The woman sat quietly, her slender body impossibly still as cornflower blue eyes stared unseeingly out the small, somewhat grimy window. Behind her, on a small bed, a young man of about thirty sat and fidgeted, his thoughts in turmoil.

She was too quiet, too still and for far too long this time. It was too close to the way he'd first seen her in the hospital. Was she having a relapse? And was that a bad thing? He gave a nervous "huff" and wondered if he should try something again.

He'd been routinely attempting to bring her back but so far, nothing. Should he try something else? Yes, he should.

He got up and took two tentative steps toward the woman. When he was within reach, he rested a hand on her shoulder and whispered softly, "alex?" Then a bit louder, "Alex, can you hear me?"

Like all earlier attempts, this one failed.

Damn, he'd tried to remember everything she'd told him but he must be missing something. He frowned in concentration, then gripping the soft shoulder hard, digging his fingers into fragile flesh, he yelled, "ALEX, PAY ATTENTION!"

Not even a flicker of an eyelash. He might as well have been in a room with the dead.

He racked his brains and searched the small cabin for something that would trigger an idea. His eyes lit on the battered, dogeared mystery he was reading. In the hospital, before she'd come back from whatever world she'd been inhabiting, he'd sat for hours and read to her. Couldn't hurt now.

He picked up the book, dragged a chair over and sat down close. Holding the paperback in one hand and stroking her arm with his other, he began to read...

"I knew the man was evil the moment I caught a glimpse of the eyes. Cold, distant and dead. He would kill the girl without so much as blink of those lifeless shark eyes. I couldn't risk it..."

He continued to read, letting his voice take on an almost sing-song quality. He read four chapters, then onto the fifth...

"I had him in my sights. In a moment, a flash of time, he'd be dead. The evil would end and justice would be done. I realized I was holding my breath and that my hand was trembling slightly. Which was odd. I'd killed before, too many times to enumerate. Of course, the difference here was that I was about to take a life in cold blood. Shoot a man down. No warning, from my perch above his home. The second he stepped within my sight, within range, I had every intention of pulling the trigger. One bullet through the brain. Clean, quick and unfortunately -- painless.

"But he would never have been caught, would never have gone to trial. He would never experience justice and the families of his victims would never know peace -- nor would I. So I had no choice. I had to become all that I found to be an abomination... I had to beco..."

"shutup..."

The man stopped mid-word. He glanced up quickly and found the woman staring at him, her eyes wide, cold and -- lifeless.

"I -- you -- you were, what do you call it?" he stammered out.

She cleared her throat and swallowed before answering. "Zoned. I was zoned. How long?"

He checked his watch. "Over four hours."

Her eyelids dropped, then lifted. If possible, the pale orbs became even frostier. "Four hours? You couldn't help me for four hours?"

"I, I -- did everything you told me, everything I could do, but nothing worked. Finally," he held up the book, "I started reading to you, like the hospital. That was almost an hour ago."

With difficulty, Alex Barnes stood, one pale hand clenching in frustration as she waved off the man's assistance. He was useless.

In the beginning, when she'd first come back to awareness, she'd believed it was because of him. But now she knew the truth. He wasn't anyone who could help her and she'd come around because her mind was stronger than anything the Temple of the Sentinels could do to her. It was that simple.

But -- she still needed control -- help -- guidance.

And revenge.

God, such a simple word and much overused, but damn, it was appropriate. Months as a vegetable because of James Ellison.

Any pull or emotion she might have felt for the man was long gone now. The burning need to bond was dead, the need to possess, gone. And in its place -- hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.

He could have helped her, kept this from happening, but he'd done nothing, had refused to go back to the pools, to take a chance, to see what she'd seen...

Alex stepped to the front door and swung it open. She took a deep, refreshing breath of the cold, bracing air. The man behind her, Todd Langdon, waited patiently. Alex smiled grimly.

Todd was nothing if not patient. She'd certainly learned that. And he was completely besotted. God only knew what he'd done to her while she'd been experiencing the mother of all zone-outs. And until now, she'd been willing to put up with him because she'd believed...

But he wasn't the one.

Which was fine, because she knew where the only one lived. The first step of her plan had failed and in her anger, she'd allowed herself to zone. Vince was dead and Ellison lived.

God damn them all. But she was smarter and would ultimately prevail. Had she not survived the Temple?

So it was time to rethink her plan. And to refigure Todd's place in it. Her grin widened in anticipation. She would leave a message that would confuse and terrify -- and remind. She took another step out and raised her face to the bright winter sun.

"You heard the doctor, Ellison. Now stay put and I'll get your coffee."

"I'm not an invalid, Sandburg."

"No, you're not. Just a garden variety pain in the ass."

Jim smiled smugly. "Yeah, I am."

"God, you're actually proud of being a lousy patient."

Jim had been home from the hospital for twenty-four hours and was currently comfortably situated in the corner of the couch, relaxing in sweat pants and one of his old, cropped Cascade PD tee shirts. His white-socked feet were resting on the coffee table and he was feeling incredibly lucky, chipper and horny.

