MONDAY

The door to the loft opened with a bit more force than necessary. Jim stalked through the doorway and shut it firmly behind his scowling partner. In silence, the two men divested themselves of their coats. The keys were practically hurled into the basket by the door. Jim stalked to the refrigerator, yanked open the door, and grabbed a bottle of water. He shut the refrigerator and, with a heavy sigh, turned to face Blair.

Blair was leaning against the kitchen island, his arms crossed in front of him, still scowling. "Jim, I'm not..."

Jim cut in, not letting him finish his sentence, "Chief -- Blair -- I'm not trying to be difficult, and I know you're trying to help, but I just don't have any answers. "

Blair sighed. He could see Jim's distress, despite his stoic facade. He uncrossed his arms and relaxed against the island. "You don't have to try to be difficult, Jim, it's a gift," he grumbled.

"It's an Ellison family trait," Jim agreed with a small smile. He stepped closer to Blair, and set the water down on the countertop.

Blair snorted. "A family curse, more likely." He reached out and tugged Jim closer, then pulled him into a loose embrace. "How are you doing?"

"The twitchy feeling is still there." He cupped Blair's cheek with his palm. "It doesn't feel like another sentinel in my territory." Jim wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself or Blair. "It's just a feeling that something isn't -- right." He frowned at his inability to find words to describe what he felt. "Sorry."

"How's your headache?" Blair could feel the tension in Jim's shoulders.

"A little worse." He grinned. "Of course, it could just be because we spent the whole day doing paperwork."

"We?" Blair mock-glared at Jim. "How anyone who types as slowly as you do ever made Detective..."

Jim just looked innocently at him.

"You are so bad. Just remember, I know who replaced all the sugar with salt in Simon's office," he warned. "Why don't you go take a hot shower, and I'll start dinner."

Jim kissed him on the forehead. "Thanks, Chief. Whatever would I do without you?" he asked, with exaggerated sweetness.

Blair snorted. "Jerk."

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk." He pulled away from Blair and kissed him gently, then went to take a shower. As he shut the door, he heard Blair say softly, "You know, Jim, it's a good thing you're cute." He just laughed, and started the shower.

LeeAnn Vardell lifted her wiggly son out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel. By the time she had Lamar settled, Shania had opened the drain and was climbing out. At four, she insisted she was a big girl and could do it herself, so LeeAnn held out the towel to wrap her in as soon as she was out. Her babies were growing up so fast. As she helped her children dry off and get into their jammies, she wondered at the twists and turns her life had taken.

As a motherless sixteen-year-old living in Viola Springs, Arkansas, all she could see was a life of drudgery caring for her father and brothers and sisters, which was no future at all. When Randy Wilkes came to town, good-looking and smooth, fresh from a stint in the army, she fell for him, hard and fast. Within weeks, she'd quit school, moved to Wyoming with Randy, and was working in a diner just off the Interstate. Then she got pregnant, and she found herself a mother at seventeen. After Shania was born, Randy started drinking, and Randy was a mean drunk. He would hit her, but Bossler was a small town, and it wasn't like there was any place for her to escape and at least he didn't hurt the baby. She'd almost saved up enough money to leave when she got pregnant again.

Not very long after Lamar was born, Randy went crazy. He'd trashed the house, beaten her badly, even broke her arm. But then he went after Shania and, by the time the Sheriff got there, she'd rearranged Randy's face with a skillet and knocked him out. This time she pressed charges.

A lady from the county came and helped her move to Elk Mountain, and get a restraining order and everything. She got a better job at the resort outside of town, and things were going well. But nobody told her when Randy got out of jail early, and he didn't give a damn about the restraining order. He promised he would kill her and take his boy, and she believed him. Breaking the restraining order landed Randy back in jail, but not for very long, so she took the kids and ran just as far as she could.

They ended up here, in Cascade, and it had been rough. Everything cost more than in Elk Mountain, but waiting tables paid about the same, and they couldn't find a place to live. They ended up at the shelter and, surprisingly, things started getting better. The shelter, the Elizabeth M. Courtland Center, helped her with everything from applying for Public Assistance to childcare to classes so she could get her GED, and even job training so she could get a job that paid enough for her to take care of her family. She'd worked hard, and gotten her new job. Now she just needed to save up enough for first and last months' rent, and they would be independent again.

They had hit the maximum stay in the shelter last week, so she was thrilled with the opportunity to stay here in the Transitional Housing. It would give her that little bit of extra time she needed to save up enough money, and it was just like a real apartment.

LeeAnn led the children into the little bedroom, and tucked them into their beds. It had taken a long time to get here but now, when she thought about the future, LeeAnn saw -- hope.

"Mama, tell us a story," Shania asked.

"Yeah, Mama, a stowy," Lamar echoed.

"All right, but just one!" LeeAnn settled herself on the bed and began. "Once upon a time, in a land far away..."

Elvia Mendez tucked her son into bed. "Buenas noches, mijito. Suenos Dulces." She turned out the light and walked into the main living area. She settled into the rocking chair with a sigh.

This was her favorite part of the evening -- these few minutes spent just rocking. A few moments spent relaxing after the frenetic pace of the day, recharging herself for the various tasks still to be completed before she, too, could go to bed.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. She and Tonio had so many plans to make a better life for themselves here. For a while, things had gone just the way they planned. Tonio worked so hard to save up enough money. And she had worked, too, until the baby came. Even then, she had taken in sewing to help out. But they had their little apartment and Miguel, and they were happy.

But Tonio, beloved Tonio, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was killed in a botched robbery at the market where they shopped. She was lost, then, and considered going back to Mexico but truly, there was nothing left for her there. Her family could not afford any more mouths to feed, there was no work in the village, and, worst of all, no chance for an education for her son.

