Dedication:  In loving memory of Anna Heishman (1937-1997). My mother and best friend.

Author's Notes:  It is strongly recommended that you read “Web Of Deception" prior to reading this story.

Special Thanks:  To my wonderful beta, patl  for her input, support and encouragement.

Rating & Warnings:   [ NC-17 ]  For language and violence.

Autumn came not with a gentle caress. Choosing instead to announce it’s presence with plummeting temperatures and endless days of rain. Yet despite being safely ensconced in the warmth of his university office, Blair Sandburg shivered from a bone numbing chill which seemed to have permeated his very soul. Perhaps it was due to the torrential downpour lashing angrily at the windows. Or the gusting winds buffeting the glass. Maybe even the bright flashes and resonating boom of lightening, that for seconds at a time, lit up the darkened landscape. Perhaps all three had contributed to his growing sense of unease. Another, uncontrollable shudder coursed throughout his lithe frame before Blair could forcibly reign in his feelings of trepidation with a silent admonishment. Squaring his shoulders, he attacked with single minded determination, the piles of work cluttering his desk.

Absently he reached for the coffee mug, raising it to his lips. Grimacing slightly as the stone cold liquid slid down his throat. Glancing at the wall clock, Blair was surprised by the amount of time which had passed. However, the huge stack in his outgoing basket gave silent testament to the amount of work he had managed to accomplish. A moment later the smile of elation fell from his features as Blair’s eyes settled in the pile still awaiting his attention. With an exhausted sigh he sat down the mug and removing his glasses, scrubbed furiously at his tired eyes. I’m going to be here all night at this rate, he thought. I’d better call Jim and let him know. As if on cue, the phone rang.

Smiling. “Hey Jim.” He answered into the receiver.

“You’re not turning psychic on me, are you Chief?” Came Ellison’s disembodied voice over the static filled line.

Blair chuckled softly. “Who else is going to be calling me here 10:30 at night?”

“Good point,” Jim conceded. “So, you planning on coming home any time soon?”

“I was just getting ready to call you about that,” Blair replied, absently tapping the end of his pen on the desk blotter. “It looks like I’m going to he tied up here for a few more hours at least.”

“I don’t like the idea of you driving home that late. Especially in this type of weather.”

Blair could hear the concern in his roommates voice. “I’ve already got it covered Jim.” He quickly assured the older man. “I figured I’d just sack out in the faculty lounge when I get done and head home in the morning.”

The pregnant pause spoke volumes. It was obvious that the Blessed Protector wasn’t keen on the idea. Finally, Blair heard a reluctant, “All right Chief. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t work too late.” Came the softly spoken command. “You need your sleep.”

“You got it man,” Blair replied, smiling as he hung up the phone.

Outside, a lightening bolt zig zagged across the sky, momentarily turning night into day. Followed seconds later by a crackling sound and window rattling boom. Even though he knew it was coming, Blair unconsciously winced. The hairs on his arms prickling as adrenalin shot through his body. Blair snorted, chagrined by his reaction.

Pushing back his chair Blair rose and taking the coffee mug, heated up it’s icy cold contents by adding the last of the hot coffee remaining in the pot. Flicking off the switch on the coffee maker, he returned to his desk and taking a generous sip of the stale brew, returned to the daunting task before him.

An hour later, the lights went out.

“Damn it!” Blair groused with annoyance as he plunged into darkness. Setting down his pen he waited. Fervently hoping that the black out would only be a momentary inconvenience. However, as the minutes continued to pass by, Blair finally had to admit defeat. Might as well go home, he thought. At least I can salvage the rest of the night by being able to sleep in my own bed. Rising, he felt his way across the expanse of the room, occasionally aided in his trek by the bright flashes of lightening. It was with a sigh of relief that his hand eventually connected with the coat rack and his jacket. Slipping it on, he felt his way to the office door and opened it. Glancing into the darkened hallway, Blair groaned. “Oh man, this is going to be fun,” he quipped sarcastically. Silently wishing he had the flashlight from the glove compartment in his Volvo. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all,” he spoke into the darkness. But even with lights, the campus was spooky enough at night. Not relishing the idea of spending the night here in complete darkness, Blair stepped into the hall. Laying a hand on the wall for guidance, he slowly headed down the corridor. The chanting mantra of “I can do this”, accompanying his footsteps. His progress was slow, the inky blackness surrounding him, disorientating. But eventually his hand encountered a curve and Blair sighed with relief as he slipped around the corner. Straight ahead, only a short distance away, were the main entry doors to Hargrove Hall and freedom from the imposing darkness.

His confidence increasing, Blair began making his way towards the doors. Then, without warning, lightening lit up the sky, clearly illuminating the outline of a hulking figure blocking the exit. Blair froze, fear rising up to choke him. The impending sense of danger he’d experienced earlier; resurfaced. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, “Who are you?” Blair demanded, the croaking quality of his vocal chords betraying his terror.

Another flash of light revealed the menacing figure moving towards him. “Come on man. This isn’t funny,” Blair stammered, backing away. “What do you want?”

No answer was forthcoming as the next flicker of lightening showed the silent intruder moving still closer. Turning, Blair ran. One hand splayed along the wall, he stumbled back in the direction of his office. Thinking that if he could just make it there and lock the door, he’d be safe.

Behind him, Blair could hear the steady footfalls of the man pursuing him. Echoing unrealistically loud in the empty corridor. His own sneekered feet squeaking against the slick floor in his haste to escape. As the footsteps loomed closer Blair realized that he’d never make it in time. Heart thumping against his breastbone Blair turned, poised to fight. “Back off man,” he growled threateningly; raising his fist. “These hands are registered as a lethal weapon. Trust me, you *don’t* want to fuck with me.”

Seconds later a huge fist connected soundly with his jaw.

Well it had sounded good, Blair thought through the ringing in his ears as his knees buckled and he began crumpling to the floor. Abruptly, he was hauled upwards and roughly turned around. A bulky arm clamped across his chest, pinning Blair to his assailant. Smelling the all to familiar odor of chloroform, Blair lashed out. His struggles however were in vein, as moments later consciousness faded into oblivion.

Shifting the limp figure in his arms, the man stuffed the chloroformed soaked rag into his pocket, then lifted the unconscious anthropologist over his shoulder. Taking a moment to adjust the dislodged night vision goggles, he headed towards the exit with his burden.

With a nod of approval, Jim pulled the Ford into the parking slot beside Sandburg’s Volvo and shut off the engine. Smiling, he picked up the carry out tray, sitting on the seat beside him, and slid out of the truck. Knowing his partners propensity for forgetting to eat, Jim had no doubts that his guide would be ravenous enough this morning to welcome even fast food fare.

Confident, easy strides, carried Jim across the lot and into the building. It was still early, yet already the gleaming corridors were teaming with life as Jim weaved his way through the throng, heading for Blair’s office.

Announcing his presence with a quick knock on the ornately etched glass, he turned the door knob and entered. A quick perusal of the office’s interior revealed his partner’s absence. Setting the tray down on the desk, Jim took one of the cups of coffee and settled in a nearby chair. Prying the lid from the styrofoam cup, he sipped the hot, but weak brew and waited for Sandburg to return.

“I’m telling you, something has happened to him Simon,” Ellison stormed several hours later as he worridly paces the confines of his captain’s office.

“Your positive you’ve checked everywhere?” Banks asked, recognizing the absurdity of the question as soon as it had left this mouth. Certain that his best detective had pursued every avenue before bringing this matter to his attention.

Ellison paused in his pacing. Concern marring his brow, he turn fear filled eyes towards Simon. “When I spoke to him last night he said he was going to work for a few more hours and then sack out in the facility lounge. Yet no one I questioned could remember seeing him this morning. I’ve tried his cell phone. I even swung by the loft on some off chance he might be there.” Jim shook his head in frustration. “But it’s like he’s just vanished off the face of the earth.”

It was rare for anyone to see Ellison this distraught. The few times he could even remember Jim falling apart was when it concerned someone he deeply cared about. The fact that it was Sandburg just made it worse. Anyone with eyes could see how much the young grad student had come to mean to the surly detective. Hell, Simon snorted thoughtfully, in the three years since Sandburg had started working with Jim , the anthropologist had not only earned the respect of the rest of the Major Crimes division, but had wormed his way into their hearts as well. Even *he* had to admit that the thought of losing someone like Blair would not only be a blow to the department, but to him, personally as well. But no one would be as devastated as the man currently wearing a rut in his office carpet.

Banks reached for the phone. “I’ll send forensics over to Sandburg’s office to check it out. Who knows,” Simon mused, “maybe this time they’ll find something *you* missed.”

Ignoring the intended jibe, Ellison suggested. “It might also be a good idea to have his car impounded.”

Banks nodded. “I’ll have the mechanics go over it with a fine tooth comb.” His face grew serious. “Don’t worry Jim, we’ll find him.”

“We might already have,” Joel Taggert commented from his perch in Simon’s open doorway. And from the expression on his face, the news he had to impart, wasn’t good.

Both Banks and Ellison were immediately alert. “What have you got?” Simon questioned, replacing the phone’s receiver.

“Jim,” Taggert began, compassion convey by word and expression, “you may want to sit down for this.”

Ellison visibly stiffened. “Just tell me.”

Joel sighed. “About forty minuets ago they pulled a body out of the marina. It was too badly mangled for a positive ID, but the identification found in the victims wallet indicates that it’s Blair.”

Shocked, Jim felt his world tilt as blackness began to encroach on the periphery of his vision. He reached out blindly, wordlessly seeking support.

Simon was beside him in seconds, gently guiding Ellison into a chair. “Just take it easy Jim....”

“NO! No, there’s been come mistake,” Ellison protested, shaking his head in denial. “It’s not Sandburg. It can’t be,” he roared. Rising , he pushed past Banks and Taggert.

“JIM!” Banks shout followed the fleeing detective. Simon took a step forward then hesitated. Torn between friendship and duty.

“Go on Simon,” Joel urged the captain, “Jim needs you. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

With a quick nod of gratitude, Simon snatched up his coat and hurried after Ellison.

Overcast skies and a misting rain converted the waterfront in it’s grim embrace as nature provided a symphonic accompaniment to set complete the mood. The forlorn cries of gulls; the lapping wash of waves against the shore. The creaking of boats moored to the docks. All went unnoticed by the somber individual striding towards the blanket covered body.

Coroner, Dan Wolf glanced up as Ellison and Banks approached. His eyes darted from Jim to settle on Simon, mutely telegraphing the unspoken question.
Lips pursed in a grim line, Banks nodded.

Kneeling down Dan peel the blanket back, revealing the mutilated corpse beneath.

Oh God! Ellison silently groaned, closing his eyes to shut out the horrific vision. Bile rose up to choke him. No wonder they couldn’t get a positive ID, he thought abstractly. The head and both hands were missing from the torso.

“Jim? Jim are you all right?”

He heard Simon’s concerned voice coming as if from a distance. With an abrupt shake of his head, Ellison opened his eyes, emotionlessly returning his captain’s worried gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.Just give me a minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Banks assured him, his voice rough with restrained emotion. Even he had recognized the clothing worn by the victim. This had to be tearing Ellison up inside.

By sheer force of will, Jim moved forward to slowly kneel beside the body. Patiently ignoring the familiarity of the clothes, Jim focused instead on his sense of smell. Swiftly, he sorted through cataloging and dismissing the various odors permeating the body. Silently praying that he wouldn’t recognized the individual essence of his partner. Moments later Jim shook his head in frustration. There was no human scent at all. It had been washed away; replaced by the fishy stench of the lake’s water and its inhabitants.

Next he honed in with his sight. Inch by inch he examined the remains, comparing it against memory to the lines, planes and features of his absent partner. The missing appendages made it difficult to discern whether of not his was Sandburg. True, the torso seemed a bit thicker around the middle, but that phenomenon could easily be contributed to the water soaked tissues.

Damn it, there’s nothing, Jim silently growled. Nothing to disprove the physical evidence that this wasn’t his missing partner. Pulling the blanket back over the tattered remains, Ellison rose.

“Jim?” Simon asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

“It’s not him,” Ellison replied, uncertain as to the validity of the statement.

“You’re positive?” Banks frowned in confusion. Pulling Jim aside, he asked quietly. “What is it? Did you pick up something with your senses?” He asked hopefully.

Eyes blankly canvassing the gray landscape, Jim replied in a detached monotone. “No. There was nothing.”

Banks cast Ellison a look of exasperation. “Then how can you be certain it’s not Sandburg?”

“It’s not him,” Jim insisted with conviction.

The brief flare of hope had been ruthlessly crushed beneath the weight of the unmistakable evidence. “Look Jim,” Simon began, his voice teaming with sympathy. “I know how you feel, but the clothes, the identification found in the wallet all indicate that it’s Blair. Unless you can give me proof that it’s not...”

“It’s not him, Simon. I won’t... I can’t...” Ellison broke off unable to continue least he betray the tumultuous emotions he was trying so hard to repress.

“It’s all right Jim,” Banks spoke softly. Thinking ironically how much Ellison resembled a lost child at that moment. “I understand.” Gripping Jim firmly by the arm, Simon lead him away from the scene. Simon’s own grief overshadowed by that of the quiet, distant individual moving robotically beside him.

Returning awareness brought with it suffering. Pain, lancing through his skull with each pulsating throb of his heart. A dry, burning sensation filled his mouth and nostrils, even as nausea churned within his stomach. Unsuccessful in choking back the bile, Blair gagged, rolling over onto his side as his abdomen heaved forth it’s contents.

Intermediately, through the blanket of illness shrouding his mind Blair heard a soft voice offering words of comfort. Felt, gentle hands administering to his unspoken needs. Pitifully he cried out for the one individual he knew capable of such compassion. “Jim.”

“Shhh,” the voice quietly comforted as a damp cloth bathed his flush face. “Everything’s going to be all right. I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Umm,” Blair mumbled, struggling to open his eyes, but the ladened lids refused to budge. Blindly he reached out seeking the familiarity of touch. Slipping back into unconsciousness, Blair never felt the hand that gently caressed his face. Never felt the wrongness in the touch.

Carefully arranging the covers around the sleeping form she rose and turned to her companion.

“Is he going to be all right?” the man asked.

“He should be fine. No thanks to you,” the woman angrily retorted.

“How was I suppose to know he’d react so badly to the chloroform,” he responded defensively.

Her gaze hardened, silent and deadly. “Just remember Giles, I won’t have my son harmed, so you’d best take better care in the future.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he answered appropriately, concealing he hate rising up from within.

“Good,” she crisply replied. “Now tell me what news have you of the little present we left for Detective Ellison?”

Giles smiled maliciously. “Oh, he got it all right.”

“And he believed it was Blair?”

“From the look of his devastated expression I’d say the detective was quite convinced.” Giles shrugged. “Not that he’d be able to prove otherwise considering the condition of the corpse.”

“Perfect,” she crowed, her eyes alight with undisguised hatred. “Let the bastard suffer; drown in his grief. My son is back where he rightfully belongs and never again will that man come between us.” Looking back to the slumbering form, her expression softened. “He should sleep for a while now. Come,” she instructed Giles. “He needs his rest.”

Obediently Giles followed her from the room, pausing to let his eyes linger briefly on the sleeping man. The, his lips curving upwards into a sneer, he closed and bolted the door.

Pulling the sedan into a parking spot outside of 852 Prospect, Banks shut off the engine. Turning, he studied the man beside him. Ellison had not uttered a sound the entire way. No doubt lost in some inner contemplation, bordering on the gates of hell. “Jim,” he called softly, laying a hand on the younger man’s arm when he failed to respond. “Jim,” he repeated, “we’re here.”

Blinking, Ellison slowly took stock of his surroundings, scowling when he recognized their location. “What are we doing here?” he asked, turning to his superior. “There’s a death to investigate. I should be at the station.”

Banks could easily commiserate with his friend. Inside, grief warred with rage and the need to know why Sandburg, his friend Simon silently amended, had died. Yet Simon knew the pain of loss he was feeling was only a small token compared to what Jim must be feeling. “Until we get the reports back from forensics, we have nothing to go on,” Banks patiently explained, “so in the meantime I’m ordering you to get some rest.”

“I...” Ellison paused, his forehead creasing in confusion as he changed direction mid stream, “you’ll call me?”

“The second we know anything,” Simon assured him.

With a nod, Jim opened the car door and began sliding out of the vehicle.

“Do you want me to stay with you for awhile?” Banks asked,halting Ellison’s departure.

Jim heard the sympathy and concern in his friends voice and appreciated Simon’s willingness to be there for him. But right now his emotions were to near the surface. No, he needed to deal with this in his own way, in his own time. “Thanks for the offer,” Jim replied, his eyes averted, “but I’d rather be alone right now.”

Contemplatively Simon pursed his lips, then asked. “You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?”

“No promises, sir,” Ellison replied after a moments hesitation.

Again he went to get out of the car only to be brought up short by Simon’s firm grip on his arm. “Just remember Jim, you’re not alone. You have friends who care about you.”

Slowly Ellison’s gaze traveled from where Simon held his arm up to look into his captain’s face. Simon’s breath hitched at the intensity of that look. Never before could he recall seeing such utter desolation. Mesmerized by the gaze, Banks was unaware of Jim pulling away until the detective was halfway out of the car. “Jim!” he called to the departing figure, desperation coloring his cry.

“Call me the minute you have something,” Ellison replied. Then he was out of the car and heading into the building.

For a moment Simon considered going after him. He was actually gripping the door handle before rational though took over. 'No,' he silently mused, 'Jim won’t do anything. At least not yet. Not until he learns the truth about what happened to Sandburg.' Confident that he had interpreted his friend’s behavior correctly, Banks started the car. There was work to be done. Somewhere out there, an answer awaited and for the sake of his two friends, Simon was going to find it.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Jim’s eyes slowly surveyed the lofts interior. Involuntarily his gaze strayed to the personal touches that Sandburg had added, roaming over each before moving onto the next. How different it all seemed now. It was then that Jim realized it wasn’t four walls and rooms of furniture that made someplace home, it was the people. In this case, Blair. Jim felt his heart constrict and closed his eyes to try and stay the abhorrent images assaulting him. That of the body from the marina wearing Sandburg’s clothes; his jacket. No, Sandburg couldn’t have ended up like that! Not the caring, loyal, intelligent, irrepressible man he had come to call friend. It was just to horrible to contemplate. Ellison shook off the detrimental thoughts silently berating himself. 'I shouldn’t think like that, Sandburg’s not dead.' But doubt cruelly crept in. 'I’d know if he were dead, wouldn’t I? Somewhere, deep down inside?' The only problem with that theory was 'if that wasn’t Blair, then where was he and why had the corpse been wearing his clothes?'

Jim blinked, finding himself in Sandburg’s room without any conscious memory of how he had gotten there. Slowly Ellison inhaled, taking in the lingering scent of his guide. Totally unaware of the minute trembling of his extremities, of the tears coursing down his face. Then anger, born of denial rose up and he lashed out. With on fell swoop the contents of Blair’s dresser was knocked to the floor. Next a bookcase was over turned, spilling it’s contents. Curtains were ripped from their rods, wall hangings dislodged or gone askew. Eventually the anger ebbed and Jim stood there, his breath coming in quick, harsh pants. “Oh my God, what have I done?” he whispered, shocked at the devastation he had wrought.

