Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm alive, no question about that…but life sucks, you know? I can't seem to get my balance back, can't figure out what my life is about now.

We've been back from Mexico for a couple of weeks and I still can't figure out where I stand with Jim.

He hasn't talked to me since we got back, not about what happened there. Not about what happened at the fountain. Says he can't…says it's too hard.

Hard?

Dear God, I died. I drowned in that damned fountain. Alex killed me! And all he's ever said in response to my 'thank you' for bringing me back, and admitting that we had the same vision, was just some crack about owing him back rent. Shit, he kicks me out of the loft with no notice and I owe him back rent?

What's wrong with this picture?

Oh, well, I guess the implication was that he still wants me around…nice to know given that he'd just kicked me out.

Okay, fine, I know he has trouble expressing his feelings…that the crack about the rent really was meant as reassurance that he wanted me back…but I'm tired of the silence. I'm tired of not knowing what he's thinking…I hate being shut out.

I try to understand what happened in Mexico, I really do. But, he's not some rutting bull; he's a man. Instinct isn't the whole deal, you know…so what was going on with Alex on that beach? How could he be so drawn to her, after what she did? If not to me, then what about the canisters of gas she stole? The other people she was threatening to kill? How could he find anything about her attractive, let alone be all over her? Sometimes this Sentinel stuff stinks, really, really, stinks. It's like they had a private club thing going and since no one else can ever be part of it, then that makes everything all right. She could have shot me, with his gun, for God's sake! And he just…just knelt there, looking blank until he lowered her arm and shook his head.

Guess he didn't want to waste time and energy bringing me back to life again. I can see how that could get to be a drag.

Yeah, yeah, I'm angry, I admit it, to myself if not to him or anybody else. Dammit, I am SO angry I can hardly hold it inside. But he won't talk about what happened in Mexico, either. Just goes all flat and turns away. I feel like I want to explode or something, hit something, yell…but I don't know at what.

Get a grip, Sandburg. You know very well whom you want to yell at. Jim. But you can't. Or won't. What's that about? Are you afraid he'll decide you're too much trouble and kick you out again? You KNOW that was more about Alex than you.

Don't you?

But he said those things about trust…and he meant them. I don't think he really trusts me anymore.

I think that's why there was confusion in Mexico. Why it didn't matter that Alex had killed me. Why he almost let her kill me again. I think that's why he took off and left me and Megan sleeping in the jungle while he went after Alex alone.

I think that's why he's not talking about what happened.

He let me back into the loft because he feels bad about me dying, I guess. But, I'm not sure he really wants me here anymore.

I don't know what to do. I can't think straight.

It's the anger…it just keeps getting in the way.

I've got to get a grip.

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

Well, today was fun. I find out a student, that arrogant rich daddy's boy, Rick Ventriss, has raped one of my students and blackmailed a grad student into writing a paper for him. And then when I confronted Ventriss about it, he threatened my job.

I wanted to slug him.

Note to self: interesting line above. Do I resent Ventriss because he's rich? And has a father? Am I scared of him because he probably can get me fired?

The hell with it. He's a jerk. Worse than that…he's dangerous. He hurts people with no compunction. But, good for me, I controlled the impulse to wipe that patronizing sneer off his face and did things right. I went down to the station to see if he had a rap sheet, and to tell Jim about it so that Jim could help me figure out how to nail this turkey.

Yeah, right. Like Jim cares about what worries me these days.

First he made some crack about it's nice that I beamed down, like I don't have anything else to do but hang around at his beck and call all day, every day…and night, for that matter. Dammit, I do have a job, one that pays the rent he seems to be so worried about. But, that's never mattered has it? If it's not police work, it just doesn't count, doesn't matter. I should be used to that by now. I guess I'm tired.

But…then he physically pushed me away from his desk! What was that about? He said he couldn't help me and that he had a murder to solve. Well, yeah, that's important, sure, but couldn't he just listen for a minute? Couldn't he see that what was going on at the university is wrong? That people who are still breathing, who can still feel, are being hurt? Don't live victims who are still at risk have some priority over those who cannot be hurt anymore? Or is a rapist less of a threat to society than a murderer? Maybe. I haven't thought about that before…maybe he had a point. But, I really couldn't believe the little lecture about the law that he spouted so righteously …like that's ever stopped him from finding a way to do what's right.

And, that follow-up crack about not letting anger take me out of the game, and the snide reminder about that being one of my better 'lectures'. Is that how he sees all the coaching I've been doing with him? All the times I've tried to give him a different perspective to help him control his senses…as 'lectures'? To be thrown back in my face when the time is right?

I need to think about this, re-evaluate everything I thought about our partnership. If I'm in the way, and he resents the help I'm trying to give him, what's the point? I can't force him to accept my help…or my friendship.

Maybe I've been living in a dream world, so caught up with believing we had some special connection here, so convinced that I'm some kind of 'guide' that he needs…maybe I've been deliberately blind, only seeing things the way I want them to be. That can happen when you lose your objectivity.

And, as far as Jim is concerned, I lost my objectivity a long time ago. Right around when I decided to ditch the chance of a lifetime to go with Eli to Borneo and flew off to Peru instead. And jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. For friendship.

I thought that meant something to both of us.

Have I been wrong?

If I think about it, maybe things haven't been all that good for a while. Maybe I've really been missing the signals. Like when Jim took off for a fishing weekend on his own and Simon and I tracked him down. He didn't want us there. He said he loved us, but he really needed space. Made some crack then about feeling like a lab rat, or something like that.

He's never said anything about the fact that, for a while there, we all thought I might have been really sick, maybe even dying in that scary isolation tent.

Not word one about it.

And when we went undercover in suburbia, I know he thought I was a fool to get involved emotionally.

And, oh, man, he was really steamed about the draft chapter of the dissertation I had to hand in to Eli. He didn't trust me enough to let it go. He had to read it…and he didn't understand it. Told me I'd violated his privacy and his trust. What about his violation of my trust? I guess that doesn't count.

Yeah, I guess I have been missing the signals. He'd been telling me for a while before Alex blew into our lives that he wasn't comfortable around me, that he doesn't really trust me. Maybe that's why I was having that weird dream for a while. It was like I was lost in some kind of jungle and I knew I was being hunted. I wanted to find Jim but didn't know where he was. The place looked sorta like the jungles in Peru or Mexico. And, then, it's like I'm this wolf, and I've been shot with an arrow…and I know I'm dying…that I died. Makes me shudder to think about it. Maybe I have been lost for a while and just didn't consciously notice that Jim isn't there for me anymore, not the way he was in the beginning. Maybe I just didn't want to notice. 'Cause it will feel like dying if I lose what we have. What if I've lost it already?

The dream has stopped. I haven't had it since the fountain. But, I still feel lost.

I'm not sure I count anymore, if I ever did, in Jim's life. And I'm really not sure where that leaves me.

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

Well, today was even better than yesterday. I got the crap beaten out of me by some thugs. I know Ventriss was behind it. But do you think I can convince Jim? Oh, no. My 'blessed protector' saved me, thank God, but then made cracks about my love life, like I have time for one anymore, and then he just told me I had to back off on Ventriss and should use my head as something other than a punching bag. As if that wasn't enough, he told me to wear some shades so I wouldn't scare any little kids, and then he suggested to a witness that I should just have a bag over my head.

I mean, come on! What was that about? He sounded so angry and disgusted…like I deserved it or something. Like he was angry with me and embarrassed about being seen with me. If I'm such a burden, why'd he bother taking me along in the first place? I felt…what? Diminished? Demeaned? Was he just trying to be funny? He never used to hurt me this way.

I know I used to tease him about his 'mother hen' tendencies whenever I got hurt, but this was…weird. He didn't suggest we go to a hospital, just tossed a bag of peas at me and insulted me.

Something's not right here.

And my anger is getting worse. I can hardly focus on anything but Ventriss, and I'm shouting all the time. That's not me.

I'm out of control and it scares me.

I don't think it's Ventriss…he's just the excuse.

I think it has something to do with dying and now not knowing what my life is for anymore. I used to know. It was about teaching and research, finding new truths. It was about helping Jim…being his friend.

But what if he doesn't want my friendship? What if he really wishes I were out of his life?

Is he sorry, unconsciously maybe, that he brought me back? No. No, I really can't believe that. But maybe he's sorry that I'm still underfoot and he doesn't know how to tell me to disappear.

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

Well, it seems it's not just Jim who is running out of patience with me. Simon snapped at me today when we were observing Ventriss' interrogation. "Why don't you just shoot him?" he snarled. A novel way of telling me to shut up.

