Acknowledgements: Thank you to all those kind enough to write and tell me how much they enjoyed my first effort Double Indemnity. Your comments were very much appreciated. A special thanks to Wolfpup for her continuing support and encouragement. Tonya, this one's for you...

Major Crimes Detective James Ellison returned from getting coffee in the break room to discover Captain Simon Banks hovering around his desk. Simon normally didn't hover so Jim knew something was up and either experience or some inexplicable sixth sense told him he wasn't going to like it. He nodded an acknowledgement to the Captain, "What's Up Sir?"

"Where's Sandburg?" Simon inquired. "I thought he was coming in with you today."

Ellison eyed his Captain warily. It wasn't like him to inquire about the grad student like that unless [A] He was in trouble or [B] Simon wanted something from him. Granted, they'd recently nearly lost the kid and the majority of Major Crimes was still prone to hovering around him like a bunch of mother hens, but Simon wasn't projecting an air of concern, instead his entire posture seemed to radiate guilt.

"Jim!" Simon interrupted his musings.

"Sorry Sir. Sandburg should be here any time now. He had an end of semester meeting at the university and then he was going by the hospital."

Banks frowned. "Everything's okay with the kid, right?"

"Yeah. He's just getting a final checkup." Seemingly relieved, Simon nodded but Jim sensed there was more to it than that. "What's with the sudden interest in Sandburg?"

"Come on Jim, you know I like the kid..."

"There's more to this than that Simon," Jim said, interrupting him.

Simon took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Ellison immediately recognized it as one of Simon's classic delaying tactics when he had something unpleasant to deal with. Jim knew then that the next few minutes were going to be very unpleasant. Replacing his glasses, Simon asked Jim to join him in his office.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Ellison got right to the point. "Why do I have the feeling I am not going to like what you're about to say."

Moving behind his desk, Simon Banks sat down with a sigh. "Because this involves Sandburg and you always did have a sixth sense where he's concerned."

Ellison felt a tightening in his chest. "What about Sandburg? Did he do something...?"

Simon waved the question aside. "No, no, it's nothing like that." He took a deep breath and plunged in. "It's what I'm hoping he will do."

Oh shit! I was afraid it was going to be something like this. On several occasions, Simon and the Cascade P.D. had been left no choice but to enlist the anthropologist's aid. Sandburg's unorthodox childhood and subsequent studies in anthropology often lent a new perspective on cases. And unfortunately, it sometimes also made Blair the perfect candidate for assignments that couldn't be handled by traditional personnel or procedures. Well not this time! "Simon..."

"Now Jim," Simon held up a staying hand. "Just hear me out before you say anything." Ellison's eyes narrowed dangerously but he nodded for his Captain to continue. "I'm sure you've read in the papers or heard on the news about the accidental death of Jason Harper two weeks ago." Jim nodded again.

Jason Harper had been the only son and heir to Quentin Harper, Cascade's most influential real estate tycoon. Jason Harper had worked as an instructor at a nearby boys camp, a sort of combination between an outreach program and summer camp for problem youths. His body had been discovered at the foot of a ravine. It had been determined that recent rains had rendered the ground unstable and that the young man had fallen to his death when the ground had given way beneath him.

Simon continued, "I received a call from Mr. Quentin Harper this morning. It seems that he doesn't believe his son's death was an accident and he has asked us to investigate." Simon seemed more than a little annoyed as he relayed the next bit of information. "He also took great pains in pointing out his close ties with the Governor and indicated that his next call would be to the Governor if we didn't comply with his request."

That's blackmail, Jim thought but wasn't surprised. People like Quentin Harper didn't take no for an answer and felt their position entitled them to services beyond that of the regular citizens of Cascade. But that still didn't explain one thing. "What's this got to do with Sandburg?"

"I was coming to that." Simon shot him an exasperated look. "Harper sits on the Board Of Directors that run the camp..."

Big surprise there, thought Ellison.

"He's arranged for us to place an undercover agent in the camp as an instructor."

I definitely do not like where this is heading. "Get to the point Simon," Jim demanded. "What's this got to do with Sandburg?"

"Now Jim, I know you're not going to want to hear this..."

You're right, I don't.

"...and believe me if there were any other way, I would take it in an instant, but..."

Oh shit, here it comes.

"...despite an intensive search through our data banks, not one officer in the entire Cascade P.D. has the same degree of education and teaching experience to pull this off."

"Over my dead body! No, absolutely not!" Jim was adamant. "I'll take the assignment. Just leave Sandburg out of this!"

Simon had known this was going to be Ellison's reaction. Hell, even he didn't want to send the kid on this assignment, especially not after what he had just been through, but there were no other viable alternatives. "I can't do that Jim. Sure, you've got the training but you also, as Sandburg would say it, 'Scream Cop'," Simon emphasized in quotes. "Face it Jim, Sandburg's our best option."

Ellison was on his feet in an instant, his anger permeating the office. "I don't give a damn Simon, he's been through enough. You've got no right to ask this of him."

"Shouldn't that be Sandburg's choice?" Simon asked him.

"No!" Jim began pacing back and forth then paused and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. He turned back to his Captain. "Simon you have no idea what Sandburg's been going through." He held up a hand when Simon started to speak and continued. "You just saw the physical evidence of what that lunatic did to him. What you haven't seen, what he lets no one see or know about, is the nightmares he still has." Ellison closed his eyes remembering as visions of his partner's unrelenting nightmares entered his mind. "God Simon, he wakes up screaming. For weeks he couldn't even sleep in a bed. I'd find him asleep on the couch, when he could sleep that is, or if he was too exhausted or in too much pain to make it to the couch on his own, I'd find him curled up on the floor in his room."

"I had no idea..."

"And you wouldn't have either if it were up to Sandburg. He puts on this brave face when he's around others. He's so afraid that everyone will think less of him if they know what's happening."

"Jim, you know that none of us would ever think that about Sandburg. What that kid went through would give the most seasoned officer on the force nightmares."

"I know that Simon but Sandburg doesn't. Despite his incredible intellect and seemingly outgoing personality, he's got this... I don't know, distorted view about his own self worth." Ellison plopped down in the nearby chair as if suddenly exhausted. "Simon," he continued after a moment, "he can't even get within ten feet of a woman any more without panicking. I can hear it. His heart begins to race, his breathing becomes erratic," Ellison's voice rose, "and this is the person you want to send into a potentially dangerous situation?!"

"It's a boys camp Jim, I doubt there will be any women there."

"That's not the point and you know it!" Ellison bellowed.

"Regardless, Sandburg is still the best candidate for the job. You know it and I know it. More than likely this will turn out to be nothing more than what it appears to be, an accident, plain and simple. He's great with kids. Look at how well he and Daryl get along. Who knows, he might do those kids some good." Simon paused considering his next words carefully. "And they just might do him some good in return."

"I'm not disputing that fact Simon. Sandburg's a great teacher and his students seem to think the world of him. But what if it turns out to be more to this than an accidental death. I mean, come on, we both know  that Sandburg and trouble are almost synonymous."

"Come on Jim, it's not like we're going to be sending the kid in there with no backup. The camp borders on the national park. We'll have a couple of men disguised as campers nearby in case he runs into any trouble."

Now why doesn't that make me feel any better? He fixed Banks with a stare. "One of them had better be me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Simon was quick to assure him. He looked speculatively at Ellison. "Does this mean you'll support me on this?"

Ellison shook his head. "In all good conscience, I can't do that Sir. But if Sandburg goes along with this hair-brained scheme, I'm damn sure going to be there to watch his back."

"Don't worry Jim we will be," Simon assured him.

"We!?" Jim's eyebrows arched in question.

"We," Simon emphasized. "I care about the kid, too. And if you tell him that," Simon added, trying to lighten the moment, "I'll deny every word of it."

Ellison responded with a frown. "I don't know about this Simon, my gut is telling me that this is a big mistake."

"If Sandburg agrees to do this, you're going to try and talk him out of it aren't you?"

"Damn straight I am. He's not a cop for Christ sakes. He's not trained for this."

"That's never stopped him from helping us in the past," Simon reminded him. "Or you from taking him out in the field."

"Damn it Simon!" yelled Ellison, then made a conscious effort to lower his voice. "That's not fair. Don't you think I'm aware of the danger I put him in every time we go out?" Ellison turned away overwhelmed by the guilt which had risen within. "This discussion is getting us nowhere. We don't even know if he'll agree to do it."

"Well, it looks as if we're about to find out," Simon told him with a nod towards the outer office. They watched as Blair stepped off the elevator and was immediately engulfed in a bear hug by Joel Taggert, captain of the bomb squad. He was quickly joined by Brown, Rafe and a large portion of those working in Major Crimes, all eager to welcome the young man back.

Because his somewhat unusual perspective often garnered information which lead to solving cases, over time Sandburg had earned the respect, be it some what grudgingly in some instances, of each person in the precinct. Yet, even those not impressed by his intellect would have eventually fallen victim to his caring and infectious personality. Yep, Sandburg's quite a piece of work, thought Ellison. And the department is damn lucky to have him. Still, that knowledge didn't squelch the growing sense of dread gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

Simon tried one last time to make his best detective and friend understand. "I'm sorry Jim, but my back's against the wall on this one. Even the Commissioner has approved this. I've got to at least ask him."

"I understand Sir," Ellison grudgingly replied.

Banks opened the door to his office and called the young man in. Saying goodbye to the others, he quickly entered Simon's office. "Hey Simon, Jim," he greeted them. "What's up?"

"Jim tells me you just had your final check up."

Neither man failed to notice the telltale flash of discomposure that crossed Sandburg's features before he hid it behind a manufactured smile. "Yeah, the doc says I'm fine. One hundred percent in fact."

Simon knew better, but he wasn't about to contradict the kid. Especially not in front of Jim. "Good, glad to hear it," Simon told him. Blair threw Jim a questioning glance and was left even more confused as Ellison refused to meet his gaze.

"Sandburg I need to talk to you..."

"Sure Simon..." interjected Blair with a curious look at his partner.

"Alone," said Simon pointedly at Ellison. Jim's jaw clenched in response. Not uttering a word, he rose and left the office, stopping just short of slamming the door behind him. Blair's eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned back to Simon.

"Coffee?" inquired Banks, holding out a cup.

"Yeah, sure," Blair replied, taking the steaming cup. Left feeling even more perplexed, he waited for Simon to continue.

He didn't have long to wait. "Sandburg, Blair ..."

Uh oh! He used my first name. This can't be good, thought Blair, then listened silently as Simon went on to explain the reason for the meeting.

Ellison knew he shouldn't be doing it. But even that knowledge didn't prevent him from using his heightened senses to monitor Sandburg's reaction to Simon's proposal. Blair would view it as an invasion of privacy. Jim saw it as looking out for his partner. The first accelerated beat of Sandburg's heart had alerted him and he listened to it's rate increase as the meeting progressed. To look at Sandburg, you wouldn't have known anything was wrong. Got to hand it to the kid, he's got nerve. But Ellison knew better. He wanted to go in there and drag Blair out of Simon's office. Forbid him to take the assignment. But he knew he couldn't do that. First of all, because he wouldn't embarrass Blair that way and secondly, despite his outward appearance, Sandburg was an adult capable of making his own decisions. So as much as he wanted to, he didn't. Instead he just sat there watching and worrying.

"You don't have to do this," Simon added in conclusion. "No one will think any less of you if you refuse." He watched Sandburg, who had been studiously studying the carpet for the last ten minutes, waiting for a reply. Apparently having reached a decision, his head came up.

"Sure Simon. When do you want me to start?"

Banks was amazed. Knowing what the kid has just been through, was still going through, he had half expected Sandburg to turn him down. Yet, once again the kid had managed to surprise him. "I know it's short notice, but we need you to start tomorrow."

Blair nodded. "No problem." He stood, prepared to leave. Turning towards the bullpen, he zeroed in on Ellison's expression. Except perhaps one, he silently mused.

The ride to the loft was accompanied by absolute silence. Every once in a while Blair would sneak furtive glances at Ellison and could swear he heard Jim grinding his teeth. He momentarily considered trying to sidetrack Jim from the issue upper most in both their minds, but quickly dismissed the notion. Blair knew that look and he knew they were going to discuss it whether he wanted to or not.

Part of Blair appreciated his partner's obvious concern for him, but the other part dreaded the prospect of facing up to his short comings which he knew Jim was going to try and capitalize on. Maybe if he made a quick get away to his room, Jim would respect his unspoken request. Yeah, right, he silently snorted.

The elevator ride to the loft was thick with tension, neither man looking forward to the inevitable confrontation mere moments away. After letting themselves into the loft, Blair made a beeline for his room only to be brought up short when Jim grabbed his arm. "Not so fast Junior. We are going to discuss this."

"Look Jim, I know you don't want me to do this but Simon thinks I'm the best person for the job. I respect his judgment, why can't you?"

Trust Blair to get defensive, Jim thought. "It's not that Chief..."

Sandburg went from being hurt to angry in five seconds flat. "Then what exactly is it Jim? Tell me, 'cause I'd really like to know."

"I am not going to lose my temper," Jim muttered under his breath. "Damn it Sandburg, I heard your heart rate skyrocket while you were in with Simon. You're not ready for this!"

"You were listening!?!" Blair was incredulous. "Man, I do not believe this. What gives you the right? I am like so out of here," he shouted, once again heading for his room.

Ellison grabbed Blair's arm spinning him around then clamped both hands on the young man's upper arms effectively holding him in place. "I'll tell you what gives me the right," Jim shouted back. "I'm the one who sat with you in ICU after that nut case nearly beat you to death." Blair tried to pull away but Ellison held fast. "I'm the one who took care of you while you were recuperating. And I'm the one who listened to you wake up screaming from nightmares night after night. What gives me the right? I'm your friend damn it! That gives me the right!"

Blair's anger deflated like a burst balloon. He stood there blankly staring at a spot on Ellison's chest as he tried to get his breathing and chaotic thoughts under control. Finally, the repentant blue eyes looked up at Ellison. "I'm really sorry man. I didn't mean to lose it like that."

Jim nodded his acceptance of the apology and offered one of his own. "Me either Chief."

"Jim, I know it's just your Blessed Protector mode kicking in but I can't, and I won't, continue to live my life in fear. If I do, I'll never get past this."

Realizing he still held him in a crushing grip, Ellison released Blair with an apologetic look. "It's still too soon..."

"When won't it be too soon Jim? A month from now? A year?" Blair shook his head. "No, it ends here and now. I'm doing this."

Ellison took in the determined stance. "I can't talk you out of this can I?"

"No." Plain, simple and to the point.

"All right Chief," Ellison responded with a resigned sigh. "But just remember, you won't be alone. Simon and I will be there just in case."

"Thanks Jim." Blair smiled and then proceeded to change the subject. "So what's for dinner big guy?"

Ellison shrugged. "Depends on what you're planning on fixing."

"Oh man, so much for the Blessed Protector mode," Blair replied with a pained expression. "You just want one more good meal before you have to start eating yours and Simon's cooking. Okay, okay," he held up his hands in mock surrender as Ellison advanced on him in feigned anger. "I'm cooking, see..." he added, picking up a nearby pot.

Ellison folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter. "Knew you'd eventually see it my way."

If Sandburg's appearance, as he shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower, was any indication, it looked as if he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Truth to be known, Jim hadn't gotten much sleep either. He had ended up spending most of the night listening, afraid that the pressure of the new assignment might result in the return of Sandburg's nightmares.

Sandburg looked a little more alert after the shower but Ellison noticed that Blair did little more than push his breakfast around on the plate. "Hey Chief, you gonna eat that," he nodded indicating the food, "or play with it?"

Blair pushed the untouched food aside. "Just not very hungry I guess."

"Uh huh," Ellison responded with a knowing look. A warning glance from Blair kept him from elaborating.

Blair parked his Volvo just outside of the camp gates and shut off the ignition. Making an effort to calm his nerves, he took a deep breath. I can do this, he silently assured himself. After all, Simon and Jim will be close by and it will probably turn out to have been nothing more than an accident ... Yeah right , he scoffed, exhaling. And if you believe that I know this guy who can get you a great deal on the commoditiesmarket. Face it Sandburg, nothing has ever been simple where you're concerned.

He glanced up at the sign which hung in the gateway opening. It's crudely carved lettering read 'Camp Castaway'. Well maybe I can at least help some of the kids while I'm here, he mused for a bit before the doubt began to creep in. "Who am I kidding?" he spoke aloud. "They'll probably take one look at me and kick my ass all the way back to Cascade. What in Gods name was I thinking when I agreed to do this?... Okay, just stop right there Sandburg," he admonished. You're starting to sound just a little bit paranoid here. Talking to yourself is always a good sign, his inner voice told him. "Shut up!" he snapped at the voice. Oh Christ! I'm losing it. His breath was now coming in short rapid pants and he recognized it for what it was, the onset of a panic attack. With a groan he leaned forward and rested his head against the steering wheel.