What is that noise ? Blair absently wondered. Not yet ready to give up the last vestiges of sleep he snuggled deeper into the covers. Moments later the sound came again and Blair identified it as the ravenous rumblings of his insistent stomach. All right, all right, he silently muttered, as if a guy could get any sleep with all that racket going on down there. Yawning as he executed a full body stretch, Blair opened his eyes and frowned. “What the ...?” Stunned he gazed around at the unfamiliar surroundings. He was in a bedroom, although clearly not his own at the loft. The entire room was stark in appearance. The unadorned walls were tan in color, while the wall to wall carpeting a complimentary beige. The cream colored drapes matched the textured pattern of the bedspread covering him. Along one wall was an open door which appeared to access a bathroom. On another, a steel door with a shuttered window. The furniture had been kept to a minimum, allowing only the presence of a bed, a nightstand with a bolted down lamp and finally a small table and chair combination.

Confused, Blair carefully shifted through his sleep clouded memories, eyes widening with fright as he recalled his last coherent moments. Oh God, he silently groaned, I’ve been kidnapped! Remembrance propelled him into action. Throwing back the covers, Blair stumbled from the bed sparing only a fleeting thought to wonder about the unfamiliar clothing he now wore. Quickly making his way to the door, he was surprised to discover the absence of a door knob. Turning , his eyes darted around the room, finally lighting on the curtains. Swiftly cover the short distance, Blair flung back the drapes, crying out in rage and denial when a solid wall was revealed. No doubt in his mind that the bathroom was similarly enclosed, Blair wrapped his arms around his torso as the sensation of being trapped suddenly overwhelmed him. Jim, please, help me, he called out in silent petition.

“Jim, please, help me...”

Ellison woke with a start. “Sandburg!” he blurted out, bolting upright. Jim glanced around the room, urgently seeking the owner of the voice from his dream. The effort proved fruitless revealing only the rooms destruction. Oh God, Ellison moaned in unspoken anguish as memories came crashing back with a vengeance, It was only a dream. Scrubbing a hand over his exhausted features, Jim took a calming breath, willing the rapid cadence of his pounding heart to slow down. Eventually it returned to it’s normal rhythm. Yet Jim was left acutely aware if a gaping black hole in the spot that his guides presence usually occupied. NO! he shouted in mute denial. He’s not dead. I won’t accept that. And hauling himself to his feet, Jim set out determined to prove it.

Pausing, Ellison laid a hand on the cold metal door. Supposedly the remains of his best friend and partner resided on the other side, currently undergoing an autopsy. Steeling himself against the possible outcome of the next few minutes, Jim pushed open the door.

Dan Wolf looked up at Ellison’s entrance, sympathy evident in his expression. “Jim,” he acknowledged with a nod, pulling up the sheet to cover the corpse.

“What have you got?” Ellison inquired, his voice firm, devoid of emotion.

Schooling his own features Dan began to recite his findings. “The victim is a white male, approximate age, late twenties. Traces of chloroform were found in the lung tissues, but no water...”

“Which means he was killed before he went into the water,” Jim interjected.

The coroner nodded. “Not only that, the head and hands were removed prior to immersion in the water.” He looked at Ellison. “This was not a boating accident.”

Jaw taught, a pulsating vein ridging his forehead, Jim demanded, “I want to see the body.”

“Jim, I don’t think that’s such a good idea...”

“NOW!” Ellison barked, his tone brooking no argument.

With a grimace of disapproval, Dan slowly peeled back the sheet, uncovering the gruesome sight to view before stepping back.

Meticulously, Jim examined the body. His gaze slowly traversing the entire length of the corpse before beginning its return journey. Up it traveled, past the calves, the thighs and upwards only to hesitate and back track. “It’s not there,” he whispered with relief.

“What’s not?” Wolf inquired with a frown.

“Last year Sandburg was shot in the thigh and it left one hell of a scar.” Ellison looked up meeting Dan’s puzzled gaze with an expression of absolution. “It’s not him.”

Wolf looked for himself, his own smile forming. “Well I’ll be damn.” He glanced back up at Ellison. “You’re positive?”

“The other scars aren’t there either,” Jim stated with assurance.

Dan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Blair had replacement knee surgery about six months ago.” Ellison pointed out the obvious absence of scar tissue. “I don’t know who this is, but it’s definitely not Sandburg.”

“That’s great!” Wolf exclaimed unable to contain his elation.

Jim understood Dan’s exuberance, he felt it too. But the fact remained that some poor bastard had been murdered and mutilated with the intention of making people believe he was Sandburg. The question remained however was who and why.

“Damn it!” Ellison roared, flinging the forensics report across the room. Rafe barely managing to avoid the projectiles trajectory.

“Jim. My office, now!” Simon Banks bellowed at the display.

All activity in the bullpen ceased as if frozen in a moment of time. All eyes settling on Ellison.

With only a slight tick of his jaw to betray his emotional state, Jim rose and ignoring the concerned looks of his co-workers, made his way into Simon’s office, where he stood at rigid attention in front of the captain’s mahogany desk.

Quietly Banks closed the door behind him and striding behind his desk, sat down in the leather chair, indicating with a nod that Ellison should also be seated. “SIT!” Simon barked when the detective obstinately remained standing. There was a brief moment of hesitation before Jim finally complied; his gaze cast downward, not wanting to see the compassion he knew he would find reflected in Simon’s eyes.

“Jim,” Banks began, his tone sympathetic, yet authorative. “You’ve been short tempered, abusive, in short a real SOB to be around. Now I know you’re worried about Sandburg but you can’t keep going around terrorizing everyone. They’re doing everything they can.”

“Well it’s not enough!” Ellison exploded, rising from the chair and beginning to pace. “We have no witnesses, no physical evidence.... nothing!”

Simon raised a censuring eyebrow at the detective’s behavior. “I assume that was the forensics report you sent sailing across my bullpen.”

Jim’s hand came up to rub at the tension filled muscles at the base of his neck. “The clothes were useless. Any evidence that there might have been was destroyed by the water. His office came up clean and whoever cut the power lines at the university apparently wore gloves.” Ellison sighed. “They’ve covered their tracks well.”

“Not well enough,” Banks reminded him. “ There’s still the matter of the John Doe currently residing in our morgue. Maybe if we can identify him we’ll get a break in the case.”

“I don’t know Simon,” Jim replied doubtfully, flopping back down into the chair, “it seems like such a long shot.”

“Perhaps, but right now it’s all we’ve got to work with.”

With a reluctant nod, Ellison rose, his thoughts already forging ahead, methodically planning his search of the missing persons database.

“Jim!” Banks called, halting the motion. “I’ll assign Rafe and Brown to check on that angle. I want you to go home and get some rest. Because, quite frankly my friend, you look like shit.”

Eyes filled with astonishment looked up to pin the taller man with their intensity. “Simon, I can’t... I need...”

Banks frowned. One minute Ellison had been talking , the next the detective was silent and unmoving. A zone out? Simon silently wondered. “Jim?” he questioned aloud. Rising, he came around the desk to stand beside the motionless man. Concern growing he searched Ellison’s eyes for some sign of recognition, of coherence. Shocked to the core when he found none. “Jim, come on buddy, snap out of it,” Banks pleaded. Fear growing in the pit of his stomach as Ellison refused to respond. Oh shit! Simon silently bemoaned, now what am I going to do?

“Hey! Is there anyone there?” Blair croaked as he once again pounded on the steel door. He had been at this for hours. At least it had seemed that way since he had no actual means of telling time. Blair’s voice was just about gone from the constant yelling. His hands, bruised and swollen from the continual pounding. Tired, hungry and wracked with fear of the unknown, Blair slumped to the floor. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Blair wrapped his arms around his legs. Seeking comfort in the gesture of touch, silently wishing the touch was that of his Blessed Protector. “Jim, please,” he whispered hoarsely, “I wanna go home now.”

Observing Blair on the monitor, the woman smiled with satisfaction. “The fight has just about gone out of him,” she told Giles. “By morning he should be most malleable.”

“Ellison, damn it, snap out of it!” Simon yelled and in a final act of desperation, backhanded the detective across the face. Jim staggered beneath the force of the blow, then blinked as awareness slowly returned.

“Simon,” he questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Banks let his pent up breath escape. “Thank God,” he exclaimed with obvious relief. “You want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

Ellison looked as if he had just been pole axed. “I saw Sandburg,” he responded with awe.

Simon perked up at the revelation. “What? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Jim replied, becoming more and more animated as elation warred with confusion. “He was in what appeared to be a bedroom. It was stark looking with just the barest of necessities.” Ellison paused, turning to look up at the larger man, his facial expression reflecting concern. “Blair was pounding on a door...” A faraway look came into the detective’s eyes. “He must have been at it for hours. I could see the bruises, the swelling.” Jim shook off the disturbing image. “We’ve got to help him.”

Ellison’s expression was as damn near close to pleading as Simon had ever seen. Banks had to admit that under normal circumstances he would have dismissed such a vision as being due to Jim’s overwrought emotions. But having witnessed first hand some of the unbelievable things Ellison had been able to do courtesy of his sentinel abilities, Simon wasn’t about to waste time doubting, especially when it was possibly their only link to the missing anthropologist. “We’re doing everything Jim...”

“No,” Ellison replied with a shake of his head, “you don’t understand. He’s afraid. He wants to come home.”

“I understand that,” Banks patiently replied. “Now, was there anything in this.... vision, that might give us a clue as to Sandburg’s location?”

Jim thought back, replaying the images in his mind.

“Any thing at all?” Simon prompted.

“No... nothing,” Ellison finally admitted with a frustrated sigh.

Banks could see the wheels in motion behind the thoughtful blue eyes. “Maybe I can reestablish the...link, or whatever it is between us.”

“Jim, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Simon interjected with concern. “You were totally out of it for a good ten minutes. For a while there I didn’t think I was ever going to get you to snap out of it.”

“Damn it Simon, I have to at least try.”

“All right.” Banks held up his hands in surrender. “But so help me Ellison you’d better come back. I don’t want to lose both you and Sandburg.”

Jim smiled at the gruff emotions in his captain’s voice. “Understood sir. And if this works, you may not lose either of us.”

“So,” Simon said, clearing his throat, “you got any idea how this thing works?”

“Not a clue,” Jim honestly admitted. “But I have to try. Sandburg is counting on me.”

Blinking groggily Blair opened his eyes abhorred to discover that what he had hoped was merely a nightmare was, in fact, reality. Stiff muscles protested as he uncurled himself from the balled up position in which he had fallen asleep. With a soft moan Blair staggered to his feet and pushing back his tangled locks, glanced around the room uncertain what to do. There was still only one way out, the imposing steel door. His restless prowlings had proven that. There were no windows and the ventilation grates were too small for an arm, let alone a body, to fit through. Yet no one had responded to his incessant pounding, his cries for help. His stomach chose that moment to growl in protest, reminding Blair that it had been a long time since his last meal. It didn’t make sense. Whoever had kidnapped him had obviously taken his comfort into consideration. The soft bed and other amenities were proof of that. So why then had they chosen to ignore one of life’s basic necessities, the need for sustenance.

“I trust you slept well.”

Blair whirled at the sound of the feminine voice, eyes searching. No one was in the room, so where had the voice come from. Don’t tell me I’m losing it already, he silently mused before tentatively calling out, “Who are you and why am I here?”

Blair heard is tisking sound. “How quickly they forget. You never write. You don’t call.” She sighed. “Children can be so ungrateful.”

“WHAT! What are you talking about?” Blair’s face was a mask of confusion as he pinpointed the source of the voice. There, near the ceiling, hidden in the shadows was a tiny video camera. Oh my God!, Blair thought. They’ve been watching me the entire time. Anger swelled within, overcoming the fear that had been his constant companion since waking.

“Enough with the games,” he spat out. “I demand to know who you are and why you’ve kidnapped me.”

“I knew your association with that cop would lead to no good. First he forced you to reject me. Now it would appear that you’ve forgotten me as well.” The voice sounded sad, almost wistful.

“Damn it! Just answer the question. Who are you?”

There was a slight pause before, “Why, your mother, of course.”

WHAT? Blair’s mind screamed in confusion. “Look lady, I don’t know who you are, but you are *not*,” Blair gestured with emphasis, “my mother.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” the woman crooned sympathetically, “what has that horrid Ellison done to you?”

Confused and frustrated, Blair turned away from the camera. What the hell is going on here? he thought frantically. Absently running a hand through his hair, Blair tried to calm his racing heart. Okay, you’re dealing with someone who is obviously not playing with a full deck. The question was, what to do about it. Turning back to the camera he demanded, “Show yourself. If you really are my mother, you’d show me it’s true.”

For a moment Blair thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then...

“Very well,” came the reply. “I’ll bring your breakfast, you must be starving by now.”

“Yeah,” Blair answered, playing along with the charade, “I could eat.”

“Marvelous,” she enthused. “You have just enough time to freshen up. Oh and Blair, I would suggest that you don’t try anything. You don’t want to make me angry.” And with that ominous warning the voice was gone.

This is absurd, Blair thought as he once again felt the icy tendrils of isolation reach out to claim him. Forcing down the sensation Blair quickly hurried through his morning adulations. Reveling in the feel of a hot shower, freshly brushed teeth and the clean, tho unfamiliar, clothing which as been laid out for him. He silently lamented the absence of a razor, but no doubt his captor didn’t want to risk him using it as a potential weapon.

Now he sat, waiting and wondering what the next few minutes would divulge. Any hopes that he had entertained of over powering the woman were crushed as the door opened to admit a large powerfully built man with coal black hair and even darker eyes. But what had finally convinced Blair to abandon his hastily thought up plan was the deadly looking gun which proceeded the man into the room. A gun that was pointed directly at his heart. Pushing the door aside, the man stepped back allowing the woman carrying a breakfast tray to enter.

Blair literally felt his blood run cold. Oh my God! “Katherine.” The named tumbled from lips suddenly gone pale.

“See, you do remember me,” she responded cheerfully. Crossing the room she sat the tray on the table and turned, eyes alight, to peer lovingly at her prisoner. “I hope you’re hungry,” she said, smiling. “I’ve fixed all your favorites.”

Blair’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “ARE YOU NUTS? You can’t honestly think I’m going to eat anything after what you did to me the last time.”

“Now dear” Katherine cooed while advancing on the younger man, “you’ve been sick and you need to eat in order to regain your strength.”

The tempo of Blair’s already rapid heartbeat increased with each step Katherine took towards him. “Stay away from me! Blair shouted, scurrying backwards on the bed until he was pressed up against the headboard.

Katherine paused, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Oh dear, I had hoped you were going to be reasonable about this.”

Reasonable! Blair screamed in mute disbelief.

Eyes never leaving the terrified young man, Katherine instructed, “Giles, the injection.”

Blair's eyes widened in horror as he watched Giles withdraw a syringe from his pocket and place it in Katherine’s outstretched hand.

“NO!” Blair cried out in protest as he leapt from the bed. In a blind panic he sprinted towards the still open door, only to be brought up short as the gun discharged and a bullet struck the floor in front of him.

Eyes wide with fear, body trembling from adrenaline, Blair looked up into the smirking face of Giles. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you, the larger man told him.

“No,” Blair replied with a shake of his head, “if you were going to kill me you would have already done it.”

Giles shrugged. “Perhaps. You know,” he added smiling, “a well placed bullet doesn’t necessarily have to kill. But it can hurt like a son of a bitch.”

Nervously, Blair’s eyes darted between Giles and the open door, gauging his chances.

“Just try it. While Katherine may not want you harmed, I have no such qualms about hurting you.”

“Giles!” Katherine berated, “Stop it, you’re scaring the boy.”

Seeing that Giles’ attention was momentarily diverted, in a split second decision, Blair bolted for the door. But with possible freedom mere inches away, Blair was struck down ruthlessly from behind. As the gun connected with the back of his head a blinding white light flared across Blair’s vision, the impact sending him reeling to the floor. Instinctively he rolled over onto his back, arm outstretched to ward off further assault, only to have a foot firmly planted on his chest and the gun pointed at his head. Vision swimming from the blow, Blair didn’t feel the blood trickling down the back of his neck or see Katherine kneel beside him.

“NO. PLEASE!” Blair pleaded. “Feet firmly planted on the floor he surged upwards trying to dislodge the person pinning him down. Yet even as he struck out, Katherine was plunging the syringe into his arm. Crying out in pain, Blair wrenched his arm free, the flailing limb striking Katherine in the process.

“You little shit!” Giles ground out. Grabbing a fist full of Blair’s sweatshirt, he jerked the smaller man partially upright. “I ought to...”

“Giles!” Katherine’s tone halted the finger poised on the trigger. “That’s enough.”

Enraged, he flung Blair to the floor. “I won’t stand for him hurting you Katherine.”

“You didn’t mean to, did you baby,” Katherine purred as she reached out to tenderly brush the disheveled curls from Blair’s pallid face. “Giles,” she said, pausing in her ministrations to examine Blair more closely. “I do believe you hit him to hard.” For indeed the young grad student appeared to be unconscious.

None to gently, Giles nudged to prone from in the side with the toe of his shoe. “So, now what do we do with him?”

Katherine peered sadly down at the unconscious man. Sighing, she replied. “I didn’t want to have to resort to this, but it would appear he’s left me little choice. Get him on the bed,” she said, rising. “I’ll go get the rope.”

Eyes closed, Ellison leaned his forehead against the cool tile and let the steady stream of water flow over him. It was a desperate attempt to revive his mind and body, exhausted from the endless, unproductive hours of attempting to establish a link with his guide. Repeatedly he had tried, under Simon’s careful supervision, the only result being multiple zone outs and a blinding headache. When the last attempt concluded with Jim not breathing, the captain had called a halt to the proceedings, dictating, in no uncertain terms, that Ellison was to get some rest. However, despite assurances that he would try, Jim found himself incapable of complying, for his conscious mind persistently held sleep at bay. So finally, after several hours, Jim had spent the rest of the night alternating between prowling the loft and trying to restore Blair’s room to it’s former order, or disorder as was the case with the missing anthropologist. But now Jim’s body and mind protested the lack of rest, the absence of food and he felt a sense of lethargy wash over him. “NO!” he cried out, angrily pushing the sensation away. His needs would have to wait. His main priority, his *only* priority was finding Sandburg. “Blair...” the name came on a soft, whispered sigh.

“NO. PLEASE!”

The pleading cry snapped Ellison into another plane of existence. He felt Blair nearby. Felt his pain and fear. Yet could not discern his surroundings. Jim knew that others were nearby, that *they* were the source of his partner’s distress, but he could not see through the murky substance clouding his vision. Then, just as suddenly, Jim came back to himself. Became aware of his curled up position on the shower floor. Damn it! he muttered the silent curse. Why couldn’t he control these flashes, establish the connection on his own. And even as the thought surfaced, Jim realized the answer. He needed his guide to help ground him. To talk him through it step by step. Unfortunately though, it was his guide who was missing, leaving Jim and himself to the mercy of the fates.

Reaching into the pitch-black void surrounding him, the voices called, taunted him to leave the satiny embrace. Unwillingly he followed, an unnamed fear his constant companion in the journey, weighing him down, impeding his progress. Yet, eventually the voices became clearer, more distinct. The jumble of words became sentences with connotations of reality. Images spurred on by memories surfaced, enticed him to retreat once again into the haven of darkness, but by then it was too late.

“Damn it Giles, did you have to hit him so hard?” The feminine voice berated. “By the time he comes around the drug will have worn off.”

“So, just give him some more.” The tone was cruel, uncaring.

“I would prefer not to,” came the haughty reply. “My son has an extremely delicate constitution. He doesn’t react well to medications.”

Giles snorted in disbelief. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep the little bastard tied up.”

A sound of a stinging slap resonated throughout the room. “You will not speak of Blair in such a manner. Nor will I have him tethered like some animal.”

