He had no idea what he was going to do. He knew Zeller had the antidote to the poison that was coursing through his body, but he was clueless as to how he would get it away from him. He knew Zeller hadn't gone on the mission, he'd seen him only about a half-hour ago when he'd come to check on Lucas. All Blair knew was that if he could get hold of the antidote, then Zeller wouldn't be able to use him to control Jim. And after using the antidote, Blair reasoned, he might be able to find a way to get help.

He stopped to rest against the wall, and suddenly the pain was there again, searing his body. He cried out against his will, and sank to the floor. He lay there helplessly, writhing in agony, totally vulnerable to discovery. After a moment, he heard running footsteps, and knew it was over. Zeller would kill him, and Jim wouldn't know until he'd already fulfilled his end of the deal.

Blair closed his eyes as the footsteps approached, waiting to feel the muzzle of a gun against his skull, waiting to feel a fatal dose of the toxin injected into him, waiting to die.

"HEY! You shouldn't be out here! If the boss sees you, I'll get in trouble." Lucas kept his voice low, as he knelt beside the crumpled figure in the hallway outside his room. "C'mon...c'mon now...let's go back in my room...OK?"

Blair felt the big hands on him, gently turning him over. He struggled as Lucas picked him up and turned to go back to the bedroom.

"No...no...put me down!" he gasped, weakly. He pawed ineffectively at the huge arms, but it was no use. Blair couldn't have beaten Lucas, even if he was in peak condition. With his system loaded with neurotoxin he didn't have a chance. He began to shout, in pain and frustration.

"Leave me here! I don't care! Just let me die...I want to die...I can't...I can't do this... anymore." Blair broke off as his emotions began to get the better of him.

"Shh... stop now. You'll hurt yourself!" Lucas ignored Blair's protests as he carried the young man back into the bedroom. As Blair began to shout, Lucas looked anxiously over his shoulder, certain that his boss would be there any second to yell at him. "Please! You...you gotta be quiet.... The boss'll get mad!" Lucas carefully lowered Sandburg onto the bed, and covered him up with the blanket.

Blair was still raving, on the verge of tears. He was becoming delusional, through the pain and the stress. Beyond rationality, he swung his fist around and connected squarely with Lucas' chin.

Lucas didn't even flinch as Blair's fist hit him. "Don't do that!" he said, scolding. He finished tucking the blanket around the shivering anthropologist. "Now you just be still. You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep fighting like that," Lucas said sternly.

Blair's struggles faded slowly, as he settled back onto the pillows in exhaustion. His breath was shaky, and he could feel his eyes filling up. He didn't care anymore. The pain was beginning to subside, but not his feelings of despair. The self-defense seminar hadn't helped him much. He'd still allowed himself to be captured. Now Jim was being forced into an illegal and dangerous situation, just to save him. Once again his own carelessness had put his best friend in harm's way. It was unacceptable, even for someone with Jim's patience, he thought.

He closed his eyes. This was it, it was over. If he got out of this alive, which was doubtful, then he was going to make damned sure that he never put Jim into such a situation again. Blair sighed as he made the decision. He would leave. He would find some anthropological expedition to get involved with, someplace far, far away, where he couldn't cause his friend any more trouble. Where no one could use him to hurt Jim again.

He felt a lump in his throat at the thought of everything Jim had been through in the past year, all because of him. Through his poison-induced delirium, he wasn't aware that he had started to cry, until he heard Lucas' voice.

"Hey...hey, don't... it's OK....Here, sit up." Lucas leaned over the young man in his bed with a glass of water. Carefully, he helped Blair sit up, and held the glass for him as the young man swallowed a few sips. As soon as Lucas let go of him, Blair lay back down and turned away from the giant.

Lucas could see Blair's shoulders still shaking. He heard the muffled sounds as the young man pressed the blanket to his mouth, trying to be quiet. Lucas felt terrible, he hated to see people upset. Especially if he was the cause of it. Awkwardly, he reached out a huge hand and patted the young man on the shoulder.

"It's OK, I'm not angry...really," he said helplessly. "I don't think the boss heard you. Please...don't be sad...I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to do.

