Acknowledgements: This is for Wolfpup, without whom none of this would have been possible. It's for the talented, funny, extremely handsome Jaffo. Thanks for beta reading this darlin'. And it's for those of you who, after having read my first three offerings, actually came back for more. I am most grateful. Thank you.

Slowly, but persistently, the sound encroached on his sleep. Studiously he attempted to ignore it, not wanting its familiar cadence to disturb yet another night of rest, but his humanity would not suffer indifference and propelled him towards consciousness.

Turning his head to the side, Jim noted the time on the nightstand alarm clock and groaned, "Damn it Sandburg, not again." Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the effort. Recently he had been shot twice, taking one bullet in the leg and another in the arm and although he was nearly one hundred percent healed, both appendages still had a tendency to stiffen up when not in use and make their presence known when they were.

With a weary sigh, Jim slid his feet into the slippers sitting beside the bed and reached for his robe. Wiping the final remnants of sleep from his eyes, Jim started down the stairs.

Blair removed his glasses and, laying them down on the table, scrubbed furiously at his tired eyes. Replacing his glasses, Blair widened his eyes, then squinted as the type on his laptop computer screen refused to come into focus. His consternation turned to confusion as a hand reached around from behind him, saved the file and shut the computer down. He felt himself being guided from the chair and blinked up into the concerned face of his roommate.

"Come on Chief, it's long past even your bedtime."

"Can't yet Jim," Blair protested, pulling away, "gotta finish this paper."

Reestablishing his grip, Jim forcibly led Blair towards his bedroom. "The only thing you gotta do, the only thing you're going to do, is go to bed." Turning on the bedside lamp, Jim pulled back the bed covers. "Sit."

"But..." Blair sputtered, scowling at the command. However he took one look at Jim's angry countenance and complied.

"Now go to sleep," Jim ordered. When Blair didn't move he advanced on the petulant looking young man. "Am I going to have to undress you myself?"

"No," Blair groused, "I can do it."

Jim stepped back, leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, waiting.

"Jim, man, how about a little privacy here?" Blair asked, raising an eyebrow to accentuate his point.

"Fine, but I'll be back in five minutes and I expect to see your butt ready for bed."

"I'll be back in five minutes and I expect to see your butt ready for bed," Blair mimicked sarcastically as Jim retreated to the living room. He knew the sentinel could hear him, but didn't care. What right did Jim have to tell him what to do. Blair slipped off his shoes and it struck him. Oh God, what am I doing? Jim's probably pissed because I was keeping him awake. I've got to learn to be quieter. With that resolve, Blair stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and slipped on the pair of sweatpants he liked to sleep in. With thirty seconds to spare he was under the covers when Jim returned. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay Chief. Just get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning." Jim waited for Blair to turn off the light and settle down before softly closing the door behind him and making his way back upstairs. Halfway up, he paused and glanced back.

Twenty minutes later, certain that Jim was once again asleep, Blair snuck furtively out of his room and towards his laptop with the intention of continuing to work in his room. Quietly as possible, he moved across the floor, mindful of every squeaky floorboard, not wanting to disturb Jim any more than he already had. Blindly he made his way across the room with practiced ease. Okay, there's the table, he thought when his fingers contacted with the familiar object, now for the laptop. His hands fanned out over the smooth surface, searching. "What the?" he muttered beneath his breath when the search came up empty.

As lights flooded the room, Blair felt an adrenaline spike course throughout his body.

"Looking for this?" Came a familiar voice from the area of the living room.

Blair fought to get his racing heart under control as he spotted Jim sitting on the couch holding up the computer. "Jesus Jim!" Blair croaked an octave higher than normal. "What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

Rising from the couch, Jim started towards his roommate. "What I'm trying to do is make sure you get some sleep. Damn it Blair!" he ground out. "The doctor said you were suppose to rest. Yet since you got home from the hospital, you've done everything but..." Jim broke off his angry tirade as the object of his concern flinched and bowed his head. The long, dark curls obscured his view, but Jim could tell by the dejected slump of Blair's shoulders that the kid had misunderstood the reason for his outburst. Wearily, he sighed.

Over the past couple of months Blair's behavior had become increasingly aberrant prompting Simon's ultimatum to get professional help or lose his observers status. Unfortunately it turned out that the psychologist he was sent to see had been responsible for Blair's erratic behavior all along. Katherine Raines, seeking revenge for her daughter's death, had been systematically poisoning Sandburg with a toxic hallucinogen. Between the effects of the hallucinogen and hypnosis, she had eventually convinced Blair that Jim had been abusing him. Only Blair's unquestionable belief in his friend had saved both of them in the end, but it had been way too close. Jim had been shot twice and the build up of toxins in his system had left Blair fighting for his life.

When Blair had finally been released from the hospital, Jim thought that the nightmare was over, but since returning home Blair's behavior had altered yet again. Rather than rest as the doctor had instructed, Blair seemed determined to see just how much he could cram into a twenty four hour period. Between his responsibilities at the university and his work with Jim, the kid was always in perpetual motion. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he had taken to cooking, cleaning the loft and looking after Jim as if his life depended on it. Behavior hardly conducive to the Blair Sandburg he knew. Oh sure, the kid had always been there when Jim needed him and done more than his fair share of the cooking and cleaning, well Sandburg's version of clean, that is, but now he was almost compulsive about it. No, this was not typical Sandburg behavior. He had tried to get Blair to open up and talk about whatever it was that was bothering him, but Blair would just shrug it off and work that much harder. Something had to give, Jim just hoped it wasn't Blair's health or sanity.

Blair's quiet apology averted Jim from his reverie. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I was just trying to get this paper done before the end of the semester."

"I know you're scrambling to catch up on all the work you've missed," Jim replied gently, looking into the remorseful face of his partner, "but you're not going to do yourself or anyone else any good if you're exhausted," he finished, silently wondering at the hurt look that had flashed across Sandburg's features.

Blair opened his mouth to apologize yet again but was forestalled when Jim held up a staying hand. "Just go to bed," he reiterated, "and I'm taking this with me," he added, indicating the lap top, "just in case you're entertaining any ideas of sneaking back out here again after I go to bed."

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Blair tried to preclude the inevitable. Taking a quick glance at the determined features of his roommate, he knew Jim wasn't going to back down on this. "Good night Jim," he capitulated, heading for his room.

"Good night Blair," he heard in reply before closing the bedroom door behind him.

Removing his glasses and setting them on the nightstand, Blair's mind raced to reorganize his schedule to allow time for finishing the paper. Picking up the alarm clock, he reset it for an hour earlier and climbed into bed. Tucking the alarm clock beneath his pillow, Blair finally acknowledged his body's need for rest and drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Blair leaned back against the rear wall of the elevator and closed his eyes. For those familiar with his previous harrowing experience regarding elevators, they might have thought he was afraid. But the truth of the matter was that he was just too damn tired to care one way or another.

Reaching up, he rubbed at the headache which seemed to have taken up permanent residence behind his eyes. The soft ting of a bell alerted him of the arrival to his designated floor. Schooling his features, Blair stepped out and went to greet his partner. "Hey Jim, how's it going?"

Ellison sat back in the chair and looked up at the normally hyperactive grad student. Despite Sandburg's attempt to appear his normal ebullient self, Jim's sentinel sight noted the dark circles beneath his eyes and the tiny lines etched at the corners as Blair unconsciously winced in pain. My God, Sandburg looks like he's ready to keel over, Jim thought as he became aware of other visible signs of Blair's deteriorating health. This has got to stop and stop now! "Blair..." he began, determined to get to the root of the problem that was instigating Sandburg's self destructive behavior.

"Sandburg, you got that report I asked for yet?" Simon barked immediately upon entering the bullpen.

Blair started guiltily. "Um, not yet Simon. I still need to cross reference the data..." His voice trailed off uncertainly, eyes cast downward expecting a reprimand.

Glancing over at Ellison, Simon's eyebrows rose silently questioning Sandburg's unusually subdued behavior. Not having any answers to provide, Jim shrugged helplessly. Without even realizing it, Simon's voice softened. "Well get it to me as soon as you can. The commissioner's office has already called twice asking for it."

"Fifteen minutes tops," Blair vehemently promised the captain.

Simon frowned. "Jim, can I speak with you for a minute?"

"Sure Simon," Ellison acknowledged and rising from behind his desk followed the captain into his office.

The minute Jim had vacated his chair Blair sat down and calling up the appropriate file, became immersed in his work.

Closing the door behind the detective, Simon peered through the blinds at Blair. "Jim, what's going on with Sandburg? He looks like death warmed over."

Running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration and apprehension, Ellison sighed. "I wish to hell I knew. I mean, I know he got behind in his work at the university these last few weeks and he's been trying to catch up, but there's more to it than that. He's on the go practically twenty-four hours a day. He misses meals, hardly gets any sleep..."

"You think it might have something to do with Raines? You think he's afraid she might come after him or you again?"

"I don't know...maybe," Jim conceded. "I've tried to get him to talk about whatever it is that's bothering him, but he just denies anything is wrong and clams up."

Simon whistled. "You're right, that doesn't sound like Sandburg."

"He's not even acting like Sandburg," Jim admitted.

"And that's a bad thing?" Simon quipped only to receive a reproachful scowl from Ellison.

"You know how Blair likes to gripe about the house rules?" Jim asked thoughtfully.

"Well you do have a lot of them," Simon replied, earning himself another glare from Ellison.

"Well, he doesn't anymore. Not a peep. And what's even stranger still is that he follows them. He's neat, meticulous almost to a fault. He cooks, cleans and watches over me like a hawk."

"You sure it's Sandburg and not a Jim Ellison clone you're living with," Simon asked with a touch of humor.

Jim was not amused. "I'm worried Simon. You saw him. He's suppose to be recuperating. Not running himself half ragged."

"And I haven't helped the situation any by asking him to compile that report," Simon admitted.

"You didn't know," Jim tried to placate the taller man.

"Well I should have," Simon fumed. "Damn it, Sandburg's as much one of my men as anyone else out there. I should have realized sooner that something was wrong."

"Don't be so hard on yourself Simon. You know how good the kid is at covering things up. It's just getting to the point where the physical evidence is getting too hard for him to hide anymore."

"So what are we going to do about it? After all, the reason for him being partnered with you in the first place still exists."

Jim held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I don't know. Every time I suggest that he cut back some on helping me out here at the station he looks..."

Simon held up a staying hand. "Say no more. I'm very familiar with that look." He paused, reflecting on all the odd jobs that he and many of the Major Crimes detectives had gotten used to pawning off onto the anthropologist. "Well, if he won't voluntarily cut down on the amount of work he does around here, at least I can ensure that he doesn't get any extra."

"I'd appreciate that sir," Jim responded with a grateful smile. "Now if I could just get him to chill out at home."

A soft knock came at the door followed seconds later by Blair as he entered Simon's office. "Here's that report you wanted Simon," he said handing the captain a thick manila folder.

Glancing through the file, Simon's appreciation for Blair's abilities increased. "Excellent work Sandburg. I'm sure the Commissioner will be as equally impressed."

"Um, thanks," Blair muttered, embarrassed at the unexpected praise from the captain. To cover his discomposure he turned to address Ellison. "I'm going to try and finish up a few more of those reports on your desk."

"The reports can wait Chief. Why don't you go grab yourself a cup of coffee instead," Jim suggested.

"Okay, sure," Blair replied, frowning pensively. "Can I get you one while I'm at it?" he asked hopefully.

Ellison's jaw involuntarily clenched. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Great," Blair responded with an enthusiastic bounce. "I'll be right back."

The two older men exchanged worried glances as Blair headed for the break room.

"Jim, there's definitely something going on with Sandburg and I think you need to find out what it is before this goes any farther."

"Don't you think I haven't tried?" Ellison's exasperation was evident as he rose and began pacing. "He just won't..."

"What is it Jim?" Simon asked as the flow of words suddenly ceased and he observed Ellison tilting his head slightly to the side. He appeared to be listening to something that was beyond the human norm.

A look of alarm flashed across Ellison's face. "It's Sandburg, he's in trouble," Jim replied before bolting out of the office.

Jim pushed his way through the throng of people clustered around the break room door. Immediately spotting Blair laying on the floor amidst an overturned chair and broken fragments of a ceramic mug, he knelt beside the prone figure and reached to check his pulse. Concurrently, he extended his enhanced senses to do a more through exam.

"An ambulance is on the way," Simon informed Ellison as he moved to kneel down on the other side of Blair. "How's he doing?"

Jim shook his head, noncommittal, and resumed his sensory examination.

"Could he be having a relapse?" Simon's expression indicating his horror at the thought.

"God, I hope not." Jim shuddered at the possible implications.

Clearing the gawkers from the doorway, Joel Taggert entered the room. "The paramedics are on their way up." He informed the other two men.

Jim reached out, gently touching Blair's cheek. "Come on Chief, wake up and tell me what's going on here."

When paramedics Jack Sorenson and his partner Randy Ketchum got the call for Cascade PD Headquarters, Jack had a sinking feeling that the call would involve either Ellison or Sandburg. His hunch proved to be correct as he entered the room and spotted Blair on the floor.

As Simon moved to make room, Jack knelt beside the unconscious observer and began a cursory examination. Flashing Ellison a sympathetic look, Jack inquired, "Can you tell me what happened?"

Jim shrugged helplessly. "He was alone when it happened."

Jack nodded as he swiftly moved from listening to Sandburg's heart, to taking his blood pressure. "Have you noticed anything unusual lately?"

Simon snorted. Unusual was par for the course when it involved Sandburg.

"Lack of appetite, difficulty sleeping?" the paramedic continued to question.

"From what I've seen, he's hardly been eating anything," Jim frustratingly admitted. "And I practically have to tie him down to get him to stop long enough to get any sleep."

"Hum," Jack commented as he checked Blair's pupil reaction to light.

"You got any idea what's wrong with him?" Simon inquired.

"I think it's just exhaustion," the paramedic hazarded a diagnosis as he replaced his equipment. "But considering the circumstances of his recent hospitalization, I think it best we get him checked out more thoroughly." He nodded to Randy and between the two paramedics, they deftly loaded Blair onto the stretcher and strapped him down.

Jim stepped aside, allowing them to pass, the entire time his focus solely intent on his friend and partner.

Simon placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, gently drawing his attention. "Come on, I'll drive you."

Dr. Fortunato finished his exam and scowled at the obstinate young man sitting before him. In all his thirty years in the medical profession, he had never come across a more exasperating patient. "Mr. Sandburg," he began to reprimand, "you were released from this hospital under the provision that you were to rest for six weeks." Blair started to speak, quickly clamping his mouth shut when the irate doctor shot him a disapproving glare and continued his lecture unabated. "Now less than three weeks later you're back in my emergency room exhibiting all the signs of exhaustion. Would you care to explain that?"

Blair opened his mouth to reply.

"There is no excuse," Fortunato exclaimed, shaking an admonishing finger at Blair, "for this blatant disregard concerning your health! Well Mr. Sandburg, thanks to your actions, you have just landed yourself another hospital stay. If you don't have the common sense to look after your own well being, then we'll just have to do it for you." Victor mentally ticked off the seconds before the expected outburst from his patient. He almost got to three.

"NO WAY!" Blair resoundingly replied, hopping down from the examination table and stumbling into the doctor's waiting arms as his legs immediately refused to support him.

"You were saying," Victor commented smugly.

"I just got up a little too fast is all," Blair groused, pushing away to finally stand on his own.

"Really Mr. Sandburg, I must protest..."

"I know my rights," Blair exclaimed, a hint of panic becoming evident in his voice. "You can't keep me here."

Victor was quickly losing his patience. "Now look, I let you get away with this nonsense the last time you were here and it nearly cost you your life. Considering your self destructive tendencies, I'm beginning to have serious reservations about your mental stability. Perhaps it would be best if we admitted you for a psychiatric evaluation."

"NO!" Blair shrieked, wrenching away from the doctor. He back peddled away from the proposed threat, bumping into the examination table.

"Now just calm down," Victor said as Blair swiftly moved to place the examination table between himself and the doctor. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you," Victor soothed, holding his hands up in a placating gesture while trying to calm the young man as he began to hyperventilate. "I just want to..."

"NO! NO HOSPITAL, NO PSYCHIATRIST!"

"Mr. Sandburg, if you would just listen to reason."

"Jimmm!" Blair keened in unequivocal terror.

Two seconds later the examination room door flew open as Jim, followed by Simon, burst into the room. Taking one look at his frightened partner, Ellison demanded angrily, "What the hell is going on in here?"

"I merely suggested that Mr. Sandburg might benefit from seeing a psychiatrist," Fortunato explained.

"YOU DID WHAT!?!" Banks and Ellison exclaimed simultaneously.

"Jimmm!" Blair wailed, his fear evident in his rigid posture and stricken features.

"It's okay buddy," Jim crooned, moving closer. "No one's going to force you to see a psychiatrist." When Blair didn't bolt at the advance, Jim promptly covered the rest of the distance separating him from his partner. Placing a hand on either side of Blair's shoulders, Jim carefully studied his partner's face. "You okay Chief?"

Crystalline blue eyes looked up at him with such trust that Jim was momentarily taken aback.

Blair nodded, swallowing a gasp as he tried to get his breathing under control. "I just want to go home," he pleaded.

Ellison glared at the doctor. "Is there any reason why he shouldn't?"

Victor Fortunato knew from the outset that he was fighting a losing battle, but his sense of ethics had prodded him to try anyway. "Mr. Sandburg is suffering from extreme exhaustion, dehydration and malnutrition."

"Dear Lord!" Simon muttered under his breath as Fortunato continued.