As Blair came to stand over him, eyes bright with mirth even as he tried to scowl, Jim reached up and pulled him down. Sandburg's body landed awkwardly over Jim's and as the older man wrapped his arms around a wiggling Blair, he said with a leer, "No, Chief, I'm proud to be a pain in the ass."

Laughing, Blair said, "I think Dr. Forrester might have underestimated your recuperative powers, Jim."

With some clever maneuvering Jim had Sandburg positioned to feel just how recuperative his powers really were.

"Well shit," Sandburg breathed out. "This can't be good for you, Ellison. Too soon, man."

Jim gave a small thrust and grinned again. "Too soon, eh?"

"I swear you have a one track mind. Alex Barnes is out there somewhere, you're barely on your feet, still reeling from the flu and a slight case of poisoning and all you can think about is..."

"Being a pain in the ass?"

"Yeah, that."

"And you find this upsetting?" He punctuated his question with another small, well-aimed thrust.

"Ah god, Ellison, who knew sex mattered this much to you?"

Jim buried his face in hair and inhaled sharply as he pulled Blair's shirt out from under the waistband of his jeans. He slid his hand up Sandburg's back and smiled against Blair's ear as he felt the rise of goosebumps and the slight quiver of muscles.

"You matter this much to me, Chief."

Sandburg pulled back just enough to see Jim's face. He trailed one finger along Ellison's jawline as he said, "We need to make a pact, man. No more of this near death crap, you know?"

Eyes fixed on Sandburg's lips, Jim whispered, "to quote a wise woman, i hear that." He rested his lips lightly against Blair's, then flicked out his tongue. He licked at Blair's lips, then nudged his way inside.

They kissed long and deep, enjoying the sensation and drawing it out. Neither man made any move to go further, content to kiss, stroke and smile. Death had come too close -- hovered too near -- and both felt a desire to reconnect slowly and lovingly.

Blair had taken his kisses down a bit and was busy with Jim's neck when the phone rang. It was ignored -- until the quiet authority of their Captain's voice penetrated.

"Ellison, Sandburg, pick up."

No other words were necessary. Blair was off Jim in a split second and a moment later was answering.

"Simon, what is it?"

"Barnes' accomplice has been found. I need you two here -- now."

"On our way."

Jim was already headed upstairs as Blair put the receiver down.

Simon stared at the report and photos sitting in front of him. Across his desk sat Joel Taggert, his own hurting brown eyes fixed on one photo in particular. He was shaking his head in stunned disbelief.

"Captain?"

Banks glanced up, surprised. He'd been so engrossed in the file, he'd failed to notice the arrival of his best team.

"Come in and shut the door, gentlemen."

Joel quickly vacated his chair in deference to Jim but the detective didn't move. He was frozen, eyes fixated on the paperwork under Simon's hand. Blair started around him but Jim shot out an arm and blocked his path. Puzzled, Blair stopped and quizzed, "Jim?"

Pale blue eyes lifted from the same picture that moments before had so thoroughly captured Joel's attention. Fixing that icy glare on his captain, he barked out, "What the hell..."

"Jim, sit down."

The words were said with the same quiet authority Simon had used on the phone.

Ellison blinked a couple of times, then walked over and took the offered chair. Joel quickly brought two others and he and Sandburg took their seats.

Simon wondered how he was going to do this. His fingers tapped lightly on the glossy surface of one of the photos. The truth and said quickly. Only way.

"The nurse that helped Alex escape has been found -- dead. This morning at six-forty, at Rainier -- in the -- fountain. Face down."

Sandburg had been watching Jim closely, worried at the sudden pallor and shallow breathing; so Simon's words didn't immediately register, but the sudden clenching of Jim's jaw did. Simon spoke again and this time the words penetrated.

"There was another note."

"You have it here, Simon?" Jim's voice sounded remarkably cool and detached. Without a word, Simon handed over a cream colored piece of paper. Calm fingers took it and Jim read the bold printing:

THE JUNGLE IS FULL OF BITTERSWEET MEMORIES

Sandburg only had to lean a bit to read over Jim's arm and as he did, he frowned. Then Simon's earlier words hit him. His head jerked to Simon's desk as if pulled by a marionette's string. Eyes searched, found -- and he took in a sudden, shocked breath. Jim turned at the sound and reached out a hand.

"I'm okay, Jim. I'm okay." Tortured eyes were lifted to Simon as Blair asked, "Why the fucking fountain? Why there and that way?"

It was Jim who answered, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of steel. "She's playing with us, Chief."

"Well then, I say we cancel the game. Called on account of rain."

"Somehow I doubt it'll be that easy, Chief."

"I'm afraid you're right, Jim." Blair turned his attention back to Simon and with a quick jerk of his head, indicated one of the photos. "May I see that, Simon?"

Banks hesitated, his glance flicking from Jim and back to Sandburg. In a slightly more firm voice, Blair said, "Simon, this isn't up to Jim."

