"So, you're unable to tell the jury who injured Mr. Clark's hand."

Blair looked over at the six men and women watching him from the jury box in the courtroom.

"No, I can't say that I saw the injury happen, but I know who bit him," Blair informed the defense attorney. He unconsciously rubbed his palms down his thighs.

Jim watched from his seat next to the prosecutor. His roommate was dressed in his best shirt and a tie that he'd loaned him that morning. His hair groomed and pulled back into a neat pony-tail. Under duress, Blair had removed his earrings. Jim thought he looked ...plain, he'd be glad when this trial would be finished. Blair had been under cross-examination for thirty long minutes. He felt sorry for his roommate, knowing how nervous he'd been that morning. The first time any cop testified in a courtroom was always frightening. And Blair wasn't even a cop.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg. Maybe I misunderstood you. I thought you told us that the defendant and Mr. Clark fell behind a sofa when the fight occurred."

Blair nodded. "That's correct..."

"And you said you were on the other side of the sofa, trying to assist Detective Ellison with the other two suspects."

"Right, but..."

"Are you trying to tell us that you can see through solid objects, Mr. Sandburg?"

Jim leaned over and whispered into the District Attorney's ear, who stood and addressed the Judge.

"Your Honor, perhaps if the defense could allow the witness to answer the question, we might be able to move along."

The Asian woman behind the bench nodded. "I agree. Mr. Jefferson, why don't we let the witness finish a sentence?"

Mr. Jefferson waved a hand toward Blair. "Of course, Your Honor. Please continue, Mr. Sandburg."

Blair leaned forward in his seat and spoke clearly into the microphone. "I saw the defendant stand up and spit the finger out of his mouth. I'm the one that gave it to the medics, it landed in my lap, man."

Half the audience erupted into rowdy laughter, while the other half shuddered in disgust. Sandburg sat innocently in the witness stand as the judge ordered the clerk to escort the jury into the jury room.

Thirty minutes later the jury was thanked and released. The defense accepted a deal from the prosecutor.

Blair winced as another hand slapped his back. If this kept up, he'd be black and blue by morning! Sipping the beer that H had insisted on buying him, Blair looked at the clock over the bar. It was almost morning.

"You're telling me that no one ever asked you that question before today?" H asked, for the third time.

"No, no one asked me. Not the prosecutor, or the defense attorney, or Simon, or even Jim. No one asked me about the finger," Blair recited in a tired voice.

"That is TOO funny. It's a classic!" Rafe laughed, shaking his head.

Sandburg shrugged. "I thought everyone had seen it."

"I can't believe an attorney would ask a question without knowing the answer. Man, I wish I'd been in the courtroom to see that!" H slapped Sandburg again as he laughed.

Jim set his coke down and stood. The bar was full of people tonight, mostly off-duty cops. They had been laughing and swapping courtroom stories for the last four hours. He nodded to the rest of Major Crimes. "Okay, I'm taking the star witness home, it's late." He pointed a long finger at his friend. "H, you're drunk. Take a cab, okay?"

H nodded happily. "Got it covered, Jim. Didn't even drive here! Couldn't miss the celebration! Damn, Hairboy's first trial and he brings the house down!"

Jim caught H's hand in mid air before it landed on Sandburg's flannel covered back.

"Okay, good night, H. Joel, you and Rafe see that giggles here stays out of trouble." Jim nodded to his roommate as he continued to hold off the inebriated off-duty detective. "Let's make a run for it, Chief."

Blair stood with a sigh. "I'm down with that. Thanks for the brew, guys."

With waves and laughter the two men left the noisy sports pub and headed for Jim's Ford. The evening was cool. Clear skies did little to hold whatever heat had built up during the day. Blair climbed into the SUV and sighed.

"Tired, Sandburg?"

"Totally. It was fun hanging with your friends, though."

Jim started the motor and moved the heat switch onto high. He gave his passenger a surprised look. "You've known them for several months, Chief. I think you can assume they're your friends too."

Blair yawned widely, his head back and eyes closed. "Nah, they just tolerate me, man."

Jim turned the truck in a circle and headed out of the parking lot. "Whatever. I think your way off base, though."

"No big deal, Jim. I just don't fit in."

"That's not the way I see it. I believe Rafe's exact words this afternoon were, `Ellison, tell Sandburg we're getting together at McKinsey's after work. Seven sharp! Oh hey, why don't you come too if you're free.'"

Blair rolled his head sideways on the headrest to study his friend. "Really?"

"Really."

"Huh."

Fifteen minutes later, Blair was still turning Jim's statement over in his mind when the Ford suddenly jerked sharply to the right, the tires squealing on the pavement.

"Stupididiots!" Jim cursed, fighting the four-wheel slide they found themselves riding out.

Flailing his arms out to brace himself in the seat, Blair watched in horror as the bumper of the Expedition came within inches of hitting a young man who was running with a group of similar aged youth. The crowd darted away into the darkness, running like a mob with a common destination.

"What's happening?" Blair shouted in alarm.

"Don't know, they're chasing some kids." Ellison brought the large vehicle to a safe stop and killed the engine with an angry twist of the key. "Call it in!"

Blair fumbled for his cell phone. "Wait! Jim, there's too many of them!"

But the cop was gone, the driver's door still hanging open.

"Damnit!" Blair smacked the dash with a fist. Ellison was like a greyhound after that dumb rabbit. Punching in the familiar numbers, he released the seat belt and climbed out of the cab.

The police dispatcher took the report and promised to send officers to their location. Tucking the cell phone into his pocket, Blair listened carefully; faint sounds of shouting and a metal trashcan rolling down pavement helped the observer locate his partner's position. Without a second thought, he was running into the darkness.

Ellison caught up with the group in a dirty alley between two empty warehouses. Half a dozen youths had chased two young men wearing jeans and gray jackets. As the two boys reached the middle of the alley, bordered on each side by large trash dumpsters, they stopped and turned to face their pursuers with smug looks.

A trashcan bounced noisily behind Jim. He skidded to a stop behind the group, turning instinctively to check over his back.

Damn! Nearly a dozen more wearing gray jackets appeared under a streetlight at the mouth of the alley, cutting off any chance to escape. Four more gray jackets stepped out from behind the dumpsters.

Shouts and curses flew back and forth between the two groups of unevenly numbered gangs.

"Cascade police!" Jim bellowed over the racket, turning sideways to keep a brick wall at his back. So far there had been no signs of any guns. He held his badge up in his left hand for the group to see in the dim light. "Everyone just settle down! Don't give me a reason to arrest you tonight!"

A large boy in gray laughed in surprise. "Where's your army, man?"

The six youths that had been led into the alley used the cop's distraction to attempt to fight their way free from the trap. Jim shouted ineffectively at the crowd as he tried to pull two youths off a third. Fists, feet, rocks, and two-by-fours thudded against body parts.

Ellison grunted as a large rock hit his ribs, forcing him to double over in pain. A dark movement to his left warned him a second to late as a bright flash of pain blossomed in his head.

Sounds of the fighting bounced off the sides of the warehouses. Blair rounded the corner into the alley at a full run. Just in time to see Jim go down in a sea of bodies.

"JIM!"

Skidding to a stop, he quickly did the math and realized the odds were not good. Panting breathlessly from the run, Sandburg looked around desperate for some inspiration.

Picking up a rock, he turned and fired it towards the streetlight. The loud crack of breaking glass and sudden darkness in the alley caused several of the gray jackets to pause.

"COPS! They're almost here! RUN!" Blair screamed.

One thing about hysteria, you could always count on someone catching it!

Three gray jackets broke from the fight, running down the alley into the night. Blair sent a silent prayer of thanks as the unmistakable sound of sirens met their ears as if on cue. A mass exodus started.

Blair ignored the bodies that lay moaning on the filthy ground. Picking up a two foot piece of pipe, Sandburg located the cop in the semi-darkness and ran to his side.

"Jim!" Blair gently touched a bloody cheek. The cop was breathing with his eyes closed. A gash above his ear was staining his collar with blood.

"You a cop too?"

Sandburg glanced up from his kneeling position, his weapon raised high. A gray clad youth who looked about fourteen stood with a solid looking piece of lumber in his hand.

"No, I'm a teacher at Rainier," Blair answered, careful to keep his voice neutral. The crowd was dispersing as the sirens drew closer.

"I saw him follow the Auroras into the alley." The kid sniffed in disbelief. "What did he think he could do all by himself?"

Blair shook his head slightly and lowered the piece of metal. He had no idea what had occurred tonight. "He saw two guys in trouble, he didn't think about it, he just wanted to help, man." Blair glanced down at his unconscious friend. "It's what he does."

"Well, it's stupid." The kid dropped the wood and ran away.

Blair fell back on his butt and took a deep shaky breath through his nose. The alley was empty now of any standing bodies. He put a protective hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Yeah, I know," he whispered to himself.

Simon Banks parked his car behind the marked police cars. Slamming the door, he strode towards the cluster of police and fire personnel leaving a faint trail of cigar smoke in his wake.

"Report, Sanders."

A short black man flipped out his notebook.

"Yes, sir. Detective Ellison was following several gang members on foot. He became injured when a trap was sprung in the alley. Four Aurora Street gang members are unconscious."

"Your certain they're Aurora Street members?"

"Well, they deny it, but they all have a pearl stud earring. Isn't that what they use?"

"That's the story. Where is Ellison now?" Banks asked looking at his feet. Glass shards littered the pavement. Simon studied them and turned his eyes up to the broken streetlight above.

"En route to the hospital...."

"Simon!"

Banks turned toward the urgent hail. Sandburg jogged up to join them. His face was dirty, hair falling out of his ponytail. He clutched Jim's jacket with a grimy hand.

"Sandburg, what the hell happened tonight? I thought you guys were out celebrating, not chasing down juvenile gangs!"

"Simon, they wouldn't let me ride with Jim! I forgot he's got the keys to the truck. I need to get to the hospital!"