“You’re not going to have a choice. You think he’s just going to calmly accept that he’s your son and the two of you will live happily ever after?”

It was all Blair could do not to flinch away frost he hand gently caressing his cheek.

“I know it won’t be easy. Ellison has filled his head with all sorts of nonsense. But he *will* come around,” her voice took on a note of conviction, “one way or another.”

Blair couldn’t help it, a soft, almost inaudible gasp escaped his lips.

“You can open your eyes Blair,” Katherine commanded, “I know you’re awake.”

Dark lashes fluttered briefly then fluttered open to reveal slightly dazed, pain-filled blue orbs. Slowly they brought into focus the woman hovering over him. With light brown hair, sparsely sprinkled with gray that framed strong, but firmly etched facial features, most people would have considered Katherine Raines an attractive woman. At least until one took a closer look at the smoky gray eyes within with insanity lurked.

“Oh, my poor baby,” she crooned upon seeing the wrinkled brow, the fine lines around his eyes as Blair squinted in pain. “I’m so sorry that Giles hurt you, but it’s best you learn from the outset that inappropriate behavior will be punished. But, by the same token, obedience will be rewarded.

“Why...,” Blair swallowed and tried again. “Why are you doing this?”

“James Ellison may have taken my daughter from me, but he will *not* take my son.” Her eyes glowed with a vehemence that shook the dazed anthropologist to the core. Deciding that now was not the time to point out the fact that he wasn’t her son, Blair wisely chose to remain quiet.

Gracing him with a smile, Katherine reached out, bushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You look so much better clean shaven. I hope you don’t mind, but I had Giles tend to it while you were sleeping.”

Blair shot the man in question a quick glance. “I’d prefer to do it myself.” His skin crawled at the thought of Giles’s hands anywhere on his person.

“Yes, well, we’ll see. As I said obedience has it’s rewards. Now, I imagine you’d like to freshen up a bit.” She eyed Blair warily. “If I undo these ropes, do you promise to behave and not try to escape?”

Blair had been aware of the ropes cutting into his skin despite his efforts not to struggle against them. But at this point he would have promised almost anything to be free from their confining touch. Wordlessly, he nodded.

“Good,” Katherine replied. Smiling, she leaned forward to undo the first binding. “Not that it would have done any good.” Gently she pushed back the slip knot, widening the loop, thus allowing Blair to pull his hand free, Rising, she moved to the other side of the bed, quickly freeing the other hand. Absently Blair rubbed at the wrist as if trying to erase the memory of the ropes restraint, his eyes ever vigilant, never leaving Katherine’s face. “Do you need help making it into the bathroom? she solicitously inquired.

“No,” Blair abruptly responded, “I can do it.”

“Very well then. While you go and wash up, I’ll get your dinner.” And with that she rose and headed for the door. Removing a remote control unit from her pocket she thumbed a button and the door swung open. Crossing the threshold, she paused turning back. “Oh, and Blair, I expect you to eat. There will be none of that nonsense from this morning. Is that understood?” Once again Blair merely nodded his acknowledgement. Apparently satisfied with his response, Katherine left, the door silently closing behind her.

With Katherine’s departure, Blair released a pent up breath and suddenly becoming aware of his full bladder telegraphing it’s urgency, he pulled himself into a sitting position. Pain, like knives splayed through the back of his head, brought a soft groan as Blair leaned forward. Hands clasped on either side of his head, he waited for the pain to subside to a tolerable level. Eventually the searing sensation subsided and as the room once again righted itself, Blair rose and made his way slowly towards the bathroom.

Coming abreast of Giles he paused. “You don’t want to do this man.” Blair spoke softly, yet urgently. His eyes frantically searching the ruthless granite like features of the man towering over him. “My best friends a cop and he will find me.”

The cruel shaped mouth turned upwards into a parody of a smile. “If I were you I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Ellison thinks you’re dead.” He took perverted delight in telling the grad student.

Blair felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. Black dots dancing before his frame of vision, he reached out blindly, clutching for support.

Throwing his head back, Giles’ laughter rang out. “Counting on Ellison were you?” Suddenly the amusement faded and grabbing Blair by the front of his shirt, Giles slammed him up against the wall. Then lifting him upwards until they were eye to eye, Giles said menacingly, “You listen to me you little snot. I’d just as soon kill you as look at you but Katherine has other ideas. So if you want to live I suggest you shut up and do as you’re told. You hear what I’m saying. Do you?” Giles bellowed, shaking Blair like a rag doll when an answer was not immediately forthcoming.

“Yes,” Blair croaked.

Abruptly Giles released the anthropologist. “Good. Now hurry up Katherine will be here with the food soon.”

Carefully sliding past the hulking figure, Blair entered the bathroom and flicking on the overhead light, blinked as the harsh light sent a stabbing pain through his head. Squinting, he turned to find Giles watching him. Inwardly Blair shuddered from the palatable gaze of hatred directed towards him. Turning his back to the man he swallowed and finding his voice along with a modicum of nerve said, “Do you think I could have a little privacy here? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Aware of the smaller mans acute uneasiness, Giles smirked. “Just shut up and do it before I come over there and hold it for you.”

Having no doubt that the other man would follow through on the threat, Blair reluctantly reached for the snap on his jeans.

Blair was just coming out of the bathroom as Katherine returned carrying a tray. “Perfect timing,” she called out cheerfully, setting it down on the table. “Come, sit down,” she said, pulling out the wooden chair and patting it’s backrest.

Despite the fact that his stomach was protesting the prolonged absence of food, the knowledge that it could be drugged caused Blair to hesitate. Aware of Giles’ looming presence behind him, Blair barely started when the man leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“You either get your skinny ass over there and eat or I’ll tie you down and force feed you. And while I might enjoy the prospect, trust me, you won’t.”

Blair could repress the shudder that rippled through his body at the mental image that threat provoked. Slowly making his way across the room, he sat in the proffered chair.

With great flourish Katherine removed the stainless steel cover to reveal beneath it a plate containing some sort of meat covered in gravy, mashed potatoes and string beans. Eying the greasy, sauce laden food, Blair felt his stomach turn over even as his skin tone took on a greenish hue. Closing his eyes Blair tried to block out the sight while breathing through his mouth to cut down on the overpowering smell.

“What? You don’t like it?” Katherine asked, her tone curt.

Blair felt a meaty paw clamp down on his shoulder. “He likes it just fine,” Giles responded for him as Blair felt the strength in the mans grip biting into his shoulder. “Don’t you boy?”

“Yea...it looks... great,” Blair stammered. “I’m just not...feeling very good.”

“All the more reason for you to eat.” Katherine insisted. Shaking out the cloth napkin she tucked one edge of it into the opening at the top of Blair’s shirt, then picking up the fork, placed it into Blair’s hand. “Now I want to see that plate clean young man. Then,” she eyed Blair critically, “I think an early night would be in order. After all, we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow and I want you well rested.” The directive issued, Katherine stepped back with an expectant expression.

Frantically Blair sorted through his limited options, all scenarios ending with him being forcibly restrained while Giles shoved the food down his throat. None of which appealed. So with great reluctance Blair began to eat, slowly choking down the rich food minuscule bite after minuscule bite until finally Katherine patience snapped. “Damn it Blair, no wonder you don’t have any meat on your bones, you eat like a gerbil. Giles,” she directed and Blair suddenly found himself in a choke hold. “Since you apparently won’t do it on your own, I guess we’ll have to help you.”

Taking the fork from Blair’s hand, Katherine speared a piece of meat , raising it to Blair’s lips which he kept obstinately closed. A quick nod from Katherine and Blair felt Giles’ fingers digging into his jaw. A blinding pain shot up the side of Blair’s face, wrenching a cry from the now parted lips. Katherine shoved the food in. “Now chew!” she ordered harshly. Eyes glazed with pain and unshed tears, Blair began chewing. And so the process was repeated until the plate was cleaned to Katherine’s satisfaction. “I don’t know why you persist in being so difficult Blair,” she admonished, picking up the tray. “You’re only making this larder on yourself.” Casting him one last look of disapproval, she headed towards the door. “Come Giles,” she commanded and Blair found himself suddenly released. “Perhaps some time alone will put my son in a more cooperative frame of mind.”

As the door closed behind his two tormentors Blair bolted for the bathroom and dropping to his knees, head positioned over the toilet bowl, the recently consumed meal made it’s reappearance. Blair gagged and choked, his stomach muscles clenching in painful spasms until only dry heaves remained. “Oh God,” he groaned, sitting back to lean against the shower enclosure, “what am I going to do?”

If Jim really thought he was dead, then hopes of a rescue were pointless. And there was no way he could overpower Giles and win his freedom that way. The man was at least as tall as Simon and built like a linebacker. Resisting the urge to curl up in a fetal position and just block out the entire nightmare, Blair took a calming breath and examined his situation. Was the possibility of rescue truly hopeless? Aware of the type of man Jim Ellison was and what miracles his heightened senses could perform, Blair thought not. Surely Jim would realize something was wrong and uncover the truth. The question was, how long? How long would he have to endure Giles’ subtle brutalities, Katherine’s insanity before being found or his luck ran out? These questions swirling like a maelstrom in his mind, Blair got to his feet and began pacing. The first step of what would be many more to follow.

“Look, damn it,” Ellison roared into the phone. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what the normal procedure is. This is a priority matter. A man’s life is at stake! You have to....Son of a....” He growled in frustration as a dial tone suddenly cut off his tirade.

“Jim.” Simon’s commanding tone forced the detective to up. “Problems?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face Ellison sighed, leaning back. “That was the lab. They insist its going to take at least three months for the DNA analysis on our John Doe. Damn it Simon, Sandburg might not have three days, let alone three months.”

“Look, Jim . I know you’re frustrated....”

“It’s more than that Simon,” Ellison interrupted. Rising, he began to fidget. “I feel like there’s a clock ticking and time’s swiftly running out. That...,” he swallowed, “that if we don’t find Sandburg, and soon, it’ll be too late.”

Banks eyed his friend with concern. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten some sleep, a decent meal?”

“Simon, I...”

“How long?” Banks demanded.

“I don’t know,” Jim admitted wearily. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. It’s like I’m...” he paused searching for the appropriate word.

“Like what?” Simon prompted.

“I don’t know,” Ellison admitted with a shrug, “disjointed somehow.”

Banks frowned at the revelation. “Have you had any more of those flashes or whatever they are?”

Ellison shook his head. “Just the one in the shower that I told you about.”

“You don’t think the kids...”

“NO!” Jim whirled, anger rising to the surface, to face his superior. “I told you, he’s not dead. I would know if he were dead.”

“All right, all right.” Simon held up his hands in defeat, surrendering his doubts to the inexplicable bond which had formed between the detective and his partner.

“I’m sorry Simon.” Ellison sighed, expelling the rest of his anger.

Simon brushed off the apology. “It’s all right Jim. I understand this had been difficult for you.” Banks momentarily paused before rushing ahead to make the suggestion, “Look, why don’t you come and stay with me while Sandburg’s ...”

Ellison held up a hand, cutting the captain off. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I need to stay at the loft. “ His eyes slid away, as if embarrassed to express his next thoughts, to focus on the floor. It’s the only place I can still fell a connection to Sandburg.”

Simon nodded, not surprised by the revelation. “Well then, how about if I sack out on your couch for a while?”

“That really isn’t necessary...”

“I could make that an order Detective.” Banks cut off the protestation.

“That won’t be necessary, Sir,” Ellison replied.

The slight smile gracing Jim’s lips the first Simon had seen since Sandburg had disappeared. He knew Ellison could be a morose bastard. Lord knows he had seen it himself on enough occasions. But that was before one slightly built, hyperactive, long-haired anthropologist had entered the picture. Little by little as Simon watched, Sandburg had infiltrated his way beneath the detective’s rough veneer, uncovering the warm and caring individual hidden beneath. Simon knew how he would feel if something were to happen to the younger man and shuddered to think of how his loss might effect Ellison. It was then and there he vowed to do everything within his power to assure that wouldn’t happen. “Let me see what I can do to hurry along the DNA analysis,’ Banks said, rising from where he leaned against the desk.

“Thank you.” The word came out as a heartfelt sigh. Jim’s pale blue eyes settled on the taller man, further expressing the depth of his gratitude.

Determined to get some results, Simon cleared his throat of the constricting emotions and giving a quick nod, headed for his office.

Simon’s brow furrowed with concern. It hurt to witness the anguish his friend was going through. Last night had been almost unbearable, watching helpless as Jim vacillated between frustration, rage and a sense of loss so profound that it was almost palatable in its intensity. Simon had cursed more than once in inability to comfort the distraught man. To aid Jim in some way that might at least bring some relief to his suffering. But it had been hopeless. Ellison had literally turned green at the first whiff of the meal Simon had prepared for them. And although he had tried to appease his captain by pretending to sleep, Simon knew it was nothing more than a ruse. Then, to add insult to injury, exhaustion had finally crept up on him, so that in dropping off to sleep, Simon hadn’t been able to offer Jim even the comfort of companionship. Some friend I turned out the be, Banks snorted with silent disdain. My closest friend is self destructing right before my eyes and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Raising his eyes skyward, Simon murmured a silent prayer, pleading for divine intervention.

“We may have something,” Detective Rafe called out across the bullpen as he hung up the phone. Ellison’s head shot up as all activity in the bullpen came to an abrupt halt.

“What’ve you got?” Banks questioned anxiously as the others merely held their collective breaths, waiting for the answer.

“That was Missing Persons on the phone. They’ve got a couple downstairs just in from Baltimore. According to them, their son came out here a week ago as a participant in the Rainier University student exchange program.” He paused, unconsciously adding to the suspense. “They haven’t heard from him since and the university has no record of him showing up.”

“Did they give you a description?” Banks asked.

Rafe nodded. “Everything matches. It could be our John Doe.”

“Call Missing Persons back and tell them to send the couple up,” Simon instructed.

“ Already done.” Rafe assured him, having anticipated the request.

Banks turned to Ellison. “If this is our John Doe, this could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

“I hope you’re right ,” Jim replied morosely as a far away look came into his eyes. “Because, quite frankly sir, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Uncertain as to whether Ellison’s foreboding was rubbing off on him or if his own cops instincts were coming into play, Simon couldn’t help but silently agree. Unable to voice his own fears, Simon reached out and laying a hand on Jim’s shoulder, gave it a comforting squeeze.

At first Blair had confined his pacing to the small expanse of the bathroom’s interior, seeking the relative privacy from prying eyes that the room afforded. But, as the feeling of frustration and helplessness rose to abominable proportions, it drove Blair from the tiny room and out into the bedroom. Arms clamped tightly across his chest, Blair paced, his route taking him around the perimeter of the room, reminding one of a caged animal seeking escape. But there was no escape forthcoming and eventually exhaustion forced him to seek rest. It was only as he was dropping off to sleep that it occurred to him, that if indeed the food had been drugged, Katherine must now be questioning its effectiveness.

Weariness permeated his soul, yet an evil encroached on the darkness. An entity, a malevolence that could not be denied. It reached out to caress his cheek, its gentle touch misleading in its tenderness.

Blair’s eyes snapped open, widening in fright as they focused to reveal Katherine sitting on the bed, her outstretched hand poised mid air. As adrenaline surged through his extremities, Blair scuttled backwards in the bed, away from the unconscionable touch. “What do you want?” He demanded, his voice still husky with sleep.

The hand fell into Katherine’s lap. “What I want is for you to acknowledge and accept the fact that I am your mother.”

“NO!” Blair cried out, his dark curls flying as he vehemently shook his head in defiance. “My name is Blair Sandburg. My mother’s name is Naomi. I am *not* your son. You’re son is *dead*. He ...”

A resounding slap rang out as Katherine’s hand connected with Blair’s cheek, abruptly cutting off the younger man’s flow of words.

Blair’s hand swiftly rose to cradle the abused cheek, surprise darkening his eyes.

“I WILL NOT HAVE YOU SPOUTING ELLISON’S LIES,” she roared, hatred for her rival radiating from every pore. “You *are* my son and the sooner you realize and accept that fact, the easier it will be on you.”

Blair’s glance darted nervously around the room, finally lighting on Giles’ ominous presence. He looked back at Katherine and swallowing past the blockage in his throat asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

Katherine’s answering smile chilled Blair to the bone. “Well, you needn’t worry that I’m going to drug you.” The smile widened knowingly. “No, I have other methods of persuasion. Ones that won’t upset your delicate system.”

“What...what are you going to do?” Blair stammered, uncertain if he really wanted to know the answer.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she taunted, reaching out to pat Blair’s blanketed covered leg.

A look of consternation fleeted across Blair’s brow before he declared, “There’s nothing that you can do that will convince me that I’m your son. I know who I am. I won’t forget that. I won’t forget, Jim...”

Katherine simply sat there smiling at him as if her were a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. “Well see,” she finally replied. Rising, she headed for the door. “Come Giles,” she instructed. “I think it’s time Blair began learning his lesson.”

A touch to the remote and the door swung open, allowing Katherine to depart, Giles in her wake, pausing only briefly to issue a smug smile in the direction of the frightened anthropologist before following.

Relaxing, Blair breathed a sigh of relief, only to have it turn into a startled gasp as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. The only remaining light, the tiny red light on the video camera indicating its activation.

Unable to help himself, Blair couldn’t repress a shuddered. It felt as is the walls were closing in on him and suddenly an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia, unlike anything he had previously experienced, stole the oxygen from his lungs. Clamping his eyes shut, Blair forced himself to concentrate on the simple act of drawing in air. He willed his rapidly pounding heart to slow and resume its normal cadence. Silently, he suppressed feelings of trepidation as he watched with fascination whites, gray and purples swirl, creating abstract images on the backdrop of his closed eyelids. Grateful, for even the minute amount of color in his otherwise black existence. Proud, that he had been able to overcome his initial response. The respite short lived as a voice filled the room. Katherine’s voice. And with it the fear returned.

“Damn it Katherine, you’ve been playing that blasted tape for the past fourteen hours.” Giles growled. “If I have to listen to it one more minute they’ll be carting *me* away to the funny farm.”

“There’s no need to get testy Giles,” Katherine sniffed, flicking a switch on the control board. “There, now only Blair can hear it.”

“Hear it,” Giles chuckled. “You’d have to be deaf *not* to hear it. The kids eardrums must be about ready to burst.”

“It has to be loud Giles, you know that. Otherwise my wayward son might sleep and that’s the last thing I want him to do right now.” Pausing, she lifted the delicate looking tea pot, pouring its burgundy colored contents into and equally fragile looking cup. “I don’t care how stubborn he is,” she continued, setting down the pot before adding two sugar cubes to the mixture. “Sleep deprivation combined with lack of food and total darkness should soon render Blair more pliable.”

Giles snorted. “You honestly think he’s going to forget who his is. Forget Ellison and buy into this bull shit that he’s your son?”

The delicate cup, raised only moments before to Katherine’s lips, slammed down onto the table, shattering on impact. “HE IS MY SON!” She spoke with barely controlled anger. “And it would be best if you were to remember that fact.”

The threat issue under the guise of carefully chosen words was clear. Suppressing his own anger, Giles backed down. “Yes Katherine,” he meekly responded, all the while silently vowing to dispose of the fraudulent interloper that was coming between him and Katherine. Yes, some how, some way, he would rid the world of Blair Sandburg and have Katherine Raines for himself. Eyes curving away from Katherine’s i,posing glare, they settled on the climate controls to the room containing their reluctant captive. How easy it would be to shut off the air supply and let the little bastard suffocate. But no, there was no way Katherine would believe it to be an accident. At least not yet. Perhaps... “Katherine, dear,” he smiled. “If I might offer a suggestion...”

