"It's no use, Sandburg."

Blair ran his hand through his long hair, searching his mind for a way to help Jim find the suspect. Who knew these switching yards had so many flipping box cars! The place was a maze.

"Okay, wait a minute. You should be able to locate him with your hearing," Blair muttered.

"I know, but the sound is bouncing all over the place. I can't tell where it's coming from!" Jim explained, banging his closed fist on a nearby tanker car. The side was spray painted with stencil lettering: `corn syrup'.

Blair tried to discipline his thoughts away from calculating how many pancakes could he coat with a tanker that size.

"Come on, Chief. I'm sick of losing this creep."

"Okay, okay. Give me a minute." Blair studied the gravel between the two sets of train tracks. "All right, close your eyes."

Jim closed them instantly.

"Okay, now this is just like the vision experiments we did last month..."

Jim opened his blue eyes and regarded his guide skeptically. Blair held up both hands.

"Just work with me here, man. Now close your eyes! Okay. Listen, two eyes enable you to judge depth, right?" Blair didn't wait for an answer. "So, in a similar way, two ears enable you to tell exactly where a sound is coming from. When you hear a sound, your brain is comparing the signals from each ear. Now I want you to picture a control knob. We're gonna label this one `balance'. Now, avoid favoring your right or left ear. Adjust that sucker right in the middle. Got it?"

Jim nodded.

"Okay, good. Now reach out with your hearing and listen to the strongest footsteps or whatever you were tracking before the echoes started..."

"Got it!" Jim was off the mark before the shorter man could finish.

Remaining still for a moment, Blair looked at the spot Jim had just been occupying. "Wow, it worked," he said under his breath, then realizing he'd better get moving or lose Jim altogether, he sprinted to follow.

Running to the end of the tanker, Blair climbed over the coupling, just in time to see Jim disappear several cars down the stationary train. This continued until Blair finally rounded a large engine to see Jim leaning down on one knee and cuffing a man who was lying on his stomach. Blair skidded to a halt, keeping a safe distance. He reached for his cell phone to call in their location.

Ellison propelled the man up from the gravel. "Okay, let's get you down to booking. If we hurry, we'll get you processed in time for dinner. I think they're having chicken on rice tonight."

"Bite me, pig."

Sitting at his kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee and the sport section, Jim listened to the sounds emerging from the downstairs bedroom. Blair was finally going to wake up. He smiled thinking of how the kid helped yesterday in the Irvine collar. Maybe he should spring for dinner tonight at a nice restaurant. Damn! It felt good to know that the case was ready for the D.A. Let the attorneys pick away, until either it was reduced to a lesser offense or dismissed altogether for some higher plea bargain. He didn't care. The creep was off the streets. Jim smiled to himself, he loved the three strike rule.

"Late, late, late, late, late..Jim! Why didn't you wake me?" A Blair blur shot into the bathroom, door slamming.

Jim sipped his coffee and read the story on the new coach they hired for the Jags. Wow! Look at that salary. He finished the article and started a second on the plans for a new stadium south of Cascade when the door opened again, spilling steam and the Blair blur made a return trajectory for his bedroom.

"I tried three times to wake you, Sandburg. You told me in no uncertain terms what I could do with your alarm clock. I've been meaning to ask you, Chief. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Blair came hopping out of his room pulling on a sweat sock. A little toe peeked through a hole. "My Mother and Susan and Jennifer and Rachel and infinity and beyond. What's available for a starving student on the run, man?"

"Bagels." Jim hitched his thumb at the bakery bag on the counter behind his back. "Your sock has a hole in it, Buzz."

Blair pushed his feet into tennis shoes, not bothering to untie and retie them. "The key word in that sentence, Jim, is ONE hole. Therefore, these cover my little piggies today." He hooked a finger through a seven grain bagel and shouldered his backpack. Holding up the bagel, Blair shot his roommate a grin and a wave. "Thanks for breakfast, man. I owe ya. Bye."

Smiling to himself, Jim took another sip of coffee. The silence was like a vacuum, as if Blair managed to suck the air out of the room when he left.

Interrupted by the light knock on his office door, Blair looked up from his grading. A small woman stood in the open doorframe, a nervous smile on her troubled face.

"Excuse me? Mr. Sandburg, can I talk to you a moment?"

"Sure!" Blair stood, gesturing to an empty wooden chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, you're in my 101 class, right?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you knew that. There are so many students."

"It's Justina, right?" That got a response, she was pretty when she smiled. She relaxed a little in her seat. "What can I do for you. Problems with the assignment for next week?"

"No. I'm good with that." Her smile was gone. Her green eyes troubled again. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor. I wouldn't normally, but I don't know who else to ask. And you always tell us that we can come to you about anything. But I..."

Blair held up his hand. "Please, Justina, just ask. The worst I could say would be `no'", he encouraged with a grin.

"Right. Sorry. My dad always said that I babble when I get flustered." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you could serve some papers for me."

Blair waited for more information, but she seemed to be finished.

"Papers."

"Yes."

He nodded. "What are we talking about here?" Blair was intrigued. This was not your `more time to finish the homework' request that he usually got.

Justina took several 8 by 11 inch papers out of her backpack and set them on his desk. Pulling the papers towards him, Blair read the heading.

"Temporary order for protection. Court papers?"

"They need to be served by next week, Thursday actually. The police go to his home, but he avoids them. So they don't try again. My only chance now is by private service. But I don't know anyone who might be willing to help." Her eyes were beginning to tear up. "I told him it was over, but he won't leave me alone."

Blair took a box of tissues from his drawer and moved around his desk to sit in an adjacent chair. Handing her the box, he glanced again at the papers on his desk.

"Hey, it's okay. So I just go and hand over the papers, right? How hard can than be?" he reassured her. "Of course I'll help."

That afternoon, Blair found himself walking up a flight of stairs. The apartment number he wanted was two-sixteen. Justina had given him a little information about her boyfriend. He worked as a mechanic. Usually his shift ended at 3pm. If Blair could get him to answer the door, he knew he'd be home free.

There it was. He gave the door a series of knocks right under the peep-hole, two raps then pause and then one. Bobbing his head, Blair pretended to listen to music via the earphone he was wearing. The cord was unplugged and tucked into his pocket.