Simon waited for the younger man to take a breath before cutting into the desperate, rapid-fire statements. "Slow down and take a breath, Sandburg. You can ride with me to the hospital."

Banks gave a few directions to Lt. Sanders and led the observer back towards his car. Unlocking the passenger door, he settled Sandburg in and reached into the back seat for a zippered tote bag. He opened it and pulled out a plastic jar of pop-up baby wipes.

"Here, clean up a little." Tossing the container to his passenger, he started the car and headed towards the medical district. "Tell me what happened. Slowly."

Blair wiped his face, glancing at the dirt that appeared on the pre-moistened cloth. "We did go to McKinseys. We were heading home and a group of kids ran right in front of the truck." He finished with his face and took another wipe to start on his hands. "It looked like they were chasing two guys in gray jackets."

"The Vespers," Banks mused out loud.

"Yeah, I guess. Jim started running after them. The oldest kid looked about fifteen, tops." Blair balled up the used wipes and dropped them into a litterbag on the floorboard. "I didn't see him again until I got to the alley and he had already been hit."

Banks noted the guilty look on the younger man's face. "What did you do?" he asked softly.

Snorting in disgust, Sandburg shook his head. "Not much. Damn it, Simon, what if they give him something that causes his senses ..."

"Blair, just relax. Jim's been treated before, they'll be careful." Simon slowed for a red light. "Tell me about the streetlight."

Blair looked confused for a second, then nodded. "Oh, that. I just wanted to even the odds a bit. You know, make them think cops were surrounding them in the dark." Blair turned hopeful eyes towards his driver. "You think the doctors will hold off on giving Jim anything till we get there? I tried to tell the medics that Jim has allergies, but what if they forget to tell the doctors?"

Banks rolled his eyes. This kid was hard to keep on track. "Sandburg, I'm certain the doctor's can handle Jim. Tell me what his injures were."

"Oh, man! He was bleeding, something hit his head..." Blair pointed above his left ear.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, was he conscious?"

"Not at first, but then he started to wake up. He was talking to the medics when they loaded him into their ambulance."

"Okay, then. That's good. I'm sure he'll be fine, you know how hard that skull of his can be," Banks said, finding himself trying to soothe his passenger. He could see the student moving restlessly in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Are you okay? Did you get hit or anything?"

Sandburg gave the cop a quick shake of his head.

"Try and relax." Banks peeked over at his passenger, no change. It was like talking to a rock.

Or Jim.

"Okay, detective. Your x-rays look good. We'll get set up for a few stitches and you're out of here."

Jim nodded then wished he hadn't. Not feeling guilty about misleading the medical staff when he responded to their questions, Ellison realized he needed to take slow movements for the next few hours. There was no way he was going to stay overnight.

He closed his eyes against the glare of the ceiling lights in the treatment room. His normal warm-blooded nature seemed out of whack as he shivered. He was lying on the exam table. They had removed his bloodstained shirt for the chest x-rays and he thought about asking for it back.

God, his senses were going haywire. He wished he'd been coherent at the time the medics had loaded him into their aid car, he would have made them bring Sandburg along. But the memory after the attack had been vague, a collage of faces, pain and sound. He rubbed his forehead in an effort to ease some of the pain, hoping he could get back to the loft before throwing up.

"Jim?"

Ellison opened his eyes and peered out from under his hand. With a grimace, he waved his roommate into the room. "Hey."

"You okay?" Blair asked softly as he neared the exam table.

"I'll live," the cop replied. "How `bout you. Did you get hurt?" Jim studied his roommate, noting the dirt and rumpled appearance, not finding any visible blood or bruising.

"I'm good. Simon is here. He's talking to the nurse. I slipped past them." Blair stood next to bed. "What happened?"

"I followed them into a set up," Jim confessed placing his hand back over both eyes.

"Are your senses bothering you, man?"

"Yeah, a little."

By the time the doctor returned to tend to the cop, Ellison had all his senses back within normal range. The nausea was gone and his head felt much better. If the doctor was surprised to see the newcomer in the treatment room, he didn't comment. Ellison endured the stitches with the help of a local and was dismissed with the normal head injury warnings.

Ellison donned his shirt and coat. They met up with Simon in the waiting room.

"Sandburg, where did you disappear to?" Banks grumbled with a frown.

"I was with Jim," Blair explained with a yawn.

Jim greeted his boss with some trepidation, expecting to get an earful after tonight's adventures. Simon did not disappoint him.

"Jim, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, sir. I just thought I'd keep them in sight. I didn't expect to run into an ambush."

Banks shook his head. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, or should I say later today. I'll drop you off at your vehicle, unless you want to leave it there."

Jim cringed. He'd forgotten about the SUV.

"I locked it up, Jim," Blair advised. "But you have the key, so it's still kinda sideways in the road."

Jim sighed. "Sorry about this, Simon. Do you mind taking us back?"

It was two AM when Ellison parked his Ford on Prospect. Blair had fallen asleep within minutes of Simon dropping them off. Hell, the kid had been tired before tonight's folly had started. He studied the man next to him. How had Sandburg gotten to him in that alley without getting hurt?

He gingerly probed his injury. The swelling was not too bad, although he was starting to feel the pull of the stitches. He opened his door.

"Come on, Chief."

Blair opened his eyes and followed the older man into the building.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Simon have baby wipes in his car?"

Ellison punched the button to call the elevator. He studied his friend who was leaning against the wall, his eyelids closed.

"Baby wipes?"

"He had them in his car. He gave me some to clean up with," Blair explained around a wide yawn.

"Oh, a lot of the guys will have stuff like that to clean up on scenes. He probably has an extra set of clothes, too." Jim entered the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. He continued to watch his roommate. Even when Sandburg was half dead on his feet, his mind was still processing information and asking questions!

Once inside the loft, Jim placed his jacket into a paper bag to take to the dry cleaners later.

"I'll wake you in two hours."

Jim shook his head. "It's okay. You go to bed, I'll be fine."

Blair was not convinced. "Na huh, I heard what the doctor said, man. I'm setting my alarm clock." He walked into his room. The argument was over.

Jim grinned and headed up the stairs to his bed.

At four am, Blair wearily made the climb. Ellison was snoring softly. He woke with little difficulty, told Sandburg the date and the phone number to the loft. Blair patted his arm and returned to his room.

At six-ten, Ellison woke to the sound of Blair's alarm. He waited for the younger man to silence it and come up the stairs again, and waited. With a sigh, Jim tossed back the cover and headed down to the lower room.

Blair was face down on his futon, his left arm flung over the side. Ellison hit the button on the radio-alarm clock. Sandburg didn't have a class until ten today. He gently pulled the blankets up to his friend's neck and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

"Okay, Jim, let's have a chat, shall we?" The broad back of his boss led the way into the office. Ellison eased his six-foot two-inch frame into the chair. He knew he deserved this little `talk', but he didn't have to look forward to it.

Simon set a cup of coffee down in front of his detective and took his seat behind his desk.

"Care to explain the `Lone Ranger' act last night?"

Jim flinched. It was going to be one of those kinds of talks. He hadn't been chewed out for this since... well, since Sandburg joined him.

"Hello? Jim? Some time this week, please."

"Sorry, sir." Jim picked up the mug, feeling the warmth through the ceramic. "Truth is, I just screwed up. I know it was stupid and I know I should know better. But all I saw last night were a bunch of kids out there. I didn't want to see anyone get hurt."

Simon nodded. "I understand. But you know street gangs are not just a bunch of kids. Hell, Jim, you could have been killed! And Sandburg would have been next."

Jim squirmed in this seat. "Yeah, I know. He did try and stop me last night. I can't explain it, Simon. I just wanted to prevent a fight. Most of those kids were Daryl's age."

Banks nodded again. "You're preaching to the choir, Ellison." He sighed heavily. "I called the gang unit this morning and had a chat. I set up a lunch meet with Detective Ryter. Why don't you call Sandburg and have him meet us at Quisno's?"

"I'll see if he's free."

Blair answered the phone on the first ring.

"Blair Sandburg."

"Hey, what are you doing for lunch?"

"Hi, Jim. How's the head?" Blair waved to a student that was just exiting his office. He had exactly two minutes to get to class.

"Good. Simon set up a meet with a guy from the Gangs Division, you want to join us?"

"Oh, man. I can't! I have a lunch meeting with a psych T.A."

"Psych? You getting free counseling?"

"Ha. Ha. Look, I've got to fly, take notes okay? I want to help with this gang thing."

"All right. I'll see you tonight."

Blair made his class with thirty seconds to spare. Earlier that morning he had gone to a professor to talk about youth gangs. From that meeting he got the name of a teacher's assistant who was writing his dissertation on gangs and was recommended as a local expert. Blair decided to meet the guy first and talk. If it looked like this T.A. would be able to help, then he'd introduce him to Jim.

The meeting was to take place in the student union building at noon. Blair brought the sandwiches and pop, as he'd promised. A tall red-headed man about Sandburg's age waved as he entered. Blair headed over to the corner table.

"Hey! I'm Blair. Thanks for meeting with me." He set the bags down and extended his hand.

"Any chance for a free lunch is worth my time, dude," the red head cheerfully declared. "Josh Thomas. What are we eating?"

Blair laughed; this was a guy after his own heart. He set out the food. "How'd you know what I looked like? You picked me out as soon as I walked in."

"Are you kidding? We've been hearing about the famous Sandburg. Not only do you get to ride with the cops, what a rush that must be, but we heard you're living with one too!" Thomas unwrapped his roast beef on wheat and took a slow bite, rolling his eyes towards the heavens. "Oh, Goh. Dis zz gooh!"

Blair blushed, he hadn't realized his living situation was facility gossip. "Yeah, well, I had a little problem with my previous place. The neighborhood kinda went down hill."

Thomas swallowed and laughed good-naturedly. "I heard it blew up!"

"Yeah, that too. Actually, I wanted to pick your brain about youth gangs. I heard you're the guy to talk to."