So she stayed, found a job cleaning houses while Miguel was in school, and they managed. She started to think things would be all right and then the apartment building burned down. The Red Cross helped at first. They stayed at a cheap motel for a couple of weeks, but she could barely afford the tiny apartment they'd had, and she couldn't come up with the deposit for a new one. She asked for help, but all the Social Services did was put her on a waiting list. They spent the next few months living out of their car.

Elvia thought it ironic that the very same Social Services people who could do nothing to help her find another apartment were outraged that she was letting her son live in a car. She was doing her level best to keep him clean, fed, clothed and safe, and they said she was an unfit mother!

Fortunately, Elvia found the Elizabeth M. Courtland Center. She and Miguel had stayed in the Family Shelter for three weeks, in a tiny room -- but it was bigger than the car. And just this past week, they had moved into this apartment. The official opening of the Transitional Housing wasn't for two more weeks, but the Center was letting families move in early, a few at a time.

It was a small apartment too, but it had two bedrooms, and its own kitchen and bathroom. Best of all, they could stay here for six months -- enough time to save up a deposit on another place.

Maybe things weren't how she planned, Elvia thought. But she and Tonio dreamed of a better future for their son -- opportunities they could never have in their little village. It was hard and, without Tonio, very lonely, but she would do whatever it took to make a better future for her son.

With this thought foremost in her mind, she got up from the rocker. She had tomorrow's lunches to pack, laundry to fold, and dishes to put away. Then, at least for a little while, she could rest.

Desiree Jackson carefully pulled the loose threads from the pants' hem she'd just taken out. Darnell was growing so quickly. It seemed she'd only put the hem in a few days ago. At six years old, the last few traces of her baby were fading, replaced by this energetic boy-child, all knobby knees and elbows.

At least Tanesha seemed to be slowing down a bit. The last few months had seen her sixteen-year-old daughter grow from an awkward, gangly adolescent to a lovely young woman. Desiree snorted softly. Tanesha, thank god, was far more sensible then she had been at sixteen, focused on getting an education, having a future, not letting her head be turned by some sweet-talking womanizer.

Desiree had only been sixteen when Tanesha was born. Mama had been so disappointed, but she had helped as best she could, and so she had been able to take night classes and get her diploma. Then she'd taken classes at the community college, and eventually gotten a decent job.

But she wanted much more than that for her children. Tanesha was smart and ambitious, and Desiree wanted her to go to college, to have a real career. Darnell was much too young to understand about colleges and careers, but he had dreams, as all little boys do, of being an astronaut, or a pilot, or a fireman, and she wanted him to have every chance to live those dreams. Even if it meant leaving their home and living in a shelter.

They were living with Mama in the house where she'd grown up. She paid part of the expenses, and Mama helped by looking after Darnell. It seemed like a reasonable solution after she and Tre, Darnell's father, split up.

But a few months ago her brother Levon had gotten out of prison. Mama always did have a blind spot where Levon was concerned, so she let him come home to live. Desiree was worried but, at first, Levon seemed sincere in his desire to stay straight. Just to be on the safe side, she had squirreled away whatever spare cash she could.

But then Aunt Loretta broke her hip, and Mama went to live with her in Seattle. Levon changed after that, and began hanging with some very unsavory characters. She almost had enough money saved to move when the transmission went out on the car. She was hoping Levon wouldn't do anything stupid for a couple more months, and they would be okay, but it wasn't to be. She came home from work to find one of Levon's loser friends attempting to grope Tanesha, Darnell locked in the closet, and Levon stoned out of his head. They packed and left that night.

All in all, things weren't so bad. The little apartment was actually quite nice. She talked to the lawyer from Legal Aid, and she started legal proceedings to get Levon evicted, as well as alerting the police to potential illegal activities. It could be a lengthy process, but she had time now. And if she needed to, she would be able to rent a place until they got Mama's house back. The most important thing was that they were together, and safe.

Desiree stood and stretched until her back cracked. She folded Darnell's pants and put them with the other clothes to put away. It was late, and she was tired. Tomorrow would be a busy day. She turned off the light in the main room, and went to get ready for bed.

Moonlight gently caressed the two men. Wrapped around each other, they slept, expressions of peaceful contentment on both their faces.

Jim's transition from sleep to waking was instantaneous. Senses alert, every nerve screaming danger, Jim scanned the loft for its source. Blair slept quietly against his chest, warm, moist exhalations tickling across his chest, his heart beating the slow steady rhythm of deep sleep. He listened carefully. He could hear all the familiar, ordinary sounds: the old refrigerator making its familiar hum, the occasional wheeze from the water heater, the creaks and groans the old building made. He reached farther, past the loft, past the building; there was something... He was in motion before his conscious mind registered the sound. Jim grabbed Blair and all but flung him out of the bed, then dragged his dazed partner to the doorway into the closet. He braced himself with one arm and wrapped the other around Blair, holding him close.

"Wha..?" Blair struggled to achieve coherent thought. One minute he was sound asleep, the next he was half in the closet, clamped tight against Jim. "Jim, man, whassa mat--" He stopped abruptly. He could hear it, too. A deep rumbling roar, almost like a train, but there weren't any tracks near the loft. Jim moaned, and clutched him even tighter, and Blair responded by wrapping his arms around Jim's waist. "It's all right, I've got you. Hold on, Jim, I've got you." He didn't even think about the reassurances he was murmuring to Jim -- all he could think about was holding on, because the floor was rolling underneath his feet and he was desperately trying to stay upright. Fear surged through him -- he could feel his own heart's panicked beating in his chest, and he pressed himself even closer to Jim. He could hear thumps as items tumbled from the closet shelves, echoed by crashes from downstairs.

The rolling motion of the floor seemed to go on forever, even as his mind shuddered at the wrongness of the ground undulating beneath his feet. Only Jim, solid and real, wrapped in his arms, kept him from screaming. "It's okay, man, I've got you, just hold on, I've got you, it's okay," It became his mantra, as if he said it enough it would be true.

