Jim mentally cursed the footsteps approaching his door. The Mariners were in extra innings, a lousy time for interruptions. His ears had already confirmed the person approaching was not his roommate, the heavy steps told of a bigger person.

Since the TV's volume was too low to be heard through the door, Jim considered ignoring the visitor. It was his day off. His goals for the day were to relax, watch the game, and collect Blair from the library for an early dinner at the waterfront.

But when the knock came, Jim went to the door. Talk about programming...

"Is Blair Sandburg here?" the man standing in his hallway asked. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a T-shirt advertising some grunge band called `Torment'. Although he looked like a teenage punk rocker, his face revealed him to be in his late twenties.

"No, he's out right now."

"Bummer... can I hang here until he gets back?"

"You are..."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, dude," the man thrust his hand forward. "Jack Ryder. I'm an old friend of Blair's. He told me he was crashing here now, and I thought I'd drop in and get totally wasted with him."

Jim paused in mid-shake. "Wasted?"

"You know, blotted... shit-faced, whatever you old guys call it."

"Old guys?" Jim parroted, feeling his blood pressure start to climb.

"Uh... I'll just come back later," Ryder said, his eyes darting down the hallway, probably planning his escape. He bobbed his head and ran a hand through his spiked, bleached tipped hair. "Just tell Blair I was here, okay?"

"Sure," Jim deadpanned. "Right after I take my Geritol."

Jim returned to the sofa, his thoughts fixed on the guy's comment. Old guy? Sure, Jim was a decade older than Blair, give or take a few months, but he wasn't exactly ready to buy stock in Depends yet.

The sports announcer reported the final score, declaring the last two outs as one of the most exciting double plays he had ever seen in his career. With a grimace, Jim picked up the remote and hit the red power button.

Jerking his light jacket off its peg, he grabbed his keys from the basket. Even though it was a Saturday and the gym would probably be crowded, he suddenly felt like spending a few hours with the free weights.

Blair stretched, causing several vertebrae to pop. The library was quiet, most of the students already abandoning their studies, probably heading out to some big party. The spring semester was over. Blair's summer loomed ahead of him, promising a light schedule and plenty of time to work with Jim at the station, and tests, lots of tests. His life was looking up.

"I thought you came here to study, not practice your `staring-into-space' trick."

Blair looked up. "Hey, Jim."

"Hey, ready to go?" Jim pulled a wooden chair out from the table and sat, lifting the heavy book in front of his friend to read the spine. "'Today's Weapon's of Mass Destruction.' What are you studying, Sandburg, how to neutralize a small nation?"

Blair shrugged, quickly liberating the book out of Jim's hand and closing it. "Just thought I'd widen my horizons a little," he muttered.

"Chief, Bracket is dead. The Ebola virus wasn't released. You don't need to bone up on this stuff."

Ducking his chin to hide his blush, Blair worked on stacking the books into a pile, preparing to return them to the shelves. "Jim, I'm just trying to keep up, man. I don't want to look like an idiot when I'm working on a case with you." He stood, lifting the stack with a grunt. Damn, why was it, all the books he was interested in had to weight a ton? Half the weight suddenly disappeared. Jim stood, books in hand, ready to be led towards the bookshelves.

"You never looked like an idiot. You're my guide, to borrow Brackett's term, you're not a cop," Jim said.

"Speaking of ... guide-stuff, I think we should step up the testing a bit," Blair threw over his shoulder, heading for the back of the library. Checking to make sure no other students were close enough to overhear, he continued. "That stint on the dam made me realize how serious we need to get with your training."

Jim groaned. "Not this weekend...I just want to relax. I thought we could try that new seafood place by the water," Jim suggested as Blair re-shelved the books and started pulling from Jim's pile. "I'm starving."

"Sure." Blair grinned up at his friend. "I can eat, especially since it's your treat."

"Me? Why am I buying?"

"Extra inning... spectacular comeback... our bet this morning... any of this ringing a bell?" Blair asked, wagging his eyebrows as he retrieved his backpack and walked by Jim's side towards the exit.

"I thought you spent the afternoon in a library, how'd you hear the final score?" Jim asked.

"The librarian is a huge Mariner fan. She's got it bad for Edgar."

"Okay, fine, dinner's on me. It should be a crime to bet against your own state's team," Jim grumbled as he unlocked the truck and climbed in.

Snorting at Jim's mock outrage, Blair buckled his seatbelt. Seafood did sound good. Blair leaned back in his seat and pictured himself dipping a forkful of sweet crabmeat into a small dish of drawn butter. Besides, after Jim had his fill, he'd be in a better mood to listen to the tests Blair had planned.

Jim's cell phone rang.

Uh oh.

"Ellison... it's not my weekend, Simon. Really? Okay, we'll be there in ten." Jim returned his phone to his pocket and signaled to make a left turn. "Change of plans. We've got a case."

"Oh no you don't, Jim," Blair warned. "Stale sandwiches from the break room's vending machine doesn't satisfy our bet."

"Would I do that to you, Sandburg?" Jim asked with a wry smile.

"In a heartbeat," Blair answered, piercing his friend with a steely glare.

Captain Simon Banks leaned back in his desk chair, waiting for his senior detective to join the unscheduled meeting. Two military police officers sat stiffly in their chairs. Maybe it was the starch in their uniforms, Simon mused.

"Here they are," Simon said as he spied his friends through the large window separating his office from the rest of the bullpen. At least the waiting was over. These two men made the term `strained silence' into an art form.

"I thought Ellison worked alone," the older MP asked as they watched Jim and Blair near. Blair was taking a second to greet the detectives in the bullpen as Jim waited impatiently.

"He's been working with a student from Rainier the last couple of months," Simon told him. "Why? Is that a problem?"

The soldier didn't look happy with the news. "The colonel was adamant that Ellison work with us on this case. We may need to run a background check on this... student."

The MP's tone made it obvious to Simon that he had already passed judgment on Blair. "My department did run a background on Sandburg, he passed with flying colors."

"Hey, Simon!" Blair greeted cheerfully as he entered. Seeing the two MPs sitting in the room, he added a short, friendly wave in their direction.

"Sir, you wanted to see us?" Jim asked, pointedly ignoring the two military officers.

Simon hid a smile. It appeared Jim had been listening to the conversation. "Come in, close the door, Jim. These men are from Fort Lewis. Our chief cleared their request for assistance in locating an AWOL private."

"What's the big deal?" Blair asked. "Can't he take a discharge? It's not like there's a draft on or anything."

"Why, you planning on running to Canada if there is?" the younger MP asked, literally looking down his nose at Blair.

"Excuse me?" Blair blurted out.

"Come on, Sandburg," Jim said, turning on his heel. "We're out of here."

"Ellison, wait!" Simon ordered, surprised when Jim obeyed. He turned to pin the two men with a deadly glare. "Listen, you wanted our help. If you don't want to be sent back to your Colonel Marsh empty handed, you might try extending professional courtesy towards all my men."

"Alexander Marsh?" Jim asked.

"Yes, he asked for you specifically," the older MP said, straightening in his chair and returning Jim's gaze without flinching. "No disrespect intended to you or your partner, Sir."

Jim lightly squeezed Blair's shoulder before crossing his arms over his chest and squaring off on both MPs. "Okay, this is how it happens. Sandburg and I work as a team. We'll help Marsh find the missing private, but we're not taking any crap from either of you."

"Understood. I'm Sergeant Crane," the older MP said, extending his hand toward Jim, then turning to shake Blair's hand. "This is Corporal Sills."

"Let's take a look at what you've got," Simon said, walking around his desk and heading for his conference table. He didn't expect such a quick resolution. Marsh must have serious history with Jim.

Crane opened a briefcase and pulled out a file. The five men took chairs around the table as the file was opened and the details of the case were explained.

Jim watched as Blair cracked open another section of crab and started digging out the white meat with a small fork. Damn, that looked good. He almost wished he'd ordered a side of crab along with his prime rib.

"All I'm saying is, I can handle those kind of comments on my own, Jim."

Waiting until he finished cutting a bite size piece of meat and dipping it first in the broth and then into the horseradish, Jim shrugged in defense. "You shouldn't have to put up with that."

"It's only natural. Look at the strict, rigid culture that the military thrives on, man. I'm completely the opposite. It's totally natural for a little antagonism to spring up from time to time," Blair said, sounding like a professor giving a lecture as he dug into his baked potato. He had pulled his long hair back into a ponytail.

