaped a little at that. "Sandburg? Our very own Don Juan?"

Jim couldn't hold back a smile at that. "Yeah, who'd have thought, huh? Once Blair and I realized we were becoming closer, he decided that it was all or nothing. After Carolyn, I just didn't think I could go through it again, if it didn't work out. Blair took it pretty well… said he understood, but every now and then I'd catch him looking at me… He always believed that there was only one guide for each sentinel. But it wasn't just that. When Blair makes his mind up to love someone, he's as single-minded about that as he is about everything else." A small whimsical smile touched his lips and he turned his attention back to the balcony view. "When I find him, I'm going to tell him I'm ready. From now on, he's the only one I want in my life." The ring of the phone interrupted anything else he had been about to say. "Get that, will you?" he asked Simon. As an afterthought, he added as Simon picked up the phone, "Unless it's about Blair, I'm not home."

"Jim Ellison's apartment, Captain Simon Banks speaking."

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded robotic, mechanical. "The guide's at the Green Street Bridge." There was a click and the phone went dead. "Hello. Who is this? Hello?" Simon stared at the receiver for a moment in shock then slowly hung it up.

"Simon?"

Simon walked swiftly over to the coat hooks by the front door and grabbed his coat and Jim's jacket. Tossing the latter to Jim, he hurried him out the door. "Don't know who it was but he said the guide's at the Green Street Bridge. Since I don't know any other guides, I'm guessing he meant Blair."

They'd driven there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Simon tried not to think of the very real possibility that this could be a cruel hoax or that they'd find Blair's body. Beside him, Jim fairly buzzed with energy and tension and it was all Simon could do to hold him back from climbing out of the car before it had stopped.

And then to find Blair… alive, reasonably uninjured, but… dazed. He seemed to have no idea who they were, had no memory of them.

Simon glanced again in the rear vision mirror, still unable to believe that they had the kid back. Blair's eyes were beginning to droop, his body slumping against Jim, who cushioned him with a careful embrace. He felt overwhelming relief wash over him. He knew it sounded melodramatic but he honestly thought if they hadn't found Blair, he might just be attending Jim Ellison's funeral in the very near future. Jim had barely slept since Blair had gone missing, and though he still kept up a punishing workout routine, it was obvious to anyone who knew the man as well as Simon did that he'd lost weight. The thought of losing both his friends chilled him to the bone, and he pulled his suit jacket more closely around him. Shaking the dark thoughts from his mind, he asked, "What hospital?"

"Huh?" Jim looked up, disconcerted, and Simon realized the sentinel had all of his senses tuned to the man leaning against him. "Oh, Cascade General. They… um… they know him there." His arm tightened around Blair's shoulders and Simon just knew the thought of having to hand Sandburg over to strangers once more when they'd just gotten him back, bothered Jim.

Simon nodded. "How is he?"

Jim shrugged, staring into Blair's eyes. Blair smiled up at him in return but it was vacuous, not relieved as he would expect when someone had been kidnapped and missing for months, and though he seemed happy enough to see Jim, there was still no recognition there. "Bruising, abrasions, dehydration. He's half-starved, Simon!" he growled, his voice rising in anger. Jim's expression changed to one of concern when Blair wailed softly and attempted to pull away from him. "No, Chief. It's all right. I'm not mad at you, just at whoever did this to you. Can you tell me, Blair?" Gently, Jim cupped Blair's chin in his hand and tilted Blair's face up to meet his gaze. "Blair? Do you know who took you?"

Blair's gaze slid away, apparently mesmerized by the dim scenery flying past outside the window. Jim sighed and sank back onto the cushions, pulling Blair closer against him, gently pushing Blair's wet head to rest against his chest.

"Drugged?" Simon asked.

"Probably," Jim replied tiredly. His eyes had drifted shut but Simon knew he was still alert to any change in his partner's demeanor. "His pupils are dilated, he's submissive and non-verbal. I just don't know. All I care is he's back, safe with me."

From your mouth to God's ear, Simon prayed silently.

***

Blair accompanied Jim and Simon docilely into the busy Emergency room, though he remained plastered to Jim's side. Jim had no problem with that. With Blair gone for three months and every indication pointing to the probability that he was dead, Jim had no wish to be separated from him for even a moment. He led Blair to a deserted row of chairs, away from the rest of the people awaiting treatment and urged him to sit. Blair did so without a sound.

"I'll go speak with the triage nurse," Simon said and strode off to the desk.

Sitting in the chair beside him, Jim cupped Blair's chin in his hand once more and tilted his head up. Blair smiled widely at him. "Hey, Chief." Jim cleared his throat as his voice wavered on the name he thought he'd never have a chance to say again. "You know who I am, right?"

Blair's grin widened and he nodded. "That's good." Jim nodded encouragingly. "Do you… do you know who you are?"

Proudly, like a child showing off a new toy, Blair lifted his hand. The sleeve of Simon's jacket fell back and Jim stared at the plastic bracelet encircling Blair's wrist. Careful not to touch it, hopeful of finding fingerprints, Jim studied the band. It was made of blue plastic, identical to the ones worn by patients in hospitals. A small cardboard rectangle displayed a barcode and the number six. "Number Six, Chief? Do you know what that means?"

Blair began to tremble, his face paled and a soft moan escaped from between his lips. Pushing away from Jim, he pulled his knees up to his chest and began to rock, his balance precarious on the narrow plastic chair.

Jim leaned forward and rubbed the distraught man's back soothingly. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe."

Blair seemed to have retreated into a fugue state. He continued to rock mindlessly, never acknowledging Jim's soft words.

"Jim?" Simon's dark eyes narrowed as he approached. "He okay?"

Jim shrugged. "He's got some sort of ID on his wrist. When I asked him if he knew what it meant, he pulled away from me. He looked terrified."

"Doctor's going to see him right away. Take him through to trauma room 1. I'm going to call the PD, give everyone the good news."

Standing, Jim reached for Blair, who curled even further into himself. "Come on, Chief," Jim coaxed. "Let's get you checked out."

After a moment's hesitation, Blair dropped his feet to the floor and held his hand out to Jim. Together they walked over to the trauma rooms.

Blair seemed calm enough while they waited though he remained at Jim's side and refused to sit on the examination table. Jim decided not to push the issue and dragged a second chair next to his own. He looked over his shoulder as the door opened and a white-coated middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair stepped into the room.

The effect on Blair was instantaneous and explosive. With a garbled shout of protest and a surprising show of strength in view of his emaciated condition, Blair shot up from his chair, pushed Jim to the floor and ran for the door.

Cursing, Jim struggled to stand, tossing away the chair when his legs became entangled in it. The doctor made an abortive grab for Blair as he ran past but was knocked into the wall, and only succeeded in getting in Jim's way when he pushed himself back up.

"Get out of the way!" Jim roared. He could hear Blair's footsteps racing along the corridor. By the time Jim managed to disentangle himself from the doctor and make his way into the corridor, Blair was disappearing into the stairwell. Hurrying after him, Jim pushed the door open and stood for a moment, extending his hearing to ascertain which way Blair had gone.

Up. He could hear Blair's rasping breaths and pounding heartbeat, accompanied by a breathless panicked muttering of unrecognizable sounds. His footsteps were faltering, his exhaustion no doubt catching up with him. Then abruptly, they stopped. Cautiously, Jim climbed the stairs until he could see Blair above him, seated on the topmost step, his head bowed and his arms wrapped tightly around himself as though he was trying to hold his shaking body together. Muffled sobs could be heard beneath the curtain of dirty matted hair and Jim's heart clenched at the sight of his broken friend.

Slowly, he crept upward until he could crouch beside him. "Blair?" Carefully, Jim reached out his hand and rested it on Blair's shoulder.

Blair stilled but did not attempt to shake off Jim's hand, and encouraged, Jim sat down beside him. "Blair? I'm sorry, Chief, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted you to be checked out by a doctor before I take you home."