“Is it pertinent to the matter at hand?” she retorted, her anger still very much in evidence.

“Of course it is darling,” he smoothly replied. Taking one of her hands, he brought it up to his lips, gently kissing the palm. “I’m sorry about my earlier outburst. It’s just that I hate to see you having to go through this.”

The anger fled, her lips curving upwards into a smile. “It’s worth it,” she sighed. “All of it if it means I get my son back.”

“I know how important this is to you, that’s why I...” He added just the right touch of hesitancy to his tone, smiling inwardly when she took the bait.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Well, all of your ideas have been inspired, but...”

“Yes, go on,” she prompted.

“I don’t think that it’s enough. Light, sleep and food deprivation is a wonderful start, but what if we were to also vary the environmental controls.”

“Hmmm,” Katherine murmured thoughtfully. Looking up, her eyes twinkled with excitement. “An excellent suggestion Giles. It might even help to felicitate matters.”

Blair buried his face in the bed and clamping a pillow over his head, tried to shut out Katherine’s relentless monologue. For hours she had droned on at an ear shattering volume about their life together, of his fictitious childhood, that in reality had never happened, until Blair thought he would go mad. “It’s all lies!” he had screamed to be heard above the din, only to have the prerecorded tape loop and begin spouting its fallacies yet once again. Then, as if to add to his misery, the rooms temperature began falling. Dropping to a point where even his clothing and the blanket he had wrapped around himself, could not stop the penetrating cold. His body wracked with uncontrollable shivers, Blair silently pleaded for intervention from his Blessed Protector. Jim. Please. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

With a weary sigh Simon looked out at the darkened landscape swiftly slipping by. It had been another long, unproductive day, one that left them no closer to finding Sandburg. Through a tiny birthmark located on the side of the victims right foot, the couple from Baltimore had been able to confirm that the John Doe was indeed their son, Thomas Sullivan. Unfortunately the distraught parents were unable to provide much information regarding their sons activities once he arrived in Cascade. Before leaving Baltimore, Thomas had indicated that he was going to seek rooming accommodations through the student union. And although the clerk, upon being shown a picture, vaguely remembered the young man, she couldn’t recall the address referral she had given him. Normally they would have been able to check the computer records for the information, but the power outage stemming from the night Sandburg had been taken, had somehow managed to fry the mainframes circuitry. They estimated that it would take anywhere from another twenty-four to thirty-six hours before they would be able to retrieve the information. Upon hearing the news, Simon thought he was going to have to literally restrain the detective from going over the counter after the terrified clerk. Truth to be known Simon was more than a little angry himself. If only the young woman could have remembered the address they might now be one step closer to finding Sandburg.

Quite frankly, Simon didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The long hours, his concern for Blair, not to mention Jim, were taking their toll. Bone tired, all he wanted to do was sleep for fourteen hours straight. But if last night was any indication, sleep would be a long time in coming for both men. They were headed to the loft now. Hopefully he would be able to convince Ellison to eat something tonight, maybe even take a sleeping tablet. But then again with the sentinel’s sensitivity to medication, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Not for the first time Simon wished Sandburg were there. He’d know what to do. But then, if Sandburg were here, the problem wouldn’t have arisen in the first place.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the burgeoning headache, Simon glanced forward. “JIM!” Simon barked in warning and grabbing the steering wheel, wrenched it hard to the right. The Ford pickup responded, swerving out of the lane of oncoming traffic, just in time to avoid a head on collision. “Damn it Ellison, snap out of it!” Banks commanded, a faint note of hysteria raising his voice an octave. Receiving no response, Simon kicked out, dislodging Jim’s foot from the accelerator and wrestling the steering wheel, maneuvered the vehicle towards the side of the road. But, unable to reach the breaks, the trucks forward momentum carried them too far and the vehicle careened over the embankment. Only their seat belts had kept the trucks occupants from crashing through the windshield as the pickup came to a bone jarring stop as it landed in a drainage ditch on the other side.

Shaking off the adrenaline rush, Simon turned sideways and with an anxious expression called out, “Jim, are you all right?”

“Yeah... I think so,” came the slow, somewhat dazed reply.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell just happened. Wait!” He held up a hand when the detective would have responded. “It was Sandburg again, wasn’t it?”

The sapphire orbs that turned to him seemed disoriented; a trace of wildness lurking in their depths. “He... I...” Jim stammered.

Simon grimaced. “I think we’d better get you to the hospital,” he said pulling out his cell phone.

“NO! No, I’m all right. It’s Sandburg, he...” Ellison shook his head in frustration. “Simon, we’ve got to find him.”

“We will Jim,” the older man assured him. “At least you know the kid is alive, right?”

“Yeah, but...” Ellison’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. “I don’t know Simon, it felt like he was giving up.”

Banks snorted. “That doesn’t sound like the Sandburg I know. The kid’s tenacious, like a dog with a bone. You know that!”

Jim heard the disguised affection in his captains voice. “You’re right,” he admitted with a sigh. “I just wish I had some control over this damn link or whatever the hell it is.” Pausing, he rubbed his forehead. “All I get are these vague impressions. Disjointed images and emotions.” A haunted look came into his eyes. “He’s scared Simon and there’s not a a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Jim, you.... we’re doing everything we can...”

“IT’S NOT ENOUGH, DAMN IT!” Ellison growled, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. Jim closed his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, tried to reign in his tumultuous emotions.

“Well, we’re not going to get anything accomplished sitting here,” Banks commented. Swiftly, he flicked open his cell phone and thumbed in a number.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked, curiously.

“First I’m calling a tow truck to get us the hell out of this ditch and then I’m calling Brown.”

Ellison’s eyebrows rose in question. “Why Henry?”

Indicating that Jim should wait a moment, Simon quickly completed his call. Receiving assurances from the dispatcher that someone would be there in twenty minutes, Simon clicked off the phone and explained, “I want him and Rafe to head over to the university first thing tomorrow. Have them show a picture of the Sullivan kid around. Maybe someone will remember seeing him.” Banks shrugged. “I know it’s a longshot, but until the Universities computer is up and running, it’s all we can do.”

“I’ll do it.” Jim pipped up, his tone brooking no argument.

Simon’s face became a mask of stern determination. “The only thing you’re going to do is get some rest and a decent meal or two.”

“Simon, I...”

“I mean it detective,” the captain barked. His voice softened. “Look Jim, I know this has been difficult for you. But when we find Sandburg and you’ll note that I said *when*, not *if*, because there’s no doubt in my mind that we *will* find the kid, he’s going to need you.”

“I hear what you’re saying Sir but...”

Crossing his arms, Simon cocked an eyebrow and put on his best ‘Don’t mess with me expression’. “Do you want me to sit on you? Force feeding you if necessary?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Ellison replied with a dismissive gesture.

“Just try me Detective,” Banks responded, his tone set in steel.

Jim blew out a pent up breath. “Very well Sir, I’ll try.”

“Knew you’d see it my way,” Simon said, unable to keep the note of triumph from his voice as he began dialing Brown’s number. Ellison just scowled.

Ellison eyed him captain across the table. Simon had whipped up an impressive breakfast, or brunch it should be called. God, I can’t believe I slept so long. And was now eating with the gusto of a man long denied food. It had been nearly midnight before they made it back to the loft and both men, exhausted from the days frustrations, were literally asleep on their feet. Simon’s ultimatum aside, Jim had fallen asleep almost the minute his head touched the pillow, exhaustion keeping at bay the nightmares that haunted his waking hours. Feeling slightly more rested, Jim was eager to resume the investigation. He bristled at Simon’s obvious intent to make him rest some more. Banks, sensing his scrutiny looked up from his plate.

“Any word yet?” Ellison pounced on the opportunity.

“Jim, trust me,” Simon replied with an exasperated sigh. “You’ll be the first person to hear the moment something turns up.”

“Throwing down his napkin, Ellison rose. “Damn it Simon,” He said, storming into the kitchen and pouring another cup of coffee. “I can’t just sit around here all day doing nothing.”

Banks glowered. “The only thing you’re *going* to do is sit your ass back down here and eat.” His tone grew firm. “I mean it Jim. Either you start taking better care of yourself or I’m pulling you from the case and putting you on medical leave.”

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” Ellison raged.

“I can and I will,” Banks shouted, refusing to back down. “It’s your choice.”

Stomping back to the table, Jim flung himself into the chair and glaring at his superior, began to eat. Simon had the distinct impression that if looks could kill, he would now be residing six feet under.”

Watching the sentinel as he sprawled listlessly on the couch, Simon listened as Rafe quickly brought him up to date. Thanking him Banks closed the cell phone and reluctantly went to wake the sleeping Ellison. He hated to do it. Despite Jim’s protestations to the contrary, he was obviously still exhausted if he had slept through the ringing of the phone. But Simon had made a promise and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ellison would insist on following up on this lead, personally. “Jim,” he called, giving the slumbering form a shake when Ellison didn’t respond. Quickly stepping back when he bolted upright.

“What? What is it?” Jim blurted out, instantly awake.

“Rafe just called. No one could remembered seeing Sullivan at the university, but a couple of the students did report seeing a black van with the name Al’s plumbing painted on the side.”

“So,” Ellison shrugged. “It’s a large school, they’re bound to have some plumbing problems on occasion.”

“Except for the fact that Rainier has an exclusive contract with Mitchell Brothers Heating and Air conditioning and...” he added, looking smug, “according to the Small Business Administration and the IRS, there is no listing for Al’s Plumbing.”

The pieces fell into place. “So, it could have been the kidnappers scoping out the place.” Jim mused out aloud.

Banks nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. And it’s a pretty safe bet to assume that where they spotted Sullivan who just happened to fill whatever criteria they were looking for and grabbed him.”

Ellison closed his eyes against the remembered images assaulting him. “So, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and paid for it with his life.” Opening his eyes, Jim looked up at the man anxiously standing over him. “Please tell me that someone managed to get the license plate number of the van.”

“Sorry,” Banks responded with a grimace. “But the good news is the computer’s up and running and Rafe was able to get us an address.” Simon held up a slip of paper.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place!” Ellison growled, rising and snatching the paper from Simon’s grasp. Side stepping the taller man, Jim slipped on his shoes, grabbed his jacket from the hook, his keys from the basket and flung open the door. “Well, are you coming or not?” he asked, not even making an attempt to mask his impatience.

With a sigh, Simon flung a glance skyward then quickly followed the detective out of the loft. Not bothering to wait for the lift, Ellison took to the stairs, Simon’s longer legs the only thing allowing him to keep up with the younger man.

As luck would have it, other than a few dents, the old pickup hadn’t sustained any serious damage. Now, as he had done last night when the truck was finally pulled from the ditch, Banks insisted on driving.

Scowling, Jim tossed him the keys and climbed in the passenger side. Quickly latching the seat beat, “Hurry Simon,” Ellison pleaded, his gaze set on some far off sight that only he could see. “Time’s running out.”

And on that cryptic note Banks started the truck and pulled out into traffic.

“There it is!” Ellison called out as 1820 Portal Street came into view. It was an older house, located at the end of a culdesac not far from the campus. The homeowner, an elderly woman by the name of Agatha Padgent, had converted the second story into two efficiency apartments which she letted out to kids from the university. The rent was inexpensive, supplemented by the students doing chores around the property.

Climbing out of the truck, the two men quickly traversed the front walkway, bordered by the russet colors of autumn mums and climbed the wooden steps leading to the porch. Opening the storm door, Ellison wrapped his knuckles sharply against the interior door, shifting impatiently when the urgent summons wasn’t immediately answered. He knocked again, even louder and was irritated to hear, “I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold your horses on,” muttered in response.

Whatever he was expecting, nothing could have prepared him for his first glimpse of Ms. Agatha Padgent. Her diminutive 4’ 8” frame was topped with a head full of riotous red curls and intense blue eyes that pinned you with their scrutiny. “What do you want?” She asked while drying her hands on a tea towel. “Come on young man, don’t dawdle,” she snapped when Ellison appeared tongue tied. “I’ve got pies in the oven.”

“I’m Captain Simon Banks with the Cascade PD,” Simon said, displaying his badge. “This is Detective Jim Ellison. We’d like to talk to you about one of your tenants, Thomas Sullivan.”

Quickly sizing them up, she stepped back and said, “Very well, you’d best come in then. I won’t have my pies burning.” Trusting them to follow, she made her way back through the living room, the dining room and finally to the kitchen. “Come along,” she prompted, holding open the swinging door, allowing them to enter.

Pulling on an oversized oven mitt, she cracked open the oven and peered inside. Then, with a satisfied nod of approval, she carefully closed the door and turned her attention to the two men. “Now, what is it you want to know?”

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Sullivan?” Jim asked, finally having found his voice.

“That would be last Friday,” she replied with certainty. “I remember because that was the day I left to go visit my sister in Spokane. I haven’t seen him since.” As if punctuating her statement, the oven timer chose that moment to ‘ding’. Swiftly snatching up the other oven mitt Agatha slipped it on and opening the oven, pulled first one and then another steaming golden brown pie from within. Sitting them on a rack on the counter to cool, the kitchen was soon filled with the scent of apples and cinnamon.

“That didn’t concern you?” Simon asked, studiously trying to ignore the heavenly aroma.

Taking off the mittens, Agatha brushed back a curl from her heat flushed face before replying. “Not really. You know how irresponsible these kids are today. He was paid up for the month and all his were still here, so I just figured he was shacked up with some girl and would come home when he was ready.”

“Sullivan won’t be coming back,” Jim said bluntly. “He’s dead.”

“Oh my!” Agatha exclaimed in shock and surprise.

Momentarily glaring at Ellison, Banks turned his attention back to the elderly woman. “Unfortunately Mr. Sullivan was murdered.” Simon gently informed her. “His parents are in town and will no doubt be contacting you shortly. But, what we need really need to know is did you see Mr. Sullivan while he was here?”

“No,” Agatha replied with a thoughtful expression. “Although I did spot a suspicious looking van in the neighborhood.”

“Was it black with the name Al’s Plumbing on the side?” Simon asked hopefully.

“Why yes, yes it was.”

“Why did you say suspicious?” Jim abruptly inquired.

“First of all young man,” Agatha replied sharply, “any new vehicle parked on a dead end street is bound to attract some attention. And secondly, I know for a fact that none of my neighbors were having any work done. Couple that with the fact that no one ever left the van and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know they were up to no good.”
“And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell the police?” Ellison stated sarcastically.

“The last time I checked it wasn’t against the law to sit in a car detective.”

“I don’t suppose you got a license plate number?” Banks interrupted.

Agatha went to a nearby drawer and pulled out a slip of paper. “It was spattered with mud, but I did manage to get a partial,” she said, handing the paper to Simon. “Not only that,” she smugly added, “but I can also give you a description of the driver.”

Banks wrote down the description, finishing with, “Would you be willing to come down to the station and work with a composite artist? Perhaps look through some mug shots?”

“Well,” Agatha hedged, mentally reviewing her schedule. “I might be able to make it tomorrow...”

“That’s not good enough,” Jim growled.

Simon saw the woman’s eye narrow dangerously and quickly intervened. “Please, Ms. Padgent, not only is this man a suspect in the murder of Thomas Sullivan but we also think that he’s the one responsible for kidnapping one of my officers. Anything you could do to help us out would be greatly appreciated.”

Agatha looked from one man to the other noting Simon’s earnest expression and Jim’s barely concealed anxiety. “Very well,” she replied. “I have to deliver these pies to the church bazaar first, but then I’ll stop by the station.”

“Thank you.” Banks smiled his gratitude. “Ah, one last thing Ma’am. Would it be possible for us to see Mr. Sullivan’s apartment?”

“Of course Captain,” she smilingly replied. Retrieving the key from its peg on the wall, she handed it to Simon. “Just go up the stairs at the back of the house. It’s the apartment on the left.”

Forty minutes later, after coming up empty handed, a frustrated Ellison headed for the truck while Simon returned the key. “This missing officer of yours,” Agatha asked as Banks was preparing to leave, “he’s a good friend of the detectives?”

“It’s his partner,” Simon responded softly, his tone expressing what he could not with words.

“Ah...that explains it,” Agatha replied knowingly. “Please, tell the detective that I’ll do everything within my power to help find his friend.”

“Thank you Ma’am. I know he’ll appreciate it.” And with a final parting nod, he hurried to catch up with Ellison.

Armed with a description of the van and a partial license plate a check of the DMV records was swiftly initiated. Unfortunately the search netted fifty-two possibilities, leaving Rafe and Brown scrambling to personally check out each address.

True to her word Agatha Padgent turned up shortly after 4:00 and worked with the departments sketch artist on computer generated composite of the suspect, which was quickly dispatched to all units. After which she began looking through volume after volume of mug shots. Finally, several hours later, her persistence paid off. “That’s him!” She exclaimed excitedly, pointing out the third picture down, second from the left.

“Giles Renald,” Jim read aloud, having snatched the book from the elderly woman’s hands. Taking note, Ellison punched in the ID number and called up Renald’s records.

“Jesus!” Simon exclaimed from over Jim’s shoulder. “This guy’s got a record a mile long. There’s various accounts of assault, armed robbery and two counts of murder which were dismissed due to lack of evidence.”

“And this is the bastard that has my partner,” Ellison glowered.

“It says here,” Banks continued, “that he was last employed as a janitor at the Riverview Nursing Home, but hasn’t showed up for work or reported to his parole officer for the past three weeks. There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

Ellison’s cops instincts were tingling. “This is the guy. I know it.” He told Simon.

Banks glanced at the wall clock, noting the late hour. “Well there’s nothing that we can do about it tonight. We’ll head over there first thing in the morning.”

The detective wasn’t pleased and Simon held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look Jim, it’s 10:00 and even if we went over there, I seriously doubt we’d get any answers tonight.”

Knowing Simon had a point Ellison leaned back and scrubbed a hand across his tired features, silently praying that the imposed delay wouldn’t end up costing Sandburg his life.”

Was it his imagination or was the room once again growing colder? Blair had long since lost count of the number of temperature fluctuations, ranging from a numbing chill to a sweltering heat. Shortly, after the first temperature spike, Blair had felt his way through the pitch black only to discovered that the water in the bathroom had been shut off. Now, the inability to replace lost fluids, coupled with the lack of food had taken its hold, leaving him severely dehydrated, too weak to even move. And through it all Katherine’s voice incessantly droned on at an ear shattering volume. No longer having the strength to face the harsh reality of his existence, Blair retreated to the furthest recesses of his mind.

“Good morning,” Katherine greeted Giles cheerfully as she entered the control room. “And how is my son this morning?”

Quickly controlling his sneer at the mention of Sandburg, Giles affixed a smile on his face before turning to Katherine. He had enjoyed tormenting the younger man throughout the night. Alternately changing the temperature from freezing cold to blistering heat. Turning off the water supply had been a stroke of genius on his part, knowing Sandburg would need to quench his thirst and cool off when the room’s temperature soared to over 120 degrees. And he had been tempted, oh so tempted to just turn off the air supply and let the little bastard suffocate...

“Giles, I asked you a question.” Katherine interrupted his musings.

“I’m sorry darling,” he quickly apologized. “I was distracted by how lovely you look this morning.”

Katherine graced him with a smile.

“As for Andre...” It was all Giles could do not to choke on the name, “the last time I turned on the lights to monitor him, he appeared to be sleeping.”

“WHAT?” Katherine blanched. “Giles, you know that’s impossible. Something must be wrong.” Her brow marred with worry. “Shut off the tape, turn on the lights and come with me.”

