"Yellow or Red?"

Blair Sandburg nodded to the departing student. He transferred the handset from his right to left ear, holding it in place with his shoulder. "Gee, I don't know, dear. Both colors so set off your eyes."

The effect was as hoped. Jim Ellison growled on his end of the phone causing Blair to chuckle. "Bell peppers, Gleason. Your list doesn't tell me which color."

"Yellow's good and pick up what ever pogey bait you feel like eating in front of the TV." Stuffing his pack with ledgers and realizing he'd left a very important paper in the lecture hall, Blair shouldered the pack.

Ow, ow, ow! When was he going to learn not to twist like that? He dangled the pack in his hand waiting for Jim's customary abrupt signoff.

"What did you say?" Jim said.

Blair paused, radar on full alert. He knew his roommate for nearly a year now. He knew when Jim was pissed, happy, cranky or in his `tease the guppy until he hollers stop' mode. This was none of the above. This was his stunned shock voice.

"I said yellow," Blair answered in surprise.

Silence.

"Jim? You okay?"

"I'm fine," Jim answered. "I'll get yellow."

The line went dead.

Dropping the phone into his coat pocket, Jim tossed the pepper into his hand basket and made a rapid retreat for the check out stand. The express lane was long with last minute candy buyers so he stood in line behind the young woman with a cart full of large items that would take no time to process.

I'm not going nuts. Blair actually said pogey bait. Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, tuning out the whining crescendo of some thirty hyper kids scattered around the store. The music over the speakers piped stupid songs like the `Monster Mash.'

The line moved and soon he was in his truck, heading for the loft. Traffic was surprisingly light. Jim parked on the street two blocks from the building and balanced the grocery bag on his hip. The wind had picked up earlier in the day. The radio report confirmed the arrival of a storm sometime during the night. Jim had already known. He'd felt the pressure change.

October had been dry so far. Fall had been mild. Some had called it a true Indian Summer. It would seem all of that was about to end as the cold wind shook the dry, brittle leaves in the trees. Jim expected half of them to be in the street by morning.

He'd just washed his truck. Now he would have to deal with wet leaf prints.

The loft smelled like garlic. Jim's mouth watered as he set the bag on the table and tossed Blair the pepper. Blair had his hair pulled back, a sure sign he was in a creative cook mode.

"Did you remember to get more candy?" Blair asked.

Jim held up two bags. "Almond Joy and Snickers."

"No Mounds?"

"Nope."

"Sometimes I don't feel like a nut. Know what I mean?"

Jim smiled. "Well since I shopped, you can man the door tonight, Mr. Coconut."

"Ha. Ha." Blair finished washing the pepper and began to chop. "Well, if you can handle being called Candy Ass, Cap. I'll deal with the ankle biters."

Jim froze, staring slack jaw at Blair while the younger man continued to chop. He'd done it again. Did he even realize the meaning of that term? What a second...

"What did you call me?" Jim asked.

Blair looked up. "What?"

"Just now, what did you call me?"

Blair's eyes raked the room as if looking for a clue. "Ah, I think I just called you Jim. It's still your name, right?"

"No, you called me `Cap'," Jim said.

Now Blair looked puzzled. "I did? You sure?"

Jim nodded.

"Sorry," Blair offered. He picked up the small plastic cutting board and scrapped the pepper into the pan. "I guess I must be tired if I'm confusing you with Simon."

Putting the rest of the groceries away, Jim folded the paper bag carefully and tucked it next to the garbage can housed under the sink. "I'm going to grab a shower."

"Kay." Blair moved about the small kitchen, happily stirring and checking something in the oven that smelled like pumpkins. "We eat in thirty."

Stumbling slightly but quickly covering up his gracelessness, Jim closed the door to the small bathroom. The man in the mirror looked as confused as he felt. What was going on tonight? Either his hearing was playing serious trick on him or Blair was running some peculiar test. Either way, Jim wanted it over.

Taking a leisurely shower and helping himself to Blair's lavender and oatmeal body wash, he felt better. Jim dried, wrapped up in his robe, trotted up the stairs and changed into warm sweats. Coming back down the stairs, he looked over as Blair was starting to lift their heaviest pasta pan from the stove. The pan clattered back on the stove top, boiling water sloshed over the side, nearly coating a bare arm as Blair's face crumpled in pain.