"Damn her!" he cursed as visions of Andrea and the horrifying ordeal she had put him through flashed through his mind in vivid detail. So caught up was he in relieving the nightmarish event that his cell phone rang numerous times  before it's persistent ringing finally pierced his consciousness. Still half dazed, Blair fumbled around within his back pack finally pulling out the shrilling lifeline back to sanity. He hit the button answering, "What?", more harshly than intended.

On the other end of the line, Ellison's head shot up alarmed at the tone of Sandburg's voice. Simon noticed Jim's sudden apprehension. "What is it Jim?" Ellison shrugged in response then proceeded to turn up the volume on his heightened sense of hearing.

"San...~static~, it's J...~static~ Are ~static~ all right?" came Jim's sporadic disembodied voice over the phone.

Blair took several deep calming breaths in and out through his nose before responding. "I'm fine Jim. I'm almost at the camp now..."

Ellison was frustrated. "What? Sandburg you're breaking up... Damn it!" He furiously punched the off button and turned to Simon. "I lost him."

"Must be due to the terrain," Simon told him. "Is the kid all right?"

Jim frowned. "From what little I could make out he sounded..."

"What?" Simon prompted a bit impatiently.

"I don't know... Stressed, freaked out... "

"Jim, I'm sure he's fine." Simon was quick to reassure him. "It's probably just ..." Simon's voice trailed off as he suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

Ellison grimaced. "Yeah." Both realized that they knew what it probably just was. "Simon, I know we weren't suppose to head up there for a couple hours yet but.."

Simon grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. "Let's go." Ellison let out a pent up breath and followed the captain.

Blair parked the Volvo in front of the building identified by a sign as the office. Getting out of the car, he reached back and grabbed his backpack. Turning around, he found himself staring straight into a barrel-sized chest.

"Can I help you?" it rumbled. Blair's gaze traveled up the expansive chest.

My God, this guy is huge! He finally got to the face. Intense green eyes, that looked like they would brook no argument, stared back at him. Blair's eyes widened. "Whoa!" The man's face was as intimidating as the rest of him. Blair's glance took in the jagged scar which ran from the corner of the man's right brow down the entire side of his face ending at the jaw line. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. A hawk shaped nose, thin wide lips, and short blonde hair, cut in a military style, topped off the craggy features. He involuntarily stepped back.

Blair's mouth had mysteriously gone dry. He tried to swallow. "Um... I'm Blair Sandburg," he finally managed to choke out.

The man smiled and Blair blinked in surprise at the transformation it caused in the man's appearance. Instantly, he seemed less frightening, in fact, he seemed almost... friendly. "Hi, I'm Frank Turner, the assistant camp director," the man introduced himself, sticking out a hand. Blair extended his own and found it immediately engulfed in a bear-sized paw as Frank shook it enthusiastically. Beneath the man's friendly countenance, Blair felt himself begin to relax.

Frank chuckled. "Sorry Professor, I didn't mean to scare you. But a person can't be too careful nowadays. Besides," he told Blair, "you don't look at all like what I was expecting."

Blair smirked. "Yeah, I hear that a lot. But I'm not a professor. Not yet anyway. I'm a teaching fellow and a grad student working on my doctorate."

"Well, whatever you are, we're mighty pleased to have you here," Frank assured him. "Dan Cortair, the camp's director," Frank added by way of explanation, "is off somewhere with a bunch of the boys right now. So what say we get you settled in first and then you can meet the staff and the little hellions at lunch."

"Oh, that sounds encouraging," Blair replied doubtfully.

"Now don't get me wrong, while we do have some potentially dangerous kids here, the majority of them are harmless.They just need a little direction and discipline in their lives. You see, most of them come from a poor background and or single parent homes. Left to their own devices while the parent is at work, they find themselves hooking up with gangs to supplement their need for a family structure. Sometimes," Frank reflected sadly, "they get into trouble just to get some attention."

"I hear that," Blair muttered, not realizing he had spoken aloud.

"Sounds like you know where these kids are coming from," said Frank, eying Blair speculatively.

Blair moved to the trunk of his car, inserted the key and popped the lid before answering. "Yeah well, it was just me and my Mom while I was growing up. Well, us and whatever guy she was with at the time." Blair reached in the trunk and pulled out one of his bags while Frank grabbed the other. Blair slammed the trunk lid before continuing. "I mean Naomi was a great Mom and all but..."

"You longed for a more traditional family," Frank suggested.

Blair laughed. "My Mom is about as far from traditional as you can get. She grew up during the sixties and stayed there." Frank smiled at the comment. "We traveled a lot while I was growing up," Blair continued. "I got to see and do things that most people only dream of." The laughter died from Blair's eyes and was replaced by a remembered sadness. "But it was hard always having to leave behind the friends I'd made. I'd get mad at her and act out..." He shook off the memory.

"Well, she must have done something right," said Frank. "You seem to have turned out okay."

"I was lucky," Blair explained. "During the course of our travels, I developed an interest in anthropology. That gave me something to focus my energies on instead of the ... "

"Anger?" Frank suggested.

"Yeah," Blair quietly agreed. "I mean, I knew she was doing the best she could. We always had a roof over our heads and enough to eat. And she was always there when I really needed her. But for a long time I really resented our unusual lifestyle."

"Well, here we are," Frank said, pausing in front of a single level log cabin.

Blair had been so lost reminiscing he hadn't even realized they'd been moving. Shaking off the last remnants of memories, he looked up at the structure. "It's larger than I envisioned."

"Each cabin houses a maximum of eight boys and one instructor," Frank explained. "Although you'll be responsible for instructing all the boys before the end of the session, you'll only have six boys actually bunking with you for the duration."

Blair nodded. "Where are they now?"

"For the last two weeks they've been split up between the other instructors. But when we heard you were arriving today, we had them move back in this morning." At Blair's questioning look Frank went on to explain. "Their previous instructor had an accident two weeks ago..."

"I hope it wasn't anything too serious," Blair appropriately responded knowing full well it had been fatal. However, he was hoping that if he appeared ignorant of the incident that Frank might be more forthcoming with details.

"Unfortunately, he was killed. We found his body at the bottom of the ravine." Frank shook his head. "A damn shame, just a few more feet and he'd have hit the water. He might have stood a chance then."

"Oh man! Are they sure it was an accident?"

Frank looked at him strangely for a moment before answering. "You think one of the boys may have been responsible?" His voice almost challenging.

Blair put on his best chagrined look. "Well, you did say that some of the boys could be dangerous," he suggested leadingly.

"No," Frank replied vehemently. "Jason was great with them boys. I can't see any of them wanting to do him any harm let alone kill him." He frowned at Blair. "If you're that nervous about being here then maybe you're not the right person for the job after all."

Whoa, bad move there Sandburg, Simon will have a fit if you blow this. Of course, Jim would be ecstatic, he mentally added with a sigh. All right, he told himself firmly, let's put that silver tongue of yours to work and see if you can talk your way out of this. "Hey, I'm really sorry man. I didn't mean anything by it, honest. If I seem a little jumpy it's because I was..." His brain frantically sought an explanation. "...mugged about six weeks ago and they 'um did a pretty good number on me."

Frank saw the haunted look in the young man's eyes and immediately felt sorry for his abruptness. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry," he told Blair. "After all, this isn't exactly a health spa for the rich and idle," Frank added with a smile, trying to lighten the tense moment. "You have every right to ask questions if you have any doubts." He looked closer at Blair noting his pale features. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Yeah man, I'm fine. This is something I need to do," Blair assured him, realizing that he did, in fact, need to do this.

With a nod of acceptance, Frank slapped him on the back. "Well then, lets get you settled in and then I'll introduce you around."

"Sounds good," Blair responded with a smile as Frank preceded him into the cabin. After a calming breath and a quick mental pep talk, Blair followed him inside.

It hadn't taken long to put away his belongings in the room that Frank had indicated was his. Thank goodness he didn't have to actually bunk in the room with the boys themselves. At least this way, he would have a little privacy for when he needed to report into Simon and Jim. As if the thought went out over the cosmic airwaves, Blair's cell phone rang. With a grin, he pulled it from his pack, punched the button and said without preamble, "Hello, Jim."

"Hey Chief, how'd you know it was me?"

"Who else would be calling me Jim, the Avon lady?"

"Well, it could have been the phone company asking if you wanted to change carriers," came Jim's deadpan reply.

"Ha ha! Very funny," retorted Blair. "Don't think I wasn't considering it after our last conversation. At least the connection is better this time."

"Simon said it was probably the terrain..."

"So why is it better now...?" Suddenly it dawned on him. "Jim, tell me you didn't."

"So we're a couple hours early."

"Aw man..."

"I was worried about you Chief," Jim said, cutting off his protest.

"I'm a big boy, Jim. Anyway what could possibly happen in a couple of hours?"

"Knowing you Sandburg, plenty of things."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence man."

He heard Ellison sigh. "Look Chief, I didn't mean it that way..."

"Then exactly how did you mean it? Man, I thought we already had this conversation."

Jim counted to ten. "Look Blair, you're a civilian observer going undercover into a potentially dangerous situation." He heard the beginnings of a protest and hurried on. "Not to mention the fact that you're my best friend. I think that gives me the right to worry a little. Now, are we okay with this?... Blair?"

"Yeah, okay," came the reluctant reply. For crying out loud Sandburg, Blair admonished himself. He's just being Jim, doing what he's genetically programmed to do. So quit taking it out on him because you feel inadequate. He became aware of the acute silence on the other end of the line and forced himself to inquire in a more amiable tone, "So, you and Simon catch any fish yet?"

"Give us a chance Sandburg, we just got here." Ellison chuckled then sobered as Simon reminded him of the reason for the call. "Listen Sandburg, we pulled the rap sheets on the kids before we came up here. We also have the background information on the staff. Can you meet us at the rendezvous point at say," Ellison glanced at his watch, "8:00 to pick them up?"

"I don't know what the itinerary is yet, but if it turns out to be a problem, I'll give you a call."

Fearing another fit of pique, Ellison reluctantly asked, "How are things on your end?"

"I've only met Frank Turner, the assistant camp director, so far. But I did find out that he doesn't think any of the kids are responsible for Jason Harper's accident. In fact, Frank seems relatively certain that it was just an accident."

"Well, that's what we're here to find out Chief."

"Right. I was just heading out to take a look around the camp when you called."

"Okay, I can take a hint. I'll see you later and, oh, Blair..."

"Yes Jim, I'll be careful."

"I wasn't going to say that," protested Ellison.

"Oh! Then what were you going to say?" Silence met his inquiry. "That's what I thought. Goodbye Jim."

"How's the kid?" asked Simon as Ellison's connection to Sandburg was abruptly severed.

"He's fine. Or at least he was until I got through with him."

"Jim, you've got to stop taking this personally. You told me yourself that Sandburg was going through a rough time. The kid's got a lot of dragons to slay. It's natural for him to be a little extra sensitive right now. Give him time, he'll get over it."

"I should live that long," Ellison muttered under his breath. Aloud he said, "I hope you're right Simon."

Banks smirked. "I'm the Captain. That means I'm always right." He slapped Jim on the back. "Now, let's get camp set up because there is a bass in that river with my name on it just waiting for me to dangle a line."

Ellison grinned. "Not if I catch it first," he good-naturedly teased.

Simon tried to look indignant. "Humph! You can try Ellison, you can try."

Blair was very impressed with what he had seen so far. Aside from the office, there was an infirmary, a mess hall, whichdoubled as as recreation center, individual and double occupancy quarters for the staff and six more cabins like his own. Throughout his wanderings, he had come across a boat house, a basketball court, a baseball diamond and a large garden which Blair assumed provided fresh fruits and vegetables for the camp. It was at the garden which Blair now stood in contemplation.

Sensing the presence of another, Blair whirled around startled by the sudden appearance of a black youth, approximately sixteen years old, holding a gardening hoe. As they stood there eying each other, Blair used the time to restore his former equilibrium. Finally, he spoke. "Hey man, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that. " The youth shrugged. Blair stuck out his hand. "I'm Blair Sandburg, the new instructor." Ignoring the outstretched hand, the boy pushed past Blair and began working in the garden. Blair used the rejected hand to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind his right ear. This is going real well, he thought. He silently watched the young man work for a few minutes before commenting. "Nice garden." No response. "You got a name?" he tried again, only to have his inquiry met by more silence. "You know, the whole idea behind a conversation is I say something and then you say something back."

"Jackson," the boy mumbled.

"What?"

"My name's Jackson."

Blair smiled. "Nice to meet you Jackson. Now what say you show me your garden." Another shrug. "Ah, a man of many words I see. That's okay, I'll talk enough for the both of us." Blair put an arm around Jackson's shoulder. "Now about that garden, did you know that the ancient tribes of Indonesia..." began the first of several stories about gardening practices that Blair was to tell Jackson that morning. Little by little the young man lost his reticence and was soon enthralled by the anthropologist and his stories. By the time the lunch bell rang, Blair had won him over completely.

"So how's the food around here, any good?"

Jackson shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Least there's plenty of it."

"Things pretty rough at home, huh?"

"Got five brothers and sisters at home, ain't a lot to go around."

"I'm sorry," Blair told him as he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It ain't your fault, it's just the way things is."

"Yeah," responded Blair, then in an amiable silence they made their way to the mess hall.

"Ah, Mr. Sandburg, there you are," Frank greeted as they entered the mess hall. "And I see you've already met Jackson," he added, directing a smile at the young man.

"Please, call me Blair and yes I have. In fact, he's been showing me that incredible garden of his."

"Yep, he's got a green thumb this one does," Frank said, fairly beaming at the youth who appeared uncomfortable at being the center of all the attention. "Jackson, why don't you go ahead and grab some lunch. I'd like to introduce Blair to the rest of the staff." With barely a nod, the young man strode off. Frank shook his head. "Amazing," he said. "I've never seen Jackson take to anyone so quick before. In fact, this is his third semester here and I can barely get two words out of him." He eyed Blair speculatively. "What's your secret?"

"I do all the talking," Blair told him with a good-natured chuckle.

"I'll have to remember that. Come on, let me introduce you around," he told Blair, leading him over to the instructors, table.

The group, for the most part, appeared amiable enough but Blair felt the distinct impression of hostility directed at him from at least three of the other instructors. He made a mental note to read their files first as soon as he was able to get them from Simon and Jim.

"Where's Dan?" Frank questioned after the introductions were completed.

"He had some business in town," supplied Hank Snow, one of the three men Blair had targeted for closer scrutiny.

Frank's disappointment was evident as he turned to Blair. "I'm sorry Blair, perhaps later?"

"Sure, no problem." Frank nodded.

"Why don't you grab something to eat and join us," invited Casey Hunter, another of the instructors.

"Thanks," Blair replied, returning the friendly smile directed at him. "But I'd rather sit with my kids."

"Well, you got to meet them sometime," Frank chuckled. "No time like the present I guess. Let's get you some food before they," he said, gesturing with a thumb towards the kids, "eat it all, then I'll introduce you to the boys."

Blair was pleased to note that the cooks, while having supplied the everyday fair enjoyed by most teenagers, had also supplemented the menu with more nutritional choices as well. It was from the later that he made his selections and rejoined Frank, who stood patiently waiting for him. Following him to the far side of the room, Frank paused before six individuals, including Jackson, much to Blair's pleasant surprise, who sat clustered around a table.

"Boys," Frank addressed them. "this is Mr. Sandburg, your new instructor." He turned to Blair. "Blair, I'd like you to meet Mike, Terry, Scott, Chris, Kevin and, of course, Jackson you already know," he introduced them going clockwise around the table.

Blair nodded in general to the assembled group. "Hi, mind if I join you?"

In silence, six pairs of eyes looked him over before one of the youth's shattered it by snorting. "Which sixties commune did they get you from man?"

"Mike!" Frank warned, his tone brooking no argument. Quickly the laughter, which had erupted at the comment, died off. "Mr. Sandburg is a teaching fellow and grad student working on his doctorate. And I expect all of you to accord him with the same respect that you show the rest of us. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir," came the mumbled chorus of replies.

Turning to Frank, Blair assured the older man, "We'll be fine." With a quick nod, Frank left him alone with his charges. Setting his lunch tray down on the table, Blair slid into the seat. None of the boys had so much uttered a word since Frank's reprimand, their faces suddenly intent on their food. Blair took time to examine each one.

Mike sat there sullenly stabbing each piece of food on his plate, his anger almost palatable. His dark hair and eyes were a perfect counterpart for his surly mood. He glanced up as if sensing Blair's scrutiny and Blair was certain he saw intense antipathy directed at him before the hooded eyes looked down once again. Whoa, he thought, if looks could kill I'd be a corpse right now. Shaking off the mental image the thought conjured up, Blair turned his attention to the next boy.

Terry, a slightly overweight red headed youth, had a slight blush to his skin. Blair surmised that the boy was embarrassed by the incident. Whether or not it was because of Frank's anger or the knowledge that he might have insulted the new instructor, Blair wasn't sure. He made a mental note to assure the young man that no offense had been taken.

