"I can't believe I have to wear this," Blair said, his tone bordering on a whine.

"Look at it this way, Chief, you may be starting a new fashion statement," Jim told him.

"This isn't fashion, this is paranoia."

Jim took his eyes off the road and gave his petulant partner an exasperated look. Blair had woken that morning in a foul mood and it didn't seem to be improving. Jim had fashioned a necklace for his partner to wear that held a small pair of stainless steel wire cutters. Blair had grumbled; but he put it on. Jim wasn't looking forward to the three-hour drive to Kent. He eyed the multi layers of shirts his partner was wearing. It was still early spring, but the weather wasn't unseasonably cool.

"You cold?" Jim asked.

"No."

Right, reduced to single word responses. Jim could count on one hand the times Blair's been like this. Most of the time, he was upbeat and ready to meet the day with a smile. Still, everyone was entitled to an off day, and it wasn't as if Blair didn't have a good reason for his surly mood. The wires had really torn the inside of his lip. They'd called the doctor yesterday, who prescribed a numbing agent and recommended salt water washes.

Jim leaned over and flicked on the radio. Blair went back to his textbook, scribbling notes on a small pad of yellow paper. They traveled for almost an hour this way, until Blair sighed and closed his book.

"You know what I miss the most?" the younger man said, keeping his attention focused on the passing scenery.

Jim turned off the radio. "What?"

"It's stupid, but... I can't lick my lips."

"Your lips..."

Blair had a tube of Chap Stick out, coating it onto his lips before continuing. "Yeah, I told you is was stupid. It's just little things like that; yawning, licking an envelope, sticking out my tongue..."

"You're too old for that one, Junior," Jim teased lightly. Rain hit the windshield and he reached down to turn on the wipers.

"You never know, man. I might be in a conversation with someone, and it really calls for the old `sticking out the tongue' thing."

Jim chuckled. "I think what you're missing is being in control."

Blair nodded. "Exactly. One minute, everything is normal and I'm like, all excited about being included in the crew meeting and everything. I never expected Simon to wait the meeting for me, that was so cool." Blair turned his head away, his voice dropping until Jim had to use the dials to pick up his next words. "And the next minute... he's all freaked out and I can't breathe..."

Jim let the tempo of the wipers tick of the seconds, unable to think up a suitable reply. The sound of the tires on the wet road surface filled the cab.

"Anyway... that's what I miss." Blair returned his attention to his book.

Jim sighed. He was terrible when it came to stuff like this, but he couldn't not try. His friend was sending out an SOS and Jim hoped he had the adequate words. "Listen, you're bound to resent that attack. I know you don't blame Simon. I was proud as hell when you woke up and demanded that I go visit him. You forgave him before I did. But you're still entitled to be pissed off, understand? You were attacked by a friend in what should have been a safe environment. That's not an easy thing to accept." Jim paused, wondering if he was helping or babbling.

Blair nodded, running his fingers over the spine of his textbook. "It's like my mind knows it wasn't Simon's fault, he didn't ask to be drugged. But... when I get tired, I just can't stop... getting angry."

"It's normal, Sandburg. Once....when I was a platoon leader, my men were practicing at the range. One fired his gun. The round ricocheted off the concrete and hit my leg. It wasn't life threatening and I was watching him the whole time, so I know it was just a case of inexperience. But, I was on crutches for two months and I missed a chance to lead a mission that I really wanted." Jim shrugged. "I knew it was an accident, but I couldn't stop blaming the kid for putting my career on hold."

"Yeah, that's what if feels like. I feel like someone hit the `pause button' on my life. I can't drink a beer, can't play a pick up game at the `Y', I have to wear a freaking pair of wire cutters around my neck!" Blair's anger grew with each word as he unleashed his feelings. He waved his arms in full rant mode. "I want my life back!"

It was hard to rant with your jaw wired shut, but Jim thought his partner did an admirable job.

"Feel better?" Jim asked calmly.

Blair took a deep breath, filling his lungs until his chest puffed out, and released it with a swoosh of air. He raked both hands through his hair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. After fifteen seconds, he lowered his hands and flashed Jim a grin. "Yeah, actually. I do."

"Thought you might."

"How'd you know?"

"Been there, done that, got the T-shirt."

"They make a T-shirt for this kind of thing?"

"Yeah, it's the one with the big bull's-eye on the front and back."

Blair's mood transformed. He laughed.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, man. Take the next left. See, there's the park."

"I think Kent has more than one park, Chief."

"Jim! I'm reading it right off the map, take this left." Blair huffed and refolded the city map. Geez, get lost once or twice and no one believes you can read a map.

They found the address. Mary's parents lived in a two-story home surrounded by a yard busy with flowering shrubs and an large apple tree just beginning to leaf. The walkway was lined with a cedar bench and a matching planter holding a young tree.

"Japanese Lace," Blair said, eyeing the planter.

"Uh huh." Jim knocked on the heavy double door. "Their entrance is obscured from the street with all this shrubbery, it's not safe."

Before Blair could tell him today wouldn't be a good day to give these folks crime prevention tips, a tall man with a short gray beard opened the door.

"May I help you?"

He looked about mid-fifties, dressed in a suit and tie as if he'd gotten ready for a normal day of work, but never left. Blair couldn't help but note his grey hair hadn't been combed. His eyes were red and sad. He wore a silk tie with small dancing bears, the type a friend would buy as a gift... or maybe a daughter.

"Detective Ellison from Cascade PD. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg." Jim held out his ID. "We called earlier? We'd like to talk to you about your daughter, Mary."

"Warner Mullen, come in."

The front door was located between the two floors. Blair followed Jim up a half flight of stairs turning right at the top. The living room was nice. A sofa unit formed three sides of a box with a coffee table in the middle. A fireplace with a mantle sat against one wall. Blair could imagine what the room would have looked like for Mary as a child on Christmas morning. Pictures of Mary and another boy a few years older were arranged around the room. Mary had turned prettier as she had grown, going through the pigtails and braces stages.

Large picture windows offered views of the cul-de-sac and the Kent valley below. The walls were painted dark red. It seemed to work, complementing the wood floors and the oak antique sewing machine cabinet in one corner. Green, healthy houseplants lined the wall in front of the picture window.

"This is a nice room," Blair told him as he took a seat next to Jim on the oatmeal colored sofa.

"My wife works part time as an interior decorator," Mr. Mullen said. "She's with my son right now in Covington. My granddaughter is taking the news... badly."

Blair diverted his gaze as the man fumbled for a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. This part of riding with a cop sucked. As a child growing up, Naomi avoided situations that involved too much negativity and she certainly did her best to keep her young son from such unpleasant situations. As a result, Blair the adult was always uncomfortable in the presence of grief.

"We're sorry to have to visit at such a bad time. Cascade Police sends its condolences, Mr. Mullen. Mary was well liked by her co-workers," Jim said.

Mullen nodded, sitting up straighter with a sigh. "She loved working there. We were hoping she'd get hired by Kent or Renton. Cascade is so far away, but Mary liked her independence."

"You were told Mary was under the influence of an unknown hallucinogen when she had that accident, right?" Jim asked.

Mullen nodded again then shook his head. "She didn't do drugs."

"We think she may have ingested it without realizing how potent it was. My captain inadvertently ended up with a dose as well," Jim explained.

Mullen's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How?"

"That's what we're investigating. It could be accidental, but if it wasn't - we want to find out who's doing this and why," Jim explained. "Did Mary talk with you about her work at the station? Who her friends were or maybe who she was dating?"

Blair's fingers worried the button on his sleeve cuff. This was the million-dollar question. If they could find out who the mystery man was in Mary's life, they'd have a direction. But Mary's father shook his head from side to side.

"No, not really. She never talked much about work. I figured she couldn't."

Well, that seemed to be that. Blair listened to Jim finish the interview before they thanked the grieving father and returned to the truck. He felt his bad mood slip back into place. What a waste of the day. They were no closer to finding out who masterminding these attacks than when they started.

Let's get some lunch," Jim suggested as they drove away.

Blair held back a groan.

Another milkshake.

"Here." Jim handed over the instant breakfast drink. "Mix it in with your shake."

They'd found a family drive in that was reputed to have over twenty different flavored milkshakes. After taking almost ten minutes to decide, Blair picked a peanut butter flavor.

Blair eyed the mix dubiously.

"It's vanilla, Chief. It's not going to change the flavor, but it'll add protein." Jim handed over a plastic spoon and waited while his partner mixed in the powder. "I called Simon when you went to the bathroom, told him about the interview. Also got us the rest of the day off."

"Really?" Blair perked up with the news. "What did you have in mind? And don't tell me we're cleaning the loft, man."

Jim laughed as he led the way back to the truck with his burger and fries. He almost hated having to eat solid food in front of his friend. "What? You don't think cleaning is fun?"

"Let me put it this way, Jim....no."

"Well, we need to run by the loft for a second, then it's a surprise."

Blair read his textbook during the ride back to Cascade, taking notes. The rain continued the entire trip north, but the traffic was light and Jim made good time. Before, the rush hour traffic had a chance to build up, they arrived back at the loft.

"Tennis shoes and sweats, Chief. Meet me at the truck in ten."

Blair looked intrigued and Jim was happy to see a small bounce in his friend's step as they walked into the loft. Jim changed as fast as he could, heading out the door for the storage locker in the basement. By the time Blair met him at the truck, he was ready.

"Okay, what's up?" Blair climbed in, taking a moment to zip the hooded sweatshirt he wore over a faded tie-dye T-shirt.

"Well, like I said. Simon gave me the rest of the afternoon off, as long as dispatch knows where I can be reached. So I thought we'd run down to the Y and get some exercise." Jim uncovered a orange basketball and dropped it into Blair's lap with a flourish, before starting the engine and pulling out into traffic.

"Really! Way cool!" Blair happily spun the ball on one finger. "Wait a minute, though. What about the doctor's order not to play rough?"

Jim shrugged. "We won't play rough. Just you and me. And I'll take it easy on you."

"Hah! You're thinking I'll let you win, man. I'm gonna so smoke your sentinel butt!" Blair chortled happily.

