Title: Mission Lake

Mission Lake
by Kelly

"No." Jim flatly refused the algae shake Blair was holding out to him. The Guide edged it closer, and Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "It looks like chopped up grass." Still Blair was persistent, and held it out. "Blair, if I wanted algae, I'd go skim the neighbor's pool! Absolutely not!"

Laughing, Blair finally gave up. "You don't know what you're missing." He lifted the glass in a toast to Jim as he drank the green shake down.

"I can't believe you're drinking that, Chief." Jim's phone started ringing, and he answered. "Ellison. Yeah, where? All right, we're on the way."

As soon as Jim asked where, Blair got up from the table and grabbed his jacket and credentials. He was pouring his breakfast into a larger travel mug and met Jim on the way to the door. "What is it?"

"A man found a dead body floating in Mission Lake." Jim talked and walked downstairs at the same time, hurrying out to his truck.

Blair followed, and paused for thought while Jim unlocked the doors. "I thought Mission Lake had been shut down, access restricted?"

Jim flicked on the truck's siren. "It has been, for over a month now."

Blair sat back and changed the subject; he didn't want to think about a month old waterlogged body any more than he had to. "So how did your date with Elaine go last night? It must have been good, you came in after I went to bed."

"I think it went well."

"You think?" Blair would have been exasperated except that was a typical Ellison answer.

"Yeah, I don't remember much--I must have zoned out or something, because I remember having a beer with her by the fireplace, talking about a ball game the night before, and then the next thing I remember is sitting in her car outside the loft and her saying we had a good time until I blanked out on her."

Blair looked concernedly over at Jim. "Whoa. That must have been some zone out, Jim-- you didn't get in until 12:30."

"We'll worry about that later, Chief." He parked the truck beside Simon's car, and headed over towards the captain. The crime scene guys were set up and working, and one headed towards Simon the same time Jim did. Jim got to Simon first. "What have we got?" he asked, snapping on latex gloves as he spoke.

"Homicide," said Simon shortly, watching the crime scene tech come up with a small nine millimeter pistol in an evidence bag, already dusted for prints. He gave the gun to Simon, who turned it over to Jim.

Jim turned his back on Simon, and Blair crowded close. "Close your eyes when you smell," Blair said quietly. "It'll help block out the other scents around you."

Jim nodded in acknowledgement as he opened the top of the bag. He inhaled, and paused. "Perfume. I know this one--Elaine was wearing it last night--Escobar." He inhaled again. "Underneath it--a man's aftershave… it's too faint to make out." He closed the bag and turned back to Simon, who silently took the gun from Jim and passed it back to the tech, who disappeared towards the van with it.

"Forensics lifted prints off the gun, and they're taking it back to run them," Simon explained. "Right now, the gun's all we got. We've called the serial number in, but I'm betting it's a stolen gun anyway."

Jim nodded. "It wouldn't surprise me." He watched for a moment as they pushed the body bag past on a stretcher. "Do we know who he is?"

Simon nodded. "His wallet was stolen, but his face is still recognizable enough. It's Wayne Mitchell."

Jim paused and ran that name through his memory. "Mitchell… isn't he the one that got this lake shut down in the first place?"

Simon nodded again. "Yep. He was the one who found the animal waste contamination from one of the processing plants."

"You think that might be related to someone putting a shot in him?"

"Yeah, I think it might be a good bet."

Blair had been watching quietly the whole time. "Why don't we go down to the library and check some of the old stories? At the least it'll give us a place to start, people to check into."

Jim nodded and looked at Simon. "Well, Captain?"

"Go on. There isn't much to see here, if we find anything else we'll call you. Right now, checking out those stories might be the best chance to find a lead; this place is clean. Forensics thinks that he was killed somewhere else then dumped here. They've also got some fibers they're going to run."

"Maybe as some sort of statement," Jim added thoughtfully, clapping Blair on the shoulder. "Come on, Chief, we got work to do."

Blair nodded and followed Jim back to the truck. "I just had to open my big mouth."

Jim grinned. "Yeah, but think of all the fun we're going to have."

Blair blinked. "Fun? Only you would think wading through a month's worth of old news stories would be fun."

"You mean you don't like playing with those neat microfilm machines?" Jim teased.

Blair rolled his eyes. "Those things make me seasick."

Jim laughed as he pulled into the library parking lot and headed towards the reference desk. Showing his badge, he gave the woman behind the desk a smile. "We're looking for all the stories on the Mission Lake closing; could you pull the records for us?"

The mousy woman nods. "Of course, Officer. If you'll have a seat by the window, I'll bring the papers to you."

Jim raised an eyebrow at Blair. "No seasick machines." He leaned back as the reference attendant put a stack of papers on the table between them.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Jim shook his head. "Not right now, but we'll let you know."

"All right." The woman flashed Blair a smile, which he returned before burying his face in the first newspaper on the stack.

"So what are we looking for, Jim?"

"Names, Chief." Jim pulled a notebook out of his pocket, and passed it over to Blair. "We need all the names of the people that Mitchell might have come in contact with about the Mission Lake closing that might have had it in for him."

Blair pulled the notebook over to him. "And just how do we do that?"

"We read."

Blair blinked. "You've got to be kidding, Jim, there's got to be thirty papers here!"

Jim nods. "So we better get going." He took the second paper out of the stack and started reading.

Several hours later, Jim jumped as his cell phone rang. The mousy librarian looked at him disapprovingly as he answered it. "Hold on," he told the person on the other end as he went out onto the terrace. "Okay, sorry about that, the librarian was giving me a dirty look."

"Jim, it's me," Simon said. "We need to talk to you about this case; can you and Sandburg meet us outside the library in half an hour?"

"Sure, Cap… we're almost through the papers, and we've got a list half a mile long."

There was an odd silence on the other end of the line. "I'll get it from you when we get there. Just be waiting for us."

