********************
Playing football for the Seattle Seahawks had not prepared Royal Creed for life after the NFL. It was his own fault. If he had known that a slew of bad calls with investments would have broken him to near poverty, he would have never agreed to them. But here he was, standing in the middle of nowhere, a hundred dollars in his bank account, and a package of Hades in his hand, waiting to sell. How did he get here?

Running long fingers through his coarse black hair, Royal glanced around the darkened alley, a shiver running through his shoulders. He had been a wide receiver for the Seahawks for seven years, had been heralded as the fastest man in the northwest. Who would have thought that his speed would bring him to this? Selling drugs, knowing it would be his quickness that would probably save his life should the buy go down wrong.

A footstep alerted Royal to company before the slender figure of a woman came into view. Anxiously he stepped forward, eyes glancing around to be sure they were alone.

"You sure this is going to work?" he whispered at the figure, his normally deep voice awfully high in his own ears. Cursing himself for his fear, Royal swallowed noisily. He had faced men twice his size barreling down on him in an open football stadium, survived broken arms and collarbones, only to bounce back with ease and grace. He wouldn't let this get the better of him.

"All you need to do is what I told you," the voice replied, a sultry female voice that instilled in him with a calm he hadn't felt a moment before. She placed a steady gloved hand on his arm. "Are you certain you want to do this?"

Royal swallowed again, nodding. "Enough is enough. He got me at a bad place. No matter what happens, I can't sell this stuff anymore. Not after..."

Pictures in the most recent Cascade Times still haunted his dreams. Kids with their bodies slit by knives, the damage done by their own hands while high on the crap he was selling. No matter what awaited him monetarily, even if he faced time, he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't kill kids anymore. This was the only way to face his reflection in the mirror again.

He looked up into the face of the woman, a face hidden in shadows, but he knew the eyes peering back at him were soft with compassion and understanding. Luckily, he had found her. Luckily, she had the means to help him.

The woman squeezed his arm. "We'll get through this, Mr. Creed. Just hang tough. As soon as the buy goes down, you meet me where we discussed, okay?"

Royal nodded, suddenly aware that the hand was gone and the woman disappeared into the shadows. The sound of a car caught his attention and he turned around to meet his destiny, trust in the woman pouring warmth through him he hadn't felt in a long time.

********************

Detective Jim Ellison squatted beside the body, pulling back the white sheet to once again look into the face of death. He shook his head sadly when he recognized that face. What a waste.

"Royal Creed?" a voice asked in disbelief and Jim watched as his partner crouched beside him. Expressive blue eyes peered at Jim through gold-framed glasses, the surprise reflecting Jim's own feelings. Warily, Detective Blair Sandburg returned his gaze to the lifeless body. "Man, there's gotta be something seriously wrong with this world if a guy like Creed gets mixed up in drugs."

Shaking his head, Blair stood, lips pursed as he removed his glasses and crossed the crime scene to speak with one of the forensics guys. Jim's gaze followed his partner's path for a moment, pleasantly surprised that Blair had managed to keep his usual nausea under control, a testament of how Blair Sandburg had changed over the years. He had come a long way from the grad student observer that blanched at the mere suggestion of a dead body. A part of Jim mourned the loss of that innocence, grimaced at the thought that he was responsible for it. Watching as Blair laid a consoling hand on a shoulder of the man to whom he spoke quietly, Jim hid a smile. Luckily the kid hadn't lost what counted most.

Returning his gaze to the task at hand, Jim carefully extended his sense of touch and passed his hands over the cold body, years of experience on the police force interpreting what his heightened touch told him. A broken neck, bruises across the chest and abdomen, cracked ribs. Increasing his eyesight, Jim took in the scrapes and cuts along the legs, found scuff marks on the heel of one shoe, the other shoe missing, the heel of that foot bloody. Jim followed the bloody trail back towards the mouth of the alley.

"He was dragged here," he murmured, aware of Serena Chang's sudden presence as she knelt across the body from him. "They parked at the alley entrance and dragged the body up the alley to lay him here."

"That's my guess also," the chief of forensics replied, flipping open her notebook. "We found his other shoe up there. From initial indications of the body and the surrounding area the victim was overwhelmed somewhere else and then dragged under the arms along the alley."

"Would support the type of bruising across the chest," Jim nodded. "Which would indicate that he wasn't dead when he was brought here. Cause of death the snapped neck?"

Serena nodded. "I'd guess he died between midnight and two this morning. But who would beat a man, drag him from the location of the beating, drop him in this alley and then break his neck?"

"All good questions. Maybe the killer thought Creed was dead and then realized his mistake. There may have been a scuffle here, too. The body wasn't found laid out as though dragged and left here. It was found on it's side; Creed must have crumpled to the ground after his killer snapped his neck."

Nodding again, Serena scribbled something in her notes.

"I'm wondering why they didn't take the drugs," Jim murmured.

Pursing his lips, Jim scanned the area. Whoever was responsible for Royal Creed's death had not only left behind the drugs, but had scattered the dark powder around the alleyway, grounding it into the dirty asphalt.

"We got some samples," Serena was saying, drawing Jim back from his perusal. "At first glance it looks like Hades, but after some tests, we'll know for sure."

"Can you get those results to me this morning?"

"Yes, Detective," she replied, rolling her eyes at the usual request. "I will do my best." She stood, then crossed to the other side of the alley.

Smiling, Jim rose and searched for his partner as forensics worked on closing up their examination, looks of consternation on their faces. He caught a glimpse of Blair talking to a sandy-haired youth at the mouth of the alley. A bike with an empty cloth bag hanging across the handlebars leaned against a nearby wall. Moving in that direction, Jim extended his hearing to pick up the conversation.

"...that's when I found the body," the kid's adolescent voice warbled between youth and manhood. He squeezed his tired eyes shut. "When I woke up this morning and found my car had a flat tire, I just knew it was going to be one of those days, know what I mean?"

Blair smiled, nodding. "But the body wasn't here when you began your route?"

"No, sir, but it was kinda dark still. Way too early, my Mom keeps tellin' me, but with school and all, it's gotta get done, you know what I mean?"

Hiding another smile, Blair peered over his shoulder just as Jim walked up. "Pete Gaskill, this is my partner, Detective Ellison," Blair introduced. "Pete was finishing his morning paper route when he came across the body."

"What time was that, Pete?" Jim asked, glancing over his partner's shoulder to try and interpret Blair's scrawls on the new page of his notebook. How Blair could read his own writing continually amazed Jim.

"Well, I guess I found the body about seven. But like I told Detective Sandburg, I rolled through here at five and I didn't see anything in there on my way through. It was kinda dark, but I didn't see any movement so I just kept going."

"Do you always check the alleyways while you're doing your route?"

Pete looked up at Jim in total shock, his pointy chin dropping. "Are you kidding, man? Do you know where we are right now? Not even my mom knows that I do this route."

"Why did you take this particular paper route, Pete?" Blair asked, honest concern in his voice. "Southside has never been called safe."

Nodding in understanding, scrubbing at his head with one finger, Pete replied, "Man, I know what you mean."

Blair and Jim exchanged amused glances at the kid's fondness for that phrase.

"This particular route pays good, though. Not only do I get a larger percentage of the money I collect..." he leaned forward, looking around anxiously, "...toughest collection in the business, know what I mean? But I also get an extra amount just for taking the route. Guess to me it's worth it. Gotta get my mom and me out, you know what I mean?"

Jim did know what he meant, although he wished the kid would stop asking. Blair reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card, scrawling something on it before he handed it to the kid.

"You remember anything else, Pete, be sure to give me a call at either of those numbers, okay?"

Pete took the card and nodded, grabbing his bike.

"Whoa there, kiddo. Let's get a uniform to take you home," Jim said, touching the boy's shoulder, confirming the shaking his eyesight had picked up on. The boy's heart was going way too fast. One look at Sandburg told him that his partner had picked up on it as well, even without heightened senses.

Blair waved a uniform over. Getting the boy situated and safely on his way home, smiling at the kid's mumbling about how was he going to explain all of this to his mom, Blair remained by the police car until it pulled away. Once the car had disappeared, he wrote something down in his notebook, then closed it, looking up at Jim.

"Quite the kid," he muttered, then flashed a smile. "Know what I mean?"

Returning that infectious grin with one of his own, Jim good-naturedly clipped the side of Blair's head with one hand. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Turning from his partner, Jim scoured the area one more time. The body of Royal Creed had been removed and the coroner's van had left, along with the forensics team. Yellow tape still hung at both entrances to the alley, and would remain there until the investigation was officially over.

"Man, I remember watching Creed two years ago during the play-offs," Blair said as he followed close behind Jim. "He ran two seventy-yard touchdowns in that one game. Fastest feet alive."

"Obviously not fast enough," Jim murmured, opening his eyesight to search the shadowed corners of the alley. After searching one side, he started up the other, back towards his truck. Vaguely he was aware of his partner behind him, staying close but far enough back to keep out of the way.

"Anything?" Blair asked quietly.

Shaking his head, he suddenly stopped. "Hold up a sec." He knelt down beside a grungy wall, careful not to touch anything. "You got latex on you, Chief?"

Pulling out a glove and handing it to Jim, Blair crouched beside him. "What have you got?"

"Maybe nothing," he replied as he snapped on the glove and carefully searched through a pile of foul-smelling rags. With a grunt of astonishment, he turned to his partner, holding up something between his thumb and forefinger.

It glinted in the pale sunlight filtering through the alleyway, but it looked like an earring, a silver stud that had some kind of design on the face.

"There's blood on this," Jim murmured, motioning Blair to open up a forensics bag. Before dropping it into the bag, he jerked a bit in recognition, dialing up his eyesight to focus even deeper on the design. "Well, I'll be..."

"What is it, Jim?"

Dropping the earring into the bag, he looked up at his partner, jaw clenching for a moment in thought. "I recognize the design on that earring, Chief." Standing, he pulled off the latex and slipped it into the bag along with the stud before Blair closed it. "It's a crouching tiger. Mean anything to you?"

Blair shrugged. "Not really, but it does to you?"

Grimly nodding, Jim replied, "Philemore Angstrom."

********************

"So spill it, Jim. You've been silent all the way back here, man. Who is this Philemore Angstrom?"

Jim peered at his partner across the conference table in the captain's office. They were waiting for Simon to return with news of a warrant that would allow them to search the Angstrom manor. Mid-morning sunshine streamed in through the windows, the blinds drawn halfway up. Blair sat with his back to the windows, his curly, shoulder length dark hair drawn back by a band; wide, expressive blue eyes studied his partner closely. More and more Blair was looking and acting the part of a detective. Gone were the jeans with rips in the knees and grunge shirts - except on their days off or relaxing back at the loft. Even wearing his curly hair down around his shoulders while at work had been replaced with the cleaner looking ponytail. And the earrings in his left lobe had disappeared.

A part of Jim missed that appearance - mostly because he knew the pain his friend had experienced these past few years had been the reason for the change.

Running one hand over his short-cropped hair, Jim asked, "You haven't heard of him?"

Blair shook his head. "Should I have?"

"He's got several businesses in Cascade and Seattle as well as Oregon and California. Supposedly he's in the antiquities business, buying and selling around the world, acting as a broker for some of America's more wealthy families."

"A broker in antiquities?" Blair arched an eyebrow. "You mean he deals in the rare and expensive."

"Yup." Jim exchanged a knowing glance with his partner. "Among other things."

Blair tilted his head, obviously reading the meaning in Jim's words. "Like drugs?"

The look on Jim's face brought a smile to Blair's lips. "Why," Jim gasped, feigning outrage, "what would make you say such a disreputable thing, dear boy! I'll sue you for slander!" Wadding a piece of paper, he tossed it at Blair, hitting him on the head.

"So, how come you know so much about him?" Blair asked, bending over to retrieve the wadded piece of paper from the floor.

Jim's expression darkened. "Let's just say putting Angstrom down has been a hobby of mine."

"You've never mentioned him."

"He just got back to Cascade after a few years' sabbatical." He grimaced. "I've had a feeling that the latest wave of drugs may be his doing. However, even though Major Crimes is assisting on the investigations, the DEA and narcotics have stewardship of the case. And Angstrom has been declared off-limits without enough evidence to back up any allegations."

"We caught a lucky break, then, didn't we? Know what I mean?" Blair tossed the wadded piece of paper back at Jim, who caught it easily.

Both men grinned at one another.

Simon Banks entered the office. The tall, black man grumbled to himself, tossing a folded piece of paper at Jim then headed straight to his desk. Jim glanced at the paper, hiding a smile. How Simon managed to get this warrant with all its political ramifications was beyond him. How he had gotten it in such a short amount of time bordered on the miraculous.

"What did you have to promise to get this, sir?" Jim asked, standing, Blair following his lead. "Your son's firstborn?"

"None of your business," Simon snapped, grabbing one of his cigars and sticking it into his mouth, chewing on the end. "Just get out of here and do what I pay you to do."

Jim chuckled and headed for the door.

"Sandburg, you stay!" Simon barked.

Peering over his shoulder at Blair then at Simon, Jim paused. "Sir?"

