Part Two

Jim could hear the waitress climbing the stairs, probably to bring the bill. He eyed the half-empty bowl of soup with a scowl. Blair had to be coaxed, threatened and pleaded with, just to get him to eat what he did. Jim hated to acknowledge the inevitable.

Blair was sick.

The four days of being slowly starved, dehydrated and exposed to the temperatures followed by their escape had wiped out his resistance. He watched as Blair reached out to scoot the space heater closer. This time, Jim left it. They had been quietly fighting all through dinner over its position. Jim was sure that Blair was trying to climb into the damn thing.

Well, no matter. Dinner was over and they were getting back on the road. Unfortunately, the rain did not show signs of letting up. He watched the waitress approach with a small slip of paper.

"Anythin' else? We got hot apple crisp tonight." She laid the bill on the table and started collecting the dishes.

"No, thanks anyway." Jim stood and set a twenty down on the table. "Keep the change, thanks again for the heater."

"Sure!" She slipped the bill into her apron pocket. "Y'all on vacation?"

"Kind of. Can you tell us where the nearest motel is? I think we're going to have to wait this storm out."

"Used to be one in Applewood, but it burned down last year. Been talk of buildin' a nice Holiday Inn at Four Corners." She sighed and shook her head. "Y'all probably have ta' go all the way to Lubbock or Forth Worth, pendin' on your direction."

Jim nodded. "Okay, thanks again, the ribs were good."

Within thirty minutes of riding, Jim felt the familiar pressure of Blair asleep on his back. It was dark, the rain hitting the blacktop at a steady rate. Back in the restaurant, he'd been able to pick up a radio playing in the kitchen. The news was warning people of flashfloods in the area. The night promised to be another long ride judging from the waitress' report regarding the nearest motel. It wouldn't be a problem if Blair weren't sick.

He decided to avoid both of the major cities the waitress had suggested, just in case Blair's kidnappers were able to track them this far. He made a slow, wide turn at the intersection called `Four Corners' careful not to cause Blair to tilt. Maybe if he crossed over into Oklahoma they could find a decent place for the night.

Soon they were riding through the dark rolling plains of scrubland, leaving the green fields of grain behind. Jim could see the normally dry washes filling with runoff from the storm. The headlights of an approaching truck caused Jim to dial down his vision. The truck slowed and without warning, turned in front of them.

Jim squeezed both brakes for the front and rear tires, aware that the wet road would cause them to hydroplane out of control if he wasn't careful. At the same time, he knew Blair was at risk of falling if he did any extreme maneuvering. He could see the land next to the road was relatively flat. Leaving the asphalt behind, Jim missed the truck by inches and let the trajectory of the bike take them out through the low sagebrush.

"Jimmm!" Blair yelled from behind as he felt Blair's arms wrap tightly around his chest.

Good, at least he wasn't going to fall off the bike now.

Jim began to believe they were going to be all right, when the front tire hit a large rock. The rubber split as the tire blew out. Before Jim could stop it, the bike was sideways and they were leaning over, the ground rushing by under their left shoulders as the bike continued to travel on its side, tires first, over the wet ground.

"Hold on!"

He was answered with a bear hug that left him breathless. After several long seconds that seemed like days, the friction started to build and the forward momentum of the bike and riders slowed. Until they came to rest, the bike pinning both men's left leg into the mud.

Jim started pushing frantically to free himself. He scooted out from under the bike on his butt. "Sandburg! You okay?"

Blair nodded as he pushed himself off the muddy ground with both hands. Jim lifted the bike up by the handlebars, holding it off Blair's leg until he could roll free, then let it fall back.

"What happened, man?" Blair sat up, pulling off his filthy, wet mittens and removing his helmet.

Jim lifted his own helmet off and glanced back at the road. "A truck turned in front of me." He looked back at Blair. "You sure you're okay? Did the exhaust pipe burn you?" Jim asked.

"I'm fine." Blair struggled to stand, but his right leg folded each time he attempted to put any weight on it.

Jim lifted him up with a firm grip on his arm. "You're not fine, Sandburg. Is your bullet wound hurting again?"

"Y'all okay?" a weak voice called out from the road. Jim could see through the darkness that the driver of the truck was an elderly woman. She stood on the shoulder of the road looking in their direction, but not able to see either man clearly.

"We're going to need some help here," Jim shouted back at her. He draped Blair's right arm around his shoulder and started back towards the road, pulling Blair along.

"Jim, what are you doing, man?" Blair hissed, either from anger or pain, Jim wasn't sure.

"You're done for the night, Chief, so's the bike. The least the woman can do is take us somewhere warm and dry."

As they neared the road, the driver of the truck spotted them. "I'm a damn fool!" She looked about sixty to sixty-five years old. Her shoulders were starting to stoop from age, but she could still set a mean pace as she walked towards them, her face set in an angry frown. She arrived to take Blair's other arm and help guide him over the terrain.

"Get him in the cab, we can see about your bike afterwards," she ordered to Jim.

Jim nodded. "Didn't you see my headlights?"

If she noticed the angry way Jim asked the question, she didn't show it. "'Course I did, young man. I just can't tell how close y'all are. I don't drive at night much anymore, damn storm made me late."

They reached the truck, still sitting sideways in the road, its motor running. Jim opened the passenger door and lifted Blair with one hand under his leg and the other around his back. Blair used his hands to help pull himself in. Soon he was sitting in the bench seat. Jim adjusted a heat vent to blow warm air towards him.

"Aaah. Thanks, man."

"Stay here and warm up, I'm going to get our stuff from the bike."

Blair nodded, his eyes already closed and his head back against the seat. Jim turned to face the woman.

"Helen Tidwell." She thrust out her hand.

"McDonald." Jim shook it.

"Got some long two by sixes, we can get your motorbike into the back and I'll drive y'all to the hospital in Lubbock.

Jim rubbed his forehead. He liked the idea of bringing the bike along, but he did not want Blair go through the paperwork of an E.R. visit.

"He doesn't need a hospital, he hurt his leg a while ago, this just aggravated it some. We were on our way to find a place to sleep for the night. He's sick."

"What the hell are you doing draggin' him around in the rain for?" Helen asked.

"He just started showing the symptoms today," Jim answered, a little exasperated with the old woman.

"Shoot. I caused this, you both can stay at my place `til he's well."

Jim was looking for a ride to the nearest motel, not an invitation to stay at the woman's home. "You don't even know us," he protested.

She snorted. "I know I ran ya off the road. Now, if you're done gettin' me soaked to the skin, let's get that scooter of yours and get out of this gully washer."

Soon they were driving cross-country, having left the paved road behind. Jim hugged Blair close to his side as Helen navigated another detour in the dirt road. The numerous potholes had filled with water from the rainfall. Helen obviously knew the route, but Jim thought she was driving way too fast for the current road conditions.

"Would you just slow down, please?" Jim braced himself with both feet and tightened his grip on Blair who was sitting next to him. How in hell was Blair able to sleep through this?

"Relax, you're worse than a two-day old colt. If we don't keep movin' in this muck, we'll get stuck." She wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right.

Jim released his right hand from Blair's arm and latched on to the door, leaving just his left arm around Blair's shoulders to keep him from sliding into the driver. That's all they needed right now. He was less then pleased when he realized there were no functioning seatbelts in the cab. Blair had fallen into a deep sleep as soon as he stopped shivering. Jim could feel the fever in his friend's body. At first, Jim had tried keeping him awake, but soon gave it up. It was tiring him out and irritating the hell out of Blair.

A small distant light in the rolling scrubland came into view. Jim zoomed through the darkness and saw a single-story house built with a sloping flat roof supported on whole timber round beams. The walls were constructed out of adobe-like material. Jim released a thankful sigh as he repositioned Blair's lolling head back on his shoulder.

Helen brought the truck to rest in an area between the house and a barn apparently reserved for parking. Past the barn was a short row of pens, housing wet goats that bleated out a welcome. Jim could hear the sound of water flowing in the darkness. They must be near a river.

"I'll help you with him."

"Go ahead. I can manage."

"Suit ya'self." She disappeared into the rain.

"Come on, Sandburg. Give me a break here." He lightly slapped Blair's feverish cheek. "Open your eyes."

"Ummm..."

"I'm not carrying you, Chief."

"Jim...?"

"Yeah. There's a warm bed waiting for you, but you've got to walk to it, understand?"

Blair opened his eyes and looked around. "'Kay."

Jim supported Blair as they started to make a break for the low porch. The muddy ground was treacherous, forcing Jim to slow their pace and once again become drenched. Reaching the safety of the front porch, Helen stood ready with two dry towels.

"Just leave your boots n' wet things out here. I'll get a blanket."

Jim tossed a towel over Blair's wet curls and started briskly rubbing. Blair's balance began to deteriorate under the onslaught.

"There's a chair behind you." Jim guided him safely into a bent willow rocker. After he was satisfied the hair was as dry as he could manage, he started to unlace Blair's boots.

"Where are we, man?" Blair asked, becoming more alert as he used the towel to dry his face.

"The woman that ran us off the road is letting us stay with her tonight," Jim replied. "Take off your coat."

"It's too cold."

"I'll wrap you in a blanket. Your clothes are soaked."

"Oh." He blinked slowly. "I hate Texas, man."

"Don't tell that to a Texan, Chief." Jim finished with one boot and started on the other.

"It's `posed to be hot. Somebody lied," Blair whined as he started to fumble with the zipper.

"Quiet, here she comes."

Helen reappeared with a large blanket. Blair was fighting to remove his coat. His arm was stuck somewhere in the fabric. Helen set the blankets on a low side table constructed out of small twigs, and pulled on the offending sleeve then helped Blair with his other arm. "You're burnin' up, child." She laid a hand on Blair's forehead.

