The wolf gazed at him, its cool dark eyes beckoning, patiently waiting for him to follow.

Tentatively, he took a step forward. Blue mist swirled and curled around him, its tendrils clinging to his arms and legs, seeping into the strands of his hair, weighing him down, holding him back.

The wolf moved away slowly. He followed, staggering through the thick mist, desperately trying to keep the wolf in sight. But the wolf kept walking further and further away, its shape getting smaller and fainter in the mist, and suddenly he was alone and lost and had no idea where he was or where he was supposed to go.

He was cold.

Sometime during the night, he had ended up near the edge of the bed, and somehow managed to lose most of the blankets. Only a single blue sheet covered his body, no match for the crisp coolness of the early morning air. Groggily, he turned, seeking out the warmth of blankets, blindly grabbing at the nearest piece of wool that encountered his questing hand, squirming his way across the bed.

Jim grunted, rolled over, lifted up the blankets, pulled him close, and in one sweeping motion, hooked a leg, an arm, and the blankets over him, tucking them both inside the covers, all without seeming to wake up.

Held securely against the heat of Jim's body, cradled by the now familiar weight and scent of his partner, Blair relaxed.

He wasn't alone, was he?

Sliding his hand down Jim's body, he curled his fingers around the soft weight of Jim's lax penis, enjoying the smooth, soft texture of its skin, the spongy feel as he rolled it gently across his palm.

Jim mumbled, again without quite waking up.

Lazily, Blair tugged at Jim's penis, loving the way it stretched and then bounced back when he let go. For some reason, it was more fun than playing with his own. He was still wondering whether this was because it was Jim's or because it was not his when he fell asleep.

The early fall breeze was crisp against his face, cool and clear, but not chilling. Sunlight played over the lawns and scattered off still-green leaves as they tossed and turned in the wind, warm but not scalding, bright but not blinding. The last remnants of summer mingled with the hints of things yet to come, of changes incipient in the blades turned yellow here and there, in leaves with tips just turning red and yellow, in the occasional gust of wind that made him pull in his shoulders ever so slightly.

Fall was a time of the year he had always associated with new beginnings -- new people, new classes, new books (well, at least a different set of used books), old faces returning afresh from prolonged absence, familiar faces made strange in new positions, unexpected strangers sitting behind desks once occupied by someone known.

Blair paused at the door of Hargrove Hall and looked back over the campus. Everything looked normal -- the students, the buildings, the lawn, and yes, the fountain. Everything was the same, nothing had changed, it was any other year at Rainier, another new semester, another new academic year.

The first time he had come to campus after... well, after Sierra Verde, he'd stood by the fountain for a long time, watching the water spray, marvelling at the normality of it, the very plain ordinariness of it all, and feeling vaguely uneasy that nothing had changed.

He'd gotten used to it, though -- found himself falling back into everyday routine, into the ordinary, normal rhythms of everyday life, and the nagging sense of displacement and unease he felt whenever he walked by the fountain had dwindled, and eventually faded away.

Now, he was here, at Hargrove Hall, at the beginning of a semester, like he had been for -- for god, half his life, really, and he was pushing open the door, and walking in, and walking through the hallway, like he had done countless times before, and he was turning the corner, getting closer and closer to his old office, the same hallway, the same bulletin board, different posters, same door, same window with...

window with...

with...

no wolf.

Blair stared at the standard-issue, opaque glass panel in the door of his old office, feeling completely lost, not knowing where he was or where he was supposed to be going.

"Blair," said Stoddard.

Startled, Blair turned to find Eli smiling at him, cup of steaming coffee in hand.

"Oh, hi, Eli." He managed not to squeak.

"You just got here?" asked Stoddard. "Want to get yourself some coffee?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine."

"Come on, then," said Stoddard, gesturing toward his office down the hall with his free hand. "We've got some catching up to do, don't you think?"

Blair smiled tightly, and followed Stoddard to his office. Opening the door, Stoddard politely ushered Blair in, then moved past him to the main desk by the window, while Blair remained near the door, surveying the room with its half-filled shelves and stacked boxes lining the sides.

"Unpacking is always such a chore," Stoddard smiled, following Blair's gaze. "The semester will probably be over by the time I get done."

Blair chuckled, finally moving into the room, toward the chair Stoddard pointed out for him. "I still have boxes in my room, from my office," he admitted.

"Ah yes, your office," Stoddard repeated, as he lowered himself into his chair. "Well, since you aren't receiving any fellowship this year, no teaching responsibilities, either."

"Ah yes, that's what I figured."

"So, no need for an office, right?" Stoddard grinned at him. "To tell you the truth, I've got most of my junk stacked up in that room. What you see here..." he waved a hand at the room in general, "...is the tip of the iceberg, I'm afraid."

"The rolling stone collects the moss, right?" Blair joked.

Eli chuckled. "Something like that, all right," he agreed. "But really, as I said, I'm ready to settle. This..." he nodded toward the window, indicating the campus, the city, even the state of Washington and perhaps the entire Pacific Northwest, "...is as good a spot as any. You seem to have settled here just fine."

"Ah yeah, well, I guess I have," Blair admitted, chuckling nervously.

