"I don't know, Sandburg."

Blair rolled his eyes.

"Jim, would you just relax, man! Pull over at the corner and let me out. Kevin is meeting me at the cafe. I'll call you tonight." Blair reached into the back seat of the Ford SUV and grabbed his backpack and a small duffel bag.

Ellison waited at a red light, watching a pair of women walk by with orange hair and enough body piercing jewelry visible to sink the Titanic. "What time is this Kevin guy supposed to show?"

Turning to look at what had caught his friend's eye, Blair laughed and swatted Jim's arm. "It's perfectly safe! No one will even notice me. The only person standing out in this neighborhood is you!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ellison asked, turning to scowl at the younger man.

"Oh, come on, Jim. You practically wear a sign announcing `I'm an off-duty cop'. Stop, man, here's the corner!"

Ellison guided the big vehicle over and watched his friend climb out. "You'll call me, right? Either way."

"Yeah, but it'll work out, stop worrying!" Blair laughed again.

Jim looked like he was sucking on lemons. They had argued this issue the entire drive down to Seattle from Cascade. The older man had been against the idea of dropping his roommate off in Seattle's `U' district without concrete plans on where he'd be staying.

"Call me, Sandburg."

Blair closed the door with a nod and a wave. Stepping backwards onto the curb, he nearly hit a large man with a spider web tattoo that covered his entire bald head.

"Oh, sorry, man," Blair apologized.

Spider head gave a nod and walked away. Blair turned back to wave again, only to see Ellison climbing out of his vehicle.

"Jim! Just go! Look, this is me walking away!" Blair turned and walked.

In a few seconds the familiar SUV passed him towards the interstate. "Thanks, Jim. I promise I'll call!" Blair said quietly, knowing the sentinel would be listening.

Entering a small `new age' caf, Blair ordered a carrot juice and found a table to wait. Downing the last of his drink, he noticed a heavyset man in his mid twenties enter the caf. Sandburg raised his hand in greeting.

"Sandburg! You look great! You still getting carded, man? Because my eighteen year old brother looks older than you!" The newcomer flashed a toothy grin and lowered his frame into a wooden chair.

Blair laughed. "Hey, Kevin. You look like you're eating on a regular basis. You get a real paying job?"

"Oh yeah, this town loves computer geeks! Besides, I'm just bulking up, then I plan on turning this into pure muscle!" He patted his belly. "So, what's your plan?"

"Is it okay if I crash with you a few nights? My roommate's at a seminar downtown. But if you don't have enough space..."

"Forget about it." Kevin ordered. "Folks are always at our apartment. Wait `til you meet my roommates. I told them all about you." He pushed away from the table and stood. "Come on! Let's get going, we are going to have an awesome weekend!"

"Cool, just let me make a phone call."

Ellison shifted in his seat. He checked the clock on the wall, almost time for the morning coffee break. The conference room was large. Close to a hundred men and women working in law enforcement sat watching the slide show and listening to the speaker describe how to identify methamphetamine labs.

Slides of rural houses with overgrown yards and piles of discarded unmarked drums were displayed on the screen, thanks to the technology of the computer and PowerPoint.

"You get a lot of meth in Cascade?"

Jim nodded to Phil Martin, a Seattle Police Lieutenant seated beside him. "More and more each month," he responded quietly.

They had met the previous night when both men had been registering for the weekend seminar. He seemed like a decent enough cop. They'd discovered a mutual appreciation for good Chinese food. Both cops skipped the scheduled mixer and ate at a local restaurant known for its excellent Chinese cuisine.

"It's a real drain on the system," Martin whispered.

A whisper of a ring alerted Jim he had a call. He'd wrapped his cell phone in a hotel washcloth to muffle the ringer and not disturb the conference. Thankful they'd been able to snag a seat near the exit, Jim excused himself quietly to take the call in the hall.

"Ellison."

"Jim?"

Sandburg's tone sounded off, too much breath and a slight shake in his voice.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"... could you come?"

Ellison waited for the rest of the question. The sound of labored breathing floated across the cell site.

"Where are you?"

"Ballard? Maybe Wallington. It's a ...."

Jim heard another voice interrupt with a no nonsense tone. Without explanation, his roommate was gone and a new voice came on the line.

"Hello? Is this Ellison?"

"Yeah. Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. What's going on? Sandburg sounds hurt." Jim noticed the morning break had started. He stepped away from the entrance to make room for the stream of police officers that flowed out. Phil located him and walked over.

"This is Officer Riviera, Seattle PD. Mr. Sandburg was injured in a fight this morning. He's refusing aid and wanted to call you for a ride."

"What's wrong with him?" Ellison fished his keys out of his pocket and started towards the hotel lobby in long strides.

"He was in a fist fight, no weapons. He's taken some good hits to the head and chest, but he's adamant that he doesn't want to be treated. You're at the meth seminar, right? Do you want directions? We're just north of you, across Lake Union."

Ellison noticed Phil Martin had been keeping up with him as they reached the lobby. "Hold on, I'll have you talk to a Seattle Lieutenant." He held the phone away from his ear and stopped to turn to the man.

"My roommate is injured, somewhere in Ballard. Could you get the location for me and draw me a map?"

Martin nodded and took the phone.

"This is Lt. Martin. Who's this?..... Yeah....Good.....We'll be there in fifteen." He handed the phone back to Jim. "Come on. We'll take my car, it'll be faster."

The Rusty Pelican was a trendy coffee bar that served espressos along with European bakery items Seattle patrol units and motorcycle officers were working among fire department personnel with injured patrons. Several men were handcuffed and sitting in the back seat of the patrol cars parked out front. Jim followed Martin into the business. Tables were knocked over, chairs scattered around the room and a display case holding pastries was missing the front glass.

Ellison spotted Blair standing next to a man laying on an ambulance gurney being treated by fire department personnel.

"Sandburg."

"Jim!" Blair turned unfocused eyes toward the sentinel.

Taking a visual inventory of his roommate, Jim did a mental checklist: the beginning of a spectacular black eye, bloody nose, swollen upper lip and obvious guarding of his rib cage.

Oh, yeah. A trip to the hospital loomed on the horizon.

"What happened?" Ellison asked, he reached out to steer the shorter man into a more private corner.

Blair shook off the hand. "We didn't start it. Kevin got knocked out with a bottle," he explained, pointing with his free hand to his friend who was being rolled towards the door.

Jim reached again for his friend, getting a firmer grip on his arm. "Come here, Chief. Your friend is being taken care of." He urged Blair back.

Sandburg reluctantly moved toward the rear of the shop, dragging his backpack on the floor by a broken strap. Martin stood by the entrance, talking with the Sergeant in charge.

Ellison lifted Blair's shirt and ran his fingers lightly down his ribs.

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

Sandburg shook his head.

"Blair...."

With a look of surrender he nodded once. "Just the deep ones. I'm fine, Jim."

Ellison lifted Blair's chin and used his fingertips to probe around the black eye. He gently lifted the swollen lip.

"Oww!"

"Sorry." He released his friend and folded his arms across his chest. "Sandburg, you need to go ..."

"No! 'm fine, Jim," Blair hissed, leaning forward. "Come on, man. You're better than an ER doctor. You'd know if something's wrong."

Phil arrived by Jim's side in time to overhear the last part of the ongoing argument.

"Phil, meet my `pudding-for-brains' roommate. Sandburg, this is Phil Martin with SPD. Phil drove me over."

Blair looked at the Seattle cop and tried for a smile, failing miserably. "Hi, sorry you're missing your conference, man."

Phil shrugged. "We're hosting another one in three months. I'll sign up again if I need to." He studied the younger man's injured face. "I think Jim's right. You need to get checked out."

"Come on, Sandburg. You can check on your friend at the hospital while we're there," Jim pushed.

Blair started to resist, but the movement must have caused his ribs to spike with pain and he stilled. Jim watched his friend shake his head once and sigh.

"Yeah, okay."

"I'll drive you," Phil offered.