Realizing that his own lunch was going untouched, Blair began eating his salad and turned to look at the boy sitting beside Terry. Scott, he realized, was the complete opposite of Mike. While Mike was dark and brooding, Scott's light blonde hair, mischievous green eyes and wide mouth, currently turned up at the corners in a slight smile, lent a friendly air to his countenance.

Blair blinked in surprise as his gaze fell on the next boy. He looked at Chris and then back at Scott. Yep, they are definitely related. Brothers by the looks of it. But whereas Scott appeared friendly and outgoing, Chris came across as hesitant and somewhat shy.

Blair's gaze moved on down the table. Sitting next to Jackson was Kevin, the only other black youth in his group. Blair frowned in consternation as brown eyes looked up to meet his searching blue ones. With a contemptuous glance, they assessed and dismissed him in a matter of moments. It was apparent to Blair that the kid had an attitude problem and he desperately hoped that the attitude wasn't going to be directed at him.

All in all, it was a mixed lot of individuals. Blair knew his primary objective was to investigate Jason Harper's death. However, a teacher and guide by nature, Blair pensively searched his mind for a key that might unlock the potential he knew existed in each of the youths.

Previous experience had taught Blair that kids from their type of background did not trust easily. Quickly assessing the situation, he decided to take things slow and easy. First, he'd try to establish a friendly rapport with them. With any luck, trust, and perhaps respect, would eventually follow. He'd already made a good start with Jackson. Blair smiled reassuringly at the young man when their eyes met. First things first though. He wracked his brain searching for a solution then nodded silently as the answer presented itself. Satisfied that he had discovered the perfect opening gambit, he broke the prevailing silence which lingered around the table. "I understand there's a basketball game scheduled for this afternoon. Mind if I play?" he asked, then became the immediate focus of six sets of startled eyes. "What?" he questioned.

Chris, somewhat hesitantly, was the one who decided to enlighten him. "Um... the instructors don't usually play. They just referee."

Blair made a face of distaste. "Where's the fun in that?" he commented. "So can I play?"

The boys looked at each other as Blair anxiously awaited their answer. Finally, Scott shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Blair's face lit up. "Great!" he exclaimed then proceeded to tell them about meeting Orvil Wallace and many of the other Jag's players. Unfortunately, he had to resort to a little obfuscation when, disbelieving, they asked him just how this had come about. After all, any ground he might have already managed to concur would swiftly be lost if they were to discover that his best friend and roommate was a cop and that he was, in actuality, a police observer currently on an undercover assignment. Nope, stick with the obfuscation for now. Time enough for the truth later, if and when, it became necessary.

Lunch lasted longer than usual as Blair patiently, yet determinedly, told stories of his adventures and asked questions about the camp and their lives, conquering the natural reticence of one boy after another. Only Mike and Kevin failed to respond to Blair's instinctive charm and energy, but then Blair had pegged them as adversary right from the start. It was only when Chris shyly reminded them that the basketball game was suppose to start in a few minutes that they realized just how long they had actually lingered over lunch.

Luckily, the court was only a couple hundred yards away so they arrived with a minute or two to spare. Blair was pleased to note that the instructor for the opposing team was Casey Hunter, as he had taken an immediate liking to the man upon their initial meeting.

Blair was beginning to regret his earlier entreaty to join the game when for the third time in less than forty five minutes, he was slammed dunked into the pavement. This time it had been a well placed elbow, curtsy of Kevin, which had sent him crashing to his knees.

Pain radiated in pulsating waves from the recently shattered and surgically replaced kneecap. It was several minutes before he realized someone was speaking to him. Blair latched onto the voice, focusing his attention towards it instead of the pain. Finally, he was able to fix his attention on the voice and was surprised to see Frank kneeling beside him, concern clearly written on his face. He glanced beyond Frank and saw Casey and many of the boys hovering nearby. Feeling a tug on his are, Blair turned his attention back to Frank. He saw Frank's lips moving, but it took a moment before the words caught up and registered in his consciousness. "I said, are you okay?"

Blair didn't answer immediately as he mentally assessed his condition. Instead, he looked around at the group of players, his eyes finally settling on the two cohorts in crime, Kevin and Mike, who had, since the start of the game, seemed intent on causing Blair as much bodily injury as possible. "Blair?" came Frank's concerned voice once again.

Blair turned away from the smirking faces of the two boys. "I'm fine," he gritted through clenched teeth, hoping his voice sounded normal. With Frank and Casey's help, he managed to get to his feet. By then the pain had subsided to a dull aching throb. Carefully, Blair tested his weight on the injured appendage and winced.

"You're hurt!" Casey exclaimed upon seeing the expression of pain.

"It's nothing." Blair was quick to reassure him. "It's just that I um...injured that knee not too long ago."

Casey hooked a hand under Blair's elbow. "Let's get you over to the infirmary."

"I'll take care of that," Frank told Casey, then turned his angry countenance on Mike and Kevin. "I want you two to report to my office and wait for me there. After I've taken Mr. Sandburg to the infirmary, we are going to have a little talk about your behavior." When the defiant boys failed to move, Frank bellowed, "NOW!" Slowly, they headed towards the office, their posture and movements reflecting their indignation. Frank followed their progress for a few seconds and then turned back to the rest of the group. "Casey, I want you to see to the rest of the boys for the time being." Casey nodded, then began rounding up the other boys. Frank turned his attention back to Blair. "Can you make it to the infirmary?"

"NO!" came the protest, louder than intended. "I mean, I'm fine...really," Blair tried to assure him, throwing in his best puppy dog expression for good measure.

Recognizing the tactic, Frank chuckled. "I'm sure you are. But lets make sure of that, shall we?"

"But..."

"No buts Blair, we have insurance regulations here. No one is exempt. Besides I need to know if you're going to be one hundred percent. You're going to need to be from what I can see."

Blair glanced down with distaste at the all to familiar hospital gown as he waited for the camp's doctor, then allowed his gaze to wander over the small examining room, the entire time silently berating himself. Just great Sandburg. You're not even here twenty four hours and you've already managed to incur the hostility of three instructors, two of the boys want to use you as a punching bag and you nearly ended up on the disabled list. Then, as if that wasn't enough, you haven't found out a damn thing about Jason Harper's death. He shook his head. And you thought you were the rightone for the job. What were you thinking?

Feeling a draft, the internal dialogue suddenly ceased. He looked up just as the doctor was entering. He was an older man, possibly in his late fifty's, early sixties, with a sturdy frame and balding head of white hair. "I'm Dr. Kline," he introduced himself, sticking out a hand.

Blair shook it. "Blair Sandburg."

"The new instructor," the doctor acknowledged with a nod. "I understand you had a slight mishap on the basketball court. Let's take a look at it shall we?" Pushing his glasses firmly back into place, Kline knelt to examine the knee immediately noting the surgical scar running across the injured area. "Knee replacement?" He looked up questioningly at Blair.

"Ah...yeah," Blair vaguely replied, closing his eyes as visions of Andrea raising the bat to strike flashed like quicksilver in perfect clarity before him. Blair concentrated on breathing heavily in and out through his nose in an attempt to avert the panic attack threatening to overwhelm him. Several minutes had passed before Blair became aware of the doctor calling his name. He opened his eyes to see Dr. Kline watching him, his concern clearly evident. Blair determinedly shook off the last vestiges of the memory.

"Are you okay?" the doctor repeated his question.

Oh nice going Sandburg, now the doctor thinks your neurotic. "I'm fine. Sorry about that. The circumstances surrounding the injury weren't exactly pleasant." Slight understatement there. "And I guess I sort of lost it for a minute."

"Quite understandable Mr. Sandburg," Kline was quick to assure him. The doctor was quick and efficient in his examination. "Hum, you have some slight swelling there aside from the obvious abrasions. I don't think there's any serious damage but I'd like to get an x-ray just to be on the safe side."

"You have that equipment here?"

"Unfortunately, we haven't been able to afford it yet?" Kline explained. "I'll have to get someone to run you into town."

"NO!" Blair was quick to dissuade him. "I'm sure you're right and it will be fine." The doctor eyed him doubtfully."Honest." Blair's eyes silently implored him.

The doctor capsulated. "Very well Mr. Sandburg. But," Kline warned him, "I want you to stay off that leg for the rest of the day and make sure you apply ice to reduce the swelling. If there isn't improvement by tomorrow morning, I will have to insist on that x-ray."

Blair's relief was evident in the bright smile he gave the doctor. "Sure thing Doc. But I'm sure it'll be fine by morning. Besides, I've got a wilderness hike scheduled for tomorrow."

The doctor's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really Mr. Sandburg, I don't think..."

"Please," Blair anxiously beseeched, forestalling the coming lecture. "This is my first day here and if I have to cancel the hike..." He let his voice drift off allowing the doctor to come to his own conclusions.

Dr. Kline assessed the distressed young man sitting before him. His face and eyes virtually pleaded to be allowed to go on the hike. Silently he chuckled, wondering if anyone could refuse Mr. Sandburg anything. He was willing to capsulate, but only so far. "Let's see how it looks in the morning and if..." Blair's face lit up. A warning hand forestalled any comment as the doctor continued. "If the swelling has gone down and if I think the knee can handle the stress, we'll wrap it up and you can go, provided you're very careful," he finished with a look that told Blair he would brook no further argument.

"Yes!" Blair responded exuberantly, smiling at the doctor.

Dr. Kline returned the infectious smile. "Now, let's take a look at that cheek."

Blair had arrived at the mess hall only to discover that Casey had divided up his charges amongst the rest of the groups for the remainder of the day. He looked with destain at the pair of crutches propped up against the nearby wall. After carefully wrapping his knee, Dr. Kline had insisted he use them until their next visit in the morning. Unwilling to antagonize the doctor into changing his mind about the x-ray, Blair had quickly assented. However, as he sat there brooding, he knew that there was no way he was going to use those crutches when he went to meet with Simon and Jim. Maybe I should arrive early at the rendezvous point. That way I'd have a chance to get the pain and my breathing under control before they show up. As it is, I know Jim is going tohave a fit when he spots the bruise on my cheek. If Jim were to discover the knee injury, he'd yank my butt out of here so fast my head would spin.

It was times like this, when attempting to hide something from his friend and partner, that Blair almost resented Jim's Sentinel abilities. He took the now melted ice pack off his propped up knee and tossed it onto the table, a sigh of frustration following in it's wake. One of the cooks, a somewhat corpulent sandy haired individual, chose that moment to bring Blair his supper. Setting the laden tray down on the table, he explained with a crooked smile, "The little crumb crunchers will be storming the place soon. With you laid up like that," he nodded towards the knee, "I didn't think you'd want to be caught up in the rush."

Blair glanced at the contents of the tray and was pleasantly surprised to note the cook's selections included many of the same choices he would have made. "This is great!" he enthused, then glanced up at the man with a puzzled look. "But how did you...?"

The cook's green eyes crinkled with amusement. "I noticed at lunch that you tended to chose items from the healthier aspect of our menu. Besides," he added with a grin, "you look the type."

Blair couldn't help it, caught up by the man's good natured manner, he chuckled. "I believe the current terminology is Neo-Hippie." He stuck out his hand. "Blair Sandburg," he introduced himself.

The man shook it firmly. "Folks call me Cookie." At Blair's incredulous look, he glanced around to make sure no one was listening and added in a low voice, "Okay, so it's really Byron. But if word of that get's out, there will be no dessert for you young man," he admonished, waving a pointed finger at him.

"Okay, okay," Blair chortled, holding up his hands in surrender. "My lips are sealed." Blair went through the pantomime motions of zippering his lips and tossing away the invisible key.

Cookie laughed. "Just for that, I'll bring you two." He eyed Blair more closely. "Seems to me you could use a little more meat on them bones anyway."

"Yes Mom...'er Cookie," Blair quipped his blue eyes full of mischief.

Cookie playfully cuffed him on the back of the head. "Careful squirt. It doesn't pay to piss off the cook." He picked up the soggy ice pack from the table where Blair had tossed it. "Now be a good boy and eat your lunch while I get you some more ice for that knee."

Blair stared wide-eyed after the rotund cook, then chuckled. "Ah Cookie," he called. The man turned back to face Blair. "Thanks man." The cook threw him a wink and disappeared into the kitchen. Jim's gotta meet this guy, Blair thought, then immediately sobered. The mere thought of Ellison brought all the doubts and insecurities he had pushed aside while in Cookie's presence rushing back to the surface. "Oh man..."

Cookie had barely left after giving Blair a new ice pack when the mess hall doors burst open and the troops came pouring animatedly in. Blair heard a whistle and glanced up to see several of the boys from his group clustered around.

"Wow! Mr. Sandburg," Scott exclaimed. "You must have banged that knee up pretty good."

"Does this mean the wilderness hike is canceled?" asked Chris somewhat hesitantly.

"Nah, it looks a lot worse than it actually is. The doctor is just being overly cautious." Blair mockingly rolled his eyes to emphasize the point. "The hike is still on."

"Cool!" Scott cheered, obviously excited about the trip, while others in the group groaned.

"I take it not everyone is pleased at the prospect?" Blair questioned.

"Stupid waste of time if you ask me."

Blair's eyes narrowed as they fell upon the speaker. "No one's asking you, Mike. There's a lot of interesting things in the wilderness if you just take the time to look."

Mike snorted. "Yeah right! And I'm sure it's gonna come in real handy back home."

Blair breathed deeply trying to maintain the tenuous hold on his temper. I am not going to get angry. He thought about all the times seemingly insignificant bits of knowledge had helped solve crimes. "You'd be surprised Mike, you'd be surprised."

As the last of the boys slammed out of the cabin Blair pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed Ellison's number before he could change his mind.

"Ellison," came the prompt reply.

"Hey man."

"Sandburg! Is everything okay?"

Blair could hear the concern in the detective's voice. Oh great, he thinks you've screwed up again. Well you have, haven't you? the tiny voice taunted. Shut Up! he hissed at the voice. Okay Sandburg, just stay calm. "Everything's fine man. I'm just checking in. The meet still on?"

"Unless there's a problem on your end it is," Ellison told him.

"Nope, no problem here big guy. My group just went down to the mess hall. Apparently it's 'Creature Feature' night. They should be tied up for hours. No one will even notice I'm gone."

"Glad to hear it Chief but I want you to..."

"Yeah Jim," Blair replied, cutting him off. He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. "I know. I'll be careful."

Despite Blair's efforts, Ellison picked up on the tone of Sandburg's voice and knew he had once again inadvertently contributed to the young man's feelings of self recriminations. "Blair...I know you will buddy. We'll see you there."

"Right, later Jim."

Good, thought Blair, checking his watch, if I leave now, I can get there way before Simon and Jim.

Simon Banks observed Ellison's unease. "The kid okay Jim?"

Ellison shrugged. "He say's he's fine."

"But you don't believe him."

"I don't know Simon. I have a feeling he was hiding something from me."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. We're meeting him in..." He glanced at his watch. "...an hour and a half." Simon recognized the look on the detective's face. "You want to leave now, don't you?"

Ellison gave him a rueful smile. "If you don't mind Sir. It's probably nothing but..."

"You've got a feeling," Simon finished the sentence for him. "Well, Jim if there's one thing I've learned in all these years, it's never to ignore those feelings of yours. Just give me a minute to drop off this fishing gear and grab the files."

Blair carefully picked his way down the rough sloping trail. Damn! If it's this hard going down, what's coming back up  gonnabe like? He began to regret his hasty decision to ditch the crutches as a now constant throb radiated from the injured joint. He paused, breathing heavily in and out through his nose, willing the pain to subside. It's a good thing I left early, he reflected. If Jim were to see me like this well... The mere thought invoked a mental image of a very pissed off Jim Ellison. Blair involuntarily shuddered. Not that Jim would actually hurt him. He knew the big guy would literally give his life for him if it meant saving Blair from harm. But one look at those angry cobalt blue eyes and the noticeable tightening of the jaw would be enough to make even the most hardened of criminals quake in their shoes. Blair looked at his watch and groaned. It was taking longer than anticipated to reach the rendezvous point. Determined to arrive well ahead of time, he quickened his pace and once again started down the path.

Blair was beginning to feel confident that he could pull off the slight deception when, through a break in the trees, he spotted them. There, a couple hundred yards away, and already waiting at the rendezvous point, were Simon and Jim. "Damn!" The word exploded from his mouth before he even realized it had formed in his mind. And, of course, Jim heard it.

Ellison turned at the sound of his Guide's voice, immediately alert at the sound of distress.

"What is it Jim?" Simon asked, noticing the sudden change in demeanor.

"It's Sandburg. Something's wrong." Ellison's voice trailed off as he concentrated on focusing his sight and hearing in the direction he knew Blair laid.

Blair ducked behind the trunk of a large tree. Duh, smart move Sandburg. As if he doesn't already know you're here, he mentally berated himself. Just get a hold of yourself. Maybe you can still pull this off.