And later, not long after Jim had reminded me that my face is still a little scary from the black eye, thanks so much, Simon tells Jim he needs to get me on Prozac. Good, now I'm apparently mentally incompetent and they can talk about me like I'm not there. When I tried to stay focused on the case, furious that Simon was worried about the pressure the rich could bring on him and the department, he yelled at Jim that he didn't need my teeth in his backside. Why couldn't he just yell at me…why yell at me through Jim?

Great time for Chancellor Edwards' message to arrive. Simon was pissed. Wanted to know why he was getting my messages and why I was meeting with her and Ventriss in her office. Then he tells me to back off and threatens to terminate my involvement with the department, 'I kid you not!' he shouted. Whoa! I shout at him and he threatens to throw me out? After nearly four years? What is going on here?

Sometimes I think there was a really big cosmic screw up when Jim brought me back at the fountain. I think maybe I really was supposed to die and that now I'm in the way and it's causing a discontinuity or something in the pattern of life. So they put up with having me around, but it annoys the hell out of them, Jim and Simon, that is. As if they're just looking for an excuse to blow me off.

As if that wasn't bad enough, it looks like the time continuum is screwed up at the University as well. Apparently, I don't belong there either anymore.

Thanks to Ventriss and his lawyer, Chancellor Edwards fired me today for having violated my contract. I've missed too many days of time, including the 12 days in Peru almost two years ago, not to mention the time recovering from gunshot wounds, and drowning and, oh yeah, that recent delightful little trip to Mexico, and I haven't submitted my doctoral thesis despite supposedly researching it for the last five years.

I'm so mad I could spit! God Damn It! I missed the time to help Jim…and Simon and Daryl, too, for that matter. I don't get paid for it. Jim only seems to resent it. Simon would like an excuse to cancel my observer status and now I don't have a job at the University and no way to finish my degree. I did it because I thought we were all friends. Maybe I don't understand the concept of friendship? Is that it?

Or maybe I just thought they'd gotten past the fact that I'm not quite of 'their world'. I know I'm different. My hair's long and I used to wear earrings and I don't dress the way they do. I'm not particularly deferential, and I talk back, I guess, when they'd prefer I just keep my mouth shut. But I've really tried to help, and I thought I was making some real contributions, not just to Jim, as great as that felt, but to the department, too. I've tried to fit in, tried to handle the violence and the ugliness of death, and sometimes the terror. I didn't complain when I got shot going after Simon when he was taken hostage. I tried not to make a big deal about almost being blown up on a bus, or being hauled out of police HQ by Garrett Kincaid, or even being taken by Lash right at the beginning because I knew they'd just figure I couldn't handle the heat or the danger their work entails. I've tried so hard, dammit, but all I ever get is 'you're not a cop, Sandburg', when they notice I'm there at all. And now they don't even want me around anymore.

And Simon thinks I need to learn to live in the 'real world'. Yeah, right. It doesn't get much more 'real' than this.

Whine, whine, bitch, moan and complain. Jesus. I sound like a victim. Can't have that. I'm not a child. I'm a grown up, independent, human being. I made my choices for what I thought were good reasons. If I was wrong, there's no one to blame but myself.

I'm screwed.

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

It was a good day. We took Ventriss down.

Oh, yeah, I had to jump out of a helicopter to do it and damned near froze in the icy water. And, that helicopter ride, well, don't get me started. I thought, for sure, we were going to be killed. I am SUCH an idiot. I grabbed hold of Jim so hard that I made a fool of myself. "Get a grip on something other than me!" he shouted.

I remember the days when he was protective and would order me to stay behind him or stay in the truck. A long time ago, it seems now. Guess anybody'd get tired of someone clinging onto him like a wuss. Was he just talking about me grabbing him in the helicopter…or did he mean something more and it was just a chance to say it? Does he see me as some kind of clinging vine that he doesn't know how to weed out of his life?

I feel like the ground has shifted under my feet and I don't know what's solid anymore. Like I've been living in some kind of dream world, mistaking illusion for reality…and dying changed it all. Made me see what is, not what I wish was real.

Yeah, it was a good day. I should feel good about it.

But I just feel empty.

Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe I'm just, I don't know, unsettled by having drowned and I'm reading too much into things. They were all glad I didn't die, I know that. Jim brought me back…he could have let me go. Everyone else had given up; I know that from what Megan told me on the way down to Mexico. But not Jim. He was devastated, she said. They all were.

So, maybe I just need to get my act together here.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll begin again. I'll wear my hair loose, like I used to. And I'll tease Jim and be funny, like I used to be. Before…before I got so scared. And so angry.

Before I died.

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

I saw the Chancellor today. Seems the fact that Ventriss is a murderer also makes the fact that he might have cheated on his paper more believable, so she's deigned to give me another chance, providing my attendance improves and I get my doctoral thesis in within the next four months. I guess I should be grateful for small mercies…she didn't have to take me back. I am in contract violation.

Went down to the station afterward and saw Jim. Missed him this morning. He was gone by the time I got up. He said my face looks better today and he asked me how my head was. I told him that my head told me that 'just 'cause you're right, doesn't mean you always get what you want,' and then I cut up with a big loopy grin making like the Beaver. Guess it worked. He joked back and we went off to look at a murder victim at 'Miller Pond'. That wasn't a lot of fun. Oh well. You'd think I'd get used to it.

Saw Joel at the station later and he asked me again what Jim had been doing yesterday, like he could hear that Ventriss and his girlfriend were there, just out of sight. And he pointed out other things Jim had done in the past week…like know an aerosol spray had been used to trick out the security beams at the victim's house, spotting a single strand of hair from about fifty feet away, feeling static electricity on his skin, feeling the name of a contact on a blank pad with his fingertips. Little things like that. Oh, Joel made a joke about wanting to take the same scientific investigative course that Jim had taken, but he looked at me funny. And he muttered, 'Sometimes I think there're things going on that folks just aren't talking about', and waited, giving me a chance to say something if I wanted. He looked disappointed when I didn't. I feel like I'm lying to our friends…and I hate that. But it's not my secret…it's Jim's.

But it looks like Jim's either getting careless, or he doesn't care anymore who notices what he can do. Which would be a good thing. It would mean he's taking his senses for granted, finally, and is unconsciously accepting them and that others might actually be able to accept them, too. It would be so much easier if he could see them that way. Oh, I know some creeps like Brackett might come after him, but Brackett has already figured it out. The run of the mill psychos we deal with could care less about Jim's senses. And if we could get them validated, using the research I've gathered and through a few physical demonstrations, then he could testify in court about what he can hear and see, not have to let that stuff go as inadmissible.

So, I hope he is getting more comfortable. It would be better for him and even for the tribe he protects.

Maybe it has all been in my own head. Maybe if I just let the anger go and be grateful to be alive, everything will be fine.

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

Oh, great, late again today, only today it was for the charity game between the Jags and the PD and I was really looking forward to it. I thought the faculty meeting was never going to end, and dashed out when it finally finished like my tail was on fire. Silly, I guess, to be so excited…like a little kid.

I could see the forbearance on Jim's face as I raced down the stairs to the arena floor and could imagine his 'look who finally showed up' comment to Simon just from the way he shook his head and the set of his shoulders. But the crack about thinking he was stuck in an old Polish horror movie, that I guess I wasn't supposed to hear, I really didn't need. So I look like a goofball beside those giants? So what? Why is it that he can never seem to leave off kidding me about being shorter than all the behemoths down at the PD? Like I chose this? Like it matters?

As it turned out, I don't know why I rushed anyway. As they so often remind me, I'm not a cop…so the PD insurance wouldn't cover me if I got hurt on the court. These guys…I go out in the field with Jim, get shot at…would the insurance cover that? And I couldn't be seen in the photo shots, because I'm not a cop. So what if I helped solve…I'm whining again. I have GOT to get a grip on that.

So what? The really big issue is that Kincaid escaped. Man, he is one of the stars of my long running nightmares. From the way Daryl looked, I think Kincaid figures prominently in a few of his nightmares, too. You'd think after what Daryl experienced as a hostage that day that being a cop would be the last thing the kid would ever want to be in his life. But, nope. He wants to take after his Dad, I guess.

Too bad his Dad doesn't get it. Most fathers would be proud to know their sons want to grow up to be just like them. But, then Simon wants something more for Daryl than ducking bullets. If he was my kid, I'd feel the same way, I guess. But, it's not Simon's decision what Daryl does with his life.

It's Daryl's.