Business at the YMCA was light when they arrived. The inside court had a few men at one end playing some one-on-one. With a wave, Jim and Blair claimed the other basket. Blair was out of his jacket and pulling his long hair back into a ponytail.

Jim waited until he was ready, warming up by bouncing the ball from his right hand to his left, and back again. "Remember, short-eyes, keep it light. No heavy blocking or aggressive moves. You wearing your wire cutters?"

Blair patted his chest. "Yep, bring it on, old man."

They warmed up slowly, rubber shoes squeaking on the waxed floor. Blair was fast, anticipating Jim's moves almost before Jim decided which move to make. Even though Jim had several inches on him, he had to work to sink each basket. Several times, Blair burst through his defense and stole the ball neatly, leaping with the grace of a deer as he aimed and made many baskets himself.

Jim worked on keeping out of Blair's face, making sure any moves he made that involved contact was below the neck. Without realizing it, he used his enhanced sense of touch to help keep his contact easy.

After nearly an hour, Blair called a timeout. He was breathing fast, his face and arms glistening with sweat. Jim had been monitoring his partner's respirations, making sure he was moving adequate air to support the strenuous workout. Blair seemed to be doing okay, and as Jim had hoped, he was seeing some of the contagious enthusiastic sparkle in those blue eyes.

"Break! Break!" Blair laughed, heading for his towel and water bottle. "You're amazing, man!"

"What?" Jim asked, following to the sidelines for his own water bottle.

"You're like fighting a soap bubble, Jim!" Blair exclaimed in a hushed voice, unable to contain his excitement as he talked. "I push, you react like that...bam! You fall back!" he said, snapping his finger. "What are you doing? You dial up your touch or something?"

Jim tossed a glance at the other men at the opposite side, seeing they were not paying any attention to the hyper hippie with him. "Yeah, something like that, why?"

"Jim! It's got to be affecting your balance or something! Why didn't you tell me you could do this? We need to run some tests..."

"Whoa! Whoa! Slow down to light speed for a second, Sandburg," Jim said with a laugh, talk about having his plan backfire in his face. The last thing he wanted to do was a bunch of tests. "Maybe it's effecting my balance, maybe not. I normally don't have this easy of a time with my dials. It's probably just because I'm concentrating on not knocking you over."

Blair finished wiping the sweat from his face. "That's my point, man! We've got to train you on this. Think of your improvement in the field. You'd have the balance of Spiderman if we work on this now."

Jim barked a laugh. Blair was too much. "Spiderman? Are you sure you're feeling all right? I think we should call it quits."

Blair pointed a finger at his face. "Oh, no, you don't, Ellison. I'm on to you. I've got you by twelve points. We're back out on the floor as soon as your old heart gets its second wind, man."

"Bring it on, Junior!" Jim headed back out onto the court with a grin.

"You want some of this?" Blair taunted, tossing his towel back on the bench and trotting behind him.

The next time they took a break, Blair was looking like he'd had it. Jim firmly declared playtime over and tucked the ball under one arm as he headed for the truck. "Come on. We'll shower back at the loft. I've got more of that soup you like in the freezer."

Blair gave in easily, letting Jim know how truly winded he was. "You never told me where that soup came from. It's not take out, is it?"

Jim shook his head. "Nope, it's a Ellison secret."

"As long as we have six weeks worth in supply, I'm down with that."

Once in the parking lot, Jim spotted a green Jeep Cherokee parked next to his Ford. He knew that vehicle, recognizing it as the same one he saw every day in the parking garage at the station. He scanned the parking lot, looking for its owner.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone from the station is here."

"Who?" Blair looked around the lot.

"I'm not sure, I recognize the vehicle though."

"Maybe they're just working out," Blair suggested.

"Ellison."

Jim turned, spotting a man about his own age dressed in a suit standing near the wall of the building, out of the light drizzle. He recognized the Captain of the Cascade Bunko Division immediately. "Captain Matro."

"Got a second?" He left the protection of the building as he neared. "I wanted to talk to you about the case you're working on."

Jim knew little about Matro. What little he knew, he didn't like. Matro was a grandstander, always bragging about being the youngest person to make rank of captain in Cascade's history. But his department was a joke. In Jim's opinion, it was the fault of their leader.

"I'm off duty. If you want a meet, you should go through Banks," Jim said coolly.

"Your department is trying to cover its screw-ups by throwing the blame on others. IA has pulled the files of my men after that captain of yours went schizo and attacked your... whatever you call him." Matro's gaze diverted long enough to run up and down Blair once before returning his attention to Jim.

Jim's hands curled into fists. "Like I said, sir. Make an appointment."

"Jim..." Blair's voice was barely audible. "Look at the tie."

Jim did as instructed. Matro's tie was dark blue, a perfect match for his suit. He shot a puzzled look at Blair, not understanding.

Blair nodded at the man. "The tie pin, man."

The exchange did not go unnoticed. Matro's hand rose to finger his tie and Jim caught a glimpse of a gold clasp with a small dancing bear.

Dancing bears...

Mary's father had a tie on today with dancing bears.

"Nice tie pin. Girlfriend give that to you?" Jim asked sarcastically. He knew Matro was married; the man wore his expensive looking wedding ring for the world to see.

Matro's other hand had slipped into his raincoat. Before Jim could move, he struck fast, pulling out a small box-like devise and jamming it into Jim's side.

Realizing too late he still had his touch dial cranked high, a white-hot, fiery pain exploded throughout his body. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was Blair's scream of outrage.

Blair shoved as hard as he could. Matro fell back, breaking contact and Jim folded to the asphalt like a deflated balloon.

"Jim!" Blair dropped to his knees, just managing to keep Jim's head from bouncing off the hard ground.

God! His dial must have still been up. He rolled Jim over to check his breathing. The unresponsive cop showed no signs of waking. They needed to get to a hospital. Blair laid his fingers over Jim's neck. He had a pulse. It felt okay, but what damage did the stun gun do? Would Jim's enhanced ability of touch magnify the weapons ability to damage his heart? Thoughts bounced around in Blair's brain like a ping-bong ball fired at high speed into an empty room, before he could complete one, another question hit him.

A hand fisted in his hair. Blair found himself on his feet from a cruel yank that brought tears to his eyes. Yet it was the dull thud of Jim's head hitting the pavement that caused Blair to wince as Matro leaned over and brought his face within inches of Blair's.

"Tell me what you learned today or I swear I'll do him now!" Matro ordered. He had a gun in his left hand, pointed at Jim.

"Nothing!" Blair blurted out, then gasped as the hand in his hair shook his head. "Just leave, man! Jim needs a doctor!"

Matro glanced down at the fallen cop, his face showing no remorse. "It was just a stun gun, you idiot, he's fine. But if you don't start talking to me, he's going to be beyond a doctor's help."

"We went to Kent to see Mary's father... he didn't know anything!" Blair hissed. His scalp felt like it was getting ripped off his skull. Without thinking, Blair latched onto Matro's wrist.

"You're lying, scum! You knew about the tie clasp Mary bought me. He told you we were seeing each other!"

"No! Oww... No, listen to me!" Blair closed his eyes in pain. If Matro kept this up, he'd need a wig - and maybe skin graphs. "He was wearing a tie with a design of dancing bears! It matches yours, man. That's all!"

"Shit!" Matro tucked the gun back in his shoulder holster.

Blair sighed as the hand left his hair, knowing quite a few strands left with it. But his relief was short lived as he was spun around and one wrist circled by cold metal. "What are you doing, man? Just leave, already. I'm not going to stop you." He struggled, but was too late. With both hands cuffed behind his back, Matro spun him back around and Blair could see the gun was back in the cop's hand again.

"If you call out or try to bring any attention down on us, I'll kill the person you attract. You got it?" Matro said as if talking about the weather.

"You're crazy," Blair realized. Okay, maybe this was one of those times Jim was always telling him to think before he spoke. But, damn! Blair was having a hard time believing this was a cop he was talking to.

Matro pointed the gun back at Jim's head. "People will think this is just a backfire. They won't find his body until long after we're gone."

"NO!" Blair cursed himself for bringing the cop to this decision. "I'll be good! I won't say anything, I swear, man. Just don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Matro eyed Jim with obvious dislike. "Maybe I just want to give Major Crimes a little payback..."

"Think about it!" Extreme panic was making it hard for Blair to breathe. "You don't want... that king of heat, dude. You'll be a cop-killer. Cascade will never... give up trying to find you!"

"Yeah, damn it... I think you're right." Matro swung his leg, catching Jim in the ribs hard with his dress shoe, before yanking Blair towards the Jeep.

Twisting his neck to check on Jim one last time as he was dragged away, Blair looked for any movement from his friend. Was Jim in a zone? He had to be all right. Someone had to be coming out of the building soon. They would find him and call an ambulance. Blair knew Jim's ID and badge were locked safely away inside a special box Jim had bolted behind the seat in the truck. No one would know Jim's a cop! They wouldn't know to call Simon. The doctors would probably give him all types of weird drugs!

A sharp blow to the back of his head caused Blair to return to his present situation.

"Are you retarded or something, kid?" Matro asked in disgust. "I said, get in."

Blair awkwardly scrambled into the passenger seat. Matro fastened the seatbelt, pinning him in before slamming the door.

"I'm clueless as to why Ellison even keeps you around. You're as useful as tits on a frog," the kidnapper mumbled to himself as they drove away.

Blair ignored the man, twisting in his seat; he could see Jim still unconscious on the ground, becoming soaked by the rain. Maybe he was starting to wake up. How long does a stun gun knock a normal person out, anyway? Certainly not that long. Blair wished he knew more about this sort of thing. He really needed to do some research.

Lost in his thoughts, Blair didn't hear the cop's next question. He missed the strange look Matro gave him and the following sigh of resignation.

Bright lights shot through Jim's skull, bringing pain. Loud sounds crashed with the strength to knock down buildings. Nausea hit hard. Hands turned him over as the contents in his stomach shot up his throat and out his mouth like a rocket.

"...Easy, fella..."

"... vitals are steady..."

"...Doe, police en route..."