After a moment the door opened to reveal a tired looking man in his late twenties. He was wearing a white uniform shirt with a `Les Swaub Tires' patch and a name-tag that said `Kurt'.

"Yeah?"

Blair held out a medium size box of pizza, the aroma was strong. "Pepperoni with extra cheese."

"I didn't order that."

"Oh," Blair pretended to study an invoice, which it was, but for text books. "Well, this says 216. And they used a credit card number to pay, so I guess you get free dinner, man. Enjoy!"

Kurt took the box with a smile. "Sounds good to me."

"You wouldn't be Kurt McPherson, would you? My brother knew a McPherson in high school. Excellent football player."

"No, it's Kenyon."

"Oh, well, bon appetit!"

Blair whistled to himself has he headed back to the Corvair. That went well.

Tired and late, Ellison parked his Ford truck next to his roommate's car. He had firm reservations in one hour at Tony's Homeport restaurant. Just enough time to shower, change and drive to the waterfront. Blair was probably expecting him to order Chinese take-out. This would make a nice change.

"Yo, Jim." Blair called out from the sofa, pecking away at his laptop. "We doing delivery?"

Depositing his gun into a kitchen drawer, Jim's eyes caught sight of an official looking paper sitting on the table. "What's this?" he asked picking it up to read.

Twisting his neck to look, Blair bounced up and walked around the couch. "Oh, yeah! Jim, wait till I tell you what I did today! I was brilliant, man."

Ellison scanned the paper, skipping to the bottom signature.

"You served an order," Jim stated flatly. His eyes pinned Blair with an angry glare.

"I did! But let me tell you how..."

Jim tossed the affidavit back on the table. Turning his back on his friend, he jerked open the door to the fridge, withdrawing a beer.

"Jim?" Blair swallowed, as a look of confusion replaced his smile. "What's the deal here?"

Jim spun back, setting the bottle down with a bang. "I don't get it, Sandburg! I know you aren't stupid. But this makes me wonder!"

Backing away, Blair looked at his friend, then the court paper then back it Jim. "What's your problem!" he asked, his voice becoming loud to match the cop's. "It's just an affidavit saying I served some guy a court order! It's not a big deal, I was just helping a student." He paused to take a deep breath.

Jim jumped in before Blair could say anything more. "It is a big deal, Darwin," he informed Blair in a low voice, trying to curb his anger. "It's dangerous! It's a job for cops. YOU are not a cop." He stabbed at the air between them with his finger.

Blair's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing emerged. Snapping his mouth shut, Sandburg lifted his chin and pushed past the bigger man. Emerging from his room a few seconds later with his backpack, he scooped up the affidavit, opened the front door and without a look back, left, slamming the door.

Jim leaned onto the table, palms down. Dropping his head forward, he closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh through clenched teeth.

Shit!

Joel Taggert watched his lunch companion spear a tomato wedge with a fork.

"He was totally freaked OUT! Way out of line!" Blair pulled the vegetable off the utensil with a jerk, rapidly chewing.

The bomb expert had called to remind his friend of their lunch date, only to find Sandburg trying to weasel out. Since Joel had already seen Ellison that morning, he put two and two together. Trusting Sandburg would more than likely want to talk about the apparent fight the two roommates were having, he insisted Blair keep his lunch appointment. It only took one leading question to give the young man the motivation to spill the story.

Joel pushed his empty plate away. "Blair, do you have some time before you've got to get back?"

Blair nodded, "Yeah. Sure. What do you need?"

"I just want you to meet someone." They found an empty parking space on the second floor of the parking garage. Carefully locking his car, Joel led the way through the connecting breezeway to the Cascade Regional Justice Center.

"Hey, cool. I have to drop off my affidavit of service here anyway, man. This saves me a trip. You know someone who works here?"

Holding the glass door open, Taggart nodded with a smile as Blair entered. "I have a good friend who works with the advocates office."

"She pretty?"

Taggart laughed and shook his head in mild disbelief.

Jo Woolcott was a thirty-ish petite blonde with an English accent and kind eyes. She met Taggert with a hug that made her look like a five year-old next to the big cop. Taking Blair's hand in both hers, she gave him a genuine smile of welcome.

"Jo, I was hoping you had time to talk with Blair and me about domestic violence."

"Sure, you caught me taking a late lunch. I'm not due back in court for another half hour." She led them through a security door and down a narrow hallway lined on both sides with doorways into small windowless offices.

"Please, have a seat." She pointed to a pair of chairs under a wall poster that had a large caption which read `Love isn't supposed to hurt' in both English and Spanish. A picture of a woman with a black eye looked sadly at the camera. Jo sat at her desk and picked up a half finished tuna sandwich. "What can I do for you?"

Joel explained Blair's situation while she ate, leaving out the part about the roommates arguing last night. He only mentioned that his friends were worried that Blair may not understand the dangers involved with domestic violence.

Jo nodded as she listened then carefully wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She turned and gave Blair her full attention. "First, I want to thank you for getting involved. Not everyone is willing to help." She smiled, causing two dimples to appear.

Blair grinned.

"Second, I want to give you my card. Would you please ask Justina to call me as soon as she can? She'll probably get my voice mail, but I will call her back. I want to talk to her about safety planning. She should've had an advocate to help her, but I'm afraid there are more petitioners than advocates. We can't help them all." She leaned forward. "But finally, I think I understand why your friends are concerned. Serving orders can be very dangerous."

Blair frowned. "That's what Jim said. But listen, the cops went to serve them, only he didn't answer the door! They never went back. They filled out a form saying they tried, but they couldn't find him."

Jo nodded. "I understand. The police have a special unit. They only serve orders. But they are serving hundreds of them a day. They can't afford to wait for a person to appear in hopes of getting service. They try and get as many served as they can."

"Oh."

Glancing down at her watch, she patted Joel's arm. "I've got to get to court. Here is my card. Please have her call." She picked up a stack of files from her desk. "I enjoyed meeting you, Blair. Good luck."

After she was gone, Joel reached into a large drawer and pulled out a green book that looked like a common photo album. "Close the door for me, Blair."

Blair closed the door to the small office and turned to study his friend. "What's going on here, Joel? You're starting to get all covert ops on me," he joked.