Speaking in a conversational tone, knowing the Sentinel would still be able to hear him, Blair told him, "Don't freak out man, everything's fine. I just tripped over a root. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Simon saw the detective visibly relax. Jim turned to his Captain with a chagrined smile and explained. "Sandburg's fine. He just tripped over a root. He'll be here soon."

"Considering how much energy the kid has," Simon replied in a bantering tone, "I'm surprised his feet touch the ground long enough for him to trip over anything."

Steeling himself for the encounter ahead, Blair silently repeated the mantra of "I can do this" over and over. He had never been able to turn down the pain dial as he had successfully taught Jim to do. So, instead, he located the pain and then tucked it away into the far recesses of his mind, replacing it with a sense of calm and well being learned through years of meditation. He was fairly confident that he had succeeded. Stepping into the clearing to join the others, he made sure to keep the left side of his face turned away from Jim. "Hey Simon!" he greeted the Captain brightly. "How's the fishing?"

"Not bad Sandburg. Although, I'm still convinced that Ellison cheats."

Jim didn't rise to the bait of the good-natured teasing. Instead, his focus seemed to center on Sandburg. He reached out, taking Blair's chin in his hand, and turned his Guide's face towards him. "What happened here Chief?" he asked, indicating the abrasion on the young man's cheek.

"It's nothing man," Blair replied, pulling away.

Ellison fixed him with a stare. "If it's nothing, then why were you trying to hide it from me?"

"I wasn't..." Blair began to protest. "Look," he explained somewhat exasperated. "We were playing basketball and I zigged when I should have zagged. End of story."

"Ah huh," Ellison replied doubtfully. "Why do I get the impression there's something more going on here than what you're telling me?"

"You're a cop Jim. You were born suspicious," Blair tried joking as a means of sidetracking Jim. The look Ellison gave him clearly told him it wasn't going to work. "Okay. I knew if you saw this you'd jump to the wrong conclusions."

"And what conclusions might that be Chief?"

Blair snorted annoyance. For crying out loud, give the guy a bone and he's not satisfied until he gets the whole cow. He  grew angry."The conclusion that once again Blair Sandburg managed to screw up and get hurt."

Ellison frowned in confusion and concern. "Where's all this coming from, Chief?"

Blair pushed his hair back from his face and forced his frustration and anger away with the motion. He looked at Ellison and Banks as they patiently waited for an explanation. "I'm sorry man, I..." he broke off with a negative shake of his head. He looked away, unable to meet the penetrating gaze of Ellison's eyes.

Frustrated, Ellison grabbed Blair by the shoulders preventing his withdraw. "Chief, what happened with Andrea was not your fault." Blair seemed intent on studying the ground so he tried again, his formally clipped tone softening. "You weren't the only one she manipulated. But you are the only one who made it out alive." He saw the young man wince and immediately regretted his choice of words. "I'm sorry Blair, I didn't mean..."

"I know," came Blair's quiet reply. "You were just trying to point out that I wasn't the only gullible fool to fall for her."

Taking Blair's chin in his hand, he forced Blair to look at him. "Not gullible Chief. You responded to her like any normal red-blooded male would. You've got great instincts where most people are concerned Sandburg. They just go a little wacky when a member of the opposite sex is involved."

Blair snorted with dry amusement. "Jim, man, did you have to use the word wacky?"

Simon Banks had been intently observing the exchange and realized that the incident with the serial killer, Andrea Allessi, had effected them both. Sandburg's fears and insecurities were obvious. What neither man seemed to realize, though, was that Ellison was suffering from many of the same insecurities. He knew
Ellison blamed himself whenever Sandburg encountered danger. Knew he felt it was his fault the kid got into these scrapes in the first place because of his association with the detective. Their relationship had gone from one of mutual need to one of friendship. The kid wanted to be there and nothing Ellison could say or do would dissuade him. It wasn't rational but with these two being rational wasn't part of the equation.

Simon cleared his throat in an attempt to get their attention. "If you're done gentlemen?"

"Oh yeah, sorry Simon," Blair responded, looking contrite.

"Sorry Sir," came Ellison's somewhat embarrassed reply.

Simon handed Sandburg the folder containing the background checks on the instructors, staff and kids at the camp. "Here's everything we were able to dig up."

Blair took the folder and began examining it's contents. He turned first to the information on the instructors, quickly scanning their files. He frowned, perplexed, as none of the files, even those on the three he was suspicious of, revealed anything untoward.

"Anything wrong Sandburg?" Simon asked, observing the young man's expression.

"No.." Blair finished scanning the documents. "Everything appears to be in order." He looked up at the tall black man. "But then considering the nature of the camp, I doubt they'd hire someone with a record to begin with."

"True," Banks acknowledged with a nod.

"Were you able to find out anything?" Ellison wanted to know.

"Only that Jason Harper was well liked by both the staff and boys. The general consensus seems to be that it was an accident." Blair took a deep breath and hurried through the next part of his revelation knowing full well that Jim would not like what he was about to say. "I'm taking the boys on a wilderness hike tomorrow. I'll make sure we pass by the spot Jason supposedly fell from. I want to see the area for myself. Maybe there's some clue as to what actually happened."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea Chief. Forensics already went over that entire area."

"Yeah, we'll maybe I'll get lucky and spot something they missed," Sandburg snapped, then instantly regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry man..."

Ellison waved aside the proffered apology. "I didn't mean anything by it Chief. It's just that we know the ground is unstable in that area and I know how you are about heights." He recognized the determined look in his partner's eyes. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Hey man, do I look crazy?" Seeing both men open their mouths to respond, Blair hurried on. "Don't answer that. Jim, I promise you I am not gonna get any closer to that edge than is absolutely necessary."

Ellison fixed him with a stare. "See that you don't."

Sensing the issue was settled, Simon told them, "Let's see how things go tomorrow. If nothing new turns up then we should be able to wrap this up and be out of here the following morning." Both men nodded. "Now, if there's nothing else," Simon said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "I've got some fish to fry."

"You know, Simon, you really should bake them instead. I've got this great recipe. You see you take the fish and..."

"SANDBURG!" Simon cautioned and the continuous flow of chatter abruptly stopped. "You just worry about staying out of trouble and I'll worry about the fish."

A fleeting frown flickered across Blair's face at Simon's choice of words and then was gone. "Yes Sir," he replied, his natural exuberance somewhat subdued.

Oh damn! The kid looks like a puppy that's just been kicked. I'm not use to this Sandburg. I want the old one back. The one that could take a well-natured jibe and come back with a smart ass remark of his own. "Next time Sandburg, okay?" he tried to mollify.

"Sure Simon, next time." Blair's demeanor seemed to brighten a little at the prospect.

"Okay Junior," Ellison told him. "Call us if anything goes wrong. Otherwise, we'll see you Sunday morning."

"Right," Sandburg agreed.

Blair waited in the clearing until the other two men were out of sight, then with a sigh of relief, he started towards the camp. He was bolstered by his success at having hid the more serious knee injury from the Sentinel. Unfortunately, his exuberance was short lived as, without warning, he stepped on a rock and his
foot went out from underneath him. With a cry of pain, he landed flat on his ass in the dirt. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" he muttered under his breath while clutching the injured knee as it renewed it's painful throbbing in response to this new assault upon it.

Ellison, hearing the cry of pain, raced to his partner's side and knelt down beside his injured Guide, Simon Banks following closely in his wake."You okay Chief?" Jim asked, his blue eyes intensely studying his partner.

Blair gritted his teeth and swallowed. "I'm fine Jim," he lied.

"Here, let me take a look," Ellison said, reaching to the knee.

Blair swatted his hand away. "I said I'm fine..."

"Sandburg, let him take a look," Simon ordered. Resigned, Blair removed his hands allowing Ellison access to the knee.

Jim gently probed the area, then turned angry eyes on Sandburg. "Why didn't you tell me?" he snapped.

Unable to meet the accusing eyes, Blair turned away. "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied.

"Don't lie to me," Ellison bellowed, his angry features set in granite.

Simon was confused. "Jim, what is it? What's going on?"

Fixing his partner with a glare, he responded to Simon's question. "It's his knee, Sir. I'm detecting a significant swelling in that area that shouldn't be there considering he supposedly just injured it."

"Is this true Sandburg?" Simon asked. Blair couldn't or wouldn't look at either man. "I asked you a question son," Simon demanded.

Blair's head shot up in surprise. He looked at Simon, then glanced away. "Yes," came his whispered reply.

"Why did you try to hide it from us?" Ellison demanded. "Sandburg..." he warned when Blair took too long in responding.

"Because I knew you'd react like this, okay!" snapped Blair.

"There's more to it than that. Out with it Einstein," Ellison prompted.

Blair sighed. "I thought if you knew, you'd pull me from the investigation." He looked up at Ellison, pleading blue eyes met smoldering cobalt. "I need to do this Jim. Please..." he implored, praying that Ellison would understand without the necessity of having to explain further.

Apparently he did. Blair watched as the anger seemed to melt away from his partner. "I understand that Chief, I really do. But you've got to understand me when I tell you, don't ever hide anything from me again. You got that?" Blair's nod of agreement was almost imperceivable.

"So how bad is it Sandburg?" Simon wanted to know.

"I just banged it up a little playing basketball.The camp's doctor said it's gonna be fine. He said to keep off it today and it should be as good as new in the morning."

"So, of course, you do the complete opposite." Ellison's jaw twitched. "Sandburg, I swear, you are not safe to let loose without a keeper." Blair looked crestfallen. "I didn't mean that," Jim sighed.

"Yes you did," came the pout.

Jim reached out and pulled Blair towards him until their foreheads were touching and, speaking in a low voice, he told him, "Look Chief, I'm more than your Blessed Protector, I'm your friend. And friends care about each other. So cut me some slack here, okay?"

Opening his eyes, Blair pulled slightly away breaking the seemingly intimate contact. "I can do that," he replied with a smile of forgiveness.

Simon was pleased to see the crisis averted. But he had to wonder when the next emotional outburst would occur. He had never seen the two of them so out of sync. Perhaps both of them would benefit from seeing the department's psychiatrist. Actually, he should have insisted on it as soon as Blair had been well enough to
leave the hospital. Recalling Ellison's mention of the kid's nightmares, Simon felt even more guilty for allowing things to progress to this point.

"Can you stand?" Ellison asked, helping Sandburg to his feet.

"I think so," Blair replied, testing his weight on the leg. "Seems okay."

"Just to be safe, I think we'd better walk you back to camp."

"No Jim, really, it's fine."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this Sandburg."

"But what if someone sees you? How would we explain it?"

"No one's gonna see us. And even if they did, I'd think of something. Now march!" he ordered, turning Blair in the direction of the camp.

"Brute!" Blair flung the retort back over his shoulder then spoiled the effect by grinning.

Simon hid a smile. "I wouldn't antagonize him Sandburg, or you're liable to find yourself being carried back to the camp in a most undignified manner."

At the look of mock horror on Blair's face, everyone chuckled.

While Dr. Kline examined his knee, Blair quietly reflected on the events of the previous evening. With Jim and Simon's help, he had made it back to the camp without further incident. Then waiting until he was sure they were gone, even beyond Sentinel range, he carefully made his way over to the mess hall and enlisted Cookie's help in concocting an herbal wrap for his knee. The combination of herbs and keeping the knee elevated the remainder of the evening had worked wonders. The swelling had gone down and his flexibility was almost one hundred percent.

After making sure the boys were settled in for the night, no easy task there, Blair retired to his own room and retrieved the files he had hidden there. He sat up reading late into the night before exhaustion finally claimed him, forcing him to bed. There really hadn't been anything surprising in the files. They were more or less pretty much what he had expected from kids of that type of background. Kevin and Mike's files, as well as several others, showed a propensity towards violent behavior, but having witnessed their behavior first hand, this bit of information hadn't surprised him. What he did consider odd, though, after having given it some thought, was that these individuals had been allowed to come to the camp. After all, the majority of the boys there were only guilty of misdemeanors, not the type of penchant towards violence that Mike and Kevin had shown. He'd have to ask Frank about that or perhaps the camp's director. That is if he ever got to meet him.

The only other disturbing occurrence of the evening had been the nightmares. Once again, as he had many times since the incident, Blair found himself trapped in the unconscious realm of horror. A horror by the name of Andrea Allessi. He had awakened screaming, drenched in sweat. The nightmare had been so real that he had quickly turned on the bedside lamp and scanned the room, positive that she was there with him. It was only after he had sufficiently calmed down that he thought to wonder if any of the boys had heard him cry out. Great, that's all I'd need. For them to know their instructor's a wus. Certain that he would be unable to sleep, Blair sat in the room's only chair for the rest of the night. One lone sentinel awaiting the coming of the day.

"How's that feel?" Dr. Kline asked as he manipulated the knee.

"Fine," Blair told him, accompanying the assurance with a grin.

"Well, it appears to have recovered quite nicely, although I must confess," he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, "I didn't expect to see this much bruising."

Blair glanced away, certain that the doctor would be able to see the guilt he was feeling written on his face. He didn't like perpetrating deception on the doctor, but he justified by telling himself he had no other choice. He was here to do a job. Jim and Simon were counting on him and he couldn't very well do that job if he couldn't get around.

"Well, Mr. Sandburg, I don't see any reason why you can't take that hike of your's today." Blair sighed in relief. "But," the doctor continued, "just to be on the safe side, I want you to keep that knee wrapped and don't over do it. Rest it frequently."

"Sure thing Doc." Eager to escape from the doctor and his guilty conscience, Blair quickly dressed and headed towards the mess hall.

"How'd it go?" Cookie asked the moment he spotted Blair selecting his breakfast.

Blair looked up, flashing him a smile. "Just great man. Dr. Kline was amazed at the improvement."

Cookie shook his head in wry amusement. "I still don't see how anything that smelled that bad could do any good."

"Actually," Blair couldn't resist teasing, "that particular recipe can be used for a lot of non-medicinal purposes as well..."

"Please," Cookie begged with a pained expression, "not before breakfast." Blair's eyes crinkled with amazement. Cookie waved Blair on ahead. "Now move along, you're holding up the line."

"Yes Sir!" Blair replied, tossing the cook a mock salute before moving on. He paused, "Hey Cookie..." The man looked up from his work. "Thanks."

Moving to his group's usual table, he sat the tray down. "Morning," he greeted the boys, receiving mumbled responses in return. Sliding into the seat, he glanced at the other occupants at the table and frowned. "Where's Mike and Kevin?" he asked, noting their absence.

The boys looked at one another, each expecting the other to reply. Finally Jackson supplied the explanation. "They said something about going with Mr. Hunter's group today."

"Oh!" Blair's eyebrows rose in question. "Did they say why?"

Jackson shrugged and looked back down at his breakfast. "Not really Mr. Sandburg," supplied Scott. "But they've been doing it a lot."

"How much is a lot?" Blair asked, relying on the gut instinct warning him that something wasn't right.

Scott thought back. "Several weeks, I guess. It started back before Mr. Harper's accident." Blair frowned at the news. "Mr. Harper didn't seem to mind too much though. They didn't like him anymore than they appear to like you." Scott turned crimson upon realizing what he had just said. He began stammering an apology.

"It's no secret what they think about me." Blair waved off the apology. "But they're assigned to my group and they will be going on that hike today."

"I don't think they'll agree to that Mr. Sandburg," Chris offered his hesitant opinion.

Blair pushed away from the table and stood. "We'll see about that. Finish up your breakfast," he instructed the others. "We have a long hike ahead of us."

Blair turned, scanning the room as the chorus of replies fell on his back. Finally, he spotted Casey over by the coffee pot. Excusing himself, Blair made his way over to the instructor.

"Good morning Blair," Casey cheerfully greeted him.

"Casey," Blair acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod and then without preamble, "I understand that Mike and Kevin are going with your group today. May I ask why?"

Casey looked momentarily startled by Blair's obviously controlled anger. "I'm sorry Blair," he stammered. "Considering the animosity they've demonstrated towards you, I thought it might be better if I kept them out of your way for awhile until things cool down a little."

"Is that the same reason you gave Jason Harper?" Blair demanded.

Casey shrugged, his gaze darting unconsciously away from the younger man. "Look Blair," he tried to explain, "both of them boys are about as mean as they come. I was just trying to help both you and Jason out. For some reason they don't give me as hard a time as they do you." He grinned. "Maybe it's because I'm one of the few people in camp taller than they are..." He looked back at Blair, disappointed that his attempted humor fell short.

"I appreciate that Casey, but they are my responsibility." Blair wasn't sure if it was annoyance or chagrin that had flashed across Casey's features, so fleeting had the emotion passed. "We're leaving in about twenty minutes. Have the boys meet us in front of the cabin, ready to go."

"Yes, of course. I'll make sure they're there."