After learning that Kevin was being transported to a local hospital in Ballard, Martin advised the sergeant in charge they were leaving. Blair remained quiet en route to the hospital. Ellison didn't ask about the fight, deciding that could wait for a private moment. He was certain of one fact, Sandburg was not going back to stay with his friend, even if he had to lock his guide up in the hotel room!

The ER room was busy. Blair was given a clipboard of forms and asked to wait.

"Phil, why don't you get back the conference?" Ellison advised. "We'll get a cab when were done here."

Martin nodded. "Okay." He lifted a card out of his wallet and scribbled a number on the back. "This is my home phone. Give me a call if we don't meet up later today at the hotel. Some of the guys are getting together tonight for a BBQ. If you're available, why don't you two join us?"

Jim nodded, accepted the card. "Thanks for the ride. I'll call."

Blair looked up from the blank form, the pen still in his hand. Ellison noted that he wasn't wearing his glasses and his eyes still had an unfocused appearance. He took the clipboard as he sat down beside his friend.

They waited quietly for a few moments as Jim filled out the forms.

"I know you're dying to say it, man. Just get it over with," Blair said in a dejected tone. He was leaning forward, holding his arm against his left side in an effort to splint his ribs.

Ellison glanced up from the paperwork. His retort died on his lips as he saw the miserable expression on Sandburg's face. "I'm just filling out the forms here, Tyson. I'm not looking to start an argument."

Blair rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, man. I just can't believe this happened. Now I've messed up your conference."

"It's okay. We'll be back by lunch." Ellison returned to the forms. "What's your policy number?"

Blair carefully pulled the backpack into his lap and dug inside for a card. Ellison noted the broken strap.

"How'd that happen?"

Sandburg shrugged. "I'm not sure, after Kevin went down it was all a blur."

"Sandburg?" a nurse called out, ready to lead the next patient back into a treatment room.

Ellison watched his friend stand. "I'll wait here and finish the forms."

"Thanks, man."

Waiting until his roommate disappeared down the hallway, he returned to his work. "I told you so," he muttered quietly to himself.

Ellison turned in the finished forms to the woman behind the counter. A Seattle police officer approached him with a familiar looking pair of glasses in her hand.

"Detective Ellison? Lt. Martin said to bring these to you. I think they belong to Blair." She offered the glasses. The frames looked a little bent, but otherwise okay.

"Thanks. He doesn't need any additional costs right now." Ellison recognizes her voice from the phone. "You're Riviera, right? Thanks for calling me."

She gave him a shy grin. "Not a problem. It was obvious that he didn't belong in that fight. Did he tell you what happened?"

Ellison shook his head. "We haven't had the time. He's being examined now."

"Well, I'll let him give you the details, but from what I heard, he's a gutsy guy." She opened a notebook and reviewed her handwritten entry. "He jumped a group of guys that were assaulting a man. Witnesses said he took out one with a chair, another with a backpack before the fight turned on him and he was outnumbered."

Jim took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. "What started it?"

"A bunch of Boeing employees apparently just got laid off work. They spent the entire night drinking. It looks like they were out looking for..." She flipped a page and read, "liberal punk parasites that feed off hard working folks like us."

"Riiight."

Ellison sat in the waiting room and eavesdropped as Blair was declared fit to be released. He held his guide's pack, unconsciously fingering the leather. Sandburg was assuring the physician he would take it easy while his cracked ribs healed.

He tracked Sandburg's footsteps down the hallway, frowning when the steps halted. Jim could hear Sandburg talking.

//You okay, man?//

A new voice answered.

//Yeah, my girlfriend is coming down to pick me up. With this arm I'm going for all the sympathy I can get. She's going to let me crash with her for a few days.//

//Oh, that's cool.//

//Hey, I'm sure my roomies don't mind if you stay at the apartment. Sorry the weekend got ruined, though.//

//No sweat. I'll just pick up my stuff later. Next time I'm down in Seattle, we'll get together.//

//Absolutely, man. Take care.//

Ah, this must be his friend, Kevin. Ellison picked up the backpack and waited at the nurse's desk. Blair turned a corner and approached, walking carefully. He reached out to take his backpack, but Ellison shook his head.

"I got it. You ready to go?" he asked, handing Blair his glasses.

"Yeah, thanks. Kevin's got a broken arm. His girlfriend is coming to get him."

They left the hospital and found Officer Riviera parked by the exit. She looked up from the small computer installed in her patrol car.

"I got permission to be your taxi," she explained with a grin through the open driver's window.

"Thanks, we appreciate it." Ellison opened the rear door and waited to help his roommate climb in.

Blair looked at the back seat with trepidation. "How come I get the back, man?"

"Seniority."

Riviera laughed through the grill between the seats. "It's okay, Blair. It's clean, I promise."

Blair slid in with a grunt of pain. He leaned back with a weary sigh. "Thanks Doris. You're an angel."

The dark-haired officer gave him a pretty smile. "I'm happy to help, how are you feeling?"

"Okay."

Jim set the backpack next to his friend, closed the rear door and slid into the front passenger seat.

"Where to?" she asked, starting her patrol car and pulling away from the curb. They circled around a fountain and headed for the street.

"We're staying at the Marriot by the freeway."

"No, Jim. You're at the Marriot. I'm staying in the `U' district."

"Kevin is with his girlfriend, remember? You really want to stay overnight with a group of strangers?"

Blair had been resting with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He lift his head and glared at the back of Jim's head.

"You were listening?"

Ellison shrugged. "We can pick your stuff up later tonight." He knew Blair wouldn't go very far into this argument with Riviera along. He caught a bare whisper as Sandburg answered.

"Bossy sentinels."

Ellison had enough time to advise the hotel that he had a roommate and get Sandburg settled before joining the conference for the afternoon session.

"You need anything, Chief?" Ellison asked as placed his folded clothes into a dresser.

Blair lay on his back in the far bed. The motel had moved them into a double occupancy room. "I'm going to crash. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"How much?"

"Ummm. Zero."

"Uh huh."

"Hey, this is Seattle! Do you know how many clubs they have here? Just in the first two hours we..."

"Save it, Sandburg. I don't need a play by play." He finished with the task and tucked his empty suitcase into a closet. "How did you end up in the middle of a fight, anyway?"

Blair folded both arms over his eyes and groaned. "Oh, man. It was unbelievable! These guys came in and started hassling people, Kevin gets up to try and, like, calm them down, being real nice. Then one of `em starts swinging. Before I knew it, Jim, there were chairs flying and people running, then I totally lost sight of Kevin..."

"I think I get the picture," Ellison interrupted. He tossed a clean pair of sweatpants and T-shirt at his friend. "Here, sleep in these. If you're up to it tonight, we got invited to a BBQ. We can pick up your stuff then."

Blair lifted his arm and looked down at the clothes that landed on his stomach. "Thanks, Jim." He rolled over and carefully sat up. "I'm gonna shower and hit the sack. Wake me when you're ready to go out." He shuffled towards the bathroom.

Ellison called the front desk and asked them to hold any calls to their room and headed toward the conference hall. He glanced at his watch. He had five minutes.

The Meth speaker had been ahead of schedule, so the attendees found themselves dismissed at four that afternoon.

Martin collected his coat and walked beside Jim toward the lobby. "You coming over for the BBQ?"

"Yeah, I think we will. Are you sure you want Blair and me to join you?" Ellison asked.

Martin nodded. "My son is home for the weekend. Something tells me he'd hit it off with your friend. We're eating at seven. Bring your own meat, I'll take care of the rest." Martin handed Jim a detailed map to his home on Queen Ann Hill.

"Thanks, we'll be there."

Blair was on his side, dressed in the borrowed sleepwear when Ellison quietly entered. His eye had darkened into a nice black color but the swelling on his lip was down. Jim scratched a quick note and left it propped up against the lamp on the side table between their beds. If Sandburg should awaken, he'd know Jim was running out to get some groceries for the BBQ and would be back in time to pick him up.

In a nearby QFC store, Jim checked over the selection of meat cuts. He located a nice looking Spencer steak with even marbling and tossed it next to a box of Boca Burgers and whole-wheat buns. He found some organic corn chips and humus that he'd seen Blair bring home from time to time. After adding a six-pack of dark beer, Ellison paid for his groceries and walked the six blocks back to the hotel.