"Yeah, maybe, but it doesn't make it any less rude," Jim declared firmly, then looked up as his dinner companion snorted softly. "What?"

Blair chuckled, shaking his head slowly. The light from the small lamp on the table bounced off the multiple hoops in the younger man's ear. "I'm just remembering the first time you came to my office, man."

Jim rolled his eyes, remembering the event vividly. He had been in pain, almost wild, his senses causing chaos in his life. "Yeah, okay. I was rude then too, you happy now?"

"So, you'll play nice with the Combat-Rambo guys?" Blair ribbed.

"If they behave, I promise to keep my claws in," Jim promised, only half joking.

Blair was too forgiving for his own good. Jim knew the military mind-set, the brutal hazing against anyone daring to be different. It was one of the things he hated the most and finally changed his mind about becoming a career officer.

"This is a nice place," Blair said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, one of the guys in burglary told me about it," Jim admitted.

The western wall was all glass, giving a full view of the harbor. The sun sat on the horizon, a brilliant red globe ready to take its daily plunge into the water. Inside, the furnishings were oak and dark green leather. The choices on the menu had given both men a lot to peruse, but it was the prices on the right hand side that had caused Blair to bite his lower lip, a small tell-tale sign that told Jim his room mate was shocked at the high prices.

When Blair's first and second selection were vetoed by the older man, Blair had decided on the crab, only after Jim had explained this was his treat, and since Jim was the one that suggested they eat here, Blair should order whatever he wanted.

"You want the rest of my crab?"

Jim looked up in surprise. "You don't want it?"

"That salad was huge, man. I'm barely able to finish the potato. Besides, there are only a few legs left."

"Bring in on, light-weight."

During the drive back to the loft, Jim found his thoughts returning to the new case.

"I wonder why this Landers guy split," Blair said, obviously thinking similar thoughts.

"Who knows," Jim answered. "The military isn't for everyone."

"Yeah, but he'd already been in over a year, and finished his basic. So what happened to make him disappear all of a sudden?"

Jim had to admit, that was a puzzle. "We can go over his background again. Maybe something will jump out at us."

"Man, I'll be glad when the manifold comes in for the Corvair, I hate being without wheels," Blair moaned as the two men rode the elevator to the third floor. "Nobody should have to wait more than three days for a part."

"Well, when you insist on driving a relic," Jim teased, pulling out his keys to unlock the front door.

"Classic! She's a classic."

"Riiight, at least you have friends that own reliable `non-classics.' Oh, yeah... speaking of friends." Jim told Blair about Ryder's message.

"Really? Cool!" Blair chirped happily, closing and locking the door. "I haven't seen him in nearly a year. You should hear him play guitar, man. He can bring the house down with his solo."

Sinking into the cushions of his sofa, Jim spread the contents of the file out on the coffee table while Blair started a fresh pot of coffee. "He doesn't play in a band called `Torment', does he?"

"Yeah! Hey, you heard of them? Aren't they awesome?"

Choosing not to respond and hoping he never got the opportunity to hear the band play, Jim started reviewing the reports. Landers had been Colonel Marsh's personal driver. It was unusual to have a private driving around a full bird colonel, but Jim remembered Marsh as being a highly unusual officer.

"Let me see the guy's bio," Blair said, dropping down next to Jim and holding out his hand for the paperwork. "Maybe there is something in there we can use."

"If the visit to that farm in the foothills tomorrow doesn't pan out, we're out of clues," Jim admitted without looking up from his reading. "Apparently, he spent his furlough time there."

"So, how do you know this general guy?" Blair asked. The coffee maker gurgled quietly and the smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted into the living room.

"Colonel, not general," Jim corrected absentmindedly. "I served under him briefly before I went to Peru. He was a decent guy, for a career officer."

"He must think you're pretty good, to special request you and all."

Jim shrugged. "I managed a few tricky operations, got lucky."

Jim took a break from his reading and poured two cups of coffee, setting a mug down in front of Blair before returning to his spot on the sofa. They read the entire file, swapping paperwork back and forth. Blair set his last report down, finishing early. Jim could almost see the ideas circling the younger man's head like ghosts. Finally, Jim returned his report to the coffee table.

"Well?" he asked.

Blair pinched his lower lip thoughtfully before replying. "No family, except for this cousin who works out on that organic farm off Highway Two. No girlfriend. No record of trouble over the last year. Seemed to enjoy his job driving the... colonel around. So, why take off?"

"We can ask him, if we find him," Jim said. "It says here he enlisted for the college benefits. Maybe he felt three years was too long, just for a chance to get a degree."

"Maybe..." Blair said. "But his record doesn't reflect an unhappy GI, man. He even started taking a few classes by mail, looks to me like he was already working towards his degree in medicine."

Before Jim could answer, he heard familiar footsteps heading for the front door. Wonderful, Mr. Torment was back.

"Ryder's here, Chief."

"Great!" Blair shot out of the chair; the door was open before the visitor could even knock.

"Jack! What's happening?" Blair pulled the man into the loft, unaware of the surprised, dazed look followed by the worried glance the visitor cast at Jim.

Jim gave a predatory smile. "Hello again, Jack."

"Uh...hi." Jack turned back to Blair. "Sandburg, you dog! How's it going?"

"Good, man, good. I can't believe you're here. You write that million dollar melody yet?" Blair asked, slapping the other man on the shoulder. Jim noticed he was wearing a different `Torment' T-shirt today, complete with rips.

"Nah, not yet. The band's been on the road, dude. We've been starting some real hot groups, though. Next spring we hope to get enough to sponsor our own tour."

"Wow! Big time!" Blair looked at his friend in wonder. "You still play lead guitar?"

"Yeah," Jack answered with a laugh. "I came by to invite you to the show. We have to hurry though, I'm already late."

"You haven't changed a bit, Jack. Where are you guys playing?"

"Club Doom."

Jim felt the hairs on the back of his neck vibrate.

With a hesitant look at his roommate, Blair appeared to think about it for a minute. Jim could hear the younger man's heart speed up slightly.

"Uh...sure, I guess. Jim? You ah... you wanna join us, man?"

"Sandburg..."

Blair blinked. "Yeah?"

Multiple responses flashed through Jim's mind: `Isn't it rather late to be going out?' `Don't you remember what happened the last time you went to that place?' `You can't go; we have to work in the morning.'

Any of those statements would make Jim sound like Blair's father, not his roommate. Suddenly, Jim felt the generation gap between the two of them span as wide as the Grand Canyon. Blair was an adult, capable of making his own decision.

"Just call me when you need a ride, okay?" Jim said, ignoring the voice inside his head that told him chuck reason and lock Blair in his room.

"Cool, see you later, man, thanks."

And in a flash, Blair was gone. Jim tracked their progress in the elevator to the ground floor, chatting about old times as they walked out into the street. He leaned forward and tidied up the paperwork to stuff it back into the file. It was a little after seven. With a weary sigh, he poured a second cup of coffee and settled back to watch the news.

It took almost an hour, but he managed to tune out the voice in his head that was repeatedly calling him an idiot.

"I can't believe this thing still runs, man," Blair said with a laugh. God, it felt great to be goofing off with Jack again.

Jack parked in the side lot reserved for the members of the bands and the employees of the popular nightclub. "I just put a new engine in her; she's my baby, man. If I could, I'd make luuuvv to her every night!"

Blair laughed again, glancing back to look at the old Volkswagen Bug fondly. At one time it had been red, but the years and oxidation faded the color to a sick looking orange with primer spots. "You need to save up and get her a new dress, Jack. She's looking a little long in the tooth, man."

The bouncers didn't give Blair a second look as he followed Jack through the service entrance. Blair stood in the back hallway, expecting to be hit with the memories of his last trip to Club Doom with Chris.

Nothing.

Blair ran a hand through his hair and chuckled before trotting to catch up with Jack. After all, it's just a club, right? A noisy, smoky, very popular place where young people came to dance and forget their problems for a while. There was nothing to be nervous about.

From the sound of it, the party was in full swing. `Torment' was not the opening band, judging by the deafening music already filling the building, threatening to knock over a few structural walls.

"I need to go set up!" Jack yelled into Blair's ear. "You go have fun, bro."

Blair raised a hand in acknowledgment and headed for the main dance floor. Slipping through the door, he felt the music buffet his body like a physical force, causing him to laugh out loud. The dance floor was crowded. Spying a drop-dead gorgeous blond standing with her friends by the bar, Blair moved forward with his best smile.