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

Whoa, now this was a day to inspire a whole new run of nightmares and cold sweats. Started out the way it was going to go, with Simon taking a shot at me for sticking up for Daryl's point of view. Some crack about me not having any kids that I know of. Like I'd ever do that. People who grow up knowing who their parents are just don't get it. Don't know you'd never condemn someone to the kind of mystery of not knowing who you are, not completely. Of not knowing where you come from, or who your family is, what your heritage and personal history is. It's like a big, gaping hole that just looms there, black and bottomless, with no way to get across. You learn to live with it…but you never forget it's there.

Sure, I know I enjoy the company of the ladies, and I haven't made any long-term commitments yet. But, Jim and Simon made those commitments, and look at them. Both of them divorced already. When, if, I settle down, it's going to be for good. I'm not leaving my kids with half a home. I'm just not going to do that. So, if I take my time, so what? If I enjoy women, is that such a big deal? As if they didn't? But I would never be so careless and uncaring, never leave someone at risk of having my kid without me ever knowing it. Not ever.

Well, that's the way the day started off, but then it got SO much better. Well, it looked like it was getting better at the time. I blew Jim off on a routine witness questioning to go to the Jags game with Simon and Daryl. Not very 'partner-like' of me, was it? Pretty selfish. Teach him to think I'm an outcast from a Polish horror movie.

Great, now I'm getting passive aggressive. Used to be, I'd just tell him if I was pissed off. Speak my mind. When did I stop doing that? When did it start to matter more what he thinks of me than who I really am?

Anyway, Kincaid and his goons took over the sports arena.

My inclination was to just hide in the crowd and keep Daryl safe, but that plan was shot to hell when Simon did this crazy hero bit to try to take Kincaid down personally. What did he think? That all the other goons would just buy some popcorn and watch their main man go down? Cops. I love 'em…but, man, don't they ever learn that you've got to pick your time to be a hero? Otherwise it just blows up in your face.

To be fair, I think Simon was rattled by knowing Daryl was there, somewhere, and potentially in danger. The poor guy just wanted it all to be over and tried to rush it a little. Can't blame him. If Daryl was my kid, I might have done the same thing.

After Simon was taken prisoner, we, Daryl and I, were the only cavalry left, at least inside the building. I knew Jim would be up to something. He'd bail us out. But in the meantime, we needed to do something to help ourselves, not to mention Simon and the team. That maniac Kincaid had threatened to kill them all, and I was pretty sure he'd do it too, despite all his words about letting folks go if he got the money he wanted.

Well, the rescue attempt went pretty well for a few minutes…until Kincaid and his reinforcements showed up. Daryl was amazing! Saved his Dad's life at one point. He's not a kid anymore. And I don't say that just 'cause he's at least as tall as I am now. But, our rescue attempt failed and we were all in trouble, big time. Hustled out of the arena and into a panel truck. Driven off somewhere. Didn't know what was going to happen to us, but figured we were going to be killed. But, I hadn't seen Jim anywhere, and figured he'd find a way to save us, so I wasn't really worried.

And he did. Save us, I mean.

I'm rambling. Classic avoidance tactics. The issue isn't Simon taking potshots at my morality, or even about Kincaid. It isn't even about the possibility of maybe getting killed again.

I shot a gun today with the intent of trying to hit someone.

When Jim rescued us, there was no time to call backup if we were going to stop Kincaid. Hero time again. Why do we get into these messes? Anyway, Jim and Simon with some help from Leroy took out the guys who had been sent to kill us, as Jim so clearly put it when I asked him why he shot into the back of the empty truck. 'I'm killing you,' he said as he looked straight into my eyes. Interesting choice of words, I thought.

Anyway, Simon handed me a handgun and I took it without even thinking about it, and then we were running to get cover where we could shoot at Kincaid and his men to keep them from getting away. Jim was going to drop some tear gas into the submarine's hatch to incapacitate them.

Before I knew it, I was shooting along with everyone else and they were shooting at us. Jim got hit, but was saved by his vest, thank God. The guys saved the day with a tremendous 'four point shot'; wish they could do that on the court…

I've held guns before. Hey, the first time I rode with Jim before I even became an observer, I held a gun on the lady bomber aka 'The Switchman'. Damn near got myself killed when she attacked me and we had to fight for the gun, but I held it and knocked her out. Some gentleman I'm turning out to be. And then I held a flare gun on one of Kincaid's men to make him fly the helicopter back to Police HQ. And I held a gun on Quinn's girlfriend out in that forest. Well, I'd already been shot once on that trip and figured once was enough. Then there was the time Jim gave me his gun when we were on the train and he was heading out to do some reconnaissance and was leaving me to guard the witness. And I held another gun in Peru, when we went after Simon and Daryl.

But, most of the time, I only had to hold the damn things. I wasn't supposed to shoot anyone, just, what, pretend I'd shoot if they didn't behave.

I shot that gun today. With deliberate intent.

What the hell is happening to me? Where did the guy who believed in peaceful solutions go? Have I been surrounded by violence so long that I not only accept it now but have slipped into becoming a part of it without even noticing?

Is this part of that anger I can't seem to shake? Or is it just that we didn't have much choice…I didn't have much choice. Kincaid and his bunch of so-called Patriots are stone cold killers. If they weren't stopped, they'd kill who knows how many people.

So, good, I can rationalize it. Great. And the next time? When I do more than shoot? When I actually kill someone? Will I be able to rationalize that?

Did the real Blair Sandburg die in that fountain after all? Am I just some angry look-alike who doesn't even know what he believes in anymore, who is furious all the time and trying to hide it…and who is willing to shoot at other human beings?

Who am I? What do I stand for?

I wish there was someone I could talk to about all this.

But Mom wouldn't understand. Much as she likes Jim, she thinks I'm nuts hanging around with the cops. Simon and Jim wouldn't get it…guns are a part of their lives. They don't want to kill anyone, but they will if it's necessary. It's a matter of duty for them. The departmental shrink at the PD? Oh, yeah, right, I'm not a cop so I don't have access…and my health insurance sure wouldn't cover counseling. Nobody at the university would 'get it', either. They all think I'm nuts, too, and can't figure out why it's taking so damned long to get my dissertation on police subcultures written.

God, I'm scared.

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

Jim ran into an old friend today, almost literally when the guy hotrodded across our lane. Turns out, they were in Covert Ops together and the guy saved Jim's life. Wouldn't mind getting to know him better. Might give me some insight into Jim, help me better understand that part of his life.

But, Jim didn't introduce me, not really. Didn't tell the guy, Archer his name was, that I'm his friend, or his partner or his roommate…just my name. He told me, though, that Archer had saved his life. Funny, I'm sure there was a time or two when I did the same thing, but he didn't seem inclined to share that with Archer.

Jim went out to meet Archer for dinner. I hinted around about not having anything to do, but Jim wasn't buying any. I guess he just wanted to spend time with a friend tonight.

More and more, I get the feeling that 'friend' doesn't describe who I am in his life.

Ah, well…I really needed the time anyway to work on the dissertation.

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

Jim was odd this morning when I asked him how dinner had gone. He didn't say anything at first, just shrugged and turned away. Then he mumbled something about Archer's wife being there. Veronica.

It was the way he said it, his body language, something, I don't know. But I've spent more than three years studying this guy and I know when he's hurting, and I know when he's hiding something…and this morning, it was both, big time.

I asked him to tell me who Veronica was, but he blew me off. Said it didn't matter. That it was a long time ago.

And then he walked out.

Guess he forgot I was going to ride in with him this morning.

Classic avoidance behavior. I don't know who she is, but I do know she's important to him…and that she hurt him somehow. Hurt him bad.

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

Something smells about all this Archer and Veronica business. I guess Jim met her and found out his old friend is in some kind of trouble. Getting details out of him is like pulling teeth these days. Anyway, we went to meet with Archer, or I thought it was going to be 'we', but Jim left me in the truck.

We're back to the old puppy routine. 'Stay', like I'm a dog or something. I thought we'd gotten past that a long time ago.

Then we went to meet up with the union guy from the Midwest. When he asked who I was, Jim just said, 'Don't worry about him.' Used to be I had a name.

The guy as much as accused Jim of being a dirty cop.

Anyway, we got the runaround. Nobody is giving a straight story.

There is something that doesn't feel right about any of this. I told Jim today that he should walk away, get some other detective to look into what was shaping up to be a mess. But he wouldn't listen. Archer's his friend, he said.

I couldn't help it…I blurted out that I didn't think it was Archer he was concerned about.

It's Veronica that has Jim going in circles.

I wish he'd talk to me. I wish I knew what was going on. How can I help him if I don't know what's going on?

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

God, Archer was killed today! Blown up outside his own house. They hauled the union guy in, and I watched the interrogation. I could see Jim was shocked to hear that Veronica had been in contact with the union official.

