------------------------------
Spirit Guide 4:
Laying to Rest
by Lianne Burwell
October 1999
------------------------------

Jim Ellison was living the good life. He was lying on a beach, basking 
under a warm tropical sun. The waves were perfect for surfing, but he 
wasn't ready to move yet. They would still be perfect later on.

And lying next to him was the ultimate in perfection. Firm muscles, curly 
brown hair that wrapped beautifully around stroking fingers, blue eyes 
currently closed in repose, a faint smile dancing on a wide and generous 
mouth.

Generous was a good way to describe Blair Sandburg. Generous in 
everything he was. Jim smiled and wondered what he would ever do without 
his partner. He was glad that he wouldn't have to find out. Ever.

He rolled over onto Blair, propping himself up on his elbows to keep from 
squashing the smaller man. Blair's smile widened, but his eyes stayed 
shut, keeping up the pretense of being asleep. Jim grinned, going along 
with the game.

He dipped his head to kiss the inviting lips beneath his. They parted for 
his tongue, but otherwise stayed unresponsive.

Undaunted, he moved a little further down, fastening his lips on the 
pulse point below Blair's left ear where he started a gentle sucking. 
After a few moments, Blair was shifting beneath him, still trying to keep 
up the illusion of being asleep. Jim ignored him.

The collarbone just called to be nibbled and marked. The salt from ocean 
waters added just the right seasoning to the taste of warm Blair-skin. 
Beautiful dusky-rose nipples were calling to him next.



"Arrrrrggggghhhhh!" Jim nearly levitated off the bed.

He practiced a few breathing techniques for a moment before rolling over 
and grabbing the phone from the bedside table. "Ellison," he snapped.

"So sorry to disturb you, Detective," came the sarcastic tones of his 
captain, Simon Banks. "But you were supposed to be here at 8 am sharp."

Jim sat up in the bed, suddenly wide awake. A quick glance at the clock 
showed that it was ten past. "Shit! Sorry, Simon, I'll be there as fast 
as possible."

"You better be. The mayor asked for you and Conner personally for this 
guard duty. Not showing up wouldn't go over very well, would it?"

"No, sir. On my way."

Jim looked down at his lap after disconnecting and groaned. Definitely 
cold shower time.

"Sorry 'bout this Chief. I'll see you later?"

Blair grinned at him from where he reclined on top of the covers. "No 
problem, man. And yes, *you* will see me later."

Jim snorted. "Bad one, Sandburg. Bad one." But Blair looked completely 
unrepentant.

Guard duty for a visiting VIP. God, he hated guard duty. Unfortunately, 
it was the sort of thing that one got stuck with after winning 'Cop of 
the Year' for two years running. Add to that the high-profile bust of a 
rogue Sentinel and her partner who had stolen a canister of nerve gas and 
planned to sell it to a Mexican drug lord, and he and Megan had suddenly 
become the most photogenic cops on the force.

Made doing his job a bitch when every crook in town had seen his picture 
in the papers.

* * * * *

Jim stood at parade rest -- a leftover from his military days -- at the 
airport, waiting for the plane with the Canadian Trade Representative to 
arrive. The plane had been delayed for nearly two hours due to mechanical 
trouble before they took off, neatly concealing the fact that he'd 
overslept. Jim wasn't sure *why* the man was coming to Cascade, other 
than it involved the latest in a long line of lumber disputes, and he 
didn't much care. As far as he was concerned, too much time was spent 
debating whether or not each side was funneling too many subsidies into 
the industry and not enough time was spent making sure that the renewable 
resource *was* renewed.

He snorted. Jim Ellison, environmental activist. He'd been listening to 
Blair too much.

No, that wasn't fair. He'd always been interested in conservation, even 
when it wasn't a popular topic, his time among the Chopec solidifying 
those interests.

And they'd become even stronger since they'd returned from Sierra Verde a 
couple months ago.

Jim shut his eyes for a moment, and the Temple of Light appeared before 
him, rising out of the jungle growth. Deep down he could feel the draw, 
but it was no longer overwhelming, the way it had been before. The way it 
had been for Alex Barnes, eventually sending her into a catatonic state 
so deep that even Blair couldn't tell whether it was a zone-out or a 
complete systems failure of her senses.

When it had all been over, Jim had decided to stay in Sierra Verde for a 
few more days. He'd seen Megan and Simon on their way, assuring both of 
them that he would be fine.

Then he'd gone back to the temple.

Standing outside the temple doors, he'd been surprised when Blair had 
hung back. He would have thought that the anthropologist would be all 
eager to get inside and examine every inch of the structure, but Blair 
shook his head.

"This is a Sentinel place," he'd said. "You need to do this alone."

Jim had wanted to protest, but the structure's siren call was 
overwhelming.

Inside, he had found two stone baths filled with water that didn't feel 
like water when he dipped his hand in. Next to one of the baths were the 
remains of Alex's preparations. Her bag and jacket, a cup filled with 
some sort of herbal drink. Jim had ignored them all.

Instead, he had climbed into the second bath, submerging himself in the 
liquid until only his face was left above water. Then he had closed his 
eyes and waited. It hadn't taken long

Death and pain had filled his visions. Blair's death had been replayed 
over and over again, while Veronica Sarris screamed "You let him die!" in 
his ears. He had pushed that away; Blair was dead -- there was nothing he 
could do to change that -- but he wasn't gone. He had chosen to stay with 
Jim, giving both afterlife and rebirth a pass to do so.

With the rejection of the first set of images, new ones had appeared. 
Simon, Megan shot. Chaos at the PD. His brother and father hunted by 
stalkers. Everyone around him, everyone he loved, targets.

'You can change that,' a seductive voice had whispered. 'Give yourself 
up. Give yourself to me. I can stop this from happening.'

Jim had whimpered. Part of him had wanted to immediately say 'Yes, 
anything!' but part of him had held back. Part of him had known this was 
a trap.

"I will deal with this myself," he had replied, firmly. "It is my 
responsibility."

The visions had continued, but he had held onto his sense of self. 
Greater powers had been offered to him, but he had refused. He had 
enough trouble with the ones he already had. Finally, the voice had 
disappeared, and a new one had taken its place.

"Very good, Enqueri."

Jim's eyes had flown open, and before him, haloed in blue, Incacha had 
stood.

"What do you mean? What is this?" Jim had asked, pushing himself out of 
the not-water.

"You have passed an important test. You refused to pass up responsibility 
to another, as a weaker person might have. You refused the offer of 
powers you are not ready for yet, that a more greedy person would take. 
As the woman who you hunted did. You behaved as a proper Sentinel should."

"This... is a trap? For people with a Sentinel's abilities?"

"But missing the qualities that *make* a Sentinel. Yes. Better that they 
end up as the woman did, rather than cause pain and suffering to those 
whom the Sentinel should be serving. You have passed the last test."

"So, what? I'm finished learning?"

Incacha laughed, amusement echoing. "You *never* finish learning. Just 
ask your shaman. Even now, he is still learning. There is so much he can 
do, even after death, and he still only knows a small fraction of it. 
Even I still have much I do not know. No, Enqueri. The learning never 
ends. But now it is time for you to go home. Put into practice what you 
*have* learned, and watch for the lessons to come. They will find you."

"Jim?"

Jim started at the new voice, pulling himself back to the here and now.