Two hours, two beers and a dozen dances later, Blair needed a break. He had located a group from the University who invited him into their party with kindred spirits. Even though it was still early by Club Doom standards, Blair was tired. He needed to find Jack and say goodnight.

Arriving back stage, he found Jack on a break. Another band was busy cranking out a harsh number with too much vocal by Blair's standards.

"Hey, Sandburg! How's it hanging?" Jack asked, his voice slurring and his eyes red.

"You okay?" Blair asked, catching the distinctive whiff of pot on the other man's clothes. "You smoking weed?"

"Chill, chill. Shit, you look like your roommate, Blair. Very judgmental," Jack teased with a dopey grin. "That is one tense mountain of muscle. Where did you find him, `Boring-R-Us'?"

Blair rubbed his forehead as he studied his friend. "What is wrong with you, Jack? You never did drugs before? What about your music? You're killing your talent with that crap."

Jack leaned back against a large crate. "God, listen to `yurself! Suddenly you're my old man? My music is just fine, thank you very much."

"Oh, man..." Blair sighed, realizing it was useless to reason with the man in his current state. "I just came back to tell you thanks for the invite, but I'm heading out. Jim and I are working on a new case and I need a few hours sleep."

"Case?" Jack asked, squinting at Blair in confusion.

"Yeah, Jim's a cop. I work with him... help him with his cases," Blair explained slowly, so his friend could follow along.

"Wow, you have changed, man. You gonna bust me for possession? No wait, no can do, I already smoked it all." That seemed to hit the other man's funny bone, causing the musician to giggle.

"Whatever, I'm out of here," Blair said with a sad shake of his head. "Talk to you later, nice guitar work, by the way."

"Thanks, I'll see you later," Jack said.

Blair went in search of a quiet spot to call Jim. Seeing a fire exit door without an alarm, he slipped through, finding himself in a back alley. The cool darkness was a welcome change to the heat inside.

Before Blair could hit the speed dial for the loft, a muffled cry to his left caught his attention. He turned, squinting into the darkness. A large dumpster blocked his view. Blair slowly skirted around it to see who needed help.

"Hello? Are you okay?" Blair called out, expecting some homeless person.

The three men who turned as one to see Blair standing with his cell phone still in hand did not look as if they needed help. A distant light from an overhead window cast enough illumination for Blair to recognize a body sprawled in the filth at their feet. Now he looked like he'd needed help, but it came too late.

"Shit," Blair muttered, turning to bolt back towards the fire door.

Blair reached the door, only to find it locked. Apparently, it was designed to let people out in case of fire, not by unintentional witnesses to alley murders that wanted back in. Blair pushed off the door, prepared to continue down the alley when a large hand snagged his hair, yanking him back into a single-armed bear hug.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?" a sour breath close to his ear whispered.

His captor was about Blair's height, but at least a hundred pounds heavier. A meaty arm crushed his ribs painfully as the other hand worked on creating a bald spot in the back of his head.

"Hey, easy. I didn't see anything..." Blair lied, finding it hard to talk when his neck was being stretched backwards like a bowstring.

"And we're gonna keep it that way, aren't we boys?" Sour Breath said with a laugh.

A dirty hand belonging to one of the other killers clamped over Blair's mouth before he could call for help, bringing the smell of garlic to mix with Sour Breath's odors. Blair kicked out, feeling his right toe hit something soft and causing an angry curse. A large fist sank deep into his stomach, effectively bringing an end to Blair's struggles. It took all of his energy just to breathe. Sour Breath was dragging him backwards, towards the dumpster and the body lying on the ground. Light reflected off a shiny sliver of metal, which Blair instantly recognized as a knife.

Oh, God. They were going to stab him. That's probably how they killed the other guy.

"Okay, hold him still," a voice said quietly, full of business.

Blair squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the first slice. Where would the blade bite first? His chest? Stomach? Across his throat?

A sudden grunt, followed by a sound of something heavy falling echoed loudly in the alley. Another man cursed, then a second thump.

Blair opened his eyes in time to see a tall shadow slip close by his side. The vise-like grip relaxed, dropping away, the hand in his hair was gone.

Lurching forward, Blair tripped, landing on top of a warm body. Scrambling backwards like a crab, he looked up in time to see Sour Breath fall silently to the ground.

What the heck...? Blair's mind could not catch up.

"You finished for the night? Or did you want to go find more fun?" Jim Ellison asked dryly, stepping over the motionless body and squatting down to lay a hand on Blair's shoulder.

"Jim... oh, man," Blair gasped, exhaustion followed his relief. "Dead man... they killed him..."

"Yeah, I see that. You okay?"

Blair nodded, a wave of nausea tapping for attention in his gut.

"Oh no you don't, Chief. Deep breaths through your mouth. You're not going to lose that dinner, it cost too much."

Blair wanted to laugh, trust Jim to be practical. He did as he was told, knocking down the urge to hurl chunks down the alley. Struggling to get his legs underneath him, he accepted Jim's hand and managed to get to his feet. Jim pulled him back, away from the dumpster and the bodies. The soft tones of a cell phone being dialed reached Blair's ears. They reached the treacherous fire door. Blair leaned against the wall as his body started to shake from unused adrenaline. Closing his eyes, he listened to Jim talk to the dispatcher and took a second to send up a silent, thankful prayer.

Jim ended his conversation.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time anyone mentions the words `Club Doom' - handcuff me to my futon, okay?"

"I'm way ahead of you, Darwin. I was already planning on it."

"I dream of a day when I can get through the weekend without finding you two up to your necks in a crime scene," Simon groused as he neared his best team. The artificial lighting flooded the alley, bringing the harsh details into focus: old cinder bricks with pealing paint, litter scattered everywhere, a large green dumpster coated with years of dried, unidentifiable splatters.

"Thanks for coming, Sir," Jim greeted, not looking the least bit sorry.

"Sandburg, you look like crap."

And he did. Blair was leaning against the wall, both arms wrapped around his stomach. His white face and messed up hair gave him a lost waif appearance. Simon had passed the coroner's van and two ambulances after getting out of his car, another cuffed prisoner sat in the back of a patrol unit.

"Hey, Simon," Blair greeted weakly.

"Sandburg interrupted a knifing. We can close the file on Paul Davidson and his goons. A rookie prosecutor out of law school should be able to convict him. He killed his bookkeeper and then tried to kill Sandburg," Jim explained, his eyes on the forensic team as they worked around the corpse.

`Well, well,' Simon thought to himself, pulling out a cigar to unwrap. The aromatic smoke from his favorite tobacco would be a nice mask for the smells in this alley. "Since when did you two frequent Club Doom? Or are you working a new case without telling me... again."

"I... ah... know a guy playing here tonight. I just came down for a few hours," Blair explained. "Jim was..."

"Sandburg's car is still in the shop," Jim finished.

"Well, at least the outcome is favorable," Simon decided, then looked at Jim in concern. "It is favorable, right? That coroner here for any of your victims, Jim?"

"Nope, I left them all breathing," Jim admitted, almost sadly. "They'll heal in time for trial."

"Good, why don't you start at the beginning, Sandburg," Simon suggested, lighting up his cigar.

Jim glanced over in time to catch Blair lose the battle of keeping his eyes open. The crime scene investigation was winding down; it was time to take his foolish and exhausted guide home.

"Simon? You need us for anything else?"

Simon looked up from his examination of the dead bookkeeper. "No, you two get out of here. What time are you meeting up with the MPs tomorrow?"

"Eight," Jim answered, which was less than five hours away, so much for getting a restful weekend. "Come on, Sandburg. Let's go."

Blair walked silently at his side, climbed slowly into the Ford and buckled up. He had stopped shivering over an hour ago, but he still looked like road kill. They drove back to Prospect Street in silence.

Jim felt his anger swell like waves hitting a beach. He pushed it back, not wanting to lose his temper. But his thoughts kept returning to the alley. Remembering Blair about to be gutted like a deer would be a sight the cop will never forget.

God, if he'd been thirty seconds later...

Blair quietly leaned against the door as the Ford turned into the parking stall and Jim killed the engine. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jim gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. A high wave of anger crested and broke over his willpower.

"Damn it, Chief! What were you thinking?" Jim demanded, turning in the seat to study his companion.

Blair rubbed his palms up and down his thighs before shrugging. "I... just didn't expect it, man."