And then he took off without me. Just up and left in the middle of the interrogation session.

I called after him, but he left me behind.

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

It feels like I haven't seen Jim for days. He's caught up in the investigation of Archer's death. And there's something about Veronica, but he won't say what.

Damn it. I do NOT trust that woman.

I haven't even met her and I don't trust her.

But I can see that she has Jim running around in circles, as tense as a two by four. Who IS she? What does she mean to him?

Why do I feel like Jim is being led down some kind of garden path…and that he's going to be hung out to dry?

Oh, very good, Sandburg. Nothing like mixing your metaphors. Get a grip and get some sleep.

Sleep…seems like a rare commodity. One thing with Jim leaving me on my own so much lately, I've been making good progress with the diss. Still have to figure out how to keep Jim's identity safe, though. Eli thinks we may be able to have a 'closed defense' and the subject matter could be sealed for something like 25 years.

I wonder if I could get Jim to relax enough about people knowing about his abilities in the next twenty-five years that he doesn't shoot me or something when it actually does comes to light.

There has to be a way to protect his privacy. Eli will help me work it out.

What happens to us, to Jim and me, once the dissertation is finished? We need to talk about that. I can't just assume he'll still want me hanging around. Not the way things have been lately; well, for a while now, anyway.

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

Jim was home when I came in tonight. I gotta say, he looks like ten miles of bad road these days. I don't think he's sleeping much.

I decided I had to try to get him to see that Veronica is a legitimate suspect in her husband's death. Hell, Jim's the one who drilled me on 'MOM'…and he wasn't meaning anything maternal. Motive, opportunity and means. I pointed out that $3 mill and an abusive husband is quite a motive. And she sure had opportunity. He argued means, and I pointed out she could have had help.

He told me I needed 'help'. He didn't look very happy with me, I'm afraid.

Guess I blew it.

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

I observed the IA interrogation of Jim by the charming Ray Aldo today. And, finally, I understand how much Veronica meant to Jim. Probably still means to him.

But, you know, I don't think he even noticed when he revealed how she'd been two-timing him years ago with Archer. It never seemed to occur to him that someone who cheated him once might well be cheating again.

I saw her with Jim in the garage but was too far away to hear what she was saying. He looked wrecked when she walked away. I think he knows now, beyond any doubt, that she set him up.

I wanted to belt her for the pain I saw in his eyes. No wonder this guy has such a thing about trust. He's known more betrayal than anyone should ever have to experience in a single lifetime. It's not right and it's sure not fair. Jim gives everything he's got to the people he cares about…and he'd give his life to protect them, to do what's right. He's decent. He doesn't deserve to be hurt like this.

And nobody should ever have to bear such hurt alone. God, I wish he'd trust me enough to let me in, to let me help him.

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

It all broke loose today. They suspended Jim. I couldn't believe it. But Simon said he just didn't have any choice.

At least Jim let me go with him this time to look for evidence of who's the real murderer in this little scenario.

And he found it…security tapes that showed Veronica and, guess who, Ray Aldo, buying the explosives that killed her husband.

Now that took me by surprise. Who would have thought she and Aldo even knew each other before Archer got murdered? I thought then that we'd find out how they'd met when their statements were taken. Now, I don't know if we'll ever know exactly what was going on or how long the set up had been running. Was Aldo always a part of it, or had she bought him off when he figured it out? He was a part of the murder plot, had to be since he was there when the explosives were purchased.

Simon put out an APB on Aldo and then we went to pick her up. Jim asked for a chance to get her to surrender and went in alone. You can't blame the guy for trying. I think he really did love her. I wonder if he still does.

When the shots rang out, I thought I'd have a heart attack. Jim didn't have his gun back yet…he was still officially suspended even if Simon had brought him along on the arrest. So he wasn't the one doing the shooting!

Simon and I raced to the front door and barged in to find Jim crouching over Veronica and Aldo dead a few feet away. Actually, Veronica was dead, too. They'd shot one another.

Jim said he was fine.

But he was lying. I could see it in his eyes. The hurt. The loss. The wish that just once life could turn out like the fairy tales and everyone could live happily ever after.

I told Simon he'd be fine. But, I'm really not sure about that. I think this will haunt him for a very long time. Jim's not a guy who gets over being hurt easily.

He still won't talk to me.

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

Tonight, when I was heading home from the University, my car started acting up. It was just after midnight and the streets were deserted. When another vehicle pulled in behind me and a bunch of guys got out of the car, I knew I was in trouble. I called 911 and reported a crime in progress, and thanks to Fortune, my car finally started up and I got out of there. There was a guy standing right in front, but I was too scared to care. He flew over the hood when I took off…God, what if I'd killed him? But, he was okay. Just real mad.

They came after me and started shooting, blew out the rear window and a tire. I ended up crashing into an old abandoned building. God, I was so scared. I ran into the building to get away from them.

And tripped over a guy bleeding to death in the hall.

I tried to stop the bleeding, but I couldn't. There were sirens and then Jim was there and others. I don't really remember. Simon showed up, I remember that.

I felt bad about not being able to help the guy, but Jim told me there was nothing I could have done. But he didn't touch me, you know? Not my shoulder or arm. There was a time when I was hurting that he would have touched me. It's what Jim does. He has trouble saying how he feels, sometimes, hell, most of the time, so he touches to show he cares or to give comfort.

I'd just been almost car-jacked, shot at, had a car accident and found a guy who virtually died in my arms.

But it was Simon who asked me if I was all right.

Jim saw something through one of the windows and we went back to investigate, thinking maybe the killer was still in there. But Jim led us to a closet. I know I made some snarky remark, something about 'Good work, detective'. I know I sounded cold. I felt cold. Inside.

Simon suggested Jim was upset, worried about his 'friend' who was standing right there, having not had a great night.

But Jim jumped right in to protest that no way was he stressed. I mean, why would he be?

Simon offered me condolences about my car and I asked if the department could help with repairs…should have known better. Simon laughed at me. Now, I know it was crazy to hope for some financial relief, but they had captured the perps thanks to me, not to mention found another body…but the laugh was cold, man. I honestly don't know how I'm going to float the money for those repairs. And I need the car.

Anyway, that's not important.

After Simon left, Jim saw it again, some shape in the closet I couldn't see.

Definitely an experience with the mysterious.

I think Jim was seeing a ghost.

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

The next morning, I gave Jim an herbal lozenge for his cold. He made a fuss and a face but he took it, and even thanked me. But, when I tried to get him to talk about what happened last night, he tried to shut me down.

Said he's had about as much as he can handle with this 'Sentinel stuff'. What's that supposed to mean? Is this another message that I'm not getting…that he wants out? That he wants it all to be over? I really need to think about this. I know I'm avoiding it, avoiding having to face that he really doesn't want me around anymore.

Anyway, par for the course, I ignored his comment and argued back that there is reason to believe there can be phenomena such as ghosts. Too bad Simon and Joel overheard and couldn't restrain a hearty laugh at my gullibility.

Jim wasn't very pleased. Told me I'd been a lot of help.

But…he saw something. And if I've learned anything, it's to trust Jim's senses. He doesn't make things up, not something like this. He did see something; I know he did. So, I got my gear together and told him when he got home that I thought he'd seen a ghost. He didn't agree.

But then we a got a call from Joel that sounds had been heard at the abandoned building.

Should have known it would be a set up. Those clowns couldn't resist making me look like a fool. Rafe and H were hiding out in the building. Jim didn't look too thrilled, but he didn't bother to stand with me, wouldn't admit to what he'd seen or what he might or might not believe.

But, when she showed up again after they'd left, he told me to grab my stuff and follow him. I heard him say, 'I knew I wasn't seeing things.' Sure wish he'd said that to the other guys. But he's always so afraid that people will think he's a freak or something. Such incredible, amazing, gifts…and he thinks he's a freak. How am I ever going to get him to see, to understand, that what he has, what he is, is nothing to be ashamed of?

He's seen a woman…and she's started to show him things.

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

Well today, when Simon ragged me on the ghost thing, I decided I'd had enough. Simon's the only one who we can be even semi-straight with. So, I blurted it out. That Jim had seen her again. At least he finally admitted it to Simon.

Who still didn't want to hear about it. The Captain figures we belong in the Looney bin. But he at least gave us the benefit of a doubt and allowed the composite of a homeless guy, who we found out later is Robert Dunlop, to be put on the street.

And that led us to the woman's belongings. Jim could tell by the scent on the clothes, the same scent he smells when she appears. We found out her name was Molly, and there were pictures. Jim recognized her.