An intense pain around his arm was relieved with the loud sound of Velcro ripping open. Jim fell back onto the hard bed, wishing he was dead. This was worse than when he'd first become a sentinel, before Blair...

Blair!

Knocking the hand that held the penlight aside, Jim rolled over onto one elbow. He was in an exam room, looked like Cascade Hospital's trauma room. A startled nurse and young intern stepped back in alarm.

"I'm... a c-cop..." he said, clutching his gut as another wave of nausea threatened. "Get me... a ph-phone."

By the time they arrive with a phone, Jim could breathe without wanting to throw up, and his dials were closer to normal. His side ached as if he'd been kicked, but otherwise, he was fine. Still, he was forced to hang up twice before hitting the correct sequence of numbers. As the phone rang, he gave the intern a stern look. "I'm okay... how's the man that came in with me? My partner?"

The intern, a kid with a pronounced Adam's apple that danced when he swallowed answered. "No one came in with you."

"You sure?" The ringing stopped as the other end was picked up. "Can you go check for me?"

"Jim? That you?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, I just got attacked by Matro from Bunko, Simon. I think he took Blair."

"What!" Sounds of papers shuffling drifted over the phone. "Where are you?"

"Where am I?" Jim barked impatiently at the nurse as he slid off the table and carefully bent down to retrieve the white plastic sack with his shoes from under the table.

"Cascade General..." she told him quickly.

"I heard, Jim. I'm on my way."

"Wait, first get an APB out on Matro, he was in his jeep... hold on, Simon." Jim looked up from tying his shoelace as the intern trotted back into the room, shaking his head. Jim felt his stomach sink to his knees. "He's got Blair, sir. He's to be considered armed and dangerous. Frankly, I'm surprised I even got to wake up."

When Simon arrived ten minutes later, Jim was ready. He'd signed the proper paperwork, thanked the hospital staff for their concern and jumped into Simon's car before it came to a complete stop.

"Anything?" Jim asked hopefully, knowing what the answer would be.

True to form, Simon shook his head. "I've updated IA on this development, they promised to forward what they have on Matro. What the hell happened?"

"Take me to the `Y' on Fifteenth, that's where he grabbed Sandburg. He used a stun gun on me... man! I can't believe I didn't see that coming!" Jim brought his fist down on Simon's dash in anger. "I'm sure he was the one seeing Mary, he was wearing a tie clasp that matched a tie Mary's father was wearing today. She probably bought both a the same place. I never expected him to attack in broad daylight."

"From what IA was hinting at, Jim. Bunko was being investigated for possible corruption. Looks like it started at the top," Simon explained. "In light of this information, we are officially working with them on the case. They'll give us access to the information they have."

"You mean IA knew Matro was dirty! And they didn't think it worth mentioning before now?" Jim yelled, causing Simon to wince painfully.

"Calm down, Jim!" Simon shouted back, keeping his eyes on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "They only knew the dirty cop was in Bunko, they didn't know who it was. Everyone was being examined as a possible candidate."

Jim closed his eyes, filling his lungs and forcing himself to expel the air slowly. Still, his next sentence was hard and cold in his own ears. "Simon, if Sandburg gets hurt and I find out IA knew Matro was dirty, there won't be a hiding place safe enough for them to run to."

"Jim, are you threatening fellow police officers?"

"Yes."

Simon sighed, keeping his eyes forward. "I thought so."

"Remember what I told you, kid. You attract anyone and you've just signed their death warrant." Matro grabbed Blair's arm and hauled him out of the passenger seat. Blair had been blindfolded the last two miles. He knew he was still in Cascade, but that was all.

A complicated pattern of knocks opened the door from the inside and Blair was shoved through the doorway. He stumbled for a moment in the thick, plush carpeting. The air was warm and heavy with cigarette smoke.

"What do you want, Matro?" a deep, masculine voice asked.

"I need to see Rossetti."

Blair felt a tug sideways. Sounds of laughing and music drifted into the room from another location in the building. It reminded him of a casino or nightclub.

Matro shoved him into a seat. "Do yourself a favor and don't say a word, understand?"

A sudden increase in the festivities told him a door had opened.

Deep Voice was back with the Rossetti guy.

"Matro, to what do I owe this pleasure?" The voice was also male, but soft and eloquent sounding. Blair's nose picked up the odor of expensive cologne.

"My plans have changed," Matro answered. "I need my money now... and a car."

"Really?" Rossetti sounded amused. "And this is my problem how?"

"Cut the crap, Rossetti. I don't have time for games. You owe me, the entire network knows. Do you really want me to start telling them you can't be trusted?"

Arrogant laughter answered. "None of us can be trusted, you know that. Lighten up; I'm just having a little fun. Besides, you've brought me such an exquisite gift... I should be thanking you."

A soft hand caressed Blair's jaw, gliding to the back of his neck.

Blair froze. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, it did.

"Hands off. He's my insurance, not a prop for your sex videos," Matro said calmly.

Blair's heart banged against his ribs. With strength he didn't think he possessed, he remained perfectly still, too afraid that one wrong move would change Matro's mind. Given the choice, he wanted to walk out that door with the dirty cop. The hand gently squeezed his neck before withdrawing, finger tips brushing a path all the way back to the point of his chin. Blair wanted to scrub the touch off with steel wool.

"A pity. I'd give you an extra ten thousand for him."

"What! So you can net a half mil? Forget it! I'm not here to make you richer, I just want the money and a car." Matro answered sarcastically. Sounds of keys hitting the table caused Blair to jump. "And dump the Jeep in the ally."

"You're acting brave for a man with trouble on his tail. What's keeping me from killing you, keeping your money and just taking this lovely young man?"

Blair's heart kicked into double-time. `Please, please, please - have an good answer for this guy.'

"A complete... and detailed journal that lists dates, names and locations of the bodies. It's in a very safe place, but could turn up when you least suspect it, if I suddenly disappear."

"Are you playing both sides?"

Blair could almost feel the sudden chill. Certainly the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped by ten degrees. A bad feeling hit him. Unless Matro was very careful, neither one of them were looking at bright futures.

"No," Matro answered easily. "I'm just a cautious man. I've made you more money over the years than you can spend in one lifetime. Once I hit the border, you'll never hear from me again."

"You'd better be telling the truth. I have friends everywhere, Matro. I can find you and make you a star in one of my more extreme videos... for the clients with the darker taste."

"I'm only looking for my share."

A snapping of fingers told Blair the order had been given. He breathed a small sigh. Before sucking in his breath sharply as the hand returned to stroke his cheek again.

"You sure I can't offer you something? These bruises will heal in time. He's perfect for a production I'm planning in Asia. I have others you can use for insurance, you know."

Blair couldn't stand anymore, he jerked back in his seat, escaping the touch. This guy was creeping him out... major time! Someone grabbed him by the neck. Judging by the strength, Blair would guess it was the crime boss's body guard. He was shoved forcefully forward in his seat, his lower rib cage striking the edge of the table hard and bringing a gasp of pain.

The hand was back.

`Come on, damn it! Tell this guy!' Blair mentally pleaded with the cop, praying Matro wasn't desperate for the extra ten thousand. Blair would rather end up with a bullet in the back of his head than go with Rossetti's plan.

Matro chuckled. "As much as I'm tempted, the guy after me is only going to behave if I have his partner."

"A pity..."

"Geez, Simon. All anyone had to do was take one look at this place to know Matro was on the take!" Jim said in disgust as he looked around the living room.

The search warrant for Matro's home came through in record time. Matro's wife was out of state on a business trip. Sheffield and Garr were upstairs searching the bedrooms. Jim could hear sounds of drawers and closet doors being opened and searched. The condo had the look of being professionally decorated with a taste for oak and brass. A burgundy leather couch with matching armchair held counsel in a corner near a free standing fireplace. The oil paintings of land and seascapes looked original.

"Jim, you can't be sure Matro didn't come from a family of old money," Simon admonished as he started searching through a stack of mail sitting on an entry table. "Some could say the same about your loft."

"Riiight," Jim answered, spying a large rolltop desk through a doorway off to the left. "I'm taking the office."

They searched for an hour. Jim riffled bank records, dumped files of correspondence upside down on the oriental carpet, left drawers pulled out and dangling on the end of their tracks. Nothing. He eyed the office critically. Where was the man's computer? Everyone had one in their home nowadays. Maybe he used a laptop like Blair did.

"Simon stuck his head into the doorway with smudges of dust on his nose. "We have a warrant to search, Ellison - not destroy," he admonished.

"He has my partner, Simon. Besides, the guy probably has a maid."

"Find anything?"

"No... you'd think the guy's a saint. Donations to UNICEF, DAWN and MADD. I'm going to nominate him for cop of the year," Jim muttered unhappily. His eyes fell on the fax machine. "Simon, do you know how to do that report thing for fax machines?"

"Uh... maybe." Simon joined him at the machine. "Looks pretty high tech to me."

"Yeah, but if I remember right, they have a way of telling all incoming and outgoing calls that are successful. We could use that information instead of waiting for the phone records to be subpoenaed."

Simon pulled his cell phone out. "Let's call Rhonda."

With Rhonda's help, they printed a report for the last two months. Jim scanned the pages carefully, unsure what he was looking for. The guy used his machine frequently.

"Look, here's one to a Sedro Wooly prefix. I have a nephew that lives up there."

Jim looked at the number his boss was pointing to before scanning his paperwork. "Here it is again. Looks like he calls it once a month." Jim scanned the rest of the list. "The other numbers are local. How fast can we get an address on that number? If he's on the run, it may be somewhere he could think he's safe."

Simon was dialing his cell phone. "I'm on it."

Jim rubbed his forehead wearily. It was getting dark outside and his stomach was starting to complain about missed meals. His thoughts turned to Blair. He'd be just as hungry, maybe even more so. Would Matro take time to get him something he could eat? Unlikely.

"Okay... thanks, Chuck. I owe you big time." Simon closed the phone and returned it to his pocket. "It's a mini storage place, Jim."

"Okay, so he's got stuff stored... why have it so far away?" Jim mused.

"Well, if he was expecting IA to come down on him, he'd need a place to stash some money and clothes."