For Jim, it was his lifeline. He had dragged Blair with him to the doorway and braced himself, but nothing could prepare him for the assault that followed. When he stretched out his hearing, he had finally identified that unsettling sensation he had been feeling on and off all day -- it was a sound. Too low for even him to hear, he had been feeling it instead, but only moments ago, it had changed in pitch, and he heard it. It came from deep in the earth, the sound of solid rock stressed to the breaking point.

The sound was enough warning to get Blair and himself to a safer location before it snapped. Jim tried desperately to anchor himself to Blair as the vibrations released by the fracture of over-stressed rock reached him. They pounded through his body, even as he tried to dial down his sense of touch. The sound that hit him was not just a deep roar, but harmonics echoing through rock in frequencies he could neither name nor describe. Jim moaned, and pulled Blair tighter. He had to hold on to Blair or he would be lost forever, swept away on a tide of sound.

He focused tightly on Blair, using him as an anchor -- Blair's mildly herbal scent, now marred with the acrid tinge of fear, the feel of him, warm and solid, the crinkle of his chest hairs against Jim's bare skin. He could feel Blair's heartbeat, hard and fast, and he knew his own was pounding just as much. Blair's arms were wrapped tightly around him, holding him close, and he could feel Blair's lips moving against his chest, as he spoke to him. The sound seemed to ease up a bit, so he tried to focus on the words.

"...stay with me, man, it's okay, I've got you, just hold on..."

Quintessential Blair, worrying more about Jim than himself. He became aware of crashing and thumping throughout the loft as items fell to the floor. An eternity passed before the sound and motion faded away, but finally they did. Jim and Blair just stood there in the doorway, wrapped tightly in each other's arms, trembling from the combined effects of fear and adrenaline.

"Oh, god." Blair's choked whisper broke the silence.

"You okay, Chief?"

He cleared his throat. "Aside from having been scared out of my mind, I'm good. You?"

"I'm okay." Neither man moved, both content to stay in the comfort of their embrace a bit longer. Finally, the combination of cool night air and bare skin was too much for Jim and he felt Blair shiver, as well. "We should get dressed. Stay put for a minute, Chief, while I make sure it's safe to walk in here."

The moonlight was more than sufficient for sentinel sight. He surveyed the room. There wasn't much damage. The photos had all fallen over, as had the lamps. The alarm clock lay on the floor, its red numbers unlit, but whether from damage or lack of electricity was anyone's guess. Jim had long ago anchored all his shelves, so those were upright, but most of the clothing he kept on the top two shelves seemed to be on the floor.

Jim quickly crossed to the nightstand and set the lamp upright. He turned it on, and nothing happened. He realized he couldn't hear the usual hum from the fridge, so he opened the nightstand drawer and got out the flashlight they kept there. "Sorry, Chief, no power." He walked back to the closet and gave it to Blair, and turned his attention to getting dressed.

Blair turned on the flashlight, shining it around the room. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Whew. Not too bad." He quickly got dressed, too. They had both heard the crashing during the quake, and knew there was breakage downstairs.

Blair played the flashlight around the loft. It could have been a lot worse. Jim's anal tendencies had worked in their favor. Things had fallen off the bookcases, but the cases were still in their proper places. Mostly it was items from the upper shelves that had fallen. Their collection of favorite photos had fallen off their shelf, and he could see the sparkle of broken glass surrounding them.

The kitchen seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage. Even though the cabinets had sturdy latches and they had not disgorged their contents, much of what was on the countertops and shelves was on the floor. Broken glass lay everywhere, along with an oozing mess of flour, spices, olive oil and wine.

"Aw, man. What a mess."

Jim surveyed the chaos in his formerly pristine home. He wrapped his arm around Blair and gave him a quick hug. "The mess we'll clean. We didn't lose anything irreplaceable, Chief."

Blair hugged him back. "Yeah. We're okay. Everything else is just stuff."

Jim checked in at the station, only to be told to stand by. Together, they checked on the other residents of 852 Prospect, and Jim discreetly checked for gas leaks. Aside from bumps, bruises, and a few cuts from broken glass, everyone was all right -- at least physically. A quiet moment in the stairwell with his hearing extended beyond the building picked up no sign of injury or incident in the neighborhood that required Jim's attention.

Jim and Blair were cleaning up the loft when Jim noticed the glow. He stepped out onto the balcony to get a closer look. Seeing that something had attracted Jim's attention, Blair hurried out after him.

Because of the power outage, most of Cascade was dark, and Blair didn't see anything unusual. "What is it?"

"There." Jim turned Blair so he was facing the correct direction. "That glow. There's a fire at the waterfront." His cell phone rang just a moment later.

"Ellison."

"Jim, I need you to go down to Harbor Pointe." Simon didn't bother with unnecessary greetings. "We need to get some senior personnel down there to keep order, and you are the closest. We have reports of fire and a collapsed building but, at this point, not a lot of detail." He sighed tiredly. "The bridges are all closed, and until they are declared safe, I don't know what help I can send. Check in when you get there, and update me. And Jim," his voice took on a note of concern, "you and Sandburg be careful."

Harbor Pointe was the cornerstone of the Waterfront Renewal Project. The elegant development was built in one of the oldest sections of the waterfront, but the area had never recovered from the Great Fire of a century ago. Designed as an upscale, multiphase office, shopping and condo development, it was a huge change from the decrepit warehouses, bars, and boarding houses that once occupied the space.

Jim and Blair arrived at the scene of total chaos. It took some time to get a clear picture of what had happened. Jim quickly corralled the police officers on the scene, and got their efforts at crowd control coordinated. Once the emergency personnel had space to work, they were able to more clearly evaluate the damage. A command post was quickly set up, and they gathered to plan their actions.