"Sandburg!" Jim blurted out as he charged into the kitchen. "Use your brain!"

With his right arm folded over his chest, Blair let Jim crowd him back from the stove.

Jim quickly moved the pan off the hot element and turned to his friend. "You okay?"

"S-son of a bitch that hurts." Blair said through gritted teeth, leaning against the cabinet. "I forgot."

"How could you forget? The doctor warned you to take it easy," Jim snapped. Then realizing his friend was really hurting, he softened his tone. "Maybe I should re-tape you."

Blair jerked his chin at the pot. "I'd rather you drain the pasta before it's ruined."

"Go sit down." Jim pushed him toward the living room. "I'll finish up."

Expecting a fight, Jim was surprised to watch Blair do as he had suggested. Damn, the kid must really be hurting. Jim felt responsible. He knew from experience what it was like to take a round point blank in the vest.

He drained the pasta. The steam filled the sink and rose like a cloud. He thought back to the disastrous sting operation they had set up earlier this week. Jim had underestimated Zeller's ability to get into place quickly. He never should have stayed in the lobby. Why hadn't he found a position on the twelfth floor?

The heat from the steam snapped him out of his self loathing. Enough. Jim knew better than to dwell on the `what ifs' and `should have beens'. If he had learned anything from his time as a Ranger, it was to move on and learn from past mistakes. Not everyone got that chance.

Blair did survive. That's all that matters.

Early trick-or-treaters started appearing during the meal, knocking on the door and looking amazed when the candy had been dispersed into their plastic pumpkins. When dinner was finished, Jim caught Blair biting his lip when he tried to clear the dishes. Jim waved him off. "Rest, Chief," Jim said. "If you want to call it a night, I'll do the door thing."

Blair walked carefully to the sofa. "No way, I need to be awake in order to light the fires that guide the returning souls back to earth." He grinned weakly from his cross-legged sitting position on the love seat. "You know, in the old days, folks would leave the refreshments on the table, unlock their doors and go to bed. Cool, huh?"

Jim carefully stacked the dishes next to the sink. "Sound stupid to me. Good way to get robbed."

"Some days life should be a walk in the sun, Cap."

A glass slipped out of his hand, splintering in the sink. Blair shot out of his seat in alarm. "Hey? You okay?"

Jim managed to reach the table and dropped into a chair unassisted. Blair dragged the other chair to his side and sat close. "You look sick, Jim. I swear the chicken was fresh. I know I washed all the vegetables."

Jim caught his hand before Blair could check him for a fever. "Did you just listen to what you said? You called me `Cap' again."

"I did?" Blair said, frowning. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Jim swallowed. "I'm very, very sure. And when did you start talking in military slang, Junior?"

"Huh?" Blair seemed genuinely surprised.

The doorbell rang. Blair placed a hand on his chest. "I'll get this one."

The following forty-five minutes dealt with answering the door, handing out candy, commenting on costumes and making small talk with the escorting parents. Finally, they had some breathing space. Jim pushed a movie into the VCR slot. He needed a good distraction.

"That last one was so cute," Blair said with a goofy grin. "Naomi used to let me pick my own costumes. Once I went all wrapped in aluminum foil."

"Spaceman?"

"Nope, invisible man." Blair retrieved two beers and a bag of pretzels. "My first idea was to go naked, but we were living in upstate New York. She put the kibosh on that idea. So I figured the foil would act like mirrors and no one would see me."

Jim grinned at the vision. "Did it work?"

"Well, I got a lot of `take me to your leader' comments." Blair walked by Jim and handed down the beer. "I was heartbroken."

"Sit at the end so you don't have to reach," Jim suggested as he snagged the pretzel bag and ripped open the top. He grabbed a handful and set the bag on the coffee table, then pulled the table near as Blair settled in next to him.

The gas fire added an orange glow to the room. Jim felt right with the night again. He palmed the remote and raised an eyebrow at his roommate who was snuggling under an afghan. "Ready?"

"What's the movie?"

"Freddy Kruger."

Blair pulled a face. "Tell me you're kidding."

"Yeah, I got Fargo," Jim said smugly. "Reserved it."

"Oh, that's supposed to be real good."