"It would be perfect if he was running for Canada, Simon," Jim said, warming up to the idea.

"Okay, I'll tell Sheffield we're out of here."

"Get in."

"Why?"

"Because... I said so?" Matro looked at Blair with disbelief. "Remember? I'm the guy with the gun? You're supposed to do what I say? Any of this ringing any bells?"

Blair shook his head. "But I told you I wasn't going to try anything. Why can't I ride up front?"

They were in the alley again. A dirty, white Pontiac had been delivered for their use. Now Matro was standing with his hand on the raised trunk, waiting for Blair to climb in.

"You know... I'm seriously thinking about that ten thousand dollars I was offered for your skinny butt, Sandburg."

"I'm going, I'm going."

With a hand from Matro, Blair clumsily rolled over the edge into the empty trunk. It smelled like grease and old, musty canvas. At least the man had removed his blind fold. Not that being in a car trunk was going to provide much in the way of visual distraction.

Blair curled on his side, looking up at Matro. As scared as he felt at the moment, he knew he'd rather be in the trunk than left behind. "Hey... thanks, man," Blair said, feeling just a little stupid.

Matro paused in the act of slamming the trunk down. "What for?"

"In there... you could have taken the money, but you didn't," Blair said, his face growing warm. "Thanks."

Matro shook his head. "You're amazing, kid. I'm using you as a shield. That's it. You're more valuable to me as a hostage. Besides, I have plenty of money socked away."

"Is that where we're going? To get the rest of your money?" Blair asked, curious in spite of his situation.

"Shut up, kid. Remember our deal, no noise."

The lid slammed in place and Blair's world was dark. The engine started and the car begin to move. A tire hit a pothole, causing Blair's head to bounce against the floor of the trunk. After a few sharp turns it felt like they'd pulled out onto a road and the vehicle's speed increased.

"Okay... first things first... I need to get my hands in front..." Curling into a tight ball, Blair grunted as he tried to get the cuffs over his butt. "This always looked... easier on television..."

Jim fidgeted in his seat, not happy with Simon's insistence that they take his car and not Jim's truck. He hated being the passenger. He'd rather be driving, it kept his mind busy. He shifted again. No matter what position he tried, his legs would begin to burn with restlessness.

"Simon..."

"Jim, we'll get there when we get there! Stop asking!"

Jim had a brief insight into what it was like for Daryl having this man as his father. "I was going to ask if you thought we should contact Sedro Woolly PD on this."

"Oh... sorry," Simon tossed an amused glance to his right. "I don't know... Matro has a lot of contacts. Some cops are going to have a hard time believing he's dirty. We might be tipping our hand if we tell too many cops about the mini storage unit."

"Yeah, you've got a point."

"I have a feeling he's managed to switch vehicles by now. This is a long shot, but it's the only real lead I can see," Simon continued.

Jim nodded, shifting his long legs again, looking for a position that didn't make his muscles cramp up. Maybe it was a residual effect from the stun gun. He turned his head, trying to loosen up his neck muscles. Taking an effort to relax, he closed his eyes and drew on his guide's training.

There...

His dial for touch had bumped itself up again. He turned it down to normal, bringing relief. He sank into the seat with a sigh.

God, he needed Blair. It scared him how strong that need seemed.

"You okay?"

Jim nodded. "Fine."

Simon cast another glance to his right, this one accompanied by a look of concern. "We'll get him back, Jim."

"He doesn't deserve this shit, Simon."

"I know."

"Kincaid... the golden... now this. He's going to leave. He'd be an idiot to stay," Jim declared moodily.

"I think he's going to surprise you, Jim. I admit, when you first brought him in, I had him pegged as a flake," Simon admitted. "I took one look at that hair and his clothes and figured he put the letter `P' in the word `Punk'. But, hell, he proved me wrong at every turn."

Jim held his tongue, knowing Simon was right, because Jim had made the same call when he first walked into that office at the university and saw Blair wiggling to that stupid music. He first reminded Jim of that comedian he saw in the movies, Pauly Shore. But Blair had held the answers. He knew what he was talking about.

"If Matro does anything..."

"I know, I know." Simon lightly slapped the steering wheel. "Do me a favor, could you occasionally remember I'm your superior officer? I'm supposed to report it when my men repeatedly make death threats regarding fellow police officers, even the dirty ones."

"Yes... finally!" Blair brought his hands up and eagerly scrubbed his face. He'd been wanting to do that for hours. The ratty carpet someone had used to line the trunk made the side of his face itch. He began to explore his prison. The trunk was empty except for an oily smelling cloth and a few pieces of cardboard.

Fingertips found a loose section of plastic lining on one corner. Blair tugged, flooding the truck with a red light.

The taillight.

A grin formed, splitting his dry, cracked lips. He ignored the pain and started pulling on the leather cord around his neck.

Jim heard the siren approach from behind. A Washington State Trooper flew by them, driving fast. It was the second State officer in the last few minutes. A small, persistent whisper in his head caused him to reach down to Simon's radio. It was similar to his own, but had the options of switching to several other frequencies used by other police and fire agencies, a critical tool when dealing with a multi-agency operation. Jim switched to the WSP channel.

"... -tly northbound on `I' five... refusing to pull over!" it was a female voice, young sounding and very excited.

The dispatcher responded. "Copy. All units. We have a white, sedan with Washington plates. Traveling northbound..."

"This is Captain Grotto, are the taillights still signaling the SOS?"

"Yes, sir! It stopped for a second... then started up again," the female trooper reported.

"Simon..." Jim turned in his seat. Hope began to build.

"We can't be sure, Jim," Simon said doubtfully.

"Come on! Simon!" Jim insisted loudly. "This is Sandburg we're talking about! Who else would figure out a way to signal for help?"

"Yeah... yeah." Simon reached down for his blue light and tossed it onto the dash as he floored the accelerator. "Give me the mike, Jim. I might as well introduce myself if we're going to crash this party."

Jim eagerly handed it over. "I wish you hadn't used the word `crash', sir."

"Don't worry, Jim. I'll just picture the way you drive... and do the opposite. We'll be fine."

Jim rolled his eyes. It wasn't their car he was worried about.

Captain Grotto was happy to have Cascade officers to help. Three units including his own were involved so far. The speeds of the chasing cops had reached the nineties. Simon had his speed near a hundred. They passed other cars as if they were parked. Simon was a good driver, careful and cautious. He stayed to the far left lanes as much as possible, his entire body caught up in the act of driving.

Jim remained perfectly still. That earlier voice in his head was now screaming at him. The troopers had been told that the driver may be a rogue police officer and that the person in the trunk his civilian hostage. They had acknowledged the information in a tone that promised they would be careful.

After a few minutes, they reached a straight part of the highway. Jim pushed his sight several miles ahead, zeroing in on the car being chased. "I see it... the left taillight is shorting on and off... three long... three short... it's Blair, I'm sure of it!"

"Okay, can you see the driver?" Simon asked tightly, keeping his eyes on the task of driving.

It occurred to Jim he may be breaking some kind of personal record for his sentinel sight, he couldn't remember ever stretching it this far. Perhaps it was the likelihood that this car was holding his guide that gave him the ability. He zoomed even further, until he could clearly see the side of Matro's face in the small mirror in front of the driver's door.

"It's him, Simon."

"Good."

"... all units... road blocks are set up at Edgewick exit... Edgewick exit..."

Jim's mind flashed to another high speed incident. Was it really only a few days ago? He still had a clear image of Mary's car flying into the air.

"Simon, if he hits that road block with Blair in the trunk..."

"I know, Jim. I know. We'll do everything we can... at least they know not to fire at the back of the car."

Blair wished his Morse code skills went beyond a simple call for help. He had so much he wanted to tell the cops that were chasing them. Like the driver is a cop... granted, he's a dirty cop, but he still knows all the little cop tricks.

And that scared Blair.

The car took another sharp swerve, bouncing Blair's head off the side wall of the trunk, bringing stars. Somewhere close by, a driver was laying on his horn. It was probably okay to stop sending the SOS signals. Judging by Matro's driving and the numerous sirens he'd been hearing for the last few minutes, he'd gotten the message out.

What he wouldn't give to have Jim in one of those cars chasing them right now.

Blair rolled over onto his back, using his hands and knees to brace himself. He had more bruised skin than healthy at the moment and he was tired of getting knocked around. In fact, if he stopped to think about it, he was totally sick and tired of the way his day had gone. He wondered what Matro was thinking right now. Did he even have a clue as to how the cops had picked him out? Blair smiled. He had kept his promise, he'd never made a noise. And if he ever got out of this trunk alive, he was going to seriously look into wearing tools as jewelry for the rest of his life.

The ride became bumpy and Blair knew Matro had left the pavement.

This was so not a good thing...

Their speed didn't slow. Blair braced his body for the unknown.

First there was the sound of metal on metal, followed by a soft jarring and something hitting both sides of the car at the same time. They were still going fast when a sudden lift and sickening weightless feeling caused Blair's stomach to drop. They were airborne.

Immediately, Blair pictured Mary's Mustang and tensed as he waited for Matro to plow into a stump or something equally as lethal.

What he didn't expect was the sound of the splash.

Still, the landing was hard. Even though he'd tried to brace himself, he broke free and slammed hard into the closed lid of the trunk.

Blair fought to remain conscious. His head felt as if it had been split in two. His hip had scraped painfully on something, ripping his sweatpants.

When awareness returned and the pain subsided, a cold wetness had soaked his back and butt. He could feel the car rocking gently... like a boat.

"Oh... shit..."

The water inside the trunk was rising and he heard Matro opening the car door, splashing as he swam away.

Blair felt his panic rise like the cold water that was now up to his ears.

"Hey! Somebody! Help me!"

The plan went badly.

Matro must have anticipated the tactic, because he took the next off ramp before the roadblock even came into view. Simon was the second unit following. The off ramp gently curved which allowed Matro to keep his speed high as he took the corner, ran the stop sign at the end and headed east.

"All units! The suspect is eastbound on Smoky Point Road!" the original female trooper reported.