"It's obvious that he refuses to adhere to the stringent guidelines we issued upon his prior release from this hospital. Therefore, I feel it would be in the patient's best interests if we were to keep him here under strict observation."

"Jimmm!" Blair sobbed, reaching up to clench the front of Ellison's jacket.

"Everything's going to be all right Blair," Jim reassured his distraught partner. "I'll look after him and make sure he follows your instructions," he told the doctor.

Victor looked skeptical. "If you'll pardon me for saying so detective, you haven't been doing a very good job of it so far."

The flash of anger reflected in Ellison's eyes was quickly subdued by feelings of guilt. "Well this time if he doesn't listen, I'll haul his ass back here personally." He turned his attention to Blair. "You hear that Sandburg? If I take you out of here, you are going to have to promise that you'll listen to me and follow the doctor's instructions. Otherwise, I'm outta here."

"Jim!" Blair exclaimed, incredulously.

Ellison stood his ground. "I'm sorry Chief, but the doctor's right. You keep up like this and you're going to end up killing yourself. I can't just stand back and allow that to happen. So it's either my way or the highway."

Blair appeared stunned by the ultimatum.

"So what's it going to be?" Ellison gently prodded.

Really not liking the alternative, Blair capitulated. "All right, we'll do it your way."

"Fine," Victor Fortunato threw up his hands in defeat. "But if he ends up back in here, it's on your conscience detective."

"I understand that," Jim assured the doctor.

"Come on Blair, let's get you home." Simon spoke up breaking the thick tension in the room.

"Sounds like a plan," Blair replied with a relieved smile.

Victor watched as the officers helped a still unsteady Sandburg from the room, knowing full well that it was just a matter of time before Sandburg, Ellison or both of them ended up back in the hospital. And when that happened he determined that for once, he was going to have the upper hand. Smiling at the mental picture this presented, he strode out of the room suddenly in a much better mood.

Pulling into the parking lot outside of 852 Prospect, Simon glanced over at his passengers and stifled a smile. Bundled up in Ellison's oversized jacket, Sandburg was securely snuggled against the detective's chest fast sleep. Sensing Simon's scrutiny, Jim looked up and with a grin, shrugged helplessly.

"You want some help getting him upstairs?" Simon offered.

"I think we can manage." Ellison looked down at his sleeping partner. Lord knows the kid needed the rest and he was loathe to wake him, but with his arm still not one hundred percent he couldn't chance carrying him. "Sandburg," he called, gently shaking the younger man. "We're home."

"Hmmm," Blair mumbled while trying to burrow deeper into the expanse of Ellison's chest.

Simon snorted in amusement.

"Come on buddy," Jim prodded, "you gotta help me out here."

The long dark lashes fluttered briefly then opened to reveal drowsy orbs of cerulean blue. Slowly, as the last vestiges of sleep fell away, Blair realized he'd been using Jim as a pillow and bolted upright on the seat. "Oh man," running a hand through his disheveled curls, he groaned in embarrassment. His gaze fell on Simon's grin and Blair felt himself blush. "Sorry about that," he muttered to Jim.

"No problem," Ellison assured him. "What say we get you inside before it starts to rain."

At Blair's quick nod of assent, Jim popped open the sedan door and climbed out. Blair started to follow but then paused, turning back to address the captain. "I'm sorry about all this Simon."

"Don't worry about it Sandburg," Simon replied. "Just don't go making a habit of it."

"Yes sir. I mean, no sir," Blair stammered. "Thanks Simon," he added before sliding out of the car.

Simon leaned down to call out after him. "Jim, take the rest of the day off," he told the detective.

"Thank you sir," Ellison answered before slamming the car door shut. Turning towards Sandburg he felt a drop of rain pelt his cheek. "Come on, lets get you inside. The last thing we need now is for you to come down with pneumonia from getting caught in the rain."

Following his partner, Blair silently berated himself. Great, just great. Can't I ever do anything right? All Jim needed was a little help with the paperwork, but can I manage to do that? NOOO! I've gotta take a header in the break room instead. God, for all the good I am I sometimes wonder why he even bothers keeping me around.

"Sandburg, you just gonna stand in the hall all day?"

Ellison's question startled him out of his reverie. "Um, no." Entering the loft he shrugged off Jim's jacket, hanging it on the coat rack beside the door. Taking a few steps into the room he paused as if uncertain how to proceed.

"You okay Chief?" Ellison asked, concern marring his forehead.

Not wanting to further worry his roommate, Blair pasted a smile on his face before turning to face Jim. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, only to find himself the recipient of a disbelieving glare. Determined to sidetrack the taller man Blair headed for the kitchen. "You hungry? I could fix us a late lunch. I think we still have some stir fry left in the fridge," Blair commented, yanking open the refrigerator door.

Ellison's arm came around from behind him slamming it shut. Placing a hand on either side of Blair's shoulders, he guided the surprised anthropologist into the living room and pushed him down onto one of the couches. Blair started to rise, angered by Ellison's handling.

"SIT!" the detective told him in no uncertain terms. "If you're hungry, I'll fix us some lunch."

"But Jim..." Blair protested.

"Not another word," Jim ground out, pointing a warning finger at Blair.

"We had an agreement Chief. Now either you honor that agreement or I'm hauling your butt straight back to the hospital." Blair settled back onto the sofa with a petulant pout. Ellison nodded. "I'm glad we finally understand one another."

With a final warning glance, Jim headed back to the kitchen and began preparing lunch. In short order he had heated the food, dished it out on a couple of plates and set them on the table. "What do you want to drink with this?" he called out. "Sandburg?" he questioned when no answer had been forthcoming. Thinking his roommate was just being obstinate, Jim strode into the living room. "I asked what you wanted to..." the question dying on his lips as he discovered Blair still sitting upright but sound asleep on the couch. Stubborn to the end, he thought with a dry chuckle of amusement. Not wanting to rouse his exhausted friend just to move him into the bedroom, Ellison arranged the sofa pillows and carefully maneuvered Blair into a reclining position. Removing his shoes, Jim grabbed the multi-colored patchwork blanket off the back of the couch and, unfolding it, tucked it around the sleeping grad student. Satisfied that Sandburg was down for the count, Ellison went to eat his lunch.

Jim pulled into the parking lot just as Simon was climbing out of his sedan. Ellison's surprise at seeing him there quickly manifested into worry. His first thought being that something had happened to Sandburg while he'd been running errands. "Simon, what are you doing here?" he questioned, getting out of the truck.

"I called earlier to check on the kid. When he answered the phone and told me that you'd went to pick up the truck at the station, I thought I'd better, well, you know."

Ellison grinned at his captain's discomposure. Reaching back into the cab of the truck, he snagged the bag of groceries off the seat. Locking the truck, the two men walked compatibly into the building.

"So how's he doing?" Simon asked as they rode up in the elevator.

"He was sleeping when I left," Ellison replied with a frustrated sigh. "I thought he'd be asleep for hours, otherwise I wouldn't have left."

They stepped off the elevator and headed for the loft. "I never should have called and woke the kid up," Simon chided himself.

Juggling the groceries in one arm, Jim inserted his key into the lock. "Don't worry about it sir."

Opening the door, he allowed Simon to proceed him into the loft. Quietly closing the door behind them, Jim glanced towards the couch only to discover it empty. Frowning, his gaze swiftly traversed the loft until he spotted Blair sitting at the table working. "SANDBURG!" he bellowed, striding across the room. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he glaringly asked while plopping the grocery bag down on the table.

Totally engrossed, Blair had been oblivious to everything except his work until Jim had yelled alerting him to his presence. Guiltily, he looked up and, seeing Jim's face tinged red with anger, quickly glanced back down at the lecture notes he'd been preparing on 3" x 5" index cards. "You're the detective Jim, you figure it out."

"Damn it Chief, we had an agreement."

Blair felt himself growing inexplicably angry. "I'm just preparing some notes for a lecture I'm giving tomorrow," he shouted back.

Jim threw up his hands in disbelief. "Just what part of the word rest don't you understand?"

"I've got responsibilities man. I can't just blow them off because you say so."

"Not any more you don't," Ellison replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What do you mean?" Blair asked suspiciously.

"I stopped by the university and made arrangements to have your classes covered. I also got you an extension on your own work that's due."

"YOU DID WHAT!?!" Blair exploded. "Oh man, I do not believe this. What gives you the right to interfere...?" Too angry to continue, Blair snatched up the lecture notes and rose from the table.

Jim reached out snagging Blair by the arm before he could storm off in a huff to his room. "You gave me that right at the hospital," he reminded Sandburg. "Now what's it going to be? Are you actually going to do what you're told for once or do I take you back to the hospital?"

Blair's lips pursed in thought as he turned angry blue orbs on his roommate. "This really sucks, you know."

Jim shrugged. "No one ever said that life was fair. Those are your choices. So what's it going to be?"

"FINE!" Blair agreed huffily, yanking his arm from Ellison's grip. "You win, okay! Now if it's all right with you, I guess I'll go lay down since I'm not allowed to do anything else."

He started for his room only to be brought up short as Jim growled, "Sandburg."

Blair looked back questioningly at the detective who was holding out his hand expectantly. "What?" he demanded, not understanding the unspoken request.

"The cards," Jim indicated. "Hand them over."

Blair looked at his lecture notes then up at the determined stance of his partner. Anger simmered beneath the surface as he handed Ellison the cards and stormed off to his room.

"Hello to you too, Sandburg," Simon commented, his first words since entering the loft. He winced as the French doors to Sandburg's room slammed shut, punctuating his sentence.

Simon turned to Ellison and suggested, "You might want to consider replacing those doors with something a little less breakable. The kid's really pissed Jim."

"What else was I suppose to do. He's going to end up killing himself if he keeps going at the rate he's been going."

"He does seem to have a strong sense of responsibility," Simon commented. His mouth quirked in an ambiguous smile. "Funny, looking at him, you'd never guess it."

"He's certainly full of surprises," Jim agreed.

"So what are you going to do about Sandburg? It's obvious that he's not going to cooperate willingly."

Expelling a frustrated sigh, Jim had to admit he didn't know. "I really don't want to force him to go back to the hospital, but I can't keep an eye on him twenty four hours a day. And you've seen for yourself, the minute my back is turned he disregards the doctors instructions."

"Hmmm," Simon murmured thoughtfully. "Sounds like the only option left is for you to take him somewhere without work or distractions. Camping maybe," he suggested.

"That sounds like an ideal solution sir," Jim admitted, "but we've both already missed so much time at work."

"Well, you've already gotten Sandburg an extension at the university," Simon reminded Jim, "and things have been pretty quiet at the station. I really don't see a problem if you guys want to take some time off."

A smile slowly spread across Ellison's face as he warmed to the idea. "It could be the answer," Jim agreed. "And maybe once I get him out there where he can't run away from it by working himself to death, I can get him to open up about whatever it is that's bothering him."

"So you got any idea where you want to go?" Simon inquired.

Jim thought about it for a moment, his eyes sparkling with pleasure when he hit upon the perfect solution. "I've got just the thing," he told Simon. Ten minutes and one phone call later, the arrangements had been made.

"White water rafting?" Simon questioned with raised eyebrows when Jim hung up the phone.

"Yeah, my dad used to take Stephen and I when we were kids." Jim shook his head at the memory. "It was just another one of his ways of toughening us up, but I loved every minute of it. One of the first things I did after I got back from Peru was to go rafting on the Columbia River. I remember thinking," Ellison continued thoughtfully, "that it was the first time I truly felt alive since we crashed in the jungle."

"Now all you have to do is convince Sandburg to go along with your scheme."

"Oh, he'll go," Jim responded, his face set with determination. "One way or another."

Ellison snuck another furtive glance at his sulking passenger. For the past hour and forty five minutes Blair had sat silently staring out the truck's side window. Between the defiant way his arms were crossed against his chest and the lack of any sort of communication, Ellison knew without a doubt that his friend was pissed.

"You can pout all you want Junior, but I am not about to turn around and go back to Cascade. We are going on this trip."

Blair recognized the controlled anger in Ellison's tone and regretted his sophomoric behavior. After all, Jim had planned this trip with the best intentions. What had offended him though was the high handed way Jim had just moved in and taken control of his life. Face it Sandburg, you haven't been doing such a good job in that department lately, he mentally berated himself.

Wracked with guilt over what had transpired with Katherine Raines, Blair had been determined to make it up to Jim by becoming the best partner, friend, roommate and guide Ellison could want. But his hospital stay had put him so far behind at the university. Overwhelmed by the backlog of work and his responsibilities to Jim there just weren't enough hours in the day to accomplish it all.

More and more he found himself cutting back on sleep and meals while trying to etch out just a few more hours in a day. That is until his body had finally cried uncle and he'd collapsed. Once again he had failed Jim. God, no wonder he thinks I'm incapable of taking care of myself. And if I can't even do that, then how am I suppose to look after him?

Startled by his train of thought, Blair cast a worried glance at his partner, silently wondering if similar thoughts were running through the sentinel's mind. Certain that he would see only disappointment reflected in his friend's face, Blair was surprised to only see traces of concern directed at him.

"Jim, it's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do, and you know how much I enjoy our camping trips, but right now is not a good time."

"Now's the perfect time," Jim responded as he pulled into the parking lot of Winslow's White Water Tours. Parking the truck, he turned off the ignition. "We're here and we're staying, so you might as well kick back and relax."

"Come on," he cajoled when Blair still seemed reluctant. "We both need this. We'll go camping. Do a little fishing. Run the rapids..."

Blair did a double take. "Did you say rapids?"

"Yeah, you'll love it," Jim assured him.

"I don't know man." Blair seemed skeptical.

"You trust me, right." Jim turned penetrating blue eyes on his partner.

"You know I do, but this..." He shrugged.

"Do it for me?" Jim asked solemnly, instinctively knowing that his friend would be unable to refuse the request.

"Okay," Blair finally growled. "But don't expect me to be much help. It's hard to do much when your eyes are closed and you're hanging on for dear life."

Ellison chuckled and climbed out of the truck. Reluctantly Blair followed.

Upon hearing them drive up, Paul Winslow opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch of the log cabin that served both as his home and place of business. Although in his early fifties and with a head of snow white hair Paul, standing at 5 feet 8 inches tall, had the physique of a much younger man. The fine lines around his startling blue eyes and his firm upper body muscular development, gave affirmation to the numerous hours he had spent on the river.

When Ellison had called to make the arrangements he'd had some reservations about letting them take this trip alone. Normally he would have accompanied them, acting as a guide. But with his broken left forearm firmly encased in a cast, this time that was not an option. True, Ellison was experienced, but from what Jim had told him over the phone, his friend was a novice.

Paul watched as Ellison made his way over to the porch and took in his friend's tense appearance and slightly noticeable limp. He then turned his attention to the younger man trudging along side Ellison and winced. Jim hadn't been very forthcoming with details, just saying that he and his partner needed to get away for awhile. Judging by the kid's haggard appearance, Paul thought that perhaps Ellison's euphemism had been slightly understated.

"Paul," Jim greeted him with a smile and extended hand as he stepped up onto the porch. "It's good to see you again."

"Been a long time Jimmy." Paul returned the smile with genuine affection as he clasped Ellison's hand in return.

"I'd like you to meet my partner Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Paul Winslow, the best river guide on the entire Columbia river," Jim said by way of introductions.

Blair reached out to shake the man's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here young fella." He eyed Blair more closely. "You know, I've been wondering for some time what Jimmy's partner was like. After what happened with Jack and his refusal to be teamed with somebody else, I figured you'd have to be something pretty special."

A look of overwhelming sadness flashed across Blair's feature and was gone in an instant, but not before Paul saw it.

"Guess you're disappointed, huh?" Blair replied, unable to look at the man which Jim so obviously respected.

Ellison shrugged at Paul's inquiring glance.

"Nah, from all the good things Jimmy's told me about you, I'd say he's got himself one hell of a great partner."

Blair's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he turned to look questioningly at Ellison. At Jim's slight nod of agreement, Blair couldn't contain the smile that burst forth. "Not really," he told Paul, his tone teasing, "Jim likes to obfuscate."

"ME!" Ellison responded with mock outrage. "You're the one that's the master of obfuscation Chief."

"Yeah, well, it is one of my many talents," Blair preened with feigned humility, as he felt himself relax beneath the playful bantering.

"Well, what say you get your talented butt in gear and give me a hand unloading the truck."

Blair leaned back nonchalantly against the porch railing. "I don't know Jim," he said, mustering a serious expression. "After all, I am suppose to be resting."

"Sandburg," Ellison growled threateningly, then snorted with amusement. "You're going to make me eat those words, aren't you?"

"Yep," Blair replied grinning. "Would you like that with or without bread?"

Jim grimaced and, with a parting look of simulated annoyance, headed for the pick up.

"So Paul," Blair began in a conspiratorial tone, knowing full well that the sentinel was listening, "having known Jim for so long I bet you have lots of stories you could tell me."

"Oh yeah," Paul replied with a wink. "There was this one time..."

Jim had a feeling he was going to be teased about his past for months to come. But a little ribbing was worth it just to see the sparkle of amusement in his partner's eyes and to hear his laughter ring forth again. Certain that this trip would do them both a world of good, Jim unloaded their supplies and transferred them to the raft, eager for them to be on their way.

Ellison plunked the safety helmet down on Sandburg's head, securely fastening the strap.

"Hey, not so tight," Blair groused. "I still gotta breathe you know."

With a look of chagrin, Jim loosened the strap. "Sorry about that," he muttered then proceeded to double check the fastenings on Blair's life jacket.