Blair shifted slightly away from him but lifted his head and stared at Jim, his eyes filled with tears, his mouth working as he struggled to control himself. "No," he whispered finally. "Hurt. I… sorry."

Jim felt a small sense of relief at hearing the words from Blair's mouth. "Nothing for you to be sorry for," Jim reassured him. He took one of Blair's cold hands in his and rubbed it gently. "Can you tell me what happened to you? Why you're so afraid? I want to help you, Chief, but I can't, unless I know what's got you so scared."

Blair looked silently at Jim for a long moment then with a sigh, seeming defeated, he shook his head and then lowered it. "Sorry," he said again. "Six bad… no hurt. Sorry."

Jim stifled a groan of frustration. At least Blair was beginning to speak, even though his words were halting and confusing. "Six?" Jim asked. "What's Six, Chief?"

In reply, Blair held up his wrist, displaying the plastic band encircling it. "Six," he said softly then patted his chest. "Six," he said again. "Chief."

"Six?" Jim reached out and tilted Blair's head up so he could look into his eyes. "Your name is Blair," he said, his voice wavering. "Blair Sandburg. You're my friend."

Blair frowned at that, his breathing beginning to speed up again. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "Six. Don't hurt… Six."

"Oh God." Jim reached out and gathered Blair into a sheltering embrace, comforting both of them with the touch. "It's okay, Chief. No one's going to hurt you again."

"Jim? Everything okay? Did you find him?" Simon's voice echoed up the stairwell and Blair jumped, once again beginning to panic.

Jim kept his arms around him, huddling Blair within the protective circle of his arms. "It's just Simon, Blair. You remember him, right?" He felt Blair's head shake a negative against his chest. "He's a friend, your friend and mine." He raised his voice a little. "I found him, Simon. We'll be down in a few minutes." Loosening his hold, he looked down at Blair. "I know you're scared but there's nothing to be frightened of." He gave Blair what he hoped was a confident smile and threw in a wink for good measure. "What's say we get off this cold concrete? My butt's going numb."

Blair simply stared miserably at him. Jim sighed and levered the other man to his feet. "Come on, Chief. Let's get you checked out."

Blair huddled against Jim's side once more when they exited the stairwell, even shying away from any contact with Simon. Jim shrugged and led the way back to the examination room. "I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want to," he said to the doctor, whom he noticed had removed his white coat. A good move, Jim thought. "But I know he's got at least some superficial injuries."

The doctor nodded. "Let's take things slowly." He gestured to a second man standing beside him. "This is Doctor Hammond. He's the psychiatrist on call. Captain Banks filled me in on your friend's mental state. I thought it wise to get a psych consult."

Jim nodded and turned his attention back to Blair. "Okay, Chief, how about you just sit on the chair next to me and let Doc – let these guys take a look at you?" As expected, Blair shook his head vehemently. Jim firmed his tone and his resolve. "No arguments."

Blair looked like a frightened rabbit. Jim got him into a chair before his legs gave out entirely. Soothingly, he rubbed Blair's back. "I'm right here. Just relax."

Two stress-filled hours later, they were given the all clear to go home. Jim had the psychiatrist's emergency card stuffed in his pocket and an appointment for Blair in a week's time. The physical exam had revealed bruises, some days old, some fresh, abrasions, minor cuts, and a few burns, suspiciously like those from a cigarette on Blair's upper arms and legs. Blair had endured the examination stoically though small shivers assailed his thin frame as the doctor prodded and poked. Through it all, Jim kept up a monotonous litany of chatter, hoping to prod Blair back into a semblance of his usual alert self.

The doctor had found no serious injuries and nothing to indicate what had caused Blair's dulled mental state. Blood was taken for analysis and Jim managed to get Blair to use the bathroom so a urine test could be done. The suggestion to keep Blair under surveillance in the hospital for a few days was knocked aside vociferously by Jim. "You've seen how he reacted earlier to being here. He'll be better at home with me. If there's any problems, I'll call you or bring him back."

Now, leading Blair into the apartment, Jim felt unaccustomed tears sting his eyes. Not once in the entire time that Blair had been missing, had he allowed himself to grieve, to believe that Blair was never coming home. Closing the door and turning to observe his friend, who stood forlornly in the middle of the living room, looking lost and exhausted, Jim realized that the Blair he knew wasn't back yet.

~o0o~

"First things first." Jim rubbed his hands together and gave Blair a smile before holding out his hand. Blair took it eagerly and allowed Jim to lead him to the sofa where he sat quietly. Jim watched him a moment then walked over to the fire and lit it. Within moments, warmth was beginning to suffuse the chilly interior of the apartment.

Blair stared emptily into space and Jim took a minute to hurry into Blair's room and pull a pair of warm sweats from the cupboard. He stood a moment, holding the garments to his face, inhaling the familiar scent of his guide. Shaking himself, he made his way back to Blair's side and helped him to stand. "How about a nice warm bath?"

Blair merely smiled at him then followed Jim into the bathroom. A second later, he was crushed up against Jim's back as though he was trying to climb inside his skin. Jim could feel Blair's head shaking a vehement negative and the panicked muttering of "no, no, no" had begun again.

Silently, Jim cursed whoever had reduced Blair to such a trembling mess. Carefully he turned and grasped Blair gently by the arms. "It's okay, Chief. It's just a tub, see? Thought it'd warm you up. Help you relax."

Blair pulled away from him and sidled toward the door. "No!" He cowered even as his jaw squared defiantly.

"Okay." Jim held up a placating hand. "How about a shower?" He reached behind him and turned on the shower faucets, noticing that Blair had relaxed slightly. Aware of the fatigue that shook Blair's slight body, concerned that he might collapse or fall in the shower if left on his own, Jim stripped down before helping Blair out of his still damp scrubs. Blair seemed to show no concern for either his or Jim's nakedness and complied when Jim stepped under the spray and drew Blair to him. Turning him around so they were chest to back, Jim grabbed the soap and started to sluice off the grime from his partner's body. He growled subvocally as more bruises and cuts were revealed, including, Jim was certain, once he ran his sensitive fingers over Blair's buttocks, evidence of a recent beating with a thin rod or whip.

Stroking gently over the faint scars, Jim unconsciously pulled his guide into a closer embrace and began to soap up Blair's chest and stomach. "So sorry, Chief," he whispered. "So sorry I couldn't find you."

Blair's head had drooped to his chest under the soothing ministrations, his almost boneless body a dead weight against Jim's own. Jim realized with a start that his cock, his very aroused cock, was pushed against Blair's ass. Feeling his face heat with shame, he jerked back, startling Blair into wakefulness. Blair whimpered softly then relaxed back once more.

It wasn't the first time Jim had been turned on by Blair's nearness, but it bothered Jim that it would happen while Blair was in such a vulnerable state. The doctor had not discovered any evidence of sexual assault but couldn't rule it out either. Jim seemed to be the only person Blair seemed to trust and Jim was anxious not to undermine that.

Turning off the faucets, Jim half-carried Blair from the tub. "Hair can wait until tomorrow when you're more awake," he said as he wrapped a large towel around his own waist before setting about drying Blair off and getting him dressed in his sweats. Belatedly, he noticed the band on Blair's wrist and pushed Blair to sit on the toilet before opening the bathroom cabinet and finding a small pair of scissors in the first aid kit. When he slid the tiny blade under the plastic of the band, Blair came to life.

"No!" Blair surged upward, pulling his arm to his chest. "Mine!"

"It's just a bit of plastic, Chief," Jim said, stepping closer and reaching out once more. "We might get a print off it. Find out who took you."

Blair would not be coaxed. He shook his head, his damp curls flying about his face. "Mine!" he said again. He jabbed a finger at his chest. "Six."