Setting the bag down, Jim studied the battered face. Maybe he should call Martin and cancel. Blair needed to rest. More than likely he would not feel like hanging out with a bunch of cops that he didn't know. Making the decision, he sat on his bed and picked up the phone.

"You better be calling Simon, Jim," Blair warned as he shifted and stretched. "'Cause I'm starving, man. And I want to go to that BBQ."

Ellison returned the handset. "You sure? You look like road kill."

Blair opened one eye and grinned at his friend. "You say the nicest things to me, Jim."

"Okay, then. If we're going, you'd better get moving."

Ellison found the small bungalow style home even with his roommate's help. Several cars were parked in front of the home, two in the short driveway. The two men were a few minutes late due to the side trip to the `U' district. Blair had needed to change his shirt that had been bloodied from the fight.

Ringing the doorbell, Sandburg waited beside his tall friend. A young man in his early twenties opened the door. His long blond hair was pulled back into ponytail similar to Blair's.

"Hi, you must be the Cascade guys. Dad said you might drop by." He opened the door wide and waved them into a living room with mission style oak furniture and a hard wood floor.

"Wow, cool house, man," Blair commented looking around in appreciation.

The upholstery was black leather and a small fireplace built with river rock commanded the room from the far wall. There was no clutter, no TV, not even a dust bunny in a corner.

"Thanks. My Dad and I did the fireplace last year. You should ask to see the `before' pictures." He laughed and leaned forward to whisper. "Gotta warn ya, though. Be prepared to learn a lot about remodeling in one sitting!"

"Peter, I'm not that bad." Phil entered from a wide archway that connected the living room to the kitchen area. "Blair, you look better. My son was hoping you'd come. Otherwise he'd be forced to listen to a bunch of old cops swap war stories all night."

Blair bounced on the balls of his feet. "Oh, man! Not you too?" He stepped further into the room to miss the swat from his roommate.

"Careful, Sandburg. Your ride back to Cascade tomorrow is starting to look a little shaky."

Martin led the way into the kitchen. "Come on back to the deck. I want to introduce you both to the rest of the group."

The kitchen was small. Everything was neatly organized. Blair leaned toward Jim and whispered, "This guy's got the same genetic makeup for being a neat freak as you, Jim."

Ellison frowned at the younger man. "This is how the normal half live."

Through a tiny utility room and back door, they walked out onto a large cedar deck where four other men were sitting or leaning against the railing. Steps led down to a moderate size lawn that sloped downward to give a breathtaking view of Seattle's skyline and the harbor.

"Nice," Ellison commented, taking in the view.

Blair nodded in agreement. "Look, there's our hotel."

"Guys, this is Jim Ellison and Blair ..." Phil turned to the younger man with an apologetic expression.

"Sandburg," Blair added with a quick smile.

"Sorry. They're both from Cascade." He pointed to each man as he introduced his friends. "This is Sanderson, Woo, Hardy and the guy at the grill is O'Connor."

An olive-skinned man with a black crew cut stepped out from the railing and shook both Jim and Blair's hands. "Welcome to Seattle." He nodded at Blair's face. "Sorry about your morning, Blair. Phil told us about the Pelican incident. You should give Sanderson crap, that's his beat."

"Oh, like nothing ever happens in south Seattle!" the man sitting in a deck chair responded.

After the introductions were finished, the grill was fired up and the meat was seasoned and put on to cook. Ellison offered the beer to the group as Peter and Phil retrieved a few dishes from the kitchen to go with the meat. Noticing the Blair's Boca burger, Phil brought out a sliced onion and tomato.

"Never could get into that fake meat," O'Connor confessed. "My wife keeps bringing home weird stuff for me to try, but I can't choke it down."

Sanderson helped himself to the baked beans. "My girlfriend tried to make a taco salad with something called; `I can't believe it's not chicken'." The man shuddered as he made a face.

The group laughed.

"Hey, I eat meat, sometimes. Anyway, Boca burgers are an acquired taste!" Blair protested as he laughed with them.

Woo patted his flat stomach. "Don't bother, Sandburg. These carnivores are hopeless when it comes to nutrition."

The evening was warm for late spring, the longer days gave the dinner party enough light to make it possible to eat on the back deck. The talk turned to baseball when Peter asked Woo how the Police Guild was playing this year. The organic chips disappeared, but only a couple of the men attempted the humus.

After the meal was finished, Jim was talking to Martin as the home-owner explained his plans to widen the back door into a sliding glass entrance while remodeling the kitchen. Ellison noticed Blair had disappeared. Tuning out the man's voice, Jim carefully extended his hearing until he located Sandburg's voice in the house.

//..No way, I would be in heaven if I had this set up!//

//What till you see the speed on this baby. It's got CD read and write, zip drive...//

Ellison tuned them out and focused on the man sitting next to him again. Blair sounded safe enough. When the sun finally sank below the horizon, the men moved the party inside.

Ellison wandered down the short hallway toward the sound of softly playing guitar music. The door to a bedroom was open. Judging by the posters and baseball collectibles, the room belonged to Peter when he was growing up. He looked in to see Phil's son sitting at a computer while Blair was curled up in a large overstuffed chair, sound asleep.

"How long has be been out?" Jim asked quietly.

Peter pivoted his chair toward the doorway. "About half an hour. He looked comfortable, so I let him sleep." Peter grinned mischievously. "You know he talks in his sleep?"

Jim smiled. "Trust me, there isn't a time he isn't talking, period. I'm just going to say good-bye to your dad, then I'll be back to wake him."

"We'll be here, man." He returned to his computer.

"Jim! How was the conference?" Simon joined Ellison as they made their way toward the garage elevator entrance to the police station.

"Good. I missed a few hours Saturday morning, but I talked to the speaker and he gave me some reading material." Jim punched the button to call the elevator. "Here, Blair wanted me to give you this."

Simon accepted an individually wrapped cigar. "Cuban. To what do I owe this unexpected honor?"

They entered the elevator and selected the floor for Major Crimes. "He spent Sunday morning at Pike's Place Market. Ran into an old friend of his mother's that owns an emporia shop there." Jim held up a plastic sack. "Joel gets a carved giraffe. Brown gets a drum. And Rafe gets a fetish blessed by an Aborigine."

Simon laughed with pleasure. "Man, am I glad I smoke cigars! What did you get?"

"A trip to the ER."

"What?"

They reached the bullpen as Jim finished telling Simon about the fight in Ballard.

"Boeing workers? Sandburg gets into a fight with people that build airplanes?" Banks shook his head.

Jim sat at his desk and powered up his computer. "It wasn't his fault, Simon. He was just at the wrong place..."

"At the wrong time. Right, Jim. Tell me another one. He's okay?"

Ellison nodded, refraining from grinning. "Yeah, bruised but on the mend. SPD will make sure their prosecutor pushes for full restitution to cover Sandburg's ER bill."

"Good. You've got a few messages from Safeco. They need your deposition." Banks gave Jim a no-nonsense look and headed for his office.

"Great." Jim rated talking with insurance attorneys equal to sticking hot needles into his eyeballs. He settled into reviewing his emails, printing the important ones and organizing his to do list by priority.

After returning phone calls and making an appointment to give his deposition, Ellison advised Simon he'd be out taking interviews until three p.m.

Blair exited Hargrove hall and spotted a familiar head of white hair walking in front of a group of students. He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and broke into a jog to catch up.

"Professor Rogers!"

The elderly man turned and smiled as Sandburg approached. "Blair! You look like you had fun this weekend. What happened?"

"I got involved in a misunderstanding. Do you think we can get together, sir? I was hoping you could look over my outline," Blair explained as they walked.

"Certainly, are you finished?"

They walked down the broad sidewalk wet from an earlier rainfall. The sky had been overcast since morning, making the weekend's fine weather a pleasant memory.

"I found a manuscript in Seattle yesterday that I think I could use in my intro. If you... Darn!" Sandburg stopped as the temporary fix to his strap broke, dumping his leather backpack onto the ground.