Thomas shrugged and popped the tab on his coke. "Sure, what do you need? Is it for a police case?"

"Sorta." Blair bit into his soy and sprout pita.

"I'm studying a lot of the local gangs. I'm trying to expound on Conklin's theory that people react to their perception of social problems rather than to the problems themselves."

"I remember that." Blair opened his water bottle. "That's based on W.I. Thomas's proposition that reality is socially defined. Any chance you're related, man?"

Josh Thomas laughed. His lightly freckled face looked like it laughed a lot. "I wish! But you can really see this in action when you study gang delinquency."

Blair nodded and took another bite. He liked this guy. They settled into their meal with mutual understanding that they'd get to the core of their discussion after the food was gone.

Ellison entered his home with a heartfelt sigh. The day had started out rough with Simon's official ass chewing, but picked up later with a productive lunch. Banks had gotten them invited into the investigation of last night's gang war without anyone's feelings hurt. True talent.

What little was known about the two gangs was vague. Each gang appeared in Cascade about the same time, two months ago. The normal graffiti had appeared advertising the arrival of the two rival groups. Local schools had noticed the jackets and earrings, but interviews by counselors resulted with the youths denying that they belonged to a gang.

The Gangs unit had a book started with a list of possible members. The matter held a position of low priority, due to the lack of proof that the youth were committing criminal activities in the city. Now all they had were the victims of the assault, even though Jim could testify that at first, the victims had been the ones chasing the other group.

Ellison placed his coat on the hook by he door.

"Smells good, Sandburg."

"It's almost done. It'd taste better if we had a wok." Blair gave the dinner a stir and added a toffee colored sauce to the mix.

"We do," Ellison informed as he removed his gun, badge and cuffs; stowing them all in a drawer especially reserved for that purpose.

Blair removed the pan from the stove and set it on a hot pad centered on the table. "What? I've never seen it."

"I think it's down in the storage unit. We can look after dinner." Jim dug into his pocket for a large metal key. "Here, I had a copy of the Ford's key made for you today."

Blair turned and stared wide-eyed at the key the cop was holding out towards him. "What..."

Jim grinned at the speechless response. "Take it, Darwin. Put it on your key ring. I don't want a repeat of last night."

Blair accepted the key. He gave his friend a stern look. "There better not be a repeat of last night. I'm your back up, man. Got it?"

Noting the determination of the younger man's attitude, Ellison clapped a hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "Loud and clear, Chief." He headed for the bathroom to wash for dinner.

They ate the meal in quiet company; the stereo playing softly. It wasn't Jim's normal station, but he let the dial stay. He'd heard worse noise from his partner's taste in music. After a while, the tension he hadn't realized he was holding began to evaporate.

"I met that psych T.A. today, he's doing his diss on gangs. Been studying the gangs in Cascade including the Aurora and Vespers." Blair used a piece of a wheat roll to wipe the last of the stir-fry from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

Jim gave his friend a stern look. "Do we need another `Club Doom' talk, Chief?"

"Nnnooo. These two incidents have nothing in common. I never left the university grounds, man. We just talked in general about gangs." Blair gave his friend a sheepish grin. "And I didn't say anything about the case."

Jim helped himself to seconds from the pan. "Just checking."

"Anyway, he said he would be happy to work with us. He had a lot of insight into gangs and why we have them, in fact there's an interesting debate ..."

Jim let his head drop forward, his chin hitting his chest as a loud snore interrupted Sandburg's warm up. He smiled and ducked to avoid a hot pad as it sailed through the air towards his head.

"We'll give his name and number to the gang unit, but I seriously doubt that we'll get any useful information, unless he can give us names and phone numbers of the members."

Sandburg shrugged. "I didn't ask him that. We just talked about the reasons the kids join gangs."

Ellison finished his dinner and carried his dishes to the sink. "No offense, Chief; but knowing why they join sounds like discussion fodder for college professors. What we need is a way to stop the fighting."

Blair joined the cop at the counter, bringing the rest of the dirty dishes. "But understanding where the gang members are coming from, what they're looking for when they join may give us a way to help to break up their need to belong to a gang."

Jim began to fill the sink with hot water. "If nothing else, we can add his name and number to the list of possible resource information. You never know, he could be useful. Leave the information by the phone and I'll take it in tomorrow."

They finished the dishes and put the small kitchen back into Ellison approved condition. Jim led his roommate down to the basement. Next to the laundry room was a series of locked rooms that allowed the residents of the building to store personal belongings. Jim used a small key and opened the door. He tugged on a string activating the bare bulb overhead and revealing stacked cardboard boxes. Each box was sturdy, the type one would purchase from a professional moving company.

"Look for the ones marked `kitchen'," Ellison instructed, moving several out into the hall to make extra room. Together the two men located and removed three boxes, two large and one small. "We might as well take them back up the loft, Chief. You may want to use some of this other stuff as well."

He secured the door and they muscled the boxes back into the elevator for the ride up to the top floor.

"Wow! Jim! This stuff is brand new!" Blair exclaimed in excitement as he opened the first box. Kitchen Aide products still in their boxes were pulled out by the happy student.

"Yeah, Carolyn and I got some nice stuff as wedding presents. Problem is, neither of us got into cooking." Jim opened the second box and started pulling out cookware and linen. He held a brightly colored flower pattern apron and grinned. "I'd forgotten about this. The guys bought it for me as a gag gift."

Blair watched him drape it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Thats...umm...interesting..." He'd finished emptying his box and was examining the stuff Jim was setting on the countertops. "You sure it's okay if I use this stuff?" He picked up a box with a picture of a juicer and read the features.

"Sure, no use letting it gather dust in storage. Okay, here's the wok." He lifted an electric wok from the last box and looked for a place to set it down. "I can see we're going to have to get some shelving put in for all this stuff. Why don't you look this equipment over; if we don't need it, I'll give it to `good will' or something."

Blair feasted his eyes upon the new equipment that cluttered the kitchen. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

The phone rang. Jim clapped a hand on Sandburg's shoulder as he passed to answer it. This ought to keep him busy for a while.

"Ellison."

"Jim, it appears the Aurora Street gang decided to get some revenge tonight. We've got a DB down at the docks. Industrial Way and Tenth. Ryter's there now, I'm about twenty minutes out."

Damn.

Parking the Ford behind Simon's sedan, Jim led Sandburg past the uniform that was guarding the perimeter. He located Simon and Detective Ryter, a fit looking man about his own age. Both men were talking together, while a forensic team worked around the small form of a youth dressed in a gray jacket lying in the road. A dark, almost black puddle was staining the asphalt under his head.

"Jim." Simon nodded to his Major Crime detective.

"Ryter, this is my associate, Blair Sandburg." Jim nodded with his chin to his roommate. Blair raised a hand in silent greeting. He was standing behind Ellison, letting the bigger man block his view of the dead youth.

Ryter gave Ellison a nod and ignored the younger man. "Ellison, does this kid look like one of the Vespers from the alley last night?"

Jim moved up to study the gang member, he looked young. Dark hair was long on top and pulled back into a pony tail, the sides had been shaved close to the skull. "I can't say for sure, there were too many of them."

"That's the one that talked to me. He was one of the last ones to run away."

Ryter turned and studied Blair intently. "He talked to you? Why didn't you tell anyone? What did he say!"

Blair swallowed, glancing at Jim before he replied. "Uh, he just wanted to know if I was a cop. It's not as if he introduced himself, man."

Disgusted, the Gangs detective turned deliberately away from Sandburg and walked away to talk with another officer. Jim could see Ryter was not going to be too thrilled with the idea of Sandburg helping with this investigation.

Blair looked up at his roommate. "I did give a description to the cops last night. I was going to tell you, Jim. After dinner."

Ellison nodded and studied the body. "Don't sweat it, Sandburg." He studied the urban terrain around the body. Forensics would have quite a job with the scene, he noted. Trash, broken glass and cigarette butts littered the area. Old wooden warehouses lined one side of the street and broken down piers on the other side.

"Looks like a blow to the back of the head killed him," Simon informed them. "No witnesses, of course. A uniform found the body during routine patrol. He called the gang unit when he saw the gray jacket."

"He's just a kid," Blair noted sadly. "This just isn't right."

"Yeah," Simon agreed quietly. It was not too difficult to guess who the big captain was comparing the victim with. "Well, this is officially a Major Crimes case. Both of these gangs are relatively new and this is the first fatality. The Gangs Unit is swamped so the Chief assigned this one to us."

"Is that why Ryter has a burr up his butt?" Ellison asked quietly.

"Who knows? We'll still keep the communication open between both divisions, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Who was he, Simon?" Blair inquired.

Simon reached into a sturdy cloth bag the forensic team had been using to collect evidence. He lifted out a clear plastic ziplock envelope with a student I.D. card inside.

"Andrew McDonnell, he went to North Pine Junior High." He read the address off for Jim to copy down. "We've got the police chaplain and a pair of officers going over to talk to his family."

"Captain, look at this." A female tech approached the group holding a small item in her latex-gloved hand. Jim pulled a baggie out and held it open for her to drop it in. The street was dark, but some scene lights had been set up to help the police work. Jim held the baggie up for all to view.

"A chess piece," Simon announced.

"Looks like the rook." Jim turned the baggie over. The dark piece was about two inches high and appeared to be hand carved out of wood. "It's not a cheap one either. It looks like mahogany."

"The kid had it tucked into his right sock," the tech informed the officers.

"Why would he hide it there?" Blair wondered out loud.

The next morning Sandburg was available to accompany Jim at work. They stopped for fresh coffee at a corner Tully's on the way to the station. They arrived at the bullpen with extra time to spare.

"Hey, Hairboy!" H greeted Blair with a goofy grin. "We missed you yesterday."

Blair grinned and gave the bald detective a suspicious look. "Why?"

"Don't mind him." Rafe waved at his partner. "He was in the mood for some finger food for lunch and thought you'd be able to recommend a good place."