Jim sighed. Showing Blair the scissors, he placed them on the hand basin, then grasped Blair's arm and led him into the spare room - Blair's room. Leading Blair over to the desk, he ran a hand over the laptop that sat on top then picked up a textbook that sat beside it. He'd changed nothing while Blair had been gone. Simon and a few of the Major Crime team had told him it wasn't healthy, making Blair's room into some kind of shrine but Jim had ignored them. How could he explain to them what he didn't understand himself? That Blair was alive and was coming home. Jim pointed at the wristband. "That's not who you are, Blair. This is. This is you, Blair Sandburg." He picked up a framed photo and turned it so Blair could see it.

A happy snap of a camping trip, taken by Simon before they'd run into the poachers. Jim and Blair smiling cheerily for the camera, arms looped over each other's shoulders, Jim's two fingers sticking up above Blair's head. "You're Blair Sandburg, my best friend, and my partner."

Blair flinched as though Jim had struck him, pulling away and stumbling back until his legs hit the futon and he collapsed onto it. Trembling, he placed his hands over his ears. "Don't," he whispered.

"Okay, Chief." Jim knelt down in front of Blair and pulled his hands away from his ears. "It's okay." The chances of finding any prints on the band were slim to none, Jim knew, and if keeping the item helped Blair feel safe, so be it. "You hang onto it, all right?"

Blair looked up at him through moisture-tinged eyelashes and nodded then gave into a huge yawn.

Jim smiled. "I'm glad you're home, Chief." He got the drowsy man into his bed and tucked the covers snugly about him. Blair gave a contented sigh and rubbed his face against the pillow a few times before succumbing to his exhaustion.

Jim stood for a long moment, simply watching Blair sleep, reveling in having him back where he belonged, anxious about leaving him alone. He told himself that Blair was safe here, inside the loft, but his defiant mind reminded him that Blair should have been safe at the university too. After several minutes, he managed to drag himself away long enough to get dressed in a t-shirt and sweat pants. He made himself a welcome cup of coffee and seated himself on the floor next to Blair's bed. He needed rest too. Simon would be over in the morning to see if they could get anything coherent from Blair, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep alone upstairs, so far from his friend. Resting his head against the mattress, Jim closed his eyes and focused his hearing on Blair's steady heartbeat and the relaxed cadence of his breathing. Within moments, he too slept.

~o0o~

Jim wasn't sure what woke him. He lay for a moment listening to the gentle patter of raindrops, the rhythmic tempo almost sending him back to sleep, until something else intruded upon his hearing once more. He realized then that he had subconsciously locked onto Blair's heartbeat, allowing its gentle rhythm to lull him into a dreamless, exhausted slumber. Only now, that settled rhythm was rapid and pounding... and somewhat distant. Sitting up quickly, ignoring his protesting neck muscles, he stood and rushed out of Blair's room.

Blair stood in the kitchen, in front of the open refrigerator door.

"Blair?"

Blair appeared not to hear him. Carefully, he reached in and pulled a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator with shaky hands, almost upending it as he clutched it to his chest. His face held a blissful expression and Jim smiled.

"Thirsty, Chief? Let me get you a glass." Jim took a step forward then froze as Blair jumped, the jug falling from nerveless fingers to smash on the floor. "S'okay," Jim said hurriedly as Blair's eyes widened, his mouth opening in panic. "Don't move!" Jim commanded as Blair raised his foot to take a step back.

The clipped order only seemed to frighten Blair more, and with a whimper, he scuttled back, not appearing to notice the glass that sliced into his bare feet.

"Shit!" Jim ran forward then and maneuvered his way past the shards, grimacing a little when a few tiny slithers cut his own feet. He grasped Blair's arm, stilling his movements. "It's okay," he whispered to the distraught man. "We can get some more juice and another jug. Just walk this way and let me take a look at your feet first." Slowly, Jim led Blair out of the kitchen, keeping close to the cupboards and sat him down at the dining room table.

Tears glistened in Blair's eyes but did not fall. He lowered his head and stared at the floor. "Six bad," he whispered.

Jim placed a hand under Blair's chin and lifted his head, but Blair's gaze swung away from him. Sighing, Jim stood. "Not bad, Chief. I shouldn't have startled you. Just sit there, all right?" He felt a headache bud behind his eyes as he worked to hold back his fury at what had been done to Blair. Pushing the anger aside, he hurried into the bathroom for medical supplies.

The wounds weren't too severe, Jim discovered with relief. Looking closely at Blair's left foot, he detected a small shard of glass, and picking up the tweezers from the first aid kit, dialed up his sight in order to hone in on the tiny fragment. The skin surrounding the cut with its maze of creases and whorls slid into insignificance as Jim focused on the ragged edges of the cut, the blood that seeped slowly from within, the glistening of the translucent glass….

~o0o~

Simon refrained from calling out when there was no response to his knock at Jim's front door. He didn't want to frighten Sandburg after seeing his panicked reaction to the doctors the night before. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his set of keys and located the spare for Jim's apartment.

Opening the door, he stepped inside and stood for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness. The apartment was silent but Jim sat hunched over at the dining room table and Simon wondered if he'd fallen asleep there the night before. It wouldn't have surprised him. Ellison had to be exhausted. "Jim? You awake?" Simon called in an exaggerated whisper.

Receiving no reply, his concern growing, Simon hurried forward and placed a hand on Jim's shoulder. No response. "Shit!"

Hunkering down, Simon looked at Jim's face. His eyes were open but vacant. His chest rose and fell shallowly but Simon could detect no blood or injuries anywhere. Certainty growing, he reached out and grasped Jim's wrist, reassured to find a slow but steady beat. Zoned? Where was Sandburg?

Standing up, Simon stepped into the living room. A small sound came from behind the couch. Moving forward slowly, unsure of what to expect, Simon rounded the edge of the couch and stopped in shock.

Blair sat huddled on the floor; his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them, his entire body shaking violently. Like Jim, he didn't acknowledge Simon's presence.

Crouching down at Blair's side, Simon laid a hand on his trembling shoulder. "Blair? What happened?" Again, there was no reply. Blair's feet had small cuts covering the soles and glancing back at the dining room table, Simon could now see bloody footprints leading from there to Blair's hiding place. He decided the only way he was going to find out what the hell was going on, was to try to snap Jim out of his zone. He'd done it a few times since Blair had been missing but it still unnerved him when Jim sat, unresponsive, looking like something out of The Undead. Sandburg had always made it look so easy.

Moving back to Jim's side, Simon sat down next to him and gently patted his cheek. "Jim, come on, man, come back from wherever you are. Sandburg needs you and I need to know what's going on."

It seemed to take hours of cajoling but just when Simon was about to give in and phone 911, Jim gasped a shuddering breath and toppled forward. Simon just managed to stop him from hitting the floor.

Slowly, Jim blinked several times then raised his head, gazing at Simon in confusion. "Simon," he rasped, "what are you doing here?"

Simon wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "Talking you out of a zone, though I would have rather have left it to Sandburg-"

"Blair!" Jim shot up out of his chair, almost falling again in the process. He looked around the apartment wildly. "Oh God! Where's Blair?"

Simon stood and reached for Jim's arm, stilling him. "It's okay, Jim. He's here. Just terrified, I think. He's behind the sofa. I couldn't get a response from him."

Walking slowly over to the sofa, Jim motioned Simon to stay back. "Blair? Hey, Chief, it's okay. Why don't you come out of there and let me fix up your feet? I promise I won't hurt you. Then we'll get you some juice."

It took a long moment but Blair finally raised his head and looked at Jim. "Jim?" he whispered.

Jim looked as startled and relieved as Simon felt. Was there a chance that Blair's condition was only temporary, that his return to his home and to Jim's side was bringing him back? Jim smiled. "Yeah, Chief. It's me, Jim." He crouched down in front of Blair and tipped Blair's face up toward him, searching his face. "He knows me, Simon. He remembers me! You want some juice, Blair? Maybe something to eat?"