"Sorry, Megan. Didn't mean to drift."

"Did you See something?"

Jim smiled, and shook his head. Just after Inspector Megan Conner had 
arrived on an exchange program from Australia, he'd found himself with a 
new partner -- something he had protested strenuously. She hadn't turned 
out to be so bad, though. She kept out of his way, so they got along fine.

She'd also decided early on that he was psychic, which was why she stayed 
out of the way. The only thing that got annoying was when she tried to 
question him about those abilities.

He wasn't sure just why he didn't tell her the truth. After all, were 
Sentinel abilities *really* any more difficult to believe in than psychic 
abilities? But he was reluctant to do so. Simon knew because he had to. 
Brackett knew because he did a lot of research on Jim.

But other than that, Blair was the only one who really *understood* them, 
and he felt like it was something between only them, binding them 
together. Like telling everything to another person would... cheapen that 
bond, somehow.

He was relieved when the intercom announced that the plane was landing. 
It was going to be a long and boring day, but it *had* to be better than 
hanging around an airport.

* * * * *

Blair whistled as he walked down the street, heading for home. He could 
have spent the day following Jim around, but knew better than to try. 
While the meetings that the Canadian representative was going to would 
have been interesting to him he wouldn't have been able to refrain from 
commenting and commenting often, and the last thing Jim needed while on 
guard duty was distractions, especially since there'd been threats from 
local loggers.

Nope, distractions were a bad thing.

So instead, Blair had decided to indulge in a movie. One benefit of being 
a ghost was that he didn't have to pay admission -- not that the theaters 
were overcrowded on a Tuesday afternoon. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself 
and was heading for home now.

Blair glanced at the clock in a store window as he went past. Nearly four 
o'clock. Jim wouldn't be done for the day for a few more hours. Blair 
could have willed himself straight to Jim or the loft, but decided not 
to. It was a beautiful evening, and since ghosts couldn't feel the cold, 
he decided to walk the whole way back to the loft.

He was halfway home, when something caught his attention. He stopped and 
listened. It was the sound of crying, coming from a nearby alleyway. He 
headed for it, planning to find out what was going on and then let Jim 
know.

The crying turned out to be a young girl, only ten or eleven. She was 
under-dressed for the weather, and what skin he could see was liberally 
marked with bruises. She was huddled into a small ball against the alley 
wall, her head down and her face hidden.

Blair crouched down in front of her, horrified and saddened. He had to 
get Jim. Get help for this girl.

"How could anyone hurt a child?" he said out loud to himself.

The reaction was instantaneous. The girl screamed and scuttled to the 
side, terror plain on her face. Blair watched in shock.

"Please don't hurt me!"

Blair stared at her. "You can see me?"

Then he noticed something he hadn't before. He could see -- ever so 
faintly -- the details of the alley *through* the girl. Suddenly, things 
became clear. Especially why no one walking by had even *looked* into the 
alley to see who was crying.

"Shhh," he said soothingly, staying motionless where he was crouched. "I 
won't hurt you. Who are you? How long have you been here?" And why are 
you still here? he wondered to himself. A child should have gone on, not 
stayed around after her death. The girl just whimpered.

"My name is Blair," he said, trying to coax her out of the corner she'd 
wedged herself into. "What's yours?"

"I... I don't know."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know." The reply sounded plaintive, more question than 
statement. "You won't hurt me?"

Blair felt his heart ache at the pain in the young voice. "Of course not. 
I wouldn't hurt anyone."

Cautiously, she inched towards him, looking for a hostile move. Not 
seeing any, she suddenly threw herself into his arms, amazingly solid to 
him, and started sobbing again. He hugged her, rocking back and forth 
making soothing sounds.

After a while, the sobs started to die down, and the child pulled away 
from him. "Sorry," she sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her 
hand.

"It's all right, sweetie." Blair thought for a moment, then held out his 
hand. "I need to leave. Would you like to come with me?"

The little girl stared up at him. He noticed she had unusual eyes. They 
were so pale a brown that they almost looked amber. They complemented the 
long auburn hair nicely. She was a very pretty child.

"Can I?"

"I don't see why not."

A small hand slipped into his, almost shyly. Blair smiled reassuringly, 
then headed for the opening at the end of the alley.

But just as he reached it, she stopped. Blair looked down at her, 
wondering what was wrong.

Her face was white, and her eyes had gone glassy. "I can't," she 
whispered.

"Can't what?"

"Can't leave."

"Why not?"

She made a tiny noise, like a wounded animal. "Don't know."

Blair bit his lip in frustration. He couldn't stay. Jim would get 
worried. But he couldn't just *leave* her. Finally, he crouched down next 
to her.

"Sweetie, I need to go tell a friend where I am. Then I'll be right back."

The child's expression went desperate. "Promise?"

Blair crossed his heart. "Promise."

She nodded, and Blair stepped black. Closing his eyes, he focused on Jim. 
Then he was gone, and the child was alone again.

* * * * *

Jim was seriously considering picking up a steak knife and stabbing 
himself in the thigh, just to keep from falling asleep. The day's 
meetings had been almost interesting -- at least interesting enough to 
keep him awake.

But the dinner! Speeches galore, each more boring than the last. Briefly, 
Jim wondered what would happen if he went nuts, as noisily as possible.

"Jim."

Jim gave a small jump as he was addressed, but otherwise didn't move, 
recognizing his partner's voice. Instead, he gave a small nod, showing 
that he'd heard.

"I've got a little problem. Over on Normandy, in the alley next to the 
'Hock and Shop'. Umm... There's a little girl there. No, no," Blair 
rushed on when Jim started to shift. "There's nothing you can do. She's 
dead, and has been for a while. She's a... um, ghost. Anyway, she's stuck 
there. Doesn't know her name, or how long she's been there, and she can't 
leave. I can't leave her alone, man. She's scared. Anyway, I was 
wondering if you could find out who she is. She's about ten, long auburn 
hair and light brown eyes. I gotta go. I promised I'd be right back."

Jim nodded again, sighing inside. It sounded like they weren't going to 
be able to pick up where they left off that morning.

Not a good day.

* * * * *

"God, I hate these sorts of dinners," Megan groused, rubbing her eyes as 
they left the airport after seeing the trade representative off. "I just 
want to go home and *sleep*. What about you, Jim?"

"Sounds good to me," he told her, "but I've got something to look up back 
at the station. I'll drop you off at your car."

"What?" Megan frowned at him.

Jim glanced over at the young woman. "Sandburg found something he wants 
me to check up on." At least he could tell her the truth about that. She 
was the only one who actually knew about Blair's 'not exactly dead and 
gone' state.

Suddenly, Megan was looking more alert. "What sort of something?" she 
asked, and Jim could tell she wasn't going to accept an evasion. She and 
Sandburg would have got along just dandy if they had met before his 
death. They were both masters of stubborn.

"He ran into the ghost of a little girl in an alleyway. He wants me to 
figure out who she is while he tries to figure out how to get her loose 
and on her way to wherever she's supposed to go next. Right now, she 
can't seem to leave the alley."

While he was explaining, he'd pulled into the PD parking lot. Instead of 
heading for her car, Megan made a bee-line for the elevator. "Well, what 
are you waiting for?" she called over her shoulder. "Let's see what we 
can find out."