Taggart waved him over to the book he had opened up on the desk. "About fifteen years ago, in Seattle, a deputy was serving an order. In the old days, we got no information. We just were given so many orders a week to serve and you tried to get them done between calls." Taggart pointed to a photo as he explained.

Slipping on his glasses, Blair's breath caught as he looked at the graphic color photo. "Oh my God."

"Yeah, turns out the guy had a known history of mental health problems. Spent years in and out of different mental treatment agencies. Only no one bothered to forward the information to the officer."

Blair fell heavily to the seat behind him. "What.."

"A machete."

Blair nodded, swallowing. He forced himself to study the picture. It was gruesome. But, damn it, he wasn't going to wimp out.

Joel flipped the book a few pages, images of women and sometimes children flew by. Blair saw bruises and casts. Joel stopped closer to the back.

"This one happened only a few years ago. She was in this very building waiting for her case to be called. We didn't have the security back then like we do now. So her husband was able to walk up and shoot her and the neighbor she was with. Hell, no one expected it. There were uniform cops all over the building that were testifying on other cases at the time."

Blair felt the blood pool drain from his face as he fought to keep his lunch down. "She died?" he whispered.

Nodded his head, Joel sat down slowly in Jo's chair.

Turning to look his older friend in the eyes, Blair shook his head slightly in denial. "But she was pregnant! Who could kill their wife when she.."

"The baby died too, son. He was aiming for the fetus."

Blair bowed his head. A statue couldn't have been more still.

"One more thing, Blair. One of the officers testifying that day was Jim. He was the first to reach her after the others took down the shooter."

Blair crumbled visibly in his seat. "No.." His voice broke slightly.

Closing the book, Joel slipped it back into the drawer. He waited quietly.

"Joel, I had no idea. Jim was just so....shit. This is dirty pool, man.."

Sandburg raised his head and tucked his hair back behind both ears with shaky hands. Giving his friend a sheepish grin, he stood like an old man and cleared his throat as he headed for the door. "Can you drop me off at the station?" he asked. "Jim will take me back to Rainier."

They found the clerk's office and filed the affidavit, then retrieving Joel's car, headed out.

"Jim?" Ellison looked up from the report he had been `not' reading for the last fifteen minutes. It was a testament to his state of mind that he had never even heard his roommate enter the bullpen.

So much for `sensing' his guide.

"Can we talk? Somewhere? Not here?" Blair asked softly, looking hard at his thumbnail. He was standing beside Ellison's desk, wearing the same clothes he'd had on last night. They looked slept in.

Standing wordlessly, Jim led the way out into the hall and down to an empty interview room. He closed the door and sat down stiffly in a folding metal chair.

"You get any food?"

"Yeah, I ah... just had lunch with Joel a little bit ago." Blair shoved both hands into his jeans.

"Good." Jim watched his friend squirm a few seconds. "Sandburg, about last night. I was out of line. I just.."

"Wait." Blair interrupted. "Can we just...like start over or something?"

"Start over?" Jim repeated, watching as Blair sat across the table from him. "You're not mad?"

Blair lifted a corner of his mouth in half a grin. "Well, yeah, a little. But I realize I never let you explain why you were so upset. I just pulled a Naomi on you, that was not cool. So, I'm sorry."

Jim returned the quirky smile. Oh yeah. His mother. He wasn't even going to go there right now. "So you had lunch with Taggart. By any chance he take you to meet Jo?"

If he'd learned anything in the time he'd lived with Sandburg, it was how to read the man's body language. Blair was giving the `don't let Jim know that I know' signal.

"Jo? It was just me and Taggart at lunch."

"Save it, chief," Jim sighed without anger. "I'm sorry I blew up. The truth is, lots of civilians serve those types of orders. I just wish you'd wait for back up! This partnership works both ways and just for future reference, you don't have to find somewhere else to spend the night. It's your home even when we have a disagreement, okay?"

"I know, man" Blair swallowed hard. "So, what do you say. Can we hit the `do over' button?"

"I'm down with that," Jim quoted.

"Good, cause I need a ride back to the `U', man. I'm late!"

"Mr. Sandburg? You wanted to see me?" Justina entered, looking better than the last time Blair had seen her. She smiled warmly at him.

"Hey, it's just Blair, remember?" he coaxed, scrambling forward to move a stack of papers off a chair for her. "I wanted to talk to you about Kurt. I made a copy of the proof of service for you and filed the original with the court." He got her seated and leaned back against his desk.

"Oh, I know," she informed him with a radiant smile. "Kurt called me this morning and told me."

"Excuse me?"

"We talked. He told me he was really sorry about the way he'd been acting the last two weeks. He's having a lot of problems at work, but that's over now. I'm going to call the court this afternoon and cancel the temporary order." She leaned forward and placed a small hand on his arm. "Thank you so much for what you did yesterday. Kurt got a real kick out of the pizza thing. I think getting served with the paperwork kind of made him re-think a few things, you know?"

Concern and amazement fought for dominance over Blair's facial features. "Justina, he threatened you! You were terrified of him yesterday. Besides, the order I gave him specifically instructed him NOT to call you or contact you in any way. You need to call the police!"

She rose in alarm. "No! We love each other. We just had a rough couple of weeks, but it's better now, truly!" Her body was rigid as she edged towards the door.

Damn, he'd better tone down the criticism.

Holding out both hands, palms out, Blair stood with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just concerned for you. Look, could you just do something for me, please?" He leaned over his desk and opened the middle drawer to fish out Jo's card. He turned and handed it over. "Just call and talk to this person. She is really, really nice."

Justina took the card hesitantly.

Reading the non-verbal communication, Blair pressed harder. "Just one phone call, please? Before you call the court. Listen, I did you a favor when you asked yesterday. So now it's your turn." He gave her a quirky grin, rendering the last comment harmless.

With a small laugh, she nodded. "Okay, sure. I'll call her. I'm sorry I..."

"No, no. Don't even go there. We're totally cool here."

She laughed with obvious relief and left with a wave.

Blair headed to the phone.

"Ellison."

"Jim, I don't believe this!"

"What?"

