Title: Crisis of Faith

Author/pseudonym: Kel

Fandom: The Sentinel

Paring: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg

Rating: R

Status: New/Complete

Archive: Yes

Series/Sequel: No

Crisis of Faith
by Kel

Jim and Blair were standing in front of the Mr. Tube Steak stand. Jim was looking down at the dog standing near them, but looked up at the call of the vendor. "Here you go."

As he took his hotdog, he looked over at Blair. "She loves Thai food. We like the same books. I mean, she even listens to R&B. I just wanna meet this woman, okay?"

Blair looked up at his friend. "I just don't think it's gonna be a good idea, Jim," he says, taking his hot dog from the vendor. "Thanks, man." As he juggled his hot dog, he pulled out a black laser pointer, and shined it at the dog next to them, showing it off to Jim. "Check this out," he says, as he and Jim walked over to an empty picnic table. "Isn't it pretty cool? It's a laser pointer, it's great for my lectures."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Look, why don't we try and stick to the subject here, okay?" He looked down at the dog. "Who's dog is this?" he asked Blair, getting a shrug in response as he fed the dog a bite of his hotdog. "I just want to keep it casual with her. You know, go out for a cup of coffee, a drink, something like that."

Blair looked concerned. "Jim, what if you two don't hit it off? She's a friend of mine. You're a friend of mine… if feelings get hurt, then I'm caught in the middle!"

"We already like each other," Jim protested.

"On the phone!"

"Yeah, so?"

Blair sighed. "We're male animals, right, Jim? Attraction is partly intellectual, but the visual components are a major aspect to it. Without the physical thing, we don't have the whole package!" Blair gestured with his hands to emphasize the point.

"What are you saying, Margaret's not attractive?"

Blair paused to think fast. "I'm saying… she has an inner beauty."

Jim paused too, pondering. "I like her voice. I'd still like to meet her." His cell phone rang, and he answered it with his mouth full. "Ellison… we're down in Holden Park, Simon…. Responding." He hung up his phone as he moved into action.

"What's going on?" Blair was suddenly all business as was Jim.

"Cascade Reservoir; there's a jumper on the dam."

Jim hurried to the reservoir, Blair close on his heels. The Sentinel wove in and out between cop cars, emergency vehicles, and gawkers, walking up to one of the officers. "How you doing, I'm Detective Jim Ellison."

The officer nodded greetings. "She's over there, she keeps talking about a castle in the sky and a golden bridge."

Blair followed the officer's directive. "Must be whacked out on something."

The officer nodded in agreement. "Looks that way. Every time I get close, she leans a little farther over the edge. Fire department rescue unit's on the way."

Jim quickly took in the situation. "Nah, that'll be too late." He moved over to stand only a few feet away from the girl on the ledge.

She looked over and took notice of him. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, reaching out towards empty air.

Jim nodded, trying to inch closer. "Yeah, yeah, it's beautiful."

The girl reached out for something again. "At first I didn't believe it."

"Didn't believe what?" Jim asked, moving closer to her.

"The castle here, the bridges of gold, and the people here. They shine." She reached out again for empty air, swaying.

"What's your name?" Jim asked, hoping to pull her back closer to reality.

"Lisa," she answered, after a long pause.

"Lisa, I can't see the castle from here. But maybe if you come down, you could tell me about it." Lisa looks back out at her invisible castle, reaching for it. Jim called out her name again. "Lisa…"

"Come with me," she said with a smile, leaning forward and falling off the railing.

Jim lunged forward. "Lisa!" He grabbed her jacket as she went over the railing. "All right, I've got you." The emergency crews all headed towards Jim as soon as she went over.

Lisa looked back at Jim, then back at her invisible castle. "But I want to go to the bridge." She slid her arms out of her jacket, and she fell into the raging waters below.

"No! NO!" shouted Jim, watching in shock and horror as Lisa fell from the bridge and into the water. He had felt the girl wriggling out of her jacket, and it had all happened in a matter of seconds, instantaneous for all the time Jim had had to react in. Even his Sentinel reflexes had not been enough to save the girl. He still clutched her empty jacket in his fist as he leaned over the bridge, blinking in disbelief, already wondering what else he could have done to save her. He didn't move until Blair walked over to the bridge and put an arm around his waist, pulling him away from the metal railing. Jim allowed the Guide to lead him away, and tug the red leather jacket out of his hands, passing it to one of the cops.

"Jim, you did everything you could," Blair said, aware of just how hollow his words would sound to a Sentinel who felt like he had failed in his job. "She wanted to jump; you can't beat yourself up for not being able to stop someone from doing something they wanted to do."

Jim looked over at Blair for the first time since Lisa jumped. "You think that little girl really wanted to jump off a bridge and drown herself, Chief? I don't… I think she was strung out on something and that's what wanted to jump. My job is to save lives, not drop them in the river." Jim leaned his head back against the hot metal of the ambulance side panel. His lunch was lying heavily on his stomach, and he felt like throwing up. Pushing his Guide out of the way, he ran back to the railing, and heaved out the contents of his stomach. Blair followed closely, his hand resting lightly on the small of his Sentinel's back as the large man was ill. As soon as Jim's stomach was empty, Blair stepped closer to him, and forced the Sentinel to look at him. "You didn't fail, Jim." Despite the crowd, Blair knew what his Sentinel needed, and he wrapped his arms around Jim's waist in a hug, guiding him back towards where the truck was parked. Jim surprised him by returning the embrace.

"Tell that to Lisa," he said softly, letting Blair steer him away from the scene and into the car. Jim drove back to the station in silence. Behind the wheel, he kept replaying the events in his head, and two things bothered him. One is that he had not been able to save Lisa, and her face seemed to hover around him, mocking him and reminding him of his failure to save her. The second was how easy it had been to respond to Blair's public hugging earlier, and took a sidelong glance at the Guide. Blair was watching him intently, probably afraid of a zone out or something going on the blitz. "Will you please stop staring at me like that, Chief?" Jim asked, a slight edge to his voice. "You're making me jumpy."

"Sorry, Jim… just trying to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," was Jim's short reply.

"Yeah, right," was Blair's snorted answer. But he settled back into his seat, only glancing at the Sentinel every few moments. That was better, but it was still making Jim jumpy as hell. After a few moments, he realized why he was so jumpy. Usually it was him watching Blair, in the rearview mirror or out of the corner of his eye, and with the Guide's intense scrutiny turned on him, he couldn't. He needed his routine; he needed to be able to watch the Guide to reassure himself. He shook his head to clear it as they rolled to a stop in the garage, and took the elevator up to Major Crimes and Simon's office.

Simon was waiting for them; Jim sat down on the corner of Simon's desk, and Blair perched on the side of the desk. Simon opened up the file and started reading. "Lisa Hughes. Sixteen years old. High school honor student." He turned around, and paced towards Blair. "Played cello in the school orchestra. Tox report came back positive, but no exact match with any known drug or combination of drugs."

Blair looked up. "Could be Golden."

Simon shot a look towards the kid. "Dare I ask how you know that?"

Blair shrugged. "The university… Rumors about a new designer drug."

Jim chimed in next. "Vice reports this stuff appeared in the area about three weeks ago, sir. One of the side effects that people experience is this luminescent golden quality to their vision. And Lisa Hughes was talking about this golden bridge."

Simon looked at Jim. "It's a hallucinogen?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Golden makes Angel Dust look like light beer. It affects each user differently. Three days ago an employee at Walkerville Steel decided to take a plunge into a vat of molten iron. He was stoned on the stuff."

Simon shook his head, disbelieving. "All right, so what's the game plan here, Jim?"

Jim thought. "I'm going to check with my source, sir… the uh… specialist in the field." Jim got up and put his arm around Blair's shoulder. "Come on, Chief, we got a meeting to make." He nodded to Simon as they walked out of the office. He could almost ignore the young woman's face in front of him. Almost. What if that had been Blair, Jim? Would you have caught him or let him fall like me? Jim fought to keep his face from showing that thought to his Guide.

On the drive to the diner, Jim was watching Blair in the mirror as the Guide talked about some of the rumors about Golden that were flying around at the school. Jim was listening carefully, cataloging everything that Blair was saying. When he talked, Lisa's face faded.

He pulled up outside the diner, and ushered Blair inside, to one of the corner booths. Blair leaned forward, towards Jim. "So how come I've never heard of this guy Sneaks?"

"It never came up before," was Jim's evasive answer.

"So what is he, like a professional snitch?"

"One of the best."

"Very undercover, very invisible… that's why they call him Sneaks, right?" Blair's eyes were wide with anticipation.

"Well… not exactly, Sneaks is short for--" Jim is interrupted by Sneaks' arrival. Sneaks is dressed in a long coat, and a somewhat shabby-looking knit hat and scarf, and he dropped into the seat beside Jim.

Sneaks and Jim were talking over each other, and Blair was trying to follow the mixed conversation until Sneaks stopped and looked over at him. "Who's this?" he asked.

"This is my associate, Blair Sandburg," Jim introduced, and Blair waved quickly at Sneaks. Sneaks is not what Sandburg had been expecting, and Jim could read Blair's obvious discomfort around the snitch.

Sneaks looked back at Jim. "So… what do you got on?"

Jim thought a second. "Hmm? Nope, sorry, just some hiking boots."

Sneaks looked under the table. "A couple of stompers! No sale!" Then he looked over at Blair. "What do you got on your feet?"

Blair made an uncomfortable noise. "Excuse me?"

Sneaks peered under the table again. "Oooh… Nike Severes."

Blair sounded nervous when he answered. "Oh yeah… okay."

Jim tried to bring Sneaks back on subject. "We're here about Golden."

"Oooh… hey, the yellow powder. That's a hot ticket, and it's gonna get hotter." He turned to Blair again. "Hey, how's that molded-on mid sole? I guess it's, ah, pretty soft, huh?"

Blair didn't answer, just grinned nervously. Jim flashed him a sympathetic look, and kept talking. "Why's it gonna get hotter?"

"It's scarce. And it's pricey, too. I tell you, they get their act together, they build that pipeline… that trickle is gonna be a flood."

"Who's they?" Jim questioned the snitch.

Sneaks ignored the question and turned to Blair once more. "You're uh, eight, or an eight and a half?"

Blair nodded. "Eight and a half," he confirmed, sending Jim a pleading look.

"Okay… All right, Sneaks, look, if I don't get a little, you know, solid information here, nobody's gonna walk away with anything."

Still on Blair's shoes, Sneaks kept talking to the Guide. "How's that, uh, defense-mesh tongue working for you?"

"The tongue is great."

Sneaks turned back to Jim. "Word is, you go for the Gold, you go to Slicks."

"The amateur drag strip?" Jim confirmed.

Sneaks nodded. "Plus, whoever's cookin' that stuff is looking to make a major connection overseas."

Jim looked up. "You got a name?"

"Cyrus. Who else? So! Do I earn my pay or what?"

Jim laughed. "Yeah, all right, all right. Settle down, this is a family establishment here, okay?" Jim opened his billfold and before he could offer it to Sneaks, the snitch had helped himself. "Go ahead, help yourself." Sneaks took another larger handful out of Jim's wallet.

The snitch looked from Jim to Blair and back again. "Hey, no, uh… bonus?"

Jim looked at Blair, who couldn't believe what his partner was suggesting. With a sigh and a dramatic look at Jim, Blair unlaced his Nikes and passed them over to the happy snitch. Sneaks left the diner first, wearing Blair's sneakers, and then Jim and Blair follow, Blair in his sock feet. "Sneaks. Short for sneakers. Why didn't you tell me?" Blair demanded, smacking Jim on the arm. He tried to walk on the sides of his feet on the wet concrete, but it was no use.

"You'll be reimbursed from the snitch fund," Jim reminded him.

"Well, I hope they cover socks, too, because these are my favorite Argyles!"

Jim looked over at the disgruntled Guide in the seat beside him as they drove off. "Hey, Chief. I gotta stop by the mall and pick up the new organizer for the kitchen… will you be okay out here in the car?"

Blair threw Jim an evil look. "Why don't you replace my socks while you're in there!" he yelled out after the Sentinel. He still hadn't forgiven Jim for not telling him about Sneaks and Sneaks' obsession.

Jim smiled as he got out of the truck and disappeared into the mall entrance. On the way in, he made a quick phone call to Simon. "Simon, call the DEA. These guys selling Golden are trying to get a connection with Cyrus. I want them in on this, because I'll have to use Cyrus to get in with them."

"You got it, Jim," Simon said, and hung up. Jim turned off his phone, and entered the mall.

He went into the big department store first, and went through four racks of men's socks before finding a pair of argyles that matched the ones Blair had on. He bought the socks and accepted the bag the cashier handed him. "Do you know where I can find a pair of eight and a half Nike Severes?"

The saleswoman smiled. "Men's Casual, 2nd floor, across from customer service," she said with a small grin. "Elevator is in women's."

Jim smiled his thanks as he moved through the department store towards the elevator. The ride up seemed to take forever, but when the doors opened up, Jim found himself in the customer service department. He saw the special Nike display as he stepped off the elevator, and he made a beeline towards it. It took him a few minutes, but he located the Severes, and found them in eight and a half. He paid for the shoes as well, and dropped the socks in the box with them. He moved away from casual and headed towards housewares, the reason he'd come in the first place. He spoke to the salesclerk, who informed him that it would be another two weeks before the cabinet organizer that he'd ordered would come, and Jim sighed. Ever since Blair had moved in, he was losing his mind because the Guide could never put anything back where it belonged. He nodded his thanks to the clerk, and dropped the bag into Blair's lap. "Here you go, Chief," he said, cranking the truck.

"What's this?" Blair questioned.

"Open it and see," was Jim's answer as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the loft.

Jim watched out of the corner of his eye as Blair rattled the plastic bag and finally pulled out the plain shoebox. "A shoebox?"

Jim barely held back a snort. He hadn't seen the dead girl's face since he'd gotten into the truck with Blair, and he liked it that way. "Open it," he repeated.

Blair took the top off the shoebox, and grinned. "All right, shoes!"

"Isn't that what's usually in a shoebox, Chief?" Jim asked dryly. He didn't know why, but when he was with Blair, it made him feel much more comfortable. When he repressed his senses, he repressed himself, and Blair had helped him change that. Boy are you getting maudlin, Ellison! he chided himself. Still, though, the little voice in his head questioned why he'd bought the replacement shoes and socks for Blair, and why even now he was watching for the Guide's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Blair yanked out the shoes, and in his haste, he dropped the other small bag that was in the shoebox. He bent to retrieve it, and when he saw what was in it, he grinned, and almost hugged Jim. "You found my socks!"

The grin and the abortive hug lifted Jim's spirits. He said nothing as he pulled into the parking lot. He got out and locked the truck's doors, and Blair followed him up the stairs. As they went in, Jim opened the closet and got down his gun lockbox, and Blair leaned against the couch, peeling off his wet socks and lacing up his new shoes.

"Who's this Cyrus guy?"

"Cyrus isn't a person, Chief," Jim said, cleaning and loading a new clip.

"So Cyrus is a myth?" asked Blair, curiously.

"Two years ago the DEA and Interpol created an international drug distributor with an appetite for big money deals. Cyrus is an Athens mail drop, a Swiss Bank account, and a dozen-man support group. The scam has already netted dozens of busts," Jim explained.

"And they don't mind if you use him?"

"Well they did until I brought the DEA in on the deal. The fact that they're trying to contact Cyrus is an indication that the Golden is still localized." He got up, and slipped his gun into the holster at the small of his back as he headed towards the door. "With any luck, we can stop it here." He handed Blair his jacket.

"Great!" Blair shut the door behind them as they left.

"So what time does the drag strip open?" Jim asked, as they walked downstairs.

"Seven thirty or so, about an hour after dark," Blair answered, almost instantly.

"Let me guess… you used to race dragsters there."

Blair seemed surprised. "No, I had a friend who did… how'd you know?"

Jim smiled, one of the real smiles that only Blair and Simon got to see. "Just a lucky guess, Chief." He herded the Guide back out to the car. It seemed as though they'd been going all day. "Soon as we get back from the drag strip, Chief, I'm taking a hot shower and going to bed." And maybe if I'm lucky, I won't dream of a dead girl.

Blair nodded. "That sounds really good to me too, Jim. A shower and some sleep." He reached out and touched Jim on the arm. "You sure you're okay?"

Jim briefly touched Blair's hand before nodding. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said. At least it was only a partial lie; he couldn't bring himself to tell Blair a full lie anymore. He was okay, for now. Later, he couldn't--wouldn't--think about.

Blair rode the rest of the way in silence, but kept an eye on the Sentinel as he drove. As soon as they got to the drag strip, though, Blair bounced. He loved to watch fast cars, but he hated riding in them.

Jim and Blair stopped to watch two cars, a blue dragster and a purple dragster, revving their engines, and then both pulled off. "The blue one!" Blair predicted.

"Nah, the purple one." Just then, the loudspeaker announced that the purple car had won, and Blair stamped his foot. "Looks can be deceiving, huh?" Jim asked the disgruntled Guide. He started to scan the conversations around him, picking up bits and pieces, looking for something he could use.

