The Thirteenth Sacrifice

by

Candy Apple

 (Please visit https://www.squidge.org/~candy_a/13-main.htm for warnings, disclaimers and author's notes) 

  Jim cut through the traffic at high speeds, lights and sirens piercing the night air. The sounds of his vehicle merely joined a symphony converging on a large frat house not far from Rainier University's campus. A panicked call from someone within the house to 911 had indicated that there was a murder in progress, with the caller fearing for his own life. Moments later, the connection had been broken.

Swerving around an unresponsive motorist who seemed oblivious to the sirens, Jim barely missed a head-on collision as he jerked the truck back into the proper lane. Blair wasn't home, he wasn't at his office, and he didn't teach Wednesday nights. Jim knew it was irrational to be this afraid for Blair's well-being just because he couldn't be accounted for and there was something happening within a ten-block radius of the campus. This was his feeling, though. A sick, dead cold in the pit of Jim's stomach that wouldn't let him rest.

When the truck screeched to a halt in front of the rambling, old house sporting a flag on the front porch bearing Greek letters, his heart froze in his chest. Despite the crowd of police vehicles and two ambulances, the car that caught his eyes was a dark green Volvo parked in the driveway's gravel drive-off.

Pushing and elbowing his way through the law enforcement personnel that were keeping curious students from nearby apartment houses and frat houses at bay, Jim raced up the front steps and in the front door. He ran almost head-on into Taggert.

"Blair's car is out front," he blurted. "Where is he?"

"He isn't one of the victims, Jim," Joel replied immediately. "I didn't even notice his car out front."

"It's in the drive-off next to those big shrubs. He's gotta be here somewhere. Have you found..."

"What is it?" Taggert asked, watching as Jim froze where he stood, as if he were listening intently to something. Then, without a word, he ran for the stairs and flew up to the second floor, ignoring the bloody devastation in two of the rooms he passed, and literally stepping over a corpse in the room he finally entered without so much as glancing at it. It wasn't Blair, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

"Jim!" Taggert was hot on his heels. He found Jim on his knees next to a bed in one of the rooms, gingerly lifting the hem of the bedspread.

"Tell the paramedics to be on stand by. We might need 'em." Jim flattened himself on his stomach on the hardwood floor and reached under the bed toward the terrified figure that was huddled there, staring wide-eyed at him. "Chief, it's me, Jim. Come on, buddy. Answer me, huh? Are you hurt?"

The two glassy eyes seemed to stare straight ahead, not recognizing that Jim was even there. Blair's heartbeat was thundering, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"Blair, I'm going to take a hold of your hand and pull you. You're going to slide just fine on the wood floor here if you don't fight me. Don't be afraid, Chief. Take my hand. Come on, buddy." Jim reached almost all the way to Blair, but left the panicked man the freedom to choose reaching out and taking it. "It's safe now, Chief. I won't let anything happen to you. Take a hold of my hand and let me pull you out, okay?" Jim reached a little farther toward Blair, who finally showed a marginal glimmer of recognition, and took a tight hold of Jim's hand. "Good boy. Hang on while I give you a pull, huh?"

Jim moved backward, still essentially on his belly on the floor, pulling Blair by the arm until he was almost out of his hiding place. "Everything covered back there?" Jim called to the other cops, meaning they should cover the body that would be in Blair's line of sight. He heard a flurry of activity behind him as a uniformed officer held a sheet up to obscure the view. "Okay, Chief, come on out of there."

Blair continued to clutch at Jim's hand, but made no movement on his own.

"Do you want us to move the bed, Jim?" Rafe's voice came from somewhere behind Jim.

"Not necessary. Just need to take it nice and slow." Jim backed up a little more and pulled Blair toward him until the other man was completely out from under the bed. "Grab me a blanket, huh?" Jim asked Rafe, who hurried to an empty bedroom across the hall to snatch the blanket off the bed there, and returned. Jim had pulled Blair up on unsteady feet and was supporting him with an arm around his waist. "Thanks, Rafe." Jim wrapped it around his partner.

"Why don't you take him across the hall?" Taggert suggested. "That room's all clear."

"Good idea." Jim guided Blair across the hall. Once inside the room, he shut the door behind them."Blair, look at me. Come on, have eye contact with me, partner." Jim took a careful hold of Blair's chin and held it steady, and, finally, the other man's glassy eyes focused on Jim's own concerned eyes. "It's okay, Blair. I'm here. You're safe. Whatever happened, it's over."

"It's my fault," Blair stated, his chin quivering with tears that filled and soon overflowed his eyes. Jim moved over to the bed and sat on the side of it with Blair still securely in his arms.

"How is it your fault, Chief?" Jim rested a hand on either side of Blair's face, brushing at the falling tears with his thumbs.

"I p-picked th-the b-better hiding place," he blurted, caving in to sobs that wracked his body.

"Come here, buddy. I've got you now." Jim pulled Blair into his arms and kept the shaking body wrapped up in a tight embrace.

"I t-told...D-Danny to...t-take th-the wardrobe. I th-thought u-under the b-bed...was the first place...he'd look. Oh, God, Jim, I w-was s-so...wrong!"

"Danny was the guy in the room with you?" Jim asked gently, patting Blair's back and starting a slight rocking motion. There was a nod against his shoulder. "You thought you were giving him the best chance, Blair. It isn't your fault it didn't work out that way." Jim closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth of his friend's living body in his arms. Blair had come so dangerously close to dying just minutes ago.

"We...were trying...to hide...and I thought...Danny would be...safer in the...wardrobe."

"Why did you hide? How did you know someone was in the house?"

"I can't... Please don't make me." Blair hid his face against Jim, as if he were trying to crawl under the larger man's coat and hide.

"Shhh. It's okay, Chief. Nobody's going to make you do anything. Are you cut anywhere? Hurt at all?" Jim asked.

"No."

"Okay. I'm taking you home."

"They'll...question me."

"Not tonight." Jim thought of the carnage he had seen on the way to finding Blair. "Just one thing, and I promise no more questions."

"Okay," Blair responded shakily, nodding a little.

"Did you see his face? Can you ID him?"

"Yes. God, I'll never be...able to forget it."

"Okay. Here's the problem, buddy. This maniac is dangerous. Now if you don't feel able, we'll go home and deal with everything tomorrow. But if you can, I want you to talk to Renee downtown."

"The sketch artist?"

"That's the one. She can get a composite drawing of the bastard, and it'll give us something to go on."

"You think...he's the guy who killed those people last month?"