"It's Justina, man. She just left my office." Blair dropped wearily into his chair, keeping his voice low. "Her boyfriend called her last night. AFTER I served him with the papers."

A sigh floated over the connection. "She report it?"

"No! That's what's got me so mad, she's like done a total one-eighty!"

"She's recanting."

"Yeah! They're back together, she wants to drop the order."

"Did you give her Jo's card?"

"Yeah, made her promise to call her first. But I don't know if she's gonna... Man, this does not make sense."

"I know, Sandburg. Look, there's nothing more you can do. Hopefully she'll talk to the advocate. If he threatens her again, the court's will let her file another order."

"Yeah." Blair swiveled back and forth in his chair as he stared glumly at the ceiling. "I wish I could show her some of Jo's pictures.."

They had talked a little last night over a simple dinner of sandwiches and chips, BBQ for Jim and organic banana for Blair. Jim had been less than pleased when Blair talked about the photo album. Blair hoped his roommate had not gone toe to toe with Taggart today over the issue.

"Doesn't work that way, professor." He heard Simon say something in the background, then Jim spoke again. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"'Kay, bye Jim."

"...'ster ...Sand'....open....for me?"

"Called.....'bulance....be.....soon."

Black and red swirls, totally freaky.

Real nasty taste.

Hot spikes of pain.

Blair cracked open one eyelid, the other had apparently refused, some union rule, no doubt. His face felt gritty. He pushed a piece of gravel out of his mouth with his tongue.

"..shouldn't ....his...spine..."

If no one was going to speak in full and concise sentences, Blair thought, I'm just going back to sleep now.

Ellison cranked the wheel, spinning the Ford in a tight U-turn and moving up the need for his wheel alignment by about a month. Cradling his cell phone to his ear until he had the truck under control again, he cursed his roommate's bad luck.

"He conscious, Simon?"

"Jim, you know as much as I do. Fire found his observer I.D. They called for a uniform. Uniform advised dispatch, and dispatch called me. I'm en route to Cascade General now. About twenty minutes out."

"I'll be ten."

"Jim..."

"Fifteen, then."

"Fine, see you there."

E.R. was not busy for a change. Locating a team of uniforms standing by the trauma nurse's station, Ellison clipped his shield holder to his belt for the public at large to see. He approached the officers with a curt nod.

"You respond to the assault at Rainier?"

Officer Franklin nodded, introducing himself and his rookie partner. "A professor and his assistant found the victim as they were leaving for the day."

"How bad?"

Franklin shrugged, "I've seen worse. He's not gonna feel so hot when he wakes up, though."

"He was unconscious?"

"In and out, the medics and fire were with him when we arrived. Why is Major Crimes interested in this guy? He wanted?"

Jim shook his head, his eyes searching for a nurse or doctor. "No, he's my roommate. Did anyone see the attack?"

"Ah, no. Sorry, detective, I didn't know he was ..."

Blue eyes captured the uniform's with a chilling gaze. "He's my roommate. He's writing his dissertation on police social structures. He didn't say anything to fire or you guys?"

"No, not a word. Sorta looked around a bit and then closed his eyes again."

"Okay, thanks. Could you send a copy of your report to me?"

"Sure thing," Franklin answered with a sigh. He nodded his head toward the exit and the two officers left.

Jim found a nurse by a fax machine. She provided him with a clipboard of insurance forms, known patient history and a pen attached by a chain. But she did not seem willing to provide answers on Blair's condition.

"I'm sorry, detective. I'll let Dr. Peterson know you're out here. I'm sure she'll be out as soon as she can."

"Fine." Jim stayed by the counter to fill out the forms, even though she had made a point to show him the door leading to the waiting room. After a few minutes, a stout man with a long single braid down his back wandered in, took the insurance forms from Jim and retreated.

Pretending to study the medical history form left on the clipboard, Ellison extended his hearing down the hall. Snippets of conversation met his ears. He listened to various unrelated topics until he heard a single voice.

"..want a CT for this man. I'd like a diffuse injury classification ASAP. What's the story on those x-rays?"

"En route, doctor."

"I mean it. Let me UP.." Jim heard the weak plea from his friend.

Without thinking, his long legs had him at the open door and looking into the treatment room. A heavyset black woman with peppered hair was examining Sandburg's eyes with a small light. His right fist clutched and shaking, Blair was bound to a backboard by a series of inter-connecting straps.

"Do we have family here yet? I need a history."

Jim saw his opening and grabbed it. "Excuse me? I'm his roommate, Detective Ellison, Cascade P.D." He held out the form to the nearest nurse.

"Would you be Jim?" the doctor asked.

"Yes."

She nodded in approval. "Good, come in. He's been asking for you. Maybe you can help calm him down."

Getting his first good look at his partner, Ellison noted the obvious injuries. Mentally tallying the damage; goose egg forming high on his forehead, off to the right; painful looking abrasion on his right cheek, possibly from gravel, judging by the small debris still embedded in the skin; upper lip cut and swollen; splint on his left arm from the elbow to the wrist.

"Blair? Open your eyes for me," Jim encouraged softly.

"Jim? Oh god, man. Are you all right? Did we crash? Get them to untie me, okay?" Blair's questions were delivered in rapid-fire sequence as he struggled to move his head against the tape that secured him to the backboard.

Laying both his hands on the young man's shoulders, Jim leaned over so Blair could easily see him.

"Calm down, Sandburg. I'm fine. You're in the hospital. You need to relax and let the doctor examine you. I promise, as soon as it's okay, we'll release you. But you've got to settle down." He hated using his drill sergeant tone, but the results were favourable as the patient stopped straining against the straps.

"Thank you, Detective. Mr. Sandburg, do you know this man's name?" She pointed to the cop.

"Jim Ellison."

"Good, can you give me your address?"

"852 Prospect Street, Cascade, Washington."

"Very good." She took the pen light from her pocket. "I want you to follow the tip of this with your eyes, keep your head still"

"Like I have a choice here," Blair grumbled, but obeyed.

"Can you tell me what day of the week it is?"

"Um..Sat..no...Thur...no, Jim! Shit! Jim?" He ignored the doctor and began to struggle again.

Ellison was back in his vision in an instant. "It's okay. I'm right here."

"Jim! What happened? Did we have an accident?"