The dark sky exploded with light as a large bolt of lightening flashed a few miles to the west. Before Jim had a chance to react, a boom of thunder followed close behind. Falling to his knees onto the hard packed dirt in front of Blair, Jim clapped both hands over his ears.

"Your dials, man!" Blair slid out of his seat and leaned close to whisper, his own hands on top of Jim's. "Turn them down. Eight, seven, six...until you see two and hold it."

Jim's face relaxed from the pain induced grimace. "I'm good." He patted Blair's arm.

"You okay?" Helen asked, wrapping the blanket around Blair's body and giving Jim a worried look.

Jim nodded, pulling Blair up to stand with him. "Yeah, I have sensitive ears."

"Well, I tell you what, you'd be on your knees a lot this time of year. This toad choker is pretty common in May. We'll be lucky if the river stays inside its banks."

Between Jim and Helen, they managed to get Blair into the house. She led them through a small living room and down a short hallway towards a back bedroom.

"My kids are grown, this is a guest room now." She flipped on a light to reveal two twin beds and a small student desk. A low bookcase stood under the window. Jim noted the window casing was thick, the adobe walls were authentic. He guessed this place must be an original homestead.

"This is fine, thanks."

"Get him into bed `n I'll fix some tea." She closed the door, giving the men some privacy.

After Jim got Blair out of his wet clothes and into the bed, he examined the red healing bullet hole on Blair's light thigh. It was still healing fine and didn't look infected. He draped the extra blanket on top of his friend. Blair was shaking hard from his head to his feet, even though Jim could feel the heat coming from his body.

"Jim, we can't stay, man." Blair mumbled with his eyes closed.

"We're okay, Chief," Jim said, patting his shoulder. "Try and relax. I'm going to get something for your fever. I'll be right back."

Jim ran to the truck. Climbing into the bed, he stepped around the rope he'd used to secure it from falling over and retrieved the backpack. Blair needed that fever brought down. All Jim had was the Advil but it would help. He jogged back to the porch and toed off his boots again. The rain was still falling. Jim noticed each corner of the house had a large rain barrel that caught the precious water for future use. At home in Cascade, the population would laugh at such a plan.

Jim entered their temporary bedroom to find Helen bending over Blair. A bottle of green medicine sat on the desk.

"He's gettin' a mite agitated. I brought some medicine."

Jim nodded, hoping Blair hadn't been blurting out their life story while he was outside. He should have taken the time to listen. "Thanks."

She pointed to a wash bowl sitting in the straight back wooden chair. "The water's hot. If he wants to clean up. I'll bring in the tea when it's done." She left the room.

Jim eyed Blair on the bed. His face was covered in mud from their unexpected trip off-road. He lay on his side, back to the wall with his eyes closed. The shivering was not so bad right now as he was cocooned under several wool blankets.

"Okay, partner. Wake up for me." Jim shook a shoulder and reached for the nighttime cold medicine.

Blair was not easily woken. He'd found a warm spot, apparently and was not too interested in giving it up. Jim sat on the edge of the bed and coaxed him into a sitting position. Preparing the medicine, he got Blair to swallow an adult dose of green syrup. He smiled briefly at the face Blair made as it slid down his throat.

"Real tasty, huh, Chief?" Jim said, easing the sick man back down. Taking the washcloth, Jim dipped it into the warm water. Blair's eyes fluttered open as Jim began to carefully run the cloth over his face.

"Jim..."

"Still here."

"Wha'..."

"Relax. I'm just cleaning you up before you sleep."

"Oh." Blair closed his eyes again and sighed.

After the job was finished and the water in the basin was brown from the effort, Jim removed one of the wool blankets and drew the others up to Blair's chin. He didn't want to make the fever worse. Blair had fallen into a sound asleep half way through the `bath'. The removal of the mud from his face brought out the fading bruises. Jim noticed the dark circles under his friend's eyes that had nothing to do with the beating.

He leaned back and scrubbed his face. His watch told him it was only nine at night, but Jim felt like it was two in the morning. He let his gaze roam. Helen had said this was her children's room. Any evidence of them had long since been removed. The books in the case had titles relating to raising goats, gardening and a few farmers' almanacs. No husband or significant other had made an appearance when they arrived. She must be living out here alone. Jim shook his head at the foolishness of a woman bringing two strange men home to an empty house.

Helen chose that moment to return with two cups of tea. She eyed the man sleeping in bed and stopped.

"I reckon this won't be needed."

Jim stood and reached out to accept a cup. "He's probably going to sleep all night."

"Well, he looks like he needs it." She handed over a mug and raised the other to her lips, as she studied Blair's face. "What did that boy tangle with?"

"Can we talk somewhere else? I don't want to wake him."

"Let's sit in the kitchen."

Jim followed her out of the room, switching off the light before closing the door. Helen led him into her kitchen and pulled out a chair for Jim as she sat.

The kitchen was roomy, larger than the living room. A wide window without drapes allowed a view of the back garden. Neat rows of small plants were growing in the dark soil. Inside, the kitchen was comfortable with sturdy pots and pans hanging above a low wooden table that reminded Jim of something he'd seen in an antique store in Cascade. Large sloped pullout bins were under the pine tabletop. Jim remembered the storeowner calling it a `dough boy' and that it was used for making bread. The large bins were metal lined and kept the flour for the bread handy. He'd wanted to buy it, but waited. When he returned, it was gone.

"I hope you don't bring strangers home often, Mrs. Tidwell. It's not safe," Jim said as he sat at the table. He tried the tea. It was strong and heavily sweetened with honey.

"Call me Helen. I still look for Bill's mother when I hear Mrs. Tidwell." She leaned back in her chair and studied Jim with a serious expression.

"Okay Helen. I assume you live here alone, it's not safe for you to bring home strangers," Jim repeated.

"I'll tell you what, child, I ran y'all off the road, nearly killed you. Of course I'm gonna take you in. I wouldn't be a Texan if I did otherwise." She snorted into her tea.

Jim shook his head, a small smile playing on his face. He gave up. "Well, thanks. I hate to ask you, but is there a chance I could get a ride into the nearest town tomorrow to get that tire repaired?"

Helen nodded. "Cooper Flats is about an hour away, there's a gas station. You just take the truck, I'm not up to another drive this week," she said, acting as if she loaned her truck out to strangers all the time. "I'll watch your friend. He needs to rest tomorrow."

"That would be great."

"I better have your names if you're gonna be stayin'," she said with a wicked grin. "I could call ya `handsome' and your friend `cutie-pie' but I doubt it's proper."

Jim ducked his head to hide the blush he felt creeping up his neck.

Oh, boy. Maybe he should be more worried about their own safety.

Later that night, Jim woke from a sound sleep. The small bed was comfortable, even if his feet did hang off the end a little when he stretched out. Normally he woke from sleep as sharp as a tack and knowing what woke him. It was disconcerting to lie in bed and wonder what brought him out of his slumber.

Blair was softly snoring on his bed. He could hear Helen sawing some serious lumber in her room. Somehow Jim was not at all surprised to learn she snored. It fit her.

Then he realized what had woken him. The rain had stopped, deciding to give the earth a chance to recover from its onslaught. He rolled out of bed and padded silently in his boxers to Blair's side, placing a hand lightly on his cheek.

The storm wasn't the only thing that had broken. Blair's skin felt normal to his touch. Jim breathed a sigh of relief. He let himself feel some hope that things were going to work out okay. Blair was better, now all he needed to do was get the bike repaired and they'd be on the road again.

Jim arranged Blair's blankets carefully, as he considered their situation. Was the road the best course of action? Perhaps staying on with this goat rancher was the perfect hideout for them. She made it clear last night, they'd be welcome to remain as long as Blair's condition needed. Could he milk her feeling of guilt for a sanctuary to the end of Naomi's seven day timetable? What was it now? Three days. Okay, then, maybe four more to go.

"Jim..."

Damn.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?" Blair was mumbling softly, obviously still asleep. "It's dark...Airplane?"

His kidnapping, Blair was dreaming about his abduction.

"You're safe, Sandburg. I'm with you, relax."

Blair huffed softly and rolled toward the wall.

Jim took a chance and lightly rubbed his back. Blair responded with a murmur and sigh, then relaxed back into a deep sleep. Walking over to gaze out the window towards the Texas landscape, Jim made his decision.

They'd stay.

"I'm going, man."

"Sandburg, you are `not' coming with me." Jim stood firm, blocking the doorway to their bedroom with his body. "I'll be gone four hours, tops. You're staying with Helen. Just remember, your name is Joe Sanderson and I'm your step-brother Robert MacDonald."

Blair studied his friend, shaking his head. He felt better, but weak after his shower. Helen had brought him some of the best oatmeal for breakfast that he'd ever tasted. His stomach liked it. He knew he should stay down, but he hated the thought of Jim leaving without him.

"I don't want to stay with Helen, I want to go with you!" Blair almost cringed as the words came out of his mouth. Great, Sandburg, you sound like a six year old! That will certainly convince Jim you're back to normal.

"If you're good for Helen, I'll bring you back a surprise." Jim's mouth curled upward as he teased.

Blair smacked him on the arm. "I'm serious, Jim. We need to stay together."

"Sandburg. You're still sick, what we don't need is for you to relapse. I'm going to get the tire repaired and come right back. We'll talk then, okay?"

Blair knew he'd lost the argument. Jim had that way of squaring off with his whole body and digging in for the long haul. He gave in. "Fine. I'll stay."

"Good. Remember, no phone calls...anywhere, for any reason. Use that cane Helen loaned you." Jim was removing some of the extra weight from his backpack as he talked. Extra energy bars and water bottles they'd bought in Memphis.