After a moment, Blair slowly got himself under control again. He took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes with the back of hand, annoyed with himself. It seemed he cried a lot these days. He was so tired, he wanted to sleep. But he didn't want to risk missing a chance to get away, if one appeared. He turned over to face Lucas again, looking up at the big man standing over him.

"What are you looking at?" Blair snapped, irritated. It was bad enough he had to have the emotional breakdown, he didn't need some big thug scrutinizing him for it.

Lucas stammered. "Nothing...um...nothing." He was quiet for a few moments, looking at the floor. "You gonna be OK now?" He patted Blair's shoulder again.

Blair shrugged away from the hand. "Oh yeah, I'm great," he sneered sarcastically. "What do you care?" He glared up at giant, who was still gazing down at him. Blair began to feel uneasy, with Lucas staring at him.

"Why don't you just go away?" he muttered. "Go on, leave me alone! I feel bad enough without some FREAK watching me." Blair turned his head away again, with a huff.

Lucas slowly turned and moved away from the bed. He wandered around aimlessly for a moment, then went and stood in the corner, facing away from Blair, and stared at the floor. He was fiddling with his hands again, feeling the sting of the young man's words. Freak.

They stayed that way for several minutes; Lucas huddled in the corner and Sandburg lying frustrated and miserable in the bed. After another minute, Lucas sighed sadly from the corner, getting Blair's attention.

Sandburg turned to look at the giant's slumped shoulders as the big man stood there, trying to hide his face. Blair sighed, feeling like a real bastard. He couldn't believe he had it in him, to say something that cruel to another human being. His mother would be absolutely horrified, after teaching him acceptance and tolerance throughout his life. It wasn't Lucas' fault he was in this mess, it was Zeller's.

After wallowing in guilt for a few minutes, Sandburg called out to the big figure across the room. "Hey." No response. He tried again. "Hey, Lucas...man, I'm sorry." Blair saw the big head raise, and knew he had the giant's attention. He pressed on.

"That was a mean thing I said to you, and I'm sorry." Blair gasped suddenly, as another small pain hit him, but he kept speaking. "You're not a freak, and it's not your fault I'm in this mess." Blair sighed. "Thanks for the water, by the way."

There was silence from the corner for a long time, then "...you're welcome." Lucas turned, and smiled at Blair. No question this time, it was definitely a smile.

Blair smiled back.

* * * * * * *

*...three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand...* Jim counted to himself.

He'd been dropping a trail antacids for about forty-five minutes now, feeling a bit like he was in the story Hansel and Gretel. *Great,* he thought. *I'm all set as long as a flock of birds with ulcers don't happen by!* He grinned a little to himself, but he was becoming concerned. He could feel that he was almost out of the tablets, and he had no clue as to how much further they were going.

He was just trying to decide what else he could throw out the window, instead of the antacids, when he felt the van slow down, and come to a halt. Jim quickly dropped the remaining tablets and pulled his hand back inside the window as he heard the van's doors opening.

"Here we are!" Icart said cheerfully. He leaned over and yanked the blindfold off of Jim's eyes. "Let's go, Jimmy-boy. Time's a-wasting!" He hopped out of the van and joined Gerad, who handed Icart a backpack.

Jim stepped out of the vehicle and looked around. The were behind a large office-type building. A black Cadillac was parked a few feet away, and Skiff was walking toward them, wearing a custodian's uniform.

"OK, getting in is going to be a cinch, dude," Skiff said to Gerad as he joined the group. "The guard has seen me here every night for the past 2 weeks, we're practically on a first-name basis!" Skiff laughed, and Gerad patted him on the shoulder.

"Great," the dark-haired man replied. "We'll meet you at the fire door."

Skiff nodded, turned, and jogged back to the building. Gerad turned to Jim. "Now then, detective. Just keep quiet and do what I tell you and we'll be in and out of here in no time." He turned back to the building, pulling out a two-way radio. "Now we just wait for Skiff's signal."