Bending down to pick it up, Blair was startled by several screams around him. He looked up to see students reeling away in horror. The sound of someone falling heavily to the ground caused him to turn back to his companion.

"Ohmygod! Professor!"

The elderly man had crumpled onto the sidewalk, blood streamed from his neck, forming a large pool on the cement. The screams were coming from all directions now, as students ran. Blair fell onto his knees and attempted to stop the flow of blood.

"Someone call 911!" he shouted. "Come on, Professor! Hold on, man."

The neck had lost its normal shape; the Adam's apple was gone. Blair realized there was a larger wound on the opposite side. A bullet! He looked up from the dying man and searched the campus for the shooter. He couldn't see anyone with a gun.

"Mr. Sandburg? What can I do?" A large student joined him on the wet pavement.

"Do you have a cell phone? There's one in my pack! Call for an ambulance!"

Blair looked back at the injured man. His color was terrible! His face was white as a sheet of paper, causing the rich red blood to contrast vividly as it covered Blair's hands. Too much! He couldn't stop the bleeding. He listened to the student give the information to the 911 dispatcher as he worked to stop the bleeding. This wasn't working!

Ellison trotted down the walkway. He flashed his badge at the uniform officer stationed to keep the curious onlookers away. Simon was standing in a tight group of higher-ranking police officers.

The captain had called him while Jim was interviewing a pawnshop owner. After assuring him that Sandburg was not hurt, he told him to cancel the rest of his interviews and come to the campus. As if Jim would stay away!

`Ellison!" Banks broke away from the command post and met him on the lawn.

"Where's Blair?" Jim searched the area, noting the form under the light blue paper sheet on the sidewalk.

"He's giving a statement other there." Banks pointed further down the sidewalk. "We think the shooter was on the science building over there."

Jim focused his eyes in the direction his supervisor pointed. A brownstone two-story building to the south had a clear view of the area the body had fallen. Two officers were visible inspecting the rooftop.

"Blair says he was walking on the victim's left side in that direction." Banks pointed.

Ellison studied the angles; his eyes squinted as he formed his theory. "He was between the shooter and the DB?

Banks nodded with a serious expression. "Just before the man was shot, Blair said he bent down to pick something up."

"Oh, shit," Ellison murmured rubbing his forehead wearily.

"We just put this together a second ago. Get Sandburg somewhere safe for now, maybe his office. I'll finish here and join you. We'll compare notes and get a plan together."

Ellison nodded and jogged down the walkway. In an alcove created by trees and bushes, he found Sandburg standing with a uniformed officer.

He studied his friend as he approached. Blair looked pale; his hands were coated in dried, rust-colored blood. His backpack rested at his feet. Sandburg's arms were crossed, hugging his body; Ellison could see the slight tremors that shook his frame.

"Hey, Sandburg."

Blair looked up at his roommate and blinked slowly.

"Jim?"

Streaks from bloody fingers marked the side of his face as if he'd raked his fingers through his hair several times before the blood had dried on his hands.

"Let's get you inside, Chief." Jim reached down and picked up the backpack, carefully avoiding the blood drying on it as well.

"Ummm...I'm supposed to stay here. Simon said he wanted..."

"I know. I just talked with Simon. He wants us to wait in your office. He'll meet us there, okay?" Jim took his friend's elbow and guided him towards the building.

A pair of officers stood on the sidewalk as they past by.

"...Yet why the guy was shot?"

"Brass thinks the shooter was aiming for some guy walking with the victim. Missed him and killed the old guy."

"Damn, bad choice of friends!"

Blair froze.

Shooting a venomous glare at the officers, Jim moved in close to his friend. He circled his free arm around the shorter man's shoulder and pushed him forward. "Come on, Blair. We need to get you inside."

Blair stumbled, his eyelids squeezed shut as he was propelled forward. As the men neared the building, Blair began to squirm out of the hold by stiff-arming against Ellison, smearing blood on the cop's arms and shirt.

"Blair, stop it."

"No...leave me...alone." Blair gasped between rapid breaths, his body shaking.

Jim shouldered the backpack by the one working strap and got a firm hold on his friend with both hands. He manhandled Sandburg up the stairs and into the building. Detouring into the nearest men's restroom, Ellison pulled the younger man through the door and released him once he got the door behind him shut.

Stumbling into the room, Blair fell, gasping against a toilet stall, sliding down to sit on the tile floor. He hugged his knees tight to his chest, wrapping both arms around his legs.

Pulling several paper towels out, Jim wet them with water from the sink.

"Here, Sandburg. Let's clean you up." He knelt and started to gently remove the blood from Blair's face. "Try and slow your breathing down, you're hyperventilating."

Blair nodded, his eyes closed again, flinching each time the wet towel touched his face. As Ellison continued to clean the blood off, he noted his respiration rate was beginning to slow back to normal.

"I'm sorry, partner. You shouldn't have heard that." He started in on Blair's hands.

Blair dropped his forehead down onto his knees. The shaking was still present making his voice quiver. "Oh my god. Professor Rogers died because of me!"

"No. He died because some one shot him from the top of the science building," Ellison calmly explained, uncurling a hand to clean the fingers.

Blair flailed out, striking the metal stall behind him with a closed fist. "No! I was supposed to be shot!"

Leaning back, Jim gave the other man a little space. "Blair, I understand you're upset. I want you to just listen to me a second, okay?"

Blair raised his head.

Ellison looked into blue eyes clouded with guilt. "My concern right now is to keep you alive. I know you feel like screaming and tearing everything apart. But not now, later, okay?"

Closing his eyes, Sandburg drew in a shaky breath and gave a jerky nod.

"Good." Ellison was amazed at what his guide would do for him when asked. "Come on. Let's finish getting cleaned up and go wait in your office."

He pulled Blair up to his feet; together they cleaned the blood from their hands at the sink. Watching his partner in the mirror, he was glad he's already cleaned the blood of the other man's face.

Sandburg watched Jim turn the plastic rod to close the blinds in the window. He dropped onto the sofa and pulled his knees up to his chin, not caring if he got the upholstery dirty from his shoes. Wrapping both arms around his legs to mimic his position in the bathroom, he stared without seeing the shelf of artifacts that crowded his office.

Jim pulled over a chair and sat facing him.

"Tell me what happened, Chief."

Blair didn't feel like talking, he didn't feel like much of anything. He'd promised to hold it together but he'd never promised to function normally.

"Blair? You in there?"

"Yeah." Blair let his eyes drop. Maybe this would be easier if he didn't look directly at Jim. "We were walking..."

"Back it up a bit, Sandburg. Where were you going? How many people knew you'd be on the sidewalk this time of day." Jim leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his right hand in a fist that he repeatedly smacked against his open left hand. Blair was reminded of a baseball player waiting to catch a pop fly.

"Umm. I was heading towards the student union building. I needed some bluebooks."

"Who knew you were going there?"

Blair shrugged. "I don't know, Jim."

"Okay, fine. Then what?"

"I saw Prof...Professor Rogers. He was walking ahead of me..." Blair closed his eyes and dropped head forward. Oh god. Why had he run to catch up with the old man?

"How long did you two walk together?" Jim's voice became low and understanding.

"Less then a minute."

"Did you see the shooter?"

Blair rocked his head back and forth on the arms that were crossed over his knees.

"Simon's here." Jim patted a shoulder, stood and went to unlock the door.

"This is what we know," Simon explained after Ellison let him in. "We've located where we think the shooter was set up. No witnesses yet, but we're still canvassing the area." Simon sat down next to Sandburg. "How you doing, Sandburg?"

"Did anyone call Professor Rogers' wife?" Blair asked, raising his head.

"Yes. We sent a police chaplain with a representative from the campus. I've got some bad news, Blair."

"He knows, Simon. A couple of loud mouth uniforms were talking nearby," Jim reported unhappily.

Simon ran a hand down his face. "Damn. Sorry, kid."

"I'm fine," Sandburg said. "We should go look at the rooftop. Jim may find something to help identify the shooter."