"Yes, sir." He hung up and then went back inside. "Well, Chief, that was Simon. We get to pack it in shortly, and meet him downstairs in half an hour."

Blair reached for the last paper. "I hope I never see another newspaper in my life," he said, skimming through the front section and scribbling one last name in the notebook. Jim picked up the notebook and put it in his pocket. "I am so sick of newsprint."

Jim laughed. "Come on, Chief, let's go meet Simon." Jim returned the papers to the librarian, who waved at Blair and Jim as they went down the stairs, and out the door. He led the way to the truck, and got in the driver's side as Blair got in the passenger side. "So how many names did you come up with?"

Blair closed his eyes as he thought. "Twenty, all told."

Jim pulled the notebook out and flipped through the lists. "I got about ten more, that makes thirty and about half of them women."

"Why does that--oh yeah, the perfume! Good call."

Jim smirked. "It's why I get paid the big bucks, Chief." He watched a squad car pull in, and waved to Simon as it pulled beside them. He opened the door, and met Simon at the back of the car. "Here you go, Captain. You should check out the women first; when you gave me the bagged gun this morning, I smelled perfume on it. Women's perfume."

Simon sighed, and Jim noticed that the captain's face was drawn tightly. "Jim," Simon said quietly. "They found prints on the gun--your prints."

"Mine?" Jim was shocked, but before he could say anything else, a uniformed cop was handcuffing him. "Simon?"

"Detective Ellison, you are under arrest for the murder of Wayne Mitchell." Simon could not meet Jim's eyes as the uniform started to read Jim his rights as he was led away. "Go with Ellison. Get this cleared up." The last sentence was an order.

"Captain, you can't honestly believe--" Blair was interrupted by the cop coming back and handing Simon Jim's badge and gun, which he silently pocketed. The Guide was struck speechless, and it allowed Simon to interrupt.

"Sandburg, what I believe or don't believe isn't the question. The evidence is." As he spoke, Banks shook his head in a negative gesture, and that was enough for Blair.

Sandburg took off after Jim, and piled into the back of the squad car beside the handcuffed Sentinel. "Don't worry, Jim, we'll get this taken care of." He put his hand over Jim's cuffed ones, and was surprised to feel Jim grasp back.

"I didn't do it, Blair."

"I know you didn't. We just have to prove it." He kept hold of Jim's hand, and did not let go until they got to the station and were ready to pull Jim out of the car. "Christ, who called the media?" The entryway was thronged with the media--news cameras, flashbulbs popping, reporters with microphones shoving each other aside. "You ready for this, Jim?"

Jim shook his head no. "The noise, Blair."

"Come on, Jim… we have to." Blair winced. He knew Jim's sensitive hearing was taking a beating. A protective cordon of six officers used their bodies to make a shielded walkway for the detective, and Blair led the way, head down, pulling Jim behind him. The other officers closed in around Blair and Jim, blocking the cameras and reporters. Blair was immensely grateful for one fact--Ellison was a well-liked and well-respected officer with the benefit of a great deal of doubt--these cops would protect one of their own.

As soon as they got Jim into the station, one of the uniforms unlocked the cuffs and turned to Blair. "Take him up to interview six. Captain Banks will be here shortly to talk to you, Detective."

"Yeah--thanks." Jim made sure to shake the hand of both cops, and acknowledge the ones that had helped him in, and then let Blair steer him towards the elevator. Once inside it, Jim collapsed against the wall. "Jesus, Blair! The noise out there! What's wrong with me, Chief, I almost shut down."

Blair was worried but he wouldn't let Jim know it, especially not in this situation. "You're just upset, Jim… worked up, you know? And when all that crap hit you, of course it's going to overwhelm you." He wanted to reach out and reassure Jim, but held himself back.

Jim was pacing the interview room. "Blair, this is insane. I didn't kill that guy. You can prove it, Chief; you know I didn't shoot anyone, and when I wasn't working I was with you."

Blair nodded. "You're right. Hell, even your date last night can alibi you. All you've got to do is have Simon get the statements from her and me, and you'll be out of this in no time!"

Jim dug in his coat pocket for his address book. "Damn. My book must be at home. I remember her number though. It's 555-1742. Elaine Matthews." Jim started pacing again. "You can get her address out of the phone book, but it's still under her married name--Mitchell."

Blair scribbled down the information as Jim gave it to him, then stared at something he'd just written. Jim--Mitchell is the last name of the guy they fished out of the lake--the one you're accused of killing!"

'Yeah, and it's also the same last name of probably thirty other people in Cascade."

"And you don't find that the least bit suspicious?"

"I just want to go home, Blair."

"All right; you know Simon's got to make the call, I'll make sure he's got all this information." *All the information,* Blair thought to himself. *Including the fact that your lady friend might have a connection to our dead friend!*

"I know," Jim said, still pacing.

"Look, Jim, I'm going to go make a couple phone calls, see what I can find out, maybe get a head start on looking for something to clear you." He walked towards the door, but Jim reached out to stop him. "Jim… I won't be gone long, and someone has to be out there looking out for you."

"If there's anyone I'd choose to have watching my back, it's you, Blair. I just would rather have you at my back than watching it from afar." He had stopped Blair with a hand on his shoulder, and he had yet to move it.

Blair reached up and put his hand on top of Jim's. "I will be, Jim. Trust me. If the situation were reversed, and it was me getting framed for something you know I didn't do, would you just sit around holding my hand and waiting for the guillotine? Or would you be out busting your ass to find whatever it took to clear my name?"

Jim sighed. "I guess you're right. I just don't like the idea of not having my Guide around."

"I'll watch for Simon. As soon as I see him come in, I will too. I won't leave you alone, Jim. But I am going to work as hard as I can to see you clear and out of here."

Jim moved his hand and let Blair leave, and he stared at his reflection in the interview room mirror.

Blair paused outside the interview room to take a deep breath before heading towards Jim's desk. He knew that everyone in the bullpen would be rallying around Jim as soon as they found out what was going on. But until then, Blair was taking advantage of the quiet time.