The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles strobed red on a scene of utter devastation. A pile of rubble lay where once a parking structure stood. Flames flickered over the pile in several places, and the nearby lumber storage area burned fiercely. The steel skeleton of a new office building now lay in a haphazard heap, resembling nothing so much as an immense version of a game of pick-up sticks. Furthest from the command post was the new section of the Elizabeth M. Courtland Center. The Transitional Housing Center was scheduled to open with a gala in two weeks. Instead, the upper floors had collapsed, and then the whole building seemed to have slid sideways into a heap.

Jim looked at the shocked faces on the others gathered at the command post. Only years of practice kept that same shocked expression off his face.

"Jesus, Jim!" Blair's soft exclamation drew Jim's attention to him. "What happened here? This place is supposed to be the most seismically safe in the city!"

Any reply that Jim could have made was interrupted by the arrival of Walter Babbitt, the head of Cascade's Emergency Response Team.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, please gather around." Babbitt gestured to the various people at the command post with cool assurance. A veteran of the Cascade Fire Department, not much cracked his professionalism. "Let's get started here. I need to know who you are, and what you've got."

As they introduced themselves and exchanged information, Jim surveyed the command group. Aside from Babbitt, he had worked with Mike Hirada and TJ Lewis from Search and Rescue, and he had first hand experience of Jo Kelly's paramedic talents. The two Engine captains from the Fire Department were unfamiliar to him, as was the representative from Cascade Power.

They quickly laid out the facts as they knew them. All of the Phase One buildings at Harbor Pointe appeared undamaged, but were being evacuated as a precaution. The Phase Two office tower had possible structural damage, and had also been evacuated. Its parking structure had collapsed. The Phase Three office tower construction, still in the skeleton stage, had collapsed, as had the Phase Three work on the Courtland Center, the Transitional Housing, which wasn't scheduled for occupants for another week. Most troubling was that the water and gas lines to Harbor Pointe were compromised, limiting their ability to fight the fire that was currently burning under the parking structure and in the storage yard. As long as it stayed contained, they were in pretty good shape.

Everyone on the command team was relieved. While the structural damage was considerable, the situation appeared to be relatively simple -- evacuate the area, secure it, and contain the fires. Of course, in Cascade, nothing is ever simple.

The woman who hurried over to the command post did not look like the harbinger of doom. She looked like an ordinary middle-aged woman who'd been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, a little disheveled, a bit pale, but ordinary.

"You have to help them! You have to get them out!" she cried.

Walter Babbitt turned to question the distraught woman. "Ma'am, why don't you tell us who you are, and who needs our help."

"I'm sorry. I'm Karen Webb. I'm the Director of EMC2." She spoke quickly, identifying the Center by its acronym. "The inspections were done and cleared, so we let them move in early."

Jim heard Blair's softly voiced "No." even as he turned to survey the wreckage of the Transitional Housing Unit.

"How many people, and where?" Babbitt demanded.

"Three families," came Webb's choked reply. "Only on the first floor. That's all we've furnished so far. Oh God," she struggled for control. "We were only trying to help..."

Jim didn't stay for the rest of the discussion. With no conscious decision, he swiftly made his way to the ruined apartments, Blair by his side. About twenty feet from the fallen building, he stopped, and listened. At first, the cacophony of sirens, people, engines, and the creaking, rumbling and groaning of the collapsed buildings settling almost overwhelmed him.

"Just relax, Jim. Hear the sound, identify it and filter it out. Think about what you're listening for, and filter out all the other noise. I'm right here, so you just relax and listen..." Blair rubbed gentle circles on his back, and spoke softly.

As always, with Blair as his anchor, Jim was able to relax and let his senses work. Soon, everything faded away except Blair's voice, and the touch of his hand -- and he found what he seeking. There, farthest from the Center, two heartbeats, the sound of a child crying, and a woman's voice praying in Spanish. Closer to the middle of the building, two more heartbeats, one fast and frightened, one slow and steady, and a child's voice, "...Please wake up, please, I'm scared, an' it's dark, please..." He steeled himself against the pain, and kept listening.

There was a hissing sound between the two sets of heartbeats. He piggybacked his sense of smell and traced it to a small gas leak. He mentally marked the location of the leak, and continued his search. The last set of heartbeats -- three of them. Two were the faster rhythm of children, but all were remarkably calm. The trio was singing and, if he wasn't mistaken, they were singing "Crazy", the Patsy Cline song. Jim pulled back, astonished. "She's singing!"

"What?" Blair stopped rubbing Jim's back.

"The third family, Chief. They're trapped under a building, and she's singing with the children."

"Mothers will do remarkable things to protect their children, Jim." He turned to Jim apprehensively. "Were they the only ones?"

"No, Chief, we've got all three families. There's two people here," he pointed slightly to the right, "and two at the corner," he pointed to the far right corner, "and the three 'singers' are over there next to the Center," this time he indicated the left end of the building. "There's a gas leak down at this end, between these two families, so we'll need to be careful."

Side by side, he and Blair surveyed the rubble. The bulk of the building had fallen to the left, and it would take heavy equipment to move some of those chunks of concrete.

"Should we start at this end?" Blair gestured to the right.

"Yeah. These two are close. Just be careful not to cause any sparks."

They hadn't noticed the squad of firefighters who had collected nearby.

"Ellison! Sandburg!" Mike Hirada and his crew surrounded them, Jim found himself quickly fielding a hard hat and a pair of work gloves that a crewman thrust at his chest. Blair was pulling his hair back and fumbling with his gloves, too.

"They are scrounging up what equipment they can at Command, and hunting down the floor plans. They could be a while. What have you got?"