"Double or nothing on the next race, okay?"

"You're on."

"You're lying."

"Yeah, my Chevy could have blown his doors off."

"How much do they want?"

"A quarter of a ki."

"Half the Golden now... The rest in, uh, two days. The money up front." That was the conversation that Jim had been looking for, and it grabbed his attention. He zeroed in on it, and found three men working on a dragster.

"Anything?" Blair asked, seeing the look on the Sentinel's face.

"Come on," Jim said curtly, walking around the strip, and coming to a halt when the muscleman of the group stops them.

"You want something?" he demanded.

"I thought maybe we could take a look," Jim said, indicating the car.

"I never seen you around here before," the muscle countered.

"That's right, first time," Blair interjected.

"Another night," the muscle said shortly.

Jim shook his head. "Nah, that wouldn't be good for us. Our business won't wait."

"We don't have any business," the muscle said.

"Oh no?" Jim asked innocently, as the boss looked up from beneath the hood of the car. "Ten minutes of your time, huh? You can call off the pit bull."

"I don't know him," the muscle said to the boss.

"Then tell him to leave." Jim and Blair looked at each other, but neither moved. The boss looked each man up again, and spoke to the muscle. "Call security."

Jim shook his head. "See, that's a big mistake."

The boss was curious. "Why's that?"

"Because you're looking for Cyrus," Jim countered.

"You're Cyrus?" the boss couldn't believe it.

"Nah. It doesn't work that way. See, I'm Cyrus' point man for the area. You need negotiating, you go through me."

The third man was the smallest of the group, and he walked over to their group. "Yeah, why should we trust you?"

"You put out the word. You need connections. I'm here." No one said anything, and Jim looked from man to man to man. "Okay, three blind mice. Your loss. Very good." Jim turned to leave, when the boss called him back.

"Wait!" Jim and Blair both stopped, and turned back. "Let's just say I might happen to know what you're talking about. What could Cyrus do for us?"

"Distribution," Jim answered. "Turn a mom and pop organization like you got here into General Motors if you got the product." He pulled one of his cards from his pocket and handed it to the boss. "Give me a call before Cyrus changes his mind." The third man tossed a small bag on the ground as Jim and Blair walked away. "Hey wait! You dropped something." Again, Jim stopped and picked up the bag, tapping it a few times with nervous fingers.

"We got the product," said the third man.

"Nice talking with you gentlemen… keep in touch," Jim said, still tapping the bag with his fingers as he walked away.

"Watch it Jim, you're getting that stuff all over your hands," Blair cautioned.

Jim noticed an older man watching them. "Hey, you see that guy?"

"Who?"

Jim pointed to the man. "You see that guy over there? He's been watching us. That guy right there? Middle-aged, medium build, medium everything." He rubbed his nose and face with the fingers that had been tapping the Golden bag.

"Where?"

"He's right--" Jim started to walk towards the man, but engines sounded behind him and Jim turned. The headlights of the drug lords' car flashed into his face, shining off into the distance. "Whoa," Jim said, rubbing his eyes.

"You okay?" Blair asked, concerned.

"Man, that's weird."

"Jim, what's wrong?" He was definitely worried now, because he wasn't getting a straight answer from the Sentinel.

Jim looked around, trying to find his Guide, but golden light is all he can see. "Aww, man!" Jim fell to his knees onto the pavement, feeling Blair clutching him.

"Jim!" Blair grabs his arm, going down with him. "Jim, what's wrong? Jim, are you okay? Jim, is it the drug?"

Even in the blind panic he felt, he could still feel Blair's presence, feel Blair's arm around him as he went to his knees, overwhelmed. "Don't leave me, Chief," he whispered.

"I won't, Jim… I'm not leaving, I'm not going anywhere," Blair said. "Come on, we've got to get you to a doctor."

"Just take me home, Chief, and do the doctor in the morning if it doesn't go away," Jim wheedled. "I think the headlights just blinded me." He doesn't want to let on just how helpless he feels.

"All right, Jim, but we are going first thing in the morning." He dug through Jim's pockets and finally fished out the Sentinel's truck keys. "I don't like this, Jim," but he allowed the Sentinel's wishes to hold sway as he drove Jim home.

* * * * *

Blair called in a favor and got Jim the first morning appointment with an optometrist. Now, he watched as the doctor examined Jim's eyes, checking them and looking for what was wrong.

"What do you see, Detective?"

"Not much. A lot of golden light, shapeless forms, and a lot of nothing," Jim answered, his voice sounding frustrated.

"I can find no obvious neurological or traumatic injury to your eyes," the doctor replied.

"Then why am I blind?" demanded Jim.

"In the conventional sense, you're not. You see light, not darkness." The doctor watched Jim carefully.

"Well, isn't that what happens with everybody? Who sees in the dark? It's the same thing."

"Your pupils react normally to visible light. The problem may be neuropsychotic in nature." He noted Jim's blank stare.

"What, like, hysterical blindness?" questioned Blair.

"Of a kind I'm unfamiliar with," answered the doctor.

"Then it's possible I'm gonna get my vision back, right?"

"Yes, it's possible. But without extensive tests and time, I really don't know. We need to get you admitted to the hospital, and I'd like to call in some consulting physicians. "

Blair felt helpless as he looked at his Sentinel sitting in the exam chair. Forget what this guy says, Jim, Blair thought to himself. You will get your sight back, I'll make sure of it… anything it takes, we'll do it together. He wasn't sure of the moment when he'd started to care so deeply for the older man, but he did. Whenever it had been didn't matter to Blair, all that did matter was Jim and getting the Sentinel's sight back… making him whole again.

"I... It's... um... It's not gonna work for me, Doc. I just don't have time. I appreciate... I appreciate your time." Jim's voice shocked Blair into motion. He walked up behind Jim, and Jim turned his head to meet him. "Blair... "

Blair took Jim's arm as he stood. "It's all right, buddy, come on. Thanks, Doc." He helped Jim out of the office and back out into the car. They were due into the station in a couple of hours. "Jim…"

Jim levered himself into the passenger seat of his truck. "Don't, Blair… don't start with me." He leaned his head back against the headrest; pity from Blair was the last thing he could cope with. "Did you bring my sunglasses?"

"Yeah, they're right here," he said, pressing the dark glasses into Jim's hand. The Sentinel fumbled with them a moment, but soon they were on his face. "Jim, what's wrong with you?"

Jim gave a harsh laugh. "You heard the doc, Chief, nothing's wrong with me. I'm just imagining the fact that all I can see is a big golden blur. But don't you worry, Chief, I know what it is."

Blair turned a startled look on his Sentinel. "What, Jim?"

"Penance, Chief," he said quietly. "I couldn't save that girl, and now, all I can see is her face. Every time I close my eyes she's there, and now I can't see anything else. I'll never forget her, Chief."

Blair reached out and put a hand on Jim's arm. "That's not what happened, Jim. The Golden's just messing with you, that's all." He squeezed Jim's arm tightly, and was surprised to feel Jim touch his hand, covering it. "You'll get your sight back as soon as it works through your system." He put the truck in drive, and headed towards the station.

"I hope you're right, Chief," Jim said softly. Both men were silent until they pulled into the garage, and headed up to Simon's office.

Simon couldn't believe that Jim would walk into his office with sunglasses on. "Too bright in here for you?"

Jim cursed silently. "Sorry, sir," he said, removing the sunglasses and hanging them in the collar of his shirt.

"So any progress?"

"We met with three men at Slicks who are involved in the sale of Golden," Jim explained. "Uh, one of them appears to be the hired muscle. The other two we're not sure yet."

"Did the thing with Cyrus work?" Simon questioned.

"Like a charm, yeah," Jim answered.

"Did you get a sample?"

"I did, sir, but I, uh, lost it."

"Lost it?" Simon demanded. That was very unlike Jim.

"In a crowd," Blair interjected, trying to stall.

"Well, did you follow them? Find out who they were?"

"Uh, no that wasn't possible, sir, not without compromising my cover. I gave them my cell phone number, so I'm sure they're gonna call me. I wanna hold off on making any arrests until we're positive that we're dealing with the principal players here."

"Yeah, well, that makes sense." Simon poured himself a cup of coffee, and then held out the pot to Jim. It was several seconds before Blair noticed the pot.

"Uh, coffee? No thanks, I'm fine here, Simon, thanks." Blair hoped to God that Jim would pick up the cue.

"Yeah, no, thank you, Simon. You know me and that flavored stuff. What is that? Hazelnut? Thank you." Thank God for Sandburg.

Simon eyed his detective warily. "You feeling okay, Jim?"

"Fine, sir. Hey, maybe we should get on it."

"Yeah," Blair echoed, moving to back Jim.

Jim stood up, and Simon spoke to Blair as Jim moved. "Hand me that file there, Sandburg."

"Okay." He moved back and grabbed the file off the table.

Jim looked back towards Simon. "Just the cigar's getting to me."

Simon picked up his unlit cigar and eyed it a moment as Jim moved towards the door. At the same moment, Blair turned around with the file in his hands, and Jim bumped into him, scattering the papers in the file all over the floor. "Sorry," Jim said.

"I got, Jim. I got it," Blair said, bending down to pick up the papers. But when Jim opened the door, he hit the Guide in the head with it. "Oww!"

"Oh God! I'm sorry." He stopped, the door half-open. He reached out and touched Blair's head, his own hurting in sympathy. My poor Guide.

Simon was furious. "All right. One of you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Uh... well… it's like this…"

"Like what, Sandburg!" Simon slammed the door shut as Jim perched on the edge of his desk.

"Jim's lost his eyesight. He got some of the Golden on him, in his system, something, and it blinded him." Blair leaned against the edge of the closest table.

Simon shook his head. "Jim, put the glasses back on."

"Thank you, Sir." Jim put the glasses back on, thankful to have that small shield against the world. He listened for Blair's heartbeat, pinpointing where in the room the Guide was, and tuned into the familiar sound for comfort.

Simon started pacing. "Look, Jim, I want you in the hospital. The whole case will just get reassigned."

"Sir, I had to work pretty hard to get them to accept me as Cyrus' contact. Now, we bait and switch now, game is over, man."

"We'll take our chances. If they make us, we'll bust them."

"Charge them with what? Simon, just let me handle this, okay?"

"It's too dangerous."

"Hang on. Simon, we did fool you." Blair flinched at the glare Simon passed his way. "For a little while. And with Jim's sensory powers and a little practice and some help from me, I, uh, I think we can do it."

"Do what? Pretend that Jim can see?!" Simon was half-irate, and half-terrified for his friend.

"My sight will return eventually, sir."

"Jim, what if it doesn't?" That wasn't a question from captain to detective, it was a question from friend to friend.

"Look, there is one thing I can see over and over again. It's the face of that girl going down the edge of that dam." Jim got up off the edge of Simon's desk. "Now they've done this to my eyes. I don't want to stop this case right now, sir! I'm sorry."

"Jim. It is over. One fumble and I lose you. It is not worth it!"

Blair silently cheered that sentiment, but he knew Jim would never go for it, and he would back his Sentinel no matter what.

"Look, Simon--"

"You are off active duty until you get better. Is that clear?"

"Sir--"

Blair could hear the frustration in Jim's tone, and he thought fast. "Hey, how 'bout, uh, we have a trial run out in the bullpen?"

"Yeah." Jim definitely liked that idea.

"He can't get hurt out there," Blair continued, despite Jim's interruption.

"That's a great idea."

Blair opened the door to the sound of a gusty sigh from Simon. "All right. No sunglasses," he said, taking the glasses from Jim. Then he turned to Blair. "And no help from you."

"All right."

"Go ahead," Simon said.

Jim walked toward the door and bumped into the frame. He moves over and continued through the doorway into the bullpen. Simon and Blair follow and stand in the doorway to watch.

Jim's first target is Brown, who walked through the bullpen carrying a cup, stirring it. Jim pauses. "Hey, Brown, you keep hitting that cocoa, you're gonna stretch the waistband of those fine corduroy slacks you're wearing."

Brown gave Jim a smirk. "It's the sugarless kind, okay?"

Jim shrugged. "It's your figure," he said, moving away from Brown. The refreshment lady wheeled her cart in through the side doorway and Jim stops the cart. "Oh, boy, doesn't this smell good. I'd like the poppyseed, please. You can put it on the desk right behind you." He pulled out his wallet and pulled out a bill, handing it to the woman. "Keep the change."

"Gee, thanks!" the woman said, surprised at the size of the tip.

"I think that was a twenty," Blair said quietly to Simon.

"Can't I be generous?" he said to the woman as he passed by her, bumping into her cart a little. "Excuse me."

"He's gonna go broke," Simon said quietly, as Jim faded into the background.

"Yeah," Blair agreed. Then he saw another woman walking into the bullpen.

"Blair?" she asked.

"Margaret!" He walked across the bullpen to greet her.

"Hey," she said, returning the greeting as he moved to meet her.

"How are you doing?" he asks as they hug.

"Good. So, I have an appointment in the neighborhood and I-- That's a lie. I, um... I came here to meet Jim." Jim heard the conversation from the back of the bullpen and walks over to join them. "And I guess that's you," she said, holding out her hand, then dropping it when Jim doesn't respond.

"Uh, Jim, have you washed your hands since you came back from the morgue?" he asked, trying to cue the Sentinel.

"Of course I have." He held out his hand, and after a bit of fumbling, they shake hands. "Nice to see you."

"You know it's funny, you're... you're so like I pictured."

"You know when I imagined your voice, well I pictured you to look just like you do," Jim said smoothly.

"Well, good, I'm glad I did this."

Jim smiled. "I am too."

"So you wanna give me a call and we'll make some plans?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. I'd like that. Let's do it soon," Jim said, trying not to sound artificial.

"Okay," she said to Jim, and then turned to Blair. "And thanks for trying to keep us apart. It worked beautifully. Bye." As Margaret walked out, Simon joined them.

"Bye, bye," Blair called out after her, then paused. "Well, so far, so good."

"Yeah, right," Simon snorted in response. "All right. I want you to set up the next meet. We'll just take this one step at a time."

"Okay." He was glad not to be taken off duty OR the case.

"Wear the glasses." He passed the sunglasses back to Jim. It was unnerving to the captain seeing his sharp-eyed friend blindly looking around.

"Okay." Jim put the glasses on again, once again glad to have them back.

As soon as Jim put the glasses back on, Blair clapped him on the shoulder. "All right, Jim, you've made your point, you can still work. Now, those guys are supposed to be calling you soon, and I don't think a police department is the place you want to take that call, right?" The truth was, he wanted Jim out of there before the Sentinel gave himself away, gave away the fact that he couldn't see. Jim wanted to protect that secret, and Blair would help. He didn't approve, but he would protect it. It was the least he could do for his friend.

Jim felt Blair lay a gentle hand on the small of his back, and he let the Guide steer him towards the door and the elevator. Simon watched as they departed, seeing Blair guiding Jim down the hall. He was deeply troubled over Ellison's loss of sight, especially since he knew of the cop's special abilities. As he watched the duo depart, he was ready to reconsider his agreement to let Jim stay on active duty.

Jim could feel Simon's scrutiny on him in the middle of his shoulder blades, right up until he heard the elevator doors close. He was so tempted to lean against the reassuring presence of his partner until the doors opened, but he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and Lisa's face swam back in front of him, and he heard the girl's lilting voice. At least you have someone to rely on.

Blair had to urge Jim out of the elevator, almost dragging him along. "Jim!" he called out sharply, and Jim jerked out of his reverie and followed Blair out to the truck. He got into the passenger side and Blair got behind the wheel, putting his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Jim, what just happened back there?"

"Nothing, Chief, just thinking about making the deal." He wasn't going to confess he was scared and hallucinating to one of the two men he respected most.

"Jim, until you get your sight back, you're down to four senses, and I can't have you zoning out on me."

"I won't zone out on you, Chief," Jim reassured his Guide. "I'm not about to lose another of my senses, even if I do deserve it."

"Jim, you didn't do anything to deserve this," he said as he drove. "You didn't drop that girl, she wiggled out of her jacket and dropped because she was whacked out of her mind. If your hand had slipped, then maybe I could see it. But Jim, you didn't slip. You didn't do anything except what you're supposed to do. This isn't your fault."

Jim listened to Blair, and tried to convince himself that the Guide was right. The only thing that kept him from believing it was the dead girl's face, still haunting him.

Blair saw that he was getting nowhere with the Sentinel, and his heart hurt to see his friend suffering so. "Jim… I'll help you through this, but you have to stop blaming yourself. I can't absolve you of anything because there's nothing for you to be forgiven for." He tried not to let his frustration enter his voice.

Jim nodded his acceptance of the deal, and Blair parked the truck and helped Jim out. Jim was quiet as he allowed Blair to guide him up the stairs and into the loft. The Sentinel dropped down on the couch as Blair went to his room and started rummaging around.

Finally he came back into the living room, with a handful of cassette tapes and his boombox. "There, you hear that?" he asked, playing one of the tapes.

Jim turned his head away from the boombox. "It's giving me a headache."

"No, no… the echoes, not the sounds. That's how bats navigate. Sound waves bounce off solid objects. You can approximate the size, the shape, the distance of an object by the echo."