The first thing he did was grab the phone book out of Jim's desk drawer and look up the address of Elaine Matthews Mitchell. He copied it down--8997 Murray Heights. *A fairly swanky part of town; Jim doesn't usually show interest in the Heights-type woman,* Blair reflected as he watched for Simon. He also decided again to bring up the coincidence of the name. Maybe Simon would discount it as Jim had, but then again, maybe Simon would at least check into it.

He sat at Jim's desk, idly doodling on the corner of a weeks-old newspaper when a photograph caught his eye. He pulled it out from under everything else and stared at the photo and the caption.

The photograph was one of the gossip column's photos, which shared half a page with the sports page's box scores. It was Wayne Mitchell, the stiff they'd pulled out of Mission Lake. He had some just-legal bimbo on his arm, but that wasn't what caught Blair's attention--the caption had.

"Recently divorced Wayne Mitchell, instrumental in the Mission Lake shutdown, has been frequently linked with many young women, but none so often as this woman--Delphia Mitchell, his adopted daughter. Sources say that Wayne and his daughter are the next hot scandal to hit Cascade."

Blair folded the scores--which Jim had circled in red-- and Xeroxed the photo and caption. He snagged an empty clipboard off a deserted desk, and clipped the copy to it, and made a copy of Elaine's address and phone number for the captain also. He put the original photo from the newspaper in his jacket pocket and walked back to the room where Jim waited. "Jim, it's me. I got Elaine's address out of the phone book, and I found something on your desk you need to see." He showed Jim the photographed. "Recently divorced," Blair pointed out. "How long ago did Elaine's divorce go through? Not long, she's still listed as Mitchell in the phone book. Still think it's a coincidence?"

"Maybe not," Jim allowed with a frown. "This was on my desk?"

"Yeah--on the same page as the American League box scores--which you'd circled to check somebody's stats."

"Andy Petit," Jim said absently. "Checking to see how he was stacking up this season against John Smoltz."

Blair didn't recognize either name. "Yeah, well, they'd put your box scores on the bottom half of the page with this Who's Who article," Blair explained. "I was doodling in the corner before I realized what it was." Then he plowed into another thought. "I want them to run a tox screen on you."

"A tox screen? Whatever for?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Simon said, closing the door behind himself.

"Captain, look--I know this is going to sound far-fetched, but bear with me. I think either intentionally or unintentionally, Jim's been given something to make him forget last night." When Jim and Simon both started to protest, Blair shook his head. "Just hear me out, okay? Jim goes out with this woman last night, and she tells him he blanked out--but they had a good time! Jim doesn't remember anything--somewhere along the line, Jim's had to have something put in his system, otherwise he'd be able to remember what they did on his date last night."

Jim sighed. "You're reaching, Chief."

"No, I'm not! Jim, I know you--even if you did have a zone out, there's no way you could have done anything! Now, unless this woman took advantage of you and had sex with your unresponsive body, there's no way she could have had a good time with a zoned-out Sentinel!"

Jim and Simon traded a surprised look. Neither had ever heard Blair raise his voice or get quite so sarcastic before. "But he's right--I didn't realize it before but if I did zone out, there's no way we could have done anything, and if I did do anything I don't remember, the only way I wouldn't remember is if someone messed with my head."

"All right," Simon acquiesced. "We'll run the tox screen. "What else do you know?" He knew Jim Ellison wasn't a killer, and he was willing to listen.

Blair passed Elaine's address and phone number to him. "That's the woman Jim was with last night--she can tell you from when to when--I can tell you when she picked him up and when she brought him home."

"What time?"

"Um… she picked him up at eight or a little after, and brought him home at 12:30." Jim nodded in confirmation of the times Blair gave.

"You sure it was eight, Sandburg?"

Blair nodded emphatically. "You can check the cable listings; I had just started 'The Matrix' when he left."

Simon sighed. "That's one good thing; the coroner put the time of death at about six-thirty." He stepped out into the hallway to call for a nurse and speak to an officer, and then back into the room.

While Simon was out in the hallway, Blair started thinking again and Jim spoke up. "Wait! Simon, hold on." Jim dug out his wallet and looked through it twice before pulling out a credit card slip. "Six twenty-five; I had just checked out at the grocery store--the one over on Michigan."

"That's all the way across town!" Blair interjected. "There's no way Jim could have made it across town in rush hour traffic in five minutes!"

Simon actually smiled as he took the receipt from Jim. "Now that's the kind of evidence we need. But dammit, how did Jim's prints get on that gun?"

Blair traded a look with Jim, and the detective shrugged. "If you got it figured out, go ahead."

Blair showed Simon the copy of the photograph and caption from the newspaper. "Elaine's maiden name is Matthews, but in the phone book she's still listed as Mitchell--her married name. What if she killed her ex-husband, drugged Jim to get his prints, and then set him up to take the fall for it?"

Simon sighed. "Do you know for a fact that this woman is his ex-wife?"

Blair opened his mouth to protest when the nurse knocked on the door. Simon let her in, and all three men watched silently as she filled three vials with Jim's blood. "I want a rush put on that tox screen," Simon told the nurse as she filled out the paperwork.

"Tomorrow morning is the quickest we can process it," she answered, glancing at her schedule. "And that's pushing a couple others back."

"Do it," Simon ordered. "I want this thing wrapped up."

"Yes, Sir." The nurse labeled the last of the three vials and left as soon as Simon signed the rush order.

"Now, Sandburg--back to the question. Do you even know for sure that this Elaine woman is the dead man's ex-wife?"

"Well, no, but--come on, Simon, how much more proof do you need? You know Jim didn't do it, and do you really think it's all one big coincidence?"

"Escobar!" Jim said suddenly. "Simon--when you gave me the gun at the crime scene, I smelled Escobar perfume on it--that's what Elaine was wearing last night, I remember her spraying it on before she got our drinks."