"Conner, you don't have to..."

Megan stopped and gave him a 'get real' look. Jim just shrugged and 
followed her. Even if Blair hadn't taught him anything else, he'd taught 
Jim how to recognize when protesting would be useless.

* * * * *

"Here we go. Christine Jesses, age eleven. Disappeared June 5th, 1990. 
Her body was found in that alley five days later. Oh, God. She was raped 
and beaten before being dumped. The coroner said she was still alive 
when she was left there. They suspected that the step-father was behind 
it, but there was not enough proof to arrest him. The case is still open."

Jim looked over Megan's shoulder at the picture on the screen. The school 
picture in the file was of a very pretty child matching Blair's 
description. The file also contained the pictures from the crime scene. 
Jim felt a fire burning in his gut at the image of a battered child lying 
in an alley. This sort of thing shouldn't happen to children. Especially 
not in *his* city.

The question was what to do next. "Megan, do me a favor?"

"Sure, Jim."

"Go to Mama LeBeau. Tell her what we've found so far. See if she has any 
suggestions."

"No problem. Where are you going?"

"To that alley. I want to check it out myself."

"After more than eight years, there isn't going to be anything to find." 
Megan suddenly shook her head. "Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. 
I'll see you in a bit."

* * * * *

"Chief?"

Blair looked up as Jim entered the alley. He was sitting, back to the 
wall, cuddling the little girl. "Over here, Jim."

There was only dim light coming from the mouth of the alleyway and it was 
eclipsed by the large frame of his partner.

Jim crouched down in front of them, a strange look on his face. Blair 
stared at him for a moment, then realized that Jim wasn't looking at 
*him*. He was looking at the space next to Blair.

"You can see her?" Blair asked, surprise coloring his voice.

"Just barely," was the awed answer. "She's so transparent I can only just 
tell that she's there. Christine?" he said, addressing the ghostly child.

"Is that my name?" she answered, her voice trembling.

"That's what the file says. Your name is Christine Jesses."

She bit at her bottom lip for a moment, then a smile spread. "They called 
me Christy!" she burst out. "My name is Christy!"

Jim smiled, but Blair could see the pain behind it. Jim was a wonder with 
children and the death of one was something he always seemed to take 
personally.

"Do you remember how you got here, Christy?"

Immediately the smile disappeared. "No. I don't want to stay here. Do I 
have to stay here?"

"No, child, you don't," came the rich reply from behind Jim. Blair looked 
up, startled.

"Mama LeBeau!"

Blair grinned at the sight of the elderly woman coming down the alley, 
Inspector Megan Conner right behind her. Other than Jim, the herbalist 
had been the first person he'd met after his death who could actually see 
him.

The woman came to a stop next to Jim, looking down at them. "Do get up," 
she said, a white smile creasing her dark face. "These old bones don't 
like crouching, no more."

Blair clambered to his feet, pulling Christy up with him. The little girl 
clung to him, trembling again at being surrounded by strangers. Mama 
tsked.

"Don't be afraid, little one," she said gently. "We're here to help. You 
ready to leave this dark place?"

"I can't," Christy whispered, her eyes gone huge and bright with unshed 
tears.

"Yes you can, child. You just need to *want* to hard enough. Let me help?"

Mama LeBeau held out her hand, and after glancing at Blair for 
reassurance, Christy took it. Mama closed her hand around the smaller 
one, and for an instant, Blair thought he saw a glow pass between them. 
It was green, and made him think of cool, living places, trees and 
streams and tall ferns growing.

Then Mama stepped towards the mouth of the alleyway, pulling Christy with 
her.

The little girl hesitated at the opening onto the street, but Mama smiled 
reassuringly and stepped forward again. Christy's face broke into a smile 
when she realized that she was past the edge of the area that had 
previously trapped her.

Mama LeBeau looked back at Blair and the others. "The little one, she'll 
come with me for now. I'll tell her 'bout some of the things that she 
needs to know. You do what you must."

Megan stepped forward. "Umm, Mama?" she called out. "Don't you need a 
lift home?"

"Don't you worry 'bout me," was the reply. "We'll be fine. It's a 
pleasant night for a walk."

And she was gone.

"What we need to do?" Jim asked, looking from Blair to Megan and back 
again.

"On the way, Mama said that the dead stay behind when something needs to 
be resolved," Megan said. "A tie that can't be broken, or a debt to be 
paid, or a wrong to be righted. In this case, she's probably stuck here 
until her killer is stopped."

Jim groaned. "In other words, she can't move on to... whatever until we 
solve an eight year old murder case."

"That's about it," Megan said with a shrug.

"Eight? *Eight*?" Blair's voice rose with his indigence. "She's been 
stuck here for *eight* years? Jim, what the hell happened?"

Blair could see Jim's jaw grinding with indignation. "She was found here, 
dead, but there was no evidence to say who'd killed her. They suspected 
that her step-father was involved, but without evidence, there was 
nothing they could do."

"Well, we'll just have to do something about it now," Blair said, and 
turned to head out of the alley.

Eight years! That was not going to go unpunished. Not if *he* had 
anything to say about it.

* * * * *

Jim rolled over and resisted the signals being sent to him by his 
bladder. He was warm. He was comfortable. He was dreaming about Blair in 
a tuxedo, doing a sinister enemy agent seducing the hero (Jim). Simon had 
even given him the morning off in repayment for the guard duty the day 
before.

And his bladder was about to explode.

Finally admitting defeat, Jim allowed himself to wake up, making a mental 
note to try the scenario again sometime. A glance at the clock said that 
it was past nine.

"Good morning!" Blair said, coming into view, spread out on the bed. Jim 
mournfully wished he could lean over and kiss his beloved, but the only 
time he could actually touch Blair was in his dreams. Still, it was 
better than the alternative.

"Morning," he grumbled on his way down the stairs, heading for the 
bathroom.

After taking a whiz and brushing his teeth, he started to feel more 
human. A shower and breakfast completed the transformation. When he was 
done, he looked around for Blair.

Blair was sitting on the couch, watching the morning talk shows. 
Recently, Blair had discovered that with a little concentration and a lot 
of effort he was able to turn on the television and change channels. He'd 
speculated that it had to do with manipulating electrical fields or 
something, but Jim figured that he didn't have a clue. He just could.

"You'll rot your brain watching that stuff," Jim commented, shuddering at 
the sound of Kathy Lee Gifford's laugh. Blair just flipped him the finger.

The TV clicked off and Blair followed him back to the kitchen. "So what 
first?" he asked.

"First I talk to Simon. Things are quiet enough that I might get 
permission to reopen the Jesses case. If not, then I'll have to work on 
it in my own time. You coming?"

"Of course."

"Blair?"

Both the men, one living and one dead, jumped at the sound of a third 
voice. Jim turned, but didn't see anyone.

"Christy?" Blair stepped forward and reached out to something Jim 
couldn't see. The moment his hand came into contact, the faint outline of 
the little girl became visible to Jim.

"I wanted to come see you," the girl said. "Mama told me how. Can I stay 
with you?"

Blair looked up, obviously torn. "Jim?"

Jim fought down a flash of jealousy. "I'll see you later, Chief," he 
said, pasting a smile on his face. Blair probably wasn't fooled for a 
second, but the smile on his face said that he appreciated the gesture.