The photo was slid over and Blair lifted it slowly.

The fountain, grey and angular, water gently striking a billowing tan jacket, hair spread out dark against the blue liquid, the water itself darkening as hands, pale hands seemed to be reaching out, the body bobbing lightly...

"How, who took..."

"The picture?" Simon finished for him. At Blair's nod, he answered, "That dark color around the body is blood. He was shot once in the left eye. He didn't -- drown, Blair. Putting him in the fountain was just..."

This time it was Blair who finished. "Just window dressing. Just for fun, because she could."

Simon nodded. "That about says it."

The picture floated out of Blair's hand and he watched it slide a bit as it landed. He felt ill. Too many sudden emotions, and of course, the memories Alex had alluded to in her note. He really could have used a good five-hour meditation session. Or twenty. But he managed to control his breathing by concentrating on the man next to him.

They'd never spoken about it, but now -- it was here again, a specter of their past, of their mistakes, and Simon's words in the hospital took on even greater meaning: Don't hurt each other...

Blair tore his gaze from Jim and looked searchingly at Simon. He was surprised to note the grey tinge around the eyes and lips -- it was obvious how tense Simon was at the moment. But it was the older man's eyes that really surprised Sandburg. The brown eyes held anger and something more, something Blair couldn't identify.

"She has to be near."

Blair jerked his attention back to Jim as Simon responded, "But wouldn't you sense her?"

It was Blair who answered. "Not necessarily. If she's not actually in Cascade..."

Joel spoke for the first time. "So she could be out there, anywhere, ready to strike again?" He realized that Simon's question probably alluded to another facet of Jim's abilities -- and since they'd all adopted the don't ask, don't tell credo, he decided to jump in with his own question as if he already knew why Jim should sense Alex. And he hoped that someday -- he could ask.

"Yes. The question is," Jim mused, "who is she after? And what does she want this time?"

There were questions Sandburg wanted to ask his partner, needed to ask, but not here, not now, not with Simon and Joel present. But he hadn't counted on Simon.

"Jim, are you -- you know -- feeling anything -- unusual?"

Okay, Blair thought almost humorously, that's getting to the meat of it.

Jim's fingers gripped the arm of the chair but he answered quietly, "No Simon, I'm feeling nothing but anger." He didn't bother to add, and hate. No need to unsettle his boss with this nagging need to strangle Alex Barnes with his bare hands.

Simon sat back, realizing that going any further with this line of questioning would serve no purpose -- yet.

"So gentlemen, any ideas?"

"Forensics have the evidence?" Jim asked.

"As soon as he was identified, we took over, Jim. Serena has the clothing and Dan Wolfe the body. Connor is still working on Shaw. You might want to check in with both Serena and Dan, Jim. Give us your own unique spin on the evidence."

Jim stood with Blair following suit. "Guess we'd better get started then."

"Jim," Simon's voice was soft, concerned. "You okay to go?"

"I'm fine, Simon. And Sandburg here will keep me on the straight and narrow."

A sudden snort from Joel brought all eyes to him. He shrugged helplessly, a grin spreading across his features -- and the absurdity of Jim's words hit the others. The temporary release of tension was just what the doctor ordered.

Simon chortled a bit and huffed, "Right, you hear that, Sandburg? You keep Jim on the straight and narrow. Got that?"

"I think that horse has gotten away from us, Simon, but hey," and he gave an exaggerated shrug. Jim shoved him out the door.

As it shut behind them, Joel looked at his friend, brown eyes serious once again. "You've never talked about it, Simon. Not once."

A finger dragged the photo of Todd Langdon back to rest in front of him. Staring at it, Simon said softly, "Even now, I don't think I can. He was dead, gone. But I can tell you this -- when Jim turned at the head of the steps leading up to Hargrove Hall, when he turned to face the fountain, somehow knowing that Blair was," his finger tapped the photo, "there, in the water, well, it was unlike anything I'd ever witnessed. God, the way his body --" Simon swiped a hand over his eyes as if trying to erase the vision. He flipped the photo over on its face.

After what seemed an eternity, he gazed up at his friend. "We never talked about it, none of us, Joel. Not Connor, Rafe, Brown or I. And I've never said anything to Blair. Just couldn't."

There was a momentary pause, then Joel said, "You said he was gone, but of course..."

"No, Joel. He was -- gone. The paramedics called it. He was dead by anyone's standard. Even with the sloppiest math, he had to have been in that watery -- grave -- for at least twenty minutes."

Simon blinked, once again trying to dispel the memory. "He was so pale when we pulled him out and so damn cold -- so... so," but he couldn't go on.

"Then how the hell...."

"Don't ask, Joel. Just -- don't ask."

"Where do we start, Jim? Forensics or the morgue?"

"Morgue, Chief."

"The body. Swell. I just knew you'd say that."

Dan Wolfe pulled out the drawer housing the body of Todd Langdon but before removing the sheet, he looked carefully at Sandburg. "It's not the worst, Sandburg, but he was shot in the left..."