"McKnight, take the Willows Road," the WSP Captain ordered over the radio. "Cut him off. I'll go south, in case he takes the May Valley cutoff."

Jim thought about searching for a roadmap in Simon's glove box, but disregarded the idea. Simon seemed content in just following the trooper that was following Matro. He watched as the Pontiac swerved hard into the oncoming lane to go around a sports car.

"God, Simon... he's going to end up crashing," Jim groaned.

Simon didn't spare the energy to reply.

The sports car pulled off the road, responding to the trooper's lights and sirens. The chase continued for another mile before Matro met his match. The daylight had been fading for the last half hour. Most drivers had already turned on their headlights.

"Shit! Simon, there's a truck blocking the road ahead!" Jim shouted, spotting a large delivery truck in the middle of trying to turn around.. He zoomed in on Matro's face, just in time to see the look of surprise as he wrenched the wheel hard to the right. "There he goes!"

Matro's car left the road doing at least eighty miles an hour. It plowed through an eight foot tall chain link fence and sailed over a drop off. Simon and the trooper slammed on the brakes, both cars fishtailing on the wet roadway. Jim held on, not taking his eyes off the unfolding drama. Matro's car belly-flopped with a huge splash into the middle of a small lake, causing a massive wave to hit the shore fifty feet away.

Jim had the door open before Simon's car came to a complete stop. Tossing his gun under the seat, he spilled out of the car and hit the shoulder running. The Pontiac was sinking fast, nose-first into the water. He could hear Blair calling for help. Matro was out of the car, swimming for the far shore.

Jim wanted Matro.

But he wanted his friend out of that trunk more.

"Simon! We need something to pry the truck with!" Jim yelled as he ran for the lake. Leaping clear of the tangled mess that used to be the fence, he leaped off the bank to land feet first into the water. It was deep and Jim dialed down his sense of touch as his head went under. The water was murky, but he could see the long stems of the water plants growing on the bottom, reaching up to try and entangle his feet.

Jim used his arms to pull himself upward again, breaking the surface. The water smelled like fish scales and algae. Kicking hard, he swam to the car, already half submerged. The driver's door had been left open and Jim pulled himself underwater to search for a release to the trunk.

He couldn't find it. The car was too old to have one. Jim quickly located the steering wheel with his hands, locating where the keys normally hang on the column. Only the keys were missing. Jim pushed himself out of the passenger compartment, returning to the surface to grab a breath of air before swimming to the back. Only the top of the trunk was visible now, level with the surface of the water.

"Sandburg!"

"Jim?" the muffled voice was full of surprise, then panic. "JIM! Get me out of here! The water's at the top!"

"Find the biggest air pocket, Chief!" Jim shouted back as he searched the bank for Simon. "Stay calm!"

Simon was in the water, swimming towards them. Further down the bank, the female trooper was running along the shore, yelling into her radio. The lake was large, a few farms set back from the edge. No signs of a dock or boats visible.

"Simon! We need something to force the trunk open!" Jim yelled.

His boss was nearing the car. He swam on his side, kicking his legs, his right arm pulling at the water with strong strokes. His left arm was immobile, held close to his body. Jim prayed he was bringing something to force the trunk open. As he waited, the car settled another inch into the water. He could hear Blair hyperventilating inside the trunk.

"Jim!" Simon held a long crowbar out.

When Jim grabbed it, he pulled Simon to his side. "I got it." Simon turned it loose with a nod.

Aiming for the lip of the trunk, Jim rammed the end of the crowbar in deep and pushed off with his arms, using his upper body as leverage. The crowbar slipped out as the car's nose dived further into the water.

"Don't do this..." Jim pleaded to the vehicle as he pulled it out and rammed it in again. This time it stuck fast and Jim brought both feet up to the bumper, curled into a ball and used his legs to push off as he pulled with all his strength on the crowbar.

With a loud, obscene belch, a huge air pocket erupted from the trunk and the old Pontiac completely slipped under the surface.

Jim managed to take a huge gulp of air as he rode the vehicle down towards the lake bottom. He could hear Simon calling his name, his hands on his shoulders trying to pull him off the car. But Jim held on, not willing to give his Guide over to the lake. His arms started to cramp and he pushed harder with his legs. Jim looked up as his lungs started to burn for air; the surface was six feet above his head now. Soon they would be sinking into the tall weeds below.

Simon appeared at his side, his large hands grabbing the bar just below Jim's. He curled into a similar position and added his strength.

The latch gave.

The sudden release caused Jim to push away as his legs straightened. He dropped the crowbar. The same thing happened to Simon. Both men madly twisted in the dark water to swim back. Jim could see Blair, eyes wide, struggling to get his legs under his body. Jim reached out, snagging Blair's shirt behind his neck and started kicking for the surface. Simon latched on to one of Blair's arms and did the same.

Jim's head shot out of the water and he drew in a lungful of sweet night air. The area was alive with blue and red lights dancing across the water. He hauled Blair up, getting his head as high as he could before wrapping his arm around his partner. He rolled over onto his back, trying to float while pulling Blair close to lay on his chest. The younger man was gasping and coughing at the same time. He beat the water with his cuffed arms in panic.

"Blair... calm down... breathe!" Jim panted, pulling his friend higher as he started an awkward side stroke towards the shore. Simon moved to a position in front, taking a handful of Jim's shirt and starting to tow them both along. The assistance made it possible for Jim to use both hands to hold Blair and just kick with his legs.

Blair coughed as if he'd swallowed half the lake, but he was breathing. By the time Jim's feet brushed the muddy bottom, Blair's coughs had quieted down.

"That's it, Chief. You're okay now," Jim told him as they made their way up to the shore.

Blair's third step failed and he crumpled in the waist high water. Jim hoisted him back up by an arm, Simon took the other and between them, they carried him towards the waiting troopers.

"Fire units are on the way," an older Trooper with captain bars told them as the female trooper wrapped a green blanket around Blair's shoulders. "Is anyone else in the car?"

Jim shook his head. "The driver swam away."

They were under the trees and protected from the falling rain. The wind was blowing, feeling like an artic blast against Jim's wet skin. A small crowd of bystanders had gathered to watch the excitement. Simon's car and several other state patrol and county cars completely blocked the small two lane country road. They let Blair collapse to the ground.

"Sandburg, look at me." Jim lifted the younger man's chin as he squatted down by his side.

Blair was shivering so badly, he was almost convulsing. Jim checked his pupils carefully, they were dilated and even. A good sign. He ran fingers through the wet curls, causing Blair to cringe in pain.

"Sorry, Chief." Jim tenderly explored the top of Blair's scalp; a large lump was forming just above his forehead, right where his hairline started. "Blair, talk to me. Tell me my name."

"J-J-Jim..." Blair's teeth chattered, he sat on the ground, his legs curled tightly against his chest, his shoulders hunched forward. "I'm...f-fine, man."

"How's your stomach? Are you going to be sick?"

Blair shook his head, his large eyes suddenly meeting Jim's. "Where's M-M-Matro?

Jim nodded towards the distant shore. "He ran away."

Simon knelt down to join them, he had his handcuff key in hand and quickly removed the cuffs from Blair's wrists. "The ambulance is here. Let's get him inside where we can warm him up."

They made a pathetic sight as the three waterlogged men climbed into the back of the large, red fire department ambulance. The two medics that arrived with it immediately got down to business. They listened to Jim go over Blair's wired jaw and the need to watch for any airway problems as they began to strip the younger man out of his wet clothes.

"Simon and I are going to step outside, Chief," Jim said, patting a bare shoulder. "Behave yourself." He smiled at the poisonous look that earned him and nodded for Simon to join him.

"What is it, Jim?" Simon asked after the door was closed.

"I'm going after Matro," Jim said.

Simon looked at the dark lake. "Jim, State and County have set up search grids, they're waiting for the dogs to arrive. Let's let them track him down."

Jim smiled, feeling the thrill of the hunt start to warm his bones. "He's on foot, in an unknown area. I won't have any problem hunting him down, Simon. He poisoned you and left Blair to drown. I want him."

Simon eyed his detective with a worried look. "I have a feeling you'd just go off by yourself the minute I turned my back... Just let me borrow a WSP radio and get my flashlight and our guns. And don't leave without me!" Simon trotted off towards his car, his shoes making squishing noises as he ran.

Jim climbed back inside. Blair was out of his clothes now, wrapped in several blankets, and breathing oxygen through a mask. He still shivered, but he looked better. Without getting in the way of the medic taking a blood pressure reading, Jim squatted down next to the gurney to talk to his partner.

"Sandburg, Simon and I are going after Matro..."

Blair's reaction was immediate. He yanked his mask down and leaned forward to grab Jim's arm. "Wait! Let me get my clothes back on and I'll come!"

"No," Jim calmly pried the hand off and returned it to the blankets, holding it tightly with both hands. "Simon and I will catch him. You go to the hospital and get checked out. I'll meet you there."

Blair was not buying what Jim was selling. Pulling his arm free from the medic, he started to scramble off the gurney, the blankets falling off his shoulders. Jim's eyes were drawn to the large bruises that covered Blair's shoulders and arms.

"I'm coming, man!" Blair declared, raising his feet to swing them over the side. The medic leaned back in surprise.

Jim caught both legs and held them down. "Listen to me! You are not coming! Understand?" Jim turned to the man. "Can you give us a second?"

"Sure." He left the two men alone, stepping outside and closing the door.

Blair looked ready to lead a single person revolt. Jim couldn't remember a time he'd ever seen his friend this mad.

"Just, listen...okay?" Jim held up both hands as he sat down on the side bench to have this discussion. Blair quieted down, looking as open to Jim's opinion as Fort Knox, with his eyes narrow and lips pressed into a thin line of anger. "You've been kidnapped, knocked around and locked in a car trunk. This does not fall under your doctor's orders of `taking it easy'. You getting what I'm saying here, Chief?"

Blair shook his head, sending droplets of water spraying out in an arc, pounding his own chest. "Jim! I'm okay. Listen to me, I'm breathing fine now. You need me ... Matro is dangerous! What if you zone? He'll kill you!"