Blair sat with a bounce on his own bed and watched with a frown. "Right, house arrest."

Tossing a stern look over his shoulder, Jim resumed unloading<,> then turned and sat, facing his angry partner. "Look. I know I'm giving a lot of orders. But we're not out of the woods yet, we need to stay low and wait."

Blair looked up with interest. "For what? What's going to happen?"

Jim stood and shouldered the pack. "When I get back, we'll talk."

Blair threw himself backwards onto bed. "Riiight."

Blair watched from the yard as Jim drove away in the battered GMC truck, the motorcycle still tied down in the truck bed. Blair took a good look around. The land was once again dry. Any evidence of yesterday's rainstorm had long since disappeared. The spring growth of scrub grass cast a faint green across the landscape. The air smelled fresh with a hint of `goat' from the pens.

Helen walked across the dirt yard wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and carrying a bucket filled with milk. "You shouldn't be out of bed." She slapped Blair's hand away as he reached out to take the goat milk from her.

Blair slowly followed her into the house, leaning on the cane. He was wearing a pair of borrowed overalls she had given him when he woke. The legs had to be folded up three times before he could walk. Apparently her son was as tall as Jim. The morning was starting to warm up. As they entered the house, it was noticeably cooler, thanks to the thick earthen walls.

"You rest on the couch." She carried the bucket into the kitchen.

Blair followed. He did feel tired, but he could rest later. Right now he wanted the company. It took his mind off worrying about Jim. "How long have you lived out here?"

She set the milk on the doughboy and gave him a sour look. "You're not gonna to rest, are ya?"

Blair sat at the kitchen table, his face the picture of innocence. "Can't I rest from here?"

Helen rolled her eyes and chuckled. She opened a bin under the table and filled a blue bowl full of potatoes. Setting the bowl and a potato peeler in front of her guest, she instructed, "Here, tire yourself out doin' somethin' useful."

Blair started on the potatoes. She laid old newspaper out to catch the peeling. As he worked, she poured the milk into a pitcher through several layers of cheesecloth and stored it in the old refrigerator.

"My husband, Bill and I moved here in fifty-five. Buried him in eighty-three, after we raised two kids and a bunch of goats."

Blair stabbed at a dark spot on the potato he was peeling. "You never thought about moving? Don't you get lonely out here?"

"Heavens no, child. Got grandkids that stay most of the summer. Neighbors less than an hour's drive away. Church on Sundays `n Wednesdays. I get so tuckered out, look forward to spendin' time with the goats." She started removing canisters from a cupboard above her head.

Blair smiled. He tried to imagine his mom living out here, the closest neighbors an hour away. He couldn't picture it. As he worked, he studied his host. Helen was about his height. She worked in her kitchen with confidence, appearing to enjoy good health, in her early sixties. Her sun-bleached hair was cropped short, styled to frame her face in a functional manner. Her skin was weathered from many years living in the desert, but Blair had seen elderly people that had allowed their skin to become leathery from repeated exposure to the sun. Helen looked as if she was careful to protect herself. Her skin was still soft and attractive. Today she wore a long sleeve man's white dress shirt, worn soft with a multitude of washings, the arms were folded back from her thin wrists and the tails were tucked into heavy canvas jeans. Outside, she wore a pair of rubber boots for tending to the goats. When she entered her home, she left the boots outside the front door and changed over to a pair of leather slippers she kept in the living room.

"You like bakin' powder biscuits?"

Blair watched her remove the lid from a can of lard.

Oh, man, Jim was going to love eating here.

Jim parked the old truck in the same spot Helen had last night. The temperature in the cab was nearing ninety degrees. It was tolerable when he was moving with both windows rolled down, but unbearable at a stop.

He headed for the house. The windows were open and Jim could smell the aroma of bread. He opened the wooden screened door and entered the much cooler interior.

Blair was asleep on the old, overstuffed olive green couch. A light cotton blanket was draped over his still form, his head supported by a quilted throw pillow. Jim walked towards the kitchen, following the sounds of dishes being set out. A radio was on, playing soothing music.

"Ah, you're back, Robert. Did they fix the tire?" Helen was removing a large tray of golden biscuits from the oven.

"I had to order a new one. It might be a few days." Jim set his pack down and eyed the baked bread longingly.

"You just let me know how much and I'll pay you. I washed your clothes from yesterday. They're in your room. Now, wake Joseph, he's been sleeping for a couple hours. Both you boys wash up and we can eat."

The noonday meal was simple, biscuits with wildflower honey and butter, pan fried potatoes and sweet tea. Blair was finishing his first biscuit as Jim reached for this third. His plate already had a second helping of potatoes. He ignored the look Blair gave him as he reached for the plate of butter.

"When I was in town, the guy at the hardware store recognized your truck. He gave me your lumber and fencing order to bring back." Jim bit into the hot bread.

Helen handed Jim the honey. "Great. I've got some pesky goats that have been getting out."

"Tell you what." Jim set the bread down. "I'll work on your goat pens to pay for our room. We've got some money for food..."

She waved her fork in the air, shaking her head. "You're both welcome to stay. I'm the one that run you off the road in the first place. Now, I'd be a fool not to accept any work you want to do, but I won't be takin' your money."

Jim nodded. "Deal, then. You show me what needs to be done. I'll start today. The tire should arrive tomorrow or the next day, he said he'd call when it came in."

"I can help, too," Blair said, stabbing his last potato with his fork.

"You're still sick, young man."

"Absolutely not, Sand... Joseph."

Blair gave Jim a grin.

Jim's started to respond in length when he caught a familiar name on the kitchen radio.

"...Authorities are still investigating the early morning explosion at the Cascade Police Department. Reporters on the scene tell us a pipe bomb exploded on the seventh floor. One employee has been confirmed killed, two others injured..."

"Jim!" Blair blurted out.

Jim stood, his hand raised to stop any further comment.

"...Time no one has taken responsibilities for the bomb, the Chief of Police has announced a press conference for three p.m. today. In local news, the county fairgrounds are ..."

"We gotta..."

"Settle down," Jim said with a hand on Blair's shoulder. He looked at Helen. "We both have friends that work for Cascade P.D," he explained, giving Blair's shoulder a meaningful squeeze.

"Oh, my. You can use the phone to call and check on them if you'd like." Helen set her fork down and pushed her chair back from the table.

"No, we'll wait for the press conference. Let's just finish the meal." Jim gave Blair's shoulder a final squeeze before returning to his meal. Trying not to let the cold dread show, he forced himself to finish his lunch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blair's hand tremble as it picked up his glass.

Jim helped Helen clear the table. She refused their offers to help with the dishes. As soon as they stepped out of the kitchen, Jim turned to Blair with a finger to his lips and pointed towards the front door. Blair followed quietly until both men were standing in the shadow of the barn.

"Jim, someone was killed, man!" Blair exclaimed. He pulled his hair back from his face with both hands.

"I heard," Jim said. "We'll know more at three."

"We gotta call home."

"No, that's exactly what we shouldn't do," Jim said firmly, holding both hands up. "Any call can be traced back to us."

Blair gave Jim a puzzled look, shaking his head as if suddenly unable to follow Jim's meaning. "What are you talking..." His eyes widened in horror as he stepped back, nearly tripping over a coil of rope on the ground. He started shaking his head in a negative gesture.

"Blair, calm down."

"Nonononono..."

Blair eyes had a wild glint in them as he looked around the barnyard, as if see it for the first time and checking for possible escape routes.

"Sandburg, listen to me for a second," Jim said, trying to soothe his friend. "I'm not saying the bomb has anything to do with us. We just can't take any chances."

Blair gave a harsh laugh, his face contorted with self-hate. "I got away, man. They can't find me so they do something like this to make us call! Why else the seventh floor? Oh, God! Maybe Simon's dead! Or Joel..."

"That's enough!" Jim reached out and dragged Blair through the open barn door, out of sight from the house. Blair's voice had risen to a shout, Jim didn't want Helen to come investigate and see Blair in his present state.

"Let me go!" Blair had no choice but to follow the bigger man into the structure. Once they were near the back of the barn by some bails of hay, Jim turned him loose.

"Sandburg, you have to calm down. We can't change what's already happened! We're safe here, as long as we don't draw attention to ourselves." Jim took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice calm. Yelling at Blair was not going to get him anywhere. "The news will tell us more after the press conference. Until then, we just act as if we're worried about some people we know in Cascade, got it?"

Blair still looked upset, even sick, but he nodded. "But what if it is my fault? What if Simon's dead?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Putting his arm around Blair's shoulders, Jim urged him back towards the house. "Chief, even if Simon's gone, it was never your fault. You were kidnapped. You're the victim."

Helen looked up from putting the lunch dishes away. "Joseph okay? He looked a mite green."

"Yeah, he's lying down." Jim retrieved his pack from the floor. "When you're ready, you can show me the pens that need work."

Jim worked for an hour after Helen moved some of the goats from the pen with the broken down fencing. The posts had broken off at the ground and needed to be dug out and replaced before new fencing could be strung out. He kept one ear on Blair as he worked. Although he was lying down, Jim could tell he wasn't sleeping. Jim drove the pick into the hard ground, venting the anger he had for the unknown persons behind the attack on his fellow police officers.

Why hadn't he warned Simon of the possibility of them being attacked? Now it might be too late, damn it.

When the heat became too much for even Jim to ignore, he leaned on his pick and checked his watch. It was nearly three. Leaning the tool against the fence, he headed for the house. Blair was out of the room, sitting back at the kitchen table. His hair was combed and pulled back into a ponytail. His face freshly scrubbed and shaved.