Simon glared at Jim. "Did I say anything with the word Ellison in it? No, I did not. I believe I said Sandburg. Now, if you don't mind, disconnect the umbilical cord and get out. I've assigned Connor to assist you on this case. Now, go harass Angstrom." He sighed, closing his dark eyes and shaking his head. "Forget I used the word harass. I'm already in deep kimshy because of this."

Stepping forward, mouth open in shock, Jim motioned to Blair before the younger man could say anything. "What do you mean you've assigned Connor? Sir, Sandburg has..."

"Other responsibilities right now, Detective. Now, if you're done questioning your Captain's orders, leave!"

Blair placed a hand on Jim's arm, holding the taller man back from retorting. Full lips turned down in a frown, Blair glanced up at Jim then turned to face the Captain. Glaring at Simon over Blair's head, Jim turned to leave.

Opening the door, Simon's voice, soft enough that only Jim's heightened sense of hearing could pick it up, followed him out. "And no listening in, Ellison. That's an order."

Jaw clenched in irritation, Jim jerked a nod then shut the door, wondering what his rookie partner had done to incur the wrath of one Simon Banks.

Blair stood uneasily in front of the Captain, thoughts racing through his mind, trying to recall if he'd done anything to piss off any of the higher ups lately. Not able to recall anything, he began nervously twisting his hands.

Simon sighed heavily, settling back into his chair. The earlier expression of agitation softened as he peered up at Blair. "Have a seat, son."

Obediently, Blair pulled a chair forward. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

Shaking his head wearily, Simon sat forward. "Nothing that I'm hoping can't be fixed," he replied, his voice even, touched with a softness that Blair recalled only hearing a few times before. Times that had led to trouble in Blairworld.

Leaning back in the chair, ignoring the queasy feeling in his gut, Blair ran a shaky hand over his hair, resting at the back of his neck to nervously twist the thick curls gathered there in a ponytail. "What now?"

"I've been asked to pull you off this case."

"I gathered that," Blair replied warily. "Why?"

"Apparently Rainier University has decided to sue the Cascade Police Department."

Blair's mouth dropped open, and he was certain his eyes had bugged out from his head. "You are kidding me! Why?"

"Why do you think, Sandburg?" Simon snapped.

It took a moment, but then it registered. And with that registering came anger.

Jerking out of his chair, Blair turned his back to Simon, pacing from the desk to stand at a far window of the office. His breaths came in quick, sharp gasps as he folded his arms and glared out at the bullpen, noticing Jim at Connor's desk. Even as Jim spoke to the auburn-haired inspector, his eyes traveled to Simon's office, meeting Blair's gaze. He started to stand, worry creasing his suddenly hardened features, but Blair's gesture with one hand stilled him. Just by the expression on his partner's face, Blair could read the questions. Shaking his head, he turned away, noticing as he did the wall of fury settling over Jim's face. Fury that would come out later, Blair was certain.

That damn dissertation again. That's what it had to be. How could Rainier do this? After all the years of loyalty and dedication he had given to that institution, choosing not to sue them because of the acts of the Chancellor during that fiasco, when he was well within his right to do so, they turn around and sue the police department?

"I don't understand, Simon," Blair admitted finally, purposely dropping the title he should have used. He needed to be talking to a friend right now, and with Jim firmly out of the picture because of the Angstrom case, Simon won the toss. "Why is Rainier suing the PD? You had nothing to do with that entire ordeal. It was all me."

"Somehow they've found a loophole that has enabled them to link you, the dissertation and everything involved with it to the PD." Simon peered intently at Blair, compassion in his dark eyes. "I'm sorry, Blair."

"Me, too, sir," Blair replied softly, eyes cast down.

Standing, Simon hesitated before he rounded the desk. "You don't understand, kid. I'm sorry, but I have to put you on suspension."

Jerking his gaze up at the taller man, Blair gasped. "What? Why? How...?" The look of utter disgust on the captain's face told Blair what he needed to know. As a student of human nature and how cultures evolve, and inadvertently studying the culture of the police department while working on the Sentinel dissertation, Blair had come to know how things operated politically. And this sucked. "I'm what you gave up in order for Jim to get the Angstrom warrant, is that it?"

Simon shook his head, leaning against the corner of his desk, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his full lips. "You amaze me, Sandburg, how you can put the most subtle things together and come up with the correct answer."

"I'll take that as a compliment, man." He swallowed, dropping his gaze once again.

"Angstrom is a big deal, Blair. That earring connects his organization with a murder. The DEA, narcotics, hell, even the FBI for all I know, have been trying to break through the 'legitimate' businesses of Angstrom's organization to link him to the underworld and the drugs that have been trafficking in the northwest, specifically this Hades stuff that's killing all these kids."

"Well, I'm glad I'm being sacrificed for a worthy cause." He sighed. "How long?"

"That's the part that stinks," Simon groused. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "I understand you're suing Sid Graham and his publishing group for their part in the dissertation fiasco."

Blair nodded without looking up. That whole ordeal had happened over a year ago, and it had taken Jim six months of that time to convince Blair that he deserved some kind of recompense for the emotional trauma that Sid put him through. After all, it had been Sid who leaked the dissertation to the media even when Blair had repeatedly told him the dissertation was not to be published in any way, shape or form; he had also leaked some of the manuscript to Hollywood, causing offers of movies and television to pour in. Talking to a lawyer, Jim discovered that Blair was well within his right to bring a claim against the publishers. Because of them, Blair had lost his academic standing in the community, any chance of reclaiming years of hard work and any anthropological career he would have earned. His life had been dramatically altered.

Finally agreeing, with the understanding that any reward from the suit would go to a charity of Blair's choice, Blair worked with Jim's lawyer to begin the initial paperwork. No amount of talking, however, from the lawyer or Jim, could convince him to sue Rainier. He was too intimately connected; too much affection still remained for his alma mater. He had destroyed their reputation by defrauding his work; that was bad enough. Blair couldn't drag the University through something like this, no matter how right he was in doing so.

"It seems that Berkshire Publishing is, in turn, suing Rainer for their part in all of this."

"What?" A look of complete dismay crossed Blair's youthful features, dulling the blue eyes, causing a knot to form in his stomach. "I expected them to return the lawsuit against me. That's what the lawyer said the company would do."

"Apparently Berkshire Publishing didn't think you'd back off if they counter-sued."

"But they knew I would if Rainier was drawn into it. So, I sue Sid, he sues the school and the school sues the PD because I'm now an employee and officially worked as a consultant during that time." He shook his head, collapsing into a nearby chair. "This really sucks, man."

Leaning forward, resting elbows on his knees, burying his face into his hands, Blair took deep, even breaths, searching for a calm place that he could drown in. Anything to get away from the connections firing in his brain - knowing the truth of them before he even spoke.

"So, I'm relieved of duty until I decide to pull my suit, is that it?" Without even seeing him, Blair knew Simon was nodding.

"Rainier has promised that if you drop your suit against Berkshire Publishing, they'll drop the suit against us."

"And then I can be reinstated?" He looked up, dropping his hands to hang between his knees.

"That's supposed to be the deal," Simon agreed. "But it may be a bit more difficult than that."

Sitting back, Blair rubbed his eyes wearily. What else? "Why?"

"Don't jump to conclusions yet, Sandburg. You need to trust me when I say I'm going to work my ass off to clear this whole mess up, but a friend in the commissioner's office has alluded to you being..." He paused then took another deep breath, plunging onward. "Well, permanently dismissed because of your..."

"Past," Blair finished for him. He couldn't believe it. "So much for sharing Jim's secret."

In order to permit Blair acceptance into the police academy despite the fraud label he carried, with the eventual admittance to Major Crimes, Simon and Jim had gone straight to the police commissioner and revealed the truth behind the Sentinel dissertation. With the commissioner's assurance that the secret would remain locked within his walls, and his appreciation of Blair's role in Jim's outstanding service of the past several years, Blair had been allowed entrance into the academy. Apparently, though, the commissioner's understanding wasn't enough to assure security in his new career.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, Sandburg," Simon stated firmly, his voice edged with a coldness that made Blair glad he wasn't the target...for once. "Trust me."

"I do trust you, Simon." He sighed. "It's the system I don't trust." He stood. "Man, I need to get out of here." Passing Simon, heading straight for the door, he almost had it open when Simon called his name.

"I need your badge and gun, son."

Closing his eyes against the impending doom those words produced, Blair swallowed noisily, his mouth suddenly dry. Wishing for Jim's ability to cut off pain, Blair reached around to the small of his back and unsnapped the weapon and holster hooked to his belt. He had spent his entire life opposing guns in any form. Even as an observer, acting as Jim's partner and back up, he had refused to carry a weapon. It had all worked out, though. Between the two of them they had still managed to capture the bad guys without Blair having to use a gun. Well, almost. There were those times when Jim had handed his over to Blair. But those had been extreme cases, and Blair had been willing because the need meant life or death of an innocent.

After graduating from the police academy and receiving a citation as a sharpshooter, something that surprised everyone except for Jim, Blair had worked hard trying to get used to carrying a weapon. Now that he had to give it up, it hurt more than he thought possible.

But not as much as losing the badge. Too much deep soul searching had gone into his decision to become a cop. Once the decision had been made, Blair put all of his energy into his new career, graduating from the academy top of the class. When the gold badge had finally been laid in his hand, it had been a gift more precious to him than the master's degree hanging in his bedroom.

Placing the gold badge carefully on the edge of Simon's desk on top of the revolver, he started for the door again, pausing once it was open.

"This really sucks, Simon," Blair muttered without looking at the captain. With that, he walked away, closing the door on the only future he had left.

********************

It took physical effort for Jim to keep from rushing into Simon's office when Blair had looked at him through the office windows. Pain dampened his partner's usually vibrant eyes, creasing the high forehead. They communicated without words, Jim questioning if Blair needed him to be in there, Blair gesturing for him to remain still. Despite Simon's surliness, Jim would defy whatever orders he had to in order to be where his partner needed him most. When Blair looked away, Jim felt an ache of loss he didn't understand. Schooling his features, he dropped his gaze, only to be met by the concerned dark eyes of Megan Connor.

"Is everything all right, Jim?" she asked, her Australian accent strangely comforting as she leaned forward in her chair and touched his arm. "Is Sandy all right?"

Jim shrugged, his gaze returning to Simon's office, watching as Blair slumped into a chair, burying his face into his hands. That's it. Standing, he started towards the office but stopped short at the call of his name.

"I've got the prelim on the forensics findings," Henri Brown called, scanning the open folder. "Man, I do not envy you and Hairboy on this one. They found very little, but that brown powder definitely is the same stuff found in all those kids."

Jim snatched the folder out of Henri's grasp and turned to his desk, grateful for something to divert his attention from what was happening in Simon's office. Megan followed, laying a hand on Henri's arm when the usually cheerful detective glared at Jim. She motioned towards Simon's office, waiting for Henri's gaze to follow. When he noticed Blair, rising and starting towards the door, the kid's face filled with anguish, his smile fell.

Quietly he and Megan watched as the door opened.

"This really sucks, Simon," Blair's quiet voice carried through the noisy bullpen.

Slowly, Blair shut the door to the office, lowering his head as he walked forlornly by Henri and Megan, ignoring their greetings. Jim stood as Blair approached, but the younger man merely reached for his jacket from the coat tree behind Jim's desk and turned to leave the bullpen. Jim grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back around.

"Chief?"

"I'll see you at home, Jim," Blair murmured, wrenching his arm free of Jim's firm grip and left the bullpen. Out in the hallway he didn't wait for the elevators. Instead, he strode straight to the stairwell and disappeared.

Grabbing his own jacket, Jim started after Blair, vacillating between concern and fury, his hearing dialed up, tracking Blair down the echoing stairwell. The beating of Blair's heart quickened, his breathing coming in quick, sharp gasps until a sob was choked back.

"Ellison!" Simon's bark drew him up short, forcing Jim to hunch over in pain, hands blocking his ears, desperately trying to dial down his hearing.

Jerking around, jaw clenched, brows creased in irritation, he snapped. "What!"

Simon crossed the area, glaring at the detectives standing around watching the display. Cowed by that glower, everyone suddenly found something very interesting on their desks.

"Leave it alone, Jim," Simon advised, his voice low. He stood right by Jim, standing taller by several inches. Normally the height difference didn't matter. At this moment, however, it only served to irritate Jim more, as though Simon was using his bulk to intimidate him.

"What's going on, Simon?" Jim demanded. "Why is Sandburg going home, and why have you assigned Connor to a case that my partner and I have started?"

Simon rested one large hand on Jim's shoulder, his features softening, placating. Shoving off the touch, Jim turned and left the bullpen, intent on going after his partner. If Simon wouldn't give him answers, Blair would. His captain was right behind him.

"You have a case to finish investigating, Jim. It's more important than anything right now." He followed Jim into the hallway and grabbed Jim's arm.

"No, sir." Jim spun to face his friend, anger finally winning out and expressing itself with one finger shaking in Simon's face. "Did you see the look on that kid's face, Simon? I'm sorry, but right now nothing is more important than finding him and..."