"Well," said Stoddard, "I have to say I was a bit surprised when you turned down Borneo. It wasn't an easy decision for you, was it?"

"I..." Blair shrugged, "I did what I had to do, I guess."

"We've all had to make choices, Blair," Stoddard said, gently. "Sometimes it's one way, sometimes it's the other. I... sometimes wonder, you know, what would it have been like, if...." He trailed off, shrugging himself.

"I don't regret it, I really don't," Blair said. "I... it's been worth it. Every bit of it."

"Well then, that's what's important, isn't it?" Eli smiled. "So, you're registered? Got everything taken care of?"

"Yes," Blair grimaced, recalling Jim's stony face when he had found him filling out the student loan application forms.

"A loan?" Jim said, incredulous. "You're applying for a loan?"

"Well," he said, "It makes sense, you know. It was great of Simon to get me on the payroll at the PD, but this is still a big chunk of money to lay down at once..."

Jim grabbed the bill, rapidly scanning the numbers.

"So use your credit card."

"But the interest on student loans is less than on credit cards."

"Not if we pay if off in two or three chunks. And talking about interest, do you have any outstanding loans lying around accumulating interest?"

"We? You mean you. Look Jim, you aren't going to pay my registration fees. Or pay off my loans."

Jim sighed. "Come on, Blair. I have money sitting in my savings that will cover this," he waved the university bill, "and make payments to any outstanding loans you have that are accumulating interest. If all your loans are interest-free, that's one thing, but there's no reason to make some bank rich, when we could pay off your loans."

"We."

"Yes, we. Got a problem with that, partner?"

"Well... I mean, ok, I suppose I could pay you back..."

"What, and you going to pay me the back rent, too?"

"Jim, I... I just don't want to feel like I'm your dependent, man."

Jim stared at Blair for a long moment.

"Okay," he said finally, "How about... you pay me, but with something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like..." Jim paused, making a big show of mulling over the question. "How about... a blow job for every dollar?"

"A dollar!" Blair huffed, righteously offended. "What, am I that bad? At that rate, if I give you a blow job every day, I'll be clear in..."

"You're never going to be clear," Jim said, patiently, as if he were explaining something to a small child. "Because every time I give you a blow job, I'm charging you five dollars."

"What?" Blair sputtered. "Your blow jobs are worth five bucks? How come?"

"Hey, experience counts."

"No way. I hold this truth to be self-evident. All blow jobs are created equal."

"Only in your dreams, junior."

"Hey! Who you calling junior? Mine's as big as yours, you know."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is."

"This calls for an inspection."

"Fine. And while you're at it, I'm going to show you my blow job's as good as yours."

"Well don't try too hard, I wouldn't want you to strain anything."

"...Jim?"

"mmmm hmmmm?"

"Is my blow job really that bad?"

"Nope, mine's just better."

"experience."

"yup."

"I'll get experience, you know."

"Yeah?" Jim smiled. "Well, if you want to work your way out of being my indentured sex slave sometime in your life, I'd say you need lots and lots of practice. You have quite a bit of catching up to do, kiddo."

"'m not a kid."

"Nope. And you are putting your registration fees on that credit card."

"Jim..." Blair began, still trying to protest, but Jim covered his mouth with his lips.

In the end, he did put the registration fees on the credit card, and agreed to let Jim pay it when the bills came in. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He wondered whether he could sneak his PD consultant fees into Jim's bank accounts -- after all, he did have Jim's account numbers and access codes. Not that it would ever cover everything that Jim paid for. Heck, Jim had never let him pay for much of anything. The rent payments he never made were a running joke between them. Blair tried to put in his share of the groceries, but somehow Jim managed to pay for the bulk of it.

At least he had held Jim off from paying his student loans, swearing on his mother's grave that he didn't have any interest-accumulating loans. Jim had just raised an eyebrow at that, quite deliberately refraining from pointing out that Naomi was very much alive, and let the subject drop.

"Registration that bad?" Eli asked.

"Ah... yeah, pretty bad," Blair managed to respond. "Crowded. Confusing. Long lines. Everyone trying to register at the same time. Some things never change."

"Guess not," Stoddard smiled. "So tell me, have you given any thoughts to what you want to do for your new dissertation topic?"

"Something on the police subculture, I guess," said Blair. "God knows I've done enough observing of that particular society. I just need to dig up some theoretical references on subcultures and closed societies, see what other studies have been done on the police, maybe from a sociological as well as an anthropological perspective, and just, you know, mix up the theory with my personal observations, shake it up and..." he mimed pouring drinks into a cocktail shaker, shaking it up, and pouring the finished product into a glass.

Stoddard watched the performance amusedly. "No doubt you don't need much guidance there," he observed. "You know the routine. Get a bibliography together, and a prospectus, say... in about a month?" He waited for Blair's confirming nod. "I've spoken to several other professors in the department. Bob Hendrick and Margaret Johansen have both agreed to be on your dissertation committee, if that's all right with you."

Blair nodded again, his throat suddenly tight. Both Hendrick and Johansen had been skeptical of his work on sentinels before...

"Nobody really believes your press conference, you know." Stoddard said, softly.

Blair's head snapped up.