Blair slapped his hands away. "Jim, will you give it a rest." Looking over at Paul, Blair rolled his eyes at Jim's mother hen mode.

"Just making sure Chief. Even though the river should be fairly calm at this time of year, I'm not about to take any chances with your safety."

"Better listen to him, Blair," Paul said, striding up and handing Ellison a wicker basket. "That man knows these waters almost as well as I do."

Only half listening, Blair gave a faint nod, his curiosity aroused by the hidden contents in the basket. "And what do we have here?" he asked, tipping up the lid for a closer look.

"Later Junior." Jim slapped the errant fingers. "What say we get this show on the road." He sat the basket in the raft and turned, hand outstretched towards Paul. "I really appreciate this."

"No problem," Paul assured him, shaking Jim's hand firmly. "I just wish I could go with you." He scowled at his broken arm.

"Maybe next year the three of us can get together," Jim suggested seeing the man's disappointment.

"I'd like that. Now you two best be on your way."

"So what do I do Jim ?" Blair asked as soon as he got settled in the front of the raft.

"For now, nothing. This stretch of the river is fairly smooth so just sit back and relax." Jim took the oars in hand and maneuvered the small craft away from the dock.

"You sure you're up to this?" Blair asked upon noticing Jim wince. "I mean with your arm and all."

"Positive," Jim replied, smiling away his friend's concern. "It'll be good exercise. Help get the muscles back in shape."

"Well, okay," Blair responded, a frown of uncertainty still marring his brow. "But I'd better not catch you turning down your pain dial. And if it gets to be too much, promise me you'll let me know."

"Deal," Ellison agreed.

Satisfied, Blair turned to wave goodbye to Paul who stood watching enviously from the peer.

"Have a good time boys," he called through a cupped hand. "And Jimmy, with it being off season you should have the river to yourselves, so try not to hit anything, okay."

Ellison waved an acknowledging hand.

"He was kidding, right?" Blair asked Ellison with obvious concern. "Jim, what exactly did he mean by that?"

Ellison gave him an enigmatic smile.

"Jim...?"

It hadn't taken long for the river to work its magic on the two men. This stretch of the river was smooth enough that Blair was able to conquer his initial trepidation and relax. He enthused over everything in between regaling Jim with stories of past excursions. Eventually he wound down and lapsed into silence, simply enjoying the peaceful serenity surrounding them. It wasn't too much longer before the combination of the fresh air, sun and gentle caress of the river lulled him to sleep.

Unable to contain a smile at the picture of his sleeping guide, Ellison knew he'd made the right decision. This was just what Blair needed. Hell, they both needed it. He pulled back the oars, allowing the current to carry them along and flexed his injured arm. At first it had been a bit stiff, but the rowing motion had soon worked out the kinks. Actually, the physical exercise had done much to soothe his soul, just as the tranquility of nature had acted as a balm to Blair's.

A short time later they arrived at their first camp sight. Blair looked so peaceful curled asleep up in the bough that Jim didn't have the heart to wake him. After all, getting Sandburg to get some sleep is what he had been trying to accomplish, without much success, for the last few weeks. At this point though, he was certain that nothing short of an earthquake would succeed in waking the exhausted young man. None the less, Jim worked quietly as he went about setting up their camp.

At last the task was completed and next came the dilemma of what to do about Sandburg. The early afternoon sun was beating down relentlessly and Blair certainly couldn't be comfortable in the safety helmet and life jacket. If handled unobtrusively enough, perhaps he could wake Sandburg just long enough to get him out of his gear and into the tent.

Jim headed over to the raft. Carefully he undid the straps and, removing the helmet, noticed the wet curls and beads of perspiration on Blair's forehead. Concerned, he checked for a fever, breathing a sigh of relief upon finding none. Next came the life jacket. No easy task considering the boneless way Sandburg was sprawled. Miraculously, Blair slept through it all. Now came the part Jim dreaded, waking him. "Hey Chief, rise and shine," he called, gently shaking the inert form. Receiving no response, he shook harder. "Come on buddy, I'm not up to carrying you."

"Hmmm," came the garbled reply and the faintest of movements.

Rolling his eyes, Jim hauled Blair up into a sitting position and gently tapped the side of his face. "I just need you to wake up for a few minutes kiddo then you can go back to sleep."

Drowsy eyes of azure opened. A slight smile lifted the corners of Blair's mouth. "Jim," he acknowledged, seconds before the heavy lids drifted shut and his head nodded forward coming to rest on Ellison's chest.

"Aw, come on Chief," Jim whined. "Don't do this to me." Blair's only response was to snuggle closer. With a snort of defeat, Jim shook his head. "Great, just great," he muttered. "Most people have children or pets and what do I end up with?... Sandburg."

With a sigh of resignation and despite the possible exertion on his arm, Jim carefully scooped up his friend and headed for the tent. Laying him down on the sleeping bag, he brushed aside the mop of disheveled curls from Sandburg's face and thought about his earlier comment regarding children and pets. Jim chuckled silently. Lucky me, I got both and a whole lot more.

Hands clasped around the warmth of his coffee mug, Jim watched as the last of the sunrise bathed the surrounding landscape in it's glorious colors. Drinking in its splendor, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to the day before and his attempts to wake Blair long enough to get him to eat something. It had proven harder than trying to wake the dead. When Sandburg ultimately did crash it appeared that nothing short of a ten ton nuclear explosion would be needed to rouse him. Finally he had given up in frustration and had just allowed Blair the rest he so obviously needed. But now it was going on thirty two hours since Sandburg had last eaten and Jim was growing concerned.

Pulling out the foil wrapped biscuits from the basket Paul had given them, Jim set them on a warm rock by the fire. Next he reached into their supplies for the instant coffee. Uncapping the lid, he spooned a teaspoon of the granules into Blair's mug, then grinning, added three more. "If that doesn't do the trick, I don't know what will." Adding some hot water from the pot on the fire, Jim stirred the contents thoroughly.

Careful not to spill it, he rose, crossed the camp and entered the tent. Sandburg still lay in the same position, oblivious to the world surrounding him. Kneeling beside the near comatose figure, Jim waved the steaming beverage beneath Blair's nose. It took a couple of passes but eventually his efforts met with fruition. Blair's nose twitched. Jim grinned as the vision of a long haired, blue eyed, bespectacled rabbit flashed across his minds eye.

"Ummm," came a moan of pleasure from the incumbent form.

"That's it buddy, nice, hot, coffee," Ellison encouraged.

Eyes still closed, one of Blair's hands worked its way from beneath the blanket and reached blindly for the mug.

Jim withdrew it out of reach. "Oh no you don't," he told Sandburg. "First you open your eyes and sit up, then you get the coffee."

Blair opened one eye to glare at his partner.

"You're halfway there Chief," Ellison chuckled.

Grimacing, Blair pushed back the covers and propelled himself into a sitting position, groaning slightly as his cramped muscles protested. With one hand he pushed the stringy disarray of curls out of his face, reaching for the coffee with the other.

Jim placed the mug in Sandburg's hand, then taking a hold of his other hand, guided it until it too was securely wrapped around the cup.

Blair took a moment to sniff appreciatively at the heavenly aroma before taking his first sip. "Ummm," he sighed blissfully as his eyelids drifted shut with contentment. Seconds later his eyes snapped open as the first jolt of caffeine registered. "What the hell did you put in here?" he spat out.

Ellison shrugged innocently. "Just a few extra teaspoons."

"A few extra teaspoons of what?" he asked, eying Jim suspiciously.

"Coffee," the older man assured him. "Just coffee. Now drink up, it'll put hair on your chest."

Blair rolled his eyes and snorted. "As if I need anymore."

Jim chuckled. "Finish your coffee," he instructed. "Breakfast will be waiting when you're ready."

"Breakfast?" Blair questioned, his confusion evident. The last thing he could recall was being on the raft. He glanced around taking in his surroundings. "Ah Jim, exactly how long have I been asleep?"

"Since late yesterday morning."

"WHAT!?!" Came the strangled response as Blair nearly choked on a sip of coffee.

"You okay?" Jim asked, lightly slapping the younger man on the back.

"Yeah, fine," Blair finally managed once the coughing subsided. "Oh man, I'm so sorry Jim. You should have woke me up."

"Don't think I didn't try," Jim replied with wry amusement, recalling his failed attempts.

A look of dismay flashed across Blair's face.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Jim was quick to reassure his distraught partner.

"But your plans!" Blair protested.

"This is our trip," Jim reminded him. "Look, it's not like we're on a set schedule or anything. The whole purpose for this trip is to relax and have some fun."

He paused, frowning as he watched Blair, eyes downcast, pick nervously at the blanket. It was apparent that Sandburg wasn't going to let this go. "You obviously needed the rest Chief or you wouldn't have slept so long," Jim pointed out.

"I guess..." Blair replied, his unspoken 'but' hanging heavy in the early morning air.

Jim debated whether or not to pursue the issue. As desperately as he wanted to get to the bottom of whatever it was that had been troubling Sandburg and perpetuating his self destructive behavior, he didn't want to risk compounding the problem by upsetting him even more. So rather than addressing the issue, he merely gave Blair a quick pat on the leg and went to fix breakfast.

Blair stared into the inky blackness of his coffee mug. Despite Jim's assurances to the contrary, the reality of the situation was that he had once again let his friend down. That the task had been an easy one only magnified the significance of his failure.

Wearily, Blair pushed back the covers and wondered why, after having slept for so long, he still felt so tired.

Ensconced in inner contemplations, the passage of time had ceased to register until Jim called out, "Shake a leg Sandburg, breakfast will be ready soon."

God, he sounds so relaxed and happy, Blair thought, his jaw clenched with resolve. I am not going to screw this up for him. Inhaling deeply, he consciously forced his jaw to relax. Slowly he exhaled through his mouth and repeated the exercise. Certain that he now had his tumultuous thoughts and emotions under control, he replied, "I'll be right there." Determined anew, Blair hurried through his morning ablutions.

"Looks good," Blair commented, glancing down at the contents of the plate Jim had given him when he joined his friend by the fire.

"You can thank Paul for the biscuits," Ellison told his partner. "Go on, give 'em a try," he urged Blair then surreptitiously studied his friend as he took a tentative bite.

Blair's eyebrows rose in surprise and he nodded his approval. "Ummm," he mumbled around a second, larger bite.

Jim felt himself relax. Between his stay in the hospital and the subsequent weeks that had followed, Blair's lack of appetite had worried the detective. Sandburg had dropped weight that he could ill afford to lose from his already lean frame. Perhaps between the combination of fresh air, exercise and enticing meals, he could tempt Sandburg into eating more. Then maybe he'd regain some of the lost weight.

"So what are our plans for today?" Blair asked softly, startling Jim from his quiet contemplations.

Jim noticed that Blair's plate was nearly empty. He bit back the smile that threatened and replied nonchalantly. "I thought maybe we'd do some fishing this morning, then head down river after lunch."

Blair nodded but the sudden tautness of his entire body screamed tension.

This did not go unnoticed by Ellison. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing." Blair tried to shrug it off, reconsidering immediately upon Jim's look of 'Cut the crap Chief, I ain't buying it for a second'. "I guess I'm just a little nervous," he finally admitted. "I mean, yesterday was great and all...well what I didn't sleep through that is," he interjected, his embarrassment evident, "but that wasn't the rapids Jim."

"I know you haven't done this before," Ellison told his partner, "but do you honestly think I'd purposely endanger your life?"

Blair's head shot up in shocked surprise. "No, of course not!" he vehemently replied.

"And I'm not about to start now," Jim responded with quiet reassurance. "The rapids in this next stretch of the river are very tame," he explained. "It'll give me a chance to teach you what you need to know and you a chance to get used to everything." He shrugged, "Think of it as a practice drill."

"Drill," Blair groaned, belying the amusement dancing merrily in his azure eyes.

Jim took off his Jag's cap and gently swatted Blair on the head. "Eat up Junior, the fish are waiting."

With a chuckle, Blair finished up his breakfast and then insisted on doing the dishes while Jim got their fishing gear ready.

"Oh man!" Blair happily enthused as he snuggled beneath the blankets in his sleeping bag. "Today was fantastic!"

Ellison smiled at his friend's exuberance. It had been a long time since he had last seen Blair this keyed up. Hopefully though he'd eventually wind down enough to get to sleep. He had to admit that Sandburg was looking better, but Jim could still detect tail tell smudges beneath his friend's eyes that bespoke of his former state of exhaustion. "Enjoyed it, did you?" he asked his partner.

"Are you kidding!?!" Blair replied incredulous. "It was awesome! I can't wait to tackle the big boys."

"Whoa, slow down tiger," Jim cautioned with a chuckle. "Granted you did great today. I might even go so far as to say that you're a natural. But I don't want you getting too cocky."

Blair's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

Jim swatted at him playfully but then continued in a serious vein, "Water is the most powerful force in nature," he explained, "the river is not something to be trifled with."

"Aw come on Jim," Blair admonished. "You know the only thing I trifle with are ladies' hearts."

"You got that right," Ellison ruefully admitted. "Now settle down and get some sleep, we've got a full day ahead of us tomorrow." First making sure that Sandburg was settled, he turned out the lantern and crawled inside his sleeping bag.

Blair was certain that he wouldn't be able to nod off, so instead of replaying the exhilarating events of the day in his mind, he feigned sleep and forced himself to concentrate, to listen to the gentle patter of the rain as it pelted their tent.

In the darkness, James Ellison knew the exact moment that Blair's ruse went from pretense to reality. Listening to the even breathing of his guide at sleep, Jim allowed himself a small smile of pride. Sandburg really had done exceptionally well today. Not surprising though when you stopped to consider the many versatile talents his young friend seemed to possess. What had pleased Jim the most though about today was the look of sheer joy and excitement on Sandburg's face when they had successfully navigated the small series of rapids. For the first time, in a long time, Blair had looked happy and alive. A far cry from the haunted individual he'd become since his encounters, first with Andrea Alessi and then Katherine Raines, her mother.

An involuntary shudder went through Jim as he thought of Raines. Somehow she had managed to elude the police and was, even now, out there somewhere, watching and waiting. Jim wasn't certain if it was cop instinct or his enhanced sentinel abilities that had led him to this conclusion, but deep inside he knew it was true. Just as he knew the familiar rhythm of Blair's heartbeat. Using that as an anchor against his fears, he allowed its tempo to lull him to sleep.

Sharing the confines of a small tent with a sentinel didn't make his task an easy one. However he was determined and stealthily crept past the sleeping man and out of the tent.

"Oh gross!" Blair grumbled softly as his foot sank several inches into the mud covered ground. He took another step and grimaced as that foot also became firmly entrenched in the gooey mass. He pried the first foot loose, wincing at the slight suction cup popping sound it made. He paused, listening, hoping that the noise hadn't awakened Jim. Several moments later he was fairly certain that the sound had gone unnoticed and sluggishly proceeded forward.

A soft smile played at his lips at the humor of the situation as he wondered how he was going to manage to start a campfire with everything being so wet. It wasn't until he felt the mud squished around his stockinged foot that he realized he had lost one of his sneakers. "Yuck!" he grimaced, turning to retrieve the missing shoe. The mud however apparently had other ideas and refused to relinquish its tenacious grip. Before he knew what was happening, Blair had lost his balance and landed face down in the mud with a splat. From above him, Blair heard a chuckle and looked up.

"Problems Chief?" Ellison asked, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the silly grin from his face.

Two sky blue eyes glared at him through a face full of mud. "Of course not Jim. I always start my day off with a mud bath. It's good for the complexion."

Ellison snorted his amusement as Blair struggled to his knees.

Blair glowered. "You know, instead of standing there grinning like a hyena, you could give me a hand here."

"Sorry Chief," Jim replied, desperately trying to contain his mirth. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of Blair's hand. Suddenly he felt himself being yanked forward. Unable to stop the unexpected forward momentum, seconds later he found himself, prone, face down in the mud. Raising his head, Jim tried to shake off the offending matter. Beside him he heard Blair's laughter ring out. "SANDBURG!" he snarled, reaching out for said culprit.

Still on his hands and knees, Blair scooted out of reach. "Come on Jim," he said between chuckles. "I hear mud also promotes hair growth."

"That's it!" Jim bellowed. "Now you're gonna get it." Prying himself loose, Jim slowly advanced on Blair.

With a yelp, Blair staggered to his feet, trying to put as much distance between him and his irate pursuer as possible. It was slow going as the mud hampered his efforts. Looking over his shoulder, he was surprised to see Jim gaining on him. Turning, he started forward again only to feel an arm snake around his waist, effectively pinning him to the granite like body now directly behind him. "Jim," he begged, fearing the worst. Any further conversation was abruptly cut off as he found himself being turned around and lifted into the air.

"Oomph!" Blair grunted as he was flung across Ellison's shoulder. "Jim! Jim, what are you going to do?"

The sentinel remained stubbornly silent.

"Come on man, talk to me," Blair pleaded as sounds of the river began to penetrate his awareness. Suddenly it hit him, he knew exactly what Jim was planning to do. "Ack! No Jim, don't!" With a resounding splash, Blair hit the water and came up sputtering. "That was so not nice," he grumbled.

Jim shrugged, his expression enigmatic. "You looked like you could use a bath."

Blair brushed the wet curls from his face and glared at the man on the river bank. "I'm not the only one big guy," he said pointedly.

Jim looked down at his mud encased form. "You're right," he admitted. Diving forward, he hit the water, splashing his already drenched guide, and came up grinning. Blair smiled back and for the next half an hour they cavorted like two kids in the water before Jim finally called a halt to their frivolity.

"Aw Jim," Blair whined with a cheeky grin.