"I know, Dan, I'm fine. Just pull it."

Jim gave Wolfe a small nod and the sheet was unfolded. Once Langdon's body was revealed Dan left, having enough experience with Detective Ellison and his partner to know they required privacy.

Ellison slipped on a pair of gloves retrieved from his pocket and began his examination.

"He has faint bruising here," he indicated Langdon's left arm. He slipped off one glove and as he'd done in Sierra Verde, he ran one finger over the man's lips. There was no vision this time, but the faint trace of wax told him lipstick. As with Carl, she'd kissed Langdon just before killing him.

Jim wouldn't need the ballistic report to tell him the caliber of gun; the small, clean wound told him that. Alex must have been close, the gun maybe hidden in her hand. Langdon had been tall and she must have simply brought his head down, kissed him, then lifted her hand and fired, point blank.

Jim shook his head and a hand settled on his back. "I'm fine, Chief."

"I know." The statement was simple and full of confidence. Gratitude welled up within Ellison at the sound of Blair's voice. No doubt colored his tone, only love and trust.

Jim bent back to his task, lifting first the right hand, then the left, inspecting the palms and under the fingernails. While there was no evidence of a struggle, the hands could tell their own story and Jim wasn't disappointed. He found blisters on both palms, heavier on the right than the left. His sentinel sight caught flecks of what appeared to be paint chips, possibly from the handle of something.

He turned his attention to the fingernails. Dan had already scraped them, but Jim could see more. He pulled out a plastic bag, searched the room and spotted a tray of covered instruments.

"Chief, check over there for tweezers."

Blair moved quickly, lifted the blue sheet, spotted a pair and handed them to Jim. Ellison re-scraped under the nails, letting the brownish material fall into the bag. The rest of his examination was swift and yielded nothing significant.

After tearing off the gloves and dropping them into the wastebasket, Jim pulled the cover back over the body.

"Well?"

"Clothes next."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Jeesh, you can be a closed-mouthed bastard."

Jim smiled as he opened the door, allowing Blair to precede him.

The tagged bags containing Langdon's clothes lay on a table in Serena's lab. She, like Dan, had wisely left the two men alone. Jim started with the shoes.

Blair watched, fascinated, as Jim inspected the soles first, then with gloved hand used his fingers to flick pieces of what appeared to Sandburg to be dirt. As Jim picked some up and held it to his nose, Blair found himself as much in awe of Jim's abilities now as he'd been over four years ago.

"Pine trees. Spruce and... juniper."

"The mountains then?"

"That would be my guess. His soles are covered with pine needles, heavily ground in. And it fits with his hands."

"How so?"

"There were brand-new blisters and small chips of paint embedded in the skin -- like maybe he'd been wielding an..."

"Axe?"

"You got it, Chief. Chopping wood and I'm betting these clothes will reveal minute traces of shavings."

"I have got to buy you a deerstalker's cap."

"Smart ass."

Minutes later, Jim's suspicions had been confirmed. Bits of wood shavings, dirt and more pine needles were on the jeans, the shirt and the jacket. But unfortunately -- the pockets were empty. Not surprising since Alex would never be so careless as to leave anything behind that could lead to her.

"Uh, Jim? If Alex is a sentinel again, would she have, I mean..."

"She doesn't care, Chief. She was careful to check his pockets, but wherever she is, she doesn't believe we can find her. And I suspect -- she's moved on by now."

"Then what the heck are we doing..."

"No stone unturned, Darwin."

"Yeah, yeah, right. So now what?"

"You tell me."

"Well, she isn't perfect and I think she's insane. She'll make a mistake so I say we check Langdon's credit card records and check with Connor to see if Shaw owned any property in the mountains. Langdon too."

"Who said following me around all these years hasn't paid off?"

Blair glanced pointedly down and around, his gaze landing firmly on Jim's ass. "Oh, yeah, following you around has offered me a great view -- of good detective work."

"Putz."

While Jim conferred with Connor, Blair took on the task of checking Langdon's credit cards. After almost an hour and not a little of the infamous Sandburg hacking, he'd managed to pull up the days since Langdon and Alex disappeared from Camarillo. The nurse had two cards: a Visa and an American Express Gold. Blair found one fuel purchase on the Visa -- for twenty-six dollars the day the two had disappeared. The purchase had been made in Everett.

The Amex revealed even more. Three food purchases, one at a market in Everett and two at a general store in Woupuckett, a small, barely-there town north of Everett.

Blair glanced over at Connor's desk and found that Jim was standing and appeared finished. The two were talking softly as Megan handed Jim a sheaf of papers. A moment later, Jim was seated beside Blair.

"Time to compare notes, Chief."

"Right. Well, Langdon is no brain trust, Jim. He used his cards to purchase fuel and food in Everett and food in Woupuckett."

Jim frowned. "Never heard of it, Sandburg."

"It's a small town in the mountains, just north of Everett."

"That ties in with Connor's information. Shaw had a cabin in the mountains north of Everett."