With a final nod, Blair strode past Casey and out into the crisp morning air. All thoughts of breakfast devoured by feelings of anger and inadequacy. He walked to the end of the porch. Sitting down on the steps, he allowed the serene setting to surround him, hoping it would help calm his tumultuous thoughts. What is the matter with you? he silently derided himself. The man was only trying to help and how do you thank him, you jump down his throat. Blair shook his head in frustration. It's getting so I don't even know who I am anymore...

Unable to contain his rampant confusion, Blair began walking, totally unaware and uncaring of the path his feet took. He neared the cabin before becoming cognizant of his surroundings. Hearing the muffled sound of voices, Blair looked up and was surprised to see Casey arguing with Mike and Kevin. They were too far away to discern what the argument was about but Blair assumed that Kevin and Mike were giving Casey a hard time about having to go on the hike.

As they entered the clearing, Blair heard the rambunctious chatter that only adolescent boys can produce. Looking up, he had to smile at their antics. Then the laughter died from his eyes as his gaze settled on Mike and Kevin. Their animosity was clearly expressed by their facial expressions and body language. Oh, this is gonna be fun, Blair thought. "Gentlemen," he greeted the boys with a nod as they joined the rest of the group. "How nice that you could join us." Then not waiting for a response, he turned to address the others. "Now I know that many of you are not thrilled with the idea of today's hike. But I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by some of the things you're going to learn. Today's excursion is going to be a short one but if it all goes well, I intend to ask the Director for permission to go on an overnight hike." This announcement was met with a chorus of approval. Blair grinned. "I thought you might like that. So let's get started, shall we?"

The trek through the woods was a slow one as Blair frequently stopped to point out and explain various things he thought would interest the boys. Even those who had initially regarded the hike as a form of torture soon became first intrigued, and then delighted, by tales that Blair had subtly interwoven with the facts. The only hold outs had been Kevin and Mike, but then given their history, Blair had expected it. All in all, though, he was very pleased with the way the day's outing was progressing.

Without making it appear obvious, Blair had chosen trails that he knew would lead them to the sight where Jason Harper had taken his fatal plunge. Making sure he stood well away from the edge, Blair unobtrusively studied the area and then let loose a whistle of appreciation. "Man, would you just look at that view," he enthused.

"Mr. Sandburg, I wouldn't get too close to the edge if I were you."

Despite knowing the reason, Blair turned his best innocent look on Jackson. "Why not?"

"Mr. Harper, our instructor before you, fell from there..."

"Yeah," interrupted Mike with a snort, speaking up for the first time that day. "He went splat on the rocks below."

Blair shot him a reprimanding look and turned his attention back to Jackson. "Don't worry buddy, I won't. I've got this major fear of heights." Blair noticed that Chris, who had been studiously studying the ground, looked up in surprise at Blair's confession and he suspected that the boy shared a similar fear.

Giving the area one final cursory look, he gathered up the boys to continue their hike. He began leading them towards a trail to the south when abruptly Kevin grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "You don't want to go that way."

Blair yanked his arm loose. "Would you mind telling me why not?"

"The trail peters off about 500 yards in, after that the thicket is too heavy and full of brambles." Blair had been studying the young man intently as he spoke and, though he didn't know how he knew it, he knew Kevin was lying. However, now was neither the time, nor the place, for a confrontation. Not while he had the safety of the other boys to consider. "Okay," he told Kevin, "we'll take another trail. Any suggestions?" he asked innocently, hoping that Kevin would betray more.

Kevin seemed surprised by Blair's quick capitulation. He nodded towards another trail that lead in the opposite direction. "That one veers around and eventually leads back to camp."

"Fine, we'll take that one. Come on guys," he called and nonchalantly led the way. Blair couldn't have timed it better if he had tried. No sooner than they arrived back at camp, the noon bell sounded. Anxious to contact Jim about his suspicions, Blair herded the boys to the mess hall for lunch. Once he was sure they were thus occupied, he hurried back towards the cabin where, using his cell phone, he could call Jim in private. Unfortunately the best laid plans often go astray as halfway there... "Mr. Sandburg," Blair stifled a groan and turned to meet the doctor, "if you have a few minutes I'd like to see how that knee's holding up after this morning's little excursion."

Not now!  his mind screamed as he outwardly smiled at the doctor. "It feels great. I'm sure there's no need to trouble you..."

"No trouble at all young man," Dr. Kline assured him, much to Blair's dismay.

"But..." Blair tried to protest.

"I could insist Mr. Sandburg. After all, the health and welfare of everyone here at Camp Castaway is my responsibility. But I'd rather you just indulge an old man's request." Resigned, Blair allowed the doctor to lead him to the infirmary.

Blair fidgeted the entire time that Dr. Kline painstakingly examined his knee. Finally, satisfied that there had been noadditional damage suffered due to the hike, the doctor permitted Blair to leave. Without trying to seem obvious, Blair bolted as soon as he could. He needed to talk to Jim before lunch was over and the boys once again commanded his attention. He glanced at his watch, grumbling with frustration at all the time already lost, and quickened his pace.

Throwing open the door to his room, Blair's mouth gaped in shock at the destruction before him. At a glance, it was obvious that this was more than mere malicious mischief, his room had been ransacked. Someone had been looking for something, but who and what? "Oh no!" he groaned aloud as a thought struck him. Please, please, let them still be there, he silently pleaded, quickly making his way to the place he had stashed the back ground files. A thorough search confirmed what he had suspected, the files were gone. Oh shit! he thought. This is not good. I gotta tell Jim. Blair reached for his backpack to retrieve the cell phone only to discover that it, too, was missing. "This is definitely not good," he repeated as panic began to set in.

Searching his mind for an alternative solution it dawned on him that there should be a phone at the camp's office. Once again he glanced at his watch. If I hurry, maybe I can get in, call Jim and get out before everyone gets back from lunch. With that thought in mind, he stepped back out into the early afternoon light, stopping abruptly as two intimidating figures blocked his way.

"Going somewhere Cop?" Kevin asked menacingly, emphasizing the last word with unmistakable contempt as Mike looked on with equal vehemence.

Blair glanced nervously from one boy to the other and knew there was no way he was going to be able to talk his way out of this one. So he did what anyone would do when confronted with the same situation, he ran. Using all the strength and dexterity he possessed, Blair rammed into Kevin knocking him sideways into Mike. As both went down in a tangle of limbs, Blair used the momentary reprieve to dash into the nearby woods.

His mad dash through the woods was arduous at best. Afraid to stay on the main trails, he chose his directions at random, keeping to the dense parts of the forest. He had long since lost track of the number of cuts, scrapes and other abrasions suffered as a result of the previously unblazed trails.

Unable to go on, he paused, leaning heavily against the truck of a tree, sucking in great gulps of air. His pursuers could clearly be heard closing in and Blair knew he could only take a moments rest. Then hearing a branch snap nearby off to his right, he dove deeper into the forest.

Breaking out from the undergrowth, Blair chanced a glance behind him. He saw no one but was able to track their progress through the woods. He turned back around and skidded to a halt as he found himself perched precariously on the edge of the ravine. The same spot from which Jason Harper had fallen to his death. The adrenalin rush, born of sheer terror at the gaping void before him, pushed his already accelerated heartbeat into double time. Visible tremors shook his lean frame as he stood rooted to the spot. A part of his mind, that not seized by his fear of heights, screamed at him to move, still aware of the impending danger pursuing him. Slowly, he slid first one foot back and then another, making painfully slow progress until he was far enough away from the edge that his fear-paralyzed mind released his body. With a stifled groan, he turned away from the horror of what had just nearly happened and raced back into the safe haven of the woods.

For nearly ten minutes more he ran, often stumbling as his now exhausted body began to register it's protest. Even the dull throbbing, in his recently battered knee, had grown in intensity with each step.

Stumbling yet again, Blair laid there momentarily stunned. Then garnering the last of his fleeting strength, he pushed himself to his feet. He looked up, searching for a less tenuous path, only to discover himself on the edge of a clearing. His unconscious mind registered the incongruity of the scene. What the...? he silently wondered as his gaze took in row upon row of cultivated marijuana plants. "No wonder Kevin didn't want us to come this way," he spoke aloud, staring incredulously at the sight before him.

"So now you know."

Blair turned, startled by the sudden voice. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Just a few feet away, pointing a gun at him stood... "CASEY !" Blair squeaked past the lump in his throat.

"You've lead us on a merry chase Blair, but now it's over. I don't know how we're going to explain another death so soon after Harper but you've left me no choice."

"You killed Jason Harper?" Blair asked, still shocked by the turn of events. How could I have misjudged him so badly?  Blair screamed in his mind.

"He, much like you, stumbled upon our little operation. There was no other alternative but to dispose of him." The gun shifted minutely in Hunter's grasp as he prepared to pull the trigger.

"WAIT!" Blair implored. "You were right before when you said that people would become suspicious. Why do you think I'm here man. They were already suspicious so they sent me in to investigate. If I don't report in on schedule, they'll come looking for me."

"Perhaps, but it will take them some time to get here and by then you'll be dead."

"They're a lot closer then you think man," Blair told him, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.

Hunter's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? TELL ME!" he bellowed when Blair clamped his mouth shut refusing to answer.

The natural instinct towards self preservation had Blair's entire body poised for flight. As the sound of his pursuers crashing through the underbrush momentarily drew Casey's attention, Blair quickly knelt, picked up a fallen branch and swung it sideways at Casey's head. With a surprised grunt of pain, Hunter dropped to his knees, the gun discharging as his finger reflexively pulled the trigger.

Blair staggered back a few feet as a fiery pain impaled his left side just below the ribcage. Somewhere in the further recesses of Blair's mind, it registered that the noise which had drawn Casey's attention was drawing closer. He turned and fled, all the while clenching his injured side as blood seeped through his fingers.

Only one thought managed to make it through his pain-hazed mind. Jim, Got to find Jim. More than once, the agonizing pain in his side brought him to his knees. Dragging himself to his feet yet again, Blair knew he could not go on for much longer. Casey and the others were not far behind. He knew he couldn't out run them. He knew he was dead unless... NO! He quickly rejected the thought. I can't.

Then you might as well stay here and die, his mind told him.

But the fall would kill me! Blair protested, abhorring the idea born of desperation.

Perhaps, perhaps not if you leapt far enough out. But you'll die for sure if you stay here.

Oh shit, I knew you were going to say that.

Kevin's nearby shout of "There he is..." spurred Blair into action. Before he could take a chance of fear changing his mind, Blair headed in the direction of the ravine. Gaining momentum as he drew nearer closer to the edge of the gaping precipice, Blair closed his eyes and leapt out as far as he could, his terrorized scream of " J....i....m...." following him all the way down.

Ellison had been as surly as a bear all morning. More than once, Simon had to stop him from calling Blair. "Jim, I'm sure if there's a problem, Sandburg will call us."

"He'll call us all right," Jim snorted, "about as quick as he told us about his knee."

Banks shook his head. "Look, I know you're still upset about that..."

"Damn straight I am! Sandburg didn't even trust me enough to tell me..."

"But," Simon continued with a warning glance, "the kid was afraid we'd pull him from the case. If something was seriously wrong, I'm sure he'd call."

"Are you Simon? Because I'm not." Ellison turned away frustrated. "I use to be able to read Sandburg pretty good. But since the Allessi incident, it's like I don't even know who he is anymore." Jim sighed wearily. "I'm not even sure he knows."

Simon frowned. "I know you told me the kid was having some problems Jim, but do you really think it's that bad?"

Ellison turned back to his Captain. "Yeah, Simon, I do."

"I'm sorry Jim," Banks tried to console his friend. "I guess it wasn't such a good idea to assign Sandburg to the case after all."

"No. Under normal circumstances Sandburg would have been the best choice," Jim admitted.

"But these aren't normal circumstances."

"No Sir, they're not."

Simon made a decision. Grabbing the detective by the arm, he began leading the way down river. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Ellison asked.

"We're going to take one final look at the spot where Jason Harper died and if we don't find anything contrary to the forensic evidence, then I'm pulling Sandburg ASAP."

"He's not going to like that," Jim supplied.

"Well, the last time I checked, I was still in charge."

Ellison's responding smile was tinged with sadness. "Thanks Simon."

They were barely halfway there when Jim heard a shot ring out. Even Simon had heard it, although not with the same clarity as the Sentinel. Pausing, Ellison reached out with his heightened senses trying to discern the direction from which the shot had been fired. He knew it had come from slightly ahead and above the cliff face. He extended his sense of hearing as far as he dared without having Sandburg nearby to bring him out of a zone out. Jim located and tracked the sound of heavy footfall, the snapping of branches and muttered curses as several individuals raced through the woods above. Then he heard it and went pale.

SANDBURG! his mind screamed. Ellison centered his focus and could hear his Guide's desperation. His ears registered the grunts of pain, the rapid heartbeat and the harshly drawn gasps of air.

Simon shook him. "Jim! What is it?" he demanded.

Ellison shook off the vision in his mind's eye. "It's Sandburg. Near as I can tell, I think there are three men after him and..."

"What?"

"I think he's been shot."

"Good Lord!" Simon groaned. "Can you tell where he is?"

Ellison nodded. "They're all headed towards the spot where Jason Harper died."

"I'm getting a bad feeling here Jim."

"Me too, Sir." Ellison took off running, his body responding without conscious thought to the urgency of the situation and the primal need to protect his Guide.

"Jim," Simon hollered after him. "There's nothing we can do from down here. And there's no way anyone can climb up there from that spot." Ellison just kept on running. Resigned to the inevitable, Simon followed, praying that for once, Ellison's heightened senses were wrong.

Using his Sentinel abilities, Jim honed in on Sandburg's position, monitoring his progress through the woods above. More than once, he heard Sandburg stumble, crying out in pain, and cursed the fates that prevented him from immediately placing himself between his partner and those that would do him harm.

Something began to nag at the periphery of Ellison's mind. He locked onto it, drawing it closer. A frantic cry of "NO!" escaped his lips, unbidden, as he knew with a sudden clarity just what it was his friend intended to do.

They were almost there when Simon heard Ellison call out in denial. "Jim, what is it?" he demanded to know, then following Ellison's lead, gazed upwards. Bank's mouth dropped open in shock.

Just as Ellison looked up, he saw Sandburg launch himself off the edge of the cliff. Time seemed to move in slow motion as his sight zoned in on the plummeting body of his friend. Ellison stood paralyzed. He recognized the terror in his guide's voice as he screamed Jim's name, because the same terror had ensnared him. The spell was broken as Sandburg's body impacted the surface of the river with a resounding force. Ellison cried out his name, running before Blair had even surfaced. Simon was not far behind.

Topside, the three pursuers could not believe what they had just witnessed. Sliding to a stop just short of the edge, first Mike, followed by Kevin and Casey, peered over the side of the ravine, searching for the battered body of their prey. Jim's strangled cry of "Sandburg!" drifted up to them calling their attention to the two men on the rocky shoreline below. "Shit!" muttered Mike. "Where did they come from?"

"Do you think they're cops too?" Kevin wanted to know.

Casey watched as the two men took off in hot pursuit of Sandburg's body which had finally resurfaced and was now being carried downstream. He shrugged. "Could be. Sandburg did indicate that they sent him here. Even if they're not, we can't take the chance of leaving any witnesses." He took aim and fired.

Simon Banks dove, tackling Ellison as a rain of bullets hailed from above. Clamping his arms around the detective in a vice like grip, he rolled taking them both behind a boulder and out of harms way.

Ellison fought him like a man possessed. The only thought in his mind was the overwhelming need to get to Sandburg. "Let me go!" he ground out through clenched teeth.

"In case you didn't notice Ellison, someone's shooting at us," Banks bellowed.

"Gotta get to Sandburg," Jim insisted, continuing to struggle.

Simon tightened his grip refusing to let go. "You're not going to do Sandburg a damn bit of good if you get yourself shot. And that is exactly what will happen if you go out there." An inarticulate sob tore at Ellison's throat but he ceased his struggles.

"Damn it!" Casey cursed as his targets disappeared from view. "We could be at this all day. We'll have to go down after them."

"Them cops are gonna get a major head start if we have to waste time backtracking to the trail that runs down there."

Casey turned on Kevin, his anger evident. "What do you suggest we do then, just let them go?" His eyes narrowed menacingly. "Or perhaps you'd like to take the same shortcut as Sandburg did."

"Not me man," Kevin protested, holding up his hands to ward Hunter off. "I was just making an observation."

Hunter moved closer to the young man. "Well, observe this," he told Kevin while poking him in the chest to emphasize each word. "If them cops make it out of here alive, our little enterprise is finished and we're all dead. The boss doesn't like loose ends. You get my drift?"

"I hear you man," Kevin assured him.

"Good, now come on. I've got some more guns in the truck and if those two are cops, you're gonna need 'em."

"What about Sandburg?" Mike questioned.

"What about him? If the fall didn't kill him, the bullet will," Casey snorted. "That is if he doesn't drown first."