"I haven't really paid much attention to the other evidence tonight, but, off hand, I would say it's a good bet."

"He's so insane, Jim. It's in his eyes." Blair shuddered and clung more tightly to Jim, who returned the firm pressure.

"Thank God you're okay," Jim muttered into the soft hair against his face. "When I saw your car outside..." Jim didn't continue, but squeezed Blair tighter against him.

"I'm sorry I...got in the middle of this."

"Me, too, buddy. I'm just glad you're okay. Good partners are hard to find, you know." Jim smiled against Blair's hair, and he felt a little chuckle.

"I'm scared, Jim. He knows I saw him."

"I won't let anything happen to you, Chief." Jim reluctantly pulled back and looked at Blair, who was puffy-eyed, pale and still a little shaky, but his eyes were connected to his mind again, looking as alert as ever. "Blair, do you remember everything that happened?"

"Most of it."

"Okay. Is there a back staircase out of here?"

"Uh...yeah, I think so. Probably down at the end of the hall. I think it goes to the kitchen."

"You've been here before?"

"A couple times. I was tutoring Danny."

"Okay. Let's get going. Think you can walk?"

"Yeah. I'm a little shaky, but I'll be okay." Blair stood up, but was relieved to feel Jim's arm come around his waist for a little extra support.

"Hey, leave the blanket here. Put this on." Jim took off his coat, and held it while Blair slipped into it.

"Jim, what the hell's going on here?" Simon met them as soon as they walked out into the hall.

"Blair was here when it happened. I've got to get him out of here."

"You're not hurt, are you?" Simon asked Blair, who shook his head. "Did you see the guy?"

"Simon, we've been through this already. He saw him very clearly, and we're going to give Renee a shot at doing a composite downtown. A full statement's going to have to wait until tomorrow."

"Jim, we have six dead students in this house, with enough gruesome mutilation to keep us in headlines for the next year. If he knows anything--"

"Tomorrow," Jim responded again, noting the tremor running through Blair at Simon's synopsis of the murders.

"All right," Simon finally replied, taking a good look at Blair, who looked considerably better than he did when Jim had first reached him, but far from normal.

"Thanks, Simon," Blair said, managing a slight smile.

"I'm glad to see you're all right, Blair," Simon replied in a much friendlier tone, patting Blair on the shoulder. "It's a real miracle." With that, he turned and rejoined Rafe in the bedroom where Blair had been found.

Jim located the back staircase and hustled his shaken partner down the stairs and out the back door.

"Give me your car keys, Chief."

"Why?"

"I'm going to have somebody get your car out of here." Jim scanned the other cops milling around on the lawn. "Hey, Henri!" Jim looked down at his partner. "You trust Brown with your baby?"

"Yeah, sure," Blair responded, smiling a little.

"Hey, Blair, glad you're okay, man," Brown said immediately upon approaching Jim and Blair.

"Thanks. I just wish...I wasn't the only one who..." Blair fell silent and Jim could see his throat working overtime to control his emotions.

"How about taking Blair's car back to the precinct, huh? We can get it there tomorrow." Jim handed Brown the car keys.

"No problem. Take care of yourself, Blair."

Blair leaned heavily against Jim, glad his partner was there so he didn't have to take care of himself. He knew Jim would do it for him.

 * * *

 Renee Foster made a few more adjustments to the jawline, and got a confirming nod from Blair. Tucking her blonde hair behind her ear and returning to her sketching, her expression became intense. She was beginning to "see" the killer, a talent all the cops at the PD viewed with a mixture of awe and immense respect. At only 22 years of age, Renee was a gifted artist and was becoming an integral part of the PD's conviction record. She also had a very kind, sensitive way of dealing with crime victims and witnesses that seemed to calm them and bring out the best in their memories. Blair was no exception.

Jim had left briefly to get them all coffee, and was back now, pulling his chair up close to Blair and keeping a reassuring hand on Blair's back as they sat around the table working on the sketch.

"How's this?" Renee held up the sketch. Blair paled visibly at the image of the man with wild black curly hair that brushed his collar, a mustache and short beard and large, dark, somewhat bulging eyes.

"Oh, God...that's him," he muttered.

"How closely did you see him, Chief?"

"About...three feet...he looked under the bed just...when the sirens...he reached..."

"Blair, just breathe, it's okay." Jim patted Blair's back gently. "It's over, buddy. You're safe."

"If the...cops had been...two minutes...later..."

"I'll take this to Captain Banks." Renee smiled as she stood. "You did great, Blair. It's always pretty traumatic to see the jerk again, but that's how we know you gave us an A-1 description."

"Thanks, Renee," Jim answered for Blair, who was staring straight ahead, trying to regain control of his ragged breathing. The young woman nodded in response and left the two of them in the conference room, closing the door behind her. "You saw plenty, didn't you, Chief?" Jim asked softly, still rubbing lightly across Blair's upper back. Blair didn't answer, but his breathing was evening out a little. "Ready to go home?"

"I'm really tired," Blair responded.

"The adrenaline rush is over. What you need most now is sleep." Jim led his partner back to the bullpen, which was nearly deserted except for a few late-shift detectives. "Did you leave your coat at the house, pal?" Jim asked, holding his own coat for Blair to put on again.

"It's in my car. It wasn't that cold out...I just...I feel so cold now." Blair pulled the coat tightly around himself.

"I'll fix you something hot when we get home. Come on. Time to call it a night." Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders and pulled the smaller form close against his side as they headed for the elevator. Blair's arm came up readily around Jim's waist and hung on tightly.

 * * *

 Blair wandered into the bathroom and took a shower. He managed to keep his mind on the mundane task of washing himself and pulling on a clean t-shirt and sweat pants. Normally, he didn't dress that warmly for bed, but he couldn't shake the chill that seemed to keep him shivering. When he came out of the bathroom, Jim had a hot mug of tea waiting for him and a fire in the fireplace.

"Thanks," Blair said quietly, accepting the mug and curling up in the corner of the couch.

"Lean forward," Jim directed, then wrapped the throw around Blair's shoulders. "Better?"

"Yeah, much." Blair managed a little smile then, warmed more by Jim's solicitous attentions than by the tea he was sipping.

"Think you'll be up to giving us a statement tomorrow?"

"Not much getting around that." Blair looked into the dancing flames of the fire. "It all happened so fast... Whoa, that's a line right out of the movies, isn't it?" Blair smiled a bit sadly.

"Did you make the 911 call?"