Blair hesitated just for a moment before nodding and holding out his hand to Jim. Jim helped him up and led him over to the dining room table. Pulling out a chair, he indicated that Blair should sit then made short work of removing the remaining splinters of glass, cleaning, then bandaging Blair's feet. The cuts were minor, requiring only a couple of Band-Aids. While he worked, he spoke softly to Simon, who stood over by the sofa, worried that coming closer might tip the scales back and frighten Blair again. "I must have been more tired than I realized," Jim said, looking over his shoulder at Simon. "Blair was helping himself to some orange juice from the fridge. I startled him and he dropped the jug. He cut his feet and while I was getting the glass out of them, I zoned." He shrugged. "It's been a hell of a day." He patted Blair's foot and lowered it to the ground.

Simon skirted around the table and headed into the kitchen. "Why don't I clean up the mess and get the kid something to eat and drink while you get him settled. You think he's coming out of it?"

"Let's hope so." Jim gently squeezed Blair's shoulder then sat back.

"Anything on the blood tests yet?"

"Damn! That's why I came over. The hospital called and said, apart from some sort of sedative in Blair's bloodstream, his bloodwork was normal. Sedatives shouldn't cause this, should they?"

Jim shook his head. "There's more to it than that. I saw a lot of it when I worked Covert Ops."

"You talking brainwashing?" Simon asked as he swept the shards of glass into the dustpan and deposited them into the trash.

"Probably," Jim replied.

"What? How did they do this?" Simon located a bottle of juice in the fridge and poured a glassful, then set about assembling a grilled cheese sandwich. They had no idea how long it had been since Blair had eaten. He figured it was best to keep this first meal bland and easy on the stomach.

Jim sighed, looking defeated. "I don't know, sir. There's something else happening here. His eyes…" He shrugged. "His whole demeanor. The only time I've seen him worked up is when the doctor came into the examination room, and when I tried to remove the wristband. The rest of the time he's been totally submissive, even before he remembered who I was."

"Maybe it's some kind of drug the labs don't know about," Simon suggested. "Hell, we don't even know who took him or why!"

"If it is a drug, there's a good chance that now we've got him back, it'll work its way out of his system eventually. He could wake up tomorrow morning as good as new."

"Let's hope so," Simon said fervently. The phone rang and he waved Jim back into his chair, striding over to take the call himself. "Hello."

"How's the guide?" The words were difficult to understand, the voice sounding robotic.

"Who is this?" Simon demanded. Before he had a chance to signal Jim, the call ended.

"What the hell was that?" Jim asked, standing and coming to Simon's side.

Simon shrugged. "Hell if I know. It sounded like the caller was using one of those voice changers. Daryl got one for Christmas. Sounded mechanical. He asked, "How's the guide?" and hung up. Wasn't on the phone long enough to attempt to trace the call." He shook his head. "Hell! Same thing as when we got the phone call about where to find Sandburg!"

"I guess we'll just have to hope they phone back. Damn!"

"What?"

Jim glanced over at Blair who sat docilely at the dining room table, seemingly lost in his own world. "Blair's mother," he said softly. "With everything that's happened, I forgot to call her."

Simon picked up the receiver and handed the phone to Jim. "Do it now. I'll keep an eye on the kid."

He waited a moment while Jim dialed a number then headed back into the kitchen to finish the meal for Blair. Carrying plate and glass to the table, he set them down in front of Blair. Blair glanced at him then over at Jim. "Bet you're hungry, Sand— Blair." Simon pasted what he hoped was an encouraging smile on his face and motioned at the food. "Go ahead. Eat it while it's still warm."

Blair stared up at him, wide-eyed for a moment then slowly reached out and picked up the glass of juice. He downed the juice in one noisy gulp, then, apparently spurred on, picked up one half of the sandwich.

~o0o~

Two hours later, Naomi stood just inside the apartment, one hand gripping Jim's arm, her gaze fixed unerringly on Blair who lay on the couch, dozing. "What… what happened to him?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"We don't know yet," Jim replied. "We're hoping once the sedation wears off, he might be able to tell us. You being here might help to nudge his memory too. I'm not entirely sure if he remembers me, but at least he seems to trust me, feels safe with me."

Naomi nodded then walked with slow steps over to the couch. Jim followed her and leaned past her to gently shake Blair's shoulder. "Hey," he said when Blair opened drowsy eyes. "There's someone here to see you."

Blair shot up on the couch, looking around fearfully as though searching for an escape.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jim assured him. "No one's going to hurt you." He smiled at Blair then drew Naomi closer. She sat on the edge of the couch and reached out a hand toward Blair's face. He shrank back, avoiding her touch and she let her hand drop to her lap.

"Don't you remember who I am, sweetie?" Naomi asked. Blair shook his head. "That's okay," she said reassuringly. She looked at him with tears glittering in her eyes. "We'll just have to get to know each other all over again."

~o0o~

An hour later, Blair had drifted off to sleep once more and Simon had left to go home. Naomi and Jim sat at the dining room table, nursing cups of coffee. Jim knew there'd be no sleep for him tonight and he knew better than to suggest Naomi go home.

"So, what do you know?" Naomi finally asked.

Jim shrugged. "Not a whole lot." He sighed and lightly punched the table, stealing a quick glance over at Blair who slumbered on, undisturbed. "Hell, we don't know why he was taken in the first place, let alone why they released him."

"Do you think it's because of you… your abilities?"

"It's the only reason that makes sense but it still doesn't explain why they let him go."

"Maybe because they couldn't get out of him what they needed." A tear dribbled down Naomi's cheek and she reached up and brushed it away. "Or maybe because they took too much from him. Blair's strong though. A lot of people mistake his kindness and generosity for weakness…"

"After what he's been through since he met me, no one could ever think he's weak," Jim assured her.

"He loves you, you know."

"I love him too," Jim replied. "He's my best friend."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Are all men as clueless as you, Jim? I said he loves you. Do you think he went through all he did, being drowned, losing his doctorate, out of simple loyalty and friendship?"

"He told me a long time ago, that it was about friendship," Jim said.

"I'm sure it was, and still is," Naomi said, "but the best relationships are based on friendship. When are you going to admit to Blair what you've known yourself for a long time?"

"And that would be?" Jim stood and took his coffee cup into the kitchen. He didn't want to have this conversation now.

"That you love him too."

Jim placed his cup on the kitchen sink and whirled to face her. "What good will that do now? You saw him, Naomi? He barely knows what's happening. And even if he gets his memory back, how do you think he'll feel if we find out this happened to him because of me?"

Naomi stood and walked over to Blair, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. "He'll do what he always has done. He'll deal with it and move on… because he loves you enough to do that. Do you love him enough to get him through this, Jim? To put aside your guilt and focus on helping him recover and heal?"

"You know I do."

Naomi straightened and smiled at Jim. "That's all I needed to hear."

~o0o~

There was a weight pressing on his chest. Pain sliced through his ribs at any effort to draw breath. He flailed his arms, desperate to escape the agony but to no avail. He was cold, bitterly cold, and his head felt ready to explode from the lack of oxygen. A surge of adrenaline gave him a final burst of strength and he pushed upward, the weight falling away for a moment, giving him a brief respite. He dragged in a gasping breath, choking when water entered his airway. Darkness appeared at the periphery of his vision and he looked up from his watery grave to see her smiling mirthlessly down at him.

Alex!

~~~~~~~

"Whose guide are you now? Nobody's. You're worthless to us and to him!"

Agony jolted through him, sending his limbs into a paroxysm of cramps, blinding light exploding behind his eyes. He tasted blood as his teeth clamped down on his tongue, then nothing.

~~~~~~

"You have to trust me. If you want to see Jim again, you have to trust me."