Simon nodded. "I remember you saying something about that at the library. When I got the nurse, I sent a cop out to get this Elaine woman; I'll get another one to check into her background and we'll get her permission to search the house."

"I'm going along," Blair said, standing up.

"No, you're not." Simon was firm.

"Look, you're looking to prove that Jim was there last night; I know the little things to look for."

"Such as?"

"Well, I know he was wearing his nubbly white cable-knit sweater that sheds worse than a cat. Your cops see white fibers on the woman's couch, they're not going to realize that's Jim's sweater shedding."

Jim interceded. "Simon, he's right. Let him go--he knows where to look and what to look for. Your cops can pick it up but if the evidence is there, Blair's going to be the one to find it."

Simon knew when he'd been beaten. "Fine, all right. He can go, but Jim--in return I want your permission to tap both your phones, and you, just in case."

Jim nodded; he knew the reasons. "You have it; I'll write it up," he said, reaching for the pad and pen that Simon provided.

Another knock on the door, and another detective peeked in. "Captain, can I see you for a second?"

Blair got up to follow Simon out, but Jim held him back firmly. "He'll let us know," he said in response to Blair's outraged look, and silently pointed to his ear. Blair's look slowly turned into an enormous grin.

Simon shut the door behind him, knowing Jim would still hear every word that was said. "What is it?" he barked.

Hensen swallowed. "Sir, we're questioning that Matthews woman now, and she's swearing up and down that Ellison never showed up for their date. She's already given us permission to search her house."

"Take Sandburg with you and get over there; use a fine tooth comb."

Hensen nodded. "Yes, sir. Oh, one other thing I thought was interesting, and that you should know--did you know she just got her divorce from the guy we found? The guy's sister was the next of kin after the divorce, and the sister called her and told her!" The detective couldn't believe the coincidence, and neither could Simon.

*Bingo, Sandburg,* Simon thought to himself. "Don't let her leave--keep her here."

"Captain?" The other detective seemed puzzled.

For Banks, however, things were definitely falling into place. "You heard me. Keep her here, get tape on anything she says."

"We already have been, sir, since she walked in."

"Good man. Get to her house, right away. I know Ellison was there--I want evidence."

Hensen nodded. "You got it. Have Sandburg meet me outside of nine--we'll go together to the woman's place."

"He's got the address," Simon told Hensen as he walked off, and then stuck his head back in the door. "Sandburg! Out here now, you're going with Hensen to the Matthews woman's house."

Blair gave Jim's hand a quick squeeze before bolting out after the other detective. As soon as Simon sat back down, Jim started. "She's lying, Simon."

"I believe you, Jim. More than that, though, Sandburg's theory is starting to sound more plausible by the second." Simon's face twisted slightly, as though it pained him to give Sandburg credit for being right.

Jim gave a small smile at Simon's expression. "You really think she did it?"

Simon leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. "Don't you?" A dull throb was forming behind his eyes.

"Oh yeah. I didn't at first, but now? Yeah."

"Jim, I want to wire you. If she gets the impression that her frame of you is falling apart, maybe she'll come to you to shore it up again."

Jim was doubtful. "You know I'll wear it, but I don't think she'll be stupid enough to come to me. She planned it out this far."

"Maybe, but I want to bait the hook and see," Simon said softly, in deference to the headache building behind his eyes. "You know I can't release you yet."

An explosive sigh came from the Sentinel. "Yeah. I know."

"I hate it."

"I do too, but there's nothing else that we can do right now. All the hard evidence points at me, and all you've got otherwise is a bunch of circumstantial pieces that are just starting to fall into place." Jim relaxed into his chair. "I'm not going to ask you for special treatment, Simon."

"I couldn't give it to you even if you did."

"I know, that's why I won't ask." He held out his wrists.

Simon shook his head. "Not until Surveillance gets here and we get you wired."

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Blair and Detective Hensen had just arrived at Elaine Matthews' Murray Heights residence. Hensen used the spare key under the mat to get in, and Blair followed, looking around as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "Check the trash," Blair said absently. "Look for a hypodermic needle, or an empty medicine bottle." The detective nodded as Blair went over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, and knelt down, feeling between the cushions. He almost yelped when his fingers encountered a small book, and he pulled it out. *Jim's address book!* This time, he did whoop. "HENSEN! Give me a bag for this! It's Jim's address book!"

Hensen came over with a grin on his face. "That'll make the captain happy." He gave Blair an empty evidence bag, and then held up a full one. "Would Halcion be a medication you're looking for? Or Dalmane?"

Blair's head shot up. Both were potent sleeping pills. "Yes!"

"They were in the kitchen trash can, buried under old coffee grounds."

"Keep looking--no, wait. I'll keep looking. You go to the car and radio Simon with what we found."

Hensen left Blair standing on the doorstep as he went to the car. Blair turned around and shut the door, and was met by a syringe plunging into his jugular, and then darkness.

The man tucked the syringe back into the belt pack of his black jumpsuit, and lifted Blair carelessly. He carried the insensate Guide through the kitchen and out through the French doors, into the nearby alley where he'd parked. He tossed the Guide into the truck, not even wincing when he twisted Blair's leg to make it fit. Bone snapped, and the kidnapper moved the now-flexible limb into place and slammed the trunk shut. He pulled off the black mask, and pulled out into traffic, easing past the squad car as the detective headed back towards the house.

* * * * *

As soon as Hensen radioed in what he'd found, Simon almost cheered. "Lock it in the trunk and then search the whole house. And don't tell anyone what you've found--tell Sandburg to keep his mouth shut."

Simon turned back to Jim, who had just been fitted with a wire. "They found your address book at her house, along with two empty prescriptions for sleeping pills."

Jim grinned. That was good new. "So I can go?"

"As soon as we get the lab results in the morning," Simon confirmed.

Jim held up his hand. "Wait… she's in nine? That's got to be her cell phone." He paused to listen to her end. "Dammit, Simon… she's got Blair. Someone is bringing her a package here."