"Sandburg! You've been riding with me for months! You've seen stuff that most folks will never see their entire life! How can you not expect a muffled noise behind Club Doom to be a potentially dangerous situation?" Jim let his anger take full rein. The lack of self-preservation in the younger man was beyond his comprehension.

Blair rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping forward. "I know, I know."

Jim dropped his voice. "I almost didn't make it in time. You understand what I'm saying here? Three against one, you want to place a bet on your odds for survival?"

"Jim, lighten up, man. I'm sorry, already," Blair muttered. His hand was on the door handle. He turned to meet Jim's gaze. "I just... for a few hours, I didn't have any memories. You know? No Kincaid, no Lash, no golden fire people... I just danced and laughed and enjoyed myself. It was fun. I guess I was still in that mindset when I went into that alley. I was just looking for a quiet place to call you, man."

Releasing his death grip on the steering wheel, Jim rubbed his temples and worked on calming down. A twinge of guilt drained some of his anger, leaving him tired. "Look... I'm sorry I exploded. But I came so close to waiting for your call. I don't know what made me drive down early to get you tonight."

Blair found enough energy to quirk one corner of his mouth into a half smile. "I am like so glad you did, Jim," he admitted quietly.

Returning the smile with one of his own, Jim gently cuffed the back of Blair's head before getting out of the truck.

Sunday morning found Jim and Blair driving east on Highway Two, followed by a dark colored sedan carrying the two MPs. When Private Landers failed to return to base, a records check showed several phone calls to a farm in the Cascade Mountain foothills called Nature's Growth.

"How come the army needs Cascade PD's help?" Blair asked. "This is out of your jurisdiction."

Jim shrugged. "I guess Colonel Marsh wanted it done right. He always had a way of using old contacts to get his objectives met."

"They couldn't just drive out to the farm and ask around?"

"Maybe he recognized their lack of people skills, I know I wasn't impressed with them," Jim said. "If Marsh hadn't requested me by name, we wouldn't be here."

"Come on, man. We already covered this. Play nice. You know, we could've ridden with them and saved on gas," Blair noted.

"Forget it. Three hours in the same car would be three hours too much."

Blair smiled at the passing scenery. While part of him enjoyed the loyalty of his roommate, the other part couldn't get used to it. Naomi raised him to be independent. You got through bad situations on your own, found inner strength to deal with all the ugliness in the world. And Blair had. But now, being with Jim, Blair learned an important fact that his mother failed to mention.

It was a lonely life.

Although he had lots of friends - tons of them, actually - none of them would have been in that alley last night.

It was more than a little scary, when Blair had thought about it last night... no, early this morning, while trying to sleep. How had Jim known? Was it some sort of Sentinel programming? Or years of being a cop in Cascade and knowing the seedier side of life?

"There's the turn off," Jim announced, breaking into Blair's musings.

The dirt road leading to the large farm followed a spacious valley, surrounded on both sides by thick evergreen-covered foothills. The white peaks of the North Cascades rose in the east like frosted tips pointing towards the aqua blue sky.

"Wow, this is beautiful, man," Blair admitted as he enjoyed the view. "It must be great to live out here."

"I'll bet they get snow in the winter, we're pretty high."

A white, two-story farmhouse sat in the middle of the valley. The acreage surrounding it was tilled into straight rows. Flowers, vegetables and herbs of all varieties grew in abundance. Further away, young crops thrived in the fields. Jim parked the Ford in a gravel lot. The sedan pulled in beside them, kicking up a short cloud of dust.

The four men climbed the wooden steps to a wrap-around porch. Jim arrived at the screen door first and knocked on its wooden frame loud enough to be heard by the group of men and women visible through the screen.

"Yes? May I help you?" a man in his late forties asked.

"I'm Detective Ellison with Cascade PD, this is Blair Sandburg, and these two gentlemen are MPs with the Army. We're looked for a missing Private from Fort Lewis, Charles Landers?"

"Charlie? That's Stephen's cousin," the man said with a frown, he opened the screen door and gestured with his hand. "Come on in, please."

The front room was set up for relaxing. No TV was in sight. A low bookshelf filled with both hardbacks and paperbacks filled its shelves. The floor had a brown toned, braided rug. The walls were painted a soft yellow with a light floral wallpaper border. An Aggravation game was being played on a low coffee table. The four players ranging in ages of late teens to mid-thirties looked up in polite interest. Three other women were sitting together in a tight circle, their mismatched chairs pulled into a corner while they worked on some beading project. It looked like a collection of necklaces and bracelets. Blair gave the women a bright smile. They smiled warmly and returned to their work.

"Felix, would you go get Stephen? He's upstairs."

A teenager sprang up from the game, obediently trotting out of the room.

"Maybe we should go into the dining hall," the man said, heading through an arched opening. "I'm Tim Neely. This is my farm. You men can talk to Stephen in here without being disturbed. On Sundays, the house gets pretty noisy."

A large pine table filled the room; two benches ran its entire length down both sides of the old scarred table. It looked big enough to seat twenty eaters. Blair could hear laughter coming from the back of the house, probably the kitchen, judging by the smells permeating the house: baked bread and meatloaf. Blair's mouth watered.

"Tim? Someone's here about Charlie?" A thin man in his late twenties came into the dining room. He gave the visitors a worried nod. "Something's wrong with Charlie?"

Jim raised his hand to display his badge. "We're looking for him, sir. He's AWOL."

"What? He's missing?" Stephen asked Jim.

Blair's attention was distracted by a pretty redhead struggling with three bags of groceries. She was walking past the large arched opening between the dining room and a hallway. Blair moved quickly to assist as he realized one of the bags was in immediate danger of hitting the floor.

"Here, let me help," he said quietly, taking two heavy bags from her arms, leaving her the last one to manage.

"Oh!" she muttered. "Thanks, I must have had six offers to help, but I thought I could make it. Walk them into the kitchen with me?"

Blair snuck a quick peek over his shoulder. Jim was still explaining their reason for the official visit, handing over a business card. He wouldn't be missed. "Sure, lead the way."

The kitchen was larger than the living room. An enamel topped worktable sat in the middle. Two commercial size stoves and an enormous icebox edged one wall. The room was a hive of activity as four women and two men worked with various projects. Lunch appeared to be a celebration on Sundays, judging by the dishes being prepared.

"Wow, is it like this every week?"

The redhead laughed. "No, this is birthday Sunday. This month we're celebrating three birthdays. Hi, honey! Were you good while Mommy was gone?"

A small, dark-haired child jumped down from a stool and ran across the room toward the redhead. She barely had time to set her bag on the table before catching him in mid-leap. Out of habit, Bair checked her left ring finger and found it bare.

"Mom!" the child exclaimed, his excitement a bright aura surrounding his happy face. "Guess what! I get to frost the cake, all by myself!"

She laughed, kissing his curls before setting him back on his feet. "All by yourself? Are you sure you're not going to accept some help from Miss Rachel?"

The boy stilled, considering the idea seriously. "Weelll... maybe a little help, but mostly just me." The child noticed Blair for the first time. "Hi! I'm Kevin. Are you going to live here?" he asked, turning towards Blair without missing a beat and switching topics as only a six-year-old could.

A strong feeling of deja vu caused Blair to shiver. He smiled down at the boy, shaking his head slowly. "No, but I used to live on a farm like this when I was five. And guess what? My mom was a redhead too."

Kevin's eyes widened. "Really? My mom's got red hair!"

"I noticed. What are the odds, man?" Blair answered with a laugh.

"Wanna help me peel `tados?" the boy asked, suddenly shy.

"Honey, I'm sure the man didn't come to peel potatoes," his mother gently scolded her son.

Blair smiled, wanting to delay his time in the kitchen as long as possible. "Actually, it used to be my favorite thing to do on Sundays."

She set them up with two kitchen chairs. The cracked plastic seat covers allowed the stuffing inside to stick out in several places. Blair knew he'd get white fuzzies on his jeans, but he didn't care. A third chair was pulled into a circle and Kevin's mom sat down to join them.

"I'm Blair Sandburg."

"Elizabeth Neely."

Blair finished the first russet potato and reached into one of the bags he'd carried in for another. "You're related to Tim Neely?"

"My father," she explained. "Kevin, that's not the way to hold the peeler." She set her potato down to reposition her son's hand before continuing. Blair watched Kevin work his potato. The kid's tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he concentrated on performing such a grown-up task.

Blair felt another wave of emotion pass over him. What was going on? Was he homesick? Hardly, he and his mom seldom stayed in one spot long enough to become attached. Maybe he was just longing for the days when the most he had to worry about was which pajamas to wear to bed each night.

