The murmur of the water was mesmerizing. Jim was careful not to zone on the sound. It wasn't very likely. His senses were being treated to a smorgasbord of input: the sound of the water, the smell of the pines, the taste of the fresh air, the way the water swirled around the large rocks and the feel of the fly rod in his hands. Jim was in heaven. He looked over to see Blair moving upstream.

Good, the fishing lesson was over. He returned Buck's nod and watched the man return downstream. He raised his rod to start another cast while tracking the sound of Blair working upstream to find a spot to test his new knowledge.

After a few minutes of fishing, Jim could hear the soft comments Blair was addressing to the trout.

"Okay, watch out, fish. I've got your number now."

A few minutes later.

"Oh, yeah. Next time, I'll have you, me pretty."

Jim checked his watch. They might get another hour in before it was too dark to fish.

"Ohmygosh! I did it!"

Jim laughed out loud at the excitement mixed with wonder in Blair's voice. This he had to see. He reeled in his line. By moving up the bank a little, towards the steep rocky walls of the canyon he could see Blair standing in the stream, playing the fish. After a few minutes, Blair had the fish near enough to release. Jim watched him check the sky and use a small pair of needle nose pliers to release the fish without touching it.

Way to go, Buck.

Jim returned to his location. They remained on the stream for over an hour. The dusk settled in the narrow canyon. It was time to call it a day. The next few days promised to be just as enjoyable, the fishing here made anything Jim experienced in western Washington pale by comparison.

Downstream, Jim could hear Buck leaving for camp. Winding the fly line back into the reel, Jim leaned his fly rod against a large rock and headed up the creek to get Blair.

But Blair was not where he'd last seen him. Jim extended his hearing. There, he heard Blair further upstream, where the creek made a turn to the left and disappeared. Another sound caught Jim's attention: a grunt, then sniffing - like a large dog or...

Jim broke into a jog, reaching the bend and seeing Blair further upstream. He was facing a rippling stretch of water on the opposite bank with water lapping just above his knees.

A full grown black bear was upwind and upstream. It was unlikely the animal was even aware the men were near. Jim scrambled around a fallen tree. Ahead of him, the creek cut up against a rock wall that ran up the canyon for over a hundred feet. The water was deep here, so deep he would have to swim to cross it. How in the world did Blair get across?

"Sandburg!"

Blair looked up with a grin and wave. "Hey, Jim! I'm catching fish!"

"Get back here!" Jim shouted with a couple of fast motions of his hand to emphasize his order.

"Come on, man. I can still see, let's fish a little longer," Blair answered, his back towards the large bear.

The shouting caused the animal to lift its head and stare intently in their direction. It rose on its rear legs and sniffed the air around him.

"Look!" Jim shouted, pointing and wishing he'd packed his handgun.

Blair twisted his head and muttered a curse. He began an awkward retreat through the current. He was near the edge when it happened. Jim watched helplessly as Blair's foot slid out from under him. He lost his balance and fell hard, throwing out his left hand to catch himself. Jim flinched as he heard the dull thud of Blair's head bouncing off a large rock.

"Damn it!" Jim ran, zooming in on the rock wall with his vision. Blair must have found a way to get across. His sentinel vision saw small outcroppings jutting out in the rock, about an inch or two deep, spaced out far enough for foot holds.

Blair must be part monkey.

Finding small finger holds, Jim placed the side of his wading shoe in the first shallow shelf of rock. It was not any easy task, but Jim was able to traverse the wall around the deep pool. He kept his eye on the bear. It was still sniffing the air. The animal dropped to all fours and slowly lumbered towards the fallen man.

Blair lay on his side, trying to push himself up. He yelped and fell back; the water lapping at his shoulder, his right hand still clutched his fly rod. The bear stopped within a few feet of him.

"Jim...what do I do?" Blair whispered in terror.

"Stay put, Blair," Jim said tersely, covering the last of the rock cliff and dropping into knee deep water. He slowly stood up straight, holding his arms out from his sides in an attempt to look as big as possible and took slow steps toward his guide.

The bear watched Jim's approach with small black eyes. He stood on hind legs, topping Jim's height by a few inches and tested the air with his nose. Jim knew that a bear's eyesight was not keen. They relied on their nose to find food and recognize a threat. Jim sincerely hoped this bear was afraid of human scent. The mighty animal took a few steps towards Blair and dropped back on all fours, his front claws landing close to Blair's head. He sniffed the air above Blair before slowly turned away.

Jim moved quickly to Blair's side. He reached down, hooking his hands under Blair's arms and pulling him to his feet in one smooth movement. Blair's eyes were clenched shut, his face white with fear, a large angry looking lump stood out on the side of his forehead.

"Am I bear food yet?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Nope, too skinny. Come on, before he changes his mind." Jim grabbed a fist full of flannel and pulled Blair back towards the rock wall. Could Blair scale the cliff back over the pool? He cast a worried look over his shoulder. The bear was still working upstream, angling towards the sharp rise of the canyon wall. It was steep, but faint animal trails told Jim the bear was on his way out of the area. It showed no interest in them. They were probably safe.

"I think we're okay. Let me look at your head," Jim said, tilting Blair's head by capturing his chin. Blair's fall had allowed the water to run inside his waders, completely soaking his clothes. He shivered violently, slightly swaying on his feet, his wide eyes fearfully searching the area. Jim compared the pupils. They were even and sized appropriately for the fading light of dusk.

"No t-t-time..," Blair stuttered, trying to break Jim's hold with his left hand.

Jim caught the flash of pain on Blair's face. "What?"

Blair jerked his chin free. "Nothing... Come on."

Jim caught him by the shoulder. "The bear is gone. I can't hear anything else around."

"You're sure?" Blair asked, some of the terror beginning to fade from his eyes.

"Yeah. Now let me see that arm," Jim ordered, catching an elbow and pulling back the sleeve.

"Tried to catch ...myself," Blair explained through chattering teeth. "I'll be fine."

Jim nodded, he couldn't tell for sure. There were too many small bones in the wrist, but he could see Blair's forearm was starting to swell. "Give me your fly rod. You'll need your right hand to get across that cliff."

When they arrived at the trailer, Buck was grilling steaks over an open fire. Jim could smell corn roasting, spotting three ears still in the husk by the coals.

"What happened to you?" Buck asked.

Blair looked down at his wet shirt. He held his left arm close to his body, splinting it with his right hand. "I fell."

"We had a situation with a bear," Jim explained, setting both fly rods and his fishing vest down on a nearby rock. "Go change, Chief. I'll get some ice for that wrist."

Blair disappeared into the trailer.