"I've got Simon along, remember? He'll watch out for me. I'll hear and see Matro long before he sees me," Jim explained calmly. "I can't do as good a job if I'm worried about you at the same time. Please? For me... stay out of this one, okay?"

Blair crossed his arms, looking stubbornly resistant to the thought of being left behind.

Jim sighed and tried again. "Sandburg, you've got a head injury. Technically, you classify as a near drowning and you're sporting some serious bruises. I'm not going to risk anything else happening to you tonight. If I have to, I'll cuff you to this gurney."

Blair looked shocked. "You wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would... I'd rather have you pissed off at me than have you hurt anymore," Jim said honestly. And he meant it, every word. Even if Blair got so mad he moved out and left. Jim would rather that than even allowing the slightest possibility that something else happen to his friend.

Blair began to weaken. He uncrossed his arms and drew the edges of the blankets back up around his shoulders. "You'll be careful?"

Jim nodded. "I swear. And I'll keep Simon with me the whole time."

"You'd better, Ellison," Blair said with a growl.

Jim patted his knee. "I'll catch up with you at the hospital." He rose to leave.

"Jim..."

"Yeah?"

Blair gave him a wan smile. "Thanks for getting me out of that trunk, man... and tell that to Simon too."

"I will, guppy-hair."

Blair drew the blanket closer around his body as he frowned. "Great, another stupid nick name..."

Keeping up with Ellison proved a little harder than Simon realized.

`How does Sandburg do it?' he wondered for the twentieth time as he failed to duck a branch that slapped the side of his head.

They had found the location where Matro had climbed out of the lake without a problem. Actually, Jim had found it. It had been amazing. Jim had just headed for the location as if a bright neon flashing arrow that only he could see was pointing to the spot. After spending a moment standing silently, sniffing the air, Jim had started off at a trot. Since then they had crossed a cow pasture, a road and now were working their way through a stand of young evergreens.

Simon's mind kept returning to that horrible day Kincaid had taken over the station... and threatened to kill his son.

Jim had been awesome then, too. But, nothing like what he was seeing now.

Jim didn't move, he flowed. His actions were sure and purposeful. Not one ounce of energy was wasted. He was a human heat seeking missile and Simon found himself feeling almost sorry for Captain Matro. He was also glad he'd come along. For one thing, he was keeping constant communication with state patrol and county officers. He'd even managed to snag a compass from one very prepared officer so he could give halfway decent updates on their locations.

Jim basically ignored all radio conversations, except to shoot him an irritated glance when he'd first forgotten to keep the radio volume turned low. Simon now had the volume setting down as low as possible and had to keep it close to his ear if he wanted to hear anything. But it was worth it. The search had started and the dogs were at the lake now.

Simon did not want either of them to be mistaken for Matro and end up the ones arrested... or shot. He still remembered the brief but nasty argument he'd had with the officer in charge when he told the man they were tracking Matro. Simon had to play every intimidation factor he possessed to get the reluctant permission to proceed. Nevertheless, he expected an unpleasant phone call would be made to his Chief in the morning.

Jim suddenly stopped.

Simon left his musings and concentrated on the job at hand. It was dark, almost pitch black in the trees. They had only seen two farmhouses during their tracking. The small flashlight he held was used sparingly, for times he literally couldn't see his hand in front of his face, like now.

Simon killed the light. "What is it?" he whispered softly.

"A barn ahead."

Simon looked over where he thought Jim's shoulder might be, seeing only varying degrees of darkness. He'd have to take Jim's word for it.

"Come on. No lights," Jim whispered so softly that Simon almost believed he'd mentally put the words inside his mind rather than spoken them out loud.

Surely, that wasn't some new Sentinel trick?

He followed as they broke out of the trees. The night sky was still hidden by heavy clouds. The rain was back, falling with regularity again. Simon couldn't remember a time he had been so wet for so long. At least the movement was keeping him warm, but he had a feeling he was going to be one cold cop when this ordeal was over.

It was so damn dark. Simon reached out and snagged Jim's shirt, again wondering how Blair did this. He could hear his own feet as he kicked over rocks and stepped on twigs, but Jim moved without sound. It was eerie.

They crested a small hill and the lights from a far off farm house came into view. Simon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The barn was visible faintly visible now. It was huge, reminding Simon of the type built by the early Dutch settlers. His ex-wife had been into barns when they'd first gotten married. He had driven her all over the state to take pictures of them.

She would have loved this one.

The barn was at least as high as a four story building. The roof was sloped in a curved formation. To build something similar in this day and age would not only be expensive, but time and manpower intensive. The enormous double doors were closed. Simon followed Jim to a smaller, normal sized door built into the side.

Jim paused at the door, his head tilted to one side.

"What?" Simon asked quietly.

"One person inside, he's on an upper floor," Jim responded.

"Are you sure it's Matro?"

Jim nodded. "He used a strong musky scented cologne. I'm sure." His back was pressed against the wall, his gun in his right hand, his left on the doorknob. "Ready?"

Simon pulled his own gun out. "Let's do it."

"Okay, let me get a trooper in here to witness the signature and we're done," the medic said.

Blair waited impatiently, sipping water from the plastic bottle they had given him. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to convince them he was sane enough to refuse treatment. Sure, his head felt like one of those chocolate oranges that you slam down before eating, but otherwise he did feel okay... sort of.

Besides, he had to find Jim and Simon.

"You're refusing aid?" the female trooper asked as she entered the rear of the ambulance. She looked young, maybe twenty-five with a short brown hair and dimples.

Blair nodded, causing the pain in his head to throb again. "Ah... yeah, I'm fine. No sense in wasting the hospital's time or anything. Can we get this over with?"

After the proper lines were signed, witnessed and more lines were signed, Blair received a copy of the medical report. Now there was just the matter of his clothes. The fireman handed the plastic sack containing his waterlogged sweats over and Blair couldn't help but make a face when the smell hit his nose.

"I think I can help you out," the trooper said with a kind smile. "Be right back."

Less than a minute later, she returned with a set of light gray sweats. Large letters across the back and down one pant leg spelled out WSP. "We're about the same size. I can swing by Cascade PD and pick them up in a week."

Blair accepted the unexpected gift with a heartfelt smile. "Oh, wow... thanks! I'll have them clean and ready and even treat you to dinner!"

She smiled, both dimples standing out. She held out a pair of white tube socks. "For dinner, I'll even throw in the socks."

After dressing in dry clothes and wet sneakers, Blair thanked the two medics and stepped out into the night. It was still raining. Two county police cars and a state patrol car were still on location, parked under the trees. The cops had set up a field command center complete with battery operated lights. Walking carefully to keep his head from falling off his shoulders and rolling away, Blair headed towards them.

Since he wasn't sure how Jim and Simon had managed to arrive in time to save him, he had no idea if he should be looking for Jim's truck or Simon's car. He knew they were tracking Matro on foot, they had told him that much, so how had they arrived?

"You're the kidnap victim?" an older man in a county uniform asked; he had two bars on each point of his collar. Blair knew that made him important, but he couldn't guess the rank.

"Blair Sandburg." He stuck his hand out and tried to act like he makes it a habit to spend every other day standing around in command posts. "I ride with Jim Ellison, Major Crimes, Cascade Police."

The man shook the offered hand. "Captain Blankenship, Skagit County Sheriff's office. You sure you're okay? Peggy says you signed a refusal."

"I'm good. Just glad to be out of that trunk," Blair admitted. "How's the search for Captain Matro going? Have Jim and Simon checked in yet?"

Blankenship returned to the map spread out on the hood of the patrol car. He pointed at a spot, the location meaningless to Blair. "We think they're northeast of our location. The dogs just started their track, but they're heading due north. I think your friends are on a wild goose chase."

Blair rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out why the dogs would go the wrong way. "What are they using for scent?"

"We found a jacket on the shore, in the general location Peggy saw the perp come out of the lake. The dogs took one sniff and headed north," Blankenship said. "We're getting ready to move in that direction."

"What about Jim and Simon?" Blair asked, alarmed that his friends wouldn't get any back up.

"They've got a radio... they can let us know if they see anything,." Blankenship rolled up the map as he talked.

"Wait! You need to send at least one car northeast, man. Jim's an ex-ranger! He's a good tracker," Blair insisted. "That coat could have been left behind by a local."

"I suppose...," the man nodded to the female trooper. "Peggy? You want to take that route? Mr. Sandburg can ride with you."

Peggy nodded. "We'll let you know if we find anything."

The inside of the barn was filled with odds and ends one would expect to find on a farm. A night light of sorts glowed somewhere above them, casting a dim glow that created shadows around strange looking farming equipment. Jim picked up the scent of chemicals, their metal taste contaminating the air all around him. He dialed down his sense of touch, smell and taste. He couldn't afford to have any problems with his senses right now. That left his hearing and vision.

He knew Simon was following as quietly as he could, but still winced when the man scuffed something round with his foot. The soft clank and rattle sounded like a college band warming up for a football game to the sentinel's ears. A hand found its way to the back of Jim's shirt.

"Sorry."

Jim didn't bother to answer, but towed his captain along the wall, trying to get a bead on Matro's location. He was above them, that much Jim knew for certain. So where was the access to the next level? The front half of the barn was open all the way to the very top. The back had a second and third level, the floors open to the front door. Jim dialed up his vision, using every bit of light available. The interior of the barn became as bright as if it was the middle of the day.

Jim found the access, spotting a vertical ladder anchored towards the back wall. He kept them both as close to whatever cover was available, just in case Matro had seen them enter. So far, his heartbeat had remained the same. Jim was counting on that to mean the man was resting after his long run from the lake.

After climbing the ladder, Jim got another fix on the heartbeat. It was another level up. They continued up to the second loft. Bales of hay were stacked to the ceiling. A maze of narrow corridors criss crossed in every direction. Jim estimated at least fifteen hundred square feet of floor on this level. Very little of the light reached this far.

Matro was somewhere on this floor.

Jim leaned over until his lips touched Simon's ear. "He's here... stay close."

He saw the man nod his understanding. They worked the maze methodically, taking one row at a time. He was picking up the soft sounds of the rogue cop's breathing now. It was close...but still above them?