"Out," Ellison replied, hooking a thumb towards the shoreline. "Your teeth are chattering and you're turning blue."

It was true, Blair was cold. Realizing Jim wasn't suffering from the same effects, he groused, "Hey, no fair man!"

"Sandburg," Jim growled warningly, taking a step forward.

With a strangled cry, Blair headed for shore.

It was early afternoon before they managed to get everything dried out, packed up and stowed in the raft. Ellison stood on the river bank speculatively eying the water.

Noticing his friend's preoccupation Blair came to stand beside him. "What's up Jim?"

"The river's running a little rough today," came the thoughtful reply.

Blair glanced out over the water. "Probably because of all the rain we got last night."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to move on today Chief."

"Come on Jim, we just got everything packed up. Besides, this is a white water rafting trip, remember."

Ellison smiled. "Yeah, I remember," he said, turning towards his friend.

Blair's eyes, alight with excitement, suddenly dimmed. "It's because of me, isn't it? You don't think I can handle it."

"I was just hoping to get another day of practice in before we hit the rougher stuff."

"I can do this Jim. I know I can," Blair said with conviction.

Ellison took a moment to study the myriad of emotions which ran the gauntlet of his partner's face. Disappointment and uncertainty warred with determination and hope. Nervously, he shifted from one foot to the other awaiting Jim's verdict. "Okay Chief, let's do it."

"YES! " Blair let out an exuberant war whoop.

Swiftly they donned their safety gear. Once his was secure, Jim began to double check Sandburg's.

"I've already got a mom, Jim," Blair groused good naturedly.

"Well, she isn't here Junior, so humor me."

Blair rolled his eyes at Jim's over protectiveness, but allowed him to continue his ministrations.

Finally ready, the two men climbed into the raft and maneuvered it out and into the flowing water. Blair was grinning from ear to ear, fairly radiating his excitement. Seeing his guide so happy, Jim smiled back and forgot about his earlier reticence.

Joel Taggert stormed into Simon's office, crossed the room and turned on the television.

"Joel, what the hell..."

Taggert held up a staying hand, silencing Simon's outburst. Quickly switching stations, he found the one he was looking for. On screen, a news reporter stood with a live shot of Cleveland Dam in the background. Joel turned up the volume.

"Concerned that last night's torrential downpour could further weaken the already ailing structure," the reporter's voice droned, "officials have decided to open all of the floodgates in order to reduce the increasing strain on the structure. Individuals living along the Columbia River are strongly urged to evacuate low lying areas prone to flooding..."

Joel turned down the sound and looked at Banks. "Didn't you tell me that Ellison and Sandburg went rafting on the Columbia?"

As the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, Simon's eyes grew wide with dismay. Reaching for the phone, he quickly stabbed out a number. "Get me a helicopter on the roof now!" he bellowed into the receiver. "Let's go," he told Joel grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

Despite the swiftness of the rain gorged river, sentinel and guide, working in tandem, had managed to successfully navigate through a series of rain swollen rapids. Both men were tired from the rigors of the activity, but equally pleased at their success. Upon reaching a calmer section of the river, they paused in their efforts, taking a moment to catch their breaths and allowing the current to carry them along.

"Way to go Chief," Ellison congratulated his partner. Pride evident in his voice.

Still trembling slightly from his exertions, the younger man turned to reply. Blair's answering smile faded as his eyes went impossibly wide and all the color drained from his face.

"Sandburg?" Jim questioned, concern marring his brow. It was then that the sound reached his ears. A roar so loud it drowned out everything else. An adrenaline rush of fear coursed throughout his body as he turned to see what it was that had terrified his friend, barely registering the swell of water before it over took them.

The enormous wave picked up the tiny raft, tossing it about like so much flotsam and jetsam. Its occupants helpless against the maelstrom surrounding them. Oars, long since abandoned, as both men tightly griped the safety rope, were violently ripped away, one administering a glancing blow to Blair's cheek before being swept away. The craft bucked and twisted, finally turning in on itself, pitching the two helplesss men into the air.

Blair lost all cognizant awareness of up and down as the water tossed him to and fro. His lungs, now depleted of air, felt ready to burst. Pinpoints of light, emulating a fireworks display, burst forth on the back of his closed eyelids as consciousness slipped away. His body was forcibly slammed into something hard and mercilessly unyielding, and he knew no more.

Ellison willed himself to relax as he felt himself propelled skyward. Hitting the water moments later, Jim grunted at the impact. Clawing his way back to the surface, he gulped in great gasps of air as his eyes darted frantically about, searching for Sandburg.

Finally, he saw his partner's head breach the surface of the water several yards away and was horrified to see the blank expression residing there. Working with the force of the current, Jim struck out, his strong graceful strokes carrying him closer and closer to his roommate.

"Sandburg!" he yelled above the torrent, hoping to gain some sort of reaction from the unresponsive young man. His only reward, a mouthful of water.

Almost there, he grunted silently, extending his stroke. The river though was unyielding. Jim had barely gripped the bright orange life jacket when Blair was cruelly ripped from his grasp. "NO!" he roared like a wounded animal, his consternation turning to agony as he witnessed the brutal intensity with which the river bashed his friend against a large rock protruding from the water.

Heedless to the danger of suffering a similar fate, Jim struck out after his partner. Blair's life jacket appeared to be caught on something allowing Jim to maneuver closer. A mixed blessing of sorts, for while it held him in place long enough for Jim to reach him, it also allowed the tumultuous current to repeatedly slam him against the stone outcropping.

Jim reached the unconscious form, pulling himself closer with a tenacious grip. Using his body to shield Blair from the ravages of the river, Jim began to check Sandburg's vital signs. "Oh God," he groaned in misery upon discovering the younger man wasn't breathing. Tilting Blair's head slightly backwards, he began giving mouth to mouth. "DAMN IT SANDBURG, DON'T YOU DO THIS TO ME!" he raged as the first few attempts brought no response. "Please," he begged as the moisture of his own tears fell to mingle with the water surrounding them.

He only took a moment to catch his breath before beginning another volley. The fact that he, himself, was growing progressively weaker against the continuous onslaught of the current as he administered to Blair, went unnoticed. Finally, his efforts were rewarded as Blair began to cough up water. "That's it buddy," Jim encouraged, his face alight with joy as the choking subsided and Blair began to breath normally. However, his relief was short lived as despite his best attempts to rouse him, Blair remained stubbornly unconscious.

Jim was in a quandary as what to do. Lord only knew what injuries the kid had sustained while being pummeled against the rock and he loathed the idea of moving Blair, knowing that in doing so he risked exasperating any affliction that might exist. But then, neither could they remain here. So carefully he began pushing Blair upward out of the water and onto the rock to which they had been clinging.

It was an arduous task as inch by inch he propelled his partner upward. Jim winced as he heard Blair's body scrape against the rough stone. "Sorry buddy," he crooned sympathetically, knowing full well that Sandburg couldn't hear him.

Using the last of his strength, Jim gave one final shove, pushing Blair out of the water until only his lower legs remained bobbing in the current. Resting his head against the stone, Jim's breath came in harsh pants as he tried to still his pounding heart. God but he was tired. Looking up, he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction that he had gotten Blair to relative safety. Now came the difficult task of heaving himself up onto the only safe haven amidst the swirling water.

Running his fingers over its surface, Jim sought purchase along the rock's craggy features. Slowly he began to pull himself up, his muscles bulging with the strain, the stone slicing his fingers. His face was a mask of concentration as he fought against the currents dragging at him and the exhaustion of his own body. He was close, so very close to achieving his goal when fate struck a devastating blow. From out of nowhere, a tree, uprooted by the ravaging river,
swept him away.

Simon Banks cursed as he and Joel Taggert stepped onto the elevator. "Damn it!" he growled, "Of all times for the helicopter to be down for repair."

"What are you going to do?" Joel asked as Simon pushed the button for that station's garage level.

"I'm going to drive up there," Simon stated emphatically. "If I remember right, there's a small airport near Coreith. With any luck, I should be able to hire a helicopter and pilot there."

"It'll be too dark to search by the time you get up there," Joel pointed out.

"Well then I'll start first thing in the morning," Simon ground out angrily before realizing it wasn't Taggert he was angry with. "I'm sorry..."

Joel waved away the necessity for an apology. He knew it was concern for Sandburg and Ellison that had prompted Simon's anger.

The head of Major Crimes turned to the former bomb squad captain. "I'm going to need you to cover for me while I'm gone."

Joel nodded. "Not a problem."

The elevator reached its destination and Simon stepped out. Joel held the doors to keep them from closing. "You'll keep us informed?"

"You got it," Simon assured him before striding to his car.

Letting go of the doors, they slid quietly shut. As Joel thumbed the button for the seventh floor, he silently prayed that Sandburg and Ellison would be all right.

Awareness returned slowly. Creeping over him, methodically by degrees. First came the sensation of the rough surface beneath him. Next, the smooth silkiness surrounding his lower legs. Eventually thought returned, albeit a bit muddled at first. Sluggishly, Blair's eyes blinked open. He thought it odd that the nearby landscape was tilted on an angle, until realizing it was not the rest of the world which was askew, but himself.

Softly he groaned as the myriad of aches and pains pushed their existence to the foreground of his awareness. Laying there, lacking the energy to move, Blair tried to reconstruct the events that had lead him to be in this position. One by one the pieces fell into place as he systematically remembered the last few hours undeniably imprinted on his memory. He smiled slightly recalling the tussle in the mud and felt a sense of accomplishment and pride as he recollected navigating the rapids.

Suddenly he jerked, whimpering in pain as a flashback of the high wall of water assaulted his mind with a violent intensity. Once again, he experienced the sheer terror of those last few moments before oblivion had carried him away into its gentle caress. So then, how did he get here? Must have been Jim, his disconcerted mind supplied. JIM! Oh my God, where's Jim? Blair's apathy fled in the face of this new knowledge and he bolted upright.

A cry was wrenched from his lips at the sudden movement as a stabbing pain lanced across his back, down through his hip and into his left leg. Pain so intense it stole his breath away and left him on the very periphery of unconsciousness. Slowly the pain subsided to a dull aching throb and with it his breathing and vision finally returned to normal. Once again capable of cognizant thought, the seriousness of his own injuries paled in significance as concern for Jim flooded his mind.

Moving painstakingly slow, Blair turned over onto his stomach and raised his head slightly to look about. Swallowing the fear threatening to overwhelm him, he barely took note of his precarious position perched atop a rock in the middle of the strong flowing current.

Frantically his gaze darted about, fervently hoping to spot his missing friend. He nearly wept with frustration and grief when no sight of the sentinel could be found. NO! his mind screamed in denial. "Jim," he called, the sound coming out scarcely more than a croak. "No," he whispered in anguish when no answer had been forthcoming. Oblivious to the tears streaking his face, Blair buried his head in the crook of his forearm and grieved for the friend he had lost.

"You must not give up," came a gentle murmur on the wind. "Enqueri is not lost to you."

"No," Blair moaned grief stricken, denying the voice.

"Search your heart and you will know what I say to be true."

Is it possible? Blair dared the thought. Could Jim have survived?

Closing his eyes, Blair slowly inhaled and exhaled until achieving a relative measure of serenity. Carefully he sought the place deep within his being and knew that the faceless voice had been right. There, in the very center of his heart and soul, lay the presence of his sentinel. Jim was alive, he knew that with out a doubt now. But one questioned still remained, where was he?

"You must hurry. Enqueri needs you," came the voice one final time before fading away with the wind.

Carefully pushing himself into a sitting position, Blair gasped, then bit down hard as pain once again flared through his back. Lord only knew what damage there was, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. He needed to find Jim. Unfortunately in order to do that, first he had to somehow get off of the rock and over to the shore.

Blair looked at the ominous river encircling him and blanched. At the mere thought of entering those churning waters, his heart began to pound rapidly and his breath came in quick, short pants. He closed his eyes and tried to swallow the fear. There's no other option, he thought. I have to find Jim. Slowly he inched his way forward, limbs trembling with the effort and encumbering fear. With one final shove, he pushed off and hit the water.

He came up sputtering as the natural buoyancy of the life jacket brought him back to the surface. Blair reached out and clutched at the rock, knowing that once he let go the water would sweep him away. I can do this, he silently reiterated. I have to, Jim needs me. And with that thought he let go of the rock and pushed himself away.

Immediately the current began carrying him downstream and Blair's terror grew. Trying to gain some measure of control, he kicked out and angled towards shore. Each stroke resulted in spasms of pain in his lower back which then radiated downward. Yet he doggedly kept at it.

Between the intensity of the current and the persistent pain, Blair soon felt what little strength he did have begin to wane. More than once, he had to pause and rest, often losing ground already won, and then would strike out once again. It was only due to sheer determination and the image of his friend laying injured somewhere that spurred him on.

Finally, Blair managed to reach the shore. Exhausted, he had barely dragged himself out of the water and onto the pebble strewn ground before collapsing, totally spent.

The sun was just disappearing behind the mountains as consciousness returned. Still wet, Blair shivered as his damp clothing and the cooling temperatures sent chills throughout his body. He lacked the energy to move, but the desperation to find Jim drove him first to his knees and finally, despite the continuing spasms of pain that moving brought, to his feet.

Swaying slightly with a dizziness that threatened to send him once again to his knees, Blair felt bile rise up in his throat. He closed his eyes and groaned in misery, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso. He fought to breathe, to still the tremors and nausea, only achieving minimal success. Move, damn you, his subconscious demanded. Jim's counting on you. Blair raised his head, his face a mask of determination. Divesting himself of the safety helmet but retaining the life jacket for the added warmth it provided, Blair set his sights on a far off point and began to walk.

The sun had long since set, bringing with the darkness a bone numbing cold. Exhaustion seeped from every pore, his body screamed for rest, but still Blair trudged on. Keeping to the riverbank, the full harvest moon illuminated his path. Although the pain in his back relentlessly persisted, he had long since come to the conclusion that walking wasn't so bad. However, more than once the rocky terrain had caused him to stumble and fall. It was the falling down and then having to get back up that was the real bitch. Yet still he persevered. He had to. Jim needed him and this time Blair wasn't about to let him down.

As the hours continued to pass, Blair grew colder. It became increasingly difficult to differentiate between the shivers wracking his body and the spasms of pain, yet Blair continued on. Searching, alternately begging every deity that he knew, to please help him find his partner.

A soft cry of frustration passed between lips tinged with blue as Blair nearly stumbled into a huge rock blocking his path on the narrow stretch of shoreline. He knew there was no way he could climb over it in his condition, yet going around it meant that he would have to detour into the thick copse of trees running parallel to the river. Blair felt himself shudder at the sight of the foreboding darkness, for the stand of trees were so thick, that even the moonlight could not penetrate their numbers. Still it was the lesser of two evils. The only other option was the river side and there was no way in hell he was ever going back into that water.

With no other recourse available, he headed for the tree line. Within its depths it was so dark that Blair couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. Having only the sense of touch to rely on, his progress was slow and tedious. Gauging that he only had a few more feet to traverse before he could return to the shore, Blair foolishly quickened his pace, eager to leave the overwhelming darkness surrounding him. There, just ahead, he caught a glimpse of moonlight reflecting off the river and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The sense of relief was short lived, however, as his next step brought disaster. Too late, Blair realized that his foot had become ensnared on an object and he felt himself falling forward. Pain vibrated through his entire body as he twisted in mid air desperately seeking for something with which to break his fall. He hit the ground hard, laying motionless as the intensity of the impact threatened to render him unconscious. He laid there waiting for the worst of the sensation to pass before attempting to rise. Cursing the frailty and betrayal of his own body, Blair reached out, attempting to push himself up, crying out and dropping back to the ground as the pain sliced through him once more. This time though he could not stay the encroaching blackness as it finally overwhelmed him.

Simon Banks reached up to wipe the strain from his eyes, then letting his glasses drop back into place, raised the binoculars once more. He had arrived on the doorstep of the small county airport at dawn. The owner, more than a little irate at being awakened at such an ungodly hour, quickly changed his attitude when Simon explained the situation.

They had been searching for hours. The amount of debris scattered along the river's path gave testament to the destructiveness of the rampaging waters. Along the river's route many of the low lying areas had been flooded out. More than once Simon spotted the carcasses of dead animals unable to escape. But of his men, there had been no sign.

Simon was so focused on surveying the terrain below that the pilot had to tap him on the arm to gain his attention. "We're running low on fuel," he told the captain.

"Please, just a little further," Simon pleaded, not wanting to abandon the search.

The pilot shook his head. "No can do. We'll be lucky to make it back as it is."

Face set in a grimace, Simon nodded reluctantly. The pilot executed a wide arc and headed the helicopter towards home.

A vaguely familiar sound penetrated his consciousness, calling him from his peaceful haven and back into the painful reality of his existence. Had Blair awakened but a few minutes earlier, he would have spotted the search craft, but awareness returned slowly and painfully.

Overnight Blair had developed a fever and his lungs were now heavy with congestion. A wracking cough erupted, stealing his breath and causing his body to convulse in pain at the movement. Eventually the coughing subsided and Blair laid back completely spent, never once even having had the strength to open his eyes.

No, I can't be sick, he thought through the mire of confusion. Jim will have a fit. At the thought of his friend, memories of what had transpired came flooding back with a vengeance. Without thinking, Blair made to push himself up, or tried to, until the agony slicing through his lower back reminded him of his injury. Damn, that hurts, he groaned silently. Lowering himself back down to the ground, the hacking cough burst forth yet again, adding to his overall misery.