Helen came in from the back yard. She placed her straw hat and gardening gloves on a low shelf by the back door. Without a word, she turned on the old box A.M. radio on the windowsill and took a large ceramic pitcher of water out of the fridge. She poured three glasses of water as the newscaster started with the national coverage. By the time they covered the Cascade story, the three listeners were seated at the table, sipping water.

The Cascade Police Chief started the news bite with an expression of outrage over the domestic act of cowardly terrorism. After exhausting his prepped supply of quotations for future political use, he revealed some information on the damages.

The bomb did go off in the area used by the Major Crimes Unit.

Jim tightened his hand around the glass of water.

A file clerk was dead. She had been standing near the bomb when it went off.

Blair groaned quietly as if in pain. Jim continued to stare as his water glass, his entire body still.

Two police detectives were injured and in surgery at Cascade General Hospital. One of the injured officers, a Captain, was listed in critical condition with second and third degree burns over twenty percent of his body.

Blair folded his arms on the table and dropped his head as if to hide his face. Jim could smell his tears.

The news ended the coverage of the live conference and added some general information on how to recognize pipe bombs and who to call locally if anyone were to see such a device.

"Honey, are you alright?" Helen moved to stand next to Blair and laid a gentle hand on his back. "Do you want to make that call now?"

Blair rocked his head side to side, keeping his face hidden.

Helen gave him a final pat and gave Jim a sad smile. She picked up her straw hat and slipped through the back door, leaving them alone with their grief.

Placing both elbows on the table, Jim leaned his forehead into the palm of both hands. He rubbed his brow hard with the heels of both hands and closed his eyes.

Simon? Joel? Which captain was burned?

The other injury must be H or Rafe.

"Jim..."

Jim flinched at the pain he heard in that voice. He lifted his head and turned to look at Blair, his face still hidden. He placed a hand on top of the brown curls.

"You're not responsible, Chief."

Jim looked up from setting the new fence post. Helen was approaching, her face troubled.

"What's wrong?"

"You better come check on Joseph."

"What's wrong?" Jim removed the leather gloves he'd found in the barn and started walking towards the house.

Helen fell in step beside him, moving fast for a woman her age. "He started watchin' the news on the T.V. Somethin' he saw got him upset."

Jim extended his hearing. Blair heart was beating fast and he was softly moaning. Opening the screen door with a bang, he saw his friend kneeling on the floor in front of a small color television in the corner of the living room.

"What's wrong, Chief?"

"She's gone, man!" Blair cried out in pain as he rocked on his knees, his arms hugging his chest. His eyes were wet with tears that soaked his eyelashes and ran down his cheeks.

Jim squatted down next to his friend aware that Helen was watching from the front door way. "What are you talking about?"

Blair pointed to the TV. "Naomi. They're saying she died in a plane crash!"

"Whaa...?" Jim looked at the small screen. A Canadian reporter was standing in front of an emergency command post. A light commuter plane had crashed earlier that morning killing all passengers, including one American woman. Naomi Sandburg.

"Who's Naomi?" Helen asked softly, walking into her living room and sitting down on the sofa behind both men.

"...Attempts to find the American woman's family have revealed another bizarre twist to this tragic story. The woman's son, Blair Sandburg is missing, presumed kidnapped. Mr. Sandburg volunteered as a consultant with the Major Crimes Police Unit in Cascade, Washington. Earlier today, this station released a story involving a pipe bomb explosion in the Major Crimes Division of that same city. We go live to our sister station for that update."

Jim watched with dread as the picture switched to a local King-Five newscaster standing in front of the main entrance to the Cascade Police Headquarters.

"Thank you, Steve. Authorities here are reeling from what's being described as an act of domestic terrorism. One woman was killed and two men hospitalized one in critical condition, after a pipe bomb was discovered in the desk belonging to a police detective. The FBI are currently searching for that same detective's whereabouts but are unable to locate him. As this story unfolds, we've learned that the missing detective worked with a local teacher from Rainier University. The teacher disappeared last Monday..."

Jim reached out and shut off the TV as two side-by-side pictures of his own photo ID and a Rainier ID of Blair appeared on the screen. The living room became quiet except for the soft moans from Blair...

"Shit. I'm sorry, Chief." Jim reached over and pulled the distraught man near. Blair leaned sideways into his friend. Jim wrapped both arms around Blair's shoulders and looked over Blair's head to find Helen staring at both men with a stern expression.

"I think you'd better start explainin' what is really goin' on with you two," Helen said in a cool voice. "Why are they sayin' this young man's been kidnapped?"

"He was." Jim took Blair by the upper arms. "Let's get off the floor, Sandburg." Getting his feet underneath him, he helped Blair stand.

Blair pulled back. "I'm fine, man." He wiped a hand across his face, collapsing boneless onto the couch. Helen reached out and patted his knee.

Jim pulled a rocking chair close to the sofa where Blair sat. There was no more lying to this woman now, she had seen their pictures, knew Blair's real name. Hell, she'd heard Blair forget his alias and blurt out his real name twice now. Jim was amazed she wasn't running out the door screaming for help by now.

"My name is Jim Ellison, I'm a detective with Cascade PD. Sandburg's my unofficial partner."

Helen nodded. "I thought you were police. My daddy was the sheriff in this county for three terms. Bill was a deputy until he retired. I can tell a police officer a mile off. So why the hoax?"

"Blair's still in danger. The people that grabbed him are very powerful and politically connected." Jim paused, hoping he didn't have to go into any more detail.

"Is that why you can't go to the police?"

Jim nodded. Blair lifted his head. His face twisted with misery. "Jim got me out. Now they're hurting our friends and...my mom." He swallowed, his eyes getting moist.

"You think they killed your ma?" Helen asked in a horrified whisper.

"We don't know that, Chief," Jim warned. He tried to get his thoughts organized. What the hell had Naomi been doing in Canada? None of this made any sense.

The ringing of a telephone interrupted their conversation. Helen gave Blair's knee a final pat and left the two men to answer her phone in the kitchen.

"Sandburg, we have to leave," Jim told his friend. "Both our pictures have been on national news. It's not safe for us to stay."

"Mexico?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim nodded, shamelessly listening in to the phone conversation.

"Helen, you okay, hon? Jesse's callin' the cops. He says that fella that drove your truck today is a kidnapper!"

Oh shit.

Jim stood, entering the kitchen as Helen responded. "I tell you what, Sara, that man is no criminal! Jesse's gonna make a fuss over nothin'."

"I know, girl. I tried tellin' him not to call, but you know that man."

"Thanks for the warnin'. I'll try `n call the sheriff and end this nonsense." She replaced the phone and looked at Jim with a frown. "Damn town gossip."

Jim smiled sadly. "It's okay. We have to leave, anyway."

"How to you plan on goin' anywhere, child? Your bike ain't runnin'."

"I'll leave it. I'll sign over the title. You sell it for what ever you can get. All I'm asking for is a ride to the closest large city. I'll take it from there."

She walked back into the living room to look at Blair still sitting on the couch. He sat leaning forward, both elbows propped on his knees, his face buried in his hands. "Just take the truck. Send me a note where to pick it up if y'all don't want it anymore."

"I can't do that! You need it," Jim protested.

She shook her head. "Honey, with the money from that bike, I can get a better used truck than that old GMC. You're doin' me a favor."

Jim had their meager belongings packed and in the cab of the truck in seconds. Loading Blair took a little longer. He walked as if dazed. Jim sent him off to change into his jeans and use the bathroom, not sure when they would be stopping again that evening. Helen was in the kitchen packing a box of food for both men. Jim had to carry the box out when he realized how much food she was giving them. After returning from the truck, he found Helen in the guest bedroom folding blankets and extra clothing and stuffing them into pillow-cases.

"Helen, you've given us enough," Jim said from the doorway.

"Hush, go check on Blair."

Jim saw the door to the bathroom was still closed. Extending his hearing, he knocked. "Sandburg? You ready?"

"Yeah." Blair emerged wearing his clean clothes from the day before.

"Let's get going then."

Helen gave Jim a fierce hug and handed him the pillow-cases. She stuffed a scrap of paper into his jean pocket. "My phone number and address. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Helen, for everything."

She turned to Blair and took his face in both hands. "You be careful, child. I'm sorry about your ma, but I believe everythin' happens for a reason." She kissed his cheek and gave him the same hug.

"Thanks..." Blair blinked back his tears and followed Jim out into the yard.

Inside the truck, Jim stowed the pillow-cases behind the seat. The box of food was in the bed and the backpack sat on the bench seat between the two men.

"Jim, we can't take her truck. She'll be stranded."

Jim started the motor. "She called her friend, they're bringing out another vehicle for her to use. Don't worry. I left a nice surprise under your pillow for her. Along with the bike title, she can get a nice truck." He gave the woman one last wave and pointed the GMC towards the dirt road.

Jim was almost to the highway when he saw the two black Cherokees driving on the dirt road towards them. He hit the brakes, throwing his right arm out to catch Sandburg before he bounced off the windshield.

"Hey!" Blair braced himself as the truck slid sideways and stopped. "What are you doing, Jim?"

"We've got company." Jim turned the truck around and headed back towards the house. He was certain the jeeps were too far away to have spotted their truck. He floored the gas pedal, knowing they would be kicking up some dust. He had no choice.

"How'd they find us so soon?" Blair cried out, twisting in his seat to look through the back window.

"I'm not stopping to ask, Chief. Hold on."

The arrival in front of the house brought Helen out at a run.

"What's wrong?" she called out as she approached.

"We've got visitors. Does this road lead to a back way out?"

Helen shook her head. "No!" She looked at Blair with concern and then back at the road. "It dead ends..." Helen thumped the door with her hand. "The river! It's still high from the rain, you can float out!" She ran around to Blair's side and opened the door. "Scoot, child. We need to move!"