Crap! Jim looked up just as the bales of hay began to fall towards them.

"Just before you joined us, your captain gave their last location. He described a large barn surrounded by a stand of young trees," Peggy Sheen said as they sped down the dark roads. "That should put them at the Pfaff Tree Farm."

Blair gripped the door handle, bracing himself with both feet. What was it about cops and driving? If they arrived without crashing, it would be due to guardian angels or good karma... or both.

"So... ah, did he say if they'd seen Matro?"

"No, just kept updating their location." She cranked the wheel expertly, taking the car through a ninety degree turn. "How good is this Ellison guy?"

Blair smiled. "The best."

She'd turned the heat up full blast when they'd gotten in and even found a small towel for his hair. Blair felt human again. The rain was hitting the windshield steadily, the wipers flicked back and forth to keep the glass clear. Even Blair's head was beginning to feel better.

"There it is," Peggy announced.

Blair peered into the rainy night, seeing a farm house near the road. Rows and rows of small trees lined both fields. Further back, a large dark shape rose over the tops of the miniature forest.

"They went to the barn, right?"

"That's was his last report," Peggy answered as she turned onto a dirt road that bypassed the farmhouse and headed towards the barn. The car slipped in the mud, its tires spinning before finding the traction to push them through. She parked her car at the edge of the tree lot and killed the engine. She reached for her radio. "I'm going to have my dispatcher call the house and tell the owners to stay put."

Just as Blair nodded in agreement, two shots came from within the barn. Blair was out the door and running, ignoring the trooper's shouts to stay. He reached the side door to the barn without incident. No other sounds of gunfire came from inside. He slipped through the door and paused to get his bearings. Sounds of overhead movement caused him to look up.

The highest floor looked like it was used for hay storage. Bales were stacked five high. In the dim light, a cloud dust was growing at one end, as if something had been disturbed. Blair knew without a doubt Jim was up there.

A violent sneeze shattered the silence. Blair recognized his roommate's sneeze instantly.

Blair carefully moved for the ladder at the back, keeping his pace slow enough so not to make any noise. Jim would have been proud.

"Matro!" Blair recognized Simon's voice coming from way above. "Give yourself up!"

Okay, now he knew both Jim and Simon were up there. So... where was Matro?

Something heavy landed on the ceiling directly above Blair's head, as if a person had jumped off the ladder to land onto the loft above. Blair backed away, finding protection in the deep shadows next to a tall, tarp-covered piece of machinery. A perfect place to wait and see who was coming down. The last thing he wanted to do was end up Matro's hostage again. He needed a weapon, something to stop Matro long enough for Jim to make an arrest.

Just as Blair spotted a perfect length of pipe leaning against the wall, a large hand clamped over his mouth, an arm wrapped around his chest and he was jerked backwards against a hard and wet chest.

"Chief," the speaker's face was so close, Blair could feel the tip of the nose bumping into his head, right above his ear. "This is not the hospital."

`Jim lived for these droll comments,' Blair thought as he was tugged off his feet and dragged even further away from the back wall, then released only after both men were well out of sight from the base of the ladder and their whispers would not be overheard.

"What are you doing here?" Jim demanded and he firmly pushed Blair down on his knees behind a solid metal utility trailer.

"At the moment, I'm having a heart attack, Jim!" Blair hissed back. "How'd you get down here so fast? That was you sneezing on the upper floor!"

Jim peered over the top of the trailer, eyes fixed on the ladder. "Shimmied down a rope."

"Oh... there's a trooper outside or maybe coming inside. I think she was calling for back up when we heard the shots - where's Simon? He okay?" Blair asked, keeping his voice so low he was certain only Jim could hear.

"He's fine, his gun went off when the hay fell on us. Matro doesn't have a gun. Simon is flushing him out."

Blair was impressed. Sounded like a decent plan, only where was Matro? Just then a dark form appeared at the back wall, climbing down the ladder. Blair felt something cold, heavy, and hard pressed into his hand. He instantly recognized it as Jim's automatic. Before he could ask what the heck Jim was up to, a firm hand pushed him down again and his partner was creeping towards the end of the trailer.

It wasn't the first time Blair had held Jim's gun. He remembered back on that train, when they'd been protecting the witness, he'd been prepared to shoot whoever came through that door. It freaked him out then and he was still freaked out now. What was he supposed to do with it?

Blair blinked and Jim disappeared. Just like that. One minute he was crouched at the end of the trailer and the next minute...gone.

"Cascade Police! You're under arrest!"

Sounds of a fight broke out immediately and Blair stood to watch.

Matro was Jim's height and age. He didn't have Jim's build, but he fought hard and - as Blair watched - dirty. He dodged Jim's first swing and drove his own towards Jim's jaw in a hard uppercut. Jim deflected it easily, catching the man in the side with a jab. Matro's knee sprang up, aiming for Jim's groin. The sentinel must have expected it; he twisted at the last minute, but missed seeing the fist that connected hard with his cheek.

Jim fell back momentarily, shook his head once and flashed a quick wicked grin before launching back in earnest. Blair couldn't follow the fight after that, it was like both men had become supercharged in a no-holds barred fight that had them rolling in the dirt in no time.

Blair cringed as the thuds echoed off the walls, the grunts of pain like a sick symphony. The truth hit Blair like a two-by-four. He knew why he was holding the gun. Jim didn't want to just arrest Matro, he wanted to maim.

"Simon!" Blair hollered, as best he could through clenched teeth. He needed help, he needed to stop Jim. "Get down here!"

"Coming!"

And he was, Blair could see his legs on the ladder. "Ellison! Back off!" the captain hollered as his head cleared the ceiling.

Jim acted like he hadn't heard. Matro was starting to look like the underdog now. His blows were glancing harmlessly off Jim while each of Jim's were accurate and as lethal as Blair had ever seen before. Blair couldn't stand anymore. He set the gun aside in the dirt and jumped into the fray, grabbed Jim, wrapped both arms around his chest from behind and tried to pull.

Matro fell to his knees. Jim dropped down on one knee to follow. He wasn't backing off. Blair tucked his head against the sentinel's neck to protect his jaw from accidentally getting hit and tugged again.

"Jim! Please, man! This is not who you are!"

Jim was panting hard. He stilled. The two fighters were locked in combat. Matro took advantage of Jim's pause to aim a roundhouse punch towards Jim's head.

Jim caught it easily in his hand. With a hard shove, he sent the man backwards into the dirt to land on his back, just as Simon arrived at their side.

"John Matro! You are under arrest for kidnapping, attempted murder, assaulting a police officer and anything else I can think of!" Simon shouted, bending down to roll him onto his stomach and cuff both wrists behind his back. Sirens could be heard approaching. Back up had arrived.

This time when Blair pulled Jim back, they actually moved. Blair turned the sentinel loose and checked the damage. Jim was still breathing hard. Blood flowed from his nose and a small cut above his left eye. Taking the edge of his borrowed sweatshirt in hand, Blair started to wipe the blood out of his partner's eye.

Jim stopped him with a wry grin. "No... it's fine, Chief." He leaned back against a large pile of stacked bags of sand, using his own sleeve to gently wipe his face.

Blair dropped into the dirt at his side. "Feel better now?" he whispered as Simon read the Miranda warning to the prisoner. He leaned over to pick up the gun and laid it in his partner's lap.

Jim huffed, then nodded his head. "Yeah... actually, I do."

Jim watched as the female trooper verbally took Blair to task. The same aid crew that had earlier treated Blair was now applying a butterfly closure to the cut above Jim's eye. He made sure he could watch the drama unfold as they worked.

First she yelled at him for not obeying her then she threatened to arrest him for obstruction. For Blair's part, Jim had to admit, he did manage to look truly sorry, although Jim thought it was more because his partner had been hoping for a future date with the pretty trooper, than being worried about going to jail. Still, he hung his head in shame as she vented.

Finally, she finished. She took a deep breath and placed both hands on her hips. "And don't forget you still owe me that dinner, mister!"

Blair broke into a happy grin as she stormed off. Jim could hear her muttering under her breath. Something about Blair being lucky his mouth was wired shut. He laughed softly. Was she considering kissing or hitting?

"Hey, Jim! How's the head?" Blair asked brightly as he approached. He waved at the two medics. "Hi, guys!"

"How's your head, Chief?" Jim answered with his own question. "What's this I hear about you signing a refusal? You told me earlier the medics didn't think you needed a trip to the hospital."

The two medics looked up in surprise, pinning Blair with a suspicious look.

Blair backed away. "I'm... gonna go check on Simon. Be right back." He turned and hurried away.

"He always that manipulative?" the older medic asked as he packed away his aid kit.

"You have no idea," Jim admitted with a heavy sigh.

Captain Blankenship personally delivered the three Cascade men to where they'd left Simon's car by the lake. Divers had located a bag filled with money in the Pontiac. Simon had talked to Sheffield and the Police Chief by cell phone, giving a complete update on the arrest. There would be depositions and meetings with the county prosecutors to look forward to, but right now, all Jim wanted was to get home to his loft, with his guide.

Without having to be asked, Blair climbed into the back seat of Simon's car. He'd been powered by an adrenaline high while at the barn, even finding time to chat with the elderly man that owned the property and getting permission to use the bathroom before leaving. Now the younger man was running on fumes.

Simon started the car and cranked the heat on high. Although the rain had slacked off, it was still in the forties outside, too cold to be running around the countryside in wet clothes.

"Okay, Jim... home or hospital?" Simon asked as he turned the big car around to head back to the highway.

A good question. Jim turned in his seat to look at Blair while he pondered the question. Blair had already burrowed into the corner formed by the door and the backseat, a car blanket wrapped around his upper body. His head was tilted back, and soft snores spoke of his exhaustion.

Why is it, the only guy wearing dry clothes gets the blanket?

"The loft, I guess," Jim decided.

They drove in silence. Jim waited for Simon to address the issue weighing heavy between them. After they reached the freeway and Simon had the cruise controls set, it started.

"Jim... talk to me. What the hell was that fight in the barn about?"