"No way, man. We were trying to be quiet. Somebody called?"

"Yeah, from inside the house. I thought maybe it was you."

"I wasn't near a phone."

"I knew it wasn't your cell phone from the tracer. It was a house phone."

"Did you hear the call?"

"No. But they said it came from that number, at that address."

"It was him."

"Who?"

"The killer, man. It had to be. Jim, nobody else...nobody had the chance to make that call."

"So he commits a mass murder and then calls it in himself?" Jim shook his head. "Wouldn't be the first time." Jim sat on the other end of the couch, turning sideways to face Blair.

"See, Danny and I were upstairs, and I was going over the material from my lecture yesterday. Danny isn't a bad student..." Blair trailed off and took a deep breath. "He wasn't a bad student. He has a...he had a learning disability, so I used to tutor him once in a while. Two of the guys were downstairs, one was upstairs studying and another guy had his girlfriend there with him in his room. We never heard anything until he...until he got upstairs...and there was like...a fight... We thought maybe Tim, the guy studying, was having it out with somebody. I went to look, and he... Oh, God, Jim, I never saw so much blood in my life. I...I went back to Danny and told him to hide, but I said we should leave the door open, because then he might not think to even look in the room. You know, the natural tendency would be to lock yourself in, but he had...he had an axe, man. I knew he'd get through a lock if he wanted to, and locking the door would have made noise."

"So Danny got in the wardrobe and you got under the bed?"

"Honest to God, Jim, I thought it was safer for Danny that way." Blair bit down on his lower lip, and his chin started quivering. "If I had switched places with him..."

"Don't go there, Chief." Jim got up and sat back down close to Blair, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Maybe I should say 'don't take me there'."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked in a shaky voice.

"I'm sorry as hell about what happened to Danny, but if you had been in his place..." Jim shuddered, and took the mug out of Blair's hands, setting it aside. "Come here." He pulled his startled friend into an almost crushing embrace. "There were so many things on my mind when I saw your car there, and then saw downstairs... Things I never said to you."

"Jim, it's okay. I'm alive."

"No, it's not okay." Jim was silent a long time, just holding what he had come to recognize as precious cargo tightly in his arms. "I love you, Blair. I don't think I could get by without you." Jim's quiet admission hung in the air a moment.

"I love you, too, and you don't have to. I'll always be here." Blair nestled into the security of Jim's arms, closing his eyes and trying to banish the images that lurked in his memory. Preferring the familiar sight of Jim and the loft, he opened them again.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Chief. You're safe now," Jim soothed, as if he'd read Blair's mind. Blair smiled, figuring the larger man had read his vital signs instead.

"Simon said something about mutilation... God, Jim, I knew it was something awful, but I only saw a flash with Tim and I went back to warn Danny and hide. But with Danny... Oh, God...I saw everything," Blair sobbed into Jim's shoulder. "I saw it all."

"Damn," Jim muttered, running a hand into Blair's hair and pressing his head firmly against a strong shoulder as sobs wracked the younger man's body. "Shhhh. I'm right here. You're safe now. You're home. It's all over."

"He...smiled...at me. Oh, God, Jim, don't let him find me!"

"I won't. I won't let you out of my sight until the bastard's behind bars. That's a promise. Everything's going to be okay, buddy. You just hang in there."

"I keep...th-thinking about...their p-parents...getting that...call and what...he did...to their...children."

"I know. Simon was handling notifying the families personally. He'll be as sensitive as he can."

"I know, but how...how d-d'you...deal with that?"

"I don't know. I just know how I'd have felt if it had been you, and I wouldn't have dealt with it at all." Jim buried his face in Blair's soft curls and closed his eyes. "I'd have been right behind you."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked, sniffling.

"I just know I couldn't have lived with that memory. Or without you."

"Really?" Blair asked softly. "I know I...I've felt like that...a long time...about you." Blair felt a lot of the tension draining out of him in the safety of Jim's embrace. He closed his eyes again, this time focusing on the rhythmic thudding of Jim's heart under his ear, and the gentle motion of the hand that was massaging his scalp, easing the pounding in his head. Sleeping right there would have been so easy...

"Come on, Chief. Time to get you into bed."

"That means I have to move," he responded, stifling a yawn. Truthfully, he didn't want to leave the warmth and safety of being so close to Jim, and least of all, he didn't want to be alone in a darkened room watching the shadows dance on the walls.

"Just get some good rest and try not to worry about this nut. We'll get him." Jim stood up and offered Blair a hand, pulling him to his feet. "You, uh, want me to hang around until you go to sleep?" Jim asked, a little awkwardly.

"That's okay. I'm really wasted. I'll be fine," Blair lied blatantly, and while he knew a part of Jim didn't really buy it, the other man nodded. Then he surprised Blair by reaching for him and giving him another quick bear hug.

"I'm glad you're okay, Chief."

"Thanks for coming in after me like that," Blair responded, clinging, prolonging the contact a few more seconds.

"All part of the Blessed Protector job description," Jim said, smiling as he moved away. "G'night, Chief."

"Night, Jim."

Blair watched the other man head for the stairs, and he made his way into his room slowly, looking around the shadow space warily. No fiends sprang out of the corners, nothing was there to greet him but his bed, the usual clutter, and a few clothes that had landed on a chair instead of in the closet. In other words, nothing had changed since he'd been in this room about sixteen hours earlier.

Tossing his robe aside, he crawled into his familiar bed, and tried to let the safety of his surroundings permeate his taut, stressed muscles. Flopping on his back, he stared at the ceiling instead of closing his eyes. At least this way he was looking at something familiar instead of seeing a replay of... He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but that only made the flash of memory more vivid. Turning over again, he moved on his side in the bed until his back pressed against the wall. He kept wide eyes focused on the partially open French doors.

Idly, he wondered if Jim had noticed that for weeks after Lash, he'd kept them closed tightly at night, and hung a tiny bell on each knob so that he'd hear if someone came in. Fortunately, Jim hadn't mentioned them. And, realistically, how could someone with Jim's hearing not notice the addition of bells to anything? Blair was at least grateful that Jim hadn't forced him to explain it. It was childish--like putting a chair under the closet doorknob to keep the monsters in--but it had made sleeping possible.

Tonight, Blair figured it would take having the Liberty Bell attached to each door to put his mind at ease. He curled up into a tighter ball and stared at the doors, his heart pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut again and covered most of his head with the blanket. He didn't care how juvenile it was; his breathing was getting labored, and he was on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, and his brain was helpfully supplying a technicolor fantasy of the killer walking through the doors into his bedroom, with that deranged smile, dripping axe dangling from his hand...