Ellison shook his head. "I'll go up and look, but you're staying out of sight." The cop looked at his captain. "What kind of safe house do we have available?"

Blair dropped his head back onto his arms and tuned out both men. Why was it so cold in his office? Or was that just his heart? What kind of monster gets an old man killed just because an outline was due in a few weeks? He shivered as the questions formed a loop in his mind like a broken record.

Hands were pulling him out off the sofa. The office was getting darker, must be storming outside.

"Slow down, Sandburg."

What was Jim saying? Blair started to panic, what was wrong with him? Suddenly he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. They were refusing to inflate!

"We should call an ambulance, Jim."

"No, give me a minute. Blair! Look at me!"

Blair felt his upper arms being taken in a vise-like grip. He was given a quick shake that brought his head up and he was looking into a pair of serious eyes.

"Slow down your breathing. Like you did before."

Blair gulped a breath and held it in, keeping his eyes locked with Jim's. He forced himself to break the cycle of rapid gasps that he had unknowingly fallen into.

"Good. That's right. Hold it and release. Now another breath and hold it longer." Jim smiled encouragingly. "There you go, kid."

Simon seemed to relax slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took his own deep breath.

"Sorry, man," Blair said wearily.

"You're entitled, Chief. It's been a hell of a day."

Ellison scanned the rooftop carefully. He had found the scuffmarks from someone lying prone near the edge. The roof had a small lip around it to catch the rain run off and divert it into channeled drain spouts.

"Yeah, this is it, Simon. See here and here? I'm guessing this would be the ends of a bipod for the rifle."

Simon nodded. "We're still looking for the round. Forensics brought in a metal detector. The ground the bullet should have landed in is soft. We may get lucky and find it in near perfect condition."

Jim studied the area of the sidewalk that Professor Rogers had died on. The body was gone, removed by the medical examiner. Forensic technicians were still working. The campus had been closed down and was now deserted except for police personnel.

"What is it, just under a hundred yards?"

"About that. Some of the classrooms in this building were being painted this week. Reports say that workers have been coming and going for days with equipment. One more guy probably wasn't noticed. Even if he was carrying a rifle wrapped in a drop cloth."

`God, Simon. If that backpack strap hadn't broke..."

"Don't go there, Jim. We need to keep focused if we're going to catch this guy. I want to know what made Sandburg a target all of a sudden. It's not like you're working a major case right now."

"I agree. And this goes beyond the jealous boyfriend scenario." Jim scanned the rooftop one more time. "Whoever it was, didn't leave anything to find up here. Shit, Simon, this has the trappings of a professional hit."

Simon nodded silently.

"We've got to get Sandburg to a safe house." Jim headed for the maintenance opening.

They passed more technicians scouring the building for evidence. Jim was hoping they would find the shell casing for the bullet that killed Rogers, but so far, nothing had been found.

Back in Sandburg's office, Blair was on the phone getting his classes covered and sending emails to the administration office to advise them of his unscheduled leave of absence. Jim noted that his roommate still looked pale, but his hands seemed steady as he typed.

"Thanks, guys," Jim nodded towards Brown and Rafe who were standing guard. "You ready, Chief?"

"Yeah." Blair started his shut down procedure for his computer and got slowly to his feet, looking around the office.

They made a careful progression into the hallway, keeping Sandburg in the middle all the way out of the building. Once outside, Jim moved to walk beside his friend while keeping his eyes focused on the buildings around him. He grunted as a sharp elbow shoved into his ribs.

"No!" Blair exclaimed with emotion, his eyes wide with fear. "Not next to me!"

Jim held out his right hand as if he were gentling a spooked horse, his left hand rubbing his ribs. "Calm down, Sandburg. We've closed the campus and done a thorough sweep. No one is out there."

Blair was shaking his head. "You can't be sure, man," he insisted, emotion causing his voice to break.

"Sandburg! Start walking or we'll carry you," Banks ordered in a no nonsense voice.

The group moved forward again, sweeping the anthropologist along until they reached an unmarked sedan with darkened windows. The rear door was opened and Blair was hustled quickly in with Ellison following.

Within seconds, the car was underway with an escort of two other unmarked vehicles loaded with armed personnel.

Ellison followed Blair into a small cabin located deep in the national forest just north of the small town of Concrete, Washington. The sun was behind the mountains giving the crickets and frogs the cue to start their evening melody.

"Up the stairs, Chief. We get the loft." Jim watched as the younger man headed toward the open staircase that hugged the right wall in the two-story A-frame cabin. Blair had not said more than a dozen words from the time they'd left the university. It was eerie.

Simon's power of organization was put to the test as security was arranged, a safe house was located and personal belongings were collected and brought to the police station for both roommates. Brown was assigned the first twelve-hour shift with Ellison, tomorrow morning Joel would arrive with news from the investigation and more groceries.

"Jim, I'm going to snoop around," Brown said, returning from depositing his duffel bag in a small bedroom on the main floor.

Jim nodded, looking up toward the second floor. Should he give Blair more time to himself? Ellison normally didn't get involved in another man's grief, but this was Sandburg. He found himself climbing the stairs without realizing he'd made the decision. He shook his head, amazed at his own actions. Deciding to just go with his gut, he finished the climb and entered a small area furnished with a pair of twin beds, a student desk and chair.

Sandburg was sitting on the bed farthest away from the stairs. His suitcase and backpack were placed on the floor against the wall. Jim glanced at the broken strap, his thoughts turning again to what might have been. Blair looked up from his intense study of his clasped hands. The black eye was in its glory now, soon it would be fading into a rainbow of yellows and greens.

"You hungry? You didn't eat at the station."

Blair shook his head and returned to contemplation of his hands.

Skirting the end of the twin bed, Ellison took a seat on the empty bed facing his partner, their knees almost touching. "I guess now's the time," he softly informed the younger man with a small smile.

Blair looked up again, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Back in the men's room, I asked you to wait before you cut loose or started tearing things apart..." Jim turned both hands palm upwards. "If you want to, now's the time."

Blair gave a wan smile and shook his head once. He swallowed and drew in a shaky breath.

Ellison waited for a response, any response, but none was forthcoming. "Brown is outside. We'll sit tight for tonight and wait for Taggart to update us in the morning."

Sandburg nodded his head; he lowered his head, his fingers pulling on the frayed white threads poking out of a small hole in the leg of his blue jeans.

"Blair. I'm sorry Professor Rogers died."

Sandburg's head continued to nod as his shoulders started to twitch. He suddenly bent forward at the waist, both hands raised to hide his face as the sobs escaped.

Jim watched helplessly as his friend grieved. He lifted a hand, then froze. What should he do? What did Blair need? That was the real issue here. Sandburg was not a Jim Ellison. He wasn't a cop or an ex-ranger.

Quickly switching beds, Jim reached out with both arms and drew him close. Blair turned towards him willingly, leaning blindly into the offered comfort.

"It's okay. We've been rushing you around all afternoon. I know this has been hard, Chief," Jim whispered. "Maybe we can get a call out to Naomi in a few days."

Blair rocked his head on Jim's shoulder. "I don't ...want her to...know about. ...this, Jim."

Ellison tightened his grip. "This is not your fault, Sandburg!" he insisted softly.

Blair didn't answer. His guilt was a visible wave of heat that Jim could see lifting off the man's body as he cried. Salty moisture filled Jim's senses and the racking sound of uncontrolled sobs hammered in his ears. Jim closed his eyes and held on.

Blair's sobs started to recede. He wiped at his red eyes with shaky hands and pulled away.

"It's my fault...If I ..."

"Stop it," Jim ordered harshly. "You are not stupid, Sandburg. If I had been in your place, what would you be telling me right now?"

Blair sniffed, then took the clean handkerchief that Jim pulled out of his pocket and handed over.

"Man, if this was you ...acting like a baby ... instead of me, I'd be ...checking for pods in the basement." He blew his nose.

Ellison briefly laughed in relief and gently cuffed the curly head. This was more like the Blair he was used to. Maybe he'll be all right after all.