Hands cupped his face, patting his cheeks and he opened his eyes, briefly, before exhaustion claimed him once more and he sank back into oblivion.

~~~~~~

"I need a partner I can trust! What did you do? What did you do?"

"Jim!"

~o0o~

Naomi was asleep in Jim's bed. She'd initially refused Jim's offer to sleep up there, only accepting when Jim admitted he needed to stay close to Blair in case he woke during the night. He didn't tell her it was more for his benefit than Blair's. Blair was sleeping peacefully in his room, but Jim still prowled the loft, his senses on high alert, pausing now and then at Blair's doorway to check on him.

"Jim!"

With his hearing up, his nerves stretched as tight as a drum, he would have heard Blair call his name, even if it had been a mere whisper. He raced into the bedroom, his heart pounding.

Blair sat up in the bed, his chest heaving as though he'd just run a marathon. His heart was pounding and sweat shone on his pale face. He looked up at Jim's forceful entry, flinching away, then gave a huge sigh and dropped his head. "Bad dream," he whispered.

Jim sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "Can you talk about it?" he asked as casually as he could. This was the most lucid Blair had been since they'd gotten him back, but he didn't want to hold out false hope. Blair had shown some flashes of lucidity in the previous hours.

Blair rubbed at his forehead then shrugged. "All mixed up," he said softly.

"That's okay," Jim replied. He reached out and gently ruffled Blair's hair. "You've been through a lot. Blair?" He waited until Blair looked at him. "Do you know who I am?"

Blair smiled. "Jim."

Jim nodded encouragingly. "And who am I to you?"

Blair frowned. "I don't know what… You're my friend." He stared at Jim for a long moment. "I've been away for a long time, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have."

"Why didn't you come and find me?"

"I tried, Blair. I really tried. I just didn't know where you were. Do you know? Do you remember where you were taken? Who took you?"

Tears glistened in Blair's eyes. "I can't remember. I'm sorry. Just… not here."

"Blair?" Naomi stood in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorframe tightly.

"Mom?"

The name galvanized her and she stepped into the room, moving to Blair's side, wrapping him in her arms. "Oh, sweetie. I'm so glad you're back."

Blair returned her embrace, holding on tightly. "Me too, Mom, me too."

~o0o~

"Simon, you have to know it's impossible for me to come into the station today!" Jim said into the receiver. "Blair's getting some of his memory back… No, he still doesn't remember anything about being taken or who took him, but I can't leave him alone now."

"Lee Brackett escaped from the Federal Pen," Simon said quickly.

"What? How?"

"Looks like he had some inside help," Simon replied. "A friend in the FBI tells me he was sighted near Cascade a week or so ago."

"Since when do you have friends in the FBI?"

"I've been known to cultivate the odd friendship for my own means to an end," Simon replied archly.

"Why the hell didn't they pick him up then?" Jim asked. He put a hand over the receiver as he saw Blair standing in the doorway to his room. "Be right with you, Chief. How about you help yourself to some juice?"

Blair nodded and wandered into the kitchen, still looking drowsy and somewhat befuddled.

"This is Brackett we're talking about," Simon said. "The man's as slippery as a greased monkey, you know that. Look, I didn't want to tell you over the phone. I didn't want Sandburg getting upset—"

"You think he had something to do with Blair's kidnapping?"

"It's not a big leap," Simon replied grimly. "He had a vested interest in you and Blair before. Why the hell would he head back to Cascade when he knows he's on the top of the FBI's most wanted list?"

"I see what you mean. All right, maybe I'll bring Sandburg with me, just so I can keep an eye on him. I'll see you in an hour." Jim hung up the phone and turned to see Blair standing uncertainly in front of the open refrigerator. It seemed that he still wasn't completely back to his old self. "Top shelf, Blair. Glasses are in the cupboard opposite."

Blair nodded his thanks and pulled out the bottle of juice.

"Jim?"

He turned to see Naomi standing behind him, looking as fresh as she always did. "Pour me a glass too, would you, Blair?" she requested. "I overheard part of your conversation. Why don't you leave Blair here with me while you go into the station?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Naomi."

She looked affronted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why not? I'm his mother, for goodness sake!"

"I just think it's too soon."

"For him or for you?"

"Jim?"

Jim turned to face Blair who walked over and handed a glass of juice to Naomi. "It's okay. You go. We'll… We'll be fine."

"The people who took you may still be after you, Blair," Jim reasoned.

"Then why did they let me go?" Blair asked with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Do you remember anything else?" Jim asked. "Anything at all?"

Blair's brow creased in concentration. After a long moment, he sighed. "People in white coats. I'm sorry, that's all."

"Did any of the people seem familiar to you?"

"I don't remember their faces," Blair said. "They're like a blur to me. Just the white coats."

Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder. "That's okay, Chief. It'll come back, I'm sure of it. You sure you two will be okay here? I shouldn't be gone longer than a couple of hours."

"We'll be fine. Right, Mom?"

Naomi wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and drew him to her side. "Of course we will. I'll make us breakfast and then we can talk."

"Okay." Jim relented, still uneasy with the situation. "You keep the chain on the door and don't let anyone in, you understand?"

"Yes, Jim." Naomi nodded her assent.

~o0o~

Blair was immersed in searching through the clutter that seemed to take up every space in the small spare room. His room, he corrected mentally. Bits and pieces of memory were coming back, nothing recent unfortunately, and he couldn't even be sure that what he was getting now was true memory. Some of the books and videotapes seemed familiar, a photo on top of the dresser had him smiling as soon as he spotted it – fishing with Jim and Simon. He'd been thrilled to catch the biggest fish he'd ever seen, only to be told it was a catch and release stream. Then something bad had happened… He picked up the photo and sat down on the bed, staring at it as he tried to force his errant memories to the surface. That was the biggest stumbling block. He knew he was safe here, felt he belonged here, but the memories were still vague and tending to disappear like mist before he could grasp them. The sound of his mother pottering around in the kitchen was a welcome background noise that reassured him further and he stood and placed the picture back, certain that everything would fall into place soon.

A knock at the door had him tensing, glancing at the fire escape door, ensuring it was locked then he heard Naomi call out. "I'll get it, Blair."

"No!" He raced from his room, reaching out to pull her up short before she got to the front door. "I'll get it." He gave her a small smile when she touched his arm, concern evident on her face. "It's fine. Probably just a salesman or something. What are you cooking?"

"Banana cake," she said. "No use wasting the old fruit. And a casserole for dinner."

"Smells great. You get back to it before it burns. I'll take care of this."

She stared at him for a moment, her expression uncertain, then the knocking began again and she nodded, heading back to the kitchen but picking up the phone on her way.

"Jim's on speed dial 1," Blair said.

"You remembered? That's wonderful, Blair."

Blair flashed her a quick smile then walked slowly to the front door. He eyed the secured chain apprehensively. Chains broke, didn't they? He remembered once… but the memory was gone almost as soon as he thought of it. He cleared his throat. "Who is it?" he called.

"Blair? Is that you?"

"Who's this?" Blair answered uncertainly though the voice already struck a chord within him. It was familiar…

There was a chuckle from the other side of the door. "You know who it is. Quit joking around and open the door. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Blair felt relief wash over him and he threw off the chain and opened the door. "You came back!" he said. "I didn't think I'd get a chance to thank you." Reaching out, he grasped the visitor's arm and pulled him into the apartment. "Jim's not here, just Mom and me. Can you stay until Jim gets back? He'll want to thank you for bringing me home."

The visitor pulled his arm from Blair's grasp and patted him on the shoulder, a smile upturning his mouth. He brushed a strand of hair back from his handsome face. "Sorry, I can't stay long. Just wanted to make sure you're all right. And this must be Ms. Sandburg," he said when Naomi appeared from the kitchen, the phone held in her hand. He gave Blair a small nudge. "Blair! This has got to be your sister!"