"How close did the bear come?" Buck asked quietly.

"Too damn close," Jim answered briskly. Jim dropped his waders off his shoulders and bent to untie his shoes. Now that they were back at the trailer, he indulged in a little self-criticism. Why hadn't he been more careful? He knew there would be wildlife in this remote area.

"He okay?"

"Says he is, hurt his wrist when he fell." Jim finished with his waders. "I'll look at it tonight."

"I have some bear mace. We can start carrying it when we fish. Most of the black bears are okay if you don't corner them."

Blair couldn't sleep. He'd iced his wrist under the watchful eye of Jim. The swelling was obvious now. Jim and Buck had mentioned a trip to the hospital, but Blair refused. He would not start this weekend with a trip to the local E.R.

Now he lay in his bed, listening to the soft snoring from Buck drifting down from the other end of the trailer. The throbbing in his left wrist wouldn't let him sleep.

"You want to try some Advil now?"

Blair rolled his eyes as Jim sat up in the next bed. The beds were so close they could reach out in the dark and touch each other, handy if Blair suddenly became overcome by a wild desire to have a pillow fight.

"Here."

A hand appeared in front of his nose, followed by another with a water bottle. Blair downed the pills. "Thanks, man. Sorry I'm keeping you awake."

"No problem, I have to get up to visit the little fisherman's room anyway."

Blair snorted softly and repositioned himself to try and sleep, listening to his partner moving around in the dark. The water pump kicked on after a moment and Jim returned to his bed. After a short time, the medicine kicked in and Blair drifted off to sleep.

"Sandburg, wake up for me."

Blair opened his eyes in confusion. It was still dark. He felt terrible. "What is it?"

"You're moaning." Jim's voice came from the dark room, acoustics strange in the small room. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep for two hours."

Ah, concussion. Blair should have known Jim would be checking on him. He groaned, the intense throbbing from his left arm shooting hot spikes from his wrist. This was no simple sprain. He groaned again when Jim carefully picked up his arm and examined his wrist.

"This is broken, kid."

Blair groaned in frustration. "Nooooo, why do these things always happen to me, Jim?" he muttered in an angry whisper.

"What's going on?" Buck's voice came from the hallway, near the foot of both beds.

"I think we're looking at a trip to the hospital," Jim answered simply. Jim was moving around the small room, pulling on his jeans. "Sandburg's wrist is broken. I want to get it in a cast before the swelling gets too bad."

"Okay, give me the keys. I'll go warm up the Ford," Buck offered.

Blair cursed his stupid luck. He did not want to go to the hospital. He couldn't work with a cast. He had a deck to build.

"Jim, let's just wait till morning. Maybe it's not that bad," he pleaded. But Jim was dressed now, pulling the blankets off Blair's body. Blair had worn his sweats to bed, but he still shivered in the cool night air.

Jim lifted the broken wrist, using both hands to support the fracture. He laid the arm carefully in Blair's lap. "Okay, sit up, Chief."

Blair tried pushing himself off the mattress with his good hand. God, he hurt. Jim long arm reached behind Blair's upper back and he was sitting up. Jim left and quickly returned with Blair's hiking boots.

By the time Buck returned, Jim was just finishing with Blair's last bootlace. Buck lifted the top blanket from Blair's bed and wrapped it around his nephew's shoulders.

"It's colder then a well digger's butt out there."

Blair shuffled towards the door, realizing he had no chance of talking his way out of a trip to the hospital. Besides, the pain in his wrist wasn't something he could ignore. Blair felt the bite of the cold air on his face as he stepped out into the dark night.

"This sucks," he muttered under his breath, too low for Buck to catch, but he got an understanding squeeze on his good arm from Jim.

Bonner's Ferry had a small hospital with an E.R. that consisted of a sleepy R.N. and a security guard reading a dog-eared copy of the Idaho hunting regulations. The nurse was a heavy-set woman in her early forties. She clucked sympathetically at Blair as she led them towards a small but clean treatment room. A metal tray with a white cloth covering unknown instruments sat on the counter, ready for use. The bed had cloth sheets washed to the point of becoming threadbare. The linoleum floor was clean, but cracked with age.

Blair leaned his hip wearily against the bed.

"Go ahead and lie down and rest, honey," the nurse ordered. "I'll call the doctor first. He lives close." She left to make her phone call.

"They got to wake up the doctor?" Blair wondered out loud as he sat on the bed.

The nurse returned as Blair got comfortable. "I called the X-ray tech as well. It won't be long now. Let's get your vitals. Which one of you men wants to start filling out the pesky paperwork?" the nurse asked.

Buck accepted the paperwork and settled in a chair out of the way. By the time the doctor arrived, the nurse had a complete set of recorded vitals.

"I followed Sara in, so we should be getting the X-Ray department up and running in a second," a thin man with a bald head commented, walking into the room. "You must be the arm fracture. I'm Doctor Stone." He accepted the file from the nurse, his eyes scanning the information she'd written down. "Okay, Mr. Sandburg, let's take a look at that head first."

Blair settled back, hoping for good news but knowing it wasn't coming. When this was over, he planned on having a serious chat with his karma.

Jim watched as Doctor Stone finished the cast on Blair's wrist. Blair's head injury wasn't serious, but he'd keep an eye out for problems. The X-rays showed a clean break in one of the larger bones. He frowned at his roommate. Surely, Blair must have known it was more than a simple sprain. He was lucky the swelling didn't prevent the doctor from casting the arm.

"Boundary General! This is aid twenty-four!"

The urgent call sounded like it was being broadcast over a radio. Judging by the lack of personnel he'd seen so far, no one was available to answer the call.

"Excuse me. I think I hear your fire department calling you on a radio somewhere," Jim told the nurse quietly, moving close to her side.

"Oh, my!" She set the tray down on the counter. "When it rains it pours. Excuse me, doctor."

"Go ahead, Lee Ann."

Jim moved forward and picked up the tray to hold it for the doctor's easy access.

"Thank you, young man, we're almost done."

Jim listened to nurse as she answered the radio. The aid crew was bringing in a stabbing victim. From the sounds of the background chatter, it wasn't going well.

"Okay, that should do it," Doctor Stone told Blair. "I'm going to give you something for the pain. You need to follow up with your own doctor. The nurse will give you some information on how to care for your cast."

"Thanks, can I still use my arm? Like to fish and stuff?" Blair asked as he wiggled his fingers. The white plaster started from below his elbow and extended to his first set of knuckles.

"Well, I suppose, keep it dry and if it begins to hurt, stop."

Blair looked a little more cheerful. "Cool. It already feels better, thanks."