Jim picked up his coat and headed for the door. Behind him, he could hear 
Blair asking Christy what she wanted to do for the day.

* * * * *

Blair sighed, willing himself home again. He and Christy had spent the 
day at the Ancient History museum, Blair explaining the exhibits to the 
obviously delighted child. With all his knowledge of history, he'd been 
able to spin stories to keep her entertained the entire day.

She obviously didn't know how much time had passed since her death. It 
was as if she'd been living in one long 'now' until he'd come along and 
shaken her out of it. Now she was seeing a world that had changed 
noticeably since her death.

She would have been nineteen if she hadn't died. Probably in her first 
year at college or university. Definitely would have had a boyfriend, 
with her looks and sweet personality. He'd had to keep a close rein on 
his thoughts all day since she'd been very perceptive and any signs of 
his anger at her situation were misinterpreted as anger at herself.

He'd been successful, though, and at the end of the day she'd been 
reluctant to go back to Mama LeBeau's, wanting instead to stay with 
Blair. But she'd finally agreed and he'd left her happily chatting with 
the elderly Cajun woman.

Back at the loft, he'd found Jim sitting at the dinner table, files 
spread across the surface in front of him and the remains of a deli 
sandwich and beer next to his elbow.

"Hi, Jim," Blair said, not wanting to startle the man. Alive, he'd never 
been able to sneak up on his lover. Dead, it was all too easy to make the 
man practically jump as high as the ceiling.

Jim grunted a greeting. Blair frowned at that. Jim looked upset about 
something.

He sketched a kiss on the air next to Jim's cheek, then looked over his 
shoulder. "An awful lot of files for one dead child," he said. It was 
cold, but true. There looked to be files from multiple cases there.

"They aren't," Jim said. "Christy's step-father wasn't just a suspect in 
her death. Five years ago he remarried. Three years ago, his new step-
child disappeared while he was living in LA. Again, he was a suspect, but 
there wasn't enough proof to charge him."

Jim flipped open a file folder, exposing the photo of a young girl. She 
was very pretty, with wide blue eyes and curly black hair. "Erin 
Donnell," Jim said. "Age ten. Never found."

Blair brushed his fingers overtop of the photo, then paused. "She's dead 
too. But gone."

Jim looked at him, one eyebrow going up. Blair just shook his head. "I 
don't know how I know. I just do."

Jim shrugged. "So after that, I started looking for similar cases: 
children of the same type disappearing. Children being found dead in the 
same condition as Christy." He pointed to a pile. "I found twelve files 
that could match, spread out over the last eleven years, just here in 
Cascade. Nine girls and three boys. All attractive. All unsolved. All 
never found. It looks like Christy was the only one whose body was left 
somewhere public."

By this point Blair was starting to feel ill. "And no one ever put this 
together?" he asked.

Jim's expression went hard, his jaw clenching. "No. They were spread out 
enough that it was never the same detectives twice. Apparently none of 
them put their own case together with the other open cases. Several were 
just marked as runaways, then dropped. They should have," he muttered to 
himself.

"Well, you have now."

"It gets worse."

Blair's eyes went wide. "How could it possibly get worse?" he asked, not 
sure that he wanted to hear the answer.

"Two of the missing kids have turned up on child porn videos."

The statement was delivered in a tone so flat that it spoke volumes about 
Jim's feelings in the matter.

Blair reminded himself that ghosts didn't throw up, but couldn't do 
anything about the nausea running through him. "Shit," was all he could 
think of to say.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Anyway, I took this to Simon, and Megan and I are 
officially on the case. Most of these are cold files, no one interested 
except for the families, if even them. Still, Simon's a father. He also 
doesn't like this sort of thing going on in his city."

"Just like you. He may not be a Sentinel, but he's just as protective," 
Blair said, his eyes still on the pictures.

Thirteen children over eleven years in one city. All between the ages of 
nine and twelve. He frowned.

"You didn't find any cases from the last five years," he pointed out. It 
would explain why Jim hadn't noticed, since that would have been while he 
was still in Vice. Vice didn't investigate missing children.

"Yeah. That might mean they closed shop, whoever *they* are."

"But since Erin disappeared three years ago, not likely."

Jim sighed. "I know. My guess is that they decided that they were 
pressing their luck. Either *they* moved..."

Blair shivered. "Or they're importing kids from other cities."

Jim nodded. "I just wonder why Christy's body was found, but none of the 
others. Are any of them still alive?" he asked, looking up at Blair with 
a hopeful expression.

Blair brushed his hand over the other files, looking for the same feeling 
he'd had with the Donnell file. He sighed and shook his head. "They're 
all dead," he said. Jim's expression went bleak, then determined.

"Well, no more. Not in *my* city."

Blair just nodded, equally determined. Whatever was going on, Sentinel 
and Shaman would stop it. Together.

* * * * *

The first thing they needed was a place to start. Since Jason Krepp, 
Christy's step-father, had left Cascade years ago, he was beyond their 
reach, at least until they found some proof linking him to his step-
daughter's death. Semen had been found on the little girl's body, but 
genetic tests had proved that it wasn't his.

So they went with two other lines of investigation. First of all was to 
canvas the area where her body was found; see if anyone lived in the area 
eight years ago and remembered anything.

Second was to question Christy.

Blair decided he'd better handle that end of the investigation without 
Jim. The next morning he headed for Mama LeBeau, and found the elderly 
herbalist talking with Christy in her kitchen.

The kitchen was amazing. Drying herbs hung from racks along one wall. The 
counters were cluttered, but scrupulously clean. A pot on the stove 
simmered with something that smelt wonderful. The floors were a linoleum 
so old that you could barely see the original color or pattern, but like 
the counters it was cleaned until it almost shined. The dark wood of the 
cabinets and table had been polished to a satin finish. It was warm. It 
was comforting. It said 'home'.

"Blair!"

Blair held out his arms as the little girl flung herself into them. Much 
as he hated to admit it, it was nice being able to touch someone in the 
waking world. He loved Jim dearly, but sometimes it hurt to reach out to 
someone only to have his hand pass right through them. Add to that the 
fact that Mama LeBeau was the only person he'd met who could actually 
*see* him, other than Jim, and it made for a lonely existence.

He sat down at the table and listened with a grin as the child babbled on 
about the things that Mama had shown her, explaining the things she'd 
learned to do.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked, eyes aglow. Blair sighed, 
wishing that he didn't have to do this.

"Christy, do you remember Jim?"

"Uh-huh. The big man you live with?"

"That's right. He's a policeman, and he wants to find out who hurt you."

Almost immediately, the light went out of Christy's eyes, and she seemed 
to shrink in on herself. Blair's heart almost broke at the sight, but 
without what she could tell them they might never find out who killed 
her, and she might never have the chance to move on.

"Christy, do you remember what happened?"

"no," was the faint answer.

Blair looked up at Mama LeBeau, and the woman got to her feet. She opened 
a cabinet and started pulling out jars of dried herbs. Finally, she 
picked one and set it on the table. She opened it up and poured a handful 
of the mix of dried leaves into a small bowl, then turned to Christy.

"I can help you find the memory, child," she said in a gentle tone. "But 
you must want to."

"don't."

Blair sighed. He really didn't want to make her remember, but there 
wasn't much choice. "Christy, we think the people who hurt you also hurt 
other children. We need to stop them, but we need your help to do it."