After she closed the door, she pointed Jim down a faint double rut path away from the dirt road. Taking the trail at as fast a speed as he dared, Jim kept checking the rearview mirror for signs of the Jeeps. Soon the river came into view. Still high from the rain, the water was muddy and moving fast, just reaching the top of the bank.

Helen pointed downstream. "Just past those cottonwoods. There's a fishing boat you can use."

Jim parked the truck in the shelter of the large trees. Grabbing his backpack from Blair's lap, he led the way towards a green boat that was pulled up halfway out of the water and tied to a tree. Jim was elated to see a fifteen horsepower Johnson motor on the back. The two men managed to get the boat pushed back into the water.

"I'll take the truck back `n follow the old road to the end. It'll buy y'all some time." She gave Blair a quick hug and headed back towards the truck.

"Jim! They're going to hurt her if they catch up with her!" Blair exclaimed as he tried to scramble out of the boat to stop her.

Jim held him back with a firm hand on his chest. "She's in more danger if she stays with us, Chief. Sit down!" He pushed the bow of the small boat out into the water and jumped in. The momentum drifted them out into the current and they were swept downstream. "Get on those oars, Sandburg! Keep us pointed downstream."

Blair moved to the center bench and sat facing the rear of the boat as he took up the long wooden oars. With a little experimenting, he had the boat pointed downstream. The cottonwood trees flew past them as they were carried along with the flow.

Jim took a position at the rear, close to the outboard motor. He opened the fuel line and set the choke. "Cross your fingers," he said as he gave the rope a pull.

Nothing.

Jim let the rope coil back inside and tried again, using more muscle this time.

The engine gave a cough.

Blair glanced over his shoulder to check their position in the river. He dipped both oars in and pulled them into the faster moving water. Checking back on Jim's progress, he watched as his friend reset the choke and pulled a third time.

The motor fired and roared to life. Jim gave Blair a thumbs-up and revved the throttle a few times before cutting the choke and putting the motor in gear.

"Put that life jacket on, Sandburg." Jim pointed to an orange PFD under the bench seat.

Blair slipped it over his head and tied the belt around his waist. He looked back under the bench. "Jim, there's only one."

"I'm fine," he shouted over the sound of the motor. "Hold on."

The boat seemed to fly down the river. Jim kept away from the areas where the water flowed outside its bank, knowing it would be to shallow for them to navigate. The river only had a few turns and stayed flat, without any of the rapids or white water the men were used to in the Northwest region.

Just as Jim started to believe they were going to make it, he picked up a new sound over the noise of the outboard. He tracked the sound, realizing it was coming from above them. Turning in his seat to look to the northeast, towards the direction of Oklahoma, Jim could see a black helicopter coming towards them. He zoomed in to see a man with a rifle sitting near the open side door of the chopper.

"What? What do you see, man?" Blair called out, seeing Jim's attention was towards the sky behind them.

Jim pointed. "Chopper! We need to find some cover," he answered. He turned the throttle full open, causing the small craft to fly dangerously over the water. Jim scanned down the river. How could you lose a helicopter in this flat country?

A few miles down, Jim could see where a road crossed the river. If they could get to the bridge, they'd have some shelter. Maybe get the pilot to come in close, then he could take it out with his handgun.

His handgun against a rifle? Why was he not having a good feeling about that outcome? Jim began to formulate a plan `B' as he guided the craft and checked the water ahead for danger.

He was fresh out of plan `B's.

Blair was hunched over on the bench seat, his knuckles white from holding on as the boat bucked over the water. He hadn't moved from his position at the oars, so he was able to look over Jim's shoulder and towards the chopper. Jim didn't have to look to know they were in danger from above, everything he needed to see was written on Blair's face.

He began to weave the boat in a serpentine course, trying to create a harder target for the sniper in the air. The bridge was a mile away now. If they were extremely lucky, they had a chance of reaching it. Jim glanced again at the bridge as a black Jeep Cherokee parked and three men stepped out. They stood, looking upstream as if waiting for their arrival.

Jim really needed a plan `B'.

He felt the burn of the bullet enter his shoulder as he heard Blair scream his name. The boat lurched to the side, caused by Jim's jerking motion as he fell sideways in his seat from the bullet's impact. Before he realized he was in danger of falling, he was out of the boat and in the river, fighting for air as he tumbled in the swift current. The water tasted like mud and it entered his mouth and nose before he realized he was wet.

Just as the blackness started to eat away at the edges of his vision, he felt an arm snake around his neck and pull his head up, above the water and he was gasping air again.

"Just relax, man. Keep your feet up," Blair said, his lips inches away from Jim's ear.

Jim closed his eyes and trusted his partner to navigate the current. Blair's life preserver kept them moving along the top of the water. The sniper seemed hesitant to try any more shots, but Jim could hear the chopper as it tracked their progress downstream. After a few moments, Jim felt something brush his feet. Blair had managed to get them both over to the side where they could stand.

Jim's shoulder burned from the bullet wound. He hugged his left arm close to keep the area splinted. Blair had an arm around his waist as he worked them out of the water to fall in a sprawl on a gravel bed alongside the river.

"Let me see, Jim." Blair rolled him over on his non-injured side and pulled the T-shirt down from his neck. "No exit wound, man. It looks like the bleedings not too bad. The bullet went through the backpack first and got slowed down."

"Sandburg, listen to me. They're coming." Jim could hear the man in the chopper using a radio to the men from the jeep, giving them their location. "Get my gun out from the pack, keep it out of sight."

He felt Blair open the zipper and rut around inside. "I got it. What now?"

"Give it to me." He felt the gun placed in his hand. Lifting his head, he checked the location of the chopper. It was close, about a hundred feet up and just down stream from them. Bringing his right arm up suddenly, he snapped off two shots. The first one missed, but the second bullet hit the sniper in the chest. Jim was pleased to see the look of shock on the man's face before he fell back, out of sight from the opening. Jim pulled off a third shot, this time hitting the area that housed the fuel tank. The pilot dipped the metallic bird at an angle, then took off towards the north again, apparently deciding to let the ground crew finish the job.

"Help me up."

Leaning on Blair, Jim climbed up the short bank and surveyed their options. The boat had floated down river, its motor at a low idle. They would never catch it in time to escape. Two men were on foot and running towards them from the bridge. Jim pulled Blair backwards, towards the water.

"Time to get wet again, Sandburg." He ignored the panic in his friend's eyes, forcing his own face to remain calm, in control as if they had a dozen excellent options to choose from.

Blair pulled away, his expression changing to determined resignation. "No, they want me." He started to untie the PFD. "You take this and float down. I'll tell them you didn't make it."

"Not a chance, Sandburg." Jim pushed him hard towards the water's edge, following until they both were waist deep in the brown Texas water.

"Jim, no! You're shot, you can't..."

Another shove and they were swept away. Jim found himself unable to keep his head up with his injury. Blair's arm returned and he was pulled up onto his chest and they floated.

"Stubborn jerk...always have to do things your way..."

"Shut up and drive, Chief."

Jim could hear the men running now, heading for the spot that he and Blair had climbed out. Without the chopper, they didn't have the advantage of knowing their exact location.

This could work.

They neared the bridge. Jim extended his hearing again and heard the jeep's motor still running. No other sounds.

"Get us over the side, under the bridge if you can."

He felt Blair kicking, floating them at a forty-five degree angle until Jim felt bottom again. They dragged themselves up to the road. It was just a dirt road, similar to the one leading to Helen's home. A long wooden bridge had been constructed to span over the water.

Jim eyed the jeep with longing. This was too easy. The men were back up river, running at full speed to return to their vehicle. Jim pushed Blair towards the driver seat, with a nasty grin. Those bozos were going to have some explaining to do to their boss tonight.

"Which way, man?" Blair closed the driver's door and put the SUV into drive.

They were near a cattle ranch now. Herds of longhorn grazed on lush grass on either side of the road. Jim pointed over his shoulder. "Turn around and head back the way they came, it should hook up with a main road," he instructed as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Oh, God, his shoulder hurt. Getting shot never was Jim's favorite past time. He found himself unable to believe they had gotten off that river without capture. It was too good to be true. He let himself relax for a moment, enjoying just the chance to breathe and close his eyes, even with the throbbing pain from the bullet.

But his mind would not relax. Blair was still in danger and Jim was almost out of the game. He needed to get the bullet out before he lost the ability to function. Mexico was their hope now. He had enough money to get a decent surgeon and hide Blair someplace so remote his own shadow wouldn't be able to find him.

Jim's head bounced off the side window as the Jeep swerved sharply off the road. He sat up, instantly alert and cursing himself for dropping his guard, even for a second.

"Where did they come from?" Blair screamed, his frustration evident as he wrenched the gear control into reverse.

A Jeep similar to the one they had stolen was careening down the road in their direction. Blair did a fast three-point turn, only to see the same sight behind them. A sturdy range fence on either side of the road prevented them from getting around. They were trapped.

Jim knew it had been too damn easy.

Both Jeeps stopped at the same time, blocking the road in each direction. Jim laid a hand on Blair's arm, getting the younger man's attention.

"Ram them, Chief."

Blair's eyes went wide as he looked at the jeep. "Uh, which one, man?"

"Turn back around and continue south." Jim patted his arm. "You can do it. Aim for the back of the rig, its lighter. Just floor it and keep going."

Blair muttered nervously as he complied with the order. He had enough distance to get his speed up to thirty before nearing the parked Jeep. Jim braced himself, knowing the collision would be on his side. He watched with grim satisfaction as the two men in suits scrambled out of the way.