"And what, Jim?" Simon interrupted, his voice out-bellowing Jim's. "And fix whatever's wrong? You can't do that! It's not in your power. It might be in mine. So let me do my job!"

The two glared at one another, both breathing heavily, their noses barely touching. The air hung like fire around them, but not even that heat could melt the ice in their eyes. Movement in the corridor came to an abrupt halt, conversation died as officers and civilians alike witnessed the clash. Noting the stillness, Simon was the first one to back down. With a sigh, he stepped back, shoulders slumping. Gazing around the corridor he noticed with satisfaction that people had started to move again...rather quickly.

"Jim, you need to trust me on this one. You'll find out soon enough, but the price we paid to get that warrant is too costly for you to just toss it to one side."

Jerking as the impact of those words broke through the anger, clearing the rage from his mind, Jim straightened, his face melting. Quickly his mind worked through the conversation until the meaning of what Simon had said became clear.

"Why?" he gasped. "Why sacrifice Sandburg?"

"Because that's who they wanted," Simon sighed, his tone dejected. "Angstrom is too important to lose right now."

"So is Blair," Jim responded quietly.

********************

He hated this. Shutting down the cell phone against his leg, Jim's expression darkened. No answer at home, no answer on the cell phone - where else could Blair go?

To add to everything, while Blair was who knew where, sulking over whatever it was that had won the warrant and maybe a chance to knock out a pipeline of narcotics in Cascade, Jim was driving towards the Hills to meet with one of the most powerful men in the northwest. He hated the Hills, hated everything they stood for. The well-manicured lawns and ostentatious manors overlooked Cascade as though they were the nose and everything else was beneath them. He growled.

He needed to find Sandburg, not play polite with the rich.

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," Megan interrupted Jim's thoughts, looking up from the file in her lap.

Jim shook his head. "Keep reading."

Megan sighed, dropping her gaze to the forensics report she had been perusing. "It says the powder they found at the crime scene is the same as found in the systems of those kids whose murders we've been investigating. Combination of coke laced with LSD and some other non-distinguishable alloys. Nothing on the legal side, naturally. Definitely Hades, though." She looked up. "So what was a former football star doing with a bag of that dung?"

"That's what we're here to find out, Connor," Jim snapped impatiently, rounding another corner and steering the car up a hill of ideal grass on either side, lined with perfect trees. His scowl deepened.

"You know, Jim, I'm not the enemy here. So cut me a break." She slammed the file shut and glared out the passenger window.

Sighing, Jim's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Connor."

Shifting in the passenger seat, she reached out and touched his arm. "I know you're worried about Sandy, Jim. It'll be okay. One thing I've learned about you Yank peacers is that you care for your own. Simon'll figure something out." She paused, her dark brows creased in thought. "Whatever it is," she added as an afterthought.

Pursing his lips, Jim nodded, but he didn't feel so certain inside. It wasn't Simon he was worried about. Years of serving under the man and deepening their friendship had taught Jim one thing about Captain Banks - he defended his people. He'd go to the mat for any one of them, and Jim knew it would be no different with Blair. But the feeling he got from Simon was that the order came from higher up. And whoever that higher up was had used the warrant, which would have eventually come through anyway, as bait to get at Blair.

Something inside told Jim that it had something to do with that damn dissertation.

"Here's the street," Megan pointed out softly.

A wrought iron fence crowned a river rock wall, sufficiently blocking view of the rolling estate beyond. They followed that wall for a quarter of a mile before the gate came into view, the address etched in gold on the gatehouse. As he steered the blue and white truck up to the gatehouse, Jim banked his still simmering emotions. He needed to be on his toes, and thinking about his partner wasn't going to make that possible. He threw a glance at Connor.

"You remember everything Blair told you about me?" Jim asked, wanting to make certain that Connor didn't freak when Jim started using his senses.

"Of course. Don't worry about me."

Nodding, Jim edged the truck forward, rolling down the window with one hand as he guided the steering wheel with one knee and searched for his badge with his other hand. A tall man stepped out of the guard shanty, dressed crisply in a dark, double-breasted suit, a scowl on his face.

"May I help you?" he asked, dipping his head enough to peer at Megan, eyebrows lifting appreciatively as she smiled at him, then let his gaze trail along the scratched and dented truck, disapproving.

Jim flashed the badge. "We're here to see Mr. Angstrom."

"Have you an appointment?"

Looking at Megan with an all too well known expression of "here we go again", Jim schooled his features into one of patient tolerance before he gazed at the man again with a sigh.

"Do I need one?"

"Mr. Angstrom is entertaining guests," the guard replied haughtily. "You will have to make an appointment and return another time."

Before the guard could turn back to the shanty, Jim reached out toward Megan with one hand. Wordlessly she handed over the folded document.

"While you're alerting Mr. Angstrom that we're coming in," Jim said, opening the document and shoving it out the driver side window so the man could see, "why don't you tell him that we're visiting legally."

Scanning the warrant, the guard looked up at Jim, then back down at the paper. Murmuring, he turned and pressed a button. "I'll be sure to have someone meet you at the door."

"You do that," Jim replied sarcastically, steering the truck through the opening gates. He handed the document back to Megan. "Here we go," he sighed.

It took several moments to reach the front of the grand manor that stood at the head of a circular driveway. A trellis edged with climbing ivy greeted them as they exited the truck and headed up a rather long walkway to the vast double doors. A stone lion sat at each side of the arched, covered entrance.

"Opulent," Megan noted, looking around the area.

"Yeah," Jim grunted, pressing the doorbell.

Before the chimes finished a man twice Jim's weight and taller than even Simon opened the door. Dressed in a similarly tasteful elegance as the guard at the front gate, the man scowled at Jim and Megan. One meaty hand reached out, the fingers motioning. Reading his request, Megan pulled out the warrant and laid it in the man's hand. With a tilt of his bald head, he stepped aside, ushering the detectives inside.

"Mr. Angstrom is with guests," the man said in a deep, booming voice "You will have to wait to see him."

"Oh, we really don't need to see him," Jim replied scanning the entryway with detached interest. "We can always just search the manor."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," a female voice stated firmly.

Stepping around the monolith in GQ, a woman came into view, arms hanging relaxed at her sides. Garbed in a dress suit that gathered in all the right places, announcing to the world that she was most definitely a woman with a fine figure, she stopped beside the gargantuan. Only her stormy gray eyes gave away her surprise. And recognition.

"Well, well, Detective Ellison," the woman greeted somewhat warmly, reaching out to shake his hand.

Jim took the proffered, uncertain how to proceed. Megan noticed the hesitation. A glance from Jim silenced any questions she may have asked.

"I see you don't know who I am. Of course not. Julie Cabe. I'm Mr. Angstrom's Chief of Security, and he's warned me about you."

Still confused, Jim nodded slowly. "What happened to Pike?"

A dark scowl crossed Julie's face then, warning off that line of questioning. "Mr. Pike left Mr. Angstrom's employment yesterday."

Jim started at that. No one left Angstrom's employment willingly. He thought back to the forensics report, the blood on the earring he had found. Remembering to have Serena run a comparison against Pike's blood, Jim stepped closer to Julie Cabe, staring down at her.

"And he hired you."

"Promoted...from within." Her face remained passive, but the gray eyes flashed a warning at him. Eyes he had learned to read that combined with the fragrance of the perfume he knew so well hanging about her like a shroud. It always reminded him of daffodils in the spring. "Mr. Angstrom is rather busy for the next several months, Detective Ellison, perhaps I can assist you with your warrant? Or perhaps you two could meet at some prearranged time and location?"

That last question struck a familiar chord. With one look at the neanderthal standing protectively over the much smaller woman, Jim backed up, motioning for Connor to head for the door. The look of disbelief she leveled at him spoke volumes, but thankfully she obeyed.

"Appreciate the offer," Jim replied nonchalantly, still eyeing the woman. "Maybe another time? I'll be in touch."

As the monolith stepped in front of Julie Cabe, Jim noted the sly wink from the woman in his direction, then a furtive nod. With an understanding born of experience, Jim snatched the warrant from the man's hand, turned and guided Megan back to the truck.

"What was that all about?" Megan demanded as she climbed in.

"Let's talk about this when we get to the precinct, just in case they have lip readers among all their other pit bulls." Starting up the truck, Jim glanced back only once.

What was she doing there?

********************

"So why is it that the DEA, Narcotics and the FBI don't know about a Vice officer undercover in Angstrom's organization!?"

Simon had been yelling into the speakerphone for nearly fifteen minutes now, and Jim winced as the captain's voice rose in pitch.

"Officer McCrae's position in the organization happened completely by chance, Simon," the light tenor of Captain Henderson replied from the speakerphone. His voice sounded weary. Jim didn't blame the man. He'd had Simon yelling at him before - it tended to be draining.

"And this happening has been going on how long?"

A pause. Jim grimaced again. "Three months," Captain Henderson replied, his voice suddenly weak around the edges.

"Why haven't you informed all the necessary parties?"

"I didn't know Major Crimes was considered one of the necessary parties."

"That shouldn't matter, Henderson. No one has been alerted!"

As Simon started in again on the man, explaining the current Hades investigation and the sudden link between it and Angstrom, Jim's mind wandered to the woman who had surprised him at Angstrom's manor.

Joli McCrae.

They had worked together in Vice, she being in the department only a few months when Jim had arrived. Although quite a bit younger than Jim - what was she now, thirty-one? - and quite a bit shorter, she had held her own against every one of the other officers, barreling her way into a spot of respect. He had nicknamed her "Rambo"; she called him "Elly", the only person alive he allowed to do that. Joli had saved his life more than once, and he had reciprocated. By the time Jim had left Vice, she had been made sergeant and had been offered an administrative position in the department. She refused. No wonder. She was good at what she did, and she loved working the streets.

Once he transferred to Major Crimes, he had kept tabs on her and her two brothers, who were also cops, but had lost regular contact with her over the years. Joli McCrae. He shook his head, disbelieving that they could meet up again under such extreme circumstances.

The sound of Simon slamming the phone brought Jim from his musing. "I thought you were on speakerphone."

"I was!" Simon roared. "Pressing the release button just doesn't give the kind of farewell that is required sometimes." He sighed wearily, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"So, what's next?" Megan asked from her seat at the conference table.

"DEA is arranging a meeting of concerns," Simon replied sarcastically. "I'm headed over there right now." He looked up at Jim. "Are you certain you understood McCrae correctly? Pike is dead?"

"Sir, no one leaves Angstrom's employment on their own. He's dead all right."

"And forensics came up with a match on the blood from the earring with Pike's blood type," Megan offered. "But why kill him?"

"Because he messed up," Jim offered, finally turning from his scrutiny of the bullpen. "Every one in Angstrom's employment has the earring. It acts as their identity card. Pike must have lost his during the struggle with Creed. Can't hide a torn lobe."

"So Angstrom offs his Chief of Security," Simon continued.

"And Joli gets promoted," Jim finished. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "I gotta go."

"Where do you think you're going?" Simon demanded, standing and reaching for his own coat.

"I've got an errand to run and then I'm going to find Sandburg." Tension immediately filled the room as Jim glared at Simon. "He hasn't been answering his cell phone or the loft phone, Simon. I don't know where he is, but I'm going to find him."

Sighing heavily, Simon rounded his desk, pulling on his coat at the same time. He stood beside Jim, noting the clenched jaw, the defensive stance. Placing a large hand on Jim's shoulder, he pulled Jim's gaze up, locking onto it.

"Just remember," he said softly, "trust me, okay?"

After a moment, Jim nodded woodenly.

********************

Gateland Zoo had been closed for several years now, but it still stood as an icon of decades gone by. Soon it would be renovated and reopened as a Historical Monument. But today, in the late afternoon sunlight, it stood stark and bare.

During a case where Jim had acted as back-up for an undercover Joli, they had arranged their meets at this place. At the back of the zoo, in a wall of stone that had once surrounded the lion's den, mortar had broken away, disintegrating under the pressure of the thick root system of a large tree growing outside the wall. Brush had grown up around the hole, but Joli had managed to come across it while hiking around the hills surrounding the site. Luckily, no one had found the secret entrance, and Jim had managed, yet again, to squeeze through the tiny opening, not even tearing his clothing this time.

He waited silently on the stone steps of the den, his mind going over the events of the day as he waited for Joli's appearance. At Angstrom's manor Joli had mentioned a "prearranged meet" - for those not privy to the secret code, they would have believed she spoke about meeting with Angstrom. For Jim, however, he knew exactly what she meant...and exactly where to go.

So he waited, part of his brain on the case, the other on trying to figure out the whereabouts of his wayward partner. Maybe Blair was home and just not answering the phone, probably deep in some meditation, listening to those aboriginal drums of his again. From the pained look on his face when he left the bullpen this morning, some meditation was needed. He'd probably be burning sage, too. Jim's nose itched at just the thought of it. He hated sage. But if it helped his partner right now, he'd deal with it.