Jim looked at Mike. He had not missed the emphasis on 'you'. He and Blair had worked with Search and Rescue several times. Mike was famous for his 'eagle eyes' in S&R, and he hadn't blinked at Jim's tracking abilities. Mike looked at him now with trust and understanding. Jim nodded at the unasked question, and gave his report. "We have victims at three locations." He cleared off a patch of ground, and used a stick to make a diagram. "There are two here, and two more here. The bad news is there is a gas leak here, so we have to watch for sparks. The third group of three is over here, with the bulk of the building on top of them. We're going to need heavy equipment to get to them." He paused, and glanced quickly at the men surrounding them. "We thought we'd start here at this end. They are only about ten feet down."

Within minutes, there were lines of people removing rubble from the corner of the building. Jim and Blair were at the front line, working together to haul out chunks of debris. Jim paid no attention to the sudden influx of personnel; he just appreciated the fact that there were more hands to do the work.

Mike Hirada did notice the new personnel, and immediately handed off to another member of his crew. He headed on an intercept course to the command crew, discreetly signaling to his partner, TJ Lewis, and a few other people. They had all worked with Ellison and Sandburg before, seen them do their 'stuff'. Captain Frank Jones, the head of Search and Rescue had arrived at the scene, and taken over coordinating with Captain Babbitt. He was new in town, and hadn't had the chance to work with Cascade's finest yet.

"...the hell is going on here? No one's authorized this. These people have no idea what they are doing!" Captain Jones was having a very loud conniption fit.

"Sir!" Mike cut in. "Respectfully, sir, we know exactly what we are doing. We've located the victims, and have started rescue operations."

"And just how have you done that, Hirada? We still don't have the floor plan," Jones shot back.

"Ellison, sir. The man has a knack for finding people." The men and women surrounding him all nodded in agreement.

Jones looked at the men and women with Mike Hirada. He knew these people, either first hand, or by reputation, as reliable professionals. He glanced at Babbitt.

"Ellison is a good cop. He and his partner have done some good work," Babbitt offered.

"Sir, we don't have time to waste," Mike added.

Captain Jones frowned at him for a moment, then nodded his head. "All right, Hirada, what have we got?"

Mike cleared a space in the dirt, and began to draw a diagram.

Jim listened as he worked, hearing all of the trapped survivors. Here, the child's crying had subsided to an occasional tired sniff, and the woman murmured in Spanish still, sometimes prayers, sometimes words of comfort.

Another crew was working on the next group over. There was more debris there; it would be harder to get them out. He could hear the child's voice, still frightened, but now, a pain-filled feminine voice answered him.

The last three were buried the deepest, and only with heavy equipment would they be able to dig them out, but a crew was setting up lights and clearing space already. They weren't singing anymore, now. The woman was speaking with a warm southern drawl. He listened, and realized she was telling a story -- Little Red Riding Hood.

He turned his attention back to his work. There was a large slab of concrete to be moved, and it would take several of them working together to shift it. With a mighty heave, they shoved the slab away, revealing a narrow passage into the ruined apartment.

"Ayudanos por favor! Estamos aqui!" They could hear the woman calling as soon as the slab was moved. "Help us, please!"

They stared at the narrow passage, and looked at each other, a dozen good-sized men. "Jim--" Blair offered, but Jim cut him off.

"Chief, you may be shorter, but you aren't that much smaller. We need someone skinny."

"I saw Tommy Lin a few minutes ago," one of the firemen said, referring to a particularly lanky coworker,

"Jo Kelly's here, too!" said another.

"All right. Go get them. Chief, why don't you let them know we're coming for them."

Like a shot, Blair was at the opening. "Senora, me llamo Blair. Somos la policia y le vamos a ayudar. Alguien va abajarse en apenas un momento. Le danan?"

"Blair? Gracias a Dios! Yo estoy bien pero mi hijo tiene su brazo lastimado. Probablemente esta roto."

"Okay. Cual es su nombre, senora?"

"Elvia. Y mi hijo es Miguel."

"Okay, Elvia, no se mueva, pronto la sacaremos a Usted y a Miguel."

Blair turned away from the opening, to find Jo Kelly ready to go in. "Her name is Elvia. She says she's fine, but her little boy, Miguel -- she thinks his arm is broken."

Jo took a deep breath. She really hated small places, but getting those people out was more important than her comfort level. She flipped on the light mounted on her hat, and with a jaunty salute, slid into the narrow opening, and tugged her gear in after herself.

For those outside, the moments crept past. Aside from Jo's shouted "I'm in!" all anyone but Jim could hear were muffled voices. Finally, Jo shouted "Coming out!" and they pulled back from the opening.

A small boy crawled awkwardly into the light. He was coated with dust, and tear tracks ran in two dirty smears down his cheeks. One arm was splinted, and bound in a sling. Right behind him came another dusty figure, a woman. Her shirt was bloodstained, and a hasty bandage was wrapped around her head. Although she was not a large woman, she could just barely squeeze through the opening. As they staggered out into the floodlit night, a mighty cheer went up.

The crew was astonished at the sound. They had all been so focused on their task, they hadn't really paid much attention to the arrival of more rescue personnel. As they pulled Jo the rest of the way out and made their way back to solid ground, they could hear the rumble of heavy equipment.

"Hey, it looks like they managed to get the backhoe free, and a bulldozer, too!" Jo knew most of the on-site equipment had been buried by the collapse of the new construction.

As they stepped off the rubble and onto the ground, Jim could feel the vibrations from the machinery traveling through the ground. It had an odd echo to it, though... "Oh, shit! Move everybody back, get back!" He shoved Jo away from the rubble with one hand and grabbed Blair with the other, and they scrambled frantically away.

They caught the attention of the other teams, and even though they were not sure why, in moments, almost everyone was scrambling for safety and, fortunately most made it to safely before the aftershock hit.

It was strong, though not as strong as the first quake, and mercifully short. The three men who had not made it off the wrecked building were thrown to the ground, along with a small avalanche of debris. A loud 'crack' came from the right end of the building, and a huge shift in the debris began, and with a cloud of dust, a whole section of the building slid to the right, completely burying the apartment they had just excavated.