Molly is the woman in the mirror.

So we went back again tonight. When Jim wondered why only he and Dunlop could see her, I finally admitted some information that I've known for years, but didn't really want to get into with him, for obvious reasons. I told Jim that one of the symptoms of mental disorder is heightened senses. Actually, he took it better than I ever thought he would. He said he was crazy for putting up with me. I like to think he was joking about that.

Jim saw her again…his respiration rate went through the roof. She gave him another clue… 'Mrs. Sam Bromley'.

He says he called to me, but I didn't hear him. I wonder if somehow I'm being shut out. Like Incacha told Jim to leave me behind when he went to the Temple in Mexico. Maybe I'm really not any part of this…that Jim can do it all himself now. Maybe I don't really belong here anymore?

Now that I've given him some idea of how to control his senses, maybe my time here is done and I just don't know it or won't accept it.

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

Today I shared a theory with Jim that spirits who can't rest hang around until whatever is holding them here is resolved. And, you know, he really cared about that. Said that if there is another life after we die, that she deserves to find it. I can tell he really cares about her, about this wandering, tortured spirit.

This is what I see in Jim. A man who really cares about the helpless and the innocent, though he finds it difficult to show it. I have such respect for him. I mean, a guy who has been hurt as much as he has been, who has been betrayed or abandoned by almost everyone he ever cared about…and he still cares about the spirit of a woman who can't rest. He still wants to do the right thing…because it's the right thing to do. He's just such a decent human being.

And, hell, whether he'll talk about it or not, we both know there is something after death. I was dead when I saw the vision of the jungle, and the panther and the wolf running toward each other. That conversation about Molly might have been a chance to talk to him about what happened to me, to us…but, as usual, the immediate reality took precedence over the past…

We got a call that Dunlop was back at the shelter, demanding Molly's stuff, so we took it back. He took off and Jim figured out where he'd gone…back to the abandoned building. When we got there, he told me to stay in the truck. That Dunlop was probably still armed, and Jim didn't want to agitate him.

There was a time when Jim wanted me to stay in the truck so that I wouldn't get hurt. Or go with him to help settle down agitated people, because I'm good at that. People relax around me. Or at least they used to.

Maybe coming back from the dead makes people figure that you're invulnerable now, or something. Maybe that's why he doesn't seem to worry about me any more. Maybe that anger I feel inside is making me less comfortable to be around now. Maybe it shows.

He was in there a long time. When I finally went in to get him, he was zoned in front of the mirror and Dunlop was gone. I had to touch him and call to him repeatedly to bring him out of it. When I think about that, I realize that I haven't touched him in a long time. It's like there's some kind of wall between us now.

He says Molly showed him Trent is the murderer.

We headed back to the PD to track down some more information. I ended up blurting out Molly's name to Simon and Joel. Joel made some crack about garlic, which is really only useful to ward off vampires, and Simon blasted us…Jim wasn't happy with my indiscretion.

Why am I always screwing up lately?

So, anyway, we went to Bromley's studio and I realized he's a renowned artist. Which earned me another crack from Jim. Something like maybe I 'got' this modern art but he waved at an empty canvas and said it just looked like a big, white square to him. Well, duh???

Sometimes I get really tired of the putdowns, you know.

Bromley recognized her picture, called her his 'Venus'.

Which led me to my old text on modern art. And I found Molly…or the statue of her called 'Venus' that had once been in the park across from her building. I thought Jim would be pleased, that he'd thank me for my help…but he didn't. God, I'm getting pathetic. Like a kid looking for approval. Needing it. Ridiculous. We're partners. Partners help one another. One doesn't expect thanks from the other for adding to the common pool of information. I am 'way too sensitive lately…gotta get a grip.

Next thing we knew, Dunlop called and we went to meet him at the old building. We were early and so we went to check on the park…sure enough, the old base of the statue is still there. And I noticed the dedication was only two days after Molly died.

Dunlop arrived, and Trent was there, too. There was some shooting and Jim got Trent. Dunlop gave Jim the papers that proved why Trent had killed his partner.

So, that's one murder solved, courtesy of a ghost only Jim and Dunlop can see…and Jim still doesn't want to let anyone know he sees or communicates with her.

It was like old times, though, when he told me to stay behind him when the bullets started to fly. That's the first time he's said that in a very long time.

Jim tried to get Dunlop to tell him about Molly's murder. Dunlop didn't want to tell…he'd promised not to ever tell. He's still scared of the murderer coming after him. But, Molly showed Jim something.

So we ended up going back to the park. And Jim found the gun that had killed Molly in the base of the statue.

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

Today they brought Sam Bromley to Molly's old apartment and we had Dunlop there, and Simon. Jim tried to stimulate Bromley's memory by having Dunlop quote what Bromley had said so many years ago, repeating the old threats.

I asked Bromley why he'd killed Molly when it was clear that his memories had surfaced and he was lucid again. God, what a sad story. People have such sad stories, you know? He loved her and he killed her. He cried when he said he'd never love anyone again. Why do people do that? Why do they hurt the people they love and who love them? Fear…Bromley was afraid of losing the income his wife was providing. Fear drove him to kill Molly. Fear killed something inside of him that day, too. Was protecting the fear worth more than the love Molly would have given him? Why do people make such screwed up, painful, pitiful choices? When you get right down to it, life is damned short. We don't have time to screw around making the wrong choices, pushing love away, living in darkness. Fear, pain…it's not worth it. It's just not worth what they cost, not if you have any kind of choice.

I couldn't believe it when they took him downtown for booking. Procedures. Right. What about humanity?

Sometimes, it just doesn't make any sense to me. Who cared at that point if he was charged, prosecuted and convicted for a fifty-year-old murder? He isn't a danger to anyone else. The man is old and sick, locked in the prison of his own mind. What more can they do to him?

Simon decided that the only reason Jim thought he could see Molly was because there'd been some peyote in the herbal medicine I'd given Jim for his cold. I can't believe Simon had that analyzed! How weird is that? God, it's not like I'm some kind of pusher or suspect or something! Simon knows I'd never give Jim anything that would hurt him or be illegal, doesn't he? Then, he called me disparagingly, 'your friend, Sandburg, here'. Like I wasn't his friend, too.

Anyway, after Simon left, Molly came back to thank Jim for helping her. She's at peace now, and I'm really glad about that. So's Jim.

But, I have to wonder, would he have helped her if I hadn't kept pushing him to accept he'd seen something he wasn't sure he wanted to believe in?

Is that my role? To make him believe in his senses even when he doubts them himself?

Is that enough?

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

Vince Deal came in today, wanting us to investigate the alleged suicide of an old friend…says he thinks his friend was murdered.

Damned if later in the day, he didn't take a look at the crime scene photos and saw something that shouldn't have been overlooked. The oven his friend had supposedly gassed himself in had been turned off. Jim and Simon immediately figured there was something to Vince's idea after all.

I didn't want to discourage them. I've always given Vince more credit than they've tended to do. Too often, they see him as an old 'has been' who drinks too much, like his old friend.

But nobody seemed to consider that it was likely the crime scene people who had turned off the oven, or maybe whoever had found his friend. Or the EMTs who first responded to the scene. I mean, who would leave gas pouring into the kitchen while they were trying to help the victim or investigate his death?

Much as I get a kick out of Vince, though, when I saw him hitting on Megan, I tried to warn her off. Vince has quite a reputation with the ladies…or so he'd like us all to believe. It's probably true. But he's old enough to be her father.

I got a crack from her about my 'image', or lack of one, for my trouble. And then Jim, who had overheard, of course, called me 'Romeo'. Like I can't be worried about a friend without being jealous? Sometimes I feel like I'm some kind of cliché. That people only see what I used to be, before…well before the fountain.

Nobody seems to have noticed that I haven't had a date since.

Or that I've only worn my hair loose a few times since.

Or that I haven't worn my earrings since.

They still see me the way I was three years ago.

I feel like I'm invisible to all of them now. Like I'm just a memory or something, that's still walking around, getting in the way.

Later tonight, we were on the way to Vince's friend's place at 1340 Bridgewater, and then got a call of a prowler at the same address.

We found Vince there and Megan figured that maybe Vince might be a target.

So I talked Jim into letting Vince come home with us for a couple of days.

I'm surprised I'm still breathing.

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

Jim went undercover with Hydra Security today. There looks like there's a connection between Max's death and some information that Simon's been wondering about Hydra from another source, that some of their clients are being blackmailed.

I gather Vince had already gotten himself a job as their new company 'spokesperson' for their commercials.

Jim wasn't happy about that, not happy at all.