"No one's going to hassle you for being upset. We all deal with this stuff in our own way," Ellison explained. He gave the man sitting next to him a nudge with his shoulder to emphasize the next statement. "I will kick your butt, however, if you continue to blame yourself. How the hell were you to know someone was trying to kill you?"

Blair sighed. Folding the cloth, he used a clean section to blot his tears. He turned a sorrowful face to his roommate. "Why, Jim? What did I do that would cause someone to try and shoot me?"

Jim expression turned deadly serious. "I don't know. But I promise, we'll find out."

Ellison woke with a start. Reaching under his pillow for his automatic, he scanned the darkened room. Nothing appeared out of place.

"...hold on....hole....no,no,no....glory hole..."

Jim lifted up on one elbow to study his friend. Blair was on his stomach, his head turned toward the other bed. Zooming in on the sleeper's face in the darkness, Jim saw the tell-tale sign of rapid eye movement under closed lids.

"...please...he fell....no...."

"Sandburg," Jim whispered calmly. "Wake up."

Blair opened one normal and one blacked eyelid and blinked at his friend.

"You're dreaming," Jim informed him. Reliving the events of yesterday was bad enough; the cop didn't want Sandburg dreaming about it. "You're safe in bed, go back to sleep."

Blair's eyes closed obediently, causing Ellison to wonder if he'd ever really been awake. He listened to his roommate steady breathing before allowing himself to return to sleep.

The next morning, Taggart arrived with hot cinnamon rolls from a bakery in Concrete, a box of groceries, updates on the investigation and a small black hard-sided suitcase.

"Too bad you're off duty and have to leave, H. Otherwise I'd be willing to share one of this babies with you," Taggart teased as he set the rolls down in the small kitchen. "How's Blair?"

Ellison reached for a treat, beating Brown's hand to the tray. "Still upstairs, he had a rough time yesterday."

"That's an understatement," Brown muttered. "What's in the case?"

"A satellite phone. Simon called a buddy with Border Patrol and got it for us to use." Joel reached for a clean mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Great. The cell phones don't work up here and I wasn't looking forward to climbing a mountain to get a signal." Jim bit into a warm roll.

"Well, he's nothing if not the man with the plan," Joel agreed, sitting down with the other cops to enjoy the morning meal.

Sandburg appeared in the wide doorway to the kitchen with a bundle of clean clothes under one arm. Ellison smiled at his friend, nodding to the rolls as Blair entered. "Morning, Rip. Taggart brought goodies."

Taggart studied the young man with a grin, Blair was dressed in baggy sweatpants with the elastic missing from the cuffs and a `save the whale' sweatshirt with the arms cut off at the elbows.

"Hey, Joel."

"Hi, kid!" Joel said warmly. "Want a roll?"

Sandburg's eyes skipped over the rolls and landed on the coffee-pot. "Nah, I'm on my way to hunt down a shower. After I get some black gold here."

Joel noticed Jim's frown. Ah, Sandburg must not be eating. He held his comment, however, it was a rare day when Blair sat down to indulge in a sugary coated, processed white flour pastry.

"I put some towels in the bathroom, Sandburg. You should have plenty of hot water by now." Ellison pointed to the doorway off the kitchen. "Taggart brought up some Muselix and soy milk."

Sandburg nodded and took his coffee into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

The men sat silently at the table for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. The sound of a shower came from the bathroom.

"We're looking at all the current cases that Sandburg has been involved in," Taggart advised, the out of character apparition that just past through the kitchen unnerved him slightly. "But I gotta tell ya, man. This attempt on Blair doesn't make any sense."

Henry looked at Ellison. "Any chance this is connected with that fight he was in down in Seattle?"

Ellison nodded. "I was thinking the same thing, I mentioned it to Simon yesterday before we left the station. He find anything, Joel?"

Taggart pulled a notebook out. The mood in the kitchen was transformed into a serious war room discussion as the rolls were pushed aside and files and notes where spread out.

"Simon called Seattle, got transferred around until he ended up with a Lt. Martin."

Jim nodded. "I know him, he's okay."

"Simon agrees. When Martin heard about the attempt on Blair, he said he'd get right on it."

Joel explained what had been collected at the scene. Forensics found the round, a .300 high power magnum and were sending it off to be tested. The bullet was in good condition and the technicians felt the FBI would be able to locate the type of rifle that fired it in about seven days. No other physical evidence had been isolated. The area on the rooftop had been vacuumed and the collected material stored for sifting in hopes a fiber or hair might turn up to help prosecute if a suspect was located.

Henry checked his watch and stood. "I'm out of here. It's over an hour's drive back to Cascade." He headed to his room to gather his belongings.

The door to the bathroom opened and Blair emerged, nodded to the group, set his empty cup in the sink and wordlessly returned to the upper room.

Henry watched from the doorway, his duffel bag in hand.

"I'm back tomorrow night, Jim."

"Thanks, H."

Taggart tossed the man his keys. "You'll need fuel before you get back on Highway two."

Brown rolled his eyes and sighed. "Thanks." He looked at Ellison uncertainly. "Jim, should I go say bye to Hairboy or not?"

Ellison shook his head. "I'll tell him you said good bye."

Brown tried not to look relieved. "Okay, thanks."

After the detective was gone, Jim sat down heavily at the table and rubbed his temples with both hands. Taggart retrieved the carafe and freshened their coffee.

"I take it Blair's not doing very well," Joel commented, sitting back down.

"Shit, Joel. He was in shock yesterday. We dragged him from his office to the station and then a hundred miles into the north Cascade mountains before he could even catch his breath."

"He's pretty tough, Jim. He knows we're just keeping him safe till we find this bastard."

Jim nodded and picked up his coffee. "Yeah, he knows and he's keeping it together. I'm just ..." His eyes slid away from Joel's as he took a sip.

Taggart watched the other man let the statement die out unfinished.

Jim grimaced and tried again to explain. "He ran over a squirrel two months ago. Killed it." Ellison shook his head and looked sadly at the bomb expert. "It took him a full day to get over it. Now he blames himself for that professor being killed. How many days will he need?"

Joel fingered the handle on his coffee mug. He studied his companion a moment. "How many days are you going to give him, Jim?"

Ellison looked at the older man in surprise.

Joel raised an eyebrow.

Ellison sat back in his chair. "As many as it takes, Joel," he vowed solemnly.

By the time Simon found the cabin late that afternoon, the argument was in full swing.

"Back OFF, man!"

"Damn it, Sandburg! Would you just use your head for half a second!"

Taggart stood on the small porch as Banks walked up the stone steps to the house. Both men could easily hear the shouts from inside.

"Hello, Joel. How are the children?" Simon asked politely. He carried a soft-sided case with the initials SPD printed on the side in bold font and a small zippered overnight bag.

Taggart grinned at the new arrival. "Hey, Simon. Things are peachy here. How was the drive?"

Ellison opened the door, his face dark with anger. "Simon! Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"Hello, Jim. Nice to see you." Simon entered the living room with Taggart on his heels. He set his bags down in a rocker by the door and glanced around the cabin. Sandburg was curled in a corner of the sofa, a soft blue fleece blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Coffee?" Simon asked the group at large.

"In the kitchen," Joel returned with a nod.

"Good." He turned to Ellison. "Jim, take a walk," he ordered.

Ellison shot a look at Sandburg and left the cabin.

"I think I could use the exercise too," Joel decided, following the angry man outside.

Simon went to secure a cup of coffee, noting the bowl of untouched cereal on the small table in the kitchen. He added dry creamer and stirred the drink slowly before returned to the living room and taking a seat in a comfortable chair with matching upholstery.

Blair watched silently with a guarded expression.

"How you doing?" Simon's tone was light, as if he was unaware of the tension that filled the cabin.

Blair's eyes squinted in suspicion. "I'm fine."

Simon nodded and sipped his coffee. "Good, good. Jim seems a little upset. What's he mad about?"

"Ask him."

"I'm asking you." The words were quiet, but the steel tone spoke volumes.

Blair shifted. "I guess he's mad at me."

Simon remained silent, watching the younger man.