Christy looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with tears. "You won't 
hate me?"

Blair hugged the little girl, his own eyes prickling. "Never," he 
promised. "But I want them punished for hurting you and the other little 
boys and girls. I want to stop them before they hurt anymore."

"all right," was the whispered reply.

Mama LeBeau lit a match and dropped it in with the herbs. As they started 
to burn, smoke filled the air. It brought with it a scent that 
immediately relaxed Blair, left him feeling content. Despite being a 
ghost, he could still smell aromas, and be affected by them. Blair had 
often had Jim burn incense for him, and Mama had provided several mixes 
that helped clear and focus the mind, as well as provide other pleasant 
side-effects.

Blair cuddled Christy on his lap as she relaxed. When Mama nodded to him, 
he brushed the hair back from her face, and planted a gentle kiss on her 
forehead before starting the questions.

* * * * * 

Jim's first step was to check with his usual snitches. Unfortunately, 
most of them tended to be transients, not staying in one town for too 
long. Still, with any luck *someone* would know something useful.

He started with Sneaks, his favorite snitch. Usually the man could be 
counted on for information on just about anything. For the right price.

"So," Sneaks said, slightly hunched in his seat at the diner. "What're 
you looking for this time?"

Jim sipped his coffee. "Eight years ago, a little girl was found in an 
alley off Normandy. Beaten. Raped. Left to die."

Sneaks winced. "I heard about that one. Why you looking into something 
so old?"

"Because she wasn't the only one. She's just the only one we've found. 
I've got missing kids covering six years, of which she's just one. Two 
were used for kiddy porn. Does that ring any bells?"

Sneaks shuddered, then gulped at the coffee that Jim had bought him. 
"No," he said, then paused. "At least nothing definite," he finally said. 
"Rumors, though..."

Jim leaned forward. "I'll take rumors. *Anything*."

"Rumor says there's a film company in town. Old operation, older than 
most of its kind gets. That's 'cause they're *real* careful, and real 
connected. They do mostly ordinary porn -- the legal stuff. But they also 
do some real expensive back-room stuff too. Kiddy stuff. Nasty stuff. 
Death stuff."

Jim froze, his stomach clenching up. "Snuff films?" he asked in a 
strained voice. "How come you never mentioned this?"

"No names, no address, no proof. Word is they film outside of city 
limits, where most cops won't bother going. Word is they bought 
themselves a lot of protection. They're *very* careful. Assuming that 
they really exist," he added.

"You don't know anything else?"

Sneaks shook his head. "Sorry. Like I say, nothing but vague rumors. 
Never any proof."

Jim sighed. "Thanks," he said, sliding out of the diner booth. He reached 
under the seat and pulled out a bag. He held it out to Sneaks with a 
faint smile. "The latest in Nikes," he said. Sneaks started to protest, 
but Jim shook his head. "Rumors are better than nothing. And if you hear 
anything more, *anything*..."

"I'll call you," the little man said, accepting the bag.

Jim paid the cashier, and headed for the door. He had something to start 
with at least.

* * * * *

"Can you hear me, Christy?" Blair waited, and the little girl nodded. Her 
eyes had drifted shut.

"Christy, I want you to remember your last day at school. Can you do 
that?"

"Un-huh."

"What happened that day?"

"Got a ninety-eight on the spelling test. Miss Carols said I did best in 
the class. Jeremy called me a teacher's pet. He's just jealous cause he 
got a sixty."

Blair smiled. Christy was a very smart child, according to the file. He 
burned inside again at the thought of all that promise being cut short.

"What happened after school?"

Christy bit her lip. "Went to get on the bus, but Jason was there. He 
said he came to pick me up, cause he had a treat for me." Blair blinked. 
In the file, no one had reported seeing Krepp pick up Christy. The bus 
driver had just said that the little girl hadn't got on the bus before 
she left.

"Did you go with him?" he asked.

Christy nodded. "Mom said I should do what he said, 'cause he was going 
to be my daddy now. I didn't like him, though."

She was tensing up and Blair took a moment to sooth her. He stroked her 
hair and rocked back and forth until she relaxed.

"Where did he take you, Christy?"

"Someplace with lots of big buildings, out where all the trees are. It 
was really pretty."

"How long did it take to get there?"

Christy shrugged. "A while. We passed a waterfall on the way."

Blair's ears perked up at that. There were several waterfalls in the 
mountains near Cascade, but only one that could be seen from a road. It 
was about a half-hour north of Cascade.


"Do you remember the road after the waterfall?"

A look of concentration passed over the girl's face. "We turned left, a 
little bit after the waterfall. It was really bumpy."

"What happened after you got to the buildings?"

Suddenly Christy started to shake. "There was a strange man. Jason made 
me go with him. He gave Jason a package, and then he got in the car and 
left me there with the man." She was crying now. "He took me into the 
building. There were lots of light and other men. Then they..." She broke 
into sobs.

Blair started rocking her again. "It's all right, Christy. You don't have 
to remember any more."

"They *hurt* me!" Christy cried, a sound so full of pain that it tore at 
him.

Mama came over and started to stroke Christy's hair. "It's all right, 
child. They can't hurt you anymore. I won't let them."

Christy lifted her head and sniffed. "Promise?"

"I promise," Blair and Mama LeBeau said at the same time.

"okay," she said, barely above a whisper.

Blair bit his lip, but he had to ask. "The other man, what did he look 
like? Did anyone ever call him by name?"

Christy shook her head. "Everyone called him sir. He was *really* tall, 
much taller than Jason. And big. Um... Black hair and blue eyes."

Blair cuddled her a little tighter. "You did real good, Christy," he 
assured the little girl. "We're going to stop them. I promise. They aren't 
going to hurt any more children."

Inside he was making the same vow, only it was a lot angrier. Someone had 
been killing children in *his* city, and they were going to pay dearly 
for it.

* * * * *

Jim met up with Megan, back at his desk. "What do you have?" he asked.

"Well," she said, flipping open her notebook. "Jenny Crane was identified 
in a porno flick made by an outfit calling itself 'Little Angels'." They 
both paused to shudder at the name. "Only four films known to be made by 
this outfit, all kiddie porn. Mike Lopez was spotted in a gay flick from 
an outfit called 'No Limits'. Again, kiddie porn, but same-sex only. Vice 
doesn't know much about the two film companies, but the Feds have been 
investigating for years, and they think it's the same company working 
under a lot of different names."

Jim shut his eyes. "The Feds are involved?"

Megan snorted delicately. "If you want to call it that," she said. "Near 
as I can tell, they've been investigating for seven years, but haven't 
gotten anywhere. It's not considered an active case, apparently."

Jim's jaw clenched. "Maybe not by them. I disagree."


Megan nodded, and opened her mouth to say something, but before she 
could, Simon called out, "Ellison, Conner, my office."

Megan shrugged. "Our master's voice," she quipped as they headed for the 
small room.

"Anything yet, Jim?" Simon said when the door closed behind the two 
detectives.

"Not a lot," Jim replied. "Rumors that an outfit that makes snuff films 
operates on the outskirts of town, but is so heavily connected that no 
one bothers them."

"And the two films with missing kids from the list in them are probably 
made by the same company, according to Vice," Megan chimed in. "And the 
Feds have a not terribly active file on the case."