"What?"

Blair looked at Elizabeth in surprise, not understanding her question. "Excuse me?"

She pointed the peeler at him. "You...your face, you look like you were... somewhere else for a second. Did you really live in a commune when you were Kevin's age?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, actually. My mom's a real nomad. We lived in just about every state in the US while I was growing up and a few continents when we could afford it."

"Wow, nice. I'd like to travel," she said wistfully, her hands moving on their own as she looked at Blair. "I've lived here all my life. Dad started the commune when I was ten, when my mom died."

"Oh, sorry. That's a rough time to lose your mom."

"She'd been sick ever since I could remember," Elizabeth told him, shrugging her slender shoulders. "Dad almost lost the farm because of the medical bills. The commune lets us keep the farm and make enough money to pay all our friends at the same time."

"That's cool. I miss this sometimes," Blair admitted.

"So why are you here? I saw the soldiers in the dining room."

"Wow, real soldier?" Kevin asked quickly.

"Yep, real ones," Blair told him. "And the other guy with us is a real cop from Cascade," he added speaking to the boy, before turning back to the woman. "We're helping the army look for a missing soldier. They're worried about him. Charlie Landers."

"Oh, sure, that's Stephen's cousin. I haven't seen him in a while. He comes out sometimes when he gets time off. He and Stephen like to go hunting. A lot of the meat in the freezer came from their more successful trips," she wrinkled her nose. "I'm not very fond of elk, though."

"You should try my ostrich chili," Blair told her. "I bet you'd like it."

She laughed. "I've never tried ostrich. They do most of their hunting up on Rapid River. They have a small shack on Sunrise Mountain. Not a lot of ostrich up there."

"I'll bet," Blair agreed with a grin. He had just finished his third potato when he heard Jim calling his name. "Oops, the jig is up. My partner is calling me."

"Thanks for your help, Blair," Elizabeth said as he stood up and brushed off his jeans. "Maybe you can come by some Sunday for dinner."

Blair nodded. "I'd love to, I'll call first, bring some chili with me."

"There you are," Jim said as he entered the kitchen with a small frown. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, see you later, Kevin. Have fun with the frosting, man."

"'Kay, bye!"

The MPs were already in their sedan when they walked down the steps towards Jim's truck. "Any luck, Jim?"

"He hasn't seen his cousin in months. He did admit to getting a call from him a few weeks ago," Jim said as he opened his driver's side door.

"What do you think?" Blair pushed, giving Jim a knowing look.

Jim's gaze flicked over to the MPs. Their car was pulling out, a cloud of dust rising up in their wake. "He's lying."

"You think he knows where Landers is hiding?"

"Maybe, I just know he's not telling the truth, or holding something back. He was definitely acting nervous when we asked about his cousin's location."

Blair became silent as they headed back to Cascade, his thoughts returning to the visit. He liked the farm. He had liked Elizabeth and her son, Kevin. He felt for Tim Neely, struggling to keep his family's home after his wife's illness and death nearly bankrupting him. The atmosphere inside the house told of family, friends and camaraderie. The missing Private was an extension of that family. He'd helped to provide food for them.

Blair didn't like the two MPs very much. He was definitely not fond of the military - too many demonstrations and protests at a very young age had tainted his view on the armed forces.

But Jim was on an assignment, under orders. His job was to find this guy. And Blair was Jim's partner, which made the assignment partly Blair's responsibility as well.

Oh, hell.

"Jim... there's something you should know," Blair said sadly. The city limits sign for Cascade flew by. Wow, they had made the return trip in record time. "There's an off-chance I know where Landers might be hiding."

"I was wondering when you'd get around to telling me this," Jim said, sounding slightly relieved.

"You listened?" Blair asked. "Wow, that's pretty good, man. I was at the other end of the house."

"I caught a few words, something about a hunting shack?"

By the time they arrived back at the precinct, they both agreed the shack was a good hideout for Landers. "The issue is going to be the snow," Jim explained punching the button to call the elevator to the parking garage level.

"It's been a mild spring, maybe the snow will be melted," Blair commented, hoping it was true. Hiking around with wet shoes was not his idea of fun. "Did Crain and Sills say they were coming back to the station?"

"Yeah, I don't think they believed the cousin either." Jim led the way into the elevator. "They're talking about setting up surveillance on the farm."

"Oh, man. No way! They're not going to spy on those people, are they?" Blair moaned.

"'Fraid so, Chief. I caught a faint whiff of boot polish in the living room. It was the same stuff I used on my combat boots. Something tells me spit polish isn't high on the lists of chores at the farm."

The elevator dumped them off on the seventh floor. Blair followed glumly behind his friend as they walked into the bullpen. The idea of some sneaky covert operation centering around those people on the farm made his stomach turn over. Before he say anything more against the idea, he saw Jim pause, becoming ramrod straight.

"Jim? You okay?" Blair asked, fearing a problem with his sentinel's senses. Moving quickly to Jim's side, a hand on the other's arm, Blair saw the cause standing next to Simon and the two MPs.

A fierce looking man dressed in a military uniform watched them with sharp, intelligent eyes. He was in his late fifties, standing in a parade rest stance. He looked fit, as if he ran obstacle courses daily, just to show young kids how it's done. Standing next to Simon, the top of his white head reached the captain's eyebrows, making him a few inches taller than Blair, but shorter than Jim.

"Colonel!" Jim said in surprise.

"Captain... I'm sorry, it's Detective Ellison, now," the man said with a slight smile. "How are you, son?"

Jim crossed the short span quickly, reaching out to shake the military officer's hand. "I'm great! I didn't expect you to come up here personally, Sir."

"Landers is my driver, I'm worried about him," Marsh said, his interest switching from Jim to Blair.

"Oh, this is Blair Sandburg... he rides with me. He's working on a paper with Rainier University."

Blair stepped forward, ready to shake hands. But the colonel simply nodded, his eyes never making contact with Blair's as the older man gave him a visual `once over' before turning back to Jim. Blair dropped his hand.

"Can I get a report, Ellison?" Marsh asked.

"Why don't we use my office," Simon invited, turning towards his door.

Blair brought up the end of the parade. Still smarting from the brush-off, he didn't notice Sills waiting by the door.

"Sorry, kid, private briefing," Sills said with a knowing smirk.

Stopped by a hand against his chest, Blair watched, dumbstruck, as the door closed in his face.

"You look much better than the last time I saw you, son."

Jim smiled at his old commanding officer. "Yes, Sir, I remember; you came to see me after I got home from Peru."

The military debriefing after Peru had been a miserable week, a nightmare that still visited Jim late at night after a particularly exhausting day. The questions had been endless. The stench of the military base caused him to vomit his meals for days. After months of living in the jungle, civilization seemed anything but civil.

Then Marsh had appeared. Suddenly, his freedom expanded, the grueling questions lightened up. The man even found some fruit for Jim to eat, the first meal that stayed down without a fuss. Jim felt a deep sense of appreciation for the colonel. Only one other time in his life had someone truly rescued him.

Blair!

"Where's Sandburg?" Jim asked suddenly, rising from his chair as he realized his partner wasn't in the room.

"Relax, Jim. I see him at your desk," Simon said, giving Jim an understanding nod. "The colonel wanted this meeting to be private."

Jim leaned forward, looking through the window of Simon's office to see his guide sitting calmly at his desk, his head bent over something he was reading. "We can trust Sandburg," he protested to the group.

"I'm not willing to tell anyone but you and your captain about my concerns with Landers," Marsh said. "As my driver, he had privileges to many conversations. We're working in very delicate times, Jim."

Jim settled back into his seat, not happy with the situation, but not willing to take it any further. "You think Landers heard something he shouldn't have, Sir?"

Marsh's eyes narrowed. "Possibly, he's a smart young man. I trusted him completely. I hate to think that trust was misplaced. I'm involved in strategies the United States is taking with the Middle East. If some of my conversations were repeated to the wrong people, we could be looking at an ugly situation."

Jim gave his full attention to Marsh. Without realizing it, he monitored the man's vital signs as he spoke, just as he had done at the farm earlier. To his complete surprise, he recognized all the classic signs of a lie.

Marsh pulled on one ear lobe absentmindedly while continuing his story about phone conversations in Landers' presence, a General's visit with Landers driving them both, even leaving Landers alone in the vehicle with classified information for over an hour on many occasions. Marsh gave every appearance of a man who was dealing with a betrayed trust. But Jim continued to listen to what the other men couldn't hear. And the results were consistent.