Blair sighed. "Okay, he's mad because I'm not eating."

"Okay, are we talking one missed meal or what?" Banks casually asked.

Blair shrugged. "A meal or two. But I'm not hungry, Simon. I think I'd end up hurling anything I tried to eat so what's the point?"

Simon sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Maybe I was wrong to send Ellison up here. I'll have him return to Cascade and let Taggart pull a double shift."

Sandburg glared. "If the shooter is waiting at the loft, Jim could be killed!"

Shrugging, Banks shook his head. "I can't have him here if he's losing his temper and not thinking like a cop."

"Fine! I'll eat!" Blair uncurled and stormed into the kitchen.

Enjoying the rest of his coffee, Simon gave himself a mental pat on the back.

When Taggart and Ellison returned, they found Simon in the kitchen with Blair looking over the reports and color photos from the fight the previous Saturday in the Rusty Pelican. An empty bowl stood next to the sink, the spoon still resting inside.

Simon waved them in. "We're just going over the info from Lt. Martin."

They pulled up chairs. Blair and Jim carefully avoided any eye contact. Simon quickly brought them up to date. Each suspect had been photographed at the jail and released the next morning. Full reports from the field officers along with handwritten notes had been supplied. No obvious motive was forthcoming that justified an attempt on Sandburg's life.

Ellison picked up the color photo of one of the men arrested. "Simon, how'd you get a color photo? This look like the same photos we take in booking."

Simon nodded. "It's extra file copies. Martin had all this stuff personally hand delivered to me." He shrugged. " I would have been happy with faxed copies, but one of his friends in SPD was coming up to Cascade today and volunteered to be the courier."

Blair laid down the paper he'd been reading. "Well, if there's something here, I'm not seeing it."

"Nothing is going on at Rainier? No arguments with other teachers or students?" Simon knew he was grasping at straws, but nothing about this was normal. No big shock there. If involved Ellison and Sandburg it was bound to be bizarre. Those two should come with a warning label attached.

"No, nothing. It's been real quiet," Blair said slowly. He looked up at Simon. "Have you heard when Professor Rogers' funeral will be?"

Banks tossed the other man a guilty look. "No, I'm sorry, kid. I'll find out tomorrow, okay?"

Blair nodded. "Okay." He pushed away from the table and rose. "I need to get out of here for a while."

There was an uneasy silence in the kitchen. Simon cleared his throat. "It's probably safe for a short walk, but you'll need to take Jim or myself along."

"I'll go, Simon," Jim declared.

"Well, I'm heading out," Joel said slapping the table lightly. I want be back by nightfall. I'll see you day after next, Blair, if we haven't caught the guy by then."

A faint trail led them down the mountainside through a stand of second growth fir and evergreen. Very little old growth timber remained in Washington State. Jim could remember hiking in the Brother's Wilderness National Park as a young man. The old growth had been awesome to walk through. He made a mental note to take Sandburg to see it when this mess was over.

"God, I'm sorry I'm being such a jerk, Jim," Blair blurted out suddenly, stopping in the trail and turning to face the cop.

"It's okay. We're fine here, Chief." Jim tugged the shorter man's ponytail with a smile. "I think I understand what you're going through. You're upset, not sleeping very well and skipping meals doesn't make it any better."

Blair blushed. "The cereal did taste kinda good, man. But what do you mean about sleep? I'm sleeping fine."

Jim shrugged and started to follow his guide down the trail again. "You've been talking in your sleep. I assumed you were having nightmares."

He ducked under a low branch. A stream cut through the trail ahead, but it was small enough for the two men to jump over without much effort.

"Come to think of it. You were doing it in Seattle, too."

Blair shrugged. "I don't remember any bad dreams."

"Something about someone falling in a hole."

Blair slowed his walk, studying the ground in front of his feet as he puzzled over his friend's story. "Falling in a hole?"

"You called it a `glory hole', what ever that is."

Blair stopped, causing Ellison to nearly knock him over.

"That sounds familiar..."

Jim had been scanning the area as they walked, keeping track of the wildlife around them. No other human heartbeat except for Simon's could be heard.

"Come on, Sandburg. We need to head back. Simon is starting to worry."

They retraced their steps in comfortable silence. Ellison knew that Blair was still working over the issue of the sleep talking in his mind. He was satisfied eventually the puzzle would be solved.

Shrugging out of his light jacket, Blair tossed it over the rocker and stood with his hands on his hips.

"Simon. What do you think of when you hear the words `glory hole'."

Simon looked up from his paperwork. "Fishing."

"Nothing else?" Blair pushed. "I mean, I should know this! It's like I've blocked out something and it's right on the edge of my thoughts, but I can't get a good look at it!" He tossed his hands into the air.

Ellison sat on the sofa and stretched his long legs. This was the most dialogue he'd heard from the man since the shooting. He waited with a smile for his friend to work it out.

Simon picked up the reports and tucked them back into the SPD case. "Okay, then. Give me a second." He studied the lamp next to the sofa.

"Sound's like it's a vice term I used to know," Jim commented with a smirk.

Blair snorted.

"I know," Simon said, snapping his fingers and ignoring Jim's comment. "Back in college, I worked one summer on the Columbia River, at Rocky Reach Dam. They use that term for a hole used to divert water around a dam when it's being constructed!"

Blair gasped. Ellison looked with concern as the younger man seemed to stop breathing, his face became white, his eyes widened with some unknown terror.

"Blair?"

Without an explanation, Sandburg bolted toward the kitchen. Both cops were on their feet and following without thought. They watched Blair fall to his knees in the bathroom as he convulsed once and lost his first meal in over 24 hours into the toilet.

Jim entered the small bathroom and snatched up a damp washcloth, while Simon took a clean glass from the cupboard in the kitchen and filled it with water from the sink.

After the contents of Sandburg's stomach were flushed, both men stood by with their offerings. Blair rolled over to sit on his butt and lean against the bathtub with his eyes closed.

"Here." Jim squatted down and handed him the cloth.

Blair cleaned his face with shaky hands and took a mouthful of water, swished it and spit it into the toilet.

The two men waited silently for the cause of this sudden action to be explained.

"He killed him!" Blair whispered, his voice and body shaking.

"We know about Rogers..." Simon started.

"Hold it, sir," Jim interrupted. "Who got killed, Blair?"

Sandburg was staring blankly at some point over Ellison's head. "A guy. A security guard, I think. He killed him, hit him and threw him into the hole."

Jim and Simon exchanged looks.

"When did this happen, how old were you?" Simon asked gently from Ellison's side. The bathroom was getting very crowded.

"Eight, I was eight. I was hiding. He didn't know I was there. I tried to stop him when he lifted the guy over the fence..." Blair's voice faded. He was obviously reliving the memory for the first time in seventeen years.

"Blair, who did it? Who killed the guard?" Ellison asked. This was the shooter, he was sure of it!

Sandburg seemed to wake up from his daydream. He looked at Jim and shook his head. "A guy, man. Naomi was staying with a group protesting the dams being built on a river. Somewhere in Colorado, I think. We lived in a campground downstream." Sandburg pushed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. "God! How could I have forgotten this! He saw me! I nearly fell off the dam getting away."

"Is that when you became afraid of heights?" Ellison couldn't help but ask.

"It certainly didn't help! But yeah, I guess that's what did it."

Jim stood. "Come on, Chief. If you're finished in here, let's take this back to the living room." He reached down, hoisting the dazed man to his feet.

Simon reached back into the case for the Seattle reports after they returned to the front room and settled in. "I think a few of those Boeing workers are about the right age for this Colorado incident." He passed the photos over.

"Any of them seem familiar?" Jim asked.

Sandburg studied the faces and shook his head.

Jim slapped his leg. "We need more background on these guys. I'm going to call Martin and see what he can dig up."

They used the satellite phone from the front yard. The sun was starting to set. Ellison watched Simon work the phone as he extended his hearing to make sure they were alone. They reached the Seattle cop at his home. He promised to have a thorough background check on all the fight participants.

"Thanks, Phil. I think we've tied this thing to a murder back in the seventies," Ellison informed him.