"Hey! You stole my line!" H swatted the well-dressed man on the arm.

Ellison rolled his eyes as the antics ensued. He'd be glad when the trial would be forgotten. Sitting down at his desk, he powered up his computer and checked the file Rhonda had left on his desk from last night's homicide. The M.E.'s report wouldn't be available until later today or maybe even tomorrow. He made a mental note to go down and nose around later.

Blair pulled an extra chair over to join his friend. "Check your pencil cup, man."

Jim raised an eyebrow at his roommate and leaned forward to gaze into the collection of pens and pencils. A plastic finger had been placed inside.

"Huh, I never even noticed that yesterday." He pushed the file over to Blair and checked his email. "Looks like we have a ten AM appointment with McDonnell's folks."

"Okay. They sure live at a high rent area for having a kid in a gang."

"From what Ryter told me, both the Auroras and Vespers are a mix of ethnic and social backgrounds." One email caught his eye. He opened it and read the contents.

"Chief, run down and pick up the file for me, would you?" He scribbled a case number down on a yellow stickie sheet and handed it over. "The chess piece may be from a set stolen a few months ago from a game store over on Fifteenth."

"Be right back."

Jim used the time waiting to call the families of the kids hospitalized from the fight in the alley. All but one answered and he was able to make appointments that morning to visit them. When Blair returned with the file, Jim was pleased to see that the investigating officer had included some photos of the stolen merchandise. He held up the page with the photo of the chess game and showed it to Sandburg.

"What'd ya think?"

Blair pulled his glasses out of his pocket and studied the photo carefully. "Yeah, it looks like the same. Whoa, check out that price!"

"I saw. Maybe the Vespers pulled off the burglary and kept the chess pieces as a trophy. The report says the perps cleared several thousand in cash and merchandise."

They finished reading the file on the old break-in. It was an impressive burglary. Before finding the chess piece on the victim last night, there was no indication in the report that a youth gang might have performed the crime.

"You know, Jim, it seems a little sophisticated for a bunch of young teenagers to pull off," Blair remarked, setting the report down and removing his glasses.

"I agree, I was just thinking the same. Come on. We've got an interview with one of the Aurora gang members." He stuffed the files into a nylon case and headed for the parking garage, Sandburg right behind.

"Well this is sure productive....Not." Blair pulled his hair back from his face with both hands. The two homes they had visited that morning were a bust as far as obtaining new information was concerned. The kids didn't care about the dead Vesper member. They denied belonging to a gang. Their parents denied any knowledge of gang activity. Everyone was basically in denial. `And we're not talking about that river in Egypt, either,' Blair thought to himself.

He watched as Jim maneuvered the Ford up the driveway to the last interview they had before visiting Andrew McDonnell's parents. They had about an hour.

"It looks like this kid's family isn't as well off as the last two we visited," Jim noted as they walked toward the front door of a small single story home. The yard was cluttered with bikes and baseball equipment, a small kennel on the side held a yappy dog. Ellison rang the doorbell and stepped back.

"Hello?" An elderly lady opened the door and peered at the two through a screen door.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Detective Ellison." Jim held up his badge. "This is Blair Sandburg. We're here to talk to Jason about the fight."

"Oh, yes. Please come in. My grandson is in his room." She opened the screen and led them down a hallway toward the last bedroom. After gently knocking, she opened the door and announced the arrival of the guests to a boy laying on the bed reading.

Blair could see from the boy's face that the fight from the other night had not gone well for him. His left eye was blackened and a large bruise was visible on his chin. He had a white cast on his right arm from the fingers to the elbow.

"Hi, Jason. Your grandmother said we could talk to you about the fight," Ellison explained as he sat on a chair by a student desk.

Jason set his book down and sat up slowly, scooting back to lean against the headboard. He was in sweat pants and a blue T-shirt with tube socks on his feet. "What's to talk about? I already talked with the police."

Jim nodded. "I know. But there's been a murder. One of the Vespers was killed last night: Andrew McDonnell."

The grandmother gasped.

Blair could see that Jason was surprised by the information, but the youth quickly got himself back under control. "I don't know him."

Blair was leaning by the door, next to the grandmother. He watched Jim lean forward as he continued to talk with the gang member.

"Do you know if any of the Auroras knew him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason responded.

"Are you telling me that you don't belong to a group of kids that call themselves the Aurora Street Gang?"

"That's right, I don't."

"Why were you wearing a pearl earring the night you were attacked?"

Jason lifted his chin defiantly. He pointed at Blair. "Why not ask him about his earrings?" he asked smugly.

"What's going on, officer?" the grandmother asked, her body trembling slightly. "I thought you wanted to talk about Jason getting hurt the other night."

"Here, ma'am. Why don't you sit down?" Blair led her to the edge of the bed. She sat down with a perplexed expression.

"Mrs. Anderson. That was a gang fight two nights ago."

"What?!" She looked at her grandson with surprise. "You told me some kids attacked you and your friends for no reason, Jason."

Jason's face looked as if he'd bit into a lemon. "That's right. These guys are lying, Gran. I wasn't doing anything."

Blair could see the situation was going to be a repeat of the last two houses. Only this time, the parent was an elderly woman who really seemed clueless. Blair noticed a plastic chess game set up on a bookshelf.

"Do you play chess, Jason?" Blair pointed towards the game.

"Yeah." Jason looked at the board with the beginning of fear showing on his face.

"It's a fun game, you know it's been around for over a thousand years?"

Jason remand silent, his mouth set in a scowl.

His grandmother seemed to relax as the conversation turned away from the subjects of gangs and violence. "Oh, Jason does love to play chess. He even carries a piece with him as a good luck charm, don't you honey?"

Jason's face blanched. He looked at his grandmother with wide eyes. Shaking his head slowly, he muttered, "No. No, I don't. I just play with the set over there." He pointed to the bookcase.

Jim's eyes narrowed. Blair knew he was listening to the kid's heart rate. Blair's eyes went to the kid's socks. He couldn't see a hidden chess piece.

"Grandma, I'm feeling sick, I'm going to throw up." Jason's face did have a green tint.

"Oh, let's get you to the bathroom. Would you men mind seeing yourselves out, please?" The woman helped her grandson up and out the room.

They had no choice but to leave.

Back in the Ford, Jim held his hand out to stop his roommate from firing off a string of questions. Tilting his head, he audibly reached out until he could hear the voices in the house they had just left.

"Thanks gran, I feel better now."

The sound of movement into the back of the house and a faucet was turned on. Then back in the bedroom, a person was dialing a touch-tone phone.

"Dude. The cops were just here! .....I didn't say anything....... Kay's gotta be pissed!..... ....maybe later....bye."

Jim smiled and turned to his friend. "He just called someone. He referred to a person called `Kay'."

"Why would both the Vesper and the Aurora gangs carry a chess piece?"

"Good question. I'm not sure." He started the engine. "Let's go to the McDonnell's."

The last address on the list was across town. The McDonnells lived in a large development built a few years ago. Each home was on a shy acre. The homes were beautiful, with careful landscaping and roomy three car garages. Jim parked the truck on the street and the two men walked up the long paved driveway. Cars lined the drive. The McDonnells had a full house.

A red eyed young woman in her early twenties answered the door. She looked at Jim's badge and stood back to let them both enter. As Blair walked in, he got a closer look at her face.

"Stacy?"

She gave him a startled look. "Mr. Sandburg?"

He took her hand in both of his. "Oh my god, I didn't put it together before. Andrew was related to you?"

She nodded, her eyes spilling over with tears. "My...bro...brother."

She started to move forward and hesitated slightly, Blair opened his arms to invite her in and she gladly clung to him, crying on his shoulder. Sandburg patted her back, he gave his roommate a sad look. He mouthed the word `student' and accepted the clean handkerchief from the older man. After they parted, he handed her the white cloth, which she took gratefully.

"Sorry.."

"Hey, no problem. We are so sorry about your brother."

She gave him a watery smile and invited them back into the kitchen. A large group of people had gathered in the home. Some were sitting around a breakfast island, others worked at the counters and another group was gathered together in a sitting area off the kitchen where a sofa and some soft chairs were informally placed.

"Mom, Dad this is Professor Sandburg from the University and ...." She turned an apologetic face to the tall man.

"Detective Ellison," Jim ended for her with a smile. "We're sorry about your loss. Is it possible to have a private word with you both?"

Stacy's parents were sitting on the sofa, surrounded by friends and family. The father was a heavy-set man with a receded hair-line. Standing as if he was over a hundred years old instead of the mid forties, he helped his wife up. "Let's go into the den."

There were many things that Ellison enjoyed about being a cop, but talking with grieving parents over the recent loss of their child was not one of them. They had had no idea that Andrew belonged to a gang. He'd informed them that he met some new friends at school, but that was all. There had been frequent sleep-overs and Andrew was supposed to be at one on the night he was killed. They'd allowed the sleep-overs with the understanding that he would introduce his new friends soon. He used his bike to travel to see them, often carrying a back pack with extra clothes for staying the night.

"Do you know how he got the gray jacket he was found in?" Jim asked gently.

"It was his birthday present from us," the father replied. "He asked for it last month."

Ellison did not have the heart to tell them the jacket seemed to be the trademark of belonging to the gang. He tossed out another question he had not planned on asking, but the last interview with Jason changed his mind. "Did Andrew play chess?"

Mr. McDonnell looked perplexed. "No, I don't think so."

Jim glanced at his partner. Blair's look was a mirror of his own. What was going on?

Blair asked to be dropped off in front of the Psychology building after a quick lunch. Ellison was off to interview the deceased student's teachers.

Blair wanted to ask Josh Thomas a few questions before his first class. After asking a secretary where Thomas' office was, he found his new friend up to his wrists in ink.

"Eeeuwww! I thought my job was messy."

"Hey, Sandburg! It's not as bad as it looks. I'm making some ink blots for a class. What's up?" Josh set the card he was working on down and carefully peeled off the long gloves he wore.