Blair drove like a pro, hitting the SUV perfectly and knocking the vehicle out of their way, letting them pass. Jim was proud, he couldn't have done better. It was through no fault of the driver that the cheap metal they used now on vehicles crumpled inward and blew out the right front tire.

Blair fought the wheel as their Jeep spun sideways in the dirt, coming to a rest and stalling. Even as he cranked the key to restart the engine, men were surrounding them, guns drawn.

Jim reached for the gun tucked into his waistband, but froze as a man in a dark suit wrenched the driver's door open and nearly pulled Blair half out of his seat by his wet hair causing him to cry out in pain. The suit forced Blair's head back with a gun under his chin, giving Jim a satisfied smirk.

"Care to rethink that plan, cowboy?"

Handing his gun away to the man that opened his door, Jim let himself be pulled from the car by two men and marched back to the surviving Jeep. The suits pulled his pack roughly off his back and threw him across the hood to search him for a weapon.

"Hey, man! Be careful, he's hurt..."

Jim lifted his head, catching a man in the act of backhanded his friend across the face. His head was slammed back down on the hot metal of the Jeep's hood, in retribution for breaking the silent rule of moving during the search. Jim silently cursed their luck. He had rescued Blair from being their personal punching bag, only to let him fall into their hands again.

The search ended and they cuffed Jim's hands behind his back, causing him to grunt as his shoulder was wrenched. He was pulled off the hood and shoved towards the rear of the Jeep. The tailgate was open and they forced him to sit with his back to the spare tire. They tied his ankles down and secured his cuffs to something behind his back. Jim kept his eyes on the two other suits with Blair.

Blair's hands were still free. He was standing next to the Jeep between two beefy men. One man had a small radio that he was speaking into, his other hand still entangled in Blair's long hair. Blair was watching Jim, their eyes met through the glass in the Jeep's side window.

Jim gave him a nod, trying for a smile of encouragement, but not quite pulling it off. Blair must have appreciated the effort. He returned it with a rueful smile of his own. Jim turned his hearing up to catch the conversation on the radio.

"...five minutes out. Hold for our arrival."

"Received."

Blair's hair was released.

"Move from this spot and I'll plant your face in the dirt," Jim heard the man with the radio threaten.

"Whatever, man," Blair replied mildly, rubbing his neck.

Jim had to smile as his friend's brave front. The two suits had finished securing Jim to the back of the Jeep by his cuffs and ankles. The slammed the hatch closed and walked away to join their cohorts.

Testing his bonds, he found he was unable to lift his feet or move his hands. His back was sticky with blood from the bullet wound. He was feeling light-headed and having difficulty following the sounds outside due to the ringing in his ears.

A black helicopter, larger and newer than the one Jim had shot appeared overhead. It landed in the road on the other side of the wrecked Jeeps. Jim watched a man in his sixties climb down and walk towards them. This was someone new, Jim would have remembered seeing him at the horse ranch. He was dressed in an expensive tailored suit, his red silk tie flapping in the windstorm caused by the chopper's blades. Jim studied the man's features, committing them to memory. White, thick hair, small mouth, brown eyes, he appeared about five-eleven when he stood up straight after clearing the chopper. He walked with confidence, his eyes briefly looking over at the Jeep where Jim was a prisoner before resting on Blair.

Jim forced himself to turn his hearing up, filtering out the sounds from the helicopter.

"Hello Blair. I'm so happy to meet you." The boss's voice was deep, almost friendly as he reached the group standing in the road.

Blair ignored him, keeping his eyes locked on Jim.

Jim shook his head. Talk to him, Blair.

As if the younger man could read Jim's mind, he turned and studied the newcomer. "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of your father."

"Excuse me?" Blair asked, his voice high and unsteady.

"I work with your father, known him from before you were born."

Blair snorted in disbelief. "Oh man, you are `so' off your rocker, dude. You think some guy you work with is gonna care what happens to me?"

The man gave Blair a condescending smile. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother, son. She was a fine woman."

Blair exploded towards him with a scream. The suits caught him before he could reach the newcomer. Jim watched as Blair was once again subdued, but not before one man caught a fist in the eye for his efforts.

The white-haired man stepped back and chuckled as Blair's arms were pinned behind his back.

"You bastard! I'll kill you!"

"I believe that nomenclature belongs to you, young man." The older man nodded towards the chopper. "Make sure he's secured. I don't need him breaking out while were in the air. Get these vehicles disposed of, then meet me at the church."

"What about the other guy?"

Jim watched as he was examined by the group of suits.

"Drive him out to the canyon and kill him."

"No!" Blair shouted as he tried twisting free.

Jim could only watch, unable to look away while they manhandled Blair towards the helicopter. Blair kicked out with both feet, until one man caught up both legs, hugging them to his chest. Blair twisted like a snake in the claws of a large bird.

"No! You don't understand! No one's going to care if I'm your hostage!"

Jim flashed back to last year, when Blair was being dragged into another helicopter, that time by Kincaid. Jim tried kicking his feet free from the tie-down he'd been secured to. It was no good, they had done too good a job. He wasn't getting out of his bonds anytime soon.

Blair was at the chopper now. They had him face down, his face and upper body pressed against the floorboards as they tied his hands behind his back. When that was completed, he was lifted into a seat and lashed in place by a four-point harness. Finally his ankles were tied to the seat supports. The entire time, he screamed at the man in the red tie, trying to convince him with words that the whole thing was a mistake.

The leader walked back to the chopper and climbed in to sit up front next to the pilot. He nodded his head towards Blair and shook his head.

"Gag him."

"I'm telling the truth, man!" Blair screamed over the sound of the helicopter revving up to prepare to lift off the ground. "No!" He turned his head as a rag neared his mouth. "Jim!" One man caught Blair's head with a fist in his hair, holding him still. The cloth was forced into his mouth and tied in place with a strap.

Jim watched the helicopter lift off and head north. He forced himself to pull back from following the rapid sound of Blair's heartbeat. He didn't need to fall into a zone. They would have to cut him loose eventually, unless they planned on burying the whole Jeep with him inside. Jim just hoped they would wait until after he was released before they tried to kill him.

After making more calls on their cell phones, the two men instructed to kill Jim returned to their Jeep. They drove south until they turned onto a paved road and picked up speed. Neither man seemed inclined to talk which suited Jim fine. He was growing weak and needed to conserve his strength. He rested his head on the spare tire and closed his eyes.

Jim awoke from a light doze as the Jeep was struck hard by a larger vehicle driving alongside. He braced himself with his boots as his driver fought the wheel. Three loud cracks from a gun shattered the driver's side window, killing both men instantly. The vehicle that had sideswiped them bumped the jeep again, sending it into the soft shoulder where it finally came to a stop as the grill struck the fence.

Jim bounced painfully off the back of the rear seat. Figures in black jumpsuits swarmed out of the attacking vehicle and circled the Jeep. The hatch was released and swung upward by two familiar looking figures.

"Hi, Jim."

Jim looked into the face of a very alive Naomi Sandburg.

"Please forgive me for not being able to welcome you personally back in Maryland. I was very distressed to learn you'd already left before I could join you."

Blair continued to ignore the man seated across the heavy timbered rustic-looking table. They had arrived over an hour ago, landing in a private compound around dusk. New muscle had released him from the helicopter seat and hustled him into a large adobe building with flagstone floors and expensive furnishings. The windows and doorways were arched, reminding Blair of a Spanish-style Mission he had visited on a field trip in high school.

They had secured him to a heavy chair, a wide strap across his chest binding him to its straight back. His hands and legs were free, but the chair weighed a ton. Blair didn't feel like he had the strength to swat a fly at the moment. A simple meal of cornbread and stew had been placed in front of them. As if he could sit and calmly eat a meal with the man who ordered Jim killed.

Oh, man. He can't be dead.

"You should eat. The stew is excellent. The cook puts brandy in it, she thinks it's a secret ingredient but I had one of the maids watch her make it once and she told me." He chuckled to himself, as if he expected Blair to give a hoot about his domestic transgressions.

Blair remained motionless, silently contemplating the religious figurine of the Virgin Mary that adorned the shelf above the man's head. It was not that he was purposefully disobeying every `request' this man had made of him. Well, actually, that did have a lot to do with it. But more importantly, Blair felt sick again. Like before, when Jim had gotten him to Helen's house. He hated to throw up, it hurt and it was disgusting. But Blair swore if this man didn't shut up, he would make a point of hurling chunks right into his smug face.

"You know, I could have just as easily been your father as Jake. The three of us joined the agency together, on a whim, I guess you'd say. Your mother was younger than us. Jake and I didn't expect her to stay long. But damn, son, she was a natural in the game." He stirred his stew as he spoke. "I cried when they told me she was dead. I loved her very much. I expect they'll offer me her position now..."

Blair saw his hands reaching for the bowl with almost a detached sense of expectation, like he wondered what was going to happen next.

The older man was fast, Blair had to admit to himself as the two suits released him and dragged him out of the room. The man dodged that bowl of stew as if he'd been doing it all his life. Blair just wished he hadn't hit that figurine and knocked it off its shelf. He was pretty sure it was authentic sixteenth century.

Jim fought the drugs that slowed his mind to the speed of molasses. He hated waking up from surgery. Naomi had flown him to Lubbock and he found himself on his back, being attended by an anesthesiologist in no time flat.

Now he was in a private room, Naomi was sitting in a chair next to his bed, staring out the window. She wasn't aware yet that he was awake. Jim took a moment to study her.

She was the Naomi that he'd first met in the loft. She was relaxed, but worried, her face showing her age with fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Jim knew she was thinking of Blair.

"Naomi."

"Jim," she said, her face changing into the professional once again. She scooted her chair closer. "What can you tell me?"