As the dust cloud settled, the area was eerily silent, and then it exploded into renewed activity. Only Jim heard the next sound, and his heart sank. It was a soft sound, a small 'snick' followed by a muffled 'whump'. A moment later, a pillar of fire shot twenty feet into the air. Something had ignited the gas leak. The ruined building was on fire.

The sound of the fire was nearly drowned out by the exclamations of dismay from the rescue workers. With a flurry of motion, the workers renewed their efforts. Jim paused for a moment and watched the frenetic activity around him. He pulled Blair close and slung one arm around his shoulder, needing the comfort of his touch. Blair leaned into him, seeking comfort in return. "Ready, Chief?' he asked. Blair nodded. "Let's go dig." It was a race now, rescuers against fire, a race Jim would do everything within his power to win.

After a while, everything blurred together -- the acrid smoke that burned his eyes and lungs, the rumble and roar of the bulldozer and backhoe, the water from the fire hoses that turned the ground around them into a sticky quagmire -- the sheer volume of input should have been enough to put him into sensory overload, but Blair was beside him, grounding him, giving him focus.

The muscles in his arms and back ached and, despite the heavy work gloves, his hands were battered and blistered. He wasn't sure how long they had been moving debris. It seemed like days, yet the pile they were moving didn't seem to be getting any smaller. But he could hear the victims much more clearly now, so he knew they were making progress.

The child was crying again, and the woman was moaning. Her heartbeat had become slightly erratic, and he feared she was seriously injured. Worse yet, the flames were coming dangerously close, and if they didn't get to the victims soon, they would be overrun by the fire.

As he worked, he also listened to the family at the other end of the building. The sweet southern voice kept talking. Sometimes she told stories, sometimes she sang with the children, but still, her voice was there. She touched something within him, this nameless, faceless woman, doing everything she could to make her children feel safe and loved in the face of terrible danger.

Jim smiled slightly. His little family started a new song, a slightly off-key rendition of 'Yellow Submarine'. Jim pushed away his aches and exhaustion, the smoke and the mud, and, to the strains of a song that only he could hear, he dug faster.

With a mighty heave, they pushed the slab of fallen roof away, revealing a dark hole leading into the wreckage. Jim found himself staggering back out of the way as a team of EMTs swung into action. He stumbled and would have fallen, but strong arms reached out and caught him.

"Careful there, Jim."

Dazed with exhaustion, it took a few moments for him to connect the familiar form with a name. "Thanks, Joel," he croaked harshly. His throat was irritated from the smoke.

Joel Taggert turned from helping an equally dazed and exhausted Blair. "Any time, my friend. I would have been here sooner, but we had to wait for the Okay to use the bridges."

Moments later, Joel had them seated on a convenient chunk of concrete, sipping hot cocoa. "You drink all of that, both of you! You've been working hard, and you need the energy. Then you need water."

As Joel bustled off to help other workers, Jim slid closer to Blair. Strands of hair had escaped from his ponytail and curled in disarray around his face, His face was filthy, coated with dirt and ash, streaked with sweat, and thanks to Joel, had a hot cocoa mustache. Jim had an almost overwhelming compulsion to lick the creamy cocoa off Blair, but contented himself with reaching over with one finger, and gently wiping it away.

Blair turned to face him, exhaustion in every line of his body.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim croaked.

"Yeah," Blair rasped in reply, his irritated throat producing only a rough simulation of his normally soothing voice. "It's just..." he tailed off with a gesture at the chaos around them, his tired brain unable to find the words to describe the scene around him.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. Sometimes words weren't necessary. "I know."

A shout from the rescuers had them turning their attention back to the fallen building. A moment later, EMTs lifted a stretcher holding a small boy out of the dark hole. Battered and bloody, he was strapped to a backboard, and he was screaming for "Neesha" the whole time. Everyone cheered. The little boy might not be happy, but he was alive.

Jim listened in on the other rescue operation going on beneath the wreckage. Things were not going as well for "Neesha". Her heartbeat was slow and getting more erratic, and the EMTs were working frantically. One of them was arguing with a third person, he wasn't sure over what, when the argument ended with, "We don't have any more time. Do it now."

A moment later, another EMT ran up to the opening and handed down a package. Still curious, Jim listened to see if he could figure out what they were doing. He heard the one EMT tell the other that the tourniquet was in place. A minute later, the other one asked for the saw, and Jim pulled his hearing back so fast he physically swayed in place.

"Jim!" Blair wrapped his arm around him, and held him tight to keep him from falling.

"I'm okay, Chief." Catching the disbelieving look on Blair's face, he explained further. "Really, I'm fine. I was listening to the EMTs, and they were getting ready to amputate." He looked away from Blair, slightly ashamed of his reaction. "I didn't want to hear it."

Blair shuddered in sympathy. "That's okay, man. You don't need to."

By the time they finished their cocoa and the water Joel insisted they drink, "Neesha" was being lifted out of the hole. Apparently word of the difficulties involved in her rescue had already made the rounds; it was a somber crowd that greeted her appearance. She was quickly carried to the waiting ambulance and taken away.

All the while, the bulldozer and backhoe had been clearing away debris from the last trapped family. They had made a dent in the huge pile of debris, but there was still so much to do.

Feeling slightly restored by his break, Jim pulled his gloves on, and, with Blair by his side, went back to work.

They'd been working solidly for about an hour, and the first pale tendrils of dawn were creeping into the eastern sky. With everyone working on one location, they were making visible progress, and they were all hoping that each piece of debris hauled away would be the one that lead to a way into the survivors.

He should have been exhausted. Many of the others who has started rescue operations so many hours ago had dropped out, replaced by fresher workers. But Jim was driven by knowledge the others didn't have. And he couldn't, wouldn't, stop, not until he had done everything within his power to save the last family.