"If you're a flying rodent." The tone of Jim's voice showed his distaste for the whole idea.

Blair stopped the tape and looked at Jim. "The blind do it too, by tapping their canes."

Jim was emphatic about the next statement. "No. No canes. It's a dead give-away."

"I agree," Blair said, and then continued his thought. "But even if you can't see it, smell it, or taste it, you can still know it's there."

Jim's headache was worsening. "I thought we were gonna work on some simple verbal cues here."

Blair moved to sit beside Jim. "Oh, we're gonna do that too, but first, listen to the way the sound reverberates in a room… the ambiance, and concentrate on a given sound environment, you can make a mental map of your surroundings!"

"All right, I'll deal with that, but at the risk of being a pessimist here, what happens if my vision doesn't come back?"

"Jim, you had a power surge, and your lines weren't built to take that much current. They're in shock, but they will recover, especially if you help the process." He had to find a way to get through to his Sentinel.

"How can I help the process?" Anything Jim could do to keep himself from feeling useless.

"By trying to see. Remake the connection by an act of will." Jim's cell phone started to ring from it's position on the coffee table, and when Jim didn't move to answer it, Blair finally picked it up and passed it to Jim.

"Yeah. Well, that's an awful lot of good faith… All right, fine." He hung up the phone, and then stood up. He knew where the windows should be, and he only tripped once over the Guide as he made his way to them. Not that he could look out them. "They want a hundred thousand dollars in good faith--we get a sample kilo of the Golden. They'll call us and tell us when and where. If the deal goes smooth, we negotiate from there."

After the phone call, Blair sighed. He wasn't going to get a chance to work through anything with Jim. "How are we going to do this, Jim?"

"I've got a black bag under the bed that'll have everything we need and then some," Jim explained. "Right now… let's just go to bed."

"You sure, Jim?" He was worried that his friend didn't seem to care about working on anything that would help him deal with his temporary handicap. Usually Jim would have kept them both up until dawn, if that's what it took. This quiet resignation disturbed Blair.

"I'm sure, Chief. I'm too tired to think anymore and I'm getting a headache from using everything else so much trying to compensate."

Blair hadn't thought about that, and allowed that it did make sense. Sort of. "Come on, Jim, I'll help you upstairs." He half hoped that Jim would fight him on it, because at least that would show some self-reliance.

Instead, Jim acquiesced. "Thanks, Blair," he said softly. He inclined his head towards the upstairs. "Would you… just in case?" He couldn't bring himself to finish either thought. Please, buddy, finish it for me.

It took Blair a second to figure out what Jim wanted. "Of course I will, Jim." He guided Jim up the stairs and into bed, pulling the Sentinel's shirt off as Jim kicked off his shoes, not caring where they fell. Blair moved them to their proper place as the weary Sentinel levered himself into bed. Blair kicked off his own shoes and shirt and climbed into bed beside Jim. "Go on to sleep, Jim," Blair whispered. "I'm going to take care of you."

Sightless, Jim felt lost. He couldn't see the ceiling, couldn't see the window... couldn't see Blair lying beside him. When he'd been a child, his father had ruthlessly ridiculed the young Jim for his fear of the dark, and he'd learned to suppress it. Then when his Sentinel senses awoke, he'd had no need to be afraid. But now with his sight gone and his faith crumbling... the fear returned. Only the presence of his Guide kept him from breaking. Before he was aware of it, he'd wrapped his arms around Blair and drug him across the bed. He knew he couldn't confess his secret to Blair, and he knew the Guide wouldn't ask. It was at that moment, blinded and clutching Blair like the lifeline he'd become, that Jim realized just how much he'd come to care for his Guide. That is how Jim finally slept that night, with Blair pulled tightly against him.

At first, Blair could not breathe for Jim's arm being so tightly wrapped around him, but as he pulled himself close to the Sentinel and spooned into his body, Blair found that he did indeed have plenty of space to breathe. Good night, Jim, the Guide thought. He closed his eyes, and he was soon asleep against Jim's warm bulk. Jim followed quickly after, letting Blair's heartbeat calm him.

Blair woke first, his head cradled on Jim's shoulder. The other man was still asleep, his arm thrown over his eyes. Blair pushed himself up, and looked at Jim. He couldn't believe he'd slept the night in Jim's bed, and in his arms. He rolled out of bed--or tried to. Jim's arm was still wrapped securely around his waist, not allowing him to move. He hated to wake the Sentinel up, but it was time for the alarm to go off anyway, and he really didn't want Jim finding out that sleeping with him had given Blair the hard-on from hell. "Jim," he said, shaking the Sentinel. "Jim, wake up."

Jim opened his eyes and suffered a brief moment of panic as he couldn't see anything but gold light, and then he remembered. He was blind; a useless Sentinel. And Blair had slept with him last night. Jim was filled with two conflicting emotions; loathing for his weakness and for showing it to Sandburg, and a very intense adoration for the Guide who didn't seem to give a damn. Jim knew, that the only thing that mattered to Blair was for him to get his sight back. Nothing else mattered. Blair was in the shower; Jim could hear the water running as he tripped his way down the stairs to fumble through the kitchen, aiming to start a pot of coffee. This is why I keep everything in its place, Jim thought to himself, feeling the familiar ridges of the coffee can under his fingertips. The scoop was buried in the can, and Jim gingerly dug through it and brought it out, dumping it into the filter and adding water. By the time Blair got downstairs, the coffee was brewed and Jim was sipping a cup. "Morning, Chief."

"Jim… how?" He wrapped the towel around his neck as he entered the kitchen. He took down a cup and tried the coffee, and almost choked. "A little strong, isn't it, Jim?" You could tar the highway with it! he thought to himself.

"Sorry, Chief, I misjudged the level in the scoop," he apologized.

"No kidding!" He added a heaping spoon of sugar and a half cup of water to it. "You need help getting dressed?"

"Just help me find something that doesn't clash, I think I can handle the rest of it."

Blair dumped out the pot of road tar that Jim had made and set a fresh one to brew. "Nothing in your closet could possibly clash," Blair said with a half smile. He picked out a pair of jeans, a dark shirt, and a pair of hiking boots for Jim, as well as his Jags hat and a scarf for the weather. He laid Jim's leather jacket to the side and dug under the bed, getting out the black bag that Jim had left there. The meeting was going to be soon, and they needed to be ready. Blair took the package out to the truck, and by the time he got back inside, Jim was dressed and ready. They were both watching for the cell phone to start ringing, and as soon as it did, Blair passed it over to Jim. "Yeah. Yeah, I know where it is. In an hour." He hung up and then looked towards Blair. "Come on, we've got a meeting to make." He made his way to the end of the stairs in the hallway without tripping.

Blair followed the directions that Jim gave him, and the truck finally rolled to a stop on a dirt road near an empty bridge. "I don't like this, Jim… can you see anything?"

"Nah, right now it's just a whole lot of nothing."

"This isn't gonna work!" Blair couldn't believe Jim seemed so unconcerned with himself.

Jim ignored it. "All right, Chief, in this black bag here, get me out that little black case." Blair dubiously did as Jim asked, handing him the things he pulled out of the bag. "There's a pair of binoculars and a radio transmitter for you. There's also a pair of gloves for me, get them out too. You're gonna be able to communicate with me via this two-way earpiece. You're gonna be able to hear most of what I hear, and I want you to watch where I go with the binoculars, and I want you to see where I'm going, tell me who's coming, that sorta thing." He busied himself putting on his earplug, sunglasses, and gloves.

"You know, it's not too late to call in some backup," he said, worried about his partner.

"Yes, it is. Let's do a radio check."

Blair lifted the radio and spoke into it. "Check."

Jim flinched, jumping at the blare of Blair's voice in his ear. "Just turn it down a little please, would you?" He got out of the truck, holding a briefcase of money in his hand. "Guide me on this, will you?"

Blair sighed. "Okay, Jim, I'm with you." Jim walked around the truck, tripping on a brush as he does, turning back to face Sandburg with his arms outstretched in a pleading gesture. "Watch out for the bush, sorry."

"Sandburg, which way?"

"A little to the right," he answered, peering through the binoculars. Jim moved to the left. "The other right!" Jim finally got himself righted and kept moving down the dirt path, still tripping once or twice. Looking through the binoculars, Blair saw the van parked under the bridge. "The van's right there. I don't see anybody."

"Check the plates," Jim ordered softly.

Blair moved to focus his binoculars on the van's plates. "They're out of state."

"I hear somebody," Jim said, as two men appeared from behind the bridge pillars. Two of the three men from Slicks.

"Okay, Jim. There's two of them. They came out from behind the pillars. One's on your right, the bigger one's on the left. He's got a gun in his belt, and I'll keep watching. It's the guys from Slicks--not the muscles, the other two."

The nervous man with the mustache spoke first. "What's in the case?"

"What you asked for," Jim answered shortly. "Where's the product?"

The blond boss answered. "Front seat."

"Okay, Jim, the van is a little to your right and the window's open." Jim walked over to the van. "Keep going ahead. Okay, you're right there, now reach in." Jim reached into the seat and pulled out a silver Thermos, and screwed the top off, and pulls out a bag of yellow powder. "Yep, Yeah. Yeah. That's--the drugs are there."

Meanwhile, the other two had opened the briefcase, and was checking out the money. "Okay, what's step two?" questioned the mustached one.

"Cyrus wants a hundred kilos a month to start distribution."

"No problem," the boss answered. "It's twenty-five thousand dollars a ki."

"With that kind of quantity, I'd say fifteen," Jim said calmly.

"Say twenty," the man countered.

"Deal."

The boss waved at someone behind Jim, and Blair moved his binoculars to look. "Uh, Jim, Jim, the muscle just got here."

Jim freezes as the muscle walks up behind him. "Hold it," the guy ordered, and Jim stood still as the guy waved a device all over him, which beeps as it goes by the transmitter in Jim's ear. "He's wired!"

Jim moved swiftly, taking down the muscleman and holding him to the ground with his own gun. "Drop it!!" Blair gets out of the truck in a panic, watching the scene unfold. "I said, drop it! Drop it!"

"You drop it or I'll shoot him," Jim countered.

"And I'll shoot you," the boss countered back.

"You think Cyrus is gonna let you live? You can't hide from him."

"You tried to rip us off!" accused the muscle.

Blair pulled out his laser pointer and props it on top of the binoculars, and then looks through, targeting the boss' chest. "Jim, tell the man with the gun to look on his chest."

Jim doesn't even pause. "Look on your chest." He trusted Blair to know what he was doing.

The boss looks down and sees the red light from the laser sight. "What is it?" asked the mustache.

"Laser sight," answered the boss.

"Are you fu--you waste him!" yelled the muscle.

The boss lifted his gun again, and Jim didn't blink. "My man'll take you out before you can even blink. Cyrus can hire the best."

Blair kept the pointer trained. "Come on, put it down," he said, mostly to himself. The boss lowered the gun, and Blair sighed in relief. "All right, it's down."

Jim backed off the muscle. "Get up." Then he turned to the boss. "Yeah, I'm wired. You think I'd come in here one on three without any backup? Now, why don't we just try and stick to business, okay? I'll await your call." He turned away from the men, heading back towards the truck and Blair.

The muscle man moves toward his gun. "Oh wait! Look out, man!" he warned Jim, who paused for a moment as the red dot moved to land on the muscle.

"Chaz!" barked out the boss, and Chaz froze, leaving the gun where it was.

"I got him. You're okay." Jim resumed his walk back to the truck, and as soon as he got into the car beside Blair, the Guide let him have it. "Jim, that's it! You could have gotten yourself killed doing that, especially with you not being able to see what is going on around you! What would you have done if I hadn't had that laser pointer!"

Jim shrugged. "Gotten shot? Chief, look, what are you so worked up about? It worked, we got the Golden, we can get the setup now. We're in, buddy."

Jim knew the glare he gave the Sentinel was wasted on Jim's blindness, but it made him feel better. "I think Simon was right," he said. "He should have taken you off the case until you got your eyes back on track."

Jim's hand shot out and grabbed Blair's wrist in an iron grip. "No way, Chief, you can't do that to me. I'm already useless as a Sentinel, at least I can still be a cop."

"Jim, you're NOT useless as a Sentinel! You couldn't have pulled off half of what just happened if you hadn't had four other special senses backing you up! The only reason you shouldn't be doing it is because you could get hurt way too easily! Losing your sight has knocked you for a loop, buddy, whether you want to admit it or not! You haven't been yourself since it happened, and your damn stubborn pride isn't worth your life! Not worth it to Simon, and definitely not worth it to me! Now, I'm not going to push you to talk about it unless you want to, because as much as I want to kick your ass and get you out of this, you're going to have to come to terms with yourself. All I can do is be there for you, Jim, and I am." He took a deep breath. "No more, Jim, okay? No more fieldwork until your eyes come back."

Jim sorely wanted to be able to make that promise to Blair, to allay the fear and worry in his Guide's voice. But on the flip side of that, he couldn't lie to Blair either. "I want to, Chief." At least that's not a lie, Jim thought to himself. "But--"

Blair sighed as he heard the resignation in Jim's tone. "But you can't," he finished softly. At least Jim respected him enough not to lie to him.

"I can't," Jim echoed. "There's just too much I have left to do, to make sure this is finished. To make sure those bastards pay, for what they did to Lisa and to me."

Blair felt the acid in his stomach churning. Finally Jim seemed to be pulling himself out of the it's my fault attitude and finally placing the blame where it belonged--on the Golden and on the Golden dealers. But in doing that--which is what Blair had been urging him to do all along--Jim was going back into his Protector mode, and damn the torpedoes and his own personal safety. Blair normally hated it when Jim was at the top of his game, but with one sense down, he despised it, with every part of his heart and soul. But, he knew that's who and what Jim was. A Protector. "Just be careful, Jim," he admonished.

"I will, Chief. I'll be fine as long as you're there helping me." And Jim realized that was true. Blair was his talisman, a ward and protector against the dangers he faced. A familiar song sounded in his mind… I once was lost, but now am found… was blind, but now, I see… He had been lost without a Guide in his life, and Blair had found him; he'd been blinded to the man's importance in his life, but now, being truly blind, Jim realized the depth of Blair's devotion, his caring, and his friendship. I don't ever want to lose you, Chief, Jim thought quietly to himself.

Blair turned a smile on Jim, forgetting for a brief second that Jim couldn't see it. "I'll always be there for you, Jim."

Blair parked under the station in the basement, and he helped Jim take the Thermos full of Golden to Simon. "It worked, Sir, we got the deal," Jim said, proudly displaying the trophy full of illegal drug. "They're going to call me back soon and set up the last leg of the deal, and we got 'em."

"Good job, Jim," Simon congratulated. Then he turned to Blair. "How did it really go?"

"Smooth as silk," Blair lied, covering for Jim. "I directed him by radio, Jim made the deal, and we were out just like that," he finished, snapping his fingers. "Not a snag in sight."

Simon studied Blair as he spoke. He knew the young man was lying through his perfect teeth. He decided to level with them both. "Sandburg… I know you're lying to protect Jim. But as much as I may come to regret it, I'm not jerking him off duty. Now, you want to tell me what really happened?"

"Sir, I asked Blair to tell you that, so you wouldn't pull me off the case," Jim said, still protecting his Guide. "If you're considering--"

"Ellison, sit down and shut up," Simon said, exasperated. "You no more asked Blair to lie for you than you intended to lose your eyesight, and I know that. Now, it's very noble of you to want to protect him, but I just want the truth, bottom line, with no Guide/Sentinel Protection bullshit. And if I don't get the truth, that's when you're going to see me unhappy. You don't want to see your captain unhappy, do you, Jim?"

"No, Sir," Jim said, feeling thoroughly chastened. "Blair was just trying to protect me."

"I know that, and it's very noble of him too," Simon said. "I know you guys have a special relationship that I don't know anything about because Jim's a Sentinel, and that's fine--keep it that way, I don't NEED to know. All I need to know is, that I can count on you guys to level with me."

Jim got the message and so did Blair. "All right, Simon, here's what really happened today." Blair filled Simon in on the deal and how Jim had almost gotten shot because of the radio earpiece Blair had been using to direct him.

The captain shook his head. He couldn't believe that any of this was happening. "Next time is the big meeting, where we set up the bust, right?" Both men nodded in confirmation. "Good. That means you're going to have the whole damn Major Crimes AND Narcotics divisions backing you up on this one. Nothing is going to go wrong."

"I hope you're right, Sir."

"Of course I'm right. It's why I'm the captain." He looked over at Blair, saw the tiredness in the slump of the young man's shoulders. "As soon as you both file your reports and get this down to the lab for a sample and then lock the rest up in the evidence locker, get him out of here and relax until you get the next call."

Jim was about to protest being treated like an invalid until he abruptly realized something. He had not once seen Lisa's face this morning, nor heard her voice since he'd woken up in bed beside Blair. Somehow, making the connection with his Guide--even though it had been one-sided--seemed to have had an effect on him. Given him a reason to try. He followed meekly as Blair left Simon's office, but beat the Guide to his desk. Blair smiled. "Hey Jim… you seem to be feeling more like yourself."