The French doors opened slowly, and a tall figure moved through them. Blair let out a scream at a volume he didn't know he could muster, and the intruder covered his ears with his hands.

"Jim!" Blair sat up in bed, realizing that no normal maniac would be floored by a scream, but this one had staggered and was leaning heavily against the wall, shaking his head now.

"Holy shit, Sandburg, you missed your calling." Jim shook his head again, blinking miserably as Blair turned on the bedside lamp. He turned it off again.

"Sorry, man."

"You should have been the Fourth Tenor." Jim moved away from the wall now. "What the hell was that for?"

"I thought..." Blair sat up in bed and worked on his breathing. With Jim standing there now, getting it back under control seemed possible again. "I thought you were...him."

"I didn't mean to scare you, Chief. I just wanted to look in on you. I know you weren't sleeping."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, the ears are ringing a little, but I'll live."

"You were listening to me?"

"I suppose that was pretty intrusive, huh?" Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I was worried, and you weren't sleeping..." He let the words trail off and shrugged.

"Thanks for looking in on me. I guess I'm not having such great luck sleeping."

"How about bodyguard service? Think that would help?"

"Bodyguard service?" Blair responded, grinning. "I've already got that--I know you're looking out for me."

"Well, let's try it with me down here, huh?" Jim sat on the edge of Blair's bed with his back to Blair and then slid under the covers as if he owned the place. Nonchalantly settling in to sleep, he looked over his shoulder. "Now relax and go to sleep, Chief. We've got to get downtown later and give Simon a statement."

Blair stared at the broad back for a moment as the considerable system of muscles relaxed, and Jim started drifting off to sleep, no more ruffled by the notion of sleeping in Blair's bed than to simply climb in and pass out. Not sure if he was happy or unhappy about Jim's apparent comfort level in sleeping with him, it at least gave him something else to focus on a moment.

He knew his feelings for Jim ran deep. Deeper even than just love. He'd loved a lot of people in his life, but this was more. This was a bond, something deeply imbedded in his soul. Almost like Jim was a physical part of him that he couldn't do without. Somehow, with him here, even the horrors Blair had witnessed didn't seem quite so unbearable. Sliding over until he was as close as he could get to Jim without actually touching him, Blair forced himself to close his eyes and work at relaxing. Before long, his exhaustion took over, and in the security of Jim's presence, he fell into a deep sleep.

 * * *

 Jim took in a deep breath and shifted a bit, feeling something hampering his movement. He realized then where he was, and that the impediment that was keeping him in place was a warm, clinging, snoring Sandburg. Snuggled against his back, one arm around Jim's middle from behind, Blair was sound asleep, apparently blessedly dreamless, holding onto him as if he were a human teddy bear.

Unable to doze off again, Jim let his mind wander. He let his senses reach out and take in the experience of sharing a bed with Blair. There was the warmth of the body snuggled against him, the faint smell of shampoo and soap from his shower, a slight lingering trace of fear that persisted even in the repose of sleep, and Blair's own, unique, familiar scent that Jim would know anywhere. He opened his senses, and listened to Blair's heartbeat, finally calmed into sleep mode, and began to breathe in rhythm with his partner's respiration.

All these months of wanting you...and it took this to make me recognize it for what it was. To acknowledge that you're the first person I want to see in the morning and the last person I want to see at night. That any day I spend separated from you drags, and our time together flies by, even if we're sitting on a dead-end stakeout in sub-zero temperatures. How proud I am of your mind, your intelligence, your accomplishments...how afraid I am of losing you...of another Borneo offer coming up...something that's just too good to refuse. Look at you. You're beautiful. You have the most perfect face I've ever seen, and those eyes...if those mirror your soul, you're as intensely beautiful inside as I've always thought you were.

You fit just right here, Chief--right here in my space, hanging onto me, trusting me to protect you--I'd die to do that. It's like finally having the other half of myself where it belongs. I want you to get over this, to be okay, and confident again. I want you to feel safe...but, God, is it too wrong to love these moments of having your warm body close to mine and feeling you breathe against me? To just feel you shift and move a little in your sleep. To hear up close your little noises and watch your beautiful face smooth out into peacefulness... I never want you to be afraid, but your fear has given me a gift, and I feel guilty enjoying it so much. Still, I can't help loving the way you need me, and the way I can make you feel better. It was all the other way around at first--I needed you, and you could always find a way to help me. Now it goes both ways. When you're scared or hurt, you come to me, one way or the other.

I wonder if you've ever been with a man. If someone else has been all the places with you I want to go. I don't judge you if you have. God knows, I've been with enough women that I'm certainly not offering myself to anyone as a blushing virgin. I don't have many firsts left. Making love with a man is about the last one, and the last one I ever thought I'd want to experience. But now I do. With you. I want to kiss you, taste your mouth, feel you move against me. I want to make love to someone--not have sex. I can have sex with any healthy, functional, willing human being. I want to make love, and I have all those feelings for you, Chief.

Chief. I started calling you that as a put-down. And you liked it because it was your nickname. So now it's firmly in place. Did anyone ever hang a nickname on you before, I wonder? It seems like you've had a lot of temporary friendships. Some of them special, but nothing lasting.

Sometimes I wish I was younger. That we were both just reaching 30. Man, that would give us more time. Time is such an elusive thing. It seems like yesterday I showed up at the university, desperate and stressed...and within fifteen minutes of meeting me, you saved my life. And you've saved it, and made it worthwhile, so many times over. But even these three years have shot by us like lightning. I want to grab time and hold it back. Oh, Blair, you're the first reason I've had to be depressed over aging. Not that I'm old, but before you, there was nothing in my life that made me want every second of it to last. You're the thing that makes me watch my step even more closely in the field. I want to live. I've always wanted to, like anyone does, instinctually. Self-preservation has always been right up there on my list of priorities. But you've given a face and a name and a reason for why I want to live to be a very old man.

Or maybe not. Can I watch you find a woman and get married and have children? You should have a huge family. I can see you surrounded by kids. Kids always love you, Blair. Not because you're childish, but because you're magical. You have so much love and generosity of spirit inside you. I've often heard it said that children and dogs are the best judges of character. I think that's true. I don't know about the dogs, but the kids always love you.