Naomi beamed and reached out to shake the man's hand. "I'm Naomi Sandburg, Blair's mother. You're the one who helped Blair escape?" Moving forward, she wrapped the man in a hug. "I don't know how to thank you."

The man waved away her gratitude. "I only did what needed to be done… Naomi." He turned to Blair. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I'm still a little whacked from the drugs and stuff, I guess. Mom, this is my friend, Lee… I'm sorry, I don't remember your last name."

"In our business, we don't have last names," Lee said with an easy smile. "I'm sure Jim's told you that."

Blair snapped his fingers. "Covert Ops! Some stuff's coming back, just not everything." He took the phone from Naomi. "I should call Jim, tell him you're here."

Lee grabbed his arm, halting him. "In a while," he said. "How about you and I talk first, see how you're doing?" He turned to Naomi. "Do you mind if Blair and I talk in his room?"

Naomi smiled warmly at him. "I'll make tea."

"Tea?" Lee smiled at her. "I haven't had a good cup of tea since my dear mother passed away."

"Oh… I'm so sorry for your loss. I'll just put the kettle on and find the tea caddy. I just baked banana cake."

"My mouth's watering already." Lee turned to Blair. "Let's go have a little talk, okay, Blair?"

Blair smiled back at his savior. "Sure!"

***

Blair sat down on the bed and pointed to the desk chair. "Have a seat." He smiled. "Jim's gonna be so happy to see you, Lee."

Lee looked at his watch. "I'm not sure I'll be able to stay and say hello. I'm pretty busy."

"He should be back any time now," Blair said. "I know he'd be sorry he missed you… Oh, and you can fill him in on what happened, who took me. I haven't been much help."

Lee leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on his knees. "What do you remember, Blair?"

Blair frowned. "Nothing at first but pieces seem to be coming back more and more. None of it really makes sense yet, but with you to help, I'm sure it'll all come back." He leaned forward, mirroring Lee's position. "Do you know why they took me?"

Lee sat back and shrugged. "Well, they obviously think you're pretty important. I mean, you're Jim's guide, right?"

Blair felt suddenly uncomfortable. "I… I don't know what you mean."

Lee smiled easily. "Sure you do. Jim's a sentinel and you're his guide. You help him with his senses."

Blair stared at him. "Why did you rescue me?" he asked, his voice tight. "Who are you really?"

"Just a friend, Blair. I heard you were in trouble and I wanted to help. I did the right thing, didn't I? Getting you out of there?"

Blair swallowed convulsively. "Yeah, you did." He put his hands to his head, massaging his temples. "I don't feel very well."

Lee stood and walked over to him. "It'll pass." He placed a hand on Blair's shoulder, massaging gently and reached into his pocket with the other. "This will help." With no further warning, he pressed a hypo to Blair's neck and pushed the plunger.

Blair jerked back, rubbing at his neck. "What was that?"

"Just something to make you feel better." Lee crouched down so he was at face level with Blair. "There are some things it's better you forget, Blair." He patted Blair's knee then stood again. "Tell your mother I'm sorry I couldn't stay for tea."

~o0o~

Jim felt an unnerving urge to get back to the loft the moment his work at the PD was done, not even bothering to let Simon know he was leaving before hurrying downstairs to the parking garage and heading out into the afternoon traffic.

Hairs prickled at the nape of his neck as he took the stairs to the apartment instead of waiting for the old elevator to make its trundling way down to the ground floor. He kept a hand on the weapon at his back as he approached the front door, all of his senses on alert as he reached for the doorknob and turned it. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door didn't open but he still had to restrain himself from breaking down the door to get inside.

"Jim! Is that you?" he heard Naomi ask in a quavering voice from the other side.

"Yeah, it's me. You want to open the door?"

"Just a minute. I need to get the casserole out of the oven."

Jim relaxed a little when he heard Naomi's easy tone. He waited, still not quite ready to stand down until the door swung open and Naomi smiled at him.

"We had the best surprise while you were gone," she said, pulling him into the apartment. "Blair had a visitor."

Jim immediately went for his weapon, striding toward Blair's room at the same time. "Are you nuts?" he hissed over his shoulder. "I told you not to open the door to anyone but me!"

"I didn't!" Naomi protested, "Blair did. Anyway…" She faltered when Jim ignored her and pushed open Blair's door, then stood stock still in the doorway. "Blair said it was the man who rescued him," she said uncertainly.

Jim barely heard her. Blair sat on his bed, his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees, his head bent. He rocked back and forth slowly. "Blair?" Jim stepped forward and Blair looked up at him. His expression was forlorn, but there was a vagueness there too that Jim remembered seeing just a few nights before when they'd found him beneath the bridge. "Blair?" he said again.

"He's gone," Blair replied softly. He waved a hand toward the open fire escape door. "I wanted him to stay."

Jim sat down on the side of the bed. "Who, Chief? Who was here?"

Blair shrugged. "My friend."

"Lee," Naomi put in. She stood in the doorway, looking uncertain and on the verge of tears. "Blair, did he hurt you?" She lifted a hand to her mouth, her expression shocked. "I'll never forgive myself if he…"

Jim reached out and took Blair's nearest hand in his. "Lee? Lee Brackett, Blair? Was that who rescued you?"

Blair shrugged. "I don't remember anymore." He yawned. "I'm tired. Can I go to sleep now?" Without waiting for a reply, he lay down and closed his eyes.

Jim stood and pulled the bedclothes over him, then spotting a small pinprick on Blair's neck, leaned in closer. "He's been injected with something." Straightening, he turned and strode from the room, barely giving Naomi a glance. "I need to call Simon and get a team over here."

~o0o~

Jim snatched up the phone the moment it rang. "Ellison."

"Jim, it's Serena. I have Blair's blood results."

"Good. What did you find?" Jim kept his gaze on Blair, who'd woken when the blood tests were taken, somewhat drowsy still, and confused. Frightened too, reminding Jim that Blair wasn't all the way back yet... might never be. He had no memory though of any visit from Brackett, though he remembered the man as being someone they'd had bad dealings with in the past. He sat now on the couch, holding Naomi's hand, looking worried, nodding when Naomi whispered something to him.

"He had an unknown drug in his system," Serena said. "We're trying to identify it but we've had no luck. We do suspect that it's a powerful sedative, possibly with amnesiac properties."

"Sounds right up Brackett's alley," Jim said grimly.

"There was something else," Serena added. "Blair had an extremely high level of oxytocin in his blood."

"Oxytocin? What the hell is that?"

"It's a hormone. It's actually used in childbirth to speed up slow births by increasing the uterine contractions."

"I hate to tell you this, Serena, but last time I checked, Sandburg was definitely not a female or pregnant."

"That's why I thought it so strange," Serena said. "I did some research on it and it seems there's been some studies conducted, proving that high serum levels of oxytocin cause an increased level of trust, gullibility, particularly in males. I'm not sure what bearing that has on your case, if any but—"

"What other damage could it cause?" Jim asked. "What side effects? Duration?"

"From what I've read, the effects aren't permanent, Jim, which might explain why Blair started returning to his normal self so quickly after you found him. Once the oxytocin levels in his blood dropped, the effect is negated. The amnesia is a different matter. We don't know what was used and the effects could be long-lasting or even permanent."

"Why the hell do all of this? Why go to all the trouble of rescuing him, only to risk being caught by coming back to check on him?"

"Maybe Brackett wanted to check if Blair had remembered any details of his time in captivity," Serena mused. "After all, while Blair believed that Brackett got him out, that doesn't make it true. The oxytocin would have made Blair accepting of anything he was told while under its influence. They probably used it to keep him pliant and controllable while they had him too."

"Okay. Thanks, Serena." Jim hung up the phone and walked over to sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing Blair. "That was Serena, Chief. Seems you've got some sort of drug cocktail in your blood that's probably making you feel a little sleepy and confused."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I don't remember any of it. Do you really think I would have let Lee Brackett in here under normal circumstances?"

"No, of course not," Jim said, "but with the drugs Brackett injected you with, you would have had no hope fighting against them. It's not your fault."