"Doctor." The nurse appeared at the doorway, looking concerned. "We've got a trauma coming in. I've notified airlift. They're less then five out."

"Naturally," Stone said with a nod. "This happens every time I cover my partner's shift." He removed his gloves with a snap, tossing them in a trashcan.

Before they could get their things together and pick up the information at the nurses station, the doors banged opened, announcing the arrival of the aid crew. Blair, Buck and Jim stood to one side as three emergency personnel passed them, pushing a gurney toward the treatment room Blair had just been in. One man squeezed a clear plastic bulb attached to a tube protruding from the patient's mouth. The man on the gurney was unconscious, wearing brown corduroy pants, his chest bare. Blood saturated several white gauze bandages taped to his chest.

"Oh my god! Oz!" Blair blurted out. "Jim! It's Oz!"

Jim tethered Blair in place with a hand on his shoulder as the gurney passed, keeping him from following. Two police officers dressed in a green Boundary County Police uniform appeared in the wake of the aid crew. One a man looked in his forties, his uniform straining around his ample middle, his partner a woman, about ten years younger. The female cop zeroed in on Blair.

"You know this man?" she demanded.

Blair tried to shrug off Jim's hold. "Let me go, man."

"I'm talking to you," the woman demanded sharply.

Buck moved to block Blair's path to the treatment room. Jim released Blair and turned to address the officers.

"I'm Detective Ellison with the Cascade, Washington PD, Major Crimes." He fished his ID out of his jeans and held it out for her inspection. "This is Blair Sandburg. He's an advisor with the department from Rainier University," he said, not in the least bit worried about stretching the truth a little. Still, he hoped this didn't get back to Simon.

"I'm Deputy Easton. This is Deputy Sanford. We're investigating a stabbing," she answered sarcastically. "If that's okay with you, Detective?"

"Absolutely," Jim said smoothly. "Why don't we find a spot to sit, Sandburg just finished having his broken arm put in a cast."

Some of her irritation faded, replaced with a wry smile. "Sorry, Detective Ellison. It's been a hell of a night."

"Jim."

"Julie. This is Wilson."

"What happened to him?" Blair demanded, appearing at Jim's elbow.

"Let's go sit down, Chief," Jim said, guiding Blair into the waiting room and urging him to a chair. Blair's eyes remained glued to Julie's face as he waited for her answer.

The deputies pulled some chairs out of the neat row against the wall and formed a semi circle. Sounds of frantic work came from the treatment room. Buck and Jim grabbed their own chairs, completing the small circle.

"We're not sure." Julie answered Blair's concerned question as she sat. "We'd like to ask you a few questions. You know more about the victim then we do at this time."

"Is he going to make it?" Blair asked.

"We don't know," she said, her short natural wavy hair framed her face in a professional yet flattering manner. She was tall, coming close to Jim's height. Her uniform did not hide her muscular frame. "Tell me about him, please."

"Ah... he's a volunteer activist."

"Did he tell you what he was doing here?" Wilson asked.

"He told me he was here to work on the agricultural burning thing," Blair answered, his eyes straying to the doorway to the treatment room.

"When did you see him last?" she asked.

"Today...I mean, yesterday," Blair added.

"It was about ten-thirty in the morning," Jim said.

"You spoke to him too?" Julie asked Jim.

"No, I just saw him talking with Sandburg."

"Oz was trying to contact the business owners in the area. He was drumming up support for his new group." Blair turned his gaze upward as he paused. "Something like...Safe breathing...No... Safe Air for Breathing. S.A.F.B."

Julie had her notebook out and was franticly scribbling the information down. "How long have you known him?" she asked without looking up.

"Thirteen years."

"What about his family?"

"He's the first born son of Theodore J. Osborn from Boston," Blair told her. "They own a broadcasting company back there. At least they used to."

"Do you know if he had any plans this evening?" she asked after a moment of writing.

"No..."

Jim's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He recognized that tone. `Blair the Evader' had reared its head. But he remained quiet, flicking a quick glance at Buck, only to see Buck giving him an identical look. Jim would have smiled if the circumstances had been less serious. Buck obviously knew Blair's evasive ways.

Apparently, Julie didn't believe Blair's answer either. "Look. He was stabbed in his room at the casino. So far, there are no witnesses. Mr. Osborn has not been conscious enough to tell us anything. So, this is just at a fact-finding stage. We promise anything you tell us will be kept confidential."

Blair had the grace to look a little guilty. "He said he had a date later that evening."

"Any woman in particular?"

Blair shrugged, his attention returning to the sounds in the treatment room.

She nodded her head, opening her book back up. "Anything else you can think of?"

Blair shook his head.

Julie wrote down their names and where they were staying. After promising to come by later in the afternoon to get their signatures for her report, she thanked them and both cops disappeared into the treatment room.

Blair looked like he wanted to follow.

"They don't need three out of town yahoos staring over their shoulders, runt," Buck said gently.

"What are the chances of finding an all-night diner?" Jim asked hopefully.

"In North Idaho? About as good as a lead balloon floating off the ground," Buck said.

Jim leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out to get comfortable. "Well, we should know something soon."

Blair turned to his friend with hope on his face. "What? You know something? What do you hear?"

Jim mentally kicked himself.

"Sandburg. They're doing everything they can. They're trying to stabilize him for a trip to Spokane by air. He's lost a lot of blood. Let's just wait and see, okay?"

Blair didn't look happy, but he nodded and settled back in his seat, his new cast cradled unconsciously against his chest. Jim was correct. They knew something within fifteen minutes. Jim listened as Doctor Stone told Lee Ann to cancel the airlift.

Oz was dead.

The drive back to the campground was quiet. Blair closed his eyes, leaning his head back to rest on the seat. He couldn't believe Oz was dead.

Murdered.

Blair shuddered as his mind replayed the scene of the fire crew arriving at the hospital. What a gruesome way to go. He'd been discovered by a passing maid who saw the door half opened and heard the victim groaning.

Jim parked in front of the trailer. Blair entered first, glancing at the small wall clock mounted above Buck's bed. It was almost four in the morning.

"We might as well try and get a few hours sleep," Buck suggested.

They went to their respective beds. Jim took a moment to return the blanket to Blair's bed for him.

"You want one of those pills for the arm?" Jim asked.

Blair considered his options. It might help him sleep. The nurse managed to get him a few free samples before Oz arrived. He doubted they'd ever get around to filling the prescription.

"Yeah, I guess." Blair sat on the edge of his bed, taking the pill from Jim and downing it with the bottled water sitting on the floor.

"You okay?" Jim asked as he climbed back on his bed and adjusted the single blanket over himself.