Colonel Marsh was selling a pack of lies.

"So, what's your take on the situation at the farm?"

Jim blinked, startled from his revelation by the direct question. "Ah, it's possible the cousin was lying. It's hard to be sure, though." Jim struggled with his conscience. Until he could figure out what was going on, he was not willing to repeat the information Blair had learned in the kitchen.

"And what did your partner do while we interviewed the cousin," Sills asked, keeping his expression neutral, in conflict with his tone.

"Peeled potatoes," Jim replied tersely. `And discovered the possible location of Landers,' he added mentally. If this jerk was going to start up again on Blair, Jim would be more than happy to finish it, not caring that Marsh was present.

Sills must have recognized the danger, he backed off.

"So you think we should keep an eye on the farm for a while?" Marsh asked, leaning forward as he addressed Jim.

"Landers could turn up. It's may be worth the army's time."

"Okay, that's what we'll do," Marsh said, standing. The MPs jumped out of their seats as if pulled by puppet strings. "Thanks for your co-operation, Captain."

Simon stood, shaking the man's hand. "Sure thing, glad the department could help."

Marsh turned to Jim with a fond smile. "I'm at Fort Lewis for another month. Maybe we can meet in Seattle for a beer."

Jim smiled. "I'd like that, Sir."

"Okay, I'll call you here at the station before I get shipped out again." With another nod to Simon, the man left, taking his MPs with him.

Jim watched them walk through the bullpen, noticing at the same time his desk was empty. Where had Sandburg gone?

"Close the door, Jim," Simon said quietly. "And tell me what you didn't tell Marsh."

Jim wanted to find Sandburg, to explain about the closed-door meeting, but Simon was wearing his `right now' expression. With a sigh, Jim closed the door. Simon would have made an excellent General.

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"I love how you say that with a straight face, Jim," Simon said drolly. "You want to explain to me why I'm not watching you head out with those MPs to take part in that stakeout?"

Jim shrugged. "It's a military action, Simon. We went and helped. They've got the manpower and the equipment to do the job, why drain the PD's budget?"

Simon remained standing, studying Jim intently as if making some internal decision. Shifting on his feet, Jim felt like a bug being examined under a magnifying glass.

"How's Sandburg doing? Any problems from last night's attack?"

"He's sore. Took a solid hit in the gut," Jim admitted, not showing surprise with Simon's complete change of topics. "You think I can get the rest of the day off? He said something about some tests he wanted to do this afternoon," Jim lied without remorse, glad that his boss wasn't blessed with enhanced senses of his own.

Simon shook his head, giving in with a sigh. "I know I'm going to regret this. Okay, get out of here." His head came up suddenly and he pinned Jim with a look. "Jim, just be careful. Whatever you two are doing."

"Right. Thanks, Simon."

Checking his desk first and not finding any notes, Jim started searching for his missing roommate. Finally, after searching the entire seventh floor, he found Blair in Homicide.

"Sandburg."

"Hey, Jim." Blair looked up from his chair next to Detective Marcie Keller's desk. Keller was a heavy-set senior detective who had taken an instant liking to Blair the first day they had met, right after Kincaid's take-over of the station.

"You ready to go?"

Blair looked at Keller questioningly.

She nodded. "Go ahead, Sandburg. I'll work on typing this up and adding it to your statement. You can sign it later." Looking over the top of her reading glasses, she frowned at the younger man as he stood. "Let's work on staying out of dark alleys, kid. We're just getting used to having you around. I sure as hell don't want to find you under one of my white sheets in the future."

Blair bobbed his head in agreement, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. "Unless I've got my arms around a gorgeous homicide detective..."

She barked a short laugh. "You are so full of it! Get him out of here, Ellison, before I forget I'm a married grandmother!"

"Come on, Romeo." Jim pulled Blair back by his collar, propelling him towards the door.

Waiting for the elevator doors to close, grateful they were the only two inside, Jim cleared his throat before speaking. "Sorry about that thing back in Simon's office, Chief. I didn't realize you'd been shut out. Marsh wanted a closed meeting."

"Yeah, I figured. I don't think Sills likes me much," Blair admitted with a sour expression. "He really enjoyed slamming that door in my face."

"He's an ass, Sandburg. Forget about him."

"Okay, so what now?" Blair asked as they exited the elevator and headed towards Jim's truck.

"To the loft. We need to get a few things, I'll explain on the way."

Blair studied Jim's profile. They were back in the foothills, driving down a forest service road that circled around behind Sunrise Mountain. Dressed in warm wool pants and shirts with sturdy hiking boots, Blair wondered for the hundredth time what had gotten into his roommate.

"I can't believe you lied, Jim."

"Well, if you come up with a quick test for my senses, then it's not a lie."

The Ford's wheel hit a particularly deep pothole and Blair grabbed the dash to steady himself as they both bounced in their seats. The dirt road clung to the edge of a steep mountainside. Jim had traced the route for Blair on a topographical map. From the road, they could hike to a low pass between two mountain peaks. Once over the pass, they would be looking down into the valley where Landers and his cousin frequently hunted.

"Okay, we can leave the Ford here."

"Jim, here's a road that would've take us up the valley, why are we hiking over the top?" Blair asked.

"I know, but we would have had to drive past the farm. Marsh may already have it under observation. This keeps us out of sight," Jim explained setting the parking brake and climbing out of the cab.

"Oh, gotcha, man." Blair folded the map, leaving their intended route visible. No stranger to hiking, he double-checked his boots, knowing a wrinkled sock would cause a blister in no time. Satisfied, he climbed out and slipped into a light framed backpack filled with water, survival rations, extra socks and `sentinel-friendly' necessities.

The air was crisp and fragrant with cedar and Douglas fir trees. The view to the south caused them both to pause for a moment and drink in the detail: steep tree-covered slopes, blue sky with puffy white clouds. The height made Blair feel slightly dizzy and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to try and relax.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," Blair said with a nod, turning his back on the scenery and handing Jim the map.

With Jim leading the way in his confident stride, they headed into the forest. The tall trees blocked much of the sunshine. The thick canopy above shaded the ground, keeping the underbrush sparse. Still, it was no walk in the park. Years of windstorms and disease had toppled a few of the larger trees, blocking their path. Blair scrambled over the trunk of a cedar, having to use his hands and knees to keep from slipping on the mossy covered bark.

Man, Jim made it look so easy when he crossed over these hundred year old fallen towers of toothpicks. In fact, he walked like he didn't have thirty pounds of emergency gear strapped to his back. Blair envied his friend's easy stride as he struggled to catch up, rubbing the moss goo from his palms onto his wool pants. A little over a mile into the hike, they reached the first patch of snow.

"Oh, man," Blair groaned as he eyed the mountainside above them. The snow was deep in some places and altogether absent in others.

"It's pretty crusty looking, try and stay behind me. I don't want you falling through," Jim said, slipping on his sunglasses and adjusting his PD cap on his head.

"Neither do I, man. I don't do cold."

Jim plunged through the first patch of snow, leaving two-inch footprints. Blair walked in Jim's tracks, thankful of his lighter weight. Soon the sloping ground was completely covered with snow. Blair could see his breath. The cold air teased the tip of his nose, but his body stayed warm from exercise. All in all, Blair was having a pretty good time. It felt good to be outside, enjoying nature.

"Okay, that should be Sunrise Mountain," Jim declared, coming to an abrupt stop and pointing to his left.

They had reached the pass. The view to the north was just as stunning as the south. The pass was absent of trees, allowing a three hundred and eighty degree view. The spectacular rugged peaks of the North Cascade mountain range lay to the east. The gentler slopes to the west flattened out, heading towards home and the Pacific Ocean.

"Wow," Blair breathed in awe. "We're standing on top of the world, man." Blair continued to gaze about him in wonder, missing the amused look from his roommate.

"Rapid River is down there," Jim said, pointing north.

Blair focused his gaze towards the bottom of the huge valley, unable to see the river through the trees. In fact, it was hard to see anything but treetops.

"Jim, how are we going to find a single hunter's cabin in all this?" Blair asked, sweeping his arm to take in the mountainside.

"Well, I figure he's going to need heat. I'm betting he's the only one up here. There's no hunting right now. All we need to do is find the smoke from his fire," Jim said with a frown. "Only, I'm not seeing it."