But can I watch you marry and raise a family, handle letting go of you and seeing you start a new life with me being on the sidelines? I don't know. Holding you here like this, I don't even know how I'll handle going back to sleeping alone. I don't want you to ever leave me, Blair. Never. How do I say that? How horrified would you be? Maybe you'd like the idea. The way you're clinging to me, even in sleep, makes me wonder if you want to be with me, too. But I know you're scared, and this is the worst possible time to think thoughts like these.

Jim sighed and tried to relax, feeling a little despair at the direction of his thoughts--and the perceived futility of them--but letting Blair's heartbeat lull him to sleep.

 * * *

 Jim felt a lurch next to him and a sudden absence of warmth. He forced his eyes open in the first light of dawn and saw Blair sitting bolt upright, breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"Nightmare?" Jim asked through a yawn he couldn't stifle. They couldn't have had more than three hours of sleep.

"Maybe it's a morningmare," Blair said shakily, trying to smile but failing miserably.

"Lie back. Come on. It's warmer under the covers."

"I should have done something, Jim. When I saw what was happening in Tim's room, I should have warned the others. I should have tried to stop him. Maybe they could have gotten away." Blair pulled his rumpled hair back from his face, trying to control his uneven breathing. Jim hauled himself into a sitting position next to his bedmate.

"That situation was...it was like some sort of grotesque brain-teaser, Chief. I don't know what the best way to play it would have been."

"If you had been there, you'd have figured something out."

"I'm not superhuman. I honestly am pretty damned impressed that you kept your mind on warning Danny and at least getting the two of you safely under cover instead of just freaking out when you saw what was happening. As for saving everyone in the house--it was impossible."

"I didn't even save Danny," Blair murmured, swallowing hard as a tear found its way down his cheek. "I feel...I feel so...useless! All this time riding with you and...and what happens when it's up to me to save the day? I fuck it up and everybody dies, man."

"Blair, everyone was going to die in that house no matter what you did. You were unarmed, you were smaller than the killer, and let's face it--homicidal rage gives you even more strength--and he was wielding an axe. The only difference is that you'd be dead now, too." Jim slid an arm around Blair's slightly shaking shoulders. "You did the best you could. You kept your cool and you took your best gamble with trying to save Danny and yourself. Plus you tried to give him the best hiding place. It would seem a lot less likely that the bastard would look inside a piece of furniture like that wardrobe than he would to look in a conventional spot under the bed."

"I heard them...scr-screaming...oh, man, it's just, like, ringing in my head and it doesn't stop...I hear them...struggling, and...and these noises. Oh, God, Jim, just make it stop, please!" Blair covered his ears and hunched forward. Jim pulled the curled, taut body against him.

"Blair, listen to my voice. You know what you tell me to do when I zone out--well, it's your turn. Focus on where you are now, and who you're with. You're not in that house, buddy. You're here, safe, with me, at home. It's over."

"I was...just waiting... I saw his feet...from where I was..."

"I know. I know, Chief. It's okay to be scared."

"How can I...give a...decent...statement? Man, I can't...distance myself...at all. I start to talk about it...and I just...freak out." Blair finally relaxed enough to wind his arms around Jim's middle and hold on tightly.

"Blair, you're traumatized. When we found you, you were bordering on symptoms of shock. Don't be so hard on yourself. Maybe it was selfish of me to bring you home right away. Maybe I should have taken you to a doctor."

"No. I wanted to come home. I don't want to be locked up in a psycho ward. Please, Jim, don't put me in there."

"I would never put you in a psycho ward, Chief. I just want to be sure that if you need help, you get it."

"You're helping me," Blair responded softly, squeezing Jim tighter. "I don't want to be stuck in a hospital or...or on some shrink's couch."

"Okay. But I want you to know that I will get you some help if you need to talk to somebody."

"I already am talking to somebody."

"Think you could get a little more sleep if we stretched out again?"

"Yeah, I'm really wasted."

"Let's rest a while. I told Simon we'd be in about nine. It's only six now." Jim pulled Blair along with him as he straightened out, until they were back in a sleeping position, Jim on his back with Blair cuddled up against his side, head on the larger man's shoulder.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"This feels really good. I think I can go back to sleep."

"Good."

"Sometimes...I know it's dumb, but I can't help being scared."

"I know, Chief. It's okay. I would be, too. But you're safe here."

"He's out there somewhere. What if he knows who I am?"

"Blair, even if he has your name and address, which he doesn't, he isn't getting in here, and he isn't getting past me."

"Lash got in."

"Yeah, he did, because the locks were a lot shittier then and the wood around the door was half rotted so what locks were there didn't hold. We've got new locks, the landlord put in that security lock downstairs, and we keep the fire escape ladder up. And I have my gun in easy reach."

"I hate to ask where you're hiding it." Blair grinned and Jim had to laugh at that, realizing that in a pair of boxer shorts, he didn't have much place to stash a weapon. He'd brought it with him and slid it under the pillow. In the darkness, Blair hadn't even noticed.

"That's not a gun, Chief, I'm just glad to see you," Jim quipped, smiling back at his partner, who rolled his eyes.

"I asked for that, didn't I?"

"Yep. Just about demanded it." Jim rubbed Blair's back in long strokes. "Go to sleep, Chief. Don't worry about that jerk. He isn't going to touch you."

"I want to believe that so bad. I'm so tired, Jim."

"Trust me. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you, right?"

"I know." Blair sighed, then closed his eyes. "I'm glad you love me so much."

"So am I." Jim smiled and stroked Blair's hair. Love is love, Ellison. Take courage. Maybe it isn't really that far from here to there...

"I love you, too," Blair added. Jim leaned his head against Blair's, soaking up those softly-spoken words.

"I know. I'm pretty glad about that, too."

"Um, Jim?" A little more hesitant now.

"What, Chief?"

"How do you mean?"

"How do I mean what?"

"When you say you love me, how do you mean? Like a friend?"

"Yeah, sure." Jim hated himself for not jumping right in with all of his feelings, but at the same time, Blair was in no condition emotionally to handle the truth. And Jim didn't want to end up taking advantage of Blair physically when his consent might be based on an intense need for closeness and comfort.

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think it might be more for me. Would that gross you out? If I loved you like that?"

"No."

"It wouldn't gross me out--you know, if you wanted to...sometime...with me." Blair's heartbeat was thundering now. "I mean, I know I'm a guy and everything--"

"I noticed," Jim quipped. That broke a little of the tension and Blair chuckled.

"Have you ever...done it with a guy?"

"No."

"Ever wanted to before?"

"No."

"Why me, then? Is it because I'm smaller than you are?"