As Katherine left to hurry downstairs, Giles did as instructed. Then, making sure all the controls were set within proper parameters, he quickly followed.

Fingering the remote control Katherine hurried into the room, her mouth gaping open in dismay at the sight that greeted her eyes. Blair laid huddled in a ball, the one meager blanket tightly woven around him like a cocoon. Long, damp, dark tendrils of hair framed flushed features dotted with perspiration. “Andre!” she cried out, swiftly moving to stand beside the bed. Brushing the sweat ladened curls aside, she felt his forehead. “He’s burning up!” she exclaimed, turning eyes of accusation on Giles as he entered the room.

Damn him! The larger man silently fumed. Once again Katherine had demonstrated that Sandburg would always come first. I’ll get rid of that mongrel if it’s the last thing I do, he silently vowed. “You said yourself he was delicate,” Giles replied with a shrug.

“Go and get my bag,” Katherine instructed before turning back to Blair. “Andre, baby, can you hear me, it’s Momma.”

Even in his unconscious state and although spoken gently, Blair let out a whimpered groan at the sound of Katherine’s voice.

“Shhh,” the older woman softly crooned. “Everything’s going to be all right. Momma’s here.”

After stripping him of the sweat soaked blanket, Katherine began divesting Blair of his clothes. Not an easy task when when the 158 pound person you were trying to undress lolled bonelessly, unable to offer assistance. “Giles, thank goodness you’re back,” she cried when he had returned from his errand. “Help me get Andre out of these wet clothes.”

Silently enraged, Giles did as he was told, although none to gentle in his ministrations. Quickly and efficiently they stripped, bathed and redressed the pliant form. Through it all Blair remained unconscious, offering only an occasional, incoherent moan of protest. “There, isn’t that better?” she asked brightly as they settled Blair on clean sheets. “Now, lets see what’s wrong with you.”

A gentle but through examination followed. Alarmed by Blair’s dehydrated state, Katherine hooked up a duel intravenous drip. One to help replace the lost fluids, the other containing an antibiotic. “There,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork, “you’ll be better in no time. Giles,” she ordered, turning to her companion, “Would you mind sitting with Andre for a bit. I imagine he’ll be hungry when he wakes up and I think a nice bowl of homemade chicken soup would be in order. He always was fond of my soup,” Katherine continued, tucking the blanket around the sleeping form. “When he was little he use to feign being sick just so I would make some.”

Forcing a smile, Giles replied. “Of course not darling. Perhaps while you’re at it you might fix something for us as well. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up,” she promised, heading towards the door. “In the meantime, please, keep a careful watch over my son.”

The moment the door closed behind Katherine the smile slipped from Giles’ face. With an intense hatred he glared down at the young man on the bed. “What is it about you that usurps my affections in Katherine’s heart?” Grabbing Blair by the shirt front, Giles pulled him upright and shaking him like a rag doll bellowed, “Well I won’t stand for it. Do you hear me?” he raged, “I won’t stand for it!” Angrily, he thrust Blair back down on the bed and turning away, sought to regain control of his emotions before Katherine returned.

At the announcement of his visitors, Bernard Hughes, Director of the Riverview Nursing Home, rose and stepped from behind his desk. “Good morning gentlemen,” he greeted Banks and Ellison. “How may I help you?”

“We’re looking for information on one of your former employees,” Simon told him, holding out a picture. “Giles Renald.”

“Ah...yes,” the director replied. “I had a feeling that despite the states generous incentives for hiring ex-cons, that I was going to regret the arrangement.”

“What can you tell us about him?” Jim asked bluntly.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Renald worked the 11:00 - 7:00 shift, so I’m afraid I really can’t tell you much. However, if you’ll give me a moment I’ll have my secretary get you a copy of his personnel records.”

“That would be most helpful,” Banks assured him.

“Fifteen minutes later, Hughes’ secretary entered with the file. “Thank you Kelly,” he dismissed the petite brunette, taking the file she handed him. Without reservation he handed it over to Simon . “Here you are Captain, I just hope it helps.”

Banks reached for the file only to have it snatched of of his grasp. Unaware of his captain’s annoyance, Ellison opened the folder and began reading, only to growl with frustration moments later. “There’s nothing here that we don’t already know.”

“Perhaps we could talk with some of his co-workers,” Simon suggested.

“I don’t know Captain,” the director hedged. “As I said, he worked the late shift and with his back round I doubt that any of our employees would have....”

“Renald is the prime suspect in a murder investigation. He’s also the bastard that took my partner.” Ellison roared, cutting the man off mid sentence. Jim pined the man with eyes cold as ice and twice as deadly. “So I strongly suggest that you get us a list of employees and do it now!”

“Yes, of course Detective,” Hughes stammered as he scurried past the two larger men “If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ll take care of that right away.”

Banks rubbed at the headache forming behind his eyes as the director beat a hasty retreat leaving them alone in his office. “Jim, we really do need to talk about your communication skills.”

“You don’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation Sir.”

Indignation pulled Simon to his full, intimidating height. “Look Jim, I don’t begin to understand the relationship between you and Sandburg. But I do know this, he’s my friend too and I’m just as worried about him as you are.”

“I realize that Sir.” It came out as a weary sigh. “It’s just that the longer he’s gone....” The words trailed off.

“The more afraid you get.” Banks griped Ellison’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I understand fear Jim, but you can’t let it affect the way you do your job.”

Oh God! How many times had he given Blair the ‘leave your emotions at the door speech’? and truly believed it. Yet when it came to his friend, his guide, Jim discovered that those words were meaningless. He needed to find Sandburg. To hell with procedure and protocol. And God help anyone who tried to stand in his way. He was just about to inform his friend and superior of that fact when the door opened and Hughes’ secretary returned.

“I’m sorry for the delay gentlemen,” Kelly said smiling up at them. “The director was called into a meeting, but he asked me to make sure you got this.” She purposely handed Ellison several typed pages, then hesitated as Jim began scanning the list of names. “You might want to check out Kate Seniar first,” she suggested, faltering. “The rumor mill has it that she and Renald were seeing each other.”

Ellison immediately located the name. “Do you have a file on her?” He asked gruffly. Having anticipated the request, wordlessly she handed Jim a manila folder. Flicking it open, the color drained from Ellison’s face. “Oh my God!” Came the whisper of disbelief. The hair style was different and a pair of glasses adorned her features, but there was no mistaking the person’s identity. Kate Seniar was Katherine Raines.

“Jim, what is it?” A frown creased the captain’s brow. Silently Ellison handed Banks the file. “Dear Lord!” Simon echoed Jim’s sentiments upon seeing the picture. The stakes in the game had just risen.

“DAMN IT!” Ellison roared coming out of his stupor. “I should have known that bitch wasn’t through with Blair.”

“Now Jim,” Banks tried to mollify the incensed individual. “No one’s seen Raines since she disappeared, there was no way for you to know that she was still in town.”

“It’s my job to know Simon and now the bitch has Blair !”

“We’ll find him Jim,” Banks assured the younger man.

“Damn right we will!” Ellison exclaimed before storming past the startled secretary and out the door.

Quickly thanking Kelly for her assistance, Simon followed . At least now they knew who and why. The only questioned that remained was where and hopefully this new information would provide the answer.

Finishing her examination, Katherine tucked the blankets around the sleeping form and sat back with a relieved sigh. “The fever has broken,” she informed Giles.

Too bad the little shit didn’t just kick the bucket, Giles thought venomously, and save me the trouble of getting rid of him later. “That’s wonderful,” he said aloud, forcing himself to return Katherine’s smile.

Cocking her head, Katherine studied the Blair. “With a little more rest, plenty of fluids and a couple of hearty meals he’ll be as good as new in no time.” Her brow creased in a disapproving frown. “I just hope he’s a little more reasonable after this little incident.”

Giles moved closer, laying his hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “I’m sure he will be.” He shrugged. “If not, we’ll just have to teach him another lesson.”

“Damn Ellison and his interference,” Katherine spat. “If it weren’t for him none of this would have been necessary.”

“I could always take care of him,” her companion offered hopefully.

Lips pursed, Katherine briefly pondered the possibility before rejecting it. “No, we may have need of him yet.” Her eyes glazed over with hatred. “But the moment he has out lived his usefulness I shall take great pleasure in watching him die slowly and painfully.”

If only I could do the kid the same way, Giles mused thoughtfully. Unfortunately as long as Katherine cared for the brat, that wasn’t an option. Whatever method he decided on Giles knew he’s have to make it look like and accident. But, one way or another, Sandburg was dead meat.

Gently Giles took her hand and pulled Katherine to her feet, then wrapping his arms around the slim form, whispered seductively in her ear. “It’s been a long day and I’ve missed you. So how about you and I go upstairs and make up for lost time.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated, glancing back towards the bed.

Giles began nibbling her earlobe, then moved down to suck at the arched lines of Katherine’s neck. “You said he was fine. Besides, the kid will probably sleep until morning.”

Feeling her own neglected passions rise, Katherine acquiesced and allowed Giles to lead her towards the door. Yet it had barely swung open when a soft moan and a slight rustle of movement from the direction of the bed drew their attention. Quickly disengaging herself from her associate, Katherine hurried back to settle on the side of the bed. Giles’ face flushed red with anger as he watched Katherine tenderly brush back the disheveled curls from Blair’s forehead.

“Andre,” she called softly. “It’s momma. Can you hear me?” More shifting occurred, accompanied by the fluttering of dark eyelashes against pale cheeks. “Come on sweetie,” Katherine encouraged. “Open your eyes and let momma see those baby blues.”

Slowly he edged towards the light one hesitant step after another, trepidation causing his extremities to shiver uncontrollably. Remembering the tortures he had been subjected to, his mind raged at him to turn around and return to the safe haven of darkness. His body however made it’s needs known and propelled him relentlessly towards consciousness. Forcing his eyelids open Blair cried out immediately shutting them again as the bright light in the room hit on sensitive optic nerves.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” Katherine soothed.

The softly spoken words had an instantaneous effect. Wailing in distress Blair clamped his hands over his ears, unconsciously curling up into a fetal position.

Shocked by such a violent reaction, Katherine rose from the bed and stepping back eyed her son with confusion. “Andre?” she questioned, only to have her inquiry met with another quiet moan of distress. Lips pursed in thought Katherine sorted through the various reasons for her sons odd behavior. Several moments later it dawned on her. “Of course!” she cried out at the obvious. “Giles, turn the lights down. Lower,” she instructed, finally nodding when the rooms light level met with her requirements.

Resuming her former position on the side of the bed, Katherine reached out and began rubbing comforting circles over the stiff back of the curled up figure. Making sure to keep her voice is whispered tones, she murmured soft reassurances until she felt the tautness slowly dissipate.

Shifting slightly, Blair rolled over onto his back. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes. Ready to clamp them shut at a moments notice should the light prove to blinding. A gentle sigh of relief escaping his lips as a slightly fuzzy, dimly lit room came into view.
“How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” Katherine smiled solicitously.

Blair’s brow creased in a frown. His tongue darting out to try and moisten parched lips. “Water,” he croaked in the barest of whispers.

“Of course,” Katherine replied, reaching for the plastic tumbler sitting on the nightstand. Carefully she guided the straw between slightly parted lips. “I know you’re thirsty,” she told him, “but you have to drink slowly. Otherwise you’ll make yourself sick.”

As instructed Blair took several small sips before sinking back, exhausted, against the pillows. Beaming as if he had accomplished a monumental task, Katherine returned the glass to the nightstand. “That’s my good boy,” she praised, gently caressing Blair’s cheek. Her smile widening when he didn’t flinch at her touch.

“Would you like something to eat? Momma made you some nice chicken soup. Remember how much you use to like it when you were little?” She asked, pleased when a tiny nod came in response. “I’ll go and get you some,” she said, starting to rise, only to have her wrist captured before she could move. Brows raised questioningly, she looked at Blair.

“Tired,” he whispered, his eyelids closing as if to accentuate the point.

Carefully extracting her wrist and placing a tender kiss on the back of Blair’s hand, Katherine laid it back down on the blanket. “You just get some rest then baby. It’ll be waiting when you’re ready.” Her eyes never leaving the sleeping man she informed Giles. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our plans for this evening. Andre might wake up again and I want to remain here in case he needs me.”

“Very well,” Giles ground out through teeth clenched in anger. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As expected, the address listed on Raines’ personnel record came up as non existent. Nor had there been any sightings at the stake out on Renald’s place. So with no other avenue of investigation to pursue Ellison and Banks were assisting in the follow up of the DMV print out.

Climbing from the truck Jim slammed the door with as much strength as he could muster. The simple act doing little to elevate his mounting annoyance. “This is a waste of time,” he growled, the tick in his jaw becoming more pronounced as his frustration level rose.

“Well, unless something breaks on this case, it’s the only lead we have to follow up on,” Simon reminded him as he crossed another possible off the list. Sighing, he set the clipboard aside and turned to face Ellison. “Look, we’ve all been working double shifts since Sandburg disappeared. Why don’t we call it a night and get a fresh start in the morning.”

Neck muscles bulging as he bit back a sharp retort, Jim closed his eyes and took a calming breath before speaking. “You know the longer he’s missing the less chance we have of finding him alive. But if you want, I’ll drop you off at your place.”

“Jim, you know I care about the kid too. But... Simon’s cell phone chose that moment to ring, cutting off the rest of his sentence. “Banks,” he replied into the receiver and paused to listen. “We’ll be right there,” he said a moment later and snapped the phone shut. “We may have just gotten a break.” He answered in response to Ellison’s raised eyebrow. “Let’s go, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Less than thirty minutes later they pulled into the long term parking facility at the local airport to meet with security. “It’s right over here,” Herb Robinson, Chief Of Security, told them leading the way. “I was out sick the last couple of days so I’m not sure how long it’s been here. But as soon as I read your alert bulletin, I knew it was the one you were looking for.” And so it was. There, sitting before them was the van.

Swiftly striding ahead, Ellison quickly slipped on a pair of latex gloves. He tried the drivers side door, finding it locked. “You got anything to jimmie this with?” He asked Robinson.

“I figured you might be needing this,” Herb replied, producing the appropriate tool.

Within seconds Jim had the door open and climbed inside with Simon following in his wake. The first thing that hit him was the scent. Although several days had passed and the odor should have dissipated, the scent of the grad student’s herbal shampoo lingered. “Sandburg was here,” he stated.

“You’re sure?” Banks asked skeptically.

Ellison nodded. “I can smell him.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. It never ceased to amaze him what Jim could accomplish with his heightened senses. “Even after all this time you can still smell him?”

“Normally I don’t think I would, but with the van being locked up all this time...” Jim’s voice trailed off, his attention suddenly captured by something else. Moving into the back of the van Jim carefully picked up a strand of dark hair and placed it in the evidence bag he pulled from his pocket. “I’ll lay you a hundred to one odds it’s Sandburg’s.” He told Banks.

“I’ll have forensics check it out,” Simon replied taking the proffered bag. Nodding, Ellison turned back to continue the search. His efforts uncovering a chloroform soaked rag, some clothing fibers and several sets of prints.

“I don’t know how you do it Jim,” Serena commented with amazement before assuring them she’d rush the results.

With a nod of appreciation the two men headed to the security office where Robinson was waiting for them with the parking facilities surveillance tapes for the past couple of days. “We’ll return them as soon as we can,” Banks told the officer while securely tucking the box under one arm.

“No hurry Captain. I just hope it helps.”

So do I. Came the silent echoed prayers of the two cops. Then thanking Robinson for his assistance, they headed back to the station to review the tapes.

Dawn, breaking over the distant mountain, painting the sky in a copious display of pinks and purples, went unnoticed as the exhausted individual carefully scanned another surveillance tape. Fairly early in the evening they had spotted Renald on one of the tapes as he dropped off the van, but then lost him as his disappeared from camera range. Hoping against hope that they would discover the vehicle in which Renald left the airport, they requested that the remaining tapes from the security cameras at the airport for the day in question be messengered to the station.

Gritty eyes, drooping with fatigue, Ellison lifted the styrofoam cup to his lips, grimacing as the cold, stale brew hit his pallet. Sitting down the cup, he pressed the stop, then eject buttons and reached for another tape.

Gently, Banks took it out of his hand. At Ellison’s insistence, Simon had gotten a couple of hours rest while Jim had relentlessly continued to view the tapes. But now the cloak of exhaustion surrounding the sentinel could no longer be denied. “Here, why don’t you let me look at the rest while you get some sleep,” Simon suggested.

Stubbornly Ellison shook his head. “You might miss something.”

Fixing the detective with a no nonsense glare, Banks informed him. “Look, enhanced vision or not, right now you’re so damn tired you can’t even see straight. I’m as capable as you are of spotting Renald, perhaps even more so considering the condition you’re in.”

Grabbing an arm Simon hauled Jim to his feet and gave him a shove towards the door. “Go sack out on the couch in my office. I promise to call you the minute I spot anything.” He added at Ellison’s hesitation.

With a heavy sigh Jim slipped out the door and down the hallway to Banks’ office, his weary body anticipating the prospect of rest as he laid down on the leather upholstery. His thoughts however refused to be restrained. More than he cared to admit, it worried Ellison that he hadn’t had any contact with Sandburg since the incident on the highway. Like words in a sentence, one worse case scenario after another played through his mind until Jim’s gut clenched with an uncontrollable fear. And in the furthest recesses of his mind, Ellison could have sworn he heard a jaguar crying out in anguish.

A hazy montage of surreal images pursued him, yet the faster he ran, the closer they seemed to draw. On and on he fled through the nightmarish landscapes, heedless of direction, only aware of the need to escape. Then, daring a quick look back, his forward momentum came to an abrupt halt as he plowed into an immovable object. Crying out in fear, he lashed out only to find himself firmly, yet gently restrained. Terror filled eyes looked up to be met by familiar,concerned spheres of blue. Then he blinked and the image was replaced by eyes of gray belonging to a woman in her early fifties.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” she spoke softly. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up.”

Suddenly it all came rushing back and Blair closed his eyes against the onslaught.

“Andre, are you all right?” came the hushed tones of concern.

Swallowing he opened his eye and nodded. “I’m fine,” he responded in a raspy whisper.

“Here, drink this,” Katherine prompted, holding out a glass. “Remember, small sips.”

Gratefully he drank the cool liquid, a slight cry of distress escaping when the water was withdrawn.

“Very well,” Katherine relented, returning it. “I never could bare to refuse you anything.”

Slowly, as not to draw censure, Blair drained the contents of the glass, then holding it out, “More,” he queried. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

“Perhaps later,” Katherine replied taking the glass and setting it aside. “Do you think you could handle eating some soup now?”

Paling at the mention of food, Blair felt his stomach turn over. Sucking in a breath of air, he battled the nausea back down. “What I’d really like...” he ventured, the words awkwardly trailing off as his gaze lowered to rest on the blanket.

“Yes darling, what is it?” Katherine inquired, cupping his chin and forcing him to look up. The yearning she saw reflected in his face would have touched even the cruelest of hearts. “Come on, you know you can tell momma anything,” she gently encouraged.

“Well... I’d like to get cleaned up. Take a shower.” Was the hesitant response.

Katherine’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

“I’m fine,” Blair reiterated his earlier statement.

“Very well then.” Rising she folded the bedclothes aside. “But as soon as you’re through showering I expect you to eat. You’ve become far too thin for it to be healthy.”

Sitting up Blair swung his legs over the side of the bed, pausing to allow a sudden wave of dizziness to subside. As the room once again righted itself his glance fell on the IV stand sitting beside the bed. It took a moment for him to make the connection but when he did Blair glanced down and saw the telltale bruising and punctures on his right hand. Involuntarily shuddering, he gave a sigh of relief that the intravenous drips had been removed.