A lamp sat on a small shelf between the beds. Blair leaned over, turning it off and shrugging his shoulders in the darkness.

"It's just so weird. Oz is alive in the morning, talking with me about meetings and dates. Less then twenty-four hours later, he's dead." Blair slipped under his covers.

"Yeah. That's rough," Jim answered. "I'm sure they'll find out more today. It takes a while to collect all the facts."

Blair stared into the darkness for a few moments. "You think we could drive into town and see if they'll let you look around?

Blair waited for the answer, wondering if Jim had fallen asleep. Jim could do that. Drop off to sleep in seconds sometimes. Blair figured it was some military trick they taught soldiers, getting rest when opportunities were available.

"Sandburg. I'm sorry Oz is dead, but I am out of my jurisdiction. I have no authority to poke my nose into their crime scene. I know you see that stuff on television, but not in real life. Understand?"

"Yeah...I know," Blair said. "I just feel so guilty."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, man. I kind of blew him off yesterday."

Jim grunted, but didn't answer right away.

"It's weird. I feel like I should have been nicer," Blair added.

"Sandburg, you're judging yourself for actions you took without the knowledge you currently have. You can't do that. I heard the way he bossed you around. You acted in Henry's best interest. You just suggested that Oz should come back, you didn't chase him off with a shotgun."

Blair sighed. "I hear what you're saying. I just feel so bad."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't, Chief. Try and go to sleep."

Blair rolled over on his side. The cast was heavy and felt weird on his arm. There was no way he would ever get to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Oz on that gurney. He played the last conversation he had with him over in his mind, slowing the memory down like an old fashion reel-to-reel movie, one frame at a time.

The next thing Blair realized, sunlight was streaming into the windows of their trailer and he was thirsty. He rolled over onto his back and rubbed his eyes with his right hand.

`That pill really knocked me out', he thought.

Fumbling for his glasses, he hooked them over his ears and examined his new white cast glumly. He hadn't worn a cast since he fell out of that tree when he was a kid. All he could remember from that event was the itching, but not being able to scratch.

Great, something to look forward to.

Blair snorted and tossed back the covers. Glancing out the windows, he could see it was later in the morning than he realized.

"Jim?"

He found the note taped to the icebox.

`C. Don't get your cast wet. I'll finish cutting the lumber and wait for you to join me. J.'

Taking his cereal box from the pantry and setting it on the table, Blair rummaged around the drawers and cabinets with his right hand. He set a bowl and spoon out on the counter. The kettle, already filled with water, was on the burner. Blair picked up the long nosed butane lighter and tried to manipulate the knob on the propane stove with his left hand. Before he could turn it, the door opened, causing him to turn in surprise. Jim flashed him a sheepish look.

"Morning, Jim," Blair said, rolling his eyes as Jim reached out a hand for the lighter. He handed the instrument over with a small sigh. This was going to be a very long convalescence.

"I figured you'd eat the fruit and breakfast bars I set out," Jim explained as he quickly lit the burner and moved the kettle over to the flames. "How are you feeling?"

A small plastic bowl of fruit sat on the table next to a box of blueberry breakfast bars. Any evidence of Buck's bed was cleaned up. The two men had managed to get everything straightened away without waking him this morning.

"Okay. How long have you guys been up?" Blair moved to the table and took a seat to watch Jim fix his breakfast.

"About an hour or so." Jim leaned a hip against the small kitchen counter and waited for the water to boil. He eyed Blair's cast with a thoughtful look. "If you're willing to wait till evening, we can tape a plastic sack over that so you can shower. No point in wasting the water now, when you're just going to go out again and get sweaty."

"You mean you're not going to try to keep me from working?" Blair asked in surprise.

"That fall didn't turn you into the village idiot, Chief," Jim teased. "I can think of a lot of work that only takes one hand. Besides, I have no idea how to finish the deck, remember?"

After breakfast, they returned to the project, working that morning as an efficient team. Blair explained everything as they went along in his usual manner. He had to admit, Jim may have reservations about letting him play with matches and propane with one good hand, but he still expected Blair to pull his own weight.

The deck was taking shape. They could walk on it now. Blair had Jim drag him a two-by-twelve piece of lumber from the pile by the mill, long enough to use for the staircase. Together, they set it out on two sawhorses. Blair had Jim hold the square while he drew the cutting lines with a fat pencil. If they kept this pace up, they'd be putting the stain on tomorrow.

Buck and Henry wandered around the corner of the building, both men dotted with drying bits of mud from their sheetrock job. A little earlier, Blair had noticed Big Dan driving out of camp on some unknown errand.

"You two are really making some progress," Henry said setting his mud tray down on the sawhorse.

"I think we'll be finished today," Blair replied with a satisfied nod.

"How's the arm? Buck told us about your adventures last night. Sorry about your friend."

"Thanks," Blair said.

Big Dan returned, driving around the last hairpin and parking next to the other vehicles. Blair heard Jim sniff, causing him to look at his friend in concern.

"What?" Blair asked quietly, suddenly worried about another bear, realizing a second too late that Jim would hear the animal long before he could smell it.

"Pizza," Jim whispered with a happy grin of anticipation, looking like a ten year-old on Christmas morning.

Blair glanced over at Henry. He was examining the deck and talking something over with Buck. Neither man was paying attention to their conversation.

"What type?"

Jim inhaled deeply through his nose, his grin becoming wider. "Pepperoni and mushrooms with extra cheese, thick crust."

Blair looked up in awe.

"Just kidding about the crust, junior," Jim added with a wicked smirk.

Lunch break was called and the men spread the feast out on the new deck, enjoying the warm weather and fresh air as they ate. Blair indulged in a slice, chewing thoughtfully. He thought about Oz's death. It was still a tragic event, but during the light of day, he found himself able to distance himself better. He wondered what the police had learned, if anything, about the murder. He could drive or hike up the road to call if he really needed to know. Maybe later, Blair decided popping the last of the pizza in his mouth.

"You eating another piece?" Jim asked, his hand hovering over the box. Big Dan had purchased two large pizza pies with the same topping. The slices were disappearing at a rapid rate.

"Go for it, man," Blair said, giving his blessing.

Jim snagged the last piece and folded it slightly to take a large bite off the end. Jim amazed Blair, always managing to eat without making a mess.

"I'm going to grab a banana. You need anything from the trailer?" Blair stood, swiping at the pepperoni stains on his jeans.

"Bring me a Snickers bar? They're above the sink," Jim replied around a mouthful of pizza.

Blair huffed at his friend. "You are `so' not doing the shopping next trip, big guy."