"Really?"

"We need to see if any of them can be placed in Colorado about '76."

"Okay, but I've got to tell you, Jim. We've confirmed alibis for all the men so far. Unless they got someone to lie for them, which is possible, none of these guy's were in Cascade on Monday."

"Something in Seattle triggered this," Jim stated, looking at Blair leaning against the post of the front porch as he watched.

"Did Brady get the stuff up to your Captain, okay?"

"Brady delivered it?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, he told me he has family up there. His brother is sick, he's taking some time off to help."

Jim felt his cop instinct sit up and take notice. Brady was the guy from the BBQ. He'd been the first to leave that night, and if Jim remembered correctly, he hadn't said more than a few words the entire night.

"How old is Brady? Where's he from?" Jim questioned suspiciously.

"He'd be my age, late forties. I don't know where he's from, he's been with SPD for about ten years, I guess. Where are you going with this, Ellison?"

Jim wasn't sure how to explain himself. This was one of Martin's friends. He was bound to get offended. Jim suddenly realized that Blair's dreams may have started in Martin's house, the very night he'd first been introduced to Brady. That cinched it.

Without regard for the other man's possible reaction, Ellison spelled it all out to the Settle lieutenant. Martin didn't interrupt as Jim explained his theory.

"So, if you're right, and I'm not saying you are, then Brady is still after Blair. Any chance he followed the reports to your location?"

Oh, SHIT!

Jim spun to stare at Simon and Blair.

"Simon! Get Sandburg inside!" He closed his eyes and pushed his hearing as far as he could go, ignoring the protests Blair was making as Simon dragged him forcefully back into the cabin.

There! A heartbeat. To the west of his location, about 500 feet out. One person on foot and heading toward the cabin.

"Phil, we have a possible suspect approaching. Call Major Crimes for me, ask for Brown or Rafe, tell them it's an emergency and to send anybody that's close! They know our location."

"Right, I'm on it."

Ellison closed up the case and ran for the cabin, his long legs leaping up the steps to the porch in a single stride.

"What is it, Jim?" Simon asked. Sandburg stood next to him, eyes wide.

"He used a homing device to track you here, Simon," Jim stated flatly, pulling the shades down. It was still light outside. None of the inside lights had been turned on.

Simon looked shocked. "How's that possible? I got that from a Seattle cop, I checked his ID myself!"

"He is a cop, Simon. I think Brady is our shooter." Jim ran a hand through his short hair. "He's on foot."

"What're we gonna do, man?" Blair's eyes darted around the room, as if deciding which direction to run.

"Martin is sending backup. We need to hold out till they arrive." Jim pulled his automatic from his holster and checked his rounds. Simon did the same.

"How much ammo did you bring, Simon?"

"Three speed loaders and a extra box in my bag."

"Good, I've got two extra full clips and my backup." Jim lifted his pant leg and pulled out the smaller caliber handgun. "Here, Blair. You take this."

Sandburg accepted the gun cautiously. "We need to beat feet out of here, not make like the O.K. corral!"

Moving to the front window, Jim slowly pulled back the curtain and examined the area. "He's here. I can't see him, but I can hear him about fifty feet out. Sounds like he's starting to circle the cabin."

Simon yanked Blair down behind the sofa. "Stay down until we give the all clear." He moved back into the kitchen to watch the back.

Jim listened as the unseen man crept through the foliage until he was at the back. "Simon, he's on your side now. I'm going out while the cabin will block his view." He opened the door and slipped out locking it behind him.

Blair peered from behind the sofa as his friend left.

"Ellison?" Simon whispered from the kitchen.

"He went outside, Simon!" Blair whispered back, his voice frantic with worry.

The kitchen window exploded in a shower of glass followed a split second later by the crack of a rifle shot.

"Stay down, Blair!" Simon ordered.

Blair covered his ears as Banks returned fire. A second round from the rifle hit the wall between the kitchen and the living room, sending a fine shower of plaster into the air.

"Simon?" Blair called out.

"I'm okay, stay down!"

"As if my legs could even support me, man," Blair muttered to himself and he curled into a ball, unconsciously attempting to be a smaller target. He twitched each time Banks returned fire from the next room.

After a few seconds turned into a full minute and then another, Blair lifted his head. Was it over?

"Simon?" This time he kept his voice low.

"Wait for it, Sandburg," came the soft reply.

Blair laid his head on the floor and closed his eyes. Time seemed to stop. The silence was almost obscene after the loud gunfire.

"Yes!" Banks breathed.

"Simon?"

"Stay put. Ellison is coming out with a suspect. I'm going out to help."

Blair released a lung full of air. "Oh, please, please, God. Let this be over!"

He obediently remained on the floor. His world became the back of the couch and the ground level view of the pictures hanging on the wall.

"Hey, Darwin. You going to lay there all day?" Jim asked from the entrance to the kitchen.

Blair slowly moved through the kitchen to peer out the broken window at the man cuffed and sitting in the dirt. Simon stood nearby with a gun drawn, talking on the satellite phone.

"That's him?'

"Yep. You recognize him?" Jim stood next to his friend.

Blair studied the face. "No, I mean yeah. It could be the guy, but I doubt I'd ever have remembered him, Jim."

"I'm not so sure. I think your subconscious was trying to tell you the first time you saw him at Martin's house."

Blair kicked at the glass shards on the floor. "Too little, too late."

They joined Simon in the back yard. The prisoner looked up and glared at the men.

"Hell of a way to end your career, Brady," Ellison commented.

Brady ignored the statement. He continued to stare at the shorter man.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Brady asked.

Blair studied the man. He looked almost fifty, his body still in good shape, a full head of hair that was starting to gray on the sides. Sandburg tried to imagine fewer wrinkles around the eyes.

"It wasn't Brady. You called yourself Preston then, didn't you?" Blair remembered.

Brady-Preston shook his head. "I tried to find you, but that bitch was gone by the time I got back to camp."

Blair felt his stomach twist from the memory of running to his mom, almost too terrified to make her understand. "She left everything behind. We just ran to the freeway and starting hitching," Blair whispered. He looked up at Jim. "I forgot it all."

Ellison took a deep breath. "We've got the rifle he used tonight. I'm betting it'll match the round that killed Rogers. Add your memory of the Colorado killing and the attempt on us tonight, I'd say Brady will spend the rest of his life behind bars."

They hiked the trail of switchbacks in silence. The Ford had been left behind at the trailhead. Blair followed the tall man with the blue backpack as they neared another hairpin turn.

"How much higher, man?" Blair cast a nervous glance at the view to his left. The Green Trail map showed this hike to be a fifteen hundred feet elevation gain. To Blair it seemed like the top of the world.

"Almost there. I promise this is worth it."

"How did the old growth survive all the logging, anyway?" Blair studied Jim's back, refusing to look at the view anymore.

"They couldn't get the machinery over this ridge."

Finally they found themselves at the top. Jim called for a break. He saw his friend sit with his back to the spectacular view.

"Why didn't your mother take you to the police the next day?" Jim asked, opening a baggie of trail mix. He held it out to the other man.

"I'm not sure I was very coherent that night, Jim. I remember being freaked out by almost falling down the face of that dam." Blair shuddered as he picked out the chocolate bits and returned them to Jim. He tossed the remaining mix into his mouth and chewed.

"You never told her at all?"

Blair shrugged and swallowed. "I can't explain it. We got a ride with a truck driver. When I woke up the next morning, I totally forgot the whole thing. Naomi just let it go."

They resumed the hike, leaving the ridge behind and descending into a lush forest of old growth timber. Blair hit the back of his head on his backpack as he twisted his neck back to try and see the tops of the majestic trees.

"Oh, wow! Unbelievable."

Jim nodded. "Yeah. I can't believe I waited this long to come back here."

"Well, you're here now, man. That's all that matters."

"No, we're here now. That's all that matters."

They resumed the hike single file.

Blair grinned. "That's what I said."

"Did not"

"Did too."

"You little twerp."

"Aw, Jim. Did I tell you lately, you say the nicest things to me..."

The End

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