Simon sighed, and picked up his coffee cup. Jim's nose wrinkled at the 
smell of the artificial flavors in the coffee. Enhanced senses could be a 
bitch, and in this case, his sense of taste had definite problems with 
most artificial flavors and colors. Give him good old Colombian coffee 
from Juan Valdez any day.

"Well it just got more complicated," Simon said. "I just got a call from 
the chief of police wanting to know why I'm wasting my two best 
detectives on a cold file."

Jim glared at Simon, even though he knew it wasn't the man's fault. 
"Isn't thirteen missing children worth investigating?" he ground out.

"He said that the fact that the last one was five years ago makes it a 
low priority, and your talents would be better used elsewhere."

"And what do you say?"

Simon glared back at him. "I say you keep investigating, *Detective*, and 
you find me something to *justify* me keeping you on this case." Then his 
expression softened. "I'm with you on this one, Jim. However..."

"Yes?"

"I think that your source's comment about the people being well-connected 
may have been proven." Jim looked at him blankly. "I haven't told anyone 
what you're investigating," Simon explained.

Jim's breath hissed through his teeth as he picked up on what Simon was 
saying. "Someone found out and is applying pressure." He said. "Maybe 
there's a tag on the files on those kids," he said, more to himself than 
anyone else. "A tag that lets the... appropriate people know when someone 
is showing an interest."

"Exactly," Simon said. "I'll stall them as long as possible, but I 
suggest you work fast."

"Right, Captain," Megan said. "How about I go see if I can... charm 
records into telling me if they let anyone know about those files being 
signed out?" 

"Good idea," Jim said. Megan would probably have better luck than him 
anyway. The way he was feeling, he'd be more likely to crack heads than 
use charm.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his shaman blink into sight. Blair 
waved. "Got a description and an approximate area, Jim," he called. No 
one else could hear him, so Jim schooled his expression.

"Simon, a contact of mine thought he might be able to get a lead on an 
approximate area for the filming. I need to go meet with him."

Simon waved them to the door. "Fine. Just get me *results*, people."

* * * * *

Blair followed Jim down to the parking garage and Jim's truck. Jim was 
even more tense than he'd been when going over the files on the missing 
kids. If his jaw were any tighter, his teeth would crack.

Blair waited until they were in the car and driving. "What?"

"Simon didn't tell anyone we were investigating the missing kids."

Blair shook his head. "And?" 

"And the chief of police just called to suggest that we should be working 
on more current cases."

Blair blinked. "Which means that someone found out you were investigating 
in less than a day and has the clout to pressure the upper ranks to shut 
you down. This is not a good thing."

Jim snorted. "Tell me something I don't know," he said. "So, was Christy 
able to tell you anything?"

"Yeah," Blair said quietly. He still felt guilty for forcing the little 
girl to relive even a small portion of the trauma that ended her life. 
"Her step-father picked her up after school and delivered her to a man. 
Taller and bigger than Krepp, with black hair and blue eyes."

"That describes a lot of people, Blair."

"Yeah, but he drove her out of town, into the woods. They passed a 
waterfall, then turned left onto a bumpy road that led to a lot of big 
buildings. That's where the filming was done."

Jim looked thoughtful. "That should be enough to locate the site," he 
said. "Then we can determine who owned it then, and whether or not they 
*still* own it."

"Exactly."

Jim sighed, the tension seeming to drain out of him. "This is a break we 
needed badly," he said. "Next stop, the library."

"Not the city planning department?"

Jim shook his head. "No. We'll leave that for later, if necessary. We 
don't want to alert the wrong people too early."

* * * * *

A check of the maps at the library found only one site that matched 
Christy's description; a large sawmill that belonged to the Aimes 
Corporation. Blair tapped a picture of Trevor Aimes.

"He doesn't match Christy's description," he said.

"If he's behind the films, he wouldn't show up in person," Jim whispered 
after making sure that no one was around to notice.

"Right," Blair said. "It wouldn't be that easy."

"And even if it were, what could we say? We can't exactly put a ghost on 
the stand to testify that he was the man she saw."

"So we have to find the man she *did* see, and somehow convince him to 
roll over on his boss."

"Assuming that Aimes even knows what's going on. He might be innocent."

Blair looked at Jim for a moment, then they both chorused, "Riiiiight."

Trevor Aimes had a reputation in Cascade. He was one of the richest 
businessmen in the city, right behind Wilkinson, and he had a reputation 
for being ruthless. Getting in his way was a good way to get squashed.

"So now what?" Blair asked.

"We check with Conner, then we go take a look at the sawmill."

"What's Megan doing?"

Jim grin came out at that. "Finding out who leaked the info and to whom."

"Ooooh!" Blair said with a grin. "The man knows his grammar."

Jim mimed a swat in Blair's general direction. "Cute, Chief. Let's get 
going."

* * * * *

Jim met with Megan at a small restaurant near the university for a late 
lunch. It was one he'd started going to with Blair, back when Blair had 
still been at the university, and he'd liked it so much that he'd kept 
going. Besides, he and Blair had some good memories there and he wasn't 
about to let them go.

"Well?" he asked, sliding into the booth across from Megan, nodding to 
the waiter when he asked if Jim wanted a menu or just his regular. Megan 
already had a sandwich in front of her, but hadn't eaten much.

"Found our stoolie," she said. "Put the fear of God in him, then handed 
him over to Captain Banks to have the fear of everything else put in him. 
Last I heard, it was mostly the fear of Jim Ellison."

Blair snickered, then frowned in distaste at the plate the waiter put in 
front of Jim. "Rare roast-beef sandwich with gravy and french fries? I'd 
really prefer you didn't join me *that* soon you know, Jim."

Jim waved a hand at him before picking up his knife and fork to dig into 
the tasty mess. "So what did you find out?" he prompted Megan.

"He's been getting fifty dollars a month to call a number if certain 
files were pulled from the archives."

"The files on the missing kids?"

Megan took a big bite from her club sandwich and made a production of 
chewing it, then washing it down with a sip of her cola before answering. 
"Among others," she finally said.

That got Jim's attention. He dropped his knife and fork and fixed his 
best glare on her. It didn't phase her at all. "What others?" he finally 
asked, when she didn't say anything more.

Megan grinned at him, although it wasn't a very pleasant grin. "Three 
more kids," she said, and Jim winced. "Also, a report on a possible 
attempted kidnapping, the records on the perp in that attempted 
kidnapping, a disturbing the peace report at a warehouse in the dock 
district, and a vice investigation that found that employees of a local 
corporation were involved in smuggling porn. Naturally, no one else in 
the corporation knew about it, the three arrested were just working 
solo."

"Of course," Jim echoed. Neither one of them bought that for a moment.

"And guess which corporations that was, and which one owned the 
warehouse and who the perp worked for?" Megan said with an expression 
that would have put to shame the cat who ate the proverbial canary.

"The Aimes Corporation."

Megan's jaw dropped. "How..." she spluttered.

Jim smiled. "Trade secret," he said. "So who did he call?"

"He just had a number. It's for a cell-phone. Simon called someone named 
Kelso? to trace the number."

Jim nodded. "Jack Kelso works at Rainier. We met him through Blair. He 
also used to be in the CIA and he still has a lot of those contacts. If 
anyone can trace the number without attracting the wrong attention, he 
can. More importantly, if anyone can find a link between it and Aimes, he 
will."