“Andre?” Katherine’s voice called Blair back from his musings. “Is everything all right?”

Blinking, he looked up. “I just sat up a little too fast,” he replied, forcing a smile. “I’ll be all right now.”

“I don’t know...” Katherine replied doubtfully.

“Really!” Blair earnestly assured her, standing as if to prove his point.

Katherine shook her head disapprovingly. “You’re not fooling me young man,” she admonished. “You look as if a gentle breeze would knock you over.”

“I’m fi....”

Katherine held up a hand halting the protest. “If you persist with this silly notion of taking a shower, then I insist someone remain with you.”

Blair looked angst .

“Don’t look so horrified,” Katherine said chuckling. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” What remaining color he had fled from Blair’s face. “Oh, very well,” she relented. “If you’re going to turn modest on me then I’ll get Giles to assist you.”

Blair shuddered. He knew the hulking behemoth hated him and he dreaded the thought of being left alone with him. “I really don’t need...”

“Andre,” Katherine snapped, “either you allow Giles to help you or you will forgo the shower altogether. Is that understood?”

Silently Blair nodded, his gaze falling to the carpeted floor.

“Good. Now you just set back down and wait. Giles will be along momentarily.”

Obediently Blair resumed his position on the bed. However, the moment the door clicked shut behind Katherine, he rose and slowly headed for the bathroom. With any luck he would at least be able to relieve the pressure on his bladder before Giles arrived. Saving him at least that on indignity.

He had dealt with his pressing business, washed his hands and was now leaning heavily against the bathroom sink, his small reserve of energy nearly spent.

“You don’t follow orders very well, do you?”

Startled by the voice Blair stumbled backwards, eyes wide, heart pounding. “I needed to...”

“I don’t give a shit what you needed,” Giles roared, grabbing Blair by the shirt front and thrusting him against the tiled wall. “When Katherine tells you something, you listen. You got that?” He shook the smaller man.

“Yes,” Blair gasped. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Renald eyes the trembling figure, maliciously enjoying the fear he had provoked. “Strip,” he ordered. The captive swallowed, his shaking growing more pronounced. “You wanted a shower, so get the damn clothes off or I’ll take ‘em off myself.”

There was no doubt in Blair’s mind that the larger man would indeed follow through on his threat, so with trembling hands he began undoing the buttons of the flannel shirt.

“For crying out loud,” Giles snapped. “I don’t have all fucking day.” Shoving Blair’s hands aside, he ripped open the shirt and spinning the smaller man around, tore it off his body. Roughly turning Blair back around, he quickly undid the snap and zipper, then grasping both the slacks and boxers beneath, shoved them down to the floor. “Step out,” he demanded harshly. No sooner than Blair obeyed he was firmly gripped by the arm and thrust into the shower stall, the minute squeaking of the knob his only warning before ice cold water shot out of the shower head.

Crying out in shock, Blair tried to pull away, only to be hauled back beneath the freezing water. “What’s the matter?” Renald taunted. “I thought you wanted a shower.”

“Co... cold,” Blair stammered through chattering teeth.

Viciously, Giles smiled. “I can fix that.” Shutting off the cold water he swiftly turned on the other knob full blast.

At first the water felt good against his frozen skin, but all too quickly the water temperature rose, first becoming uncomfortably hot, then scalding. Unable to escape from Renald’s grasp, Blair desperately reached for the spigot.

“Oh no you don’t, you little shit!” Giles growled. One, twice, three times he struck the struggling anthropologist before grabbing both arms, forcing them behind Blair’s back and cruelly yanking them upwards. The younger man’s cries of pain so on became screams of agony. Screams which Renald savored for several minutes before hauling the subdued man from the shower and shoving him to the floor.

Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack and threw it at the huddled figure. “One word to Katherine about any of this and I *will* kill you,” he hissed. “Now dry off and get dressed. I left you some clean clothes on the bed.”

Grasping the towel in one hand, strategically placed to cover his genitals, Blair pushed himself up with the other and slowly got to his feet. His skin felt as if it was on fire and a quick glance in the mirror revealed red, inflamed areas of skin. Giles, pointedly clearing his throat reminded Blair of the other man’s presence. Unwilling to further enrage his adversary, he began drying off, gasping in pain as the coarse towel came in contact with sensitive skin. Abandoning the effort, Blair wrapped the towel loosely around his hips and carefully made his way into the bedroom. Getting dressed had proved difficult, but thankfully the fleece lined sweat suit wasn’t too irritating on the inflamed tissues. Exhausted, Blair slumped on the bed and began drying his hair, aware of the fact that Renald silently tracked every movement.

“Jim. Please. Help me.”

Once again the anguished cry of his friend filtered through the dark jungle. Spurred onward Jim hatched his way through the dense foliage. “Sandburg! Blair! Where are you?”

“Jim...”

“Jim. Jim, come on, wake up.” A new voice penetrated his subconscious.

“Jim. Wake up,” Simon called, giving the sleeping man another shake.

“What? What is it?” Ellison bolted upright on the couch.

“I’ve spotted where Renald picked up his car,” Banks replied. “But I can’t make out the license plate. I was hoping that you could...” he shrugged, “you know, use your abilities.”

Wiping away the last remnants of sleep, Jim rose and quickly headed towards the audio/visual room, Simon close on his heels. Entering, he saw that Simon had paused the tape right where Renald first came into frame. Snatching up the remote and pushing the play button, Jim silently watched as the man got behind the wheel of a 1987 brown Audi, started the vehicle and drove out of view.

“Well?” the captain asked hopefully.

Wordlessly Ellison rewound the tape, watching it again and again. Finally, after the sixth viewing, he cursed and flung the remote across the room. It shattered against the far wall, its plastic components scattering in all directions.

“I take it that means you couldn’t make out the plate either,” Banks commented following the outburst.

“Damn it Simon, we were this close,” Jim raged, holding his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Maybe another camera caught a better view,” he mused aloud, grasping at straws, only to see Simon shaking his head in reply.

“I already checked and that’s the only camera in the immediate area. I’m sorry Jim,” Banks told him. “At least now we have a description of the car. I’ll get Rafe and Brown started on the DMV search.” Simon headed for the door, opening it, he paused, turning back. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Came the reply after a moments hesitation. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

A lie if Simon ever heard one. “We *will* find him Jim.” The question was, would they find him in time.

Blair looked up as Katherine entered carrying a tray. “Here you go sweetie,” she greeted him cheerfully, setting it down on the table. Pulling out the chair she picked up the cloth napkin and shook it out. “Come along,” she urged. “I know you must be starving by now.”

Gingerly, Blair rose and made his way over to the table. Katherine frowned, her hand immediately going to his forehead. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a little flushed.”

Unconsciously Blair’s gaze swiftly darted to Renald then away. “I’m fine,” he assured her, summoning a smile.

Relief swept over her features. “Well then sit down and eat,” she said guiding him into the chair. Tucking the napkin beneath his chin, she stood back and waited expectantly.

Swallowing, Blair picked up the spoon and eyed the soup, not certain he’d be able to choke it down. But his stomach, reminded by the fragrant aroma, of just how long it had gone without food, rumbled loudly. Starting off slowly but picking up speed as he discovered that the soup would not only go down, but stay down, Blair quickly finished off the entire contents of the bowl. “Can I have some more?” He asked, his face turned upwards with a pleading expression.

“Of course you can,” Katherine assured him with obvious approval. “You can have as much as you want. Giles will be happy to get you another bowl, won’t you dear?”

“Yes, of course darling,” he responded with a forced smile while silently seething inside. Snatching up the empty bowl, he shot a hate filled glance at Blair before leaving the room.

To cover his uneasiness, Blair picked up his glass of water from the tray and gulped it down. Setting the empty glass back down on the table, his gaze strayed to the still open door. Then, without warning, Blair swiftly rose and grabbing up the metallic food tray, swung it at Katherine will all his might. The striking blow caught her along side the head, her eyes barely widening in surprise before they closed and she crumpled to the floor.

Spurred on by a sudden adrenaline rush, Blair bolted to the doorway, paused to get his bearings, before swiftly making his way up what appeared to be cellar steps. His breath coming in quick pants, his heart threatening to beat its way out of his chest,Blair stopped at the head of the stairs and cautiously peered around the open door. Seeing no one, he crept out into the hallway and quietly headed towards what looked like the living room and Thank God! , the front door.

His sigh of relief as his hand settled on the doorknob turned into a gasp of alarm as he heard a crash from behind and Renald’s booming voice call out, “You son of a bitch!”

Not even daring a look over his shoulder, Blair wrenched open the door, virtually plowed through the storm door and flew down the front porch steps. The frozen ground beneath his sock covered feet going unnoticed as he heard Giles in pursuit. Darting across the lawn, Blair desperately made for the stand of nearby trees, their protective cover almost within reach when he was taken down from behind.

Hitting the ground hard, the air burst from his lungs upon impact, as pinpoints of light danced in a mosaic display before his eyes. Hands roughly turned him over and then grasping his sweatshirt, pulled him upright. Blair’s eyes widened in terror as he saw Renald bearing down on him, his fist poised to strike. Kicking out, Blair’s foot impacted with Giles’ leg, but it proved ineffectual as the fist hit him, causing the smaller man’s head to snap backwards. Repeatedly Renald struck him until finally Blair’s futile struggles gave way to unconsciousness.

The coffee mug slipped from his grip, shattering into a multitude of pieces as it stuck the linoleum floor.

“Jim! Are you all right?” An anxious Joel Taggart called, hurriedly entering the break room. His concern growing at Ellison’s failure to respond. Joel approached carefully scrutinizing Jim’s drawn features. Ellison’s eyes were open, yet his focus appeared turned inward at something only he could see. What worried Taggart though was the fact that Jim didn’t appear to be breathing. “Come on Jim, snap out of it!” He pleaded, roughly shaking Ellison.

“What’s going on in here?” Banks authorative tone had an immediate effect. Jim gasped, his knees giving way. Both Simon and Joel were at his side in an instant, helping to support his weight.

“I’m all right,” Jim assured them, straightening to stand on his own.

“What the hell just happened?” Taggart’s confusion was evident.

“Joel.” Banks drew the other man’s attention. “I’ll take care of this. Why don’t you go and check on how the DMV search is coming along.”

Taggart hesitated, but it was obvious from Ellison’s expression that he wanted to talk to Simon alone. Giving Jim one last concerned glance he nodded and headed out the door, Banks softly closing it behind him.

“All right, what’s going on?” he asked without preamble.

With knitted brows Ellison eyed the floor. “The mess,” he said absently.

“Never mind the damn mess,” Simon growled. “I’ll get maintenance to clean it up. “Now tell me, what did you see?”

“It was Blair, he...” Jim broke off, sorting through the disjointed images he had seen.

“What about Sandburg?” Banks prompted, his anxiety growing in the lengthening silence.

“He was running. I... I could feel his terror.”

“So that means he got away, right?”

“No,” Ellison replied softly. “Renald, he caught Blair. He... beat him. I...”

“Jim, it’s all right.”

“NO!” Came the violent explosion. “Damn it Simon, what the hell good are these senses if they can’t even help me find my... Sandburg.” Ellison began pacing, the fragments of broken mug, crunching beneath his feet. “Renald’s going to kill him. I know it!”

Banks scrubbed a hand over his face. “All right let’s just calm down and examine what we’ve got.”

“That’s just it!” Ellison roared. “We don’t have a damn thing, except maybe dead ends.”

“Now that’s not entirely true,” Simon replied holding up a staying hand. “Think about it. When you’re in contact with Sandburg, what’s it like? Maybe you heard something. Saw something, that’ll give us a clue to where he’s being held.”

Jim’s brow crinkled in thought. Seconds later his head shot up. “There was a house.” He said, surprised by his own revelation.

“Can you describe it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can,” Ellison replied, awareness dawning.

“Then all we have to do is fax a description to all the realtors in the state. Someone is bound to recognize it and....”

“And we’ll know where Blair is,” Jim finished thoughtfully. For the first time in days Ellison felt a ray of hope. Maybe, just maybe Sandburg had a chance now. However the smile quickly faded as Jim recalled the last impressions he had received from the younger man. Then again, maybe not.

Something was calling him back. With an undeniable sense of trepidation he fought against it, preferring instead to remain encased in the dark cocoon of oblivion. Consciousness meant awareness, acknowledging the pain and despair. But already it was too late. Having gain a foothold, it rushed in, shattering his chrysalis and ensnaring him within its slimy tendrils, pulled him into the nightmare of his reality.

Even without opening his eyes Blair knew they were there. Their ominous presence saturating the air like a thick shroud of fog on a snow covered night. Unable to suppress it, he shuddered. The motion setting off a chain reaction as the myriad of aches and pains throughout his body made themselves known. Unfortunately it also alerted his jailers to the fact that he was now conscious.

“It’s no use pretending, we know you’re awake.” Katherine’s harsh voice filled the room.

Forcing his eyelids open, cognizant awareness of his situation took on menacing proportions as his vision cleared. Laying face down on the bed, a cold draft across his upper torso alerted Blair to the fact that his shirt had been removed. But what really set off the alarm for self preservation was the unnatural position of his arms. Even without looking up he knew his wrist were once again restrained. Yet drawn, as if against his will, his gaze traveled upwards to confirm it. “Nooo!” Came the pitiful wail of a trapped animal. Desperately he began to struggle, the futility of the effort lost in the dominion of terror. The bindings pulled tight, first pinching, then scissoring through the flesh, drawing blood. But all too soon pain and exhaustion took their toll and the struggles grew less frantic, ceasing all together as Blair collapsed, his eyes wide with fear, his breath coming in gasps from his useless exertions.

Raines eyed him dispassionately. “Perhaps now that you’ve gotten that out of your system we can begin. I had hoped to spare you this, but it’s time you learned that deceit and disobedience will not be tolerated. Giles,” she said turning to her companion, “you may now proceed.”

Outwardly maintaining a neutral expression, Renald undid his leather belt and began pulling it through the loops on his trousers. Inwardly he was secretly delighting in the turn of events that would allow him to vent some of his hatred on the man who had come between him and Katherine. The belt now free, he doubled its length and wrapping it around his hand once indicated that he was ready. With a nod Katherine stepped aside.

Eager to unleash his animosity, Giles raised the belt and brandishing his brute strength, brought it down across the pale, unblemished back of his nemesis.

Having retreated to a quiet corner of his mind with the sole of his attention focused on the blood dribbling down his arm, Blair had not heard Katherine’s proclamation, nor was he prepared for the first bite of the leather at it struck. His gasp of surprise and agony cut off mid cry as the searing pain lanced across his back again... and again.

Persistent in his ministrations, garnering strength and agility with repetition, Renald was merciless his task, allowing the writhing individual no respite from the pain being inflicted. Silently he reveled in each of the red welts and bruises as they materialized.

His victim had long since ceased to struggle. His sobs muted by choking gasps of breath. It wasn’t enough though. Giles wanted Sandburg to suffer. To scream. To acknowledge the pain and Renald’s hand in administering it. Trembling with anger at being denied, he quickly grasped the other end of the belt and wrapping it around his hand, brought the buckle end of it down across the younger man’s back. However his delight at seeing the blood ooze from the freshly opened gash was quickly dampened as the only response from Blair was a brief groan and the slight arching of his body away from the abuse. Enraged, Giles brutally, repeated struck until the individual gouges of the flayed skin could no longer be discerned beneath the freely flowing rivulets of red. He raised his arm again, determined to get the desired response of kill the bastard trying when Katherine called a halt to the proceedings. “ENOUGH!”

Breathing hard from his exertions, eyes burning with unspent hatred, the upraised arm struck again.

"I SAID THAT IS ENOUGH!” Raines bellowed, grabbing his arm before it could rise once more. Anger distorting her normally attractive features, she jerked the belt from his hand and after flinging it aside, slapped Giles’ face. “You will obey me,” she raged. “Or it will be you who next feels the sting of the belt. Is that understood?”

Hatred still burning through his veins, Renald reigned in the automatic reflex to strike back. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, teeth clenched against a nasty retort, Giles nodded his compliance.

Once assured her lover would obey, Katherine went to examine the motionless figure on the bed. Grabbing a handful of hair, her other hand placed beneath Blair’s cheek, she turned his head to the side and peeled back an eyelid. “Hmmm,” she commented thoughtfully and letting the eyelid slide back into place, she placed her fingers against the carotid artery. “Punishing him any longer would serve no purpose, he’s unconscious,” Raines announced.

Mouth pursed in disapproval. Katherine eyed the damage to Blair’s back. “Jesus Giles, look at the mess you’ve made. The bedclothes are ruined.” With a put upon sigh she instructed Giles to get her medical bag. “I might as well tend to his injuries while he’s unconscious. Although it would serve him right if I waited until he were awake. Honestly,” she added indignantly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that boy.”

Returning from his errand, Renald handed her the bag, some towels and a bottle of isopropyl rubbing alcohol. Eyebrows arching, Katherine chuckled. “Why Giles, I do believe you have a bit of a sadistic streak buried beneath that brawny interior of yours.” She shrugged. “But it should prove most effective in cleaning he wounds.”

Turning to the task, Katherine quickly bathed away the blood and after disinfecting the cuts, liberally applied a topical antiseptic spray. Then releasing him from the restraints, she thoroughly cleaned and bandaged the abused wrists. “There,” she said, stepping back from the bed, “that should suffice. He should sleep for a few hours now.” Turning, she coyly gazed up at her companion. “Didn’t you say something earlier about making up for lost time?”

Smiling, he lead her from the room.

With cupped hands Ellison splashed the cold water across his face, then repeated the procedure in a futile attempt to flush away his exhaustion along with the image of his partner being attacked.

Turning off the faucet, he grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, making a cursory attempt at drying his face. His thoughts however were far removed from the troubled individual staring back at him from the mirror above the sink. Silently he cursed the useless sentinel abilities. Wishing, not for the first time, that they had never manifested. For had he not developed the heightened senses, he never would have met Sandburg. And maybe, just maybe his friend would have remained safe and unharmed. Frustration and anger welled up to choke him with emotion. Enraged, he struck out, his fist connecting with the mirror, splintering it into fragments. Oblivious to the pain now radiating through his hand, Jim snorted. How fitting that the mirror now resembled the shattered fragments of his soul.

The first blow caught him unaware. Grunting in surprise, Jim barely had time to recover as waves of pain began rippling across his back. With a growl of confusion and anger, his gaze darted around the small confines of the restroom, seeking the source of the unknown pain. Incessantly it struck, finally merging into one continuous blaze of agony. Then, just as realization dawned that this could somehow be attributed to the mysterious link he shared with his guide, the next blow drove Ellison first to his knees, then fully prostrate onto the floor. Crying out, he tried to crawl away, his efforts proving useless as the blows persisted in finding their mark. Around him the room became dimmer, finally fading to black as Jim lost consciousness.

Having snatched and devoured the last of the sticky donuts in lieu of dinner, Brown headed for the bathroom to wash away the residual evidence. His thoughts centered on the missing anthropologist, he pushed open the door and stopping dead in his tracks, mouth gaping open in surprise, spotted Ellison on the floor. Blood covering the back of his once pristine white shirt. “Jesus,” he muttered softly before stepping back out into the hall. “I need some help in here. Somebody call 911,” he frantically yelled before rushing to Jim’s side.

Biting his lip against the cry of pain threatening to burst forth, Blair inhaled deeply, desperate to quell the rising nausea. Oh God, he silently groaned as the slight movement sent ripples of pain throughout his back.