Resting his head on his forearm, Blair waited for the worst of it to pass before making another attempt to rise. This time though, he remembered to move cautiously, knowing that to do otherwise would ensure more pain. Beside him Blair spotted a broken tree branch, perfect in its proportions to be used as a walking stick. Taking it in hand, he used it to help push himself up and onto his feet.

Pausing a moment to catch his breath, Blair glanced around getting his bearings. Through the trees he spotted glimpses of the river and, stealing himself for the ordeal ahead, moved towards it, determined to continue his search for Jim. He only prayed that when he did find him, it wouldn't be too late.

As the hours continued to pass with no sign of Jim, Blair cursed his inability to move faster. Something deep inside told him that time was running out and not just for Jim, but for the both of them. At that point he could have cared less what happened to him, but there was no way in hell that he was going to let Jim down. After all, it was his fault they were in this predicament in the first place. If he had just been a better partner, friend and guide, none of this would have happened. No, Jim needed him and this time he wasn't going to fail him.

Another bout of coughing forced him to stop until the worst of it subsided. Fever induced perspiration glistened on his skin, moisture he could ill afford to lose. Blair looked longingly at the water, wishing desperately for a drink to ease his parched throat. Unfortunately in the aftermath of the flooding, he knew it probably wasn't safe to drink.

Forcing himself to turn away from the all too tempting sight, a glint of sunlight on something caught Blair's attention. He went to investigate and was rewarded by the sight of their first aid kit hung up amongst the rocks at the waterline. Opening it, he surveyed its contents and was relieved to find everything intact within the watertight kit. He picked up the bottle of aspirin thinking it might help reduce his fever and pain, before realizing there was no way he'd be able to dry swallow the tablets. Reluctantly, he returned the bottle to the kit and closed the lid. Clutching it to him, Blair pressed on, this time sticking closer to the water's edge.

As the sun continued to pass overhead, Blair perspired freely, his fever continuing to rise. More than once he had to stop to allow a wave of dizziness or coughing fit to pass before moving on.

Despite his fear, the river beckoned to him, whispering promises. It would cool his fevered skin. It would quench his overwhelming thirst. Mesmerized, he walked towards it, stumbling over the rock covered ground until collapsing mere inches away from the promised respite. "NO!" he cried out before sinking into an abyss of darkness.

The heavyset black woman picked up the canteen lying at her feet and went to Blair. Kneeling beside him, she lifted his outstretched hand and placed the canteen beneath it. Then almost tenderly, she reached up and brushed the sweat drenched hair away from Blair's face.

"Tess," came the quiet warning from the young blond man appearing suddenly out of nowhere beside her.

She looked up startled, if not a little bit guiltily. Regaining her composure, she stood. "You got a problem with this Angel Boy?" she asked, turning her penetrating gaze on the angel of death.

He held up his hands. "I don't, but..." his voice trailed off, however his meaning was clear.

Tess scowled. "If ever anyone needed an angel, this boy certainly does."

"It's not our job," Andrew gently reminded her.

"I know," she admitted with reluctance. "But only by finding and helping Jim will Blair find deliverance from the self imposed demons torturing his soul. Besides, it means so much to him. It's more important to him than even his own life." She glanced down with great affection towards the prone figure. "Surely his willingness to make that sort of sacrifice entitles him to..." she paused as a thought occurred, "unless..." She looked at Andrew, her eyes silently questioning.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not here for him...yet." He smiled down at Blair. "You're right Tess. His body may be weak, but his will is strong. He won't stop until he finds his friend."

"Let's hope it's soon," she commented before murmuring a final encouragement. "Come on baby, it's time to wake up."

Through misty swirls of ebony, a voice penetrated his awareness and although he couldn't make out the words, there was an urgency in the tone that could not be denied.

Blair forced the ten ton weights that were his eyelids open and winced as the glare of the sun sent spikes of pain through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, moaning softly as he waited for the sensation to subside. Warily, he tried again, opening his eyes, slowly allowing them a chance to adjust. The world around him appeared muted and fuzzy. Blinking rapidly, Blair tried to focus and the landscape took on coherent form around him.

Relief swiftly metamorphosized into perplexity as he saw what appeared to be their canteen laying beneath his outstretched hand. Oh just great, he silently groaned. Now I'm hallucinating. Splaying his fingers across its surface, his eyebrows rose in surprise. It certainly feels real enough. Mindful of his injuries, Blair pushed himself into a sitting position and with the back of his hand wiped the sweat from his forehead. He eyed the canteen warily, afraid that it would turn out to be a figment of his imagination after all.

Reaching for it, he nearly sobbed with relief as his hand came into contact with it once more. Snatching it up, he quickly unscrewed the cap and holding it to swollen lips, let the cool, refreshing liquid trickle down his throat. He tried to tell himself not to be so greedy, to take it slow. But the water was sweet and he swallowed too quickly. Blair choked and began to cough. His head swam and his stomach rolled. Pain flared like a nova in the lower region of his back and radiated down through his leg, but still he clutched the canteen to his chest.

As the agony subsided and the world around him once again took shape, he concentrated on banishing the pain and then focused his thoughts on Jim and the need to find him before it was too late. With trembling hands, he recapped the canteen and placed the carrying strap over his shoulder. With the aid of his makeshift walking stick, Blair got to his knees and, gathering up the first aid kit, stood on wobbly legs.

Putting a hand over his eyes to block the sun's glare, Blair surveyed the terrain. Disappointment welled up inside of him as no sign of his missing friend was forthcoming. Then, as if he didn't already have enough to worry about, Blair spotted ominous looking clouds in the distance. Quelling the sense of panic that the sight instilled in him, Blair pushed onward in his quest. Fear motivating him to move more quickly now despite the constant pain movement brought.

Simon watched with dismay as the pilot offered a final apology before slipping out the office door. Muttering a curse, he silently wondered if the fates were conspiring against him in his efforts to locate his two missing friends.

No sooner than they had gotten the chopper refueled a call had come in from the local sheriff's department. Several families along the Deer Creek Run tributary of the Columbia River had been reportedly trapped by the flooding and the helicopter was needed to lift them out. There were small children involved and even Simon could not begrudge them the necessary delay of his own rescue attempt. And despite whatever fix Ellison and Sandburg currently found themselves in, he knew they wouldn't have it any other way. Still, as the hours continued to pass, Simon could not shake the sense of dread burrowing a hole deep in his gut .

Remembering his promise to Taggert, but out of cell phone rang, Simon went over to the desk and availed himself of the phone sitting there. Wishing he had better news to impart, he placed a call to the station.

As the mantra of 'gotta find Jim' reverberated through his skull, Blair placed one foot in front of the other and kept moving.

Several hundred feet down river Andrew appeared, sitting cross legged on top of a boulder. "So this is where you got off to," he admonished gently.

"Well someone had to stay with Jim until Blair finds him," came Monica's soft spoken brogue as she sat patiently waiting beside the injured Ellison.

Andrew shook his head and chuckled. "You're just as bad as Tess."

Uncurling his legs, Andrew hopped down from the rock and came to kneel beside Monica. With a practiced eye, he quickly assessed Jim's injuries. Noting the mottled black and blue mark on his temple. The cuts and scrapes on his hands and the left knee which had taken quite a battering. What caused Andrew to wince in sympathy though was the six inch piece of splintered wood impaled in Jim's side. "Ouch, that's gotta hurt," he said with a grimace.

Monica nodded in agreement and, turning, ran a comforting hand over Ellison's furrowed brow. "He's been out of it for the most part but he keeps calling for Blair." She looked up at Andrew. "Will he be here soon?"

"Very soon," Andrew assured her with a smile. "Look."

Monica turned to glance in the direction that Andrew had indicated and got her first glimpse of Blair. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "He doesn't appear to be in much better shape than Jim."

"He's not," grumbled Tess, appearing beside them. "But that child has a whole lot more that needs to be healed than just his superficial injuries."

"Well surely God can help him with that," Monica stated with assurance.

"Of course he can Angel Girl," Tess smiled knowingly. "But first Blair needs to help himself and in order to do that he thinks he needs to help Jim."

Monica frowned. "I don't understand."

"Blair thinks he's failed his friend," Tess explained patiently. "What he hasn't realized yet is that no matter what he thinks he did or didn't do, in the end he has always put Jim's needs and those of others ahead of his own."

"That doesn't sound like a failure to me," Andrew commented.

"It's not, but Blair doesn't see it that way. He's riddled with guilt and self doubt."

"So," Monica said thoughtfully, "Blair will do whatever it takes to help his friend, regardless of the consequences to himself."

"That's about the size of it," Tess replied.

Monica looked at the exhausted man slowly drawing closer. "He sounds like a good friend."

"A good man too," Andrew chimed in.

"He most certainly is," Tess agreed wholeheartedly.

Blair blinked, wiped the sweat from his eyes and blinked again. The apparition was still there. "Jim!?!" he questioned in awe. "JIM!" he called louder, lengthening his stride.

By the time he reached Ellison and dropped down to his knees beside him, Blair's breath was coming in short uneven pants, punctuated by a gut wrenching cough. However, all that paled in significance as Blair's worried gaze drank in the sight of his friend.

Jim was so wan and lifeless. "NO!" Blair howled, falling across Ellison's chest, thinking his worst nightmare had come true. So caught up was he in his grief that several moments passed before the rhythmic pounding of Jim's heartbeat registered on his awareness.

Blair bolted upright in surprise, crying out as the sudden movement sent daggers of pain through his lower back. As the spasm passed, Blair's grimace of pain turned into a radiant smile of joy as he realized Jim was still alive.

Immediately he began checking Jim's injuries, hissing at the sight of the bloody piece of wood protruding from his partner's side. He marveled at the fact that Jim hadn't bled to death.

Opening the first aid kit, Blair rummaged through the supplies, pulling out disinfectant, gauze and bandages. Turning back to Jim, he reached for the piece of wood. His hand paused in mid air and quickly he pulled it back, suddenly unsure how or even whether or not to proceed.

If I pull it out he's gonna start bleeding again, he thought.

But I can't leave it in there, it might become infected, the rational part of his mind argued.

I don't want to hurt him, Blair protested.

He's unconscious, he won't feel a thing.

But I'll know.

Just do it, damn it!

Reluctantly, Blair ripped Jim's shirt open, took hold of the piece of wood and pulled. The offending object came free with a slight popping sound and immediately the area became deluged with blood.

Blair blanched. "Oh my God, oh my God," he babbled, snatching up gauze to press on the wound. Damn it! I knew this wasn't a good idea.

Too late to worry about it now, came the voice of reason.

Deftly, he cleaned and bandaged the wound, all the while his eyes constantly darted to the sentinel's face, searching for any indication that his friend was suffering.

Next Blair turned his attention to the injured knee. Cutting away the denim surrounding it, he carefully poked and prodded the area. It didn't appear to be broken, but then he was not the sentinel. Only Jim could determine by touch the extent of the injury. Still it had taken a substantial battering and Blair did not want to take the risk. Washing away the blood with disinfectant, Blair then broke his walking stick into pieces. Placing a piece on either side, he wound the entire knee with gauze, effectively immobilizing it. Throughout the entire process Jim hadn't moved or uttered a sound.

Wiping the sweat from his face, Blair lifted Jim's head and, with gentle fingers, probed for any injuries other than the obvious blow to Jim's temple. Breathing a sigh of relief, Blair laid Jim back down and then, shrugging off his life jacket, lifted him once more and slid the vest beneath Jim's head to act as a pillow. Having cleaned and applied a butterfly bandage to Jim's temple, Blair sat back panting with exhaustion and surveyed his handiwork. Not too bad, considering, he thought. Now if only Jim would wake up.

The thought occurred that Jim might be suffering from dehydration, just as he himself had been. Cutting a strip off the roll of bandages, Blair wet the cloth and let the water dribble between Jim's parted lips. Twice more he repeated the process, before taking the dampened cloth and laying it across Jim's forehead.

At a loss of what to do next, Blair sank back to the ground and fought against his own ebbing strength and the constant ache that taunted him. His gaze fell on the canteen and he longed for a drink to ease the dryness in his own throat. He again thought of the aspirin and the relief it might bring, then violently pushed both thoughts away. He could not, would not, waste their precious supplies on himself when Jim needed it so much more.

His chest rumbled as another bout of coughing built deep within. Knowing what was coming, he steeled himself against the onslaught and found himself trembling with pain and exhaustion when the attack subsided. Too spent to even hold his head erect, Blair crawled the short distance to his friend and, carefully wrapping one arm around Jim's torso, laid his head upon Jim's chest. Just need to close my eyes for a minute, he thought. Then I'll... He was asleep before finishing the thought.

The distant sound of thunder roused Blair from his impromptu nap. Content to merely let his head rest against the gentle rise and fall of Jim's chest, Blair vaguely wondered what it was that had awakened him. The sound came again and Blair forced his eyelids open. The bright sun from earlier was gone, replaced by a yellowish gray as the darkened clouds above blocked it from view.

Carefully Blair sat up, a hand automatically going to his head as it swam with dizziness. Softly he groaned. "Damn it, not now." Defying the sensation, he angrily brushed the sweat drenched curly locks away from his face and focused his attention on Jim. Checking him over, Blair experienced an overwhelming sense of disappointment that there had been no change in his friend's condition.

However that would soon be the least of his worries as the clouds resounded with thunder once again. They were in for a storm and from the looks of it a bad one. Somehow he had to get Jim further away from the river and find some sort of protection from the fast approaching rain.

Silently, he examined and quickly discarded several possible means of moving the unconscious man. Carrying him was out of the question and Blair doubted he'd have the time to build a travois. If only he had a blanket or something similar, then he could roll Jim onto it and perhaps move him that way. There had to be something he could use.

"Jim," he said, hoping that somehow his friend would hear him. "I'm going to have to leave for a bit. But I promise I won't be gone long and I won't go far. So if you need anything, just holler, okay."

No answer had been forthcoming, but then again Blair really hadn't been expecting one. Gingerly, he pushed himself up and, swaying slightly, started off down river.

Andrew carefully arranged the tattered remains of Jim and Blair's raft against the rock. Stepping back, he eyed his work critically. "Not quite right," he said with a frown and went to rearrange the rubber material.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" came Tess's disapproving tone.

Andrew started guiltily. Turning, his face was suffused with color. "I was just... ah..." he stammered.

"Ah huh," Tess nodded knowingly. "I know exactly what you're up to," she replied with a foreboding frown, allowing Andrew to fidget nervously for a few seconds before letting him off the hook. Besides she couldn't maintain the gruff exterior any longer. Tess smiled. "And I couldn't be more pleased."

Andrew released his pent up breath. "He would have found it eventually anyway," he explained, defending his actions. He shrugged. "I'm just helping him to find it sooner."

Tess went to the young man and, slipping an arm around his shoulders, gave him a reassuring squeeze. "It's all right Angel Boy. We all realize how very special these two men are. It's only natural that we'd want to help them."

Andrew's brow furrowed. With a look of concern, he turned to Tess. "I just hope it's enough."

"So do I, baby," Tess murmured. "So do I."

Stumbling yet again, Blair bemoaned the loss of his walking stick then immediately berated himself for the thought. After all, Jim's need for it had been greater than his own.

He had only managed to walk a couple hundred feet, each step a painful reminder of his injury. He didn't think his fever had gotten any worse, but the congestion in his chest certainly had. It was growing progressively harder to breathe. Each inhalation felt as if it was drawn through water. Suddenly he couldn't catch his breath and pin points of light began to explode against the backdrop of his darkening vision. He reached out blindly, clutching for the rock he had seen near by. Blair's fingers brushed against the stone and he gripped its rough surface so tightly that it began to cut into his hand. He used this source of pain to center his focus and concentrated on regaining some measure of control. Eventually breathing became a little easier and his vision cleared, however his entire body continued to tremble at the toll this latest attack had taken.

Still partially clinging to the rock, Blair maneuvered his way around it, coming up short at the sight of the frayed remains of their former raft. His mouth dropped open in surprise. YES! his mind screamed exuberantly. This is perfect, it's just what I needed. Directing a silent prayer of thanks towards the heavens, Blair gathered up the raft and trudged back to where he'd left Jim.

After checking on Jim, Blair spread out the material beside him. Next came the difficult task of getting his partner onto it, hopefully without reopening his wound. Getting down on his knees, Blair slipped his arms beneath Jim's shoulders, lifting him up. Inching sideways, he slowly pulled the detective's upper body onto the fabric, repeating the process with his lower half until Jim laid at its center.

Breathing heavily from his exertions, Blair had an overwhelming desire to lay down and rest. But before he could give into that desire, he heard the first drops of rain begin to pelt the rubber raft around him. Stifling a groan, he gathered up the rest of their meager supplies, setting them beside his still unconscious friend. Overhead, thunder once again reverberated through the clouds and the rain became a slight drizzle.

Staggering to his feet, Blair eyed the nearby woods. He knew it wasn't a good idea to be under trees during an electrical storm, but the mere possibility of the river once again over flowing its banks, made it seem like the lesser of two evils. He just prayed he had the strength to get Jim within the trees protective shelter.

Going down on one knee, he gathered up the ends of the raft and, biting his lip in retaliation to the pain shooting through his back, pushed himself back to his feet. Blair shook his head, trying to dispel the wave of dizziness passing over him. Then making sure he had a firm grip, stepped back and began to pull. "SHIT! DAMN! OW!" came a volley of expletives as he yanked, pulled and tugged his partner towards the tree line. The pain came in agonizing surges, rippling from his lower back, through his hip and down into his leg. "Damn it Jim," he gasped out during a brief respite in his efforts. "You gotta cut down on the Wonder Burgers man."