"No."

"My hair? Does that make me seem...girlie to you?"

"Not at all." Jim had to chuckle. "You'd be the hairiest girl I ever met--in all the wrong places."

"What, then?"

"You're my soulmate. That's always been the most important thing to me--falling in love. It just...never seems to work out."

"You're my soulmate, too." Blair was quiet a minute, then ventured to let his hand rest on Jim's chest, stroking a little with his thumb. "Maybe it would work out for us."

"Why me?"

"What?"

"Blair, you wanted to know why I wanted to be with you. Why do you want to be with me if you haven't been with other guys? Or have you?"

"No." Blair paused. "Guess for the same reason as you."

"We can talk about this when you're feeling better and all this is a little farther behind us. Right now, we've got each other, and we're going to get through this together. We'll figure out the details later."

"Thanks for being so good to me. I...I felt like I was gonna lose my mind for a while there."

"Just relax and get some sleep, buddy. Things'll look a little less grim when you're not so tired." Jim rubbed Blair's back soothingly. Blair seemed calmed and reassured by it, as his breathing evened out again, and soon, he was sleeping soundly in Jim's arms. Silently thanking God again for the miracle of Blair's survival the previous night, Jim dozed off to catch a nap before the start of what would be a grueling day.

 * * *

 "Now, Blair, just relax and take your time, and tell us as much as you remember about what happened last night. And give us all that Sandburg detail you're famous for, okay?" Simon asked, his tone warmer and friendlier than usual. After spending most of the previous night with Taggert at the scene of the grisliest murder he'd ever had to investigate, Simon was more than sympathetic to what kind of trauma Blair must have suffered witnessing part of the slaughter, then coming face to face with the killer.

Simon and Jim were seated at the table in Simon's office, with Blair between them at the end of it. A stenographer sat off to one side, unobtrusively taking the statement as Blair began.

"Danny Cohen was one of my students. He had a learning disability, so sometimes he needed some extra help with some of the course material. I used to tutor him once or twice a week, mainly in my class on Mayan Civilization, but if he was having other problems, I sometimes helped him with his math or biology, or whatever. Sometimes he came by the office, sometimes I went to the frat house if it was a weeknight. They have house rules for weeknights, certain quiet times enforced for studying." Blair took a moment to pull his hair back a little behind his ear, more as a nervous gesture, since the hair wasn't really in his face. He shivered almost imperceptibly despite the t-shirt and heavy sweater he wore.

"I got there about eight, and Danny and I were going over his term paper--proofing it and talking about the structure and so on. We kept cracking up because one of the guys had his girlfriend over, and they were getting pretty loud. The guy who supervises the house wasn't there, so they were taking advantage of the moment. Anyway, we heard something downstairs at one point--I remember asking Danny what it was. We were in his room with the door nearly closed, open probably about six or eight inches from the frame. It sounded like shouting--angry voices. But that house is so huge, man, you just don't hear much upstairs, and we were at the end of the hall, farthest point from the living room, where the other guys were watching a game on TV--at least that's what they were doing when I got there."

"How many of them were in the living room when you arrived?" Simon asked.

"Just two. There are a lot of night classes on Wednesday, so quite a few of the guys were out. Anyway, he told me it was probably just the guys yelling at the game, and that sounded pretty reasonable, so I didn't worry about it."

"When was the first time you heard something that made you uneasy?" Jim asked.

"I heard movement in the hall--still at the other end of it from us. I don't know why that bothered me. I knew Tim was in his room studying, and his door was open, and there was the active couple in the bedroom across the hall, and the guys downstairs who could have come up. It just...felt wrong, you know?" Blair wasn't looking for an answer, but both cops nodded, anyway. Both were more than familiar with that cold feeling in the pit of your stomach that cries out that something isn't right. "I ignored it a while, went back to the term paper, but then I heard scuffling noises again, and arguing...so I went to look. I told Danny to wait there. I thought maybe being that I had some of these guys in class, I could sort of play the referee role and settle things down. So I went out into the hall, and I knew the sounds were coming from Tim's room, so I walked down there..."

Blair's whole body tensed, and it was a long time before he spoke again. Jim reached over and took a hold of Blair's forearm where it rested on the table.

"Take your time, Chief. There's no hurry."

"The first thing...I saw was blood...on the wall by the stairs. Tim's room was right at the head of the stairs. I didn't want to look...I wanted to run. But I had to know...so I went a little farther toward the room, and I...I looked in the doorway, and he was standing over him...over Tim, with the...the axe," Blair concluded a bit breathlessly.

"Come on, Blair. Deep breaths, remember?" Jim asked gently, massaging Blair's arm a little.

"Was Tim dead then?" Simon asked.

"I don't know. He...he wasn't moving. There was blood on the wall near...they were sort of under his window--you know, that part of the wall between the floor and the window? There was a lot of blood there, and...and on the...I could see it on the axe."

"Were you close enough to go for the stairs, go for help?" Simon interjected.

"Well, I guess...but I couldn't leave the others... I wish I could have...done something for...for the guy and his girlfriend."

"You don't know who they were?" Jim asked.

"No. Not by name. I mean, I had seen the guy around there before, but he wasn't in any of my classes, and I never said more than a couple words to him." Blair gratefully gulped a little of the water Simon poured into a styrofoam cup from a pitcher on the desk. "By the time I went back...I was so freaked...but I knew I had to warn the others, only I knew there wasn't gonna be much time...and so I went back to Danny's room and whispered to him that some guy had killed Tim, maybe the others, and we needed to hide. I also told him to leave the door open."

"Why?" Simon asked.

"It seemed like a total giveaway that someone was hiding in there to close it. I had this mental picture of the guy just passing right by the door and leaving us alone because he didn't figure anybody'd have the nerve to leave the door open if they were hiding."

"So you hid under the bed and Danny was in the wardrobe?" Jim clarified.

"There were only two good places to hide--I figured there was only one good place to hide--and that was the wardrobe. It was a piece of furniture, and the bottom third of it was drawer space, so you had to get up off the floor a couple feet to get in it. Seemed like it would be less likely for someone to hide in there, so I told Danny to do that, and I'd get under the bed. The closet was way too obvious."

"What happened next?" Jim asked gently, still holding onto Blair's arm.

"He murdered the people across the hall," Blair blurted out, his voice something between a firm statement and a sob. He covered his face with the hand that wasn't restrained by Jim's grip on his arm. "I'm sorry," he managed through tears that came despite his best efforts.