A soft sound touched Jim's dialed up hearing, and he stood, weapon already in his hand. Piggybacking his eyesight onto his hearing, he aimed in the direction of the sound, holding his breath until the lithe form of Joli McCrae pushed through the brush at the stone wall and crawled through the space. Letting out his breath, Jim relaxed.

Standing, brushing off dirt and debris from her business suit, Joli peered up at Jim, her eyes narrowing against the glint of sunshine. Then a smile flashed across her pretty face, igniting gray eyes that managed to reflect every emotion the woman possessed, and cross the spectrum of intense colors to match her moods. Her eyes matched her abilities, managing to change into whatever personality needed to be safe while undercover, and do her job well enough to catch the bad guy. That's why she fit so perfectly in Vice.

"Mind if we meet a little lower?" Joli asked, gesturing for Jim to join her down in the lowest terrace of the den. "The walls will act as shielding from any prying eyes."

Glancing around the area, heightening his vision to make certain no unwanted guests were watching them even now, Jim climbed down from his spot to stand beside Joli. "Would there be prying eyes? I thought you were Chief of Security."

Joli nodded. "I am, but the promotion only happened this morning." She made a face. "Technically I'm still on probation, but I've proven myself enough that when Pike..." Shaking her head, she paused. "This has something to do with Pike's disappearance, doesn't it?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Rolling her eyes, Joli sighed. "Don't go all Joe Friday on me, Elly. Be straight with me."

"Like your department has been with us, right?" He grabbed Joli's arm and jerked her back to face him when she moved to turn away. "Vice knows we've been investigating these drug deaths, Joli. It's been in the press."

"But there is no connection to Angstrom!"

"There is now." Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, Jim retrieved a rolled up photograph and shoved it at Joli. "Do you know who this is?"

The blood drained from Joli's face as she took the photograph in shaking hands. Slowly she sank onto a boulder, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Royal Creed," she gasped.

Jim squatted in front of Joli, worried about the woman's reaction. "Joli?" He touched her knee, drawing her pained gaze up to his.

"I wondered what happened to him," she whispered, looking at Jim quickly, but dropping her gaze back down to the picture. "I didn't know."

Shifting to sit beside her on the boulder, Jim leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Tell me."

"Royal worked for Alexander Vambrose. Vambrose is a..."

"Drug dealer out of Louisiana," Jim finished. "I know - I've heard of him. But what was Royal doing working for a drug dealer?"

Joli ran shaking fingers across her forehead, tucking dark curls behind one ear, a nervous habit Jim had yet to see her break. "Bad debts, something like that. He hooked up with Vambrose down in Lousiana. Shortly after I started working for Angstrom, Royal and I met up - completely on accident. I had heard that he worked for Vambrose, who is a close associate of Angstrom. Royal seemed really jumpy, out of sorts. I managed to earn his trust. He wanted to break out of his arrangement with Vambrose. Apparently all these deaths lately have been giving him nightmares."

"This new drug, then, it's coming out of Louisiana?"

Joli nodded. "I'm not privy to actual information, Jim. Like I said, I'm still on probation. Everything I know is all second and third hand, nothing concrete. I was hoping this new position would allow me access to more information. But, from what I can piece together, Vambrose buys the ingredients from China, it's put together in South America and is shipped to Louisiana. He sends it out from there."

"So he's Angstrom's source."

"And Angstrom is his pipeline to the northwest. Vambrose won't sell to anyone else."

"What happened then?"

Sighing, Joli slumped forward, burying her face into her hands, taking deep breaths. When she straightened, her face was flushed. "Royal was to meet with Pike last night at midnight in an alley off of Seventh and Overton..."

"That's on the north side," Jim mused aloud.

"...Royal told me everything. We arranged for him to meet me at a different location after the sale. He was going to bring me the money and I was going to take him and the money in to Vice. He'd be an eyewitness that would put Angstrom's men at a drug buy. It would be only a hop and a skip to get the necessary warrant to search Angstrom's properties."

"But Royal didn't show up."

Joli shook her head, curling a lock of hair behind an ear. "We were to meet up at twelve-thirty. By one I got worried and set out to find him, but I got beeped by Angstrom and had to go in. Immediately I was put in as Chief of Security and I was stuck at the manor all day making certain Angstrom wasn't disturbed. I never even saw a newspaper. Once my duties were over tonight, I was going to do some investigating." She paused, frowning. "Guess I don't have to now."

Jim lay a consoling hand on her back, waiting for Joli's quickly beating heart to calm. "It wasn't your fault, Joli."

I promised him everything would be all right, Jim. He trusted me." She paused, taking in a slow deep breath and let it out gradually. Her voice shook when she spoke again. "Do you know what it's like to have that kind of trust, Jim? Someone relying on you for their very life?"

Jim didn't answer, but he did understand. Perfectly. When she took another deep breath and let it out, her shoulders no longer quivering, he removed his hand.

"You going to tell me how you got into his organization?" he asked.

A ghost of a smile crossed Joli's full lips. "I was on vacation down in California a few months ago and got involved in a skirmish. Didn't have my badge or gun, but I just happened to defend one of Angstrom's men." She shrugged, not looking at Jim. "I was hired."

The minute she started speaking, Jim knew she was lying. Even without the jump in her heart and barely trembling fingers, Jim could have figured it out. He knew Joli too well - his senses made up for the rest.

"Try again," he murmured. When her gray eyes jerked up to meet his, he returned the gaze with a sardonic smile. "I know you, Rambo. You don't go anywhere without your badge and gun, even on vacation to another state. And, how did you manage to set yourself up as Julie Cabe so quickly? I'm sure they ran your name before offering you a job. You couldn't have had enough time to set-up an alias before they ran the name."

Joli stood, but not before Jim saw the smile widen. As she stood there staring up into the darkening sky, arms folded, he could practically hear her thinking. When she finally turned to face him, the gray eyes had darkened, the full lips pressed into a thin line, her shoulders resolute.

"That's why you're the best, eh, Detective? Okay, I learned through one of my snitches that something was happening in California. I asked for leave, set up an alias - just in case," she added firmly, "and went. It was truly by accident that it all happened, Jim, really. But I was ready for it before I left, yes."

Standing, Jim placed his hands on Joli's shoulders, drawing her gaze up to meet his. "This is dangerous stuff, Joli."

"I can take care of myself, Jim."

"This is about Paul, isn't it?" Joli glared at him, but her silence was his answer. "Getting yourself killed is not going to bring your brother back, Joli."

"No," she growled, "but it will put away the man responsible for his death."

Taking her lightly by the shoulders, he forced her gaze upward. "Revenge will get you killed. Haven't you learned that lesson yet?"

Pressed thin lips revealed her agitation, darkening eyes her resolution. "It's not revenge, Jim."

"Then what?"

"Justice." She twisted from his grip, turned to leave then paused, letting out a heavy sigh as her head hung. "Angstrom has to be stopped, Jim."

"Agreed. But I'd hate to lose a good friend just to see that scum put away."

"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made," she replied in a quiet voice, making Jim expand his hearing just to catch it. With a shudder, she turned towards him again, the darkness gone, replaced with serenity. It always amazed him how quickly she could shed one persona for another.

An eyebrow arched in his direction. "Besides, it's you we should be concerned about."

That took him by surprise. "Why?"

"I understand you've not been playing nice with Mr. Angstrom." Her sultry voice was tinged with sarcasm, a glint of hardness in her expressive face. "He doesn't like you very much."

Jim scoffed at that, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his weight on one leg. "I'm so ashamed," he replied sarcastically.

She grinned. "When he called me in after he returned from his meeting today, he complimented me on how well I handled everything while you were there. I hope you don't mind, I took credit for you leaving."

"I don't mind. I did leave because of you. Otherwise, we'd still be searching the manor." He paused. "The warrant is still good, you know. We could..."

"Jim," Joli interrupted, placing a hand gently on arm. "I am so close to winning his trust. It's been difficult, but I have a feeling that it's going to happen any day now. He's shrewd enough to keep his businesses and home outwardly clean of anything that would connect him to anything illegal. That's why Pike got himself killed. I know it's there, though. If I can get inside his trust, maybe I can find it so we can break him down." She peered up at him, pleading. "Royal's death could serve some purpose, Elly. It's put me in a place where maybe we can finally put Angstrom out of commission. Just give me some time, okay? A couple more days? If something doesn't happen then, I'll get out. You have my word."

Jim stood quietly, mulling over the conversation, watching Joli closely. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. Two days."

"Three."

Jim paused, then nodded. "Three days." Joli grunted in acceptance, nodding her head. "Then we come in. The warrant will remain good. We double-checked the blood type on the earring with Pike's on record. It's a match so I can guarantee you the warrant won't be going away."

"The earring," Joli muttered, her left hand reaching up to the silver stud glimmering in her own ear. "So that's what happened. Pike must have lost it while killing Royal." She grimaced. "I wonder what kind of death Angstrom arranged for that little mistake."

"Can you give us an idea of where we could look for Pike's body?"

"Hmmm?" Looking up, Joli broke free from her musing. "Oh, I'd wait until the tide rolls in again. His body will probably show up on the piers - if there's anything left."

Jim shook his head, amazed at the coldness in Joli's voice as she spoke. "We'll meet again in three days."

Nodding, Joli turned back to the decaying hole they had crawled through. Then she straightened. "By the way, I thought you got that anthropologist onto the force as your partner. What was his name?"

"Sandburg."

"Isn't he living with you also?"

Jim nodded solemnly.

"Then who was the pretty woman with you at the manor?" She peered over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Following Joli through the hole, he straightened as he answered, watching as she pulled the brush over the hole. "Inspector Connor."

"Oh?" She grinned up at Jim as she stepped closer. "Something going on that I should be jealous about?"

Jim smiled, accepting the teasing for what it was. He had thought about starting a relationship with Joli, but their feelings for one another had led them in the direction of friendly flirting instead of a serious romance.

"Ouch. I don't think so. Let's just say Connor and I tolerate one another and leave it there. She's helping on the case while Sandburg is...working on something else. Temporarily." Touching Joli's nose with the tip of one finger, his smile broadened. "So no need to worry. You'll always be my only Rambo."

Smiling, Joli grasped the front of Jim's jacket and pulled him close, pressing her warm lips to his. He reciprocated the gesture, both hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

"You just make certain it stays that way, Elly," she replied when they parted.

Her gray eyes bored into Jim and in those eyes he glimpsed an anguish Joli's words didn't touch. She still mourned her brother.

"Joli," he began in a whisper. She must have known what he saw because instantly the gray eyes turned flat, cold; she glanced at her watch, and then studied the surrounding terrain.

"We need to go," she whispered, ducking quickly, pulling Jim down with her. "Angstrom's men will probably be by any moment."

Accepting that the moment was lost and vowing to do what he could to keep her safe until the time they could talk, Jim asked, "Still have a tail?"

She nodded. Touching her fingers to his lips, she mouthed "radar", and then "be careful" before she stretched up and kissed Jim lightly on the cheek. With one final glance, she moved and disappeared into the shadows.

Jim opened up his vision, scanning the area for clearance to move back to where he parked his truck. Through the darkness he made out a dark sedan slowly maneuvering the parking lot, two men in the front, each with an earring glinting in the setting sun. One held a miniature satellite dish, aiming it across the distance, earphones in his ears. He turned the dish back and forth, confirming that they had not overheard anything in particular, but still searched.

Shaking his head with an amused smile - the girl could still amaze him - Jim silently moved through the brush back in the direction of his truck.

********************

The minute Jim pulled into his usual parking place outside his building, his hearing picked up a steady heartbeat thrumming down from the third floor loft that he shared with Blair. Releasing a sigh, feeling strain flow from his shoulders, he exited the truck and entered the building, taking the stairs two at a time, anxious to see and talk to his partner. As he entered the loft, tossing his keys into the basket on the table beside the door, his nose immediately began to itch from the dissipating sage in the air. Not enough to sneeze, but enough to cause his eyes to water.

Blair sat on the floor in lotus position, his back perfectly straight, arms resting lightly on his legs. The soft pulsing of his favorite aboriginal music filled the loft, candles burning on the coffee table he sat behind. Usually Jim's entrance brought Blair out of his meditative trance, but this time the young man didn't even move.

Crossing the kitchen to the refrigerator, Jim pulled out a beer, popped off the lid, then leaned against the kitchen cupboards, watching his friend.

The shoulder-length curly hair that had been drawn back this morning now hung across Blair's strong shoulders. He had changed from professional attire into his favorite lounge clothes - a dark blue sweatshirt he had adopted out of Jim's throwaway pile some months before, and comfortable looking gray sweat bottoms. If Jim didn't know the day and year, he could have sworn he'd stepped back through time. It had been a while since Blair had drifted into such a deep meditation. That had disappeared along with the earrings and grunge look. Every now and then Jim would find Blair sitting lotus style in the middle of his bedroom, but he'd pop out as soon as he heard Jim walk by the French doors, keenly in tune to Jim through some mysterious connection as much as Jim was attuned to Blair through his senses.

A movement from the corner of his eye broke Jim's musings, and he watched as Blair stretched from his seated position, extending his hands to the ceiling as he arched his back. Several pops sounded and Blair sighed. Lifting the remote from the floor beside him, Blair turned off the music.