"More questions. Have you ever heard of a gang carrying around game pieces?" Blair took a seat after being waved into it by the red head.

"Game pieces? Like Monopoly?"

"Sort of like that."

"No, not really. But you're talking youth gangs, right?" Josh leaned back into his chair, folding his fingers into a tent in front of his face. "So maybe they're bringing in a juvenile attempt to feel like part of a bigger purpose. You know, the secret decoder ring our parents were always harping about."

Blair laughed out loud. "You don't know my mom!"

"Not into the spy stuff, was she?"

"No way." Blair shook his head and checked the clock on the wall. "Oh, man I gotta fly. One more question. Did you ever hear of a guy, or gal for that matter, called `Kay' that belongs to a gang?"

"Not off hand, but let me check around." He held up both hands. "Discreetly, of course. I'll let you know. Maybe next time, I'll bring lunch."

"Cool!"

Ellison found his quarry in the break room at the station. Ken Ryter was pouring himself a cup of old smelling coffee as Jim walked in.

"Ellison, how's the investigation going?"

"Slow. I though I'd touch base with you and get your input."

"Sure." He pulled out a chair and set his cup down. "Where's that hippie of yours?"

Ellison tried not to grind his teeth as he went to pour his own cup of stale coffee. "At Rainier. He teaches anthropology."

"Who'd you piss off to get stuck with him, anyway?" Ryter sipped his coffee, unaware of how close he was to having his face smashed into the table.

"Look, just back off, okay? He's my partner, that's all you need to know." Ellison stirred in three packets of sugar and joined the Gangs detective at the table.

"Sorry. No offense, he's just..."

"Right, let's move on," Jim interrupted in a cool tone. "I interviewed three of the four Aurora Street members. Only managed to shake one. He lives with his grandmother. I overhead him talking about somebody named `Kay'. Said he would be pissed that McDonnell was dead. Any of that make sense to you?"

Ryter paused, his face carefully neutral. "No, I don't recall any players with that name. Did he say anything else?"

"No. Another thing, the grandmother said he carried a chess piece as a good luck charm, he denied it. But we found one on McDonnell too. Did any of your previous experience with either gang involve similar actions?"

"Chess? They look more like Playstation users to me. I can't see chess pieces being very important."

"Maybe, but it just seems odd that both gang members carry one."

Ryter shook his head.

Blair caught the last bus to Prospect Street. Taking the stairs two at a time, he hung his plaid oversized jacket on its hook and dropped his book bag on the floor.

The loft had been turned into ground zero for a construction project. Metal wire shelving leaned against the back of the sofa and Jim's tool box was open on the floor with an assortment of screw drivers and odds and ends scattered about.

"I am so not responsible for this, man!" Blair exclaimed in a mock panic. "Don't even try to blame me for this mess!"

Jim looked up from his job of assembly. "Relax, Darwin. I'm putting your shelves together for the kitchen. Grab the instruction sheet and read the part after step three to me."

Blair sat cross-legged next to his roommate and picked up the small booklet. "Okay, step four. Call an expert, you are in too deep."

Jim gave him a annoyed look. "Very droll, Seinfeld. Who writes your material? Now read."

They worked together for over an hour. Ellison took a break to order a large pizza: half meat lovers and half vegetarian. By the time it arrived, the shelf was finished. It looked good against the brick wall next to the bathroom door.

"Come on, we'll eat and finish loading the stuff on the shelves later."

Switching the TV on to a ball game, Jim set out paper towels and two beers next to the open pizza box.

"Any luck at McDonnell's school this afternoon?" Blair asked as he pulled the cheese strings off his chin.

"Not really. Normal kid. Shy in class. Pulled B's and C's in most classes. No sports or clubs. When he started wearing the gray jacket, the counselor tried to talk with him, but he wouldn't tell her anything."

"Grey jackets, pearl earrings and chess pieces. How much more bizarre can this case get?"

They wrapped the extra pizza up in foil and stored it in the refrigerator. All the appliances were loaded onto the shelves. Blair didn't want Jim to give anything away.

"We may want to try some of this stuff out later," he decided, eyeing the loaded shelves with a contented smile.

"Where did you learn to cook anyway?"

Blair finished breaking down the box that the professional style blender had been packed in. He set it with the other boxes. "Naomi was staying with a chef when I was fourteen. He taught me a lot. But even before that, I learned to cook for myself. Be right back."

Jim read between the lines, not liking the possible interpretation that was coming to his mind. He watched his friend carry the cardboard out the front door. Meeting Sandburg's mother had been an enlightening experience, to say the least. But he couldn't help but wonder what sort of childhood his friend had endured.

He took a pack of twist-ties and began to coil up the electrical cords from each appliance. It wouldn't do to have the cords hanging.

Shouts from the street below caused the cop to drop the ties and run to the balcony. Sound of objects boincing off metal reached the cop. By the side of the large green recycle bin he saw Sandburg lying motionless in a curled ball. Further down the narrow alley, half a dozen youth were in the act of throwing or bending down to pick up golf ball sized rocks that littered the area.

"Stop it! No!" Jim turned and threw himself back into the loft. Grabbing his gun from the drawer, he raced down the stairs and out into the night. Taking the corner of the building at a dead run, he was just able to catch a glimpse of a few of the gang members backs as they turned a corner a block away.

Dropping to his knees beside his guide, Jim tucked the gun into his waist band. Blair was motionless, still curled into a ball. The hair on the left side of his head clung to his scalp, saturated with blood.

"Sandburg!" Jim pushed a wet glob of hair back from his face. His eyes were closed. Checking his ABC's, he saw that the kid was breathing without difficulty. His pulse was strong and steady, but a deep cut high on his scalp bled profusely.

He looked back to see a few of his neighbors standing uncertainly at the corner of the building.

"Call 911! We need the fire department and police!"

A man raised his hand to acknowledge the order and he disappeared. A woman moved forward to help.

"What else can we do?"

"Could you bring me something clean for a bandage and a blanket?"

"Sure." She was gone.

Jim looked down at his friend who had started to moan and shift his legs.

"Sandburg?"

"Umm."

"Lay still. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Blue eyes blinked , Jim smiled into a confused face. "It's okay. Just keep your eyes open and be still. Help is on the way.

" "Jim...kids....threw..."

"I know. Did you get a good look at any of them?"

"No... no. ..jack...ets..."

"I saw, probably Aurora Street members." Jim accepted a clean tea towel from his neighbor with a smile. He pressed it gently against the side of Blair's head while she draped a blanket over the downed man.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Umm.."

Jim patted his shoulder. "Never mind, we'll get you to the hospital. Look like we're going to have matching stitches, partner."

"...swell..."

Standing back, Ellison watched the aid crew evaluate his roommate. After learning that Blair was working with the police, even in an unofficial manner, they offered to transport the student themselves rather then call for a private ambulance. Jim made a mental note of the crew's names and station they responded from. He would drop off a box of pastries when this was over.

Ellison was on first name basis with the uniforms that responded to the call. They took the report and immediately advised all units to detain any groups of youth in the area for questioning.

Taking a few minutes, he jogged back up to the loft, grabbed his keys, cell phone and Blair's coat. Making sure the door was locked, Jim rejoined the crowd that had gathered to watch the injured man lifted into the back of the large red fire department aid car. He turned to thank the neighbors that had helped them.

"It's no problem. I can't believe we are having problems with gangs in this area!" the lady exclaimed, clutching her blanket to her chest. She gave the detective a nervous smile.

"You want to ride with us, officer?"

Jim nodded and stepped up into the back. Blair was strapped to the gurney with a white field dressing around his head, he looked like an extra from a WWII movie.

"Hey.." Blair pulled at the stiff collar under his chin. "How come when you get hurt.... I get left behind?" He gave a wan smile that changed into a grimace of pain when the back door closed causing the vehicle to move.

"Relax, partner." Ellison took a seat next to the gurney and laid his hand on Blair's arm. "We'll work on your assertive skills later."

The same doctor was on call that had stitched up Ellison's head earlier that week. He ordered Sandburg up to radiology for a set of x-rays. Simon arrived and Jim filled in him on what had happened that night while they waited.

"Ellison, why would the Auroras come clear across the city to attack Sandburg?"

Jim shook his head wearily. "I don't have a clue. Blair was the one to take out the cardboard, they might have been waiting for either one of us."

"I put some extra uniforms in the area when you called. Ryter contacted me, he's also out looking."

Jim turned to stare at his captain. "What is Ryter doing out this late?"

Simon shrugged, "He said he was catching up on some files and heard it go down on the radio. He'll let us know if he learns anything."

Ellison heard the familiar sound of his guide's voice. Blair must be back from x-ray. He sounded upset. Jim stood and headed back into the treatment room without an explanation to his boss.

He joined the doctor and patient in the middle of a heated discussion while a young nurse stood by with wide eyes.

"No! I'm not letting you, man."

"Mr. Sandburg, don't be absurd..."

"Excuse me? Can I ask what the problem is?" Jim folded his arms over his chest in his best `sentry' pose.

"Jim! He's gonna cut my hair!" Blair's cervical collar was off, without his coat on, the ugly bruises from the rocks were visible on his arms. But the stubborn set of his friend's jaw told the Sentinel that his guide was alert and pissed off.

"You need stitches..."

"So stitch! But leave the hair alone."

"Blair, what if I watch. If he takes more that a few strands, then I'll stop him." Jim gave the doctor a meaningful look.

"Fine, but no more that a couple!"

Blair let himself be rolled over onto his side and given a shot to numb the site. As promised the doctor only cut half a dozen strands. The stitches were tied in carefully, after four were completed, the doctor set his tools down.

"Okay, that's it. Keep it from getting wet for a couple of days and watch it for signs of infection." He sighed and shook his head. "I would like to have removed a little more hair, but you should be okay."

Blair raised his hand to his head, but Jim stopped it en route. "Don't touch. Thanks, doc."