* * * * *

Blair woke to the flash of a Polaroid camera. He still felt groggy as he looked around. He tried to stand, but a crippling pain in his right leg forced him back down in a wave of nausea. He looked down, and below the knee he could see a rip in his jeans and the bone poking out through his skin. Turning his head to the side, he vomited.

"Shit," he vaguely heard one of the men say. "Move him so we can clean it up."

The man with the camera put it down, and grabbed Blair's right arm, twisting it behind his back to force him to his feet. Blair tried to stand, but his broken leg buckled under him and he screamed as he fell, feeling his shoulder and arm snapping and wrenching in Cameraman's unyielding grip. Cameraman shook the limp limb in disgust, and Blair blacked out.

* * * * *

Half an hour later, Jim was still pacing the holding cell that Simon had put him in for their plan. He agreed to bend the regulations and let the woman's package be brought up to her. "Jim, she just got the package." Simon's voice crackled over the small earpiece, hidden in Jim's ear. "She's looking through it… now she's talking to the cop outside the door… and she's on her way to you, Jim."

Jim didn't answer Simon, he just sat down on the hard bunk and waited. Sure enough, Elaine was shown into the holding area and left alone.

She didn't bother with preliminaries. "I set you up for a reason," she said quietly. "I don't intend to go to jail." She opened the package and lay out a series of Polaroids of Blair. Jim clenched his jaw and his fists at the sight of the Guide's bruised face, blackened eye, and the odd angles of his right arm and leg. "As you can see, my associates here have your little friend. You sign a confession, he gets to live. You refuse, and he dies." She pulled out a single typewritten sheet. "A full confession saying that you killed Wayne Mitchell and I had no idea." She passed it through the bars, and Jim took it and the pen she offered. "You don't know how good it felt to kill the bastard and know I'd never have to go to jail for it. Do you know, he was screwing that little bimbo he had us adopt? After all we'd done for that twit, she thought she could get away with screwing Wayne. And he thought he could screw me over in the divorce… I showed them both." Jim still remained silent, scrawling a false signature onto the page as Simon spoke in his ear.

"That's what we needed to hear; we're on the way down."

Jim passed the signed paper back to her. "Why me?"

Elaine snorted. "Why not? Besides, I knew if things got touchy I could always grab your little fuckbuddy and get you to say anything I wanted. That's why I had the men watching my house; as soon as you people started asking questions, asking to search it… all I had to do is leave a page for my friends, and they knew what to do." She pulled out her phone and dialed, too swiftly for Jim to follow. "He lives, for now. Dope him up, fix the arm and the leg." She hung up and looked back at Jim. "You see, I can be reasonable. If you behave, I'll make sure he calls you before your trial." She turned to leave, and was stopped by Simon and two other officers, who confiscated the phone immediately and arrested Elaine.

Jim reached into his shirt and winced as he pulled the taped-down recorder off his chest and passed it to Simon. "Have an ambulance meet me at Mission Lake."

Simon shook his head. "Jim, it's almost midnight," he said softly. "I know what you're thinking; you want to go after Sandburg."

"You're damn straight I do," Jim interrupted. "And I'm going to."

"Not if I keep you locked up. Jim, stop and think! You might be able to see in the dark better than the rest of us but we can't see like you!" He kept his voice toned low. "And that includes me! Now, we'll go with you at first light if you want to, but if you go out there tonight, you're going to get Sandburg killed by some trigger-happy paranoiac thug who's afraid of noises in the dark." Simon was going to say more, but was interrupted by one of the uniformed cops that had escorted Elaine to the jail cells on the other side of the holding cells. "What?"

"One of the guys upstairs said you needed to see this; it's the results of the specific drug screen you asked for," the kid said, passing Simon the folder.

"Thanks," Banks said, skimming over the page. "Aha! Dammit, Jim, Sandburg was right! You've got traces of Dalmane in your system; the report backtracked it and said you were hit with about 100 milligrams. You're damn lucky you're such a big guy; that much could have killed you if you didn't have enough body mass to dilute it."

"Great! Now can I get out of here?" Jim was pacing like a caged animal.

Simon sighed. "Yes. But Jim, I'm warning you… do not go after Blair tonight."

Jim sighed, fighting a battle with himself. The Sentinel in him wanted to go and rip the park around the lake apart until he found Blair, and the cop inside him warned him that Simon was right, he risked too much going in at night. He knew he could have done it, and yet his entire being rebelled at the mere thought of risking Blair's life. "All right, Simon. I'll wait. But I'm waiting here, at the station. And we're leaving as soon as the sun is up."

Simon shook his head. five hours was not enough to bother going home for. "I'll stay here with you. Where is he?"

"Mission Lake."

"How…?" Simon was dumbfounded.

"That's the old game warden's shack," Jim said, passing Simon the photographs of Blair, keeping one close-up of the Guide's battered face. "And they stink of animal waste."

"That's the reason the lake was shut down."

"I know."

Simon put his hand on Jim's arm. "Come on. You need to eat something; you haven't eaten all day."

Jim gave Simon a sarcastic look. "You expect me to eat?"

"I expect you to pull yourself together and eat something so you can be at your best in the morning when you go after Sandburg," Simon said calmly.

"Fine." Jim followed Simon upstairs to the bullpen, where he collapsed at his desk. He reached into his desk and pulled out five ones and some change. "I need to pick up my wallet and keys and things," he said.

Simon nods. "Go get yourself some coffee and something out of the vending machine; I'll bring your stuff up here to you."

Jim walked slowly down to the vending machines. He dropped sixty cents into the coffee machine and picked up the paper cup as soon as it was full. He turned and looked at the other vending machines and finally picked out a prepackaged cinnamon roll. He fed a dollar into the machine, and when the roll got hung up in the twisting rack, he gave into the frustration and kicked the machine as hard as he could. The panel that held the name of the snack company fell to the floor, dented, and there was a rubber smudge on the glass from the sole of Jim's boot. The cinnamon roll fell into the chute and Jim pulled it out.