Blair took in an exaggerated breath and said, "Um, I could use some fresh mountain air, couldn't you, Jim?"

"You read my mind. But you're staying here. I'm heading up with Connor."

Blair sat back, eyes narrowing dangerously. "I don't think so, Ellison. We're partners or we aren't. Nothing in between."

"Is that a threat?" Jim asked incredulously.

"In a word, yes. We don't separate because of perceived danger to one of us. We're a team -- and for a damned good reason."

Jim's forehead creased as he thought about Blair's words. He had a vague idea of what Alex might be up to, an idea he'd chosen not to divulge earlier in Simon's office. It worried him because if he were right, what Alex now wanted, no -- needed, was help. A guide. She hadn't found one in Langdon, but she knew exactly where she could. Almost as if reading his mind, Blair said quietly, "It's safer together, Jim. For both of us."

Trust and communication.

Jim nodded and stood. "Let's get going then."

Armed with directions provided by the world wide web, the two men headed up to a place called Elk Ridge, the site of the late Vince Shaw's cabin. The drive up was relatively easy, thanks to Washington weather cooperating for a change.

They drove through Woupuckett and began to search for the obscure cutoff to Elk Ridge. Jim spotted it and made a quick left onto a small dirt road. They hadn't traveled far before Jim pulled off road and cut the engine. It was time to hike in.

Sandburg took out the white noise generator and flipped the switch. Neither man expected to find Alex at the cabin, but precautions were in order, nevertheless. And while the white noise would work against Jim, he did still have his other senses. With stealth, they hoped that if Alex were here, they'd be able to sneak up on her. If she didn't sense Jim first. The whole thing was tricky, but their only option.

The hike to the cabin didn't take long and once within range, Jim signaled Blair, who turned off the generator. Jim listened and shook his head. "Nothing. No sound."

"Empty then."

"Yep."

Still, they approached with caution, Sandburg a couple of feet behind Jim. There was no sign of life as the cabin came into view. Jim moved forward, gun drawn. He stepped up onto the porch and flattened himself against the wall next to the door. He waited, listened again, then with a swift kick, they were inside.

Jim crouched low, gun ready, but as he'd known all along, the cabin was empty. He holstered his weapon and waved Sandburg inside.

"She was here, so was Langdon."

"How..."

"I can smell her. And the same aftershave I caught on Langdon's clothes. Chlorine and Old Spice -- not my favorite."

For a moment, Jim stood in the middle of the small, one room cabin, eyes closed. Blair watched and felt his heart lurch. Was it happening now? Those -- needs? Or maybe he was picking up something? Like another vision of Alex? And what of Alex was he smelling? Blair desperately wanted to ask, to know, but he held back, reined in his emotions and waited.

Eyes still closed, Jim said, "I don't know how long it's been empty."

"Try residual body heat." At Jim's frown, Blair added, "Your hand, over the furniture."

Jim nodded and slowly started moving, hand outstretched. At an old, decrepit rocking chair by one of only two windows, he stopped.

"Heat." He inhaled and nodded. "Alex. She sat here and not more than -- two or three hours ago."

"Shit. We missed her by so little. She must have come back up here after leaving... hell, we could have passed her."

"I'd have known, Sandburg. I'd have spotted her."

Blair searched the handsome face and found only calm. There was no evidence of unease, threat or -- anything else.

"Jim, I don't understand. Sure, you've had your senses dialed down until Simon called us in this morning, but still, you should be chomping at the bit. Hell, last time, before your feelings changed, you were almost crazy with the unrecognized threat to your territory. You were wigging out, man. And now -- nothing."

Jim faced his partner, trying to read Blair's expression, to determine if Blair would understand --

"I don't completely get it, but don't think for a minute that I'm not feeling something here, because -- I am. But it's entirely different."

"Different how?"

Jim scratched the back of his head and tried to find the words.

"This -- isn't easy to explain, Blair. To give you a concrete explanation." He paused, then took a deep breath and continued. "Last time, I didn't know what the danger was. I was reacting, as you said, out of some territorial imperative to protect my city, right?"

Blair nodded, uncertain where this was heading and even more uncertain if he wanted to know. But he said, "Yeah, your city and your stuff."

Jim smiled wryly. "Well, this time, it's different. It's more controlled, more -- focused. There is only one danger, only one thing I have to protect." Suddenly he nodded, "Yeah, that's the best way to say it. I know I have to protect it."

"Your city?"

"No, Chief. Our city is safe."

"Then what?"

"Now don't go all psuedo-macho on me and don't get insulted, but everything I am says I must protect -- you."

The hike back to the truck was completed in silence, both men deep in their own thoughts. The cabin had revealed nothing more than the knowledge that Alex had been there.

When they arrived at the truck, Blair noticed Jim's pallor. Without a word, he took the keys from the man's hand. A testament to Jim's exhaustion was the fact that he let Blair have them.

When they reached Woupuckett, Blair turned the truck into a parking lot behind a building that said "Chet's Diner". He cut the engine and before Jim could say anything, Blair answered the unspoken question. "You need to eat, Jim. Now."