"Your welcome. How's your head?" The doctor peeled off his gloves and tossed them into a trashcan.

"Good." Jim remained still as the doctor examined him briefly.

"Yours will be ready to come out soon. If you want to stop by, I'll remove them for you."

"Thanks, I might."

"Fine, well your roommate is going to be very sore for a while. Aside from the head injury, he has multiple contusions. He should use ice for the first 24 hours then he can switch to heat. Watch for the same signs and symptoms that I warned you about."

"Right."

"Can I get up now?" Blair asked sourly.

Ellison gave the doctor an apologetic smile and escorted his friend back to the waiting room. Simon offered them both a ride back to the loft, for the second time that week. It was almost midnight by the time the three men walked into the apartment.

Blair removed his coat, hung it on the hook by the door and headed for the sofa.

"Wait, Sandburg. Don't sit down." Jim tossed his keys in the basket and tucked his gun into the drawer. He went to the freezer and pulled out several small bags of frozen peas.

"What?" Blair asked with an impatient wave at the frozen veggies. "I'm not hungry, man."

Simon smiled as he crossed over to a chair and sat down.

Ellison pointed towards the lower bedroom. "Let's go, Chief. These aren't for eating. We need to ice the worst of those bruises tonight."

"I'm fine, Jim. Give it a rest."

Ellison picked up a handful of clean kitchen towels from a stack he had placed on the new shelves. He stifled a sarcastic reply, not wanting to embarrass the younger man in front of Simon. Well, more than he probably already had. He lifted one eyebrow at his roommate and silently walked into the small bedroom.

Blair threw his hands up in the air. "Shit! You are such a control-freaking-Sentinel!" He followed his friend into his room, stomping his feet as he walked.

Turning down the blankets on the messy bed, Ellison watched his irritated friend enter the bedroom. "Where do the bruises hurt the most?"

Blair hesitated, giving the question some thought. "My back up high and here," he grumbled, pointing to a spot on the back of his leg about mid way between his knee and butt.

"Go ahead and take off your clothes and lay on your stomach. We'll ice the worst areas for a couple of hours. Otherwise, you're going to feel really sore in the morning."

Blair fumbled with his belt, still scowling. "You and Simon are going to talk about the case," he complained.

"No, I'm tired. I'm going to thank Simon for the ride and send him home. If he does tell me anything new, I'll tell you about it first thing, okay?" He watched his friend step out of his jeans. A couple of angry looking round bruises stood out. When Blair carefully lifed the Henley over his bandaged head, Ellison's eyes squinted in anger. At least seven rocks had hit Blair's back, with three bruises close together on his left shoulder blade causing one large contusion. He reached out and gently touched the area, feeling the heat from the pooling blood under the damaged skin.

Blair's own dark mood vanished when turned and saw the look on his friend's face. "It's okay, man. I'll heal."

"It is not okay, Sandburg. Do you want a pain pill?"

Blair carefully shook his head.

Jim gestured at the bed. "Go ahead and climb in."

Using the towels to keep the make-shift ice packs from touching the skin, Jim set one on Blair's leg, another on a spot that looked bad near the small of his back and the last two on the shoulder blade. Blair used a few pillows to brace himself comfortably at an angle and sighed as he closed his eyes.

Jim draped a sheet and a light blanket over his friend. "I'll turn the heat in the loft up a little. I'll be back in two hours to remove the packs. You can take some pain meds then if you want." He went to the door and flipped off the light.

"'Kay, thanks, man."

Simon was still in the same position when Ellison returned.

"Never saw a Sandburg temper-tantrum before," he quipped with a smile. "Very impressive, `course he doesn't hold a candle to some of the snits Daryl can throw."

Ellison dropped onto the sofa, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back against the cushions. "He was stoned by a group of strangers less then twenty feet from his home. I'd think he's entitled to be a little pissed off, Simon."

"No offense meant, Jim. I'm just not used to seeing him like this."

Jim smiled and rolled his head to look at his captain. "This is nothing, you ought to see him grading a bunch of poorly written essays."

Simon laughed softly and stood. "I'm out of here. We need to brainstorm this in the morning, Jim. I'd like to know how they found your address and why they are targeting Sandburg and-or you."

Ellison nodded as he rose and walked toward the door. "Thanks for the ride home, Simon. I'll be in tomorrow as soon as I can."

Simon fished into his coat pocket and pulled out his cigar case. "Okay. You certainly have the comp time coming. I'll set up an inter-departmental meeting for ten."

"I'll be there."

Jim locked the door and turned off the lights. Going to Blair's door, he checked on his partner. Blair was sound asleep. He turned the thermostat up five degrees and climbed the stairs to his bed.

Blair had an ant's eye view of the kitchen counter.

"You know, I've been thinking."

"Ah huh."

Blair shifted he head a little and used a hand towel to blot a trickle of water that was running for his eye.

"Remember the conversation that you overheard? When Jason talked about Kay?"

"Yeah." Jim used a washcloth to gently work another section of dried blood out of his roommate's hair.

"What if he didn't mean `Kay' like a whole name, but like they do in `Men in Black'?

Ellison used the spray nozzle to rinse the shampoo from the now clean strand of hair and started working on a new strand that was stiff from dried blood.

Blair had awakened at six that morning stiff and in pain. After helping him to the bathroom and back into his bed. He retrieved the peas from the freezer, where he had returned them at two am that morning. He gave his roommate four Advils and repeated the icing procedure for an hour. Now they were washing the blood out of his hair without getting the sutures wet. It was a two-man operation.

Ellison paused in his job and studied Sandburg. He was sitting on some phone books on a kitchen chair turned sideways next to the counter. This way he could lean his head and rest his ear on the edge next to the sink, allowing Jim to wash the blood down the drain.

"Men in Black? Are you going to try and tell me that aliens are involved in this case?"

Blair snorted. "Nnnooo. Remember, Will Smith played a cop named James, but after the suit guys recruited him, he had to shorten his name to the letter `J'.

"So, what was your point again?"

Blair sighed. "Kay. Maybe it's not K A Y. Maybe it's just the letter `K'. Like it's short for his real name."

Jim nodded his head as he pondered the suggestion. "Could be."

"This isn't fair, you know. You got stitches and got to wash your hair."

"I ran a soapy wash cloth through it carefully. You can do that with short hair. If you want, we can give you the same cut."

"And another thing." Blair ignored the suggestion. "Why do the gangs use the names of streets for their name. Is there something special about Aurora or Vesper Street?"

Ellison finished with the last strand and poured a capful of conditioner into his palm. "I'm not sure. We can check a city map and see if anything stands out as obvious."

"I know where Aurora is, it's like a big street. But where is Vesper? And come to think of it, none of the three guys we talked to even live close to Aurora. So how do the members link to the streets they're using?"

Jim shrugged, using the sprayer to do a final rinse. "Maybe it's not the location of the street that they find important. Maybe it's the name itself."

"Umm....OH!....OUCH!"

"Hold still!" Jim carefully removed his fingers from his guide's wet hair. "What's the matter with you!"

Blair was wiggling in his chair, his attempted movement to sit up had caused Jim to pull his hair. He stilled long enough to allow Jim to free his fingers.

"We need a dictionary!" He sat up straight flinging water through the air.

Ellison snatched a towel from the table and tossed it over his friend's head. "I'll get it, dry off. I was done anyway."

Ellison climbed the stairs to his room and returned with a Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary. He found Blair searching his room, the damp towel still around his neck. "Here, this work?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for a city map." He pulled out a file from a stack of anthropology magazines, causing them to slide across the floor. "Here it is!" He picked up his glasses from his desk.

They spread the city map out on the kitchen table. "Okay, here's Aurora." Jim traced it with a finger.

Blair placed his glasses on his nose and read the small print listing the names of the streets alphabetically. Towards the end of the list he read out the co-ordinates next to Vesper.

"P-8."

Jim traced the two together and searched the area carefully. "Here it is. It's just a small five block area in the industrial area."

"So the location may not be important to these kids, right?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, it looks that way."

Blair picked up the dictionary. "I think I know what Aurora is, but let me look it up."

"I thought it was the Aurora Borealis, the northern lights."

Blair found the correct page. "It is, there are southern lights too but another definition is `dawn' or the Roman Goddess of Dawn." He flipped to the back of the large book. "Now, let's see if I'm right...." He stopped turning the pages, reading quickly.

"Oh, wow! It is!"

"What?" Jim stood at his friend's side, trying to zoom in on the small print, but Sandburg would not hold the book still.

"Vesper! It means Evening Star!" Blair snapped the book closed and set it down. "This is amazing! Oh, man...yeah, even the jackets...Wow, and the chess..." He grabbed Jim's sleeve with his right hand, tugging it excitedly.

"Sandburg! What are you talking about?"

"Oh. But, this means..." He turned wide eyes toward his roommate. "Oh, Jim. This is bad."

"Blair, I swear if you don't start making sense in the next five seconds..."

Jim gave his boss's door two quick taps with his knuckles, then entered with Sandburg in tow in response to Simon's invitation.

"Sir, we need a pre-meeting before the ten o'clock meeting."

"What's up?" Simon leaned back from his work and studied the pair. "How you feeling, Sandburg?"

"Better, thanks."

Simon waved them towards the two chairs in front of his desk.

Jim jumped into an explanation of what they had learned that morning. With help from Blair, he laid their theory out for the Captain.

"Let me get this straight," Simon said removing his gold framed glasses and laying them on the desk. "The Auroras are the white guys and the Vespers are the black guys. Like in chess."

"Basically, yeah." Blair nodded his head. "Aurora stands for dawn, meaning the beginning of light, daylight. They wear a pearl earring, also white. I bet if we were to ask Jason's grandmother, she would tell us that the chess piece he denied he carried for good luck was also a white piece."

Jim scratched his head, his injury must be healing. "That's right. Now, Vesper means evening or dark. They wear dark gray jackets. We know that McDonnell carried a black chess piece."