"It was a very inspired performance, in every sense of the word, but," Stoddard looked straight at Blair, making sure he had his full attention, "I'm afraid your secret is out, at least among those who know you and Jim Ellison. And as for those who don't know you, well..." he shrugged. "It's not going to be easy. This thing will stay with you for the rest of your life, I'm afraid."

"I..." Blair forced the words out. "I knew that. When I... when I..." When I denied Jim, he thought. Denied his existence in front of the world.

"You did what you had to do?" Eli asked.

"Yes... yes, I did."

"Because you are his Guide?"

Blair stared at Eli. "Nobody uses that word. Not really."

"Why not?" Stoddard asked, "In the tribal societies that Burton documents, the sentinel always has a partner, and their role is described as 'watching his back' and 'helping' or 'guiding him in using his senses,' correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And while Burton's studies have focused on the role of the sentinel within a tribal society, I've always wondered what part the sentinel's partner had to play in it," Stoddard continued. "Seems like you now have a first-hand knowledge of that, am I correct?"

"Well... I suppose," Blair shrugged. "I just never thought of it that way."

"Sometimes we are too close to a situation to see the big picture, aren't we?" said Stoddard. He opened a drawer, pulled out a key, and handed it to Blair. "In your old office, there's a box, marked 'yukara'. It's got some tapes and notes in it, from my field studies with the Ainu of Japan. I had wanted to show them to Donald Philippi," he said, referring to the eccentric Japanologist best known for his translations of Ainu songs, "but he passed away before I was able to get them to him."

"The yukara, that's epic songs, right?"

Stoddard nodded. "The Ainu have several different terms for their songs, and it's generally agreed that the yukara refers to songs about human heroes. In any case, I was able to record a telling of a yukara by an Ainu elder that's never been recorded before. Needless to say, it hasn't been published, even in Japan."

"Wow."

"I'm sorry I never got to show it to Donald. Translators of his caliber are rare. What I have in there," he waved a hand at the key, "is just a rough translation, plus some additional notes that I made of the things the elder told me about from his childhood. I have everything on tape, even some videotapes. Of course you need to know Ainu and Japanese in order to understand any of it, but most of the key material is covered in my field notes."

Stoddard paused to take a sip of his coffee. "In any case, I'm pretty sure that the hero of the yukara is a sentinel, and his companion, a guide. And if what the elder told me can be trusted, there was a sentinel / guide pair in his village, during his childhood."

Blair stared at the key in his hand. "Are you... are you saying you want me to..."

"Take a look at the thing, yes," said Stoddard. "It'll take a while to find an Ainu specialist we can trust, to make a clean and complete translation of everything, but in the meanwhile, you can work with what's there. Oh, and keep the key. There might be other material in that room that may be relevant to your research."

"You want me to keep working on the sentinel study?"

"Yes. Well, this time, I'd keep it secure where it won't get leaked to the press," Stoddard said, raising a warning finger, "but yes, I think you should seriously consider it. At least, take a look at the material. I'm sure you'll find interesting parallels between your experience and the accounts in the yukara, as well as what the Ainu elder had to say." Eli leaned forward. "I really feel you should keep a record of your work with Jim Ellison, Blair. Of both of you. Even if it cannot be published in your lifetime, it's... it's truly significant. It could shed light on both our past and our future. You do realize that, don't you?"

"I... I'll have to talk to Jim about this, Eli." The words had to be forced out of his painfully dry throat. "I can't risk Jim, I just... I've already come close to ruining his life once."

"You came close to ruining both your lives," Eli corrected gently. "Yes, safeguards must be taken. Encrypt your hard drive, think about getting a safe and a security system, or a safe deposit box at a bank.... Surely the police must have connections that can help you with things like this?"

"I suppose you're right," Blair said, finally managing to look up at Eli.

"Well, then, you've got a lot of work to do, haven't you?" Stoddard got up, signaling that the meeting was over.

Blair stood up and slowly followed Stoddard to the door.

Stoddard opened the door for him, and offered his hand. "Good luck, Blair," he said, as they shook. "And give my regards to that detective of yours."

Blair sat on the bench in front of the fountain, the box at his feet. Vaguely he wondered what Jim would say when he saw yet another box to be dragged home from the university. And what would he say when he heard what was in the box? He sighed, and stared at the water dancing over the fountain.

So fucking normal, he thought. Did everything have to be so... so... ordinary? His life was getting back on track. He'd gotten registered. He had a new dissertation topic, a new dissertation committee, and no teaching responsibilities. He even had a paycheck from the PD, coming in every other week. Yippee. An actual, regular paycheck. And he had a regular bed partner, too. That thought made him smile. Yup, it seemed like he had everything he ever wanted, handed to him gift-wrapped and on a silver platter, to boot.

And yet, sitting here, watching the water spray out over the fountain, he couldn't shake off the feeling of detachment, the nagging sense that everything was unreal, that this was all some kind of cosmic mistake.

Come on in, man. The water's nice.

The water, actually, had been too cold then, and was too cold now.

He tried to reach for that moment, when the wolf had collided with the panther, when he had felt himself be one with Jim, but it just wasn't there. What did it mean, that Jim had brought him back? Why was he here, for what purpose?

"...you are his Guide."