About twenty minutes later, Jim was huddled behind a desk with Skiff and Icart. They were in one of the many cubicle offices in the huge room, waiting. It had only taken a moment for Skiff to make short work of the guard. Then he had shut down the outside sensors, disabled the alarm on the back door, and ushered in the rest of his team.

Now they were hiding in a sort of "blind spot", according to Gerad. One of the only places that the sensors for the first floor couldn't detect them. They were waiting for the OK from Gerad, who was in the crawlspace in the ceiling. He was working to reach the main power source for the sensors of the first and second floors of the building.

Jim shifted, uncomfortable with the cramped conditions, and accidentally kicked Icart in the leg. The German turned to him, glaring. "Watch it," he growled.

"Sorry," Jim said, not sorry at all. Out of all Zeller's men, he disliked Icart the most for some reason. Perhaps because he reminded Jim so much of Zeller. Jim opened up his hearing, but he couldn't hear Gerad scrambling through the overhead space anymore.

Just then, all the lights in the area went out, leaving only the red emergency lights. Jim looked up in surprise, as Icart snickered, and Skiff groaned.

"Christ, can't he EVER get it on the first try?" Skiff muttered, as he slapped a twenty dollar bill into Icart's outstretched hand. "I swear, he must know when I bet on him!" He turned to Jim, who was looking at him questioningly.

"We take bets," Skiff explained. "On whether or not Gerad will cut the right wire first!" The blond man snickered. "About seven times out of ten he accidentally kills the lights first, instead of the sensors!"

Jim nodded, then lifted his head at a new sound. Or rather, he realized, the sudden absence of a sound. Up to that moment he could hear a faint humming sound, which he'd assumed was the emergency lights. But the hum had stopped, and the red lights were still on. He was about to mention it, when the team's two-way radio sputtered to life.

Skiff grabbed it. "Yo, we set?" he asked.

"Yup! Sensors for the first and second floors are down for the count!" came Gerad's voice, loaded with pride. "Tell that detective to warm up his senses!"

*That explains the mysteriously vanishing hum.* thought Jim.

Skiff glanced at Jim, chuckling. Then he spoke into the radio again. "Hey Gerad, I was wondering.... Is it dark in here, or is it just me?"

Icart burst into laughter.

"Oh bite me, Blondie!" Gerad replied. "So how much dough did you lose THIS time?"

Skiff shot a look of astonishment at Icart, who was practically rolling with laughter. "You set me up!" Skiff muttered in amazement. He shook his head in disgust, grinning. "Man you can't trust anyone anymore!" He turned to Jim. "Right dude?"

Jim just rolled his eyes. "Look, can we just get this over with please? As you know, I'm in a bit of a hurry." He glared at the two men, who quickly got serious.

"He's right, let's move," Icart said, getting to his feet, and motioning for the others to follow. He spoke to Jim as the detective got to his feet. "Now, Jimmy-boy, it's your turn to show us what you've got!" He grinned, reminding Jim of a crocodile.

"Lead the way," he replied, tonelessly. He glanced at his watch. 3:00.

His partner was running out of time.

* * * * * * *

"...we came to Seattle for the self-defense seminar, and you know the rest," Blair finished, with a sigh. He looked over at Lucas, who was sitting in a chair across the room. For the past hour or so, he'd been entertaining the giant with stories of his adventures, and had finished with his story of how he met Jim, and the sort of things they encountered together. Keeping Jim's abilities a secret was moot at this point; Blair knew that Zeller's team already knew about the Sentinel. Now he wanted to know more about Lucas.

"So," Blair asked, "What happened to your face?"

Lucas started a little at Blair's question. He looked across the room at the young man, who was sitting up now, eyeing Lucas. "Um... what do you mean?" He was very self-conscious about his deformities, and the question made him uncomfortable. But he couldn't see any hint of nastiness on his young charge's face. Only innocent curiosity. *Why would anyone be curious about me?* he thought.

"I don't mean any offense, man. I was just wondering." Sandburg winced as another pain hit him. "I mean, were you born with it, or was it from an accident, or what?" Blair couldn't quite believe he was asking Lucas this; talk about a lack of tact! Must be the poison talking.