The rain built in intensity, playing havoc with his grip on the wet material. They were within a few feet of the tree line when Blair yanked again and lost his grip. He fell back, hitting the ground hard, the intensity of the impact bringing him to the very periphery of unconsciousness. He took slow, measured breaths and the sensation slowly subsided.

He had hoped to get them further within the copse of trees, but now realized the futility of that desire. Carefully Blair turned over onto his side, then stomach. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he rose to his knees and crawled towards where Jim laid.

The rain could be heard beating against the canopy of leaves overhead and as its volume increased more and more drops found their way through to the ground below.

Blair collapsed beside Jim. Pain and exhaustion once again tugging him towards oblivion. Reaching out, he pulled the remainder of the raft over himself and Jim before succumbing to the darkness.

Simon rose from the makeshift cot in the back room and stretched away the kinks. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was still early yet, but he was anxious to get started.

Yesterday had been an exercise in frustration, the search for Sandburg and Ellison having been repeatedly delayed. First they had to refuel. Then by the rescue of the trapped families and finally by the storm that had moved into the area.

Taking note of the bright early morning light flooding into the room, Simon hoped that it was an omen of better things to come. He thought of his two men, all alone in the wilderness, possibly injured. Just hang in there guys, he silently implored before going in search of the tantalizing smell of coffee permeating the room.

As he stepped out into the front office, the pilot handed Simon a cup of the fragrant brew. "They're fueling the chopper now."

Simon acknowledged the information with a small nod. Taking a sip of coffee, he walked over to look at the topographical map pinned to the bulletin board. "So, what area will we be searching today?"

Joining Simon, the pilot pointed to an area on the map. "This is where we had to abandon our search. We'll pick it up from there and cover this section right here," he explained as his finger traced the route on the map. He turned and looked at the tall black man standing beside him. "You really think your people are still alive?"

Simon snorted, a small smile playing at his lips. "You don't know Ellison and Sandburg. If anyone could make it through this, it's them."

The bell hanging over the office door rang, heralding the arrival of one of the ground crew. "She's all gassed up and ready to go boss," he informed them.

Simon sat down his coffee cup. "Let's go find my men," he said, heading for the door.

The pilot watched Simon in his eagerness, depart. It was obvious from the man's actions that the two missing men were more than just coworkers, more likely friends. He just hoped for Captain Banks' sake that he was right and that they were still alive. Setting down his own cup, he picked up his lucky baseball cap and, plunking it down on his head, followed Simon out the door.

His first cognizant thought was an awareness of the pain, of the dull aching throb beating out a steady tattoo against the backdrop of his skull. He forced himself to concentrate, to picture the imaginary dial. He envisioned himself turning it down to a more comfortable level. The task accomplished, he released a pent up breath and took a mental inventory of his remaining injuries.

The searing pain in his side invited closer inspection. Carefully his fingers probed the area. Beneath the bandage he felt the torn edges of the serrated skin. The presence of blood. Heat radiated from the fissure, an infection no doubt caused by the minute slivers of wood still embedded in the wound. He momentarily winced at the mental image this knowledge brought and continued on to catalog the pain surrounding his knee.

The kneecap felt severely battered, bruised, even scraped raw in some places. And while it didn't appear to be broken, it had swelled to a considerable size. The remaining cuts, scrapes and abrasions he dismissed as insignificant.

The internal diagnostic now complete, he extended his senses, reaching out to explore his surroundings. The air around him was stuffy and warm, almost claustrophobic, he thought before realizing that he laid completely encased by some sort of material. Rubber from the smell of it. He wrinkled his nose at the odor.

The heat was becoming stifling and he longed for something to drink. Reaching out, intending to push the confining fabric aside, his hand brushed against the presence of another. Quickly he snatched it back as if singed. Pushing leaden eyelids open, Jim Ellison's pain filled blue eyes, fell upon the source of the building inferno, "Sandburg."

His guide laid nearby, drenched in sweat. His face suffused with an unhealthy color. Immediately apprehensive, his own injuries now forgotten, Jim scanned his partner's vital signs. Ellison's concern grew as each new bit of information filtered through his senses. He noted Blair's high temperature, the congestion in his lungs and the irregular heartbeat. A visual inspection revealed the lines of pain and exhaustion etched on his partner's face. Damn it! he thought. The kid was sick again and he was at a loss to explain it.

Confused, he searched his memory for the answers. Slowly at first, then with increasing velocity, Jim recalled the events of the last few days. He remembered the raft overturning and rescuing a nearly drowned Sandburg. Well that would explain how he got sick, Jim reflected, but that doesn't explain how we ended up here. Where ever the hell 'here' is.

Beside him, Blair stirred, moaning slightly. From deep within his chest, a hacking cough erupted. It came in continuous, unrelenting waves, over and over, never allowing the younger man an opportunity to even catch his breath.

As if from a distance, Blair thought he heard someone call his name. But the fight to draw air into his starving lungs took precedence, negating a response.

Jim began to panic as it became all too obvious that Sandburg couldn't breathe. He reached up again, this time tossing off the cloistering material covering them. Immediately the chill of the early morning air surrounded them, causing Blair to shiver.

Holding a hand against his side, Jim struggled into a sitting position and scooted closer to his partner. Slipping his arms beneath Blair's shoulders, Jim lifted him upright, pulling him close, allowing Blair's head to rest against his chest.

With his hand he began to rub small circular motions against the young man's back. All the while keeping up a a constant litany of "Come on buddy, you got to try and breathe..." As the circular motions continued, Blair drew a gasping breath, followed shortly by another. "That's it, just settle down and breathe," Ellison encouraged.

Jim estimated that he had sat there holding Blair like that some fifteen minutes or more before Sandburg's coughing finally abated and his breathing evened out into rasping breaths. And his heartbeat, while no longer racing, occasionally faltered under the strain of illness.

"You gonna be okay now?" Jim asked, feeling Blair's nod against his chest in reply.

"Yeah, sorry about that man."

Ellison felt the younger man stiffen before pulling away to stare up at him incredulously. "JIM!" he cried out in disbelief, "you're awake!"

"Finally figured that out, did you," Ellison replied with a chuckle.

"Oh man," Blair breathed out in a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how worried I've been. I mean, at first I didn't think I was ever gonna find you and then when I did you were hurt pretty bad, then this storm came in and I didn't..."

"Whoa," Jim held up a staying hand. "Just slow down Junior. I don't want you going off on another coughing tangent because you forgot to breathe."

Blair made a face of distaste and changed the subject. "So how you feeling man?" He asked, his fevered blue eyes closely studying the sentinel.

Jim shrugged. "Not too bad considering. Could use something to drink though."

Blair was suddenly all solicitousness. "Oh man, what am I thinking," he exclaimed. Glancing around, he spotted the canteen's strap peeking out from beneath the folds of the rubber material. Reaching for it, he flinched in pain.

This did not go unnoticed by Ellison. "You okay?" he asked with a frown as Blair handed him the canteen.

"I'm fine," Blair swiftly replied. "I'm just a little stiff from sleeping on the ground."

Jim lifted the canteen to his lips, noting from its weight that it was less than half full. Swallowing just enough to ease the dryness, he extended the canteen towards Sandburg.

"No thanks," Blair waved it off. "I'm not thirsty."

Jim's eyebrow rose in a disbelieving glare. "You're dehydrated," he told the younger man in no uncertain terms. "Now drink."

Reluctantly Blair took the proffered water and, taking a quick sip, tried to hand it back.

Ellison shook his head. "More," he instructed.

Blair shook his head in refusal. "In case you haven't noticed, we're getting low on water and I doubt the river water is safe to drink yet."

"I realize that Chief, but you need it. So drink."

Frowning, Blair took a healthy swallow. "Satisfied?" he asked petulantly, passing the canteen back.

Jim replaced the cap. "For now."

The sudden lull in the conversation hung heavy in the morning air and Blair felt Jim's intense scrutiny fall on him. His eyes darted towards the sentinel's face, then quickly glanced away.

"So, you wanna tell me what happened Chief?" Jim asked, breaking the overwhelming silence. "The last thing I remember is hauling you on top of that rock before a tree took me out."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Blair nervously tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "I figured as much. Thanks for saving me man."

"Not a problem," Jim replied, at a loss to explain Sandburg's behavior. "How'd we end up here?" he prompted with a wave of his hand when Blair didn't appear inclined to continue.

"No biggie really," Blair responded with a shrug. "When I finally came to, I made my way to shore..." Blair paused, shuddering at the memory of being surrounded by all that water.

Jim laid a hand on Blair's forearm. Finding comfort in that simple gesture, Blair was able to continue. "Once I got to shore I just started walking down river looking for you."

"The odds were pretty slim that you were going to find me Chief. Why'd you even bother to look?"

"JIM!" Blair blurted out in astonishment. "How could you even ask me that? Okay, I'll admit at first I had some doubts, but then..."

"Then what?" Ellison questioned, intrigued.

Blair fidgeted. "I heard a voice."

Jim's eyebrows rose mockingly.

"I'm serious man," Blair groused. "It told me that you were alive and needed my help."

Jim's expression was still one of disbelief.

"Well the voice was right, wasn't it?" Blair demanded.

Ellison conceded the point with a nod.

"So anyway, I just kept on walking until I found you and here we are," he finished the tale with a wave of his hands.

"How'd you come by the supplies," Jim asked, still confused by that little omission in Sandburg's story.

Blair snorted. "It was the strangest thing man. I kept coming across the stuff just as I needed it. It was almost like someone was putting it there for me to find, you know."

"Maybe you've got a guardian angel Chief," Jim suggested with a smile.

"You mean 'we've' got," Blair corrected. "I mean there's no way to explain how we managed to survive this." He looked up at Ellison. "What the hell happened anyway?"

Jim frowned. "I'm not sure. Even with the rain we had, the river shouldn't have flooded out like that."

"So what are we going to do now?" Blair questioned.

"I guess we hoof it out of here," Jim replied practically.

"Are you crazy!?!" Blair exclaimed. "You could start bleeding again. You're in no condition to go traipsing aro..." Whatever he was about to say next was abruptly cut off by a violent bout of coughing.

Jim felt helpless as Blair struggled to get the coughing under control. Finally it tapered off and Blair was able to catch his breath.

"You've got a pretty mean cough there Chief," Ellison remarked.

Swallowing, Blair sidestepped the comment. "Jim, you're in no condition to try walking out of here."

"I don't see where I have much of a choice..."

"I could go for help," Blair interjected. "I mean, I hate the thought of leaving you here alone, but..."

It was Jim's turn to interrupt. " You're in no shape to travel yourself Chief," he pointed out.

"I'm fine," Blair insisted.

Ellison rolled his eyes, then pinned his unrelenting gaze on his partner. "You're not fine Sandburg. You've got a high fever and a bad cough..."

"So I've got a little cold," Blair tried to make light of it.

"YOU'VE DAMN NEAR GOT PNEUMONIA!" Jim roared.

Blair flinched at the intensity of Ellison's tone. "I can do this Jim," he replied softly. "You've got to let me try."

Blair's pleading expression was not lost on Ellison. Damn it, Jim thought. He's in no condition to do this, but hereally wants to try. Why is it so important to him?

As Jim examined the beseeching expression on his partner's face he recalled the events that had lead them here to begin with. He remembered how Blair had worked himself into a state of exhaustion trying to do too much... No, Jim silently amended the thought as realization dawned. Blair had worked himself into that condition because he was trying to be perfect. The perfect friend. The perfect partner. The perfect guide.

Jim's thoughts turned to the incident with Katherine Raines and his own overwhelming feelings of guilt for having let his friend down. Sandburg must have been feeling the same way. No wonder the kid went overboard trying to make amends. He looked at his partner. We never really talked about it. Maybe we should have. Maybe then Blair wouldn't have felt the need to...

Jim knew that too much time had passed for words alone to convince the younger man of his value and own self worth. Only by letting Blair attempt this would he truly realize the faith and trust that he, James Ellison, bestowed on him. But could he let Blair do this? He knew Sandburg was a lot sicker than he was letting on. Suddenly the phrase 'If you love it, let it go' came to mind. "All right," he reluctantly agreed.

"Yes!" Blair replied, beaming, and Jim knew then that he had made the right decision.

"Guess I'd better get started then," Blair said aloud, while silently trying to figure out how he was going to get up with out giving away his injury to Jim.

Ellison tried to hand him the canteen. "Take the water with you."

"No way man," Blair refused, holding up his hands. "You're going to need that."

"Either you take it or you don't go." Jim was emphatic.

"All right, all right," Blair replied huffily. "Don't get your knickers in a knot." He took the water. "You need anything before I go?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Jim gripped Blair's arm as the younger man started to rise. "Just be careful," he insisted before releasing him.

Blair plastered a smile on his face. "Relax, I'll be back before you know it." Then gritting his teeth against the pain he knew was coming, slowly rose.

"Still stiff?" Jim questioned with a frown.

"Yeah, a little," Blair admitted. "I'll loosen up after a bit." He looked down at his friend. "You sure you're gonna be okay?" He asked with obvious concern.

"I'll be fine," Jim assured him.

There was a long pause as the two men silently looked at one another.

"You'd better go," Jim finally said.

"Right." And with a final nod, Blair disappeared into the woods.

Long after Blair left, Jim monitored his progress though the woods. More than once he heard his guide mutter an oaf or an occasional gasp as if in pain and found himself wondering what injury Blair had kept hidden from him.

With each step Blair took, Ellison felt his concern grow. He could not help but hear the harsh breath, the struggling heart. If he listened closely enough, he swore he could even hear the droplets of perspiration as they slid over the skin and dropped to the ground. Another fit of coughing struck and Jim had to turn down his hearing to avoid the abrupt overload to his senses.

Jim warred with himself, first calling himself a fool for having let Sandburg attempt this, then tried to appease his conscience by reminding himself just why he had relented and let Blair go. He raged at his own injuries preventing him from accompanying his guide.

Jim shook off the disconcerting thought and was just about to refocus when another sound permeated his consciousness. A sound he knew intimately. The sound of a helicopter heading in his direction. He struggled to sit up, knowing that there was no way he would be spotted beneath the thick copse of trees overhead. Pain lanced through his side, causing him to gasp out loud. As the chopper drew nearer, Jim tucked his uninjured leg beneath him and using his arms for support, pushed himself into a, albeit hunched over, but standing position.

The helicopter was just about on top of him now and Jim in his eagerness to flag it down stepped forward, momentarily forgetting about his injured knee. Pain shot up his leg and Jim crumpled forward onto the ground. By the time the pain subsided and cognizant thought returned, the helicopter had long since passed his position.

"Damn it!" Jim ground out. His breath coming in quick pants. He didn't have to look to know that his side had started bleeding again. He could feel the blood pulsating out through the ragged opening. Jim stifled another curse. He knew he needed to get out into the open in case the chopper came back. However he couldn't afford to lose any more blood either. The weakness he had felt in his extremities was in part responsible for his collapse.

With great reluctance, Jim carefully maneuvered his way back to the first aid kit. Opening it, he gathered the supplie he needed, then reached down to remove the bloody dressing adorning his side. A hiss of in drawn breath escaped his lips as Jim ripped off the adhesive bandage, pulling the tender skin beneath it. Uncapping the disinfectant, he mentally prepared himself and doused the area. "SHIT!" he exclaimed as the burning sensation spread like wildfire throughout his side. Lightheaded, he quickly adjusted the pain dial, vaguely wondering why he hadn't thought of doing that first. With trembling hands, he padded the wound with gauze, covered it with a new bandage and laid back, spent. Closing his eyes with the intent of resting for only a moment, Ellison slipped off into unconsciousness.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees. Around him the woodlands teamed with life. Normally he would have been enchanted. Today it all went unnoticed as Blair concentrated on merely remaining upright.

The benefits derived from the previous nights rest had swiftly dissipated with each passing step. His entire world consisted of pain, fevered sight and a prevalent urgency to find help for Jim.

Time became a contradiction. It felt as if he had been walking forever, yet he was constantly aware of its passage and how quickly it was running out for both of them.

He was stumbling with more frequency now as the journey took its toll on the last of his reserved strength. More than once he had fallen, only to push himself up and continue on. Fear grew in the pit of his stomach, wondering each time, if that would be the last. Worried that the next time, he wouldn't be able to get up.

Once again, with the aid of a tree, Blair pulled himself upright as sweat streamed down his face. Brushing the stinging sensation from his eyes, Blair tried to focus on the path he had been following, yet it defied his attempts to force it into a lucid shape. Crying out in frustration, he pushed himself away from the tree. He got three steps before once again collapsing. Only this time oblivion claimed him before he could rise once more.

Belle laid curled up in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Her long floppy ears occasionally twitching at the persistent fly buzzing around it. Never much one for vigorous activity, she was more than content to doze and dream of past excursions with her master.

"Hey you!" came an unexpected voice, rousing her from her dreams. "Wake up you old bag of bones, you've got work to do."

Belle raised one drowsy eyelid, wondering how it was that she had not heard, or smelt someone approaching. "I'm talking to you," Tess grumbled. "You lazy, flea bitten beast."

Opening her other eye, Belle raised her head and thumped her tail in recognition at the visitor.

Tess smiled, her face softening. "I'm happy to see you too, baby, but right now I need your help."

Eager to be of assistance, Belle climbed to her feet and lumbered after Tess.

Her sensitive snout detected the heavy odor of illness long before they stepped into the clearing. Now sitting beside the unconscious human, Belle looked up at Tess and whimpered with dismay.

"Yes, he's very sick," Tess replied, frowning down with concern at Blair. "And he's not the only one in trouble. That's why I need your help."