Eli's words. What the heck did it mean to be a sentinel's guide? Why hadn't he thought of it before? Of Incacha passing the way of the shaman to him? Was being a shaman part of being a guide, or vice versa? Yes, he'd been too caught up in Jim, in his fascination with Jim, to wonder what the heck he was doing in the picture, what role he was playing in this sentinel thing.

He'd wanted so badly to think that the merge meant something. Hadn't occurred to him that maybe Jim brought him back because he was his guide. Hadn't occurred to him that he wasn't just "one of the tribe." Oops. Major oversight. Nope, he wasn't "one of the tribe." No, sir. He was, in fact, Shaman of the Great City, as he had once jokingly dubbed himself. Guide to Sentinel of said city. God, it was so obvious, how could he have missed it? How oblivious could he be?

"You're thinking," said Jim. "That's always dangerous."

Blair turned. Jim stood beside the bench, looking down at him.

"I always think," he shot back.

"Must be why there's never a dull moment when you are around," Jim observed dryly. "Ready to go?"

"Yup," Blair got up, bending down to pick up the box. He grunted at the weight as he shifted the box into his arms.

"What's in that thing?"

"Bunch of paper, videotape, audio tape."

Jim shook his head. "What, did Stoddard give you an assignment already?"

"Yeah, he did. He certainly did."

Jim frowned at the tone. "You going to tell me about it?" he asked, as they began walking.

"Later. Where are we going for lunch?"

"Well, what are you in the mood for?"

"So how's Simon like being back at work?" Blair asked, as Jim took the box from him and turned to stow it inside the truck.

Jim gave the box a final shove to position it to his satisfaction, then straightened up. "Oh, he's his old self, all right," he said, grinning. "Kept pestering the brass until they let him come back half-time, but if that's half-time, well, a day has many more hours in it than I knew."

Blair frowned. "He's not overdoing it, is he?"

Just as Jim started to answer, the police radio crackled.

Minor requesting medical assistance, possible poisoning, the dispatcher said. Ambulance dispatched, need available unit to respond.

The address was a block away from where they were parked.

Both men jumped into the truck, and Blair picked up the mike to tell dispatch they were on their way even as Jim started the engine, hit the siren, and threw the light onto the dashboard.

Jim scanned the houses as the truck coasted down the street, not looking at the addresses, but reaching out with his hearing, seeking, focusing, honing in...

"There," he pointed to a house, slowing down the truck and beginning to turn it into the driveway. "I hear the boy. He's on the phone, talking to dispatch."

Blair reached for the radio. "Dispatch, this is Blair Sandburg, with Detective Ellison," he spoke into the mike as Jim put the car into park. "We are at the location. Tell the boy to come to the door, and tell him we are plainclothes officers."

Leaving the truck, they hurried toward the house. Jim paused at the door, listened for a second, then knocked sharply. "Police! Open the door! We are here to help you!"

A small, frightened face peeked out of the curtains in a window next to the door, peering up at Blair. "You're a policeman?"

Blair smiled reassuringly at the boy, holding out his consultant's pass. "Actually, I'm just a consultant," he said, and pointed toward Jim. "He's the policeman."

Jim nodded, holding up his detective's shield for the boy to see.

The boy's eyes widened, and then the face disappeared. A moment later, scuffling sounds indicated that the door was being unlocked.

Blair pushed open the door and squatted in front of the boy. "You called 911?" he asked. The boy nodded, still wide-eyed and uncertain of the strangers in front of him. "It's okay. Take a deep breath. Tell us what's the problem?"

"Eric. I told him not to drink it. I did."

"Where's Eric?"

"Backyard."

Jim looked around, then took off for the side entrance leading directly to the yard. Blair straightened up and led the boy outside, letting the door swing shut behind them. Gently, he guided the boy toward the yard, talking to him as they walked.

"What's your name?"

"Bill."

"Bill, that's a nice name. How old are you?"

"Eight."

"And Eric, he's your brother?" The boy nodded. "How old is he?"

"Twelve."

They were at the fence now, and Blair could see Jim kneeling in the grass, checking out Eric, though from his angle, he didn't have a good view of the other boy, who appeared to be lying still on the ground.

"So Eric found something in the yard, and he drank it?" Blair asked Bill, squatting down again, unobtrusively guiding Bill into an angle that shielded him from seeing Jim work on Eric.

"Yes."

"What did he find?"

"He... he said it was beer. In... in a... a... keg."

"It's okay, it's all right, shhhh." Blair hugged the sobbing boy, running soothing hands down his back.

"Is... is Eric... is he gonna be okay?"

"We'll do everything we can to help him, okay? You did the right thing, you called 911, you did what you could." Blair said, still rubbing the boy's back. Pulling away a little, he looked into Bill's eyes. "You're very brave, you kept calm, you called for help, okay?"

Bill stared back at Blair, big round eyes trembling with tears.

"You did good, Bill, you understand?"

Slowly, Bill nodded.

"Good boy," Blair smiled.

"Chief!" Jim shouted, his voice tense and urgent.

Sparing one last pat on Bill's shoulder with a hurried order to "Stay right here," Blair tore open the gate to the yard and rushed to Jim.

"His heart stopped," Jim whispered as Blair reached his side. "You know your CPR?"

"I think I better do the breathing. Airway clear?"