Jim watched his friend walk back to the trailer. They'd put in a good morning of work. The activity seemed to keep Blair's mind off the events at the hospital. It wasn't enough Blair was exposed to the violence at Jim's job, but they seemed to continue to run into it while away. He crumpled up his paper towel and looked around for any other trash needing to be picked up.

"Blair seems better today," Buck noted from his seat on the deck.

"Yeah, he'll be okay," Jim replied, hoping it was true. He looked up the sloop and he heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the road.

A dusty four-wheel drive Subaru drove into the campground, parking next to the other vehicles. Jim stood with the other three men as Deputy Sanford, who they'd met at the hospital, opened the door and walked towards them dressed in jeans and a denim shirt.

"Wilson Sanford, right?" Jim asked as the man neared, shaking his hand.

Wilson nodded. "That's right, I'm surprised you remember. It was a crazy morning," he replied, his eyes searching the area.

"What can we do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to Mr. Sandburg again about the murder," Wilson said in a friendly tone. "If he has the time, it shouldn't take too long. I'll drive him back myself."

Jim frowned, looking over his shoulder at the Subaru with non-county license plates. Since when did a deputy use his own car for work?

"That's okay. We wanted to run into town anyway," Jim lied, not liking the idea of Blair going off with this cop alone. "Just give us a little time to clean up. We'll give the station a call when we head in and they can notify you."

Wilson scratched a spot behind his left ear. "Well, I guess." He made a point of looking around again. "Been meaning to check this place out. Looks like it would make a good fishing camp."

"We can sure recommend the fishing," Buck said, speaking up from his spot on the deck. "Why don't I come along, Jim? I need some drill bits anyway."

Jim could see Blair making his way back from the trailer. At the same time, a white and green colored Jeep was pulling into the parking area. The top of the jeep sported a blue and red light bar. Another sheriff had arrived. Jim zoomed in on the driver and recognized Julie Easton. She looked upset, a determined frown on her face. Her hand reached for the mounted shotgun between the two front seats.

Damn.

Before Jim could do anything, before he could shout a warning, go after Wilson or even blink, Wilson saw the patrol unit. He snagged Blair by the neck as he passed by. Blair squawked in surprise, dropping Jim's Snicker bar and his half eaten banana.

Everyone shouted at once.

"Let him go, Sanford!"

"What's your problem, man?"

"Hey!"

"Turn him loose!"

"Everyone, back off! NOW! Or I kill him!" A gun appeared in Wilson's hand, the tip of the barrel pressing hard into Blair's ear. Blair used his good arm to ineffectively tug on Wilson's beefy left arm that held his neck like a tight vice.

Deputy Easton approached slowly, as a person would with a wild animal, her shotgun pressed against her shoulder as she sighted her partner carefully. Wilson swung Blair roughly, using the younger man as a shield.

To Jim, the scene unfolded like a living nightmare. Cold fear pooled in his gut as he cursed himself for leaving his gun in the trailer.

"Look at yourself, Wilson! What the hell is this shit?" Julie demanded from her partner, her shotgun never wavering. "We found Kristina, she's still alive. She told us everything. Let him go, partner. I promise I'll get you help---"

"Shove that crap, Jules. You know I'm screwed!" Wilson screamed at her, his emotions making him shake like a leaf. He tightened his grip on Blair's neck. Blair tugged frantically on the arm, his face starting to turn blue.

"Okay, okay. Calm down." Julie lowered her gun but kept it pointed in his general direction. "Just loosen your grip, man. Or you won't have a hostage at all."

Wilson seemed to recognize the truth of her words and relaxed his arm. Blair drew in a lungful of air and barked a few raw sounding coughs.

"I'm getting out of here." Wilson moved towards Easton's jeep with his captive.

"Not with that hostage, Wilson." Julie lifted her shotgun again, her voice breaking slightly. "You know I can't let you do that."

"Move aside, Jules. I swear I'll kill him now!" Wilson tightened his grip on the gun, pushing the tip of the barrel hard into Blair's ear. Blair's face contorted in pain, but he remained silent.

Jim moved slightly away from Buck. Wilson caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He backed up two big steps, keeping both Julie and Jim in view. Blair's heels left two lines in the dirt as he was dragged along.

"Don't move! Any of you!" Wilson shouted at them. "Jules, drop the shotgun, right now!"

Julie seemed to make up her mind. She lowered the gun to her hip and gave her partner a pleading look. "Listen, let him go. I'll be your hostage. I promise I won't try a thing."

Wilson's face softened slightly. "The brass will have your head if they heard you talking like this, babe. I swear I'll let him go. I'm taking your patrol car."

Jim stepped forward as Wilson moved towards the jeep. "Take me, then."

Wilson looked at him as if he were crazy. "You think I'm an idiot? This guy's the only one that doesn't look ex-military. And I know Jules can take me without breaking a sweat, so, no thanks. I'm sticking with the hippie."

Jim watched helplessly as Blair was dragged towards the Jeep. Wilson ordered Julie to toss her handgun and the shotgun into the front seat and back away. She hesitated briefly, giving him a searching look.

"I swear. I'm just going to use him to secure my escape. I'll let him go."

She nodded and tossed both guns in. Jim hated it, but silently agreed with her decision. It was Blair's best chance. Wilson had nothing to lose. He'd likely kill Blair if they cornered him. They'd simply have to wait and watch for an opportunity if it arose.

"Good. Now use your knife and slash the front tire on each of these rigs. I just need enough time to get a head start, that's all. I'll turn him loose ten miles shy of the border." Wilson stood by the back door of the Jeep now, Blair standing in front as his human shield. Blair was breathing easier now, the arm around his neck no longer cutting off his airway. The handgun was lowered and pointing in the general direction of Jim and the other men.

Julie started with Wilson's own Subaru, then methodically pierced the sidewall of one tire on each of the other vehicles with an angry stab.

"Jim," Blair whispered.

Wilson heard him. He snapped Blair's chin up with his arm and whispered into his ear. Jim dialed up his hearing to catch the rogue cop's words.

"Shut up, or I'll put the first bullet in the old guy with the gray hair."

Jim watched Blair's panicked eyes swing to Buck. He closed his mouth. Wilson nodded his approval. Julie was done now. Each vehicle had a flat tire, including Jim's. Wilson used his gun hand to open the rear door and pushed Blair in, slamming the door hard. He pointed the gun at Julie.

"Stand next to the men, Jules. Tell Kristina I love her."

"You've got a funny definition of love, partner," she told him bitterly, walking over to stand next to Jim.