Belle's ears perked up as she listened intently to Tess's instructions. Once certain of her mission, she gave a sharp bark and bounded off back into the woods.

Tess's deep throated chuckle rang out. "I didn't think the old girl could still move that fast." Her eyes fell on Blair and she quickly sobered. "Hang in there baby, help's on the way."

Harlan Jones chopped up the last of the vegetables, scooped them into the pot and adjusted the flame beneath the simmering soup. Fed up with the crime ridden city, the sixty two year old black man had retreated to the wilderness, having spent the last twenty five years living a solitary existence in the wilds of the Cascade Mountain range.

Outside, he heard Belle raising a clamor. He pushed aside the kitchen curtain and gazed out to see Belle standing at the edge of the woods baying, her attention fixed on the cabin.

Having spent the last fifteen years tramping through the woods with Belle, Harlan easily recognized the urgency in her entreaties. Snatching up his rifle, he left the cabin and swiftly joined Belle. "Show me what you found girl," he told her and Belle was off in a flash, confident that her master would follow.

"Well I'll be a son of a..." Harlan exclaimed a short time later. "You've come across a lot of strange things in your time girl, but if this don't beat all."

Sitting down his rifle, Harlan knelt beside the prone form and felt for a pulse. "Well at least he's still alive," he told Belle. "So what do you expect me to do with him?" he asked the hound.

Belle thumped her tail and barked.

Harlan sighed. "I figured you'd say that." Having kept himself in good shape, it was with barely a grunt that he lifted the unconscious man onto his shoulder and rose. Retrieving his rifle, he looked admonishingly at Belle. "You and your strays," he said with a shake of his head. "What'll be next, an elephant?" He groused with no real malice.

Belle barked playfully.

"Yeah, yeah," Harlan grumbled as he started towards home, "Knowing you, you'd find one too."

Cocking her head, Belle waited expectantly.

"You did real good baby," Tess assured her with a wink. "Thank you."

With a final bark of farewell, Belle turned and followed her master.

Harlan crossed the room and gently deposited his burden on to the bed. Blair groaned in protest at the movement, but did not awaken. "Easy there," Harlan crooned, "everything's gonna be all right now."

Going to the kitchen, Harlan pulled a basin from the cupboard and, setting it in the sink, pumped well water into it. Grabbing the dish towel, he returned to the bed, setting the basin down on the nightstand. Gently, as if to belie his powerful build, Harlan carefully removed Blair's shirt and began to methodically wash away the sweat and grime covering the young man lying in his bed. Changing water several times before the task was completed, Harlan then checked for identification and, finding none, sat back to examine his unexpected visitor. "I don't know who you are young fella or how you came to be out there all alone, but you're safe now."

Blair moaned and thrashed in his sleep. "Jim," he called out, the word barely intelligible.

Harlan looked at him contemplatively for a moment, then turned to Belle. "Old girl, I've got a hunch this one's not the only one out there."

Belle barked in agreement.

"I don't suppose you know where the other one is?" he asked.

Belle whined, her head drooping with despair.

"Guess it's time to call in reinforcements then." Wringing out the cloth, he laid it across Blair's forehead. Rising, he crossed the room to where his desk sat and, turning on the CB radio, contacted the sheriff's office.

Simon was beginning to have serious doubts about ever finding Ellison and Sandburg. They had searched the forty mile area repeatedly with no success. He desperately tried to ignore the look of sympathy the pilot was directing at him. He knew they were running low on fuel and that soon they would be forced to turn back. Not wanting to waste the precious few moments left, Simon raised the binoculars and resumed his examination of the ground below.

He didn't see the pilot raise a hand to his headphones, nor hear the conversation that followed. It wasn't until the pilot tapped him on the shoulder that Simon realized the man had been trying to gain his attention.

"That was the sheriff," he told Simon. "According to him, old Harlan Jones found somebody out by his place. From the description he gave, it could be one of your men."

Simon felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. "Is he all right? Did he say which one it was ?"

"From the description it sounds like Sandburg," came the reply. "Sheriff said that he's alive, but in bad shape."

"Can you take me there?" Simon requested.

The pilot checked the fuel gauge. "Sure, hang on," he called out and banked the chopper into a turn.

Simon sat back, his thoughts a whirl of confusion. Okay, at least now I know Sandburg's alive. But that still doesn't tell me what happened to Ellison. Hoping that Sandburg could supply the answer to that question, Simon silently willed the craft to go faster.

Harlan strained some soup broth into a cup and headed over to the bed. Belle lifted her head, ears twitching, and seconds later Harlan heard the sound of a helicopter. Setting the broth down on the nightstand, he cast a glance at the figure laying on his bed and went to great his newest visitors.

Simon fairly leapt from the chopper, leaving the pilot to deal with the shut down procedures. Ducking to avoid the still rotating blades, he went to meet the man waiting for them.

"I'm Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade PD," he introduced himself. "I understand you found one of my men."

Harlan thought about the long haired man currently residing in his bed. Scratching his chin, he replied thoughtfully, "I don't know about that. He sure don't look like no cop."

"May I see him?" Simon asked, his tone urgent.

With a nod, Harlan led him into the cabin.

Simon paused in the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the room. His gaze strayed to the figure laying on the bed. Even with the two day beard growth on the normally clean shaven features, Simon would have known him anywhere. "SANDBURG!"

He was across the room in an instant. Sitting on the side of the bed, Simon's concerned gaze traveled over the inert form of the man he had begun to despair of ever seeing again. Sandburg's flushed skin tones and raspy breathing worried him. Transfixed, he watched as several beads of perspiration traveled down Blair's cheek only to disappear beneath the dense beard. Tentatively, he reached out and, touching the young man's chest, felt the searing heat. "My God, he's burning up."

"Dehydrated too, by the looks of him," Harlan agreed with a nod.

"Jim," Blair groaned, his head tossing on the pillow. "Gotta help...Jim."

"Sandburg," Simon called. "Blair, can you hear me?" He gripped Sandburg's shoulders. "Where's Ellison. Where's Jim?"

"Gotta hel..." Blair mumbled again before launching into a prolonged bout of coughing.

"Find me something to prop him up with," Simon yelled, pulling Sandburg into a sitting position. He braced Blair against his chest and found himself winching in commiseration at the sight of the vivid bruises on the anthropologist's lower back.

Harlan returned, setting several rolled up blankets at the head of the bed. A whistle of astonishment escaped his lips at the sight of Blair's back. "Damn, I didn't notice that when I took his shirt off. Sure hope I didn't do him any more harm with the way I carried him here."

Blair's coughing subsided and Simon carefully laid him back down. In the more upright position, Blair's breathing seemed to ease and Simon let out his own pent up breath in response. He looked up at Harlan. "Too late to worry about that now," he told the older man. "But I don't think it's a good idea to move him any more until we can get him checked out."

The pilot spoke up from the position he had taken just inside the doorway. "I could head back to base, refuel the chopper and pick up the doc on my way back," he suggested. "I could be back here in a little over two hours." He crossed the room. "In the meantime, maybe this will do some good." He handed Simon the first aid kit from the helicopter. "There's some antibiotics in there that should help, provided he isn't allergic."

"I have no idea if he is or isn't," Simon reluctantly admitted. "But we've got to do something."

The pilot nodded. "Good luck with your man Captain," he nodded before disappearing out the door.

Simon ripped open a hypodermic package and, locating a vial of antibiotics, filled the needle to the recommended dosage listed on the bottle. Swabbing Blair's arm down with alcohol, he inserted the needle and pressed the plunger down.

Blair moaned and thrashed. "Settle down Blair," Simon hushed, his voice soft with compassion. "You're going to be all right."

He turned to address Harlan. "I'm going to need your help. We've got to try and get his fever down and get some fluids into him."

Harlan handed him the cup of broth he'd set on the table earlier. "You start with this and I'll get some more water and towels."

Taking the cup, Simon began spooning the liquid between Blair's parted lips. "Don't you dare die on me Sandburg. Not when we're this damn close. And not while Ellison's out there somewhere, still missing."

The following hours were a flurry of activity as Simon and Harlan worked in conjunction to stabilize Blair's condition. The sweat was routinely washed away and the cold compresses, reapplied. In between, they plied Blair with antibiotics and the liquids that his body so desperately required. Harlan had even taken the time to shave Blair, claiming that the young fella would no doubt feel cooler without all that facial hair.

Nearly two hours into their efforts, the pilot had contacted Harlan via the CB, informing them of an unexpected delay in his return. Amanda Jenkins had gone into labor and the doctor was going to be tied up for awhile delivering her twins. He promised to get the doc there as soon as possible, but in the meantime, they were on their own.

Caught in the throes of nightmares, more than once, Blair struck out in his delirium, fighting against the very hands that were helping him. Concerned that Blair might further injure himself, Harlan suggested restraining him. A proposition quickly and vehemently vetoed by Simon. Instead he would gather Blair into his arms, quietly murmuring reassurances until he calmed down again. He sat that way now gently rocking the slight figure in his arms, whispering words of comfort while bathing the accumulated sweat from Blair's forehead.

Simon snorted at the irony. If anyone had told him three years ago when Sandburg first walked into his office, that he would come to care about the long haired, hyperactive grad student, he'd have called them crazy. But the reality was that he had come to care for Sandburg. The kid's irrepressible nature had eventually succeeded in winning over even the most critical of cynics. He should know, he used to be one. Or had been until Sandburg worked his charm. No, it was more than charm. It was a culmination of things. His incredible intellect. His ability to come up with the most obscure piece of knowledge. More than once this unique ability had assisted them in breaking a case. But the defining factor had been Sandburg's genuinely kind natured heart. His innate belief that people were good. Even all he'd been through since teaming up with Ellison hadn't been able to repress this facet of his personality. He was always ready to help. Whether it be stranger or friend, it didn't matter. That's just the type of person Sandburg was. And if he considered you a friend, he'd go through hell and back, if necessary, to help you. He'd proven that on more than one occasion. And even though he often referred to him as a kid, Sandburg was a man. A man that he was damn proud to have as a friend.

Simon looked up to see Harlan Jones watching him. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"It appears the young fella's been through some pretty traumatic situations," Harlan commented, having heard Blair's mutterings during his bouts of delirium.

Simon looked down at the young man cradled in his arms and sighed. "You don't know the half of it," he reluctantly admitted.

"Well then, it's a good thing he has a friend like you to help him get through it."

Friend, Simon mused. Yes, Sandburg was a friend. One he wouldn't think twice about giving his life to protect if need be.

Since Blair seemed to be resting more easily now, Simon prepared to relinquish his hold and settle him back beneath the covers.

"Jim," Blair mumbled in protest at the movement, his fingers clutching frantically at Simon's shirt.

"Shhhh," Simon crooned softly, gathering him close once more. "It's all right Blair. Everything's going to be fine." And it was like this that Simon held him throughout the night and into the first rays of dawn.

The fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickled Simon's nostrils, rousing him from the exhausted sleep he had drifted off into a mere two hours before. Opening his eyes, he flexed, trying to relieve the stiffness in his neck. He glanced down at Blair, still snuggled against his chest and smiled softly. Laying a hand on Blair's forehead he was pleased to note that the fever, while not totally gone, had tapered off considerably.

"His breathing sounds better too," Harlan said from across the room. "Looks like all those antibiotics we pumped into him, did him a world of good."

Simon shifted his position and, carefully laying Blair back down, rose from the bed. "He still belongs in a hospital."

"No...no hospital," Blair groaned from the bed.

Surprised at hearing Blair's voice somewhat coherent, Simon turned, quickly retracing his steps. Sitting on the side of the bed, he anxiously studied the grad student. "Sandburg, Blair?" he called out.

Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks, then slowly opened to reveal glazed orbs of cerulean blue. They gazed back at Simon without recognition. Blair's brow knitted in a frown, he blinked and Simon could see awareness sluggishly returning.

Blair's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "SIMON!" he gasped in astonishment where upon he immediately began coughing.

Slipping one arm beneath his shoulders, Simon helped Blair into a sitting position and handed him a glass of water. At first Blair sipped tentatively in between the respites of coughing. But as the cough slackened off, he greedily swallowed the remaining contents.

"Better?" Simon asked, taking the empty glass and setting it on the nightstand.

Blair nodded in reply as Simon helped him lay back against the pillow.

"JIM!" Blair cried out seconds later as awareness returned full force. He clasped Simon's arm in a death like grip. "Where's Jim?" He looked up, eyes wide with concern. "You found him too, right?"

"Now Blair," Simon began, trying to calm the excited anthropologist.

"You mean he's still out there!?!" Blair exclaimed, incredulous. He swept the covers aside, his intent obvious, only to be brought up short as pain flared throughout his lower back. "Ow.....damn it!" he cursed through clenched teeth.

"Just take it easy," Simon admonished. "You're hurt."

"No...shit...Simon," Blair ground out. "But so is Jim. We've got to find him." He tried to sit up only to be firmly pushed back down by Simon.

"And we will," he assured Blair, maintaining his grip. "Now, do you have any idea where you left him?" he asked when Blair finally ceased his struggles.

Blair closed his eyes as if the mere act would help him recall. He shook his head. "I don't know. It's all jumbled up in my mind." He opened his eyes and looked beseechingly up at Simon.

"Can you remember a landmark...anything that might help us locate him?" Simon prompted. Blair's breathing was becoming increasingly harsher as panic began to set in. Simon didn't like the sound of it. "Just settle down Sandburg and think."

Blair's head shot up. "He's somewhere along the river."

"Sandburg, we've been up and down that river a number of times and there was no sign of Jim."

"He's not on the shore," Blair explained, becoming exasperated. "It was starting to rain so I moved him beneath the trees."

"Well that would explain why we didn't spot him from the air," Simon replied thoughtfully. "But there's miles and miles of river out there. We've got to narrow the search area down some."

Harlan spoke up. "Seems to me that the young fella wasn't in any condition to travel too far, so my guess is that he's somewhere nearby."

Blair started at the sound of the other voice. Simon laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and made the introductions. "Blair, this is Harlan Jones. He's the one who found you."

"Actually it was Belle," Harlan explained with a chuckle, glancing towards the dog curled up on a rug by the door. "She's always bringing home strays of some sort, but I gotta admit, you came as quite a surprise."

Blair felt himself relax beneath Harlan's friendly countenance. "Thank you," he said, offering a small smile. "You too Belle," he added with a glance in her direction. Belle raised her head and thumped her tail against the rug.

Blair's smile widened in response, then remembering his missing partner, he sobered. "What are we going to do about Jim, Simon? He's lost a lot of blood. For all I know he could be dead by now." His voice rose with a hint of hysterics.

Simon gripped Blair's upper arms. "Don't even think like that. Jim's alive and we're going to find him."

"How?" Blair demanded.

As if in response to his question, the sound of an approaching helicopter filled the room. Simon smiled. "That's how."

Much to Blair's consternation, the doctor made a quick, but thorough examination. At least as thorough as his limited equipment would allow. After administering another dose of antibiotics and something for the pain, he closed his bag with a snap and stood.

"How is he?" Simon asked, his face a mask of concern.

"Well, he's still got a low grade fever and I don't like the sound in his lungs..."

"What about his back?" Simon interjected.

The doctor scratched his whiskered chin thoughtfully before replying. "It could be just badly bruised, but without an X-ray, it's impossible to say for sure. Either way, he belongs in a hospital."

"I'm right here, you know," Blair grumpily reminded them. "And I'm not going anywhere except to find Jim."

Simon pointed a warning finger at Blair. "You're not going anywhere. We'll take care of this."

"You are not leaving me behind!" Blair yelled angrily and promptly burst into a fit of coughing.

Simon scrambled for the water.

"You need..me to help...find him," Blair insisted between coughs, shoving the proffered water aside. He pushed back the bedclothes and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

Simon placed a hand on his shoulder. "All right," he relented, knowing full well that Sandburg would fight them tooth and nail if necessary to be on the chopper when they went in search of Ellison. "But I want you to drink this and calm down first."

Blair searched Simon's face for traces of deceit. Finding none, he took the water, sipping it slowly until the coughing ceased.

"Is he always that stubborn?" Harlan wanted to know.

Simon rolled his eyes in response and Harlan chuckled. The doctor however didn't find the situation amusing at all. "This man is in no condition to go gallivanting about. He belongs in a hospital."

Simon sighed. "You want to be the one to tell him that?"

The doctor turned to address Blair only to have crystalline blue eyes staring defiantly back at him. Unnerved, he looked away.

"I didn't think so," Simon quipped.

After making sure he was warmly dressed, with clean clothes borrowed from Harlan, Simon helped Blair into the chopper. Strapping him in the seat, he searched Sandburg's features with a look of concern. He noticed the fine sheen of perspiration glistening on the younger man's skin. "You okay?"

Blair nodded. "Whatever the doctor gave me for the pain is helping."

"Blair, you don't have to do this," Simon tried again to dissuade him.

"We're wasting time," he replied flatly.

"Stubborn son of a ..." Simon muttered beneath his breath. With a frustrated shake of his head, he handed Blair the binoculars. Stepping out, he secured Blair's door and climbed in front beside the pilot. "Take her up," he instructed.

Gaze intent on the terrain, Blair was unable to shake the image of Jim laying there alone, injured and without water. He silently berated himself for the delay his illness had caused. If for some reason Jim hadn't survived the last twenty four hours, there would be no one to blame but himself. Blair thought about the possibility of his best friend having died all alone and felt his heart constrict.

"Sandburg," Simon's voice came through the headset, "you got anything yet?"

Blair shook himself, shoving the morose thoughts aside. They didn't go far. "Not yet," he told Simon, "I need him to go lower."