Jim nodded. Kneeling beside the still figure, Blair tilted the boy's head back, like he'd learned in First Aid courses, pinched the boy's nose, and glanced at Jim.

"Now, Chief," said Jim.

Taking a deep breath, Blair bent over the boy and blew a carefully measured breath into the lax mouth.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Breathe!" Jim counted, as he pressed down on the boy's chest.

Blair bent, blew again.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five!"

Blow.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five!"

Blow.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five!"

Blow.

His lungs burned, his throat was dry. Breathe in. Blow. Breathe in. Blow. How long had Jim kept this up? Breathe in. Blow. Breathe in. Blow. Desperate. This was an act of desperation, blowing breath into the still, lifeless form. Cold lips. Nothing like a kiss. Even the dummy they used in First Aid class was warmer. Breathe in. Blow. Breathe in. Blow. What did it take to reach out and grab the spirit from the other side? Wasn't he supposed to be the shaman? What kind of shaman was he, what kind of ridiculously horrid ritual was this that he was performing? Breathe in. Blow. O come back to us spirit. Breathe in. Blow. Eric! Come back! Breathe in. Blow. Eric! Your time is not yet! Breathe in. Blow. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Sirens, coming closer. In. Out. Wait for Jim. In. Out. How long could he breathe for two? In. Out. God, this was a waste, this was hopeless, they were never going to get the boy back. In. Out. Wait for Jim. So hopeless, so desperate. Oh, Jim. He hadn't known. Hadn't understood. Breathe in. Out. In. Out.

Come on in, man. The water's nice.

No, the water hadn't been nice. Not nice at all.

Footsteps. Bump and rustle of equipment. Feet moving around him, equipment being dumped on the ground next to him. Breathe in. And out. A hand reaching out to clasp the boy's head, a metal stick being inserted into the mouth to check the airway. He staggered back, knowing the paramedics would take over now. Firm hands grasped him by the shoulders, urging him up. Swaying, he got unsteadily to his feet, and let Jim lead him away from the lifeless figure, away from the hopelessness and desperation.

He leaned back against Jim, grateful for the solid strength of his partner's body. Every muscle in his body hurt from being in the cramped kneeling position so long. He breathed in harsh wheezing gasps, his body not quite able to remember how to breathe normally. Jim's hand gripped his shoulder, so hard, it was almost painful. He reached up to cover Jim's hand with his, and found what he meant to be a gentle squeeze turning into a death grip. Jim's attention was riveted to the scene in front of him, where the paramedics worked frantically over the boy, paddles out, trying to shock the small heart into beating again.

And Blair was at the fountain, for the first time seeing what Jim had seen, feeling what Jim had felt -- if it were Jim lying there like that --

Somewhere a wolf howled, echoed by the growl of a panther.

Off to the side, Bill stood, stricken, face white, staring at the ghastly scene being played out in the yard, at the increasingly desperate efforts to save his brother.

Peeling himself away from Jim, Blair staggered over to Bill, sank to his knees by the boy, and pulled him into his arms, not finding any words to offer. Bill leaned into Blair's embrace, his eyes still glued to Eric's still body. Out of the corner of his eyes, Blair saw Jim turning away, moving toward the back of the yard, saw Jim bend down, pick up a cup, using a handkerchief to keep from touching it directly, and sniff it.

And suddenly a paramedic shouted, "We have a pulse!" and there was organized frenzy as Eric was strapped to the stretcher.

Jim walked back over and tapped a paramedic on the shoulder.

"Cocaine," he said, handing her the cup. "He's ingested cocaine, I'm not sure how much."

The paramedic's eyes widened. She hesitated, then nodded, taking the cup, carrying it carefully so that she wouldn't lose the little amount of liquid left inside.

As the stretcher was wheeled away, Jim nodded toward one of the uniformed policemen who apparently had arrived along with the paramedics, and gestured him toward the back of the yard. Understanding that he was to keep an eye on the yard to see that it wasn't disturbed, the officer stayed behind, while the rest of the group followed the stretcher out to the ambulance.

Blair had just guided Bill out onto the driveway when a woman got out of a car that had stopped across the street, and strode quickly toward them. Chancellor Konoe.

"Auntie Lin!" Bill cried, rushing forward to meet Konoe, who caught the boy in her open arms.

"What happened?" she asked Blair, who trailed after Bill.

"Eric. He drank something. Jim thinks it had cocaine in it."

"Cocaine? My god! How could that..." she trailed off as Jim reached them.

"Chancellor," Jim said, "you know this family?"

"Margaret Villard's an old friend of mine."

Blair groaned. "These are Professor Villard's children? Oh, fuck."

Jim spared a glance at Blair before continuing, "The parents must be contacted immediately."

"Of course," said Konoe, releasing Bill and reaching for her purse. She took out a cell phone and pressed a button. "Hello. Lin. Listen, I need..."

A paramedic came over. "Is anyone coming with the patient?" he asked.

"Boy's name is Eric Villard," Jim responded. "We are trying to contact the parents," he nodded toward Konoe. "We'll meet you there. You taking him to Cascade General?" The paramedic nodded affirmatively and hurried away.

On the cell phone, Konoe said, "Yes, Cascade General. I'll meet them there," and hung up.