Later that night, we decided we needed somebody to go undercover as a client.

Should be fun.

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

What a day. I got to play Megan's crazy artist lover…at least we got to kiss. Megan cut my lip in her enthusiasm for the part. And I got to growl like some crazy lover to keep the security officer outside the door distracted. And no doubt vastly amused.

Yeah, it was fun all right. Until somehow our cover got blown and the next thing we knew the door was being kicked in and guns were being waved in our faces…and we were hauled out of there.

I figured Jim, and Simon especially, weren't going to like that. After all, I'm not a cop and probably shouldn't have been involved. Imagine the paperwork if I got hurt. Geez, there's that bitterness again. I know better than that. No, they wouldn't have been happy about Megan and I being taken, because they'd be worried about us. Move on, Sandburg…it's time to let the anger go.

Jim told me later that they found Rafe outside, still bleeding from being clubbed on the head by the Hydra folks. He's all right, thank God. These characters are nuts…and they play for keeps.

Fortunately, Jim heard a minicassette tape running. It had been planted to get information with which to blackmail Megan, their client. Very nice people. But at least they'd forgotten it was there and Jim heard where they'd taken us.

Meanwhile we were tied up in a dreary, cavernous room in the old studio where they filmed their commercials. For a while, we tried to keep our covers going. What a waste of time. The next thing I knew, I was deafened by bullets being shot just past my head. And then the gun was being cocked and pointed right at me. I sure hoped Jim was somewhere close by. It's crazy and I try not to let him know it, 'cause the pressure would be unreasonable…my expectations are unreasonable. But I always know he'll come through for me. I always know he'll be there when I need him. I guess that's why, despite all the weirdness lately, I have the hardest time believing he doesn't care what happens to me. But, it's not really me, is it? Jim just comes through…he's there when anyone needs him. It's who he is.

God, it was terrifying when the Hydra guy caressed my head with the barrel of that gun, and pushed it against my ear…nice reference to Van Gogh, though. But then he cocked it and pressed the muzzle against my temple, threatening to shoot me in the head. You know, that's a very scary feeling. I was pretty sure that if Jim didn't show up soon, my brains would be splattered all over the place. I don't think even Jim could bring me back from a death like that.

Megan tried to cover for me, admitting she was a cop and asking them to let me go. I claimed to be Detective Jim Ellison and told them she was just an actress, and that if they let her go, I'd tell them what they wanted to know. It was just a way to confuse them and stall for more time. No way were they ever going to let either one of us go.

Jim has perfect timing you know. He walked in just when we REALLY needed him.

He even asked me if I was all right. It was like old times as he cut me loose and told me he wanted me to go with him.

The next thing I know we're in a high-speed chase after the perps, but there was some other car in-between them and us. It was Vince. I screamed at him to get off the road. Might as well have saved my breath.

Man that was a wild ride…vintage Ellison. I ended up banging my head on the rear window. Hurt like hell.

And who stopped the runaway perps? Us? Yeah, sure.

Vince blocked them and drove them off the road.

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

Vince is getting a new series! What great news for him! He wrote in a small part for Jim in his new show. Much as he enjoys teasing Jim, I think he really respects the big guy. Well, who doesn't? Simon and I noticed Vince hadn't bothered to have roles created for us. I suggested we should talk with the writers. I mean, isn't that what one should do when one is invisible?

But, the really good news is, I've been spending so much time on my own lately that I've made a lot of progress on my diss. It's almost done…and it looks really good, too. There is such a ton of stuff that Jim and I have learned over the years about his senses and how to use them, control them. If anything ever happens to me, he can give this to whoever will be working with him next. That gives me a sense of security. I mean, I know the tapes and my notes and journals would be useful, but it's all laid out now…a really valuable tool if it's ever needed.

I wish Eli and I could come up with an idea to make sure we can protect Jim's identity. I'm getting really worried about it now that we're getting down to the wire. If I can't keep his privacy intact, I can't submit this paper. Not only because he's my friend, though that's important and all that would likely matter to him.

But also because it would violate my obligation as a researcher and social scientist.

The obligation to protect my sources.

We'll come up with something.

And, if we don't? Well, good thing I wrote 'The Thin Blue Line' on the closed society of the police subculture. Finished it after we got back from Mexico. So Plan B is ready if I need it. And I can still give the Sentinel document to Jim.

Nothing like writing two dissertations, teaching classes, counseling students and backing up a Sentinel in my spare time.

Not that Jim's been taking much of my time lately.

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

This evening we ended up on stakeout, hoping to catch one of America's 'Most Wanted'. We were keeping tabs on the daughter of the guy, hoping he might show up. I tried to work on my lecture for tomorrow at the same time.

Once, when it was my turn to stand watch, I teased Jim about seeing her stripping for her bath or something. He got really upset, like I'd REALLY violate her privacy and be so disgusting, so I just slammed back about how some of us don't need binoculars. Sheesh. Does the guy really think I'm that sleazy? She was trusting us to watch over her, for God's sake, not leer over her.

But, all evening, my thoughts about how Lindsay didn't acknowledge her father kept distracting me. Didn't care about him anymore.

I don't get it. How people who have parents don't value them. Don't they know they are the only parents you get, and some of us don't get two, or even one for that matter? Ah well, maybe if your father is a crook, you don't want to know him anymore. Maybe I wouldn't want to know if my Dad was a crook.

Maybe.

When H and Rafe arrived, in the hustle to depart, I ended up leaving some notes behind so we had to go back. Jim didn't want to go back…it was late. He complained 'of all the partners, I get the nutty professor'. You know, that hurt. I mean, he wasn't kidding. He was really pissed off and didn't want to go back for my sake. But he figured that he'd go back anyway…maybe we could get some pizza.

Good thing we went back.

The guys had been gassed. I don't know if they would have died, but the place was thick with fumes and they were out cold.

When Jim checked on Lindsay and her baby, they were gone.

Turned out Lindsay's Dad had arranged the distraction to talk to Lindsay.

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

The next day, we got a lead on his whereabouts, but he wasn't there. Jim spotted him though and we took off after him. We cornered him in an old warehouse and chased him through it. The next thing I knew, we were caught in a trap, the floor falling out from under us. Harry had set it all up to talk to us. He said we were after the wrong guy; that we should be after some guy named Jack Kris. Harry said he was a thief, but that Jack, an old partner, is a killer.

Harry wanted a deal. He offered to help us catch Jack providing we made sure his family was okay. He told us he had cancer, and it was terminal.

Shit. He still loves his daughter. And his grandson.

When we told Simon about it, Jim didn't mention the cancer so I did. Jim just looked pained and looked away. Simon went out of his way to tell me I'm a naïve idiot. I tried to argue. Harry could have killed us, not just walked away. But Simon threw us out of his office.

When I asked Jim why he didn't back me up with Simon, he said he didn't know what he believed and wasn't about to take on Simon in that mood.

But I know he believes Harry, just as much as I do. I can see it in his eyes.

How come I'm the only one who says so?

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

I hated doing it. We set poor Harry up. We played on the fact that he loves his daughter and terrified him by making him believe that Lindsay was so sick that she was taken to hospital by ambulance, and needed emergency surgery. They caught him there.

Poor guy. He couldn't stay away. He loves her too much.

Turns out, Jim was right to trap Harry and I was wrong to feel bad about it.

The good news is that another robbery took place while Harry was in custody. So, it seems he was telling us the truth.

Jim sent me to take Lindsay home. You know, once upon a time, she would have been sent home with the uniformed guys but lately he seems to ditch me every chance he gets.

Once upon a time, Jim treated me like a real partner.

You're whining again, Sandburg. Cut it out or deal with it.

I feel bad for Lindsay and her son, Tyler. His father took off. He won't know his Dad, either. Poor kid. I know what that's like.

Lindsay was feeling sorry about having tricked her father. I tried to tell her not to second-guess herself. And told her there was still plenty of time to get to know her father, only then I remembered there wasn't much time after all.

Good going, Sandburg. Nothing like blurting out that her father is dying.

I guess Harry didn't want her to know.

She isn't sure whether to believe him. But I do. I tried to get her to see that this might be her last chance to get to know her father. I told her I never knew mine…and that I don't think I could ever pass up a chance to get to know him, if…

But, I'm not going to get that chance.

You'd think I'd accept that. I'm a grown man, for God's sake. It's time to stop wishing I knew who my father was…or is. Geez, I hope he's still alive, 'cause if he's dead, I'll never have the chance to…

Would you quit that and move ON!

Anyway, Simon ended up giving Jim and Harry twenty-four hours to bring in the guy who is really guilty of killing those two cops up north.