"Not much." Jim moved his shoulder to test his mobility. Okay, time to dial down the pain. "Help me up."

If he expected her to protest, to tell him he shouldn't be moving so soon, he was disappointed. She leaned over and let him use her as a support to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Easy. Nice and slow." She flipped the blanket back and lowered the bar down to let him twist, his bare legs over the edge. "We know Hersch is behind this now. We have enough to charge him with everything from treason to murder." She swallowed hard, avoiding Jim's eyes. "God, I can't believe it. Blair's his godson."

"White hair?" Jim asked as he looked for his clothes.

"That's Hersch." Naomi went to a closet and came back with a white plastic sack.

"Believe it, he's got Blair. They took off in a helicopter about an hour or so before you arrived." Jim's nose wrinkled as he opened the bag and got a whiff of the damp clothing. He pulled them out and started dressing, oblivious of the fact Blair's mother was seeing him naked and in fact helping him dress. "He said something about meeting his men a `the church'. Does that tell you anything?"

Naomi held the T-shirt open for Jim to slide into. She smiled "It does. He's got a place in Mexico. He could have easily reached it by chopper. You want to be there when we make the arrest?"

Jim snorted. "Try keeping me out. How are you going to get authority to arrest him in Mexico? Isn't that out of your jurisdiction?"

Jim suddenly saw where his best friend inherited that distinctive Sandburg grin. Naomi had the exact same smile.

"Badges? We no' need no' stinkn' badges..."

Blair was curled up on his side. He had been tossed into a small room. The floor was concrete and the heavy adobe walls had a high window about four by six inches. The bed was soft, and he was thankful for the heavy wool blankets. The night was cool and Blair wanted to sleep, but couldn't.

His head was pounding from a headache with almost migraine proportions. His leg was aching again. The bug was back with force. He knew he had a fever, his scalp itched. His stomach was making noises, he expected he'd soon be kneeling in front of the toilet in the corner of the room.

What kind of house had a room like the one they had locked him in? It was obviously a holding cell. Blair decided he didn't want to think anymore about that.

His life sucked.

The worse pain, though, was the one in his heart. How could he not have known about his mother? He found it impossible to ignore the white-haired man's one-sided conversation, before he'd made stew-tossing a spectator sport.

He and Naomi had moved around his entire life, all over the world, for crying out loud. He'd never thought about how she'd had the funds for that lifestyle. They were far from rich, but Blair had never been deprived of good food, a clean place to sleep or medical attention. Naomi had been a constant whirlwind of activity. She had campaigns and causes to fight. She made friends everywhere she went. And those friends were loyal to her.

God, he was an idiot. Those weren't just friends. They must have been fellow agents in whatever spy thing his mother belonged to. She'd been living a lie his whole life.

She'd been lying to him his whole life.

That was the secret that Jim had been keeping from him. He'd been able to tell just by looking at Jim's face. If Blair had learned anything in the past year, it was how to read James Ellison's face.

Oh, God.

Jim.

Was he dead? Like his mother?

Blair groaned, the pain from his head was becoming mind-numbing. He curled into a tight ball on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest as he shivered. His clothes were still damp in places. He knew he should take them off if he wanted to be warmer, but he couldn't find the energy. It was too much effort to get out of bed. Shit, it was too much, period. He squeezed his eyes shut as the tears began to flow.

No, he wasn't going to cry.

It made his nose run. Blair hated that.

Jim leaned back against his seat. They were flying low, under the radar range as they headed south. In less than an hour, the sun would be up. Naomi had found him some dry clothes, now he was dressed like the others in black tactical pants with long sleeve black turtlenecks. Jim's dark boots were fine for the upcoming task. Naomi had applied the grease-like substance to his face personally to prevent his white skin from reflecting any light.

They had spent their time this morning studying the information on the converted missionary turned residence. There was a landing strip nearby that would serve them. The plane they were in was frequently seen making landings and fast take offs out of that field. One more shouldn't attract any attention, just another drug pickup as far as the locals were concerned.

Jim was having flashbacks to his days as a Ranger.

"We're fifteen out." The words floated to Jim through a small device he was wearing in his ear. It had a speaker that picked up his own voice when he spoke, the latest in spy tech.

"We're on schedule. Nothing new from the satellite photos. Enjoy the rest, guys. We're not staying long once we land," Naomi said with complete confidence. She moved over to join Jim and took her communication device out of her ear, signaling Jim to do the same.

"How's the shoulder?"

"Fine, you look pretty good for a corpse. I take it the plane crash was a ruse?"

Naomi nodded. "We had to draw him out, make him confident. It worked. He used normal channels to track you and Blair to Texas."

"You never considered how Blair was going to take the news?"

A flash of anger burned across her face then disappeared. "I'm trying to keep him alive. I'll deal with the fallout later."

Jim shut up. What he wanted to say to this woman was going to take more time than they had. But, damn it. Blair was going to feel betrayed.

"Look, Jim. I know I'm not one of your favorite people right now. But I've spent my life trying to preserve a country that allows people like my son to pursue what they love doing." Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. "You're military, you know what I'm talking about."

"I may understand. But do you think Blair will?" Jim asked. He knew he was being an ass with her, but he found himself unable to get past his anger.

She sighed, her face softening. Jim was trying to compare this woman to the same one who had insisted on moving this furniture around in the loft.

"No, he won't. But he has you now. Please, be there for him if he can't forgive me. Maybe I did do the wrong thing, but I have to tell you. I could not leave my son to be raised by other people. I love him too much. Maybe I'm selfish. I wanted to have everything." Her voice dropped below a whisper as she looked past him and out the plane's window.

Jim felt sucker-punched by her words. He knew what it felt like to have a parent pick something else over the choice of staying with you as you grew up, being there for you when you needed a mother.

He felt his anger for Naomi evaporate.

Wordlessly he reached over and drew the woman into a bear hug. She responded immediately with a quiet sob as she buried her face into the side of his neck.

"Let's go get your son back, Naomi."

The GPS was useful as the team made their way through the thick growth of trees and brush. Jim stayed near Blair's mother, communicating only with her when he heard or saw some possible danger to the mission. She would then pass it along to the others. Keeping Jim's ability a secret was another factor in Naomi causing Jim to rethink his early anger.

Who was he to judge? Blair turned out fine, a little annoying, but basically a perfect guide. And a better friend in the year they'd been together then he'd ever found with his other partners, military or police. Go figure.

"This is it," Naomi announced to the team. She pointed to a stone wall that, according to the satellite shots, circled the grounds. It was still dark, the sun just a hint of pink in the eastern sky.

Jim tilted his head and extended his hearing. Everyone inside was asleep, even the person that was supposed to be guarding the house from a small building by the gate. They split up into two groups. Naomi kept Jim with her. The other group was instructed to deal with the guard and watch their back.

Slipping inside was not a problem. Naomi was right, Hersch was confident. It made the job easy and soon they had silently taken out the two hired muscle that Hersch kept with him. The cook and maid were left alone in their rooms. It was doubtful they would even know the Americans had been in the house.

Naomi looked at Jim expectantly. "Where's Hersch?" she whispered.

Jim pointed down a long hallway. Recognizing the man's heartbeat from when they'd flown off with Blair in the helicopter.

Naomi nodded, the look of a hunter closing in on her prey showing on her face. "Where's Blair?"

Jim pointed in the other direction.

"Okay, we'll bring Hersch. You get Blair and meet us outside the wall." She led the way down the hallway followed by her British teammate.

Jim followed the sound of the Blair's heartbeat towards a smaller hallway off the kitchen. Overhead bare light bulbs lit the passage. He came to a short flight of stone steps that took him below ground. The air temperature was cooler down here. He could smell vegetables and other food items nearby. This must be where they stored food before the days of refrigeration. At the end of the hallway was a sturdy looking wooden door. It was effectively locked by a sturdy board that rested in brackets on either side of the door. Jim lifted the board and set it to one side. The door swung out easily.

Next to the opposite wall in the small room, Blair was asleep on a twin-size bed. He had several blankets wrapped around him tightly. His body was curled into a ball. Hid long hair was a mess from being soaked in the river and drying without aid of a comb. It fell across his face, but Jim was still able to see the red swollen eyes and tracks from dried tears.

Damn.

Jim crossed over to the bed and started unwrapping the blankets as he shook Blair's shoulder. Blair moaned and opened one eye.

"Give me another five, man..."

"Not today, Sandburg. We're on a tight schedule here."

Blair groaned again and pushed himself up with his arm. He rubbed his face before pulling his hair back in confusion. Jim had the blankets off now and was please to see Blair still had his boots on.

Good, that would save time.

"Jim?" Blair looked around the small room, as if only just realizing he wasn't in his room in Cascade.

"Sit up, Sandburg." Jim got his good arm around Blair's shoulders and sat him up before pulling his legs over the side. Blair's skin was hot again, his fever returning with a vengeance.

"Am I dreaming?"

"You're awake. We need to get out of here."

He got Blair to his feet, keeping him upright was turning into more of a challenge. Blair would not stop staring at him. Jim could see the confusion was still evident on his friend's face. As much as he wanted to grab Blair and run, he would never be able to manage with his shoulder. He needed to get Blair fully on-line before they could meet the others.

"Sandburg, I'm real." He took Blair's right hand and laid it on his chest. "See? This is me standing here talking with you." He couldn't resist a small grin.

"You're not dead," Blair stated matter-of-factly, watching his own hand pat Jim's chest.

Okay, boys and girls, Blair's cheese was still slipping off the cracker.

Jim steeled his resolve and gave Blair a soft but stinging slap on one cheek.

"Hey!" Blair stepped back with an irritated look. "What was that for, man?"