Just then, the ambulance sirens started, making everyone wince. Jim covered his ears. The ambulance pulled away, and Konoe turned to Jim as soon as the sirens faded enough for them to speak.

"I've asked my office to contact Margaret and George. They both teach at Rainier," she said. "I can take Bill with me to the hospital, if that's all right with you?"

"That's very good, Ma'am," said Jim. "I'll have the officers escort you to the hospital. If I may check one thing, though..." he turned toward Bill. "Bill," he said, bending down to look into the boy's face, "That cup Eric used to drink the beer? Did it come from your house?"

Bill nodded. "It's from the kitchen."

Konoe blanched. "Detective, you don't think..."

"I don't think anything at this point, Chancellor," said Jim. "Not until we gather the evidence." He turned toward the officer standing by. "Officer Gibson, will you please escort the Chancellor and Bill to the hospital?"

"Where do I call for information?" asked Konoe.

Jim punched a number on his cell phone and raised it to his ear.

"Chief," he said, "give her your card."

Sheepishly, Blair offered Konoe a freshly printed Cascade PD-issue business card as Jim turned away to talk to Simon.

Konoe took the card, looked like she wanted to say something, then decided against it. She left, holding Bill by the hand, with Officer Gibson in tow, but not before giving Blair a look that said, "We'll discuss this later."

"Come on Chief," Jim said, hanging up and starting to walk back toward the yard. "Let's go."

Blair ran to catch up with him.

"Keg of beer?" he asked, as he matched Jim's stride.

"Over there," Jim pointed toward the back of the yard. "Forensics is on its way to check the house, but I want to get a look at the keg first."

"You don't really think Professor Villard had drugs in her house, do you?"

"How well do you know this Professor, Chief?"

"Took her Western Civ course in undergrad. Very inspirational, energetic teacher. She's a fav with the students."

"What of her husband?"

"Don't know him. He used to teach at a nearby community college, just got hired after Konoe came in. Economics or something."

They had reached the very back of the yard, where the keg of beer sat, hidden underneath the bushes.

"Wow," Blair commented. "You really have to be right next to it to see it. How did you know where it was?"

"Smelled it," said Jim. "Then saw the barrel."

"Sight on smell? Cool."

Jim grimaced. "We have a job to do, here, Chief," he said, pulling on his rubber gloves.

"However did the kids find this?" Blair wondered out loud.

"They were playing with the ball," Jim pointed to a ball a few feet away. "It rolled," he pointed to traces that only sentinel sight could see, "stopped there." Now that Blair could see, a dent in the soft soil not far from the keg.

"So where did this come from?" Blair nodded toward the keg. "Looks like somebody took some care to hide it."

"That they did," Jim reached for the keg and shook it slightly. "Feels pretty full -- it probably is beer."

"You can smell it?" Blair himself could only smell the slight cedarly smell of the keg. "How about the cocaine? Can you smell that?"

"Could, in the cup," said Jim. "Now... hold on a sec." He took out the handkerchief again, put it under the spout, twisted the handle just a bit to let a little beer soak into the cloth, and sniffed it.

"Yup, it's in here."

"Great, then we don't have to search the house."

Jim looked at Blair.

"Come on, these are good people. They are professors for god's sake. Oh right, I know I know," Blair backpedaled at Jim's bland look, "being an academic isn't guarantee that you don't engage in criminal activities. But, hey, if the cocaine is in the keg, it's in the keg. How likely is it that someone will keep cocaine in a keg in the yard and in their house at the same time? And anyway, why would anyone mix cocaine in beer? In such a large dose that -- how much did the kid drink of this anyway? Couldn't be much more than a cup, right? And that was enough to send him into cardiac arrest? How saturated is that stuff, anyway?"

Jim looked at his partner, mildly amused by the outburst.

"It's pretty heavily concentrated," he said, peering closer at the handkerchief. "I can see some undissolved grains on this."

"Well, there you go," said Blair. "Why would anyone dump so much cocaine into beer? And how in the world did they get it inside the keg?" he waved at the keg.

"Well, good questions, partner," said Jim. "So let's see if we can figure out where this keg came from."

Gesturing at the uniformed officer, who had been standing at a discreet distance, to watch the keg, Jim led the way into the bushes. He kept pointing out traces of disturbances in the earth and in the trees, some of which Blair could see, but most of which he couldn't. He did gather from Jim's terse comments that whoever had come through this way with the keg had done so within the last two or three days. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity crawling through the undergrowth, they emerged into a clearing.

"Shit," said Blair.

"Know that building?"

"It's the freshmen dorms."

"You ever live there?"

"Yeah. I had to live on campus until I was 18. Oh, shit. That keg. It's..."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Well, see, at Rainier, there's this tradition for freshmen..."

"That involves hiding a keg of beer?"

"um, yeah."

Jim crossed his arms, waiting.

"But it never involved cocaine! Jim! I swear!"

1985:

Blair stared at the keg sitting in the middle of his room, and looked wearily up into the grinning face of his roommate.

"We are supposed to hide this?" he asked. "Where?"

"Oh, come on Blair, don't be a spoilsport," urged Kevin. "The hard part was getting this away from the Sigma Beta Kappa and smuggling it into this building. We've got the easy part, buddy."