Jim and the doctor exchanged identical worried looks. She stepped back to confer quietly with a nurse as Jim repeated the same reassurances. Even though mild head injuries often displayed memory loss, it was still possible that a more serious concussion was possible. Blair seemed to calm down again with Jim's information. Jim watched closely as Peterson completed a neurological assessment.

"Are you on any medication?" she asked, checking his reflexes. "Anything that thins your blood?"

"Huh?"

"He's not on any medication," Jim offered. "He doesn't even take aspirin for a headache."

"Allergies?"

"None."

"Jim, did we have an accident?"

It was going to be a long night.

Simon Banks was surprised to see Jim absent from the waiting room. He was positive the man would have arrived before he did, hopefully without incident.

"Excuse me, I'm here to check on Blair Sandburg?"

Looking slightly bemused, the nurse pointed down the hallway in time for Simon to see an orderly exiting a side room while pushing a hospital bed. Ellison walked next to the bed, talking to the patient, Sandburg no doubt.

"Jim."

Looking up for a second, he raised a hand to greet his boss. Nearing the bed, Banks observed Blair's visible injuries. He was awake, but he didn't seem very cognizant to his surroundings.

"We're on our way to have acat scan," Jim informed Simon.

Simon walked alongside the bed. Listening as the roommates talked quietly together, he was puzzled when Blair repeatedly asked Jim what had happened.

"You've been assaulted, while you were in Rainier's parking lot. You're in Cascade General. We're going down to radiology right now to get a picture taken of your head."

"Assaulted? Somebody beat me up?"

"Apparently. What do you remember last?"

"Waking up in my office this morning..."

Banks watched Jim reach down and pat a sheet covered shoulder.

"Just relax, partner. You'll remember."

The policy was strict with the CT personnel, no one allowed in but the patient. Jim argued that Blair would become upset if he didn't go in with him. It did not seem to impress the technician.

Sitting side by side in the waiting room, both men ignored the TV that hung from the ceiling in the far corner.

"Why is he asking the same questions over and over?"

"Concussion. Hopefully not too bad, but it's serious enough to affect his short-term memory. He doesn't remember the attack." Ellison picked up a magazine on from the side table, read the cover and tossed it back.

"Who would beat him up? How bad are his injuries?" Simon knew that Ellison was not working on any single case at the moment that would make them believe this was related. Was Sandburg's attack just a random act?

Kneading the muscles in the back of his neck with his right hand, Jim closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "He's helping a student in a domestic violence situation right now. He served an order on the boyfriend yesterday. I bet the clown decided to give a little payback. The nurse found a clear heel print on Sandburg's left shirt sleeve. The bastard fractured his arm by stomping on it. I had them save the shirt."

"Damn! We need a witness if Sandburg can't remember the attack."

"I agree. The student, the girlfriend of this guy, is already changing her mind. He must have convinced her to come back to him after Blair served the papers."

"If I had a dollar for each time...." Banks muttered wearily.

The two men waited another half -hour and Jim explained the situation as he knew it. Simon left to call the station before the rest of Major Crimes left. When he returned, Jim was watching the door leading to the CT room with a concentrated stillness.

"Sandburg is getting confused again, but they're telling him that we're here waiting. He's staying fairly cooperative for them," Jim reported.

Finally, the scans were complete and they made the trek back to the emergency room doctor. Simon listened again as Blair asked what had happened and Jim explained as if it were the first time.

The small room was crowded as the two cops and the hospital staff watched the doctor study the latest information from the scan. She pulled her lower lip, glancing between the reports and the x-rays.

"Okay, I'm thinking grade three concussion. We're going to watch him for another six hours. He'll need a cast on his closed fracture." She pointed with a pencil to the x-ray on the wall. "No internal injures except for contusions that will fade on their own in time. My main concern is the head, but the CT looks good."

"What about PCS?" Ellison asked quietly. Simon noted that Blair was resting again; the doctor had removed the collar from his neck and allowed the straps to come off.

She looked up at the detective with a smile. "Medical background, huh?"

"Army medic."

"Okay then, we can't rule out post concussion syndrome all together, but the next few hours will be telling. I believe it's about a 30 percent chance he could have problems with persistent symptoms." She turned off the light behind the arm x-ray and gave instructions to prepare to cast the arm.

With 2 hour intervals, Blair waited out the doctor's time line. Jim watched each diagnostic exam and was impressed with the doctor's skill. His roommate did not waken easily, but she managed each time to evaluate his condition and let him go back to sleep.

Simon had left, saying he wanted to take a look at the location Sandburg had been found. He would call Jim later that night.

When Blair was finally told he could go home , Jim was more than ready. The coffee was bad enough to make him consider switching to the foul tea that his roommate consumed. Ellison locked the seatbelt around Blair, tucking the strap under his cast, which hung in a sling.

"That okay?"

"Yeah," Blair nodded, his eyelids heavy from pain medication. The doctor had given him something to take the bite out of the fracture but not mess up the ability for Jim to continue to evaluate him through the night. At least Blair was starting to remember enough to stop asking the same question over and over. He did not, however, remember the attack.

The sun had set hours ago. Jim switched on the headlights as he backed out of the parking stall.

"Jim?"

`Oh, please don't ask if you were in an accident!' "Yeah?"

"I remember ... Justina came to see me today. She said Kurt had called her..."

"I know, you called to tell me that this afternoon," Jim replied with some relief.

"You think Kurt did this?"

"Do you remember seeing him?"

"No, I can't remember anything," Blair admitted.

"It's okay. Just relax."

"But, Jim. If he's capable of this, man. What's he gonna do to Justina?"

"Simon sent Henri and Rafe out to interview Kenyon. If the order is still good, and they're together, then we can arrest him."

"She said she was going to call the court and get it dropped."

Jim stopped for a red light, reaching with his right arm to hold Blair back in his seat. "It doesn't work like that, Chief. She would have to appear in court to get it dropped."

Banks called the loft later that night. Jim had fixed them a simple dinner of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Blair had finished the soup with obvious pleasure, but half way through the sandwich he begged off, saying he was full. Sandburg's lip was puffy and painful looking, his scraped face red and scabby. He walked with unsteady steps to the bathroom and then went to bed.