The shooting had stopped for several minutes before Simon ventured to poke his head out for a look. Of course, from his vantage point, the gesture was futile as he was unable to see anything that was occurring above. He turned to Ellison, who laid there staring blindly down the river. "Jim?" No response. "Come on Jim, snap out of it," he yelled at the nearly catatonic detective. Ellison finally turned to look at his Captain but it was several seconds before recognition replaced the blank gaze. Sure the detective was once again back with him, Simon said, "Jim, I need you to do whatever it is you do with those senses of yours and find out what's going on topside."

Still half dazed by the recent events, Ellison forced himself to concentrate. He extended his hearing and finally succeeded in latching onto the voices. A slight frown marred his brow as he listened intently for several minutes.

"Well?" Simon anxiously prompted.

Ellison finally heard them move off and looked over at his Captain. "They suspect we're cops. They're coming down after us."

"Then we'd better get moving," Simon said, rising to his feet and giving Jim a hand up.

Ellison looked down river. "You can go if you want Sir, I'm going after Sandburg."

Even though Simon had been half expecting it, his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Jim, you can't be serious! Look, I know you care about the kid but there's no way he could have survived being shot and a fall like that."

"You don't know Sandburg, Sir."

"He's dead Jim!" Simon spoke more sharply than intended.

"No!" Ellison shook his head in denial. "I'd know it if he were dead."

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

"No Sir, you can't. Either way, I have to know for sure."

Simon sighed. "Let's get going then. We're going to need as much of a head start as possible."

"You don't have to come Simon. I can find Sandburg on my own."

"I know that Jim. I also know that there's no way I'm letting you go off after Sandburg on your own."

Ellison processed the words for a second and then with a nod began picking his way downstream over the rocky shoreline.

Consciousness flowed over him in waves, first carrying him towards the light and pain, then receding backwards into the darkness. Eventually, the need to draw something other than water into his lungs forced him, unrelenting, towards the light. As he violently coughed, nearly choking with the effort, pain lanced through his side. An anguished cry of pain rang out only to be quenched by the prevalent noise of the river.

Time had ceased to exist in the onslaught of excruciating pain. He lay motionless, breathing as deeply as he dared, willing the pain to go away. Slowly, it subsided to a tolerable level and he became aware of other sensations surrounding him. The rough ground beneath him. The water lapping over the lower part of his legs. He ventured to open his eyes, shutting them quickly with a moan as pain shot through his temple. Not a good idea, he decided, but something, a voice perhaps, in the further recesses of his mind kept nagging at him, refusing to let go. Finally, if only to shut the voice up, he allowed the thought to surface. Danger! it screamed. He tried to latch onto the thought, to extract more information from it, but whenever he felt it was within his grasp, it would dance slightly away just out of reach. He growled his frustration.

Move, it taunted him. Must hide. Over and over the three phrases assaulted his mind until he thought he would go crazy, but he listened and began to move. He painstakingly pulled himself into a sitting position, his right hand clamping over the wound in his left side. Wound? his fuzzy brain registered. His vision swam and nausea rose up in his throat choking him. "Oh God," he groaned, then leaning sideways, emptied the contents of his stomach.  "Can't...do...this..." he gaspingly protested.

You have to!  the voice told him.

Why? came the plaintive cry. Once again the repetitive litany of Danger, Move, Must Hide, began.

“Shut up!”  the man wailed in abject misery.

Move, damn it!

He didn't want to listen to the persistent voice. He just wanted to lay there, not moving until the pain disappeared. His thoughts were scrambled. He wasn't sure what had happened or even who he was for that matter, but deep in his subconscious he knew the voice was right. "Yeah, yeah. Nag, nag," he grumbled at the voice, but he listened and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

"Find anything?" Hunter demanded as they finished tearing apart the campsite.

Mike tossed the tackle box aside. "Nothing that would indicate they're cops."

"It doesn't matter, we can't leave any witnesses." Casey looked at his watch. "Let's get moving, we've wasted enough time as it is."'

"Shouldn't someone wait here in case they come back?" Kevin wanted to know.

"I don't think so. They seemed more interested in going after Sandburg. Even if they do come back, they'll have to get by us first." Casey checked the clip on his weapon then slammed it home. "And there's no way in hell that's gonna happen."

They were making painstakingly slow progress. For hours they had been walking and searching along the river bank for a sign of Sandburg. More than once, Simon had wanted to tell Jim to give it up as a lost cause. But one look at the ramrod straight posture and determined set of his jaw and Simon simply didn't have the heart to do it. He knew how badly he felt about losing the kid and could imagine the hell Ellison was going through. But the shadows were growing long and they still had three killers on their trail. True, neither man had yet to detect any sign of pursuit, but the conversation that Jim had overheard had clearly made their intentions known. He paused. "Jim," he began. "We've been at this for hours and it's going to be dark soon. Not to mention the fact that it looks like it's going to rain. You've got to face it, if we were going to find something, we would have found it by now."

"I'm not giving up Simon," Ellison responded gruffly as he stopped and turned to face his captain. "Sandburg is out there somewhere, I know it. And I'm not giving up until I find him.

"Jim, I know how you feel about this but..."

"No, you don't know how I feel," Ellison snapped. "Sandburg wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if it wasn't for me. He's my..." Ellison jerked a thumb towards his chest, "responsibility."

Simon grew angry at Ellison's tirade. He spoke low, his anger barely contained. "And every man, woman and police observer of the Cascade P.D. is mine. So don't even try to tell me I don't understand."

Jim's stoic facade crumbled and revealed his anguish. "But you don't live with them Simon. You don't owe them your life, your very sanity even." Ellison turned away frustrated. "I can't explain it Sir. Maybe it has something to do with this Sentinel thing but it's like I'm..." He paused searching for the words. "...incomplete without Sandburg."

"Jim, aren't you being a little over dramatic?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand!" Ellison ground out. The silence that followed lingered, sitting heavily upon the mountain air. He closed his eyes then, bowing his head, spoke so quietly that Simon had difficulty in hearing the words. "If Sandburg is dead, then you might as well put a bullet in my head. Because if you don't, I will."

Banks was shocked. "The hell you will!" He grabbed Ellison by the arm, spinning him around. "You don't mean that!"

Ellison calmly looked into the face of his friend and captain. "Yes Sir, I do."

"All right," Simon said with a resigned sigh. "One more hour and if we haven't found Sandburg by then, I'm dragging your butt out of here even if I have to carry you kicking and screaming. You got that Detective?"

"I hear you Sir," Jim responded, knowing full well he had no intention of leaving the woods without Sandburg. The hell of it was, Simon knew it, too.

They had continued on for perhaps twenty more minutes when suddenly Ellison paused, his nostrils flaring as a familiar scent caught his attention. Piggybacking his sight to the smell, he zeroed in on the source. He quickly traversed the short distance and knelt beside a large rock. There, clearly imprinted on it's granite surface, was a bloody palm print. "Sandburg," he confirmed.

Tracking the anthropologist had been easier than anticipated for the injured young man had left unmistakable signs of his passing--indentations in the ground where he had fallen, broken branches, trampled foliage and spatters of blood dotted the ground. Judging from the signs it was a miracle that Sandburg was alive let alone still on his feet and moving.

Ellison paused then, kneeling, he trailed his fingers through a spot of blood on the ground. He brought the bloody fingers to his nose and sniffed. "We're gaining on him. This is fresher than the rest." He stood scanning the forest for the next sign and, finding it, once again set off after Sandburg.

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, Simon nearly collided with Ellison as he came to an abrupt halt. "You got something Jim?"

"Yeah, maybe." He moved forward and pointed out the spot that had caught his attention. "You see this? It looks as though someone dragged something along here."

"You think it's Sandburg?"

Ellison allowed his gaze to traverse further up the path. He spotted blood. "I'm sure of it." He moved farther along the trail, discovering that it came to a halt just before a dense stand of bushes. He pushed them aside to reveal a cave entrance.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Simon muttered.

Pushing aside the bushes, Ellison and Banks entered the cave certain that they would find Sandburg within. Light filtered down through cracks in the cavern's ceiling allowing them easy perusal of the caves interior. Unfortunately, Sandburg was no where in evidence. Ellison was perplexed. "I don't get it, I know he's here somewhere!"

Simon scratched his head in frustration and looked around once again. "Jim, I'm sorry, but it's obvious he's not here."

"No! He's here. I can feel it," Ellison insisted and opened up his heightened senses, searching. He smelled the scent of Sandburg's blood and felt vindicated. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he listened for the heartbeat that was as familiar as his own. The quick smile that flashed across his features as he heard it quickly changed to consternation as other sounds permeated his consciousness--the heart's faint beating, the gurgling sound of congestion in lungs and the irregular respiration of his breathing. Jim looked towards the source of the sound and saw the cave wall. He frowned, moving closer. "This doesn't make sense, he's somewhere behind here." His hands quickly traveled over the rocky surface of the wall, Simon joining him in the quest.

Nearing the bottom of the wall, Simon felt a rock beneath his hands give way. "Jim!" he called to the detective as he quickly pulled the loose stone aside to reveal a small cubbyhole.

With an overwhelming sense of relief, Ellison knelt down and peered inside. Laying there, curled up into a tight little ball, was the unconscious body of his friend and partner. The opening was too small to permit him to enter the confined space, so laying on his stomach and extending his arms, he grabbed Sandburg around the shoulders and gently pulled him from the would be tomb.

Ellison sat back cradling the inert form of his guide then, using his Sentinel abilities, quickly assessed Sandburg's condition as Simon looked on with concern. Numerous scraps and cuts were clearly evident from his mad dash through the woods and from the cut above his right temple it was obvious that Blair had taken a severe blow to the head and was more than likely suffering from a concussion. But what worried him the most was the amount of blood that soaked the left side of Sandburg's shirt. Jim reached down wrenching the shirt open and was somewhat relieved to observe that the bleeding had finally stopped. Simon winced at the sight of the wound. "Damn, I knew it!" Ellison muttered a curse as his fingers painstakingly probed the angry looking injury. He looked anxiously up at Simon. "The bullet's still in there."

It was Simon's turn to grumble a profanity. "Damn it Jim, what are we going to do?"

Ellison's expression was one of anger and disgust, all directed at himself. "I blew it this time Simon. I was in such a hurry to come after Sandburg that I didn't even stop to consider we might need the first aid kit." He glanced down apprehensively at his partner. "That bullet's got to come out."

Simon wracked his brain for a solution. "Wait a minute, doesn't the kid carry one of those Swiss Army knives?"

Ellison quickly looked up. "Yeah, he does." Carefully lifting him up, he extracted the knife from Sandburg's back pocket. A low moan escaped Blair's lips as he was gently lowered back into the embrace of Jim's arms.

Ellison's eyes immediately riveted to Sandburg's face. He listened intently and detected the increased pace of his guide's heartbeat, indicating that his partner was regaining consciousness. "Chief?" he prompted. "Come on buddy, open your eyes." The long dark lashes fluttered briefly against pale cheeks then ceased their motion. Ellison looked helplessly up at his captain.

"SANDBURG!" Simon bellowed in his best captain's voice.

Blair's eyes shot open in fear as his body attempted to jackknife into a sitting position. He cried out at the myriad of pain which coursed throughout his body yet continued to struggle and flail against the arms restraining him.

"Whoa, easy there buddy," Ellison's voice crooned to the struggling bundle.

Slowly, Sandburg's thrashing ceased though whether it was due to exhaustion or the fact that his constant reassurances had finally permeated Sandburg's brain, Jim wasn't sure. For a moment he thought Blair had slipped back into unconsciousness. "Blair?" he questioned softly.

Mercifully, he had slipped into a painless dark void, but now something or someone was calling him back. He tried to resist the voice and when failing, fought instead against the vaguely remembered sense of danger, he slumped back, his efforts leaving him exhausted. Blair's whole body trembled with trepidation but the tremors slowly subsided as a voice murmured reassurances that he was safe. He knew that voice. It was familiar and it's resounding timber brought with it an awareness of comfort and security.

Blair opened his eyes then blinked in an attempt to clear his vision. Finally, the fuzzy form hovering over him came into focus and his memory of recent events returned with equal clarity. "Jim," came the name, whispered on a sigh and accompanied by a weak smile.

Jim Ellison smiled down at his partner. "Hey Chief, how you doing?"

Blair knew there was no point in lying. "Hurts," came the grudging reply.

"I know buddy," Jim replied, trying to sound reassuring. "But we'll have you fixed up in no time."

"We?" Blair breathed then, glancing around, spotted Simon. "Hey Simon..."

"Hey Simon!?!" Banks was incredulous. "You get shot, jump off a cliff, nearly drown and all you have to say is 'Hey Simon'!" Ellison shot him a warning glance. "I'm sorry kid, it's just that you scared the hell out of us with that little stunt you pulled."

"Wasn't... my idea... of a picnic... either," Blair weakly protested through gasps of pain.

"I thought you'd been killed Sandburg," Simon told him solemnly.

Blair was touched at the emotion he heard in Simon's voice. "You gotta..." Blair momentarily paused trying to catch his breath. "...quit underestimating me..."

"That's what Jim said," Simon admitted with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah," Blair swallowed. "Just think of me as a... Timex watch."

Simon's brow creased in a frown, not understanding the reference.

Seeing his confusion, Blair explained. "I take a licking... and keep on ticking." It took a moment for the words to sink in, then both of the older men burst out laughing.

"You can't be too badly hurt Chief if you can make jokes as bad as that one," Ellison told him.

"Hey, cut me some slack here...big guy." Blair winced in pain. "I've had a rough...day...and that's some of...my best material."

"You need a new writer," Simon chimed in, his expressive brown eyes alight with amusement.

Blair made a face. "Oh man, that is like...so cruel..." Any more words were lost as a violent coughing attack overwhelmed the police observer. Blair didn't even have the breath to groan as the sudden movement caused pain to lance through his side and head. He merely closed his eyes, trying to ride out the wave of agony. Ellison reflexively clutched Sandburg tighter to his chest while waiting for the attack to subside then exchanged worried glances with Simon as the coughing slowly tapered off.

"Take it easy there Chief."

Sandburg's nod was almost imperceivable, afraid to move for fear of bringing on another onslaught of pain. "Oh man, this is not...good," he moaned.

"I won't lie to you buddy. You're right, it's not good."

"Jim, are you sure this is a good idea?" Simon asked, nodding pointedly at Sandburg.

"He's got the right to know what we're dealing with here Simon."

Blair wasn't all that positive he wanted to know, but pinning his partner's eyes with an unrelenting gaze, the words slipped out. "Tell me..."

Ellison scrubbed a hand across his weary face and began to explain. "As near as I can determine you've got a concussion, water in your lungs from the dip you took in the river and you've been shot."

"Yeah...well I sorta figured out that last part Jim." He grimaced. "Once you've been shot...you don't forget what it ...feels like." He momentarily paused, hesitant to ask the next question. "How bad...is it?"

"The bullet doesn't appear to have hit anything vital, but it's still in there Chief and it's going to have to come out."

"Oh man," Blair whined. "I knew you were...gonna say that. Okay Jim, tell me the rest. I know...there's more, there's always more."

Ellison suddenly panicked at the thought of what needed to be done, he looked pleadingly over at Simon.

"Sandburg, Blair," he quickly amended. "We don't have the first aid kit with us. We're going to have to use your Swiss Army knife to take the bullet out."

Say what ! Blair's mind screamed. Aloud he asked, "Couldn't you just get... the first aid kit? Or better yet," he went on to suggest, "wait until we can get to..." He was beginning to hyperventilate. "...hospital," he gasped out.

"No can do buddy," Jim told him, sympathetically. "The first aid kits back at camp and those friends of your's are between us and it."

"Whadda mean?"

Simon filled in the details. "He means that they're searching for all of us now and once they find us they intend to finish the job they started."

Blair grew visibly agitated at the news. "Aw...man, this is all...my fault..."

"Just calm down Blair," Ellison cautioned him as his heightened senses warned him of the young man's distress. "It's nobody's fault and we will get out of this."

"How?"

"First things first," Jim replied, taking command of the situation. "We get you patched up and then we look for a way out of here."

"But Jim..."

"Trust me on this one, okay Chief?" Blair didn't even need to consider the rest, he just simply nodded in compliance.

Ellison looked over at his captain. "Simon, I'm going to need your jacket." Banks quickly shrugged out of the coat, then folding it up, placed it beneath the anthropologist's head at Ellison's urging. Jim reluctantly lowered his partner, gently placing Blair's head on the jacket, and proceeded to remove his own coat. He had felt the tremors of cold and, no doubt, the effects of shock shudder through the slim frame as he had held it. He draped the jacket over his guide. "I know it's not much Chief..." he began to apologize only to have Blair wave the proffered apology aside.

"S'...okay, big guy." Ellison frowned at the slurred words. He studied his partner closely observing that the young man's eyes had drifted shut again. He patted Sandburg's cheek. "Stay awake Blair."

Somewhere in the further recesses of his mind, Blair knew you were suppose to stay awake if you had a concussion.  But he had already been asleep, hadn't he? What could a little more matter?