"Whatever made you volunteer us for this job?"

"Hey, I know I can count on you to think up a good hiding place for this. You're the 'wunderkid,' after all."

Blair sighed, shut the thick volume of Levi-Strauss he had been reading, ran a hand over his short, unruly curls, and pulled off his thick-rimmed glasses, which had slid down his nose. Again.

"Okay, Kevin," he said. "Here's what we are gonna do..."

Present:

"So the idea was to steal a keg of beer from one of the fraternity houses, and hide it?" Jim asked, as they made their way toward the front of the freshmen dormitory building.

"Yup. The goal was to keep it hidden until midterms, and then we'd all get together and have an after-midterms bash."

Jim shook his head in tolerant amusement. "So where'd you hide it, genius?"

"I just kept it where Kevin put it."

"In the middle of your room? But anyone walking in would see it."

"Nope. We covered it with a tablecloth and put a wooden board over it. Looked like two poor students who couldn't afford to buy a proper table making do with a make-shift table. Nobody ever thought to look closer."

Jim snorted.

"In fact, the table worked so well, we grabbed the keg back after the midterms bash, and set it up again as a table."

Jim burst out laughing. "You have a criminal mind, Chief," he said. "And contrary to your protestations the other day, you didn't learn it from Cascade's Finest."

"No, I'm just ingenious," Blair insisted. "Give me a problem, and I come up with simple, elegant, and very practical solutions."

Jim chuckled. "That you do, Chief, that you do," he agreed, good-humoredly. "Seems like this year's freshmen didn't have a good practical thinker among them, huh?"

"If they lugged the beer through all that undergrowth to hide it, they must've been pretty desperate," Blair agreed. "I don't think we were supposed to hide it off campus, though I understand sometimes people hid it in other places on campus." He paused as they came up to the entrance of the dorm. "Are the students going to be in a lot of trouble?"

Jim thought for a moment. "If they aren't involved with the cocaine, stealing the beer is minor theft, and I doubt the fraternity they stole the keg from would press charges, especially if they've done it themselves when they were freshmen. There's probably some local ordinances against littering that would apply, so some fines..." he shrugged. "But if that boy dies?"

"He's going to be okay, isn't he, Jim?"

Jim turned away. "We can't know that, Chief."

"Jim. Did you feel...?"

"Not now, Chief, we've got some students to round up."

There weren't a lot of students in the dorm at mid-day, but the ones who were there were cooperative, once they learned that a boy had almost died from drinking the cocaine-laced beer. One student, pale-faced, said, "Jesus, what if we'd drunk that?" Blair couldn't agree more.

Having learned the names of the students who had been responsible for stealing the keg from a fraternity house -- which fraternity, none of the students at the dorm knew -- Jim made a call to campus security.

"Suzanne Tamaki is going to find those students and meet us at the chancellor's office. Let's go," Jim said, hanging up the phone. On their way over, he called Simon to update him on the situation.

"Any word on Eric?" Blair asked.

Jim repeated the question to Simon, then shook his head. "No word yet, Chief," he said. "Yeah, Simon," he concluded, "We'll call you when we find out. Bye."

They made their way into the administration building and up to the Chancellor's Office. Jim quickly explained to the secretary why they were there, and asked if they could get in touch with Konoe to update her.

The secretary nodded and picked up the phone. Jim indicated for Blair to take the call.

"Why me?" mouthed Blair.

"You know the situation with the students better," Jim whispered back.

Grudgingly, Blair took the phone from the secretary.

"Dr. Konoe? Blair Sandburg speaking."

"Mr. Sandburg. Have you found anything?"

"Please, call me Blair. And yes, we might know where the keg of beer came from, though we still have no idea how the cocaine got into it."

"I take it this has something to do with the university, since you're at my office?"

"I... I'm afraid so, Dr. Konoe," Blair answered. "How's Eric? You're still at the hospital?"

"They are still working on him. I just finished speaking to Margaret and George," Konoe responded. "I... Is there something I can do if I return to the office? There's nothing I can do here at the hospital, really."

Blair glanced at Jim, who nodded imperceptibly. "Yes, Dr. Konoe, we'll be here. We can talk when you get back."

"Good, I can be there in twenty. Talk to you then."

Returning the phone to the secretary, Blair went to stand by Jim, who was looking out a window. At the fountain.

Side by side, they stood, not talking. Water spilled cheerfully from the fountain. Students bustled by on their way to class, or stood around the fountain chatting, or sat on the benches, reading, waiting for someone, biting into a sandwich.

It was an ordinary day at Rainier.

Shuffling at the door drew the men's attention away from the window and back into the room, where Suzanne Tamaki, campus security chief, was escorting three students into the office. The students stood uncertainly by the door, nervously glancing around the room.

Jim turned to the secretary. "Can we use the Chancellor's office?"

"Actually, with this many people, the conference room down the hall will be better."

"Thank you, that'll be great. Gentlemen?" Jim gestured for the students to follow the secretary.

"Well," said Jim, looking around at the students once they were settled around the conference table, the students on one side and Jim and Blair on the other, with Suzanne choosing to remain standing near the door. "I'm Detective James Ellison, Cascade PD, and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. Did Chief Tamaki inform you of the situation?"