Simon nodded as the two explained it again. "Okay, so the two gangs fancy themselves in opposition against each other. But I've got to state the obvious. This is not the normal behavior of gangs, especially not youth gangs."

Blair shot up from his seat excitedly and winced in pain. "Exactly! That's what we thought." He began to wave his hands as he talked. "This is too much! Too contrived! Someone or some group is behind this."

Simon's face looked doubtful. "To what advantage?"

"Well, there is the break in at the game store," Jim suggested. "Maybe these kids are being used to steal and they turn the bulk of the profit over to the adults behind the scene."

Simon shook his head. "Damn. You may be right. We need to get Burglary involved in this." He eyed the two men with interest. "Which one of you came up with this theory?"

Both roommates pointed a finger at the other.

Simon sighed.

Blair couldn't stay for the big meeting. He needed to be in class. Simon had a uniform drop him off with the understanding that Ellison would pick him up that afternoon. He shouldered his backpack and headed for his office to pick up his lecture notes for his first class.

Stacy McDonnell was waiting by the door to his locked office.

"Stacy!"

"Hi, Professor. You got a second?" She looked pale and sad, but a little better then the last time he'd seen her.

"Sure, and it's just Blair. I'm not at the illustrious level of Professor just yet," he explained as he unlocked his office door and guided her inside.

After waiting for her to get comfortable in a seat, he sat behind his desk and smiled warmly. "What can I do for you?

"Have you and Detective Ellison found out who killed my brother?"

Blair smiled sadly and tilted his head. "Not yet. We have some leads that we're looking into, though."

She took a laundered handkerchief from her purse and set it on his desk. "Thanks," she said quietly, looked at him with sad eyes. "My parents are totally blaming themselves. They both work. And I'm in school. No one was noticing that Andy was getting involved ..." She paused as her voice became shaky.

Blair wasn't sure what to say. It was a tragic situation. But perhaps it could have been avoided if the family had been more aware. "I can't imagine what this is like for you and your parents."

She shook her head slightly, pulling a tissue out of her pocket and blotting her eyes.

"Did Andy ever talk about his new friends?"

She took a deep breath. "A little. When I was home on the weekends, we'd talk in the morning a little." She smiled as if lost in a pleasant memory. "He was excited to have these friends. He was always a quiet kid, real shy."

Blair leaned forward. "Did he mention any names? Anything specific?"

"No, he never said their names. But he did talk about some sort of promotion about a week ago. Something about making the `back line'." She looked hopefully at him. "I'd forgotten that. It never made any sense at the time. Does it mean anything?"

Blair was careful to stay calm. "Maybe, did he ever talk about a good luck charm?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think he even had such a thing." She checked her watch and stood. "I've got to run to class. Thanks for talking with me."

He scooped up his notes. "I'm on my way out too. You can come by anytime. My office hours are posted and Jim already gave your folks our home number."

Blair locked his door and headed for class. He planned to call Jim as soon as he was finished.

The meeting had gone well. Burglary promised to revisit some of their cases, including the game store break-in. Ryter was stunned with the theory of the two youth gangs being controlled by a single or group of adults. He left the meeting with a purposeful stride to his walk.

After the meeting had ended, Jim sat down at his desk to contact the fourth member of the Aurora gang and set up an interview. He reread the officer's notes from the brief interview that had occurred at the hospital earlier that week. All the boys had denied that they belonged to a gang. They stuck to the story `they had been jumped for unknown reasons'.

It was possible now to see that they may have been coached as to what to say. Ellison pulled his wallet out and searched for the business card he'd placed inside. He had promised to give it to Ryter, but had forgotten. Now he had a few questions he wanted to ask this university `expert' on local gangs himself.

Blair dialed the number to Jim's desk. The line was busy. He hung up before the recording could finish the part that said, `for only 75 cents..'". Darn, he wanted to know how the meeting went.

Working on a syllabus for a new class, Sandburg was deep into the courting customs of a New Guinea tribe when his phone rang.

"Hello, Blair Sandburg."

"Hey, man. You eaten yet?"

"Josh!" Blair glanced at the clock on his desk. Where had the time gone? "No, I got involved in something here and didn't notice the time. What's the plan?"

"Payback. I've got the fried chicken and the drinks. You up for some homemade lunch?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm totally down with that."

"Good I'll pick you up, we can eat in my van. I think I've located an ex-gang member that you'll want to meet. He's heard of your Kay person."

"Wow! Great!"

Josh pulled up to the curb in a mid-1980's model Ford van. Blair climbed into the passenger seat and they headed south.

"How long is this going to take? I've canceled my office hours, but I need to be back for a class at two."

Josh shrugged. "No problem, he's only twenty minutes from Rainier. We'll make it back in plenty of time. I treated us to some Thomas Kempfer."

"Oh, yeah. That's the good root beer." Blair picked up the glass long neck and laughed at the straw in the drink. "You getting highbrow on me, Josh?"

Thomas chuckled as he sipped his own drink. "Sorry about that. My dad refused to drink without a straw; I guess some habits are learned early. The chicken is in the Tupperware and the paper towels are here. Damn, if I paid taxes, I could write this off as a working lunch!"

Blair bit into the tasty chicken as his friend drove. A paper towel covered his lap to catch the crumbs. "This is good." Blair picked up his drink and took a long pull.

"I know. My mom is a great cook." Josh snagged a leg for himself and munched happily. "Your cop friend called me this morning."

"Really? Cool! I told him you offered to help."

"He asked a lot of good questions about gangs. Frankly, Blair, I'm flattered to be considered worthy for the police to come to me for answers. You may be responsible for me getting a big head!"

Laughing as he drank, Blair shook his head slightly. "Oh man, you don't know the uphill battle I fight sometimes at the station. They are so used to seeing a problem from the traditional angle. I have to bang my head pretty hard to get them to try something new!"

"Judging by his questions, I'd say your efforts are paying off!"

Ellison looked up as Detective Ryter walked into the bullpen heading directly for his desk.

"You got a couple of hours?"

"What's up?" Jim asked.

Ryter leaned over the desk and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I've got a contact that wants to talk to me about the Vesper gang. I talked him into a meet with you along. You game?"

Jim stood and snagged his jacket. "Let me sign out."

"We'll take my car, he already knows it."

Climbing into a black Landrover, Ellison looked at the gang's detective with curiosity. "How's a city employee swing the price of one of these beauties?"

"No kids, no wife, good investments. It's not that hard."

They drove toward the docks in silence. The afternoon sky was beginning to darken with an impending rainstorm. Ryter parked on a side street, out of view from the busier streets.

"Okay, he's skittish, a bit of a flake, but so far he's fairly trustworthy."

Ellison extended his hearing as they walked toward a side door of an apparently abandoned fish processing plant. A faint sound of movement from inside accompanied by sickly breathing convinced the Major Crime detective only one person was inside. Rain started to fall as they reached the side door. Ryter tested it and found it unlocked.

"Ready?" He looked at Jim.

"Yeah, I got your back."

The room was open to the roof, over two stories up. Long windows near the ceiling let in the daylight. Ryter stayed close to the right wall, heading towards a room that had been walled off to form a type of office space. Jim followed a few steps behind, his hand ready to pull his gun if he needed to. He could still hear the sickly breathing of a single person; it seemed to come from the office.

"Elliott?"

"Yeah, man."

Jim entered behind the gang detective. A short man sat on the edge of a metal desk. He was thin; his skin had the unhealthy look of the terminally ill. Ellison could hear the rattle in his lungs has he breathed.

"This the guy ya told me about?"

`This is Detective Ellison. Jim meet Elliott."

Jim nodded to the snitch.

Elliott scratched his cheekbone with dirty and broken fingernails. "You're looking for info on that kid gang that had a death the other day, right?

"That's right."

"It's real twisted, ya know? That gang runs around like they're all special."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked.

"They're just kids, but they act like Knights of the Round Table. They have this guy they meet, he's like their boss, some royalty."

"You saw this guy?" Ryter asked sharply.

"No. But they use a condemned building over by the viaduct to meet, the one that used to be a cold storage place." Elliott sniffed, rubbing his nose with a dirty hand.

"Why do you call them Knights of the Round Table?" Ellison asked, thinking he may know the reason.

"I watched them once. They act like some old movie with Kings and Knights and stuff."

"Do they use the name `bishops'?"

Elliott looked at Jim with surprise. "Yeah. They do."

Ryter jumped in with his own question. "If you've seen the meeting, who is the guy in charge?"

"Don't know. He wears a black hood over his face." Elliott shifted off the desk and stood. "Am I gonna get paid or what?"

Ryter studied the skinny man. "You told us everything you know?"

"Sure, of course, man."

Jim straightened in attention. The man's heartbeat told him a different story. "You want to answer that again, buddy? Maybe this time with the truth?"

Elliott gave the tall cop a frightened look. "I am! I only pass on what I know. I don't spread lies, just ask Ryter!"

Ryter sighed and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "Go ahead, Elliott. Tell us the iffy stuff, I'll understand if it doesn't check out correct."

Elliott pointed a shaky finger at both cops. "I get paid, right? Even if the rumor don't work out. I got a reputation to protect!"

The gang's detective nodded patiently. "Right, go ahead."

"Okay then. I just heard, so I can't be sure, that the head guy is some dude from the university who studies gangs. That's all, man. Take it for what it's worth." He reached out and plucked the twenties out of the cop's hand.

God, he was tired! Blair moved his head to try and search for the clock by his bed. What time was it anyway? If he was late, he couldn't recall what he was late for.

It didn't help that the room was spinning.

Deciding it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission to miss whatever he was missing Blair laid his head back down. He didn't know for sure, but the way he was feeling, he must be sick. Certainly he couldn't be expected to go if he was sick? Not that he knew where he needed to go, anyway.

And when did his futon get so uncomfortable?

"Just go back to sleep, Blair. We're almost there."

Oh, okay then. He wasn't late after all.