Jim nodded. He did feel a bit more like himself. "Yeah, I guess you were right after all, Chief."

"Me? Right?" Blair let his amusement creep into his tone. "Say that again, Jim, I don't think I heard it."

"You were right, Blair Sandburg," Jim said loudly. "You were right and I should have listened to you."

"Man, of all the times not to have my tape recorder!"

"Smartass," Jim grumped. "Don't you have some filing to do?"

"Yeah, yeah… just a minute though." He sat down beside Jim and took the Sentinel's hand in his, letting Jim know where he was. "Seriously, Jim, I'm proud of you. It took a lot to haul yourself up out of that funk, and you did great."

Jim felt himself blushing at Blair's praise. "Thanks, Chief… now knock it off, you're gonna make me blush."

Darting his eyes around, Blair found the bullpen abnormally empty. Leaning forward, he impulsively kissed Jim's cheek as he got up. "You're already blushing, man. Just hang out here, I'll be right back."

Jim felt his cheeks get hotter as Blair kissed him on it. The gentle touch of Blair's lips on his skin made him remember the feel of Blair's breath whispering across the side of his neck last night, and he shivered. Easy, Jim, he warned himself as his heartbeat raced. He just kissed you on the cheek, for crying out loud. He wished he'd had his dials up all the way for that. He also realized, he couldn't say anything to Blair about it as long as he was blind. He couldn't--wouldn't--approach Blair until he was a whole man again.

Blair came around the corner again, this time with a file full of papers to be filled out. "Jim, you okay?" His friend's face had a faraway look, and his eyes were unblinking. "Jim… hey!" He reached out and shook Jim by the shoulder. He prayed the Sentinel hadn't zoned out on him.

"Huh?" Jim blinked his eyes, shaking his head to clear it. "Yeah, Chief, I'm fine, I was just thinking."

"Must have been a hell of a thought," Blair commented as he sat down beside Jim. "I'll fill them out, you sign them where I tell you to."

"It was a hell of a thought. Just put my hand on the line and I'll take care of the rest."

An hour later, and all the forms were filled out, and they were ready to go home. "We'll get take out," Jim said, before Blair could say anything about cooking. He picked up the phone, and called in a Thai takeout order from their favorite restaurant. "We can pick it up on the way home, that way we can get a start on the cues and the echoes."

"Anything you say, Jim." Blair couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was his Jim, the Jim that he know, and boy, he had been missed. "Come on, let's go and get dinner."

Jim squinted through the glasses. The gold light was pulsing and throbbing like it was alive, but he was starting to see distorted shapes. Blair's arm came around his waist, and Jim shook his head, despite the pleasurable sensation. "Let me see if I can make it." Jim navigated successfully out of the bullpen and all the way over to the elevator, pressing the down button as he waited for Blair. "How'd I do, Chief?"

"You did great, not a trip or a stumble in sight!" He hugged Jim in his enthusiasm.

Once in the elevator, Jim let Blair guide him through the parking garage to where he'd parked the truck. He waited patiently while Blair picked up the order and brought it out, and he tried isolating one figure--Blair Sandburg--and forcing his eyes to focus on it. But it didn't work; he still could not see Blair through all the golden light.

All the way home he studied his Guide, and as they moved into the loft for dinner, he switched his attention to the plates, and as Blair cleared off the plates, he studied the salt and pepper shakers, moving them to try and get them into focus. Nothing was working, and Jim was getting frustrated. Blair sensed it, and walked over to Jim. "Maybe you're trying too hard."

"Maybe I'm not trying hard enough," Jim countered. He had to be able to see again. A knock on the door caused Jim to put the shakers down. "Are you expecting somebody?"

"No, I'm not," Blair answered moving over to the door. "Who is it?" he asked as he looked through the peephole.

"It's Margaret!" she calls out, from the other side of the door.

"Yeah. Uh… hang on just one second, I gotta… put a shirt on." He quickly stamped his feet to simulate him running from the door.

Jim stood up from the table and walked over towards the couch. "Get… Get me a damp washcloth."

Margaret kept waiting in the hallway, tapping the bottle of wine her hand. Finally, Blair opened the door. "Hi," she said with a smile. "So, you know Jim didn't call, so I just thought I'd, you know." She looked inside to see Jim lying on the couch, a washcloth over his eyes. "Oh, is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah, he's fine. Migraines. Stress from the job, you know. Cold towel on the head's the only thing that seems to work. Maybe you should come back some oth--"

Margaret interrupted Blair as she moved into the loft. "No. No. No."

"Come on in," he said dryly, closing the door behind her.

Margaret sat next to Jim on the couch, setting the bottle on the coffee table. Jim moved the cloth from his eyes as he did. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi, how are you?"

"I'm okay," she said. "My father used to get migraines. I can… I can take care of you." She started to rub Jim's shoulders.

"Ah," he said quietly. "That would be the nicest thing I've heard in quite a while."

Margaret turned to Blair. "Do you have any liniment?"

Blair couldn't believe this scene unfolding. "Uh, no, we're out."

"No, I bought some just the other day. Let me go get it." He got up and walked over to Blair's side.

"No, No, I'll get it," Margaret protested.

"Oh, No no no. You, you, don't be silly. You stay put. Um, can I get you something to drink?"

"Well, I brought--I brought wine," she said, lifting the bottle briefly.

"Oh, yes, of course. Excellent choice--I'll get some glasses." He walked into the kitchen with Blair, and lowered his voice. "Get some glasses."

"Uh, they're right here," Blair said, watching Jim closely.

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Why don't, um, why don't I treat you to a movie, huh? Can you get out of here for a little while?"

"What, and leave you here alone with her?" He looked down at the bill that Jim handed him. "A buck!?" Jim started to open his wallet again, but Blair stopped him. He didn't want Jim's money, he wanted to stay with his Sentinel. "Uh, no. Never mind. What if she finds out?"

"I'll keep things simple," Jim replied.

"Simple for you, maybe."

"Blair, if I'm gonna be blind, I might as well start getting used to it, and I might as well start with Margaret."

"Trust me, Jim. She's not your type. I mean, you don't even know what she looks like."

What is my type, Chief? A long curly-haired Guide? I don't know anymore, Jim thought to himself. "I don't care. I mean, how many times do I have to tell you? I just wanna spend some time with her--alone. Okay?"

Blair paused. He really didn't want to leave Jim alone, but he was dead set on it. "Okay. All right. Gimme your hand." Jim held out his hand, and Blair put the glasses in them. "The Godfather movies are playing down at the Rialto." He headed to the door, jerking down his jacket from the rack.

"Why don't you see if you can stay for parts two and three?"

"Three, the one without Robert Duvall? Are you kidding me?" He turned to Margaret. "Um, Margaret? I forgot, I'm gonna go meet some friends at the movies. I'll see you later, okay?" He opened the door, and smacked Jim with it, then slipped out and left Jim alone with Margaret.

"Great guy," Jim said, shaking his head.

* * * * *

It was after midnight when Blair came home from the movies. The wine bottle had hardly been touched; it looked as though no more than four or five glasses had been poured. The glasses were in the sink, and Jim's washcloth had been neatly folded and placed on the counter. The tube of liniment was sitting on top of it. He listened, and he couldn't hear anything in the loft, and he silently climbed the steps to Jim's bedroom. He stopped at the top of the stairs, knowing it was none of his business, but something inside him had to know. He looked, to find the bed empty except for the Sentinel, whose blind eyes were staring directly at him. "Coming to bed, Chief?" Jim asked softly, holding out a pillow in hopeful invitation.

"Of course." Blair crawled into bed with Jim, just as he had the previous night. "Night, Jim." As he closed his eyes, the thought came to him that Jim's attitude had changed after Blair slept with him last night, and he hoped he'd continue to have the same effect. The feeling of Jim's arm around his waist was already familiar and comfortable, and he eased into sleep held tightly to the Sentinel's side.

"Goodnight, Chief."

Both men slept straight through until the next morning, and Blair helped Jim pick out his clothes for the next day. He was dying to ask Jim about the previous night, but he knew it would have to wait for breakfast.

Jim dressed in record time. "I want doughnuts, Chief."

"Again? Jim, that's the third time this week! How about something healthy?"

"Nah, doughnuts. That little place on Marsden… that little diner has the best… come on, Chief, you'll love it."

Blair sighed as he drove. "All right, Jim. But not again!"

He took Jim into the shop and sat him down. "Mm…. I detect glazed buttermilk," were the first words out of Jim's mouth.

Blair looked at the counter. Sure enough, Jim was right. "Yep." He got up and went to the main counter, and Jim continued.

"It starts right at the tip and works all it's way back."

The man behind the counter hands Blair a doughnut on a plate. "Can we put this on the bill, please?" Out of the corner of his eye, Blair sees an older man watching him.

"It's an explosion… just an explosion."

Blair sat down again beside Jim. "All right, all right, all right! Here's your doughnut. You got your doughnut." He moved Jim's hand to the plate.

"Of course." His hand hits a bit of it.

"Now, let's get back to Margaret here. The other night, you just talked, she got tired, and she went home?"

"Right. Right. And she still doesn't know that I'm blind."

"And you didn't hit on her at all?" Despite his tone, deep inside, somewhere Blair wasn't surprised at all.

"No, I didn't hit on her. All I did was whistle."

"Whistle?"

"Yeah," he said, demonstrating. "Whistle." His cell phone started to ring. "Like a bat."

"Like a bat," Blair repeated.

"Go ahead. Have it. You gotta try some of that." He pushed the plate over to Blair as he pulled out his phone.

Blair took a piece of the doughnut, sniffed it, and made a horrid face before dropping it again. The sugar and the artificial crap in that thing could choke a horse!

"Yeah," Jim said, answering the phone.

"If you got the money, we're ready to meet," the drug boss said over the phone.

"Okay," Jim replied. "When and where?"

Blair listened as Jim made arrangements with the drug boss to meet at the Cascade Pier Carnival. It was off season, deserted, and perfect for an illegal drug trade. Blair waited for Jim to hang up the phone before he started. "Now we call Simon, right, and get this show on the road?"

Jim nodded, his thoughts whirring. Maybe if I pull this off, my eyes will come back, he thought to himself. "Huh? Yeah, call Simon and tell him it's set up to go down at the Pier Carnival." He passed the phone over to Blair and got up from the table.

"Jim? Jim, where are you going?" Blair called out as Jim got up from the table.

"I'm going to the bathroom, Chief," Jim said, a slight edge of exasperation to his voice. Blair pushed back his chair, and Jim held out his hand to stop him. "I think I can manage it on my own, Chief."

Blair winced at the sharpness of Jim's tone. "Sorry, Jim," he whispered. "Didn't mean to smother you." He hadn't realized Jim resented his help so much, but he should have. Jim wasn't the type for coddling. Forget the fact he'd asked Blair to sleep with him; that was in the dark of night, this was the light of day. He crumbled the doughnut on Jim's plate, chastising himself for hoping. He didn't look up and realize that Jim hadn't moved.

Jim was about to walk off when he heard Blair's whispered apology, watching as Blair crumbled the doughnut and shook his head as he talked to himself. He put his hands on Blair's shoulders, and he felt the Guide jump. Doughnut crumbles scattered everywhere. "I'm sorry, Chief," Jim said, taking his seat again beside Blair. "It's not you, Blair, I just feel helpless and I'm sick of it. It's bad enough you have to help me do everything else, but if I can't do simple things for myself like going to the bathroom, then I'm in some serious trouble! I can't and I won't be that kind of a burden on you, Chief. I have to be able to live on my own."

Blair turned to look at Jim. "No, you don't. That's why I'm here."

"Blair, you're here to be my Guide, not my nurse!"

"Jim, it all comes down to the same thing! Whether I hold you in the middle of the night when you cry that you're afraid of the dark or if I hold your hand and help you to the bathroom, it's all the same thing! It's how I take care of you, Guide you through the dark nights of your body as well as your soul! This goes beyond anything else, Jim, goes beyond anything else that you can think of. Sentinels and Guides have special connections to each other, Jim. It is a bond that's best described as blood brothers, always together no matter what comes. That's us, Jim, we're always going to be friends, and nothing will ever separate us."

Jim listened in awe as Blair read his mind and put into words exactly how he'd come to feel about his Guide. He didn't even wonder how Blair got inside his head like that, he just accepted it. "You're right, Chief."

"But you don't--what did you say?"

"That you're right, Chief."

"Well, good. It's about time you realized it," Blair said with a smile that Jim couldn't see. "I wouldn't be here now if I didn't believe it."

Jim almost told Blair how he felt about him when he heard that quiet declaration, but he reminded himself not until you can see again. "I know, Chief. And thanks."

Now that's a first, Blair thought. First he admits I'm right and then he says thanks. He put his hand over Jim's. "You don't have to thank friendship, Jim, but you're welcome."

Jim put his hands flat on the table, and pushed himself up to stand beside Blair's chair. "I could use that help now, Blair," he said quietly.

Blair smiled as he got up and helped to guide Jim to the bathroom and waited outside to help him back. While Jim was inside, Blair realized that from this moment on, it really didn't matter if the Sentinel ever said the words or not, or even acknowledged it. Jim cared deeply for him and felt the same bond that Blair did; the Guide would be happy with that as long as they were together.

While Jim was standing in front of the urinal, he had a similar realization. All I have to do is wait, Jim thought. I just have to wait until I can see again, and Blair is always going to be with me.

He found the sink by bumping into it, and quickly washed and dried his hands. He found the door by counting his steps, and didn't bump into it as he opened it, and met Blair right outside the door. "Let's go talk to Simon and get this taken care of," Jim said softly. "Then we can work more on the echoes thing." He pulled out his phone, and Blair helped him to speed-dial Simon's number.

"Banks." Simon's voice sounded strained.

"Hey, Simon, it's Jim. I just got off the phone, the meet is set up for this afternoon. The Cascade Pier Carnival. We're buying a hundred kilos for twenty thousand apiece."

Jim heard Simon's intake of breath on the other end of the phone. "That's a lot of money, Jim."

"The DEA can cough it up out of the Cyrus accounts, that's why they keep so much in them."

Simon didn't bother to question just how Jim knew it, he had long ago decided not to question where either he or the kid got their information. "When are they showing up?"

"Four o'clock, in a silver van, by the merry go round."

"All right. Get over there as soon as you can; we'll meet you there and get the place staked out and your backup in place. And it'll give you and Sandburg a chance to get familiar with the area."

"Not this time, Sir. I'll be there but I want Sandburg on the back with you." He held out his hand to quiet the Guide's protests about being left on the back with Simon. "That's how we ran it last time and it worked, that's how I want to run it this time. And, if it does go bad, he'll be there to back me up and work the next deal in my place."

"We'll figure all that out when we get there, Jim, just make sure you get there in time to meet us." Simon wasn't about to let Jim take this on by himself. "Watch your back."

Jim hung up the phone and then turned to Blair. "Okay, Chief, now you go." He just knew his Guide was dying to have his say.

"Jim, there's no way that you're gonna get me to sit back on the back line and watch this! I'm going with you!"

"No, you're not, Chief, listen to me!" He fumbled a bit before he found Blair's shoulders and shook him gently. "Listen to me. This one is for the money, Chief. You know how the routine works, we did it at the first deal. You got to help me do it again, Blair, you know I can't do it by myself. Please."

Blair opened his mouth to protest, but it died in his throat as he heard Jim's pleading. Jim never said please, never asked for help. Now, he did both. "Are you sure about this, Jim?"

Jim nodded as he heard the concession in Blair's tone. "Yeah, I am."

Blair sighed deeply. "I will back you up on this, Jim, but you have got to promise me, that nothing is going to happen to you."

"I'll be careful, Chief." That was the only promise that he could make to his Guide, and Blair seemed to sense it, not asking Jim for the same thing again. "Let's go."

Blair paid the bill at the diner, and then led Jim out to the truck. "I don't like this, Jim."

"Neither do I, but it's my job. I have to do this."

Blair looked over at his partner in the seat beside him. Damn you, Jim Ellison. Damn you for asking and damn me for giving into you. I know better. But he kept the thought to himself.

Jim felt under the seat and pulled out the small transmitter again. "This will work with the regular tactical earpieces," Jim explained, holding the small box out. "Everyone else will be able to hear it, but we'll deal with that when it comes up; you're helping me recon or something."

Blair nodded as he pulled the transmitter out of Jim's hand. "I really don't like this."

"You already said that, Chief," Jim replied gently. "It'll be over soon."

"Not soon enough," Blair muttered as he pulled the truck in beside Simon's car. The carnival was deserted, but as he got out of the truck he could see the place crawling with cops and SWAT. Simon was walking up to greet them as Jim got out of the truck.

Aware of people watching them, Blair dropped his voice to a stage whisper, for Sentinel ears only. "Simon's on his way over. About… uh, thirty feet away or so."

"Yeah, with that cigar pouring out smoke like a smokestack," Jim commented, moving towards his captain as Blair directed him.