"That gun went off accidentally! I thought she was dead!" Wilson protested, pausing a moment, then sliding into the drivers seat. The window was down and the car's engine was still running. He dropped the gearshift down to reverse, throwing loose dirt and pebbles as he gunned the accelerator. Blair looked out from the backseat, unable to open the doors. A metal grill separated the front and back seats.

Jim waited until the jeep was out of sight before breaking into a run for their trailer.

"I've got a rifle!" Henry shouted, running for his trailer.

Buck followed close on Jim's heels. "I'll get my cell phone and start climbing until I get a signal."

Jim nodded. Throwing open the door, he headed for the back where he'd left his handgun. "Use the road. Blair's going to take him out on the third turn," he told the older man.

"What!" Buck exclaimed.

Jim had the gun in hand now and was pocketing an extra clip. He slipped by the astonished Buck in the tight quarters of the trailer and leaped through the open door to the ground, breaking into a dead run for the road.

Blair had whispered his plan to Jim after being tossed into the backseat. Jim had to admire his partner's courage. He had a very good chance of pulling it off. Henry reappeared with his hunting rifle in hand.

Julie looked up from examining the slashed flat tire in surprise. "I figure we can change this tire the fastest," she began as Jim neared.

"No time. Take the rifle! Come with me!" he told her, running for the road. It would take Jim about four minutes to reach the third hairpin. Anything could happen in four minutes. He could hear Julie running behind him. Judging her speed with his ears, she'd likely pass him if he didn't pick up his pace.

Blair sat in the backseat, bracing both feet on the floor and his right arm against the metal grate as the Jeep roughly bounced over the dirt road. He'd told Jim the third turn from the bottom. It was the tight one, the hardest to maneuver. He tightened his fingers in the mesh with nervous anticipation.

Wilson briefly took his eyes of the road and glanced in the rearview mirror. "You'll be fine, kid. I wasn't lying, I'll let you go."

"You killed Oz, didn't you? Why, man? " Blair asked the cop.

Wilson remained silent as he spun the wheel around the second turn.

One turn to go.

"He didn't even care about her!" Wilson hit the steering wheel with a fist. "She was leaving me for that trash and he didn't even care!"

Blair readied himself. He could see the turn coming. Wilson's guns were next to him on the seat, the shotgun propped, barrel down on the floor of the passenger seat. What if he got his hands on one of those? Blair would be a sitting duck back here.

Blair released the metal grate and slipped his hand into his jean pocket. He would not let Oz's killer get away, he owed him that much. Jim would come in time.

"I can't let you get away, man," Blair told the driver with certainty, raising a can of bear mace, pointing the nozzle toward Wilson.

They were at the curve.

Three things happened in rapid procession:

Wilson turned to look at Blair, no doubt alarmed by Blair's last statement and checking for a weapon.

Blair pulled the trigger, shooting the highly potent mace directly into Wilson's eyes through the metal grill.

Wilson unconsciously turned the wheel sharply in the direction he was looking, hard right.

Blair realized too late his plan was flawed. Diving for the narrow floor behind the metal cage, he wasn't even aware he was chanting Jim's name over and over as the car sailed off the edge and plunged in a seemingly straight drop down the canyon wall.

Jim ran as if his life depended on it. To him, it did. His heart was hammering behind his rib cage. He'd just cleared the second turn, listening to the sounds of the Jeep's engine, the tires on the dirt road as they fought for traction and most importantly, the voices coming from inside the vehicle itself. Julie's labored breathing close behind him, telling him he had back up.

Jim listened as the car left the road, playing the part of the steel marble in a macabre game of pinball as it bounced from one tree to another. Jim went over the edge without hesitation, sliding like a snowboarder on a winter mountainside. The jeep was several hundred feet below, upside down and pinned against a large pine tree, its tires still spinning in the air. He heard Julie swear as she started down the steep slope behind him.

Most the Jeep's windows were broken. Small glass squares sparkled like little diamonds in the pine needles covering the ground. Before Jim could reach the wreck, Blair appeared, crawling out through a rear window in an awkward two knees and one hand scramble, his cast curled under his stomach.

Jim continued his barely controlled slide toward the wreck.

Wilson's body was lying on the roof. He began to move, his red eyes tracking Blair, tears running down his face and mixing with the mucus trailing from his nose. Wilson stretched out an arm, no doubt knowing he still needed a hostage if he had a prayer of avoiding capture. As fingers curled around Blair's ankle, Jim watched Blair's face register the cop's attempt.

Jim skidded to a sloppy stop and pulled his gun from where he'd tucked it into his waistband. He took aim, searching for a clear shot, but Blair was in the way.

"Think again, man," Blair muttered angrily, raising his free leg and delivering a kick directly into Wilson's face that would have made Mr. Ed proud.

A flash of green blew past Jim as Julie slid by.

"Damn you, Wilson," she said angrily, pulling her cuffs out. She rolled the stunned man onto his stomach and cuffed him, then fell over to sit with her hands on her knees. She looked at her partner in disgust, breathing heavily through her mouth.

Jim returned his gun and went to Blair, crouching down beside him.

"Hey, partner," he said, gasping for air.

"Hey..." Blair answered meekly, dropping to sit on his hip, his right arm bracing his upper body.

Jim quickly completed a visual head to toe examination. Blair's nose was bleeding, blood flowing down his chin and dripping onto his arm and hand, his breaths shallow and rapid.

"Bear mace?" Jim teased as he captured Blair's head carefully with both hands and thumbed open one eyelid and then the order. Happy with what he saw, he quickly ran his fingers through the long curls. finding a new lump above Blair's right ear.

"Yeah...lions and ...tigers and bears...oh, my..."

Jim's fingers were skimming down Blair's spine now. Finding nothing there, he carefully squeezed Blair's ribs.

"Ooowww."

"Sorry," Jim started to breathe easier now, his body recovering from the run. "What hurts the worst?"

Blair snorted and closed his eyes. He shifted back to sit straight and lifted his right hand, turning his palm towards Jim. A dozen sharp bits of glass were imbedded in the skin, several other cuts already oozing bright red blood.

"Oh, shit, Chief," Jim exclaimed quietly.

Blair sighed. "And I think... I broke my cast, man," he added.

Jim shrugged off of his outer shirt. "You're really falling apart on me, scarecrow."

"I got a call out, help is on the way," Buck said, arriving at Jim's side. He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and pinched Blair's nose. "You okay, Blair?"

"I better get a brain for this..." Blair answered in a nasal, muffled voice.

Buck looked at Jim in alarm. "Head injury?"

Jim shook his head. "No, too much Judy Garland."

Buck looked at both men in confusion.

Knotting the sleeves of his shirt together, Jim fitted it around Blair's neck. "Did you call an ambulance?" he asked. The two men carefully placed Blair's broken cast into the improvised sling.