Jim didn't have the energy to argue. Besides, he was hungry.

They entered the dimly lit diner and took a corner booth. There were a few patrons, all looking hearty and woodsy. Blair smiled, knowing damn well how he must look to them. Thank God he was at least wearing flannel.

They ordered burgers and cokes, with Blair adding a salad.

Jim rested his back against the surprisingly comfortable booth and closed his eyes. Blair watched and accepted that for the moment at least, he was the guardian.

Ten minutes later the burgers and salad were delivered. The food looked good and Jim, suddenly revitalized by the tantalizing odor, sat up and after adding mustard and ketchup, took his first bite.

"Not bad," he mumbled around a mouthful of juicy burger. "Not bad at all."

"Neither is the salad. Dressing is good and fresh."

Both men smiled. Unexpected treasures in unexpected places.

Jim wiped his mouth and looked down at his plate. Not so much as a crumb remained with only the greasy burger wrapper decorating the dish. He'd even eaten the dill pickle. Jim glanced over at Sandburg, eyeing the half of a burger on the plate in front of the younger man. Blair grinned and shoved it over. Jim happily dug in.

Jim polished off the rest of Sandburg's burger and licked his fingers. Oh, yeah, he felt much better now.

"Obviously the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Blair teased.

"Sandburg, that is, at best, a temporary route and not recommended by the American Heart and Lung Association."

"And they would recommend?"

"It will be my pleasure to show you tonight."

"Well, well, aren't we feeling chipper all of a sudden."

"Yep. Hand over the keys, Toto."

Giving Jim an adamant shake of his head, Blair said "I don't think so. Three minutes after those tires start rolling, you'll be sound asleep. I'll drive and that way, old man, you just might have the energy to show me The American Heart and Lung Association's recommended route to at least this man's heart -- so to speak."

One eyebrow arched at the old man remark, but then Jim grinned slyly. "I do believe that was a challenge. Consider the gauntlet accepted."

Laughing, Blair paid the bill. As they walked outside, Jim grabbed him and hauled him into a dark corner of the building. Pushing Blair back even deeper into the shade of the building, Jim attacked Blair's mouth. He pressed into the body with an urgency he'd never felt before, arms wrapping around Sandburg so tightly he could feel the slight hiss of discomfort travel from Blair's mouth to his. But he didn't let go. Couldn't let go.

His original intent had been to show his partner just how much energy he had, but at the moment his lips had touched Blair's -- everything changed. He was suddenly desperate to climb his way inside Sandburg. To hold and never relinquish, to become one with him.

His mind screamed at him, but his body was more insistent and when Blair began to react by pressing in, by jamming himself against Jim, by devouring his mouth in turn, small moans of need telegraphing themselves to Jim, he knew he was lost -- and found.

This need was nothing like anything he'd experienced with Alex. This was more compelling and much more complete. More than sexual, and totally sexual. It carried them both away and Jim was no longer human; he was the jaguar, back in the jungle and racing toward the wolf.

Once again, both animals leapt up and toward each other and there was a blinding flash, but this time, when the light dimmed and the world righted itself, only one animal remained.

An animal that was neither jaguar nor wolf.

Its coat was a shiny black, but down the back ran a white and grey stripe. The blue eyes were feline shaped but the snout was canine long. The tail that swished against the jungle floor was short and bushy. But in the blink of an eye, the animal split and there on the jungle floor sat the wolf and jaguar, the cat's head resting against the wolf's side.

A horn honked and Jim's eyes flew open. He pulled away from Sandburg, who said a simple, heartfelt, "Shit."

Glancing around, Jim was relieved to find that they were still alone, still out of sight. And Blair was looking up at him, face flushed, pupils dilated and swollen lips parted in surprise.

"Did you --"

"Yeah, you?"

"Obviously."

"We were back in the --"

"-- jungle and then we were --"

"-- this weird animal, powerful, but --"

"-- but weird, I know. And then --"

"Someone honked."

"I should kill him."

"Could have been a her," Blair teased.

But Jim was no longer paying attention. He grabbed Sandburg's arm and led him to the truck. He pulled the keys from Blair's pocket and shoved them into his hand. "Drive. We need to get back."

Blair's teasing mood instantly dissipated as he caught the worry in Jim's eyes. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but let's get going."

As Blair fitted the key into the ignition, he warned, "We will talk about this."

"Like I don't know that? Drive."

In spite of Jim's sense of urgency, Blair had been right. They'd only been back on the road a few minutes before Jim succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep. The trip back to Cascade was made in silence, other than the occasional soft snore emanating from the passenger seat.

Blair was just entering the outskirts of Cascade when Jim's cell phone rang. The detective was awake immediately and slipping the phone from his pocket before the second ring.

"Ellison."

"Where are you, Jim?"

He glanced around and answered, "Maybe thirty minutes from the station, Sir."

"Park out front -- you won't be able to get to the underground garage."

"Simon?"