"Easy on the machines, Ellison," Simon said from the doorway. "They didn't do anything to you."

Jim seriously considered ignoring Simon, but finally decided against it. "It wouldn't give me my dinner," he said, holding the slightly smashed cinnamon roll aloft.

Simon said nothing as Jim walked past him and back down the hall to sit down at his desk. He followed, and then laid a clear plastic bag on the desk. "Here, you'll need these back too." He lay Jim's gun on the desk, and his badge on top of it.

The Sentinel scooped both into his hands, slipping his badge into his coat pocket and his gun into the holster he pulled out of the plastic bag and slipped back over his shoulder. He drained his coffee cup, and looked distastefully at the cinnamon roll. "I hate this, Simon." He pulled out the picture he'd kept and sat it on the desk. "Ever since this kid started hanging out with me, he's gotten in nothing but trouble."

Simon looked at the picture stoically. "You blaming yourself?" He wasn't nearly so detached as he appeared, and he suspected Jim knew it.

"Why shouldn't I? I'm supposed to be his protector, Simon, and yet every time I turn around, I fail." He reached out to crumple the picture, but Simon moved it out of the way.

"Or maybe you're just doing your job so well, that they're using Sandburg to try and stop you from being a cop."

"And again it comes back to me," Jim said softly. "I am no good for him."

Simon sat down on the corner of Jim's desk. "I don't think that's true. I think you're very good for him; I've seen him do things in the name of helping you that I quite frankly couldn't imagine a grad student doing, and I don't think it's because he's having fun. I think he wants to help you use your gift the best way you can--isn't that his job description?"

Jim nodded. Trust Simon to know the Guide's job description. "So you're saying it's all in a day's work?"

Simon didn't answer, leaving Jim to think about it. "Put your head down, Jim. Get some rest. It's about four more hours until first light; we'll be ready to go. I'll call ahead and have a black and white and an ambulance waiting at the gate; we'll go in alone."

"Thanks, Simon." Jim folded his arms on his desk, and put his head down on them. The picture of Blair was the last thing he looked at. "Don't worry, Chief. I'm on the way."

* * * * *

Blair woke in the middle of the night. The pain in his right side was almost unbearable, and every time he shifted position, he gritted his teeth against the urge to scream.

One of the guys saw him waking up and moving around, and moved over to him. "Nighty nite," he said, pinching Blair's nose and forcing him to open his mouth. As he did, the kidnapper dropped a pill down Blair's throat and washed it down with water, rubbing Blair's throat to make him swallow.

The Guide's eyes watered as his head swam from the intense pain from the mistreatment. *Jim where are you?* he thought to himself. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on the dull thud of pain in his leg, and soon the pill was acting to put him to sleep.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a gray room, with his arm and leg in a plaster cast. He knew he was dreaming, but was trapped inside it. There was a round hole in the door and faces were peering in. Some moved through so rapidly he couldn't recognize them, but the one face he did see was Jim's. Jim was laughing at him. He heard Jim's laughter floating in through the hole in the door. "Poor little Sandburg, couldn't even defend himself from the big bad needle!"

He tried to struggle but the cast seemed to hold him in place. He knew he was dreaming, he knew Jim would never say that to him. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but Jim was still standing outside the little gray room. "Hey, Blair… when are you going to wise up and stop wanting me to fuck you? Why do you think I'd want a piece of ass like you?"

"Stop it!" Blair yelled. He could not control this dream. "You are not real! You're not Jim, Jim wouldn't say those things to me!"

"You sure Chief?" But then the apparition of Jim obliged him and vanished, to be replaced by other, more wilder dreams.

* * * * *

At first light, Jim raised his head off his desk. He could see the first rays of sunlight coming through the blinds. Jim grabbed his jacket and put it on as he was moving to Simon's office and banged on the door. "All right, Simon. I'm going after Blair; are you coming or not?"

The captain shook his head wearily. "Yeah, I'm coming. Just give me a second to wake up."

"Meet me downstairs." Jim was already on his way out. Simon paused for a second, trying to wake up, and then followed the Sentinel, snagging a two-way radio from a startled officer and calling for the car and the ambulance.

Jim was cranking his truck when Simon got into the passenger side and passed Jim a bigger gun. Simon was carrying a shotgun. Jim smiled at the captain as he slammed the truck into gear. The ambulance was waiting for them at the front gate, no lights and no sirens. Simon told them to stay put--Jim would bring Blair to them.

Simon looked over at Jim and caught the cold gleam in Ellison's eyes as he silently stalked towards the shack. He caught up with the Sentinel and stopped him before he got more than a few feet. "Jim, stop thinking with your heart and use your head. You go in there with your guns blazing, and Blair becomes a human sacrifice caught in the crossfire."

Jim rocked back on his heels. "Elaine was right, Simon. I'd do anything for Blair."

Simon actually choked on his snort as he fought to remain silent. "Now you just figure that out?" he demanded in a whisper. "Jim, I think you and Sandburg are the only two in the world who don't know you're in love!"

Jim was stunned as he looked over at Simon. "Captain?" But he couldn't deny what Simon had just said; it felt right. In the back of his mind, he turned the words over in his thoughts. *In love with Blair, in love with Blair.*

"Go rescue Sandburg and then I'll explain it to both of you. But use your head, Jim, and don't get either of you shot."

Jim was already on the move as Simon admonished him. The shack had two rooms, and Jim scoped them both out before rolling shoulder-first onto the porch and them climbed through the window. As he did, his booted feet thunked on the floor and startled a family of raccoons, who scurried through the open doorway.

* * * * *

*WHUMP*

Cameraman and his buddy looked up from their poker game to see the raccoons running through the doorway. "Damn crazy coons," he muttered, laying his pistol back down and picking up his cards again.