"Jim! Over here! Bring the kid!" Simon waved them both over, and Blair used his hand on the small of Jim's back to give him silent directions. Jim caught himself leaning back slightly into Blair's steering hand, and the Guide's fingers massaged once in acknowledgement before he straightened. Jim didn't understand the feelings racing through him as he pulled away from Blair's hand to greet his captain. "All right; it just so happens that right behind and above the merry go round there's a high raised walkway, part of the Carnival midway. We'll be up and behind you."

"Got the money?" Simon held up a large black case. "It's all right here. Almost two million dollars from the DEA." He met Jim's outstretched hand with the handle of the case, and waited for Jim to take it before he let it go. "Now what?"

"Now we wait. Get everyone into position, and move those damn cars from the entrance." Simon quickly dispatched a uniformed officer to move the cars into the storage warehouse with the dismantled rides, and then the captain handed Jim an earpiece. "Thanks, sir."

"Jim… be careful," was Simon's admonition.

Blair moved in to stand close to Jim. "Hey, uh, you know, it's not too late to let me do this," the Guide offered quickly, half praying that Jim would take him up on it.

"Yeah, it is; get back there with Simon. And Blair… I'm counting on you." He gave the Guide's arm a brief squeeze, and then put the suitcase full of money in the front seat of the truck, and leaned against the side. Blair didn't move for a moment, drinking in the sight of Jim standing there, then sprinted off after Simon, slipping in and adjusting his earpiece as Jim did the same.

Blair took the pair of binoculars out of the case beside him, and touched his earpiece as Simon talked. "Okay, we're holding our position, Jim. When the deal goes down, we're there with you."

Jim looked around. "Something's coming." Blair looked around with the binoculars, spotting the van heading towards his friend.

"All right, this is it, people. Let's look sharp." He elbowed Blair, who was half-standing next to him, straining to get a better look. "Will you get down?"

Jim listened as the van stopped a few yards away from him, and he reached into the front seat, pulling out the case full of money. Chaz and the drug boss got out of the van, leaving the door open. "You first," Chaz said, indicating Jim.

"One point nine mil," Jim said, opening the briefcase to show the money.

"One hundred kilos," the boss said, indicating the opened door.

Jim heard a voice through the earpiece. "Are the goods there, Jim?"

"Open the cases," Jim said.

Chaz used his gun to point to the van. "It's in there, man. Why don't you check it?"

Jim turned his head towards Chaz. "I don't wanna touch the stuff, I just wanna look at it."

"Go ahead, Chaz, open the cases," instructed the boss.

Instead, Chaz walked over to Jim, cocking his gun and aiming it directly at him. Jim doesn't react to the sound of the hammer. "Nah, man, something ain't right." He stepped back, nervously.

Blair was beginning to panic as he watched the unfolding scene through the binoculars. "Hey, Captain, what are they doing? What's going on?!"

"It's a setup gone bad!" Simon's voice was tense, ready to bark out an order, but before he could, gunshots ring out, forcing everyone back to their vehicles. Jim headed for his truck while Chaz and the boss headed for their vans.

"Get in the van!" he barked to Chaz, who followed behind him.

Simon takes off from the railing, leaving Blair behind. "All units! Go! Go! Go!"

"Move it! Move it! Come on, get us out of here!" Chaz and the boss both pile inside their van and peel out of the park, laying rubber on the wet pavement.

Jim, meanwhile, found the driver's winder of the truck and tossed the case inside, then pulled out his gun. "Sandburg, I've got sniper fire. They're behind me and to my right."

"We're on our way, dammit! You just hold your position!" Simon's voice crackled in Jim's ear over the earpiece.

Jim heard the gun cocking again, and ran towards it, stumbling on the slick pavement. "Sandburg, help me out here. You see the shooter?"

Blair still stood behind the railing, looking through the binoculars. "Uh, yeah, Jim! Jim, I got him. He's about twenty yards to your… to your left!"

Jim went into a run again, letting the sounds lead him to the shooter. He ran up a flight of stairs, and held his gun on a figure almost completely obscured by Golden. "Freeze!" Instead, the man ran, but Jim tackled him, rolling down the ramp and then holding the man against the railing. "Who the hell are you?"

"Arthur Hughes! You killed my daughter with your dope! You killed Lisa!" Jim was shocked, his face expressionless as the others arrived in time to hear the man's identity.

Jim couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Lisa's father--the man from Slicks, the man who'd stalked them at the doughnut shop--was here and had blown Jim's last chance to survive. He tried to remind himself of the pain the man must have been in, but he couldn't. Because of you, I will never get my sight back… I will never be able to tell Blair that I… I will never be a Sentinel again. The only thing that kept Jim from losing his temper completely was the calming touch of his Guide.

"Stay cool, Jim," Blair whispered as the man was handcuffed and put into the back seat of Jim's truck. "He didn't know what was going down." Blair's hand continued to rub back and forth on the Sentinel's back, trying to calm him. He could feel the anger and frustration leaking out of his Sentinel.

Jim shook his head, concentrating on the feeling of Blair's hand on him as he talked to Simon. "You taking him back, Captain?"

Simon and Blair exchanged looks; that would be Jim's subtle hint that he wanted to be far away from the Hughes man as much as possible. "Sure, Jim," Simon answered. "I'll take him back, you and Blair can follow me and the rest of them will clean up after we're out of here."

Blair hustled Jim into the truck and got into the driver's seat beside him. "You okay, buddy?" He knew the answer; the frustration was pouring off Jim.

"No, I'm not all right!" the Sentinel exploded, helplessness, anger, and frustration getting the best of him. "I just lost my last chance to see again, to make things right, because of that man!"

Blair took one hand off the wheel and put it on Jim's knee, starting to rub again, giving Jim something other than his emotions to focus on. "No, you didn't. All that happened is that someone tried to keep your deal from going down. You'll set up another deal, and then you'll be set to go again."

Jim was about to protest when Blair pulled up to the garage. "We'll find out," is all that Jim said, as they headed up to the room where Hughes was being held.

"Go on in," Blair said, seeing Simon waiting at the end of the hall. "I'll go and see what's holding up the final report on the Golden you brought in."

"Thanks, Chief." Part of him, though, wished the Guide would go with him, keep him from losing his temper.

As though he knew what Jim was thinking, Blair put his hand on Jim's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You'll be fine, and if you're not, just call me." He squeezed his Sentinel's shoulder again, and pushed him gently towards Simon.

"Jim! We're in the last room here," Simon called out, giving the blind detective something to focus on to lead the way. He joined Simon and Hughes in the room, and took the seat at the table across from Lisa's father. Simon remained standing, pacing in the room. He laid down a sheet of paper in front of Hughes. "These are very serious charges, Mr. Hughes. You almost shot a detective on an undercover assignment."

The man at the table twisted his hands. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."

Jim was exasperated, and he let the tone creep into his voice. "I mean, do you realize that we would have had the men responsible for the death of your daughter apprehended if you hadn't interrupted, sir? Are you aware of that??"

Hughes nodded, dejectedly. "I realize that."

"Any information that you can give Detective Ellison and myself would only help your case," Simon said softly. Being a father, it was slightly easier for him to relate than Jim as a VERY frustrated Sentinel.

Hughes looked up at that. "You're Ellison?"

Jim rubbed his eyes; he was starting to get a throbbing headache. "That's right."

"Then you're the one who tried to save Lisa at the dam?" he asked, his eyes lighting with a small hope.

"Yeah," Jim said quietly. And I failed.

"You spoke to her last," he said, pausing. "Thank you."

Jim held up his hand to stem off the tide of anything else being said. "You're welcome."

"Did you know, her biggest fear was of dying alone? I--she told her friends that, and when I talked to her friends, one of them told me. I thought you'd like to know, you did something she would have liked, staying with her and trying to save her. We don't blame you, Detective, we blame the ones making and selling this stuff to young girls like Lisa."

"And we would have had those men earlier," Jim reminded him again.

"I know. And I can't tell you how much I regret it, but Detective, they killed my little girl, I thought you helped them… I just wanted them to pay for what they did to Lisa."

"And they will, as soon as we find them again. If we can." Jim once again rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Aren't they still working out of Slicks?"

That registered with Jim. "That's right--you were there watching us at Slicks that first night we approached the dealers."

"Yes, Detective, that was me. Several of the young people that Lisa was friends with have tried this Golden, and they told me that Slicks is where they went to get it. The one that bought it for Lisa bought it from a very unattractive gentleman there, with a bit of an accent. I think his name was Charles?"

"Chaz," Jim supplied.

"Yes, that's it," Hughes responded.

"Captain, can we?" He indicated the door with his hand; his headache was getting steadily worse and he couldn't think.

Simon nodded. "I'll take him down to processing, chase down the kid he mentioned, and then meet you in my office as son as we're done."

"Thanks. And if you see Sandburg, will you send him in?"

"Sure." Simon guided Hughes out of the room, and caught Blair in the hallway. "He's looking for you, Sandburg; last room on the left."

"Thanks, Simon." Blair jumped up from the chair and moved down the hallway. "What's up, buddy?"

"I'm getting a headache, Chief."

"Sensory overload again, I bet," Blair said, sympathetically. He moved to sit on the table in front of Jim. "Turn around." Jim obeyed, and Blair's warm fingertips pressed against his temples and started to rub in slow circles. "Just concentrate on my fingers, Jim, just feel where they're touching you. Don't zone out on me, man, just let everything go and feel the touch."

Jim sighed as his Guide's strong fingers massaged his throbbing temple. He closed his eyes, letting himself float in the darkness as he concentrated on Blair's touch. He could feel the ridges of Blair's fingerprints as they rubbed across his skin, he could feel the feather-soft wafting of Blair's exhalations across the top of his head and against the back of his neck. The warmth of the Guide's body was inviting to Jim's tired senses, and he leaned back into it, resting his head on Blair's chest. What are you doing? Jim questioned himself. Listening to my Guide, he answered, and then sighed again. As he concentrated on feeling Blair, the pain was starting to recede; using only one sense was pure pleasure after forcing the other four to work overtime to compensate for his loss of sight.

Blair shivered at Jim's heartfelt sighs. Slight tremors rocked through the Sentinel's body, and Blair almost rocked off the table when Jim's head leaned back against him. "That's right, Jim," he encouraged softly. "Relax. Let me help you." God I love this man, Blair thought to himself. His fingers still worked Jim's temples, and then slid down to work his neck.

Jim's head lolled forward as Blair's fingers worked their magic on his neck. Letting his touch go, he concentrated on his hearing, listening to the gentle scrape of skin against skin, listening to the steady rise of fall of Blair's breathing, the accelerated heartbeat of his Guide. It beat a counterpoint to Jim's own pounding heartbeat, and the Sentinel breathed deeply, trying to force himself to relax further. The sound of Blair's heels rhythmically drumming on the side of the table helped, and he cracked open his eyes. Still Golden light, was all he saw. "Chief, if you keep doing that, I'm going to sleep on you," he said quietly, smiling.

Blair returned the smile. "We can't have that. Come on, Simon should be getting back to his office soon."

"Where'd you learn how to do that?"

Blair shrugged as he led the way. "I read about it in Burton's papers; it was a hypothesis he had that if you give a Sentinel one thing to focus on, like a touch, or a sound, or a taste, then everything else fades out. Kind of like a zone out, when you go so heavy on one sense that you lose everything else? Kinda like that."

Jim shrugged. "Whatever works." He opened the door and went in. He felt the cool draft of the window drawing him to stand in front of it, and Blair perched on the edge of the desk, watching Jim. "Chief--" he started, getting ready to say something else, but then Simon walked in. "Later."

Simon looked from Guide to Sentinel. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Almost," Blair said with a smile. "So what all did you learn from that guy?"

Jim started talking. "Well, after his daughter's death, Hughes talked to several of her friends. Apparently, uh, some of them have tried this Golden. He asked them where they got the stuff from, and that led him to Slick's. He saw me there with the dealers, put me together with them, figured I was a corrupt cop and made me a target."

Simon shook his head. "If I lost my son like that..." he paused to think a moment, and then continued. "I don't know what I'd do. I'll ask the D.A. to go easy on him."

"So they give you anything you can use?" was Blair's next question.

"Well the kid who scored the drugs for Lisa apparently bought them from that guy Chaz." Simon was still unusually quiet.

Jim's voice sounded a bit sarcastic when he spoke again. "Yeah, the kid couldn't tell us what kind of car he drove, or a license plate or anything, but he did notice this parking sticker on the bumper. It was faded, but it had a double helix on it, he said."

Blair thought. "Double helix. DNA molecule?"

"Right," Jim said. "And above this double helix was this word. It was, uh, maybe a company name, or something. It began with the letter 'B'."

* * * * *

While Jim and the others were discussing the case back at the station, the drug boss had been busy, and he had found out exactly what was going on. He carried the printout of Jim's picture over to the table where the second man was working, and slammed it down. "We nearly turned over one hundred ki's of the last Golden we had to Cascade PD."

"You didn't see it coming?" accused the second man. "This thing has gotten out of control! I am a PhD, a biochemist for God's sake! I am not a drug lord!"

The boss snarled. "If I left it to you, we'd still be slaving away making someone else rich."

The biochemist snorted. "Oh yeah, we're a great big success story."

"We caught some bad breaks. To get back on top, we need capital, and for that we need Golden. "Chaz!" he called out, waiting for the thug to walk over. "How long to move all one hundred ki's on the streets?"

"The usual price?" he questioned.

"Half off."

Chaz smiled. "Less than a week, man. We got hungry mouths to feed."

"Do it."

The biochemist was getting upset. "We can't stay here, they're onto us!"

The boss snarled back. "Look! I handle the business, you handle production. Get the equipment packed up!"

"What about the cops?"

The boss held up the dusty bag of Golden the chemist had produced earlier. "It's time they sampled the merchandise for themselves." He dropped the bag onto the chemists' scale.

* * * * *

Back at the station, Jim was sitting at his desk, and Blair was beside him, reading from a file in his hand, about the components of Golden. Focused on Blair's voice, it came as a surprise to him that the bullpen was empty, save for the two of them, and Jim smiled at the closeness of his friend. He could feel and smell and hear how close Blair was standing to him, and it buoyed his spirits.

"They got the analysis on that Golden sample and it turns out that most of the chemicals are controlled substances. You need a special permit to buy them, store them, or use them in any way, and the rest are just, uh, are just rare." He hoped he was giving Jim something to take his mind off the blown deal.

"Well, good. Good. It makes them easier to trace. Better go ask Simon to have a squad run down local shipments. I need to get a list of permit holders." Jim said, getting up and reaching for the folder Blair had just read him. Blair held out his hand, putting the folder in Jim's questing one. Under the folder, the Guide let his fingertips brush against Jim's. "Thanks." He walked into Simon's office, shutting the door behind him.

Blair watched him go, noting the time to be quarter to twelve just as a teenage boy walks in, carrying a huge stack of pizzas. "Major Crime?" the boy asked, uncertainly.

"Yeah, you're there," Blair called out.

The delivery boy raised the stack of pizzas he was carrying. "Where do you want 'em?"

Ooooh… Lunch! "Uh, over here. How much?" he asked, waving the kid over.

The delivery boy sat the stack on Jim's desk. "All paid for."

Free lunch, even better! "All right! All right! Great," he said, pulling the note out of the top box, reading it aloud. "To the hard-working officers of Major Crime -- Continued success. Chief of Police Warren." He folded the note and smiled. "See that? That's good. All right." He opened the box and looked at the pizza, then realizes that the kid is still standing there, waiting for his tip. "Oh yeah, right." Blair reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled bill, passing it over to the kid

The kid checked out the bill Blair handed him, not believing it. "You guys got it rough." He pocketed the bill, and walked out.

Blair gave an uncomfortable laugh as the kid left, and then grabbed a piece of pizza from the box. "Oooh, nice."

Blair was about halfway through the slice of pizza when pain stabbed through his head, blurring his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, everything was golden. He looked wildly around, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. Out through the windows of the bullpen--although he didn't know it was that--he saw fire people, body-sized gouts of flame, moving towards him, hands outstretched to burn him. I gotta protect myself, where's my Sentinel? he thought frantically to himself. He knew he couldn't call out for his Sentinel--he didn't even remember Jim's name--because the fire people would get him and burn him and he couldn't let that happen. He had to protect his Sentinel and himself. Gun… there's a gun in the desk! The Guide jerked open the drawer of the desk, racking through the contents as he stifled a victorious yelp. He looked down as the voices of the fire people drifted up to him from the floor below. They're coming up through the floor, I gotta… where they can't get to me… the basement, they can't get through the basement floor, it's thicker there. Clutching the gun to his chest, Blair ran like a maniac down the fire stairs, vaulting over the railings when he could, firing his gun at the blurred columns of fire that jumped into his vision.

One of the Guide's wild shots just narrowly missed drilling into Brown. "Blair! Blair, what the hell is going on?" He ducked as Blair's wild whirl around almost clobbered him.

Blair spun as one of the fire people called out his name. They know me, they're coming to get me! He squeezed off another shot in the direction of the voice, and then slammed his body against the door to the garage, and fell through it as it gave way underneath his weight. He ran to the nearest car, and scrambled up onto the hood. Safe now, they can't get to me… they can come through the floor but they can't get me. Every time one of the fire people came close, Blair shot at them.