"We had an explosion here -- Megan's car and no, she wasn't in it at the time."

"The other shoe, Simon?"

"Another note."

"Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly."

As they approached the station, Blair's only thought was that suddenly Cascade had become a war zone.

Chester Avenue was completely cordoned off, the street lined with fire trucks and city vehicles. Uniforms were keeping the curious at bay while the firemen moved quickly and efficiently through what was now the clean-up process. Men in suits and wearing hard hats stood at the garage entrance with rolled up charts in their hands, phones to their ears, hands waving excitedly.

As Blair swung the truck into a spot on the corner of Chester and Fifth, Joel spotted them and quickly joined the two men.

"Simon's inside with Connor so I told him I'd keep a look out for you two."

With a nod toward the garage entrance and the men wearing bright yellow hard hats, Jim asked, "What's with all the suits?"

"City Inspectors and Engineers. They're worried about the structural integrity of the garage."

Blair's eyes widened as he asked in surprise, "The blast was that bad, Joel?"

"Not really, but Connor was parked at the end of row 17, nose in to the wall that conjoins the cafeteria."

All three men were just passing the wildly gesturing suits and with a half-hidden grin, Joel added, "Oh yeah, they're real concerned about the cafeteria."

"Bet they evacuated right away, uh?" Blair asked with feigned innocence.

"Yep, and the folks eating, well they were just devastated."

The three men approached the garage entrance, having been passed through by the uniforms, and their humor evaporated.

Megan stood silently next to Simon, both watching as the bomb squad finished their work. The officers had already combed the area to ensure that there were no other bombs and were now completing their investigation on what remained of Connor's Fiat Spider.

Blair walked over to Megan and put his arm reassuringly around her waist as Jim, after shooting Megan a sympathetic glance, stopped beside Banks.

"What do we have, Simon?"

"The bomb was under the car, small but powerful according to Captain Reynolds. It went off fifteen minutes after shift change. Any earlier and we'd have had injuries. As it is, only a few nearby vehicles had windows damaged by the blast."

"The note?" Jim asked quietly.

"Upstairs in my office. I haven't sent it to Serena yet. Thought you might want a look at it first. Megan found it on her desk."

"Before or after?"

"After. It was what, Connor? Thirty minutes later?"

"About. We all came running down here when the bomb went off. Officer Peterson told us it was my car but the bomb squad wouldn't actually let us in until they made sure it was safe. Once I confirmed," she paused and took a breath, then continued, her voice softer, "that it was indeed my Spider, I went back up to call my insurance agent." She looked at Blair for a moment before continuing.

"It was on my desk. I was immediately suspicious, so I bagged it and called down to Simon."

"I'd like to take a look at it now, Sir."

"What are we waiting for?"

"You guys go ahead, I'm going to stay here with what's left of my car."

Blair gave her a quick hug and followed the other three men upstairs.

As they entered Simon's office, Jim's eyes lit on the bagged evidence. He and he alone could see the single name on the outside of the envelope: Blair.

Simon went to his desk as Jim slipped on another pair of gloves. He handed over the bagged evidence, saying, "You're not going to like it, Jim." He then shot a quick, concerned glance toward Sandburg, who was watching his partner.

Ellison slipped the envelope out, held it up, and careful that the front was facing away from Blair, sniffed it and nodded.

"Same scent -- Alex at least touched this."

He lifted the flap, pulled out the one-page note and unfolded it. The paper was a cream colored piece of linen stationery and bordering the left side ran an intricate pattern of green that was, to Jim's eye, very reminiscent of a jungle. In the middle of the paper one sentence had been carefully printed:

She was there -- have you ever asked her how it felt finding your body?

Jim hissed sharply as his gloved fingers clenched around the note. Slowly he allowed the paper to drift down onto Simon's desk, the bag and envelope following. Without a word, he turned and charged into the bullpen, Simon and Joel close on his heels. He strode over to Megan's desk and circled it several times, looking for all the world like a cat stalking its prey.

No one immediately noticed that Sandburg had remained in Simon's office, where for a moment all he could do was stare at the envelope with his name on it. Then he moved forward, picked up Simon's pen and using the tip, lifted the corner of the folded note. Stunned blue eyes took in the words and the pen dropped from his hand, hit the desk and rolled off to land with a soft plunk. Sandburg ignored it.

Out in the empty squad room, Simon and Joel watched Jim pace.

"She was here." The words were no sooner out of Jim's mouth than he froze in place and it seemed to Simon that Jim had zoned -- until the detective cocked his head, sniffed the air and moved rapidly to Blair's new desk.

"Fuck."

"Jim, what is it?"

No answer as Ellison moved to the other side and rested his hand on the back of Sandburg's chair.

Joel shot a worried glance at his boss and started to speak, but Simon shook his head and continued to observe Jim, who'd taken a seat in Blair's chair.