"Yeah," Buck told him with a nod.

"Oh, man," Blair groaned. "Not again..."

By six in the afternoon, Blair was back in the trailer. The hospital had treated his cuts and X-rayed his arm and bruised ribs. Concerned by the second lump on Blair's head, Doctor Stone had given Jim careful instructions to watch for a concussion. Now, Blair sported a temporary cast to allow the additional swelling in his wrist to recede.

"Man, I thought we'd never get out of there," Blair complained, sitting at the table and glumly examining his bandaged right hand.

"I'm amazed we managed to get back by dinner," Buck said, opening the icebox and checking its contents. "What do you feel like eating?"

Blair shrugged. Jim's Snicker candy bar was on the table, one end of the bar flattened by a misplaced foot.m

Trust Jim to save it. He probably planned to snack on it before going to bed.

"Blair? Dinner?" Buck turned to study the younger man.

"Ah, sorry. I thought you heard me shrug," Blair said with a wry grin.

Buck closed the door to the icebox and lowered himself into the opposite bench. "What's up, kiddo?"

"Nothing." Blair picked the candy bar up with his bandaged hand. Man, it was heavy. He couldn't remember the last time he ate one of these.

"Uh huh," Buck commented and waited, his arms folded on the table.

"Well, okay." Blair dropped the candy bar. "I'm trying to figure this out. Oz and Sanford's wife were...together. So he finds out and goes to confront Oz before his shift and ends up killing him."

Buck nodded. "Probably, he could change into his uniform and destroy the clothes he was wearing later."

"Right. But then he has a fight with his wife and ends up shooting her. So he thinks she's dead. What I don't get is why he comes here? I mean, does that make any sense to you?" Blair leaned back in his seat.

"Jim and I talked about that while you were in X-ray," Buck said. "We think Sanford was worried that you knew more than you were telling. You had a `less than honest' look on your face when you were interviewed at the hospital the night they brought your friend in."

Blair ducked his head. "I didn't mean to. I just didn't want to broadcast to the world that Oz was a womanizer."

"Yeah, that's what we figured."

"So he wants to make sure Oz didn't tell me about the affair," Blair mused.

"If he thought his wife was dead, you would have been the only loose end," Buck said.

"I guess. I just don't understand why these fruitcakes always grab me, for crying out loud. Do I `look' like a wimp... or the perfect hostage? What? Is it the hair?" Blair ranted, trying to keep his tone light and joking.

Buck laid a hand on Blair's wrist, just above the bandages. "You're not a wimp, Blair Sandburg. Let's not trot down the pity road just yet, okay?" He gave him a squeeze and released his hand. "But you do hang out with men that look a lot different than you do. It's going to make you stand out a bit, kid."

"That's not fair, Uncle Buck. I shouldn't have to cut my hair or wear Dockers---"

"No one asked you to, did they?" Buck admonished lightly. "This was just a fluke. Nothing else."

Blair snorted and rolled his eyes. "A fluke! Do you `know' what kind of year I've had?" Blair regretted the words immediately upon saying them.

Buck's gaze slid down to his hands. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm not looking to shove the blame on you." Blair rubbed his forehead. "God, I'm totally screwing this up. Let's just forget I said anything, okay?"

Buck kept his eyes down. "Blair, it's okay. We've always talked about everything. I don't want that to change. The truth is I do feel guilty for the April incident. I imagine Jim feels the same way about the guy in the sailboat. But it's not your fault. Changing your appearance is not going to solve anything."

Blair dropped his hand and gave Buck a puzzled look. "Robert? Why would Jim feel guilty about Robert?"

"Robert was a sentinel, right? Jim told me about the connection between sentinels and guides."

"Connection?" Blair wondered when he'd moved into the twilight zone without leaving the Pacific Standard Zone. "Uncle Buck, what are you talking about?"

Buck's face became hard. "Jim didn't talk with you, did he? After I visited last week?"

"No...we've been busy getting ready for this trip," Blair explained, still confused. "What was he going to talk about?"

Jim finished tightening the last lug on the spare tire for Henry's truck. They'd been working on all the vehicles since returning from town. Buck had insisted Blair rest in the trailer. After the slashed tires were changed with spares, Jim and Henry watched Big Dan drive off to Bonner's Ferry to get them fixed. One of Henry's friends worked for a Les Schwab. He promised to stay late to repair them, the sheriff's office had agreed to foot the bill.

"I've never been vandalized by a cop before," Henry joked.

Jim wiped his hand on a spare rag. "I'm still trying to recover from a grad-student's ape."

"I don't think I'll ask about that," Henry said with a laugh. "I'm heading back to my trailer for some dinner. You and Blair need anything?"

"Nah, we're good. See you in the morning. Thanks for all your help today," Jim said, shaking the man's hand.

"No problem, pleasure to see you two in action. Buck's told me some of the stuff that happened to him in Dry Falls. Now I see how he managed to survive. You and Blair are a force to be reckoned with." He flashed Jim a smile and headed toward his home.

Jim shook his head. Great, now they were getting a reputation, what next? He absentmindedly extended his hearing toward his own trailer to check on his fellow crime-buster.

Uh oh.

He trotted toward the trailer, hoping the conversation wasn't going in the direction it sounded. Just as he reached out to turn the door handle, he heard Blair's voice.

"What was he going to talk about?"

Too late.

Jim opened the door and entered, receiving a pointed look from Buck.

"I'll tell him, Buck," Jim said.

"About time," Buck said, sliding out from the table and moving toward the door. "I believe I'll go have a beer with Henry."

Jim waited for the door to close before he looked Blair in the eyes. Blair was leaning back in his seat, watching Jim with a puzzled expression.

"What was he talking about?" Blair asked.

Jim held up a hand. "It's nothing bad. I was trying to explain to Buck about our partnership."

"Partnership... what's that got to do with Robert? You told Uncle Buck about that? Why?"

"Let me talk for a sec. You just listen." Jim folded himself to sit across the table. Blair stilled, keeping his mouth closed but his expression clearly telling Jim he was not pleased.

"Okay, first. You're not a wimp, Chief. If you think about it, Wilson took the only hostage that had a shot of stopping him. None of us were carrying mace."

Blair shrugged self-depreciatingly. "Talk about twisted luck. My bear phobia stops a killer. But don't change the subject, what about Robert?"

"I think the reason Robert took you this summer was because you are a Sentinel's Guide," Jim said calmly.

Blair remained motionless. His eyes flickered to Jim's mouth as if expecting more of an explanation.