"It's okay, buddy. No hurry." Jim moved his hand to Blair's shoulder and rubbed up and down lightly. "Take your time, Chief."

"I heard him...my ear was right against...the hardwood floor...and I could hear...feel... every footstep," Blair managed, swiping at tears that still fell. "He stopped right outside the door...their door was across the hall from us...and then he turned and went in there."

"They never heard anything prior to that or came out of their room?" Simon probed.

"I told you...they were going at it hot and heavy...I don't think they would have heard an earthquake," Blair explained, regaining some of his voice, but the tears seemed to linger as he described the deaths of the young couple. "I heard him open the door, and I kept trying to think of something... some weapon...some way to sneak up on him and do something...but there was no time...I mean, it seemed like an eternity and an instant all at the same time," Blair continued in a broken voice. Sniffling, he took a deep breath. "She screamed. Oh, God, I'll never forget that sound. And he was yelling, and there was scuffling, and she got into the hall partway, I think...must be while the...the killer was...was after him. But she didn't get far. I could hear the struggle, her screaming. Why didn't I do something?!" Blair demanded of no one in particular, dissolving into tears for a moment, covering his face with his hand again.

"There was nothing worthwhile you could have done, Sandburg," Simon responded, thinking that maybe it would have more impact coming from him. He could imagine that Jim had given his partner every reassurance that he wasn't to blame. If Blair had swung the axe himself, Simon doubted that Jim would have held him responsible. But the younger man sitting in the chair crying was certainly in no way to blame for any of the deaths in that house, and he didn't deserve to suffer guilt over them.

"There were...f-four p-people...upstairs... I should h-have b-been able...to get us...all...t-together and..."

"Chief, come on, calm down," Jim said gently. "Take a deep breath and listen to me. There was no time. Two people in the middle of having sex weren't going to pay much attention to anything going on around them, even if they did hear something, which they probably didn't. You most likely couldn't have even gotten their attention before the bastard took you out. Your only shot was helping Danny, and you took that instead of running for the stairs and saving yourself. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about."

"Then how come I do?" Blair demanded, seeming unable to pull himself back together.

"Let's take a break. Nancy, why don't you come back in about fifteen minutes or so, huh?"

"Sure, Captain." She smiled and rose, taking her leave. Simon stood also.

"I've got to talk to Dan about the autopsy reports. I'll be back by the time Nancy is."

"Thanks, Simon," Jim responded, still patting Blair's shoulder.

"Blair," Simon said, waiting for Blair to look up, which he did, reluctantly. "You are not to blame for any one of those people in that house dying. Remember that." And with that, Simon left the office, pulling the door shut behind him.

"I'm sorry," Blair said quietly, trying to regain control over the sharp intakes of breath and hiccupping that accompanied the tears he hadn't been able to rein in yet.

"Come here, Chief." Jim stood and Blair did the same, collapsing against Jim and holding on tightly. "Let it rip, buddy. I've got ya."

"I...gotta...stop this...in Simon's...office."

"Relax, Blair. Close your eyes and let the tears come. It's okay. Simon understands and so do I. You've been through hell. You're entitled to be a little shaky. The more you try to stifle it, the worse it gets, right?" Jim asked softly, resting a gentle, massaging hand on the side of Blair's head, holding it against his chest.

"Yeah." Blair let the sobs come as hard as they wanted to, wracking his body and tearing at Jim's heart with every anguished sound. It took several minutes for them to taper down to silence, but Jim didn't worry about the time. He just stood there, holding his partner, rubbing his back in long, slow strokes until the smaller man's breathing evened out to its normal rate again.

"Feeling a little better, Chief?" Jim asked, pulling back a bit to look at Blair's face. He looked horrible, eyes puffed half shut and bloodshot, nose runny, expression not too certain yet which way it was going--to its normal state or back into tears. Jim grabbed several tissues out of a box on Simon's desk and returned to Blair, wiping off his face and handing him a couple to take care of his nose.

"You've got a big wet spot on your shirt," Blair said as he finished with the tissues.

"Thanks for pointing that out, Chief. I might not have noticed it." Jim smiled and Blair grinned back a little self-consciously.

"Simon must think I'm a total wuss. I can't believe I went off like this. I didn't want to."

"I know you didn't. But I think Simon's pretty impressed at the way you made it through the whole thing."

"Yeah. You mean the way I managed to save my own sorry ass while everybody else got killed."

"Blair, you listen to me, and listen good, because I'm not going to say this again." Jim took a firm hold on Blair's shoulders. "Stop beating yourself up for what that fucking lunatic did. Furthermore, if you had ended up a dead hero, I'd have blown my brains out before dawn. So you can consider you saved at least one life beyond your own, for whatever that might be worth to you."

"I...I don't know what to say..."

"I told you last night that I wouldn't have gone on very long without you. I meant that. I wasn't just talking. So you could have done all these heroic, and in this particular situation, stupid things in hopes of saving everyone, and it would have cost me my life right along with you--not to mention the fact that all the same people who are dead this morning would still be dead."

"I never would want to think that you...that you would take your own life because of me, for any reason. Jim, come on, man, don't even think like that. Nothing would be worth that."

"It would be to me. Because if I didn't have you, none of this other bullshit would be worth anything at all," Jim blurted, not really planning to restate his feelings quite so bluntly. Seeing the love reflecting back to him from Blair's swollen, puffy eyes urged him on. "I love you. And I won't deal with losing you."

"You won't ever have to if I can help it," Blair responded, trying to smile slightly. "But I couldn't stand to think of you ending it all over me. Jim, please, you've gotta promise me you wouldn't do something like that."

"Why? I don't make promises I can't keep."

At a very inopportune moment, Nancy and Simon returned.

"Everything okay in here?" Simon asked as they took their seats.

"I'm sorry about before," Blair said quickly, returning to his chair as Jim did the same.

"No apologies necessary. This is rough ground, and I'm afraid it's only going to get rougher. You're going to have to tell us about what happened to Danny."

"I know." Blair nodded slightly, then looked over at Jim. He was more worried about what his partner had said than he was about the testimony.

"Blair, after you thought you heard the girl make it out into the hall, what did you hear?"

"Struggling sounds, screams, and some kind of dull noises. I don't even want to think about what they were."

"Do you think they could have been the blows from the axe to the victim?" Simon asked, drawing a glare from Jim. Blair didn't flinch. He was exhausted and cried out. He didn't even have the energy to be as upset as he knew some part of his mind was at that image.