Having heard the request, the pilot dipped the helicopter to a lower altitude and Blair resumed his perusal of the landscape below.

Less than ten minutes later he cried out exuberantly. "That's it! There he is." He pointed out the location to Simon.

As the pilot landed the craft, Blair's gaze did not stray from the figure crumpled on the ground. Blair felt fear rise up in his throat, threatening to choke him. Even at the sound of their approach, Jim hadn't moved. Dear God, please let him still be alive, he thought frantically.

Blair swiftly unbuckled his seat belt and as the chopper touched down, he flung open the door and leapt out. The pain that shot through his back as he hit the ground went unnoticed. As did the sound of Simon calling his name. At that moment in time, nothing else existed, only Jim.

Stumbling across the rocky ground in his haste, Blair threw himself down beside the prone form. "Jim," he whispered, fearing the worst. With a trembling hand he reached out, pressing his fingers against the carotid artery, checking for a pulse. His head shot up in profound relief upon finding it.

"Jim," he called again, carefully turning his partner over and onto his back. Blair grimaced at the sight of fresh blood on Jim's bandaged side. "Oh shit!" he muttered. Eyes wide with fear he glanced up at the others just joining him.

"How is he?" Simon asked anxiously.

Blair had to swallow past the lump in his throat before he could get the words out. "He's still alive, but it looks bad Simon."

"Here, let me have a look," the doctor said. Kneeling down beside Ellison, he began his examination.

Blair picked up Jim's hand, squeezing it lightly. Distressed, he searched his friend's features, hoping for some sign of returning consciousness. "Jim, come on man, I need you to wake up," he pleaded.

There was no response.

"Please, don't do this to me," Blair beseeched, his voice rough with emotion.

Nothing.

He reached up, placing a hand on either side of Ellison's face. "WAKE UP DAMN IT!" he yelled.

"Sandburg," Simon called, his voice stern. Gently, but firmly, he gripped Blair's upper arms, pulling him to his feet. Blair tried to pull away, his eyes never leaving Ellison's face. "Blair, are you listening to me," Simon asked, giving the distraught man a shake. "You've done all you can. Now let the doctor do his job."

All the fight seemed to drain out of Blair and he slumped forward. Quickly Simon slid an arm around Blair's waist, helping to support him. Silently they watched as the doctor tended to their friend.

Repeatedly the wound was irrigated until the doctor was relatively certain that all the minute debris still embedded had been washed away. A clean dressing was deftly applied.

Next he turned his attention to Ellison's knee. Raising an eyebrow at the make shift splint, he looked up. "Your handiwork?" he asked Blair.

Mutely, Blair nodded.

"Nice job," the doctor commented before proceeding to remove it in order to examine the knee more closely.

The minute tremors that Simon had detected coursing through Blair were becoming more pronounced. Whether or not it was due to his illness or Sandburg's concern for Jim, Simon didn't know. "Here, why don't you sit down," he said leading Blair to a nearby rock.

Blair's gaze left Jim only long enough to smile gratefully at Simon before returning to his partner.

The doctor finished with the knee, placing a more conventional brace around it to keep it immobile during transport.

He examined the head wound last before reaching into his bag and pulling out several vials. Blair questioned him extensively before allowing the doctor to administer the antibiotics and pain medication.

"That's all I can do for him here," the doctor stated, stowing his equipment.

"Is he going to be all right," Simon asked, voicing the question foremost in their minds.

"It's hard to say. The considerable blood loss and his head injury worries me."

Blair gulped at the pronouncement.

"He ready for transport Doc?" asked the pilot.

The older man nodded. "We'll have to be careful moving him though. I don't know what, if any, internal injuries he may have sustained."

The pilot and Simon moved into place on either side of Ellison. As Blair went to assist them, the doctor snagged him by the arm. "Oh no you don't. You may not be feeling any pain now because of the injection I gave you, but don't let it fool you into thinking you're in any condition to help lift your friend."

Simon saw the protest forming on Blair's lips. "Sandburg, go get the door," he instructed, nodding towards the chopper.

Blair's scowl told him that the anthropologist was less then pleased at the suggestion, but Simon was relieved to see him turn and head towards the helicopter.

The two men knelt down beside Ellison and lifted him into a sitting position. With one arm braced around his back and another beneath Jim's thighs, they stood in unison.

The doctor climbed in first, helping the others maneuver Jim into the craft. After Blair climbed in, Simon secured the door behind him and took his seat up front. Within minutes they were airborne and headed for Cascade.

En route to the hospital Simon frequently cast glances back at Ellison and Sandburg. Blair had wrapped an arm protectively around Jim, resting the man's head on his shoulder. The entire time he spoke in low, but entreating tones. Stopping only long enough to ride out several bouts of coughing.

Twenty minutes later they were on final approach to Cascade General. The pilot had radioed ahead and Simon was relieved to see a trauma team already waiting on the roofs landing pad.

The moment they touched down the team was assisting Ellison from the chopper and onto a waiting gurney. Blair however balked at the sight of one for himself, wanting instead to remain by his partner's side. Fortunately, or unfortunately from Blair's point of view, Dr. Fortunato, who had been briefed en route on Blair's condition and had an intimate knowledge of Sandburg's stubborn nature, came prepared. As Jim was whisked away, a large, intimidating orderly wrapped his arms around Blair, preventing him from following. Held in the vice like grip, Blair could only voice his protests as Victor Fortunato administered a fast acting sedative. Enraged, Blair bucked, cursed and threatened all those within earshot before finally succumbing to the drug.

As they lifted Blair onto the gurney and wheeled him away, Simon turned to the pilot to express his gratitude.

The man waved it off. "I'm just glad everything worked out. You were right when you said I shouldn't underestimate them Captain Banks." He reached out to shake Simon's hand. "It's been a honor to meet you all."

Simon turned, offering his hand to the doctor.

He shook it warmly. "I have one question Captain," the doctor said.

Simon raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Is Detective Ellison as stubborn as Mr. Sandburg?"

Simon snorted in response.

The doctor chuckled. "That's what I thought. Good luck Captain Banks. I have a feeling you're going to need it with those two."

"Perhaps doctor," Simon replied thoughtfully as he watched the two men head for the helicopter, "but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Realizing that Ellison and Sandburg were in capable hands, the first thing Simon did was place a call to the station. Exuberant sounds of relief could be heard through the phone as Joel Taggert passed along the news to the rest of the Major Crimes division that the missing detective and his partner had been found alive.

After extracting a promise from Simon to keep them informed, Joel agreed to hold down the fort so that Simon could remain at the hospital. The adrenaline rush had wore off leaving him tired and hungry. Knowing that it would be a while before any news would be forthcoming, Simon headed to the hospital's coffee shop.

Nearly five hours later, Joel found Simon still waiting in the emergency room's lounge for some word on their friends. Thirty five minutes later, Doctor Fortunato finally came to speak with them.

"Detective Ellison has regained consciousness and is resting comfortably," he began. "It was necessary to transfuse him with several pints of blood, but his condition is now stabilized. The injury to his side has been treated and the cat scan indicated no severe trauma to the head."

"And his knee?" Simon questioned.

"It doesn't appear to be serious. Although he will have to stay off of it for a few days."

"What about Blair?" Joel asked, frowning in concern.

Victor sighed. "I'm afraid Mr. Sandburg is going to be with us for awhile."

Simon and Joel exchanged worried glances.

"His fever is back up. We've started treating that and his respiratory infection with a round of antibiotics. We've also had to insert a shunt to drain the build up of fluids in his lungs."

As Joel grimaced, the doctor continued. "Also, he apparently received a severe blow to his lower back. Besides extensive bruising, there is swelling in the area. X-Rays revealed a hairline fracture of the L-4 vertebrae. It will be necessary to place him in traction until the swelling has gone down and the vertebrae has had a chance to heal."

Victor held up a staying hand as Simon started to speak. "Don't worry," he told the officers. "I've arranged for Detective Ellison and Mr. Sandburg to be placed in the same room. That should ensure the young man stays put. Plus I trust that Detective Ellison will help keep him in line," he added with a smile.

Joel grinned and soon Simon followed suit.

"Now gentlemen," the doctor said, "since both of my patients will no doubt sleep throughout the rest of the night, I suggest you both go home and come back tomorrow."

Simon appeared reluctant to leave. He had come extremely close to losing two very good friends and he wasn't quite ready to let them out of his sight.

Victor sensed his hesitation. "All right," he relented leading them to the room where the detective and his partner had been placed. "You can have five minutes, but then you're both out of here."

Simon nodded his thanks and pushed open the door. For several minutes they just stood there silently watching the two men as they slept. Simon broke the silence, speaking softly. "It was too damn close this time Joel."

"Yeah, but they made it," Taggert pointed out.

Yes, they had managed to survive this ordeal, but privately Simon had to wonder what would happen when their luck ran out and what would happen to the one left behind.

Ellison carefully rolled over onto his uninjured side and watched as his roommate slept. Blair's color was better now, the telltale signs of exhaustion less pronounced. Jim's heightened senses told him that Sandburg was still running a low grade fever, but that thanks to the fluids being drained from his lungs, he was breathing more comfortably.

He eyed the apparatus holding Blair immobile and silently dreaded the moment his hyperactive partner discovered the necessary limitations of movement provided him. Still, it was better than the alternative. Blair could be dead. Hell, they both should be.

He had long since ceased to be amazed by Sandburg's tenacity. The trait was as much a part of his genetic make up as Jim's sentinel abilities were to him. What did surprise and humble him however was the depth of his friendship with Blair.

More than once the kid had proven his willingness to give everything, even his life if need be, for him. It was overwhelming to know that someone cared for you that much. The responsibility of it was also terrifying. Yet he found solace in the knowledge that his own thoughts and feelings towards the long haired anthropologist, were the same. Two radically different men, yet together they forged a friendship of undefinable magnitude. A friendship that not only enriched their lives, but those who's lives they touched.

The subtle change in Blair's breathing pattern was enough to rouse Ellison from his quiet contemplations. Sandburg was waking up.

Caught in the throes of illness, the past few days found the grad student barely coherent on the few occasions that he had awakened. This time though Jim sensed a difference and knew Blair would need him.

Mindful of his own healing injuries, Jim painstakingly made his way over to the chair by Sandburg's bed. Sitting down on the uncomfortable surface, he reached out to lay a comforting hand on Blair's arm.

"Jim?" Blair questioned, his voice groggy with sleep.

"I'm right here Chief."

Blair opened his eyes and focused on the sentinel, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "You're okay." His relief was evident.

"Thanks to you."

Blair shook his head in denial. "If Belle hadn't found me, we'd both be dead."

Ellison pinned Blair beneath his steel blue gaze. "The way I see it, if you hadn't gone for help, you wouldn't have been in a position for Belle to find you. I know what it cost you to do that."

Blair glanced away.

"You did good, Chief."

Blair's gaze returned to Ellison's face, assessing his sincerity. "Really?"

Jim smiled, his eyes alight with pride. "Yeah, really."

The two men looked at one another. A million thoughts and emotions being expressed in that glance without a single word having been spoken. Eventually Blair's eyelids began to droop, sleep trying to claim him once more.

"Why don't you try and get some more sleep," Jim suggested softly.

Eyes now closed, Blair nodded in response and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Discovering his movements were restrained, his eyes shot open in fear. Horrific images of being bound wrists and ankles to a bed threatened to send him over the edge into insanity. "NO! Please, no," he cried out, fighting against the restraints of his waking nightmare.

Ellison's eyes went wide with surprise at the sudden change in his roommate. It wasn't until Blair gasped the name Andrea on a pleading note that he realized his friend was experiencing a flashback.

Blair was oblivious to Jim's entreaties, continuing to struggle. His breath was coming in quick pants. His heart rate increasing to alarming proportions. Jim glanced around frantically, uncertain what to do. This was not good. Sandburg risked aggravating his injury thrashing around like that. He reached for the call button, only to pull the hand back. No, Blair will be mortified at the thought of someone else seeing him like this.

Gingerly, he lifted himself up from the chair and over to sit on the edge of Sandburg's bed. Carefully avoiding the apparatus restraining his friend, Jim reached up taking Blair's face in his hands. "Sandburg...Blair," he called out.

"Oh God, help me...please. JIM!" Blair screamed, his eyes wide with fright but not really seeing.

"I'm right here buddy. It's all right, you're safe now."

Blair keened in terror.

"Shhh," Jim soothed. "Listen to me. Andrea's gone. She can't hurt you any more."

"GET IT OFF! " Blair screeched, clawing at the implement constraining him.

"Chief, I can't..." Jim replied with helpless frustration.

"NOOO!" Came the guttural cry before Blair began coughing violently. Over and over the sharp retorts sounded, never allowing an indrawn breath.

"Oh God Chief, please, don't do this..." Frantically Jim began unhooking Blair from the object responsible for the flashback.

Task completed, he carefully drew Blair into an upright position, resting the younger man's upper torso against his chest. "Come on buddy, I need you to settle down and breathe for me," he pleaded.

He could feel Sandburg struggling to comply with his request. "That's it," he encouraged, rocking the huddled figure gently. "You're doing great."

As the hand on the wall clock continued to tick away the minutes, Blair slowly regained control. Exhausted, he slumped even further into Ellison's embrace.

Jim picked up the styrofoam cup off the nightstand, offering the liquid to Blair. Wrapping his full lips around the straw, Blair sipped gratefully. When Sandburg indicated he was through, Jim replaced the cup on the nightstand. "Better?" he asked his partner.

Blair nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Ellison let out a breath and stroked the long damp curls from Sandburg's face. "Hey, considering all you've been through, I think you're entitled."

"Couldn't move," Blair complained.

"I know buddy, but you hurt your back so they placed you in traction until it could heal properly."

"Don't like it," Blair groused, sounding like a petulant child.

A shadow of a smile graced Ellison's lips. "Well I don't think the doctor's gonna let you talk your way out of this one." He grimaced. "In fact he's liable to kick my ass for letting you loose in the first place."

Sandburg shifted in his arms to gaze up at the man holding him. "We could make a break for it," he suggested, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"I don't know Chief," Ellison replied thoughtfully. "I don't think either of us would get very far considering the shape we're in."

Blair didn't look convinced.

Jim tried again. "You do realize that if we're caught, first the doctor's gonna kick our ass and then Simon's gonna stomp on it."

"Please." Blair turned the infamous puppy dog look on him and Jim knew he was lost.

With a put upon sigh, Ellison pushed back the covers. "Let's go."

Doctor Fortunato gathered up the charts for his next patients and, whistling merrily, headed for their room.

"Now there's someone who enjoys their work," Andrew commented as Victor passed by.

"Not for long he won't," Tess replied with a chuckle.

Andrew and Monica exchanged perplexed frowns.

Victor pushed open the door, looked up and stopped dead in his tracks. His smile quickly disappeared and he began sputtering. "What the...! Where....? SOMEONE GET ME SECURITY!" he bellowed, running out of the room.

Despite a slight throb in his knee, Ellison crept stealthfully down the corridor, pushing the wheelchair before him.

"I am capable of walking Jim," Blair reminded him.

"No way Junior. I may have bought into this hair brained scheme of yours, but we're going to do it my way."

"Fine, fine," Blair grimaced. "Let's just get out of here."

"Shush," Ellison hushed him, listening.

"Anything?" Blair prompted after a moment.

"They know we're gone."

"Oh man," Blair groaned.

"We're going to have to try and slip out the side entrance." Jim turned and started wheeling Blair in that direction.

"Any idea what we're going to do once we get out of here?" Blair asked.

"This little prison break was your idea," he reminded Sandburg.

A quiet look of desperation crossed Blair's face.

Jim sighed. "Don't worry buddy, I've got an idea."

Nonchalantly, Jim pushed the wheelchair through the exit. Once outside he quickened his pace, heading towards the parking lot. Rounding the corner, they nearly barreled into Simon.

"Oh shit," Blair groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"Ellison, Sandburg," Simon bellowed, once he recovered from the shock. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Jim pulled Simon aside, speaking quietly. "I had to get him out of there Simon. The kid was freaking out being trussed up like that."

Simon shook his head. "I don't know about this Jim. Sandburg belongs in the hospital. Hell, so do you for that matter."

"Come on Simon," Jim begged.

Banks looked at Ellison's pleading face and then at Sandburg's matching expression. He glared at Jim, "Sandburg taught you that didn't he?" Simon accused.

Ellison shrugged innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about sir."

"Ah huh." Simon rubbed at the tension in his forehead. He glanced up to the heavens as if begging for divine intervention before turning back to the others. "I know I'm going to regret this. All right, let's go," he said, then headed for the parking lot.

Behind him Ellison and Sandburg exchanged grins.

"You coming or not?" Simon yelled.

Schooling their features, they followed Simon to his car.

Simon pulled out of the parking lot. Unfortunately the route took them right past the hospital's main entrance. "Damn," he muttered upon spotting Dr. Fortunato and two security officers standing out front. "Get down," he warned the others.

Ellison and Sandburg scrunched down in their seats as Simon drove past the entrance. Once off hospital grounds, Simon gave the all clear.

"Whew!" Blair breathed out once Jim helped pull him back into a sitting position. "That was close."

Simon shook his head. "I'd hate to be your sorry butts the next time one of you lands in the hospital. Judging by his expression, the doctor was not a happy man."

"He'll get over it," Jim replied confidently.

"You should live so long," Simon muttered under his breath. "So where to now?" he asked aloud.

Ellison and Sandburg exchanged smiles. "Home James," Blair told him with a chuckle.

Simon shot him a withering glare, then sticking a cigar between clenched teeth, made a right turn and headed for the loft.