Ellison pointed out the anthropology building as Ryter drove. He had tried Sandburg on his office line and cell phone. No answer.

He was able to reach security and send them over to check, but the office was locked and empty.

"You can't be sure that this Josh Thomas guy is the same one," Ryter said as he parked his Landrover in front of Hargrove Hall.

"No, but I'm sure he is a student studying gangs. I talked to him just today. He's familiar with both groups." Ellison waved at the security officers who waited for them on the steps.

The search of the grounds around the building had turned up nothing. No classes were in session. One student did tell security he had seen Sandburg get into a white van. Ellison called the station and had Brown run a vehicle check on Thomas. He drove a Ford Van.

They put out an APB on the van and the owner.

"We need to check out that building by the viaduct," Ellison decided. He called Simon and updated his boss on what he suspected. Ryter waited patiently for the cell phone conversation to end.

"But why would this Thomas kid go through all this smoke and mirror crap for stuff he's probably pawning off for less than fifty percent?"

Ellison shook his head. "It's not the money. It's the dissertation. Let's go. Simon is meeting us at the cold storage building with some back up."

Ryter jogged along to keep up with Jim's ground eating stride. "What does a dissertation have to do with this?"

Ellison waited for the man to unlock the door. He gave his fellow detective a fierce look. "You don't know about `holy grails', do you?"

Josh Thomas dropped the limp form at his feet. His court was present and seated, waiting breathlessly for him to explain the presence of this bound and gagged man.

He carefully looked each youth in the eye, giving them all a personal nod of approval.

"You've done well. I'm pleased so many of you could come after all the police involvement into our affairs." He always lowered his voice slightly when he wore the black hood.

A few boys sat on a crate. Four to his right, two on his left. An empty crate stood alone on the end. Making a point to face the empty crate for a long ten seconds, he pointed to a youth that sat on the floor in a line facing those seated on the crates.

"Approach."

The youth stood with a proud smile and neared, coming within inches of Sandburg's face. Blair opened his eyes and gazed blearily at the tennis shoes by his nose.

Thomas handed a black rook to the youth and pointed to the empty crate. The new rook jogged over and sat happily on his new seat, eyeing the other `pawns' with a smug expression.

"We have business today, this man knows about us." He paused dramatically and pointed to the still form on the floor. "We must keep our identity from the world. We are close to beating the Auroras. We will get vengeance for Andrew!"

The group of boys burst into a great roar of shouts and yells as they raised their hands toward the high ceiling.

Thomas allowed the noise to go unchecked for a moment then raised his right hand. The court settled down again, waiting for the next announcement with anticipation.

"Before you kill him, I must leave. `Q' is in charge." Thomas pointed to the large boy on his right. "He will know what to do with the body. We will meet again in one week by the power plant. No one is to return to this location until I say it's okay, understood?"

The group nodded.

"Cascade Police! Everybody freeze!" Simon stepped from behind a doorway, his gun drawn and held out with both arms stiff. Ellison and Ryter both raised up from low positions behind some boxes. Over twenty-five officers and SWAT team members appeared, being careful to keep out of each other's cross fire.

The group of kids rose to their feet in a mass of panic and confusion.

Thomas quickly pulled Sandburg up as a shield. A long kitchen knife appeared at Blair's throat.

"Everyone down! Now!" Ellison bellowed. The order worked on most of the `pawns'; the others acted as if to run, but could not find themselves able to take their eyes off the multiple gun barrels that were pointed at them. They soon joined their friends on the floor.

Jim had eyes only for Thomas. He had a clear shot of the black hood, but hesitated to take it while the knife was pressed against his guide's jugular. Blair looked drugged. He was being totally supported by Thomas. His head limp on his neck. A strip of white cloth was tied tightly as a gag.

"Give it up, Thomas. You've got no where to go." Ellison angled to the side. SWAT members opposite him moved out of his line of fire.

"I'm walking. Let me out or I'll cut him!" Thomas kept his left arm around Blair's chest. The knife held ready. Blair's eyelids were half closed, his head lolled onto his left shoulder. Thomas watched as Ellison moved around to his right.

"No one is walking. Just put the knife down," Simon ordered forcefully, from slightly to the left. Josh turned to face the captain.

Jim saw his chance and took it. His hand recoiled once as the bullet left his gun for a true path into the handle of the knife, taking off Thomas's thumb and first finger in a splatter of blood and carpal bones; forcing the blade away from the drugged man's neck.

Howling in pain, Thomas released his captive. Blair dropped like a rock to the floor, oblivious of the bullet that passed within inches of his chin.

Jim moved in, kicking the knife across the floor. Thomas doubled over, clutching his injured hand. Yanking the hood off, Ellison pulled the man back, away from Sandburg.

"Check mate, professor!" he hissed fiercely at the sobbing man.

Waiting until Simon led the ex-king away, Ellison re-holstered his weapon and knelt beside his roommate. He was certain the blade had not done any damage, but still breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the unmarked skin.

"Sandburg! Wake up." Pulling off the gag, he patted his friend's face.

Blair opened his eyes and looked in the general direction of Jim's voice, his eyes unfocused.

"Give me another ten minutes, man."

"Riiight." Jim rolled the student carefully over and started untying his wrists from behind his back.

Taggart appeared, slowly lowering his large body down beside them. "Is he okay, Jim?"

"Yeah, I think so. I can't smell anything on his breath but root beer. I'm thinking Thomas slipped him something like Rohypnol. It's easily enough to get from Canada." He finished with the rope and sat his roommate up.

"Whoa... Jim. What's the rush, man? I'll get up." Blair lifted his hand to rub his eyes.

"Blair, do you know where you are?"

"My room?" He moved his hand up to his head. "Ohh. I've got a mother of all headaches, Jim. Tell me it's Saturday, man."

Jim finished evaluating his guide's heart rate and breathing. Rohypnol usually took about eight hours to work out of one's system. Blair probably had another couple to go.

"It's Saturday, partner. Go back to sleep."

"Thanks, Jim." Blair leaned into his roommate and laid his head on Jim's shoulder.

"You're welcome, Chief."

When Sandburg woke up two and a half hours later, he was on his futon, his body stiff and sore.

Jim looked up from the table where he and Simon sat drinking coffee as the sleep-saturated man shuffled out of his room.

"Mornin," he mumbled, weaving toward the coffee pot.

Ellison stood and intercepted his guide, steering him toward the table. Blair sat without protest and waited expectantly for a hot cup of coffee to appear before him.

"It's not morning for another three hours, Sandburg." Simon informed him with a grin, nodding toward the darkness through the windows.

Blair reached for the coffee that Jim sat down in front of him.

"Don't confuse him, Simon." Jim admonished.

"Right, sorry."

Ellison sat down next to his roommate, waiting for him to take a drink and enjoy the rich taste.

"Blair, what do you remember last?" Jim asked gently.

Scratching behinds his ear, Sandburg yawned. "I was eating chicken." Blair paused and looked at Ellison in confusion. "Wait, that can't be right." More alert now, he reached out and pulled his roommate's wrist close to his face to read the time.

"Nine?" He dropped Jim's arm and looked at the windows toward the balcony. "At night? Jim! How can it be nine at night!" His voice steadily got louder.

"Calm down," Ellison ordered, placing both hands on the younger man's shoulders. "I'll explain it to you, okay?"

"Jim, you're starting to freak me out, man!"

"Listen, we're fine. Understand what I'm saying?" He waited until the other man nodded. "Okay, this is what happened...."

Blair stared in disbelief at his roommate.

"It was Josh?"

"Yeah."

"Then who's Kay?"

"We think you were right about it being the letter `K'. It may stand for `king'."

"He was controlling both gangs? Without the other knowing?"

"Right."

"Why?" Blair's eyes suddenly closed in understanding. "Oh, man. His diss! He was controlling their actions and using the results to validate his dissertation!"

"That's what we're thinking, Sandburg," Simon added getting up to pour some more coffee. "This is better than my coffee, what are you guys using?"

Jim pointed to the burr coffee grinder on the metal shelf with the other appliances. "Sandburg and I broke into the loot from my wedding gifts."

Simon nodded. "About time!"

Blair sat still, thinking about the nine hours he somehow had no memory of. "What's going to happen to Josh?"

"I expect he'll be charged with a lot of things, including kidnapping you and planning your murder; hell, with that new law, he could get up to twenty years for being in possession of the Rohypnol we found on him," Simon explained leaning his hip against the kitchen counter.

"Why would he take me? What did I do?"

Jim looked at his friend with a guilty expression. "I called him just before lunch. I probably told him enough to make him realize how close we were getting. I'm afraid I gave you a lot of the credit, Blair. Sorry."

Blair gave a short laugh. "Great, first time I get the credit on a case, and it gets me kidnapped." He saw his roommate flinch. "I'm just kidding, Jim. What about the gangs?"

"We got most of the Vesper gang when we found you," Ellison informed him. "The Gang's unit is interviewing the Auroras, a lot of them are talking after finding out their `king' was duping them for personal gain."

Blair dropped his eyes. "I can't believe he would...God! Jim, a kid died just for a stupid paper!"

Not having an adequate response to his friend's sorrow. Ellison looked to his captain.

Simon sat his coffee down and leaned over the table. "Listen to me, Sandburg. Thomas is behind bars. He's going to be judged for his actions. The important thing is, we stopped him. He's not going to hurt any more kids."

Blair listened and seemed to weigh the man's words before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I hear that, Simon."

Banks rolled his eyes. "Good, now that that is settled, I'm starving. What do you two say to a late dinner? My treat?"

Blair shook his head. "No, listen, man. I can cook something here! I'm dying to try that rice steamer and I've got some great eggplant..." Sandburg found talking while his roommate's hand covered his mouth was difficult.

Jim sat next to his guide and looked at his boss with pleasure. "Sure, sounds great! How about the Keg? It's open `til eleven!"

The End

Thanks for making it to the end! Feedback is welcome.

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