They had inspired him, the woman and her children. Their songs, her stories, the love for her children he heard in her voice, these things had given him strength. She had grown hoarse from speaking as the hours passed, but about half an hour ago, she stopped. Fearing the worst, he had listened intently, but he realized from their steady, even breathing, the children had fallen asleep.

He had lifted and hauled with dogged determination, ignoring the pain of abused and overworked muscles, because he had to reach them. Only a little while ago, the woman had started coughing. They were gaining on the pile of debris, but the fire was gaining on them. Smoke was trickling out from under the debris in many locations, some far from the flames. Jim was afraid, desperately afraid, they were running out of time.

He was not the only one to notice the smoke. The pace of the rescue effort increased even more. Suddenly, the groan of over-stressed wood and concrete sounded above the din of rescue operations. Men and women scrambled frantically away from the fallen building. With a loud cracking, the last standing part of the building, seemingly solid, gave way, and slowly slid onto the area they had just cleared.

"NO!" Jim fought against the hands restraining him, too lost in his need to save the family, his family, to recognize them as friends, not enemies.

"Jim! Dammit, Jim, stop! It's too dangerous. Jim!" Simon Banks used his size to his advantage, pulling Jim around and making him look at him.

"Simon?" As full awareness returned to him, Jim recognized that Simon was holding him back, and stopped fighting to escape. As Blair slumped into him, he realized that Blair had been holding on to him, too. He turned back to the ruins of the building, pulling Blair close, and taking most of his weight as the exhausted man leaned into him. Despair filled him as he looked at the new debris filling the area they had just cleared.

"A lot of fresh volunteers have arrived, Jim. We can get this cleared soon." Simon tried to offer what comfort he could.

Jim turned empty eyes towards him. "We're out of time, Simon. The smoke is getting to them." His voice was utterly flat and unemotional. To those who knew him well, the lack of emotion told just how deeply he was affected by the situation.

Blair wrapped his arms more tightly around Jim, ignoring his exhaustion in favor of supporting his lover.

Jim bowed his head, and rested his cheek on Blair's head. He listened to the family as the coughing decreased, replaced by desperate gasps for air. Then those sounds, too, stopped. And then, one by one, the heartbeats slowed, and ceased.

He didn't realize that he had moaned aloud as the last beat sounded. He didn't acknowledge the tears that rolled down his cheeks. As dawn broke over the city of Cascade, The Sentinel of the Great City mourned. He mourned for the lives lost, the brave little family that had unwittingly shared their strength with him. He mourned for the survivors, their dreams of a better life as shattered as the concrete that surrounded them. He mourned for those yet unknown whose need for safe shelter would be unmet, and the dangers they faced many.

His grief was burned away by rage. "This shouldn't have happened. This was supposed to be a safe place."

He made a vow then, to those whose lives were lost and those that were shattered. "The ones who let this happen -- we have to find them. We have to make them pay."

Blair stood taller in the circle of his arms, no longer giving comfort, but instead, showing support. Jim looked up, astonished to realize how many members of Major Crime were involved in the rescue effort. Henri Brown looked as exhausted and dirty as he and Blair were. Joel Taggert and Megan Connor looked quite bedraggled, too. Even Brian Rafe was smudged and grimy. Only Simon was relatively unscathed, except for the dirty, Jim-sized hand prints on his shirt. Jim met the eyes of his friends, one by one, and they nodded, each acknowledging the vow.

"If we want these people, we are going to have to go by the book," Simon warned. "I don't want anyone getting off on technicalities." He looked at his people -- tired, dirty and bedraggled. Like any good leader, he knew if he wanted the best from they needed to recover their strength.

"Connor, I want you to make sure Ellison and Sandburg get back to the loft in one piece. Rafe, you take Brown. Everyone go home and rest!" He raised his voice to be heard over the babble of protests. "That was not a request, people! If we are going to get answers, I need you all at your peak. Joel, I need you for a minute..."

As Simon walked off with Joel, Jim and Blair plodded after Megan, all of them too tired for their normal banter. The events of the day suddenly caught up with Jim, and he staggered. Instantly, Blair was there, supporting him. Leaning on each other, under Megan's watchful eye, they plodded over to the truck.

Jim was too tired to argue when she took the keys. As he climbed into the truck, all he could think about was how desperately he needed a shower, and how very much he wanted to be in the big bed in the loft, curled into the safety and comfort of Blair's arms. He settled into the seat, and of their own volition, his eyes closed. In moments, he was asleep.

TUESDAY

When Blair woke up, his first thought was that it had been a horrible dream. He was in bed, in the loft, with Jim wrapped around him like a living blanket. But then, he realized, the light was all wrong for morning, and he ached in muscles he didn't know he had. He was ravenously hungry, and he needed to pee urgently. He carefully untangled himself from his sleeping partner, and slid out of bed.

His first attempt at standing up nearly landed him face down on the floor, but he managed to get his stiff body coordinated enough to walk. Moving very slowly, like an old man, he went downstairs to the bathroom. By the time he finished his business and splashed some water on his face, he had loosened up and was moving easier, so he decided to tackle his other urgent need.

He wasn't sure what time it was. The microwave was flashing '12:00' at him, but the light coming in through the windows looked like it was early evening. He made coffee anyway.

As he waited for the coffee, he realized the sticky mess on the floor from earlier was gone. Admittedly, early this morning was a fuzzy blur, but he was pretty sure he would have remembered cleaning up. It finally clicked in his brain that the piece of paper on the counter he was staring at was a note -- addressed to Sandy.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table to read his note

Sandy,

I tidied up a bit before I left. but you should have Jim check for glass before you walk around much. The Captain said to call him when you get up.

Oh, yeah, I put Jim's keys in the basket.