"You think there will be a link?"

Jim considered that for a moment. "If there is, it will be well buried. 
Aimes didn't get where he is by being stupid. We *might* be able to tie 
it to one of his employees if we're lucky, but Aimes will no doubt have 
lots of plausible deniability in place."

Megan grimaced and put down her sandwich. "You mean that even if he *is* 
behind this, he's going to get away with it?"

Jim's glare was do hot that he could almost turn his sandwich from rare 
to well done, just by looking at it. "Not if I have anything to say about 
it," he said in a soft growl which Blair matched.

"Good," Megan said, then picked up her sandwich and took a savage bite 
out of it.

The rest of the meal was eaten in complete silence.

* * * * *

The call from Kelso came just as they were finishing their meal. Jim 
pulled out his cell-phone and brought it to his ear.

"Ellison."

He listened intently, with both Blair and Megan watching him expectantly. 
All they got were several affirmative grunts. After a minute, he 
disconnected, then dialed a number.

"Simon? Yeah. Can you get us a search warrant? The Aimes sawmill. Right. 
That's where my informant saw suspicious activity. Yep, the kid was 
watching files linked to Aimes. Kelso just called. The number was for a 
two-bit P.I. who's done a lot of work for Max Kalen, personal assistant 
to Trevor Aimes."

He waited for a moment. "Good. Pick a judge carefully, Simon. We don't 
want the place to be cleaned out before we get there. Right. We'll head 
straight there. Send someone with the warrant as soon as it's signed."

* * * * *

Instead of taking her car, Megan chose to ride along with Jim. On the way 
out of town, headed for the sawmill, Jim saw Rafe and Brown in a car 
heading the same way. Noticing him, Rafe held up a piece of paper. Jim 
didn't need Sentinel senses or the psychic abilities that Megan thought 
he had to know that it was the search warrant. The grin on Rafe's face 
told him that. He was impressed at how fast Simon had been able to get 
it. Now all they needed to do was get to the mill before someone warned 
them.

When they pulled into the sawmill, there wasn't a soul in sight. It was 
the off-season, so the mill was shut down. The surrounding landscape was 
covered in a light blanket of white, making everything feel silent. Jim 
climbed out of the truck and started scanning the area with his senses.

After a moment, he waved towards one of the side buildings where he heard 
voices. Two men, working hard. "That's where the offices are," he told 
Rafe and Brown. "We'll start there."

Like a well-oiled team, the four of them moved towards the door to the 
building. From the corner of his eye, Jim saw Blair slip through the 
wall. Even after more than a year of dealing with "My partner, the 
ghost," it still made him jump slightly when he saw Blair do that.

Blair was back in an instant. "They're emptying a hidden storage room," 
Blair said hurriedly. "Tapes and files. They're planning on using the 
furnace to burn them."

Jim frowned. Sounded like someone had managed to tip off the bad guys 
despite their careful maneuvering. Either that or they were already 
running scared because of Jim's investigation.

Jim moved to the door. "Cascade PD!" he shouted. "Open up, we have a 
warrant."

There was a moment of silence, quickly broken by a shotgun blast through 
the door. Luckily, Jim had anticipated that and had moved to one side. He 
gave the doorknob a quick test and determined that it was locked, but 
that the door wasn't very sturdy. He took a deep breath, then stepped 
over and kicked the door in before ducking for cover again. In the 
distance he could hear the sound of sirens. Hopefully it was Simon with 
backup.

But in the meantime, Jim knew that they had to move fast before the two 
inside destroyed evidence. Glancing through the opening, he saw a desk, 
not too far from the door. "Cover me," he told Megan.

"What? What are you... Jim!"

Ignoring the spluttering, Jim dove through the doorway, rolling as he 
went, and landed behind the desk. He automatically checked his gun when 
he came to a stop, breathing hard and waiting for the adrenaline rush to 
die down a little. The sound of a shotgun was loud in the room, but the 
desk was one of those old, ugly, heavy-metal types, so he was well-
protected.

"Are you *insane*?" Blair snarled in his ear. "You are *not* Superman, no 
matter what you might think. Bullets do *not* bounce off your chest."

"Yeah, yeah," Jim muttered, paying more attention to the sound of the two 
men across the room. One of them was holding the shotgun, while the 
other... Jim hissed as he heard the sound of a match being lit.

"I don't *think* so," Blair said angrily, disappearing from Jim's lign of 
sight. Almost immediately, Jim heard cursing as the match went out. The 
man lit a second, but it went out too. Blair might not be able to do much 
in the physical world, but putting out a match was obviously one thing he 
*could* do.

Outside, Jim could hear Simon shouting orders, and a strike team circling 
the building.

"You hear that?" Jim shouted. "There's no place you can run. Your best 
bet is to give yourselves up and try to make a deal with the DA's office. 
Otherwise, you'll go down with your boss, assuming you get out of here 
alive."

Dead silence answered him. Jim held his breath, waiting.

Finally, there was a dull thud as the gunman dropped the shotgun. "All 
right," he called. "We surrender."

Very slowly, Jim got to his feet, his gun aimed at the two men. They were 
both standing perfectly still, hands in the air. On the table next to one 
of them was a pile of papers and video cassettes, all untouched thanks to 
the grinning man perched on the edge of the table.

Jim grimaced as Blair stuck out his tongue at him. Guides. Can't live 
with them, certainly don't want to live without them.

* * * * *

If this were a TV show, they would now have all the evidence necessary to 
convict every single bad guy, with Perry Mason waiting in the wings to 
prosecute. Unfortunately, Jim knew that this wasn't TV, and it was never 
that easy.


However, they'd taken the first important steps. The papers they'd saved 
from incineration did name names, if only at the lowest levels of the 
organization. Simon had arranged a special lock-up for them, to keep them 
from conveniently disappearing. Through those records, they'd been able 
to arrest five people. With any luck, they could get people rolling over 
on their bosses until the reached the top of the organization.

They'd already gotten close, with links to Aimes' assistant, Kalen. Not 
enough to arrest him yet, but Jim had noted that the man was six feet 
tall, compared to Krepp's five foot nine, and he had black hair and blue 
eyes, just like Christy had described. From what they'd learned, he 
enjoyed watching. They *would* link him to the porno movies, Jim promised 
himself. Then it would be just one tiny step to Aimes.

Naturally, Aimes was denying any involvement, claiming that he had no 
idea what his employees were up to in their spare time. And if they were 
using Aimes Corp property for it, it was without his permission or 
knowledge, and he would prosecute them for it. The man was so cool that 
butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, as Blair said.

However, with the Feds now deciding to get more involved in the 
investigation, his local contacts couldn't protect him forever. Jim 
resented the interference, but since the case involved kidnapping kids 
and transporting them across state lines for the purpose of prostitution, 
of a sort, federal charges were inevitable. Just as long as they didn't 
screw up the case, Jim would be satisfied.

"The thing I still don't understand is why Christy was dumped in an 
alley? If they've been making snuff films for this long, they shouldn't 
have been so... careless." Blair was pacing the loft, still full of 
nervous energy, even *after* death. Five bodies had already been found, 
buried in the woods around the sawmill. One of the men arrested so far 
had led them to the bodies.