Brown peeked in through the garage door, his own gun drawn but held down as he called for the Tactical Response Team. As the team spilled in the door, Blair shot wildly in their direction, but his blurred and golden vision kept him from hitting anyone.

"Oh, no," Brown said softly to himself, seeing the assault weapons trained on Blair. "I gotta get Ellison."

* * * * *

It was twelve by the time Jim got out of the meeting with Simon. He sniffed the air, and immediately knew something was wrong… the smell was coming from his desk. "What's on my desk?"

"Pizza, why?" Simon answered.

Jim and Simon both head over towards Jim's desk. "No, I know that, but something else. It's uh--" They both stop in front of Jim's desk as the Sentinel pauses to think.

"Ooh, lemme see." Simon moved to open the top box of the stack of pizzas.

Jim stopped him immediately as soon as he realized what it was. "No! No! No! Don't touch it! It's got that Golden stuff on it. I can sense it!"

Simon picked up the desk phone, punching a few buttons. "This is Captain Banks, Major Crimes! I need a HazMat disposal team up here. Stat!" Jim moved around his desk, bumping into an open desk drawer. He shuts it and stands in front of his chair. Simon opens the box of pizza with a pen. "Jim, there's a piece missing. Someone ate this."

As soon as Simon said that, Jim realized that Blair wasn't at his desk anymore, and his stomach churned. "Oh God. Where's Sandburg?" The gun. Jim dreads what he knows--in his heart, he knows--just what has happened. Blair's been targeted again, because of him. He jerked the drawer open, searching through it, questing for his gun with both hands. Oh no… Blair!

Simon noticed and knew Jim knew more than he said. "What?! What is it?!"

"My backup .38 is missing. I keep my service revolver right here."

At that second, Brown rushed in. "Captain, we have a serious problem in the garage!" He was so relieved to see Ellison with the captain.

"Stay here!" Simon barked to Brown. "Watch this stuff, make sure the HazMat team disposes of it." He and Jim both bolted for the elevator, and Jim pounded the side of the elevator with his fist. "Jim… calm down!"

"I can't! Those bastards went after my friend!"

"They couldn't have known, Jim, they were gunning for all of us. Sandburg just happened to be the one who caught it first."

"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?" Jim demanded. The elevator was moving too slowly, and Jim pounded on it again, this time putting a small dent in the metal of the wall. As soon as it ground to a stop, Jim put his hand on Simon's shoulder. "Lead the way."

Simon looks around as soon as they step off the elevator, and moves to stand next to another officer, head of the team. Other officers are scattered throughout the garage, hiding behind vehicles. He looked around again and saw Blair standing on the hood of a police car, a gun in his hand, pointed outward as he moves, tracking things and noises. "Carpenter, what the hell is going on here?"

"He keeps yelling about demons. He dusted or what?"

"He's been dosed with Golden!" Simon explained.

Another cop shouted out. "Take cover! Get down! Get down!" Blair fires a wild shot, hitting a police car.

Jim crouched next to Simon. "Simon, what the hell's going on?" He was cursing his blindness, his inability to help his Guide, the bastards who had overdosed his friend, but most of all, himself.

"He's got your gun. He's on a car about twenty yards away. One o'clock." He gave Jim directions as best he could.

Blair heard the whispering voices and feet shuffling closer. "You get away from me! You keep back!" He shot again, and the bullet hit the hose of the gas pump in the garage, causing a leak to spray gasoline into the air. The fumes hit Jim's nose like acid.

Carpenter yelled back at Simon. "He fires again, this whole garage could go."

Not this way, Blair, Jim pled silently. "Let me talk to him."

Simon couldn't believe what Jim just asked. "Are you crazy? He won't even recognize you, Jim!"

"I gotta try," he said. I have to save you, Blair, I can't let you die too… I can't fail this time! He stood up, making his way around the car towards where Blair was standing on the car hood.

Simon was quietly panicking, but outwardly calm. "Hold your fire! Everyone, hold your fire!"

Jim clapped a few times to get a quick map of the unfamiliar garage as he approached Blair. He could see the outline of his friend, but everything else was blurred by the damned Golden. "Blair? It's Jim, what's going on, buddy?"

Jim… Jim… The name whirled as Blair tried to place it. "There's no need for applause, man, I got it all covered." The gun was shaking as he pointed with it.

Jim wouldn't let up. "What's going on?"

"You don't see them?" Blair was terrified for the man in front of him. He was surrounded by fire people but uncaring--how could he not be seeing them, they were everywhere! "They're coming through, through the walls and the floor, man."

"Who are?" Jim asked gently. His heart was ripping in two, watching Blair's suffering like this. He hated the fear in his voice, the smell of fear that poured off him. He stamped down the primal hunter that surged inside him as he kept trying to get through to his partner.

"The Golden fire people. You don't see them, man?" Blair's voice shook, and he was terrified as he kept talking about them. Jim could even smell the salt of the tears sliding down Blair's cheeks. "They're made out of fire and they're burnt. You think they're ashes, but they're alive, man. And we gotta send them back!" One of them was approaching the man--Not just a man your Sentinel, that's who this is, this is Jim your Sentinel you have to protect him! and he fired another shot at the fire person, which hit a nearby car.

Jim flinched as the bullet shot by and at the loud noise. "Blair! Easy, buddy! Easy, buddy! Whoa! Blair, listen to me!" Blair turned his face back towards his Sentinel, listening as Jim asked. "Your gun isn't gonna work with the fire people." Blair shook his head; the Sentinel couldn't see the fire people, he didn't know. "They're not gonna be afraid of your fire," Jim continued explaining. "It's only gonna make them stronger." Blair kept shaking his head negatively, but he didn't shoot again. He couldn't risk making them stronger, even if the Sentinel was wrong. "You've gotta use the bat echo trick."

"The… what trick?" Blair's face twisted in disbelief. Maybe this was a trick by the fire people, trying to make him think that his Sentinel was lying to him.

"You know, the one you taught me. Uh, you close your eyes, and you clap your hands." Jim starts clapping his hands again, getting an exact distance from Blair's car.

"No, man, that is not gonna work here!" Blair shouted, but his arm was trembling. Sentinels don't lie!

"Blair, come on. Try it. Trust me. You can save the world here. Come on," Jim pled. Please, Blair, trust me, he begged silently. Don't let me fail you too.

"I don't think that's gonna work here, Jim," Jim said, finally acknowledging the Sentinel. He held out the gun, pointing it at his Sentinel. This is the only way to keep you safe from them, Jim, please forgive me.

"Come on, give me the gun, Blair." Jim slowly reached towards the gun.

"I just don't think that's gonna work here." He cocked the gun, still pointing it at Jim. They know about it, Jim, the trick won't work, I can't let them kill you.

Jim touched Blair's hand, and when he didn't pull the trigger, Jim smiled at him. "Trust me. That's right." He closed his fingers around the gun, and pulled it out of Blair's hand, dropping it and getting rid of it. "You gotta clap your hands. You gotta clap your hands."

Blair let Jim take the gun away. I can't shoot you. He listened again, Jim was telling him to clap his hands, and Blair did, slowly. Just as Jim had said, the fire people started screaming and fading away. Simon ran over to them as Jim still steadied the rapidly-weakening Guide.

"You did it! You did it… you did it." He heard Simon approach, and Blair almost collapsed as he fell off the car, and Jim and Simon kept him front falling.

"I'm sorry," Blair said, his voice catching. He felt Jim's arms around him, watched the last of the fire people fade out before closing his eyes and passing out.

"That's okay," Jim said, holding Blair tightly in his arms. He couldn't let anything happen to his precious Guide. He knew now more than ever, he had to tell Blair and soon.

"We need a medic over here now!" Jim barely heard Simon bellowing that as he and Blair hit the ground together.

Sentinel cradled Guide, and Jim rested his cheek on Blair's head. "Hang in there… it's all right. I'm with you now, Chief, it's all right." He tightened his grip on Blair, listening closely to his breathing. It was shallow, and his heartbeat was erratic. "Please stay with me, Blair."

Simon patted Jim on the shoulder as he started to head off the barrage of officers and questions headed towards the detective. "I want this place cleaned up now, and Carpenter! Call up to Brown and see if HazMat has disposed of that crap and taken it for analysis!" He kept his hands in his pockets as he barked out orders because he didn't want anyone to see them shaking.

Jim ignored the whirlwind of activity around them as he focused in on his Guide. He shifted position, pulling Blair into his lap and protectively cradling the young man against him. He flinched as his sensitive hearing--turned up to check Blair's vitals--was assaulted by the sirens of the ambulance. "I'm not letting you go alone, Chief."

Simon heard the ambulance, and came over, ready to help Jim into the back as they loaded Blair. "Step up, Jim, and sit beside him."

"Thanks, captain," Jim said softly, not letting go of Blair's hand as the medics strapped him to the gurney and put him on an IV.

"Anyone know the situation?" asked one of the medics.

"Yeah, he's been OD'd with Golden," Jim explained. "He ate some pizza that had been dusted with the stuff."

The medic nodded as he made notes on the chart. "Once we get him to the hospital, we'll pump out his stomach and get most of it out of him… how long ago?"

"What time is it now?"

"Quarter of one."

"Forty five minutes."

The medic whistled. "Depending on how much has already gotten into his bloodstream and digestion system, he's going to have it rough the next couple of days."

Jim nodded in acknowledgement. "I'll make sure he's okay."

The rest of the ride to the hospital was in silence, until they arrived. Once they arrived, Jim squinted through the Golden haze to his vision, watching as they wheeled him into the emergency room. The triage nurse tried to stop him, but when he flashed his badge and pushed past her, there wasn't anything she could do.

The doctor stopped Jim on the way to the cubicle. "You're going to have to wait outside while we pump out his stomach," the doctor said firmly. "I know who you are, Detective, and I know you want to be with your friend--"

"Partner," Jim interrupted.

"Very well, be with your partner, but your being in the way will simply do more harm than good. If you will sit down out here, I will come for you as soon as your partner has been moved to a room, and you can sit with him there."

Jim had been about to bully his way into the ER cubicle despite the doctor but when he heard the phrase "more harm than good," he acquiesced. "All right," Jim said, "but I want to be notified the second you're done with the procedure, I want to see him."

"Detective, he will not know you're there."

"I want to see him," Jim said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The doctor sighed; he'd seen that look on Ellison before and it was jokingly referred to as "The Rock" around the hospital. "All right, Detective, but you must wait here now."

Jim took the nearest seat with a direct line of sight to the cubicle, and re-crossed his arms as he settled. The Golden was still blinding him, but at least he could hear. He turned his head slightly to favor his ears as he dialed up his hearing, listening to the doctor and nurses work on Blair.

He listened to every breath that Blair took, every whimper of pain, every move that was made in that cubicle until the doctor came out. "How is he?"

The doctor sat down beside Jim. "He is going to have a rough day the next couple of days. We pumped a great deal of the drug out of his stomach, but there was a good deal of it already circulating through his system. I understand he worked through the major hallucinations early on?"

Jim nodded. "You could say that, yeah."

"He will be mostly unconscious as his body absorbs the Golden and attempts to process it. And when he is conscious, he more than likely will not be lucid."

"But he'll live." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, yes, most definitely." The doctor graced Jim with a smile. "He will be fine in a couple of days. But he must stay here."

"That's fine, I'll go up to the room with him."

The doctor knew better than to argue. "Yes, I expected you might be. They are wheeling him out now; you can catch them at the elevator, at the end of the hall."

Jim got up and zeroed in on Blair's quiet moans, and followed them towards the elevator. He bumped into the gurney holding his friend, but his hand shot out and touched Blair's shoulder, accounting for the jostle. "I'm coming with you."

The orderly nodded; the doctor had given him warning that Ellison wasn't going to be left behind. "We're taking him to a room now." Blair's breathing was still hitching and shallow, and Jim concentrated on it and the thready heartbeat.

"You sure he's okay?" Jim questioned.

"Yes, we're sure," the orderly said, humoring the big detective. "We're going to intubate him, to make sure he's got a clear airway to breathe, but when he comes around we can take him off that."

Jim thoroughly despised the idea of his Guide being so helpless, but he nodded at the orderly. What was most important is that Blair knew that Jim was with him. As they moved him off the gurney and onto the bed, Blair groggily started to come around, fighting to pull the tube out of his throat. Jim heard the struggle, and moved to Blair's side. "Hey, Blair, it's me… it's Jim." He fumbled for Blair's hand, trying not to bump the IV needle. "Calm down, Chief… trust me, you're okay now. You're in the hospital… trust me, baby, please." The endearment slipped out before Jim realized it, but he didn't miss Blair's hand squeezing his back. "That's it, Chief… calm down, let them finish getting you set up. I know, the tube. You'll be going in and out, they say it'll help you breathe." He tried to keep up a rambling commentary until the orderly left the room.

As soon as he did, Blair tugged on Jim's hand. "I'm here, Chief." He heard the Guide trying to talk around the tube. "Sssh," he shushed. "Don't try and talk, just rest, you need to let that crap get out of your system."

Blair's grip slackened, and by listening to his breathing and the machine's ventilation, he knew Blair had passed out again. At least you know I'm here, Jim thought to himself. I won't leave your side. Leaving his finger interlaced with Blair's, he dialed his touch up completely, risking zone-out to make sure he'd be aware the next time Blair woke up.

He only let himself doze lightly, as long as Blair dozed; as soon as his partner was awake so was he. He talked until he was hoarse; he told Blair stories, he reassured him that everything was going to be well.

The last time Blair had slipped into unconsciousness, he hadn't awoken in several hours, and Jim had resorted to twisting a magazine in his hands to keep from pacing the room blindly. He smelt the scent of Simon's cigars preceding the captain into the room.

Simon looked in the window to see a haggard Jim sitting by Blair's bedside. The bouncy young man looked pale and small in the bed, a tube down his throat and wires and more tubes connecting him to machines that helped his body survive the overdose. He walked into the room, and went to stand on the opposite side of Blair's bed. "Jim? How's he doing?"

"He's fading in and out, sir. Doctor says it's gonna take some time for the drug to work its way through his system."

Simon was quiet for a second, staring at Blair before he looked over at Jim. "I got the reports back on those chemicals contained in Golden. They're pretty rare. And there's no record of any significant shipments of those chemicals to any company here in Cascade."

"Well, what about controlled substances?" He was listening to Blair as he thought.

"The same."

"They're legal transactions, Simon. What about theft?"

"I checked into that too. There's nothing." He moved around the bed to sit on the edge of it, in front of Jim. "How you doing, man? You don't look so good."

Jim shifted in his chair. "Oh, I'm all right, man. I was hoping maybe he'd come to, you know? This Golden crap, it's insidious stuff, man. I mean, there must have been ten to twenty times the amount that would kill a person on that pizza." He shuddered at the thought; if Blair had eaten more, he would be dead and Jim would be alone.

"They were sending a message: Don't screw with us or we'll hit you right where it hurts," Simon explained.

"I just got a feeling these creeps haven't left town. They've got a hundred kilos of unfinished business."

Simon shook his head. "I just wanna know how the hell they found out who you were so fast."

"Well, obviously, sir, they've got some kind of access, right? Now we're talking controlled substances here. Come on, what about government contracts?"

"What about government contracts?

"They'd be able to access records AND have access to those kinds of chemicals and labs to make Golden."

Simon was thoughtful. "I'll check it out, call you when I've got something solid."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, Simon." He wasn't going to leave Blair's side for anything. Not until he woke up for good and hell could freeze over first.

Blair drifted in and out, but he never woke up again, until the next morning. Jim was woken by two things; Blair's breathing getting rapid and panicked, and the beeping of the ventilator. The nurse rushed in, and detached the tube from Blair's throat, and he croaked two things. "water… jim?"

"I'm still here, buddy." The Golden glow had cleared slightly, and he was able to see a bit more, but not clearly yet. He poured a small cup of water and held it for the Guide as he sipped it down a raw throat. "Blair… you okay?"

"No," Blair whispered. "Not okay at all. Tired… and ashamed." He watched as the nurse flitted about the room, moving out some of the machines that he no longer needed to be attached to, and tried to focus instead on Jim, what Jim was saying to him.

Jim took Blair's hand in his, rubbing it. "Baby, you got nothing to be ashamed of. You didn't do anything; you were badly dusted with Golden, just like I was dusted with it; you just reacted differently because you got an overdose that I didn't."

"How are your eyes?" Blair struggled to sit up, but Jim pushed him back down before the nurse could come over.

"Better, but still Golden," Jim admitted. "Don't worry, Simon's been helping cover for me and nobody here cares." He leaned forward and pushed the hair off his Guide's damp forehead. "You scared me, Chief," Jim whispered.

"Me scare you? That's a switch," Blair said, offering his Sentinel a ghost of a grin, forgetting for the moment that he couldn't see it. "Usually you're the one scaring me."

Jim waited until they were alone, and Blair was looking at him. "Hey, Chief, I'm serious. You scared me; I realized that I could have lost you and I didn't like the feeling."