Ellison reached out a hand and touched the phone, then the framed picture that stood next to the computer. His hand rested there a moment, then moved on. He opened a drawer and moved his fingers over several items. As they closed over one of Blair's ever present hair ties, Jim's eyes squeezed shut and finally Simon moved. He stepped behind the detective and placed one hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Ellison, you still with us?"

Jim's eyes didn't open, but the voice that answered Simon was cold and deadly.

"She sat here. She touched his stuff. All of it. And she took -- the leather tie that he put in here the other day. She played with this one." The pale blue eyes finally opened and Jim turned his head to look up at Simon.

"She was here, in Major Crime, Simon."

Jim's statement was hardly a surprise, Simon had figured as much, but somehow actually hearing the words and knowing what she'd done while she was here, hit all three men hard.

The daring act of planting the bomb, followed by the equally daring move of coming upstairs and leaving a note, seemed mild compared to the unmitigated gall of actually sitting at Sandburg's desk. The fact that once there, she'd taken time to touch, to investigate, to remain long enough to do all of that --

Jim's anger was visible in his flushed face, flaring nostrils and clenched hands, but he came to long enough to realize that Sandburg hadn't followed them. His eyes flicked back to Simon's office and that was all it took to galvanize the man. He was up, pushing past the two men and moving to Blair's side.

"Chief?"

Sandburg was still staring at the piece of stationary, his features pinched, skin pale and sweaty. Jim put out a hand and rubbed it clumsily up and down Blair's back.

"Come on, talk to me, Chief."

"What does she want?" The words were spoken without inflection as Blair continued his fixation with Alex's note.

"I -- not here, Blair, not now."

Sandburg blinked, Jim's words bringing him sharply back to the present. He faced his partner, accusation in every line of his body.

"You know. You know what she's doing!"

Simon and Joel stood in the doorway, unwilling to enter, to interrupt as Jim stared at his partner.

"Blair, everything's different now. This isn't the same battle, she's not fighting the same war."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told you, she wants control -- she wants you."

"So she's what, planting bombs and notes? Come on, Jim." His voice held all the derision of his words.

"How do you feel right now, Blair?"

Sandburg frowned at the question and shrugged his shoulders. "What kind of question is that? How the fuck do you think I feel?"

"That's what she wants, Chief. She wants you off balance and feeling guilty."

"Here's a news flash for you, Ellison -- she's got it."

The station was almost back to normal, the garage re-opened with only a twenty foot area around stall seventeen still cordoned off. The engineers had finally determined that the garage was safe and cosmetic repairs were scheduled to begin Monday morning. And the cafeteria was once again open for business.

Upstairs in Major Crime a select group of detectives sat at the conference table in Simon's office and Detective Jim Ellison was not among them.

On one side of the table sat Detectives Rafe and Brown and Inspector Connor, while opposite sat Simon and Joel.

Simon took a couple of minutes to marshal his thoughts as he gazed as his people and he knew he'd made the right decision in ordering Ellison to take Sandburg home. It was now after five and he had no wish to make the day any longer for the three detectives across the table from him. He leaned forward and shot directly from the hip.

"As you know, we believe Alex Barnes was responsible for the bombing today. The surveillance cameras revealed only one person in the immediate vicinity of the car within the three hours between Connor's return from lunch and the explosion. The individual was in uniform, but was very careful to keep in the shadow and keep the face hidden."

His fingers started to tap the tabletop as he continued. "The video shows this officer dropping something, bending down to retrieve said object and thus moving out of camera range, then straightening and moving on. We already know the bomb itself was small and we've been informed that yes, someone could have easily concealed it and planted it while bending over."

Joel interceded at this point to add, "What the camera was able to pick up is that this officer was fairly tall -- approximately five feet nine inches -- and very slender. Female is a definite possibility."

At this, Megan shifted in her chair and asked, "Wait, you're saying that not only was Barnes responsible, but that she may have actually been the one to plant the bomb?"

"We're fairly certain that she not only planted it herself, but left the note on your desk as well."

Now she leaned in, arms resting on the table, hands clenched together in front of her. "But Simon, why?"

"Connor, it's possible that you were the target today because you were in Sierra Verde, you tangled with her..."

"Then why are we here, Simon?" Rafe asked, indicating himself and his partner.

Banks took a deep breath and answered, "Because it's also possible that she had a different reason for choosing Connor's car. You see, all three of you have something else in common, a shared experience. You were at Rainier," he paused, then finished, "at the fountain."

Brown spoke for the first time.

"Fuck."

"...and basically, you're on notice. Watch your backs, take nothing for granted. Not the simplest interview or the most innocent of calls. Nothing."

The meeting was winding down and at Simon's last words, Rafe gave a wry smile and added, "And check under your cars every day."

"I still don't get it, Captain," Brown asked, as he gazed at his co-workers. "Why would she be doing any of this just because we were -- there -- that morning? It doesn't make sense."

"I don't think we're dealing with someone operating with a full deck. She's insane and until we've got her under lock and key, you need to take the appropriate precautions. There's no rule that says because we believe her intent today was simply to leave us a message, that tomorrow she won't up the ante by trying to kill someone."