"A Sentinel's Guide? You mean he could tell you're a Sentinel?" Blair asked, his eyes lighting up with sudden interest. "You guys had a connection? Why didn't you tell me? This is `huge'---"

"No, no. That's not what I said, Sandburg," Jim cut him off and pointing a finger at Blair's face. "He knew that `you' are a guide. You."

Blair's mouth snapped shut, his face puzzled, then a look of exasperation. "What are you talking about, Jim? There is no `guide'. I know Brackett used that term, but he only meant that I help you. Anyone can do that."

"No, anyone can't `do that'," Jim insisted carefully. This was important. He had to make sure Blair understood. "I've tried with Simon, it doesn't work."

"You did?"

"Yes."

Blair thought about it. "Okay, sure. It takes a little training. But it's not like we can shout this from the rooftops to look for other helpers."

Jim shook his head. "It's nothing you learned."

"Gee, thanks Jim," Blair complained sarcastically. "Go out of your way to make me feel special."

"I didn't mean to say you haven't learned a lot, goofus," Jim replied. "I mean what you have isn't something you can learn. I think you're born with it, like I'm born with being a sentinel."

Blair's eyes squinted. He started shaking his head in a negative gesture. He jerked his thumb at his chest. "You're whacked, dude. I took a header down the mountainside and I'm making a lot more sense right now than you are."

"Sandburg, I felt it the day you walked into that hospital room. Some of my pain faded. Why do you think I showed up at Rainier?"

"But you weren't expecting me, remember?" Blair countered. "I never said I was the person you'd be seeing at the `U'."

"If I felt some relief just by being in that hospital room with you, I'd be an idiot not to do what you said." Jim watched as Blair's disbelief began to fade with the first glimmering of understanding.

"Relief?"

"Yeah."

Blair began to worry the Snicker bar again. "Does that still happen?"

"Yeah." Jim smiled.

"Robert felt it too?"

Jim nodded, his smile slipping from his face. Blair was not looking good. In fact he looked downright sick.

"Sandburg?"

Blair swallowed thickly. Jim could hear his heart racing, his breathing quicken.

Crap. This was not going very well.

"Come on, Chief. Talk to me."

But Blair didn't, refusing to look up, to make eye contact. He began to slide out of the seat. Jim moved fast, reaching across the table to put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Blair, tell me what's wrong!" Jim ordered with more volume than he intended. He mentally kicked himself. Talk about your bull in the china shop! Jim should just run out and fit himself for the damn nose ring.

"I thought ...we were friends..." The words were almost too faint to catch.

That floored Jim. Turning Blair loose, he took a deep breath. "Did you just miss everything we've been talking about? We're more than friends. We're a matched set. For crying out loud, Sandburg. You're more important to me than anyone, including my ex-wife!"

"That's not what I just heard. I'm a crutch for you." Blair's face was becoming red with anger. "You put up with me because of some genetic anomaly I have. You don't have a choice! You said it yourself. I'm the only one you can find."

"What are you talking about?" Jim asked, his frustration causing his voice to become loud again. "If I had a roomful of guides to choose from, you'd still be my pick, you moron!" Jim banged his fist on the table top, unable to ignore his angry desire to physically respond to Blair's accusations.

The trailer was silent as the two men each fought their emotions. Blair accomplished his control first.

"You have an amazing ability for back handed compliments, Jim," he said flatly.

Jim sighed heavily, scrubbing his face with both hands. "Hell, Chief. I am not used to this stuff. I'd rather fight off a panther division of soldiers with a can opener than talk about...relationships." He saw a corner of Blair's mouth curl slightly. It gave him courage. "Here's the truth. I was scared that if you found out about this, you'd feel like you had to stay with me. I don't want to hold you back."

"Hold me back?"

Jim nodded. "You're heading places. Everybody can see that. You can't want to make a full time career out of helping me."

"You have no idea what I want, Ellison," Blair replied hotly, stabbing a bandaged finger in the space between them. "I may be doing exactly what I dreamed of all my life. There's no reason I can't guide you and still have a life."

"So what's this crap about me `just putting up with you'? You think I'd let you stay in the loft if that was the case? You know me, Sandburg. Do I look like someone who suffers silently?"

Another glimmer of a smile ghosted over Blair's face.

"Look, Chief. I can't tell you we're `just' friends. We're more than that," Jim explained, his early anger fading, his volume back to normal.

"I'm keep thinking, one of these days, I'm going to go too far and piss you off. I screw up investigations or say stupid things," Blair whispered, looking scared. "You spend more time taking care of me then Naomi ever did. I keep expecting you to kick me out."

"Blair, please. Keep this fight to one topic at a time," Jim joked. "Leave your mother for another day, okay?"

"Ha ha."

Jim felt a small glimmer of hope. Some of the banter was returning. He took that as an encouraging sign. "Listen, you don't screw up investigations, you make a few bone-head mistakes, but who doesn't? How can you concentrate on your mistakes and totally miss the contributions you make? We're a team; we `both' bring our talents into the cases we work on." Jim paused to take a deep breath. "As to me taking care of you, you've been taking care of me since the first day we met! So it's not just one sided. I'm the type of guy that has to take care of things that are important to me. Understand?"

Jim pointed a finger towards Blair's nose. "Now don't start wigging out on me and accusing me of trying to turn you into my personal property, but think about it. I take care of my trucks..." He noticed the sudden smirk on Blair's face. "Don't start... I take care of my loft. I take care of my partner. That's the way I am."

Blair seemed to relax. "I don't drive you crazy?"

"Of course you do," Jim said. "Right now as a matter of fact. But let's be rational about this. We're as different as two people can be. We're going to have a few rough moments."

Blair nodded. "I hear that... and by the way, I'm `not' insecure."

"Oh, please!" Jim picked up the Snicker bar.

"I'm not!" Blair insisted. "You are! How could you think I'd leave? I spent the last ten years of my life looking for you." Blair eyed the candy bar. "You're not going to eat that, man? Someone stepped on it!"

"So?" Jim couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face. "The wrappers still intact. Besides, you and Buck were supposed to have dinner started. I'm starving." He held the treat up and caught Blair's eyes. "Want half?"

A slow grin appeared on Blair's face as he studied the treat. "The non-squished part."

Jim's strong fingers pinched the candy in two, tearing the wrapper with a twist.

"The things I do for you, Sandburg."

"That's Mister Guide to you, buster."

"Oh, wonderful. I've created a monster."

Blair peeled the wrapper back, keeping his eyes on the candy. He looked like a kid afraid to ask his parent for a puppy. "Jim...about that day in the hospital...when we first met."

"I know. You want tests."

"Well..."

The End

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