"I was in an accident, when I was about twenty years old," Lucas stammered, looking at the floor. Ordinarily he would never be willing to talk about his past, but something about this little guy he was guarding made it feel OK for him to open up. "It was a fire. My mom and dad both died... and the doctors told me I would never look normal again."

Blair nodded "I'm sorry, Lucas," he said, meaning it. In the little time he'd spent with the big man, Blair had come to believe that Lucas wasn't evil. He was just doing what Zeller told him.

*He's probably thankful that anyone is willing to spend time with him, even if all Zeller does is order him around,* he thought. "So what did you do after that?" he laid back down, feeling the start of another wave of pain. He glanced at his watch. 3:15AM. Blair closed his eyes, and prayed that Jim would complete his mission safely. In the meantime, Blair had to find a way to get hold of that antidote! He was sure that Zeller had no intention of giving it to him when Jim got back. The bastard would probably just kill them both.

Lucas was speaking again. "I lived with my uncle for a while, but he...um...," Lucas broke off here; the memory was a painful one. His uncle hadn't been capable of taking care of him, and had sent Lucas to a special "hospital". For his own good, his uncle had assured him, but it had been hell. No one cared about him there, and the other patients were endlessly cruel to him. He was thankful every day that Mr. Zeller had seen some hint of potential in him that day the German had come to visit one of his old partners.

Lucas sighed before continuing. "Uncle Pete had a shop, and I worked there. In the back because he said I'd scare the customers if they saw me.... I almost never left the shop."

"Why not?" Blair asked, breathing hard, hoping the pain that was building wasn't going to turn into one of the horrible spells he'd been suffering for the past six hours. "I mean, true you look a little strange, but that's no reason to keep yourself hidden away. These are modern times, people have learned to be a lot more tolerant toward..."

The rest of his thought was swallowed up by a sudden surge of agony. Blair cried out in pain, drawing Lucas across the room to his side, concerned.

"Are you OK?" Lucas asked, with a look of alarm on his face. He didn't want to have to see Blair go through another of the terrible spasms. "Is it very bad?"

Blair was gasping, but he managed to nod up at the giant. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, arching back against the pillows as he felt the toxin tearing him apart again. *This is a bad one!* he thought, deliriously. *I'm not going to scream. I'm not going to scream. I'm not....*

Blair lost the fight, as the pain overtook him. He threw his head back and screamed in agony, startling Lucas.

"What...what should I do?! Please, tell me what to do!" Lucas hovered over him helplessly as Blair's cries continued. The young man's arm suddenly shot out and knocked the water glass and lamp off of the table beside the bed. Both shattered to the floor. Lucas quickly sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Blair's arms. He was afraid Blair would hurt himself, the way he was thrashing around.

"Oh God...PLEASE...make it STOP!!!" Sandburg wailed. His insides were on fire, he could barely breathe from the pain. "Please..no more...AAAAAUUUUGH!!!!" His pleas ended in a wrenching scream of pain that echoed throughout the small room. He was barely aware that Lucas had sat him up again, and was holding onto him.

"It's OK...easy...just...just relax...everything will be OK." Lucas wrapped his huge arms around Blair, restraining him as the anthropologist's struggles slowly ebbed. The moment seemed to be passing at last; it felt like it had been going on for an eternity.

"Oh God...please...please...please." Blair was whimpering weakly into Lucas' shirt. "No more..please...Jim...*help me*..." Sandburg suddenly went limp in Lucas' arms.

The giant looked down in alarm, just as he heard footsteps approaching. Quickly he laid Blair back on the pillows and got to his feet, turning as Zeller came storming through the door.

"What the hell is going on up here?" The Ice Man demanded. "What was that crash?" He suddenly noticed that Blair was motionless, and stormed across the room to stand over him.

"I'm sorry boss, but he was in pain...,um. I think it's getting worse!" Lucas came to stand over Zeller as The Ice Man reached down to lay a hand on Sandburg's forehead.