And it was. Jim enjoyed the story, the honesty of a normal person doing a difficult job. For once Blair allowed the movie to roll without the typical dialog. The only interruptions were the occasional munchkins at the door. Blair manned the remote, keeping it on pause until Jim returned and settled into place. After the movie was over, they took turns in the bathroom. Jim cleaned the kitchen while Blair found a late night movie on cable.

Returning to the living room after the kitchen had been put to rights, Jim smiled at the TV. "Creature from the Black Lagoon?"

"Best choice," Blair said droopily. He had curled up, good arm under his head, eyes at half mask.

Jim settled into his previous seat. It had been years since he'd enjoyed a quiet Halloween at home. He sighed, contented.

"She's hot," Blair muttered looking at the actress on the screen.

"Julie Adams," Jim said, pulling up the name from his memory. "She was pretty popular in the fifties."

"Pretty, definitely not a desert flower," Blair said.

Jim stiffened. "Blair? What's a desert flower?"

"Ah, come on, Cap. You know what a desert flower is. Them ugly girl soldiers the guys get all hot over coz there ain't no real skirts around." Blair's voice sounded harder, older even.

Movie forgotten, Jim studied his roommate. Blair hadn't moved. He still looked comfortably curled up on the arm of the sofa, leaning against throw pillows and covered by the blanket. Was he dreaming? No, his eyes were definitely open, but unfocused as he watched the screen.

Jim moistened his lips, unsure what to do next.

The situation was taken from his hands as Blair uncurled, sitting up and giving all his attention to Jim. "You got to help me, Cap."

"Blair?"

"Captain, please." Blair looked scared. "No, games here. I need you."

"Blair," Jim reached out a hand. His friend had to be in a trance. Yeah, that was it, like a waking dream or something.

Quick like a striking snake, Blair one-handedly caught Jim by the wrist and Jim found himself pinned painfully to the cushions at an awkward angle.

"Sandburg!" Jim protested. The instinctive urge to fight back was quelled. Blair was in no shape for a wrestling match, even if he had started it.

"I need you to help Clara, Jim," Blair said tightly. "She's in trouble, man."

Jim sucked in a breath. He only knew one woman by that name. Oh, God. That meant...

No way, Jim refused to believe this.

Blair still hadn't released him. The moment seemed frozen until Blair finally turned him loose and sat up. He flicked the blanket off and rose. "She's with a real dick, a double veteran. He's gonna do her tonight. You gotta get her out. She's my baby sister. You're the only one in Cascade I know."

Blair had a pen in his left hand, the one the kept by the phone for messages. He wrote as he talked. "I don't have much time, Captain."

Jim glanced at the VCR. The red LED readout was exactly at midnight.

"I refuse to let her become just an expectant. Go now, Cap. Get her out, please." Blair ripped off the top page from the note pad and held it out. "Please."

Rising slowly from the sofa, Jim took the paper. The address was a high rent district, defiantly in Cascade. Another realization hit. This was not Blair's handwriting, and Blair didn't' write with his left hand.

"What is this?" Jim asked. "Sandburg if this is a practical joke, I'm not laughing. You've got two seconds to explain."

Blair drew himself up straight. He met Jim's gaze without flinching. "Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be. One hundred percent and then some."

Oh, God.

For a brief second, Jim's eyes played a horrible trick on him. Blair Sandburg, his roommate and best friend stood before him and yet, for just a heartbeat, the image of another man appeared as a translucent overlay.

"Please, Cap. Help me."

Then it was gone. Something made Jim twist his head back to read the VCR.

12:01

Movement caused Jim to whip his head back. Blair was going down. Jim sprang forward and caught him before he caved his head in on the corner of the table.

"Blair?" Jim eased him to the floor.

Blair's eyes opened. He looked up at Jim then around the room in groggy surprise. "Whoa..."

"You okay?" Jim demanded, lightly slapping Blair's cheek.

"Hey, yeah, knock it off," Blair groused. "I only had two beers, man. I don't even have a buzz. What happened? I was sleeping on the couch."

The paper with the address had fallen and landed face up on the floor by Jim's foot. Jim looked back at Blair. "Get your coat, Chief. We're going out."

Blair watched a side of Jim he had never before seen. They were in a high-class apartment, the type that brought a monthly rate that Blair couldn't afford once a quarter.