"Hey," he murmured, scooting to rest his back against the closest couch after blowing out the candles. His gaze remained forward, however, studying the view through the open shades of the balcony windows.

The sun had sunk beyond the horizon, the skyline of the city stark against the glowing reds and golds still gleaming in the sky. The lights of downtown began coming on, adding white twinkles to the view, some of the buildings reflecting the burnished colors of dusk. Jim sighed. He loved this time of day and the calm that accompanied the setting of the sun.

"Hey," Jim finally replied, crossing from the kitchen to sit on the arm of the couch next to Blair, ignoring one of his most adamant house rules.

They remained silent, watching as the sky darkened and the reds of dusk gave way to the azure of night and finally darkness, the twinkling of city nightlife replacing nature's spectacle. Jim started to move from the couch to turn on a light, but Blair stayed him with one hand on his knee.

"So what happened today?" Blair asked, dropping his hand to rest again in his own lap.

Sighing again, Jim drooped into the cushions of the couch, finishing off his beer. "I'd like to ask you the same thing."

In the darkness of the loft, with his eyesight dialed up, Jim could see Blair's eyes closed, his face lined with grief, breath blowing through his nose in harsh bursts. "I'm not..." He stopped, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Can we not talk about that right now? Just tell me about Angstrom."

Not wanting an argument, Jim leaned his head to rest against the back of the couch. He explained the trip to Angstrom's, the events that followed, meeting up with Joli, and their subsequent conversation. By the time he had finished, Blair had left the floor and sat beside him on the couch, now facing him, fully intent on what Jim was saying.

"Do you trust her?" he asked when Jim had ended his narrative.

Shifting so he faced Blair, one arm resting across the back of the couch, he thought about that. It had been literally years since he had last seen Joli McCrae, much less worked with her. Had she changed so much that the trust she had earned could be set aside now? Or was she the same woman she had been then? It had to be the latter. At the zoo, seeing her, talking to her, being with her, Jim had experienced the same impression from her as he had all those times he had trusted his life to her care. Even the sick feeling in his gut warning him that the impulsion behind Joli's determination was revenge didn't squelch the trust he felt in her.

"Yeah," Jim finally replied. "Yeah, I do. Almost as much as I trust you." He returned Blair's grateful smile with one of his own.

"So what's the next step then?"

"First and foremost, we need to figure out why Pike killed Royal. We get that, and we get a lead that links Angstrom not only to the drugs but murder as well. As it is, the earring only links his men. We need hard proof against Angstrom himself."

He stood, pointing to the lights as he glanced at Blair. At Blair's nod, he flipped on a lamp and then continued to the kitchen, tossing the beer bottle. When he started back towards the living room, he paused, only slightly, but enough for Blair to notice and drop his face. Blair's eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks ruddy.

"Sandburg, what is going on?" Jim demanded, immediately returning to the couch. His friend had always worn his emotions on the sleeve, connecting quickly with victims and perps alike. But there was too much pain in the creases of the youthful face for Jim to casually toss this aside as normal. "Talk to me."

Taking a deep breath, Blair ignored Jim's outburst. "So, do you think Pike suspected that Royal was trying to trap him?"

Clenching his jaws with frustration, Jim glared at his partner. The pleading in those youthful blue eyes melted his resolve to get to the truth. However much he wanted to beat the kid and get some answers, it was too important to both of them to discuss this case...a case that Jim was suddenly working without his partner.

"I don't know," Jim finally muttered, settling back against the armrest of the couch, drawing one leg up. "If he did, though, why scatter the drugs?"

"Maybe Pike didn't like the quality of the Hades," Blair inputted. "That's a lot of money's worth if it was good." He thought a moment. "Didn't Joli say that Vambrose and Angstrom were tight?"

Jim nodded. "So tight that Vambrose won't sell the stuff to any other Northwest pipeline."

"Makes you wonder then."

"About what?"

"How Vambrose reacted when news got back to him."

Jim sat forward, staring at his partner. "Go on."

"Well," Blair continued, sitting back, his head tilting in thought. "No matter how tight the two are, millions of dollars worth of drugs being crushed into an alley pavement has got to put some kind of strain on the relationship. But what if that's what Angstrom wanted? What if Pike went there intending on killing the delivery guy anyway?"

"And scattering the drugs was a message to Vambrose?"

"That maybe Angstrom has another seller?"

The two men stared at one another, each lost in their own thoughts, knowing that the other was thinking in the same direction.

"Or maybe several," Jim murmured. "Joli mentioned that Angstrom has visitors. Not a visitor, but visitors, all at once. Maybe those visitors are willing to get rid of the middle man..."

"Vambrose," Blair supplied.

"And go straight to the guy who has all the connections in the Northwest."

"Not just the Northwest, Jim." Blair waited until Jim looked at him curiously. "Don't forget Angstrom's legitimate business. He buys and sells antiquities all over the world. How much do you want to make a bet that he's got connections worldwide."

"A worldwide drug market," Jim breathed, sitting back, stunned. He shook his head. "This is all based on speculation, of course."

"That's all we have."

Jim suddenly smiled. Reaching out, he good-naturedly tousled Blair's hair, his friend pushing back the curls that fell into his face. "I missed you today, buddy."

The smile crossing Blair's face suddenly stopped, then drooped. He stood and crossed to the kitchen. "Sorry I didn't have any dinner ready. What are you hungry for?"

Blair Sandburg, the quick-change-the-subject master. Jim shook his head. Following Blair into the kitchen, he watched as his friend ducked into the refrigerator.

"Tell me what's going on, Chief," he pressed, deciding now was the time to get things out in the open.

"We've got..." He paused, moaning. "Pretty much nothing." Straightening, he turned and flashed a grin at Jim. "What say we order out? I'll run to the store tomorrow."

Before Blair could walk past him to the phone, Jim grabbed the closest arm and swung his partner around to face him. "Tell me what the hell is going on, Sandburg, or I swear I will take you down to the precinct, sit you in the interrogation room and beat it out of you!"

Closing his eyes in the face of Jim's irritation, Blair seemed to wilt. "I've been suspended," he finally muttered, pulling his arm out of Jim's grasp and sagging against the kitchen island.

"I know that, just like I know you were sacrificed for the warrant. What I don't know is why!"

Breathing in deep, Blair slowly let the air out through his nostrils. "Do you remember when Jake said that there was a ninety percent chance that Berkshire Publishers would counter-sue?"

Jim nodded. He had accompanied Blair to every appointment with Jake Sutton, the lawyer friend of Jim's Dad who had agreed to represent Blair at a nominal fee. "He said they wouldn't have a legal leg to stand on if they did, but that you should probably expect it. Why?"

"Because they chose the other ten percent."

"What do you mean, they chose the other ten percent? What did they do?"

Moving away from Jim, Blair crossed to stand on the other side of the kitchen island - a natural Blair tactic; remove himself from the pain. Jim turned so they stood facing each other over the stove.

"They sued Rainier."

"What?" Jim demanded. "How can they sue Rainier? What for?"

"For not officially stating that my dissertation did not go through proper protocol. The dissertation was not submitted to my board, they didn't review it, and therefore it was not officially sanctioned by Rainier. But Rainier played a hand in heightening public awareness to the possibility that the diss would be reviewed for a Nobel."

"Therefore, instead of coming after you, because they knew they couldn't, they went after the school." Jim grinned. "Glad to hear it. I hope Chancellor Edwards fries."

Blair shook his head. "You don't get it, Jim. Rainier won't face this lawsuit alone. They know they can't come after me because I didn't submit the dissertation officially. So instead they're suing the police department because I officially worked as a consultant while writing the dissertation. Therefore, they're part of the fraud that shed such a poor light on the university."

"What? Come on, Blair, the PD had nothing to do with..." His voice trailed off as his eyes widened, the implications clicking into place. Blair must have read the expression on his face, because he merely nodded, knowing the exact moment when Jim understood completely. "You can't be suspended for that, Blair. You weren't on their payroll. Your role was purely voluntary. They have to know the school has no foothold there. The suspension would never hold up in court."

"Who says I'll take the PD to court, Jim?"

The desolation in his friend's face and voice clutched at Jim's heart, and he reached across the space between them to touch Blair's shoulder. "Blair, you can't let them do this to you."

Blair took a step back, moving from Jim's touch. Blue eyes, deepened with fear and weariness peered up at Jim, catching and holding his gaze. What Jim saw in those eyes made him ill. "I was the sacrifice, Jim, for Angstrom. We needed that warrant, and I was the price. They know me well enough to know that I would never put my own welfare ahead of getting that drug off our streets. They know that."

"Oh, man, Blair..."

"So there's only one thing left to do."

Jim's breath caught in his throat as he noted the stubborn set of Blair's expression despite the sadness in those damn eyes that reflected the soul of the man.

"What's that?" Jim asked in a low voice, surprised at the steadiness.

Blair backed up a couple of paces towards the French doors leading to his room. "Leave."

********************

The peace in Philemore Angstrom's office was shattered as the door swung open to admit his raging, ebony-haired Chief of Security. Gray eyes stormed as she charged towards his desk, hands knotted in fists. He remained calm in the face of that thunder, struck again by her loveliness and the power of her venom, and knowing that his calm would only enrage her more.

"Hello, Miss Cabe," Angstrom greeted the fiery woman amiably, shifting to relax in his chair.

Jaw clenching, Julie Cabe took a deep shuddering breath, obviously working on calming her rage. And just as quickly as it took for Angstrom to blink, the anger was schooled behind a face deceptively calm.

"Mr. Angstrom," she replied with that sultry voice that always managed to excite him. Even that voice belayed no evidence of the tempest from only seconds before.

"Is there a reason you've barged into my office, Miss Cabe?"

Angstrom loved watching this woman. She was a dichotomy of movement and emotions. Standing before his desk, dressed in the business suit he had seen her in earlier, she appeared relaxed, her features almost soft. But slight movements of her gaze around the room and the position of her arms and hands told Angstrom his new Chief of Security was ready for anything. He had no doubt that if someone tried to sneak through the door of the office, she'd have him on the floor before the person left the threshold. After three months of watching her, really watching her, Angstrom knew that it was not the mistake his compatriots thought it was to put her in Pike's place. They didn't trust her, but he was beginning to. Perhaps after this assignment, when she had proven complete loyalty to him, he could coerce her to step up their relationship to the next level.

Noticing his eyes had once again appreciated the curves and movements of Julie's legs, he quickly shifted his gaze back to meet the gray eyes. Dark eyebrows arched at him in question and the corners of her lips softened into a smile...an inviting smile?

If it had been an invitation, it quickly disappeared.

"I'd just like to know when I'll be able to leave the manor without being followed, sir."

The statement was spoken without challenge, the voice steady and bold. A smile formed on Angstrom's lips, controlling his reaction to that voice. He wanted this woman, more than he wanted any other he'd had; but if he was to enjoy her in his bed, he had to know of her loyalty. Being stabbed in the back during the throes of lovemaking did not a happy man make.

"As soon as you prove to me that you can be trusted."

She rolled her eyes at that, showing her impatience as she slumped into one of the chairs set in front of the desk. The slumping had caused the hem of her skirt to rise a little more than it should, but she made no movement to tug it down. Instead, she crossed her legs at the knees, causing the skirt to rise even higher. "Here I thought that once you made me Chief of Security I had that trust."

Forcing his eyes from the firm, well-muscled thighs sticking out beneath the hiked skirt of her business suit, Angstrom stood, rounding the desk and leaning casually against the front of it. "You have earned my trust...at least a portion of it. But I need a little more before you have all of it."

Tilting her head to one side, she cocked an eyebrow in his direction, curiosity glinting in the gray eyes. "And what do I have to do in order to prove that?" The sultry voice had returned, an almost purring touching the deep edges.

Angstrom swallowed, his body once again reacting to that voice. How could someone have such an effect on him?

He walked away, controlling the thoughts in his mind, returning to the present and the task at hand. Sauntering to the bar on the other side of the room, Angstrom pulled the stopper from a decanter and poured some burgundy into two glasses. Returning to the desk, he slid into the chair next to Julie, noticing with some disappointment that she had sat up straighter, the skirt pulled down to her knees. All business.

Like a professional, she had read the change in mood. Handing the drink to her, he watched as she peered at him over the edge of the glass as she took a sip. Crossing her legs at the knees once more, the skirt inching up higher, much to his delight, she settled the drink on one knee and shifted in the chair to face him.

Clearing his throat, Angstrom returned the curious look of this remarkable woman. "I left Cascade several years ago...actually, I was forced to leave because of a particular reason. I took care of one part of it, but there is still another part that causes me some concern. Now that I am back in town, in order to accomplish my goals I need that remaining reason taken care of."

Julie smiled at him, a feral cast touching the gray eyes that seemed to darken with the sudden shift in mood. "And what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Shut it down."

She nodded, taking another sip of the burgundy. Angstrom could see the mind working behind the schooled features. "I assume this reason has a name."

It was Angstrom's turn to smile. "His name is Detective Jim Ellison."