"Of course it's getting worse, you idiot!" Zeller snapped. "That's how I designed it! Why else do you think...." Suddenly Zeller stopped. Blair wasn't breathing! He reached down and shook the anthropologist, none too gently, shouting at him.

"Wake up! C'mon, fight you little bastard!" He turned to Lucas. "How long has he been out? He's no good to us dead, you know!" He turned back and continued to try to rouse the limp figure in the bed.

Lucas stammered "Um... he just stopped screaming a moment ago, right before you came into the...." Lucas broke off in surprise, as Zeller suddenly backhanded Blair, sending the unconscious young man's head slamming back against the headboard.

"Breathe, damn you!" Zeller hit him again, hard. "Come on!" he raised his hand to strike another blow, when Blair gasped, and began to breathe, laboriously. Zeller sighed in relief, as his hostage's respiration stabilized. He growled down at Sandburg, as the anthropologist's eyes slowly opened. "What's the matter with you? You don't even have a fever yet, there's no reason your system should be responding this way!"

Blair glared up at him, his face already beginning to bruise, and said very softly, very slowly, "Go F**K yourself, Zeller."

Enraged, The Ice Man raised his fist again. Blair flinched, but the blow never came. A huge hand had wrapped itself around Zeller's wrist from behind, and was holding him fast. Zeller turned to find Lucas staring at him.

"What do you think you're doing, Lucas?" The Ice Man snarled. Lucas had a look on his face that Zeller had never seen before. It almost looked like...*anger*. The Ice Man glared at the giant standing before him.

"Do you have something you'd like to say to me Lucas?" he asked challengingly.Lucas just stared at Zeller with that cold look of hatred. Zeller began to get uncomfortable.

"Well speak up, stupid!" He snatched his hand out of the giant's grip.

"I don't think you should be hitting him like that," Lucas replied evenly. "You gave your word that he wouldn't be hurt while his friend was away." He took a step toward Zeller, who actually stepped back a little in alarm.

"You are out of line, my friend," The Ice Man said, as he made his way to the door. "I suggest you think about where your loyalties stand, if you wish to remain a part of my team!" He paused in the doorway.

"Don't forget, I can always send you back to the hospital!" Zeller relished the sudden look of terror that crossed Lucas' features. It was a much more acceptable look than the one it replaced; one of self-confidence and power. The Ice Man pointed a warning finger at the huge man, and then turned and exited.

Blair was agog, watching the transformation that Lucas went through. One minute he was humbly insecure, the next he was the picture of strength and stability, as he gave Zeller what-for. *For my sake.* Blair thought. He winced, reaching up to feel the new swelling of his face where The Ice Man had walloped him.

Lucas noticed, and quickly came to kneel beside the bed. He was shaking from Zeller's threat, feeling his confidence melting away, replaced by the familiar sense of worthlessness. He stammered at Blair, "Um...how's your face?" He reached out to turn Sandburg's face, so he could see the new injuries.

"OW! Lucas!" Blair winced and pulled away as the giant's thumb pressed down on one of the sore spots. "I'll live." Then he grinned a little at what he'd just said. "At least I'll live through THIS," he added, pointing to the bruises on his face.

Lucas nodded. He was quiet for a moment, as he stood and made another of his aimless wanderings around the room. Zeller's words were running through his head over and over. *if you wish to remain a part of my team!* Lucas wasn't sure he did, anymore. He crossed the room and sat in his chair, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. He didn't look up when Sandburg began to speak to him.

"You OK, man?" Blair asked the slumped figure in the chair. "Hey, Lucas?"

"Please...I don't.... I don't want to talk." His usually slow brain was in overdrive. He was thinking about his past with Zeller's team...and his future.

Blair spoke again, softly. "Well...thanks, man.... That was something, the way you stood up to Zeller." He shivered, and pulled the covers more tightly around himself. "Have you ever done that before?"

Lucas was still staring at the floor. "No...never.... The boss doesn't like people to talk back to him." He glanced over and studied Blair for a long moment, then slowly stood up. "I'll be right back," he said, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked, curious.

Lucas paused in the doorway, thinking. "I'm... going to get you some ice...to put on your face. And I have to apologize to the boss." Without waiting for Blair's response, Lucas ducked out the door.