"We got him, Jim. The temporary order was still on the system. She was unable to get it dropped. Henri said they were together. The prosecutor will file a misdemeanor for violation of the order and look into possible assault charges, if Sandburg can remember."

Clearing the table as he listened, Jim glanced towards his roommate's doorway. The light was off.

"He may never remember, Simon," the cop said, filling the sink with hot soapy water. "Any luck with a witness at the school?"

"No, I read the uniform's report. I suppose we can't rule out the chance of someone coming forward later, but it's not likely. How's the kid?"

"Sleeping." Jim washed the soup bowls. "When is Kenyon being arraigned?"

"Booking should be finished in time for the afternoon docket."

"I'll be there. I want to meet this guy."

"Jim..."

"I know, sir. I just want to see him. Maybe speak with the prosecutor."

The courtroom was half the normal size one would expect. The back wall was covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases. The judge's bench sat to the left while the bailiff's area was lower but took up most of the space to the right. One large table was positioned in the center for the attorneys to use. Only three rows of pews lined the back for spectators. To the right of the public entrance sat a small desk for the public defender. A security grade steel door behind it allowed prisoners from the jail next door to enter via underground tunnels.

Blair wanted to be present also. Jim knew he could have simply left him behind, as slow as the kid was moving that morning, but he secretly hoped that having the wounded man in the audience would influence the judge.

"Blair?"

Jim turned to see a young woman in jeans and a sweatshirt sitting in the corner.

"Justina!" Blair went to sit next to her on the hard wooden bench. Ellison followed reluctantly.

"Blair, they arrested Kurt last night! I tried to tell them that it was okay, but they wouldn't listen." She had been crying, her pretty face was red and blotchy.

Blair introduced his roommate to the distraught college student. She noticed his cast and facial injuries.

"What happened to you?"

"Mr. Sandburg was assaulted yesterday at the university," Jim explained. "Do you know where Kurt was about four yesterday afternoon?"

She stared blankly at the cop, as if she could not quite connect the two statements. "We met at the restaurant just before six. Then went back to his place afterwards..." Realization seemed to hit as she physically recoiled from the men. "You're not saying that Kurt did this!" she exclaimed pointing at her teacher with a shaky hand.

"Jim. Man, don't start.."

"All rise! The Cascade District court is now in session. The Honorable Robert B Hanson now presiding."

Jim watched Hanson enter from the back, then the court hearing began preventing any further conversation. Justina stood and walked away to sit on the front row, as far from the two men as possible.

"Aw, man," Blair muttered softly.

Taking a second to reassure his friend with a pat to his knee, Jim gave his attention to the prisoner that was being led into the courtroom. "That him, Chief?"

"Umm, I think so.."

The public defender, a dark skinned man with a slight build and a friendly face had a quick conference with the defendant at the small desk. A short Asian female prosecutor waited patiently in front of the judge's bench chatting about the Mariner's game the previous night. Jim has spoke to her by phone before lunch and advised her of his suspicions about his friend's assault. She had been interested, but stated she could do nothing as long as Blair continued to have no memory of the attack.

The defendant and his attorney stood and joined the prosecutor as the arraignment began. Ellison watched the judge read and find probable cause, then explain the man's rights. The defense attorney spoke for Kurt, advising that the accused understood his rights and entered a plea of not guilty.

"Jim! You said Henri found them together!" Blair hissed under his breath. "How can he deny it?"

Jim raised a hand to still the questions. He wanted to hear this.

The attorneys were now discussing bail. The defense attorney wanted a release, stating the defendant did not have any recent prior charges, only an old obstruction charge from seven years ago. The prosecutor wanted bail, advising the defendant was being investigated for a serious assault on the person who served the temporary order.

"Your Honor, this goes to the violent nature of the defendant. The underlying order that Mr. Kenyon is accused of violating had been served less than 24 hours before the assault took place and the order was violated."

All eyes in the courtroom turned to Blair, pinning him to the hard seat. He dropped his eyes and leaned slightly toward his companion. Jim had eyes only for Kenyon, who was looking with open hostility at his roommate.

"We object, your Honor, there is nothing in the probable cause statement about an assault. The court should not use unsubstantiated claims to hold my client. Mr. Kenyon has lived in this area all his life and has a steady job."

Ellison heard Blair breathe a sigh of relief as the people in the courtroom turned to watch the judge again. Justina was talking to a short blonde woman.

"That's Jo," Blair whispered.

The judge asked if the advocate had anything to add to the matter of setting the bail. Jo and Justina approached the bench standing to the left of the prosecutor. As Jim expected, Justina asked the judge to release the defendant, advising she had no fears for her safety and was planning on asking that the civil order be dismissed anyway.

"Why is Jo helping her get it dismissed?" Blair asked in a low voice. He sounded frustrated and Jim could feel the tremors beginning in Sandburg's body. Blair was getting tired and their seat was unforgiving to his injuries.

"She has to represent the wishes of the victim," Ellison whispered.

The judge ended up releasing the defendant on a personal recognizance. He did however; grant the prosecutor's request for a criminal no contact order that was to remain in effect basically until the Judge recalled it.

This decision reduced the young girl to tears as the jail officers led Kurt back into the tunnels. She left with Jo, refusing to look at her teacher or the detective. As the next case was called, Jim helped Blair to his feet and they exited the courtroom.

"Okay. I totally do not understand women anymore, Jim," Blair informed as he walked beside him. "She must know her boyfriend is dangerous. And she still wants to be with him!"

"Sandburg, in the United States alone, every seven seconds an act of domestic violence occurs." Ellison unlocked and opened the passenger door.

"My mom would have never put up with that stuff!"

Waiting to make sure the younger man could manage the seatbelt okay, Jim closed the door and climbed in. "No argument there, Chief. But a lot of women feel they have no other options. Or they just can't believe it could happen to them. As least until it's too late."

Jim pointed the Ford towards the university. He had tried to talk Sandburg out of going to school today, but he was not able to. Blair promised to make a short day of it, cutting his office hours out of the schedule. When the cop turned off the engine and released his seat belt, Sandburg looked at his friend in surprise.

"I can make it on my own, Jim."