Jim looked around the doorway a split second, searching for Blair. He saw the Guide against the farthest wall, out of it. Good. "Hey… can you deal me in?"

Cameraman spun into the muzzle of Jim's gun. He motioned both men out the front door, where Simon waited with the shotgun. He used it to herd both men towards the gate, and towards the back-up unit he'd radioed for to take them in.

Jim gently gathered Blair into his arms. The Guide stirred, whimpering at the pain in his right side, but Jim quieted him with a soft nuzzle. Simon smiled to himself as he saw Jim--the gentle giant--carrying Blair out like a fragile China doll. *Ellison, my friend, do you have it bad.*

Blair stirred again as he was being strapped to the gurney and his right limbs immobilized. "Jim?" He was just waking up, reaching out blindly with his good arm.

Jim caught the grasping hand and held it against his chest. "I'm here, Chief. They're taking you to the hospital."

Blair's fingers tightened in Jim's shirt as he tried to speak. "Cleared?" is all he could get out.

"Yeah, Chief… thanks to you. You were right, right about it all." He lightly kissed Blair's palm, and lay it back on his chest.

The female medic gently separated them, as the two men prepared to roll Blair into the back of the ambulance. "You can ride with him if you want to, but we have to get him to the ER," she said softly, smiling at Jim. "But he's going to be fine."

Jim got into the back with Blair as the lights and sirens went on. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?" He'd taken Blair's hand again.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"What they said… the guys said she picked you because of me… because they knew you'd do anything to save me."

"Yeah, Chief… it's true. That's why she chose me."

Blair shook his head. "No… the other part."

Jim nodded in understanding. "It's all true, Blair. All true. Simon says we're the only two who don't know it."

"Don't know what?"

"That we're in love with each other," Jim said, stroking Blair's forehead gently.

"Speak for yourself." Blair tried to huff but it hurt. "I was just waiting on you to figure it out."

"Well, you don't have to wait any longer," Jim said softly. "I'm in love with you, Blair Sandburg."

"About time!" Blair tried to smile, but the pain was too much. "And I'm hopelessly in love with you, Jim Ellison."

Jim squeezed Blair's hand. "I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, ever again."

Blair moved over just enough to kiss Jim's hand as they stopped the ambulance and rolled him out. "I'm holding you to that, Jim."

Jim followed the stretcher in as far as he could, and then went to the desk and badgered the nurse there until she told Jim what cubicle Blair was in. He pushed his way past her, and into the cubicle with Blair. His leg and arm were both splinted and immobilized. He didn't say anything for a long moment as he got his first good look at the damage that had been inflicted on Blair. There were cuts and bruises on his face, and what looked like claw marks at his throat. A slight trickle of crusted blood led from his nose to the top of his lip. "Jim?" Blair questioned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He pulled up the stool and moved it beside Blair's bed. "No, Chief, no ghost… just you." He lifted a hand to push Blair's hair off his beaten face. "I should have roughed them up."

Blair reached up with his good hand and gripped Jim's hand tightly. "Jim, your name is cleared. They got the killer, and I'm going to be okay, as soon as they put me in casts. I've had broken bones before."

"But not because of me." Jim lay his cheek against Blair's hand. "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm supposed to be your protector and you ended up saving my ass this time."

Blair turned his hand to stroke Jim's cheek. "Stop it, Jim. Stop it right now. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, and I won't have you feeling sorry for me either. You got cleared, which is what we were working towards in the first place. So I got a little banged up. It comes with the territory."

Before Jim could respond, the doctor came in and wheeled Blair out for X-rays before setting the broken bones, and Jim waited in the small cubicle for them to bring Blair back. He jumped when a nurse touched him on the shoulder. "Are you Detective Ellison?"

Jim nodded. "I am."

She smiled a relived smile. "We need you back in X-ray. Mr. Sandburg's putting up quite a fuss."

Jim jumped to his feet and followed the nurse down the hall. Before he even entered the room, he could hear Blair's slightly raised voice. "I am not taking another damn pill!"

Briefly Jim wondered what that was all about, and the nurse filled him in. "We tried to give him something to deaden his arm and leg when we reset it, but he refused to let us get close to him with the needle! So the doctor tried to give him Darvon, but he refused to take the pill."

Jim walked into the door. "Hey, Chief… what's the problem?"

"Jim!" Blair was thoroughly glad to see the Sentinel. "Would you please tell them to get away from me with their needles and their pills?"

Jim looked at the doctor, who shrugged. "The breaks are both clean breaks, but it will hurt when we reset them."

"Chief… all they're trying to do is give you something so it doesn't hurt when they snap your leg back in place."

Blair shook his head. "No way. Those freaks crammed enough pills down my throat, no more."

*Aha,* Jim thought to himself. "Blair… nobody's going to hurt you here. I'm here now. Let the doctor give you the injection, and I'll stay with you so nothing happens."

Blair sighed. "All right, but don't you leave me."

Jim took Blair's hand. "I'm not." He nodded to the doctor. "Go ahead." He took Blair's face in one of his hands. "Look at me, Chief." When Blair turned the rest of the way to look at Jim, the Sentinel kissed him lightly as the doctor plunged the needle into Blair's leg. The Guide hissed, and Jim deepened the kiss for a moment to let the sting die down, and then broke it. "There. All done."

The nurse had left the room when the doctor prepared the needle, and came back with the materials to cast Blair's arm and leg. "Detective, if you could please hold Mr. Sandburg's shoulder, I'm going to reset his leg first."

Jim nodded, and got a good grip on Blair's good shoulder. He felt Blair's left hand grip his arm tightly as the doctor quickly twisted the bone back down and into place. Blair tried to buck but Jim held him down as tears came to the Guide's eyes. The doctor securely straightened Blair's leg, and started wrapping it in the plaster strips. They hardened rapidly, keeping Blair's leg immobile. It reached from mid-thigh to ankle. He continued holding Blair still as the doctor moved to his arm and shoulder. "Hmm. I was afraid of this when I saw the X-rays… Mr. Sandburg, I'm going to have to move your arm and put your shoulder back into joint before I can reset your arm. It will hurt more, but only for a short period of time."