He had awakened some time ago. His relief at finding himself alone short lived as memories along with the ache came flooding back at the first nuance of movement. It was then that part of him wished Giles had succeeded. For there was no doubt in Blair’s mind that Renald wanted him dead. But then as he laid there praying for relief from the pain, other images began playing across his minds eye. Memories of Jim and their life together. It was the thought of never again experiencing that sort of friendship that roused Blair from his state of apathy. His life was good. The relationship he had with Jim unlike anything he had ever known. And he would be damned if he was going to give that up because of some demented bitch and her sadistic boyfriend. At least not without a fight.

First things first though. Somehow he had to get up. I can do this. He thought determinedly and gritting his teeth, began to move. Moving slowly Blair pushed himself into a sitting position and carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. The effort leaving him spent and breathing hard as his injuries throbbed with a relentless rhythm. Wearily he rose, swaying unsteadily as the room began to tilt. Closing his eyes, Blair waited. Then, once the dizziness subsided, made his way into the bathroom.

Flicking on the light switch, he expressed no surprised at the battered individual staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. Yet, even as bad as it looked, he knew the injuries to his back were more severe. Cringing as he recalled the beating, Blair was determined, more than ever, to ensure that it never happened again. Somehow he would escape this prison, or die trying.

He had never met anyone like Katherine. Intelligent and beautiful, she made love with the passion of a wildcat. Her only flaw, the misguided belief that Sandburg was her son.

Thoroughly sated in the aftermath of having sex, Renald had drifted off to sleep. His dreams filled with various scenarios of how to do away with the one thorn in his side that kept his life from being idyllic.

Several hours later Giles awoke, eager to resume making love. Eyes still closed, he reached out for Katherine, finding instead an empty place beside him. “Kat?” he called, opening his eyes and sitting up.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Raines replied, exiting the bathroom. Stopping beside the bed, she leaned down and kissed Renald. “That was incredible. We’ll definitely have to do it more often.” She teased.

Taking her hand as she prepared to move away, Giles tugged her gently towards the bed. “How about right now?” He asked with a leer.

“I can’t Giles,” she replied, pulling from his grasp and crossing the room to stand in front of the vanity. “I need to check on Andre,” she said as she finished buttoning her blouse.

Glancing in the mirror she noted the fleeting expression of hatred that crossed Renald’s face. “Oh and Giles, don’t think I didn’t notice the inflamed areas on Andre’s body.”

Damn! The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Quickly he scrambled for an explanation. “You know difficult he can be.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “The kid gave me some trouble during his shower.”

Inserting the diamond earing through her pierced lobe, Katherine eyed her lover. “Very well. But in the future I would prefer that you check with me first before disciplining my son.”

I am going to kill the little bastard if it’s the last thing I do. Renald sneered thoughtfully. “Of course darling,” he replied aloud. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds.”

“Good. Now hurry and dress. I want you with me when I talk to Andre.”

Although bending over the sink proved a painful experience, the water he drank from cupped hands did manage to quench his thirst and help alleviate the lightheadedness. Without even bothering to dry his face, Blair slowly made his way back to the bed. Barely sitting on the mattress before the door to his prison emitted a click and swung open. Schooling his features Blair watched wordlessly as Katherine, followed by Renald, entered the room.

“I see you’re awake,” Raines said, striding into the room. “Good. We need to have a little chat.”

“About what?” Blair questioned suspiciously.

“Up until now I have been fairly lenient with you. Hoping that kindness would produce the desired results. However, your abominable behavior has proven that more stringent means of persuasion will be required. So, since you refuse to cooperate, we’ll just have to return to the original course of treatment... drug therapy.”

“NO!” Blair yelled, rising. The pain from his injuries dulled by fear. “I swear to you that I’d kill myself before I let you do that to me again.”

Pushing Raines aside Giles grabbed the startled grad student by the throat. “You listen to me you little piss ant. You *will* do as Katherine says or I’ll make you wish you *were* dead.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Blair croaked, his hands coming up to try and pry away Renald’s punishing grip. “I am not...her son. My name is Blair... Blair Sandburg and I won’t ... forget that.”

“Giles, release him,” Raines commanded when the anthropologist began losing consciousness.

With a snarl, Renald let go. Legs refusing to support him, Blair collapsed onto the floor. His chest heaving as he tried to gulp in air.

Arms crossed Katherine glared down at him. “Oh, you’ll cooperate,” she informed him. “Otherwise I’ll make certain that Detective Ellison dies slowly & painfully.” Sandburg’s head shot up, mouth agape, eyes wide with horror. “Then,” Raines continued unabated, “I’ll have Giles bring me his head, which I will have stuff and mounted on your bedroom wall as a constant reminder that it was *you* who was responsible for his death.”

“YOU WOULDN’T!” Blair exclaimed. “YOU CAN’T” He protested.

“I can and I will.” Raines responded, emotionlessly. “If you try to harm yourself in any way or refuse to give me 100% complete cooperation, Ellison will die.”

Blair knew when he was beaten. He could and would survive anything these two did to him, but risking the life of his friend was not an option. Eyes downcast with resignation, he replied softly. “I won’t fight you anymore.”

“Excellent!” Katherine crowed triumphantly. “Just remember, Ellison’s life is in your hands. Any sign of disobedience or rebellion and I will have him killed.....Now, what is your name?” She asked.

“Andre,” the defeated man dully replied. “My name is Andre.”

Ellison’s last memory had been one of unbearable pain, and then there was nothing. Everything vanished, leaving him alone, surrounded by a dark void. Even the pain had ceased to exist. The darkness was oppressive. Filling him not with a sense of fear, but despair. Disoriented, he was hesitant to move, but an innate feeling of urgency propelled him forward. Hands outstretched he probed ahead, the density of the mass encircling him, increasing as he ventured forth.

At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But as he moved closer it became apparent that it was, indeed, lighter up ahead. A dreary gray, but still a vast improvement over the total absence of light. Jim felt drawn towards it and somehow he knew that *this* was his intended destination. That it was from that small haven of gray that the feelings of overwhelming despair emanated.

Quickly he hurried towards it and drawing closer, recognized the huddle figure encased within its circumference..... Blair. Stepping forward he was brought up short as an invisible boundary prevented him from entering the tiny patch of gray. “Sandburg!” he cried out, relieved when the younger man looked up at the sound of his name.

“Jim,” Blair questioned, uncertain.

“Yeah Chief, it’s me.”

“Where are you?” He asked, scanning the darkness.

“Just beyond the light,” Ellison replied. “There’s some sort of barrier blocking my way. I can’t reach you, but maybe you can come to me.”

“I can’t,” Blair said with a shake of his head, his shoulders slumping. “Jim, you can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

Ellison brow marred in confusion. “Why isn’t it safe?”

“It doesn’t matter. Please, just leave. There is nothing you can do for me now.”

The utter hopelessness in Sandburg’s tone set Ellison’s teeth on edge. “I’m not leaving without you, so you might as well get your ass in gear.”

“You don’t understand,” Blair complained. “They’ll kill you.”

“Who? Who will kill me?”

“Giles.” Sandburg visibly shuddered. “Katherine said that if I didn’t forget you, forget about my life.....before and cooperate, that she would have Giles kill you.” The soulful blue eyes peered pleadingly into the darkness. “I can’t allow that to happen. So please, just go.”

“Not without you.” Stated calmly, but emphatic nonetheless. “Don’t you understand Chief? Without you I don’t have a life.... Look, I know you’ve been through hell and back, but you can’t just give up. Don’t let them win. Together we can accomplish anything, so fight damn it!”

Ellison stared at the bowed head, certain that he had lost. “Please,” he implored. “I need you.” Slowly the head came up. An ember of hope flickering in the eyes formerly devoid of life. “That’s it buddy,” Jim prompted as Blair rose and started towards him. Ellison could see the deeply etched lines of pain and exhaustion on his guides face. “Just a little further,” he encouraged, concerned that the effort might prove too much for his friend.

Blair neared the edge of the circle of light, hand trembling, he reached out. Unimpeded, it disappeared into the darkness. “I’ve got you.” He heard Jim exclaim as the familiar touch of his sentinel’s hand engulfed his own.

Banks reflexively cringed as a loud clap of thunder struck, its booming resonance rattling the the windows. The rain, angrily lashing at the glass, increasing his feeling of apprehension. Wearily he sipped at the putrid brew Cascade General referred to as coffee, his thoughts centered on the man behind the closed double doors.

Luckily for Ellison, Dr. Fortunato hadn’t been on call when the unconscious Detective had been wheeled into ER. Sandburg’s and Ellison’s last stay in the hospital had ended in an unauthorized departure from the hospital, leaving a fuming Dr. Fortunato vowing revenge should either man darken his doorstep again. However, from the loud voices emanating from the examination room, Simon surmised that the baby faced resident wasn’t faring any better luck with his charge. The kid didn’t stand a chance. Ellison was intimidating enough on a good day. Under these trying circumstances, with Sandburg still unaccounted for, the man was downright lethal.

Mentally Banks ticked down the count 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1... The double doors flew open.

“Detective Ellison, I really must protest,” the doctor was saying as he scurried after the police officer.

“You can protest all you want,” Ellison replied, spotting Simon and heading in his direction. “I’m leaving.”

Banks frowned. “Jim, do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked, as the younger man came to a stop in front of him.

“I’m fine sir.” And from his determined demeanor, that certainly appeared to be true.

“But what about all the blood?” Simon brow marred in confusion.

“I don’t have a scratch on me.”

Banks glanced towards the doctor.

“It’s true,” the resident admitted, perplexed. “We couldn’t find a thing wrong with him.”

“Satisfied?” Jim questioned, his eyebrow arching sardonically.

Apologetically Simon shrugged at the doctor. He knew better than to stand in Ellison’s way when the man was this determined.

“You’ll have to sign a release...” the doctor began.

Grabbing the clipboard, Jim hastily scrawled his signature and thrust it back into the resident’s hands. “Now, can we get the hell out of here?” He asked Simon.

Banks pulled the impatient man aside. “Not until you explain to me just what the hell is going on.” Simon grumbled. “I saw the blood Jim. If it wasn’t yours, then who’s was it?”

“It was Sandburg’s.”

“What do you mean it was Sandburg’s?” Banks growled.

Ellison shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it, sir. All I know for a fact is that Blair’s in trouble and if we don’t find him soon, Renald’s going to kill him.”

With an exasperated sigh Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right,” he reluctantly accepted. “This probably falls into the category of things I don’t want to know about anyway.” Irritably, he glared down at the smaller man. “I don’t suppose your little trip into the Twilight Zone provided any more clues as to Sandburg’s whereabouts?”

“I’m afraid not.” Jim replied, his frustration, unmistakable. “Any word yet from the Real estate companies?” he asked, knowing full well that had there been Simon would have already told him.

“It’s only been a few hours Jim and the storms been playing havoc with the phone lines. Give it time.”

Ellison’s expression was grave. “Unfortunately Sir, time is something we don’t have.” And with that cryptic statement, Jim brushed past his commanding officer and out the door.

Dashing across the rain swept parking lot, both men were drenched by the time they finally climbed into Simon’s sedan. Reaching into the back seat, Banks grabbed the leather jacket and tossed it to his passenger. “Here, I had a feeling you might be needing this.”

“Thanks,” Ellison replied, shrugging into it’s warmth.

Starting the car, Simon turned on the defroster on full blast and as he waited for the car to warm up, cleaned his rain spattered glasses with a handkerchief.

Suddenly the shrill ring of his cell phone rent the air. Extracting it from his pocket and flipping it open, “Banks,” he replied, then listened carefully to hear over the rumbling thunder. “We’re on our way. ETA, approximately 45 minutes. Have backup and the paramedics meet up there.”

“Well?” Jim questioned impatiently even before the call had been terminated. He had been unable to hear the other end of the conversation above the raging storm.

Turning on the car’s lights and wiper blades, Simon put the car into drive. “We’ve got a positive location on the house,” he told Jim pulling out of the parking slot. “652 Lakeshore Drive.”

With a surge of hope Ellison leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. Hang in there just a little longer Chief, we’re on our way.

It had seemed so real at the time. The confident assurances and declaration of need. The firm touch of flesh entwined with his own. But upon opening his eyes, Blair discovered that he was still trapped within the hellish nightmare. Vivid reminders of his captivity evident in the numerous of aches and pains throughout his body. Disheartened to realize that it had only been a dream, Blair longed to return to the dark abyss and recaptures those last few precious moments with his Blessed Protector. Moments of security and hope. He knew in his heart that Jim was searching for him. No doubt this explained the relevance of his dream. But surely, if Jim were ever going to find him, wouldn’t he have done it by now? And with that thought, the ember of hope which had sparked upon wakening, slowly faded and died.

Lip curled in a sneer, Renald eyed the huddled figure on the monitor with silent destain. Resentment at Katherine’ interference churned within. She had done it. Had finally broken the kid by threatening the one thing that meant more to him than his own life.... Ellison. Yet watching the motionless individual as he stared blankly into space, Giles found himself wondering if perhaps she hadn’t possibly succeeded in killing Sandburg and his body had merely yet to catch up with his soul. How long would it take for his despised rival to die? A week, two? Even another minute was too long in his opinion. An idea formed. Perhaps he could hasten the bastards departure. Thumbing the switch, he spoke into the microphone. “I won’t allow it, you know. Katherine is mine and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a little punk like you come between us.” Renald’s features grew dark at the lack of response from the man on the monitor. Again, he tried. “Regardless of Katherine’s instructions, I *will* kill Ellison.” Ah...that did it, he thought smugly as the figure on the bed blinked and slowly rising into a sitting position, looked directly into the camera.

“I won’t let you,” Blair rebuked, his face suffused with anger.

“What are you going to do?” Renald taunted. “Tell Katherine?” Giles laughed, the sinister sound filtering down through the mic and flooding the prison below. “You honestly think she’ll believe you? Take your word over mine? Cops die all the time. All I have to do is make it look like a job related accident and she’ll never suspect a thing.”

“NO!” Blair raged, rising from the bed. “You do anything to hurt Jim and I’ll...”

“You’ll what?” Renald sneered. “You’re nothing but a weak, pathetic fool. Broken and cowered by a mere woman. No, I will kill Ellison and once that hold over you no longer exist, Katherine will have to resort to other methods of keeping you in line.” His tone grew deadly. “Then all it’ll take is one accidental overdose and you’re history, problem solved.”

“You sick, sadistic, son of a bitch!” Blair spat venomously. His heart pounding with a combination of anger and fear. “I won’t let it happen. Do you hear me? I won’t let you hurt Jim!”

Again Renald’s laughter filled the room and Blair’s anger rose to blinding proportions. Eyes quickly scanning the room, they settled on the table lamp on the nightstand. Yanking it’s cord from the wall Blair hefted it and with all his might, hurled it at the video camera. Even in his weakened condition Blair’s aim was true, striking the camera and dislodging it from its mountings. Automatically Blair threw up his hands and staggered backwards as sparked erupted, raining fiery embers. A series of snaps and crackles could be heard accompanying the electrical surge, then suddenly the room was plunged into darkness.

Disoriented by the sudden darkness, pain lancing throughout his back, Blair reached out, grasping for something to steady himself with. Moments later his hand connected with the cold metal surface of the IV stand. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, Blair felt fear rise up to choke him. Oh my God! What have I done? His mind screamed in horror. Surely they would come to punish him for his display of temperament. Or worse yet make Jim pay for it. NO! I can’t... I won’t let that happen! Swallowing his fear, Blair’s mind raced for a solution. He needed to warn Jim. But first he had to get out of here. If only he had a weapon. Something.... anything. It was then that the presence of the smooth cylindrical surface of the IV pole registered in his terror stricken mind. YES! This could work, he desperately thought. Spurred on by an overwhelming sense of urgency, within minutes and by touch alone, Blair had it disassembled. Grasping the remaining pole, he felt ahead and finding the wall, worked his way around the room until he came to the door. Then positioning himself behind it, Blair raised the metal rod and waited.

Upstairs the monitor went dark and Giles leaned back in his chair, a smile of satisfaction curling his thin lips upwards.

Pouring the steaming liquid into the silver carafe, Katherine replaced the empty pot and shut off the coffee maker. Inserting the lid, she had just placed the carafe on the tray with the other items when the lights flickered, dimmed and then returned to their normal illumination. With a quick glance out the kitchen window at the storm raging beyond, she picked up the tray and swiftly made her way to the control room.

“It’s really getting nasty out there,” she commented to Giles, placing the tray on the console. “It might be a good idea if you checked on the backup generator.”

“Of course, darling,” Renald said, rising and heading for the door.

“Giles?” Katherine called, halting his progress. “Why is the monitor off?”

“I’m not certain,” Renald said, scrambling for an explanation, “but I think that last power fluctuation may have shorted out a circuit. I’ll check on it in the morning,” he promised. “The kid wasn’t doing anything except sleeping anyway.”

“Oh. Very well then,” Raines replied, picking up the pot of coffee and filling one of the exquisite china cups. “You’d best hurry along and see about that generator. I don’t relish the idea of being caught without power should the lines go down.”

“It’ll only take a moment,” he assured her and disappeared out the door.

Settling herself comfortably in the chair Renald had just vacated, Katherine sipped at her coffee. She had always hated electrical storms and was barely able to repress a shudder when a lightening bolt streaked across the sky, followed seconds later by an earth shattering boom. At least Andre was being spared from the elements. All nice and cozy in his soundproof room. Looking for a distraction, Katherine's gaze drifted lazily across the control panel. To bad the monitor was out. She always felt better when her son was within view.

Suddenly sitting up straighter, Katherine’s brow furrowed as her glance fell on a red warning light. Probably just due to the monitor malfunction, she thought. Yet she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she made certain that Andre was all right. Setting down her cup, Katherine rose and headed for the basement.

Outside in the driving rain, Renald muttered a string of obscenities. The generator was out of fuel. Pulling his coat tighter in an effort to keep the rain from dribbling down his back, Giles slowly made his way through the quagmire of mud that once resembled a backyard and headed for the storage shed where the extra gasoline was stored.

Arms raised, poised to strike, Blair trembled with fear, pain and exhaustion. In the stillness of the room, he suddenly heard the door click. Slowly the door swung open and as the light from the cellar began to fill the room, the shadowed outline of a person crept across the carpet. Holding his breath, Blair’s eyes widen as the figure began to move. Shutting his eyes tight, Blair counted to three and then with all his might, brought the metal rod down. The blow connected and a soft grunt was heard, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. The pole slipped from nerveless fingers and without even looking down, Blair opened his eyes, wrenched open the door and fled.

Silently the door swung shut behind him, entrapping the unconscious individual. A slight draft of air, caused by the opening and closing of the door, flamed the quietly smoldering embers caused by the electrical discharge and the curtains burst into flames. Within seconds the voracious fire ate the material, its fiery remnants falling onto the carpet and bedclothes.

Retracing his steps, Blair made his way up the stairs and after checking to make sure the coast was clear, hurried through the living room to the front door. Breath coming in gasps, he flung open the door and stumbled out onto the porch.

Shivering as the cold night air his his bare skin and the wind whipped at the long strands of unrestrained hair, Blair grabbed the railing and descended the rain soaked steps. His bare feet slapping on the mud covered ground, he fled blindly, his only thought one of putting as much distance between himself and the house as possible. Overhead lightening crackled. Startled, Blair lost his footing. Slipping on the wet surface, he hit the ground hard and pain shot throughout his body. Tiny pin pricks of light dancing before his eyes, Blair tried to pull himself forward. But even that was too monumental a task for the tired and battered man and with a barely audible whimper of distress, he succumbed to the encroaching darkness.