One of the students swallowed nervously. "She said a boy drank from the keg of beer we were hiding."

"But we don't know anything about cocaine!" burst out another one.

"Calm down, gentlemen," Jim said raising a hand. "We aren't accusing anyone of anything at the moment. We are just trying to find out what happened. Now," he looked at each of the students in turn, "your names, please?"

"Steve Chao," said the one who had spoken first.

"Peter Roth," said the second one.

Jim turned to the one who hadn't spoken yet.

"I'm Patrick Hankel," said the student. "I'm a senior, and President of Sigma Delta Alpha. Chief Tamaki just informed me that these two," he nodded toward the other students, "had taken a keg of beer from our fraternity house."

"I see," Jim said, glancing toward Suzanne and nodding his appreciation at her for bringing in the fraternity house president. "Do you have any idea, Mr. Hankel, how cocaine may have gotten into your beer, if it is indeed your beer?"

"None at all," Patrick responded quickly. "We bought the beer from a local brewery, and it was one of the kegs that we opened for our beginning-of-the-year welcome back party. We had several kegs open at once, and I guess nobody noticed when one went missing."

"So you can't tell us if anyone at your party drank from that particular keg?"

"No, Detective, I can't."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Suzanne opened it a bit and looked out, then held it open for the Chancellor.

Konoe looked weary, but she kept her shoulders erect as she took a seat one over from Blair.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," she said. "I just got in."

"Any word on the boy, Chancellor?" Jim asked.

"He's stabilized, though he's in ICU at the moment. The doctors are optimistic that he'll pull through. I... They said it was lucky that we knew what he had ingested. If we hadn't..." she trailed off, looking into Jim's eyes.

Jim nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to Blair.

"Chief, why don't you inform the Chancellor of this 'tradition' of yours?"

Konoe wasn't pleased to learn of underage students stealing and hiding beer in a somewhat organized fashion, but promised to be lenient when Blair argued that the students involved had been cooperative. After stepping out to check with Simon, Jim returned to the room, asked Patrick for the name and address of the brewery where the beer had been purchased, then thanked everyone for their cooperation, and assured them that no criminal charges would be filed.

"Unless, of course," Jim added, "we find that a student was involved in the placing of the cocaine in the beer."

"Is that likely, Detective?" Konoe asked.

"I certainly hope that won't be the case, Chancellor," Jim responded, "but we have to keep our minds open to all possibilities at this point. Mr. Hankel," he addressed the student, "I'd like you to come down to the station to see if you can identify that keg. Suzanne, can you spare an officer to escort Mr. Hankel to the station?" Tamaki nodded, and gestured for the students to rise and follow her.

"I..." Steve paused at the door, "I hope the boy is all right."

"Me too," Peter added.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Konoe said.

Once the students were gone, Blair turned to Jim. "So the brewery?"

Jim nodded. "Forensics opened the keg, and found a packet of cocaine at the bottom. It had split open, leaking the stuff into the beer."

Konoe frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would anyone hide cocaine in a keg full of beer? And why would they sell it to a fraternity house -- for the price of a keg of beer, according to Mr. Hankel?"

"A lot of things about this case don't make sense yet, Chancellor," Jim answered. "We'll know more when we investigate the brewery, I hope."

"Well, I shouldn't keep you then," Konoe said, getting up. "Detective, I really want to thank you. You saved Eric's life."

"Blair did, too."

"Yes, Bill told me," Konoe turned to Blair, "and I'm just very grateful to the both of you. But if Detective Ellison hadn't identified the cocaine..." she took a deep breath. "It's unfortunate what happened with your dissertation, Blair," she said. "If there is anything I can do... as long as I'm at Rainier, you'll have the support of this institution. You both will."

Blair exchanged a quick glance with Jim. "Thank you, I... appreciate that," he said.

"And what is this about being a consultant with the police? You did register with us for the semester, right?"

"I'm leading a double life, Dr. Konoe," Blair quipped. "Graduate student by night, and devoted sidekick to Lone Ranger Ellison by day."

"You're much more than a sidekick, Chief. In fact, this one runs the show," Jim said, affectionately whopping his partner on the head.

"Woof."

Konoe amusedly observed the interchange between the two men. "Well, gentlemen, carry on."

The sun felt bright and the breeze coolly refreshing as they left the administration building. Side by side they walked, their path leading them by the fountain, directly past the front of Hargrove Hall. Jim's feet slowed, then stopped. He stood, looking down at the grass, and Blair knew, with a sudden chill, where they were.

He couldn't look down at the spot Jim was looking. He couldn't. Then he was. Green blades swayed almost imperceptibly in the breeze. The afternoon sun was still warm, still bright.

Swallowing hard, Blair stepped close to Jim, hand brushing Jim's arm, and looked up into the grim, rock-hard eyes.

"You brought me back," he whispered.

Jim's hand came up, cupped Blair's cheek.

"You came back to me."

Blair bowed his head, wondering why in the world he had ever thought, even for a moment, that he perhaps shouldn't have come back.

"Come on," said Jim. "We have work to do."

Together, they turned and walked away from the fountain, arms entwined across each other's backs.

SVS-03: Call of the Wolf by WoD, Part 1