"Sandburg!" Ellison's voice grew insistent.

"I'm...'wake," Blair mumbled, his glazed-over eyes indicating he wished it was otherwise.

Ellison patted his cheek. "Good boy."

"Jeez, Jim," Sandburg grimaced. "You make it sound like...I'm a dog."

"Well if the shoe fits, Chief," Ellison couldn't resist teasing. Blair made an exasperated face at his partner.

With one last warning directed at his partner to stay awake, Jim pulled Simon aside and speaking, in low tones, told him, "I'm going to gather some firewood. Sandburg's chilled and we're going to need it to sterilize the knife." Simon nodded in understanding as Ellison continued. "We're also going to need some water. I just hope I can find some sort of container..."

"Um, Jim. If it was this easy for us to track the kid then..."

Ellison immediately followed Simon's train of thought. "Then they can, too. Alright, I'll see what I can do about covering up the trail while I'm at it." Jim's voice grew even softer. "I want you to stay with Sandburg. Make sure he stays awake and do your best to keep him still and warm until I get back."

"You got it Jim," Simon assured him.

Ellison moved to kneel beside his partner, who's eyes had once again drifted shut. "Wake up buddy."

"..'m awake. Just resting my...eyes."

"Well, do me a favor and rest them with the lids open." Blair's eyes reluctantly opened and a smile flickered across the Sentinel's face in response.

He knew Sandburg wasn't going to like what he had to say next, so first steeling himself against the anticipated argument, he plunged in. "Listen Blair, I'm going to have to leave for a while..."

An inexplicable fear coursed through Blair. "Why?" he gasped.

Ellison quickly explained the details to the anthropologist, finishing with, "I'll be back before you know it and Simon will be right here with you the whole time."

"NO!" came the anguished protest, as Sandburg struggled to sit up.

"Come on Chief, don't. You're gonna hurt yourself worse." Ellison grabbed Blair by the shoulders, forcing him back down.

Beads of sweat had broken out on Blair's forehead at the aborted effort to rise. "Jim...you can't! What if they're...out there?" He coughed. "What if you zone out? You could be killed!"

Simon was distressed at Sandburg's agitated condition. "Jesus Sandburg, will you calm down. Jim will be fine..."

"No, No! you don't under...stand," he insisted between panting breaths, the words chocking off as he fell victim to another savage coughing fit.

Jim winced at the intensity of it then cursed. "Damn it, you've started bleeding again." Reaching up in one swift motion, he ripped off one of his sleeves, bundled it up and pressed it against the wound. Blair tried to flinch away from the pain. "Stay still!" Ellison barked, immediately regretting his harsh tone. His voice softened. "I know you don't like it Chief, but it's not like we have a lot of options here..."

"Tak...." He swallowed and tried again. "Take Simon..."

"Can't do that buddy. I need him to stay here with you."

"Not going any...where. 'm fine," Blair groused.

Simon shook his head. "Sandburg, if we were to look up the definition of fine in the dictionary, your picture would not be there. Sorry, but you're stuck with me."

"Jim needs..."

Simon cut him off. "Jim needs you to settle down and listen to him for once."

"I listen," Blair replied with the best imitation of indignation he could muster.

"When it suits you," Simon exasperatingly reminded the young man. He turned to Ellison. "Go on Jim. Don't worry about the kid. I'll keep an eye on him. I'll even sit on him if I have to."

Jim nodded and once again looked down into the worried face of his Guide. "Take it easy Sandburg and I'll be back before you even have a chance to miss me."

Still upset, Blair turned his face away. With a sigh, Jim began to rise, the motion halted when Sandburg reached out and grabbed his arm. "Be careful," he implored.

"I will," he assured his friend.

Blair's pain-filled eyes followed Ellison's departure from the cave then turned entreatingly towards Simon. "Please, go with..."

Banks shook his head. "Jim would have my hide if I left you here alone." He gave Sandburg what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry about Jim, he'll be fine."

But Blair wasn't about to give up. Knowing what a pathetic sight he must already look like, he pulled out the last, best weapon in his arsenal--'the puppy dog eyes'. "Please," he tried again.

Oh God! Simon mentally whined. Not the eyes. Then giving Blair his best 'I ain't falling for it stare', Simon crossed his arms across his chest and turned away.

Damn! thought Blair. Struggling to sit up, he inadvertently cried out in pain.

Simon was immediately apprehensive, but angry too. "Don't make me hurt you Sandburg," he warned, forcing him back down. Blair took one look at the set determination on Simon's face and acquiesced. He turned away and fixed his gaze at a spot on the cavern wall. An audible sigh escaped Simon's lips. He began to apologize but then realized that would just encourage Sandburg so he clamped his mouth shut and murmured a silent prayer for Jim to hurry. And you'd better come back in one piece Ellison, he sent out the silent warning, or this kid will never forgive me.

The rain clouds had moved staunchly into the area. Even without his heightened senses, Jim knew they were in for a storm, and soon. Quickly, he gathered as much firewood as he could, repeatedly returning to the cave and depositing the wood just within the opening.

Next, using broken tree limbs, he scrubbed away as much of the evidence of their passing as he could. He feverently hoped that the rain, which had now begun to fall, would wash away the rest. Maybe they'd get lucky and the combination of rain and the quickly approaching night would force the others to seek shelter.

His search for a container to hold water proved fruitless. Thoroughly wet, totally disgusted and more than a little anxious to check on Sandburg, Ellison headed back to the cave.

Throwing another piece of the wood Ellison had collected onto the fire, Simon looked over at the sleeping form of Sandburg. He noticed the flush of color to the formally wane features and hoped it was the fire causing it and not something more serious. He moved closer and, laying a hand on Blair's forehead, detected a fever. "Damn," he cursed. "What else can go wrong and where the hell is Ellison?"

"Right here Sir," came Jim's reply as he entered the cave. In one look, he took in Simon's worried countenance and hurried over to kneel beside Blair. "Is Sandburg all right?" Jim questioned, even as he ran a hand over his guide, appraising his condition.

"He's running a fever," Simon told him and Jim's hand immediately went to Blair's forehead to confirm it.

"Damn it Simon, I told you not to let him go to sleep!"

"Look Jim," Simon snapped, his own anger, born of worry, showing. "The kid's in pain and exhausted, he needed the rest. Besides, I've been waking him frequently."

Jim sank back on his haunches. "I'm sorry Sir. I'm just worried about him."

"You're not the only one Jim," Simon told him pointedly.

Ellison had the grace to look ashamed. "Right," he acknowledged, then gazed down at his partner. "I guess we'd better get started then." Standing, he moved towards the fire where he retrieved the Swiss Army knife and held it's blade over the flames. "I wasn't able to find a container for water," he told Simon. "But with the way it's pouring outside that shouldn't be much of a problem."

"Actually Jim, we won't even need to go outside." At Ellison's puzzled expression, he nodded towards the back of the cave.

Jim honed in on the area Simon had indicated and was rewarded with the sight of a small natural rock cistern of water being fed by the rain dripping through one of the openings in the cave's ceiling. He flashed Simon a smile. "Maybe there's a God watching out for us after all."

"Yeah," Simon teased, his earlier anger totally evaporated. "He watches over small children, fools, stubborn Sentinels and irritating anthropologists."

Jim rewarded his teasing with another smile then his features grew serious as he realized that there was no further excuses to put it off any longer. He hated the idea of having to remove the bullet. He knew it was going to hurt like hell and he loathed the thought of being the one to inflict even more pain on his partner.

Simon recognized his reluctance. "I'd offer to do it Jim, but you're the one with the medic training."

Jim looked away from his captain's knowing gaze. "I know that Simon. But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

"So what can I do to help?"

"We're going to need bandages," Jim replied, then laying the knife on a stone to cool, he began stripping off his wet shirt. The undershirt beneath it was the next thing to come off and it was this that Ellison began tearing into strips. Simon followed suit and soon all was ready to begin.

Knife in hand, Ellison moved to the prone form of his partner. Moving aside the makeshift bandage, he carefully examined the wound. Slowly, the knife descended then hesitated as Jim cast a quick look at his guide.

Sensing Ellison's reluctance, Simon urged him on. "It's gotta be done Jim."

"S'okay big guy," came Sandburg's groggy voice. "I trust...you."

"You picked a hell of a time to wake up Chief," Ellison grumbled.

Blair summoned a weak smile. "Timing never was my...strong suit." He closed his eyes and shuddered. "Simon's right. It's gotta be...done."

Ellison steeled his nerves and forced himself to concentrate. Then as gently as he could, he began cutting. Sandburg hissed at the first incision and tried to recoil away from the blinding pain. Jim motioned for Simon to hold his partner down to minimize the thrashing.

He was almost there, just a little bit more and he could remove the bullet. Jim glanced up at Sandburg's face in an attempt to gage his condition and was horrified to see blood dripping down Blair's chin. "What the...?"

"It's okay Jim, he just bit his lip," Simon told him.

No doubt to keep from crying out in pain, Jim thought, then swelled with a sense of pride at his young friend. "Almost there buddy, you're doing great."

Blair, eyes squeezed tight from the pain, gave a quick nod and silently urged the Sentinel to hurry. He felt the knife slip beneath the bullet and Jim begin to lift it out. Daring to let go of the breath he'd been holding, Blair escaped into unconsciousness.

Jim immediately cleaned and dressed the wound as best he could. He sank back exhausted and looked over at Simon who sat there flexing his left hand. Noticing Ellison's scrutiny, "Kid's got quite a grip," Simon explained, still trying to restore the circulation. He observed the detective's haggard appearance. "Why don't you get some rest Jim. I'll keep an eye on Sandburg."

Ellison scrubbed wearily at his face. "I appreciate that Simon, but I don't think I can right now. Not until I know Sandburg's going to be okay." Realizing the rain had tapered off, Ellison rose to his feet and started towards the cave's entrance. "I'm going to take a look around."

"Jim..." Simon called after him but to no avail as the detective disappeared from view. "One of these days," Simon muttered. "Someone's actually going to listen to me..."

Jim had been gone a long time and Simon was beginning to worry. Sandburg's fever had continued to climb and, with each degree, the police observer became more restless. Simon had tried applying wet compresses and bathing the quickly accumulating sweat from Sandburg's body in an attempt to get the fever down, but Blair only grew more disoriented and restless as the minutes continued to tick by.

In his fevered state, it was apparent that his injured psyche had dredged up horrors to haunt and torment the young man. Simon heard the names of David Lash and Andrea Allessi mentioned amongst the incoherent ramblings. And throughout it all, Blair repeatedly called for Jim. Simon had just about reached the end of his rope. "Damn it Jim, where the hell are you?"

The light from the nearly full moon filtered down through the trees creating a dappling effect on the landscape. James Ellison had not meant to go so far afield. Without even realizing it, he had traveled first one, then two, then three miles away from the cave during his circumferencing search. It was a slow painstaking process. Without Blair there to act as his guide, Jim had to be extremely careful in the use of his senses in order to avoid a zone out.

Of their three pursuers there had been no sign. Jim supposed one could find comfort in that knowledge but personally he would have felt better had he known exactly where they were. He debated extending his search perimeter then decided against it. He had already been gone longer than anticipated. With one final glance he turned and headed back towards the cave.

Over the past couple of hours, an uneasiness had settled in the pit of Ellison's stomach. An apprehension which grew in intensity the closer he came within proximity of the cave. He paused and, shutting out his four other senses, focused on his hearing. Zeroing in on the vicinity of the cave, Jim felt a sensation of dread as he heard the restless thrashing of his guide. Over and over he heard Sandburg plaintively call his name. Headless of the possible danger, Ellison took off running.

The thrashing form was unresponsive to his entreaties. Repeatedly, he had called out for Ellison in between bouts of fever induced nightmares. Simon had tried everything he could think of to calm Blair down but to no avail. He looked at his watch and once again cast a worried look towards the cave's entrance. Ellison had been gone for hours. Once again the body which lay beneath his hands tossed, reaching out unconsciously for the one thing in which it instinctively knew it could find comfort and reassurance. The one thing that wasn't here. "Come on Jim, Sandburg needs you," Simon implored then started as Ellison burst into the cave.

Even from a few feet away, Jim could feel the heat radiating off his partner. Guilt swept over him. "How long has he been like this?" he asked Simon as he knelt beside his partner.

Simon attempted to rub away the unrelenting ache that had taken up permanent residence between his eyes. "He's gotten steadily worse since you left. I've been trying to get the fever down but nothing seems to be working."

A tremor ran through Sandburg's body and he called out, "No...don't," followed quickly by a cry of "Jim...help me..."

Ellison took one of Sandburg's hands in his own. "It's okay Chief, I'm here and I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He checked the wound and nodded with satisfaction that the bleeding wasn't more pronounced. "Has he regained consciousness at all?" he asked Simon.

"No," came the solemn reply.

Jim felt the onset of panic. The minute trembling he had detected coursing throughout the young man's body was growing more pronounced. "No, don't," Sandburg called again as he began fighting off demons that only he could see. Ellison placed both hands on Blair's shoulders in an attempt to hold him down but Blair's struggles merely increased at the contact.

Simon's concern grew with each passing moment. "What are we going to do Jim?"

An idea struck. "Help me lift him up." With Simon's assistance, he carefully lifted Sandburg into a sitting position. Jim sat down using the cave wall to support his back and tenderly maneuvered the anthropologist into his arms. Even as Blair's hand came up to clench Jim's shirt, his head lolled forward and came to rest on Ellison's chest. Propping his chin on the top of Sandburg's head, Jim began stroking Blair's arm in a comforting gesture. "It's okay buddy, I'm here. Just relax." For the next few minutes as Ellison kept up the continuous stream of reassurances, Blair's struggles slowly subsided then ceased altogether.

Simon lifted an eyebrow at the detective. "How'd you do that?"

"Trade secret," Ellison quipped then once again grew serious. "He's still burning up though Simon." Banks moved to rewet the compress. Handing it to Ellison, he wet another cloth for himself and once again began to wipe the sweat from Blair's body.

It was a long night with little to no sleep for either of them. Periodically, as the fever spiked, Sandburg would once again become restless, but a touch or a few words from Jim and he would settle down again. Just before dawn the fever finally broke and both men breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Simon was catching a few winks and Ellison had barely fallen asleep when he felt the weight against his chest shift. Fearing that Sandburg had taken a sudden turn for the worst, Jim's eyes shot open. He looked down to find his somewhat bemused partner's blue eyes guilelessly staring up at him. A smile lit Ellison's face. "Hey Chief, how you feeling?"

Forcing the cobwebs from his mind, Blair silently assessed his condition. Quite frankly he felt as if he had been put through the spin cycle at the local laundromat. There was a dull throbbing in his temple, his chest hurt and at the slightest movement spasms of pain shot through his left side. He felt totally spent and the thought of sleeping for a week held a certain appeal. But he took one look at the lines of exhaustion etched on Ellison's face and resorted to obfuscation. Okay, so he outright lied. "Not too bad big guy," he choked out, his voice rough from lack of use and water. The look Jim gave him was clearly one of 'I'm not buying a word of it Sandburg' so he quickly went on to distract the detective from saying it aloud. "You make...a pretty good pillow...Jim."

"Well, don't get too use to it Sandburg. This was a one time deal."

Blair chuckled at the mock sternness on Ellison's face immediately regretting it when pain lanced through his side. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass, then opened them to find Jim carefully scrutinizing him. "It's okay Jim."

Ellison knew that his friend and partner wasn't okay, that he needed more rest. Better yet he needed to be in a hospital. But daylight was upon them and, no doubt, their perusers would once again begin searching for them. They had to leave and soon. "I want to take a look around outside. You gonna be okay if I leave you?"

"Sure Jim. After all I've got...Simon here to protect me." They both turned to look at the tall black man snoring contentedly on the other side of the fire and grinned.

"Some blessed protector," Ellison grumbled.

"Hey man, there's only one person who can fill that role...and that's you. Go on Jim, do what you have to, we'll be fine."

Careful not to jar him any more than necessary, Ellison helped Blair to lay back down. He felt an immediate sense of loss as he was forced to relinquish his hold on his Guide. Jim rose. "I won't go too far. Call if you need me."

The torrential downpour the previous day had forced them to abandon the search. They had returned to the camp sight to wait out the storm there but by the time it had stopped raining darkness had fallen.

"They never came back," Casey told his boss over the cell phone, then paused to listen. "The rain probably washed away any evidence. It will be nearly impossible to track them." Another longer pause. "Right. I'll settle things here and be back soon." He closed the cell phone and turned to the two young men. "I need to get back to the camp. You two stay here in case they come back."

"And what are we suppose to do if they show up?" Kevin wanted to know.

"The boss said no witnesses. You both got guns, use 'em."

Mike shifted, apparently nervous. "I don't know about this man..."

"You'll do as you're told," Casey warned, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "Otherwise, Sandburg might not be the only one who turns up missing." Mike swallowed and gave a quick nod of compliance. Casey released the shirt pushing him slightly away. He looked over at Kevin. "You got a problem with this?"