"It could have been," he responded softly.

"Then what happened?" Simon prompted.

"Things got real silent for a couple minutes. My heart was pounding so hard, I was afraid he'd hear it. I thought he'd hear me breathing. I tried to stay silent. I was hoping he'd just figure he'd gotten everyone, and leave. Then I heard him start walking again, and the footsteps came closer, and then I saw his feet."

"What kind of shoes was he wearing?" Jim asked. Not only was footwear a good identifying factor, but he hoped the mundane question would deflect a little of the horror of Blair's memories by giving his mind a factual detail to focus on.

"Boots."

"What kind of boots, Chief?"

"Uh...they were dark brown...stacked wood heels that were real scuffed--like the whole boot. Looked like he'd had them a long time. The toes were squared off."

"Good." Jim nodded, making notes as Blair spoke. "Anything else?"

"Just plain brown boots. Nothing all that special about them."

"What did he do next, Blair?" Simon asked.

"He just...stood there. Then I saw the...the blood dripping on the floor. I didn't know what it was at first, but then I realized that the dark stuff that was starting to drip into a puddle not far from him had to be coming off the axe." Blair shook his head. "I shoulda just grabbed his ankles, thrown him off balance..."

"You were all the way under the bed, Chief. If you'd moved that much right then, he'd have heard you. Besides, your idea of making him think the room was empty had a lot of potential to work."

"Well, at any rate, I was paralyzed. I couldn't even think, let alone make myself make any kind of move. I watched his feet, and he started moving again, opening the closet, just sort of walking around the room like he was browsing--like murdering people didn't put him in any particular hurry."

"He found Danny first?" Simon probed.

"Yeah," Blair replied in almost no voice at all. Then, with a deep breath, he continued. "I heard Danny yelling, and I knew then that the bastard had opened the wardrobe and found him. It was so bizarre, though. It was like I was watching it on TV or something. I couldn't make my limbs work, I couldn't yell, I couldn't do anything but just lie there and shake. And pray. And wonder how much it was gonna hurt when he killed me." Blair smiled gratefully at the hand Jim rested on his arm then. "They struggled. He must've yanked Danny out of the wardrobe and he fell on the floor, 'cause I saw like his butt and legs and his hands land palms down on the floor--you know, like you sort of catch yourself when you fall? He started trying to move away, but he didn't get very far."

"Take your time, buddy. No hurry." Jim slid his hand down and took a hold of Blair's, surprising the younger man. Blair's hand squeezed back appreciatively.

"Danny was pleading with him...begging for his life," Blair managed, swiping fresh tears away with his free hand. "He told the guy he wouldn't talk, wouldn't call the cops...if he'd just please let him live." Blair paused, swallowing hard a few times. "The son of a bitch laughed. But he didn't say anything. Danny finally got up and tried to run for the door, but the axe hit him and he landed right across from where I was. It was stuck...in the...back of his head." Blair squeezed Jim's hand painfully and closed his eyes while a few tears ran from under the lids. "Blood was...everywhere...and I knew...I knew Danny was already dead," Blair explained in a shaking voice. "But he...the killer...he pulled at the axe and blood...oh, my God...it spurted...and then he laughed, and he said, 'Bullseye!'" Blair continued, crying, but still able to speak. "He...he cut off Danny's arm. I think it was the whole arm. I don't know," Blair added, shaking his head. "Then he got real quiet. Just stood there." Blair swallowed hard, and Jim could feel the younger man's heart rate skyrocket. "Then he dropped down on all fours real fast, still holding the axe and looked under the bed at me, smiling, with Danny's blood on his face and his hands and he said, 'Gotcha!'" Blair was shaking so hard now that the chair was vibrating.

"It's okay, partner. You're safe now," Jim said quietly, putting the hand Blair wasn't holding on the smaller man's back and stroking gently, ending in a steady, light patting motion.

"I heard...the sirens then...and he got this real disappointed look on his face...and he said he'd see me again soon. And he got up and ran like hell." Blair tried to relieve a little of the pressure on Jim's abused hand. He was only able to imagine what a clutch like that felt like to Sentinel-level touch. "The next thing I remember, you were taking me out of the room and talking to me," Blair concluded, looking at Jim.

"You gave Renee an outstanding description for the composite, and we've got that circulating and going to the press. Blair, are there any little details you remember about his face, his hands, arms, anything?" Simon asked. "Scars, tattoos, distinguishing features?"

"No." Blair shook his head. "I don't think there was anything like that, but it's possible."

"Nancy will get this typed up and then you can review it and sign it. Meanwhile, why don't you just take it easy here for a few minutes?" Simon offered. Blair nodded in response. "I'll be back when the statement's ready," Simon added, following the stenographer out of the room, again relinquishing his office to Jim and Blair.

"How are you, Chief? You holding up okay?" Jim asked.

"I'm worried about you. Jim, what you said...please, don't ever hurt yourself because of me. Promise me that. I really couldn't handle it if you did something to yourself because of me."

"I shouldn't have put that on you," Jim slumped back in his chair.

"You should always be open with me. I wouldn't want you to not tell me something like that. It's just...I would never want to think I was responsible for you doing something like that."

"You wouldn't be responsible for it. I just want you to know that you saved more than your own butt last night, because you seem to put no value on having done that unless someone else's life was saved at the same time."

"So, you didn't really mean it, then?"

"Yes, I meant it. But that's why I told you. Not to hang some kind of responsibility on you." Jim sighed. "I'm going to need to spend some time here, Chief. I have to get together with the cops who were at the scene. I want in on this. It might take a little convincing with Simon, but still..." Jim shrugged.

"I brought some of my stuff. Will I be in your way if I use the computer?"

"Not at all." You're never in my way.

"Thanks for...for being here for me this morning," Blair said quietly as he picked up his backpack from its resting place on the floor in the corner.

"Where else would I be?" Jim responded, smiling a little as he opened the door and Blair passed through it, returning a slight smile.

"I'm gonna run down the hall and wash up. I must look pretty bad," Blair said, dumping his things behind Jim's desk.

"You look fine, Chief." Jim caved in under Blair's skeptical expression. "Okay, you look like hell. I'll go with you."

"I'm just going to wash up a little."

"Until we have that headcase off the streets, I'm not letting you out of my sight unless you're sitting right at this desk in the line of vision of a half-dozen or more cops at all times. Got it?"

"Got it." Blair saw no point in arguing, and while he didn't expect the maniac to pop out of a stall at him, better to be safe than sorry.

 * * *