Jim was pleased to see a more coherent-looking, if not pissed off, Blair. "Sorry, Chief. You were taking a bit too long to boot up."

"Well, warn me for crying out loud." He rubbed his cheek and saw the open door for the first time. "Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah, but listen, Sandburg." Jim stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Your mother's death was a ploy to get Hersch to make a move. You mom's not dead, she's here with me."

Blair froze as the words sunk in. He gave Jim a wide-eyed look. "Mom's here? She's alive?"

"I know I'm throwing a lot at you, but we have to get moving. We have a plane waiting to take us out of here. Are you going to be able to run?" Jim held his arm to steady the dazed man as he swayed.

"Yeah," Blair answered with an uncharacteristically flat voice. "I don't want to keep my mother, the super spy, waiting."

Jim watched as Blair led the way out of the room, then followed with a sigh. This was not going to be a fun trip.

As they climbed the stairs towards the kitchen, Jim heard the soft popping sound from a handgun with a silencer. He reached out and pulled Blair back behind him and pulled out the gun Naomi had issued him in Texas. Blair took his position behind Jim without comment, falling easily into their usual routine.

They met Naomi and her teammate in the main entryway. The Brit was holding his arm just below his elbow. A cloth napkin had been wrapped tightly around it, blood soaking a spot in the linen. Naomi gave her son a warm smile when she saw his head over Jim's shoulder.

Jim couldn't see Blair's response, but judging by the look on Naomi's face, it wasn't what she was hoping for.

"Problems?" Jim asked, noticing that Hersch was not with them. The sharp smell of gunpowder was coming from Naomi.

"We screwed up. Let him get to a knife," Naomi explained. "Let's meet up with the others, we're behind schedule." She slipped out the front door, followed by the Brit.

Jim took a step to follow and turned when he realized Blair was not behind him. Blair was standing in the hallway as if stunned, staring in disbelief at the door his mother had just exited. Jim reached back and took Blair's elbow.

"You're still awake, Chief," he said quietly, towing Blair though the doorway.

Oh, yeah. This trip back was gonna to be some kind of fun.

Blair lasted over halfway back to the plane until the fast pace caused him to stumble. He tripped on an exposed root and planted his face into Jim's back, causing the bigger man to grunt in pain.

"Sorry," Blair muttered, as he pushed back from Jim and got his balance.

Jim turned and gave Blair a head to toe examination. His breathing was fast. He was sweating heavily and Jim wasn't happy with the glazed look in his eyes, although that could be caused by going without his glasses for nearly a week.

"You okay?"

Blair nodded. He flapped his hands, gesturing he was ready to keep going.

Jim circled his good arm around Blair's back and pulled him tight to his side. "How about you pretend I'm that cane you hate to use?"

Blair closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into Jim. "I keep expecting to wake up in that little room, man," he whispered for Jim's ears only. Naomi and the others had stopped to wait for the two men to catch up again.

"We're close to the plane. Next time you wake up, you'll be back on American soil."

"You mean we're not?"

"Nope, this is Mexico. Ready?"

"Huh." Blair nodded and the two men started out again.

Jim caught Naomi's eyes. She gave him a warm smile and took the lead. The sun was up now, they were walking directly into its rays as they filtered through the thick foliage. Jim kept his hearing extended in a wide net around them. He monitored the brief chatter from the others over his ear-piece, only adding an occasional comment when he was directly asked a question by Naomi about their surroundings.

They reached the airstrip a few minutes overdue, but not so late the pilot was instructed to leave without them. Blair was hoisted up into the plane by two of Naomi's men, followed by the injured Brit and Jim. The others jumped up as the plane's engine kicked to life. Naomi was the last to jump in, as the plane began to taxi down the grass runway.

The plane gathered the required speed and lifted into the air to take them back to Texas. Jim guided Blair to a seat in the back. Naomi was getting out bottled water and a first aid kit. She handed Jim a thick blanket from under a seat, then turned her attention back to her men.

Blair watched his mom work as Jim wrapped him in the blanket. After taking a drink from the water bottle, he handed it back to Jim. The plane suddenly dipped from turbulence and Blair's hand appeared from under the blanked to latch on to Jim's arm.

"Easy, Sandburg. Just a little air turbulence," Jim whispered as he settled in the seat next to Blair.

They had the back of the old `Twin Otter' airplane to themselves. Jim guessed the plane was a short hop commuter plane in its time, before it was turned into questionable service over the U.S./Mexico border. The seats were narrow. Each row had three seats, one seat on left side and two seats on the right, about four rows in all. The back row was a single long bench, wide enough for four. It gave the two men plenty of room to spread out.

Jim put his arm around Blair's shoulders, pulling the shivering man close. The fever was well over one hundred. Jim would be happy when they got him to a hospital.

"I hate flying, man," Blair muttered as he leaned against Jim. "It's too cold in here."

"A thank you would be nice, you know. Instead all I get is complaining," Jim joked.

Blair looked up in alarm, then huffed when he saw Jim's smile. "Thanks, man. That's two I owe you."

"Nah, I'm counting the river in your favor. I was having a hard time pretending to be a fish, a little short in the gill department."

Blair snorted, his eyes closed. "That's why I'm the guppy." He opened his eyes and started to sit up straight. "Jim! What about Helen, man? And who got hurt in the bull pen?"

"Relax." Jim pulled him back to rest. "I talked to Helen last night, she's fine. They never even followed her, really pissed her off, too. Your mother called the station. Simon and Joel are both fine. It was McVey from Burglary that got hurt. He's in stable condition with burns to his back. He'll make a full recovery. Brown got some minor cuts, he was treated and released."

"Oh, man. What a relief," Blair exclaimed. "We need to go back and visit Helen. She's a nice lady."

They didn't say anything for a while. Blair shivered again, causing Jim to adjust his blanket higher. Jim noticed he was watching his mother again. Jim was aware what a shock it must be to Blair, seeing his mother like this. She was still dressed in black, commando style clothes, a gun holster holding her automatic against her side. Her face was still black from grease paint.

She'd finished wrapping the man's arm and was putting her supplies away. When it was stowed back under the seat, she rose and walked forward to speak with the pilot. She seemed satisfied with what he said, patting the man on the shoulder. As she walked back to the first seat, she caught Blair's gaze.

Jim watched her as he felt Blair turn his head to the right. Naomi seemed to shrink a little as she continued to her seat and turned to sit, her back to them. Jim studied the back of her red head for a moment.

This was not good.

"Want to talk about it?"

Blair continued to stare out the window.

"Sandburg, she's your mother," Jim whispered.

Blair turned to face Jim. "She lied to me, man."

Jim saw the pain in his friend's eyes. He knew Blair was working through some powerful emotions, but he also knew that Blair was nothing if not forgiving. Hell, look at all the stuff Sandburg had to put up with while living with him.

"She had to make some pretty tough decisions, Chief. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit I was pissed too, when I found out." Jim gave Blair's shoulder a squeeze. "But, hell, I know all about keeping secrets and living two lives. Who am I to judge?"

"This is different, Jim," Blair mumbled, as if not ready to give up his pain.

"Is it? Maybe with you she was real and when she does her spy stuff she had to tell lies. The way I see it, she put you first. Isn't that what a mother should do? Even the double-oh mothers?"

Blair laid his head on Jim's arm and sighed. "I'm confused."

Jim leaned his head close and whispered, "Talk to her. She loves you."

Blair rolled his head to look at Jim. The beginning of a `Sandburg smile' was playing on the edges of a tired face. "When did you turn into `Dear Abby', man? Wait till I tell Simon and the guys."

"I'll kick your ass from Texas to Cascade if you even breathe a word of this conversation, junior."

Naomi was startled when Jim tapped her shoulder. He pointed back toward the rear of the plane.

"Switch seats with me."

She frowned. "Are you sure he wants me to?"

Jim nodded. "It was his idea."

As Jim settled into his new seat, he glanced over at the Brit. He raised his eyebrow and nodded at his arm. The man smiled and gave a `thumbs-up' before closing his eyes again. Jim tuned into the conversation that was starting behind him.

"Mom?"

"Hey, baby. It's okay."

The sound of a blanket being moved around.

"I'm sorry..."

"Shhhh..."

Jim turned his dial down and leaned back, enjoying the ability to stretch out his long legs and cross them comfortably. He was looking forward to getting home.

Naomi sat sideways in the seat to accommodate her son as he leaned into their hug. She closed her eyes, cherishing the feel of Blair's embrace.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, honey," she murmured into his ear.

Blair shook his head slightly. She could feel his fever on his forehead and his bare arms. She noted his shuddering breaths, recognizing her son was working to prevent his emotions from spilling over.

"It's okay, just rest." She rocked him gently. A small smile appeared when she felt Blair relax into her arms.

Blair was safe, for now. But had Hersch told anyone about the identity of his father? Naomi knew she was not in a position to cause any danger to her son. In fact, her last several years had been more of a training/consulting capacity.

She studied Blair's face carefully, he was drifting off. The blanket slipped off his shoulder and she pulled it back up. Her heart soared that he trusted her enough to sleep. But she was not fooled by his acceptance of her newly revealed lifestyle. He would have her in a chair as soon as he was well, given her a thorough interrogation. That was fine. He deserved to know the score. The name of his father would mean nothing to him. As was usually the case, the truly powerful people in the world were unknown to the media and the public.

She pulled him close, leaning against the side of the plane as she settled for the ride back to Texas. Blair was asleep now, his face relaxed.

Naomi studied the back of Jim's head. Could he continue to keep Blair safe? Would he want to? She knew the bond between the cop and her son was strong, but would it be enough?

As if Jim was reading her thoughts, he turned in his seat. Their eyes met and Naomi smiled.

The End.

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