Nothing. No response. Julie's face remained perfectly calm, not a twitch, not a gasp. This woman was good. If she was a cop, she had to be one of the best. But Angstrom doubted she was a cop, not with the jobs he'd assigned her the past several months. This reaction only provided more proof. Now, if she would just cooperate then all the doubts of his cohorts and the niggling doubt in his own mind would be resolved.

Then he could start working on her physically.

"So, you want me to kill Detective Ellison?" she asked smoothly.

"If you would be so kind. He really is a pain in my ass and I'd like to be able to sit down without him causing me any more discomfort."

Julie paused a moment then lifted her glass and stretched across the space dividing them. Clinking her glass against his, the feral smile returned. "It would be my pleasure, Mr. Angstrom."

********************

Turning away from his roommate, wanting to get away from the expression on his face as well as the turn of the conversation, Blair paced into his bedroom and stopped right in the middle, his back to the door. There was nothing in here he wanted, nothing he needed, except to get away from Jim and the next words that would obviously tumble from Jim's frowning mouth. He didn't know how long he stood there before a movement from behind alerted him to the expected confrontation.

"What do you mean leave?" the voice behind him asked the anticipated question.

Blair couldn't face him. Instead, he scanned the room for something that would keep his eyes and hands busy. Deciding that cleaning the mess that was his room's constant state of existence was the only thing he could do, Blair began picking up dirty laundry from the floor and putting the items into the laundry bag set precariously on one chair.

"There is only one definition of leave in the English language, Jim," Blair replied as he busied himself. "It means to depart, to vacate one place, to relocate..."

"To quit." Jim's voice was harsh, cold, as he spoke the two words that pierced Blair between the shoulder blades and deflated his defiance.

With a sigh, Blair sank onto his bed, clothes still clutched in his hands, bowing his head. He had spent the better part of the day going through the spectrum of emotions in order to think clearly enough to come to a decision. When at last clear thinking had been achieved, only one option had remained. But the option left a cold void in the pit of his stomach and the words that Jim so firmly stated had been the very words Blair tried to avoid. Nonetheless, they were true. He was quitting. The strength drained from him. He suddenly felt very tired.

Jim strode purposefully into the room, crouching in front of Blair, taking the clothes in Blair's hands and tossing them across the room to land on top of the laundry bag. When his attention returned, Blair shuddered at the frost in his friend's light blue eyes.

"What do you want me to do, Jim? Work at Wonderburger? Maybe over at Car Shine? I can buff with the best of them." The gaze grew colder. Blair dropped his face into his hands. "When I lost the university, Jim, you gave me the chance for another future. One that I had been practically doing full time anyway." He looked up, meeting the frost with an affectionate smile. "Thank you for that, by the way. But now that it's been taken from me, too, what am I supposed to do?"

"You are not a quitter, Blair," Jim stated firmly. Dropping to rest on his knees, he reached out and took Blair by the shoulders, shaking him a little. "You are not a quitter!"

"I am tired of fighting," Blair admitted weakly, shoulders slumping under the weight that seemed to fall there. "I am so tired of fighting, Jim."

Jim's hands dropped to his knees as he gaped at Blair. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Not from you. Not from mister hit-me-with-your-best-shot-and-I'll-be-back-in-your-face-before-you-know-it Sandburg. There is more fight in you than a mule, Chief. How can you possibly..."

"I'm tired of being the one sacrificed, Jim!" Blair jumped to his feet, the feeling of fatigue overwhelmed by sudden anger. Pacing the small room he continued. "The last few months at Rainier were not as easy as I let on. After the Ventriss thing, everyone watched me...the professors, the board members, Edwards. They kept a very close eye on what I did. Any wrong move and I was out. I'd lose everything. They were tired of my absences and Chancellor Edwards had it in for me. The minute I sneezed wrong I'd be dismissed!" Jim stared up at him, immovable, with no response, so Blair continued. "And now it's happening again. I'm under a microscope at the station, Jim. I have been from day one. Not just because the other cops couldn't believe that a rookie right out of the academy would make gold shield right away, but because a noted fraud had been allowed into the family." Angrily he drew quote marks in the air. "That's why I've tried to be so careful lately. With the lawsuit against Berkshire I just happened to give them a perfectly good reason to get rid of me. Otherwise, they would have found one!"

Coming to a halt, breathing heavily from the emotional outburst, Blair stared at Jim, who remained quietly immobile on the floor. When he finally spoke, Jim's voice was steady but soft.

"You knew what would happen when you defrauded your work, didn't you? You knew that you'd be dismissed."

Blair's mouth dropped open in shock and he gaped at his partner. "That is the only thing you got out of my entire tirade?" Throwing up his hands in disbelief he turned away and fell onto the chair at his desk. "Will you let the dissertation go, man? That thing between you and me, it's over, it's done. Yes, I knew what would happen, but I would do it again! I've got the brass ring, man! How often do I have to tell you that?"

A smile played at Jim's lips as he shifted from the floor to the bed. "Until we both believe it, I guess."

Slumping against the back of the chair, Blair sighed. He crossed his hands on the top rung of the back and rested his chin on them. "Or until the world lets it go," he muttered.

They remained silent, Blair staring at the floor, at the ceiling, anything except at his friend. Jim would ask him not to go, he'd ask him to let Simon fight the battle, to remain as long as it took to clear up things, but Blair knew better. He knew how things worked. Studying the rise and fall of civilizations had given him insight into the workings of the political mind. Simon would bluster and blow for however long the brass let him, but in the end, the decision would be the same.

"All of this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't forced you to put up that lawsuit," Jim grumbled.

Blair smiled at that. How typically Jim to shoulder the guilt. "Last time I looked, man, I'm an adult. You may have given me a pretty convincing argument, but it was my decision. Besides," he sighed again, straightening from his slouched position, "the brass would have found something else. If not the lawsuit, than maybe something in our casework. They want me out."

"C'mon, Blair, you make it sound like this is the end. You give up the lawsuit and that's it, they have nothing else on you."

Blair shook his head, the curls of his dark hair striking his cheeks. Brushing them back behind his ears, he explained, "Contacts in the commissioner's office have told Simon that even if I bow out of the lawsuit, I won't be reinstated. I guess I've just caused the PD too much embarrassment."

"That is a load of manure, Chief, and you know it."

"It really doesn't matter anyway, Jim. Maybe this is just what I need to make a fresh start, ya know? It's been five years since I've picked up. Now they're just giving me a reason."

When Jim didn't answer, Blair peered at his friend, who glared right back at him. "Is that what you want?" Jim asked quietly.

There was challenge in those eyes, but Blair knew Jim better than anyone. He had written in his dissertation that Jim the Sentinel was guided by fear. Jim had taken that wrong when he first read it. It wasn't fear as in being heart-pounding scared, run-away fear. Blair was all too familiar with that one.

No; it was fear as in seeing others hurt, or being hurt himself fear. Through the years Blair had learned to read his friend, realized that when the defenses went up and the clenching jaw started working was when Jim was trying to gain control over that fear. It was his greatest ally for it spurred him to do things that no one else would do. Fear made Jim Ellison the perfect Sentinel, the perfect Guardian of the Great City. But it also caused him the greatest grief.

At this moment it was the grief that set the eyes to blazing. And though his friend's pain shouldn't give him any kind of joy, Blair did feel certain warmth from it. Jim feared losing Blair. That touched the younger man deeply.

He thought about Jim's question. Did he want to leave? No, it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to remain partners with Jim; he wanted this life for which he had sacrificed so much. Jim was his Sentinel, and abandoning him when things were now clicking so easily between them was not what Blair considered acceptable. They had worked too hard to become a well-working partnership. And more than that; though he had never outwardly acknowledged it, Blair considered Jim a brother. Leaving that behind now would make all the hard work worthless. And as far as Blair Sandburg was concerned, what he had now was not worthless.

The brass ring, Jim had called it. Take the brass ring. Jim had meant all the offers flowing in at the unapproved disclosure of the dissertation. There had been many...millions of dollars, movies, television, a Nobel! But those were nothing compared to the brass ring he finally did grab. A brass ring he wanted to cling to with every bit of strength he had.

The problem was, that strength to fight just didn't exist inside of him anymore.

"No, it's not," Blair finally whispered.

The relieved sigh that sounded from his partner's lips brought a real smile to Blair's face. "Good. Then we fight."

We. Blair slumped against the back of the chair again. We. If he didn't have the strength, then Jim did. And maybe Jim would let him use a little bit of that strength until Blair found it within himself.

After all, that's what family was for...right?

********************

Locating the family of Royal Creed had taken longer than expected, but by the time Jim had arrived at the bullpen the following morning, Brown and Rafe had done it.

"He's been divorced for three years," Rafe explained, settling on the edge of Jim's desk, watching as Brown looked over Jim's shoulder at the information they had worked so hard to retrieve. "She's living in Louisiana."

"Which explains how Vambrose got his hooks into Creed," Brown supplied. He pointed over Jim's shoulder at something lower on the page. "Somehow Creed met up with Vambrose, who must have thought having a former NFL wide receiver in his pay would be good for business."

"According to his bank records," Rafe continued for his partner, "Creed was broke. That amount of money at a time when he needed it must have been just too good to pass up."

"Creed's been paying alimony and child support since the divorce. No wonder he went broke. Look at how much he has to fork out every month."

"I guess being a retired wide receiver for the NFL doesn't take into consideration alimony," Jim mumbled. He flipped a page. "But Creed's parents live here in Cascade?"

Rafe nodded. "Henri and I were going to go by and talk to them this morning. Unless you'd like the dubious duty?"

Jim smiled then, closing the file and handing it back to the well-dressed detective. "I do believe you need the experience, Rafe. I wouldn't want to deny you any skill that would make you a better detective than you already are." If Jim noted it correctly, Rafe's return smile actually had sarcasm in it. Behind him Brown groaned. "Give me a full report when you get back, though."

"Naturally," Brown muttered.

"By the way, guys," Jim said, watching as Brown snagged his partner by the shoulder and began to drag him off Jim's desk. Both stopped, turning to him. "Good work."

Grinning, Brown cuffed Rafe on the shoulder. "Ah, shucks, pah'dner. We done good." He guffawed then took Rafe by the nape of the neck. "Let's go, pal. Wouldn't want to keep Jim from completing yet another case that would mark him for Cop of the Year." Brown grinned over his shoulder at Jim. "By the way, tell Hairboy we miss him."

Tilting his head back in response, Jim watched as Rafe grabbed a suede jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on, hustling after Brown who had already made it to the elevators. The two stood side by side waiting for the elevator doors to open. Extending his hearing automatically, Jim grinned at the conversation the two were having.

"...'ing him Hairboy all the time," Rafe was saying. "Sandburg may be small, but one of these days he may haul off and drag you down."

Brown chuckled, fondness in his voice. "If he doesn't get how much he's appreciated despite the nicknames we all throw at him..." he good-naturedly thumped Rafe on the back, "...then he's not the intelligent guy I take him for."

The elevators opened and the two waited for the passengers to disembark before they entered.

"You be sure to tell him that, Jim." Brown's departing words disappeared behind the closing elevator doors. Jim jerked up at the comment in time to see Brown's smiling face and wave.

Shaking his head, he returned to the forensics report on his desk. Over the past year the other detectives in Major Crimes had said little about the subject of the dissertation, but Blair had noticed their actions. They were more in tune to Jim's abilities at a crime scene, more accepting to something bizarre Jim might mutter that led them in a different direction on a case. Brown's comment only proved what he and Blair had suspected all along - that Jim's secret was known among the tight-knit group, and it was safe.

"...just glad they finally got rid of the long-haired punk." A deep voice invaded Jim's thoughts. Realizing he had his hearing dialed up still, he would have returned to normal listening if the topic hadn't caught his attention.

"It was only a matter of time," another voice replied, thick with disgust. "Don't know why they allowed that shrimp on the force in the first place. I heard he had problems in the academy. Not cop material, that's for sure."

Jim glanced over his shoulder, watching as unfamiliar heads passed the window behind him but not able to get a clear view of them. He was about to stand up and follow them when a familiar voice boomed from down the corridor, forcing Jim to dial down his hearing slightly.

"What was that comment, Officer McMann?" Simon demanded.

Jim could hear the heartbeats of the officers quicken as they met up with the captain of Major Crimes and he couldn't help but grin.

"I-I didn't s-see you there, Captain Banks," Officer McMann replied, swallowing loudly.

"Obviously. I suggest you and your partner keep snide comments about your brother cops out of my building, McMann. Especially about a detective for whom I have a very high regard. You want to slam him, you do it to his face and watch how much of not cop material Detective Sandburg can be." Simon's voice lowered noticeably. "I'd also suggest that you not speak ill of a man when you're walking right by his partner's desk."

The heartbeats quickened even more as the officers realized where whom they had passed. Jim chose that moment to stand up and start out the door. Acting surprised to see Simon and the two officers looking at him, he smiled and waved then continued to the men's room. A few minutes later a laughing Simon Banks joined him there.