Jim had a stunningly beautiful woman in his arms. She clung to him as if he were family. He held her as if she were a precious treasure.

"Excuse me?" A patrol officer tapped Blair's shoulder. "Would you let Detective Ellison know we're taking the prisoner down to booking now?"

"Sure," Blair answered. He remembered to smile gratefully. "Hey, thanks for the back up."

"No problem. This guy is bad news, enough warrants to keep half the bonding companies in town solvent for years." The cop glanced at the other two in the room. "They know each other?"

"Yeah, looks that way, huh?"

"Chief," Jim said, catching his eye once the cop was gone. "Come here, I want you to meet a friend."

An unfamiliar wave of shyness overcame the observer. He felt like a trespasser but he approached.

"Clara? Hey, sweetheart." Jim spoke gently to the woman. "Say hi to my friend, Blair Sandburg."

The effect was as Jim must have hoped, because the woman responded. She wiped her tears carefully. Her face held a timeless beauty even in the midst of her anguish. She leaned her head against Jim's chest and smiled. "Hi, Blair."

"Hi, Clara." Blair looked around the room. "Can I get you something? Water? Tea? A tissue?"

She smiled sadly. "Jim says you told him I was in trouble. You brought me the one thing I needed. Thank you."

Okay, that made absolutely no since whatsoever, but Jim was smiling proudly and who was he to question her. "Y-you're welcome."

Back in their loft Blair let Jim get the door closed before he spoke. "Okay, what happened here last night? How'd you know about the creep with her? Why'd she thank me of all people? You did the work. And why the hell are you smiling at me?"

"Sandburg, sit." Jim pointed to the sofa.

Blair obeyed, catching up the afghan he remembered from last night and holding it like a shield. The TV was still on. Pretzels were scattered over the coffee table. One had been stepped on, reduces to salty powder on the floor. A few candy wrappers littered the loft.

Jim took a seat at his side and rubbed his brow like he did when he organized his thoughts. Blair waited patiently, for about five seconds.

"Well?"

"Clara was the little sister of my 2IC."

"What?"

"My second in command." Jim clasped his hands, studying them with seriously. "In my unit. We were Rangers together."

Blair's scalp tingled. "Was he in the chopper?" he whispered.

Jim shook his head. "No, Chet got reassigned before that. He was a year ahead of me in ranger school." A fondness filled Jim's eyes. "He was good with organizing missions. He kept the team on track. I found out later, after I returned from Peru, that he died in a training exercise."

"So, like what happened last night? Did you have a vision? Burton hints to a mystical side of the sentinel. Wow, and what better night than Samhain? The Celtic New Year's Eve, when the New Year begins with the onset of the dark phase of the year-"

"Professor," Jim interrupted gently. "Shut up for a second. Answer me this? What's pogey bait?"

The question couldn't have made less sense at the time and Blair began to think the short but intense fight Jim had had with Clara's ex-boyfriend had left some damage. Blair leaned forward. "You feeling okay? Maybe we should go down to E.R."

Jim shook his head, grinning. "Nah, I'm fine. Looks like you're fine. All in all, we're-"

"Fine," Blair cut in, unconvinced. "So what, he told you his sister was in danger? How?"

Looking like a guy without a care in the world, Jim briefly raised and dropped his shoulders. "Don't have a clue. I'm just glad he did. Maybe it's part of that Samhain thing. Who knows?" Jim stood, stretching his spine with his arms raised toward the roof. "I'm beat. I say we catch a few hours of rest before going in to do the paperwork."

Blair frowned. He wanted more. "Jim, come on." He ducked the hand trying to mess with his hair. "This is huge. This could be a new level to understanding the legacy to sentinels."

But his roommate was already heading for the stairs, humming happily. "Whatever, Chief. I'm just glad we arrived on time for once."

End - Happy Halloween

Pogey Bait - snack food

Candy Ass - usually a low-ranking officer, more rarely an NCO, who prides himself on enforcing petty regulations. Likely to give Mickey Mouse assignments and deal out chicken shit to enlisted personnel.

Walk in the Sun - ground patrol operating in area where no enemy is present.

Double veteran - Having sex with a woman and then killing her.

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to LKY

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