Having taken care of the generator and eager to get out of the pouring rain, Giles hurried towards the house. Overhead lightening flashed across the sky followed in its wake by a loud clap of thunder. Quickly making his way up the back porch steps, Renald tore opened the door. As he entered the kitchen a gust of wind, nearly yanked the door from his grasp. Wrestling with the buffeting wind he finally managed to pull it shut and stood dripping on the parkay floor.

With a grimace, he shrugged out of the drenched coat and flung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Then snatching up a dish towel, e began mopping at the water streaming down his face and neck. Within seconds the towel was soaked and tossed aside in a fit of pique. “Damn weather,” he grumbled, thinking some of the coffee Katherine had made earlier would taste good right about now. But first he had to get out of the wet clothes. Uncaring of the puddles and tracks of mud, Giles headed up the back stairs to change.

Down in the basement the fire was burning out of control. Briefly Katherine stirred, then overcome by smoke, lapsed into unconsciousness once more.

His frame of mind vastly improved with the dry clothes, Giles descended the stairs whistling a nondescript tune. Yep, he thought arrogantly, things are definitely looking up. Once Sandburg and his partner were dead, he take Katherine far away from this place..... Someplace warm and dry.

Swiftly crossing the kitchen he headed down the hallway. “It’s really pouring out there,” he commented entering the control room, only to stop short upon discovering it empty. Stepping back out into the hallway, “Kat?” he called. Where in the hell is she? he briefly wondered before realization dawned. “DAMN IT!” There was only one place she could be...with Sandburg. Grabbing up the spare remote, Renald headed for the basement.

Pausing at the foot of the cellar steps, Giles sniffed the air. Smells like something burning, he thought. However, his main concern was reaching Katherine before the kid could upset his plans. Crossing the short expanse, he thumbed the remote and waited for the door to open.

The fire, fueled by new oxygen, exploded outwards washing over Renald.

The unrelenting rain, cold and cavalcade of noise finally succeeded in rousing the still figure and with a groan Blair opened his eyes. Unable to suppress the tremors coursing throughout his body, he laid there, still slightly dazed and unable to garner the strength to move. Then slowly, as the rain flushed the cobwebs from his mind, the memories began seeping back in. OH MY GOD! Blair remembered with a start.... GILES!

Pushing himself to his knees Blair glanced frantically over his shoulder, certain that Renald was in pursuit. Instead what he saw caused his mouth to drop open in shock. The entire lower floor of the house that had imprisoned him was engulfed in flames.

Staggering to his feet, Blair stumbled towards the burning structure.

“Hang in there Jim,” Banks told his restless passenger. “The cut off for the house should be just up ahead.” As if on cue the vehicle’s headlights shown on the rural mailbox indicating their destination. Swiftly Simon turned onto the gravel covered lane. Carefully maneuvering the sedan alone the tree lined road, he silently prayed that they wouldn’t get bogged down in the mud or end up in a ditch.

Beside him Ellison suddenly stiffened, his nostrils flaring. “I smell smoke,” he announced, worried eyes turning to Banks.

His concentration fully engrossed on driving, Simon didn’t respond. Swearing softly he turned the wheel sharply to navigate an unexpected curve. Abruptly the trees fell away and before them stood the house burning out of control.

“SANDBURG!” Jim cried out, bolting upright in his seat as the sedan’s headlights fell across his missing partner. It was obvious from his uneven gait that Blair was on the verge of collapse, yet persistently he lumbered towards the blazing structure.

Even before Banks brought the vehicle to a complete stop Ellison open the door and was sprinting towards his roommate. “Whoa there, Chief. That’s not a good idea,” he said gripping the younger man’s upper arms and blocking his way.

Eyes stilled fixed on the house, Sandburg tried to pull loose from Ellison’s hold. Confusion wrinkling Jim’s brow, the struggling man was gently, but easily restrained. Why in God’s name was Blair so intent on going into that house? Then, like the lightening flashing above them, enlightenment struck. “Renald and Raines are still in there, aren’t they?”

Face a mask of desperation and bewilderment, Blair looked up at him. Allowing Ellison, for the first time, to get a good look at his partner’s battered features. “Jesus, Blair...” he muttered softly as Sandburg’s gaze once again strayed towards the burning building. Taking Blair’s face in his hands, Jim forced the smaller man to look at him. “Listen to me buddy,” he pleaded. “It’s too late. Do you hear me? There’s nothing you can do.”

Water streaming down his face in rivulets. Dull lifeless eyes returned Ellison’s intense gaze.

“Sweet mother of God,” Banks gasped from behind Blair upon seeing the flayed skin of the consultant. Quickly shrugging off his coat, Simon gently draped it over Sandburg’s shoulders.

The two older men shared concerned glances. Blair’s continued lack of communication worried them more than either man cared to admit. Beneath his grip, Jim felt his partner quaking uncontrollably. The sudden need to protect and comfort was overwhelming. Ellison pulled his friend closer and mindful of the injuries, wrapped his arms around the trembling man. “Everything’s going to be all right. You’re safe now,” he whispered reassuringly.

Head resting against Jim’s chest, arms lax at his side, Blair merely shuddered in response. Then slowly, painstakingly slow, the younger man’s hands came up to encircle Ellison’s waist.

“That’s it Chief. I’ve got you,” Jim responded, his voice rough with emotion. His guide safe within his embrace, the sentinel felt the gut wrenching fear that had been his constant companion since Sandburg disappeared, slowly melt away.

“Well it’s about time!” Simon Banks gruff voice filtered through the rain lashing down on them as an ambulance, followed by several squad cars, pulled onto the lawn. Their strobing blue and red lights adding ambience to the surrealism of the scene.

“Come on buddy, let’s get you to the hospital,” Ellison prompted as the back door of the ambulance opened and two attendants hopped out. Quickly they hurried to Sandburg’s side, but as neither man seemed willing to relinquish their hold on the other, they stepped aside allowing Jim to lead Blair to the vehicle.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Simon called after the retreating figures, then glancing skyward, offered up a silent prayer of thanks.

Dr. Victor Fortunato smiled. Word had just come in that Ellison and Sandburg were in transit. Recalling his humiliation at their unconventional release the last time he was unfortunate to have them as patience, Victor vowed that this time it would be different. This time there would be no special compensations. Either they followed the rules or out they went. No one was going to make a fool of him twice.

Anticipating the sweetness of revenge, Victor waited eagerly as the ambulance pulled up and the back doors flew open. The constant smile that had been gracing his face ever since he heard they were coming, fell as Victor caught sight of the two men. Both draped in blankets, Sandburg appeared to be in shock. His face, battered and bruised was devoid of all emotion as he clung to the larger man. Ellison’s face however held a thunderous expression of concern and fierce protectiveness as he helped his injured partner from the ambulance. Wordlessly, Fortunato motioned for the gurney to be brought forth. All thoughts of revenge gone in the face of suffering and pain.

Carefully Jim helped his partner onto the gurney, maneuvering the younger man onto his side. Reluctant to lose contact, Ellison kept one hand on Sandburg’s shoulder as he was wheeled through the sliding glass doors and into the ER.

Hurrying through the brightly lit corridors, Victor placed a restraining hand on Jim’s chest when the gurney was whisked away behind the double doors of an examination cubicle. “Let us do our job,” he gently told the detective. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.” For a moment it appeared that Ellison might protest. But then, jaw clenched so tight that the vein on his neck stood out, Jim gave a curt nod. Breathing a sigh of relief, Fortunato offered a reassuring smile before disappearing into the examination room.

It had taken some convincing but finally Simon had persuaded Jim to leave his partner’s side. “So, has he said anything yet?” Banks asked as they sat drinking coffee in the hospital’s cafeteria.

The casual shrug belied Ellison’s obvious concern. “A few words here and there. Nothing about what happened though.”

Banks frowned. “Doesn’t sound like the hyperactive anthropologist we’ve come to know and love, does it?”

With a sigh Jim leaned back into the booth. “I swear Simon, I don’t know what possessed him to try and go back into that house.”

“Come on Jim, you know how the kid is. He wouldn’t be Sandburg if he hadn’t at least tried.”

Ellison’s features darkened. “I wouldn’t have. Knowing what they did to Blair, I would have gladly helped them both to hell.”

Across the table, Banks shifted uncomfortably. Senses suddenly on alert, Jim raised a questioning eyebrow. “What is it?”

“They only recovered one body.” Simon’s tone was grave. The implications, obvious.

Ellison stiffened. “Who?”

“Raines.” Came the single word reply.

“Son of a....” Jim broke off, scrubbing a hand across his exhausted features. “Damn it Simon. I thought this nightmare was finally over.”

“What are you going to tell Blair?” the captain inquired.

“I’d like to tell him that they’re both dead,” Ellison roared, his out burst garnering startled looks from the other people in the room. Lowering his voice Jim continued. “That he doesn’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“He deserves to know the truth,” Banks said, taking the roll of the devils advocate.

The coffee had lost its flavor and Ellison set it down. “Yeah, I know.”

Stepping off the elevator, they spotted Dr. Fortunato, his face livid with anger as he paced in front of the nurses station. Sighting the two men Victor turned his ire on them, or more specifically, Jim. “All right Ellison, what did you do with him?” Fortunato accused.

Jim was confused. “Do with... what are you talking about?”

“Your partner is missing.” Victor informed him.

Ellison frowned, immediately on the alert. “What do you mean Sandburg’s missing?” Abruptly he shoved past the doctor and down the hall to Blair’s room to check for himself, cursing upon finding the room empty. Panic stricken he glances around as if hoping somehow his friend would magically appear.

“All right, Jim. Just calm down.” Simon tried to soothe the distraught detective.

“What do you mean, calm down,” Ellison snapped. “He’s missing Simon. What if Renald has him?”

Banks glanced around the room. “I don’t see any signs of a struggle. Maybe the kid just wandered off.” He suggested hopefully.

“Well I’m not about to take that chance.” Focusing his attention, Jim expanded the range on his hearing. Immediately he winced, backing off when the montage of sounds became overpowering. “Damn it!” He groused. “I can’t do this without Sandburg.”

Banks was at a loss. He had no idea oh Blair helped Ellison in situations like this. “What would Sandburg tell you to do?” he asked, grasping at straws.

“I don’t know...” Jim wearily replied, his exasperation, evident. “He’d probably tell me to eliminate each of the sounds until only the one I was searching for was left.”

Simon shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? Don’t worry,” he added sensing the detective’s hesitancy, “I’ll be here in case you zone out or whatever the hell Sandburg calls it.”

Relieved. “Thanks, Simon.”

Once again Jim attempted to locate his missing partner. This time hearing Blair’s voice in his mind as his guide led him through the process of filtering out the background noise. Slowly discarding them one by one until... Suddenly Ellison looked up. “He’s on the roof!” Jim exclaimed before bolting past Banks and into the hall. Spotting the stairwell, Ellison raced down the corridor, flung open the door and began charging up the steps. Banks hot on his heels.

Both men were breathing hard as they finally burst out onto the rooftop. Jim momentarily pausing before pinpointing his his partner’s heartbeat before taking off again. Skidding around the corner of a ventilation unit, Ellison came to an abrupt halt with Simon nearly plowing into the back of him. “Jim, what the hell...?” Banks began when suddenly he sighted Sandburg standing dangerously close to the edge of the building. Dressed only in the thin hospital gown and equally threadbare robe, the younger man stood motionless, gazing at the distant skyline.

“Let me take care of this,” Ellison said, then slowly made his way towards his partner.

“Hey Chief,” he spoke softly, coming to a stop a few feet away. “What’s going on?” Carefully, Jim examined his friend, desperately searching for some clues as to the other man’s frame of mind.

Several minutes passed without comment. The only movement, Sandburg’s hair as the steady breeze tossed his dark hair about. Then quietly, Blair spoke. “I needed to think,” he stammered, his voice rough from disuse. “The walls... they were closing in. I couldn’t breathe... couldn’t think...”

“Considering what you’ve been through I can understand that,” Jim replied gently. “But couldn’t you think just as well a little bit further from the edge?”

“I killed them, you know,” Sandburg replied tonelessly, his gaze still fixated on the far horizon.

Ellison frowned. “I’m a bit confused here, Chief. Who is it your supposed to have killed?”

“It was dark and someone came into the room. I didn’t see who, I just hit them and ran.:

“Christ, Blair,” Jim swore. “Anyone in your situation would have done the same thing.”

“You don’t understand!” Blair exclaimed, turning tortured blue eyes towards his partner. The confusion and grief on the younger man’s face just about broke Ellison’s heart.

“Explain it to me buddy,” Jim prompted softly. “What don’t I understand?”

“When... when I hit whoever it was, I listened to them fall. I heard the door shut behind me, trapping them inside. When the fire started...” Blair swallowed past the constriction in his throat, “they couldn’t get out.” Sandburg paused and the older man sensed that there was more coming. The next words confirmed his fear. Wrapping his arms around his torso, Blair shivered from more than the cold. “And I can’t be sure, but I think I may have started the fire.” There is was, the extent of Sandburg’s feelings of guilt.

“Why don’t we go inside where it’s warmer,” Ellison said, moving closer. “We can talk there.” With a slight shake of his head, Blair stepped away. Jim stopped, alarmed. “Damn it, Blair. He growled. “Even after everything those bastards did to you, you were still willing to go back in there to try and save them. That doesn’t sound like the actions of a killer to me.” Slowly Sandburg’s eyes came up, searching for the truth in Ellison’s face. “And even if you were somehow responsible for starting the fire,” Jim’s voice took on conviction. “I’m sure it was an accident. There is no doubt in my mind, that had you been aware of the fire, that you would have done everything possible to get Raines out of there.”

“It was Katherine...” Blair whispered. “Oh God, I didn’t know.”

Now came the moment of truth. Time to tell Sandburg the rest. Steeling himself, Jim said. “Chief, there’s something else you need to know.” Blair’s brow crinkled in a frown. “Only Raines’ body was recovered.”

Mouth agape, the eyebrows climbed as Sandburg’s eyes widened in shock. “Then that means...Giles could still be out there.”

Ellison noted the rapidly increasing heartbeat as his partner’s glance darted nervously around the roof. Unable to bare the panic stricken expression, Jim took a firm hold of the younger man’s upper arms. “Look at me Chief,” he demanded then waited until Blair’s gaze met his own. “I know I let you down before, but trust me on this one. If Renald is in fact still alive, there is no way I’m gonna let that bastard anywhere near you.”

“You blame yourself?” Sandburg blinked in confusion. “Why?”

“Raines was fixated on you. I should have known she was going to come after you again.”

“Come on man,” Blair protested, sounding more like his old self. “ “You’re a sentinel, not God.”

“It’s my job to protect you,” Ellison insisted, not ready to relinquish his feelings of guilt.

“And you do Jim. But even you can’t be with me twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.” His expression softened. “You do the best you can, Jim. No one can expect more than that.”

“I do,” Ellison grumbled.

A smile tugged at the corners of Sandburg’s lips. “I know,” he replied.

Jim grimaced. It was true. Blair better than anyone knew what made him tick. That in itself was frightening. It made him vulnerable. Yet at the same time Jim took comfort in the fact, knowing Sandburg would be there for him. Not just as a partner, but a friend and guide. “So, are we ready to go back inside?” he asked, purposely avoiding the issue.

“I don’t think I can do it Jim.” Again Blair shuddered, his expression, haunted.

Ellison searched his friends features. “What is it you think you can’t do?”

“Go through something like that again.”

The quietly spoken words sent a shaft of fear through Jim’s heart. “Are you saying that you don’t want to be partners anymore?” Ellison hesitantly asked.

Blair’s eyes shot up to meet his own. “NO!” he vehemently exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant. I’m your partner and that’s *not* going to change. You need me.”

“Yes. Yes I do,” Jim freely admitted. A confession that three short years ago would have been impossible for him to admit. But then, that was before one hyperactive anthropologist had entered his life. Ellison smiled down at his friend, gratefully. The shorter man echoing his expression.

“So what is it then?” Jim asked softly.

“What if Giles *is* still alive? He was in love with Katherine. He’ll blame me for her death.” Blair’s breath was coming in quick gasps, as if he couldn’t get enough air. “Oh god!” He groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Just calm down Chief. It’s going to be all right.”

“No Jim, you don’t... understand.” Blair swallowed and tried to catch his breath. “He hated me. Said he was going... to kill me.” Frantically his gaze sought a route of escape, turning to the vast open space beyond the roof’s edge.

Cupping the side of Sandburg’s face, Ellison forced Blair to look at him. “Listen to me. Despite everything they did, you survived. And you did it on your own. If Renald does come after you, this time he’ll find me waiting for him.” Jim’s eyes took on a dark, dangerous gleam.

“I swear to you Chief. I’ll kill the bastard before I ever let him hurt you again.”

Blair shivered, having no doubt of the truth behind Ellison’s words. Hands coming up to clutch the older man’s shirt, blue eyes looked pleadingly up at his friend. Part of him desperately wanted to extract a promise from Jim that he would do just that, kill Renald. But he knew the type of man Ellison was. Knew how it would eventually eat him up inside. He couldn’t do that to his friend, to Jim. “You can’t Jim. Not unless... unless there isn’t any other choice. Promise me!” He demanded.

Slowly the rage reflected in Ellison’s face, faded. Reluctantly he nodded and Blair breathed a sigh of relief.

Cocking his head to the side, Jim asked. “You gonna be okay with this?”

Sorting through his emotions, the younger man finally nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks to you. If Giles does come, he’ll find both of us waiting for him. And together we can accomplish anything.”

Ellison blinked, surprised to hear his own words repeated. Immediately his mind flashed back to the gray circle of light.

“Jim?” Blair called, bringing him back to the present. “You okay?”

Ellison peered down at the concern written on his friends face and summoned a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Sandburg said with a shiver. “So, do you think we could go inside now? It’s freezing up here.”

Jim wrapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Never thought you’d ask,” Ellison replied with a chuckle.

And seeing that all was well, Simon retreated from his observation point, his presence on the roof never revealed to the police consultant.

Two days later Victor Fortunato signed the release papers with flourish. “This time I can honestly say that it’s been a pleasure Mr. Sandburg,” he commented, beefing down at the man who was sharing a sheepish grin with his partner. “However,” Victor continued, “nothing would please me more than if you never needed our services again.”

“I hear that,” Blair replied with a grimace.

“I’ll keep him out of trouble Doc,” Ellison promised.

Fortunato snorted. “You’ll... No offense Detective, but you’re almost as bad as he is.”

“You know Jim,” Blair said with a thoughtful expression. “He’s got a point.”

Ellison merely glowered, causing Sandburg to chuckle.

“Ah, good. Your ride is here,” Victor said as a nurse entered with a wheelchair. “Just do me a favor and at least try to make it home in one piece.”

“I don’t know Doc,” Blair replied, frowning. “You haven’t seen Jim’s driving.”

“SANDBURG!” Ellison growled, trying to look menacing and failing miserably in the attempt.

Assured that his former patient was in good hands, Fortunato nodded to the two men and followed the nurse out.

“You ready to go home Chief?”

“Hey, I was born ready, man,” Blair enthusiastically replied, climbing into the wheelchair.

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Jim playfully teased, wheeling him out of the room. The television still quietly playing in the back round going unnoticed by the departing men.

Late last evening,” the newsman was reporting on screen, “a carload of teenagers reported seeing a severely burned man stumbled from the woods along Lakeshore Drive. However, when authorities were summoned to the scene, no trace of the individual could be found. Police are treating the incident as a hoax....