"That was fun," Simon said as the door closed behind him, his dark face drawn up in a grin that crinkled his eyes. "McMann and Bellowsby have been some of the more outspoken against our Blair and I've been wanting to shut them up for a while. Gave me a great place to focus my anger this morning."

Jim was leaning against one of the stalls, listening to his captain, the resentment slowly seeping away. At Simon's last comment, though, he straightened. "Did you have a meeting this morning, sir?"

The smile suddenly dropped and Simon rubbed at his eyes, nodding. "I'm afraid so." He looked at Jim. "You speak to Sandburg yet?" At Jim's nod, Simon continued. "I met with the chief this morning. He kept reiterating that once Sandburg drops the lawsuit against Berkshire Publishing he'll be reinstated."

"But you doubt that."

Simon nodded.

"Blair mentioned last night that your contacts in the commissioner's office are telling you there is more of a chance that he'll be permanently dismissed."

Simon looked around the men's room, grimacing. "Can we discuss this somewhere else, Jim? If we have to talk about it, let's take it to my office. I don't like the way this place echoes."

Following Simon out into the corridor and into Major Crimes, Jim almost turned to Blair's desk to motion him to follow. It was a natural action. One that brought back the ache of his missing partner.

As they neared Simon's office, however, Joel Taggert hung up the phone he had been uh-huhing into.

"Captain," Joel called from his desk. "We've got a dead body down by the pier. From the description we were able to get it sounds like our missing Mr. Pike."

Exchanging a quick glance, Captain and detective followed Joel out of Major Crimes, both hoping this was the break they were looking for.

********************

Blair sighed audibly. He hadn't been to the supermarket during the day in a while and the sunlight streaming through the large windows at the front of the building reminded him why he liked shopping at night. Not that he was a stickler for clean aisles, but he preferred his food a little cleaner than this. Didn't they have those thunder hoses like Safeway? The ones that beeped before they sprayed the vegetables? These vegetables looked like they hadn't been cleaned in days.

Dropping the droopy carrots back into the bin, Blair turned away, rolling his eyes in frustration. Look at him - he was taking out his frustrations on vegetation. What next? Using a rubber mallet to pound some sense into a can of tuna fish?

It was plain and simple. Blair didn't want to be here right now. He shouldn't be here right now. He was supposed to be by Jim's side, working a crime scene, guiding him through a sensory spike...hell, even complaining about Jim's atrocious spelling on the never-ending reports that seemed to accumulate on their desks. Well, his desk more than anyone else's. Though Jim tried to do his fair share of the paperwork, it was well known throughout the Major Crimes bullpen whose reports had suddenly become administration's favorites.

Blair grumbled. Maybe he ought to have administration send a letter to the commissioner's office. Would they listen to whines from assistants who have to constantly correct spelling and grammatical errors from the other detectives?

He smiled as his mind drafted the letter, explaining the injustice of taking away the only detective who filled out reports properly.

"That's a nice smile."

Almost dropping the bananas he held, Blair jerked around suddenly. Watching him from the end of the aisle across from produce was a woman he didn't recognize, but whose smile dazzled gray eyes as she watched him.

"Thanks," Blair managed to sputter. Regaining some composure, he managed another smile...the one that always seemed to melt the reserves of even the coldest female. It worked again as the woman seemed to relax.

"That's quite a weapon you have there, professor," she complimented. "I'm sure many a lady has fallen under its spell."

Professor? Eyebrows suddenly knitting in curiosity, Blair crossed the space between them. "Do I know you? Were you one of my students?"

The woman peered around both sides of the aisle, then returned her attention to him. "My name is Joli McCrae. Does that name sound familiar to you?"

Eyes widening, Blair nodded, looking over each shoulder before leaning closer. Joli McCrae smelled delightfully of daffodils. "Jim told me about you last night," he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to get a message to Jim." Pulling a folded piece of paper from inside her shirt, she stepped closer to Blair, pressing the paper into his hands. "When Jim showed up at the manor yesterday he had a female cop with him. I knew she wasn't his partner, but none of Angstrom's men know that. I figured you'd be a perfect contact person."

"So you followed me to a supermarket?" Blair asked, surprised.

Joli smiled, lighting her gray eyes again. "Didn't think going up to Ellison's door and knocking on it would be appropriate, considering I'm the bad guy and all."

Returning that smile, Blair began to unfold the paper. Both her hands grasped his, stopping him. She shook her head.

"Not here." Taking the paper from his hands, she folded it back up and slipped it inside Blair's front jean's pocket, ignoring the surprised lift of his eyebrows at so personal a gesture. "Just get this message to him as quickly as you can."

"What is this all about?" Blair asked, finding his voice when she stepped back.

Pausing a moment, Joli pondered the question. Obviously she was weighing how much to tell him, what she could trust him with. Just as he was about to ask again, she said, "I've been given a job to prove my loyalty to Mr. Angstrom. And I need to do it before midnight tomorrow."

"What kind of job?" he asked when she didn't continue. Their whispers had drawn them closer together once more and soon they were standing only inches apart. Blair had a hard time concentrating on her words as his body reacted to the scent of her.

"Angstrom wants me to kill Jim."

Those words brought Blair's senses back to order. He stared at her for a full minute, then his eyes narrowed dangerously. "And...?" He didn't like where this was going.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, Joli's eyes softened as she closely studied him. With a smile she said, "Jim trusts you."

Taken aback by the statement Blair managed a nod.

"I can tell," she continued. "You've earned it, and that's quite a feat. Believe me, I know. Getting Ellison to trust is like pulling teeth out of an alligator."

Blair smiled at that analogy. "Pulled many teeth from alligators, have you?"

The return grin lit Joli's face like twinkling lights on a Christmas tree. "A few. Did Jim mention anything about...well, about me?"

"I asked him if he trusted you."

She bit her lower lip, holding her breath. "And?"

"Let's just say the answer was positive." He paused, pursing his lips. "But just because he trusts you doesn't mean I do."

"Understandable. You don't know me."

Blair patted the letter in his pocket then returned his gaze to the woman who stood eye level with him. "I'll deliver this, but you need to understand something." She waited. "Anything happens to Jim and I will hunt you down."

There was no mistaking the tone of voice. She heard it. She understood it.

"I swear to you, Sandburg, Jim's safety is uppermost on my mind."

"It better be. No amount of proving loyalty to some thug is worth Jim's life."

Nodding in agreement, Joli stepped back. "He's very lucky to have you as a partner."

"That goes both ways."

Touching his hand in acknowledgement, she turned and disappeared down the aisle.

********************

"Nothing," Jim grumbled, leaning against the hood of his truck.

Arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at his ankles, he surveyed the crime scene he had just spent the last half-hour going over. The body had been removed, but not before Jim had spent another fifteen minutes meticulously surveying each hair that stood on end. His senses on full alert, he'd hoped to find something...anything...that would link Angstrom to Pike's murder. Whatever evidence there had been had long ago been washed off by the water's current.

"Not surprising," Simon replied from his position next to Jim.

Silently they watched as forensics cleaned up the crime scene, loading equipment back into the vans. They had gathered some items, but it was abundantly clear that Pike had not been murdered here; there was no evidence to indicate where that murder had occurred. Even the witnesses had been no help. The body had washed up at the pier, no one had put it there. An obvious murder - his neck had been snapped cleanly in two - but one that would not be solved. That's what made everyone so glum. Unsolved murders raked against everyone's work ethic.

For Jim, it meant another dead lead. Even though the blood on the earring matched Pike's type, a call into Angstrom's director of human resources confirmed that Pike had been dismissed two days before Royal Creed's murder. Obviously a bold-faced lie, but the records indicated Pike's signature on the dismissal card. Thus, the earring connected Pike to Creed's death, but not Pike to Angstrom. The warrant had been dismissed.

The warrant that had sacrificed Blair.

"I'm not letting this one go, Simon," Jim stated simply but firmly, daring his captain to contest.

"Jim, there is nothing that connects Angstrom to Creed's murder. All of our ties to Angstrom are cut, and the murderer has been found dead. The case is closed."

Thrusting against the truck, Jim jerked forward, walking a couple of paces before he turned around. "Creed was going to turn evidence, Simon. We close this case like this and his reputation will be soiled."

"He made a choice, Jim..."

"He didn't choose to die, Simon!" Jim glanced around the area, noticing several forensics officers looking their way. With a grumble he moved closer to his now glaring captain. "Please, Simon, give this another couple of days. See if Joli can't gather up some more evidence that may exonerate this man."

Simon shook his head, pulling off the gold-framed glasses and running one large hand over his face. "You're gonna turn me gray, Jim."

Jim grinned at that. "You mean I haven't already?"

The hand moved to the back of his neck. "I know what this is really about, Jim. You can't fool me."

Resting hands on his hips, Jim dropped his gaze to the ground. "I'm not going to let them rake Sandburg over the coals for nothing, sir. If Sandburg is going to be sacrificed, it's going to mean something."

"Jim," Simon replied, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I will do everything in my power to get Blair back. You know that, right?" Jim nodded. "Look, I'll see what I can do about keeping the case open. Get your report written and get it to me. So far we've been lucky in that the press hasn't connected Creed with a drug buy. Maybe we can keep it that way. But I can't guarantee anything. My butt is on the block, too."

"Thank you, sir."

The shrill ringing of his cell phone drew Jim's attention away from Simon; he pulled the phone from his back pocket and opened it.

"Ellison."

"Jim, this is Blair. You are not going to believe who I just met, man."

********************

"I don't like this one bit, Jim."

Simon glared at the piece of paper lying on his desk then lifted his gaze to the detective slumped in a chair across from him. Sandburg sat on the conference table, legs swinging unconsciously as his hands worried at a piece of string he had picked up somewhere.

"I don't either, Simon," Jim replied, sitting straighter. "But I trust McCrae."

Shaking his head, Simon glanced around the room. After Sandburg had arrived at the bullpen in a flurry of words explaining the clandestine meeting with Joli McCrae, Simon had called Joli's superior, Captain Mike Henderson, as well as Agent Graham of the DEA and Sergeant DeVeniste from Narcotics. Once they had arrived and seated themselves around the conference table, Blair had imparted to all of the newcomers the story of his meeting in the produce section of Thriftway.

"Setting up a hit on your life..." Simon's lips pursed in thought. "Too many things could go wrong with that. Especially when we only have a small window to work with here."

"If killing Ellison will get her more entrenched in Angstrom's organization," Captain Henderson commented, "then we need to go along with it. If she says she's got all the angles handled, then she does."

"I disagree," Agent Graham interrupted, leaning forward. The filtered glow of the fluorescent lights in Simon's office glared off his balding head. "She's an amateur."

"An amateur? Graham, that girl has been in vice longer than you've been a Fed. She knows what she's doing."

"Anything could go wrong," Graham snapped, "and then we'd have a dead cop on our hands!"

"Good grief, Graham, what's more important? Stopping Angstrom or...?" Henderson stopped suddenly, realizing what he was about to say. "I mean..."

"We all know what you mean," Simon retorted, smothering the desire to brain the man. He turned back to Jim. "What do you think?"

Heaving a sigh, Jim glanced over his shoulder at Sandburg. "What do you think?"

"Good grief," Henderson mumbled. "Why are you asking him? He's not even a cop anymore."

Jim glared at the man, blue eyes shifting from the warmth held especially for his partner to brutal lasers that could cut through solid granite. He would have said something, would have moved, but Blair's hand on his shoulder stilled him.

Pulling Jim's gaze back to him, not even flinching under the cold spheres, Blair shook his head, silently telling him to ignore the comment. Instead, concern etched his youthful features. "It's risky, Jim. Graham is right...any number of things could go wrong. I know you trust Joli, but it's Angstrom's men that has me concerned."

"Me, too," Jim replied. "Angstrom still doesn't trust McCrae, so it's possible he'll have someone watching her. Maybe even send in a Cleaner to make sure she's done the job. But the outcome would put her in a position that could topple Angstrom's empire." He paused, expression firm, unyielding. "That's worth any risk, especially if bringing him down can connect him to Royal Creed's murder and the deaths of all those kids."

Witnessing the spoken as well as unspoken conversation between his two best detectives, Simon sat back and waited for the results. He had been witness to these little exchanges more and more lately. Gone were the drawn out discussions; occurring even more infrequently were public arguments. Anymore, they were finishing each other's sentences, sometimes even as they moved out the door on their way to solve a case. It amazed Simon to watch the transformation.

When Jim had brought Sandburg on board five years ago as an observer, they had fallen into a simple arrangement: Jim was the cop, Blair the civilian observer, therefore Jim was the protector, Blair the protectee. Through the years, however, the relationship had become more of a partnership than many Simon had witnessed in his long career as a police officer.

This little scene now only provided Simon with more of a reason to get Sandburg back on the force. Jim operated brilliantly without Sandburg. But together they were unrivaled.

Jim finally nodded and turned to Simon. "We'll be prepared for any scenario, sir. If it gets us that much closer to nabbing Angstrom and getting that Hades crap off the streets, then it's worth it."