Blair reached out for Jim's hand, wincing as the IV needle moved in his hand. "Jim, it's okay," he said softly, knowing the Sentinel would hear. "We're linked, remember? You wouldn't let anything happen to me any more than I'd let anything happen to you. That's the whole point of us being together, man. You're my Blessed Protector, and I'm your Guide. It's just… the way it's supposed to be, man."

Jim sighed. He knew, and he knew Blair knew. He just had to say the words, before anything else happened to either of them. He took a deep breath and started to speak when he felt Blair's fingertips touch his lips. "Don't, Jim," he said softly. As long as Jim didn't say anything, nothing would change between them and Blair needed it that way. Jim needed no more complications in his life right now, and the knowledge they'd always be partners--and that Jim cared deeply for him--was enough for the young Guide. When Jim was himself again, then he'd agree to listen, but not until then. It was part of being a Guide; making sure your Sentinel had his mind on his work, and Blair couldn't risk Jim being distracted, not with Blair stuck in the hospital.

Jim nodded, listening to Blair's body language. "I'll wait, Blair, but not too much longer." He let his lips plant a gentle kiss on the fingertips that still lingered against his lips.

"I know," Blair said just as softly, acknowledging the unspoken desires of them both. Jim moved his chair closer to the bed, and Blair watched his movement through a Golden haze. "How are your eyes, Jim?"

"Slowly getting better, I can see shapes clearly but not details, but it's all still Golden."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, me too… I wondered what you were seeing earlier, and now I know. It's… not fun." He sighed. "How'd you stand it, man? Stand not knowing what was going on, not being able to see?"

"I had someone who cares about me to help me out." He reached out, his hand seeking Blair's face and hair, and then both jumped as the room phone rang, shattering the moment. Jim cleared his throat as he answered, following the sound of the ringing. "Ellison."

"Jim, it's Simon. I got that list of government contractors we were waiting for; they're in my office, on my desk. I'm on my way there."

Jim reached out, grasping for Blair's hand and finding it on the cool white sheet. "About time, Simon. Blair's awake, you can see him when you get here."

"Now that's good news." Simon had expected to need a crowbar to pry Jim away from Blair's bedside. "You are going to come back to the office with me, right?"

Jim squeezed Blair's hand as he answered. "We'll talk about it when you get here and you tell me what you got," he said, dodging the question. Simon sighed gustily, and then Jim felt a gentle tug on his fingers. "Simon, hang on." He turned back to Blair.

"Tell Simon you'll go back with him. You got to find the ones who did this, Jim, did this to both of us."

"Simon, hold that thought, I'll go back with you as soon as you get here."

"Good. I'm almost there now, I'll see you in a few minutes." Simon hung up, relieved, and Jim turned back towards Blair's bed.

"Jim, you have to go," the Guide said softly. "You can't hide in my hospital room, protecting me. You have to go and find out who did this to both of us. It's another chance, Jim. Another chance to get your eyesight back. Another chance to make them pay. For both of us." The hand not held down by the IV needle wandered up Jim's arm, palm coming to rest against Jim's heart. The hand with the needle in it still clasped Jim's.

Jim nodded in agreement. "You're right, I just don't like the idea of leaving you alone."

"Jim, I love the fact that you worry about me so much, but right now the important thing is getting those guys behind bars, making sure they don't do this to anyone else." He found Jim's hand still in his, and he let his fingers rub the back of Jim's hand. "Keep your cool, man, don't let anything frustrate you, and you'll do fine without me."

I don't want to do fine without you, Jim thought. I want to do fine with you at my back. "I'll take care of everything, Chief. Just you worry about getting well."

Before Blair could reassure his Blessed Protector, Simon walked into the room. "Hey, kid… nice to see those baby blues," he said jokingly. "Kind of rough there," he continued, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, well, at least now I know how Jim feels," Blair said softly. "All I see is Golden glow."

"Don't worry, kid, we're going to take care of you." Simon would not have admitted it to anyone, least of all Blair, but the kid reminded him in some ways of Darryl, and it made him feel protective of the Guide. Not only that, but Jim was fierce as hell where Blair was concerned, and Simon respected that.

"You just take care of Jim," Blair admonished. "I'll be fine, you just gotta find who did this before they do it to someone else."

"I got a list of companies, government companies we gotta check out." Simon stood up. "I'm taking Jim with me, I need his help."

Blair nodded. "Keep me updated, and Simon… take care of him."

"We won't let you down," Simon said quietly, urging Jim to his feet. "I'll let you know personally as soon as we know anything."

Jim let Blair's hand go, and briefly covered the one resting on his chest, lightly squeezing the fingers. I love you, Chief, Jim thought silently towards his Guide. He let his hand drop from Blair's, and he turned to follow Simon out the door.

Simon guided Jim carefully to the car, and waited until they were out in traffic before broaching conversation with Jim. "Have you told him?"

Jim almost played dense, but then let his shoulders drop. Simon was his closest friend, outside of Blair, and one of the two men he trusted most in the world. "I haven't, but he knows. He just won't let me say the words."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Reciprocation?"

"Unless I am misreading the signals, there is definite reciprocation." Jim smiled as he thought about his Guide. "I can't stand the thought of those bastards out there, Simon," he said quietly. "First they got me with it, and then they got to Sandburg; I know it wasn't intentionally directed at him, but they were out to kill, Simon. You, me, Blair, anyone who ate that pizza. My family, man… they were out to kill my family. I can't let them get away with that."

"You won't, Jim," Simon said confidently. "And we're going to help you."

Jim sat in brooding silence as Simon drove the rest of the way back to the station, and purposefully avoided the parking garage. He was grateful to Simon for doing that, and comfortably seated himself once they were in Simon's office.

"So, show me what you got, Captain."

Simon sifted through the lists of companies. "All the companies that use these chemicals are mostly involved in biological research."

Jim nodded. "Those are public records, sir, but there's another category -- companies working under government contract. Many of them are not on public record, and some are classified."

Simon shrugged. "How are we gonna check up on those without getting caught up in all the bureaucracy?"

Jim thought a moment. "Uh... Is there a company logo?"

"On some of them," Simon confirmed. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, the kid that sold the Golden to Lisa mentioned a company logo; a DNA double-helix. And, the company started with a B. That cuts out 25 other letters of the alphabet."

Simon flipped through more pages. "I'll be damned. Jim, you're right. Some of them do have logos. And the ones that don't, we can run down in no time over the phone." He kept flipping. "None of the logos in here match the DNA helix; let me make a phone call."

Jim sat impatiently while Simon made his phone call. "Yeah, I need you to look something up for me. A biological research company with a logo of a DNA helix, starting with the letter B. Fax me everything you get on it." There was a long pause, and then Simon spoke again. And you're sure that's Bio-Helix? ... Great ... Thanks." He hung up the phone, and turned back to Jim. "About two years ago, Bio-Helix Incorporated, was heavily involved into biological weapons research. Then they lost all their government contracts. Some kind of phony billing scandal. The company went belly-up. The two owners were--" he looked through the papers that had just been faxed over. "--Paul Jacobs and Andrew Kaminski, and they're a match for the drawings we've got."

"I bet the government never got around to revoking their security clearances, which is how they got access to the police files."

The phone rang again, and Simon answered it. "Banks ... Great ... I want a five-mile perimeter around the structure. No one in or out." He hung up. "The assault team will be in position by the time we arrive. Let's roll."

"I gotta call Blair."

"Jim, there's no time. Call him after the bust." Simon grabbed Jim's arm, and physically dragged him out. "We're close, buddy."

* * * * *

Outside the Bio-Helix building, all three drug pushers were loading up the vans. The boss--Jacobs--was talking. "Chaz, I'll meet you in half an hour at Interstate Five." Jim could hear the rendezvous plans, and he relayed them to Simon.

Chaz nodded his acknowledgement and got into the van, making it just to the gate as the squad cars arrived. Officers spilled out, and they started to shoot at the van. Chaz spun around, trying to escape, but instead he overcompensated and sent the van tilting onto its side. Not long after the flip, the van exploded. Back in the car, Jim flinched at the noise.

As Jacobs and the biochemist--Kaminski--saw what was happening, both ran back towards the building. Jim directed Simon through the maze of cars, and the captain pulled his car to a stop in front of the building in time to see the running men. Kaminski tripped, letting Jacobs slam the door and lock him out. Seeing the betrayal, the chemist surrendered to the cops.

Back in Simon's car, Jim tried to get out, but Simon stopped him. "Look, Jim, I have an army of cops here, I need you to sit this one out, all right?"

Jim fumed. "Whatever you say, sir."

Simon got out of the car, and took the lead. Jim, meanwhile, forced his vision to see through the Golden blur, watching the images pulse in and out. "Come on!" he yelled at himself, pounding his fist on the dashboard. He cocked his head as he heard a motor revving inside the building.

Simon, unaware of the revving engine, sets up to blow the door. "Two guys on the door now! Go in!" Jim didn't watch, instead moved over to the driver's seat as he still focused on the engine in the building. "You guys on the door, now!" Two men placed the explosives on the door, and Simon counted down. "Three… two… one!" The door blew, and Jim flinched again. "Okay! Okay! Let's go!"

As soon as the door blew, the engine raced one last time and the green dragster burst through the wall. Jim starts Simon's car, flooring the gas pedal as he follows the sound of the dragster. Simon turns around, staring disbelieving after Jim. "ELLISON!" he shouted.

Jim was intent, focused almost exclusively on the Golden-hazed image of the dragster and the sound of the supercharged engine. Both cars spun around the buildings, Jim crashing into overhangs, posts, and dirt inclines. Finally, Jim managed to cut the dragster off, colliding with it. Jacobs got out, carrying his gun and ran back towards the building. Jim got out, following, tripping slightly as he ran. He made sure he had his own weapon. Peeking into the door, he snuck inside. His vision is still Golden, but he can see almost perfectly. The man's shadow gives him away as he listens for pursuit, and Jim can hear the bullets sliding into the chamber. He moved the opposite way, and crept in behind the drug lord, and put the barrel of his gun at the bastard's head. "You remember Blind Man's Bluff?" Jim spat out. "You're it." He used the gun at Jacobs' head to move him out into the front yard, where Simon and the other cops converge on him. Jacobs was cuffed and put in a separate car from his buddy, and Simon drug Jim over to the side.

"Jim, I am going to bust you so far down you won't see light for a week! I thought that I told you to sit in the car and let me handle the situation! What the hell were you thinking, Ellison?"

"That I had to get him, Simon, for Blair and for me."

That took some of the anger out of Simon's sails. "Dammit, Jim! I promised the kid I'd watch out for you and you--a blind man--take the damn car and drive off like you're Mario Andretti!"

"Captain, might I point out that I can see, just not a hundred percent, and I did manage to catch the bad guy?"

Simon glowered at Jim. "Don't you get snippy with me, Ellison."

"Sorry, Sir," Jim apologized, not one bit contrite. "I need to call Sandburg."

"Jim, I am going to tell Blair exactly what kind of stupid chances you took today," Simon said, a small smile crossing his features. "If you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to him!"

Jim's hand shot out. "You can't tell him, he'll kill me."

"You should have thought of that before you did something that stupid!" Bingo, Ellison! Simon thought. You're scared of the kid!

Jim's eyes were darting back and forth as Simon took out a cell phone and dialed Blair's hospital room. He explained to Blair exactly what Jim had done, and Jim was cringing by the time Simon held the phone out to him.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Don't you yeah, Chief, me, James Ellison. You are in trouble. I am disappointed in you, Jim! I told you to be careful and take care of yourself, and what do you do!"

Jim deflated, hearing the disappointment in Blair's voice. "I just… I had to get him, Chief, I had to make sure he didn't get away, make sure he paid for what he did to us."

"It was not worth risking your life for, Jim," Blair explained quietly. "No revenge is. It doesn't matter, if you're not here to enjoy it with me. Have Simon bring you here; they're going to discharge me tomorrow, and I want to see you. I love you, Jim. Hurry." Blair hung up on his end, and Jim blushed as he passed the phone back to Simon.

"What was that about?" Simon asked.

"It's all over, Simon… it's over, and he wants to see me. He said it, sir… he loves me."

"You sound amazed."

"I am," Jim said softly. "I have been ever since I first knew it."

Simon shook his head. "Come on. I'll appropriate a car and take you home."

Jim caught Simon's arm. "No, the hospital. He wants to see me."

The captain nodded in agreement. "You got it, Jim. Come on." He walked towards the nearest car, and Jim followed without assistance. "You must be feeling better."

"Much," Jim confirmed. "Finally Lisa can rest, and I can get on with my life." He got into the passenger side. "Man, it's going to feel good to get behind the wheel again."

Simon gave Jim a strained look. "Like you were just now?"

Jim laughed as Simon pulled out. "No, for real… on a real road, with Blair in the seat beside me… like it's supposed to be."

Simon smiled. It was nice to see Jim this happy. He hoped the kid would be. "You want me to come up with you?" the captain asked, pulling into a police parking spot. Rank had its privilege, after all.

"No, thanks. I can find the way, I think we just need to be alone for a while."

"I can understand that. I'll see you on Friday."

Jim paused. "That's three days from now!"

"I know. Go on, Jim, he needs you." He pushed the detective out of the car, and waved. "I'll call if you're needed."

Jim watched Simon pull away, and forced himself to remain calm as he walked into the hospital, up the elevator, and into Blair's room. His Guide was sleeping lightly, and he peeked in the door first, loathe to wake him. But he opened the door, and Blair's eyes opened as soon as he crossed the threshold. "Hey, Chief," Jim said softly, waiting for Blair to instruct him. Blair did nothing but open his arms, and Jim went to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and clutching him tightly. "I'm sorry I scared you," was the first thing out of Jim's mouth.

Blair ran his fingers through Jim's short hair. "You're okay, that's all that matters. They're releasing me tomorrow."

"And I don't have to be back at work until Friday, Simon just told me so."

"How's your eyes?"

"Almost perfect… how are yours?"

"Getting better," Blair said, sighing now that Jim was holding him. "Jim… before you say anything else to me, there's one thing you have to do."

"What's that, baby?" Jim asked, rubbing Blair's back.

"Margaret," he said softly. "You can't just leave her hanging, and she's my friend."

Jim sighed. "I'll take care of it."

"We'll take care of it," Blair said. "I'll call her and have her come over Thursday night, and leave you two alone."

"But… you're not going to be in any shape to go anywhere!"

"I can't stay, Jim."

The Sentinel nodded. "I know. I'll make it quick, and then I'll come and get you."

"I can take a cab. Call me when you're done." He shifted in the bed, making room for Jim to lie down. "When's the last time you slept?"

Jim stopped. "I honestly don't remember."

"That's what I thought," Blair said sagely. "Lay down."

"Here?"

"Where else?" He patted the bed beside him, and Jim toed off his boots and got in. "Rest, Jim… I'm okay, and I'm here with you now." As soon as Jim's head hit Blair's pillow, his eyes were shut and he was asleep within seconds. Blair slipped his arm around Jim's waist, holding his hand as the Sentinel slept.

Blair looked down at Jim as he slept. In sleep, he looked peaceful, innocent, and surrounded by Golden light. The halo only enhanced the Sentinel's vulnerable image. He knew that still inside somewhere, Jim Ellison was still an insecure young man, fighting to overcome the feeling of not being good enough that had been instilled in him by his father. He didn't know the details, and he wasn't sure he wanted to; he just knew Jim would open up in his own time about it. Blair rarely hated, but he did hate Jim's father for the things that he'd done to the young man. And he was honored that that Jim had trusted him enough to let him help… to let him love. Finally, Jim had caught the men responsible for Lisa's death, Blair's overdose, and Jim's own blindness. Finally the cosmic score was settled, Jim was a Sentinel again, and all was right with the world. I love you, Jim Ellison. Jim shifted as he slept beside Blair, and the Guide quietly soothed him, stroking his hair. "Rest, Jim," he whispered. "You did it, it's time for you to rest, you've earned it." Jim quieted obediently, and Blair smiled, closing his eyes to rest beside his Sentinel.

* * * * *

In the morning, Blair woke up first, and woke Jim with a tap on the shoulder. "Wake up, Jim."

Jim opened his eyes, and sucked in his breath. For the first time since Slicks, he could see clearly. Blair was leaning over him, and Jim could only stare. Blair was beautiful, his skin cast in a gentle Golden glow, his hair suffused by Golden fire, surrounded by a halo of Golden light. It softened the line of his jaw, made his eyes look far more luminescent, and angelic came to mind as Jim drank in the sight of his love. "You're beautiful," Jim whispered.

"So are you," Blair whispered back, seeing Jim through the same Golden filter. The Sentinel's entire face was softened by the Golden glow. The steel blue in Jim's eyes had been darkened to an almost black emerald, and the bright flecks in his eyes floated like gold in their depths. Blessed Protector, watch over me and hold me close to you always, and I will never forsake you, Blair prayed quietly to himself.

At least, Blair thought he'd said it to himself; he was not aware that he'd whispered it aloud, and Jim was so focused on Blair that it registered immediately in his ears. In answer, Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, holding him tightly and whispering back to him. "I will always watch over you, will always hold you."