Jim and Harry went to see one of Jim's snitches. Jim ended up chasing the guy all through some warehouse or factory or something. But it was Harry who actually caught the guy when he ran out the door and past the truck. Jim says he ended up having to borrow Harry's handcuffs. That must have been amusing. Wish I'd been there to see it.

Sounds like Harry's a more useful partner than I am. Guess it's a good thing Jim had him along.

I told Jim I told Lindsay about Harry's cancer. My friend was not pleased with me. He called for a uniform to help me watch over her and Tyler and Harry 'cause Jim had to go back downtown to see Simon.

I wasn't really sure why I was staking out Lindsay's place in the first place. I mean, we had Harry. And then I wondered why we needed the uniformed cop? Why didn't Jim trust me to watch Harry on my own? I mean, it's not like he's going to run away. He could have run when Jim chased after his snitch.

Well, as it turned out, I guess I really can't be trusted. And my judgment about people seems to suck, too.

I came to with Jim leaning over me, an unconscious uniformed officer on the floor and Harry and the baby gone. We'd been gassed while Lindsay was out doing some shopping. But, I can't figure out how Harry managed to sit there and watch us lose consciousness and not succumb to the gas himself.

I got sent home. Jim went to face Simon's wrath…used to be a time when he'd take me with him.

I heard that Simon was really pleased about us losing Harry. Not. Especially not about having to admit to the FBI agents that we'd had him and we'd lost him because we hadn't locked him up properly in the first place. Simon hates looking like a fool. Can't blame him. Who doesn't?

I decided to head back to the station anyway, and found out that Jim had ended up going for a 'job interview'. Turns out, Harry got him in on the inside.

But, Jim doesn't want Simon to know, or the feds, obviously.

He asked me to help. It's been a while since he's asked me for that.

I hope I don't screw up.

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

I should have known better. All Jim needed me to do was call in the rest of the team to pick up the bad guys as they split off after the robbery. I didn't even need to be there.

Jim backed up Harry when he went after Kris and his grandson.

Jim saved Harry's life.

And Tyler's.

Harry did get shot, but he's all right. It was so great to see Harry playing with Tyler in the hospital. He looked so happy and so did Lindsay.

I wondered if maybe Lindsay could be eligible for the reward money for having helped capture Harry.

Simon said he'd do what he could.

But, I know Simon.

He'll come through.

They'll be okay.

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

Oh God, my worst nightmare has just come true! Who would have thought that my own mother would be my downfall?

She came to visit today. Surprised the hell out of me when she came up behind me in the loft. Maybe I shouldn't have ever given her a key. I couldn't stay with her, though. I hadn't expected her and I had to meet Jim. There's a threat against a union leader and we were to be part of the protection. I didn't even have time to pull my hair back. So, there I was, hair all over the place and looking a lot less than professional. I was late and Jim was sarcastic about it, something about how nice it was for me to join them.

I gotta tell you, that union leader is a real funny guy. Called me a hippy and when Jim didn't introduce me, I introduced myself. Ah, well, I'm used to it. Some people think anyone with long hair is a hippy. I can't begin to say how annoyed I was. The first time in months that I show up with my hair loose and I get insulted. And, besides, why is it such a bad thing to be a hippie anyway?

Professional. Is that how I've been trying to look since Alex killed me? Is that why I've been tying my hair back and why I gave up wearing the earrings? Well, by the time the day was over, any hope I'd ever had of seeming to be a professional in their eyes was gone. Guess I might as well just go on looking like a hippy flake. That's what I must be. A flake. Why the hell did I ever write that dissertation in the first place?

But, I've gotten ahead of myself.

Jim stopped the Iceman's attempted assassination. Zeller must have been shocked to his boots that Jim had spotted him with his naked eyes and shot the scope to pieces. Brackett won't be the only one figuring there's something different about Jim. Hell, if I can't stop what Mom started today, the whole world will know there's something different about him. God, what a mess.

We were being briefed with the rest of the team about the Iceman, or I guess I should call him by his name, Klaus Zeller, and Simon would have given Jim all the credit for his prior apprehension if I hadn't cleared my throat. I don't usually make a thing about it. But I'm getting really tired of feeling invisible. Looking back now, I should be so lucky as to simply be invisible.

I got called out of the office for an urgent phone call. Somebody named Sid Graham wanted to speak to me. I wish to God I had never heard that man's name.

Guess what? Mom sent a copy of my dissertation to Sid Graham, a publisher in New York.

I thought I'd throw up when he told me he had my paper. I don't think anything in my life has given me such a gut deep sense of horror and disaster as those words. How could this have happened? Dear God, if Jim finds out…he'll never, never, ever, forgive me. God, I feel sick just thinking about it.

Sid had called to offer me a hundred thousands dollars for the rights to publish it. I told him, in no uncertain terms, to shred it, that it should never have been released. I really hoped that would be an end to it.

How could she do this? How could my own mother violate my privacy this way?

I'm lucky she didn't tell Jim all about it when we got home that night…and good old Sid was on the phone again. I am really beginning to hate that guy! I told him again that there would never be a deal and to destroy the paper. Please, please, please, let him destroy the paper!

Mom says she was just worried about me, wanted to help. I made her promise to not do anything else. God, she thinks it's great that Sid is offering a quarter of million dollars. She just doesn't get it. She doesn't listen to me. She says she listens with her heart. Well, I hope her heart heard me this time and leaves this alone.

Dear God, please don't let Jim ever find out.

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

I'm dead.

Reporters descended on Jim and me today, wanting to know about the Sentinel stuff and the paper. My pal Sid had released excerpts to the media. I swear, if I had a gun, and could get my hands on him, I think I might have cheerfully shot him, right then and there.

Oh, God, the look on Jim's face. The horror. And the belief that I had betrayed him. Jim really thinks I did this to him. I tried to explain, but he didn't believe me. He thinks that I did this deliberately, that I didn't protect him deliberately. That I'm playing a game with that louse Sid to jack up the value of the book.

He thinks I tipped the media, to get Sid to offer me even more money. He treated me like some kind of criminal, interrogating me.

His voice was dripping with sarcastic bitterness when he told me to go for the brass ring and walked away from me.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I found out while we were with the union guy that there was going to be a news story at noon. I had to tell Jim, Simon and Megan. Jim wouldn't even look at me. He just walked out.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, I got cornered by the media and Sid at Rainier, when the Chancellor called me in. I thought she was going to ream me out for the premature release of the diss. I should be so lucky. Oh, no. They had another surprise all planned. Sid walked in with my mother and offered me a million, and talked about movie rights and then I got told some crazy story about a Nobel Prize nomination possibility, like that would ever happen. Dear God. It's a nightmare! Naomi stood there applauding and smiling with great delight. Didn't she hear what I said last night? My God, how could she do this to me? Why can't she hear me? Listen to me?

Why does everyone think they know what's better for me than I do? I was so mad, so sick; I thought I might actually throw up right there. I just walked out…what else could I do at that point?

When I got back to the station, the guys were all ready to rag me. I wanted to scream when they started the 'we're not worthy' routine.

Jim looked like he'd like to kill somebody…or crawl into a hole. God, he's so hurt and scared. And Simon is really rattled. The brass are on his case about keeping this from them. I wanted the earth to just open and swallow me up.

Jim wouldn't talk to me all day. It was like I was invisible. Or like he wished I just didn't exist. Did I mention that he looked like he wants to kill somebody? Three guesses who that might be.

The seemingly irrepressible Sid called again and raised the offer to $3 million. What is it about the word, 'no', that he doesn't understand? Like any amount of money would be enough to make me betray Jim. I don't want fame and fortune. I never did. I wanted to help Jim and maybe others like him who don't understand what's happening to them, who are as afraid as he was when I first met him. I can't stand this…and I can't seem to make it stop and go away. What the hell am I going to do?

That night, at the rally, Simon told me to stick with Jim, though it was clear Jim didn't want me anywhere near him. I tried. But Jim told me he knew the drill and to save myself for my interviews. Like I want to give any interviews. Why won't he believe that I didn't do this? That I'm as sick about it as he is?

I guess 'cause he has to live with the attention he doesn't want. He gets the grief. And he thinks I'm going to get rich off his pain.

The media stopped Jim from getting the Iceman…so many flashbulbs popping that they blinded him. I tried to help, but the shot was made. Thank God it was a set up or that union leader would be dead.

And it's my fault.

I don't know what to do. Jim thinks I betrayed him. After all these years, he still doesn't trust me.

How could this go so bad so fast?

Dear God, I don't know what to do to make this right.