"Okay, I get it," Blair said with excitement, tucking his hair behind an ear. "This is your test, man. The one you told Simon I was gonna give you. Now... if Landers is burning his wood without restricting his air intake, he would have very little smoke, maybe just heat waves. Close your eyes for a second, man... take a deep breath through your nose."

Blair waited, watching Jim go through his instructions. "Okay... open your eyes and look for traces of smoke, like from a cigarette. Start down at the river and work up."

Jim carefully studied the forest-covered mountainside. When he seemed to sway, Blair reached out a hand to steady him. After several long moments, the sentinel blinked and smiled.

"Got it," he said, pointing downwards.

Blair squinted, looking but not seeing anything. "Uh... I'll take your word for it, Jim. How far?"

"About a mile..." Jim muttered, raising a compass to get a reading. "Why don't you break out the sausage and crackers? We'll get a quick snack before we head out."

Blair shrugged out of his pack, happy for the short break. After digging his Swiss army knife out of his pocket, he cut the summer sausage into disks and handed several to Jim with crackers. Jim pulled a water bottle out of his pocket.

"A late lunch eaten at over five thousand feet... cool," Blair quipped with a grin. "How many people can say that?"

"Depends if they're in an airplane at the time," Jim replied, dusting the cracker crumbs off his jacket with one hand.

"Spoil sport."

Jim checked his compass. They'd been walking for over an hour, making decent time on the downward slope, walking below the snowline and back among the trees again.

"I'm starting to smell wood smoke, Chief."

"Good, we must be getting close."

Half an hour later, they reached a creek, its cold water nearly overfilling its banks with spring runoff from the snowmelt above. Jim spied the roof of the cabin below, built close to the creek bank.

"There, see?" He pointed, holding his hand out until Blair nodded.

"Wow, we found it," Blair whispered.

"Question is - who'd we find?" Jim answered as he pulled his handgun out of his belt holster and double-checked his clip. Taking a moment to chamber a round, he slipped out of his pack and leaned it against a tree, giving Blair a reassuring look. "It'll be okay, I just want to make sure we're ready for anything."

"Okay, just don't ask me to wait in the truck. I am not making that hike back on my own, man," Blair said with a nervous grin as he set his own pack next to Jim's.

"Just stay behind me, Darwin."

Jim moved silently, stopping twenty feet from the small cabin and extending his hearing. The single room cabin had an outhouse in the back. Wispy smoke drifted from a pipe rising from the rooftop. The small front porch built out of rough-cut lumber with a low roof protected the front door. Judging by the color of the unpainted wood, the porch was a new addition.

While they watched, a man dressed in heavy wool pants and a plaid shirt stepped out of the cabin and walked towards the creek carrying a bucket in one hand. He was tall and thin. His face was marked with splotches of acne that added to his youthful appearance.

Jim moved like a shadow, using trees and the cabin to get closer. While the man stooped down to fill the bucket, Jim eased forward silently until he stood between the man and the cabin. No other sounds came from inside. The man was alone.

"Charles Landers? Cascade Police," Jim called out.

Without looking back, the man dropped the bucket, leaped across the creek and ran into the trees.

"Wonderful..." Jim muttered, taking off after him.

The chase was short. Jim caught up with him a hundred feet past the creek. Shoving his prisoner flat on his stomach, Jim twisted the man's right arm around behind his back; his other hand flipped out his ID and dangled it in front of his face. "Did I forget to say freeze?"

"If you take me back - I'm a dead man!"

"Are you Charles Landers?" Jim asked dropping his leather ID case on the ground and pulling out his handcuffs.

"Yeah!" Landers grunted, dropping his cheek onto the dirt.

"You're wanted by the United States Army for abandoning your post," Jim said, pulling Landers to his feet.

"Being AWOL is the least of my problems, man," he grumbled with a dark expression. "I'm not kidding, Colonel Marsh is gonna kill me!"

Blair arrived, breathing hard and completely soaked from head to foot.

"Sandburg! What happened to you?" Jim asked, patting Landers down for weapons.

"Wide creek - short legs, man. It is so not fair," Blair complained, squeezing water out of his long hair.

Jim shook his head in exasperation. The return hike over the pass would have to wait until he could get Blair dried off. Hypothermia was nothing to treat lightly in the wilderness.

"Okay, let's go back to your cabin, Landers. You can tell us about Marsh and I can dry out my partner," Jim said gruffly as he pointed his prisoner back the way they had come.

"Really? You'll listen to me?"

"Oh yeah, man. That's why Jim and I came up here alone. We want to hear your side of the story," Blair explained.

Landers seemed too dazed to comment as he led the way back to the cabin. Blair retrieved both of their packs before following them inside. Jim nodded in approval as he looked around; the single room was clean and warm. The window next to the door provided enough light to see inside. A large barrel had been turned on its side and manufactured into a wood-burning stove complete with a stovepipe that traveled up through the roof. The simple table and two chairs looked like thrift store castoffs, but performed their task. Two low cots sat against the back wall, only one sporting a military issue mummy sleeping bag. An oil lamp hanging from the ceiling was ready to provide extra light when needed.

"Okay," Jim said, pushing Landers towards a chair. "Why would Marsh want to kill you?"

Landers gnawed on his upper lip before replying. "I took some things I wasn't supposed to even see."

So he did take some sensitive paperwork, Jim thought. "You're looking at some serious time in prison, but I doubt you get the death penalty."

"Marsh will never let me get to a trial."

"What did you take?" Blair asked, he sat in the other chair, busily removing his boots. Jim saw his wool socks were soaked.

"Diamonds."

"What?" Jim asked.

Landers nodded his head, looking miserable. "I needed a pen. I opened up the Colonel's briefcase to borrow one of his. Marsh was inside his office. I found a black bag... I opened it. I guess I was curious."

"How many diamonds?" Jim pressed.

"More than I could hold in one hand. I don't know a lot about that kind of stuff, but they were big," Landers said. "The Colonel just got back from the Middle East. I'm pretty sure he smuggled them into the US."

"Oh, wow," Blair said pausing from pulling on a dry pair of socks he had retrieved from his pack. "Why haven't you told anyone? Why run up here?"

Landers slumped in the chair. "Who's gonna believe a private? At first I was going to go to the MPs, but... I got scared. He's real buddy-buddy with a few of them and I didn't know how many people might be involved."

Jim rubbed his jaw and considered his options. If Marsh was dirty, he may have a few MPs in his pocket, probably the two that came to Cascade.

"Okay, we're going back to Cascade and set up a meet with the Feds, something you should have had the common sense to do on your own. Where are the diamonds now? Did you bring them here?"

"No," Landers said quietly.

Jim turned to Blair. "Let's head back to the truck. You dry enough, Chief?"

Blair shrugged. "If my feet are dry, I'm happy."

"I've got an extra wool shirt in my bag," Landers said, nodding his head to a green duffle bag resting in the corner. "Help yourself."

"Thanks!" Blair said, flashing a bright smile at the prisoner.

"If you promise not to try anything, I'll un-cuff you. We're hiking over the ridge. My truck is parked on other side," Jim told him.

Landers nodded. "I'm just glad you guys found me instead of Marsh. You'll help me with the Army?"

"We'll get it straightened out," Jim promised as he leaned over to retrieve his handcuffs. "I'm not saying you did the brightest thing by snatching those diamonds, but we'll make sure you get to tell your story to the brass."

After Blair changed shirts, stuffing the wet one in his pack, they went about closing up the cabin. Jim checked over Landers' pack, taking possession of his handgun. After carefully putting out the fire and returning all food items into airtight metal boxes, Landers locked the door and they started up the mountainside. The sun hung low in the sky, almost touching the tip of the mountain peak.

After half an hour of walking, Landers asked for a break.

"What's wrong, we just got started," Jim said with a frown.

"Stupid blister, I got it when I first walked up here," Landers grumbled, leaning over to loosen his left boot.

Jim slipped out of his pack before leaning down, ready to take a look. He had packed a compact but complete first aid kit. Having Blair for a guide had taught him it paid to be prepared.

Before he could react, Landers reared up and Jim felt a flash of pain, exploding above his left ear. Just before his world turned black, he heard Blair call out his name in horror.

Blair never saw it coming. One minute he was leaning against a tree, relieving some of the weight from his shoulders and the next minute Landers had slammed a large rock against Jim's head.

Blair saw red.