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe we'll never know. But 
if they hadn't, we might never have found out about Aimes and his 
organization."

"Assuming that we can nail them for this."

"We will, Chief," Jim said grimly. "And if we don't... Well, there's 
always other forms of justice."

Blair stopped dead in the middle of the room and turned to face Jim. "You 
Can't honestly be suggesting..." He trailed off, his tone disbelieving.

"Of course not!" Jim assured him. "Can't defend the tribe from a jail 
cell, after all. Still, there are ways to make sure that word gets around 
to the... right people." Both in business -- with the help of his father 
-- and other places, he told himself. Very few people would tolerate 
child abuse, especially of this nature. Aimes would not enjoy the 
attention.

But that could wait. First there was something more important to do.

* * * * *

Blair hung onto Christy's hand tightly as they stood near the gate at 
the Cascade Airport. The plane from New York had just landed. Around 
them, people waited for friends, family and loved ones.

They were waiting for someone who was none of the above.

Jim stood silently, a statue made of flesh, flanked by two uniformed 
cops. His eyes were focused on the exit ramp, waiting.

Then he smiled coldly. A man came down the ramp wearing handcuffs, a 
guard next to him. The two men came towards them, and Christy's grip 
tightened. Blair squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Detective Ellison?" the guard asked. He examined Jim's badge carefully, 
then handed over the extradition papers to be signed. Then, with every 
sign of being relieved, he turned and headed for a different gate for his 
flight back to New York.

Jim turned to the handcuffed man, and his smile got even colder. "Jason 
Krepp, you are under arrest for kidnapping and accessory to murder. You 
have the right to remain silent..."

Blair watched as Jim and the other two cops led Krepp away, still 
reciting the Miranda. It had already been done back in New York, several 
times no doubt, but they were going to make sure that there wasn't a hope 
in hell of him getting off on a technicality. Thanks to the seized 
records and the statements of two of the men already arrested, they had 
all the proof needed to convict him of selling both his step-daughters. 
There was even enough to suggest that he'd married the mothers just to 
get to the daughters.

Blair turned to Christy and crouched down next to her.

"What's going to happen to him?" she asked, still looking in the 
direction Krepp had been taken, tears filling her eyes.

"He's going to go to jail for what he did to you and Erin, and he won't 
be let out for a very long time." Assuming he survived, Blair thought. 
Child molesters didn't have an easy time in jail. No matter what they 
were in for, cons hated people who hurt children.

Christy stared at Blair for a long moment. Then she smiled through her 
tears and flung her arms around Blair's neck. She kissed him noisily on 
the cheek, then pulled back.

Already, she was more transparent than before. She seemed to glow, as if 
she were standing in a sunbeam. Christy smiled at him, then looked off to 
the side, and an awed expression spread across her face.

A moment later, she was gone.

Blair stared at the spot where she'd been standing for a few more 
minutes, then turned and left.

* * * * *

That night, they didn't try for anything fancy. Jim's dreams were set in 
the loft, and they made love slowly and sweetly in the bed they'd shared 
for nearly two years before Blair's death. Before too much longer, they 
would have been together *after* Blair's death for longer than they'd 
been together before.

Basking in the afterglow, Blair spread himself across Jim like a blanket. 
The last few nights since the showdown at the sawmill their lovemaking 
had been fierce, fueled by Jim's close call. Jim didn't realize it, but 
Blair had seen just how close the last shotgun blast had come to him. It 
had scared him. He wasn't sure what would happen to either of them when 
Jim died, and he would prefer not to find out for a very long time.

"Chief?"

Blair hummed a reply, and started a slow undulation that was guaranteed 
to get a rise from his lover. One benefit of the dream thing was that 
they could make love for most of the night and Jim would still wake 
refreshed. He just needed to take an hour or two for deep REM sleep. 
Blair couldn't sleep, but he enjoyed using that time to just watch Jim.

Jim's hands grasped his hips and stopped him from moving. "Blair?"

Alerted by the serious tone of voice, Blair pushed up so that he could 
see Jim's face. "What's wrong?" he asked, worried by the expression he 
saw there. It was almost... guilt.

"Do you? I mean..." Jim trailed off, and Blair frowned at him.

"Whatever it is, spit it out, man."

"Do you ever regret staying?" Jim asked, the words coming out in a rush. 
Then he slowed down. "I mean, do you ever think of going on, like Christy 
did?"

Blair stared at his lover in disbelief, then slowly smiled. "No, Jim. 
Well, I did think about it once, but decided that no matter what was 
waiting on the other side, it could never be worth losing you." A pleased 
smile spread across Jim's face, and Blair traced it with a gentle 
fingertip. "I love you, Jim. That's why I took the chance to stay with 
you. And no, I have *never* regretted that choice. If I had it all to do 
over again, I wouldn't change a thing. Well," he amended, "I would have 
avoided getting shot in the first place, but I wouldn't change my choice."

Blair covered Jim's mouth before he could say a word, only moving his 
hand so that he could kiss the beautiful, infuriating man. Jim responded 
eagerly. Finally, Blair pulled back again. "We're linked," he said 
softly. "And I am staying with you, through thick and thin, until the end 
of your life and hopefully well beyond that. Accept it. You can't get rid 
of me."

Jim's smile had moved to incandescent. "I don't want to," he said. "I 
just..."

Blair pulled his hand away once Jim's lips stopped moving. "I wouldn't be 
here if this weren't *where* I wanted to be," he said. "Now, can we get 
on with the hot sex?"

Jim stared at him, then started to laugh, deep, rolling belly-laughs that 
made Blair bounce up and down on his chest. The laughter was contagious, 
and pretty soon they were both laughing so hard that tears rolled down 
their faces.

Finally the last aftershocks died away, and Jim reached up to cup Blair's 
face. "Thanks for staying, Chief," he said seriously, though he was still 
smiling. "I don't say it enough, but I am very glad you decided to stay."

Blair grinned. "I'm glad I stayed too," he said. "Now about that hot 
sex..."

* * * * *

Later that night, once Jim had dropped into the deep sleep where Blair 
couldn't follow, Blair found himself remembering something that he hadn't 
mentioned to Jim. He was still having trouble believing it himself.

Mama had touched Christie.

At the time, it hadn't registered. It was just so natural that the 
elderly psychic would take the little girl by the hand or stroke her 
hair to comfort her. It wasn't until much later that he'd started to 
wonder.

If Mama could touch Christie, what did it mean for him? He'd noticed that 
his abilities had grown in the more than a year since his death, and 
Christie had been dead for longer. Plus, no one had ever told the little 
girl that she *couldn't* touch anyone.

Blair reached out to Jim, then paused. Maybe it was because Mama was a 
medium that she could touch Christie. But surely a dead shaman and the 
Sentinel he was bound to could do the same, right? Blair chewed on his 
lip, wondering if he should try. If he tried and it didn't work, how 
would he feel?

Then he steeled himself. He wouldn't know *unless* he tried.

Concentrating very hard, he reached his hand towards Jim. Reached and...

And passed through his shoulder.

But for a moment, he'd felt something. Felt a resistance. *Felt* it.

Blair grinned, and settled back down to watch Jim sleep. Okay, it wasn't 
much, but it was a *start*!

And like they said, practice made perfect.


THE END