Both of you get plenty of rest,

Megan

Blair tried to remember coming home from Harbour Pointe. He distinctly recalled getting Jim into the truck, but after that, everything was fuzzy. He had a flash of smacking into Jim when he stopped abruptly and of an amused voice saying "Careful, Sandy." There was another flash of Jim, wearing only one sock and the shirt he was tangled up in. It was obvious that both he and Jim had showered, but he could not remember it. Blair wondered just how much he needed to thank Megan for. He could only hope that neither he nor Jim had done anything too embarrassing.

Jim came out of the bathroom and walked to the table. He sat down with a groan. Blair slid his coffee to him, and handed him the note.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Mmm," Jim replied.

"I've got some stew in the freezer. I can nuke it, and we still have that loaf of French bread."

"Mmm."

Obviously, Jim is in a highly verbal mood today, he thought. "I can scoop out the middle of the loaf and put the stew in it, and if you promise not to spill any, I'll lie naked on the table and you can eat off my belly."

"Mm -- sorry, Chief," Jim answered, slightly sheepishly. "I am hungry, and stew is fine."

"'s okay, Jim. I'm not exactly with it myself. Sorry I teased you."

While Blair started dinner, Jim checked in with Simon. He had no major news to impart. While they slept, most of Cascade's businesses and agencies had been assessing damage. It seemed that most of the damage was minimal, and it would be business as usual tomorrow. He wanted them in first thing in the morning, well-rested and ready to work.

By unspoken agreement. both men avoided talking about last night's events. Dinner was eaten quietly, and after they cleaned the dinner dishes, they worked together to further clean up the loft. Jim scanned for broken glass, and Blair returned books and knickknacks to their proper location. Side by side, they organized the jumbled CD rack, taking comfort in the homey tasks and each other's presence.

Jim admitted to still feeling slightly gritty, so they changed the sheets, and then each of them showered. Blair stepped out of the shower to find Jim waiting with a towel. Jim had a strange fascination with Blair's hair, and he loved to take every opportunity he could to play with it. Blair dried himself off, and followed Jim out to the table where another towel and the wide-toothed comb were waiting. Jim carefully combed Blair's hair, gently working through the tangles, and Blair found himself relaxing into sleepiness.

Even though it was relatively early, the two men set about securing the loft for the night. Soon, they were cuddled close together in the big bed, drifting gently off to sleep.

Awareness came slowly to him. He blinked into the darkness blanketing the loft, trying to figure out what had woken him. He was curled around Jim, his head tucked under his chin, and, near as he could tell, Jim was still sound asleep. He heard it then, a soft moan, followed by a shuddering gasp. He gently untangled himself from Jim, and shifted around so he could look at his lover.

The only light came from the sliver of moonlight shining through the skylight, but it was enough to let Blair make out Jim's features. In sleep, the stoic mask he often wore was gone. Instead, his features revealed naked pain and grief. The silver tracks of tears glinted in the moonlight.

"No, He moaned again, and shifted restlessly.

Blair reached out and softly stroked Jim's shoulder. "Jim," he called gently. "You're dreaming, Jim. I need to come back to me. It's only a dream, it can't hurt you. Just follow my voice..." He had often soothed away Jim's nightmares in the past just by talking to him, but it didn't seem to be working this time. He was always careful about waking Jim because of his military training. Jim could be rather... unpredictable when woken abruptly.

Jim's restless movements increased. He mumbled unintelligibly, but the pain he was feeling was clearly audible. Although he didn't really want to wake Jim, Blair couldn't stand by and let Jim suffer through his nightmare. He steeled himself to wake him, and prepared himself to move quickly if Jim came up fighting.

He never got the chance. For the second time in two nights, Blair found himself being flung out of bed. He landed on the floor, tangled in the bedcovers, Jim crouched protectively over him.

It took him a couple of minutes to gather his scattered wits and realize that not only were they not having another earthquake, Jim was not really awake, either.

"Jim." Blair was rather embarrassed at how scared his voice sounded. Of course, since his heart was currently trying to beat its way out of his chest and he was bordering on hyperventilating, it was logical that he would sound scared. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Jim." That sounded better. He managed to untangle one hand, and laid it on Jim's chest. "Hey there. Are you with me yet?"

Jim blinked, and looked dazedly at him for a moment. He reached out and grabbed Blair, blankets and all, and pulled him into a tight embrace. He buried his face Blair's hair, and as he rocked them both, he could hear Jim almost chanting, "It was only a dream. Oh God, it was only a dream," over and over.

Blair let Jim rock him for a few minutes while he extricated himself from the blanket. He freed himself just as the rocking eased, and he was able to return Jim's embrace. He noticed how cool Jim was, and the slight shivers that rippled through him. "I think we might be more comfortable in the bed, if you're all right now?"

"Yeah."

They supported each other as they got to their feet. They embraced for a moment, and then restored the bed to order. Since Jim had the advantage of sentinel sight, he did most of the restoration, and Blair contented himself with managing to get back into bed without damaging himself or any of the furnishing.

They cuddled together for a while, Blair on his back, Jim curled around him with his head on Blair's chest. Blair stroked Jim's back in a soothing rhythm.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Jim."

"It was just a nightmare, Chief." He paused to gather his thoughts. "We were at the site, digging. I could hear them singing and telling stories."

Blair pulled Jim closer, knowing there was little other comfort he could offer.

"But they weren't alone. You were with them. We dug and we dug, but as fast as we worked, more debris kept falling in. And the fire raced closer and closer, and then they were screaming, you were screaming..." He shuddered violently.

"Jim! It was a nightmare, man. I'm here, I'm fine, it didn't happen like that."

They clung quietly to each other for a while.

"You did everything you could, Jim."

"It wasn't enough, Chief. It wasn't nearly enough."

There was nothing Blair could say to that. All he could do was hang on and offer what comfort he could. Eventually, they slept.