"I know. But if you insist on going to work, I'm staying." He held up a black soft-sided case. "I brought some reports to work on."

"What! Now you have to baby-sit me?" Blair demanded.

Great, another verbal land mine to cross in the Sandburg Zone, Jim thought.

"No, but we know Kenyon has been pr'd. It's likely he knows where you work. So, it would be possible to assume.."

"Fine!"

The door slammed with more force than Ellison would have liked. He locked his truck and followed.

They made the 2:00 pm class with a few minutes to spare, that is before the students had reason to leave. Jim remembered a few classes he took where the instructor was late enough to justify giving up on having class. He took a seat in the back as Blair waved to a few sitting up front. He spoke to a young man sitting up front, then the man sprinted for the door.

"Okay, people. While Mr. Elliot gets my notes, I'll entertain you all by explaining why my arm is in this cast." Blair took the podium with ease of a man who was born into public speaking. He glossed over his assault, lightly brushing off any concerned comments. Then, as the notes arrived, he donned his glasses and began his lecture on the significance of cooking utensils used by the various tribes in South America.

Pulling out his case files and listening to the familiar voice, Jim began to study his own significance of the method of entry points on several commercial burglaries that Cascade seemed to be having.

The two roommates executed the duties of their occupations for over an hour when Ellison noticed a long silence from the podium. Looking up, he zoomed in to focus on Blair's face. He didn't look very healthy. Sandburg was swallowing frequently and breathing deeply through his nose, his skin looked a little pale.

"Okay, I'm going to let you go without anymore punishment for today. Remember to read the next 3 chapters. Read. Not `look at pictures and hope the teacher forgets to give the pop quiz', okay?" He picked up his notes and made a beeline for the exit.

Ellison started shoving the files into his case. He had spread them out over two of the desks in the back row while working. This delay caused him to miss the direction his friend had taken once he reached the hallway. Searching with his ears, Jim picked up the universal sound of lunch forcefully hitting porcelain.

"Sandburg?" He entered the men's bathroom as another bout of retching started. Dialing down his smell, Jim leaned down to look under the partitions. A familiar pair of knees was visible three stalls down.

Ellison prepared a handful of wet paper towels. Waiting for the sounds to end, he thrust his offering into the stall.

"Thanks man..."

"How bad is the nausea?"

"Bad. Head hurts." The sound of flushing filled the small tiled room. The door opened fully and Blair slowly headed for the sinks with an unsteady walk, tossing the used towels into the trash.

"How's your vision?'

"Kay." He leaned over the first sink and scooped a handful of water into his mouth, rinsed and spat it out. "Don't say it, man."

"Which line can't I say, Darwin. I told you so? Or, You need to go back to the hospital?"

"Both."

"Tough."

Dr. Peterson was just beginning her shift when Jim arrived with Blair in tow. She waved them past the admission desk with a look of concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Headache, scale of about an eight. Nausea," Jim reported.

"Vomiting?"

"Yes."

"Memory?"

"Remembered a little more of that day but not the attack."

"Seizures?"

"No."

"Unusual behavior?"

"For him? No." Jim helped Blair up on the exam table.

"Jim!" Blair covered his mouth with his right hand.

Ellison snatched up the plastic lined trashcan from the corner and held it out in time to watch the younger man heave. Dr. Peterson checked the contents of the can with interest. Afterwards she held a small cup of water out for Blair to rinse. A nurse took the can away to dispose of the mess.

Again Jim watched as a thorough exam was conducted on his roommate. Pupils checked, ocular movement, motor functions, sensory and reflex examination.

"What did you do today, Mr. Sandburg?"

"Blair."

"Okay, Blair. Did you rest today?"

Jim enjoyed the flash of guilt that flickered across Sandburg's face.

"Ah. Kind of. I planned on cutting my day short, but I got sick..."

"I'm going to order another cat scan," the doctor explained. "Then you and I are going to have a little talk about doctor's orders."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Damn it!"

"Exactly, sir," Jim agreed after informing Simon that Blair was back at Cascade General having another cat scan. He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee he had foolishly purchased. It didn't taste any better than it had yesterday, but he couldn't find anything else for his hands to do while he waited.

"You want some company?"

"Appreciate the offer, but the tech is almost done. With luck we should be out of here soon. Sandburg is looking at some forced down time." He chuckled. "You might want to watch this doc in action, Simon. She's got Blair thinking twice before disobeying her orders again."

"Really? Think she could show me how? With me, Sandburg forgets them as soon as he clears the bullpen."

"I tried taking notes, but I think it's a woman thing." Normally Jim was not for small talk on the phone, but hell, it beat drinking the coffee. "Maybe if Rhonda explained it to us, we...."

"Jim?"

Ellison pushed off the wall, he had been absentmindedly listening to the conversation between the cat scan tech and Blair. A trick he never would have attempted before, but Sandburg's practice drills had given him the ability to do so without thinking.

But it wasn't that conversation that had caught his attention, another drama was playing out back towards the E.R.

"..don't give a shit what you need! Just fix her up!"

He knew that voice.

"Simon, send some back up. I think Kenyon is here. From the sounds of it, he brought in Justina!"

"I'm on it."

Jim tossed the handset towards the phone, not looking to see if it landed correctly and took off down the hallway at a run. Checking the concave shaped mirror at the corner for foot traffic, he focused on Kenyon leaning over the counter intimidating the triage nurse. His girlfriend sat in a nearby chair doubled over and holding her abdomen with both arms.

As Ellison came into view, Kenyon recognized the danger of letting the cop near and turned to run.

"Cascade police! Don't move!" Watching the man shove the slow moving sliding door open, Ellison gave a feral grin. Oh, this was going to be so much fun!

Catching a peripheral view of a nurse bending over Justina to check on her condition, Ellison bolted through the waiting room and out onto the ambulance staging area. Jim brought the escaping man down in a rolling tackle, enjoying every grunt of pain the other gave. Kenyon started to resist but terminated the action when a hard forearm caught his neck, pushing his chin up and exposing his neck.

"What part of `don't move' had you confused, ass hole?" the cop hissed out. Then in a loud voice for the hospital personnel and bystanders, he recited the Miranda warnings. A marked police car braked to a stop as Ellison finished cuffing his prisoner.