"Jim!" Blair leapt, crashing into Landers and knocking him off Jim. They hit the ground and rolled in an awkward embrace. Blair never considered himself a fighter, but he was pissed and landed three solid punches before Landers knocked the wind out of an already sore gut, followed with a roundhouse punch to the face. Blair fell on his back, like a turtle that needed to be righted, his face throbbing with pain.

He wasn't about to give up. Struggling, unable to roll over, Blair clawed at the straps to his pack and slipped free. Landers had already returned to squat next to Jim.

"Leave him alone!" Blair shouted angrily. Before he could launch himself back at the private, Landers turned, pointing the business end of Jim's automatic at Blair's head.

"Stay there! I don't want... to hurt either of you," Landers said, gasping for breath while pulling his own gun from Jim's belt and tucking it into his own waistband.

Blair used the sleeve of his coat to wipe the worst of the blood flowing from his nose. "You've got a sick way of showing you care, man."

Landers stood, keeping the gun on Blair as he backed out of Jim's range. Blair ignored the order to stay put and scrambled up the slope to kneel next to Jim's side.

"Why did you hit him? We were going to help you!" Blair said, running worried hands over Jim's head and chest.

"Those diamonds are all the help I need," Landers admitted. "If you guys can find me, Marsh's due to show up next."

Blair shook his head in disgust. "You meant to steal those diamonds all along." He rested a hand on Jim's chest, taking comfort in the deep breaths he felt under his palm. He searched his friend's face for any sign of consciousness, seeing a red lump forming on Jim's temple.

"No, everything I said was true! Only sitting up here in this cabin gave me time to think. Now, I've got transportation to pick them up and get out of here. How far out is your truck?" Landers asked.

Blair shook his head. "A few hours walk, I guess. Listen, man! Marsh is watching the farm, if you hid them there, he'll catch you!"

"Just toss me the key. My cousin can bring them to me."

"And if you don't find the truck? You should stay with us, we'll help you," Blair insisted, pulling Jim's key ring out of his pocket and working the key free.

"Ellison is not going to be in much of a mood to help me now. I know the road you left it on. I'll find it." He caught the key in midair. Before turning to leave, he tossed Blair the key he'd used to lock up the cabin. "Get him to the cabin for tonight. It's a half-day's walk to the farm from here. You two will be fine," he said, turning to leave.

Blair glumly watched the other man walk away before turning his attention back to his friend. Jim had to be okay. He grabbed Jim's wrist, felling the strong pulse under his fingers. That was a good sign, right? Who was Blair kidding? He had no idea how a serious head injury would present. Wait. Wasn't there something about the eyes being different? Jim was always checking his pupils when Blair got hit in the head.

Thumbing up one eye and then the other, Blair relaxed slightly. They were the same. That was good. "Jim, come on. Wake up." Blair removed his parka as he talked, even damp it would provide some extra heat. The wet shirt from his pack made a decent pillow. He searched Jim's pack and coat pockets, looking for the backup gun he normally carried. It wasn't there. Jim must have left it back in the truck. Blair did find Jim's cell phone and turned it on with a hopeful breath. No signal. Blair slipped the phone back in Jim's pocket.

Okay, okay, think Sandburg.

They needed a weapon. Jim was down, unprotected. No, that wasn't right, he was here to protect. The guide's job was to watch the sentinel's back. Blair pulled a heavy tree limb closer to his side, a product from the last windstorm. It wasn't much, but he could knock a hardball out of a ballpark... or anything else that tried to bother them. With nothing left to do, he dropped down on the ground to wait. The blood on his face was starting to dry, pulling at his skin. Blair used the sleeve of his shirt to scrub it off. His nose felt tender. Carefully probing with his fingers, he made a mental list of damages; a few loose teeth and a swollen lip.

"What's wrong, Romeo... women don't date guys with broken noses?"

"Jim!" Blair leaned forward eagerly. "You okay?"

With a groan, Jim rolled over and rose up on one elbow. "Where's Landers?"

"He split. Don't move. Do you hurt anywhere? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Crap, I'm fine, yeah, and three," Jim answered, touching the lump on his head gently. "How long has Landers been gone?"

"Uh... four, maybe five minutes. He's got both the guns. He's heading for the Ford," Blair told him, reaching out to help him sit up.

Jim patted his pocket. Pulling out his keys, he looked up in confusion. "I've still got the keys..."

Blair allowed a small smile to show. "I might have given him your key to the Corvair. I was kind of distracted at the time. You know how I can get."

"You are one diabolical person, Sandburg," Jim said with a grin. "You okay? You're a little bloody."

Blair wiped again at his face. "I'm fine."

"Good," Jim said, handing his improvised blanket back to its owner. "Now, put your coat back on, it's getting cold."

"Yes, mother."

With help, Jim stood on the first attempt, but swayed on his feet, his face taking on a pale tone. Swallowing hard, he studied their surroundings. "We should have enough light to get to the Ford and track him down."

"You sure you're up to it, man? You took a wicked shot to the head."

"I just need a second, I'll be okay," Jim replied, not removing his hand from Blair's shoulder as he took a few deep breaths. They stood together, Blair nervously watching Jim for any sign of a problem until Jim patted his shoulder. "I'm fine, come on," he said, leaning over to pick up his pack.

"Stand very still. I'd hate to have my men shoot either of you."

Blair peered around Jim in surprise. Colonel Marsh stood with Crain and Sills. All three men wore green camouflage that let them blend into the trees. Both MPs had a gun pointed in their direction. The fact that these men managed to get this close without Jim detecting them, told Blair Jim was not as `fine' as he said.

"Just great..." Blair muttered in a low voice.

"Colonel, we need to go after Landers, he's heading for my truck," Jim told them, acting as if Marsh was the cavalry, arriving in time to help.

"Jim, you okay, man? These are so not the good guys, remember?" Blair muttered quietly.

"Play along," Jim whispered without turning around.

"Oh, yeah. Good plan."

"Nice try, Ellison. But I'm sure you've had ample time to hear Landers' side of the story. Can't believe you let him get away. What were you thinking? You've gone soft; first, a hippie partner, then lying to a superior officer," Marsh said as they neared. "There was a time you would have followed my orders without question."

Jim tilted his head and examined his ex-commander with disdain. "I'm not the same person I was then. I've learned it's sometimes appropriate to question authority, especially when that authority is corrupt. What's wrong, the Army didn't promote you fast enough? Taking up smuggling to finance your retirement?"

Marsh crossed his arms and laughed. "You always were the bright one. Do you know what a colonel is expected to retire on nowadays?"

Blair moved around to stand next to his partner. This was not looking good.

"I'm still betting you're an excellent tracker, though," Marsh said. "Here's what we're going to do. You, Sills and Crain are going after Landers. I will accompany your... partner to a safe place and wait for you to bring me Landers - and the diamonds."

"No," Jim said simply. "Sandburg goes with me."

"No see, there you go again, Captain," Marsh said shaking his head. "Questioning a direct order. I'm afraid your training has been grossly compromised." He nodded at Blair, prompting Crain to point his gun at Jim while Sills approached Blair.

Jim moved fast, blocking the younger MP. "If you really want me to find Landers, then you need to keep us together," he insisted.

"No, not an option, I could offer you my plan `B' - where I kill both of you and let the wild animals snack until some poor hiker finds your bones. Which one would you prefer, Ellison?"

Blair patted Jim's arm lightly and stepped around his sentinel. "It'll be okay, Jim."

Jim's expression was dark as Sills pulled Blair away. Crain removed a pair of black colored handcuffs from his pocket and cuffed both of Blair's wrists behind his back.

"Once you find Landers, retrieve the diamonds," the colonel ordered. "Crain knows where to find me."

"So you can kill us both? I don't think so," Jim said boldly. "How do you expect me to find Landers anyway?"

"You were the best tracker I ever had under my command. Why do you think I wanted you involved from the start? I promise as an officer, I'll let you and your partner go. My time with the Army is finished; they can't reach me where I'm going."

`Yeah, right... and I have some beach front property in Kansas to sell you,' Blair thought.

Jim's eyes found Blair's and the younger man tried to give his friend a reassuring smile. Jim nodded once and turned uphill. It was hard watching Jim walk off with the two MPs. Suddenly the mountainside seemed colder and Blair shivered. Long shadows grew all around them as the sun sank lower in the sky.

"Move," Marsh ordered, shoving Blair down the slope.

"Hey, what about my pack?" Blair asked.

"Shut up." Another push almost caused Blair to fall. He decided to do as he was told and concentrate on staying upright - for now.

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