Blair looked down at the floor. "Easy for you to say," he said quietly. "I don't even know why they took me. I can't remember them or where they took me. Now I don't even remember letting Lee Brackett into the apartment."

"Blair?" Simon walked over and stood next to Jim. "Jim's right. You had no control over what was done to you. Besides, your memories may come back. They started to before, didn't they, and you remember Brackett?" At Blair's hesitant nod, he smiled. "Well, there's a good chance they will again."

"Thanks, Simon," Blair replied.

"Will you be all right here with your mom, Chief?" Jim asked as he stood. "This time, you'll have around the clock protection in and outside the building."

Blair stood as well, looking panicked. "Where are you going?"

"To track down Brackett. If we want to get the answers to what this is all about, we have to start with him."

"He can't be all bad," Naomi said. "He saved Blair from those monsters."

"Trust me, Naomi," Jim said grimly. "There's nothing honorable about Brackett. If he did get Blair out of there, he has his own agenda for doing so."

"So, you think Blair's still in danger," Naomi replied tightly. "Can't the others go looking for him? I think Blair would feel safer if you were here, Jim."

"Let me come with you," Blair put in. "I can help."

"Not this time, Chief," Jim said. "In your condition…" He turned away, searching in his pocket for his car keys.

"I'm useless to you, aren't I?" Blair said. "All those things you said I used to do to help you, to guide you, I can't do that any more."

Jim turned back and grasped Blair's shoulders lightly. "That's not true," he insisted. "You've been through a hell of an ordeal. I just want you to recover first, make sure you're fully healed."

Blair took hold of Jim's hand and led him into the kitchen. "I'm still your guide, right? That's what Brackett said I was the first time we met him. See, I remember that and I'm beginning to remember everything about before… before they took me. I can still help you with your senses. I don't want you out there looking for Brackett without me backing you up! He's dangerous! He knows about your senses and you can bet he'll use that to his advantage. You know that!"

"I can't let you do that, Chief. Not yet. Besides," Jim patted Blair's cheek, smiling a little, though the tension made it feel strained on his face, "nobody takes my guide and gets away with it. This time, Brackett's got a pissed off sentinel on his tail."

"You won't take any stupid chances, right?" Blair asked. The slump of his shoulders told Jim how hard it was for him to give in.

"Promise." Jim strode to the door.

"Jim!" Jim turned back to face Blair. "Be careful."

Jim tipped him a salute and headed out into the night.

~o0o~

They hadn't found anything. Brackett had disappeared like a ghost in the night. Jim came home, looking pissed off and exhausted and insisted that Blair head off to bed.

Blair had wanted to sit and talk, to tell Jim the things he remembered but he'd watched Jim put together a re-heated meal for himself and the next thing he knew was waking up in his own bed.

~o0o~

God, he was tired of being tired. Blair rolled his eyes at the inane thought and pushed himself out of bed with a groan. He needed to be up and moving… and coherent. The drugs in his system were screwing with his head, making everything too hard to think through clearly. Except for one thing. His total and utter inability to do the job he'd told Jim he could do. His memories were returning quickly now. He remembered promising Jim he'd help him with his senses in exchange for information for his dissertation. The fact that dissertation had never seen the light of day, apart from Naomi's minor, if well meaning, screw up, didn't negate Blair's part of the bargain in any way as far as Blair was concerned. In fact, after what had happened, Blair had been more determined than ever to ensure that he never let Jim down again.

He just couldn't understand why all the things he'd learned, all the skills he'd gained, his seemingly inborn ability to think outside the box whenever problems with Jim's senses came out of left field now seemed to fritter from his grasp before he had a chance to formulate an idea, let alone act on it. He felt like a slow-witted child.

He sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed a hand through his unruly hair. What if it was permanent? What if he could never be Jim's partner again? Serena had admitted that the research on oxytocin was sketchy at best and they hadn't even been able to identify the sedative. There was always the chance that the effect from either drug, or both, was permanent.

He could hear Jim and Naomi talking quietly in the living room. Right now, the last thing he wanted to do was face either of them, Jim especially. He'd thought… believed that the sentinel-guide bond was not just wishful thinking, that there was really a physical and emotional link between them. Then he'd questioned whether that was just his way of excusing his growing attraction to Jim. It didn't matter anyway. Any thought he might have had that Jim returned his affection was dashed in the first moments he'd hesitantly confessed his feelings to Jim. Jim had been great about it but Blair knew deep down that Jim's protestations that he wasn't ready to commit to anyone after the abysmal failure of his marriage was just a way of letting Blair down easily, not wanting to hurt his feelings or embarrass him.

He stood and gathered up a change of clothes and headed out to the bathroom. Maybe once he'd freshened up and felt more awake, things would come more easily.

"Naomi, I'm sorry," he heard Jim say. "If there was ever a right time to talk to Blair about it, this isn't it. He's too emotional right now, too… damaged."

Blair froze with his hand on the bathroom doorknob.

"So, you're going to keep lying to Blair, is that what you're saying?" Naomi replied. "That's not fair to him, Jim. He's been through enough already. He deserves to know the truth!"

A lump rose in Blair's throat and he backed into his room as quietly as he could. He looked around the small room. It suddenly felt claustrophobic, suffocating… Just like the room… He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the memory to emerge from the recesses of his mind. He remembered a white room… pain in his head… White light flashed behind his eyes and he sucked in an agonized breath. Both the pain and the memory were gone as quickly as they had appeared, leaving him with nothing.

He was such a screw up! He'd let Lee Brackett into the apartment, had thanked him, for god's sake! Brackett could have turned and shot both him and Naomi where they stood and he couldn't have done a thing to stop him. Was that what Jim couldn't get up the courage to tell him? That he was no longer needed, no longer useful?

He needed to get out of the apartment for a while. He could think things out, figure out where he went from here, and try to keep Naomi and Jim safe as well. In fact, they'd be safer with him gone. They'd wanted Blair, after all, not Jim.

He didn't bother to contemplate his decision further. Carefully opening the fire escape door, praying Jim had his senses dialed down, he clambered down the stairs and hurried down the street.

~o0o~

He heard the footsteps behind him and tried not to freeze in fear. Chances were it was just another passerby. No reason to believe there was any danger. A hand reached out and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him into a dark alleyway. Blair exploded into action, striking out with fists and feet. An arm pressed against his throat, cutting off his air and he wrapped his hands around it, struggling to break the chokehold.

"Number Six," a man said. "I thought we'd lost you forever. A pity the experiment failed. You showed great tenacity and promise. I do believe retraining you was far more of a challenge than the one we set out to conclude. This is the end of the road for you, I'm afraid."

Blair lashed out with a fist, hoping to strike flesh, to gain some small advantage to escape. Several soft popping sounds came from the mouth of the alley and suddenly the constriction across his throat was gone, leaving him sagging to the ground, wheezing and gasping in much needed air. A hand grasped his arm and dragged him roughly to his feet and he looked up into a familiar face.

Lee Brackett shook his head, looking mightily disgruntled. "I swear, Sandburg, I'm beginning to think you're more trouble than you're worth."

~o0o~

"Jim?" Naomi stood in the doorway of Blair's room, her face pale and her eyes wide. "Blair's gone!"

"What?" Jim tossed down the dishtowel and strode into Blair's room, his keen gaze quickly taking in the rumpled, empty bed. "Check the bathroom," he said to Naomi as he pulled open the fire escape door and started down. "And call Simon!"

He made it down the steps and then hesitated, unsure which direction to go. Had Blair left of his own accord or had he been kidnapped again? "Shit!" He'd been so caught up in his discussion with Naomi, he'd let his guard down, wrongly assuming that Blair was safe, as long as he was close by. Coming to a decision, he extended his hearing, filtering out the extraneous distractions of traffic noise. Voices… too many to decipher. He sagged against the wall behind him and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Stupid! He was so stupid! He knew how dangerous Brackett was and now he'd lost Blair… again!