"No Sir," Kevin assured him.

"Good, now that we've got that settled." He handed Kevin his cell phone. "Take this and if they turn up back here, call me." Kevin nodded and as Casey left, the two boys settled down to wait.

Startled awake, Simon drew his gun and rose to a kneeling position in one smooth movement.

"Whoa man, don't shoot, it's only me," Blair told him his hands raised defensively.

"Sandburg," Simon groaned as he noticed the young man by the cistern of water. He reholstered his weapon. "What are you doing up?"

"I needed a drink."

"You should have wakened me," Simon told him with a stern frown.

"Nah, you looked like you needed the sleep." Blair waved off the admonishment.

Simon took in Sandburg's pasty features. The kid looked like death warmed over and was unsteady on his feet. He quickly moved to Sandburg's side. "For crying out loud, will you sit down. You look like you're going to keel over any second."

"Not all of us can look as good as you do in the morning Simon." Blair teased, grateful for Simon's help.

Blair leaned back and closed his eyes silently willing the pain to subside. After several minutes, he opened his eyes to see Simon watching him closely and he summoned a smile.

"So, how you doing kid?" Simon asked.

"Just great," Blair replied, even as pain-filled eyes belied the words. Simon cocked an eyebrow at him. "Okay, so I'm not a hundred percent." Simon crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Sandburg. "All right, so I feel lousy. There! are you satisfied?" Blair spat out in a huff.

Simon shook his head and chuckled at Blair's petulance, then glancing around the cave inquired, "So where's Jim."

"Right here," came the reply as both men jumped in surprise.

"Jesus Jim, scare a guy why don't you," Blair groused.

"Sorry Sandburg." Jim came to sit beside them. Carefully, he unwrapped his handkerchief to reveal some berries. "Gentlemen, breakfast is served." He shrugged. "I know it's not much..."

"It's fine Jim," Simon assured him. "Right now I'm so hungry I could eat a tree, bark and all." Jim smiled at his captain and then glanced at Sandburg. Blair had taken one look at the berries and had felt his stomach turn over.

Ellison noticed his queasy expression. "You okay Chief?"

"Yeah fine...I'm just not very hungry right now."

Jim sighed. "You've gotta eat something Blair. We've got a lot of walking ahead of us and you need to regain your strength."

"Jim, maybe it'd be better if we left Sandburg here and sent back help," Simon suggested.

"NO!" Blair protested, a hint of panic evident in his tone.

Simon and Jim exchanged glances. "That's not a bad idea Chief. You're in no shape to travel."

"I can keep up Jim. I promise I won't slow you down." The words came pouring out, not even allowing a breath. "I don't want to stay here. What if those guys show up while you're gone?"

"I can leave you my gun..."

"No!" Blair was adamant. "If you leave me here, I'll just follow you."

And Jim knew he would too. He could hear Blair's heart racing. "All right, all right," he replied in an attempt to calm down his excited partner. "We'll do it your way." Blair's relief was clearly visible. "You know Chief, you never did tell us what happened."

"I was going to call you Jim, I swear. Then I discovered that my room had been ransacked and that the file and my cell phone were missing. I was going to go up to the main office and call from there but Kevin and Mike were outside waiting for me so I took off..." he told them and then went on to explain the events as they had occurred.

As Blair finished his story, Simon let loose a whistle. "So one of the instructors and at least two of the kids are involved in this."

"Do you have any idea who else might be involved Chief?" Ellison asked.

"Sorry Jim. They were the only ones I saw."

"Okay, we'll deal with them later. Right now," he told Sandburg, "I want you to eat or you're not going anywhere." Jim's expression clearly stated he would brook no further argument. Reluctantly, Blair began to eat.

"So Jim, did you see any sign of Hunter while you were out there?"

"Not a trace," Ellison said in response to Simon's question. "But I did discover a trail that should take us back to the camp."

"You think that's a good idea Jim?" Sandburg questioned. "After all, we don't know who else at the camp might be involved in this."

"We've got no other choice Chief. I doubt it's safe to go back to the camp sight for the truck and the camp is the only other thing around for miles. We need to contact the local authorities and get you to a hospital."

"But I'm fine..."

"Save it Sandburg," Simon warned then turned to Jim. "How far do you figure it is back to the camp?"

Ellison mentally calculated the distance. "Taking into account that we backtracked some while searching for Sandburg, I'd estimate four, maybe five miles."

Inwardly Blair groaned, outwardly he summoned a smile. "Piece of cake, right guys?"

Simon and Jim merely exchanged glances then turned their gaze on Sandburg .

Under normal circumstances the four plus miles they had to cover would have been an easy hike. However, due to Sandburg's injuries, the pace was slow and frequent rest stops became necessary. Ellison had just called another and cast a concerned glance at his partner. More than once, Sandburg had waved away offers of assistance, seemingly determined to prove to them that he was fine. But one didn't need heightened senses to see that he was perspiring heavily or to note the careful way in which he moved. The kid was clearly exhausted and his normally vibrant blue eyes were dull with pain. Sandburg was as white as a sheet and every so often would erupt into a fit of coughing. Jim traded concerned looks with Simon. Thank God they only had about a half a mile to go. He didn't know how much more of this Sandburg could take.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Blair's eyes opened and captured Jim's with a look of disapproval. "I'm fine Jim," he muttered, and as if to prove his point, Blair hauled himself to his feet. "Shouldn't we get moving?"

Once again Jim felt an overwhelming urge to pick Blair up and carry him the rest of the way, but one look at Sandburg's determined stance and set expression convinced him that would be a very big mistake.

By the time they arrived at the perimeter of the camp, approximately twenty minutes after Jim had heard the lunch bell ring, Blair's wheezing had grown audible to someone even without enhanced hearing. Concerned, Jim turned just in time to witness his partner collapse. "Sandburg!" Ellison cried out as he and Simon rushed to the crumpled figure.

Blair hissed through clenched teeth as Jim carefully turned him over onto his back. Before Blair was able to school his features, Ellison's all encompassing glance took in the grimace of pain on his friend's face. "I'm fine...Jim," Blair ground out. "Just need to...catch...breath."

Ellison suddenly frowned then looked accusingly at his guide. Blair's eyes widened in realization and he tried to move away. But Jim held him fast with one hand and with the other reached down and tore open Blair's shirt. The gunshot wound had started bleeding again. He captured Blair's eyes with his own. "How long?" he demanded. Blair clamped his lips shut. "Answer me, damn it!"

Unable to meet the fury in his Sentinel's eyes, Blair looked away. He shrugged. "A couple of hours ago," he fairly whispered.

Jim was incensed. "A couple of hours!!!" For once James Ellison found himself totally speechless.

Simon shook his head at the young man's sheer audacity. "Sandburg you should have told us."

"Why?" Blair asked, his tone petulant.

"WHY!?" Ellison growled, finally finding his voice.

"Jim," Simon warned. "Beating up on the kid isn't going to help. We're here now so let's find a phone and then see about getting Sandburg some help."

Ellison scrubbed a hand wearily across his face and sighed. He cupped Blair's chin in his hand and forced the young man to meet his gaze. "I'll let this go for now but you and I are going to discuss this." A shudder ran through Blair as he saw the restrained anger in Ellison's eyes. He merely nodded in reply, afraid to say anything more. Satisfied that he was understood, Jim released Sandburg's chin.

Blair yelped in surprise as Jim proceeded to scoop him up in his arms in one swift motion. He began to struggle. "Jim! What are you doing? I'm perfectly capable of walking, I've been doing it for years."

"Sandburg," Simon scowled, "right now a gentle breeze would be enough to knock you over. So shut up and quit giving the man a hard time."

"But..." Blair tried again.

Ellison glared down at him. "Not one more word Chief." Blair wisely shut up.

The offices were only two hundred yards away and although Jim carried him as if he were handling precious cargo, Blair felt each and every step of that two hundred yards. It was only due to his determination, not to mention the thought of embarrassing himself further in front of Jim and Simon, that he kept him from loosing consciousness altogether. As it was, he tottered on the very periphery of oblivion.

Since Ellison had an armful of Sandburg, Simon went ahead to open the door to the camp's offices. A rather distinguished looking man, who was beginning to show gray at his temples, was unnerved by their sudden, unorthodox entrance. "Who are you? What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"I'm Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade P.D.," Simon told the man as he extracted his badge for the man's perusal. "This is Detective James Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg."

"Sandburg," the man repeated the name seeming to muse it over. "That's the name of our new instructor. You mean to tell me he's a cop?" He looked at the still form in Ellison's arms. "What happened to him anyway?"

"He was shot," Simon told him and the man's eyebrows arched in surprise.

Ellison interrupted him before he could ask another question. "Look, he's hurt bad. Is there somewhere I can lay him down?"

The man appeared flustered. "Oh yes, of course. Follow me please." He lead them down the hallway and into his office.

"We'll also need the use of your phone Mr...?" Simon prompted.

"Cortair," the man offered. "Dan Cortair. I am the camp's Director."

"Well, Mr. Cortair, any assistance you can give us in this matter would be greatly appreciated."

As Simon was reaching for the phone, Jim carefully laid Blair on the office's couch. He looked up at the director. "I understand there's a doctor on the premises?"

"Yes, Dr. Kline, an excellent physician," he prattled on.

"Could you get him for us?" Ellison's tone was more a demand than request.

"Certainly," Cortair solicitously replied, leaving them alone in his office.

While Jim was appraising Sandburg's condition, Simon reached the operator and asked to be connected to the local authorities. He had just begun to identify himself when the phone line suddenly went dead. "What the...?" Simon muttered and attempted to reestablish the connection.

"I believe you'll find the phone is quite dead Captain. As you three shall soon be," came a menacing voice from the doorway. Simon and Jim both looked up at the sound of the voice and was surprised to see Dan Cortair pointing a gun at them. Beside him stood another man similarly armed. Both Simon and Jim reflexively reached for their weapons.

"Ah ah," Cortair told them while pointedly aiming his gun at the couch where Sandburg lay semi conscious. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Otherwise, I'll make sure Mr. Sandburg goes first." Both men froze in place.

Cortair ordered Casey to relieve them of their weapons then with a wave of the gun motioned for both of them to move away from Blair. He walked over to the couch and glanced down at the still figure. "I'm impressed Mr. Sandburg, you appear to be a difficult man to kill. Don't worry though, I plan to rectify that as soon as possible."

Defiant blue eyes fluttered open. "I wouldn't count me out yet," Blair rasped.

Cortair merely chuckled and turned away to address Hunter. "Get something to tie them up with. We'll dispose of them tonight after everyone's gone to bed."

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave you alone with them," Casey said, nodding towards Simon and Jim.

"Don't worry, they won't try anything. I'm sure neither one wants to see anything happen to Mr. Sandburg prematurely."

Casey had only been gone a few moments when the distinctive sounds of a scuffle could be heard coming from the outer office. "Hunter?" Cortair called, casting a quick glance towards the open door. Receiving no reply, he edged closer to the doorway while carefully keeping his gun trained on Blair. "Hunter?" he called again, stepping out into the hallway. As he did so, a huge black iron skillet impacted with his face. The gun fell from Cortair's hand as he reflexively reached up to his now broken nose.

The second the gun hit the floor both Simon and Jim went into action. Jim was across the room in two seconds flat. He plowed into Cortair, knocking him clear across the hallway and into the wall opposite the office door. Meanwhile, Simon had retrieved Cortair's gun and was now pointing it at the dazed man. "I've got him Jim," he told Ellison.

From the moment Cortair had first pointed the gun at Sandburg, Jim had felt an overwhelming urge to pummel the man into the ground. He probably would have, despite the fact that Simon now held the gun trained on him, but Sandburg was attempting to sit up and his cry of pain at the effort distracted Jim from the task. He angrily shoved the man at Simon and hurried to Blair's side. He knelt beside the couch murmuring what he hoped was reassurances in an attempt to quiet his partner down. "Just calm down Chief, everything's under control. We got the bad guys."

"No!" Blair protested. "What about Casey and the others?"

"Don't worry," Simon told him, "we'll get them."

"This one's not going to be causing you any more trouble," came the familiar voice of Frank Turner as he shoved a bound Casey Hunter into the room. A grinning Cookie, frying pan still in hand, followed close behind.

It was hard to tell which of the three men were more surprised at the turn of events. "How?" Blair finally voiced their question.

"I had begun to suspect that something fishy was going on around here after Jason Harper's supposed accident, but I could never prove anything. Sorry kid," Frank looked apologetically at Blair. "I didn't mean to mislead you when you were asking all those questions, but it was getting pretty hard to tell the players without a score card."

Blair nodded in understanding and urged Frank to continue.

"Then yesterday when Blair turned up missing, Cortair concocted some story about Blair suddenly having to leave because he had received word that his father was in the hospital with a heart attack."

"How'd you know it wasn't true?" Simon wanted to know.

"Blair had told me enough about his childhood so that I knew there wasn't a father in the picture. But the clincher was the fact that his car was still parked in the lot. Besides, I'd seen the kid in action with the boys, there's no way he would have left without saying goodbye to them."

Jim glanced down with pride at his partner, then frowned. Blair's eyes were once again closed. "Blair?" he gently nudged him. Receiving no response, he lifted an eyelid and realized his partner had slipped into unconsciousness. "We've got to get him to the hospital," he told the others.

"An ambulance and the local authorities are already on their way," Dr. Kline told them as he and Jackson entered the office. He moved over to where Blair lay. "Now if you will excuse me, I'd like to examine Mr. Sandburg."

With a final glance, Jim reluctantly relinquished his hold on Blair and allowed the doctor access. He moved over to join the others and while keeping part of his senses tuned into Sandburg, listened as Frank went on to tell the rest of the story.

"Jackson here," Frank explained, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder, "had been working in the garden and was late coming to lunch. On his way to the mess hall, he spotted you two just as you entered the office carrying Blair. He came and told me what he had seen and since I was already suspicious, I sent Jackson over to the infirmary to get the doc and call the authorities while I checked the situation out. Cookie here, overheard us talking and offered to help. We'd just gotten here when we saw Hunter outside cutting the phone lines. So we waited for him to come inside and listened at the window. We heard everything." He shrugged. "After that it was just a question of getting the drop on Hunter and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Gentlemen, I want to thank you," Simon told them sincerely. "Not everyone would have been willing to risk their lives or," he glanced towards the frying pan Cookie still held, "their cooking utensils for that matter."

The laughter that followed seemed to ease some of the tension in the room. "It was our pleasure Captain," Frank assured him as Cookie nodded in agreement. "Despite how it appears, there are a lot of good people here. The boys need places like Camp Castaway and if we can help stop people like Cortair and Hunter from perverting it's intended use, well, it was worth it."

"We lost a good instructor and friend when Jason Harper died," Cookie told them. "We didn't want the same thing to happen to Blair. He seems like good people."

James Ellison thought about the countless times he had seen Sandburg go out of his way, many times at the risk of his own life, to help others, friend or stranger, it never seemed to matter to the kid. And he thought about the effect that Blair had made on his own life since they had first met and just what the young man had come to mean to him. "You're right," he told Cookie, "he is good people."

"He's also opinionated, exasperating, obstinate, annoying..." Simon went on to list Sandburg's more endearing qualities.

"Jeez Simon," Blair groaned from his place on the couch. "What are you trying to do...ruin my reputation?"

The doctor rose, stepping aside as Jim made his way over to the couch. He smiled down at his partner. "Welcome back Chief." He turned to the doctor. "How's he doing?"

Dr. Kline rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Given enough rest and the proper medical care, I think Mr. Sandburg will be fine. However, I would like to get him to the hospital for some tests just to make sure."

Blair groaned. "No, not the hospital." He looked pleadingly at his partner. "Jim, come on man, don't let them..."

"Don't look at me Sandburg," Jim told him. "I agree with the doctor one hundred percent."

Blair looked betrayed. "Simon?"

"Not on your life Sandburg. If you're in the hospital, you won't have a chance to get into any more trouble."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that Simon," Jim replied thoughtfully, as he smothered a grin.

"JIM!" Blair huffed.

Ellison turned to face his partner. "And once I'm sure you're okay, we are going to talk about that little stunt you pulled back there on the trail."

Blair blanched.

Cookie looked at the two men who were teasing Sandburg with obvious affection and lifted the frying pan menacingly. "Hey Blair, you want me to thwap these two for you?"

Blair glanced at Simon, who simply raised a foreboding eyebrow, then turned to find Jim staring at him with a similar expression. He grinned sheepishly and looked over at the cook. "Nah man, that's okay. They're good people, too..."

Jim reached over and patted his cheek. "Good answer Chief, but we're still going to have that talk."

Blair groaned again. "Ah Cookie, is it too late to change my mind?"

"SANDBURG!" Simon and Jim growled simultaneously.

"Just kidding guys," Blair chuckled and held up his hands in defeat. "I was just kidding..."