"Start with violation of a no contact order and obstruction," Ellison reported to the first officer that reached out to take the cuffed man. "He brought his girlfriend in to ER. I need to check her condition and get her statement. I think we're going to be adding at least one count of assault and if we're lucky a second."

Simon Banks parked his car in the lot for E.R. visitors for the second time in twenty-four hours. He waved a cigar at the two uniform officers talking with a woman in a white nurse's uniform. A male was sitting in the back seat of their patrol car parked nearby.

"Sir!" The younger female officer straightened her spine as her superior approached.

Simon nodded. "What have you got, officer?"

"Detective Ellison on-viewed this guy with his girlfriend. We confirmed a valid NCO with dispatch. The guy tried to elude," she let a cute grin escape, "but Ellison did a nice flying tackle that would have made the NFL proud!" She jerked a thumb towards the patrol car. "He's cooling his heels. Ellison is checking on the girlfriend."

Banks nodded and left to locate his `star defensive end' detective. It appeared another young female officer was smitten by the blessed protector of the city.

Ellison was walking towards the entrance when Simon entered the waiting area.

"Jim, how's the girl?"

"Bad, internal injuries. Belly's tight as a drum." Jim ran a hand through his short hair. "They've rushed her up to surgery."

"She say anything?"

"Yeah, he showed up and the fight started when she asked about Sandburg's assault."

Simon moved to intercept his friend from walking towards the door. "No, let the uniforms take him in. You look wound a little tight right now." Preparing for an argument, Simon was pleased when the ex-ranger unhappily obeyed.

"How's Blair?"

"He's back with Peterson." Jim tilted his head slightly. "He'll be out in a second."

True to his word, Simon watched a subdued Sandburg follow the short woman into the waiting area.

"Okay, here's the instruction sheet, Jim." Simon resisted the urge to ask if Ellison had purchased a new puppy. But, the kid did look a little green, besides, it wasn't much fun to bait Sandburg when he was sick.

"This time, he'll follow it letter by letter, I promise," Jim vowed. He introduced Simon to the doctor.

"I remember seeing you yesterday. I understand we've had a little excitement while I was busy. An arrest was made?"

"Jim?" Blair looked at his friend with concern.

Simon watched as Ellison struggled for an explanation. He sympathized with the man. Telling the younger man about Justina was not going to be a fun task.

"Doctor, is there a quiet place we could use for a moment?" Banks asked.

Jim tossed an appreciative look at his supervisor.

She led them to a smaller waiting room, Simon noted that she invited herself to stay and listen to the explanation.

"Chief, Justina is here at the hospital, they took her up to surgery while you were with Dr. Peterson."

"WHAT?" Jim took Blair's right elbow when Sandburg swayed. Dr. Peterson moved quickly to his side and urged him to sit in a nearby chair.

Yep, Simon thought, not fun at all.

"Why, man. What happened?"

Jim took a chair next to his roommate. He quickly explained what had occurred. Blair listened with no further interruptions. The room became quiet when Ellison finished.

"What's the point?" Blair softly muttered.

"Point of what?" Ellison asked.

Waving one good arm above his head, Blair ranted, "All these stupid orders! The courts issue them, they don't mean a thing!"

Simon reached out and hooked a sturdy chair with his foot. Dragging it to the other side of the distraught man, he sat and looked Blair in the eyes, commanding his attention.

"Sandburg, when I started working as a cop, a woman called the police. We arrived to have her tell us that her husband had beaten her. Hell! We could see the bruises. But my FTO asked what she had done to upset him. I was just a rookie in training and we were told back then to do what the field training officer told us to do. Which, in this case was not a damn thing. Now I know that it looks like the system isn't working, but it is better."

Dr. Peterson reached down and patted Simon's shoulder. "It's true. I've seen a change in even the hospital policy during my career. We are required by law to report any case of domestic violence we suspect. In the old days, the doctors would never think to report abuse to the police, it was just accepted."

Blair sighed sadly. "Yeah, but it still doesn't seem to protect a woman that refuses to see the danger."

Simon remained silent. He could not disagree with that!

"How about a coat hanger?"

"Only have the plastic kind."

"Chop sticks?"

"I looked, nope."

"Knitting needle?"

"Riiiight, Darwin! Look! Here's one in my knitting bag!"

"Hey, man! This itching is driving me nuts!"

"No, you're driving me nuts! You arrived years ago."

Sandburg shot his roommate a dirty look, which harmlessly bounced off the broad back and rolled away somewhere towards the bookcase. Blair had remained true to his promise, and had been resting for the last two days. The nausea did not return. Headaches were mild and only occurred when he attempted to work on his computer. Jim had promised to return that sometime later this week, if he continued to remain symptom free.

Justina had pulled through surgery, although if she'd been much later in getting to the operating room, she would have died from a lacerated liver. Mr. Kenyon seemed to favor using his booted feet as his method of delivery. She gave a full report to the police when she woke. Jo was with her during the deposition.

Blair was amused and terrified to learn Simon was going to the Mariner game this weekend with Dr. Peterson. She had season tickets. Visions of the four of them drinking beer and watching the game at the loft had been verbalized in great detail by Ellison.

"Jim."

"What?"

Blair wasn't sure what was happening, one moment he was searching his mind for a tool to use to reach the constant itch and suddenly he mentally opened a door he didn't know was there.

"What is it, Sandburg?" Ellison had suddenly appeared by his side, with stir-fry still clinging to a bamboo spoon clutched in one hand.

"I remember!" He looked up from his seat on the sofa. "I was walking to my car and someone ran up from behind. Only, before I could turn, I got shoved into a ... car?...van?"

"The report said you were found by a delivery truck," Ellison quietly supplied, sitting down next to his friend.

"Okay, makes sense." Blair turned a sad face to the cop. "I never saw his face, man. I can't say for sure it was Kurt."

Ellison sighed. He gave a weak smile, "It's okay, Sandburg. I'll talk to the D.A. We have some circumstantial evidence to work with. Maybe they can use your assault to get him to plea to the other charges. No reason for the defense to know right away that your memory is back."

Blair gave him a shocked look. "What! Is that legal?"

Jim laughed, standing to return to their dinner before it burned.

The End

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