With some relief, Jim recognized Simon-the-friend as the person asking, not Simon-the-captain.

"Okay, I know what you're going to say. But I did wait till Matro threw the first punch..."

"Why was Sandburg in possession of your gun?"

"Officially... I knew he wasn't armed and I didn't think the situation warranted arresting him at gunpoint."

Simon snorted. "We're attempting to capture a fleeing felon, every procedure manual in the U S of A allows for use of a firearm, and you tell me the situation didn't warrant it? Tell me another one, Officer Ellison."

Okaaaay... Simon-the-captain had arrived. Jim straightened his spine and kept his eyes forward. "I may not have used my best judgment at the time, sir."

"Okay, okay - enough with the ranger attitude. Give me the un-official version."

Jim relaxed. "Shit, Simon. The guy is one of us. He arranges to have you drugged, probably killed a woman, kidnaps Sandburg and leaves him to drown... the bastard took the damn key!" Jim scrubbed his short hair with both hands, before continuing at a softer volume. "I was afraid if I confronted him with a loaded gun, I'd be tempted to pull the trigger, Simon."

"What if Sandburg hadn't been there to pull you off?"

Total silence.

The rain began to fall again, rewetting pavement that had just started to dry out from the constant friction of rubber tires. Simon leaned forward to flick on the wipers, then dial down the heater. The temperature had reached a comfortable level, even with wet clothes.

"I don't know... I'd like to think I would have stopped," Jim sighed. "But I'm glad Sandburg showed up when he did. You might have had two cops to place under arrest today."

By the time they reached the exit that would take them to Prospect Street, it was after one in the morning. The streets were empty. Jim spotted a twenty-four hour convenience store on the next corner.

"Simon, pull into the Seven-Eleven." When the car stopped in the deserted parking lot, Jim turned with a apologetic smile. "Can I borrow a ten?"

Simon wordlessly pulled out his damp wallet while shaking his head and sighing.

"Thanks, be right back." Jim opened the door.

"Whazz hap'n?" Blair asked from the backseat. He pulled his frizzy hair back from his face and blinked fuzzily around.

"I'm just grabbing something from the store, Chief." Jim hurried inside, making his purchase and paying quickly. Blair was still awake when he returned. "Okay, we're set."

"What's so important you couldn't wait till later, Jim? It's not like you have any vices to indulge," Simon teased.

"Sandburg hasn't eaten. I thought I'd grab a liquid meal supplement, we're out and I don't feel like making a milkshake." Jim took a vanilla flavored can of Ensure from the bag and passed it to the backseat with a straw. "What's wrong, Chief?"

Blair was staring into space, eyes fixed unfocused somewhere between the two men in the front seat.

"Oh, man... I just remembered something!"

"What?"

"Matro took me to some guy... I think he ran a casino or something. The guy offered him ten thousand dollars to buy me!" Blair blurted out, becoming angry. "Shit! How could I have forgotten that!"

Simon twisted in his seat. "Calm down, Sandburg. It's not like you've been goofing off the whole evening. You've had a lot on your mind."

"You don't understand!" Blair slapped the seat with his palm. "This guy is sick, man! He makes porn videos - the kinky stuff! We've got to stop him!"

Jim felt his gut twist, ice formed in his chest. "This guy wanted to buy you for one of these videos? What's his name? What did he look like?"

"Matro called him Rossetti, totally freaked me out, too..." Blair shuddered. "But I was blindfolded. Oh! Wait! Matro said he had a book that would implicate him! Maybe it's at his house!"

Jim shook his head. "We searched that... but it might be in that mini-storage."

"I'll get a search warrant in the morning," Simon stated, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the parking spot. "You okay, Sandburg? That guy try anything while you were there?"

Jim was going to ask the same thing. His thoughts became dark. He should have pulverized Matro in that barn.

Blair was rubbing his cheek. "Believe it or not... Matro wasn't selling."

"Still hurt?"

"Just a little," Blair studied the menu, his mouth watering at all the options available.

When the waitress arrived, he still hadn't made up his mind.

"Come on, Sandburg. You can't eat everything in one night. Just pick something!" Jim insisted with a smirk.

"Okay, okay. Ummm... I'll have the prime rib... medium, please... extra horseradish." Blair folded the menu and handed it over.

"You're not going to be able to chew that," Jim stated matter-of-factly.

Standing up to head for the bathroom, Blair paused to stick out his tongue at his friend. God! It felt so good! "Be back, man."

The ache in his jaw was worse than he'd let on. Once in the bathroom, he cupped a hand under the faucet and broke a pain pill in half to swallow. He studied his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands.

Six weeks. Six long weeks had passed. Matro's attorneys were talking about a plea bargain for a shorter prison sentence in trade for testifying against Rossetti. When the news had been released of the crime boss's arrest, the town of Cascade had been shocked. Rossetti was an alias. The man had turned out to be a reputed businessman, with legitimate ventures that reached everywhere - even into a few influential groups with political standings. The Feds had jumped on board to help bring down all the players in the porn videos. More arrests were being planned.

But today was special. Today, the doctor had removed the wires.

Blair headed back to the table. Simon had arrived, late from another meeting with the Chief, IA and the Feds. He was dressed in his best suit and looking tired. Both he and Jim had been in deep conversation, which ended the second Blair returned.

"Hey, Simon."

"Sandburg!" Simon broke into a smile. "You look great. How's it feel to be wire-free?"

"Tender, man. Very tender." Blair took his seat. "How'd the meeting go? Did Matro's lawyers come through with the information?"

"With flying colors. We had a decent case against Rossetti before, but with Matro's testimony, it's even better," Simon said happily.

"Good." Blair crossed his arms over the table. "But I gotta know, why did Matro drug you in the first place?"

To Blair's surprise, Simon looked embarrassed as he picked up his water glass, taking a sip before answering. "He said he suspected IA was on to him. He needed to keep them occupied with a new case while he finished getting his money and affairs in order. His plan was to head for Canada, switch identities and hop a plane."

Blair leaned forward, sure Simon had left something out. "But why you?"

Jim answered. "Rhonda was right all along, Matro was jealous of Simon's skill in running his department. Bunko is... was the worst department in the police department and Major Crimes happens to be the best. Seems our Captain is going to get an award from the City Council in a few months that states just that."

"Wow! That's great news, Simon," Blair said with feeling. "Congratulations!"

"That's not to be blabbed to anyone, Sandburg," Simon growled, still looking embarrassed but obviously pleased.

"So...What were you guys talking about while I was gone?"

"Nothing..." Seeing the look on Blair's face, Simon sighed. "Okay, I was telling Jim about a video I saw today. The Feds found it with Rossetti's personal collection. Apparently the man had cameras installed everywhere in that club of his."

A swarm of butterflies started doing figure eights in Blair's stomach. He glanced over to see Jim doing his impersonation of a face carved out of granite. "So... what was on it?"

"You... It was the night Matro brought you in to ask for the money. It's going to be a key piece of evidence in Rossetti's prosecution," Simon said, picking up the cloth napkin and spreading it across his lap. He kept his eyes downward, avoiding Blair's face as he spoke.

"Ummm... he's still in jail, right? The judge didn't lower the bail or anything, did he?" Blair asked.

Jim loosened up his stony face enough to quickly answer the question. "He's still there, Chief. He's not going anywhere."

"Good." Blair toyed with his fork. "At least something positive came out of all this." Blair didn't want to think about his own testimony he would have to give. He made his thoughts return to dinner and leaned out to peer expectantly toward the door to the back kitchen. "How much longer till we eat? Did you order yet, Simon?"

When the waitress finally arrived, her arms loaded down with plates Blair could hardly restrain himself. He literally sat on his hand hands to keep from snatching his food from out of her hand. Finally, the dinners were passed out to the respective owners.

"Okay, a quick toast before we eat," Simon said, holding his water glass out towards the center of the table.

"Nooo... eat first, toast later," Blair moaned.

"I'm paying for this, remember?" Simon said with a mock frown. "So here it goes. To good friends who remember the importance of forgiveness. The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."

Jim clinked his water glass against Simon's. "Hear, hear."

Blair had to grin. "Okay, I can get behind that, man." He tapped his glass gently against the others. "Can we eat now?"

"Dig in." Simon laughed, preparing to do the same.

Blair didn't have to be told twice.

"Small bites," Jim cautioned.

"Right, right." Blair sawed quickly through the succulent meat, taking care to keep the portion small. He dipped it into the broth, then into the horseradish. This was going to be soooo good!

"Careful, Sandburg, there are young children present," Simon chuckled. "Keep it `G' rated."

Blair ignored them. He carefully inserted the fork bearing the first solid food he'd had in the last one and a half months into his mouth, letting the morsel rest on his tongue for a second.

His taste buds were in heaven.

His mouth wanted to send him flowers.

Carefully, he began to chew. The flash of pain hit him unexpectedly. Blair groaned; his fork dropped to his plate with a clatter, both hands flew to his jaw to cradle and comfort his face.

Jim looked on in sympathy, but kept silent.

Oh please, please, don't do this...

He tried again. And groaned louder as he felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes.

This was so unfair!

Jim scooted his chair closer, lifting his own napkin to Blair's face. "Come on, Chief. Spit it out."

"Noooooo," Blair moaned, rocking slightly in his seat, his eyes closed as the pain throbbed.

"The doctor warned you this takes time," Jim reminded gently, draping an arm around Blair's shoulders. "You've waited this long, what's a few more days? Now... spit."

Blair spat.

"Okay," Jim picked up Blair's plate and switched it for his own. "We'll finish dinner and you can take the rest of that pain pill when we get back to the loft."

Blair eyed the new plate Jim had set down. Fluffy scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and lox. The smell alone was making him dizzy with hunger. Jim had ordered what Blair should have ordered, had he listened to the doctor's advice to begin with.

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime, Chief."

The End

end - maybe, I'm thinking Rossetti would be an interesting villain to bring back. (g)

Side note - When I first met my husband, his jaw was wired shut, recovering from having it reset by the army. It was nice having such an close research source available each time I had a question.

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to LKY

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to LKY

Home

[an error occurred while processing this directive]