"Got that sixth sense working for you, Jim?" Blair questioned quietly, shaken that Jim had read his mind.

"Just my ears and my heart," Jim replied, with a gentle touch to Blair's face. He was still focused on Blair, and he didn't register the doctor's footsteps until he was outside the door. Jim rolled up into a sitting position, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Blair's hand as the doctor came in.

"And how are you feeling this morning, Mr. Sandburg?"

"Uh, much better, thanks," he said, smiling at the doctor and then turning his eyes back to Jim. "Definitely ready to get out of here."

"There is still a possibility you'll be ill from the drug moving through your system. You're through the worst of it, but by no means are you done with it."

Blair nodded. "I understand that, and if it gets worse Jim will bring me back, I just want to go home."

The doctor made a disapproving noise as he looked over Blair's records. "I'm somewhat familiar with your history as well as Detective Ellison's history here, and I must say that I don't hold much hope for the fact of you coming back if you get worse. It's been noted here that once you're gone, you're usually gone until the next time one of you needs medical attention. In light of that, I'm really very reluctant to sign your release papers, Mr. Sandburg."

Jim growled low in his throat, but Blair reached out and started to rub his hand across Jim's thigh. "Calm," he whispered, for Jim's ears only. Then, in a normal voice, "Doctor, I appreciate your concern, really I do, but you can't keep me here against my will. I said I want to go, and I want to go now."

The doctor sighed again. "You are in your sound mind, and there really isn't anything I can do to keep you here, but I do wish you'd reconsider. Detective, can't you talk some sense into your friend?"

Jim shook his head, concentrating on the soothing rhythm of Blair's hand rubbing his leg. "I back him up, Doc… he wants to go home, I think he ought to be able to go home, and yes, I do know how to take care of him."

The doctor's expression became more sour. "In that case, I will go and take care of the discharge papers, but I am going to make it clear it is against my medical recommendation!"

"That sounds good to me," Blair said, his hand still rubbing Jim's thigh. "I'm ready whenever you are." The doctor huffed out of the room, leaving Jim and Blair alone again. "Jim, you can't growl at everyone who tells me something I don't want to hear, it's not nice to scare the populace," he said with a gentle smile.

"I'm not going to let some penny-ante doctor with his stethoscope up his ass tell me that I can't take you home when you want to go!"

"Jim, calm down! He's letting me go home!" Blair smiled at him again. "Remember, Jim… patience and serenity."

Jim growled at his Guide. "I am patient."

Blair snickered at that. "Yeah, and I'm the King of Fiji."

"Your Highness," Jim said, offering a mock bow. "Your wish is my command."

"Yeah, well, my wish is to get out of here!" Jim immediately got to his feet and scooped Blair up. "Jim--put me down!"

"But… I thought you wanted out of here!" Jim still did not put his Guide down; he liked the feeling of Blair in his arms too much.

"I do, but wait for the doctor and Jim, I'm serious, put me down!"

Jim frowned and put Blair back down on the bed. "Fine, I'll wait." He crossed his arms over his chest, and he suddenly found himself smacked in the face with a pillow.

Blair giggled. Jim had just looked too serious, and he smacked him with the pillow again. Jim grabbed the other pillow and was just landing his first thwap on Blair's shoulder with it when the doctor knocked on the door. Both men dropped their pillows under the doctor's disapproving stare.

Blair let Jim move him from the bed to the wheelchair, and while Blair signed all the necessary forms, including the waiver stating he was leaving against medical wishes, Jim packed up everything, and tucked a couple of prescriptions into his pocket as the doctor passed them over. Then he picked up the phone and called Simon. "Can you come pick us up and take us home?" Jim asked as soon as Simon answered.

"No problem, I'll be glad to," Simon said. "I'll be there in ten minutes. You want me to pick up some lunch?"

"Uh, yeah, that'd be great, can you stay and eat with us?"

"Sure, it's about time for my lunch break. Cuban?"

"Fine with me."

"Great, I'll be right there."

Jim hung up and turned to Blair, who was swinging his feet in the wheelchair. "Simon's picking us up, he's getting lunch for us on the way and we're eating back at the loft," Jim explained, brushing past the still-fussing doctor and putting his hands on the handles of the wheelchair. He started pushing, and put Blair's bag on his lap. "I can't wait to get you home, Chief."

"And I can't wait to get there, big guy. And hey, uh, sorry about the pillow back there, man, you just looked so serious, like you were about to rip someone's head off or something."

Jim gave his partner a mock glare. "Don't push your luck, Chief."

Blair laughed; it was great to be back with Jim. And once he talked to Margaret tonight… It was going to be just the two of them, for the rest of their lives.

Jim pushed Blair out to the front walkway of the hospital, and then helped him out of the wheelchair, sending the empty contraption back with the nurse who'd walked out with them. "Hey, Chief, I've been thinking, there are times I'd feel a lot better if you had the truck and the radio… so what would you think of me checking into a motorcycle?" He batted his eyes innocently at Blair.

"A motorcycle?" Blair asked, astonished. "Jim, you're not exactly Hell's Angel material, but if you're serious, I have a buddy who can help you pick one out."

"I used to have one in the Army, Chief, I think I can pick out my own. I'll even get you your own little sidecar," he said with a grin.

"No way, Jim, I ride up on the saddle with you or I don't ride at all."

"You know how to ride a motorcycle?" Jim found himself completely unsurprised.

"Yeah, I got licensed the summer I drove the truck for my uncle, it's what we were trucking, I just have to get it renewed."

Jim shook his head in awe. "Is there anything you don't do?"

"Cleaning," Blair answered immediately, and grinned as Jim rolled his eyes.

"Believe me, Chief, it shows," he said, wrapping his arm around Blair's waist to steady him. He looked down to the bottom of the driveway. "Simon's here, he just pulled in."

"Great, I'm starved." Blair rubbed his hands together. "God I hope he's not bringing pizza."

"No, Cuban," Jim reminded him gently. "You've never been there; Simon and I have and it's great. You'll love it."

Blair grinned. "That sounds great, man, so long as it's not pizza. I have had my fill of pizza for a long time."

"It's okay, Chief, pizza is definitely off the menu." He smiled, waving at Simon as the captain pulled up. Jim sniffed; fresh take-out was sitting in the front seat. Always thoughtful, aren't you, Simon? He opened the back door of the sedan for Blair and then climbed into the back seat beside him. "Thanks, Simon," he said as Blair leaned against him.

"My pleasure," Simon said, negotiating traffic. "I went mild for the kid, had them leave out most of the spicy stuff. Figured it'd be easier on his stomach."

"Thanks, Dad," Blair said with a grin. He was touched by Simon's consideration for him.

"Don't mention it… please." Simon's smile belied the sarcasm in his tone.

Simon carried in lunch as Jim carried in Blair and settled his partner on the couch. After the meal, all three men were talking, joking around. "Man, Simon, that was a beautiful meal!" Blair exclaimed happily.

"You're welcome," Simon said dryly. "But it's time for me to be getting on back, Joel's only watching things for me for a little while."

"You're leaving already?" Blair seemed slightly distressed. "You'll come back later, right?"

"Of course, I just have to go back to work. I tell you what, I'll come back tonight after I get off, and we'll talk then."

"Simon… you're not going to… because of what happened down there, are you?" Blair asked, his hands twisting in his lap.

"What happened?" Simon asked, feigning ignorance. "You didn't do anything, that I recall." Then he relented. "No, nothing's going to come out of that because of the circumstances. And even if it does, it crosses my desk and I promise you, it'll get lost."

"Thanks, man. I mean it, that's really--"

Simon held up his hand. "Don't."

Blair made as if to hug Simon, and the captain relented, letting Blair have a quick embrace before pulling back and stiffening. "Thanks, Captain."

"You're welcome. Now I have to go." He shut the door behind him, and Blair reached for the phone as Jim disappeared into the kitchen. He kept his voice pitched low as he arranged for Margaret to come over later that night. Miraculously, Jim was so busy clinking in the kitchen that he didn't hear.

* * * * *

Jim had dropped onto the couch earlier beside Blair, but when Blair had gotten up to move, Jim had remained lying on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes. Blair saw that, and he was very concerned. "How are your eyes doing?"

"Almost clear," Jim answered. "Just have this, you know, residual kinda fringe… "

"Glow," they said in unison.

"It's kinda nice, actually," Jim said, remembering how beautiful Blair had looked in the hospital.

There was a knock on the door, and Blair moved over to answer it. "That'd be Margaret," he informed Jim.

Jim jumped up, stopping Blair with a hand on his arm. "What's she doing here?"

Blair sighed. "Well, you know what, I just realized it's crazy for me to try and keep you guys apart. So, uh, I'm giving you both my blessing." His hands made the sign of the cross as he sighed. I know, Jim, you don't want to do this but remember she's my friend and please let her down gently.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jim said, scrabbling for Blair's arm again. He definitely did not want to be left alone with Margaret.

"What's the matter? Are you afraid that her inner beauty just isn't going to be enough for you, Jim?" he asked, poking fun at the Sentinel's insistence that looks didn't mean anything to him. Then again, Blair thought to himself, it's kind of a moot point anyway!

"No, come on, man. I lied to her. I mean I deceived her," he said, quickly amending his statement.

"So make it up to her," Blair suggested. He knew it was mean of him, but he knew Margaret wasn't going to like being lied to, and she was going to be furious with Jim. And he didn't warn him.

"Well, tell me, honestly. How unattractive is she?" Jim paused. What the hell am I thinking? If anything, I'm just going to be friends with this woman, why do I care what she looks like? "No. Forget it. Forget it. I don't care." He paused again. "No, should I?"

Blair almost rolled his eyes. "No. You shouldn't. You ready?"

Jim was near a full-blown panic, and he was stammering. "No, it's..."

"You ready?" Blair repeated, blowing out three puffs of air to calm Jim down, and then pulled open the door to reveal Margaret standing in the hallway.

"Hi," she said softly, smiling at Jim.

"Hi," Jim replied, seeing Margaret surrounded by the Golden glow. Not half as beautiful as my Blair, but Sandburg's wrong about it, she is very pretty, he found himself thinking. Blair patted Jim on the shoulder and vanished down the hallway as he kept staring at her. "How you doing?"

Jim stared awkwardly at Margaret for a few more moments, and then she gave an uncomfortable half-laugh. "Can I--?"

Jim jumped slightly. "Yeah, of course, come on in." He moved out of the way, holding his arm out to usher her in. "Sorry about that."

"Jim, is everything okay?" Margaret could sense the discomfort hanging heavily in the room and she looked around nervously.

"Yeah… sort of… sit down," he invited, pointing to the chair across from the couch.

Margaret sat down, draping her jacket over the arm of the chair. "Jim?"

"You, uh, you want something to drink? I got wine, that you left the other night," he offered. "I also got cold beer, if you want that."

"A glass of wine would be nice," Margaret said, watching Jim closely.

Jim hurried out to the kitchen, and poured two glasses of wine, passing one to Margaret as he drained the other himself. He put the empty glass on the corner of the coffee table. "Uh, Margaret, listen, there's something that we need to talk about."

"Look, Jim, if this is about the other night, don't worry, I don't expect anything to happen. You had a migraine and I was happy to be able to help, that's all." Margaret smiled at Jim's unease, hoping to calm him.

Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, then held out his hand. "No… well, sort of… just listen, all right?" Margaret nodded in agreement and Jim tried to keep talking. "Look, the other night, it was sort of under false pretenses."

"You didn't have a migraine?" she questioned.

"No… well, yes, I did, but that's not what the problem is. The problem is, I sort of… well… I was working on this case involving a drug called Golden. During the investigation, I got some of it in my eyes… the thing is… I was blind when you met me at the station for the first time. And when you came over the other night when I had a headache."

"Blind? As in you couldn't see because of the pain, right?" She couldn't quite believe that Jim had lied, not after all the good things Blair had told her about Jim.

"Blind as in I couldn't see at all," Jim explained softly. "Nothing. The drug blinded me. When you came over… I was trying to hide it and I… I used you to see if I could hide being blind and learn to get along that way the rest of my life."

"Used… me? As… like a test subject?"

Jim nodded, miserably. He'd never intended to use Margaret. He had fully expected to be blinded for the rest of his life, and he genuinely liked her. And, he hated using people, it just wasn't in his nature. "Margaret, I'm sorry. I never meant to use you like that. I mean, it wasn't what I wanted to do, I just… it seemed like the best thing to do at the time."

"The… best thing to do?" she asked, incredulous. "Did you ever think about being up front with me?"

Jim shook his head. "Yeah, but the whole idea was for no one to know I couldn't see until we knew for sure if it was going to be, you know, permanent."

"We? As in, you and Blair, we?"

"Yeah, but he was against it the whole time, he just went along with it for my sake. He's the one who wanted me to be honest with you in the beginning and wanted me to come clean with you tonight, get a clean slate between us."

"A… clear slate? Like I'm just supposed to forget that you lied to me? Used me like a lab rat? I'm just supposed to, what, forgive all that and fall swooning into your arms since you deigned to come clean with me?" She just couldn't believe Jim was saying this. "Jim, I thought… I mean, I didn't expect anything, but I thought that since you'd let me help with… well, you didn't really have a headache, but I thought that since you let me in, I thought that it might mean that I meant something sort of special to you."

This was not going well. "Um, Margaret," he said, reaching out to stop her as she got up. "You are a very special person, not everyone would have done what you did."

"I'm just sorry that you couldn't appreciate it, Jim," she said softly, trying not to let the hurt show. "Tell Blair I'll call him later," was her parting shot, as she got her jacket and left.

Jim sighed heavily, and leaned his head back for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. Then he got up and went to the kitchen, discarding the wine glass for something more substantial, like a cold beer. He had just screwed the lid off the bottle when the phone rang, and he answered on the first ring. "Yeah, Ellison."

"So, how's it going with Margaret?" Blair asked.

"Oh, it's going great Chief," Jim answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "She called me a creep and walked out not five minutes ago."

"Wow… that was harsh. What did you say to her, man? I told you to make it up to her, not make it worse!"

"I told her the truth, just like you suggested!"

"Hey, look--I missed the start of the movie anyway, I couldn't find a parking space in time--since she's gone, why don't I come on back home and we'll have dinner?"

"Chief, Chief, please… no food. Company, yes. Food, no." He dropped into the chair with the cordless phone tucked between his chin and shoulder.

"You got it, man. I'll be home in about fifteen minutes."

"Drive carefully," was Jim's habitual warning as he hung up.

Blair hung up the phone as he looked up from the curb. He hated lying to Jim, but he hadn't had the heart to leave the Sentinel completely alone, but he couldn't have stayed in the loft either; Jim needed to square things with Margaret himself and be able to make his own, free decisions. He knew he loved Jim, and he knew Jim loved him, but Jim had to decide for himself what he wanted. He'd call Margaret himself later and square things with her from his end.

Fifteen minutes, Jim thought, getting up and pacing over to the window. That's too long! He was itching for the Guide to come home; feelings burned inside him that he had ignored and swallowed back for too long now. As soon as he walks through that door, Jim vowed to himself.

He watched the ticks on the clock, sighing heavily with each minute. He took a quick shower, and sprinted back downstairs as he heard Blair's tread in the hallway. He was leaning against the kitchen counter as Blair tried the knob, and as it turned, Jim's body trembled as the cool draft came in. "Evening, Chief."

"Evening…. Jim." He looked his Sentinel up and down, once. If Jim met him at the door, usually it was with gun strapped on and jacket in hand, not with a wet towel around his neck and plaid boxers on.

"Thanks," Jim said, grabbing Blair's wrist. The Guide didn't struggle as Jim pulled him close, only knocking the damp towel into the floor to make room for his arms. Jim half-pulled, half-carried Blair into the living room with him and dropped both of them onto the couch. He put Blair on bottom, trapping his partner's legs with his own. "Blair, I have got to say something to you, and by God you're going to listen to me now."

Blair nodded. "Yes, I am going to listen," he echoed. "I'm going to listen to everything you have to say."

"Good." Jim leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on each of Blair's eyelids, forcing the Guide to temporarily close his eyes. He kissed Blair's nose, then his chin, then back up to press a gentle, feathery kiss on his lips. "Now listen, and listen closely, Chief." He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Blair's ear. "I love you, baby," he whispered. "I don't know exactly when it happened but I realized it earlier when I lost my eyes and you didn't walk out on me; I've loved you for a long time but I couldn't say anything until I got my sight back. You've got the world ahead of you, Chief, all laid out on a silver platter if you want it, and I want to be part of it with you."

Blair stroked his lover's broad back as he talked. "You know how I feel about you, Jim… somewhere along the way I realized you are way more than just a research project, you're the one I was meant to be with. We clicked, man, the first minute I walked into your hospital room we clicked, and I never want that click to go away."

Instead of rolling Blair to the floor, which is what he'd expected, Jim scooped Blair up and carried him up the stairs to his--their--bed. On the way up, Jim nuzzled Blair's throat, kissing his ear and nipping the earlobe. He stood beside the bed with Blair in his arms. "Sleep with me tonight, Chief?"

Blair nodded. "Scared?"

"Never again."

The End