Oh, sure, I could sue Sid…but how would that help Jim? The genie is out of the bottle. So long as this is contested, then the media circus will continue and Jim will be under scrutiny. He can't do his job this way.

I feel cold…frozen.

I don't know how to fix this.

I think he hates me.

I guess I can hardly blame him. From his perspective, I wormed my way into his life and home for more than three years with the intent of betraying him.

I'd hate me, too.

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

He's not talking to me unless he absolutely has to. Megan tried to tell him I didn't do this on purpose. Jim asked me how I had intended to protect his identity and when I admitted I still didn't know, he attacked me. Said I'd known all along that I couldn't protect him and I wrote it all down any way. Like I'd always meant to betray him.

I told him I had to write stuff down, to be scientific and help him, but I got cut off by a bank robbery across the street.

At least he's still polite to my Mom. He's speaking to her, even though he knows now that she's the one who sent the paper to Sid. He doesn't blame her…he blames me for having left it accessible. He wants to go back to the way things were, to turn off his senses. He says people change and you have to move on.

His father and brother are being hounded by the media, too, now, and he feels really badly about that. He feels like a comic book character, a goofball, a freak. He feels I've taken everything away from him, ruined his life…he used to be a respected cop, and now…he asked me to tell him who he is supposed to be now.

He told me my research was done and I should just let it go…and then he walked out.

Let it go.

Our friendship. That's what he means.

We're done.

I can't ever recover from this. I can't ever recover his trust, not after this.

I wonder how long before he asks Simon to pull my pass. No way will Jim allow me to ride with him again.

We're done.

Oh, God. I never wanted it to turn out like this. I never wanted to hurt him.

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

This has to be a nightmare, right? I'm going to wake up and find out everything is fine, right? God, please, God, I wish that were true.

Zeller shot Simon and Megan today. They could have been killed. They could still die. Simon anyway…he's in really bad shape.

If those reporters hadn't distracted Jim the other night, he would have caught Zeller.

And it's my fault.

Oh, my God, why the hell didn't I just stay dead? If I were dead, none of this would have happened. The paper wouldn't have been finished. Mom wouldn't have sent it to Sid. The media wouldn't have found out about Jim. He would have got Zeller the other night.

Simon and Megan wouldn't have been shot.

I'll bet Jim's wondering now, too. Wondering why he ever brought me back at the fountain, just so that I could do this, be responsible for this.

I'll bet he's not the only one who's wondering.

I can't stand thinking that I got to live only to cost Simon or Megan their lives now.

Joel said it should never have happened like this. He's right.

Jim's blaming himself…that he's off his game with the media crap. I offered to help him with his senses; he needs them now, as much as he ever has, if he's going to get Zeller. But he just said that Simon was hurt because of him, and that he's dangerous to be around.

That the only hope he's got of getting Zeller is if he's on his own.

And he walked away.

But it's not his fault. It's mine. God, I'd do anything to not have had this happen. And I'm so scared Jim is going to get himself killed.

I wish to God I'd died then. If I had, none of this would be happening now.

I have to end this.

I came home and Mom kept talking about how bad she feels. I know she feels bad.

She needed to know I still love her. I love her.

She didn't mean any harm. This isn't her fault. I wrote the damned paper.

At least I'd finally figured out what I had to do.

I had it all. Jim was right. We'd had it all right here.

If there's any hope of getting any of it back…I knew what I had to do.

So I had Mom call Sid, to arrange a press conference.

And I told the whole world that I'd acted immorally and unethically. That my paper is a fraud.

And I asked those I'd hurt to forgive me. I hope he heard me.

The Chancellor expelled me on the way out of the room. No surprise there.

I'm might still be breathing…but I've destroyed myself. My credibility. My career.

But I have my integrity, for what it's worth.

And, maybe I still have my friend.

When I saw Jim in the hospital later, he seemed to appreciate what I'd done. He seemed to realize I'd thrown my life away and he tried to make me feel better about it all. He told me I was a good cop, the best he'd known. Best partner and a great friend. I wish I didn't believe that he was just trying to be nice about it all. That he'd meant it. But, I don't.

He didn't touch me.

The wall is still there.

And I never wanted to be a cop.

I wanted to teach. I wanted to understand the mysteries. I wanted to be his friend.

At least he's talking to me again. I guess that's a start.

And, finally, we got Zeller, or he got himself. The maniac shot up the office and then shot the rope holding him in the air so that he fell to his death.

I was ready to let him drop anyway. Can't believe I said as much to Jim.

Transference, I guess. I wanted to kill him instead of killing myself. How pathetic is that?

Jim was shot in the leg. He's in the hospital tonight and will be, I guess, for the next couple of days.

I need to decide what I'm going to do now.

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

Mom went to stay with her friends in town today. She doesn't know what to believe. I can see it in her eyes. She doesn't want to believe I'm a fraud. But she's not sure. She just finds it too hard to be around me right now. Can't blame her…I'm not very good company at the moment.

If she's not sure…how can I expect anyone else to believe I can ever be trusted again?

I can't be Jim's partner down at the station anymore.

I have no place at the University.

But, the good news is I called the hospital and found out Simon is a lot better. He came out of the surgery fine…we were lucky. The bullet wound was clean and though it did a lot of damage on the way through, they've put him all back together. He lost a lot of blood and though the shock of the massive injury had been bad, he's recovering quickly. Megan is almost ready to go home. And Jim will be getting out of the hospital in a couple of days.

I still don't know what I'm going to do now.

I feel like I'm in a fog and can't tell where I am, or which direction I'm headed in. Lost. Completely lost.

I wander around the loft and touch things, remember things. I feel as if something is crushing my chest and it's so hard to breathe. Doesn't help to cry. Doesn't make me feel any better.

I doubt anything is ever going to make me feel better. I've lost everything that I've worked almost half my life to achieve. My dreams are all in ashes. And I don't think anything is ever going to make things right with Jim again…we've gone too far down this road. The wall is too high.

I don't have anything left.

It's funny, you know. I used to be angry with Alex, for having killed me. And then I was angry with Jim because…well, I guess because I can sense he doesn't really want me around anymore. And that hurts.

But, now I'm angry with myself. For having come back at the fountain. For not having had the strength to just die when I should have…to let go when it was time.

More than anything, I wish I hadn't come back. That I was still dead.

But, I'm not. So I guess I have to figure out how to live…and why.

I told Mom that nothing in this universe happens randomly. That there's always a reason, a purpose.

Sure wish to hell I knew what the purpose of all this has been…what the purpose of my still being alive is.

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

I've decided I can't stay here any longer.

I've read over my journal since we got back from Mexico…since Alex killed me.

I have to face it.

Jim hasn't wanted me around for a long time…it wasn't just about Alex. It was ending before she ever came to Cascade. And when I look back, I can see he really doesn't need me anymore. I've just been deluding myself that he does.

And Simon has been giving signs that I'm not wanted or needed down at the precinct for months now…worse in some ways since I first started as an observer. He sure as hell won't want me around after all this.

Jim says he appreciated what I did to kill the media frenzy. I know he means it. He's got his life back.

But, that doesn't mean he necessarily wants me to be part of it. When I read these pages, I can see our friendship has been dead for some time. I just didn't want to face it. But there's just nothing there. No warmth. No trust. No caring. No time or interest. Hell, not even any courtesy.

Just a lot of impatience and resentment.

So, today, I packed my personal belongings in the loft into boxes and put the clothes I'll need when I go into my duffel. It was hard, so very hard to do this. I've gotten used to having a place that is safe and comfortable, that is stable, to call 'home'. But this is not my home and that's just one of the things I have to accept now.

I'm going to clear out my office at Rainier tomorrow, and then I'll go downtown and clear my stuff out of the Police Department and turn in my observer's pass.

And, then, I'm going to go away somewhere. Some place where nobody knows me.

Because I don't exist anymore…not really. Face it, I haven't existed, I haven't really been alive, since Alex killed me.

It's time to face that I'm just not me anymore. Time to figure out who the hell I am now.

Maybe, someday, I'll understand why I wasn't just allowed to die.

Maybe, someday, it'll make some sense.

Like I told Naomi, nothing happens in this universe randomly, it's all for a reason.

And, like I told her, we all only did what we thought was right.

Jim thought it was right to try to save me, to deny my death…to bring me back to life.

I thought it was right to come back. I thought he wanted me back…and I sure didn't want to leave him.

But, I was murdered, drowned. I should be dead.

The universe has pretty much worked it out so that I might just as well be. Face it, Sandburg, you were meant to die in that fountain.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if I were dead.

Dear God…why did you let Jim bring me back? What the hell was the point?

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