Simon glanced at Sandburg, noticing his anxiety. He had agreed with Jim's position, but it was obvious this made him uncomfortable. At the younger man's nod, however, Simon sighed. "All right. But Major Crimes will handle it."

Henderson stood at that, his face crimson. "This is Vice's case, Banks!"

"And this is my man your girl is going to kill, Henderson," Simon boomed, standing as well. He stood over a foot taller than the Vice captain, and even with the men on opposite sides of the room, the effect was intimidating. "My detectives will handle this, and if we need Vice to assist we'll let you know."

From his silent position at the end of the conference table, DeVeniste cleared his throat, effectively heading off the bloodshed that was bound to happen. Blair moved from the table where he blocked the man's view and shifted to the only vacant chair, rolling back against a far wall, separating himself from the others. Simon had noticed it, but returned his gaze to DeVeniste. Jim, however, eyed his partner.

"I'm sorry to be a cold rag on this warm occasion," the round man began, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His bulk didn't allow him to fit easily in any chair, and the ones that surrounded the coffee table weren't meant for comfort. "However, the Hades case is Narcotics' jurisdiction. DEA is here as a favor. They are taking a back seat on this ride. And Vice is involved only because of Sergeant McCrae. Even though Major Crimes has been investigating the Hades deaths, they have been doing so under our direct supervision."

Simon blanched at that, quite a feat considering his dark skin. "Ven, you aren't pulling jurisdiction here, are you?"

DeVeniste grinned, the white teeth shining against the black man's chubby face, touching the dark eyes. "Of course not, Simon. But I think this particular venture ought to be cleared through Narcotics...and the commissioner's office." He turned sympathetic eyes to Sandburg, who sat slumped in the chair, eyes watching his hands as they continued to fiddle with the string. "I'm sorry to agree with Henderson, but Sandburg isn't a cop right now. He shouldn't be involved in this discussion."

Sandburg looked up at the mention of his name, the expression on his face void of any emotion. With a sigh, he stood, letting the string drop to the floor.

"I'll see you, Jim," was all he said before he turned and walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Shaking his head, Simon sagged into his chair, afraid to even look at Jim. When he did, it was in time to watch the man walk out of the office, leaving a definite chill in the air. Probably for the best. They'd arrange everything and get official approval then call Jim back in for the actual set-up. Simon glanced up at DeVeniste, noticing the regret in the eyes that met his. Obviously his friend had heard what was coming out of the commissioner's office and knew what Simon just figured out: if the commissioner heard that Sandburg was involved, he'd probably withhold his approval.

Hell. Simon hoped the kid understood the good that was going to come out of this. If Joli could only get the evidence needed...

If only. So much depended on Joli's position right now. She wasn't even aware of most of it.

"Let's get this ironed out, gentlemen," Simon directed, suddenly business-like.

********************

Following the heartbeat echoing in his ears, a heartbeat as well known to him as his own, Jim took the elevator down eight flights to the garage level, surprised when he entered the garage and found Blair sitting on the hood of his truck. Feet resting on the chrome bumper, elbows on the knees, face hidden in the hands, Blair seemed lost beneath the cascade of curls hiding him from the curious glances of the officers around him. Clamping down the Blessed Protector mode that suddenly flared, Jim crossed the garage to his truck.

"Rule number two hundred and sixteen," he muttered as he leaned a hip against the chrome grill. "Don't sit on the hood of your partner's sweetheart."

When Blair lifted his head and looked at him, Jim offered a smile. One that Blair attempted to return.

"Sorry, man," he said, sliding from the hood. He stood silent and motionless for a full minute, staring blankly around the garage before he turned to face Jim. "What am I gonna do, Jim?"

Shaking his head, Jim grimaced at the sound of complete defeat in Blair's voice. Resting a hand on his partner's shoulder he tried to offer some kind of consolation when he himself felt none of it. "We'll figure something out, Chief. Simon is working on it."

"No, no, no," Blair countered, his hands coming up in defense, "I'm not talking about my job, man, I'm talking about Joli killing you. There is no way in hell I'm going to let that go down without being right there beside you."

Taken aback by the intensity in Blair's statement, Jim let his hand drop. Then suddenly he began to chuckle. When Blair stared at him in open-mouthed amazement, the laughter came next. Without even caring who saw it, he pulled Blair into a crushing bear hug.

"I am so glad you're my partner," Jim said, still laughing as he thumped Blair cheerfully on the back.

Blair managed to return the hug before Jim backed away, his hands still resting on Blair's shoulders. He stooped slightly to peer directly into Blair's eyes. "I wouldn't have you anyplace else, Chief."

For the first time in what seemed forever, Blair grinned, the dark blue eyes twinkling. "Even after breaking rule number two hundred and sixteen?" he asked, eyebrows arched mischievously.

Jim straightened, looking at the blue and white Ford and then back at Blair. "It's a new rule," he shrugged. "I'll let it pass this time."

********************

It had taken some swift talking on both Jim and Blair's part, but they had managed to convince at least Simon to let Blair tag along. What the others didn't know wouldn't hurt them. When Blair had explained his plan on how to pass Jim off as dead, Simon decided that even if the devil himself came down on him with fire and brimstone it wouldn't keep Blair out of the affair.

For the remainder of the day and into the next, certain detectives from Major Crimes readied for the murder of one Detective Jim Ellison. Apprehension settled over the bullpen like a wool blanket, and any officer or civilian not involved with what was happening found himself the recipient of cold glares and jumpy rejoinders when speaking to the detectives. By the time everything had been set up and the detectives of Major Crimes, as well as specially picked Narcotics and Vice officers, were established around Prospect Avenue, all eyes trained on Jim's third level apartment, the stress and strain on everyone involved made it impossible to have a civil conversation.

Which was why Blair said nothing as he sat in the passenger seat of Simon's beloved car, looking at the screen of the video feed from the surveillance equipment in the loft. Eleven o'clock glared in bright blue numbers on the radio display above the small screen. Nothing had happened yet, which caused even more tension in Simon's car and over the comm lines.

Lifting a mike to his lips, Simon called out to the other officers. "Report in."

One by one the units reported nothing in the vicinity. Blair adjusted the receiver in his ear, uncomfortable with the static and chatter so close to his eardrum.

"She said before midnight," he muttered to no one in particular as he focused again on the screen.

Jim sat on one of the couches in the living room, flipping channels on the television with the remote in his hand. Every now and then he'd scan the loft, his head tilting to one side as he listened to the area outside the doors. After years of working with the Sentinel, Blair had come to know when Jim used his senses, sometimes aiding him to extend farther than what was normal for Jim. Right now he wished he were doing exactly that, sitting right by Jim on that couch.

"I know that, Sandburg," Simon snapped, glaring at the screen. At Blair's concerned glance, Simon sighed. "Sorry. I just have a bad feeling about this."

Blair swallowed as he nodded. So much of this could go wrong, but Blair had more faith in Joli's part than he did in his own. In order to convince anyone watching Joli that she had accomplished her job it occurred to Jim that Joli may not be the only person in his loft before the ambulance arrived. If someone did come in to check that Jim was really dead, they'd find someone very much alive and probably would resolve that situation before back-up could arrive. That was when Blair came up with his brilliant idea. The brilliant idea that right now caused his stomach to do flip-flops and his anxieties to work overtime.

"I'm going to bed," Jim's voice announced, forcing both sets of eyes back to the screen.

Jim tossed the remote onto the couch and headed up the stairs to his room.

"Rule number twelve," Blair mumbled to himself. Simon looked at him, brows creased in question. Blair shrugged. "Put the remote back on the television stand. Jim hates having to hunt for the thing."

Simon's answering grin split the darkness of the car, forcing a smile from Blair. For an instant, the anxieties took a break.

"Heads up," a voice crackled over the earpiece. "This is Taggert, Captain. I've got movement from the back corridors."

Flipping on the mike, Simon broadcast the report. "Everybody be on alert. Connor, is the ambulance ready?"

"All set, captain," a soft female voice tinged with an Australian accent answered.

Glancing around the darkened neighborhood, Blair wished they had parked out front of the apartment building instead of around the corner. If anything went wrong, the time it took to get from his position to the apartment could be the deciding factor between a live Sentinel and a dead one.

Pressing a button on the keyboard connected to the screen, Blair watched as the picture switched from the living room to Jim's loft bedroom. His partner had just covered up with the quilts and lay on his side. From the sound echoing over the receiver he was doing his deep breathing.

"That's it, Jim," Blair mumbled, knowing that Jim had extended his hearing to listen to his voice, "take deep breaths. Dial everything else down except for your hearing and focus only on my voice. We're going to put you into a trance, just like we've been practicing. Listen only to my voice. Breathe in, breathe out."

On the screen, Jim's body started to relax, the shoulders lifting slowly, the rate of their lifting decreasing. By the time a figure walked in front of the surveillance camera, the shoulders barely moved.

The figure, dressed completely in black, stood over the zoning Sentinel, a gun clearly in one hand. Blair held his breath, unable to believe that he was actually going to sit here and watch someone shoot his friend, praying to whatever god would listen that Joli had indeed filled her bullets with blanks of red fluid and not real ammo. The sound of three shots penetrating the thick blankets jerked Blair from his own near zone-out and he kept repeating to himself that the dark ooze he saw covering the blankets was not Jim's blood. It was fake. Joli had promised the blanks would be filled with fake blood.

Bending over the form, the figure felt for a pulse then hesitated and pressed against Jim's neck even harder. A sigh filled with relief echoed over the sound system. Blair let out his own breath, looking up at Simon. The older man had read the sign as well. Jim's heart was still beating. So far, so good.

Grabbing Jim's badge from the edge of the desk where he always laid it, the dark figure paused once near the surveillance camera, then moved out of view. By the time Simon had switched views back to the main room, the black figure was gone.

"We've got someone coming out back," Rafe announced over the receiver.

"Why did she take the badge?" Blair mused.

"Proof," Simon replied after acknowledging Rafe's message. At Blair's lifted eyebrow, he went on. "She probably has to give Angstrom something as proof that she really did get the better of Jim. Something he'd never give up unless he was dead."

Blair nodded at that. "Jim would never let anyone touch that badge, that's for sure." He peered out into the darkness beyond the car. "When do you call in the ambulance?"

"Give it another few minutes."

"We've got company," Rafe's voice came on again. "This one's larger than the last one, coming from a different direction but heading up the same route to the loft."

Glancing first at Simon, then at the screen, Blair's heart began to race.

"Be prepared to move in," Simon ordered over the comm.

The screen had remained on the living room camera and both men watched as another figure slipped into the loft. This one was definitely larger than the slight build of Joli McCrae. The dim light of the loft reflected off the shimmering steel of a long bladed hunting knife in the figure's hand.

"Simon," Blair gasped. "He's carrying a knife."

"Damn," Simon exploded, "they sent in a cleaner. No matter how he finds the body, he'll still slit Jim's throat to make certain." Bringing the mike up to his lips, he began ordering officers into the loft.

Without realizing he was doing it, Blair opened the door and ran from Simon's car.

Entering the apartment building he took the stairs two at a time - the elevator wasn't the fastest way to the third floor. Simon's barking voice over the comm in his ear distracted him; he jerked out the earpiece and threw it on the floor. When he got to the door of the loft, he purposely jingled his keys loudly, praying that he had made it in time. Blair wondered what he could possibly do against the man he had seen on the screen. The man was huge.

"Hey, Jim, I'm home!" Blair called out as he entered the apartment making as much noise as he could. He flipped on the lights to the kitchen and dining area. "C'mon, man, it's only eleven-thirty, you can't be asleep. I want to tell you about my date. You won't believe how long this woman's legs are."

Carefully he started towards the stairs leading up to Jim's bedroom and suddenly stopped. Standing at the top of the stairs was the largest man he had ever seen in his entire life. The surveillance equipment had not done him justice. Nearly twice Blair's height and weight, dressed completely in black with a black stocking cap drawn down over his ears, the man slowly started walking down the steps. He held the blade rigidly in one hand. With a sigh of relief Blair noticed no blood on it.

"Hey, man," Blair greeted, his voice shaking - really shaking, none of that fake fear stuff.

"It's too bad you chose right now to come home, kid," the man's voice boomed as he continued down the stairs.

"Where's Jim?" That's it, Sandburg, keep him talking. Cavalry will be arriving - soon - right?

"He's taking a little nap...a long nap."

Blair kept backing away from the man, even as he touched the floor. When he backed into the dining room table, he flinched. Hadn't counted on that. Arms raised, he watched as the man gained on him.

"Time for you to join him."

As the man lunged, Blair's academy training and five years with one Jim Ellison came into play. He shifted away, surprised by the man's swiftness. The brute didn't look like he could move that quickly. Recovering immediately, the man lunged once more, slicing at Blair's exposed back as he turned to race around the table, but cutting only air. Blair raced to the other side of the table, but the man followed, blocking any escape. Once again the blade flew at him, this time hitting its mark. Biting back a cry of pain as he held his bleeding hand against his chest, Blair backed away, right into the support pillar. Just as the man leered, preparing to thrust the knife, Simon was suddenly there, gun raised, barging through the front door, bellowing for the man to d