Blair nodded. "Just get it over with." He was already white.

"Perhaps if you lie down first."

Jim helped Blair to lie down on the table, and gripped his hand tight. "Just hang on to me, Chief."

The doctor looked sympathetically at Blair as he twisted the shoulder back into place. Blair screamed shrilly once, and then blacked out.

"Good," the doctor said. "That was a clean pop. Now, I can reset his arm and by the time he wakes up, he will be casted and everything." Jim moved to the other side of the bed to let the doctor work, and Blair was just coming around as the doctor finished the cast on his arm.

"God that hurt."

The doctor pulled out his pad and wrote out a prescription. "You're going to be in pain for the next several weeks, until the bone settles. I'm giving you a prescription for Vicodin, with a couple of refills. Be careful when you take it; you're to take it every six hours. After the first couple of weeks, you should be able to back down to three a day with no problem; one with each meal." He tore off the prescription and passed it to Jim, who pocketed it. "I'd also like to make an appointment to see him at my office in three weeks, just to make sure he's healing all right."

Blair sat quietly as Jim talked to the doctor. "What about the cuts on his face?"

"Over the counter triple antibiotic ointment should clear those up. We usually recommend Neosporin, but any sort of triple antibiotic should do." The doctor turned and rummaged around the cabinet, and came back up with a handful of small packets. "This should do until you can get it at the drugstore." Jim pocketed the samples of ointment with the prescription.

"The orderly will take him back to the cubicle while we finish up his paperwork, and then he's ready to go. He'll need crutches for quite a while, we'll give him those before he leaves."

Blair protested. "I don't need crutches, I can move around the loft without them."

"Forget it, Blair. The only time you're not using crutches is when you're sitting down. You're using them the rest of the time or I'm carrying you around. Your choice."

The doctor's mouth turned upwards in the corners. "I'll let you two discuss that while we get everything else in order."

"All right, all right, I'll use the crutches!" Blair threw up his good hand in exasperation.

"I thought you'd see it my way, Chief."

Blair mumbled the whole way back to the cubicle. "Jim, I'm not taking those pills."

"Yes, you are. I can't stand seeing you hurt."

Blair softened slightly. "Damn you, Ellison…"

"Look, Sandburg, it's bad enough you got this way because of me, I'm not going to let you suffer."

"Jim… I don't want the pills."

"They're not what they gave you or me, Chief." Jim sat on the bed beside Blair. "These are good pills, from the doctor, for you."

"All right. I'll try, that's all I'll promise."

Jim hugged him as best he could around the plaster. "Good thing that warehouse blew up when it did; now you don't have a reason not to let me help you out."

"You're not going to get all mothery on me are you?"

Jim smiled. "No, not mothery, just… protective. As in Blessed Protector, my little Guide. That's why you're going to be sleeping upstairs; I'll carry you up there and the bed upstairs is big enough for you to be able to be comfortable in."

"And just where are you going to be sleeping?" Blair quirked an eyebrow at the larger man.

"On the other side of the bed from you… just in case you need anything."

Blair sighed. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"No. I won't forget what you did for me, Blair… what you always do. You put yourself in harm's way for me, and I'm going to start showing you just how much I appreciate it, and just how much I love you."

The doctor came in with Blair's paperwork, and soon Jim had the Guide bundled into the truck and on the way back to the loft. They stopped at the drugstore long enough to fill Blair's prescription, and to get the ointment for the cuts. Jim also ran to the grocery store next door and picked up several cans of whipped cream and a pint of strawberries. Blair raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Soon as they pulled in, Jim carried Blair into the loft and settled him on the couch. Then he called Simon to tell the captain that he and Blair were home, and he'd be in tomorrow.

"Are you out of your mind?" Simon demanded. "Much as you're needed here, you've got someone to take care of. Take that paid vacation you've got coming."

Jim agreed and hung up, sitting down on the couch beside Blair. The bag from the grocery store was still sitting on the couch beside him, and Blair leaned against him. "So what did Simon say?"

"That I'm on vacation for the next week." He leaned over Blair and picked up the bag. He opened the pint of strawberries and bit into one, and then offered one to Blair, who happily munched it. Jim passed him another one, and then got out the can of whipped cream. He sprayed a small dab onto a strawberry, and popped that into Blair's mouth. Some got on his finger, and before Jim could lick it clean, Blair leaned over and sucked it clean for him. That gave him a glimmer of an idea. He took the can of whipped cream, and deliberately sprayed a quarter-sized glob onto his finger, and then put one of Blair's pills on top.

Blair saw what Jim was doing, but could not resist. He leaned forward again and sucked the whip cream off Jim's finger, his tongue lapping delicately at the ridged pad as he swallowed the puffed sugar and medication. Jim slowly pulled his finger out of Blair's mouth and put it in his own, tasting Blair. "Now, was that so bad, Chief?" Jim asked, lowering his head to nuzzle Blair's ear and to tug lightly on the earring with his teeth.

Blair shivered. "Not bad at all," he said softly.

"Then that's how we'll take your medication from here on in," Jim said quietly in return, his eyes smoldering. "Although I'm not sure that giving you your medicine is all I can do."

Blair's eyes twinkled as he snuggled next to Jim. "You'll have to wait, because I'm not going to let you do all the work, and until I'm out of these contraptions…"

Jim sighed. "I waited this long, didn't I? I can keep waiting." He put his head down on Blair's soft hair, gathering Blair close to him. "Long as I've got you here, I can wait forever."

"It won't be forever Jim, just a few weeks, couple of months at the most." He laced the fingers of his good hand through Jim's. "Then we'll have the rest of our lives together."

Jim leaned over and kissed Blair. "I can wait for that."

The End