"Jim…" The voice was so soft, he thought for a moment he'd imagined it. Then it came again, louder this time. "Jim?" Blair, sounding terrified and shaky. Jim set off down the street at a run.

~o0o~

Blair dragged his gaze away from the bloodied bodies lying on the ground and stared at Brackett. "He might not have heard me," he said hesitantly. "He might not know I've gone."

"He knows," Brackett said with confidence, "and trust me, he heard you." He sighed and shook his head. "You're the foremost authority on sentinels, Mr. Sandburg, and you still haven't figured out the most important piece of information, have you?"

"I – I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do," Brackett replied. He leaned casually against the wall behind him. "You've been searching for the proof for some time now, but you won't find it in Burton's research."

"What research is that?" Blair asked. He sidled toward the mouth of the alley but stopped dead when Brackett held up a loaded syringe.

"Please don't make me use this on you again," Brackett warned. "Oxytocin is still in the experimental stage. We don't know what the effects are of a cumulative dose. To answer your question – that every sentinel needs a guide. A particular guide."

Blair shook his head. "There's no proof of that in Burton's work," he refuted.

"Just as I said," Brackett responded, "because Burton wasn't farsighted enough to investigate the possibility. My people found out the hard way."

"Your people?" Blair asked.

Brackett held a hand to his lips then strode over to Blair and grabbed him, dragging him in front of him before Blair had a chance to react. "Looks like Ellison heard you loud and clear. Come on in, Detective," Brackett said, "slowly, please." He raised his gun and pressed it to Blair's head.

Blair watched, his heart pounding, as Jim appeared in the alley entrance, his own weapon gripped in both hands, aimed directly at him and Brackett.

"Let him go, Brackett," Jim ordered.

"In good time, as long as you do what I ask. Drop your weapon… please."

Jim hesitated only a moment before lowering his gun and dropping it on the ground. He kept his gaze steady on Brackett.

"Mr. Sandburg, retrieve Detective Ellison's gun and secure his wrists with these." Brackett thrust a pair of plastic cuffs into Blair's hand. He gave Blair a dig in the ribs with his gun when Blair didn't move. "If you want your partner to live, you'll do as I say."

Blair took a step forward then turned back to face Brackett, placing himself between Jim and Brackett. "Why should I trust you," he challenged, "after what you've done?"

"I saved your ass and brought you back to your sentinel, didn't I? Do as I ask or I'll shoot him now and return you to your place of imprisonment."

"Don't do it, Blair," Jim urged.

Blair rushed forward and kicked away Jim's gun then grabbed his arms, securing them with the cuffs. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I can't risk you getting hurt."

"Thank you," Brackett said. He stepped forward and held up the syringe again, swiftly injecting the contents into Blair's neck before he had a chance to react. "I lied about the oxytocin. There are no cumulative effects. It will wear off again in a couple of hours."

Jim leaned his shoulder against Blair's, feeling him trembling slightly as his head drooped to his chest. "Answer this much for me, Brackett," Jim said. "Why did you help Blair escape? I know you don't have a decent bone in your body. What's in it for you?"

Brackett appeared to consider the question for a moment. "What the heck," he said finally. "A group I was associated with heard about your abilities. They decided it was too risky to try and abduct you, not to mention, I advised them that I thought it would be close to impossible to convince you to do their bidding. They had what they thought was a better plan. A genetically engineered sentinel."

"What!"

Brackett nodded. "Pretty impressive, I know. The thing is, I told them they would also need a guide. They didn't believe me. By the time I convinced them and they acquired Mr. Sandburg, it was too late. Mr. Sandburg did an admirable job of trying to control the man's sensory spikes, though he remembers none of that, but to no avail. The man, quite simply, zoned out and died. The project was scrapped and it was deemed best to get rid of Mr. Sandburg – permanently, on the off chance that his memory returned."

"You still didn't answer my question," Jim ground out.

Brackett shrugged. "Because one never knows when one might need a sentinel and his guide," he said with a cocky grin. "Now, I need time to get out of town, so… Sorry to do this to you, Detective. Necessary measures and all that." Brackett pulled something from his pocket and put it to his lips.

Some still conscious part of Blair recognized the danger immediately. "No!"

Brackett pursed his lips and blew and Jim collapsed, writhing, to the ground, his hands clamped over his ears. Blair dropped to his knees beside Jim, not caring as Brackett walked past them and disappeared from sight.

"Jim! Jim! Listen to me please." Jim was rocking wildly from side to side and Blair grasped his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. "The dials, Jim, turn your hearing down slowly. Picture the dial and turn it down."

It seemed to take forever but just as Blair heard sirens wailing, approaching them, Jim relaxed, his hands dropping from his ears. Enormously weary, shaking like a leaf, Blair collapsed onto his butt beside his partner. He reached out and grabbed Jim's hand, squeezing it tightly. "You're okay," Jim," he said hoarsely. "We're okay."

~o0o~

Blair stood on the balcony, gazing out at the dawn sky. After all that had occurred the night before, followed by the chaos that had erupted once Simon had arrived, he'd expected to be awake all night. Instead, he'd found himself exhausted once the door had closed behind Simon and had gone straight to his room, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. There would be plenty of time to talk about what had happened, plenty of time to decide what he did now, and he needed to make his decision with a clear head. He'd woken early though, his thoughts in turmoil and with no chance of going back to sleep.

He heard Jim step out behind him but he stayed where he was, his hands cupped around a steaming mug of coffee and waited for Jim to speak.

"Helluva night, huh?" Jim said, coming to stand at his side.

"Sure was," Blair replied. "I'm still trying to get my head around what Brackett told us."

"Do you think it's possible… to genetically engineer a sentinel?"

Blair shrugged. "I'm never surprised at what's possible," he said. He looked up at Jim. "Never thought I was going to find a sentinel in my own backyard."

Jim smiled. "There is that." He gestured at Blair's coffee. "Mind if I have a sip of that? The coffee pot is cold. You must have been up early."

Blair handed over the mug. "I slept like a log and I feel fine this morning. Maybe there wasn't any oxytocin in that last shot Brackett gave me. I didn't notice any effect from it."

"I'm glad." Jim sipped at the coffee then handed it back. "Thanks. I needed that. I'm glad you got some sleep. I've been awake all night, thinking about what an idiot I've been."

"It wasn't your fault, Jim. I left of my own free will this time."

"I know, but I still should have been aware of it," Jim replied, "but I wasn't thinking about that."

"What then?" Blair felt his heart start to hammer in his chest and a lump formed in his throat. "It's okay," he added. "Just say it."

Jim grasped Blair's shoulders and gently turned him to face him. Leaning in, he touched his lips to Blair's in a gentle kiss. "I'm hoping that says it for me."

"I don't… understand," Blair stammered.

"Your mother's a very wise woman, Chief. I finally stopped arguing with myself and listened to her. I wasn't just lying to you about my feelings, but trying to fool myself as well. I love you, Blair, and I want you here with me now and always."

"I don't know if I can do that," Blair said softly. "I screwed up so badly. I'm not sure I can still be your guide, Jim."

"What you did last night to help me proves you can, Blair," Jim objected. "Besides, my feelings for you have nothing to do with you being my guide and everything to do with you being my partner. Do I need to spell it out for you, Chief? I love you. I want to be with you."

"Forever?" Blair asked. "Because that's what I want, Jim, what I need. Once I realized my feelings for you went deeper than just a brotherly love, I knew I wanted you heart and soul and I couldn't… wouldn't settle for anything less."

Jim kissed Blair then drew back and smiled at him and Blair saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Then you've got me, heart and soul, mind and spirit, Chief. Forever."

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