* * * * * * *

Jim had a headache. It was terrible! He'd had his senses wide open for close to a half an hour straight now, locating the sensors guarding the safe they were preparing to break into. His hearing picked up a faint buzz about 4 yards down the corridor in front of them, in the left wall about a foot up.

"OK, we've got another infrared beam there," he pointed. He guided his hearing across the hall, searching for the receiving end of the beam. "Aha...it stretches straight across, parallel to the floor. We should be able to just step over it." Jim turned to the others behind him. "That's the last one, I'm sure of it." He looked to Icart for a response.

"Excellent, Jimmy-boy." The German grinned. "Zeller was right, you are really something." He stood, taking off his backpack. "Guess it's my turn!" Icart started toward the heavy door at the end of the hall, stepping up and over where Jim had indicated the infrared beam. He reached the door, and paused, looking for any sign of detection. There was none. Icart nodded back to Jim and Skiff, and set to work preparing the charges to blow the vault.

Jim waited with Skiff, watching Icart. Gerad was downstairs in the van, watching out for unexpected visitors. Jim was about to put his plan into action, but he had to wait until Icart was fully involved in his work. When he decided it was the right time, he gave a quick glance at Skiff beside him, and then sharply lifted his head at an imaginary sound.

Skiff turned to him, quickly. "What's up, dude?" The blond man stared at Jim. "You hear something?"

"Shh!" Jim hissed, pretending to listen back toward the stairwell they'd come up from the second floor. After a moment, he looked at Skiff, nervously. "Um...that guard.... Did you kill him, or just knock him out?" he asked.

Skiff's eyes widened. "He's dead, man. I knocked his skull in with a fire extinguisher!" He looked nervously back the way Jim was staring. "What do you hear?"

Jim "listened", while briefly mourning the guard. But his death would be avenged. "There's someone on the stairs, coming this way!" He looked at Skiff, to see his reaction.

Skiff's heartbeat was racing and he was sweating. He looked from the stairwell to his teammate, who was setting the charges at the door. "Hey dude!" he whispered.

Icart looked up. "What do you want, man? This is NOT a good time!" He had a detonator in his hands, as he carefully placed a small charge at the foot of the vault.

Skiff pointed back toward the stairs. "Ellison hears someone on the stairs, dude! Should we abort?"

Icart sighed in frustration, thinking. "Is there only one?" he asked Jim.

Ellison pretended to listen again. "Yup, just one. I'm certain of it!" *Yes! It was going to work!* He watched as Icart shrugged, then spoke to Jim and Skiff.

"Well, go take him out! We're not giving up just for one guy!" He waved them off, and turned back to his work.

Skiff jumped up, pulling Jim's arm with him. "Let's go, dude. Lead the way!" Jim headed down the hall, smiling in satisfaction. The plan was working perfectly. He guided Skiff around the infrared beams as the two of them made their way to the stairwell. Jim glanced at his watch again. 3:45.

"C'mon, c'mon. Hurry!" he said, grabbing Skiff's sleeve, pulling him along. Skillfully avoiding the infrared beams as Jim pointed them out, they entered the stairwell.

Skiff hurried down a few steps, turning back to motion to Jim. "Where?" mouthed the blond man, silently.

Jim cocked an ear, coming down the steps to stand beside Skiff. The detective pointed down to the next flight of stairs, below them. Skiff leaned out over the railing, his back to Jim, looking for the imaginary man they were stalking. He never saw it coming.

Jim quickly stepped forward and grabbed the back of Skiff's neck. The thug barely had time to react, before Jim sharply slammed his head down against the metal railing. Silently, he lowered Skiff's unconscious body to the floor, and then ripped the thug's shirt into strips. Jim used the cloth to bind and gag Zeller's man, then knelt to go through his backpack. He took out the two-way radio, confirmed that there was nothing else of use to him in the pack, and stood up.

"Sorry...DUDE," Jim muttered at Skiff's unconscious body, as he turned and went back up the stairs. One down, two to go.

* * * * * * *